Qatar Gets the 2022 World Cup, Fans Get Arrested

Hopping onto Twitter Thursday morning, the usual things were trending. Hash tags with stupid teenage musings, some of the day’s top news bits, and cultural goings-on. One particular blip caught my eye: “Quatar”.

“Oh, what’s that?”, I mused. Perhaps some athlete I hadn’t heard of, or a new teen idol just popping up onto the radar. Surely, I assumed, this had to be someone’s last name, some pronoun that hadn’t yet been added to my (rather large) vocabulary.

After a few clicks, I made two disappointing discoveries. First, Americans are idiots, and don’t know how to correctly spell the name of the Middle Eastern country of “Qatar’. Second, Qatar beat out America to host the 2022 World Cup.

Still riding the tidal waves of World Cup bandwagon fandom (see here for why I don’t actually care), American’s were heated to learn the tiniest country to ever host the event had beaten us out. Not to mention, they’re in the Middle East – a region of the world that, to Americans, is chocked full of negative connotations.

All bribery rumors and FIFA scandals aside, the most humorous aspect of the Qatar decision is one of their strictly enforced laws, pulled from the US Bureau of Consular Affairs:
Incidents involving insults or obscene language/gestures
often result in arrest, overnight imprisonment, and/or fines whether
the incident occurs between private parties or involves officers of the law.
Insulting someone in public is considered a punishable offense.

I literally laughed out loud when I read this. Hold your horses here for a second- has anyone in Qatar ever witnessed a soccer match?

It’s basically the epitome of obscene language and gestures. Soccer hooligans are infamous for their brutality of insults- not to mention fan-on-fan violence. Packing a bunch of rival European fans into a stadium in 110 degree heat (the average summer temperature in Qatar) and expecting them not to call each other every name in the book is about the equivalent of expecting the average American to find Qatar on a map.

I hope that in addition to plans for ten stadiums by 2022, Qatar is also planning about twenty times as many jails. It will certainly be interesting to see watch the number of fans in the stadiums slowly thin out as games progress, as they're hauled away by law enforcement.

One thing’s for sure, I’ll be all over the 2022 World Cup coverage – and not for the matches.

An Open Letter to ESPN

Dear ESPN,

As a loyal fan of your television station and website, as well as a follower of multiple blogs and Twitter accounts, I'd like to offer you a brief list of company suggestions.

Far be it from me to be the supreme jury of what is and is not considered a sport, but the following should never be spoken of in any of your various forms of media ever again: NASCAR, poker, the AFL, mixed martial arts, and Bassmaster. They are a consistent waste of my time, and evoke nothing more than an eye-roll from me when I see them on my cable guide. I actually switch channels when they're mentioned on Sports Center after immediately gaining ten pounds due to all of their fan bases largely consisting of fat old white men.

Second, the women that you choose to work as commentators need to be reconsidered. I may be coming off as a bit of a Goldie Locks here, but there has to be some middle ground between perfect tens who sound like airheads, and women who are simply quite unpleasant to look at. The main broad on Sports Center can only be considered a sight for sore eyes if the eyes which are viewing her haven't had vision for the past 50 years, and she's the first image they've seen since. Believe it or not, male-run corporation, there actually are attractive women in the world who have legitimate knowledge of sports. Find one and hire her, if you need a reference, I know plenty.

Last, take away Lil Wayne's blog. It's simply a platform for him to smoke copious amounts of weed, then dictate to a scribe a bunch of ramblings that make him look like an ass. It's really just cruel of you to encourage.

I hope these suggestions are seriously considered, as they would make generous improvements to your empire. If you'd like to pay me the big bucks to do some face-to-face consulting on these issues, I'd likely oblige.

Sincerely,

Sarah

Dealing With the Collapse of the Hawks

There's a scene in the movie "Legally Blonde" where the character Elle (Reese Witherspoon) is going through a tough, unforeseen breakup. While sulking in her bedroom watching soap operas, a character on the show she's watching starts professing his love for a woman. Elle snaps, throws the box of chocolates she's gorging on at the television, and screams "LIAR!". This scene is strikingly similar to what will be taking place at my apartment while watching highlights of the 2010 Blackhawks' Stanely Cup Final game.

