With Leather’s founding editor Matt Ufford attended the CrossFit Games in Carson, California last weekend. This is his report.

If you’ve never heard of CrossFit, the simplest description for it is “fitness cult.” As with most cults, there are gurus, a particular style of dress for its members, and a separate vocabulary that can take weeks or even months to learn. Notably — as with most cults — gurus and followers alike shy away from the word “cult.” But there’s one important difference between CrossFit and Scientology or Jonestown or the Movementarians: obeying CrossFit’s religion of short but intense workouts produces undeniable results.

Nowhere is that more obvious than the CrossFit Games, the fledgling sport’s annual competition to determine the fittest of the fit. The devotion of the faithful is on display everywhere: in the competing athletes, in the muscular bodies of the crowd, in the companies hawking fitness wear and protein drinks, in the food trucks selling snacks compatible with the paleo diet. Even as someone who works out at a CrossFit gym*, I felt out of place with my average build and torn pectoral muscle and general unwillingness to take off my shirt amidst a sea of physical perfection.

On the following pages is a photo essay of the Games, with my commentary peppered in. The professional-looking images are courtesy of CrossFit; the crappier candids were taken on my iPhone.

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Terrell Owens was at the AXE Fix party on Saturday night for the Sundance Film Festival, and he appropriated one of the feathery red masks that was lying around, because… well, because he’s Terrell Owens, and he might not have gotten enough attention otherwise.

I spoke to T.O. at the party (my full report from Sundance is here).  I’m hesitant to admit that, because I had been slamming whiskey and Cokes for a couple hours before I was introduced by a PR rep who wrangled me past T.O.’s mountain of a body guard.  I wasn’t exactly what you might call “prepared to conduct an interview.”  But Owens assured me that he would be back with the Cowboys “for sure” next year.  (Because players have all the say in the NFL, and no one ever gets cut for cap concerns.  I ask great questions.)  And Wade Phillips?  “Oh he’s cool, he’s cool.”

Yeah… great story, Uff.  Anyway, it was after that that he put on the mask and got on the dance floor.  And air-humped his body guard, who just stood there stoically.  I tend to have that effect on people.

Masal Bugduv is a 16-year-old soccer phenom in Moldova rumored to be working on a transfer to Arsenal.  He’s been profiled in Goal.com, and the Times of London ranked him #30 on it list of Football’s 50 Rising Stars.  Unfortunately for the Times, Goal.com, and other publications that have picked up on the story, he’s an Internet hoax.

We know that Masal Bugduv isn’t real because Fredorrarci did some digging, analyzed the Wikipedia history logs, dusted for fingerprints, spoke to football experts in Moldova, and discovered that Bugduv, his club (FC Tirol), and the Moldovan newspaper that publicized his story (Diario Mo Thon) are all perfectly and unimpeachably imaginary. The Bugduv drama—which included some amazingly specific details about “diplomatic issues” that were jeopardizing his transfer to Arsenal—was a wicked little practical joke, spread by false AP stories.

Fredorrarci suspects the prankster may be Irish, since Mo Thon means “my ass” in a Gaelic tongue.  Another key giveaway?  Someone actually thought “Moldova” was a real country!  What a bunch of rubes!

(thanks to Unsilent Majority)

Yesterday I gave an interview to a reporter from the Washington Post.  It was ostensibly about how technology is changing the way athletes are perceived, but it really ended up just being another round of questioning along the lines of "Why are blogs so mean to these poor athletes?"

Needless to say, I could have been more tactful.  I was pretty aggressive about making it clear that I'm not a journalist (which ISN'T a bad thing), and I think at one point I mock-sobbed because millionaire athletes have it so rough, what with people saying mean things that hurt their feelings.  I'm not really sure.  I kinda blacked out.

One of the questions asked was, "What are your standards for moving forward with a story?"  And here's your answer: I publish things that I think readers will find interesting or humorous.  If I think something's bullshit, I say that I think it's bullshit.  If I can't confirm it, I say that I can't confirm it.  And if it's a waste of time, I don't publish it.

Take this photo, for example.  I don't really know the full story here, but it's devout Christian and Heisman-winning quarterback Tim Tebow, just moments before he SPIKED THE BABY INTO THE CONCRETE!  OH THE HUMANITY! YOU MONSTER YOU MONSTER!!!

