"I'm Bill Simmons. People seem to like me because I am polite and I am rarely late. I like to eat ice cream and I really enjoy a nice pair of slacks. Years later, a doctor will tell me that I have an I.Q. of 48 and am what some people call mentally retarded."
God, what a vastly overrated little douche. It's truly a phenomenon, how a turgid, vapid, completely uncompelling and uninteresting guy can get close to top billing on ESPN.com. His writing is formulaic and awful: add 3 cups of phraseology that ends with "this?" (as in, "Am I the only one who would pay to see this?", "Would anyone be against this?", etc.), 3 tablespoons of "90210" references, a passel of reality-TV references, possibly a dash of allusions to WWF/E, and let digest for about 8 seconds (which, not coincidentally, is the amount of thought that apparently goes into his writing).
Some years ago, when his writing still seemed fresh and new, I enjoyed reading him. He had a particularly funny piece some years ago about Magic Johnson’s Basketball Hall of Fame induction, at which Larry Bird was to give Magic’s induction speech. Simmons fantasized about Bird ripping off his shirt and jacket to reveal a Celtics jersey underneath and then bashing Magic with a steel chair, a la a pro-wrestling-style heel turn. I thought it was somewhat smart and funny. (And I’ll be damned if I can’t find it on ESPN’s site without signing up for their “Insider” service. I sure as hell won’t pay for it; it wasn’t *that* good.)
Over time, though, I started to see a certain sameness in his writing. Perhaps his contract with ESPN states that he has to make some reference to the TV shows “Beverly Hills 90210,” “Saved by the Bell” or “The O.C.” at least once every nine paragraphs. Or perhaps he’s really angling for a job writing for one of the reality television websites. Whatever the case, the themes in his writing tended to angle toward the inner fratboy that he apparently thinks exists in each of us. (This is, of course, a microcosm of the larger problem that is ESPN’s ubiquity and status of being the arbiter of all things sports, which is another issue for another time.)
But I can handle that. I can understand and sympathize with the need for going back to your schtick every once in a while, dumb though it may be (see also: Alarm, Bajeebus). The straw that broke the camel’s back for me, though, was his unadulterated fandom and arrogance regarding all things New England sports. I appreciate having rooting interests, but I don’t have an IQ of 9, and therefore, I don’t think that calling St. Louis slugger Albert Pujols “Poo Holes,” as Simmons started doing during that World Series he won’t shut up about from 2004, is particularly inventive or funny. And, yeah, I get that Peyton Manning has been hands-down the premier choke artist of the 21st century. I get it already, Bill. You arrogant prick.
Ha ha! “Poo Holes”! He’s witty and clever! Next on “The Sports Guy” – the twelve different levels of fart jokes!
Unfortunately, because he’s so popular, I fear that he will spawn a cadre of amateur imitators, which is just what the world needs at this crucial moment in history. When I was first angling for FoxSports.com’s “Next Great Sportswriter” gig, one of the guidelines that the judges wrote about was:
You can write about whatever you want that is somehow related to the world of sports. You can write about something very specific, such as a particular team. Or you can jump from topic to topic. You can even do some more of the lifestyle-type stuff that you might recognize from the writing of one ofUgh. “Lifestyle-type stuff”? What sort of “lifestyle”, exactly, does Bill Simmons write about? Is it the one about the 5’4” former fraternity brother who had to endure the brunt of jokes about his height and his voice (have you ever heard him on one of the countless list shows that the 38 ESPN channels carry? Yikes!)? The one about sitting in his house in L.A. and listens to the first three Pearl Jam albums over and over? Whatever the case, it must work, because he’s probably the most popular writer that ESPN.com has, and undoubtedly he appeals to a certain shallow readership. (Which, again, shines a harsh light on what ESPN has become.)
our judges, Peter Schrager, or someone like ESPN.com's Bill Simmons.
Go away, Sports Guy. God, even the name of your schtick is retarded.
[Wouldn't all of ESPN.com's male writers, theoretically, be Sports Guys? Does Spin.com have "The Music Guy"? Does TV Guide have "The TV Guy"? Wouldn't those be equally ridiculous? (The correct answer is "Almost!")]
Update: During the writing of this piece, I made a trip to the bathroom, and while I was in there, my colon came up with a sample of Bill Simmons’ writing. Here it is:
It was Sunday at The Sports Guy Mansion, and I was toggling between the Red Sox-Indians showdown and the “Survivor: All-Stars” marathon that OLN was broadcasting. Check it out. Was there any greater moment in “Survivor” than when CBS worked and worked till they finally found a way to give Rupert a million bucks? That one goes in the Parthenon of great reality-TV moments. I remember thinking when it originally aired, “Wow, that guy deserves a million bucks. Would anyone be against this?”Etc. etc. etc. (I had to flush eventually; while his blather would continue for another 8000 words, this blog post doesn’t)
Sports Gal brought me a Zima, and I flipped back to the end of the Red Sox game, where Papelbon was striking out the side in the ninth. That was a crucial loss for the Indians: on my “Levels of Losing” scale, that rates as a level-3 “Waking up with RuPaul the next morning” loss. Is there anyone who would be for this?
That reminds me – I’ve come up with a new theory to rival my Ewing Theory about championship teams. Check it out. It’s called “The Papelbon Theory,” and it says that “Any team from Boston who won a World Series in 2004 who picks up an out-of-nowhere closer is destined to have a stellar year.” Maybe he will strike out Poo Holes in the All-Star Game. That one would also be a Parthenon moment. I’d put that on my TiVo “Do Not Delete Under Penalty of Death” list. Wouldn’t it be cool if my TiVo also had a TiVo? How much would I pay for this?
Check it out. I called my dad on the phone, and I said, “Dad, what do you think of this kid Papelbon?”
“God *dammit*, I love jerky!” he said.
I told him, “I’ve got a couple of buddies who read my forum post about him on the Sons of Sam Horn website, and ---“
Dad said, “Sam Horn? Website? What? God *dammit*, I can’t believe the Celtics let Dan Dickau go! They should have a go at this Maravich kid from Louisiana State!”
“Dad, I –“
“Who is this? How did you get my number?”
I hung up the phone and finished my Zima. Check it out. I felt like Brandon on “90210” after Kelli ran off with Screech.
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