The Southerner Journal

For those of you blissfully unaware, the savior of Golden Eagles’ football faces a dilemma of whether to return to the Land of Cheese and pacify both his flock and his folly.

Brett Favre, known in these parts first for taking little ol’ Southern Miss to its first 10-win season in over 35 years, went on to do a few things in that professional league too. Folks up there practically built shrines for the guy who made the Pack relevant again.

Now it seems Mr. Wrangler might want to play (though he denied it) and doesn’t really care if it’s for a new set of worshipers or the old (after all, those Greek gods did all right switchin’ to the Romans, didn’t they?). And all the talking heads are in a twitch.

Well Brett, I’m here to tell ya don’t do it son. True, you just enjoyed personal records for yards-per-attempt and completion percentage. True, you nearly returned to the game with million-dollar halftime commercials. True, that kid they’re trying to replace you with doesn’t even know enough not to insult the fans.

But let’s be honest, that just makes you look better in hindsight. From now until eternity, every Cheesehead in America will have to admit, “You know, that Bart Starr was a damn good quarterback, but he wasn’t a Favre.”

Which brings me to my point in a rather roundabout manner. You’ve still got NFL glory to attain by never getting on the field again and breaking the damn curse.

As you know, every Madden coverboy has been cursed with maybe the exception of Vince Young (and he’s just a kid, so we’ll see). The quarterback choices - Culpepper, Vick, McNabb - read like a “Who’s Who in Misery.”

Well, coverboy, I think the Madden folks thought they’d break the curse by paying tribute to arguably the best quarterback ever as he stepped away from the game. But they didn’t count on that unquenchable fire that drives you to be the best at anything you do.

What do people really expect? You’re in maybe the best shape of your life and feeling at the top of your game. And maybe if you’re wearing a different jersey than what’s on the cover, maybe the curse would bypass you.

But do you really want to take that chance? I mean, this ain’t basketball or golf we’re talking about. Don’t you remember watching Joe Theismann’s bone coming out of his skin? He was trying to play a young man’s game, a savage game, a game where reputations are made by taking down someone with a reputation.

And do you really have anything left to prove? Let’s see, the Associated Press’ only three-time NFL MVP in history with stats littering the record book because, if nothing else, you were really good for a long time.

Now I know you’re getting an itch and you don’t really know what to do with yourself. After all, chores on 465 acres must be a little tiresome. After all, you’re only 38 — there’s got to be more in life than this. Right?

Relax, there is. A virtual fountain of youth that will keep your competitive juices ratcheted up to a point of quiver. No, no, I’m not talkin’ about NASCAR, though Mark Martin plans to show everyone that 50 is the new 30. Why who’s to say you couldn’t get behind the wheel of one of those things and cause a ruckus?

Nah, I’ve got something better than that. I’m talking about the real deal that keeps real men up nights in a cold sweat — bass fishin’.

Oh, my … the beauty of landing a HOG! Real men around America will set up shrines to you right next to the wooden lure that caught their grandpappy’s hog, which still hangs on their wall (even if it’s in the garage) because they didn’t dare sit it on the curb once he’d gone to the great pond in the sky. And there’s a little cross-over to football, i.e. you still want to be close but not tangled up in cover.

You can still catch the August FLW season just to see what next year’s competition will be. There’s plenty of cool stuff to buy, so that lil’ fortune you made won’t be wasted. Instead of being on TV on Sundays through the football seasons, you could be on TV every Sunday with your own show.

Besides, everybody knows any day spent fishin’ must be a damn good day.

By Ron Sitton

NORTH LITTLE ROCK, Ark., July 24 - I rehashed my routine this morning: e-mail, networking, sports, news, work.

I’ve read where people who start reading the sports section in their daily newspaper are likelier to die young than people who start with the comics. I’m sure there’s a test that will indicate I’ll die sooner because of my routine, but today I don’t really care. I need coffee. I finished another stage in a long-overdue project last night, so today I’m catching up with my SEC sports addiction.

I start reading about the Razorbacks … scratch that, restart. I go to a “Razorback” site, Razorback Central, and they’re talking about the Tulsa Golden Hurricane. I could care less about Gus Malzahn and what he’s installing at Tulsa (although I did find it intriguing yesterday while reading GoVolsXtra.com that Slick Shelley left Tennessee to transfer to Tulsa). Malzahn is last year’s news. What about the Hogs?