[Busted Coverage] 

With Leather: If you don't mind, I'll move on to my series of jackass questions designed to test your deadpan skills.

Kenny Mayne: Yeah.  On the ones where I can't answer because of politics I'll just give an evasive answer.

WL: That's fine.  I'm not nearly man enough to ask anything too point-blank.

KM: I don't know anything anyway, so if you quiz me on sports I'll probably fail miserably.

WL: All right, so is Progressive really going to save me more money?

KM: That's Progressive's problem now.  My deal with them has ended.  I'm back with Allstate.

WL: Best part of the Kentucky Derby: bourbon or not being in Bristol?

KM: Not being in Bristol [is good], but not because Bristol is so bad. It's just a great event. I know there are — I don't know if you're a horse fan at all — there are so many [media members] when it comes time to do radio [interviews], and you can just tell you might as well be talking about space aliens.  They just have no idea.  [They're] like, "Are the horses going to run in a circle?  And how old are they?"

WL: No, I was actually stationed at Fort Knox [outside Louisville] in the spring of 2001.  So [the Derby] was definitely on the list of things for me to do when I was there.

KM: Oh, wow. [to someone else]  I'm fine, thank you.  Oh, no thanks.  I just have– thank you very much.  [to me] You can parenthetically note that I turned down service there.  Even the mints.

WL: Noted.  So, okay, hypothetical question: pretend an interviewer says to you, "Tell us something interesting." Where do you most want to punch him?

KM: [long silence - he probably thinks I'm insane] I guess just sort of an arm-punch.  My friend Jimmy Sandusky used to tell a joke, and if you didn't laugh, he'd punch you in the arm.

WL: Close, but the correct answer was "the genitals."

KM: Well, close enough.

WL: For the sake of my Web traffic, can you say something about Erin Andrews?

KM: Erin Andrews is an intelligent woman.  And friendly.

WL: What if you were twenty years younger and single?  Would that statement change?

KM: Well… that would make me 28; I'd probably still be too old for her.  She could be my niece, so I wouldn't say anything forward about her. [Note: Andrews turns 30 next month]  I've only met her in person once.  She helped me shop for a raincoat-windbreaker-type thing in San Francisco at the All-Star game last year.  I had an assignment, we were expecting rain.  Turned out to be a waste of coat money, but she was very lovely to have on that trip.

WL: There are millions of sports fans who have fantasized about that specific experience. 

KM: I'm certain that there's all sorts of college kids who are just wishing they could go buy raincoats with her.

WL: [laughs] I'm going to let that double-entendre go. You were actually signed by the Seahawks as a free agent.  Where were you on their depth chart?

KM: It was sort of a mercy signing.  What happened was, Sam [King, who played ahead of him at UNLV] was offered a free agent deal with the Seahawks, and he turned it down to try for the CFL.  My coach called [the Seahawks] and said, "Hey, the guy who was second-string, it wasn't like he was miles behind the guy you already offered a deal to."  So I went up there and I threw for them and passed that exam.  I signed a really bad contract; there was no negotiation whatsoever, just "Here's the paper, sign it."  And when I failed the physical — I had a broken ankle real bad my junior year: fracture, dislocation… but yeah, did I think I was going to be some great NFL star?  I thought I was as good as the other rookies in camp, so maybe I would have lasted long enough to get looked at by somebody else, or go to Canada, or who knows?  But I did have aspirations to play football longer than I did.  Unfortunately, because of my ankle or maybe lack of talent, I moved on to TV, which is where I was going to go eventually anyway.

WL: Well, I'm sure Charlie Frye takes comfort in the fact that you once held his position.

KM: [laughs]

WL: I'd love to ask you more annoying questions, but my readers tune me out after a couple hundred words if I don't post a picture of an attractive woman, so…

KM: [laughs] For me, put in Jessica Lange. 

WL: Jessica Lange?  All right.  She was a looker in her prime, and she still isn't too bad these days.

KM: You know what?  I'm loyal.  I don't care how old she is.

Kenny Mayne has written a book, and he has the website to prove it.  An Incomplete & Inaccurate History of Sport (on sale April 22nd) is written in the same sardonic fashion that propelled Mayne to fame on SportsCenter, and will likely appeal to the Venn diagram of fans who enjoy both Mayne on TV and reading.

