Lawrinson14
Master Image Editor
- Joined
- Oct 11, 2011
- Messages
- 2,553
- Like
- 8,202
I found this over at the Providence forum. I guess they really hate UCONN.
Written by The Godfather 1/01...
Why We Hate UConn
1) The Fans
Without question the most ignorant, arrogant, obnoxious, insufferable bunch of nouveau riche gasbags in the Big East, easily taking the title previously held by Syracuse fans. UConn fans are the basketball equivalent of the internet billionaire who crashes a blue-blood party on Ocean Drive, farts in the buffet line, eats the caviar with their fingers, takes a leak in the bushes, pinches the hostess' ass and then can't understand why no one thinks they're cool.
If you've never seen them at the Civic Center (and if you haven't, you must not be paying attention because there are 3,000 of these losers there every time we play them), as a public service allow me to provide you with a brief description:
The Men- fat, loud, stupid. Thinks basketball was invented in 1990 during "The Dream Season" (a season where they went no farther than we did in 1997, but somehow still inspires grown men to weep in the Nutbag State). Thinks "The Shot" was the defining moment of the 20th Century, slightly ahead of World War II and landing a man on the moon. Spent the day after winning the national championship speed-dialing WFAN demanding respect. Can't understand why Tate George isn't in the NBA.
The Women- fat, ugly, obnoxious. Resplendent in full Huskie regalia (UConn sweatshirt, Huskie-blue fanny pack, Rebecca Lobo bloomers, national flag blue and white pom poms). Thinks someone outside the state of Connecticut actually gives a flying crap about women's basketball. Cried at Jennifer Rizzotti's wedding, and when Shea Ralph blew out her knee. Writes long,
impassioned letters to the Hartford Courant after each season that always end with "Thank you for making us proud. You've done so much."
UConn fans should be considered armed and extremely dangerous, and should be approached only with extreme caution. If you want to have some fun with them, just sneak up behind them and yell "Christian Laettner" and watch their heads explode like a scene out of "Scanners."
2) The Media
Unless you've ever actually lived in that miserable state (and I did 15 years hard time there), it's hard to put into words just how bad the gushing, adoring media there really is when it comes to their Huskies. The main culprits are The Three Stooges- The Hartford Courant's Ken Davis, The Manchester Journal-Inquirer's Phil Chardis and The Norwich Bulletin's Peter Abraham (each of whom wept openly at courtside when they won the national championship), but the conspiracy extends far beyond these three bozos.
Connecticut is like Russia, and the Courant is like Pravda- anti-UConn sentiment is simply not tolerated, and dissenters are dealt with swiftly and harshly. Mike Francesa once said that Rod Sellers was a thug (which he was), and Billy Packer said that Chris Smith palmed the ball every time he touched it (which he did), and to this day neither of them can enter the state without Secret Service protection. The scary part is that Calhoun honestly thinks this lapdog, spoon-fed, kneepad-wearing media is still too rough on him!
And if you really want to hear something that will turn your stomach, just throw on WTIC's Joe D'Ambrosio some time. "Joe D" makes Johnny Most look like Edward R. Murrow- without a doubt the biggest shill for any team in any sport that I've ever heard. One of my simple pleasures in life
(and one I would encourage all Friar fans to join me in) is listening to Smokin' Joe after a UConn loss- you've never heard such a whining, petulant, defensive jerk, looking to pick a fight with anyone who dares to deviate from the hear-no-evil, see-no-evil Husky party line. He is an absolute disgrace.
They call these clowns "The Horde"- they should call them "The Whores."
3) The Coach
There's just no nice way to say this- Jim Calhoun is the single biggest jerk in all of college basketball. There isn't enough cyberspace on the internet to detail all of Jimmy The Shriek's transgressions, though some of his most memorable moments have come in post-game press conferences- eyes bulging, spittle flying, barely coherent, blaming his players for anything that
went wrong (I would have given 5 years off my life to have heard him after the BC game). I particularly enjoyed his performance after we kicked their ass in the Big East Tournament in 1994, and he spent almost an hour throwing back-handed compliments at us while still insisting that the real best team in the Big East didn't win. Classic.
Any respect I might have had for him (and believe me, it wasn't much) went out the window years ago when he chickened out of playing UMass while Calipari was still there. Opposing coaches despise him for his arrogance, big mouth, incessant whining about the officials and negative
recruiting (yes Jim, we know all about Ruben Garces). Opposing fans hate him because he's an idiot. Simply put- he doesn't win with class, and he doesn't lose with class.
