Friday STATTS Are Here To Get You To The Workday Finish Line
Welcome to another edition of Friday STATTS (Stories, Thoughts, and TikTokS), where we bridge the gap between lunch and quitting time with a random assortment of banter to get you out of the office and into happy hour. Before we get started, I want to give you a TK guarantee. This week, I promise you that there will be absolutely no satire in this piece whatsoever. All jokes will be fitted with sparklers so you can’t miss ‘em, and will then be spoon-fed directly into your adorable mouths like an airplane of mushy carrots. You won’t have to use your brains for anything other than sounding out the big words. Why? Because this is a sports site dammit, and here, we LEAVE SATIRE TO THE BEE!!!
So take off your thinking caps and get your drool towel ready, because away we go!
Part I
The Worldwide Losers of Sports
I’m not the biggest podcast guy in the world (most people either don’t keep the train moving or can’t figure out their perspective), but I do enjoy Ryen Russillo’s pod from time to time. I don’t know him personally yet, but he seems like the kind of guy you could get a beer with: down to earth, dry, knowledgeable, sporty like an ex-player rather than an analyst, headstrong without being a douche. (If you personally hate the guy, that's fair, but trust me, I do not care.) Plus, he’s managed to keep his voice relatively intact despite moving his show to The Ringer, Bill Simmons’ live-action, leftist lemming elephant-walk straight off the cliff of common sense (RIP Bill, gone too soon). There’s something to be said for Russillo’s courage under fire, though, and I appreciate it. Ironically enough, his latest guest actually said it very well for him.
That guest I'm speaking of is ex-ESPN employee turned top-tier radio host Dan Patrick. Often considered one of the godfathers of modern SportsCenter and an absolute legend of sports media in general, Dan told a lot of great stories and surprisingly didn’t hold many punches. But what resonated with me most was his musings about the business of sports entertainment and how to survive this cutthroat industry. He made it clear that becoming famous or cool or even wealthy were never his aims at ESPN. He wanted to produce a fantastic product, make his coworkers laugh, and simply do what loved, which was to report on sports. Changing the culture through catchphrases and creative content was simply a byproduct of the love for his work and his dedication to the craft of multimedia broadcasting. In other words, his instincts were strong and his intentions pure, which isn't surprising to me. His kind of meteoric rise doesn’t happen without the passion.
Dan Patrick seems untouchable now—the dignified grandfather clock of sports media, with his perfect mix of humility and ego—but his rise was littered with obstacles, just like everyone else’s. ESPN management tried to pigeon-hole him with bad contracts, passive-aggressive posturing, and threats of obscurity, all in the name of preserving the “brand” and avoiding precedents. It didn’t matter that SportsCenter was a global behemoth that outpaced all forms of pre-internet media, especially in the 90s (kids these day truly don’t understand how influential ESPN once was, and how far they’ve fallen); to them, Patrick was just a cog in the wheel. Unfortunately, it’s a tale as old as time. Mismanagement of talent and assets happens once every ten minutes in all lines of work, especially anything related to entertainment. People totally lacking in creativity but addicted to the smell of their own booty cheeks try to control a project like they’re strangling a chicken, but in actuality their efforts are more like trying to catch wind in a bottle—basically pointless. It’s why we have no good independent films anymore, but have enough superhero flicks for every incel in the country to have a different favorite. Bad management sucks the life out of all that is wildly creative and ruins what we hold dear. It happened to DP and ESPN, and it’s still happening in politics, pop culture, and the media today: nothing but mindless drivel meant to keep you fat, sad, and scared of COVID.
It’s time to wake the fuck up and start squeezing every delicious drop out of life that we possibly can. It’s time to reject the easy way and instead become obsessed with doing things the right way. Dan Patrick made another great point: even for the big names, nothing is promised. You have to get up every day and do it all over again. Figure out what you love to do and don’t waste another day on anything else. I’ve never been more thrilled to wake up and go to work than since I joined OutKick. Management puts us in positions to succeed and encourages us every step along the way. We’re doing what we love, every single day, no days off, so that you can stay informed and entertained without being hypnotized by the mainstream, hypocritical, lying media complex. Support the brand any way you can, even if it just means telling a friend about us or sharing a story. Buy a VIP membership or a shirt if you can. Seriously, this authentic perspective only flourishes if we come together as a community and support each other. Otherwise, we’ll just become another iteration of ESPN and all of the other failing liberal rags—fractured, unhappy, and mired in lackluster decisions. This community can be one of the best and brightest in the country if we truly buy-in and make it special. DP saw the writing on the wall and set out to chart his own course, to incredible success. You all can count on the guys behind the curtain to do their part, but what will you do?
