Only three nominees to go, before you getÂ to decide who the biggest d-bag in all of sports is.Â We’ll have more details about that in the coming days (as soon as we figure out what to do).
Candidate 14: Phil Mushnick
For those of you who are unaware of our latest selection, Mushnick is the sports media columnist for the New York Post. And he hates you.
The best way to explain is to take Mushnick’s own words, and deconstruct them FireJoeMorgan style. This is from his column in Sunday’s paper.
Mushnick’s biggest complaints always center on the way leagues cater to what he believes are lowest common denominator fans. By that he means people who drink beer at game, or at home, and like to see attractive women from time to time. In other words, he means you.
So, it would seem that Mushnick would be thrilled with the NFL’s new code of conduct for fans. Nope.
SOMETIMES, better late than never is still way too late.
NFL commissioner Roger Goodell last week revealed the league’s first Fan Code of Conduct. Designed to reduce the drunken incivility that has been synonymous with the “NFL Experience,” but for only the last, oh, 30 years, it’s either predicated upon playing a public relations zone defense, or it’s designed by the naive who watch from luxury boxes.
Let’s get real.
Does Goodell think a code of conduct – rooted in threats of expulsion – will make security guards and ushers more willing to deal with a row or section ruled by the drunk and disorderly?
You can’t win with this douche. You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.
But it’s not just fans he hates. It’s anyone who has ever had any success. The big news in New York last week was the end of Mike and the Maddog.Â Most people summed up their feelings by saying “Yeah, I didn’t always like what they said or how they acted, but those guys sure were great, and I’m going to miss them.” And everyone agreed that Francesca did a great job on his first solo show, crediting his long time partner for the success they had together.
Well, almost everyone:
AAAAAAAAAAH, move over, MacArthur, make room for Mikey!
Never, ever underestimate Mike Francesa’s ability to seize any opportunity to present himself as a self-important blowhard. Hey, it’s a gift.
Yesterday, during what became the last installment of WFAN’s “Mike and the Mad Dog,” Francesa repeatedly tried to make one thing clear: Between the two, he was the alpha star, and don’t forget it.
The only thing you can ever do to make Musnick happy is to die. There was a sportscaster in New York a few years ago named Sean Kimerling. He worked on WPIX, which is no better than the fifth most popular newscast in the city.Â He was a relatively young guy who did a relatively good job delivering scores and highlights to a relatively small New York audience. Then, tragically, he died from testicular cancer.Â And that’s when Mushnick decided Kimerling had been the greatest thing since sliced bread. There is absolutely nothing wrong with honoring a man when he dies. But it’s especially disingenous to hold a man up on a pedestal after his death, simply because he is gone. Chances are, Mushnick probably caught Kimerling’s sports reports a couple of times during his time at Channel 11. And maybe he enjoyed his work as a sideline reporter during Mets games.Â But before he died, I doubt Phil ever felt the need to write about Kimerling.Â He probably dismissed him as another young sportscaster in the hated ESPN mold who probably committed the cardinal sin of treating sports as if they were fun. Kimerling may have even shown a fan wearing a silly hat during the highlights every once in a while. And that definitely would have pissed Mushnick off to no end. But now he was dead. And all of a sudden, Mushnick turned him into the alltime beacon of journalism in local TV.Â He tried to use the guy’s death to make himself look like a decent guy, who wasn’t constantly complaining without adding anything constructive to the situation.Â And that’s a really shitty thing to do.
Oh, and by the way, Phil, you write for the New York Post.Â A lot of times, your holier than thou column appears on the same page as betting lines and strip club ads.Â Could you be a bigger hypocrite?
WHAT A DOUCHE!