The New York Yankees are being forced to defend the gratuitious moment honoring their former principal owner George Steinbrenner. The plaque, at seven feet wide and over one quarter ton in weight, dwarfs those of the more famous Yankee players erected in famed Monument Park behind the center field wall, a tradition carried over into the new Yankee Stadium

“We think the monument is a tribute to the man The Boss was, larger than life. His spirit is encompassed by that monument, and there was no intention to make it bigger than the others just for the sake of doing it,” team president Randy Levine told the Daily News before Tuesday night’s game against the Rays. “We just felt that it was The Boss, the greatest owner in sports. He built (the new) Yankee Stadium. He did so much for so many people. And he made the Yankee brand a worldwide one and took it to heights that never have been reached.

“It was not made bigger in an attempt to have it be larger than the others. We just wanted to represent the spirit of George Steinbrenner.”

We didn’t make it bigger to make it…uh, bigger! We just wanted to make it bigger!

“Mr. Steinbrenner always was so proud of Monument Park and now it’s as if he’s overseeing the other monuments and plaques and the tradition that reside there,” [senior VP of marketing Debbie]Tymon said. –NY Daily News.

That’s ridiculous on so many levels. Steinbrenner was probably one of the worst owners in sports. How many owners were banned from their sport twice AND convicted of a felony. And nearly all of the great things that happened for that team in the 2000s were set in motion while he was cast away from the team. The YES Network? Totally fell into his lap.

The guy was a narcissist f*ck that terrorized everyone that worked for him, and didn’t win a damn thing until he was suspended long enough for the organization to build a team without him. That memorial is indefensible. Indefensible. Of all the great tradition that team has–all of its legendary players and championships–that’s the crown jewel in Monument Park? Disgusting. It makes me wish that we could bury that bastard a second time.

What happens when you ask Burnsy to give you the Weekend Picks? You get baseball. Pure, unadulterated baseball. Mixed in with some sexy women, of course. But mainly it’s all about the return from the All-Star break and having to deal with the dreaded boredom of Wednesday, July 14, or as I like to call it – The Day That Sports Dies. No offense to ESPN, but the ESPYs blow and are in no way even an alternative to coed topless heavyweight windsurfing. Go Fightin’ Manboobs!

On to the sexy picks (Winners in bold):

CARDINALS over Dodgers: It’s been a NL Central-centric week here at With Leather, what with the controversy of Joey Votto’s dickishness and Carlos Zambrano’s vacation in Batsh*tsburgh, so why not highlight the best of the NL Central? What’s that? Cincinnati is in first place? Haha, good one, Jay.

ROCKIES over Reds: There, that takes care of that.

After the jump, more picks and the best clips of Seinfeld’s Steinbrenner…

YANKEES over Rays: The Bronx Bombers are gonna get misty tonight at Yankee Stadium. This is their first game since the passing of Bob Sheppard and George Steinbrenner, so expect some fireworks. Not in attendance: Rush Limbaugh or Al Sharpton, who will be arguing over the difference in appearances on Wheaties boxes between white and black athletes.

WHITE SOX over Twins: Nobody can stop Ozzie Guillen right now, not even a mute button.

BLUE JAYS over Orioles: In a battle of nooooooooooooobody caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaares.

MARLINS over Expos: Unless Stephen Strasburg is pitching. Meanwhile, I heard tonight’s fan giveaway is a sense of pride.

And some other stuff…

LOUIS OOSTHUIZEN over the field: Who is this guy who is -12 at the British Open (give or take a few strokes when you read this)? Whoever he is, I hope someone with a pronounceable name wins. Like Donald Tittyboobs.

CHRIS WEBBER over Darko Milicic: C-Webb’s comments about Darko were dead on and it’s ridiculous that anyone even tried to relate them, but it’s more important to point out that David Stern lackey and Minnesota President David Kahn gave Darko money to play basketball. Kahn is 29, by the way. Words can’t relate the levels of anger I’m feeling right now.

ERIN ANDREWS over Kim Kardashian: Erin’s still pissy about the pinhole footage of her epic butt squats, so she’s suing Marriott, even though the hero guy responsible is serving time for it already. She just edges out Kim, who may have gone under the knife, when all she really needed was some fat sucked out. Meanwhile, Khloe is on her third steak of the day.

THE REAL BIG STEIN over Larry David: Larry David made Steinbrenner an icon to people who may not have cared about baseball, but nobody beats the real Steinbrenner dishing out the jokes.

Anyway, I’d tell you more about the video but I keep losing my train of thought as I fixate on his absolutely breathtaking set of teeth. I don’t know how he can go outside with those babies, I’d spend my days smiling at my bathroom mirror. What’s Lee been up to these days, you ask? Well he’s co-written four books, which probably means he rambled on into a tape recorder then had some poor putz sort through the weeks of audio to string together an ill thought out book that a hundred people bought. He’s also made a documentary of himself entitled ‘Spaceman in Cuba‘ where he probably does crazy things in front of locals as they quietly chuckle to each other about how much weird stuff the stupid white man will do as he begs for attention.

