You are Michael Vick, star quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons.
You make millions.
In the offseason, you could do just about anything Donald Trump does.
So apparently you choose … dogfighting?
Lots of NFL fans want Vick to say it ain’t so, but ....
On April 25, police conducting a drug investigation — right there, that is not good news — raided a 15-acre estate Vick owned in Smithfield, Va. Turns out Vick’s cousin — the target of the drug raid — said he lived there.
Police founds dozens of mistreated dogs that appeared to be used for fighting — along with equipment typically used for dogfighting.
We’re talking treadmills to build stamina, syringes for injecting various stimulants, “pry bars” used for prying apart the vise-like jaws of pit bulls. Oh, and bloodstained carpeting.
Of the 66 dogs found, 55 were pit bulls. The property also may contain the carcasses of 30 other fighting dogs.
Hey, it’s not like there’s a retirement plan in dogfighting. You have a few matches, then it’s that Great Big Kennel in the Sky.
Can it get worse for No. 7? Uh, yes.
ESPN cited a “reliable police informant” who said Vick is “one of the heavyweights” in area dogfighting circles. He reportedly bet big bucks on fights.
"I’m talking $30,000, $40,000," the informant told ESPN. “ … I’ve seen it.”
Vick says he didn’t live at the estate. He said he was taken advantage of by family members who did.
Heck, he said he didn’t know that the large kennel there might have been used for anything illegal. (I guess he thought it was a puppy mill.)
Let’s hope so, Michael.
But right now, this thing stinks like a locker room after a September game.
If Vick is innocent, he needs to hang around with a better crowd to avoid these kinds of, er, misunderstandings.
If he’s guilty, he’s really dumb.
If he’s guilty, did he really think this would go on without anybody noticing … or running his mouth?
Gee whiz, if Vick likes animals that much, why not dabble in horseracing like all the other millionaires?
It’s safer, more glamorous, and outside of a few shady tracks and stablehands, reasonably legal.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Michael's mess
Friday, May 25, 2007
Responsibility
Grief is expected when you lose a loved one. Nowadays, a lawsuit often is too.
The father of the St. Louis Cardinals pitcher killed in a car crash last month has filed a wrongful death lawsuit.
The suit filed by Dean Hancock, father of Josh Hancock, said these “legal actions (were) necessary against those who contributed to the untimely and unnecessary death of my son at the age of 29.”
The suit names the restaurant where Hancock was drinking the night he died.
It also names the tow-truck driver who was responding to an accident — and the owner of the vehicle involved in that accident.
The younger Hancock died when his SUV smashed into the rear of the tow truck on an interstate highway. The truck was preparing to remove the first vehicle.
You could make an argument that the restaurant helped Hancock get drunk that night.
The family’s lawyer said drinks were handed to the young pitcher for the entire 3½ hours he was there.
You could make an argument that the tow truck shouldn’t have been in the way, too, when Hancock was driving home late at night.
The truck and the vehicle it was about to tow were on the highway, not on the shoulder. The family’s lawyer said the tow truck may have been behind the vehicle for up to 15 minutes but didn't get it out of the way.
All those things should be considered.
But something else should be considered too: The person most responsible for the fatal accident was Josh Hancock himself.
His blood-alcohol level when he died was 0.157 percent. That’s almost twice the 0.08 that defines intoxication in most states.
However this case ends, it won’t changed what happened in the beginning.
No one forced Josh Hancock to drink that night.
No one forced him to drive after he drank too much.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Size matters
One of the best ways to improve your car’s gas mileage is by making sure the tires are properly inflated. Newer cars even have dashboard warning lights that tell you if one of your quartet is low.
That’s nice. But have you ever wondered why tire manufacturers make it hard to find the one piece of information on a tire that you care about?
I am referring, of course, to the number of pounds per square inch that your tire should be inflated to, such as “42 psi.”
Most tires have a bunch of things written on the side, from company stuff to product numbers. When you want to inflate a tire, the only thing you want to know is the psi number.
It’s there, of course — somewhere. It’s just written in the same tiny type as the rest of the gibberish, and that makes it hard to find.
Maybe you’re one of those car owners who knows his psi number or remembers it when he needs to know it. Good for you.
Lots of us, however, don’t carry that number around in our heads.
When we’re at the gas station or convenience store, squatting down, maybe in the hot sun or drizzling rain, all we want to find is the psi number so we know much air the low tire needs.
So here’s my solution, and you have to wonder why this hasn’t been done before: Why not put the psi number in big type, such as letters a half-inch high, so that people can actually see it when they need to?
