If we think we're better than Montreal fans, maybe we're not

I was listening to the best sports talk show in Boston, and they were talking about Zdeno Chara getting hit in the face last night in Montreal, and the crowd cheering for it.


As you might expect, Felger and Mazz were ripping the Montreal fans, and they deserved it. It was classless.

But before we all get on our high horses, be honest. If it was someone you hated, on the team you hated, a guy who injured one of your players and wasn't punished ...


 ... wouldn't you cheer? Maybe you'd realize later on that you were being an ignoramus, but in the moment ... there's a darn good chance you'd cheer.

Greg Wyshynski understands. (I was getting ready to write this post when I read this, and he and I pretty much the same mind on this one.)

We cheer fights in which one player is leveled with a right hook, the cathartic adrenaline rush filling the arena. Jay Beagle was injured quite badly in that fight with Arron Asham last year. Looking back, the reaction from the crowd and the player might seem abhorrent. In the moment — at a sporting event — it's everyone reacting to the entertainment programming they're paying to watch, and are emotionally invested in watching.
With hindsight, rational thought and human consideration will weigh on the minds of the fans that cheered Chara's injury Wednesday night. (And let's reiterate here that it was some fans in Montreal, and certainly not the majority.) If I cheer an injured player and he ends up really, really injured, I feel terrible about it. Like, "where do I send the flowers and the apology card" terrible.
But in the moment it's a different story. In the moment … sorry, I can't morally object to Montreal Canadiens fans cheering a Zdeno Chara injury, given their history and given their rivalry.

I can morally object, but I can also tell you what happened last night in Montreal would have happened almost anywhere else. And believe me, I probably cheered for each of these.

David Ortiz shows it's OK for some guys to test positive

So David Ortiz is all set for this season. Yay.

Ortiz's career is pretty amazing for a guy the Twins gave up on after the 2002 season, having never hit more than 20 homers or having a slugging percentage higher than .500. Since then, the fewest homers he has hit is 23, and his slugging percentage has been above .500 every year but one.

It's a tribute to hard work, dedication and regular playing time, and having nothing at all to do with whatever he may have tested positive for in 2003. Uh uh, no way.

You do remember he was on the list of positive tests, right? Actually, it's easy to forget, since the media haven't insisted it on hanging steroids around his neck like they have Barry Bonds, Alex Rodriguez, Roger Clemens, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa. He said he didn't do it, so everyone went away. There were no confessions, without which we could not go on. I don't think he has ever been on a witness stand, so there's no chance of the law coming after him.

In fact, it's like the positive test never happened. Instead, we see Big Papi "hugging it out" with Yankees fans in a promotion for the MLB Fan Cave or captaining a team in the All Star Home Run Derby. (In case you're wondering if I would hug Ortiz, the answer is no.)


So what's the secret?

Easy.

He's popular. People (especially the press) like him.

Tim Thomas doesn't want to talk right now

So, Tim Thomas treated us all to his thoughts on politics on the Facebook machine again. I won't get into the details of what he wrote -- standing with the Catholics ... "In Germany, first they came ..." ... etc., etc. -- but in the locker room, he set clear lines about what he saw as appropriate questions about his stances. (The quote is from the article linked above.)

"That's my personal life that has nothing to do with the Bruins or hockey and I'm going to remain silent," he said.

Tim Thomas is an intelligent man, a college graduate, so doubtless he knows that as a well-known, multimillionaire athlete who is willing to make his political views known in a day and age when not a lot of athletes do, people may be interested in his thoughts behind those views and how he came to have them.

And since he deems the workplace an unacceptable forum for queries about those views, surely ... again, intelligent man that he is ... he would have no problem with reporters asking about them as he's walking to his car after practice, eating at a restaurant with his family or outside the front door of his home ... you know, during that "personal life that has nothing to do with the Bruins or hockey."

Because if he didn't, someone far more cynical than I am might come to the conclusion that what he really wants to do is be able to spout his thoughts on politics without anyone ever questioning them or challenging them.

Good work (I guess) if you can get it

I had seen that a fairly prominent job came open today, and even though it's not one I'd be qualified for, I figured I'd look at the want ad, just to see what they are seeking.

WANTED: ENGLAND MANAGER -- Historic Football Association seeks genius to lead its national football side, effective immediately, as an important competition is soon at hand.


The successful candidate will be able to choose the right blend of multimillionaires to be victorious while being willing to share in certain decisions without (too much) complaint. Every game will be a referendum on his intelligence, decision-making skills, dress, taste in women, speaking manner, family heritage and preferences for after-match beverages.


Ability to feed a ravenous media beast in service of citizens who remember 1966 like it was yesterday, even if they weren't born yet, is non-negotiable.


Being English is a plus, but not required, although there will always be people who think it should be a requirement, including possibly ... us.