PART II
Today is my dad’s 64th birthday, which is funny now since he managed to buy our family a Nintendo 64 the Christmas that those things were HOT (another things kids will never understand is the concept of things selling out and being impossible to find). What’s even funnier is that he and his best friend probably played more Ocarina of Time than me and my own friends. How’d he pull off the improbable (pre-internet of course)? He had a distant cousin in the military who could buy directly from the base. So pops was able to not only get that holiday season’s hottest toy for his kids, but he got it at a nice little patriotic discount. Genius; a real level-10 dad move. And of course, God bless the troops.
Dad could be a tough guy sometimes, but he always hit a grand slam come Christmas. Each of them was always special, which was awesome because we rarely got little gifts during the year. Wait ‘til Christmas, he’d say in April. Santa may bring that, he’d say often, even when I was 16 years old. Christmas was his day, and he was always ready. Thanks for everything, Dad. This Friday afternoon O’Douls is for you.
Here are a few of his STATTS
Mr. Sanders; 64; 6’2” (got him by two inches); 230 lbs; old man strength by the gallon; six years of boarding and military school, so can still throw a punch; drives a mid-90s E-class Mercedes with nearly half a million miles (seriously); absolutely loved his yard—yelled at me anytime I accidentally drove in his grass; loves music, especially the Allman Brothers and Bob Dylan; saw Lynyrd Skynyrd in a Chattanooga bar before they were famous; family man to the core.
1. Speaking of old man strength: Dan Patrick got to ESPN at age 35, and yet we remember him as a baby-faced “new guy” on the scene during those early years. In actuality, though, he was already well into his career. Maybe that's why I resonated with his interview: I walked away from the lucrative, soul-sucking world of Hollywood at age 33 to do something I absolutely love. Bottom line, you’re never too old to take the leap.
Olbermann in the early days of insanity.
2. Best thing I made this week: I love to cook, and so should you. It’s easy, incredibly cheap, and tastes better than most things at restaurants once you get good at it. Nobody on the planet “can’t cook,” it’s just that they’ve never really paid attention.
This week I made a chicken pot pie from scratch. The key is to use super high quality stock, some heavy cream, and a little nutmeg. I also tossed in some ham as an experiment and it was stellar. Cracker Barrel, if you’re looking to reach the OutKick demo and want to do a web series, let’s talk. Would make for a killer tailgate tent this fall in different college towns.
3. 10! A fucking 10!: In LA, I live next door to Miss Davis, the sexy teacher stripper from Varsity Blues. I consider her a friend now so I won’t make any jokes, but I will say that yes, she’d still make a fantastic addition to Whip ‘Em Out Wednesday.
Paramount Pictures
4. Fruit fly hack of the week: Here’s how you kill all those little bastard fruit flies in your house during summer. Fill up a small mason jar with about an inch of apple cider vinegar and a small drop of dish soap to release the surface tension. Fit a sliver of plastic saran wrap over the top (I use a rubber band around the lip of the jar to keep in place), and poke a few holes in the plastic. The flies crawl in but can’t get out, and eventually drown at the bottom. In LA where we leave our doors open a lot for the nice weather, I routinely kill 50 of them a week. Happy hunting.
5. Dumb question you may think twice on: Would you chop off a pinky if you could add the length of it to your weiner?
6. Shower thought: Knowing that communism kills millions every time it is tried, doesn’t opposing it make us the superheroes of history? Like, we’re basically saving the lives of the lemmings running toward Ringer Bluffs. The entire point of the Dark Knight is that the public eventually must hate Batman, even though he is the one actually protecting them. Checkmate, incels.
7. Do you remember when Chevy Suburbans originally came out and for some reason tiny little mothers became their biggest buyer? Waiting in line at elementary school hookup, and there would be all these little spinners peering over the steering wheel trying to navigate their boat trucks through the line. Those days are long gone, but you know what has replaced them? Petite women with giant dogs.
