Sports Hernia Blog

Mushnick’s Friday blowtorch: Mortensen, Caray, Francesa

On Mortensen logic:

Chris Mortensen was brought in to discuss punitive action against Chiefs’ RB Larry Johnson, accused of assaulting a woman… Mortensen speculated that Chiefs’ coach Herm Edwards is unlikely to allow Johnson to slide.  After all, Mortensen concluded, Edwards is the father of two daughters.  Huh?  Assaulting women is a depends-on-your-point-of-view issue?  Had Edwards been the father of two sons he reasonably would be more likely to overlook or even excuse Johnson’s conduct?  What if he had one of each; would he be on the fence?  One needs to be the father of daughters to grasp the gravity of – or even over-react to – such charges?

Consider this a verbal wedgie from Mushnick, Mort.  Been a banner week for ESPN. 

On the genius of Chip Caray:

When the Rays’ Rocco Baldelli singled in a run during Game 7, Caray didn’t have to say a word.  But he followed the comments of analyst Buck Martinez by hollering, "And how big are two-out hits in the postseason?!"  How big?  Well, two-out hits are big in the regular season, too – provided that they are.  But that wasn’t the problem. When Caray shouted his two-out two cents response to Baldelli’s RBI single, there weren’t two out, there were none out!

Later, Caray referred to the game, a Game 7 – the decisive game of the series – as "a pivotal game," as if there would be a Game 8, as if the winner would take the lead.

We love two-out base hits when there are actually no outs, because if it feels like there are two outs, it feels so much more clutch.  Get porked, Caray.

On the mind-blowing consistence of Mike Francesa:

Mike Francesa on WFAN, Wednesday, called it "comical," how people in the media have tried to let everyone know how tight they are with Brett Favre.  Yeah, we know exactly what he means. There’s this guy on a New York station who pulls that stuff with Bill Parcells, among many others.

Cue to the ugly sight of Francesa and Parcells laughing it up with their pants pulled over their respective groin guts.

And now cue to the chant slowly gaining steam throughout Hernia Headquarters:

Mushnick Mushnick Mushnick Mushnick!