Buff. Versteeg. Lad. Burish. Eager. Fraser. Madden. The team that I fell in love with, all gone. The team that I watched while having the game of hockey explained to me in the first place, all gone. And as the bad news just keeps rolling in, I've managed through the seven stages of grief, courtesy of some website intended for those losing a family member, naturally with some of my added expertise thrown in. However, these folks generally only lost ONE loved one. I lost seven.

7 Stages of Grief...

1. SHOCK & DENIAL-
You will probably react to learning of the loss with numbed disbelief. You may deny the reality of the loss at some level, in order to avoid the pain. Shock provides emotional protection from being overwhelmed all at once. This may last for weeks.

Using a work trip to the Bahamas as an excuse to avoid ESPN.com at all costs is an acceptable for of denial. Also, unfollowing Jesse Rogers' Twitter is helpful as well.

2. PAIN & GUILT-
As the shock wears off, it is replaced with the suffering of unbelievable pain. Although excruciating and almost unbearable, it is important that you experience the pain fully, and not hide it, avoid it or escape from it with alcohol or drugs. You may have guilty feelings or remorse over things you did or didn't do with your loved one. Life feels chaotic and scary during this phase.

Getting wasted on the Fourth of July and finding the one other Blackhawks fan in the state of Kentucky and then repeating the phrase "BUT I LOVED BUUUUUFFFFFF" may also be part of stage two.

3. ANGER & BARGAINING-
Frustration gives way to anger, and you may lash out and lay unwarranted blame for the death on someone else. Please try to control this, as permanent damage to your relationships may result. This is a time for the release of bottled up emotion. You may rail against fate, questioning "Why me?" You may also try to bargain in vain with the powers that be for a way out of your despair ("I will never drink again if you just bring him back").

Anger due to the fact that you were LOYAL to this team and that just because they won a cup doesn't mean you're going to start being a Red Wings fan even though your close friends like them and the stupid boy who taught you all about hockey in the first place shattered your heart like glass at a game, but none of that means you're going to just up and leave the team is common during this phase as well.

SIDENOTE: I don't actually love the Hawks enough to give up drinking to bring back ANY of those players, so that's a pretty unlikely bargain.

4. "DEPRESSION", REFLECTION, LONELINESS-
Just when your friends may think you should be getting on with your life, a long period of sad reflection will likely overtake you. This is a normal stage of grief, so do not be "talked out of it" by well-meaning outsiders. Encouragement from others is not helpful to you during this stage of grieving. During this time, you finally realize the true magnitude of your loss, and it depresses you. You may isolate yourself on purpose, reflect on things you did with your lost one, and focus on memories of the past. You may sense feelings of emptiness or despair.

You may look back on the good times. You may start referring to rejections from the opposite sex as "Niemi no-no's", or look up YouTube videos of big hits by Buff.

5. THE UPWARD TURN-
As you start to adjust to life without your dear one, your life becomes a little calmer and more organized. Your physical symptoms lessen, and your "depression" begins to lift slightly.

This may happen SLIGHTLY when Hjalmarsson is signed. But just slightly. You may still be totally pissed deep down.

6. RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH-
As you become more functional, your mind starts working again, and you will find yourself seeking realistic solutions to problems posed by life without your loved one. You will start to work on practical and financial problems and reconstructing yourself and your life without him or her.

You may start looking up Wiccan curses that can be cast to the winning records of your loved one's new teams.

7. ACCEPTANCE & HOPE-
During this, the last of the seven stages in this grief model, you learn to accept and deal with the reality of your situation. Acceptance does not necessarily mean instant happiness. Given the pain and turmoil you have experienced, you can never return to the carefree, untroubled YOU that existed before this tragedy. But you will find a way forward.