In what is either a savvy marketing move or an act of desperation, Mayne has lowered himself to be interviewed by the blogging proletariat, which explains why I got the opportunity to speak to him over the phone last Wednesday.  In part one of the interview, I asked Mayne about the book, partly because I'd been intrigued by what I'd read so far, but mostly because that's the whole point of him granting interviews in the first place.  Hey, I know how to play ball.

The interview has been edited slightly for clarity and brevity.  After the jump, read us talking.

Kenny Mayne: So, did the publisher send you a copy? 

With Leather: I have a copy here in my hands.  I've actually read the first 26 or 27 pages of it.

KM: That's good.  It goes downhill at page 28 or 29.

WL: Okay, I won't get my hopes up.  Before we begin, I should be clear that I don't aspire to be a journalist, and the only thing that's ever resembled an interview on With Leather was when I went to a reading by [former NBA center] John Amaechi, and afterwards we went to a gay bar, so that's the level that we're working at.

KM: [laughs] Perfect.

WL: So, can you just go ahead and give me the standard summation of the book that you're prepared to give ad nauseam as you promote it?

KM: Originally I started out with the intent to make it similar to Jon Stewart's [America: The Book], but it just started turning into something else.  I didn't know what I was writing, but I kept writing. Some chapters really are a fake history, and some I just talk about how Starbucks is charging me too much for coffee [Ed: The chapter on Aussie Rules football swerves immediately and permanently onto the topic of tipping].  My agent, who I've never met, convinced me to write a book, and I ended up believing him.  And I got about halfway into it, and it's like, "You know, it's not terrible. I've seen worse books."  And I thought, "I might as well keep going."

WL: I noticed there are several artwork contributions from your daughters. How much money do you think you saved by [foregoing illustrators]?

KM: Probably a lot.  [But] the girls were happy with their rate of pay, and if the books sells well I'll give them a bonus.  Annie, the younger one, gave two-thirds of hers to children in Sierra Leone; she's very philanthropic.  The church that we go to has ties to Sierra Leone, because — you know the story of the Amistad?

WL: Yes. [Ed: My family watched the movie one Christmas.  Great pick, Mom.  Real cheerful flick.]

KM: And I can't remember if it was before or after their trial, but John Adams was their attorney, and it all worked out for them, and [our church] was sort of a shelter for them.  So Annie just forked over $100 on Day 1, which is pretty admirable.

WL: Wow, that really is.  I don't have a snappy comeback for that at all.

KM: Yeah, it was really charming.  I was like, "You know, you can give five dollars," and she was like, "No, I wanna give the whole thing."  She was probably trying to knock down her taxes.

WL: What is the ratio of photographs to pictures drawn by your daughter [in the book]?

KM: Um, pretty close to equal.  There's no real rhyme or reason.  Ichiro makes an appearance early, and there's no real reason; I just happen to like him.  I put in some players — football being my favorite sport — I put in the holy trinity of Favre and Brady and Joe Montana.  And there's a couple others that sort of match what I'm talking about [in the book].  There's no rhyme or reason to any of it, it's just so people buy the book without any forethought.  People buy other impulse things.  I try to relate it to, I think book prices are kinda high for the average guy.

WL: Yeah, especially in Canada, as you mention [in the book].

KM: Indeed.  But then you compare it to, nobody loses any sleep going out with friends and throwing $20 bills around.  So then you do that one less time, you should be okay.

WL: So if people can give up getting drunk once, they can buy your book? 

KM: Indeed.  I'm not much of a drinker, but it's funny when you actually break it down what we do and don't waste money on.  Same thing when you work for whatever company, and they spend money like drunken sailors on one case, and then cut back on paper clips in another.  But, that's off the subject.

WL: I noticed that most of the book's writing is in short, declarative sentences.  Would you say that you're inspired by Ernest Hemingway, or is that more attributed to the UNLV education?

KM: [laughs] I think I have deeper thoughts than what I express in the book, but I went for an economy of words — brevity being the key to wit.

WL: It's definitely your voice.  All right, do you feel that's enough questions about your book?  Have we plugged it sufficiently?

KM: However you wanna spear this.  It comes out on April 22nd, try to get that in there.

Check back tomorrow for part two, in which I ask Kenny Mayne a bunch of questions that make me look like a jackass.  MORE of a jackass, I mean.