Agamemnon wrote:

Tavon Austin with 203 all-purpose yards today: 46 rushing, 14 receiving, 143 on punt returns.

Shouldn’t a penalty have been called on
his long punt return?
I mean, is it legal for him to actually
return one without a penalty?

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Well, some of the ‘running qbs’ have
had a bad year, but a ‘running qb’
still quarterbacked the team that won
the Ring last year.

And yes i know about Seattle’s
D and running game. But ask
any seattle-watcher what they think
of R.Wilson. He’s clutch.

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rfl wrote:

I would bet on the Rams this week…

But, it’s time. Barring a catastrophic wave of injuries, I think this team takes a step tomorrow. I think they play up to their ability, not down to the weakness of the opposition. More importantly, they win a game that matters….

I think tomorrow we take that small step leading to the bigger step against AZ. I think things are set up well for us and against WASH. I think we’ll get it done.

Holy Shit.
RFL just picked the Rams.
O dear lord, this cant be good.

Dogs and cats will rain from the sky.
The apocalypse is near.

Washington 666
Rams 0

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zn wrote:

How does Barron look now?

Just wondering.

http://espn.go.com/espnradio/play?id=11969591
The Olberman podcast

http://www.stltoday.com/sports/columns/bernie-miklasz/bernie-bryan-burwell-will-always-live-in-our-hearts/article_729ce51b-92b1-5394-995d-72f1a8a4819a.html
Bernie on Burwell

===

Bernie: Bryan Burwell will always live in our hearts

The first time I met Bryan Burwell, we were both kids in the newspaper business, working for competing newspapers in Baltimore. This was the late 1970s, and I was blown away by him. When Burwell walked into the room, he owned it. The man had presence. He was handsome, charismatic, engaging and had a way to put everyone at ease. His laughter could part the clouds and summon the sunshine to the spot where he stood. And he loved to talk. Goodness, did he love to talk. And I already miss that voice, and that epic laughter.

Back in the early days, I remember thinking: I want to be Burwell.

I wanted to be Burwell because he was such an immense, superior talent. He viewed writing as a craft, polishing every sentence in an attempt to turn his words into diamonds. I wanted to be Burwell because he was the coolest dude in the press box. Sportswriters circled around him. If Bryan didn’t initiate a conversation, it always found him, and soon enough he’d be at the center of it. The hub.

It always happened that way, because when you take someone that has so much love for sports, and so much love for other people, and so much love for his chosen profession – then the result is pure, irresistible magnetism. So you’d find Burwell in the middle of the crowd, where the energy swirled, dispensing his old-school wisdom and lathering that epic laughter on top of the conversation.

Day in and day out, Bryan Burwell was the happiest person you could find in any press box, or in a media work room. In a profession of notorious grumps, he was good for morale. You’d show up, and grouse about something, and Burwell would turn and smile, offer support, and then get to work on repairing your mood.

And you didn’t have to be a media star, or a colleague, or a longterm friend to get Burwell’s attention or empathy. He always treated nervous young journalists with respect and caring, giving them so much of his time you’d think these kids were Pulitzer Prize winners. Burwell didn’t care about your status, or where you ranked on the ladder of journalism. If you shared a press box with Burwell, you were his equal. And if you needed his advice, he would patiently and generously offer it. There was no time limit on his kindness.

Until the end of his life, Bryan maintained the kind of enthusiasm that often wanes when sportswriters and broadcasters have been in the industry for a decade or two. Well, it was impossible to diminish his joy or take away his laughter. Not until Thursday, when this great man and cherished friend and colleague died too soon at age 59, succumbing to the evil cancer that he couldn’t conquer.

We’re all in a daze now. Bryan’s special wife Dawn and their beautiful daughter Victoria are devastated by his death, and we ask that you please keep them in your prayers.

The last few months have been agonizing. Bryan had been diagnosed in October, suddenly and without much warning. It was cruel. And it was hopeless. But oh man, how he tried to fight it.

