You Might Remember Him From Such Blogs As "Deadspin" And "Tera Patrick Makes Me Nut"

The NFL preseason is nigh! And while the NFL preseason blows, it sure beats the fuck out of baseball. We'll also get a sneak preview of NBC's brand new Sunday Night coverage. Dick Ebersol, pick your theme music wisely! Theme music is half the battle. FOX has been milking "Sleigh Ride" for 10 years now. And CBS has that dogshit new music with the raps that were clearly written by a white person to open their games. Last time NBC had the NFL, you used a score by Randy Newman. Never do that again, or I'll fucking kill you.

To celebrate the opening of another illustrious NFL television season, we bring you a brand new contributor: Christmas Ape! Yes, Christmas Ape has a long, distinguished career in journalism. He was a beat reporter for Velvet magazine, executive editor for Town & Country, and once published a newsletter that concentrated strictly on collecting antique railroad timetables. Now that's diverse interests! What a guy!

So welcome Ape to the KSK family, won't you? He's the Makeout King of Montana!

KSK Weekend Special: It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

We wouldn't let you go an entire weekend without cheerleaders. Oh, you poor readers, stuck laughing it up at a Big Daddy Drew piece instead of ogling Hot Cheerleader Ass. Well, at least somebody out there in the blogosphere was picking up our slack, finding a former Sea Gal in the pages of Maxim. (See, we would have never found that -- we're much too highbrow for Maxim. We prefer more challending reading, like the New Yorker and Juggs. Well, except Footsteps Falco. He died recently from autoerotic asphyxiation with a copy of not-at-all-about-fishing Rod & Pole open next to him.)

Anyway, while we're on the subject of the Sea Gals (not to mention asphyxiation, as airway constriction is all too familiar to Seattle fans), here are last year's Sea Gals decked out in sexy little referee uniforms. I'm guessing this was a really popular gimmick with Seahawks fans until, oh, I'd say around February 5th or so. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that this won't happen again in 2006. Not unless they do some kind of interpretive dance with strap-ons.

Ed Hochuli is totally jealous of how tight their shirts are.
Anyway, this wasn't just a photo shoot. The Sea Gals wore these stripes for the halftime show of last October's game against the mighty Texans, a long-ass routine done with cheerleading squads from the Seattle area... the halftime show, not the game, that is. You can watch it here.

If you choose to watch it, I must warn you: Don McLean was referring to this dance mix when he sang about the day the music died. It's horrendous. I listened to five and a half minutes of it before I left the room to tear the head off a kitten. But the video is still a little funny: the high school cheerleaders are all, "I'm busting my ass and risking spinal injury to pull off this basket catch, and those Sea Gal bitches shake their tits and do a kick line?"

Yay! Life is fair for pretty people!

Your 2006 NFL Suicide Pool Preview

Any asshole can preview the fantasy league season. I do. But there's so much more to foolishly wasting your money on the NFL than that. Like the yearly NFL Suicide Pool, which is the sports betting equivalent of putting $25 on double zeroes at the roulette table and then watching the wheel spin for ten weeks before it hits 2. That's some sweet action!

I have two rules for doing my suicide pool picks. And, since I've never won one, you'd do best to heed them!

-Try and avoid the obvious pick.
-If possible, never bet on a road team.

You also need to pick your Patron Saint team for the year, the team you think will be shitty enough to lose on a consistent basis. Watch your ass when you do this. Everyone assumes Houston and San Fran will be God-awful this year, but few teams not coached by Les Steckel manage to go 2-14 or 3-13 or 4-12 two years straight. A genuinely lousy squad must have three key elements:

-Shitty coach
-Shitty defense
-Shitty QB

What team might have those inherently desirable qualities? Oh, wait! I know...

Buffalo.

They're perfect. Crappy retread coach who lost half his face while opening the Ark of the Covenant? Check. A QB competition lamer than an Ani DiFranco concert? Check. Surprisingly awful defense? Oh yeah. Plus, they have a rookie GM who used to wear an onion on his belt (which was the style at the time) and the running back who personally ruined my chances for making the fantasy playoffs last year. Willis McGahee, I wish years and years of baby mamma drama upon your head.

