There Are Certain Things We Are Suckers For

Photo stolen. Stolen stolen stolen. Ha!

Ah, AAFL Castoffs, welcome to our practice squads. And our motion pictures, apparently. Jon Beutjer was signed earlier this week to the Tampa Bay practice squad to replace… someone less interesting (Mitch Tanney), who was stolen by Philadelphia to back up their motley crew of pre-triage quarterbacks. So, welcome to the Arena League, Jon Beutjer, you titan of industry, you. You’ve come long way from hurling lightning bolts at John Schweigardt at Wheaton Warrenville North South (including ones that knocked the Carl Sandburg Eagles out of the playoffs in 1999) and then being surly at Iowa and transferring to Illinois simply because you were attacked by your offensive lineman…

And how could we forget your illustrious Illinois career, where I personally hated your living guts for ruining the final home game of my undergraduate career? Though I’m forced to admit: the fact that Northwestern was wretched that year probably assisted you in that endeavor.

THEN you played for the Hamilton Tiger-Cats! Your official bio refers to you as a tall, pocket passer! Canadians think you’re immobile! That’s really amazing, Jon. Also, it would appear that describing you as “oft-injured” would be cheritable. The fact that you were double-concussed in high school adds additional intrigue to the mix.

Then the AAFL! Oh, it’s so exciting! The possibilities, the geographical team names, the fact that it collapsed like a hot-air balloon hit by a stinger missile… you could’ve been the star to which Lesser Fontes hitched his wagon, but alas, the mortgage industry is full of liars, cheats, and those who eat puppies for a mid-afternoon snack.

Ah, memories, Mr. Beutjer. Perhaps if you had Chris Sanders’ mom in your corner, you could’ve made the NFL. Maybe. Okay, that’s really unlikely, but if it helps you sleep at night, then use it.

Also: you might want to watch Brett Dietz. At least follow his lead in the category of “not being an enormous bindle of dicks.”

Weekend in Reviewaaaargh!

What happened over the weekend? Everyone who wasn’t screwed before is now screwed. Except for Sherdrick Bonner, whose wife had a baby. But Graziani got his leg snapped like a twig, and Dallas has about one more quarter of keeping Chris Sanders alive. Other things happened, but it’s already 5, and this “venerable” website hasn’t commented on ANYTHING from this weekend. Nerts. [Update: Did it, and before Tuesday ended, too!]

Oh, and Cleveland’s 3-0, and that heralds the End Times.

Fake analysis after ye olde jump.

Guest Post! In Re: Chicago Rush Sartorial Choices

Hi all. I’m Josh, and even though I never remember to post on my own blog, I’m writing a little blurb for my friends here at It’s Still Football.  Why? Because of something that combines my favorite things in the world: off-beat sports, online polls, & criticizing peoples’ fashion choices.

The Chicago Rush are introducing a third jersey this season — May 19th against LA. Mark your calendars — and they’re soliciting fan advice on which pants and helmets to pair it with.  There’s a poll on their front page and some illustrations featuring Gloria and Jen of the (Mit) SoBe (shi) Adrenaline Rush dancers.

With no offense to the lovely photoshopped ladies, can I just say how awful the third jersey is?  Your away jersey is already navy blue with silver, and you choose black with silver for the alternate?  I know the league is not known for it’s subtlety in uniform design, but please.  Are you trying to throw back to old Roger Staubach-era Army unis?

I’ll be voting for black helmets/silver pants.  Partly because I do think it’s kind of classy, but mostly because of that look that the Gloria on the right keeps giving me.

ALL HAIL OUR TRI-DIAMOND OVERLORDS

Owns you.

TOKYO, JAPAN – FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Our most munificent and magnificent Captain of Industry, the honorable Chairman Takashi Nishika, has announced that Mitsubishi Motors will remain the Official Motorcar of the Imperialist American Arena Football Sporting League for the 2008 season, the 20th year of the Hiesei Dynasty! ALL GLORY TO OUR MANY FAR-REACHING TENDRILS! In the interest of further expanding the Greater Asian-and-Everywhere-Else-on-Earth Sports Co-Prosperity Sphere, Mitsubishi is also pleased to announce that in addition to the Mitsubishi National Conference, Mitsubishi American Conference, and their sub-groups, the Mitsubishi Eastern, Mitsubishi Southern, Mitsubishi Central, and Mitsubishi Western Divisions. Additionally, Mitsubishi has been resplendently been granted the rights to re-name Chicago Rush quarterback Sherdrick Bonner. Henceforth, he will be known as Lancer Evolution Bonner. It is also easier to remember how to spell; so smarmy American not-journalists will not have to look it up every time. Banzai!

Additionally, when played by school children, the Arena Football League (presented enthusiastically by Mitsubishi) game will employ a pass rush wherein all defensive players must count to “5-Mitsubishi” before crossing the line of scrimmage to pursue the quarterback. Any non-sponsored word can be punished by an automatic first down (now known as first “Galant”) and distribution of Ainu Burns by the wronged team.

Our economic victory is at hand! First the Arena Football League (presented in HD by Mitsubishi on Mitsubishi TVs delivered by Mitsubishi employees in Mitsubishi vehicles to Mitsubishi patrons. Mitsubishi.), then, in the same manner that we are quietly turning our Japanese Defense Force into actual armed forces, we will turn the Arena League into a sporting power!

NOTE: In related news, readers will remember that San Jose Sabercats quarterback Mark Grieb won a Mitsubishi Spyder as part of his Arena Bowl XXI MVP award (as voted on by the illustrious authors of It’s Still Football!), which he exchanged for an Outlander, because it’s more practical. We will not forget this, Mark. You are a nice guy, and you have laser-vision, but … really? Also, did I really throw a “bonzai” in there? TC = Classy.

Arena Quarterbacks Convene Council of Trent Green

We at It’s Still Football have been fortunate to obtain the transcript of a hastily-convened meeting of all AFL starting QBs. The topic: the injury to Miami Dolphins QB Trent Green. Here are their assessments of the situation. And, thanks to Awful Announcing, video that - by now - everybody’s seen. For context. Or something.

Dr. Clint Dolezel, Ph. D. (Dallas): You know how I avoid career-threatening injuries like this? I don’t fucking block. It’s actually one of my many doctoral theses, entitled “Why A Quarterback Shouldn’t Have to Block.” Allow me to read to you from the abstract: “This thesis deals with why I never throw a block. I am a quarterback. Blocking occurs when a player without the ball impedes the progress of a defender. If the ball is not in my hands, it is in the air on the way to a receiver, in a receiver’s hands in the end zone, or I am on the sideline, having recently thrown a touchdown pass. In any of these situations, there is no one to block.” I cite my sources. They are impeccable.

Sherdrick Bonner (Arizona): Players now are so big, and fast, and strong that you have to protect yourself against this sort of thing. You have to practice good fundamentals so you don’t get hurt. People are talking about the rules to protect the quarterback so these sorts of injuries don’t happen on an ordinary play, and Mr. Green has to play smart and not lead with his head like that on an extraordinary play. In the Cretaceous Period, when I was a rookie, it was more anything-goes, and we had to know these things, simply to protect ourselves. Plus, there was a chance you’d get eaten by a Tyrannosaurus Rex. So, you know, you had to be alert.

Matt Nagy (Columbus): Let me tell you something. If that [expletive] Coach Walrus calls another [expletive] running play, I’m going to block with his hydrocephalitic noggin. After I RIP it from his BODY. THAT BASTARD. LISTEN TO ME: I KNOW WHAT I’M [expletive] [expletive] [clever new compound expletive] DOING.

Brett Dietz (Tampa Bay): Brett Dietz blocks with textbook form. Brett Dietz leaves the smell of cinnamon and vanilla in the wake of his blocks. Brett Dietz. Brett Dietz’s blocks remove stains from opposing players’ jerseys. Brett Dietz does not fall unconscious, unless it is by choice. Brett Dietz.

John Dutton (Colorado): I’m better than Cleo Lemon! Put ME in! Please. I’m so hungry. Oh, yeah, Trent Green. Tragic. Cut down in his prime. An American Hero. Whatever. Just sign me to a contract. I gots bills to pay.

Jeff Smoker (Nashville): [Drools.]

Matt D’Orazio (Chicago): Here’s what I don’t get: it’s a terrible block, just poor form by Trent, but Travis Johnson just goes after him. That’s just classless, waving your arms about like that. I simply can’t abide that sort of demonstration. Unless it’s by Bobby Sippio. But he usually earned it. By the way, does anyone know who I can throw the ball to next year? No? Okay, I have to call my financial planner.

Chris Griesen (Georgia): If I’m struck in the head, the only effect is the resounding chime, like someone tapped a glass bowl made of the finest crystal. It’s soothing, really. I then get back up and throw a 8-yard out pattern.

Shane Stafford (Orlando): Coach Gruden said he’d talk to us about it more when he gets back from hanging out with his family. I hate it when we have team meetings after Gruden Family Time - he’s always cranky and says “Jon says to do it this way,” in this weird sing-song falsetto. Occasionally he’ll get all weepy, and that’s really awkward. I just don’t want to get hurt.

Tony Graziani (Philadelphia): HEY! I THINK IT WAS A QUESTIONABLE DECISION TO BLOCK IN THAT MANNER BY TRENT, BUT ALSO WRONG FOR TRAVIS TO TAUNT A MOTIONLESS OPPONENT. ADDITIONALLY, I FIND TRAVIS’ APOLOGY LACKING. By the way, how’s my hair?

Mark Grieb: [Squints.] Yes. I know how to block. That’s not how you do it. I do it with the power of my mind. And practice. And community relations. But mostly my mind. [Continues to squint, endlessly.]

Briefly: Media Synergy? Maybe?

Tonight, on Kitchen Nightmares: the New York Dragons?

Really? They invited the New York Dragons to The Melting/Mixing/Melange Bowl or whatever the restaurant is called… to do… something. I have no idea. I’m going to try to get a screen capture if I can download it off of my TiVo.

It was completely random, but I do have to (shamefully) admit that I went “Woo! New York Dragons! It’s… that guy! Rohan Davey? Where’s Aaron Garcia? Probably tripped over a Best Boy and hurt himself,” when I saw them.

(It totally was Rohan Davey, by the way. Should I be frightened that I knew that?)

UPDATE: This requires a fuller examination. Watch this space. You know, if you’re entirely bored and want to know what a mediocre football team was doing on a weird reality show where a famous chef drops the f-bomb on horribly-run restaurant.

UPDATE TO THE UPDATE: This does not require a fuller examination. It is incredibly boring without being able to embed anything. The incompetent manager fails to log the reservations for, like, three New York Dragons, and it causes a flip-out, and it’s all very… whatever. There was some chicanery at the end where the employees play a little bit with the Dragons at their practice facility, but nothing explodes, and nobody re-injures Aaron Garcia or anything. If you like Kitchen Nightmares, you saw this. If you like the New York Dragons, comment below, because I wish to be informed of your existence, which I heretofore have considered mythical, like the Yeti. I also added a link to TWoP’s recap, which is also pretty good. 

A Message From Clint Dolezel

Hey, Brett. It’s Clint Dolezel. Dan Marino just congratulated you on your 421st touchdown pass, and I’d like to express my sentiments about that same event: Yawn. I don’t even remember my 421st touchdown pass. I remember my SECOND 421st touchdown pass. It happened this year. I like to call it my 842nd career touchdown pass. And I’m 23 passes into my third set of 421 touchdown passes. Just so you know. If you’d like, you can consider me mathematically more than twice the man you are.

Don’t worry, I won’t use this to seduce your loved ones.

Though I totally could.

Awesomely,

Dr. Clint Dolezel, Ph.D.
Chancellor, University of Putting the Ball In the Fucking Endzone

Out of Our Comas…

Briefly, anyway. Sooooooo… Yeah: that happened. We were up on Deadspin, and didn’t actually report on the game, because we did enough of that here. In any event: whee, yay fun.

The plan for this week was to recap what we got out of going to New Orleans (besides free food and carpal tunnel), as well as to decide what we’re going to do next. Unfortunately, real life got in the way. I know my esteemed co-editor is swamped at work, and my office has decided to block wordpress and any other blogging sites. That puts a crimp in the ol’ plans. So, if anyone wants to hire some random dude with a theatre degree, you know where to find me.

I’m going to get into a recap of the season eventually, but suffice it to say that we entered into this project for the purposes of having a regular target to make fun of, and ended up rather liking the sport. It was sort of weird, how it happened. We still won’t pretend to know what we’re talking about, but our setting of “Ironic Detachment (Cruel)” has shifted to “Ironic Semi-Detachment (Fondness)”.

What to do in the long months until the nets go back up? The title “It’s Still Football” could just as easily pertain to our alma mater, so we may throw up a post about Northwestern now and again, and if we come across weird football things that fall through the cracks, we’ll put them up. Of course, when Bobby Sippio gets picked up by the Bears, or something, we’ll weigh in. But we don’t really know what to do with ourselves. So, check in every now and then, and hopefully we’ll have something funny to say. Of course, if anyone out there has a suggestion, we’re open to it.

