Great group of birthdays today, just a great group – four baseball players (a burgeoning icon in Flushing, a man known primarily for the size of his boner, the home run king of the worst franchise in professional sports, and a charter member of both the Large and the Lambchop Hall of Fame), four football players (a Lion in the Hall, a most unlikely MVP, and two Cowboys legends later jailed for drugs), two musicians (the bassist on the Jackass theme and the drummer on “Detroit Rock City”), an Indomitable Lion, one of the greatest bowlers of all time, one of the greatest, and most sportswomanly, tennis players of all time, a Belgian cycling legend, an uncommonly tall race-car driver, and the executive who helped change the course of the 20th century.

Ricky Hatton’s dad, Ray, has told BBC sport that his son will fight five times in the next two years, twice next year and then three times in 2009. He also says definitively that Junior “The Hitter” Witter will not be Ricky’s next opponent. For those of you unaware of Junior Witter, he is a British 140 out of Yorkshire who currently holds the WBC light-welter belt. He’s a bit past his best, as they say in the Jolly Old, and he’s been angling for an all-England showdown (read: stupid freaky money) with Sir Fatton for years now. For his part, Ricky never has seemed much interested in giving him the time of day, and I must say, I see his point, because I’m not all that bloody well convinced that the ‘it Man can ‘andle the ‘itter.

Junior recently said that he would gladly let Hatton take the lion’s share of the money in order to get the fight made, and there no doubt would be a lot of money for this bout in England. But money is clearly not the issue here, especially not after Ricky’s big payday with Money May. No, the issue is this – Witter would be a difficult opponent for Hatton, and if, on the heels of his Floyd humiliation, he were to then lose to a fellow Brit who’s been calling him yellow for years, well, suddenly the Mancunian masses might turn their attention back to football and the dole. And where would that leave Ricky? Back in the pub, innit. Darts and chips, darts and chips. Fancy a pint? No indeed, I have no doubt that Hatton’s next victim will be exactly that – a victim. One wonders if Carlos Maussa is available for a rematch.

Not surprisingly, three of our candidates for No Mas Fighter of the Year participated in three of the four bouts that are candidates for No Mas Fight of the Year. The nominees are listed below in alphabetical order:

Man, it is a testament to the kind of year we had in boxing that there is even a legitimate discussion about Fighter of the Year given the 2007 that Cotto had. A tune-up dismissal of the rugged Urkal (no tomato, Oktay, not by a longshot), and then back-to-back fights with the two most ballyhooed speed merchants in the sport not named Floyd. The Zab fight is a serious FOY contender, and the Sugar Shane fight fell just short. And let me just say this about Cotto/Mosley – it was contested at about as high a level of boxing, in terms of speed, skill and power, that I have seen since De La Hoya/Mosley I. Cotto’s 2007 put him right on the precipice of stratospheric super-stardom – all he needs to get over the hump is the magic summons from Money May.

Juan Diaz
4/28 – RTD 8, Acelino Freitas
10/13 – TKO 9, Julia Diaz

Look, a Baby Bull! I inclued Diaz on the list just to give him the honor of being nominated. The fighters he’s up against had such gigundous years that it’s hard to see him walking away with the gold statue. Nevertheless, 2007 was the year that the Baby Bull’s star was born, and that’s a star that could burn brightly for a long, long time. I like to measure Fighter of the Year not just by a fighter’s great bouts, but also by looking at where he started the year and where he finished it. On that score, Juan Diaz had a stupendous 2007, going from a question mark, a sideshow volume fighter, to a major attraction with three belts in his pocket and a legitimate claim as the best lightweight in the world. His next fight has not yet been made, but one has to imagine that 2008 will see him head into the PPV money. For myself, I’d much rather see Manny Pacquiao fight the Baby Bull than either Oscar or David Diaz.

Floyd Mayweather Jr.
5/5 – SD, Oscar De La Hoya
12/7 – TKO 10, Ricky Hatton

Any other year and you would have to give Floyd the Fighter of the Year award without even thinking twice about it. He moved into elite territory in 2007, territory occupied by only a select few in the 20 years (Oscar, Tyson, Evander, Chavez), that realm of mega-stardom where every one of his bouts is an event. The Oscar fight singlehandedly brought boxing back into the spotlight. 24/7 was a big part of that, and you could argue that were it not for Floyd’s Money May persona (whatever you may think of it), those shows would have been pretty dull viewing. So he saves the sport, wears the most ill sombrero in the history of stone cold gangstas, handles a charging Oscar in the boxing event of the millennium and then finishes off the year by finishing off Ricky Hatton in a maestro performance. So what exactly does a man have to do to win Fighter of the Year anyway? Unfortunately, I’m afraid all of that, massive as it was, just wasn’t quite enough for Mr. Cash Money in 2007, but I’ll say this right now – he beats Cotto next year, he doesn’t have to do another damn thing to be FOY in 2008.

