In an odd turn of events, Clottey's trainer Godwin Dzanie Kotey and assistant trainer Daniel Clottey have been denied a visa to enter the United States by the Ghanaian government.

“Tell Ghana that they've disappointed me,” said Clottey to Filipino reporters earlier in the week.

For the earlier portion of his training camp, Clottey, who is nearly a 5-1 underdog on betting lines offered by the BetUS sportsbook, was training solo, with no supervision. Finally however, Lenny de Jesus has hopped on board as Clottey's trainer, and does so with some interesting experience in tow.

De Jesus spent six fights in Pacquiao's corner, and some suggest that he could be an even better cornerman for Clottey than Kotey, despite the unfamiliarity issues. De Jesus has boasted to reporters that Pacquiao “has not changed his style in years,” and has employed a curious no-tape philosophy in camp thus far, with Clottey not watching any fight film of the champion.

Fortunately, Clottey is a fairly reactionary fighter, waiting behind his nearly impenetrable defensive shell for his opponent to throw punches before responding with bombs of his own. Any amount of film study or breakdown of his opponents style quite simply isn't going to change anything, regardless of who drapes the towel over his shoulder in the corner.

However, those who are privy to the boxing odds point to Pacquiao's skill set as being the perfect foil for the Ghanaian's typical strategy. The “Pac Man” is a ferocious puncher, but one who throws his hands at unusual times, unusual angles, and at an unusually fast pace. Many agree that he might be able to keep Clottey so inactive that he could never win a decision, as he sits behind his high guard.

If Clottey can continue moving forward, as he did in the earlier rounds in his bout against Miguel Cotto, he will certainly stand up to Pacquiao. However if he gets lackadaisical and is content deflecting punches, he will never win a decision on the scorecards, and is opening himself up to the possibility of being hurt for the first time in his career.

And beaten soundly for the very first time as well.

Fight Odds Provided by BetUS.com

Manny Pacquiao -700
Joshua Clottey +450

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Laue was born with only one arm.

Laue grew up in Pleasanton, California and exhibited an interest in sports at an early age. His supportive parents encouraged his participation in multiple sports as a child.  He was naturally at a disadvantage without a left arm below the elbow. 

However, he never allowed his so-called disability to extinguish his passion for the sport he loved nor distinguish him as an athlete.  It merely drove him to work that much harder to level the playing field against his physically whole opponents.

Gradually, Laue showed the most promise in basketball, holding his own against the best prep high school players in the country.  Laue’s determination and labor paid off when his performances caught the attention of Manhattan College head coach Barry Rohrssen.

Rohrssen offered Laue an athletic scholarship, the envy of any high school athlete hoping to continue competitive play, to play on Manhattan College’s basketball team.

Manhattan College is a NCAA Division I school located in New York City.  As a member of the Metro Atlantic Athletic Conference (MAAC), the men’s basketball program has especially achieved success, winning six regular season titles and three conference tournament championships.  Manhattan has also played in the NCAA Tournament six times, most recently in 2004.

Laue says it is his dream to play in the tournament and hopes the Jaspers can earn a bid during his time in Manhattan uniform.  

This season as a freshman, Laue’s play was limited, but Rohrssen says that will soon change.  The 6’ 11”, 220-pound center definitely has the size to compete.  Despite his one-arm limit, his ball handling is astonishing.  He can do regular push-ups and can play defense and dunk with the best of them. 

Alley-oops pose the only problem for Laue, as they usually require grabbing the ball with two hands before following through the shot.  Adding a little more bulk will improve his strength and conditioning, which will help him deal with extra court time.

Beyond Laue’s NCAA Tournament aspiration, he has already attained a more remarkable achievement in that he does not pity himself or use his physical condition as an excuse.  He neither wonders “what if” nor does he let reality put him in a box—in a special category that limits his self-worth or lessens his accomplishments. 

According to Rohrssen, it is his positive and healthy mentality that is Laue’s biggest and most exceptional strength; he possesses extraordinary character.

The last one-armed athlete to have competed successful among physically intact peers was Jim Abbott, a star left-handed pitcher for the New York Yankees during the 1990s.  After meeting Abbott last summer, Laue was inspired even more to continue his dream of playing basketball and, in turn, inspire the next generation of athletes with a physical handicap to keep at their beloved sport, to never give up.

With what he has fulfilled thus far, Laue has already begun that process.