You know the rules. Pick one team to win each week. You can only pick a team once. Right. Let's sort the buyers from the spyers, the needy from the greedy, and those who trust me from the ones who don't. Because if you can't see value here today, you're not up here shopping. You're up here shoplifting. It's seppuku time!

Week 1: New England over Buffalo
And remember: If Bill Belichick fucks your wife, it was strictly a tactical decision.

Week 2: Cincy over Cleveland
Assuming Carson Palmer is healthy. Actually, assuming he's not healthy either.

Week 3: Miami over Tennessee
Because betting on Daunte Culpepper will never steer you wrong!

Week 4: KC over San Fran
Larry Johnson will either have 1,000 yards or a torn patellar tendon by this time.

Week 5: Chicago over Buffalo
An embarrassment of riches this week, with Tennessee in Indy, the Jets in Jacksonville and Cleveland in Carolina. Even the big-titted receptionist who wears too much base makeup will ace this week.

Week 6: Dallas over Houston
Or go bold with Detroit over Buffalo as your "Pick an awful team and hope they beat an even more awful team" week, which is always a sphincter closer. The Skins and Denver are also good picks this week.

Week 7: Seattle over Minnesota
A quick recap of the Vikes' last two games against Seattle: Shaun Alexander got 5 TD's in one fucking half, and then Randy Moss threw a game-losing interception. Hey, that was fun to watch! Let's flip to "Grey's Anatomy" and finish the job that Satan started!

Week 8: San Diego over St. Louis
An absolutely brutal week. Order the potato skins to calm your nerves.

Week 9: Jacksonville over Tennessee
And considering every Jacksonville game ends 10-6 with at least 30 false start penalties, this will be awesome to sit through!

Week 10: Atlanta over Cleveland
One game this week will be moved to Sunday Night. This will not be the one. This is a double-lock pick if Matt Schaub or any other actual QB is playing for the Falcons.

Week 11: Arizona over Detroit
And considering that Arizona is a "chic pick" to win a lot of games this year, this prediction comes with a huge red fucking warning sign that blinks "Kurt Goddamn Warner!" anytime you go near it.

(Notice that I have saved Pittsburgh, Denver and Indy until now. Huzzah!)

Week 12: Indy over Philly
Yep, this is usually where the Colts peak.

Week 13: New Orleans over San Francisco
This is usually about the time I pick up Frank Gore off waivers. That kid has a lot of potential for a guy with two reconstructed knees and no o-line!

Week 14: Pittsburgh over Cleveland
Assuming the Browns have enough healthy players to actually field a team.

Week 15: Minnesota over NY Jets
At which time the Vikings will be 6-8 and still in the thick of the playoff race.

Week 16: Tampa over Cleveland
The first road pick. Perhaps the Browns should be our patron saint team this year.

Week 17: Denver over San Fran OR Baltimore over Buffalo
You see how much room I left you with? I didn't even have to use the Redskins. Be sure to spend your winnings on idiotic things, like Super Bowl boxes. And be sure to thank me when you do.

The History Of Pro Football, Volume I

Today we discover...The History...Of Pro Football!

Volume One - A League Crawls From Its Mother's Bloody Womb

So there was this place called America, and they just had, like a Civil War or something, so everyone was kinda bummed out. And global trade wasn't what it is today, so nobody had any pot to smoke. Eveveryone felt pretty shitty. A lot of dudes were playing soccer and rugby, but those both kinda sucked. Then some really smart people mushed them together and made this other sport, and they called it football. It was rad. Soon after, team owners were paying money to get the best players on their teams, probably since old cigars and moustache-laden BJs only seemed to influence the wealthy industrials of the day. The first documented professional footbal player was Pudge Heffelfinger. In 1892, he was paid $500 for one game, which is like 15,000 lap dances when adjusting for inflation.

