When we last left face-stuffing land barnacle Peter King, he had finally gotten his Twitter feed up and running, thus signaling the beginning of the end of that startup’s financial potential. What kind of crucial information has King supplied you, the Twitty twitty gangbanging masses?
SI_PeterKing Ah, the glamorous life of a reporter. Drinking low-cal Vitamin Water and praying I’ll be able to make it 2 more hours to finish MMQB.
Ooom, low cal Vitamin Water. Well, la di da, Mr. Big Shot. Most of us have to drink regular water. We don’t get to have our water infused with seventeen different minerals and subtle hints of acai and pomegranate. Don’t tell me you’re just some poor reportin’ schlub, you cod lover!
SI_PeterKing Sanchez throwing out first pitch at the Mets Monday night. Memo to Mark: Don’t bounce it. They’ll boo.
And stop looking like Johnny Damon! You’ll just reinforce the Mets’ feelings as afterthoughts in their own city!
Anyway, to the column. Say Pete, what’s your top draft philosophy?
I like teams that love players…
…and, within reason, break the bank to get them.
If you’re doing it within reason, you aren’t breaking the bank. But yes, I too adore teams that become so obsessed with one player or two that they willingly sacrifice any and all flexibility when it comes to draft day flexibility. We call this kind of brilliant tactical strategy semi-Snyderesque.
Cincinnati. Hard to knock this draft. Impossible, quite frankly.
Except here, and here, and anywhere else where people might express concern for a franchise that has a long history of character issues with its roster spending its top pick on Andre Smith, who went AWOL at the combine and threw a fucking WHITE PARTY to celebrate his draft day.
“I’ve learned the hard way that running backs are hard to come by,” said McDaniels.
Particularly in Denver, which has produced 1,000-yard rushers from the second round (Clinton Portis), the sixth round (Mike Anderson, Terrell Davis), and from the waiver wire scrap heap (Reuben Droughns). Way to overvalue the game’s most expendable position, Josh.
Give the glib Matthew Stafford a chance. Spent some time with him in February, and he’s a likeable guy with a Dan Fouts arm.
Oh, well then. That alleviates all my concerns. DRY YOUR EYES, DETROIT! THIS MAN WAS NICE TO PETER KING IN FEBRUARY.
The money is stupid, of course, but we’re judging players, not salaries
Actually, due to the salary cap, it’s impossible to cast aside salary matters when evaluating a player. If Matt Stafford fails to live up to the contract he was given, then the Lions aren’t getting maximum value from money they’ve spent which cannot be used elsewhere, and thus will continue to suck. So yes, the money being stupid is a problem. But hey, you got coffee with him.
Tyson Jackson may not lead the league in sacks (he had 18.5 in three starting seasons at LSU), but he will lead the team in “yes sirs”
Yes, but what about smiles? Will he lead the league in that crucial category as well? If so, then his inability to rush the passer will never be a problem.
I was like everyone else — Larry English at 16? Crazy — till I got on the phones Saturday night and kept hearing, “Great pick.” Imagine if Shawne Merriman comes back healthy, and this team has Merriman, English and Shaun Phillips coming off the various edges.
And now you know that offensive lines have more than two edges to rush off of. How is that possible? I don’t know. I bet those crazy “The Office” writers figured it out somehow.
”I am ashamed and humiliated … I realize I cannot be the husband, father, son and citizen I want to be until I overcome my addiction. It is my highest priority, and will be the toughest challenge of my life, but I am going to get the help I need to achieve a complete recovery.”
-Former NFL receiver Jimmy Smith, in a remarkable mea culpa after his arrest on drug charges Thursday. You don’t often hear or read players be as humble and full of regret after screwing up as badly as Smith did.
I applaud him, and those who wrote the statement…
…if, indeed, he meant what he’s quoted as saying.
Well Jesus fucking Christ. I don’t even know what to believe anymore.
Tweet of the Week
Really? This will be a regular item now?