Ability to speak German not needed, but ability to beat Germany is (along with Brazil, Argentina, Spain, France, the United States and anyone else England has fought a war against, which is pretty much everybody).


Benefits include competitive pay and contractual terms ... if you last that long ... and godlike status if you bring home big, shiny trophies.


To apply, send CV and plan for how Steven Gerrard and Frank Lampard can play together.

Wow, that looks like one taxing job!

The Yankees' smell of success

My wife informed me today that the Yankees will be releasing two official fragrances -- his and hers.

I've never been a big cologne guy, although my college roommate always recommended the Drakkar Noir when I went out to the bar. (This is when Drakkar was the big thing, and the only effect it had the few times I took his suggestion was that the women who wanted nothing to do with me thought I smelled good.) But if the Yankees made a cologne that smelled like awesome, greatness, class, riches and the best of everything, I'd have to consider it.

A Red Sox cologne, on the other hand, would have the unique mix of bitterness, envy and entitlement, which some beer and fried chicken mixed in.

Don't ever change, Gisele

So apparently, Gisele Bundchen had a little post-game analysis of her own after the Giants beat the Patriots Sunday night.

And she's a jinx (although that's a convenient way to not have to talk about winning no Super Bowls since the Patriots stopped cheating).

And she makes giving birth seem way too easy.

And because Tom Brady would, at times, rather spend time with her in exotic locations than lift weights with his teammates, she's making him soft.

And she dissed Boston!

And for all this and more, people hate her. (OK, there may be another reason. Go ahead and look. Just come back.)

I, however, say, "Bravo! Keep it up!"

Why? Because people hate Gisele for not being the one thing they want the wife of a famous athlete to be.

Mrs.

(Or, as Old Hoss Radbourn put it, "It is about time we clamp down on uppity wives who dare speak in public on behalf of their husbands.")

She's not willing to be just Mrs. Tom Brady, although I'm sure that's a pretty awesome gig. She has her own career, her own life, her own opinions and her own mouth. And just because her husband is a fabulously talented, handsome, wealthy man who will probably be on the shortlist for the greatest quarterback of all time, she's not willing to give that all up.

She had a great life before she ever met Tom Brady, and if for some reason they split up tomorrow (which for the same of their happiness, I hope they don't), she'll have a great life afterward.

And that just ticks people off to no end.

Suns and Hornets weren't much, unless you were there

In all likelihood, you probably won't even notice the Suns-Hornets game when you're checking out the scores in the newspaper, or there will be a short recap on SportsCenter that you have to sit through while you wait for the news you really care about.

After all, the only really noteworthy thing about the game was Steve Nash's 30-point, 10-assist performance (by the way, he's going to be 38 next week), which put him into first place on the Suns' all-time assist list. And, being classy, right after the game, he gave kudos to the guy he passed, Kevin Johnson, on Twitter, calling him "Historically underrated, one of the all time greats."

But my wife and I were at the game, so for us, it was a fun night out on our vacation.

Not being the high-roller types, we got the cheapest decent seats we could find, and I would say we did pretty well for ourselves.

Pretty darn good for the $13 or $14 we paid.

There was the fact that the Hornets, since it's New Orleans after all, had a house band.

That's the band, down in the corner, including the trombone, which you have to have.

A guy played the national anthem on a harmonica, and the intros had their share of indoor pyrotechnics.

I've never completely understood the indoor fireworks thing, but I guess it's better than outdoors in the daytime.

Each team had someone we were fans of from their college days, Emeka Okafor for New Orleans and Hakim Warrick for Phoenix. Plus we found a new favorite player, Gustavo Ayon of New Orleans, a 26-year-old rookie from Mexico who we hadn't even heard of before the game (not the only Hornets player with that status, by the way). According to the program, he had trouble earlier this year because his English was so bad that he couldn't understand the coaching staff's directions, but he works hard and is learning. Against Phoenix, he scored 10 points in the first half, causing multiple playings of the "Ole, Ole, Ole" song.

(They were actually pretty sharp in the game operations department in New Orleans. When Italian Marco Belinelli hit a three-pointer, they ran down one side of the arena waving Italian flags,)

My wife and I both have fairly skewed views on life, so we found it someone ironic that on the night the Hornets were having some kind of fitness promotion, they also had a shrimp-eating contest won by some guy who looked like he stuffed Chris Paul under the No. 3 jersey he was wearing.

Halftime featured a "world-renowned" handstand artist whose name I don't remember, but let's just say the dude clearly works out.

He's small, but he's mighty.

And the game actually wound up being a pretty good one. For the casual glancers, the 120-103 Suns win may have looked like a blowout, but it was close through 3 1/2 quarters until the Suns went on a big run down the stretch.

Too bad there weren't many people there to see it.

This was at the start of the game. The crowd didn't get much bigger than that.

The cheerleaders were doing their best to get the "crowd" into it.

All in all, it made for a fun night in New Orleans.