OK, NBA player Mike Miller says John Pelphrey’s going to win big. And Patrick Beverly has apparently made the world his oyster with his play as a member of Team USA’s Under-19 silver-medal winning basketball team. Great. Basketball. Why should I care about basketball in the middle of summer?

Oh, a few nuggets from the Hill. Thankfully, Dennis Nutt’s brain is not currently bleeding. I’m sure his replacement, Tim Horton, is thankful for his guaranteed $165K over two years. That’s it on the football front. So I go to SI and ESPN. I read about D. Nutt in the college section, but it’s not sexy enough to compete with “Hound Dog” Vick on the front page.

Next, I check on my alma mater to find they’ve banned smoking in Neyland Stadium. Why should that interest me as much as anything about the Hogs or Vols? So I read every available John Adams column at GoVolsXtra. Adams seems to be into praising the SEC this year, e.g. in one column he says SEC quarterbacks must be pretty good when one backup quarterback is a Heisman Trophy candidate. By the way, that would be Darren McFadden, who occasionally quarterbacks in the “Wildcat” formation.

Another column notes that Houston Nutt will probably jet from the criticism to a surprisingly attentive open market. I’m sure Nutt could get another job, but I don’t believe he wants another job. Arkansas is his dream job. The criticisms and soap operas may be a sad part of that, but if he wins another 10 without Mustain and Malzahn, the Razorback Nation will shut up for awhile.

I decide to read every Paul Finebaum column available to find the ‘Bama faithful believe Nick Saban will deliver in year one. On the other hand, Tommy Tuberville won’t hand him the Iron Bowl. Since LSU’s Les Miles plans to beat up everybody in red, I guess ‘Bama and the Hogs just got bulletin-board material for the summer.

Everybody’s giving kudos to Urban Meyer for winning a national title with Ron Zook’s recruits. I wonder if he’ll get slammed if he doesn’t win with his own to the degree Miles gets slammed for not winning enough with Saban’s recruits. I even read about Terry Bowden’s imminent return to coaching and the ACC’s horrible track record against major conferences.

I realize this is the major down-time for sports as we’re heading into the “dog-days of summer” — not an intentional reference to Vick - but now’s the time for conjecture. Who’s going to be the next Boise State? Can the SEC West beat the SEC East? I know. I know. Everyone’s happy because their team remains undefeated through August.

But I’m sick of this lovefest. I’ve spent the whole day reading and I’m ready for football. Now if it’d only get started.

By Kevin Sims

NEW EDINBURG, Ark., July 21 - I’ve been holding off blogging on this subject, not for any personal feelings or research purposes, but because of my work schedule. I came to the conclusion that interns are the immigrant workers of the professional world.

If you are a sports fan, even just a very casual one, you have heard something about the subject of my blog. It’s been in the news for months, but it just picked up a lot of momentum. I’m talking about the Bad Newz Kennels, Michael Vick’s dog fighting business.

For heading up a dog-fighting ring, the federal government indicted Vick. This would be news worthy enough to blog about, but I want to talk about the grisly details that were published about it.

I’m no PETA supporter or any type of animal activist. The closest confidant I have while I’m struggling to become a writer is, and I respect the hell out of him. We don’t see eye to eye on most things, but I respect his opinion. That being said, you don’t have to even like animals to be completely disgusted about the situation.

Dog fighting is bad enough. You train a pit bull to fight other pit bulls, sometimes to the death; by abusing the hell out of it till it’s the meanest son of a bitch that ever walked the earth. Once a fighting dog, it can never be anything else. It’s trained to kill and it will.

Let’s just say dog fighting is legal and ethical for a moment. Let’s call it the animal equivalent of Ultimate Fighting. When a Bad News Kennel dog lost a fight, the people who run the kennel would kill it. Lets say hypothetically that is legal and ethical too.

But it is how they killed them that makes me sick to my stomach.

These sick fucks didn’t euthanize the dogs; they tortured them to death. A quick shot to the head I would even be cool with. No these low lifes strangled the dogs, hung them with a noose, drowned them or shot them to make sure they suffer. When they felt really creative they hosed them down with water, brought out a pair of jumper cables and electrocuted the dogs to death.

I may be a little off base, but I’m pretty sure torturing animals is like the first sign of being a psychopath.