Oh yeah, and he’s still pitching at 62, which is quite frankly freaking awesome. The best part? He’s hanging out with Delino DeShields! Living the dream, I tell you!

In 2007, Lee joined former major league players Dennis ‘Oil Can’ Boyd, Marquis Grissom, Delino DeShields and Ken Ryan on the Oil Can Boyd’s Traveling All-Stars. In June of 2008, Lee pitched for the Alaska Goldpanners during the annual “Midnight Sun” ball game played at night during the Summer Solstice. Lee is also a member of former pro player coaches at the annual Red Sox Fan Fantasy Camp in Florida.
-Newsminer

To top it all off, he has a breathtaking goatee. I am naming him my honorary extremely cool grandfather who sits at the kids table at family dinners in an attempt to see if his grandchildren will enable him to score some weed.

Please make lots of babies so the next generation will be as gloriously crazy as you.

H/T Barstool Sports

When George Steinbrenner passed away yesterday, I expected to see a fair share of Boston fans rejoice, albeit insensitively, with the attitude of “Ding dong, the witch is dead.” That ended up not being the case, for the most part, and the majority of the media and sports fans in general have given an iconic figure a considerable level of respect in the wake of his massive heart attack. Thank goodness nobody is using this as a way to beg for attention.

Just kidding. Inexplicably wealthy and even more inexplicably employed radio host Rush Limbaugh offered his own tribute to the Boss yesterday, and instead of simply praising Steinbrenner as an undeniable business genius, buttons were pushed. And because people still somehow tune in to listen to this guy struggle to breathe between words, the most boring day of the sports year is being cluttered with an argument about race.

From yesterday’s Rush Limbaugh Show transcript:

That cracker made a lot of African-American millionaires. George Steinbrenner, the classic capitalist. Everybody around him became wealthy. Like most successful capitalists, he made the people around him wealthy, and a lot of African-American millionaires along the way, and at the same time he fired a bunch of white guys as managers, left and right.

Hey, I wonder who that comment could have possibly pissed off… Hmmm…

“For the last 20-years I have known George Steinbrenner and we have quarreled over diversity and community programs but I always found him fair, direct, and genuinely prone to do what he felt was right,” [Rev. Al] Sharpton said in a statement. “He generated a lot of money for a lot of players as well as for baseball as a whole. … Mr. Limbaugh and his broadcasters owe his family an apology.” (Source)

So instead of celebrating a man whose reckless spending both infuriated and pleased millions of people, and instead of discussing the way he changed the game by sharing revenue with owners who lacked his vision or business savvy, we’re letting two guys who should be shot into the sun somehow burgle our conversation. You want my opinion on this? Fine. Here’s my opinion:

Then again, my answer to most sociological debates it Bo Jackson’s ass.

Legendary New York Yankees owner George Steinbrenner passed away this morning after suffering a major heart attack. Love him or hate him, the man was among the most important to the game of baseball in the sport’s history. Equal parts narcissistic and brilliant, Steinbrenner and his checkbook have been the definition of polarity for decades. If anything, he was an incredible character, someone who couldn’t be created by the greatest fiction authors. Tonight’s All-Star Game will indeed have a little extra weight to it now.

Golenbeck’s well-researched book chronicles Steinbrenner’s days as a spoiled little ass growing up in Cleveland, his antics in the Air Force and as an assistant football coach, and ultimately his forays into sports ownership. Steinbrenner’s dickish ways were first on display as owner of the Cleveland Pipers of the old ABL, but would assume a more prominent stage in 1973, when he would lead a group of investors to buy the New York Yankees from CBS for $10 million, a paltry sum when one considers what the landmark franchise is worth today.

The meat of the book begins here, as Golenbeck chronicles Steinbrenner’s relentless tormenting of players, managers, and front office staff alike. The Billy Martin saga, The Dave Winfield contract, and his two suspensions from Major League Baseball are laid out–by the people that were there–in a way that may shatter your image of the guy that was so lovably parodied on “Seinfeld.” Golenbeck’s subject is nowhere near lovable, and the evidence might blow your mind.

But then Golenbeck blows it at the end with a sort of “kiss and make up” chapter, listing all of the nicer things and charitable efforts that Steinbrenner had engineered over the course of his life. After exposing the man for the big ball of evil that he is, this epilogue seems to ring hollow. Perhaps that’s by design.

Regardless, George is a great read for anyone with interest in the inner politics of one of the most famous team’s on sport. Its terrific chronology and impressive research make for a rewarding read.

Now, thanks to Bradford Campeau-Laurion, an ejected fan who wrote in to Deadspin, we’ve finally got an example of Yankee Stadium security strong-arming a fan who dared to defy the law of forced patriotism.