/locks self in fallout shelter
The writer, Ayaz Hyder of Piscataway, N.J., is the first weekly Twitter award-winner in MMQB.
His prize? A day feeding Dr. Z mashed carrots.
Follow me and you might be next. That’s a threat.
It is? Well then, you’ve got my blood boiling!
The Twitter thing is going well. I have no idea what the value is to my company or to me…
You see, Twitter is like chemistry…
…but it’s fun, and the 6,490 Twitterers as of Sunday night came up with some good questions. Not very painful to respond, either. Sorry for all of you trying to get to me in the 24-hour period from 4 p.m. Saturday to 4 p.m. Sunday. Writing. Reporting. Monitoring. Traveling.
Eating. Expanding. Exerting a strong gravitational pull and influencing the tides.
Enjoyable/Aggravating Travel Note of the Week
Oh, boy. Here we go.
So I stayed at the Kansas City Marriott at Country Club Plaza over the weekend. I was pleased when I made the reservation because of the ridiculously low rate –$129 a night, which I think is the lowest rate I’ve had at any hotel since the training-camp trip last August. A city Marriott for $129 a night? Unheard of.
Looks like I know where I’m taking the kids on our next vacation, then. Who knew Kansas City would be affordable? It’s such a hot spot! You know what else you can do in this city? WALK! Who knew?
Great tip for bean-counters in a bad economy, everywhere.
You’re welcome, working class citizens of America. By finding a cheap hotel (that he didn’t actually have to pay for), Peter has single handedly saved you from a life of poverty and destitution. Peter likes hotel chains that love hotels.
Here’s the problem:
Oh god dammit. WHY CAN’T YOU BE HAPPY FOR ONCE?
The hotel was a jobsite. Still is.
Gee, might that explain the low rate there, Pete?
The lobby Friday featured the thudding and destruction of a major construction project. It was impossible to sit in the lobby without having your senses destroyed. I’d have stayed here anyway because I don’t hang around in hotel lobbies, and the rooms were quiet.
Then who the fuck cares?
But my question is: Why doesn’t a hotel chain as good as Marriott let potential hotel guests know that they’ll be staying in a construction zone? Then you’d totally understand the mess you’re heading into.
And then you wouldn’t stay at the hotel, and Marriott wouldn’t be able to fill any rooms, and then they’d go bankrupt, and then the world economy would collapse and we’d all begin selling our children’s live organs for bottled water.
But hey, it’s got a low rate. YOU POOR FOLKS OUT THERE SHOULD JUMP ON IT WHILE YOU CAN.
UPDATE: Commenters Upstate Underdog and AW both point out that Marriott fully discloses the construction when you book an online reservation. So really, what Peter King needs to do is beat his secretary.
In the lobby Friday, I commented about the massive mess to one of the bellmen, but he couldn’t hear me because of the construction noise.
That’s just what he wanted you to believe, my portly friend.
Changing planes at DFW Sunday, I used the men’s room near one of the American gates. I walked into one of the toilet stalls with the automatic flushers.
Bet that autoflusher had a nervous breakdown anticipating the king-sized Kit Kat you were about to blast its way.
WHOOOOOSH. I closed the door to the stall and sat down.
Three more times I heard the same WHOOOOOSH as I sat there and minded my own business.
That’s because it was trying to tell you something. It was telling you, “WHOOOOOSH… GET THE FUCK OFF ME. And stop tweeting, dammit. This isn’t a lounge.”
Of course, no flush when I get up and leave the stall.
YOU try flushing a goddamn telephone pole.
Gotta love technology.
Well, without it, we wouldn’t have concrete cyanide.
Really, really good story by ESPN’s Rachel Nichols on Michael Oher and the altruistic goodness of his adopted family.
Read all about Rachel’s story in “The Blind Side,” by Michael Lewis.
Hoping you didn’t buy in Jersey, Kellen Clemens. Hope you’re renting.
