SCOTT JACOBS

Like every good book needs some great characters, sports need ‘em too.  Randy Moss was exactly that: a character.  An out of this planet, once in a decade (or nearly two decades) type of talent, whose on and off the field antics were heroically absurd.  He was so off the charts both statistically and personally, that it was hard not to be at least drawn to the man, whether you liked him or not.

His soundbites are some of the damnedest things you’ll ever see an athlete say, and his actions were strange and captivating.  Randy Moss didn’t seem to care what you thought of him, he did his own thing.

Which is why his retirement today was ultimately surprising — but not all that shocking once you dug beyond the surface level of the announcement.  Moss, the 13 year veteran was said to be in ‘freakish’ shape by his agent (what’s the guy supposed to say: my client has been eating Twinkies all summer?) and more motivated than ever to show people he still had something left in his football tank.

And today he announced he was done.  Teams sounded interested in him, despite his rocky 2010 season — which saw him bounced from the Pats to the Vikes to the Vince Youngless Titans.  A year that ironically turned for the worst for him, because he wanted a contract extension.  Moss wanted that one final big deal.  When the Patriots wouldn’t give it to him, he wanted out.

Now he’s out of the league.

The 6-4, 215 lb wide out, who regularly used to turn opposing corners into stone, used his freakish body, and incredible hands to carve out a Hall of Fame caliber career in the strangest of fashions.

He wasn’t a Hall of Fame person, or overly well liked for that matter by NFL fans.  He was the anti-Joe Nobody.  He had incredible talent and a tremendous physique, but he played when he wanted to.  His NFL lotto ticket was for him, something that wasn’t earned, rather something that more felt owed.  He was so good that teams put up with his antics.  His numbers were so eye opening that you couldn’t help but be dazzled, even if his off-the field crap was twice as dizzying.

A 7 time Pro-Bowler and 4 time All-Pro, Moss is undoubtedly one of the greatest receivers to ever lace up and put on a helmet for an NFL game.  He was that good.

But Moss was just as bad off the field.

A prized high school recruit, Moss had his sights set on his dream school, Notre Dame.  The Irish were just as enamored with him.  Lou Holtz who was coaching the Irish at the time said that Moss was “the best high school football player I’ve ever seen.” It was a match made in football heaven.  Except like all of his other unstable relationships, Moss screwed it the hell up.  He got into a brutal fight his senior year of high school, with one person left hospitalized.  Notre Dame pulled their offer right from under him, leaving the incredible talent free to go take his talents and whackyness to another big-time football factory: Florida State.

FSU has a reputation for taking on some serious headcases, and the prevailing notion was that Bobby Bowden would be able to tighten the leash on Moss in order to get the elite talent that everyone knew he had.  But Moss never played a down for FSU, being forced to sit out his freshman year because of his previous commitment to Notre Dame.  While finishing up a 30 day jail sentence in 1996 for something he did in 1995, Moss tested positive for smoking pot.  FSU cut ties, and Moss ended up at Marshall, where he flourished — on the field.

Seriously, Moss’ Marshall statistics are some of the most prolific numbers put up in college football history (in 2 years he did this):

28 games played
174 receptions
3529 yards receiving
20.3 yards average per reception
54 touchdowns (not a misprint)

In the NFL Moss was just as dominant (in 13 years he did this):

202 games played
954 receptions
14,858 yards receiving
15.6 yards average per reception
153 touchdowns (also, not a misprint)

There is no doubt that Moss was a mythical football creature.  It was as if the football gods bestowed him with a superhuman body, and a superhuman dysfunctionality. Moss said before the draft that the teams who passed him up “will regret it once they see what kind of a player I am and what kind of guy I really am.”  He had half the equation right.

Moss was a great player in an incredible draft class.  Consider this: Moss was drafted 21st.  Of the 20 guys before him 8 have been/were Pro Bowlers. Not shabby.