So pro football was born out of the industrial pockets in Ohio. Or Pennsylvania. One of those two. Anyway, the first football players were usually descendants of rich industrialists, and were considered spoiled by general members of society. The football used was usually rounder than today's pigskin, and there was no forward pass.

The game, by all accounts, was in its infantile stages, and the athletes of the day did not enjoy the status of their counterparts today. Most players lost out on their towns' quality tail to those on local baseball teams, and could only score decent premarital nookie through extensive social connections and town whores. You know, like the rest of us. Players like Georgie Hattefield didn't ever wear hard protective gear. They also pioneered social innovations such as treating women without dignity or respect, and imbibing in alcohol and general lewdness after games.

The game began to grow around the turn of the century, and franchises began to take hold in the enormous metropolitan citites like Canton, Dayton, and Massillon. The game became more specialized, and outside coaching became an emerging trend. Massillon coach Mickey Copernicus (highlighted) led the Tigers to a 4-0-1 record in 1899. Copernicus was an ardent student of the game, and would often be found by himself in prolonged study at the local library. Mickey would leave football in 1901 to fight in the Spanish-American war, and become a combat vet.

In 1920, the American Professional Football Association
was formed. This precursor to the NFL was formed standardize rules for member teams. As the season progressed, teams out of contention disbanded. The league changed its name to the "Eastern American Federation Of Ellipsoid Tossers," then re-changed it to the "United States Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat League," before finally settling on "National Football League."

The most popular player of the 1920s was Harold "Red Ass" Grange, who was also a hugely popular college player at...somewhere. His inspiring play attracted huge crowds and was said to give opponents "the red ass," thus the moniker. When Grange joined the NFL with the Chicago Bears in 1925, the prissy outfit shortened Grange's nickname to "Red." Grange retired from football in 1928 during a contract dispute while filming his silent movie, "The Figuratively Unsanitary Group Consisting of Twelve Persons." He never played again.

Hall of Fame Game is 3 Days Away

Face it, the start of the NFL preseason is like picking your girlfriend up at the airport and only getting a handjob that night, either because she's "tired" or "just wants to talk" or some other bullshit. Naturally, we don't mind, because we understand that the more spirited encounters are right around the corner. And because we've had ellipsiod-shaped blueballs for all this time, we'll take whatever we can get.

But it's not only preseason for the players and the teams, but also for you. We're serving notice: get ready. Stock your fridge with cheap beer. Post the phone numbers for your local pizzerias in a safe, dry place. Get your pregame music situation sorted out. Or, just head over to this guy's place.



I do believe he is ready for some football. Somebody throw that guy a Big Mac.

Trash Talking 301: Taking It Up a Notch

Training camps have opened, which means that players aren't just getting their minds and bodies ready for the NFL season, but their mouths as well. Indeed, wide receivers need to whip themselves into a self-aggrandizing frenzy of braggadocio in order to run the perfect post route, safeties need to treat opponents with appropriate amounts of supercilious contempt, and what's a sack celebration without vainglorious gasconade?

Well, Kissing Suzy Kolber is here not just for the fans, but for the players as well. We have compiled a list of 2006's hottest "smack" guaranteed to get inside an opponent's head. We invite the players to use any and all of these spectacular insults. Free of charge, because that's the kind of guys we are.

"My fleetness of foot renders moot your desire to strike me down on the field of play!"

"I invite you to try that stunt throughout the duration of this match; I shall remain as unfazed by it as I was on the previous play."

"Your mother has committed various acts of intimacy with several citizens throughout this township. I happen to know this first-hand."

"You have failed in your task of preventing me from procuring a new set of downs! I plan on doing this again, while you watch helplessly."

"Very well. Pistols at dawn? Have you the desire to finish this like a man? Ha, I thought not! Men of such swagger wilt when faced with the prospect of meeting their Maker."

"I do say, your first-born son bears my likeness."

"Excuse me, sir. Was it your responsibility to prevent me from catching the pigskin on that play? I'm not sure whom to address, as none of your allies were in my field of vision whilst I raced untouched to the end zone."