Actually, Buf-houn and Connecticut are a match made in heaven- a petulant, defensive insecure loser presiding over a state with a gigantic inferiority complex. And to think we actually considered hiring this blowhard before we signed Pitino in 1985. I wouldn't trade all his wins and his one lucky national championship for having this guy represent the face of Providence College
basketball for all the dope in Khalid El-Amin's gym bag.
Class dismissed.
Why We Hate UConn
1) The Fans
Without question the most ignorant, arrogant, obnoxious, insufferable bunch of nouveau riche gasbags in the Big East, easily taking the title previously held by Syracuse fans. UConn fans are the basketball equivalent of the internet billionaire who crashes a blue-blood party on Ocean Drive, farts in the buffet line, eats the caviar with their fingers, takes a leak in the bushes, pinches the hostess' ass and then can't understand why no one thinks they're cool.
If you've never seen them at the Civic Center (and if you haven't, you must not be paying attention because there are 3,000 of these losers there every time we play them), as a public service allow me to provide you with a brief description:
The Men- fat, loud, stupid. Thinks basketball was invented in 1990 during "The Dream Season" (a season where they went no farther than we did in 1997, but somehow still inspires grown men to weep in the Nutbag State). Thinks "The Shot" was the defining moment of the 20th Century, slightly ahead of World War II and landing a man on the moon. Spent the day after winning the national championship speed-dialing WFAN demanding respect. Can't understand why Tate George isn't in the NBA.
The Women- fat, ugly, obnoxious. Resplendent in full Huskie regalia (UConn sweatshirt, Huskie-blue fanny pack, Rebecca Lobo bloomers, national flag blue and white pom poms). Thinks someone outside the state of Connecticut actually gives a flying crap about women's basketball. Cried at Jennifer Rizzotti's wedding, and when Shea Ralph blew out her knee. Writes long,
impassioned letters to the Hartford Courant after each season that always end with "Thank you for making us proud. You've done so much."
UConn fans should be considered armed and extremely dangerous, and should be approached only with extreme caution. If you want to have some fun with them, just sneak up behind them and yell "Christian Laettner" and watch their heads explode like a scene out of "Scanners."
2) The Media
Unless you've ever actually lived in that miserable state (and I did 15 years hard time there), it's hard to put into words just how bad the gushing, adoring media there really is when it comes to their Huskies. The main culprits are The Three Stooges- The Hartford Courant's Ken Davis, The Manchester Journal-Inquirer's Phil Chardis and The Norwich Bulletin's Peter Abraham (each of whom wept openly at courtside when they won the national championship), but the conspiracy extends far beyond these three bozos.
Connecticut is like Russia, and the Courant is like Pravda- anti-UConn sentiment is simply not tolerated, and dissenters are dealt with swiftly and harshly. Mike Francesa once said that Rod Sellers was a thug (which he was), and Billy Packer said that Chris Smith palmed the ball every time he touched it (which he did), and to this day neither of them can enter the state without Secret Service protection. The scary part is that Calhoun honestly thinks this lapdog, spoon-fed, kneepad-wearing media is still too rough on him!
And if you really want to hear something that will turn your stomach, just throw on WTIC's Joe D'Ambrosio some time. "Joe D" makes Johnny Most look like Edward R. Murrow- without a doubt the biggest shill for any team in any sport that I've ever heard. One of my simple pleasures in life
(and one I would encourage all Friar fans to join me in) is listening to Smokin' Joe after a UConn loss- you've never heard such a whining, petulant, defensive jerk, looking to pick a fight with anyone who dares to deviate from the hear-no-evil, see-no-evil Husky party line. He is an absolute disgrace.
They call these clowns "The Horde"- they should call them "The Whores."
3) The Coach
There's just no nice way to say this- Jim Calhoun is the single biggest jerk in all of college basketball. There isn't enough cyberspace on the internet to detail all of Jimmy The Shriek's transgressions, though some of his most memorable moments have come in post-game press conferences- eyes bulging, spittle flying, barely coherent, blaming his players for anything that
went wrong (I would have given 5 years off my life to have heard him after the BC game). I particularly enjoyed his performance after we kicked their ass in the Big East Tournament in 1994, and he spent almost an hour throwing back-handed compliments at us while still insisting that the real best team in the Big East didn't win. Classic.