As for his on-court ambitions, they may come harder, but making sense out of the nonsensical is Laue’s specialty if his own story serves as indication.

There is a good chance he may surprise us all once again.

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His four-year old daughter Messiah is suffering from an undisclosed, but believed to be serious, illness.

Tawanna Iverson, his wife of eight and a half years, recently filed for divorce and requested custody of their five children.

Tawanna is Allen’s childhood sweetheart, and the woman he spoke of when he told Stephen A. Smith, “I’d die for her, and die without her.”

Numerous NBA insiders, including Smith, are also claiming that Iverson is battling alcohol and gambling problems.

Smith recently wrote, “If numerous NBA sources are telling the truth—and there’s no reason to believe they’d do otherwise in a situation of this magnitude—Iverson will either drink himself into oblivion or gamble his life away.”

Should we feel bad for the man who once played and lived with such confidence that he was dubbed "The Answer"?

This is a man who has made some poor choices in his life, and he certainly needs to be held accountable for them. A man who has burnt more bridges over the years than any other athlete in memory. A man with one of the most tarnished public images in the world of sports.

However, does making some mistakes in your life disqualify you from compassion when the tragedies of life strike?

There will be some who will never be able to look beyond the brashness, the tattoos, and the infamous “practice” interview and realize that Iverson is a human being like you and me. And like all human beings he has emotions and feelings and is susceptible to pain and sadness when life goes awry.

On Monday night Iverson released the following statement on his Twitter account: “To my fans: You all know that my life isn’t perfect. I am going through some very tough times right now, like I am sure that we all do from time to time.”

I am not saying that Iverson isn’t at least partially responsible for the hardships he is currently facing, especially his troubles with gambling and alcohol and his marital problems. 

What I am saying is that his past shouldn’t dictate our reaction to the struggles he currently is facing. He certainly isn’t the first human being—or athlete, for that matter—to come against some of life’s more serious obstacles.

You don’t have to feel bad for Iverson, but you should at least show him some compassion.

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To some degree, the phrase rings true.

Nobody should be jumping off a bridge or sinking into a dark pit of despair because his or her team didn't win the big game. Peyton Manning shouldn't be moping around like someone took the jelly out of his donut simply because he didn't perform well with the bright lights amped up in this year's Super Bowl.

No, individual games and performances are not hills upon which to die.

However, widen the lens beyond an isolated game. Allow the filter to catch the phenomenon of SPORT and our opening phrase is as false as false can be.

This is essentially the idea behind the Laureus World Sports Awards and Sport for Good Foundation—the influence of athletics can be profound if used wisely.

It's why the ceremonies were cancelled last year in the horrible economy—what money had been raised was needed for the Foundation and it hardly made sense to pour the resources into a glamorous ceremony.

It's also why the unique athletes honored were chosen as representatives for the organization—either as winners or as members of the Laureus World Sports Academy.

Don't believe me?

Fine, then permit me to introduce (to many of you) the Moroccan hurdler, Nawal El Moutawakel.

She is the first Muslim woman from the African continent to win gold at the Olympics. Ms. El Moutawakel accomplished the feat at the 1984 Games in Los Angeles, winning the inaugural 400-meter hurdles. The victory propelled her to such honors as a position in her country's cabinet, a spot on the International Amateur Athletic Foundation, and a membership on the International Olympic Committee.

More importantly, the win and the sport gave her a voice and a platform from which to trumpet.

Good thing, too, because you will be hard-pressed to find a more eloquent and impassioned utilitarian of either.

Conversant in at least three languages and incredibly articulate in at least two, the former Olympian's words are practically contagious no matter the language—granted, I can only vouch for the English because I don't speak Arabic or French.

It is impossible to reproduce her vibrant zeal in the static medium of print (what's this thing called a..."video camera?"), and that is a shame.

Because it's tremendous to behold.

When she tells you that "the future belongs to the feminine in [the Persian Gulf States]," any argument to the contrary dies before the first synapses fire.

To hear her tell of practicing for, attending, and emerging victorious from those Games without a single other Moroccan female upon which to lean (no female coaches, no female trainers, no female teammates, nada) is to develop a minute appreciation for triumph in the face of sincere adversity.

James Brown once said, "This is a man's world." In 1984, the soon-to-be gold medalist lived his words every second of her Olympic experience.