He quit on teams, put up record numbers, made insane one-handed catches, and was a human highlight/soundbite reel.  His talent was as big as his ego.  I’m not convinced he’s done playing, but if he is, it’s probably because he refuses to settle.  It was about doing things his way, so it only fits the Moss mold for him to go out the way he came in.  He probably still has a chip on his shoulder as we speak.

But for now the book on Moss is a closed one.  His defining season came with New England in 2007, but he was also a force in Minnesota.  The Vikings were the NFL’s scariest offensive team in Moss’ earlier years.  In his late years with New England he once again showed how physically gifted he was.  But those days have passed.  Moss’ numbers were the worst of his career last year, and it’s hard to think he still has a few more elite caliber seasons in him.

Few people will claim they understood the guy, but like Barry Bonds, it makes him all the more memorable (sans the steroids).  Steve Porter’s One Clap immortalized that:

Randy Moss was confusing, and confounding all at the same time during his 13 year career.  That will be his legacy.  A legacy that will ultimately lead him to Canton.

Photo: AP

JIM RUBERA

Carlos Delgado just retired with 473 home runs.  Good idea, bro.  #steroids

But wait.  Look at his stats.  His numbers have been consistent since before the steroid era and through 2008.  He might be the golden slugger that we all though Manny Ramirez was.  He never had the 50 home run season which is the killer indicator for juicing.

The fact is Delgado never tested positive on anybody’s list and he never had the ridiculously gaudy numbers that would point to performance enhancement.  He may have juiced.  He may have not.  Like so many others, we will never know for sure.  But he deserves the benefit of the doubt as far as the numbers and the lack of indictments are concerned.

By no means am I saying that he’s one of the all time greats.  But he may just be one of the purest hitters in the game from ’96-’08.  He might be what we though Ramirez, Bonds, Sosa, McGuire, and ARod were.  But unfortunately he could have been the biggest cheat in the game and we would never know about it.  That’s the problem with this generation of baseball players.  There will always be a cloud hovering over the best of the best.

The United States Justice system said innocent until proven guilty.  Going by that sentiment, I want to wish Delgado a happy retirement and congratulate him for a successful clean career.  For now.

Photo: AP

SCOTT JACOBS

The good folks at Juiced Sports (always fun to talk in third person) have been bringing you opinions, content, and totally horrendous predictions (I am no Nostradamus people) for nearly four years (more on that in a few months) and so we have the good fortune of a pretty stacked library of past posts and content.

With Manny Ramirez abruptly ending his unique and colorful career it seemed like the perfect time to sort through the Juiced Vault (take that SI Vault!) to find some our favorite past stories on Manny.  Juiced Sports entered the sports blogosphere right around when Manny was beginning to grow stale of Beantown, giving us a colorful array of opinionated posts and reports to look back on.  With the cheating slugger now vanished from the game after a second failed P.E.D. test, here is our look back at Manny — the sorry sack of lying crap that he was, and how we’ve looked at him from afar these past 4 years.

What we’ve said:

Just blame the blogger, how convenient!

“The media is so quick to come to conclusions.  But when you’ve got idiots like Rafael Palmeiro wagging his finger at Congress, claiming to never have taken steroids, and then he fails a test, who can you believe?  When we were fully convinced that Manny Ramirez was just a once in a generation hitter who could make contact on any pitch, and then he fails a drug test, well, why should we believe in him?” – SJ

Why Manny Wants to Return to Cleveland…

“However, [Manny's] desire to return to Cleveland may not be rooted so much in wanting to return to where he started his career as it is in making sure he doesn’t get inducted into the Hall of Fame as a Red Sock, says one of my sources.” – MB
Editor’s Note: I don’t think Manny has to worry about what cap he’ll be wearing in the H.O.F. cause he ain’t going to be in the Hall after a second failed drug test

Manny Ramirez: you’re a joke (and a jerk)

