Michelle Beadle Hates Erin Andrews Confirms My Suspicions...

Listen Bob proclaimed her love and I also am a big Michelle Beadle fan so when she is out being Anti Erin Andrews (much like me) I fully support the cause. She basically called the whole peephole gate a conspiracy which I have done forever ago. Here's what she had to say:
I felt bad for her. She looked fabulous but it was such a violation. I mean, I've had moments in my apartment in New York when the blinds were up for one brief second and you think, "Ugh!" but that's nothing compared to what happened to her. Nothing.

I think things might have been handled differently, but she seems to be moving on. Sometimes these things turn out better for people.

If the implication was subtle in the above quote, Beadle was more straightforward in a phone conversation about Andrews’s leap from college football’s sideline to Oprah’s couch to the stage of Dancing with the Stars (during which time ESPN all but put Erin Andrews in bubble-wrap). “Funny how that all worked out,” Beadle says. I asked her about the potential backlash from Bristol regarding her quote — how extraordinarily sensitive the whole ordeal was and how even acknowledging that she watched the video is something ESPN won’t much appreciate. “Fine,” she said. “But who didn’t watch that video?” One of the book’s authors, James Miller, gives Beadle a lot of credit for keeping her admission on the record: “Lots of other folks would say to me, ‘Off the record — I watched it.’ So I give her credit for being honest.”

Make no mistake: In Bristol there are clear sides being taken by coworkers and management — Team Beadle and Team Andrews. In fact, Andrews supporters have quietly groused about Beadle’s relationship with ESPN’s NHL analyst Matthew Barnaby, implying that Beadle is treated differently and that Erin would never get away with something like that. The biggest slap in the face, to some Erin supporters, was that ESPN trotted out Beadle yesterday morning, along with Scott Van Pelt, for the network’s up-fronts — this despite her relationship with Barnaby, who’s now facing assault charges after an incident at the home of his soon-to-be-ex-wife Christine. But ESPN’s upper management has chosen its new fair-haired girl, it seems. For now, it’s Beadle. Beadle also maintains that her relationship with Barnaby was done “by the book,” in accordance with ESPN’s corporate policy about disclosing interoffice romances. Rumors have surfaced, however, that the Barnaby-Beadle relationship started getting serious at a time when Barnaby was still married. Beadle denies those rumors and maintains there was nothing illicit about their relationship."

Deadspin broke this because they are the 1st for everything TMZish for sports, but I'm so glad Beadle is against Andrews. I have never been an Andrews fan and even though all guys faun over her overrated ass I could see right through her bullshit. This obvious peephole thing was just a way for her to launch her career, before that there was no Oprah, no dancing with the stars no anything.

An Overdue Wrigley Wrecap

Surely, y'all noticed that I mentioned on more than one occasion that this past weekend I headed out to Chicago for the first time in three years to catch Northwestern lay a big, fat second-half egg against Illinois at Wrigley Field. The fact that the Wildcats rallied from a rather surprising early 14-point deficit only to turn belly-up after the long break notwithstading, the whole experience was pretty tremendous and unique for a whole host of reasons. Also, the trip had some pretty amusing moments. As a result, I'm here to give you a way-too-long recap of the festivities from start to finish in that discursive way you've all come to expect from me.

Here. We. Go.

I had been looking forward to this trip for several reasons, most notably because I have an awfully large soft spot in my heart for the Windy City and it had been far too long since I had been there -- nearly since I graduated from Northwestern, in fact. To boot, I'd be seeing several good friends in a massive defacto reunion, and the chance to see my college football team play in one of the most legendary venues in American sports only added to the excitement.

The night before jumping my 9 a.m. flight to Chicago, however, I was stuck at work past 1 a.m., which meant I'd be getting very little sleep before booking it to the midwest. This was mitigated by the fact that part of my late stay at the office was the result of some very exciting and potentially life-altering career news. I found 18 hours later that a few of my friends wanted to congratulate me by bringing some balloons by the office, which they then realized would go for naught as I was in the Norris Student Center Bookstore in Evanston, IL at the time. Either way, it was clear by the time I arrived at Laguardia that I was going to be extremely tired and in need of a nap on the plane.