Kelly Pavlik
1/27 – KO 8, Jose Zertuche
5/19 – TKO 7, Edison Miranda
9/29 – TKO 7, Jermaine Taylor

Look, let’s cut to the chase here. Floyd’s magnificent KO of Hatton clouded the picture ever so slightly, but the fact remains that this is essentially a two-man race – Pavlik and Cotto, Cotto and Pavlik. Each fought three times in 2007 and had two brilliant, career-defining performances. Each has a very sound Fighter of the Year argument. In Pavlik’s case it is the distance traveled, from the undercard of a Jorge Arce fight in January to recognized middleweight champion and PPV headliner. In Cotto’s case it is the quality of competition. Pavlik may have been the underdog in his fights with Miranda and Jermaine, but in my eyes both of those guys were highly overrated and ready to be exposed. Cotto, meanwhile, beat Zab and then Shane Mosley, an astounding accomplishment in back-to-back fights. It’s tough people – I’m very curious to hear how the No Mas faithful come down on this one. Send in your comments and emails and we will weigh the arguments with great care. And if you want your voice to be counted, do it soon – the No Mas Fight and Fighter of the Year will be announced this Friday.

Here it is folks, the round-up for the official No Mas Fight of the Year. As always, if you want to contribute a write-in, that’s fine, but the candidates below are the main players in the sweepstakes as of right now. We will take into consideration all comments and emails and announce the winners on Friday (Fighter of the Year candidates go up tomorrow):

Kelly Pavlik – TKO 7 – Jermaine Taylor (9/29)
I think I said everything I have to say about this fight in this post. Its merits as an FOY candidate are clear – it was a fight for the recognized middleweight championship, it involved an early near-knockout and a desperate race to survive, and in true FOY fashion, it saw the hunted come back to become the hunter, as the wounded Pavlik stalked Jermaine down for the 7th round stoppage.

Israel Vasquez – TKO 6 – Rafael Marquez (8/4)
Vasquez lost his WBC super-bantamweight belt (122) to Marquez in a fight in March, a fight that was on its way to becoming a FOY candidate before Vasquez was forced to retire on his stool before the 7th due to a nasal injury that was making it impossible for him to breathe. This set up the rematch in August, which was one of those rock ‘em-sock ‘em robot affairs that simply defies description. The rubber match is already made for March 1st of next year, which makes Vasquez/Marquez an early candidate for 2008 FOY as well.

Miguel Cotto – TKO 11 – Zab Judah (6/9)
One could argue that Cotto/Mosley belongs on this list of candidates as well, but right now I feel like the way that fight ended, with Cotto in retreat mode and Shane unable to make up an early deficit, left the bout maybe two stellar rounds short of FOY territory. Cotto/Judah, however, was FOY material from the first bell to the last, as Judah gave one of the most spirited performances of his career and forced Cotto to reach deep for the stoppage.

Floyd Mayweather – SD 12 – Oscar De La Hoya (5/5)
I know the inclusion of this one will raise some eyebrows, but hear me out. For most of this millennium, whenever boxing has been written about in the mainstream sports media, there’s been one recurrent thesis statement – “this dying sport is a joke.” Oscar/Floyd singlehandedly turned the tide, setting up a second half of 2007 in boxing unlike any we’ve seen in years. It catapulted Money May into the stratosphere (for more evidence of that, check this out) and inaugurated HBO’s 24/7 enterprise, which in and of itself can take a large share of the credit for boxing’s renaissance. There’s no doubt that based solely on what happened in the ring, this was not a FOY-type of outing for either fighter, but in that there’s no EOY (Event of the Year) category, I think the overall import of this bout earns it at least a Fight of the Year nomination.

NO MAS BOOK REVIEW

Exit Ghost (2007)
Philip Roth
Houghton Mifflin, 292p.

I’m going to leave the serious literary questions to the serious litterati. They can hash it out amongst themselves as to whether this is indeed the last visit we’ll ever get from Roth’s fictional alter-ego, Nathan Zuckerman, or whether the play for voices within Exit Ghost is fantasy or reality, or whether the fictional writer E.I. Lonoff who shows up again in this novel (after last appearing in The Ghost Writer, Roth’s novel of 1979) is more modeled on Bernard Malamud (as previously had been thought) or Henry Roth.