She didn't let it stop her.

Only the exceptional athlete can win gold, which means we're probably lacking the proper adjective to describe Nawal El Moutawakel's deed.

Even so, the medal is not the ultimate prize, here.

To watch her face as she juxtaposes her experience with the current status quo, to see the smile radiate when she tells of other Muslim women who've thanked her for being an inspiration and a source of courage, is to be enlightened by the gospel of sport as a powerful agent of change.

Real change.

Like the kind of change that has swaths of the Middle East embracing a role for women in society through athletics.

For Americans, this might be difficult to appreciate. It might seem like a small thing, a baby-step toward a far larger and long overdue moment.

When you see the General Secretary of the Abu Dhabi Sports Council, His Excellency Mohammed Ibrahim Al Mahmood, sitting next to Ms. El Moutawakel and delivering almost the exact same message (in equally impressive English or Arabic), you understand an inch can be a mile in the right context.

You understand that, where all else has failed, that trivial thing—sports—is making tangible progress.

Our public record is full of entries detailing the history of discrimination against women in the Muslim world. Yet that public record isn't written in stone and people from that world —devout Muslims like Ms. El Moutawakel or His Excellency—are doing their part to see it amended with etchings of modern equality.

And they're using sports to do it.

So is Catherine Freeman.

The Australian, who won gold at the Sydney Games in 2000, started The Catherine Freeman Foundation to help young indigenous children in her native land.

So is Edwin Moses, the American hurdler supreme, who became the first Chairman of the Laureus World Sports Academy at its genesis in 2000 and still holds that post today.

So is Boris Becker, Monica Seles, Emerson Fittipaldi, and all the other Laureus members from across the globe who've yet to make an appearance.

Yep, it's only a game.

But, as Laureus and its athletes prove with each passing day, it can be much more.

**www.pva.org**

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Lawrence Taylor and Allen Iverson are two men who have reached such a magnitude and infamy within their respective sports that they can be recognized simply by their initials. These are two men who have seen both the pinnacle and prodigal side of life. These are two larger-than-life athletes who faced more then their fair share of problems, vices, and demons along the way.

The only difference between the two is timing.

Lawrence Taylor has been there and done that. Twenty years ago he was living out the saga that Allen Iverson is facing presently at this point in his life. That is why he could be the perfect person and maybe one of the only people to help talk sense and guidance into Allen right now.

The recent news of the unraveling of Iverson’s life is both troubling and almost expected. Stories of his wife leaving him, his battles with alcohol, and his gambling troubles have all compounded themselves into a supernova of turmoil.

The sad part is that we all could see it coming. The recent admissions have shocked nobody and that in itself is actually surprising and a little bit disturbing.

This is something that has been building and festering right in front of our eyes for some time now. Iverson, always known as the bad boy of basketball, has finally reached the fruition of that reputation.

He was always our bad boy, though.

We encouraged and rooted on his behavior. Fans accepted his personality because with it came a fierce warrior that couldn’t compare to his adversaries in stature, so he beat them with his heart and determination. We bought his shoes, we continued to play and chuckle at the “practice” video clip, and sadly we encouraged his behavior and inevitable downward spiral.

No one around Allen ever intervened in these last few years. Some tried but no one seemingly got through. There was no John Thompson like there was when Iverson was a troubled youth in Virginia. There was no Larry Brown to give him grief for his antics. There was no one he would listen to.

So now Allen sits alone. The spotlight is gone, the fans have gone silent, and his world is crumbling around him at a landslide pace.

We are left to ask who can come in and help reconcile the life of this troubled former superstar.

Most would point to John Thompson, Iverson’s former coach at Georgetown and self-described father figure, as the most likely candidate. This would seem to make the most sense but I take a bit of umbrage with this notion.

With all due respect to Coach Thompson, he just doesn’t have the perspective. Sure, there are hundreds upon hundreds of young men he has fostered and nurtured through tough times over the years. That’s great. However, that doesn’t change the fact that he has never seen it through the eyes of Allen Iverson.

Lawrence Taylor has seen it. He knows what its like.

Taylor has gone through the addictions: gambling, booze, drugs, everything. He’s seen the highs and lows that a high-profile athlete can go through. He’s seen the glitz and the glamour. He’s had everything and lost it all, just like Allen.

Lawrence Taylor’s been through it all and now has the perspective. The most important point is that he was able to survive and overcome in the end.