8. Speaking of weiners, best name for your weiner: The Ropeswing. Why? Everyone likes hanging out down by the river, riding the rope swing on a hot summer day.
9. Dumb joke of the week: The Cleveland Guardians.
10. STATTS Book Club: If you are into Frank Sinatra, skip all the biographies and go straight to Mr. S: My Life With Frank Sinatra, by George Jacobs. George was Frank's personal assistant for years (called a valet back then), and he tells all of the best stories straight from his own memory. Booze, hookers, Beverly Hills, you name it, it’s in this book.
“Sinatra took Jacobs with him on the ride of the century, from blacklist Hollywood to gangland Chicago to an emerging Vegas to Camelot, not to mention dolce vita Rome and swinging London. As a member of Sinatra's inner circle, Jacobs drank with Ava Gardner, danced with Marilyn Monroe, massaged John F. Kennedy, golfed with Sam Giancana, and played jazz with the Prince of Monaco while his boss secretly pursued Princess Grace. He also partied with Mia Farrow, but that one cost him his job of a lifetime.”
PART III
TikTok Roundup 3: Tok the Line (volume up if possible)
Do you ever catch yourself wondering how many people out in the world, at that very moment, are doing something fun like skydiving or having sex? Honestly, it's wild to think about. Literally every second of every day, no matter what you're doing, someone out there is visiting the idyllic little town of Pound and having a damn good time.
Weirdly enough, that's where my brain went while watching this retirement Rat Pack glide across the Fantasy skate rink: where was I when this was going down? Are they doing this now, like right now, just cruising around in perfect formation? How do I track them down? It's just a glorious gaggle of senior men who left their wives at the flea market and came together to skate (not blade, important distinction) in perfect harmony. Well done, fellas. You earned your Metamucil on the rocks this afternoon for happy hour. Cheers.
As always, could be fake, but like Santa humping millions of N64s around the world in 1996, I choose to believe. I could watch these little baby-thots scatter like beetles under an old bag of mulch all day. This video is like TikTok Inception: the girls thought they were going to shake their goodies for some internet clout, but ended up going viral a level deeper instead. The TikTok game is a fickle mistress, which, ironically, may be exactly where many of its dancing stars are headed in life. Except maybe the girl who went back for her red solo cup...she seems to understand the big picture in life. Cheers to her.
I'm all-in on most conspiracy theories, especially the ones that outline the subversive origins of our world banking infrastructure. This guy's Titanic take is solid and fun, but it's truly just the tip of the iceberg. So much devious maneuvering went into creating a centralized bank that could freely print money and pass the hidden tax of inflation on the the general public. It represents an ugly side of American history and subsequent spread of anti-diplomacy that ruined other countries for generations (hello, Mexico), but it has been spun into a tool for the left, and therefore remains untouchable in modern discourse. I could wax on for hours about this stuff; if you're curious, shoot me a DM and I'll share some books. In the meantime, let's just get to happy hour.
Love this guy. Comes home from slinging car stereos all day and immediately gets down to business. While I'm doing synchronized roller skate laps with the Greatest Generation, we all know how Dave here is spending his free time. He's like everyone's dad at the used car lot, kicking tires and looking for a deal. Mileage isn't an issue if the engine is good. From all of us at OutKick, we salute you and your crispy gelled hair. For your sake, I really hope the Browns live up to their lofty expectations this season.
I try to finish off the column on a high note usually, but this one was too good to pass up. At least one of you tonight is going home with a woman who also looks too good to pass up in the moonlight, but really just has two necks in the sunlight. As a young buck, this video would have been pure nightmare fuel. As an older guy teetering closer to marriage vows than Circuit City Dave's new bedframe air plows, I'm at peace with the fact that this exact scenario is happening to me one way or another. And to be honest, taking this woman out with her face fully caked on would be pretty fun I think. Every date would be like a role play sort of thing.
Anyways, I wish her the best, and I wish you the best out there in the wild tonight. Give the guys and gals at OutKick a cheers tonight wherever you end up. And if you wake up next to someone you don't recognize, just think to yourself, what would Frank Sinatra do?
(Photo by Darren McCollester/Getty Images)
Follow me on Twitter @outkicktommy. Cover photo via Instagram.