This Week in the Twitterverse takes a look at the social media happenings of the previous week, or whatever else I feel like talking about. Mostly I make fun of people who are better at things than I am. No purchase necessary, void where prohibited. Consult your doctor if this column lasts more than four hours. If you come across anything you think should be in next week's column, send it to @Bry_Mac.
As of today, I have been married to my lovely wife, Mrs. BiSB (also known as WiSB or J_Mac, but not really), for exactly four years. In that spirit, I thought I would share some of the lessons I have learned in those years, in hopes that my wisdom may save you from some of my missteps.
Your stupidity is noticed, stupid.
When you screw up (and you WILL screw up), you may not always get called on it. You ignored a request to refrain from peeing in the sinkput some pants on, dammit, we have company do the dishes, or you come home from your "quick drink after work" at 2:00 a.m. with a concussion, wearing a loin cloth and reeking of ouzo, and your significant other lets it slide. "I'm a wizard," you think to yourself. "I should rob banks. Or the Louvre." You see, you confused a patient and tolerant person with someone who didn't mind. Turns out, humans tend to notice and respond to stimuli. You are unknowingly making withdrawals from the First National Bank of Spousal Patience, and you never know when your balance will hit zero and crap will hit the fan. To wit:
As we have discussed many times, people send stupid tweets to recruits all the time. The recruits usually don't respond, so the morons tweeting them probably assume either (a) no one notices or cares, or (b) they need to up their trolling game to break through the noise. Turns out, they are just making their respective schools look bad. Shai Mckenzie had a since-deleted back-and-forth with one such Pitt fan, and as a result he’s not feeling the love. I don’t know if he decided to cancel the visit (it was scheduled for today), but needless to say that if you were the fan who cost your team a 4-star running back, your day will not be good.
Sometimes a little space is a good thing
If you've been in a relationship for a long time, you probably enjoy spending time together. Regardless, a little "me time" is a healthy thing for both of you. This is a marathon, not a sprint, and you don't need to share your every thought and every waking moment with your paramour. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Omnipresence makes you this dude:
Kentucky has jumped to the front of the Inappropriate Twitter Stalkers parade, and this guy is out front waving a Big Blue baton. As you can probably guess, those are all recruits (including Jamarco Jones, who is most decidedly not considering Kentucky anymore). It isn't even that he contacts recruits. It's how OFTEN he's contacting recruits. And what he's saying to them. And how it seems to be the SOLE REASON he has a Twitter account. And... Jeebus, read that feed. He’s mentioned TJ Harrell nearly 50 times in the last two weeks alone. So, based on quantity, quality, use of exclamation points, and overall lack of self-awareness, I declare you, John Turner, to be the TWITTER CREEPER OF THE YEAR OF THE WEEK. This is only the second time I have given this award, so cherish it, BBN hero.
[After the jump, your friends may be on your side, but that doesn't mean they're "helping"]
I apologize in advance, but I’m not feeling very funny this week. Some weeks the world just feels really heavy, and it’s tough to pick yourself up, let alone to be amusing for others. Some weeks you just want to sit very still, as if the bad things of the world will quietly move along. You can only hear so much about bombings and fertilizer factory explosions and ricin and shootouts and sinkholes and flooding before you want to just shut the world out just so you don’t have to deal with it anymore.
Martin Richard was 8 years old. Come on. If that alone doesn’t put a damper on your Universe, then I don’t know what to tell you.
Since Monday’s horrors, people have tried to articulate what, other than the obvious, made Boston affect us on such a deep and personal level. In my mind, it is because this tragedy invaded something we foolishly believed to be beyond the reach of such evil. Sports often serve as a welcome escape from the “real world” with all its highs and lows. We prefer the fiction we create that our favorite teams and pursuits are really life-and-death matters. We feel like at the end of the day, there is a floor to how much we can lose. I love Michigan sports, but no matter how devastating a loss might seem (PITCH THE BALL TO STEVE BREASTON), I know that at the end of the day my child is healthy, I have a home and a job, and my dogs will still be happy to see me. We have a presumption of the ‘worst thing that can happen’ in the athletic arena.
So when the “real world” seeps into our cozy little athletic realm, it strikes a special chord with sports fans. I think the reason people reacted so viscerally to Kevin Ware’s injury wasn’t because it was such a devastating long-term injury (he’ll be back playing by next season). It was because it was such a graphic injury that it reminded us that while we like to imagine our athletic world as a comfy bubble that separates us from the dangers of our everyday lives, that bubble is and has always been a fleeting figment of our imaginations.
The Boston Marathon bombings were terrible in so many ways, beyond the obvious horror, fear, death and devastation. This one struck close to home for many people because the Boston Marathon lies at the intersection of our sports world, our national psyche, and our own lives. They attacked a major sporting event. They attacked an iconic American event. And they reminded us all that there, but for the grace of God goes any of us. My wife is running a half-marathon in Indianapolis in a couple of weeks, and if you don’t think Boston will be on my mind, you’re crazy.
Boston itself will be fine. I mean…
Yeah. I’m not worried about Boston. I’m a little bit worried about us. I feel like as much as we need to face our problems, trying to do so every day gets to be too much. We need a few hours every week where our biggest worry is the ability to pick up that A-gap blitz. The horror of Boston reminds us that in the grand scheme of things sports really aren’t that important, but they also remind us why we need sports in the first place.
