Grood.com

There are several sayings that start with “You can take the ____ out of the ____” and end with “but you can’t take the ____ out of the ____.” The blank spots are usually filled with the combinations of girl : trailer park, playa : game, gangsta : projects, or Tom Sizemore : meth. It’s kinda like the SATs. Another commonly used one is “You can take the thug out of the ghetto, but you can’t take the ghetto out of the thug.” This last one has been most commonly associated with athletes.

Ever since there were professional athletes being brought up with nothing and then signing multi-million dollar contracts, trouble has followed closely behind. Mike Tyson (rape, assault), Ray Lewis (murder, withholding evidence), Darryl Strawberry (domestic violence, drugs), Shawn Kemp (drugs, father of about 19 kids out of wedlock, original Granddaddy of them all) and Ty Cobb (beat up a one-armed fan) are all prime examples of people having no clue how to behave when they have money.

However, recently the bar has been raised… really, really high. There is one man who has done more in a two year span than any of the rest could even dream about. His credits are only rivaled by that of Al Capone and the outlaw Jesse James. That man is Adam “Pacman” Jones.

Pacman was born in Atlanta, Georgia back in 1983. His story is like that of many that have been told. Dad shot and killed when he was 10 and his mother and grandmother raised him. He focused on sports and that’s why he excelled. Blah, blah, blah. Life sucks sometimes and it’s great that he played sports to stay out of “trouble”. Oh, he also got the name “Pacman” because he drank a lot of milk. Not real sure about the correlation there, but hey, whatever.

So, like all other ESPN heartfelt stories, Pacman goes on to the University of West Virginia and pretty much kicks ass on the field. Bunch of stats, bunch of awards and accolades, you know the usual. I’m sure he probably read to some blind elementary kids for good measure. Helps with the heartfeltness.

Then, like most stud players, he skips his senior year to go to the NFL draft. Surprisingly, he is picked by Tennessee Titans at number 6. Now, if you’re not familiar with the draft and how much money a player gets, here’s a quick breakdown: You’re pretty much guaranteed to be set for life if you’re in the top 10. So, Pacman signed a five year, $30 million dollar deal. Now, if only the story ended there. Nice and happy. Great television, rags to riches story.

Fortunately, Pacman is a complete moron/thug and the story keeps on trucking. After being drafted and getting all of that money, Pacman manages to stay out of trouble for a solid 3 months. However, it’s all downhill from there. Here’s a quick list of his highlights:
1. July 13, 2005: Charged with vandalism and assault at a nightclub
2. September 5, 2005: Restrained by police after throwing a fit because
he had to wait for a valet
3. August 25, 2006: Arrested for public drunk and disorderly conduct
after spitting on a stripper who he thought had stolen his wallet
4. October 26, 2006: Spat on the face of a Tennessee State University
female student during a party at a nightclub
5. *February 19, 2007: Long story short, got in a fight with a stripper
after she took “some” money off the floor and his entourage shot a club
bouncer, twice.
6. May 7, 2007: Gets stopped by police for going 79 mph in a 55 and is
driving an unregistered car
7. June 18, 2007: Atlanta police want to talk to Pacman about his
entourage shooting at some people outside another strip club

These were just the highlights. In all, Pacman has been arrested five
times and questioned by police at least 10 times. Pretty good for just
over two years work.

*The February 19th incident needs a little extra explanation. Pacman and his well behaved friends were at a Las Vegas strip club hanging out with rapper Nelly. Yes, that Nelly. Apparently, both of them started throwing a ton of cash on the stage at one of the strippers. Then in an act known as “making it rain” they started throwing the money on themselves. The club management and the strippers thought the money that fell to the floor was fair game. Pacman and friends thought differently and beat the shit out of the strippers and bouncers. Not sure what Nelly’s status was in this. Folks were not talking about $50 bucks on the floor. No, we’re talking about $81,020. That’s right. $81,020 cash!!! The best part is that they carried it in a trash bag. Yeah, a fucking trash bag. So after they shove all the money in the trash bag they decided to shoot at some people and end up hitting 3, one of which is paralyzed.*

After all of this, the NFL decided to suspend Pacman for the entire season of 2007. However, Pacman decided to appeal. Seriously, he thought he would actually be able to put up enough of an argument to get reinstated. I would have paid good money to see that laugh fest. It would have been ten times better than watching Paris Hilton tell Larry King her favorite Bible verse. Pacman later dropped his appeal after his attorney told him he was retarded.

I’m not going to sit here and preach on my soapbox about what a saint I am. Believe me I’ve done some really fucking stupid things and I’ve been in some trouble. Luckily, I haven’t been arrested or sued in any of my dealings. But seriously. Pacman has taken the term troubled athlete to a whole new level. One mistake is tolerable. Learn from it and move on. But this guy is talking to the police on a monthly basis. It’s to the point that if any shootings take place outside of a strip club, it’s guaranteed Pacman was in the vicinity. Seriously, I know Pacman was only 11 at the time, but I’m pretty sure he could be tied in with “whoever” murdered OJ Simpson’s wife.

To analyze these events might seem mundane, but let’s take a look. Just about all of these take place in the near vicinity of a nightclub or a strip club. Most of them involve his entourage and most took place late at night. Pretty recognizable pattern there. Basically, a bunch of buddies drinking late into the night at a strip club. Done that a few times and pretty sure I didn’t pour $81 grand on the floor and shoot a bouncer. Anyone else? No, just Pacman and crew. Maybe he needs to think about getting some new fucking friends and make it a goal to get to bed by a decent time, say 3:00 a.m. If that doesn’t work, maybe he could hang out with Mike Vick. I hear he has some dogs they can play with.

