Here’s the only quality video I could find of the homer:

Once again, congrats to a great, respected baseball player.

Steve Bartman now resides in an undisclosed location in Northern Florida and is taunted to this day.

But, come on, this is gorgeous, acrobatic, and just devastating.

Last week, I provided the world with what I deemed my first post college tour de force. “NASCAR 101: How to Mullet Hunt and Survive” was a 5 year documentary of my trials and tribulations as an enthusiast of the backyard follicle wonder. However, hundreds of people sent me links and youtube videos on hairstyles they considered more majestic than the mullets dawned by NASCAR fans . . . and I found myself heaven. Call me Nostradamus, because I am predicting the end of the American clean neck by year 2018. Dirty European Soccer Mullets: the future of American mullet tolerance.

First of all, I must rant about soccer and Europe, as well as explain my position with the mullet. I have never played soccer nor been to Europe. As a matter of fact, I have never traveled north of Virginia or west of Dollywood. This spring break, however, I did make my farthest trip away from home to New Orleans, only to return disappointed because hunting gators is apparently against federal law. My credibility in understanding the mullet lies in the fact that I sported one myself for 8 years.

Prior to college, I had an overwhelming distaste for the sport of soccer. I called it soccer, then know-it-all-McGee called it futbol, then his predecessor corrected him with football, then my Uncle PeeWee laid claim on American football, then the town drunk called it that “foot fairy game”, and then a foreign diplomat created the hybrid names of futball and footbol . . . it never ends. The sport seemed to be the bastard child of sports nomenclature. For now, all I ask is that someone provides me with an acceptable worldwide usage for the name of the sport. I took the time to learn the rules on FIFA 08, so please take the time to create a universal name.

Now for what you have all been waiting for, the Dirty European Soccer Mullets. Yes, the fashion declaration that spread to the eastern hemisphere by David Hasselhoff himself has now been intertwined in a sport. Whereas in NASCAR the mullets admire the clean-cut drivers, in soccer the clean cuts respect the mullets. Not respect . . . worship. Take for instance David Beckham of the LA Galaxy. Forbes estimated in 2007 that he netted upwards of $29.1 million, not including endorsements and bonuses. He is a prime example of the indifference of opinion between the American and Euro Mullet. In England, Beckham wore a modified mullet with pride. Many of his teammates and opponents (take for instance, Ronaldo) still wear a full-blown mullet with pride. Unfortunately, in America Beckham’s modi-mullet is no more. Mullets are respected and accepted in European soccer, giving true meaning to the words the “beautiful game”.

If Jimmy Johnson or Dale Jr. decided to rock a business in the front, party in the back lifestyle they would be slaughtered by the media. The only respect that Americans have for the mullet is the pleasure we get in making fun of its existence. As I said in my previous article:

ALWAYS respect the mullet. These men have spent the majority of their lives grooming and tailoring a business in the front, party in the back lifestyle. They are stronger individuals than you, and much more self confident in their appearance. If you can’t sport the hairdo, then respect the men that can.

The point of my argument is that in two different cultures, redneck southern America and European soccer fandom, we have the mullet in common. Only our two cultures can truly rock and respect the hairstyle simultaneously. In America, the mullet is often ridiculed and poked fun at as a sign of “trash” or lower class. In Europe, the elite shampoo their rear-neck riches in the overpowering awe of their followers. The dirty European soccer mullet is free to flap in the wind, to be the last thing an opponent sees as it speeds past, and to be petted by the beautiful women that these men date. The mullet in Europe has evolved into a symbol of wealth and fortune, while in America it has come to mean the polar opposite. The mullet is also making a strong appearance in South America, where the players deem is the “soccer rocker”.

If foreign trends continue, I am predicting a heavy surge of the popularity of soccer in America. And with this rise in soccer comes the dirty European soccer mullets. And with millions of children seeing their mullet-wearing soccer idols on TV, there will be a resurge of mullets in America. Unlike the Billy Ray Cyrus mullet craze, this one will be here to stay. Within 10 years, the mullet will be back and will be respected. If you are one of those people that show a lack of respect for the mullet, then you will not be allowed to rock it when it comes back. For mullet America: prepare yourself for glory because the sport that few Americans understand is bringing back the hair that defines your lifestyles.

Colby Almond

Chapel Hill, North Carolina

Sweet.

“I feel like it’s actually a foregone conclusion. To me, I just see the horses he’s in with and I see our horse so I expect him to win this race. … I know that when that day actually does come, and if our horse is in good shape, it will be the most exciting, thrilling moment of my life. So I just … I know that that’s coming, but right now I’m just staying involved with our horse and what we think is best to get him there the right way and it keeps us plenty busy.”

The triple crown is looming, but Big Brown is far from the certain winner. Casino Drive is on fire and has yet to lose a race. This will be Big Brown’s top opponent, and one that may certainly uproot his legendary status. We’ve seen it happen all too many times, a horse lose the triple crown that was heavily favored, and it just may happen this year yet again.