Any respect I might have had for him (and believe me, it wasn't much) went out the window years ago when he chickened out of playing UMass while Calipari was still there. Opposing coaches despise him for his arrogance, big mouth, incessant whining about the officials and negative
recruiting (yes Jim, we know all about Ruben Garces). Opposing fans hate him because he's an idiot. Simply put- he doesn't win with class, and he doesn't lose with class.
Actually, Buf-houn and Connecticut are a match made in heaven- a petulant, defensive insecure loser presiding over a state with a gigantic inferiority complex. And to think we actually considered hiring this blowhard before we signed Pitino in 1985. I wouldn't trade all his wins and his one lucky national championship for having this guy represent the face of Providence College
basketball for all the dope in Khalid El-Amin's gym bag.
Class dismissed.
LEW PERKINS
One of the most nauseating displays I've seen in 30 years of watching Providence College basketball was the absolute freakshow put on by Fat Lew during a game here in the early 90s. I remember it was a big game late in the year, with a lot on the line for both teams. What I remember more though is Perkins going absolutely berserk over the officiating, literally running around the Civic Center, searching out the head official and screaming at him "You're costing me money! You're costing me money!" Classy.
He had to be physically restrained by John Marinatto (not a pretty sight unless you're into sumo wrestling), who then walked him back to his seat and whispered sweet nothings into his ear until he finally calmed down. He reminded me of a spoiled little kid throwing a temper tantrum because he couldn't have his blankie before nighty-night. To quote the great Frank Zappa, he was in a petulant frenzy ("I'm petulant, and I'm having a frenzy!"). Even Bunky Reynolds- not exactly known for his hard-hitting opinions- described the incident by saying "Perkins disgraced his school, and he disgraced himself."
Quick personal story- a couple of years ago I got a chance to play a round of golf at the TPC in Cromwell, CT. As I'm waiting around by the 1st tee, who do I see jiggling out of the clubhouse to play in the foursome in front of us but Lew Perkins himself (the insufferable Lou Holtz was also part of his foursome, but don't get me started on that one). And what a sight he was.
Sweet Lew was in full regalia- khaki shorts about ten sizes too small (on a 50 degree day), no socks, a kneebrace that looked like it was lifted from a cold fusion experiment, a foot and a half long cigar that never left his mouth even while swinging (showing that someone out there still thinks the Mike Ditka/Larry Laoretti thing is cool), and for the coup de gras- a multi-colored Greg Norman-style wide brimmed hat. Just the ultimate golf dork- "I may be fat, arrogant, stupid and have no game, but dammit I look good!"
Postscript- Lew airmails his first drive about 200 yards straight right, and almost cleans out some poor kid riding his Big Wheel in front of his house off the 1st fairway. Judging from the 6 1/2 hours it took for us to finish our round playing behind him, it didn't get much better after that. All I could think of was Spalding hacking up Bushwood in Caddyshack- "Farts! Double Farts!"
CHICKENING OUT OF PLAYING UMASS
This is one of the great untold stories of New England college basketball in the 90s. While UConn was starting their fraudulent rise to national prominence, Husky pups were noticing disturbing rumblings to the north. Snake oil salesman John Calipari was building a powerhouse in the Huskies' back yard, and Husky Nation absolutely could not deal with it. Say what you want about Calipari, but he would play anybody anywhere, and the team he really wanted a crack at was UConn. One problem though- Jim Calhoun was too chicken to play him.
The most egregious example of this was the 1995 Great Eight. Both UConn and UMass were eligible based on their finishes the year before, and ESPN was salivating at the thought of having UMass/UConn as the marquee matchup for that made-for-TV snoozefest. Except there was a problem- UConn said they wouldn't play in the Great Eight unless ESPN guaranteed that they would not play UMass. Think about that for a minute!
You'd have to be Freud to understand why the powers that be at UConn avoided UMass like the plague for the entire length of the Calipari regime. Maybe they were pissed about the time CBS put Calipari on the phone to talk about why UConn wouldn't play them while undefeated, No. 1 ranked UConn was getting embarrassed by Kansas on national TV. Maybe they were jealous that UMass was playing- and beating- nationally ranked teams on the road every year while UConn got their jollys by beating up the Yales and Hartfords of the world by 80. Or maybe it was because deep down inside they knew they weren't good enough or tough enough or ballsy enough to beat UMass, and Calhoun simply couldn't deal with it.