Electronic Arts Inc., announced today that former Boise State University quarterback and Tostitos Fiesta Bowl MVP Jared Zabransky will appear on the cover of NCAA® Football 08, scheduled for release this summer under the EA SPORTS™ brand.

“This has been a magical season for me and seeing my face on the cover of NCAA Football 08 is yet another unforgettable moment in what has already been a great year,” said Zabransky. “This video game truly embodies the spirit of college football and I’m very proud to be a part of it.”

Zabransky led Boise State to an undefeated season this year and most recently to a 43-42 overtime victory against Oklahoma at the Tostitos Fiesta Bowl in what some call one of the most exhilarating games in college football history. At the Tostitos Fiesta Bowl, he completed 19-of-29 passes for 262 yards and will most likely be remembered for perfectly executing the Statue of Liberty play to win the game.

“Are you fucking shitting me?!?” said Doug Dixon, former Oklahoma student and avid enthusiast of the NCAA Football franchise. “Well this is a real kick in the nuts,” Dixon later said. “He looks like someone you’d buy meth from.”

Here’s marathonfoto’s gallery of me during the marathon last Sunday. Jesus I look terrible. Like, if this gallery had a title it would be “Knocking on Heaven’s Door.” I bet if you look at the photos under a UV light or something you can see some dude wearing a black cloak with a sickle chasing behind me.

My legs hurt and I’m tired all the time now.

So I ran the 22nd Los Angeles Marathon yesterday. Or as I like to call it, a 26-mile cry for attention. I’ll be honest, I got my ass handed to me yesterday. It was bad. Right about mile 22 or so. I don’t know if I hit “the wall” or what. All I know is it was the worst I’ve ever felt in my entire athletic life.

That’s including my broken ankle my sophomore year in high school and the time in 5th grade I dove into a teatherball pole trying to save a basketball during practice. This time, my discomfort did not come from not having the right kind of socks like last year where I bled through my shoe like Steve Prefontaine. My feet are actually blister free. The discomfort this year was just from sheer exhaustion.

It sucked for everyone, apparently. According to this article, the finishing times for both the men and women were the slowest in the marathon’s history. I suppose if a group of Kenyans can be off their pace, so can I. It was the combination of the redesigned course having an extensive downhill portion at the beginning, causing a lot of people to burn out, along with the overall high temperature which I estimate was in the mid to upper 70s by the time I finished (ideal marathon temperature is around 55 degrees). Oh God, it was horrible.

There were fire trucks positioned about every half mile or so spraying their hoses onto the course for people to run under. The feeling was that of pure exhilaration. It wouldn’t last, though. I’d run under one and get soaked and by the time I got to the next one I was already starting to become relatively dry.

One major thing I noticed that was different was the absence of people handing out energy gel. You know, those carbohydrate gels you see by the register at sporting goods stores. There were people everywhere along the course handing them out last year. I estimate I took down at least ten of them last year. I saw one person handing them out this year. I had two and considered myself lucky. There were volunteers handing out all kinds of other things like bananas and orange slices, but no gels!

The wall, I don’t know how to explain it. You want to go, but you just can’t. For you male readers, it’s a lot like whiskey dick. You’re wanting to nail this chick so bad but you can’t get it up because you’re so drunk and you keep trying to mash your dick into her and it just won’t work but you won’t stop trying even though she’s already given up and passed out and you start hating yourself for buying those rounds of shots but at the same time it was probably those shots that led her to your apartment in the first place. The wall is kind of like that. Just me?

It was a horrible feeling and all I could think about the whole time was eating a big slice of pizza. Seriously. That may have been the hungriest I’ve ever been.

I suppose I could buy one of those little runner fanny packs and keep energy gels in there, but that’s a line I don’t know if I’m ready to cross. If I do that then I also gotta start wearing those tiny little shorts and special running socks that come up to my lower calves and a tiny little hat. No thanks, I don’t need a fanny pack. That’s what pockets are for. You’re going on a long run, not a trip to the zoo.

There were a lot of people decked out in that shit. Some of them even had a camelback of water to go along with their fanny packs of gayness. I’m not knocking a camelback, that is if you’re running a marathon. The thing is: a lot of these people were walking the whole way.

Yes, that’s right. They’d be all decked out and psyched with anticipation for the gun to go off and when it did, they’d walk. Some of them even cheered with enthusiasm when the gun went off, sort of like yeah! we’re crazy and we’re running a marathon! fuck yeah!, and then they walked. It’s one thing to look like a tool and run a marathon but it’s another thing to look like a tool and walk one.

Despite the race being terrible, the aftermath has not been as terrible as last year. I’m sore, but it’s nothing I haven’t felt from doing long training runs. A few people told me I should get a massage but I don’t think so.

I have a problem with going to those massage places. After they massage you and blow you they won’t let you take a nap. They act like you’re supposed to leave or something after they blow you. Hey, I just got a massage and head, why wouldn’t I want to take a nap? I deserve a nap.

All in all, there’s a good chance I’ll do another marathon. Why the hell not? I mean the whole experience sucked and I probably could have died, but whatever.

One other thing I thought of that I couldn’t fit anywhere else: right before the race started there was a guy going through the crowd of runners trying to sell t-shirts. This was in the middle of a huge pack of nothing but people not even ten minutes away from starting a marathon. I’m going to go out on a limb and say he didn’t sell any. I doubt there was anyone that was like, “Oh thank God, a t-shirt! Just what I need right now! I’ve been looking for one.”

From the Pro Bowl yesterday. Yeah I didn’t know it was yesterday, either.