I would like nothing more than to see a Triple Crown winner. It would help revivive the sport of horse racing within the modern generations of children that have no idea who Secretariat was.

I was fine with reading the entire article, until I reached Ellington’s quote regarding his time at UNC and the loss at San Antonio:

“It was a tough way to go out, but at the same time, … you go to college to fulfill one of your dreams [the NBA],” Ellington said.

This is exactly the problem with Wayne, and I have absolutely no shame in saying it. Your dream is the NBA. The dream of Tyler Hansbrough’s is to win a National Championship. Trust me, I drove 5,000 miles and spent nearly 2K to watch Wayne crumble under pressure. If you are content with being a mediocre 2nd round pick at best, then feel free to go. Tar Heel nation does not want a player whose first dream is NBA, instead of a National Championship. Then came the Danny Green quote:

“I’m not in Tyler’s situation,” Green said. “He’s breaking records, and he has money. I’m not broke-poor, but my family doesn’t have as much as Tyler. He’s more fortunate, and I’m trying to do what’s best for my family.”

Dear Danny, you drive a f*cking Cadillac Escalade around campus. If money is an issue for you and your family, perhaps you should consider trading in the sick whip for a Honda, giving your family the left over $25K, then play another year of college basketball and ensure yourself a first round pick. In the game of simple economics, this would make more sense in the long run, plus you would have that much coveted college degree in case you . . . I don’t know . . . seriously injure your ankle and fail to be picked up by a team?

Why am I so upset about the mentalities of these players? Because they consider UNC a simple “insurance policy” against their failure to gain the position in the draft that they want. You were given a free education. You had a chance to play for the most prestigious basketball school in the nation. You were coached by Roy Williams, and mentored by Dean Smith. The girls at Top O and La Res flock all over you. The kids outside the games kick and scream for your autograph. And why? So you can publicly refer to them as human collateral in an ESPN article. We, Tar Heels are not your insurance against a low paying job. You were given a chance to play here simply to make you better. If you wish to leave prior to your maturity as a player, do so quietly.

I gave my heart, soul, and the majority of my time for three years as an undergraduate to the Athletic Department. I could have left UNC after my junior year and took a job as a 2nd tier custodian, but I chose to hone my skills for a better paying job. Perhaps these three should do the same. By the way, my mother’s kindergarten class begged me to get the autographs of three basketball players. Just three . . . and it was none of you. Take lessons from Tyler, Bobby, and Marcus. Because they will be doubling each of your salaries in the draft next year.

In the small English town of Ashbourne during 2 days a year the people divide to play a sport with the purpose of scoring the “toughest goal”. Sure kicking a ball into the net takes some skill, but even these people would say scoring in a sport such as rugby is only for the weak. Imagine thousands of people, divided by a river, with 2 days to get a ball across town with one simple rule: no murder. That is only the beginning in Royal Shrovetide Football.

The Time:

The game of Royal Shrovetide is played annually on Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday in Ashbourne, which is located in Derbyshire, England. The pitch begins at 2:00 pm and lasts until 10:00 pm. If a ball is goaled before 5:00, then a new ball is released in the town centre and play continues. Otherwise, play is over for the day.

The Teams:

Through the middle of Ashbourne runs a river called the Hanmore Brook. People born north of the river are on the Up’Ards and people from the south are called Down’Ards. On opposite ends of the town are two goal posts that are located 3 miles apart. The Up’Ards attempt to score at Sturston Mill, and the Down’Ards at the Clifton Mill, each located in a river. In order to score, the team must move the ball from the town centre, to their mill, and then bang the ball on the wall 3 consecutive times.

The Game:

There is no limit to the number of players the Up or Down’Ard teams can possess. The teams (composed of thousands of people) are encouraged to stay within the confinements of Ashbourne. As a precaution all stores and shops board up their windows and all cars are parked miles away. The crowd gathers at a specially designed plinth in the middle of Town Square to begin the game. Prior to the beginning, they sing Auld Lang Syne followed by God Save the Queen. Shortly after, town (or in some cases actual royalty) figures throw the custom painted ball into the crowd. From there, the chaos begins.

The “Rules”:

The only real official rule to the game is no murder or manslaughter. But a good way to find you in a sticky situation during the game is to:

1) Carry the ball by motorized vehicle.

2) Hide the ball under your coat or in a bag.

3) Run into a cemetery, churchyard, or memorial.

Also, unnecessary roughness is heavily frowned upon, although a common occurrence during the 2 day game.

The Roll of Honor

The roll of honor is an official document, which keeps history of each scorer and the turner-up (the person who threw the ball) during each of the game. If you are a visitor wishing to score on either of the two teams, you are out of luck. Each part of town usually predetermines who will score the goals and thus keep the ball. It is usually respected members or families of the town, for they frown upon visitors getting their names placed in the Roll of Honor.

Here are a few videos of this great brute of a sport unfolding: