With today’s unanimous vote by the MTA to grant the West Side rail yards land to the New York Jets, it appears the Manhattan football stadium will become a reality. And as a non-Jets fan who vociferously opposes the 2012 Olympic bid, I say, good. It’s long overdue.
As a stadium architecture buff who looks for the sports facilities first whenever I drive through any major city, I look forward to seeing the first major outdoor stadium go up on the island of Manhattan since the New York (baseball) Giants left the Polo Grounds behind to go west a half-century ago.
New York Press, fresh off that wonderful idea of making fun of the Pope’s imminent death, yesterday came out with its third annual 50 Most Loathsome New Yorkers list.
Really, nothing to see here folks. While the list has been very funny before, and I wholeheartedly agree with the selection of Mayor Bloomberg as #1, this year’s list is neither particularly well-chosen or well-written. NYPress’ editorial opinion seems to be that any New Yorker who has reached any level whatsoever of fame or success in politics, business, entertainment, or sports is loathsome just by virture of their very existence. My patience with this once-great paper continues to wear thin.
I know that, in my reduced vacation state, this blog is starting to resemble an obituary page. But I was informed this evening by my colleague Joe Koczera that former U.S. Senator Howell Heflin of Alabama has died at the age of 83.
I’m sure Sen. Heflin had a long and distinguished political career, but like Joe I remember him for one and only one thing: his rambling, doddering, and barely coherent questioning during the Clarence Thomas confirmation hearings, later parodied in the classic “Saturday Night Live” sketch by Chris Farley (“I agreee wit Senata Heflin,” said Dana Carvey-as-Strom Thurmond).
Heflin gets credit, though, for outliving Farley by nearly eight years, even though he was born 40 years earlier. That’s more than I can say for Frank Sinatra, who was played for years on SNL by the much-younger Phil Hartman, and then died about a month before Hartman did.
Three Carolina Panthers -Todd Sauerbrun, Todd Steussie, and Jeff Mitchell- allegedly received steroids from a doctor around the time of the 2004 Super Bowl, it was reported yesterday.
Now, put aside how laughable it is that the baseball players under investigation for steroid use are all superstars, while the football players are all non-stars, and one of them is a punter. It all makes sense, for three reasons: One, that the middling Carolina team was able to reach the Super Bowl last year. And two, that a pair of incidents- Sauerbrun’s long-running feud with the Gramatica family of kickers, and Steussie’s infamous shot at Page 2’s Bill Simmons (“I guess that’s why he’s not on Page 1”)- can both be explained by ‘roid rage.
My favorite magazine issue of the year is here- I haven’t read it yet, but at least they’ve got the Twins winning the Central. Maybe this cover means the Yankees AND Red Sox are cursed, and “Minny” can slip on through to the Series.
Hulk Hogan’s famous “Grr” extends way beyond the wrestling ring and into his home. Not only is he a world famous wrestler – he’s also a very “red state” suburban dad who lives on a 20,000-square-foot estate in Florida with wife Linda, 16 year-old daughter Brooke, who he won’t allow to date and 14 year-old son Nick, who wants to be a race car driver.
Who knew the Hulkster was a “red state” guy. I’d have thought orange state, since that’s the rather bizarre hue of his skin.
Johnnie Cochran, the attorney best known for helping O.J. Simpson get away with murder, has died at the age of 67.