ESPN’s anonymous (unsigned), lawyer-approved response on Friday to the on-the-TV-job death of X Games extreme snowmobiler, 25-year-old Caleb Moore, was so defensive it was hideously offensive:
“We are deeply saddened by Caleb Moore’s passing and our thoughts and prayers go out to … the entire Moore family. He will be remembered for his natural passion for life and his deep love for his family and friends. He will always be an inspiration to everyone he touched in the action sports community.
“As a result of the accident we will conduct a thorough review of this discipline and adopt any appropriate changes to future X Games.
“For 18 years we have worked closely on safety issues with athletes, course designers and other experts. Still, when the world’s best compete at the highest level in any sport, risks remain. Caleb was a four-time X Games medalist attempting a move he has landed several times previously.”
Got that last part, the close of Paragraph 3? That’s ESPN defense: Moore was killed due to what the FAA terms “pilot error.”
But if Moore caused his own death — even on ESPN’s time, dime, invite and urging to participate in a “discipline” that rewards the most dangerous stunts performed on snow and ice at high speed and in mid-air on 500-pound machines — then there’s no need for Paragraph 2, advocating a “thorough review” and “appropriate changes” to the event.
Suddenly, with Moore’s death and as read in Paragraph 1, ESPN no longer asks us to consider its “X Games” as short for Extreme Games. Moore’s death turned the X Games into “action sports,” such as pre-existing action sports, including soccer, basketball and tennis.
And what about all the other serious injuries at this year’s ESPN Winter X Games? Any ESPN internal memos on all that internal bleeding?
Or, along with being crushed to death, is separating one’s pelvis and fracturing one’s spine — injuries sustained by two others at these X Games — something that one should expect and accept when agreeing to participate in an all-ESPN deal?
Sure. ESPN’s “thoughts and prayers go out to the family.” No one could see this coming. Snowmobiles launched like rockets and manned by young dudes-who-dare devils can injure? Kill? Who knew? But ESPN had nothing to do with it. Got that? Nothing.
In fact, Thursday, hours after Moore died, the news was featured prominently on CBS Sports’ and FOX Sports’ phone apps. ESPN’s “SportsCenter” app? Not a word.
ESPN should waive all restrictions to grant Caleb Moore immediate, posthumous induction into the He Got Jacked Up! ESPN Hall of No Shame. That’s the least ESPN can do.
‘Big Game’ is today, just don’t call it Super Bowl
I Always wanted to violate Super Bowl commercial copyright restrictions. Kinda like Thoreau’s “Civil Disobedience” or socio-political radical Chris Russo’s NASDAQ closing report that, “Yoo-Hoo was down 1¹/.”
Keepin’ it real! Power to the people!
I don’t want to bow to comply with NFL restrictions and legalities in pitching my own money-grabbing enterprise. I’m tired of stooping to “The Big Game” when we all know what we’re talking about!
So, baby, kiss the kids and call the ACLU, because here we go:
“Come on down to Big Phil Mushnick’s Super Bowl Rib ‘n’ Chili Shack! Free parking in the rear, kids half-price after 10 p.m. That’s Super Bowl Sunday — and every Sunday! Ask Sausage Patty ’bout our sausage patties! Oooo-wee!
“We serve up a super bowl any time ya feel a-hankerin’! See ya tonight, for The Big Game. That’s right — the Super Bowl! Halftime dancin’ to Fiscal Cliff & His Orchestra.”
There. That feels better. Heh, heh, come and get me, coppers!
* Anyway, I’m confused by Colin Kaepernick’s claim that his tattoo-covered body reflects his highly personal spirituality. How can that be?
That permanent writing, down both his arms. If he looks down to read it, it’s upside-down. Although, if he makes a fist, then sticks it under his chin, he can read a bit of that personal stuff tattooed from his wrists to his elbows (try it, you’ll see). If he looks at all that writing in a mirror, it appears backwards. And if he has someone read it to him, it loses that personal touch, no?
As for getting a chance to see those tattoos that cover his back, well, he’s pretty fast, but that fast?
By the way, if the NFLPA is so concerned — better late than never — about player safety, the next thing it should do — better late than never — is insist its union members cease blood-dancing after they’ve laid someone out.
* Question of the Week: Reader William Yanusaites asks why CBS’ Shannon Sharpe “doesn’t demand that Ray Lewis talk about those murders the same way he demanded that Bill Belichick talk after the Pats’ loss to the Ravens?”
I still suggest that a person of interest today is punter and kick-holder Sam Koch, a Raven faster than a speeding pullet. Fake field goal. If I’m right, you’re buying — down at Big Phil Mushnick’s 2014 Super Bowl Rib ‘n’ Chili Fest!
Speaking of next year, Russ Salzberg, on Channel 5 News Thursday, must have felt some heavy executive breathing. He ended with this programming alert: Next year’s Super Bowl will be “right here, on FOX 5.”
As Salzberg’s co-News Corp employee, I’ll add this: If you’re going to watch one Super Bowl — just one — make it next year’s!
The other day Mike Francesa told a caller that he never would wear a team’s apparel, ridiculing the peon for not realizing that He is above such childish, bush-league behavior. Fact: During Bill Parcells’ Jets years, Francesa — and at least one Super Bowl — made the scene wearing a Jets’ jacket.
Two weeks before, The Big Game allows interviews with offensive lineman, often the NFL’s best interviews.
The Roger Goodell “It’s All About The Fans” Stat of the Week: Reader John Phoenix alerts us to the fact that, including must-buy preseason games and playoff games, the Patriots played 12 home games. Just two began at 1 p.m. The rest kicked at 4:25 or at night.
My pick in The Big Game? You’re kind to ask: The team that does the most head-slapping, chest-pounding and war-whooping on its sideline before the kick will lose. Watch. Then on a Sunday, take it to the bank!
(Big Phil Mushnick’s Super Bowl Rib ‘n’ Chili Shack reminds you that Tuesdays are Ladies Nights, no proof required.)