You will never be the same person you were before, and your Ladd jersey is now considered to be vintage. Give it to the nearest hipster to be worn as an ironic shirt, and start preparing to explain next seasons losses on a "rebuilding year".

Ode to LeBron

LeBron James is such a tool,
Became a free agent and became too cool,
Took less money,
isn't that funny?
Now he just looks like a fool.

Could have stayed in the Buckeye State,
Now he's the man America hates,
abandoned his fans,
to go get a tan,
and play on the beach with his mates.

Could have played in Chi City with Rose,
Instead went to the Heat with his bros,
He hopes for a ring
To add to his bling,
I hope their next season blows.

Could have gone to play for the Knicks,
Decided on a team full of pricks,
Now he looks like an ass,
Bet the Heat comes in last,
And LeBron feels like a huge dick.

Had America watching for days,
All sports fans were in a craze,
Hope he breaks a bone,
And the King is dethroned,
And Miami burns down in a blaze.

My Top Five Favorite Sports to Drink During

While watching highlights from the world's longest tennis match, one thought came to mind: "Those fans must have been trashed by the end of that." Then, I realized that tennis spectators don't generally go to games with the high priority of getting drunk while watching. Then, I remembered why I generally don't care about tennis.

This got me thinking about my experiences going to sporting events. Some of the most fun time's I've had were watching sports that weren't necessarily my favorites. And with that, my top five sports to drink to.


5. Baseball

As I've mentioned a hundred times or so, I'm not the biggest follower of baseball. I think this probably has its roots in childhood T-ball, where I spent more time making bracelets out of dandelions than actually learning the sport. Living in Chicago, I've made my obligatory alliance to one team over the other, but have never gotten super invested in the sport. That being said, baseball games are long. This equals ample time to get sufficiently blitzed, which, for me, is the only way I'm going to stay interested in the game itself. Another added bonus for my fellow Cubs fans? Enough Old Styles can numb the pain of a loss...or 35.

4. Hockey

Personally, I think that part of the culture of hockey fandom is the copious amounts of drinking during games. It's almost expected that fans get drunk and rowdy, then cheer extra loud at the extra violent parts. It's simple, animalistic fun - and I'm completely okay with it.

3. Horse Racing

Churchill Downs, in my hometown of Louisville, is one of the most gorgeous, sophisticated race tracks in the country. Once a year it's also the sight of one of the sloppiest, drunken messes in the country: the Kentucky Derby. While in the pricey, expensive box seats rich women flaunt fancy Derby day hats and sip on mint juleps, the real party is in the infield. A complete shitshow of college students and parents alike, liquor is snuck in every way imaginable and then consumed in mass. It's wild, crazy, a little overwhelming, and should be experienced by everyone at least once in their life.


2. Golf

Let me preface this by saying how much I generally detest golf. I think it's boring, long, and mostly just boring. One summer after my senior year in high school I worked at a golf course back home. It was boring, hot, and boring. It definitely did not help me learn to appreciate the art of the game, but did show me why some people find it so much fun. The few times I went out on the course with friends on days off, we'd bring a cooler full of beers and generally reek havoc. And now, when I get phone calls from friends asking me to pick them up from one golf course or another because driving probably isn't a great idea, I'm generally more sympathetic to the game. And John Daly.

1. Any College Sport Ever

I really can't think of a college sport where painting letters on your chest and bonging beers in the parking lot beforehand wouldn't be considered appropriate. Football? Obviously. Basketball? Duh. Gymnastics? Why not? Chess? Absolutely. I never want to graduate.

The Inevitable World Cup Post

It would be nonsensical to keep a sports blog and not write about the World Cup. I've known this post was coming for a while now, and have been waiting for the right moment to strike. As I've joined the rest of the world in watching as many games as possible, catching "World Cup fever" and hearing vuvuzelas in my sleep, for a while I also had the mindset of many other American viewers: "I just wish I was in Europe right now watching this, it would be so much more fun!" I was convinced that watching a game from a pub or a town center would just be so much more legitimate than watching a game in America. America, where we don't care about soccer. It would be so much more gratifying to watch with real fans, not American bandwagon fans.