So it's just my luck that I was sitting in front of a loud five-year-old who had a delightful habit of kicking the back of my chair.

The woman next to me seemed far less amused by the absurdity of the situation, declaring to me that "children shouldn't be allowed on shuttles". But I think she was a bit hard-nosed about it. After landing I had a bounce in my step, and a bit of an extreme rush to make my noon o'clock lunch plans at the Giordano's at 135 E Lake Street with the excellent Vawn and Dov. And lucky me, after sitting down on the blue line to downtown I found that the excitable five-year-old and his grandmother were on my train, too, and that they plopped down next to me. For a while I handled the conversation with decent aplomb, talking about transformers and Spider-Man. I did get a bit of a scare when I realized this five-year-old boy was born in 2005, when I was halfway through college, but otherwise it all went amicably until this uncomfortable exchange.

"So what were you doing in New York?"
"I was visiting my mom. I live in Chicago with my dad, but they split up because they had a fight."
"......Oh?"
"Yeah, my dad pushed my mom into a refrigerator, but now they want to be friends again."

This was the moment when his grandmother pulled him over and the conversation ended.

Lunch was delectable as I devoured my long-awaited Giordano's pizza, and I then dropped my things off at my friend Rachel's amazing apartment and headed up to Evanston for some extreme nostalgia. As I trekked around campus and took photos of my freshman year dorm, I headed to the student center to meet up with Lindsay Minnema and explore the almost entirely unchanged Daily Northwestern office. Touring campus is a bizarre experience if for no other reason than that you have no idea you ever left. There are minor changes, but for the most part everything feels the same and you start to wonder what time you have to be at your lecture tomorrow at Tech Auditorium.

After sufficiently snooping around town, I met up with Rachel and went with her to a shabbat dinner at a friend's house, which, I admit, was more religious than I expected, but I good time had by all. I enjoy the periodic resumptions of Jewish observance that I'm generally oblivious to. Also the food was tremendous. After this: the L back downtown, beers and TV, sleep and then waking early for the big event.

After years of rumors that ESPN College Gameday would be in Evanston for a Northwestern game, the show finally decided to show up for the Wrigley affair, and students began to make their presence felt by leaving campus on buses at 4:30 a.m. I did not wake up that early, though I did arrive by 9:30, and it took not more than three minutes before I made the first of several awkward run-ins with NU '07ers I hadn't seen since college nor expected to. Some run-ins were actually quite nice because they were people I was friendly with and occasionally still talk to, but some came extremely out of left field -- literally, I suppose, since we were at a baseball stadium.

I scarfed down the two leftover slices of pizza I had brought with me for lunch not knowing no food would be allowed in the Gameday pit, and then made my way in to meet up with Alan, who had the unfortunate luck of living next to me during the 2004-05 academic year. Poor sap. After watching a series of ridiculous signs, singing Take Me Out to the Ballgame with Ernie Banks and watching Mike Ditka make guest celebrity picks, we met up with Nomaan, Sean and the rest of my cadre, which involved finally getting my hands on my totally awesome looking tickets, watching the players enter the stadium through the alumni tent, and then heading to the young alumni tailgate, which involved an impressive amount of alcohol.

Game time.

Sean and I left the tailgate earlier to ensure that we'd be in our seats by kickoff, and after walking under the great marquee, which had been painted purple for the occasion, we arrived at our totally awesome seats to find the rest of our crew had somehow beaten us there. No matter. We were sitting in the first row of the stadium's top section right behind the West end zone, which provided not only a phenomenal view of the skyline, but also proved amazing fortune considering safety concerns regarding the East end zone had prompted a rule change that all play would go from east to west.