As I attempted to walk down the aisle and exit my section into the tunnel, I was stopped by a police officer. He informed me that I had to wait until the song was over. I responded that I had to use the restroom and that I did not care about God Bless America.

As soon as the latter came out of my mouth, my right arm was twisted violenty [sic] behind my back and I was informed that I was being escorted out of the stadium. A second officer then joined in and twisted my left arm… I informed them they were violating my First Amendment rights and that I had done nothing wrong, with no response from them.

I’ll be honest: this guy’s hyphenated double-French surname isn’t helping my impression that he’s a banana-grabbing communist, but there’s one overriding truth to this story: Yankee Stadium BLOWS. It’s a festering hive of overpriced sentimentality that strips the notion of “land of the free” out of the national pastime. If there’s a just God who blesses America, he’ll see to it that the litigious nature of the land that I love repeals Herr Steinbrenner’s unconstitutional rule and awards Frenchypants a hefty settlement.

Pinstripes are the new swastikas. Choke on a dick buffet, Yankees.

Former NFL receiver David Boston spent much of his career attached to the the adjective "embattled" — up to and including his release from the Buccaneers this fall following his arrest for DUI.  Things haven't gotten much better for Boston recently, as he has now added an arrest for "felony false imprisonment, misdemeanor domestic battery, culpable negligence and resisting an officer without violence."  Sun-Sentinel sez:

According to the [police] report, the dispute began when Renee Boston took her 2-year-old daughter for a short walk. When she was nearing her house, she saw David Boston in his vehicle pulling out of the driveway, leaving their 1-month-old son alone in the house. Police said Renee Boston was locked out, and she could hear their baby crying inside. She called David Boston, who said he was just driving around the block.

When he returned, the couple began to argue. According to police, David Boston became angry and threw a sofa cushion at his wife, hitting her in the face and nearly hitting the baby. When she called 911, he ripped the phone cord from the wall.

Oh, what's the big deal?  The kid's one month old, not a master of disguise jewel thief on the lam or a donut in the pressbox.  I'm pretty sure it's gonna be there when he gets back.  At a month old babies are just useless lumps that produce tears and shit.  They may as well not even have limbs.

So, emails have been flooding the With Leather inbox about the arrest of Tampa Bay Buccaneer wide receiver David Boston on suspicion of DUI.  I was all like, "Nobody wants to hear about Daryl Boston.  He sucked for the White Sox, and then he sucked slightly less for the Mets.  Plus he last played like 12 years ago."  But then the lovely lady (i.e. 'sporting girl') I entertained (i.e. 'hired') last night said, "That doesn't say Daryl Boston, it says David Boston."  Who says women don't know their sports?  Anyway, here's some highlights from the police report:

Boston, 29, . . . was found passed out at the wheel of a dark red Range Rover . . . police said. "We're assuming he stopped at the red light and passed out," police Capt. Sanfield Forseth said. "He didn't know where he was." The jail affidavit said that Boston had poor balance. It also said he has a tattoo of "Chucky" on the right side of his chest. "He seemed disoriented and confused," the arresting officer, identified as J. McNeil, said in the arrest affidavit. "He had mood swings and seemed evasive."

Having a tattoo depicting the character most closely associated with your head coach seems a little awkward to me.  It's like the time when I was in the Libyan navy, and that guy with the Betty Boop tat insisted that every one of his bunkmates resembled her.  I still feel a little bad about giving that weirdo a "fantail liberty".  But I don't feel bad about all the American cigarettes he "left" me because I bought my way out of navy with them. -KD

(Video of the field sobriety test here, and more analysis at Foul Balls and Deadspin.)

Let's mix it up with a fun little rant.  Today the New York Times turns its critical eye on something that has pissed me off for a long time: how the New York Yankees are the only team to play "God Bless America" during the seventh-inning stretch of every home game (a holdover from an MLB practice after 9/11, though the song is still played in all stadiums on Sundays and holidays), and how their ushers prevent crowd movement during the song by holding up chains across the aisles.

“Mr. Steinbrenner wanted to do all games to remind the fans about how important it is to honor our nation, our service members, those that died on Sept. 11 and those fighting for our nation,” [spokesman Howard] Rubenstein said.

The chains were implemented because a bunch of fans sent angry emails about how people didn't respect the song properly.

I'm amused by what people consider patriotic.  I've always placed the Bill of Rights and the Constitution over a song praising a country's geography, but what do I know?  I'm just some stupid Marine Corps combat veteran.  For the record: I stand at attention from the first note to the last note of the National Anthem because that's what Marine Corps order dictates; however, there is no law (Marine or otherwise) that requires me to stand still during "God Bless America," a song that I've never particularly liked in the first place. 

Patriotism is a nice gesture, but it shouldn't be confused for freedom — and I'd like the freedom to move around when I damn well please.  I think I've earned it.