And then I got off my high horse and realized I'm a moron. I'm the number one bandwagon fan in the United States. I grew up with soccer being a huge part of my life, I genuinely enjoy watching games, but I definitely don't follow the sport year round. My sister's a high school soccer prodigy. I've been to more games in the last 16 years than I often care to remember, but when it comes to professional, I generally don't pay any attention until World Cup time.

But really, who does? Is there some rule that you have to put in a certain number of pre-World Cup viewing hours before you're allowed to cheer on your team as a real fan? I certainly don't follow curling on a regular basis, but that didn't stop me from turning Olympic Curling into a drinking game last winter.

And with that, a video that sums up American World Cup fandom better than I ever could.

Dear Lane Kiffin, Karma's a B*tch. XOXO, the Football Gods

If you've followed my blog, or know me in general, you know my extreme distaste for Lane Kiffin. The cocky little weasel (my favorite term of endearment for him) abandoned my team and left us high and dry with various NCAA and SEC violations after only one season. He left a sour taste in the mouths of Tennessee fans - and sports fans in general - ever since he high-tailed last January and ran back to Southern Cal, where he previously worked under Pete Carroll. So, not much could make me happier than hearing about the NCAA dropping the hammer on the University of Southern California this week. I believe my initial reaction was a simple, yet classic "HA!".

The untouchable U$C has fallen. A football program that's greasier than Chicago politics with a coaching staff and athletic director who think they're simply above following the rules has finally been put in their place. And this was no ruler slap to the knuckles. This was a full on haul-out-to-the-backyard-drop-your-drawers-and-take-a-beating-with-Daddy's-belt FOLLOWED by a lifetime grounding. Add to that the fact that every win they've had during they're current reign will now be looked it with skepticism from their now tainted reputation. It's easy to win when you don't follow the rules, and with a nearly 70 page report on all of the rules USC broke, it's no wonder they were the best.

And what was Lane Kiffin's response to the NCAA decision? An apology to fans, players and students followed by a promise to clean up the program? Of course not. Instead, he went on and on about how USC is the best, was the best, and will always be the best. His sentiments were echoed by former head coach Pete Carroll. Essentially both threw temper tantrums for the media, held their breath, whined about it not being fair, and ran to file an appeal.

Appeal, whine, cry, act shocked and upset. None of the show matters, boys, because you have now been officially branded with the title so many fans have unofficially given you for years: cheaters. So go ahead and try to rebuild the Trojan dynasty, because even if you use the millions Reggie Bush brought you to try to buy back some wins, no one will forget. Just ask Alabama.

Texas in the SEC? No Thank You.

Anyone who follows college football (or watches Sports Center) has undoubtedly heard about the turmoil surrounding the Big 12. Following the breakup, rumors immediately surfaced regarding which conference the remaining ten teams would be picked up by. The latest rumor circulating says that the SEC will be picking up Texas, Oklahoma, or both.

Let me be the first to say: hell to the no. Oklahoma, we'll deal with later. As far as Texas? No sir. I don't care for 'em, I don't watch 'em, I don't give two hoots about 'em, and I certainly don't want them in my conference. To me, the state of Texas is its own entity. Texas pride, Texas culture, Texas this and Texas that. The vast majority of the Texas roster comes from the massive state of Texas, where kids are bred playing cult-like Texas high school football.

To me, the best thing about the SEC is the love for the conference, not just individual schools. Obviously, I have my favorites (Tennessee) and I have teams I hate (Kentucky), but some of the most fun games to watch are the inter-conference rivalries. In my opinion, Texas and Texans are too...self-secluded to acquire the sense of family that I love so much about the conference.

As far as Oklahoma...I'll compromise. The Sooners would come in with a natural geographical rival (Arkansas) which would make things interesting, and I feel like Oklahoma would better encompass the spirit of the conference. And just what will I do if the SEC does decide to take Texas? Easy. Put them in second on SEC my sh*t list...right under Kentucky.