And, like I said, we still haven’t given the 2007 season the wrap-up that it’s due, so this isn’t a “signing off” post, or anything like that. I’m just ruminating because I can’t when I’m at work. Bastards.

I Missed Commisioner Baker’s Phone Call - It’s Probably For the Best

Well, I whiffed up and missed today’s “State of the League” conference call with Commisioner David Baker (right), because I haven’t learned my time zones. ET after the numbers means you go BACK AN HOUR, as it turns out. Soooooo, I failed those of you wondering if he would be on quaaludes like Darren Arbet or if he’d reminisce about the Great Depression like Doug Kay. I hope there’ll be a transcript of Baker’s call posted somewhere, and I hope that there will never be any evidence of yesterday’s call posted anywhere. I hope the tapes were destroyed, and the warehouse where the backups were kept burned, and the Internet scourged.

For all of you burgeoning journalists out there, a free tip: don’t waste 45-50 seconds explaining why you’re allowed to ask a question. If you must explain yourself - perhaps you’ve had a small stroke, and your reasoning skills aren’t up to snuff - don’t abruptly stop explaining yourself, only to then launch into the background to why you want to ask the question. Just ask the question. On the bright side, I got that out of my system. My falsetto also got a good workout, as my voice kept sliding higher and higher as I realized I was, journalistically speaking, in flames. Some woman screamed “MY BABY!” and over the crackling, you could hear an infant screaming. Then the building was struck by a dirigible. And the dirigible set upon by a dragon. And the dragon struck by lightning. And then they built a kerosene refinery on top of the rubble, and built the Oily Rag Depository next door. You know, metaphorically speaking.

At least Coach Kay didn’t tell me to get off of his call, or reach through the phone lines and slap me. He was actually much nicer to me and my rambling than he was to the guy who asked if he was having fun.

It’s Still Football Needs Your Input!

 
If you want to get technical, the newsies depicted weren’t members of the press.

As was implied yesterday, Joe and I will be hopping in either my private jet* or his luxury yacht** and heading to New Orleans for Super Arena Bowl XXI. (That strikethrough - awkward) That’s not the exciting news, though. The exciting news is that, as part of the AFL’s “Blog of a Lifetime” Hyperbolically Named Contest, your acerbic servants will be bona fide, accredited, members of the press corps. Eat your hearts out, Medill grads! With our unparallelled access access parallelled only by legitimate news agencies, we want to provide you, the fan (or otherwise curious party), with information you can use. To that end, we plan on passing along anything interesting from the press kit, as well as random-ass interviews with whoever we can get our hands on. Extra P wants us to interview the fans. Done and done. We’re more than open to ideas, and while we don’t necessarily want to make the Arena League Powers That Be regret giving bloggers press credentials, we’re willing to make as much trouble as we can get away with.

In order to blend in with the rest of the ink-stained wretches, we’re going to buy our fedoras, wear our ill-fitting suits, and correspond as often as we are able. Hopefully, we’ll be remarkably drunk during some of it.

Our to do list, as of lunchtime today:

• Meet Commissioner Hagrid. Take picture of me being dwarfed by him. Perhaps have him palm my head. Then ask penetrating questions, perhaps pertaining to NFL Europe’s demise and the AFL’s relationship to the NFL. Discover whether or not he’s afraid of the Elway Coup.
• See Styx. Seriously. They’re the entertainment on Saturday night. My friends and I called information one time and asked for “Tommy Shaw of Styx fame,” because we lived in the same suburb. Information hung up on us.
• Go to/perhaps enroll Joe in the AFL combine. Interview hopefuls. Hopefully they will have entourages. I couldn’t figure out what the plural of “posse” is. They all looked wrong.
• Talk to the Mikes. See what they’re really like. Follow them, while humming theme from The Odd Couple.
• Drink.
• There’s a 5AM tailgate. J wants to go in PJs. 
• Ask funny questions in the press conferences that we’re allowed and encouraged to go to submitted by readers.
• Hang out in the media’s hospitality suite and try to converse with foreign journalists.

That’s all we have for right now, as I recall. We have a week and change to make our plans. I’m giddy.

*2003 Ford Focus
**200X Oldsmobile Intriuge