He did this by leaving his “LT” alter ego behind him. He became Lawrence Taylor again, the guy who didn’t need crack, hookers, and the rest of the vices in his life to get through his days. He was smart enough to come to his senses that it would lead to certain destruction. That’s the path. It doesn’t end pretty.

Taylor realized that there is more to life, family, hobbies, and all the good experiences a person can have in their life. It was a struggle to get to that point, but nothing comes easy, and Lawrence finally found his way.

Allen Iverson needs to learn from Lawrence Taylor and take a cue from the Pro Bowl linebacker. He needs to leave his "AI" persona firmly in the past and move forward simply as Allen. Not the bad boy Allen, not the alcoholic Allen, but the Allen who instead sees all the good in his life.

Sometimes, life comes to a crossroads and it would certainly look like Allen Iverson’s life is at that point. Things get tough and it’s how you handle those tough times that defines who you are as a person. Confronting your frustrations and demons head-on is the answer, not getting into drunken stupors at casinos.

Reevaluation is something that needs to take place in Allen Iverson’s life right now. It is something that Lawrence Taylor knew needed to be done some two decades ago.

There can be a light at the end of the tunnel, but you have to realize it’s there and find your path toward it.

I wish good luck to Allen in these tough personal times and hope he finds the right path.

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I mention this because it’s taken me roughly three days to completely arrive at the home of the 2010 Laureus World Sports Awards .

The festivities are being held this year in Abu Dhabi—one of the United Arab Emirates shining jewels of modernity on the Persian Gulf. The other gem is, of course, Dubai, but that’s the last we’ll hear of the “other” major city in the UAE.

There is apparently something of a rivalry brewing as each tries to establish itself as the primary tourist mecca in the Emirates and far be it from to insult my collective host. It’s a little bit like Los Angeles versus San Francisco except the tools of competition are skyscraping cranes and hotels that are so nice, they require new categorization.

That and the UAE economy isn't an eyelash away from Armageddon like California's. My trusty cab driver told me Abu Dhabi hasn't even felt the Recession and, judging from all the construction, it hasn't.

To illustrate the competition, the Laureus’ award ceremony will be held at the Emirates Palace, which I’ve been told is the world’s first seven-star establishment. Having been there already to pick up my media credential, I can assure you it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen and that’s just based on the “lobby.”

We’re talking acres and acres of marble floors, bathroom doors that look like gateways to luxury suites, precious metals and jewels everywhere, and an official entryway that looks like the Arc de Triomphe in Paris (or at least the pictures I’ve seen).

Sadly, my cab driver told me the Abu Dhabi version can only be used by the ruler of the country so my profusely sweating corpus (it’s really hot here) didn’t qualify.

Maybe next time.

But back to the flight—wheels were up on my Lufthansa flight from San Francisco to Frankfurt, Germany at about 2:30 in the afternoon on Saturday. From Frankfurt, I hopped another plane for the final leg to Abu Dhabi and alit at roughly 8:30 at night on Sunday, local time.

By my time-zone-addled calculations, that makes 18 hours in transit since Abu Dhabi is 12 hours ahead of the United States’ Pacific Coast. Now, you can’t quote me on any of that info (I do think it’s accurate) because—though my body arrived in about two days—my mental sanity is just now catching up.

And it’s Monday night.

In my defense, an innocent snafu during the reservation process prevented me from checking in early—Laureus put the ticket under my middle name rather than my surname so I got shuffled between United and Lufthansa before threshing out the problem. Consequently, I got plopped in a middle seat for the trip to Frankfurt, which is almost a catastrophic development for someone who goes 6’3” and about 215 pounds.

Forget sleeping, eating becomes a mess of elbows and knees, and drinking must be avoided lest you constantly harangue your seatmates for trips to the loo (I’m International, baby).

Fortunately, Lufthansa hooks you up with free movies so I didn’t lose my stuff entirely.

Unfortunately, two of the movies were “Old Dogs,” starring Robin Williams and John Travolta as old-ish parents for a few weeks, and “The Informant,” starring Matt Damon as a bumbling whistle-blower. I expected the first flick to be an abomination (it was), but I’ve been wanting to see Damon’s effort for a while now because the trailer looked pretty funny.

As is so often the case these days, the rest of the movie was confused schlock to seemingly fill in the gaps between hilarity that’d already been leaked through promotion.