The Perfect Game: A Perfect Lie

The funny thing about having a blog is that, well, people read it. And, on occasion, they have some sort of interest in your opinion. A friend of mine suggested the other night that I write about the recent string of perfect games that have occurred this year in baseball. To which my response was, "and what exactly does a perfect game entail?" Being admittedly clueless about baseball, I had absolutely no idea what this supposed phenomenon was. After a lot of explanation and a little digging, I had my answer. A perfect game is when a pitcher pitches "27 up, 27 down". Or, in layman's (my) terms, a complete no hitter where not a single player reachers first base. Perfect games are extraordinarily uncommon, or as my friend put it, "the rarest pinnacle in baseball". This phenomenon has only happened 20 times in Major League Baseball history, and 18 times since 1900. However, it's happened twice this season alone. First, by Dallas Braden of the Oakland Athletics, and next by Roy Halladay of the Philadelphia Phillies.

Maybe I'm just reasonably jaded by the mass amount of corruption in professional sports, but it's somewhat difficult for me to get excited about the two perfect games pitched in one still-beginning season. Why? Because it's extremely likely that at least one, if not both, of these pitchers is having major assistance by some kind of drug. It's no secret that steroid use is rampant amongst MLB players. Add to that the recent allegations of a major increase in pitchers taking mass amounts of Adderall, and it's difficult to believe that these players don't have some kind of superhuman cocktail floating through their blood stream.

Perhaps it's just a combination of skepticism and a somewhat distaste for professional sports in general (I was raised on the NCAA...particularly the SEC...), but here's my final word: Get off the 'roids, boys. I'd imagine it's much more gratifying to pitch a perfect game when you're truly the one doing it. Just ask Lee Richmond.

NBA Finals time...yawn?

With all of the talk about the NBA Finals, it's easy to say that they're hard to ignore. I've had a hard time getting into them once again this year, but have seriously considered it. On the one hand, it's another sport to follow. On the other hand, it's another sport to follow. It's kind of like trying to decide if I want to add another television show to my weekly lineup, when the two I have are such an emotional commitment as it is. Being the typical Type-A personality that I am, I made a Pro/Con list to decide whether or not to tune in for the rest of the series. Here it is, insanity and all:

Pro: Lamar Odom
If you think this reasoning has anything to do with the fact that he's an extremely talented player that is becoming more and more critical to the Lakers' lineup with each game, you're wrong. I'm much more shallow than that. Come on, let's look at the more obvious reason: he's a Kardashian-by-marriage. He's married to my favorite Kardashian, Khloe, and since their wedding was televised on cable TV, and I was an invited guest accordingly, I'm practically family. Plus, he cameos in those funny little Taco Bell commercials.

Con: My grudge with the NBA
I've preached for ages, and I'll preach it again. In my opinion, the NBA lacks the kind of heart that makes basketball so enjoyable in the first place. I'll gladly watch March Madness games all day long, but when it comes to the NBA, I just don't see the same kind of passion. At the end of the day, win or lose, these guys get a whopping paycheck. Sort of a turn off for me.

Pro: Cool Tattoos
Another pro, another ridiculous musing. You can't watch a pro basketball game without noticing the crazy amounts of ink these guys have. As a girl who's a bit inked up myself, it's interesting to see all of the different "art" (and I use that term loosely) different players have. Between Kobe's butterfly crown on his bicep (so very masculine looking) and Nate Robinson's blur of ink on his arms, it's like a two-for-one show: a game, and a gallery.

Con: No Bulls
To put it simply, I've just got no dog in this fight.

Pro: Celebrity Sightings
With the Lakers home base being the epicenter of celebrities, there are always stars sitting court side at their games. Any opportunity to see David Beckham without actually having to sit through a soccer game is a few hours I can get behind.

Con: My heart's just elsewhere
With the seven game series against the Flyers going on, I really don't know if I can detach myself from the Stanley Cup Finals long enough to put any spirit into the NBA. The Hawks need me sitting alone on my couch 600 miles away screaming "Chelsea Dagger" after every goal. It's just that simple.