I'm talking "blah-blah-blah 42 psi blah-blah-blah ... "
Maybe there are some tires like that now, but I haven’t seen them.
If I was head bureaucrat at the U.S. Department of New Rules, I’d make that mandatory for all tires manufactured after tomorrow.
It might save enough gas nationwide to get the price below $3 a gallon … for a few days.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Consecutive justice
A thoughtless killer by the name of Jorge Arellano was sentenced to four life terms in prison on Thursday in Brownsville. It was true justice.
What makes this case noteworthy is that finally, a judge has correctly employed the use of consecutive sentences — not concurrent ones.
The background: In March 2006, Arellano was drunk and driving, and he ran a stop sign. That’s bad, but what happened next was incredibly appalling.
Arellano killed three people in the Ford Mustang he plowed into — U.S. Customs and Border Protection Officer Cynthia Carreon; her husband, Jorge Carreon; and Mario Gonzalez, a U.S. Border Patrol agent.
Just like that, three fine members of law enforcement wiped out by a drunk driver.
(And why is it that the boozer usually survives these wrecks while killing other people?)
Arellano was found guilty last month of three counts of intoxication manslaughter.
State district Judge Leonel Alejandro sentenced Arellano to four life terms. And again, here’s the key point: Those terms are consecutive, not concurrent.
In other words, this 28-year-old slug is not eligible for parole for … 120 years!
To which I say two things:
A) Hallelujah! and
B) Why does state law allow such nonsense as concurrent terms?
When a criminal gets two sentences stacked concurrently on top of each other, the concept of punishment is rendered meaningless.
If someone breaks two laws and gets, say, two concurrent five-year sentences, who is fooled?
He will serve only five years, just as if he broke one law and got sentenced to one five-year term.
Concurrent sentences should be abolished. Anyone convicted of multiple offenses should serve consecutive terms.
Arellano, for example, killed three human beings. Justice demands that he be punished for every single one of those monstrous crimes.
Anything else, like meaningless-but-feel-good concurrent sentences, makes a mockery of the law.
Judge Alejandro gets my vote for Judge of the Year in Brownsville.
The member of the Texas Legislature who gets a bill passed banning concurrent sentences will get my vote for Lawmaker of the Year.
Any takers in Austin?
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Wade's world
I stopped rooting for the Dallas Cowboys in March of 1994. That would be when owner Jerry Jones fired coach Jimmy Johnson.
I knew that Jerry had a big ego, but getting rid of a coach who had just one back-to-back Super Bowls and who might be able to pull off an unprecedented “three-peat”? And to replace him with a yo-yo like Barry Switzer?
It was absurdity squared. Plus it was happening to one of Port Arthur’s most famous sons. Not only did I stop cheering for America’s Team, I reveled in its subsequent slide.
However, nothing lasts forever. Now JJ has hired another local boy made good — Wade Phillips, son of Bum Phillips. It’s time to declare a truce and hope for the best for Wade, a truly nice guy in a business without a lot of them.
After the Cowboys’ first mini-camp this week, however, the early signs are not good. Several players are saying how glad they are that coach Bill Parcells is gone.
I was no fan of the Tuna’s, but he did know how to win. He also was a gruff disciplinarian, and that clearly rankled several Cowboys.
Running back Julius Jones complained that he had been forced to run “like a robot.” The infamous Terrell Owens praised the looser “atmosphere in the locker room. I don’t think I just have to really spell it out for you, but I think it’s very evident.”
Cowboy Nation, be concerned. When players start saying that the new coach has made practice fun again, that could be the first sign of a losing season.
Practice, especially in a brutal sport like football, is not supposed to be fun. It is supposed to hard and challenging and overall rather unpleasant. It’s also what good teams do to survive and prevail over a long, grueling season.
We shall see how it all unfolds. I just hope that after Wade welcomes all the players back with smiles and backslaps … he makes ’em sweat and cuss a little.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Bodies, buzzards, blecchh
If you live near Texas State University by San Marcos, you might be thinking, “Thank God for the buzzards.”
You see, if it weren’t for those flying scroungers, TSU would be well on its way to setting up the nation’s largest … “body farm.”
In case you’ve never watched CSI, a “body farm” is where researchers put human bodies outside and watch them, uh, decompose. They also bury a few.
By doing that, they can observe what happens to bodies over time in different environments. This helps cops when they find a body after weeks or months and want to know how it transitioned from a person to a corpse.
