Proper and Improper Uses of the Word “Literally” in Sports History

Proper and Improper Uses of the Word “Literally” in Sports History

December 28, 2004 – After a Los Angeles Lakers victory over the Toronto Raptors in which Kobe Bryant scored 48 points and shot 57% from behind the arc, John Anderson said that Bryant “literally carried the team on his back.”

At a team Christmas party earlier that week, Bryant was reading Dr. Seuss’s “The Sneetches” to his daughter. To represent how Sylvester McMonkey McBean was wiping off stars with his Star-OFF machine, Bryant mounted PG Derek Fisher on his back and wiggled him around the room. His daughter was so delighted, that Bryant repeated this with all of his teammates, literally carrying the team on his back. Shaquille O’Neal was a member of the Miami Heat at the time. Diagnosis: proper usage.

March 3, 2004 – In a press conference after an 11-point loss to the New York Knicks, Philadelphia Sixers SG Allen Iverson said he “literally could not buy a bucket today.”

On his way to Madison Square Garden, Iverson stopped by a KFC/Taco Bell and ordered a bucket of Original Recipe chicken. With the KFC credit card machine not working at the time, Iverson was forced to pay in cash. Having been predisposed to not carrying any with him, he could only muster up enough spare change from his seat cushions for the 4-piece meal. He then showed up to MSG and went 2 for 21 from the floor, ending the Sixers’ playoff chances. Diagnosis: proper usage.

November 11, 2003 – In reference to FB Tony Richardson, Trey Wingo stated on NFL Live “this is the guy who literally paves the way for Priest Holmes.”

At the time, Richardson was a Pro Bowl fullback whose primary responsibility was to block for Holmes, the league’s leading rusher. It wasn’t until after the 2010 season, when Richardson became part owner of Ground and Pound Concrete, a southern affiliate of Driveways! Driveways! Driveways!, that he found himself in a position to pick up a job for a familiar client in his San Antonio area home. Despite their relationship, Ground and Pound was outbid by Touch Down Masonry and Richardson didn’t get the chance to pave the way for Holmes. Diagnosis: improper usage.

September 21, 2008 – On Sunday NFL Countdown, Mike Ditka called the upcoming game between the 0-2 Cleveland Browns and the 0-1 Baltimore Ravens a “must win for the Cleveland Browns – literally – a must win.” He actually paused to emphasize literally.

The Browns, having already lost a division game to Pittsburgh, would be unable to statistically overcome an 0-3 start to the season with 2 division losses. The Browns lost the game in route to a 4-12 season, missing the playoffs for the sixth straight season, thus proving Ditka’s emphasis on literally undeniably correct. Diagnosis: proper usage.

March 25, 2002 – After a one-point loss to the Denver Nuggets, New York Knicks perennial backup PG Charlie Ward claimed that he “just literally dropped the ball on that one.”

He was speaking in reference to a botched defensive assignment which gave Nick Van Exel an easy go-ahead layup with 3 seconds left in the game. Ward then reminded reporters that he won the Heisman Trophy back in 1993 and went on a very tearful personal confession about regretting certain life decisions for 23 minutes. He did not, however, literally drop a ball. Diagnosis: improper usage.

Sweet Dreams Are Made of Threes

Sweet Dreams Are Made of Threes

I don’t want to say that I knew that Ray Allen was going to set a record for 3s in an NBA Finals game, but I seriously just had a dream about him the night before. We were sitting on my dorm bedroom and I remember him wearing a green jersey, but I don’t know if it was Boston or Seattle. The only thing I really remember is that we talked about how stupid Doc Rivers was for hiding a couple thousand bucks in the ceiling of Staples Center’s visiting locker room.

Apparently, the coach of the Celtics took $100 from every player and hid it in the ceiling of the visitor’s locker room in L.A. back in February and said the only way they would get it back was to make it to the finals. The logistics of this are unfathomable. What if a janitor found it? Or another opposing team? OR! What if the Lakers didn’t get back to the finals? Ever think of that? The Ray Allen from my dream did and he thought it was stupid. So did Dirk Nowitski, who was also in the room downloading porn on my computer. I love dreams.

So yeah, like I said. My dreams told me he was going to set the record. I’m not exactly sure what Megan Fox is going to do now, but it’s going to be pretty huge.