“You know why athletes get a bad rap?  Because of jerks like you.” -SJ

“But you’re still hunting for every last dime, and it’s understandable that you need some money so that your children’s, children’s, children’s, children’s children never need to work a day in their life.  Back in 2000 the Red Sox really scammed you, didn’t they, by rewarding you with one of the biggest free agent contracts in baseball history?  They signed you to an eight year deal worth $160 million.  You felt cheated, so you took plays off, sometimes didn’t feel like running out that good ol’ ground ball, and you were constantly a distraction.  But “Manny being Manny” became funny, like a catchphrase.  It was cool to be a lazy over-paidout of touch with the real world jerk.” – SJ

It’s Not Gonna Happen (Maybe Next Year)

“Once again Manny Ramirez came through with another long home run. Man, has he been the perfect pickup for a Dodgers team now one win away from their first playoff series win in 20 years! You can say all you want to about C.C. Sabathia, but we might look back when it’s all said and done, and crown Manny as the greatest mid-season pickup of this year. The guy has been brilliant, and the Dodgers have been great since they landed him.” – SJ

I’m back from vacation and ready to rant

“Look, I loved ManRam as much as the next Sox fans for the 7 1/2 years he was with the team, but enough was finally enough. His cute antics and sweet swing had finally been outweiged by his manic personality and ability to give up on his team at a moment’s notice, and when he failed to hustle on a ground ball during a no hitter, well that was the last straw.” – JR

A Manny trade to the Marlins might not be what Florida needs

“Forget the fact that Manny is a head-case and he doesn’t run out ground balls or play even a solid outfield. Forget that you never know from one day to the next what Manny will bring to your team, that is, if he tries. Put aside the fact that Ramirez is getting older and finishing up an eight year deal he signed back in 2000 that made him one of the highest paid players in pro sports. Forget that all.  The Marlins should NOT trade for Ramirez.” – SJ

Manny Ramirez Needs To Be Traded

“If the Red Sox are a better team without Manny Ramirez, they should trade me; I will not object,” said the diva that refers to himself in the third person… Despite his enormous production, Ramirez, a man that assaulted a senior citizen earlier this month, has been problematic and troublesome for the Sox hierarchy and it may be time for team officials to stop providing the 12-time All-Star with the inane mulligan known as “Manny being Manny.” -CL

Hey Iraq: Manny is willing to play for your team

“I don’t have any preferences,” Ramizez said in regards to where he would like to be dealt if the Red Sox decide to make a move. “I could choose a team that offers me the best conditions or one in the chase for the postseason. I don’t care where I play, I can even play in Iraq if need be. My job is to play baseball.” … If the U.S. Marines went up to Manny and said they need an outfielder for their baseball team in between bombings to go to Iraq, Manny would just be like, “okay, My job is to play baseball?” Yeah, freaking right!” – SJ

Manny Ramirez Is A Thug

“Ramirez, a village idiot who is skilled at swinging a wooden bat and striking a leather ball, is often granted a pass with the nauseating phrase “It’s just Manny being Manny.” The native of Santo Domingo should not be provided such ridiculous leeway in this instance. Manny was just a thug and, if the Red Sox don’t reprimand their star, they are just as yellow as he is.” – CL

That folks, is Juiced Sports being Juiced Sports.

Photo: AP

SCOTT JACOBS

Throughout it all, the hitting streaks, the timely doubles, the infectious smile, and the dreads, Manny Ramirez was in every sense of the word, a memorable character.  As eccentric as they come.  So with his career clearly on the decline, his prestige nothing more than a name, “Manny,” and a team in the Rays clearly going nowhere it made sense that this year would probably be his swan song.

Call it a disturbing tune.

Manny Ramirez abruptly retired today, after reports began to leak that he tested positive for performance enhancing drugs in Spring Training, an automatic 100 game suspension for the slugger who was once larger than Fenway’s Green Monster.

Now he’s another sham: a bum who tried to hold on way too long, another black eye to the P.E.D. era that just won’t quite go away.

His numbers are Hall of Fame worthy, and his whacky unexplainable personality is the stuff of legends, to be told to generations of baseball fans to come. To leave in such a distasteful manner is rather fitting for the slugger, who didn’t do anything by the book.  Rather than let another suspension zap anything left of the credibility he had as a ballplayer, he buried his head between his legs and left the sport on a whim, an embarrassing escape from the sport for one of baseball’s all time feared swingers.