When I received the stunning news of the cancer, the Cardinals were playing the Giants in the National League championship series. I was at AT&T Park in San Francisco. I headed out to the McCovey Cove area above right field. The park wasn’t open to the public; the first pitch was several hours away. And I cried like a blubbering-baby fool as I wrote a heartfelt email to him.

Burwell’s response: “Stay positive. I’m going to kick this thing’s butt,” he told told me in a text message.

You see, this is how it worked with Bryan. He went out of his way to provide comfort and good cheer to others, even as he coped with the horrific, unavoidable reality of a terminal illness.

Sports columnists can be rivals, and the relationships can turn sour, but this was never the case with Burwell. No chance; he wouldn’t let it happen. We worked alongside each other at the Post-Dispatch since 2002, and we had two disagreements – and needless to say, I was at fault both times. But Bryan always forgave me … with a hug.

In his final weeks, members of the Post-Dispatch sports department became Team Burwell and made visits to his home, usually carrying food to help Dawn through such an excruciating time. On some days, Bryan felt well enough to greet visitors, and it was special to hang out with him for a few hours. At other times, he was too weak to welcome company.

As a staff, as friends, we did what we could. We peppered him with text messages during games. We asked him for advice on what to write. We told him how much we missed his voice on our sports page. We prayed that he’d soon return, to grace his profession and our lives.

The last time I saw Burwell, I brought him some Maryland-style crab cakes that I’d prepared (a mutual love of ours) and Bryan was full of energy and spirit. It renewed our hope, if only briefly. We knew this sad day was coming. But we weren’t ready.

How can you be ready for something like this?

Burwell saw the best in everyone, but he had the courage to take a stand and express a strong and unpopular opinion. And as you probably can understand, it wasn’t always easy being an outspoken African American sports columnist who didn’t hesitate to take a stand. I cringe at the memory of some of the emails he received; you can only imagine. He would show a few to me every now and then and it made me crazy with anger. But you know what? The nastiness couldn’t take Burwell down. The viciousness probably stung him more than he’d let on, but he’d brush it off and continue being Burwell. A first-class man, all the way.

Astounded by his relentless civility, I once asked him: Why do you respond to people who are so vile and hateful? I’ll never forget Bryan’s answer. “Because they took the time to write,” Burwell said. “That’s the first thing. The other thing is, I can’t change the world we live in. But by having a conversation, I can try to change one heart at a time.”

And he meant it. Burwell put that into practice, every single day.

Burwell never lost sight of something important: He was doing exactly what he wanted to do, and he savored every moment, and he never stopped appreciating the experience — all of it, the good and the bad.

Bryan gave an interview to a young journalist a few years ago, and summed it up perfectly.

“The funny thing is I’ve had all my dream jobs,” he said. “I’ve been really fortunate. I’ve done a lot of stuff in my thirty some-odd years in the business. I’ve covered countless Olympic games. I’ve been to the NBA Finals. I’ve been to every Super Bowl since Super Bowl XVIII. I’ve been a columnist. I’ve worked for Real Sports. I’ve worked for Inside the NFL, CNN and TNT. I’ve been very, very, very lucky. I’ve truly been blessed. I’m enjoying everything. When I look back, I’ll be able to say no regrets, man. I did OK.”

I’ll have to disagree with my dear friend one last time.

You did OK?

Please.

No, Bryan Burwell.

You did a lot more than “OK.”

As a journalist in newspapers, TV and radio, you were a giant in your chosen field, and you were the kindest person that we ever encountered in this ornery, complex, ego-overloaded business.

And that is why so many people are aching inside today. Your reach expanded from coast to coast, and touched more people than we could possibly quantify. You made our corner of the sports world a much better place.

Thursday morning, after the sad news of Bryan’s death made its way onto Twitter, the immediate outpouring of love from media colleagues, sports executives and athletes from New York to Los Angeles — and all places in between — was amazing. But not surprising. This was one helluva human being.