For the purposes of No Mas, there is only one question to be asked and answered in regards to this novel, and it focuses on a passage from page 244 of the hardback edition, a little tidbit dropped into the midst of Roth’s (Zuckerman’s) surprising eulogy for George Plimpton:

…I was there at Stillman’s seedy Eighth Avenue gym to marvel at his courage on that afternoon he dared to go the three short, vigorous rounds with boxing’s then light-heavyweight champion of the world, Archie Moore, a bout that left him with a broken, bloodied nose and the material for an account in Sports Illustrated…

I tell you people, I could not have been more stunned reading the above words than if Zuckerman had announced that he’d witnessed the mythic secret guitar duel that George Harrison and Eric Clapton reportedly had to win the love of Patti Boyd (a.k.a. Layla).

For some background, lest you be unaware of this fact, in 1959 George Plimpton did indeed spar three rounds with Archie Moore at Stillman’s in one of his first and still most famous forays into participatory sports journalism. Though the bout was meant as a pure exhibition, one of Plimpton’s friends set him up by telling the Mongoose that Plimp was a ringer who was training as hard as he could with designs on embarrassing Moore and creating some publicity for himself. Some friend. Ole Arch took the bait evidently, and broke Plimp’s nose with a lightning combination. It bled profusely.

I have been fascinated and influenced by Plimpton (pictured left with Ali) all of my life, and for years this event has been among my all-time top ten “goddamn I wish I had been there” oddball sort of moments (another Plimpton moment lives in that top ten as well, the day that George arranged a meeting between Ali and the poet Marianne Moore). The thought that the young Philip Roth, on his way to becoming the perhaps the most important American novelist of the century, might have been there as well only sweetens the pot considerably.

So… was he? Here we get into the murky relationship between the author and his fictional protagonist. The pages in Exit Ghost where Zuckerman drops his revelation about the Stillman’s bout are together one long reminiscence of Plimpton and his indomitable spirit. Zuckerman, who is old and infirm and having problems with his memory, has been living far away from civilization and learned of Plimpton’s passing (he died in 2003) a year after it happened. The news shocks him, because it is very hard for Zuckerman to imagine Death felling the spartan Plimp:

George had no more intention of dying than, say, Tom Sawyer: his not-dying was an assumption inseperable from his competitive encounters with the greatest of athletes. I am pitching against the New York Yankees, I am running plays for the Detroit Lions, I am in the ring with Archie Moore in order to report with authority what it is to survive everything that is superior to you and lined up to crush you.

It is hard reading this, as it always is with Roth’s Zuckerman novels, not to conflate Roth and Zuckerman into the same voice, no matter how regularly Roth asserts that this is a mistake. Plimpton, in his Paris Review, was the first person to publish Roth (the same turns out to be true of Zuckerman) and one would imagine that the two were intimately acquainted. So it seems entirely possible that Roth was one of the young literary lions that Plimp invited to Stillman’s to watch him get bloodied by the Mongoose.

And… so he was! I did a little research and came up with this NPR interview with Roth about the role of Plimpton’s death in Exit Ghost, and though he doesn’t give a tremendous amount of insight into the afternoon, he does confirm that he was in attendance at the famous fight and laughs about it with just the type of laughter you would imagine one would laugh with had they been there – the laughter that says oh what fun, what a time, what a lark.

So there we are, No Masians, a mystery solved, and some extra panache added to a historical moment that already held heavy mystique for many of us. As for the rest of Exit Ghost, if you’re at all interested, I was unmoved. It’s maudlin and repetitive and often implausible. For my money, the Plimpton bit was far and away the best in the book, but I guess that’s not surprising given my bias.

Lot of free spirits in today’s birthday round-up, an eclectic group that includes four baseball players (a Killer B, a stalwart of Franchise’s great Expos team that wasn’t, a man who let a ball go between his legs, and the pitcher in the first all-black battery in MLB history), three footballers (two of the finest to ever suit it up for the “howay the” Magpies, and a Cote d’Ivoirian rock in the midfield), three Olympic medalists (a Canadian diver, German javelinist, and perhaps the greatest athlete ever to hail from Lichtenstein), two tennis players (an American legend known for his eponymous kicks and an Indian star who was known to get his hang on with 007), the first African-American ever to win the Heisman trophy, a pioneering yogi, a young French b-baller who evidently is f’reals, a gay bodybuilding icon, the bassist on some of the most important stadium anthems of our time, and finally, one of Large’s favorite writers, and thus a huge influence on sports as No Mas knows it.