Though I wasn't sober, I could surmise these things: the atmosphere was fucking awesome. The whole crowd, whether in Purple or orange, was absolutely electric. There is something about seeing a college football game in chilly weather that brings out excitement regardless of venue, but doing so in what was such a special and history building created an extra sense of novelty and grandeur not found at your typical Northwestern game. The stadium was fitted with all the trimmings, with Northwestern's usual field painted down, banners of Northwestern football greats hanging along the concourses, Big Ten scores on the famous Wrigley scoreboard, purple and white Northwestern flags dotting the top of the stadium and the foul poles and even some very clever billboards. Though I was somewhat dismayed that Northwestern chose to come out in alternate black jerseys after I had bought a brand new purple one for the occasion.

The game was made somewhat more interesting by the fact that I was sitting in front of a curmudgeonly old Illini fan -- whom I later found out didn't even attend Illinois -- who seemed intent on proving to all of us that we were spoiled rich kids who didn't actually pay attention to football and were only here because it was the social thing to do. This brought on a series of quizzes as to whether or not I knew who such obscure characters as Dick Butkis or Ray Nitschke were. Evidently he didn't expect to be sitting behind someone who covers sports for a living, or who slept with NFL history books under his pillow for five years as a boy.

Eventually, I proved our worth as real sports fans to him, but the problem with convincing an old man that you know the sports of his time is that he proceeds to try to talk to you about them, and what it was like back in those days, for the rest of the game, which wasn't exactly what I was aiming for. Nomaan was less pleasant to him, but that related to an understandable and deeply-seated distaste for the arrogance of some Illini fans. As the game would wind down, the old man wished me the best and then confided that, "I actually wanted to go to Northwestern."

Zing.

Either way, I had forgotten how much fun it was to watch an NU game jam-packed with other alums or students. Every touchdown, in particular an exciting pick-six in the first half, led to an almost absurd amount of screaming, high-fiving, and hugging amongst hordes of people across all different ages who didn't actually know each other.

That's what college sports are all about.

Of course, following a disappointing defeat in which Illinois wracked up an absurd 500 yards on the ground alone, the details of the game itself are probably better left undiscussed, but the atmosphere of the game itself was amazing. Once it ended, however, I was quickly reminded of the worst part of games at Wrigley: the outlandish logjam at the Addison L stop. Sean and I decided to avoid this by heading off to Belmont instead, where we head downtown and I grabbed some dinner before heading out for a night of drinking with Rachel and my friend Amit, another Chicagoan I hadn't seen in years.

After quickly passing out on the inflatable mattress and battling a headache most of the next morning it was off to brunch with Rachel and then O'Hare for my flight home. In a bizarre moment of coming full-circle, the woman who sat next to me on my way to Chicago was on my flight back home. I approached her in the airport to tell her about my second run-in with the five-year-old and she was profoundly unamused.

Some people just don't have a sense of humor. Either way, the flight took off and I was on my way home. I left with a few drawn conclusions. The Wrigley experiment was excellent, and should probably be a regular thing for the Cats. Few things are better than a long fall day comprised of friends, beer and college football. And finally, I need to come back to Chicago more often.

That last one is hard to argue.

So Who's This LeBron Guy Everyone Keeps Talking About?

Now, I certainly wouldn't be the first person to say that they're tired of this outrageously unnecessary and vain "Decision" special ESPN is airing tonight. I probably won't be the last either. But, uh, I'm tired of this outrageously unnecessary and vain "Decision" special ESPN is airing tonight.

And not just because the screen graphic they made for it is absolutely ludicrous.

No, I'm just tired of it because I've had enough, just like some other major athletes who have been debating their future lately. What was at one point expected to be one of the most cataclysmic, history changing moments in the NBA has become an obscene horse and pony show, and at this point, I don't think I'm out of the majority by saying I just want it to end. Granted, as a Knicks fan, I do want it to end with my team getting the golden calf, but since no one seems to have any clue where on Earth LeBron is going, at this point I'm worn out and done with the suspense.

I want an answer.