It sounds scientific and important and all that, but I’m basically thinking, “Yuck!”
Back to the buzzards. TSU’s plans have been shelved because it seems a body farm would attract buzzards (duh!) and the birds could create a danger for planes using the San Marcos Municipal Airport.
Undaunted, TSU officials will be searching for a new location. Good luck, I guess.
But since this great land of ours already has two “body farms” — one operated by the University of Tennessee at Knoxville and the other by Western Carolina University in Cullowhee, N.C. — do we really need a third one … in Texas?
What about property values? The town's image? And can you imagine what fans from other colleges will say to taunt TSU teams on road games? You don’t want to go there, my friend.
In closing, I would basically like to say once again … “Yuck!”
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Houston, we have a problem
Astro fans are not happy campers right now.
The team has started out slow — again. It is limping along at 15-17 in a division where anything above .500 makes you a contender.
This weekend, of course, Astro fans learned that Roger Clemens would not be riding to the rescue this year.
The Rocket signed with the Yankees instead. As a Cardinals fan, I couldn’t care less. In fact, I’m glad Clemens is pitching in a different division in a different league.
What does irritate me, however, are a couple of myths that Roger has been perpetuating, either openly or indirectly:
Myth No. 1: My family is more important than baseball right now.
If that were the case, Clemens would have stayed in Houston, whether he was pitching for the Astros or not. After all, that is — or was — where his family was living.
Myth No. 2: It’s not about the money.
Folks, when a professional athlete says this, it is PRECISELY about the money. Roger is about to don Yankee pinstripes because George Steinbrenner would cough up $28 mil (pro-rated) and no one else would match him.
Roger’s strongest family tie was to Houston. His strongest emotional link was to Boston. Guess where he signed? The place with the strongest financial incentive.
The Astros apparently didn’t even score any points with Roger when they gave his son Koby a $380,000 signing bonus last year.
That’s a lot of money for an eighth-round 18-year-old. If the lad’s name had been Koby Jones, I’m guessing he would have gotten less than half that.
Whatever. All baseball fans who don’t live in Gotham have another reason to root against the Evil Empire. It’s just not fair that The Boss can load up his team with one overpaid superstar after another until he buys another championship.
In that league, you have to root for the Red Sox.
In the National, the Brewers are already being called this year’s Tigers.
We shall see. But if there’s another Subway Series, please wake me when it’s Christmas.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Death While Intoxicated
In Southeast Texas right now, a DWI fatality isn’t something abstract. The death of Beaumont Police Officer Lisa Beaulieu on April 27 is still an open wound. It will be for a long, long time.
The thought of that fine young woman being struck by a car and thrown off an overpass to the pavement below is too painful to think about.
For someone like me who grew up in St. Louis, Mo., the perils of drunk driving are reinforced in another way.
A young pitcher on the Cardinals named Josh Hancock was killed early last Sunday. His SUV slammed into the rear of a tow truck stopped alongside the highway — with its lights flashing.
As a lot of people — like me — suspected, Hancock was hammered when it happened. His blood-alcohol level was tragically high — 0.157. Worse yet, 8.5 grams of marijuana and a glass pipe were found in his crumpled Ford Explorer.
Hancock was speeding (68 in a 55 zone) when it happened, talking on a cell phone and not wearing a seat belt. He had spent the evening at a sports bar in St. Louis owned by former Cardinal third-baseman Mike Shannon. The woman he was talking to when it happened said he was going to another bar.
As much as Cardinal fans grieve for him and his family, it’s plain to see that his death was completely unnecessary.
Before Friday’s first home game since Hancock’s death, the Cardinals banned alcohol in the clubhouse. Manager Tony La Russa lamely said the move was mostly symbolic “because our guys don’t stay in the clubhouse to drink.”
I don’t know if the Cardinals have more of a collective drinking problem than any other team of young, rich athletes who think they are invincible. But La Russa himself got a DWI in Florida during spring training.
When I went to a Cardinal game in St. Louis a few years ago with my son, I was saddened to hear about a cop who was directing traffic after a game and hit by a drunk driver. The officer lived … but he lost both legs.
You’ve heard it a thousand times: Don’t drink and drive. Some folks do it anyway. Either they don’t care what happens, or they think they’ll somehow beat the odds once again.
If they keep it up, their number will come up. If they kill only themselves like Josh Hancock, that’s one thing. If someone like Lisa Beaulieu is killed, that’s entirely different.
If you drink and drive, you need to think about these things. Then you need to stop doing it.
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