"My vicious strike upon your body shall appear on national sports-highlight television shows."

"Please refrain from entering my zone of influence, as it will only result in irreparable harm to your body."

"I doubt you shall ever reproduce, as you prefer the company of men."

"That shan't be done in this abode! Have you heard my words? NOT IN MY ABODE, GOOD SIR."

(Click on picture to read text)
Oh, snap! No you didn't, Superman!

Anyway, we very much expect Chad Johnson, Steve Smith, and Clinton Portis to use these phrases throughout the season. We might even be disappointed if they don't.

Willie Roaf? You, Kind Sir, Are A Bastard

I had it all mapped out, Willie Roaf. I poured through every fucking fantasy guide I possibly could, even that faggity ass Street & Smith's one they must publish a day after the Super Bowl ("2006 could be a great year for the Saints if Aaron Brooks finally gets it together!") I had my shit color-coded and everything. I took into account contract years, bye weeks, strength of schedule, uniform color, average weight, and cheerleader strokability. I had my draft board all set to go, which is a bitch because Yahoo! still fails to understand the concept of Javascript rankings.

My board was prepared. It was beautiful. It was sacred. It told me that Hines Ward is more valuable than Marc Bulger, and fuck anyone who believes otherwise. Many people follow things religiously: the Ten Commandments, the Koran, Starfleet Academy rules, etc. Me? I follow the board. The board rules above all else.

And you had to go and fuck it all up by retiring. Willie Roaf? You, kind sir, are a no-good dipshit fuckface cocksucker barrel-chested assmunching pile of fuck four-eyed bastard.

You dick. You want to go get your degree? Pfft. That's crap. You were put here on Earth for my enjoyment. You're like a Rock-'em-Sock-'em robot, but with my hand up your ass. Your degree has no place on my fantasy board. That's what we call an "invariable". You know who also likes invariables? Communists. Skirt-wearing, Not Dog eating, give-money-to-some-smelly-homeless-person communists.

What do I do with this board now? Larry Johnson was my clear cut #1. But I know damn well the Chiefs offense struggggggled when you missed a handful of games last year. So now I have to do the whole LJ/LT/uh...SA (Dammit, Shaun Alexander needs one of those gay fantasy nicknames, like SeaShaun or S-Lex or Sugar Tits) thing again. All of America has to do it again. All so you can get your degree. In fucking sociology! Sociology is the major for people who don't like learning. You want to study human behavior? Here's a fucking ingenious idea: walk around. There are literally people everywhere you go. And they're usually not as gay as the ones you find on a college campus.

And not only are you retiring for a worthless sociology degree, you're doing it at Louisiana Tech, the only school in America whose very name is a contradiction-in-terms. What tech is there in Louisiana? Will you be writing your term paper on a fucking Osborne? Maybe you could play Adventure while you're at it. Get used to seeing this phrase a lot:

"You're in a maze of twisty little passages."

Asshole.

You should know above all else not to fuck with the fantasy community. We're the second largest lobby in Washington, next to the Oil/Tobacco/Owl Grinding industry. We do NOT play games, my friend. We watch games, and then create a second game based upon the arbitrary statistical results of that first set of games. Does that sound like a group of people you want to piss off? Mike Shanahan learned the hard way. He made us mad and we chained him to a tanning bed for 3 straight weeks just so he would let Mike Anderson go.

Now, thanks to your complete and utter selfishness, I have no idea if Eddie Kennison is worth a 6th round pick or a 7th round pick. You happy? I don't even know what to do with Trent Green, or Gonzo, or fucking Samie Parker. And that affects the whole rest of the board! If the KC offense isn't quite as good, that throws off the entire schedule rankings. It's like the Butterfly Effect, except in this case the butterfly is a big, fat, 400-lb. rib-eating Monarch who also happens to be a self-absorbed dipshit.