Awesome.

The third feature—“Everybody’s Fine,” starring Robert De Niro as a father who’s recently lost his wife and is trying to re-establish connections with his four children (three of whom are played very well by Sam Rockwell, Drew Barrymore, and Kate Beckinsale)—was a moving, if predictable story. But it was also a HUGE downer—not really what you want to see when you’re stuck in an aluminum tube at 35,000 feet for 10 more hours.

Nevertheless, they got the job done because I survived my middle seat and got an aisle one for Frankfurt-to-Abu Dhabi.

However, a new wrinkle entered the picture in Germany.

Unsurprisingly, the last leg of the flight to a Muslim country featured quite a few heavy beards, burkhas (not on the same person), robes, and checkered headdresses. In other words, at least half of the passengers were rocking America’s idea of standard issue accoutrement for The Bad Guy.

Obviously, fearing everyone of Middle Eastern descent wearing Middle Eastern attire as a potential terrorist is as ignorant and weak as assuming every hip-hip fatigued black man in America is a strapped thug or every white man in a three-piece suit is a thieving Wall Street banker.

Possibly more so based on pertinent populations to which I’m not privy.

Yet, the constant media bombardment in the States makes that first “uh-oh” almost involuntary. Especially when it's a young kid in his 20s bending down to fiddle with his carry-on in the seat ahead of me. Which means, more than once, I had that involuntary spasm of anxiety followed by several minutes of self-loathing as penance for my weakness and stupidity.

So I had that going for me...

This was followed by an hour in customs that could’ve been a scene from some slapstick travel comedy. New lines kept opening up and, whenever I switched spots, the one I left immediately started moving such that I must’ve jumped lines four times and not once did it help.

All in all and moaning aside, it was actually a small price to pay for the all-expenses-paid opportunity to cover what is becoming the foremost international sports award and foundation.

For those unfamiliar with the Laureus World Sports Awards and Foundation—I’ll do my best to start reversing that trend (particularly in the U.S.) over the course of the next week.

As a very brief primer, it is essentially a truly global Espy’s Awards with a conscience.

Instead of merely celebrating the already celebrated, Laureus is on a mission to leverage the unifying power of athletics to manifest substantive humanitarian progress across the planet. In other words, Laureus is trying to turn the trivial into the profound.

Less than a decade into its existence, I’d say Laureus is doing a damn fine job.

Something I hope to show through the interviews that start on Tuesday and continue right up to the culminating ceremony on Wednesday evening (which is actually like a Thursday here since the weekend is Friday/Saturday).

And if that’s not enough for those Americentrists in the audience, the Los Angeles Lakers and New York Yankees are nominated for Team of the Year, and even the Ol' Gunslinger got a call.

Yep, Brett Favre got a nomination for Comeback of the Year.

So stay tuned.

**www.pva.org**

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In which, I was called out as the "best uninformed blogger."

I wrote an article that argued that the US Congress should revoke ESPN's license to broadcast.  In part because of ESPN's refusal to report charges of sexual assault by Ben Roethlisberger last summer, overplaying the stories about Pacman Jones, and the hit-pieces against Raiders coach Tom Cable.

Turns out that ESPN has no license to broadcast because the FCC has no authority over ESPN.

Touche.

Nevertheless, I would say that while I may be uninformed about many of the basics involved in the direct aspects of being employed in the mainstream media, I don't care.  Not knowing that the FCC has no authority over ESPN is irrelevant to me.

Before you think I'm just being arrogant, hear me out.  The reason that I don't care is that the information is trivial to someone in my social condition.  It is irrelevant to what I do. 

I'm a swashbuckler in this environment and intellectual when the subject calls for it.  I throw hard, because if I'm wrong, then there is no amount of rhetoric or hard-charging that could change that. 

In this environment, I seek to know why people think the way they think, which cannot be approached in purely rational terms, because I often must deal with irrational people.

Another Kind of Abstract

In an abstract, I've long believed that if you want to know what someone truly thinks without getting their personal spin, in their attempt to subvert your opinion and insert theirs, then you should pay attention to the music they listen to, or the sports they follow.  Those things amongst others, are usually the best reflection of the internal machinations behind the choices people make.

Someone like me will listen to everything from novelty country songs to rap music.  I try to find out what makes it appealing to buyers.  Like ideologies.  The reason that I can be a political grab bag, is that people only join a cause because there is at least some modicum of it based on fact.