The highest scoring game in the history of the NBA was played on this night 24 years ago, as the Pistons edged the Nuggets 186-184 in triple OT. The combined total of 370 points shattered the previous record of 316 logged by the Knicks and the Philadelphia Warriors on March 2nd, 1962, the night a certain Stilt-licious center went for the century mark over a helpless Knicks’ squad surprisingly not coached by Isiah.

And speaking of Isiah… he was unsurprisingly the Pistons’ leading scorer in the record-breaking free-for-all with the Nugs, going for 47, although Kiki It’s My Way or the Vandeweghe of the Nuggets was the high-scorer in the game with 51. In all, 12 players scored in double digits, including such other “I shoot then you shoot then I shoot again” luminaries as Alex English, John Long and of course, Kelly “Yes I’m a Gay Porn Star” Tripucka. Kelly actually scored all 12 of Detroit’s points in the second OT, although to be fair, at that point, on the order of coach Doug Moe (known throughout the land for his “the best offense is absolutely no defense” approach), Denver had given up guarding the Pistons altogether and just sat on the court whenever Detroit got the ball.

In conclusion, I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I imagine that the rosters of both of these teams will be cited heavily in today’s Mitchell report.

(With the Mitchell report about to blow everybody’s mind, I thought I would take you back to this very day last year, when the LARGE REPORT blew everybody’s mind. December 12, 2006, I blew the cover off one of the most insidious cover-ups the game has ever known, one that implicated its most treasured hero.)

Prior to the 1930 season in the bigs, there were no ground-rule doubles. If the ball bounced out of the park, provided the first bounce was in fair territory, then it was a home run, no questions asked.

So, like… am I the only person in the universe who didn’t know about this? My Grampa Noyes taught me everything about baseball and he worshipped Babe Ruth, and he never told me about this. And I’m starting to see why. Just how many of Babe Ruth’s home runs were on the bounce anyway? You see where I’m going with this? I mean, forget the steroids controversy. If Bonds hit the majority of his homers on the juice, so what? Freakin Babe Ruth was bouncing them out of parks left and right, so they’re even.

The American League adopted the ground-rule double rule before the start of the 1930 season, and the National League followed suit on this day in 1930, making the one (or two… Jesus two) bounce home run gratefully extinct.

The Babe retired in 1935. Of his 714 home runs, he hit 516 of them in the glory days of the old nod-nod-wink-wink bouncy bounce. I say that warrants an asterisk.

In light of the Michael Vick news, I was glad to see that earlier today SI ran a pictorial of famous athletes who did jail time. They included most of the familiar faces – your Carruth’s and Lewis’s, McLain’s and Denton’s, Doc’s and Darryl’s – but I was disappointed that they only included one boxer on their list – Tyson, of course. How dare they, I thought? The sweet science can put a jailbird starting nine on the diamond that could knock any other bunch of cons straight out of the stadium.

So without further ado, I, Large, self-appointed manager, give you my all-time fantasy batting order of boxers who did prison time:

1. Paul Spadafora – SS
(Multiple sentences, including a 32-month stint for shooting his girlfriend)
I realize this is a controversial decision right off the bat here. Leading off with Spadafora? A freakin alcoholic welterweight? Well, look, I know that Monzon might be a more natural choice, but the way I see it, Monzon is my Jeter-type, and personally I’ve always preferred my Jeter-types in the two-hole. So I’m hoping for a scrappy, David Eckstein sort of leadoff season from The Pittsburgh Kid here, and if he can’t hack it, well shit, Monzon ain’t going nowhere.

2. Carlos Monzon – CF
(Jailed from 1989-96 for murder, died while out on furlough)
Ah Monzon. My Jeter in the outfield. Not exactly a Jeter in the clubhouse – in fact, one of the worst human beings I have ever had the sour luck to have managed, or even known for that matter. But hey? Whaddya ya gonna do? He’s a five-tool slugger and he comes to play. And the ladies… dear God the ladies just go completely, absolutely batshit crazy for him. Until he, ah, kills them that is.