Unless you live in Montclair. A man could spend his whole life in Montclair and want for nothing.
I don’t like Brian Hartline to the Dolphins in the fourth round.
I love it.
WHOA! You totally had me going there!
Brian will definitely lead that team in “yes, sirs”. You watch.
I think in the interest of fairness in advertising, here’s how I fared in my Sports Illustrated mock draft (wasn’t that a beautiful design and layout and gatefold presentation in the magazine?)
You mean the one I had to open up and read sideways? Yeah, that was a blast. I spent the whole day marveling at it. Oooh, look! Saddle stitching!
Now I know how Paul Zimmerman felt over the years. “It’s torture,” he’d tell me, year after year, trying to get the mock as close to on the mark as he could. I saw how he worked it, starting at the league meetings in March and tirelessly calling every team, finding someone on each team who would give him one or two nuggets to point him in a direction.
But here’s how tough it is: Zim had five direct hits last year, and I know for a fact he worked it almost daily for a month. It’s just so hard to get right, because as Zim used to say: “One team making one pick you never figured screws up the whole thing.” This year, who had the Jets getting Sanchez at 5, or the Chargers pegging English at 16, or the Ravens moving away from Rey Maualuga ad trading up to 23, unexpectedly, to get Oher?
It’s a mock draft. Who in the fuck expects you to get it right?
Year after year, I say the same thing (actually, I stole this from a smart man in the league): The draft is the fourth-biggest pro sport in America, just behind the NFL, baseball and the NBA.
I’d like to meet this smart man in the league who failed to realize the NFL draft and the NFL are actually associated with one another as far as categorizing pro sports goes. But yeah, it’s a heck of an individual sport, this NFL Draft. What with its 4-point baskets, hexagonal fighting cage, and crazy penalties for hitting an opponent with your squash racket.
I think the Dolphins could be stealing a big exec from the Red Sox any day now — Sox chief operating officer Mike Dee — to be their CEO. Bill Parcells, the not-so-closeted Red Sox-a-holic, and Dee will get along just fine if the subject around the water cooler is Papelbon instead of Chad Pennington.
OOH, WE COULD GET PAPELBAWN TO RUN THE FACKIN’ WILDCAT! THAT WOULD FACKIN’ DEFINE CLUTCH!
I am so ticked off I missed Zack Grienke Friday night.
But this automatic toilet just wouldn’t flush!
Was that you, Zack, in the Classic Cup on the Plaza for breakfast Saturday morning? If so, a lot of us left you alone on purpose.
He respects your privacy, as he would the sun. Actually, Peter would have approached you, but there were miter saws being used outside! CURSE YOU AND YOUR REASONABLE RATES, MARRIOTT.
By the way, thanks to two Tweeters for steering me to the Classic Cup. Great pulse-of-the-Plaza breakfast spot.
You really get the feel of the hotel lobby when you eat French toast there.
Underrated coffee, always, comes from the French press. Had it Saturday, and even though it always comes out a little muddy at the bottom of the cup, it’s like Espresso Junior.
And never bitter. You fucking hear me, Sibling Rivalry?!
Good to spend the weekend around you, Ken Fost. You are Vasco de Gama, a true explorer.
Indeed, you are spiritual cousin to Pam Whiteley, who is Ponce de Leon.
And great to have you home, Jack Bowers.
Oh, Jack’s out of the hospital? Thank goodness.
You’ve got a little surprise, and I mean little, coming from your beloved St. Louis Cardinals in the mail.
Ooooh, what is it?! Is it a French press?
By the way, before we go, here’s a link to all the items being listed for the Dr. Z charity auction. Notice that nearly every item is valued as “priceless,” even items that clearly have an easily appraised face value. Oooh, autographed Dan Shaugnessy books! I hope they have gatefolds in them!
I want more like this!
Follow Kissing Suzy Kolber on Facebook and get the latest NFL news & humor before everyone else.