Is It RED October Yet?

More From Dirtbag Domi.

Don't get me wrong, Ulf Samuelsson is a punk too, but this cheap shot stuff is for the birds. (Unless we're talking Dale Hunter's after-the-whistle hit from behind on an unsuspecting Pierre Turgeon which, hypocritically, is okay. Just kidding.)

Now He Has Time To Fight All The Fans.

Two things to look and listen for in the video:Can't get enough of seeing Darcy Tucker laid out on the ice and listen to the homer Leaf annoncers trash the Philly fan. Hilarious.

Nostalgic For Some Orioles' Magic.

Rob recently posted about his wistful memories of the 70's and 80's and today, by complete chance, I embarked on my own little one-legged hobble down memory lane. Flipping channels on my lunch break, I stumbled upon the Mid Atlantic Sports Network ( a recent fine addition to the Comcast Lineup). Apparently they fill dead afternoon air with rebroadcasts of old Orioles games packaged as "Orioles Classics". I was hooked the second I saw that cartoon bird on the helmet. This particular game was played on August 8th, 1986. You see, even though the O's were pretty pathetic in the late 80's, these were the years that cemented my fandom. It simply didn't get any better than spending a summer evening watching the Birds on TV or, even better, falling asleep to the games on the radio.

I was fortunate enough to catch the great inning of this game; the Orioles erased a 6-0 Rangers lead by scoring nine times in one inning which included two grand slams. 33rd St was rockin and for a half-hour I was ten again. Some brief snippets that stuck out from my short visit to Memorial Stadium:

*The announcer was talking about the "rookie phenom, one of the new heroes of Birdland, Jim Traber". Boy, was that short-lived.

*The O's were only 2 1/2 games out first place. In August. My, how times have changed.

*The announcer kept plugging "Three Buck Night". Now you can't even get a hot dog for $3.

*The grand slams were hit by the utterly forgettable(except to true fans) Larry Sheets and Jim Dwyer.

There were only two things missing. Chants of "Eddie-Eddie-Eddie" and the sweet baritone of the late, great Chuck Thompson.

Good Times. Thanks MASN.

Now He'll Have Time To Fight All The Fans.

Tie Domi officially retired yesterday ending one of the dirtiest yet entertaining careers in NHL history. From slugging it out with a Flyers fan to his cheap shot on fellow dirt bag Ulf Sammuelson to his legendary bouts with Bob Probert, Domi has compiled quite a highlight reel. I tried unsuccessfully to post a few from youtube ;if you get a chance you should go there and watch them. He was a player who you loved to hate. So as incongruous as this sounds, "Good Riddance Mr. Domi, you will be missed."

Home Run Fun.

Even in today's sports climate of overpaid millionaires and juice injecting cheats, athletes can sometimes provide a moment or moments that defy logic and remind me of the magic that draws me to sports in the first place. The ending to last night's Dodgers-Padres game was so unrealistic that if a Hollywood script writer penned it he would have been laughed out of the pitch meeting. The Dodgers, trailing 9-5 heading into the bottom of the ninth inning, tied the game by hitting four straight solo home runs. Kent, Drew, Martin and Anderson. Back-to-back-to-back-to-back. Impossible, except that it really happened. Then after surrendering a run in the top of the tenth, the Dodgers were blessed by the baseballs gods again when Nomar Garciaparra won the game by smashing a two-run homer. This improbable victory propelled L.A. past the Padres and into first place. Of course, the best part of the victory for me was being able to hear the great Vin Scully's voice on the ubiquitous highlights played all day today. Very cool.

Bryan Held Hostage:Day 5

Today is my fifth day stuck inside since my successful knee surgery. I am insane with cabin fever, so I hope this list of random thoughts, compiled over five days of recuperation, ice and elevation, makes some sense. At least as much sense as my other posts. So, I present to you- Notes from the Couch:

Daytime TV is awful; there are way too many Judge shows, cable news channels could tape 30 minutes of programming a day and loop it for the other 23 1/2 hours, and Dr. Phil is still a hump.

Lesson to other recovering patients- When ordering a sub delivery, check that the delivering restaurant doesn't charge extra for lettuce, tomato and delivery. Therefore you may not also be stuck paying OVER $15 for a cheesesteak and fries.

The itching of leg hair growing back in is doubly annoying when wearing a compression stocking that runs from toes to ass cheek.

Given all the ad time NBC has poured into it, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip had better be good.

How long have I been laying on the couch? I have a bruise on my arm where it has hung off the front of the couch in the same spot for days.

