The Life Of Reilly The Flip Side of What's Right about Sports

We here at the Malevolent Order of Grumps take issue with WHAT'S
RIGHT ABOUT SPORTS. We demand equal time. Therefore, we present,
What's Wrong about Sports.

The Tour de Syringe.

Pat Riley tells his players not to help guys up.

Perverted jocks, insane coaches and punch-happy assistants. (And
that's just at Notre Dame.)

Kirby Puckett isn't playing anymore. Albert Belle is.

Salary-cap rules that are more confusing than Father's Day at
Shawn Kemp's house.

The $4.50 Coke.

Logos on golfers' chests, hats, sleeves, shirt backs, gloves,
watches, belts, back pockets and pants cuffs. Why not just get it
over with, fellas, and walk down the fairway wearing sandwich
boards?

Sportswriters still print the ugliness that belches from the
bigoted brain of a washed-up, no-trick pony like Reggie White.

Scoreboard dot races.

Geezer boxing gives us the first generation of fighters who are
restricted to soft foods before fights.

Loving sports because it's about character, but hearing only
about money.

The 47 uniforms of the Arizona Diamondbacks. Sorry, just can't
see Joe DiMaggio before a game saying, "Let's see. What am I in
the mood for today? Teal or purple?"

Grrrrrrrratuitously grrrrrrrrowling NNNNNNNNBA arrrrrrrrena
annnnnnnnouncers!

If you accidentally sign for a higher golf score than you shot,
you get disqualified. Stupidest rule in sports.

In the NBA you can call timeout while falling out of bounds with
the ball. Second-stupidest rule in sports.

Too many concussions in football. Too few in soccer.

Those annoying Star Wars sound effects that Fox blares in the
nanosecond between the moment the guy is tackled and the instant
replay.

All those NBA refs who phony up airline expense reports but never
heard of traveling.

Evander Holyfield running yellow from Lennox Lewis.

The way the Jerrys are setting up this poor chump Tim Floyd to
fall on the p.r. grenade.

Signature catchphrases. Hey, Howie Hairspray, just because you
holler, "See ya in Glocca Morra!" after every homer doesn't make
you Vin Scully.

The tofu hot dog at 3Com Stadium.

Tough-guy hockey analyst Barry Melrose. Hey, Barry, David Cassidy
called. He wants his hair back.

Blue Chip magazine's rankings of the top 100 third-grade football
prospects.

Let me get this straight: We're bulldozing real vintage
ballparks like Tiger Stadium and Fenway Park to put up fake
vintage ballparks?

Gout-riddled, tire-middled 60-year-old managers wear uniforms.

Zambonis aren't allowed on the ice during the pairs competition.

Cal Ripken Jr. doesn't miss a day of work for 16 years, makes an
error every other Fourth of July and gets ripped for it.

Two thirds of the major league teams come to spring training now
with no possible chance to win the pennant.

The Dawg Pound is coming back.

Your 10-year-old can't find out if Mark McGwire hit a homer for
all the hair-replacement ads, penile-enlargement ads and
"private lingerie modeling" ads in the morning sports pages.

One-hundred-forty-mile-an-hour serves that leave us with
one-rally-an-hour tennis.

Artistic merit.

The belly-button-high, straight-down-the-chute National League
"ball."

The two-hour traffic jams to have your picture taken at the top
of Mount Everest.

Pete Rose isn't in. Phil Rizzuto is.

And, of course, the modern scourge of mankind...the Gatorade bath.

COLOR PHOTO: DANA FINEMAN/SYGMA [Rick Reilly]

Rhythm-ruining, half-hearted, completely pointless between-
free-throw high fives.