“I can’t put my finger on you. You’re unpredictable. Kind of mysterious,”  Allison says to Carl in the movie Yes Man.  The same could have been said of Manny.

No player was harder to explain.

Manny played in 2302 games, scored 1544 runs, recorded 2754 hits, 547 doubles, and smacked 555 home runs out of the yard.  He knocked in 1831 RBIs and walked 1329 times in an 18 year career unlike any other.

Yet none of it seems to matter anymore.

His numbers however gaudy are clearly marred by his now 2 positive drug tests (and however many before they started seriously testing for this stuff).  Another indictment to a sport littered with great players gone P.E.D. stale.  No sport has watched it’s heroes and titans fall faster than baseball.  First it was Rafael Palmeiro, then Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, and now Manny.

I know we’re supposed to allow our players to be innocent before proven guilty, but this disturbing trends of stars fading right as they exit the game is a problem that greatly haunts the best players of today.  Once again all our stars are on a close watch, and how can anyone take what they do seriously?

In Harvey Frommer’s Remembering Fenway, a book of iconic Fenway Park pictures, the back cover features Manny stepping out of the giant Green Monster scoreboard, with a look that just sort of sums his career up.  That look?  Confusion, mystery, an aura of bizarre that exceeded anything beyond rationalization.

But that was Manny.  He developed into an elite power hitter in Cleveland, than got a fat payday from the Red Sox in 2000 ($160 million for 8 years) — a contract that brought incredible success to the Red Sox (including that long awaited World Series title in 2004 and 2007).  When things soured in Boston he became the savior in Los Angeles, reviving a dead in the water Dodgers team during an incredible summer of love tour in LA. Dodger Stadium quickly turned into MannyWood, and Ramirez was treated like a god once more.  But his numbers began to fade, and then the big blow — his first failed drug test for performance enhancing drugs cost him 50 games.

From there he became a sideshow, getting dealt from the Dodgers to the White Sox last season, and doing nothing to revive Chicago’s playoff hopes.

He garnered little interest in the free agency market this past offseason, until the Rays scooped him up in a desperate P.R. ploy to sabotage their poor fan base into thinking they still cared.

“I’m here, like I said, because I love the game, I love to compete,” said Ramirez at his press conference introducing him and Johnny Damon to the Rays. “It doesn’t matter how much money you make.  If you love the game, it doesn’t matter. What you want is a chance to prove to people that you still can do it. So for me, it was not about the money, I could have gone someplace else.”

Apparently he didn’t love the game enough to respect it and he certainly didn’t prove to people that he still could do it.

And in the end he did go somewhere else.  He hit the showers.  Permanently.

Photo: Getty

SCOTT JACOBS

The morning that the Jets made their huge trade to acquire Brett Favre from the Packers– officially ending what felt like the longest, most drawn out process in recent memory– I was listening to talk radio.  All day, the analysts and sports radio talk show hosts were breaking down what it meant, how good the Jets could be, even what would happen to Chad Pennington.

And I remember vividly the analysts proclaiming that Favre made the Jets an 8-9 win team, 10 tops, but that was only if the stars truly aligned. He will make them better I remember them saying, but he will not make them great.

Not even a year later, the Jets were better, but not great.  They weren’t even good enough after an 8-3 start to make the playoffs, and they couldn’t break the 10 win mark.  I just remember thinking, for once, the analysts were spot on.  They had this thing pegged from the start.  Brett Favre was not what he once was.  The Jets found that out the hard way.

And so today, Brett Favre, the man, the mystery, the larger than life Wrangler Jean wearing quarterback from Mississippi called it quits– for good, leaving behind him the game that he just could not leave.  His last game, a disappointing loss to the Miami Dolphins.  His last pass, an illegal forward pass.  His final moment on the football field: running off the field as the Dolphins celebrated an improbable, unbelievable, unexplainable AFC East title.