3. Rubin “Hurricane” Carter – 3B
(Did nearly 20 years for murder, released in 1985 after an investigation revealed he had not received a fair trial)
One thing is for certain – ole Rube can hit that ball. Kind of reminds of Carlos Baerga in his prime as a three-hitter, perfect for setting up the murderer’s row (no pun intended) he’s got coming up behind him. But I worry about playing him at third. It’s like playing Sheffield at third – he can field the position, but it’s far from an ideal situation. Problem is, I really don’t have a true third-bagger on this team. Floyd Sr. has a little experience at the hot corner, but Lord Jesus, you play that whining bastard out of position you’ll never hear the end of it. (Want your own All-Star Prison Boxing Team third-baseman jersey like the one up there on the left? Just follow the link.)

4. Jack Johnson – 1B
(Did a one-year gig at Leavenworth for trafficking in prostitutes, a trumped-up charge that was complete baloney)
Oh baby, now’s when we start hitting. Who’s the NFL prison squad got batting cleanup, huh? Hollywood Henderson? I mean, the Galveston Giant with a bat in his hand is like a cross between Josh Gibson and a brontosaurus standing over the plate. Don’t turn your head when our man Jack takes his turn – you’re liable to catch one right in the ear.

5. Mike Tyson – LF
(Multiple sentences for rape, drugs, DUI and parole violation)
One of the big things you struggle with when managing this team, besides a clubhouse full of incredibly violent, sociopathic lunatics who happen to be excellent fighters, is whether you bat Tyson before Liston or Liston before Tyson. I’ve changed my mind on this one about a hundred times. Tyson has more power, but he strikes out a lot. Liston has a better on-base percentage, but he seems to fold in the big spots. I’ve got it Tyson then Liston for now, and we’ll see how that goes. Honestly, despite his propensity for the long ball, I don’t know how long I can keep Iron Mike in the starting lineup. The guy is a complete disaster in left. Manny Ramirez is a goddamn Gold Glover in comparison to Tyson in left.

6. Sonny Liston – DH
(Two years – 1950-52 – for armed robbery)
All I can say about Sonny Liston is that he is a miserable son of a bitch and I’ve been trying to trade him since I took over this team of miserable sons of bitches. But you know what? Despite the fact that he is a reliable .300, 100, 30 guy, nobody wants him. And you know why? Cause he is A MISERABLE SON OF A BITCH! I’m kind of hoping that Monzon kills him. On the other hand, I’m a little worried that he might kill Monzon. I mean, you see what I’m dealing with here? You think Torre had it rough.

7. Bernard Hopkins – C
(Nearly five years for strong-arm robbery at Graterford in Pennsylvania)
Let me tell you something – no matter what you hear, Bernard is a rock behind the plate. Here’s one guy who really seems to have learned something inside the clink. He gets up my ass a little about batting seventh, and in general he NEVER shuts up for one second of the livelong day, but he’s a hell of a catcher, a dependable .280 hitter, and he comes up big when the chips are down. So long as Monzon doesn’t kill him anytime soon, he’s got a job with me for life.

8. Floyd Mayweather Sr. – RF
(A five-and-a-half year stint for drug trafficking)
This guy really, REALLY bothers me. All the talent in the world and yet something just doesn’t seem to click. Hell of a right-fielder, though – I got to give him that. Reminds me a little of Rubin Rivera. You look at him in his uni as he runs out to the field and you’re thinking, Christ he’s another Lou Brock. But then he fails you time and again and the next thing you know you hear he’s stealing wallets in the locker-room. Honestly, he annoys me so much that last season I thought about trading him to the NHL prison team for Bob Probert.

9. Prince Naseem Hamed – 2B
(Did five months last year for reckless driving)
I know what you’re thinking – can a featherweight even play baseball? Well, he can when he weighs about 180. Our resident Prince is one fat short little second baseman – kind of reminds me of Carlos Baerga not in his prime. Can’t hit a lick either, Prince, still living on the reputation of some lucky home runs he banged about a million years ago. Doesn’t give me too much trouble, though, which on this freakin team is about as valuable as a .350 average and about 150 RBI’s.

My latest interview with Franchise is up now over at jarrypark.com. Aside from another general recap of the big fight, we also touch on the futures of both Mr. Hatton and Mr. Money Money May, the potential of a bout between said Mr. Money and one Mr. Miguel “Nobody wants to fight me oh no” Cotto, the potential of a bout between said Mr. Hatton and one Mr. Oscar “ooh baby I likes ‘em small, yeah baby I likes em SMALL” De La Renta, and the reason why said Mr. Oscar is a lying-ass punk according to one Mr. Floyd Money Money May Sr. Or at least that’s what I talk about – Franchise spends most of his time yammering away at how the UFC is better than boxing.

There’s only one Mayweather indeed (jarrypark.com)