I could detail some extreme examples that include the Treaty of Versailles and economics, but I won't go there. 

Well, okay I will, and that is simply to say that the reason that Hitler became popular is that the French did take Germany by the balls affter World War I, hoping that the debilitating provisions of the treaty would prevent Germany from ever waging war again.

Swing and a Miss

Sometimes the best and only way to learn is by going to failure.  Swing and miss.  To throw in another innocuous cliche, you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.

And I have said many times over that I don't care if I turn out to be wrong, because I will at least learn something by being wrong.

And I did learn something.  I learned that ESPN should be regulated by the FCC.  ESPN should be denounced for what it does.  Okay, maybe that's unfair. 

Wake Them up Before You Go-Go

My main point in all the articles I have written about ESPN has been to wake them up.  I don't think the people there see their product the way I see it.  I do believe that the way I see it is the reason why others like it.  They just won't admit it.

Subsequently, I wonder if ESPN does understand what they're selling, they just stopped caring.  It was easier to stick with the idiot box that could potentially say "Heil Hitler" and the dope would say it without a whince. 

Okay, I'm being hyperbolic. 

The point however is that I wonder if the people at ESPN are just content with being puppets and thought that nothing would go wrong if they just went along to get along. 

I can't see anything that goes on in the hallways of ESPN.  They do.  So, if there is truly any truth to what I've generically charged, then I would hope that some would take the moral initiative to resist.  The Water Cooler Resistance if you will.

Furthermore, I think it is unfair to generically call me "uninformed," when people in the mainstream media make mistakes of fact everyday.  It isn't truly fair to gripe about bloggers who mis-blog something, because the pros do it frequently, and get paid for it.

It was you, the mainstream media, that did no real reporting before the Bush administration and US Congress made the decision to invade Iraq. 

When I make a mistake however, no one dies because of it.  I'm a library rat so I do stay informed, but like any professional sports team, I can't win 'em all.  All I can do is aim to win more than I lose.

But perhaps, I'm being touchy...Olbermann did after all, call me the best.

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The phrase can mean a lot of things in the context of a sporting event: Exasperation after a bad play, disagreement with an official’s call, or merely a casual request for divine intervention.

Utter those words on the pitch in an Italian professional soccer match, though, and you might get more than you bargained for.

Like a red card and a subsequent one-game suspension.

Italian soccer officials recently concluded that blasphemous outbursts fall under the umbrella of “offensive, insulting or abusive language” and, therefore, should be penalized with an ejection and suspension.

That’s right, make a comment about a deity in the wrong tone of voice, and you can hit the showers.

And if you think Italian officials are taking this new edict lightly, think again. They even have technology on their side. Last week, Chievo player Michele Marcolini was captured by a camera apparently muttering “dio” (God) as he left the field after picking up a red card.

That’s right, a camera.

He didn’t scream it at the top of his lungs, making nuns weep, mothers hide their children, and eliciting a bolt of lightning from the heavens. No, he may have been seen saying something.

Such an offense warranted a review by the College of Cardinals—sorry, I meant to say, league officials—who, instead, determined that he was referring to someone named “Diaz.” There was no player on either roster with that name, but why should that matter?

Marcolini’s coach, Domenico Di Carlo , wasn’t so lucky. Three minutes into the second half of the same match, Di Carlo reportedly said “porco dio,” which equates God to a pig in an unkind manner. Those two words earned him an ejection from the game and a suspension for Chievo’s next contest.

Now, I have never been to Italy. I won’t profess to know Italian sensitivities over any reference to God. By geography alone, I would suspect that a country that encapsulates The Vatican may be a little touchier than, say, the United States.

Even so, does this really deserve an ejection and a suspension?

Is it a more egregious offense than sliding, cleats high, at an opponent, which normally would earn just a yellow card?

Is a statement to no one in particular more offensive than an insult directed at an opponent?

Remember, this is a country that won the World Cup in 2006 only after Italian defender  Marco Materazzi so insulted French star Zinedine Zidane in the final match that Zidane head-butted Materazzi.

So just to get the record straight, questionable use of the Lord’s name in an Italian professional match is prohibited. But creating new ways to insult a French star during the World Cup in an effort to infuriate him...well, that’s downright patriotic.