You say you have "nagging knee and hamstring" ailments. Oh, boo fucking hoo. I had a hangnail this morning, and I'm at work! What's your pussy little excuse? I bought Sunday Ticket, and you were 1/2000th of the reason why. You owe me a dime. You fucker. I hate you, Willie Roaf. You are totally not a Hall-of-Famer.

UPDATE: The Chiefs traded for Michael Bennett today, which is kind of like paying someone to punch you in the nuts. No one trips over the pulling guard's foot quite like the former Badger. Enjoy, Chiefs fans!

The Vikings: R. Kelly's Fantasy Team

Welcome to the latest in our 32 part series, Better Know a Football Team.

I'm that star up in the sky

I'm that mountain peak up high
Hey I made it, mmmmmm
I'm the world's greatest

-Robert Kelly

Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with a great deal of pride that I introduce you to your defending NFL champions, the Minnesota Vikings.

So what if they didn’t win the Super Bowl, make the playoffs, or even win more often than they lost? As you should know by now, the only ranking we here at KSK give a damn about is Comedic Output (C.O.) and Comedic Upside Means (C.U.M.). Based on last year’s stellar campaign the fans in the great white north are chomping at the bit for another run at comedic immortality. Obviously the residents of the Lake Minnetonka area will be returning to a state of high alert, with a Smoot Watch in full effect. Authorities are advising residents to avoid all things phallic until the dual storm front blows over.

In an effort to curb the entertainment value of his newly acquired money pit, owner Zygi Wilf quickly dispatched of Mike Tice, his team’s head coach and resident MENSA rejectee. While we can no longer bask in the radiance of Tice’s befuddled expressions or at his marvel clock management snafus, we must not panic. Remember dear reader, comedy has an intrinsic ability to seek out these Purple-clad Not Ready for Primetime Players. Last year, many humor pundits (no, not him) fretted over the loss of Randy Moss and his propensity to fulfill comedic desires . Despite the loss they were able to raise the bar to a level most people never imagined.

Sources around the league are altogether unsure of what they can expect to see from new coach Brad Childress (unfortunately he still refuses to don the coif that put his namesake on the map). Truth be told, I don’t know who the fuck he is and I thought I knew everything. In order to properly inform our readers we embarked on a fact finding mission to the childhood home of Coach Childress. If you really want to know about a grown man then you’ve gotta go talk to his mama.

KSK: Ms. Childress, it’s an honor to have a few moments of your time.

Ms. C: Oh please, I’m just so honored to be in the company of such brilliant and virile young men.

KSK: You flatter us Ms. C. So what can you tell us about Brad? You must be very proud.

Ms. C: I’m sorry? I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about.

KSK: Your son Brad of course, the new head coach of the Minnesota Vikings.

Ms. C: I don’t remember any son named Brad, and that’s the kind of thing I just might remember! You oughtta put down that reefer before you kill any more brain cells.

KSK: You are Ms. Childress of Aurora, Illinois are you not?

Ms C: I surely am but I think I’d remember some kid named Brad. In fact the only son I can remember was eaten by a walrus a number of years ago. Call me back if you want to talk about my bridge club.

Well there you have it, not even Brad’s mom could pick him out of a lineup. The poor guy was the least conspicuous offensive coordinator in all of football last year seeing as how Andy Reid called every play from scrimmage (except for the three times they ran the ball).

We recently provided Childress with a transcript of our conversation with his mother. Although he declined comment, he did declare, "I drive a Dodge Stratus!"

The Vikings roster is slightly more recognizable than the guy with the headset. Brad Johnson is expected to anchor the offense (seriously?) even though he’s making slightly less money than Ed Hochuli. Once again the running game will be compromised of a menagerie of hopefuls (like Chester Taylor) and glorified third down backs (like Mewelde Moore). I’m willing to wager that the team will be on it's hands and knees (Get away from me, Fred Smoot) begging Onterrio Smith to come back (according to reports he was last seen being fired from a Winnipeg area Chippendales establishment for concealing a foreign instrument).