In the end, my relatively lame reasons to watch the finals were outweighed by everything else in the entire universe that's more interesting. That being said, go Lakers!

Sarah Palin, Beer and Hockey: A Love Story.

One of the most...let's call it "memorable" quotes that former Vice Presidential Candidate Sarah Palin made during her months of cringe-worthy campaigning was the following: "The difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull? Lipstick."

I remember when the media first started citing this quote from Palin. I also remember my reaction: what the hell is she talking about? Not that this is a strange reaction to anything that comes out of that woman's mouth. Generally quotes from her end with a contorted face and the scratching of the head, but this time was for a different reason entirely. I remember thinking something along the lines of "Oh that is just so Northern of her."

Growing up, hockey was always something that I associated with frozen tundras, maple syrup and horrible nasal accents. It's a sport, yeah, but not really .

Once I moved to Chicago, my opinion didn't change all that much. I stumbled upon free prime tickets to Blackhawks games on two separate occasions, but used the games more as opportunities to drink overpriced beers and flirt than to actually watch the games. Sure, people were running around on ice with sticks and a puck. But you know what else was icy? This beer some dude just bought me. Beer 1, Hockey 0. Thanks, dude.

Then, I started dating one of those hockey-crazed dudes. I saw the similarities between him watching a Hawks game and my Dad watching a Tennessee football game. Screaming at the television? Check. Cursing at players that can't (and never will) hear you? Check. Multiple beers consumed? Check. Maybe there was something to this hockey thing. My patient boyfriend was an excellent teacher of all things hockey related. I started to understand this strange sport that wasn't really much more than a hybrid of soccer, football and ice skating. It was rugby on ice...but not.

Things started getting serious around playoffs time. First, I flew my Yankee boyfriend (Hawks hat and all) down to meet my family. Soon after, I was watching my first hockey game alone...voluntarily. Round 1, game 1, Blackhawks. Screaming at the television? Check. Cursing at players that would never hear me? Check. Multiple beers consumed? Check.

A few hundred hours of playoff games, and one very irritated face from those Playoff Beard kisses later, I'm back down South for the summer, and my (new) team is in the Stanley Cup Finals. I've gained a whole wealth of knowledge about a sport I never would have imagined I'd be interested in.

Sarah Palin and I now have two whole things in common, which actually makes me slightly ill, and I've fallen in love with two things since I started watching hockey: the Blackhawks, and Patrick Kane. As for the hockey-teaching boyfriend? He's alright too.

Derek Dooley: My New Fulmer?

Unless you’ve been ESPN celibate for the past two weeks, you know the drama that has surrounded the University of Tennessee football program recently. Just in case you have been living in a cave lately (Osama, this is for you), here’s a quick summary: Lane Kiffin is a slimy little weasel who just high tailed his cocky self back out to the University of Southern California after a 14-month stint with my favorite team. Three rage-filled days later, UT has picked a new head football coach, Derek Dooley from Louisiana Tech.

I’ll admit that I didn’t know much (well, anything) about him before his press conference announcement the other day. However, after doing a little bit of background research on our new coach, I’ve complied a list of five reasons I can get behind him. I also may or may not have fallen slightly in love with him during the process. Allison Dooley, watch your back.

1) He's a Southern Gentleman
Every Southern Belle needs a good ‘ole boy to sweep her off her feet, right? From the minute he opened his mouth at the press conference and I heard that country drawl pour out like molasses, I knew I was going to like this guy. He started talking about how he grew up in the SEC, and I was sold.

2) He’s a lawyer!
As an undergrad student with the goal of law school in the all too near future, this won definite bonus points with me.

3) His wife’s a doctor
A lawyer turned football coach and a doctor, married? Power couple, I love it.

4) His father is coaching legend at the University of Georgia
Growing up detesting Tennessee’s rival UGA, this is fantastic. Derek Dooley, may you outshine your father in every aspect of your career with the Vols. I’m going to visit a football fanatic friend at UGA in a couple of weeks, and I plan on continually rubbing this in his face throughout my entire weekend in Athens.

