By Natasha Julius
The Stanley Cup was finally awarded Monday night after a spectacular championship series that took the full complement of seven games. The finals featured salty veterans, unlikely heroes, the first-ever short-handed overtime goal, and one team’s stirring rally from a key injury. And guess what? Nobody watched.
That’s because the National Hockey League has gone out of its way to make itself unlovable. From the lemonade of a growing nationwide fan base, they have extracted the lemons of a rancorous labor dispute and a canceled season. It’s not just the NHL, though. There seems to be a gene in the DNA of the sports world that triggers self-inflicted injury to reputation among some of our most prominent leagues, franchises, and athletes. Here is our list of the 13 most impressive jock implosions.
The NHL. Obviously, canceling an entire season is not a great way to win fans and influence people, but when you combine that with annoying your TV sponsor, fundamentally changing the rules of the game, and coming back in an Olympic year that guarantees your playoffs will be overshadowed by the NBA and freaking grand slam tennis you’ve hit on the long-sought formula for reverse alchemy. Sadly, the problem started 11 years ago, with a lockout-shortened season and a collective bargaining agreement that perfectly reflected the financial imprudence of the dot-com era.
The Chicago Blackhawks. Even in the context of the disaster above, the Hawks deserve a separate call-out. Chicago owner Bill Wirtz has managed to hack open the ribcage of a once-proud and storied franchise, pluck out its heart, and slowly eat it while wiping his mouth with the money of his five remaining loyal fans. The TV blackouts. The acrimonious dumpings of beloved players. Ticket prices among the league’s top five most expensive. The revolving coaching door. Take your pick and begin your embittered rant here.
Rafael Palmiero – See Raffi sign nice contract. See Raffi testify before Congress. See Raffi wag finger in face of Congress. See Raffi fail piss test.
CART. A bitter personality feud caused Indianapolis Motor Speedway president Tony George to start his own damn racing league, taking America’s signature open-wheel race – the Indy 500 – with him. But even that wasn’t enough to kill the Champ Car series. Instead, it took a steady stream of mismanagement including rapid and unnecessary overseas expansion, alienation of the major engine and chassis manufacturers, and the favorite strategy of suicidal sporting organizations, pissing off the TV sponsor.
Ryan Leaf. Is it possible to asshole your way out of a professional sporting league? Yes.
Ron Artest – In an industry littered with overblown egos and marginal personalities, this particular lunatic madman still manages to stand out as a complete screw-up. Oh, and his album flopped.
Larry Brown.You won a championship with Detroit. Now you’re locked in a continuous pissing contest with Stephon Marbury. Oops.
Los Angeles football fans. Sure, it’s not entirely their fault that Ram and Raider ownership decided to relocate, but let’s face it – if they didn’t all spend so much time going to the beach, hiking in the hills, and otherwise taking their fill of the riches nature has granted their hometown, the NFL might be more inclined to take a chance on them.
John Daly. The walking embodiment of excess. Claims to have conquered his alcoholism because he no longer drinks whiskey. Really doesn’t seem to understand the causal link between years of personal physical abuse and declining professional performance.
Sammy Sosa. A master of public relations, the hypercranial Sosa managed to escape a corked bat controversy, an alleged spousal battery, and growing evidence of steroid abuse with minimal damage to his saintly reputation. It seems somewhat fitting, then, that the ultimate Teflon player undid himself by slipping out of a game early. Ironically enough, the hookie-playing Wrigley Field fandom couldn’t abide such a poor work ethic, and before you could say “I don’t speak English” Sammy was off to Baltimore for a cup of coffee before resettling in oblivion.
O.J. Simpson. The trial mestastisized into a farce they likes of which TV audiences have never seen, and frankly it sort of made us ashamed to watch it. But whether you agree with the verdict or not, O.J.’s inexorable slide from respected football legend to cultural circus sideshow freak began with that slow, endless Bronco ride across the concrete Hades that is the L.A. highway system. Nothing, not even an acquittal, could bring him back from that.
Ricky Williams. No one should like pot that much.
Ben Roethlisberger. Literally crashing right at the peak of his popularity, Big Ben miraculously survived taking a header into an oncoming car while riding his motorcycle. However, the bulk of the facial injuries he sustained could’ve been avoided easily by doing something he does for his job anyway – wearing a helmet. The jury is still out on how Pittsburgh fans will react to him, but he’s certainly not going to make anymore eligible bachelor lists with his jaw wired shut.
Posted on June 21, 2006