I guess what I’m saying is that after stuff like this, don’t judge people for jumping back into what they know. After all, there is no wrong way to cope.
This was the afternoon of the bombing. He’s talking about a number of people who have lost limbs. Would it be nice if the Boston Marathon gave the victims an exemption to run the race? Sure. Would it be nice if they bought everyone a pony? Of course. But Jeebus, man.
On a related note, this may be my last Darren Rovell update. We had a disagreement over my assertion that his request that people tweet him pictures of the Boston bombing was (in the words I would have used had I known he was going to block me anyway) un-f*cking-believably opportunistic and voyeuristic and vulturific and dongish. He responded by deleting our conversation, and becoming the second person to block me. So if anything Rovell-related needs to be featured in this here column, someone let me know.
Goodnight, sweet prince.
Worst Ace Ever
You know how I said Rovell was the second person (that I know of) to block me? I’m sure that you, as one who hates unresolved plot points, were saying to yourself, “I must know who the other one was.” Wonder no more. It was, of course, Ace Williams. You all undoubtedly remember Williams as the guy who broke the story that John Navarre was Keyser Soze, and that Michigan Basketball was secretly the Monstars in Space Jam. But I’ve got some bad news for everyone: Ace is no more.
This is what used to be Ace Williams’s feed. His history is Ace’s history. But alas, as is fitting of this Week in Which We Can’t Have Nice Things, this wealth of Michigan knowledge has departed for… something? The icing on the cake is that Ace’s old account, @ChatSportsACE, has already been taken over by a parody account (“Parody Ace Williams”).
Before he left, though, Ace fired off one last hilariously fabricated story (redacted above), the details of which will not be repeated here because it is hilariously fabricated. His “story” has also been parroted by his former employer’s Twitter account, which I will also not link because see above. But for those who are wondering, “BiSB, how can I tell if one of these stories is fake?” It can be hard to tell, but here’s a protip: no one tweets specifics about an “exclusive” story and then waits more than three days to publish the actual story. If you have a scoop, you don’t say, “hey, CBS Sports/ESPN/ABC Sports/Deadspin/MGoBlog, there’s a really awesome story out there. Here’s exactly where to look. I only hope you don’t publish your story before I finish writing mine four days from now.”
Fortunately, no one will ever, EVER mistake Ace Williams for Ace Anbender.
Easy mistake to make
Never Saw THAT Coming
I’m sure you all remember Mike Rice, the disgraced former Rutgers coach who was fired because we’re all a bunch of wusses. Also because he whipped basketballs at players’ heads and called them f*ggots. But mostly the wuss thing. In any case, Mike Rice is back where he belongs: yelling at kids.
Sometimes in history a bold visionary will look at two things that don’t belong together, put them together, and become a genius. Sour cream and onion chips, for example, sound like a terrible idea, but are pretty tasty. Likewise, combining Mike Rice, coaching, and 12-year-old girls may SOUND like a terrible idea… yeah its actually an even worse idea than it would appear.
If you haven’t seen the ESPN Outside the Lines report on Mike Rice, you should probably watch it. The Rutgers head basketball coach was caught on tape chucking basketballs at players, grabbing and shoving players, and calling players the words that would STILL get mother to wash your mouth out with soap, including (according to ESPN) “m-----f-----s,” “p-----s,” “sissy b-----s,” “c---s,” and “a------g------ks.” Disturbing stuff, indeed.*
That, of course, is Chief HEY LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME I’M BEING CONTRARIAN LOOK AT MEEEEE Correspondent Rob Parker, placing blame where it so obviously belongs: on the guys getting hit in the face with basketballs. Blaming the victim is a pretty common thing in our society, but it’s usually masked a little better than this. It’s supposed to be something oblique, like “you have to wonder if the victims tried to say something” or “it’s a shame these players suffered in silence for so long.”
So, curious about where this came from, I dug back through Rob Parker’s feed to see if he has a history of this sort of thing, and sure enough, it seems to be a pattern.
This didn’t actually happen
Obvious parody is obvious, yes?
Okay, this one is probably real
You may now go back to ignoring Rob Parker. He has been conveniently placed next to Skip Bayless for the optimal avoidance efficiency.
Elsewhere in the “when all you have is a hammer every problem looks like a market research question” category, we have Darren Rovell:
Rovell’s argument is that everything that has ever happened ever in the history of things the firing of Mike Rice is based solely and exclusively on money. To wit:
What put Rice on the chopping block is the fact that the tape went public. Nothing else. This was not a victory for human decency or for the players. This will simply be a victory for business.
The leap from the first sentence to the last is pretty impressive. Of COURSE Rice was fired because the tapes went public. And of course there were financial implications. But are we really supposed to believe that the primary reason they fired him was because of finances instead of “we need to do some serious CYA here.” Or maybe “OH MY GOD NO ONE COULD PUBLICLY DEFEND THIS JACKASS IN LIGHT OF THIS EVIDENCE?” Or because they are at a public institution and the state can bring down eighteen kinds of crap on you?
*Admit it: you spent a couple of minutes trying to figure out the last one.