5) His sons’ names
Dooley has three children, a daughter named Julianna, and two sons: Peyton and John Taylor. We’ll start with the less obvious thrill. During his press conference Dooley referenced Tennessee’s Athletic Director calling his son “JT," and joked with reporters that he’d be in trouble with his wife, because “to his Mama he’s John Taylor;" classic Southern charm. But come on, Peyton!? As in Tennessee alumni and the single-reason-I-adore-the-Colts quarterback legend Peyton Manning!? I think this is fate.

Obviously I’m in the honeymoon phase of my relationship with Derek Dooley, and we’ll have to wait until football season to really test him out. But for right now, I’m happy to say he’ll be getting a second date.

Yeah I'd Like To Tap That...Great Knowledge of The Game

“I’m sure the next hot blonde is going to walk through the door and take my job, and I’m going to be too old.” –Erin Andrews, ESPN

Recent years have brought with them what some sports fans may argue is the greatest improvement to the game since HD television: hot female sports reporters. Whether we’re talking about Erin Andrews, Jenn Brown, or Wendi Nix, these ladies have fans tuning in for more than just the game.

Typically when the boys upstairs throw it over to the girls on the field, they’ll bring you an update on an injured player, an interview with a coach, or some sort of player background story. Generally, the ladies aren’t analyzing the game. They’re put on the field to get the inside scoop straight from a player, coach, or staff member. This makes sense, of course. Who would you rather talk to, a young hot blonde or a 40-year-old fat guy? The answer’s obvious.

But is it fair to objectify these women to the point of making them sex symbols first, and reporters second? When thinking about this topic I ran a Google search for “female sideline reporters." The first site that comes up? www.sidelinehotties.com. An entire website dedicated to fan pictures of the hottest sports reporters on television. Another Google search for “Erin Andrews” came up with dozens of sites advertising that they have a copy of a peeping tom video showing her naked in a hotel room. Disgusting.

There are clearly negative aspects to the increasing trend of hiring pretty women to work the field during a game. However, I can honestly say that I enjoy watching games more because of them. They’re a refreshing face in comparison to the burly men we’re used to looking at. If they’re okay with the hoots and hollers from the fans, then I am too. After all, I have a feeling these girls know why they were hired…and it wasn’t for their great set of brains.

Everybody Scores

There’s an episode of “Sex and the City” where Samantha (the blonde vixen played by Kim Cattrall) is dating a New York Knicks super fan, who only “scores” when they do. Samantha becomes as obsessed with the Knicks as he is, knowing her chances of getting any action from her man depend on their victory.

A particular scene shows Samantha sitting at her boyfriend’s apartment, celebrating a Knicks win in the final game of their season. As the buzzer sounds, she leans over to him for a passionate kiss, only to be brushed away.

“Not now babe,” he says. “The Mets are playing Chicago, and now that basketball’s over I can give ‘em my full attention…man have they been playing lousy ball this year!”

In comes the narrator: “The idea of lasting through another sexless season was more than Samantha could take. And so, she forfeited the game.”

Today’s sports media is no stranger to the super fans of American athletics. Whether it’s topless frat boys painted with one letter per body, or Cubs fans bawling after a loss. Fans do more than invest their time and money - they invest significant emotion.

I can tell you this from personal experience. The first time I ever heard the F-bomb was from my father, jumping out of his old blue recliner and screaming it at the television after a Tennessee football fumble. This was the first of thousands of football-induced F-bombs to come.

But, is screaming yourself hoarse and enduring heartbreak during a losing season really worth it? It’s no hyperbole to say that a single fan’s emotional investment will have literally no effect on the outcome of a game. One fan in one household screaming at a television isn’t going to complete a pass or make a basket.

So why do we do it? Why do we invest so much of ourselves in whether our favorite team wins or loses? It’s simple: because when we sit down to watch our favorite sport, it’s a chunk of time out of the day where the outcome is completely dependent on someone else. There’s no pressure on the fans, no real consequence from a game lost, because that’s all it really is – a game.

