Friday, February 8, 2002
Updated: May 31, 2:10 PM ET
Random thoughts from Cloud 9
By Bill Simmons
Page 2 columnist
Random thoughts while wondering why Marcellus didn't shoot Butch ...
I can't wait to purchase Terry Glenn's Super Bowl ring on eBay some day.
The demise of the Hot Stewardess has to be one of the biggest tragedies of the past 30 years.
You know you're losing clout when you throw a celebrity-filled Super Bowl bash and Tara Reid doesn't show up.
First they remade "Rollerball," now they're remaking "The Longest Yard" as an English soccer movie, and all I can say is this: If they even think about touching "Fast Break," I'm going on a three-state killing spree.
This whole Pats-Super Bowl thing turned me into such an optimist that I actually said the words, "I think Carlos Baerga could help the Sox if he's in shape" this week.
Hey, can they schedule an impromptu Bandwagon Jumping event for the Winter Olympics, just so Rams fans can finally get a "W" this month?
Just so you know, on my flight home from New Orleans, after seeing the Patriots win the Super Bowl, after everything that happened ... I was sitting in Row 33. Clearly, there are larger forces at work here.
My favorite Bourbon Street moment: Late Friday night, some friends and I spotted Rebecca Romijn-Stamos hanging out on a balcony, drinking and smoking,
waving to the common folk, throwing beads down to people and generally having a grand old time. So we were commenting how "She seems pretty cool" and "You have to give her credit" and stuff like that ... when suddenly my buddy J-Bug comes roaring behind us, looks up, sees her and immediately screams, "Rebecca, show us your (bleeps)!" Highest of high comedy. You really had to be there.
I'm sorry, hell will freeze over before you sell me on this whole "Greta Van Susteren is looking kinda frisky!" thing.
The Stanley Cup puts every other championship trophy-tradition to shame, doesn't it?
When you talk about unsubstantiated rumors that you never want to be involved with under any circumstances, "Allegedly knocking up Willie Roaf's wife" has to be right up there.
(That reminds me, the greatest TV show of all-time would have been an "ESPN: The Season" about the 2001 New Orleans Saints. I will not argue about this.)
Shouldn't Bristol, Conn., get their own pro sports team? I mean, there were
roughly 350,000 ESPN employees at the Super Bowl last week. I'm not kidding. You're telling me Bristol couldn't support a team at this point?
After what happened to Apollo Creed 15 years ago and Sugar Shane Mosley two weeks ago, I think it's safe to say that nobody will ever enter a boxing ring to James Brown's "Livin' in America" again.
|Greta Van Susteren|
Speaking of "Rocky IV," the best part of watching the Pats-Rams game on TV
must have been when Pat Summerall pulled the "And now the Russians are cheering for Rocky!" routine with the Superdome fans and the Patriots in the second half. That would have killed me. He's chopping the Russian down!
Does it get any better than the "Four days after your team wins the Super Bowl, then you get the Sports Illustrated in the mailbox with them on the cover" feeling?
My favorite spiteful moment of Super Bowl Week: Seeing one of those "Super Bowl Champion T-shirts in a mug" for the Rams on Monday -- at half-price, of course, since they freaking lost -- and immediately plunking down $10 for it. While giggling.
(You have to understand, the Rams fans were pretty arrogant in New Orleans ... it was un-beeeeeeee-lievable. They thought Super Bowl week was a weeklong victory party. Nothing beat watching them stumble out of the Superdome on Sunday night in dead silence. It was beautiful. I might high-five myself just thinking about it.)
Is there a funnier two-word phrase in sports right now than "Enron Field"?
Set your VCR for 1 p.m., Saturday, when E! finally reruns the incomparable "E! True Hollywood Story: Corey Haim" episode (the first-ever
television program to score a perfect 100 out of 100 on the Unintentional Comedy Scale). As always, you'll just have to trust me.
Should I break the news to Paul McCartney that it's over, or do you want to do it?
My favorite lame celebrity sighting of Super Bowl Week: Seeing the long-haired guy from Hootie and the Blowfish waiting in line at New Orleans
Airport. Of course, he ended up sitting in first class while I ended up sitting in coach ... so I guess I have no point.
(The coolest celebrity sighting of the week: My buddy Poss met That Guy who played Serrano in "Major League" & the short order cook in "Heat." You know
... That Guy? How come I didn't get to meet That Guy? And to make matters worse, Poss didn't say to him, "In your shoe, Joe Boo." What a shame.)