Now they play every year in some abomination called the Mass Mutual Classic, and all is well in Hooterville because Calipari is gone and UConn wins every year. And for all the Dumpsters of the world who will whine that UConn agreed to play them before they knew Calipari and Camby were going to leave, I don't even want to hear it. Bottom line- in the mid 90s it was the game everyone wanted to see- not just in New England but nationally- and it never came off because UConn was too chicken and fraidy-scared to lose.
JIM CALHOUN
It would take a Ken Burns documantary to adequately chronicle all of Haystacks Calhoun's crimes against humanity, so I'll only focus on a couple of my personal favorites:
1) During the same game when Lew Perkins had his nervous breakdown, Eric Murdock fouled out of a tie game in overtime. As if that wasn't bad enough, after the foul was called we were treated to the spectacle of Calhoun running around the sidelines like a chicken with his head cut off, waving five fingers and then practically kissing assistant coach/chief sycophant Howie Dickenman. I can see a fan acting like that, but a coach? Pathetic.
2) After winning their lucky national championship, the Huskies gave a championship ring to Jim Nantz. Let me repeat that folks- they gave a championship ring to Jim freakin' Nantz! Why, you ask? A couple of reasons. First, it was their feeble attempt to suck up to the national basketball media. Second, and more importantly, it was a deliberate slap at Billy Packer, who about ten years before committed the unpardonable sin of saying Chris Smith palmed the ball every time he touched it (which he did). Boy Jimmy, you really showed him!
3) At halftime of their Final Four game against Ohio State, after blowing a big lead, Leslie Visser asks Calhoun if the roof is caving in. Instead of laughing it off, Haystacks actually looks up at the ceiling and hisses "Roof? Caving in? I don't see any roof caving in." Great. In the immortal words of Sergeant Hulka, "Lighten up Francis."
4) Refusing to go on Mike and the Mad Dog for almost ten years after Francesa calls Rod Sellers a thug (which he was). Again, calling Dr. Freud. He wants respect so bad he can taste it, but instead of letting his record speak for itself he resorts to begging for it, then pouts if he thinks he's not getting his props.
5) Earlier this season Jimmy The Shriek goes off on some poor little administrator in the UConn athletic department about their schedule because the Huskies start their season playing about once every ten days. Uh Jim, isn't it the head coach's responsibility to set up the schedule? It was classic Calhoun though- blame everyone but yourself. Listen to how he blames his players after a loss, the old "I coached good, but boy did they play bad" theory. I can hardly wait to hear him once UConn starts getting into the meat of their Big East schedule (sorry Husky pups- you can't play Virginia Tech 16 times), and it finally dawns on Husky Nation that their beloved coach didn't recruit anyone who can hit a 15 foot jump shot.
One of the most nauseating displays I've seen in 30 years of watching Providence College basketball was the absolute freakshow put on by Fat Lew during a game here in the early 90s. I remember it was a big game late in the year, with a lot on the line for both teams. What I remember more though is Perkins going absolutely berserk over the officiating, literally running around the Civic Center, searching out the head official and screaming at him "You're costing me money! You're costing me money!" Classy.
He had to be physically restrained by John Marinatto (not a pretty sight unless you're into sumo wrestling), who then walked him back to his seat and whispered sweet nothings into his ear until he finally calmed down. He reminded me of a spoiled little kid throwing a temper tantrum because he couldn't have his blankie before nighty-night. To quote the great Frank Zappa, he was in a petulant frenzy ("I'm petulant, and I'm having a frenzy!"). Even Bunky Reynolds- not exactly known for his hard-hitting opinions- described the incident by saying "Perkins disgraced his school, and he disgraced himself."
Quick personal story- a couple of years ago I got a chance to play a round of golf at the TPC in Cromwell, CT. As I'm waiting around by the 1st tee, who do I see jiggling out of the clubhouse to play in the foursome in front of us but Lew Perkins himself (the insufferable Lou Holtz was also part of his foursome, but don't get me started on that one). And what a sight he was.
Sweet Lew was in full regalia- khaki shorts about ten sizes too small (on a 50 degree day), no socks, a kneebrace that looked like it was lifted from a cold fusion experiment, a foot and a half long cigar that never left his mouth even while swinging (showing that someone out there still thinks the Mike Ditka/Larry Laoretti thing is cool), and for the coup de gras- a multi-colored Greg Norman-style wide brimmed hat. Just the ultimate golf dork- "I may be fat, arrogant, stupid and have no game, but dammit I look good!"