Now that Bryan is gone, the press box will never be as warm again. It will be a much quieter place. I’m headed to Atlanta for the SEC Championship, and I’d give anything to sit next to him one more time. During Saturday’s game I’ll probably close my eyes, and hope to hear that famous, wondrous Burwell laughter. This is impossible, and this is cruel, and this is crushing. But I do know this: The familiar echo of that sweet, soul-replenishing laughter will always live in our hearts. He’ll never really leave us.

zn wrote:

Eric Garner grand jury probe shows similarities to Michael Brown case

http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Justice/2014/1203/Eric-Garner-grand-jury-probe-shows-similarities-to-Michael-Brown-case-video

New York — Just a week after a Missouri grand jury declined to bring charges against former Ferguson Police Officer Darren Wilson, New York City is bracing for another long-awaited and controversial grand jury decision.

A Staten Island grand jury, which has been hearing evidence since Sept. 29, has heard from its final witnesses and could hand down a decision about whether to indict New York Police Officer Daniel Pantaleo in the chokehold death of Eric Garner as early as Wednesday, according to reports.

Like its Missouri counterpart, the Staten Island grand jury has been unusual, both in the duration of the proceedings and the amount of evidence presented. Meeting for months, the secret panel of 16 or as many as 23 jurors has been hearing a full array of evidence, including the testimony of the potential defendant, New York Police Officer Daniel Pantaleo.
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District Attorney Daniel Donovan has said little during the past two months about the secret grand jury proceedings, which must decide whether to bring charges against Officer Pantaleo, a white officer eight years on the force, who wrestled Mr. Garner to the ground with a headlock maneuver on the afternoon of July 17, even as the 6-foot, 3-inch, 350-pound father of six cried out, “I can’t breathe” numerous times.

The incident, dramatically captured on video by multiple bystanders with smartphones on the Staten Island sidewalk, provided the early backdrop to the often violent protests to the shooting of Mr. Brown in Ferguson, Mo., just a few weeks later. Both became symbols of the deep, decades-long divisions between police departments and black communities in a year marked by angry protests and civil unrest.

And just as St. Louis Prosecutor Robert McCulloch did with Officer Wilson, District Attorney Donovan brought in Officer Pantaleo to testify in his own defense, without being subject to adversarial cross examination.

In most cases, legal experts say, a prosecutor presents a grand jury only with select evidence to simply establish “probable cause” for an indictment, and the potential defendant is by definition the prosecutor’s legal adversary.

“But it’s very challenging for a local prosecutor, who oftentimes wins elections with the support of local police officers, and works very closely with local police officers each and every day, to bring a case against a cop,” says Jason Leventhal, a former Staten Island assistant district attorney who now represents clients bringing civil rights cases against the NYPD.

“The internal pressures that a local prosecutor receives from their brothers in law enforcement – these are their partners working together everyday, so it creates a very challenging environment for a prosecutor to seek and indictment, let alone a conviction, of a police officer.”

Pantaleo, an officer who lives in Staten Island, told his side of the incident to the grand jury for two hours on Nov. 21.

“He was gratified to tell his story, he was relieved,” said Stuart London, Pantaleo’s attorney, to CNN on Saturday. “He was anxious and anxiety-filled prior to that,” Mr. London said. “He is cautiously optimistic, and knows that his fate is in their hands now.”

In Missouri, Mr. McCulloch was criticized for taking the unusual step of presenting the entirety of his evidence to the grand jury, including the four-hour testimony of Wilson. None of the evidence was subjected to cross examination or hostile scrutiny, however, critics say.

And it is not difficult for a prosecutor to get an indictment. In 2010, federal prosecutors sought indictments in about 162,000 cases, according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics. Grand jurors declined to return an indictment in 11 of these.

“[When] the prosecutor handled the Wilson case in a radically different manner, this signaled to the grand jurors that they were not expected to indict. And they did not,” wrote Marjorie Cohn, a criminal defense attorney and professor at Thomas Jefferson School of Law in San Diego, in an essay in The Huffington Post last week.

Many observers in New York see a similar strategy at play in the Garner grand jury.