I Can See Your Crack

I Can See Your Crack

I have a pretty decent size crack on my windshield and unlike all the literature says, it doesn’t appear to be going away on its own. It started on the passenger side at just about eye level and worked its way about ¼ of the way across pretty quickly. But it’s now kinda slowed down. And I don’t really see the need to fix it either. At first I was a little distracted and thought somebody was always trying to merge from the right. But now that I’m used to it (and already have a girlfriend), it’s not a big deal. My mechanic says that in addition to the obvious issues with vision which I’ve already circumnavigated (justified), it weakens the integrity of the windshield. So now if my windshield finds somebody else’s wallet, it will take all the cash before it mails it back. Or maybe I’m misunderstanding something. He said that if a basketball strikes the windshield, it is now more likely to break. Even in my line of work, I think I can avoid driving through a storm of basketballs.

So I’ve decided not to worry about getting it fixed. Unless of course they require a whole uncracked windshield as part of the Maryland State inspection. It’s been a while since I’ve been through a real inspection since Ohio only checks your headlights and odometer and only when you first buy it or move there. Heck, my jeep didn’t have doors that locked, functional seat belts or a roof and that lasted three years. And they let my legally blind roommate drive an SUV any time of day. How the hell do people survive out there? And the basketball storms are much worse out there too. Where the hell was I?

Still Standing Right Here...

Dear Intramural Basketball Champions

Dear Intramural Basketball Champions,

First of all, congratulations. I’m assuming from the amount of importance that you placed on this victory that you have a significant investment of your self-worth associated with the outcome. While I feel there are other things more important than the random subtle differences in the bounce of a ball, I do admire your passion toward the cause. Not many people would be willing to sacrifice their character in front of other students and staff members they see on a weekly basis to argue their point. The whining like an 8-year-old when you didn’t get your way, the staredown of the officials and the red-faced screaming at the clock operator when 7 seconds ran off the clock after a time out was called is inspiring. These acts together culminated in an intramural championship that no one can ever take away from you. You did it. You found a way. And though I seriously do appreciate the apology after the fact, I’m rather certain that after a come-from-behind overtime win in a championship game, I’d have smiled and shook hands with the bully that used to shove my head in the toilet in middle school. It’s when we face adversity that we really find out what our character is like. And you don’t need to prove yourself to me, so please stop. I’m but a bit part in your life and my mind is already made up. I just worry that someday you may value something more than winning an intramural contest. Sadly for the opposing team, as heartbreaking a loss as it was, they were able to maintain their character. They obviously have other priorities in their life and don’t value the intramural basketball championship as much as you do. And now you have a t-shirt to hang up in your room as a reminder of everything you had to sacrifice to win this championship. Maybe someday you’ll value your own character over a game, but not today. Today, you are an intramural champion.

The League Commissioner.

And if you like this one, you'll like Unsportsmanlike Conduct too.

Sarcastic Ref Dustin

Sarcastic Ref Dustin

I reverted back into “Sarcastic Ref Dustin” last night for a minute. I started out in this profession of intramural official as rather timid and afraid of the pace of the game, like most people do. I then became Sarcastic Ref Dustin and whenever somebody would question a call and I knew them to be wrong, I would – very subtly – make them look like an ignorant ass in public. “But the ground caused the incompletion” one player would say. “I know” I would retort. It was a dance a man with a superior intellect, a position of power and an obviously more comprehensive knowledge of the rules of the game being played would win every time. And yes, you can win dances.

After years of these idiotic comments born from very obviously biased sources, one of two things happened. Either I became more professional in my approach or more desensitized to idiocy. I did not talk back to teams nearly as much as an official. Or at least I was able to holster the degrading retort to an idiotic comment. I’ve always been able to joke around with the greater majority of teams and players who get the core concept of a recreational game. Well, a team last night finally got on my nerves to the point where I no longer felt the need to play nice. Sorry guys, but you’ve done enough.

After a whole game filled with eye rolls, looks of disbelief and staredowns (of the officials), I had had enough. One of the players on the opposing team had bounced the ball a little too high and let it go between bounces. This is a completely legal play in every version of basketball. The other team was complaining that he (and I quote) “let it go and then touched it again” (end quote). That was seriously their entire argument. I don’t know how to refute that. I got a look on my face of disbelief. Confused, I said something to the effect of “huh?” Again, they said the same thing and now two players on their team were complaining. And the comedian in me saw an opportunity to get revenge against the hecklers. “He let the ball go and then touched it again? That’s called dribbling.” I may have thrown in a “I don’t understand what you’re asking” or “It’s not a travel” to give myself plausible deniability like many of them do over and over, but it was a smart ass remark and hit its target demographic. I don’t regret it, but I’m not proud of it. After all that team had put me through all year, I feel like one jab back to prove I can jab back but I just don’t is sufficient enough. After all, I did hear one NCAA official tell Coach Phil, our UMBC women’s head basketball coach “I didn’t call it, so obviously it was not a foul.” And if he can say that, I can inform people what dribbling is.

Still Standing Right Here…

Play is a 4 Letter Word

Play is a 4 Letter Word

So one of the most exciting and unpredictable tournaments in NCAA basketball history just came to a close tonight. Unfortunately, the climax was the worst part. Kinda like how Signs was awesome for about an hour and a half and then Wakeem Phoenix beat the alien to death with a bat. And I just don't ever feel like spelling his name right, in case you were gonna jump on me about that. The whole George Mason story was great up until Saturday where they looked like Brick Mason. And some people said when they got to the final four that you couldn't have scripted a better story than if they won the whole thing. I disagree. I am going to prove that you can. My screenplay will have an 11-seed win the NCAA tournament, but also save us from evil robots and a Category 5 hurricane. There's your script!

Yeah, anyway, so they're done. As is LSU, so there wasn't even a guy with a nickname in this final game. And I just couldn't care less about this Goliath vs. Goliath match tonight. It's like watching the Williams sisters in the finals of the French Open. What's the point? Well, I suppose I could actually care a little less. Like at least it's not soccer. Or American Idol. Or the last 5 seasons of Friends (yep, I think he successfully offended everybody). But hey, at least Duke didn't win, right?

So I'm going to this party, er... I mean conference all this upcoming week starting tomorrow for college recreation professionals. A bunch of people who do what I do for a living from all across this country and a few others will be in Sunny Louisville all week long swapping stories and maybe swapping some other things if I come back and there's a hanger on the door. And we can toss around terms like "informal recreation coordinator" and "sport clubs assistant director" and everybody there will know what we're talking about. But I realize that it's kind of difficult to explain these things to people that aren't in our profession. Erin recently asked me what I was doing at work. I told her that I was in charge of the Rec facility that day and that means that I walk around and make sure that everybody is happy. When she asked what I was doing that night, I told her that I had a basketball game with the Free Agents. I know; it's a rough life. So to sum up...

Quote of the Day 4/3/06

"Oh, I think I understand. So basically, you play games and talk to people."

-Erin


And I'm demanding a raise.

Puttin bread on the table,

D Rec.

Still Standing Right Here...

Bitching Back

Bitching Back

Well, one of the funnier parts of my job is watching the refs deal with the coaches on the sidelines of our UMBC basketball games. Some refs just put up with the harassment, some give technicals, and my favorites are the ones that talk back to the bitching coaches. Most of the reasons I never wanted to go any further in my refereeing career is because I thought you weren't supposed to talk shit back to the coaches. But over the weekend, our women's basketball coach asked why this ref wasn't calling fouls in our favor, and the ref replied something to the effect of "Because you're whining too much." But I heard this quip word for word today. Their team went up for a shot and had it blocked, but then one of their players touched the ball after the block and it landed out of bounds, right in front of one of their guys who was being boxed out by one of our guys (everybody got that?). So anyway, the coach was bitching about the call and said to the ref...

Quote Of the Day 1/30/03

Coach: "Are you telling me that he didn't push our guy?"
Ref: "I didn't call it, so obviously, he did not push your guy."


Now there's a ref with some nuts!

Obviously, you're not a golfer,

The Dude.


Still Standing Right Here...

Rating Actual Reasons Guys On Our Varsity Basketball Team Got Kicked Off the Team For

If you guys don't normally read these, this might be a good one to break that tradition for...

Actual Reasons Guys On Our Varsity Basketball
Team Got Kicked Off the Team For

Now, to preserve the anonymity of the criminals/suspects/just plain idiots, I've decided to disguise their actual names. Though, since all of this was in the UMBC or county public police log, and since they aren't around anymore to kick my ass, I don't feel so bad (or scared).

Dong Yates - OK, some guy had his bike stolen from the RAC (UMBC's gym) about two weeks ago and reported it stolen to the police and everything. He came into the gym yesterday and told me and Geoff that his bike was back outside and locked up. So we waited for the "perp" to unlock the bike to see who it was. And what do you know, it was Dong unlocking the bike after bball practice. So Geoff and the campus police asked him where he got it. His response was that the bike wasn't originally locked up, so he thought that somebody was just "giving it away." So he took it and put a lock on it, making it his own. And thought he could get away with it. New Yorkers are so dumb. B*

Reefer Mulligan - Well, all this guy was doing was smokin a doobie with one of his bball buds. They were smart enough not to bring it into the dorm too, and they were out in their car. Well, the police saw the smoke-filled car and started drawing closer. So Reefer and friend opened the door and took off. Not knowing that one of the cops had seen almost every game that season. Also, not figuring that the police would be able to trace the license plate back to him either. But you know about these guys from New York. B+

Issac Crook - So the chemistry department had one of their computers stolen. About 6 months later, out of the blue, their computer popped back online. So using the IP address and other networking crap I can't do, they tracked it down to the dorm room, and sure enough - guess what was there? Yep. And this is a local boy. A-

Will Jerkin - OK. This one combines the ignorance it takes to be a crook, the meatheadedness it takes to be a bully, and some flat out audacity disguised as idiocy. So this really big guy (about 6'8" or so) takes this cell phone from a girl he just met while he was out somewhere. Then she calls him on it when she realizes she's missing it and he answers and offers to give it back. For $100. So she agrees to meet him at the designated meeting place. Only she shows up with cops. New Yorker #3 A+

Sam Grand - No left hand, doesn't play D, never passes the ball. He just sucks. C-

* - It should be noted that Dong didn't get kicked off the team for that,
but rather, he just sucked too. C+

Lauren and I were discussing some of the stupid rules of the NCAA a few days ago. There are books filled with all the specific recruiting violations, how often you can talk to someone and what you're allowed to say, etc. Well, in a little twist of fate, it looked like she was going to be living with one of the guys on the baseball team. And now since Lauren works in the athletic dept, there are rules she had to make sure she doesn't break...

Quote Of the Day 1/28/03

"No, I'm allowed to let him live with me, but I just can't give him a ride to class."

-Lauren


To which I replied "well, I'm allowed to have sex with all the girls on the volleyball team as long as I don't get caught playing volleyball with them." Not kidding. But one is much more likely than the other.

Shot clock violator,

Duckpin Dustin.


Still Standing Right Here...

Basketball and the Irish

Basketball and the Irish

It's that time of year again. The time of the year in which I donate money to people who watch more college basketball than I do. I don't know why I do this every year. I'm usually statistically eliminated by the end of the second round. Well, this year was no exception. There were 16 games on the first day. I'm not going to tell you all how many I got right, but let's say that I would have done better if I had just gone with all the higher seeds. Or all the lower seeds. Or all the teams that came first in alphabetical order. Or all their opponents. And I'm not kidding. So I'm considering it a donation. I'm going to try to deduct it from my taxes next year.

Last week was St. Patrick's Day, a day where everybody pretends they are a little bit Irish so they can all justify drinking more than usual. What a holiday. I'll bet no more than 10 of you actually know who St. Patrick is or what he did, or why he's associated with binge drinking. But who am I to spoil the fun? So Tony was on his way out to "celebrate" this holiday last year when I asked him if he was even Irish...

Quote Of the Day 3/25/02

"I'm 1/365th Irish."

-Tony "MacKinnin" Harris


His family tree looks more like an afro.

No I don't know what that meant,

Darin O'Fisher


Still Standing Right Here...

Showering All Over Again

Showering All Over Again

There are a lot of things that suck about crutches. A lot of people complain a lot about their arm pits chaffing and wrists getting sore. These things didn't really bother me so much. I actually learned a few tricks on the things to aid in my failed quest to get some sympathy bootie. But one day I needed to get a basketball from my car into my apartment. I stared at the problem for about 5 minutes before I realized that there was no real solution. Not at least given the variables I was given at the time. That's the bitch about needing to walk with your hands. You can't carry things. Like basketballs. And ravioli.

A little while ago, I was attempting to go to a party after volleyball practice. Figuring I wouldn't have time to go all the way home and shower, I told everybody and had pretty much decided on my own that I could just take a shower in the RAC at school and head over to her place. Everybody had left practice and I was ready to set the plan in motion when I grabbed a towel and began to crutch into the locker room and remembered I couldn't shower yet. I lacked the ability to stand and had to bathe in order to cleanse myself, and such facilities were not available in the RAC. Cleansing oneself is another shitty thing about crutches. Having realized my error, I drove back home very annoyed, and still quite dirty. I never made it to the party, but I got myself all cleaned up for it.

About a week later, I felt confident enough to try to shower for the first time since the stupid game. Russ was home, so I warned him I was about to try this normally uneventful everyday task. I told him not to take too lightly any violent slipping and falling noises coming from the bathroom. He nodded and understood. I then told him that there was a very huge likelihood that I would be naked, which is about when he cut in...

Quote Of the Day 10/10/00

"...I'll call somebody."

-Russ Dawg


Honestly, the choice between a gruesome bloody death and having Russ see my exposed privates is not an easy one to make. So I gave him a list in order of preference of people I want him to call just in case. Does anybody know Britney Spears' cell number?

Naked and standing upright,

Exposo.


Starting to Still Stand Right Here Again...

Shopped Into Submission

Shopped Into Submission

Well, I'm getting better now. In fact, I might be back in the shoe and walking by the end of the month. This, of course, is my own personal assessment, because I've stopped listening to my doctor. And I'm just not getting anything in the way of sympathy dates. I don't get it! I've even got a cute little blue dog humping my crutch. I must not look pathetic enough or something. Or maybe I'm just too cute that I'm unapproachable. It's probably one of those two things. So before I get completely better, I need to squeeze in all the material I've stocked up about me being injured while I'm still injured. For example...

I went to go get my antibiotics at Giant a few weeks back. I knew we were out of milk and other things, and I had to wait half an hour for my medication anyway. Apparently, taking 30 pills from a big bottle and putting them into a little bottle isn't as easy as I thought. So anyway, I needed to get some stuff. I would normally carry one of those hand baskets around and pile all the crap in there. This is not so easy when you need your hands to walk. So I thought I could just stick my bad foot on the push cart and use it like a skateboard. But because I couldn't put any weight on my left foot, I put all my weight on my arms, which were leaning on the handle of the cart when I pushed off with my good foot. This caused the cart to flip over backwards in not so subtle a way, which in addition to embarrassing the hell out of me, caused me a lot of pain. I was in a really bad position here and I had definitely lost my chance with any chicks in the relative vicinity. If Tony wasn't away for the week, I'm sure there would already be milk and other eating products in the fridge anyway. But relying on Russ to buy food for the apartment would mean I would eat smack ramen noodles and Natural Light until I died or Tony came home. That's when I saw the riding cart...

It seriously took me about 20 minutes to figure out how to use it. I had to take the advice of a 12-yr-old kid who helped his grandpa operate one once, and I'm still not kidding. And I didn't expect them to be like little racing go-carts, but I could have crawled along the floor, pushing my 12 items or less to the cashier a little bit faster. Having suffered enough embarrassment, I opted not to crawl. Though it was embarrassing enough driving around with my milk and Froot Loops in my cart, getting passed by two-legged walking people. I started "accidentally" running into the bastards. And I ran into some cute little freshman chick at the check out line who had seen me fall and asked if I was OK and wanted to know if I needed help carrying my Froot Loops to my car. So I told her to fuck off and to go patronize somebody who gave a damn. I have another theory on why I don't get any sympathy dates.

Well, today is the two month anniversary of that fateful fucking game. I was able to walk just two months ago today. If I hadn't won so many damn games in a row, I wouldn't have still been playing. So indirectly, it was my superior athletic ability that did me in. And one of the questions that most people asked me was if I won the game. I actually didn't know. I remember it was really close and really close to the end. I ran into a guy that I was playing with a few weeks later and asked him if we won...

Quote Of the Day 10/9/00

"Well, everybody kinda stopped playing when you went down... But we was up."

-Chuck (one of the fuckers responsible for this)


Excellent! I did not rupture in vain!

Going out a winner,

Achilles X.


Still Stranded Right Here...

New York vs. Texas

New York vs. Texas

Well, over the weekend, the longest game in Stanley Cup history took place. It went into a third overtime, and was watched by me from both our apartment, a restaurant, and a bar afterward. Dallas beat Buffalo 2-1 for those of you who care. And here's an interesting point I feel I have to make because it's kind of cool (note: I said "interesting," not "funny"). This is the first time ever that two teams from different cities in the same state were competing against two teams from different cities in another state in both the Stanley Cup finals and the NBA finals. While Dallas was beating Buffalo in hockey, San Antonio was beating New York on alternating night. Kinda cool, huh? Well, maybe just to me. And Bob Costas.

Well, I want to make this quick, because I need to be bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked for my 10-year-old fan club tomorrow morning. If I haven't had my beauty rest, those playful games of "Get Mr. Dustin" could turn fatal for the kids. Well, I was watching the basketball version of the Texas/New York war of the athletes tonight, when Charlie Ward (93 Heisman Trophy winner turned point guard (it's a long story)) dribbled the ball upcourt and tried some fancy Michael Jordan move and seriously fell over to the ground and lost the ball. To this, Bill Walton and whatever other sarcastic commentators that happen to accompany him, decided to comment (since it's their job) on the play...

Quote of the Day 6/21/99

"Now that's not what Charlie Ward does. Charlie Ward and Chris Childs [back-up point guard] are best when they just dribble the ball up and give it to somebody else."

-Bill Walton


I love the subtlety of this insult. That's basically as politely as they could say on national television, "These guys ain't worth a shit." But they're still better than Chris Dudley.

Pointless guard,

Mr. Crossover.


Still Standing Right Here...