Postscript- Lew airmails his first drive about 200 yards straight right, and almost cleans out some poor kid riding his Big Wheel in front of his house off the 1st fairway. Judging from the 6 1/2 hours it took for us to finish our round playing behind him, it didn't get much better after that. All I could think of was Spalding hacking up Bushwood in Caddyshack- "Farts! Double Farts!"
CHICKENING OUT OF PLAYING UMASS
This is one of the great untold stories of New England college basketball in the 90s. While UConn was starting their fraudulent rise to national prominence, Husky pups were noticing disturbing rumblings to the north. Snake oil salesman John Calipari was building a powerhouse in the Huskies' back yard, and Husky Nation absolutely could not deal with it. Say what you want about Calipari, but he would play anybody anywhere, and the team he really wanted a crack at was UConn. One problem though- Jim Calhoun was too chicken to play him.
The most egregious example of this was the 1995 Great Eight. Both UConn and UMass were eligible based on their finishes the year before, and ESPN was salivating at the thought of having UMass/UConn as the marquee matchup for that made-for-TV snoozefest. Except there was a problem- UConn said they wouldn't play in the Great Eight unless ESPN guaranteed that they would not play UMass. Think about that for a minute!
You'd have to be Freud to understand why the powers that be at UConn avoided UMass like the plague for the entire length of the Calipari regime. Maybe they were pissed about the time CBS put Calipari on the phone to talk about why UConn wouldn't play them while undefeated, No. 1 ranked UConn was getting embarrassed by Kansas on national TV. Maybe they were jealous that UMass was playing- and beating- nationally ranked teams on the road every year while UConn got their jollys by beating up the Yales and Hartfords of the world by 80. Or maybe it was because deep down inside they knew they weren't good enough or tough enough or ballsy enough to beat UMass, and Calhoun simply couldn't deal with it.
Now they play every year in some abomination called the Mass Mutual Classic, and all is well in Hooterville because Calipari is gone and UConn wins every year. And for all the Dumpsters of the world who will whine that UConn agreed to play them before they knew Calipari and Camby were going to leave, I don't even want to hear it. Bottom line- in the mid 90s it was the game everyone wanted to see- not just in New England but nationally- and it never came off because UConn was too chicken and fraidy-scared to lose.
JIM CALHOUN
It would take a Ken Burns documantary to adequately chronicle all of Haystacks Calhoun's crimes against humanity, so I'll only focus on a couple of my personal favorites:
1) During the same game when Lew Perkins had his nervous breakdown, Eric Murdock fouled out of a tie game in overtime. As if that wasn't bad enough, after the foul was called we were treated to the spectacle of Calhoun running around the sidelines like a chicken with his head cut off, waving five fingers and then practically kissing assistant coach/chief sycophant Howie Dickenman. I can see a fan acting like that, but a coach? Pathetic.
2) After winning their lucky national championship, the Huskies gave a championship ring to Jim Nantz. Let me repeat that folks- they gave a championship ring to Jim freakin' Nantz! Why, you ask? A couple of reasons. First, it was their feeble attempt to suck up to the national basketball media. Second, and more importantly, it was a deliberate slap at Billy Packer, who about ten years before committed the unpardonable sin of saying Chris Smith palmed the ball every time he touched it (which he did). Boy Jimmy, you really showed him!
3) At halftime of their Final Four game against Ohio State, after blowing a big lead, Leslie Visser asks Calhoun if the roof is caving in. Instead of laughing it off, Haystacks actually looks up at the ceiling and hisses "Roof? Caving in? I don't see any roof caving in." Great. In the immortal words of Sergeant Hulka, "Lighten up Francis."
4) Refusing to go on Mike and the Mad Dog for almost ten years after Francesa calls Rod Sellers a thug (which he was). Again, calling Dr. Freud. He wants respect so bad he can taste it, but instead of letting his record speak for itself he resorts to begging for it, then pouts if he thinks he's not getting his props.
5) Earlier this season Jimmy The Shriek goes off on some poor little administrator in the UConn athletic department about their schedule because the Huskies start their season playing about once every ten days. Uh Jim, isn't it the head coach's responsibility to set up the schedule? It was classic Calhoun though- blame everyone but yourself. Listen to how he blames his players after a loss, the old "I coached good, but boy did they play bad" theory. I can hardly wait to hear him once UConn starts getting into the meat of their Big East schedule (sorry Husky pups- you can't play Virginia Tech 16 times), and it finally dawns on Husky Nation that their beloved coach didn't recruit anyone who can hit a 15 foot jump shot.