It is what it is, were along the words that Favre used.  He looked frusturated, but not devestated. The experiment, playing for Gang Green resulted in a five win improvement from the year before’s four win nightmare, but it still cost Eric Mangini his job, and ultimately now that Favre is retiring for good, leaves the Jets with one heck of a mess at the QB spot.

If you’re a glass half full/glass half empty person, then it was only fitting that Favre’s final game netted him 20/40 for 233 yards passing, and one touchdown.  And he left the game he loved doing what he did best- throwing interceptions (three of them in fact).  For all of Favre’s greatness and for all of his remarkable records, he also leaves the game with the dubious distinction of being one of the NFL’s greatest risk-takers, and the career leader in all time interceptions.

Who could have possibly foreseen the former Southern Miss star becoming one of the NFL’s most iconic figures?  No one, that’s who!

But that was how Favre played.  Sometimes his decisions were baffling, other times shocking, but he darted that pigskin all across the the field during his long and illustrious 18 year NFL career, one of the most spectacular and exhilarating careers the NFL has ever seen.  Favre was a gritty, hard nosed player, whose passion for the game probably caused him to overstay a little longer than he probably should have, but that was who he was, a great player, who for the longest time refused to give in, and give it up.

He leaves the game with some remarkable numbers:

Ever since the start of the 1993 season he has played all 16 games each season, and holds the all-time record, a mark that may never ever be touched, never-mind threatened of starting the most consecutive games ever, 291 including the playoffs.  Constantly labeled a warrior, one of the most enduring memories of Favre was when he decided to play a Monday Night football game against the Raiders in Oakland, even after his father had passed away.  Number four had one of his greatest games that night, and dedicated his performance to his father, and that captivated a nation to embrace the man who was already larger than life in Green Bay.

Favre’s marvelous career began in Atlanta, where as a rookie he played in two games, going 0-4 on pass attempts, while throwing up a pair of picks, and a 0.0 QB rating.  Needless to say, the Falcons and most likely every other NFL team probably weren’t too devestated when Favre was traded to the Packers after the 1991 season.  Who could have possibly foreseen the former Southern Miss star becoming one of the NFL’s most iconic figures?  No one, that’s who!

It’s kind of entertaining, the idea that Favre started his career on a forgettable note, and ended it not on a magic carpet ride, singing “I’m going to Disney” but in a statement to the Jets that said he was done.  Favre started as a relative unknown and closed his long and incredible career almost as quietly as he started (at least the second retirement that is).

Favre’s dumbfoudningly insane numbers go like this: 273 regular season games, 5720 completions, 9280 incompletions, 65,127 yards passing,  464 touchdowns, 310 picks, and 169 regular season victories.  While many of his records were achieved during not his prime, but during the tail end of his long career, it’s undeniable that he earned everything he got.

So while we will never forget Favre’s horrible handling of a botched retirement with the Packers, and the summer long circus that followed it, until he was shipped to the Jets,  it’s important to remember that before he became a side show, Favre was the show.

A three time league MVP, Favre led the Green Bay Packers to a 35-21 victory over the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XXXI, and at the time, few probably thought that would be his first and only Super Bowl title.  But after leading the Packers back to the Big Game the ensuing season, and losing to John Elway and the Broncos, Favre never got back.  He got close, such as the 2007 season when the Packers were a Favre pick away from possibly winning the NFC title, but never got over the hump.

So however you choose to remember him: just keep this one thing in mind: Favre was great.  He failed spectacularly, he succeeded epically, and he played the game the right way.  Like anybody, he made mistakes, many of them on the field, and a few off of it, but he was only human.  And while he probably should have hung up his cleats about three to four years earlier, his retirement as a battered Jet and not a glorified Packer doesn’t tarnish a legacy that stacks up there with any of the NFL’s greats.

So farewell Mr. Favre.  It’s been one hell of a run.

The show is over.  It’s the end of an era.

All of the dominant quarterbacks of the 1980’s and 1990’s have officially hung up their cleats, and moved on.  Favre joined that group today, and surely in due time he will join them in the Hall of Fame as a first ballot Hall of Famer.