Could somebody take those headlights out of Kordell Stewart's eyes, please?
That volleyball movie starring C. Thomas Howell and the bearded guy From "Thirtysomething" has officially become the "Karate Kid 3" of the 21st
century for HBO -- I think it's just running in 24-hour loops. Hey, I'm not arguing ... just pointing it out, that's all.
When Mariah Carey finished her performance of the national anthem on Sunday, did anyone else wait for her head to do 360s while she puked up split pea soup?
The fact Sacramento is headed for home-court advantage suddenly makes the NBA playoffs a little more intriguing, doesn't it? More importantly, should we waive the five-year waiting period and immediately induct the Kings into the All-Ugly Hall Of Fame? We could even put them in the special "Teams" wing with the 1987 Celtics and the '87 Tigers.
Upon further review, I think "Braveheart" is my "I can't believe you haven't seen that movie yet!" movie.
One fun thing about an NBA team moving to New Orleans next season and becoming the New Orleans Miasma ... NBA players hitting Bourbon Street in the wee hours.
Theory of the week: Matthew Perry died about eight years ago, and NBC hired three different rotating actors to impersonate him -- Skinny Perry, Normal
Perry and Heavy Perry -- in order to throw everyone off. Pass it on.
Mmmmmmmm ... gumbo ...
Put it this way: Ten years from now, I'll probably be eating a burger and drinking a beer at Adam Vinatieri's Bar & Grill in downtown Boston. And the
place will be packed.
"The Real World" is always fun to watch in groups, just for actual exchanges like this:
"You know, I don't think that girl can swim."
"Which one, the white trash chick?"
"No, the harlot."
Speaking of MTV, you know that blurry circle that they use to hide naked body parts on their shows? Does it have a name? What about the "Blurcle"? Does anyone else think of this stuff?
One lesson from Super Bowl Week: 70 percent of the people on this planet cannot function for more than 30 minutes without their cell phone.
All right, I'll ask: Who handed Michael Olowokandi keys to the Juvenation Machine?
(And since when was the Kandi Man worthy of Juvenation status? Shouldn't there be a Juvenation Review Board?)
When they finally launch ESPN6, I just hope they replay certain NFL games from that "You can see everyone on the field at the same time" angle that Ron Jaworski gets to watch.
When they make the "Grand Theft Auto 4" video game some day -- and they will -- doesn't it have to be set in New Orleans? You have the crime, you have the dirty streets, you have the alleys, you have the casino, you have the riverfront, you have the diverse districts, you have the corrupt police ... there could even be a mission where you have to head to Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras and kill somebody from a balcony. Doesn't this need to happen, or am I crazy?
I missed the memo that Jim Lampley had metamorphosed into Tony Randall.
Just so you know, the most common e-mail I've received over the past few weeks has been something along the lines of "When did Kelly Leak become the starting point guard for the Mavericks?" or "How come Steve Nash never talks about the time he drove the Bad News Bears from California to Houston?"
I used to joke that Clubber Lang foreshadowed Mike Tyson ... now I think that's an insult to Clubber Lang.
Pink's new song might be the catchiest NBA commercial since the Pointer Sisters sang "I'm So Excited" in the mid-'80s. I'mmmmmm ... I'm coming out ... so you better get this party started ...
(Now that song will run through your head for the rest of the day ... and you'll know exactly how I feel.)
Can you eat just one Starburst? Is it possible? Has anyone ever tried? What happened to them? And what the hell are Starburst made out of, anyway?
When it comes right down to it, Tom Brady's fumble never would have been overruled if Al Davis was still alive.
I just hope I'm there when Penelope Cruz-Cruise gets introduced to Boumtje-Boumtje.
The worst thing about being an NBA coach? Since you never know if you're on
TV, you couldn't pick your nose, adjust yourself or do any kind of personal
maintenance whatsoever. This would drive me batty. I'd start wondering, "Do I
have a bat in the cave?" or "Should I fix that wedgie?", then it would
compound itself and I wouldn't be able to concentrate on the game anymore. But that's just me.
Finally, I'll be the guy buying as much Patriots- Super Bowl memorabilia as possible over the next few weeks. Next stop: QVC!
Bill Simmons writes three columns a week for Page 2.