Steve Hutchinson and Bryant McKinnie are both devastating blockers, although only the latter studied under Colonel Angus. Last year’s exploits gave fans a new reason to call him “Mount” yet some were off put by his questionable decision making, notably his decision to go downstairs on a dirty stripper (don’t worry B, strippers aren’t people).

The defense, although moderately improved, are still far from dominating anybody. By switching to a Cover 2 scheme the coaches are setting up Smoot to get burned like he was dating a Mexico. This team's pending season reminds me of the scene in Chasing Amy when Holden tries to get Banky and Fingercuffs in on a threesome (brought to you by Bad Idea Jeans). Just look at their first round draft pick Chad Greenway, dropping him into the middle of that locker room is like throwing a toddler into a ball pit, panic followed by hysterical crying. Can you imagine some rookie from South Dakota trying to converse with guys like Smoot and McKinnie? I can...

SmootSmack: Yo, I was hittin’ this chick last night that was dirtier than the Missisip! Hypnotic 'n Henny always gets me balls deep in trouble.

Mount: Goddamn son! You get into nastier ass than me, and I started the 7th Floor Crew.

Chad: Yeah, well last night Betty Sue and I double dated with AJ Hawk and Laura Quinn over at the Olive Garden. Just because we’re rivals doesn’t mean we can’t all be friends.

Mount: Shut the fuck up, Bitch!

It's scenarios like this that makes me wish HBO had taken Hard Knocks to the Vikings camp. Throw in the possibility of a Koren Robinson relapse and you can just about write them in for the Emmy.

This is going to be one hell of a great season...unless your name is Zygi.

Fantasy Football: The Only Birth Control That's 100% Effective

[Author's note: For those of you still wondering about the Deadspin posters' fantasy football league league, we're all filled up with 16 teams. Some of you were inquring about starting another posters' league. If some of the more motivated posters are interested in gathering a herd and setting that up in the comments section of this post, feel free. For those posters in the FFLXDSP, the draft order, and the beginning of my conquest, will be announced August 9th. That's a Wednesday. -MMP]

I don't claim to be an expert. Well, at least not in fantasy football (FF). But when you're involved in ten fantasy leagues, you're bound to have opinions that differ from the conventional "wisdom." Some of this you may have already heard from other sources, but I suspect it will benefit a lot of people getting into FF for the first time this fall. These are just a few basic points I've assembled under the title "Don't Be That Guy."

Don't be that guy, the one that can't understand the concept of RELATIVE VALUE in FF. Yes, Peyton Manning is better than Tiki Barber, in football. But Tiki is more VALUABLE in FF. Consider:

MARGINAL COST: The difference between RBs 1-10 is MUCH greater than the difference between QBs 1-10. And you need TWO RBs, so don't fuck around with the quarterbacks until you have at least two dependable RBs on your team. I will get three, because the dropoff between the good backs and the average backs is so severe. Nobody seems to realize this until a week after the draft, when I'll find email in my box from some guy offering me Antonio Gates for Stephen Jackson. Don't be that guy.

Don't be that guy that goes right down the list out of his favorite magazine on draft day. The projections (especially the Yahoo! auto-lists) are wrong! So many rankings are based on what guys did last year. Is that bad? No, but that's not how you want to build your team.

VARIANCE: Almost half of the Top 10 players at each position fall out of the Top 10 the following year. Who will be taking their places? Figure it out. Whose situations have improved the most? Ronnie Brown is not splitting carries this year. Same with Ced Benson (at least for the time being). Jake Delhomme has another quality WR in Keyshawn Johnson. A little research goes a long way. Do some.

Don't be that guy that shits his pants in the 7th round because all the players' names that he recognized are off the board. Have a plan to use your later picks. How are you going to stock your bench? If you have to fill a flex position (WR/RB), which player(s) will you use (I recommend an RB if you have a good one available, as they produce more consistently than WRs)? Are you taking two QBs? Three? Figure it out. Your season will depend on how you use your later picks.