It’s been fun.  It’s been interesting.

Photo: Reuters

Last Friday morning Boston Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling informed the world on his weekly radio show that he would have to undergo season-ending shoulder surgery, and at 41-years old and facing a lengthy rehab, he has probably pitched his last game in the major leagues.

Shortly following that news the debate began: is he or isn’t he a Hall of Fame player?

For days the topic has burned up the internet, causing a tidal wave of comments favoring both sides of the argument. Those who say Schill is not Hall-worthy cite his relatively low wins total (216), his lack of a Cy Young Award winning season, and his penchant for acting like a total a-hole.

Those in favor (aye!) rattle off his place on the career strikeout list (14th), his 3 20-win seasons, his stellar postseason record (11-2) and the fact that he was one of the best big game pitchers in the history of the game.

We leave out the part about him being a complete pompous a-hole.

One of the best things about baseball, and sports in general, is debating a players’ worth in the grand scheme of his sport. These debates have helped make the games more interesting, greatly aided in the sale of adult beverages, caused many a nasty fight, and are the basis for all sports related sites on the web.

And this one is no different. In fact it might be the mack daddy of them all, next to those of Pete Rose and Barry Bonds, two criminals who should have their own separate Hall of Shame.

Like I said the main point for the naysayers regarding Schill’s candidacy always point to his wins total as reason numero uno as to why he should be excluded. With 216 wins in 20 seasons he is well below the long accepted threshold of 250-300 wins for a HOF pitcher. Which is total bullshit.

In this day and age reaching that wins mark is as much of a pipe dream as Amy Winehouse ever being sober.

Of the active wins leaders Roidger Clemens is first with 354, next is Greg Maddux (350), Tom Glavine (305) and then Randy Johnson (288). Assuming Big Unit doesn’t get 12 more wins thanks to his broken down brittle frame, the next closest guy to 300 wins is Mike Mussina at 260. Is it possible Moose could get 40 more victories before he hangs up his cleats? Sure. It’s also possible that I win a Pullitzer Prize, it just ain’t gonna happen.

After Moose there are seven hurlers with over 200 wins, and then the numbers drop off considerably. Tim Wakefield (172), Bartolo Colon (150) and Aaron Sele (148) are nearest the 200 ‘W’ plateau.

My point is there might not even be many more 200 win pitchers, let alone 250-300, so throw that argument out the window.

Next Schill might not have won a Cy Young, but he did finish second three times, twice to teammate Johnson (2001 & 2002) when he barely trailed him in relevant stats, and once in 2004 when he was nipped by an in-his-prime Johan Cytana. Not too shabby.

As for him being an arrogant, loud, opinionated jackass, well that I can’t debate. But we all know there are plenty of a-holes in the Hall now, so let’s leave that fact alone.

What I can say is that he is 14th all time in strikeouts with 3,116 and fifth in post season wins. He had eight season with at least 15 wins, led the league in wins and strikeouts twice, complete games five times, and strikeout-to-walk ratio five times.

Throw in six All Star appearances, an NLCS MVP award and co-MVP of the 2001 Series and three World Series rings, and all signs point to a Hall of Fame career.

And make no mistake he will make it to the Hall based on his postseason accomplishments.

First he and Johnson teamed to defeat the hated Stankees and bring a championship to the desert, then he went to Beantown before the 2004 season and basically guaranteed a title for a town that hadn’t had one in 86 years.

One miraculous, 21-win, bloody sock-soaked season later the man delivered on his promise when he led the Sox to it’s first championship since 1918.

He won a couple of memorable games, Game 6 of the ALCS and Game 2 of the WS, with a detached tendon in his right ankle, securing his place in the annals of baseball history by accomplishing something that Clemens, Pedro, Tiant, Lonborg and Lee could not do before him.

Schilling reversed the curse and in one season made eight decades of embarrassment, futility and ridicule disappear.

That alone is worth a place in the Hall in my book.