It’s interesting that the powers that be have chosen to create this new use of the offensive language rule, instead of enforcing the original intent of the rule—that is, the verbal abuse of other players.

Nothing is made of the caustic exchanges between players during a match, which are likely enough to make a sailor blush. Cameras and lip readers aren’t employed when players go nose to nose to hurl insults at each other.

This smacks more of Italian officials creating an opponent they can beat, instead of taking on real issues and failing.

For instance, Europe has seen a massive influx of immigrants in the last several decades, resulting in a rise in racial tensions. Soccer stadiums across the continent have been the site of racial and neo-Nazi chants from fans. In Italy, fans have been heard singing “a black Italian does not exist” towards opponents. Worse insults have been hurled by Italian fans, even at their own players.

Italian officials publicly agree that this sort of behavior can’t be tolerated. The president of the Juventus club angrily called out his own team’s fans after their demeaning behavior towards Mario Balotelli, who is Italian-born but of Ghanaian descent.

But beyond rhetoric, little has been done to stem the racial tide. Small fines have been levied on clubs, with stiffer penalties threatened but never imposed.

So what do you do when you can’t correct the evil you know? Find a much lesser evil, and fix that one, even if no one really cared about it in the first place. (Of course, this is proof positive that Italian soccer officials are taking tips from politicians, who have employed this strategy ever since the sound bite was invented.)

And who gets to judge what’s offensive and what's not?

Kaka, who starred for AC Milan before his transfer last year to Real Madrid, would routinely point to the sky after he scored a goal as a gesture of thanks to God. Would it have been blasphemous, if he missed a shot, to spread his arms wide and implore to the heavens? Does a player who looks skyward and shakes an angry fist get the same punishment as someone who verbalizes his disappointment?

If all of these questions sound like childish hair-splitting or meaningless topics of debate, you’re right. Italian officials have chosen to argue over the dust in the corner and ignore the elephant in the room.

And every time they decide another player or coach should be suspended because of this rule, I have but one reaction:

“Oh, God!”

Thanks for reading. For more, please visit my new blog, Sports In Briefs .

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Some people will even use valuable time to dedicate blogs that attack my blogs, even on Facebook.  It's like mad blog disease.

In one case, I was apparently mentioned or discussed on Countdown with Keith Olbermann for my many articles about ESPN.

Olbermann, of course, is the former host of SportsCenter.  Feels a bit humbling, though I don't know what was said, just enough to know, "David Xaviel of thebleacherreport.com is convinced that..."

I suppose I deserved that because I frequently incorporate references to Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Keith Olbermann, Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh, and others not directly associated with sports...without informing them.

"And that has made all the difference"

Until now, I was just a little old blogger and didn't see any harm in referencing certain people, because after all, I don't get paid for this, and they do.

Yes, I do believe that makes a difference. 

Way back when I wanted to be a comic (yes, I wanted to be a comic) at the age of 14, I deliberately told myself that it was okay to insult celebrities.

I drew a line at, not making racist jokes, sexist jokes, or too many jokes about the disabled (note from the future: my vision is disabled).

Who's left?  Celebrities, that's who. 

They can pout all they want about being the targets of ridicule, but dontcha know, that if we as a country had no celebrities to ridicule that we might be led by temptation to mock people that don't deserve it or have the luxury to enter an expensive rehab clinic after a Vicodin bender? 

I like to call it the, "Don Rickles Protocol,": you've only made it, once it's okay to call you an idiot.  Plus, at that time, the whole Marv Albert thing made it seem easy.

But I digreeeesssssssssss!

I have questioned ESPN's decisions to report and not to report certain stories, in order to enable racial bias, as a means of selling stories to a predominantly white male audience. 

Don't believe me?  Then look at the stats (demographics).

As Homer Simpson would say, "I'm a white male, age 18 to 49.  Everyone listens to me, no matter how dumb my suggestions are!"

When you really think about it, that is closer to the truth than you'd be willing to accept.

Women watch Oprah for self-help advice.  Kids watch cartoons because it pleases the eye.  Old people watch the History channel because it pleases the eye.  And white guys watch ESPN for delusions of grandeur. 

Why else would Tim Hasselbeck have a job there?

Who Wants to be a Cash Cow?

I started to realize that the media will tailor certain things towards adolescent or adult white males, around the time that I thought that Independence Day (1996) had been "snubbed" by the Oscars.

