Speakeasy Sports Bar What You Expected

Can we sum up this new sports bar in the old Zanzibar Blue spot in one sentence? Why, yes, yes we can. Suzy on JL Sullivan’s Speakeasy: “I kind of saw it as a university of sorts if McFadden’s was the high school.”

Excellent: Explaining the bar in just one sentence. She adds, “Not that this is a bad thing,” but I think we all know how we personally feel about McFadden’s.

Spreading the word about Philly’s new “Speakeasy” despite their deep affection for mass produced witbiers [I'll Have Another Stout]

New Pittsburgh Mascot To Cut Diamonds With Chin

Sometimes the media (whatever) likes to make the Philadelphia and Pittsburgh sports teams out to be rivals, and that’s true for some sports. (We dominate them in basketball.) But chances are if an Eagles fan has to root for a team other than the Eagles, chances are he’ll pick the Steelers. They’re in the AFC, they’re from the same state, and who didn’t like former Steelers coach Bill Cowher. And Steelers fans are kind of ubiquitous, but somehow aren’t annoying like Red Sox/Yankees/Cubs/etc. fans.

Philadelphia has some of the best mascots in sports — the Phanatic, Swoop, Hip Hop, the St. Joe’s Hawk, Hooter the Owl, the only mascot to get a technical foul, etc. — and it makes sense the Steelers would have a pretty cool mascot, too. And, so, naturally, they’ve come up with the guy above, who actually looks like former coach Bill Cowher. And his name is Steeley McBeam, which is like a name you’d come up for the name contest as a joke.

Awesome. Now he just has to have a cage match with Swoop.

Oh, yeah, and be happy you’re in Philadelphia. This new mascot story is the biggest one in Pittsburgh in months.

Steelers Announce the Name of New Team Mascot [Steelers]

Local Gangs Infiltrate Modell’s

Yesterday, teachers in Neshaminy got a crash course in — what else? — how to spot gang members. But of course.

And not just that, but, according to New Jersey St. Police Lt. Edwin Torres, even if a kid is pretending to be in a gang, the real gang members could kill him if they find out. (And it has happened, he says.)

Anyway, the number one sign of gang members (emphasis mine):

An obsession with certain colors or sports teams — via jerseys — without liking the team. For instance, members of the Crips gang wear Colorado Rockies shirts, because they say CR stands for Crips Rule. They don’t actually care for the baseball team.

And if you see someone wearing a Cincinnati Reds jersey, he’s a communist.

Teachers learn to spot signs of gangs [Bucks County Courier Times]

NBC10.com Unveils New Slideshow In Wake Of Brett Myers Arrest

Sports Stars With Legal Problems!

Violence breeds violence

Every once in a while, parents of little kids playing sports get unruly and end up in fights with coaches, other parents, referees, &c. It’s, unfortunately, a part of kids’ sports.

And, it recently happened in Delaware, Action News reports:

Angry parents are blamed for ruining a pee wee wrestling match over the weekend in Delaware. The target of their anger was a referee.

For referee Darren Archangelo it a blow to the face and a blow to pee wee wrestling. There was a match between 9 year olds at a state championship on Sunday. When the dominant wrestler lost in the last ten seconds, Archangelo says the boy’s enraged mother flew out of the stands and grabbed the whistle around his neck. And Archangelo says that’s when another fan snapped after the match up.

Wow. A fight at a wrestling match. What a shocker. That kid’s mom totally should have just distracted the referee instead so her son could hit his opponent with a steel chair.

Fight Ruins Kids’ Pee Wee Match [6 ABC]

Why don’t you just kick Rick Tocchet’s dog while you’re at it, New Jersey lawmakers?

This would be in contrast to the previous system of New Jersey sports gambling, Toccherat.

NJ Lawmakers Mull Casino Sports Betting [AP/6 ABC]
PWD on Rick Tocchet

‘Inquirer’ Next Top Model

If you didn’t pick up Sunday’s Inquirer, you missed one of the best front sports pages in a while. Almost everything on the page was a headshot of some sort, including a whopping four columnist mugshots. (But, really, the photos were cropped tightly on the faces, too. It was like 16 eyes staring at me while I read skimmed the front page.)

A word on the Inquirer columnist headshots: They’re weirdly lined, as if on an old television or the Rocky steps. (You can click here for a giant example of Jim Salisbury in scan-o-vision.)

Nonetheless, thse are headshots for public consumption, and so I decided to play Tyra Banks and introduce Inquirer Next Top Model, a beauty pageant of sorts for the four columnists on Sunday’s front sports page. Let’s go over the four, in alphabetical order.

	Bob Ford. Ford has a natural enough looking smile, but is that right eyebrow smaller than the left? If you want to be a columnist, you gotta get your eyebrows plucked before the photoshoot. However, the laugh lines are a nice touch; it shows Ford doesn’t take himself too seriously, a rare trait in sports columnists.
	Ashley Fox. An excellent touch for Fox to keep her hair down for her columnist photo. Her smile seems a little too big, but it again shows she’s not taking herself too seriously. (Good job, Inky!) And there doesn’t appear to be any sort of eyebrow malfunction. Bonus points, too, for the porn star-esque name.
	Jim Salisbury. Salisbury is clearly a man of serious baseball writing with his stoic expression and collared shirt. I expect him to start debating Plato’s The Republic halfway through his column. And, really, could the photographer have gotten a little closer? I don’t know if I can see his nose hair well enough with this close-up.
	Stephen A. Smith. Hello, professor! Smith has the whole Poindexter look down pat right here. The glasses and suit look — for a sports column! — brings a whiff of superiority and smugness, which is sort of like his writing. (Ba-zing!) However, I’m willing to give Smith a pass here: I’ve been on many a press conference, and sportswriters need to be given every example they can on how to dress better.

We now have to declare a winner. The victor is none other than Ashley Fox, which I guess makes her a victress. (You, of course, didn’t really need me to tell you — of course I was picking the woman. I’m such a pushover. You can complain if you wish, but, really. It’s a contest I came up with in five minutes.)

I’ll finish up with a quick punny ending: Ashley may be a simple sportswriter, but in this contest she’s certainly a fox. (Ugh. That was so bad.)