So continue on, crazed fanatics. Get out your foam fingers and make your witty posters. Pay ridiculous amounts of money to watch your favorite team score in HD on your new flat screen, because really, the only person winning (hopefully) is yourself.

Liar liar pants on fire...who cares?

I’m not feeling nearly as creative and insightful tonight. Maybe it’s because I’m plagued with a winter cold…or maybe it’s because I’ve had an awful past 24 hours in sports. Louisville lost to Villanova, Kentucky won (again), and Lane Kiffin is leaving Tennessee for U$C. The gods of ESPN are not smiling kindly on me as of late.

But, inspiration struck during “Sports Center”, when clips of Mark McGwire’s steroids admission were played over and over…and over. After about the fifth time of hearing him say that steroids are “the most regrettable thing I’ve ever done” while his eyes welled up and his bottom lip trembled, I started to believe him. I mean, the guy’s crying for God’s sake! This got me thinking about athletes and their “transgressions”.

McGwire’s obvious roommate in the doghouse right now is Tiger Woods. In my opinion, the best way for Tiger to get back into my good graces is to give a large, large amount of money to Elin and wish her happy trails. Remember that rock Kobe had to pony up? We’re going to need about 30 of those.

But is a little sex scandal or juicing up going to really ruin anyone’s career here? No way. We look at athletes and scandals as one and the same, and brush them off with a “boys will be boys” shoo of the hand. As one sports writer wrote his headline on Monday: "McGwire Admits to Steroid Use; America Shrugs and Goes Back to Their Lunch". We're no longer surprised by the constant indiscretions of professional athletes.They can cheat and they can lie, but at the end of the day we’re still looking to them for someone to rally behind and cheer for – at the end of the day they’re still our superheroes. While these multi-millionaire all-stars might be role models for boys when they’re in the game, they’re becoming role models for men off the court.

Stop it Dick Vitale, you're making me cry.

I consider myself to be somewhat of a guy’s girl. I’d rather watch “The Hangover” than “The Notebook”, I’d cut my fingers off before I’d ever TyPe LiKE THiS, and fruity girl drinks? Forget about it and get me a beer – or better yet, a shot of bourbon.

That being said, I caught my estrogen taking over while watching the Texas v. Alabama game last week. I’m an SEC girl, born and raised, so I started off the game rooting for the Roll Tide. Then Colt McCoy got “hurt” (a whole other story, in my opinion), and little baby freshman Garrett Gilbert enters the game looking like a deer in headlights. He’s visibly nervous, and I start to feel bad for the kid. He’s just a baby! He’s so scared! Oh that poor boy, let him complete just one pass. Be nice! At this point, I’ve switched alliances to Texas. Then, the guys covering the game start talking about how Greg McElroy (Alabama’s QB) hasn’t lost a game since middle school. My heartstrings are tugged in the other direction, and I start thinking about how sad it would be for his first loss in years to be in the National Championship game…and before I know it, I’m torn.

This whole series of events got me reflecting on myself as a sports fan. Do I watch the games for the games, or for the stories? Am I listening to the game analysis for player stats, or to hear the sappy tale told during free throws of a kid growing up in the projects relying on basketball to keep him from joining some gang and getting killed on the street? I’m leaning towards the latter.

I saw “The Blind Side” and am suddenly a Ravens fan, I didn’t know what the Tour de France was until Lance Armstrong lost a testicle, and every single time an unranked team goes up against a number one seed, I’m cheering for the underdog. I’ve turned watching sporting events into my own personal episode of “The Real Word”, keeping my ears tuned into sportscasters, just waiting for some way I can make a personal attachment to the athletes/characters. But is this because I’m a chick, or am I just a big softie? Are sports reporters trying to pull in female fans by playing up the emotional tales of athletes? I called my mother for a second opinion.

“I’ve never read a statistic in the sports section, I always just skim through until I find the stories about the players. Sometimes they’re just so cute!”

And there you have it.