You can argue all you want about how cows and chickens are mistreated when they are slaughtered for food. You can argue that hunting is unethical, and keeping wild animals in pens is wrong. At least they have purpose.

What’s the purpose of building a miniature gallows to watch a dog strangle to death? It serves no purpose and who ever does that deserves to be punished at the fullest extent of the law.

Now I’ve heard every argument someone can make on Vick’s innocence. I don’t care if he wasn’t the one fighting the dogs. I don’t care if he didn’t put the cement slippers on Fido. He owned the house that the animals were kept, where his friends who ran the business lived and the land that these heinous acts were committed. His property has a dog fighting stadium on it.

You cannot tell me he didn’t know what was going on. I don’t live in or own any of the houses my friends and family live in, but I would know what was going on if they had 50 pit bulls penned up. I would know if they got off for torturing cockroaches.

If a man knowingly owns a building that is a whorehouse, he is just as responsible for prostitution as the pimps and whores or the people that run the business.

The only way Michael Vick is innocent is if Bad News kennels is just a breeding business or these heinous acts weren’t committed on his property. Convicted or not, unless they prove what I just said, he is a piece of shit and the NFL should punish him.

I’ve heard this was a race issue. Being black doesn’t make dog fighting or torturing animals acceptable. I don’t care about his upbringing or race; he is still a worthless human being. Seriously, that argument is saying that by being black you a genetically programmed to torture animals. Do you really want that associated with your race?

I’ve heard it argued that it’s a regional thing and it’s acceptable in the South. No; it’s not. I’m as Southern as it gets and if someone asked me if I wanted to go with him to a dog fight I would kick him in the nuts and beat the crap out of him for exploiting man’s best friend.

I’m can’t claim to be an animal rights activist but I’m an avid dog lover. I didn’t know how much I loved dogs till I got Saban, an ugly yellow mutt whose only true talent is meeting me at my car everyday for the past year and a half every time I pull up from either school or work as happy to see me as anything could be. I don’t care how bad my day was, when I pull up and Saban meets me, I can’t help but feel better. It is so wonderful a feeling to know you have something in life that can never disappoint you and will literally pee on itself with excitement to see you.

I know killing and torturing dogs are not as bad as killing and torturing a human. I never claim that it is, but it’s close.

A dog didn’t get the nickname “Man’s Best Friend” just cause it sounded cute. Nothing that exist is as loyal, affectionate and personally absorbed as a dog. No human can be these things to another human as a dog is with its owner. I don’t care if you’re in the greatest relationship ever with the perfect mate, they are not happy to see you every time you open the door. I don’t care if you are the most loving parent in the world, your life will never be as completely centered around your child’s life as a dog is to its owner, if they are treated right.

You maybe a cat person or some other kind of animal person, your relationship with your animal fails in comparison with what a dog has with its owner. Not even close.

To get this kind of affection all you have to do is get a puppy, keep it fed and scratch its ear every now and then. It will worship you. That’s all it takes.

Torturing any kind of animal for the pleasure of torture is wrong. I actually commend PETA for protesting outside of the NFL office hoping to inflict some sort of punishment to Vick. I really hope it’s not just PETA. I hate that organization, but I’d picket with them if I could.

You know it is a horrible situation when an avid deer hunter sides with PETA. That’s just how horrible a person Vick is.

MONTICELLO, Ark. - If it only felt like fall.

School’s back in session, accompanied by endless lines at your local Wally-World filled with drop-jawed parents debating “gas, groceries or school supplies?” My soon-to-be 14-year-old stepson makes the jump from a Montessori school (K-8, enrollment approx. 80) to Little Rock Central (9-12, enrollment approx. 2,100). So far, it’s been a good adjustment. I hope it remains so.

The football season kicks into gear, I mean kicked into gear. Though most of Arkansas anticipates the Razorbacks facing the USC Trojans, I enjoyed the Boll Weevils taking the Southern Arkansas Muleriders to the wire before succumbing last weekend. The team sports a little fight this fall, and as they say, “There ain’t nothin’ more evil than a damned Boll Weevil.”

This fall I swear I won’t play Fantasy Football, becoming a statistic in the countless wasted hours debating who I need to trade and who needs to start. I won the whole league last year in my first (and only) season after starting 1-4 and e-mailing the gurus to see if I should quit …
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