Funniest thing I saw all weekend (besides me trying to navigate the bathroom on one leg)- Will Ferrell on the inaugural episode of The Megan Mullaly Show (I told you I'm rabid with cabin fever.) He greeted his hostess wearing nothing but blue jockey briefs and tube socks carrying a bouquet of roses. Priceless.

The movie Miracle, the story of the 1980Miracle on Ice hockey team, is a pretty good flick. I should have watched it sooner. I was inspired and had goosebumps even as Al Michaels shouted the expected "Do you believe in miracles?". That will never get old.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think there is such a thing as too much football. After watching triple headers Saturday and Sunday, I'm a little burnt. I might not even watch Monday Night Football tonight.

Finally, I will make this suggestion to my surgeon when I see him for my follow-up : He should sell a DVD copy of his arthoscopic surgeries to his patients. Hell, if people will buy photos of themselves screaming on a roller coaster then surely folks would buy a copy of a camera burrowing inside their knee. At least I would. Of course, that could just be the fever talking.

It's Baaaack!

Don't laugh and don't say I didn't warn you - Dancing With The Stars returns with a new season tonight. I have previously documented how my affection for this show makes me a loser, yet I'll tune in at 8pm tonight on ABC. Jerry Springer, Tucker Carlson, Emmitt Smith(one of my all-time favorite athletes) are among this seasons competitors. What's not to love? This thing will be cheesier than a Rob O. Taco Bell belch. Throw in Tom "I may be the worst game show host ever" Bergeron, great music and some sizzling hot dance instructors and you've got yourself quite a party.

Atlantis Rides Again.

Thanks to the Wolskes for giving me a shout this morning to remind me of the impending shuttle launch. I know I have written about the shuttle and space travel before, but the shuttle launch never ceases to amaze me. I find it fascinating, yet I could never see myself rocketing into orbit. Me riding in the shuttle cockpit would probably look a whole lot like the kid in this video.

Good At Football? Then You've Got No Worries, My Friend.

This story proves what a topsy-turvy world we inhabit; people's priorities are way out of whack. The Washington Post article isn't very long if you want to read it yourself, but I'll give you the short recap:

High school football star helps rob a Smoothie King of $463. (Allegedly.)

Whitman High School sends him home for remainder of last school year. The Whitman principal ( apparently the only sane person in this story) recommended expulsion, but was denied by an arbitrator.

Montgomery County, Md school officials allow him to switch to Wheaton High School in order to play football this season.

Wheaton coaches and players welcome him with open arms, naming him team captain.

Favorite line fom the article:Lazear said his ankle monitor is light enough that he hardly notices it when he plays, and it will not encumber him.

I know he is innocent until proven guilty, but shouldn't being arrested for armed robbery be enough to lose some privileges? How about some parenting? Where are the consequences for behaving badly? And we wonder why college athletes, and kids in general, have no respect for authority.

Image Was Everything.

I am a few days late with this, but I wanted to salute Andre Agassi for his classy farewell at the US Open last week.

Agassi transformed himself from a young punk (He wouldn't play Wimbledon because he would have had to wear tennis whites.) to a hard-training adult in time to salvage his immense talent and become a legend and ambassador for American tennis. Agassi ditched the mullett and Canon Rebel persona and earned respect for his game and his philanthropy. He had fallen as low #141 in the world rankings some years ago, but used his trademark drive to regain the top spot briefly and win eight Grand Slam titles.

That same drive was on display last week at the US Open. Playing in his farewell tournament despite being hobbled by chronic back pain, the 36-year-old Agassi gave the grateful New York crowds something to cheer about. His second round match against 21-year-old Marcos Bagdhatis (sp?) was spectacular. The always exceptionally fit Agassi fought through his back pain and held on to win a five-set classic. Agassi forced the much younger Bagdhatis to run himself into cramps that hampered his play late in the match. It appeared that Agasssi was buoyed by four cortisone shots in five days and the vocal fans, but I know different. I believe his secret weapon was the Wolske-esque pink sports drink that he sipped at every changeover. Worked for Chris on the ice, why not on the hardcourt as well?

Agassi's farewell tour and sappy Hollywood run ran out of steam in the third round, however. Barely able to bend over for low shots, Andre's famous return game was short-circuited. Sometimes it is difficult to watch athletes stuggle when the end is near, but this time was different for me. I liked what Dick Enberg said during his play-by-play, "Greatness reveals itself under pressure and pain." Agassi counterpunched, playing enough defense to stay in the match. He was overwhelmed, yet almost pushed the match to a fifth set. As it was, he bowed out in four and had to settle for a warm eight-minute standing ovation. Now at 36, with millions of dollars, a hot wife, two young kids and a school he has funded from the ground up, he gets to live out the rest of his American dream. Congrats, Andre for choosing substance and greatness over style and flash.