Unless you're serious about grabbing Antonio Gates or CHI DEF early, you can realistically go DEF, K, TE in rounds 11-12-13 in a 15-round draft. At that point, your draft is essentially over, since you'll dump one of your next two picks for anyone you pick up on waivers. I prefer not to keep subs at these three positions, and I will address bye week issues as they come through the waiver wire. Ideally, you want your K, TE, and DEF to have byes on three different weeks, to minimize the impact of losing their production. Also, I'll need only one roster spot to stock a sub for all three.

Don't be that guy that minds his business and doesn't talk shit because he's worried about getting blown out the following week. Enjoy your victory; that's the point. Get it in while you can. You don't have to run in Monday morning, screaming, "How'd that taste, bitch?!" Amp downn, little camper, especially if it's still a close contest and he's starting someone in the Monday Night game. You have the whole week to rub his nose in it, so pace yourself. Put some thought into that taunt. Haiku and limericks are great after big wins. There's nothing better than dropping a diddy like this in someone's inbox on Tuesday morning:

your fantasy team

was destroyed even worse than

your mother's hymen.

A good FF nerd will understand player value. Make his own list. Plan his draft. Talk shit. And a good FF nerd will enjoy his league and the season. Be THAT guy.

Monday Morning Punter will write about FF throughout the season.

Nick Saban Obviously Wants the Terrorists to Win

In a story rich with comedic gold, Miami Dolphins coach Nick Saban turned down President Bush's invitation to join him for dinner. Saban gave reporters some bullshit lines about how his decision wasn't about politics, how he had to focus on coaching his team in training camp, and how he was disappointed he couldn't enjoy the honor of dining with the president.

Yeah, right. You know Saban just didn't want to spend the evening nodding politely while the president told him how punting on 4th-and-15 from inside your own ten is a sign of weakness to the enemy, or how male cheerleaders really were integral to football games back in the day. (I kid, of course. We at KSK have no desire to draw the president's ire -- or any political lines, for that matter.)

Defensive end, stabbee, and soon-to-be-divorcé Jason Taylor also declined an invitation, citing the equally suspect excuse of "team meeting."

So who went in Saban's and Taylor's stead? Well, Dan Marino, for starters. He's a first-ballot Hall of Famer. Oh, and Jim Kiick, Nick Buoniconti, and Jim Mandich -- all members of the undefeated 1972 Dolphins. Um, okay. That makes sense, in a "The president is in Miami and doesn't like hearing about losing" sort of way. But then, according to the World Wide Leader in Sports Entertainment, "Among the other guests were actor Andy Garcia and Univision host Mario Kreutzberger, known as Don Francisco." Huh? Nevermind for a second that Univision has an Italian-German Jew masquerading as a Hispanic guy -- who didn't get invited to this party? Was Charo not available? Where was the Dude during all of this?

Anyway, Kiick seemed to revel in the glow of the Leader of the Free World. "It was a pretty wild feeling to know you're having dinner with the most powerful person in the most powerful country. Usually it costs you $20,000 to get close to the president." Wait, $20,000? How does he know that? Is that what it takes to buy off a Secret Service agent, or is that what political fundraisers cost these days? I'm so out of the loop.

Kiick added that he didn't quite understand Saban's motivation. "I find it hard to imagine turning down the president," he said. Well, guess what, Jimbo? Some of us have more to do every year than crack open a bottle of champagne when the Colts rest their starters. Monday Morning Punter would have posted a page of your Outlook calendar, but all it had on it was "Talk about going undefeated three and a half decades ago." You know, just because Don Shula wasn't photographed with Richard Nixon during Operation Linebacker doesn't mean you have to get all salty about somebody with an actual job passing on dinner with a former owner of the Texas Rangers.


Unlike Kiick, we at KSK support Saban's decision. Regardless of one's political leanings, dinner with the president is always an honor, and to rebuff the most powerful man in the world in order to dedicate more time to Joey Harrington... well, that is a coach who deserves a contract extension.

Oh, and Nick? Save those receipts -- you've got about two years of IRS audits coming your way.