But more than an answer at this point, what I want is to be entertained. Thoroughly. If I've had to wait through all these days of irritating round the clock coverage on LeBron that has been nearly as irritating as when they had a health watch running for Barbaro, well, there better be a payoff at the end. And not the kind of payoff I'd get simply from hearing LeBron is a Knick.

I'm talking about something truly fun.

At this point James is not simply a basketball player. He's an entertainer. He'd have to be to make such absurd poses and wear such ridiculous outfits in public. Maybe if we're lucky, he'll come out tonight dressed like an extra from the 1994 Des'Ree classic "You Gotta Be". Then we can have a Calvin Klein photo shoot.

Or maybe he'll come out wearing the same coat he has on in this ad. We can only hope.

Least likely to me seems that he'll wind up wearing this when he takes the stage, though it'd make me awfully happy. More likely, he'll come out in a fine suit and then put on one of those obnoxious College Football Signing Day type setups where he sits behind a table with each school he's interested in attending before he triumphantly picks one hat to the cheers of all his high school class mates.

If that winds up being the case, we could get some particularly solid entertainment if he picks one team and then winds up stuck in Kevin Hart-Type situation when he found out the L.A. Clippers never actually offered him a contract. Now that would be good TV.

Ok, let's be realistic here. That's probably not going to be what we see on TV tonight, particularly if LeBron winds up announcing his decision beforehand on his own website. Of course, it's probably more realistic that he stays in Cleveland to sign with the Browns. Either way, all of us are annoyed that we're being suckered into watching this craptacular lovefest, and yet we're all still going to watch.

At least it's created some good comedy fodder from the interwebs.

In any event, rather than rant about just how annoying all this bullshit is, I may as well just give some idea of where I think the jackass is going. Particularly since Chris Broussard changes his mind every four hours or so. Of course, Broussard isn't the only ESPN talking head who doesn't seem to have a clue, just the most irritating.

All that said, the obvious candidates appear to be Cleveland, New York, Miami and, maybe, Chicago. While many sources are now saying Miami is the place, so he can team up with Chris Bosh and Dwayne Wade to form something of a super team, this seems, to me, a bit ridiculous. Not because they can't all fit together under the cap. They can. But doing so probably requires them to fill the rest of the bench out with minimum salaried players, the result of which will either be, an extremely mediocre supporting cast or no supporting cast at all when they can't find enough quality minimum-salaried players to the make up a full roster.

As for Chicago, the allure of chasing after Michael Jordan's legacy is the major carrot the Bulls have put out there, but I don't necessarily see that as a selling point, particularly when the recruitment process has seemingly been more adversarial than cordial. Why on Earth would taunting and a guarantee that you will never be loved like Jordan appeal to any free agent?

And then we come to New York, which, perhaps as a bit of wishful thinking, is where I think LeBron will wind up tonight. Now, there are some obvious reasons why this would seem the likely landing spot. LeBron has an obvious love for New York, as shown by his regular wearing of a Yankee hat at nearly all times. Moreover, he has the chance to establish a strong legacy by rescuing a moribund franchise from the brink, as well as do so with another premiere free agent by his side following the Knicks' signing of Amar'e Stoudemire this week.

And there's the money. New York brings in the obvious media spotlight that makes money a major consideration, with the Knicks' own studies showing that LeBron's earning potential in New York is well over a billion dollars and certainly greater than in any other city.

But what really has me convinced are the circumstances surrounding the announcement itself. LeBron's "Special" tonight will be broadcast from the Boys and Girls Club of Greenwich, CT, which just happens to be a short drive from the Knicks' training facilities in Greenburgh, NY. Of course, if you listen to Broussard, James has picked Greenwich because it is neither Cleveland/Akron, nor New York City, which would have made his choice obvious. This would indicate that Broussard apparently knows naught for New York geography, since Greenwich, CT is just as close to New York City as Akron is to Cleveland. I should mention that some detractors point out that LeBron has to be in New York this weekend anyway for Carmelo Anthony's wedding, but to them I point out this:

LeBron James is, uh, rich. And doesn't need to be in New York two days early to be at Carmelo Anthony's wedding. He can fly in whenever he damn well pleases.