At that point, I started to realize that certain people are just cash cows that the media will milk for money (I had seen Baywatch too).  The same cows will be mocked for liking the crap that is intentionally produced because it sells.

Until now, I wondered if I was just paranoid, but apparently not.  I think people misunderstand my intentions, but inversely, I probably misunderstand their reactions.

I'm primarily a humorist who is willing to challenge the status quo and just create discontent with any locked-in perception; though, some would likely call me a pretentious egomaniac.

I would have done the stand-up thing long ago, had it not been for the breathing problems I had.  Lest for that fateful day when it crossed my mind that I would be called, "hacky."

That though, was what I wanted to do, no matter how I tried to find something else.  At this point, fate may have forced my hand, after being blackballed from The Home Depot because I reported an assistant for sexual assault. 

The Home Depot turned around and somehow accused me of bad customer service (though I had won awards for customer service), because managers are customers too.  But apparently, the "cats and dogs" aren't customers.

So I've made a theme of saying that everyone has a bias, and to say otherwise, makes you a liar.  People have been told over many years that education will eradicate bias, yet, I was never convinced of that.

Don't get me wrong, though.

Clearly, I'm not Paranoid

I'm not trying to diminish education, but the problem is that at some point, education enforces conformity to ideas that the majority of people within that field all agree with, which historically, has proved to be misguided.

How then would know what is true or false?

I like to believe that it just comes down to having the confidence to say what you believe, and accept it when and if you're wrong.  It's like a batting average.  If you get 3 for 10, you're doing good.  And sometimes, you gotta strike out a few times before you hit a home-run.

It would also help to understand what I view as humor.  Perhaps, this may sound elitist, but I don't care.  I define humor by what makes me laugh, so I don't laugh from pity.  Or just that which makes me think outside the confines of intellectualism, where you must be able to prove something because you can draw observations.

Sometimes, you can draw observations, only for the premise to be proven later.  It's like playing with fire, if not careful, it can burn you.

I have also made a point of challenging ESPN, and to be honest, I once wrote an article that I think was too shocking called, "The Truth about the New England Patriots and Racist Idiots."

An article like that, perhaps, is just an example of the fact that blogosphere has no lines, and that it is up to the blogger to draw that line if he or she wants to be taken seriously.

I don't believe that I sacrificed my integrity in doing so, simply because I used rhetoric to shock a conscience or two. 

But I do believe that made charges with no ability to directly respond to the questions and criticism of the targets, so it was unfair to make such claims in public.

Also keep in mind that I originally started blogging on this site with no idea, as to the scope of the audience.  I was still accustomed to getting nasty replies from cranks and trolls, never realizing that even one read can be someone important.

I may be a bit of an ass, but it's all in good fun.  It's not personal...well, except Jay Mariotti.

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Hybrisball is a combination of several sports, tweaked with its own set of rules to make it unique. Each team has seven players on the field, with substitutes free to come in and out, similar to hockey. These seven players try to move a seven inch diameter ball into a goal. They can use any means of moving the ball except kicking.

The field itself is 50 yards long, 30 yards wide. Goals are 30 yards apart, with 10 yards behind each goal. Goals are 7 feet wide, 4 feet tall.

A good high school sport is not complete without high-contact, and this sport has plenty of it. Players may make contact with any player on the field, whether they have the ball or not. This contact has very few limitations, and allows any player to be taken to the ground at any time.

At this point in discussion, many felt the new sport would fail because players would spend all their time tackling opponents and not concentrating on scoring goals. This is, however, far from the case. In an organized team sport requiring the cooperation of the whole team, it would hurt the team to attack players with reckless abandon. Doing so takes the player momentarily out of the game, opening a whole for the other team to exploit. To further ensure a more "organized" violence, the sport allows all players to move freely anywhere throughout the field.

Taking a page from soccer, Hybrisball games are divided into two 45 minute halves, with continuous clock. Game time stops every nine minutes for a two and a half minute break. There are no team timeouts.

Hybrisball is still in the early stages of development, but has a lot of potential to grow. It has already seen interest by high school students and should have no problems getting players for this year's test runs.

The sport is just being finished. Game founders are hoping to have teams finalized by mid-May, with the season officially starting at the beginning of June and extending to August.

If you would like to learn more about Hyrbrisball, please feel free to view the sports official website at: www.hybrisball.webs.com .

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