“The length of the grand jury proceedings has given me pause, and there’s always the possibility that the district attorney is using the grand jury process to insulate him from the public scorn and criticism that would follow if he chose not to bring a case that the public believes should be brought,” says Mr. Leventhal of the law firm Leventhal & Klein.

“Presenting evidence this way insulates the DA from the decision,” he continues. “Even if he was seeking an indictment – an indictment that would be unpopular, and he might be concerned with the fallout from fellow law enforcement partners – it also serves that purpose to be able to say, ‘It wasn’t my decision, I put all the evidence in, and it was the grand jury’s decision.’ ”

On Monday, NYPD Commissioner Bill Bratton met with local clergy, community leaders, and elected officials in Staten Island to discuss the possible fallout of the impending grand jury decision, including the possibility of Ferguson-like violence.

“Here on Staten Island, Eric Garner had a lot of friends, especially in that area, and he’s very, very well missed by a lot of people who’s anxiously waiting the decision,” said Cynthia Davis, a leader with the Rev. Al Sharpton’s National Action Network, to NY1. “So I even think maybe some agitators may try to worm their way in and try to cause problems, but we’re just praying and hoping that that doesn’t happen.”

Yeah, the system is absurd. The prosecutor
and the cops work together everyday. They are
allies. The prosecutor is a “cop” and has a badge.
He’s the top-cop, essentially.

Anytime there’s evidence a cop has assaulted
anyone a “special prosecutor” ought to be
appointed by a neutral panel of some sort.
Thats how it would be handled in utopia-world
anyway.

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NERam wrote:

Right or wrong, what the Rams players did coming out of the tunnel has created more negative response against the team than the other 2 Pats incidents.

Thats all.

Well, it hasn’t played out yet.
Maybe some or most of those fans will come back.
And maybe the gesture made them new fans.
Time will tell.

For some reason i just thought of Jackie Robinson.
I bet a lot of fans quit on the Dodgers when
he took the field. In the end though,
things worked out 🙂

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rfl wrote:

I must say, I am impressed with Cook. I had no idea he had this much articulate depth.

He’s not just reading a PR statement. He is expressing a perspective reflecting not only intelligence, but balance and nuance. He keeps a lot of issues in mind here, and appeals to the angels of our nature.

I was taken with the moment when he apparently teared up over the statement by the African American police organization. That showed a person with heart and also an African American with a powerful sense of solidarity and identity.

I have stayed out of the discussion for the most part but those who know me can imagine where I stand. What I have resonated with most strongly is the recognition, I believe articulated by Zooey, that African Americans know in their bones and long past refutation that they remain, decade after decade, vulnerable to prejudicial police harassment and violence. They have lived their lives being harassed by cops and watching people who look like them die. That shared experience is surely what our African American WRs were testifying to.

And it’s what moved Cook when hearing from African American police whose voices are silenced in all of this. Yet Cook’s response remains fully human, engaged, aware of the positive role of police in his life and profession as well.

This incident testifies to Cook being a man and a human being. We’re all human, but most people live out of touch with their core humanity. Cook is in touch with his. He sounds like a guy one would like to know.

You know, the whole matter of intelligence and its relationship to athletic skill is interesting. Players of truly limited intelligence often struggle. The best athletes often play smart, a mental shrewdness in processing the demands of the game. But these players are often pretty unintelligent in the rest of life. One remembers Billy Kilmer’s obtuse recent comments about the Redskins–not just racist but simply dumb.

Sometimes, one finds intelligence in a player that goes well beyond game-smarts. And it can actually interfere with play. Kevin Carter was a highly intelligent, cultured man. He never seemed to love football enough to fulfill his potential.

I wonder if Cook is like that. Watching him play, I have had the impression of a dull person with great athletic gifts. Based on this incident, that impression seems false. He is clearly a thoughtful, reflective guy. He seems to be one of those rare players I would actually enjoy knowing.

Now if he can just quit dropping passes …

Yeah, well said, RFL.

And Kendricks and Tavon need to stop
dropping balls too 🙂

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