So there you have it. LeBron's whole charade is pretty irksome and long, and tiresome, particularly since I don't think he'll stay in Cleveland, which, to me, seems to be where he clearly wants to be. But at least it's given us something to talk about for a few days -- something even more interesting than the sport itself -- and when this chapter is published in NBA history and our kids read about, you'll know you were there. It may not actually be "college signing day crossed with JFK's assassination," but it's certainly something noteworthy in our sports, celebrity and media obsessed culture.

And we are all witnesses.

Because Philadelphians Need Reasons To Look Stupider

I had been trying to avoid talking about this young boy being tased in Philadelphia nonsense for a few reasons. For one, I'm bored with it. It's a pretty straight forward story: Boy stupidly runs on field, boy gets tased to protect athletes on the field, boy is fine, Philadelphia fans look dumb, we all move on with our lives while ESPN doesn't stop talking about it for days.

I was a little annoyed at that I had to keep hearing about it whenever a different former athlete cum studio analyst was asked his opinion on Sportscenter yesterday -- particularly since they all had the same opinion -- and then when ESPN decided to show a montage of the analysts reiterating their opinion, well, it was overkill.

But now I'm going to talk about it. Why? Because it got more interesting yesterday. And moreover, it got funnier.

Now, Philadelphia sports fans have done more than their fair share of stupid things in the past two years, but this, for reason of both immediate timing and for how it affected the game, might have, by far, been the stupidest.

When you go to a sporting event, one of the dumbest things you can do, is leave your seat and run onto the playing field. For one, it's illegal. More likely than not, you will spend your night in jail after making a dash from the stands for home. Incidents involving fans running on the field have ranged from the hilarious to the downright frightening. Given the event of the Monica Seles' stabbing in 1993, anyone who runs on the field, out of concern for the safety of the players, is likely to get the crap kicked out of them. And rightfully so.

So yeah. It's pretty stupid to run out onto the field. This we know.

But there is something even dumber.

The only thing stupider than running out on the field might be running out on the field the night after another fan was tased to the ground at that very same stadium. And the only thing stupider than that? Doing so in the top of the ninth inning when your tired and fading starter is trying to close out a 1-0 complete game shutout. Sure enough, Cole Hamels was near the tail end of his best start in a while against a potent St. Louis Cardinals team that he had dominated to that point, when a second Phillies fan jumped the fence and sprinted across center field.

Say what you will about how important it is for a pitcher to maintain his rhythm, but in this case it seems pretty valid. The game paused while the fan was apprehended -- Hamels was mid-delivery when time was called -- and five pitches later Hamels had surrendered two doubles that tied the game.

Now, one could say no harm, no foul, particularly since the Phillies won the game anyway on a Carlos Ruiz solo shot in the 11th inning,but, really, how dumb can someone be? Much as I'd love to paint all Philly fans with the same brush as this moron -- though there is something of a history of this at this park -- it should be noted that the sellout crowd booed him when he was apprehended.

Also, it bears noting that the man was charged with narcotics possession, which made it even more absurd that he would put himself in a position where he was almost certain to be arrested if he had drugs on him at the time. Oh yeah, and he announced that he was going to run on the field on twitter beforehand.

This was a bright guy.

If this debacle doesn't simply show you that, sometimes, people are really stupid, it should at least show you that running on the field, aside from leaving you potentially bruised, can clearly have a deleterious effect on the team you claim to support. If you claim to be a Phillies fan, why would you disrupt your team during a game that could potentially keep Philadelphia in first place and have a dramatic effect on the confidence of Hamels, who had been less than stellar of late?

Were I to screw up a start that brought Johan Santana to form, I'd be pretty angry at myself. Even Steve Bartman wasn't intentionally trying to ruin the Cubs' shot at a pennant when he interfered.

The idea that no one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of the American people never seemed so prescient. My only regret is that Matt Chatham wasn't there to level him to the ground.



Now that would have been a sight.