Kookoo for Coco Crap

Awesome night for Boston douchebaggery.

Rule #1 after you've gotten your ass kicked in a fight: Say the other guy fought unfair.  Like, he "pulled my hair," "bum-rushed me," or the ultimate douchebag sucker-punch nut shot, "fought like a girl."  There is something overwhelming lame about a guy who stands before the media, the way Coco Crisp did after the Rays-Sox brawl,  trying to sell his story to the unbelievers.  "Ooh, you didn't see what really happened...it happened under the pile and they were diiirty...that's the real story here...not that I couldn't actually handle myself and left shitstains all over the infield."  It all feels very, I don't know, Wal-Mart lunchroom trashy.  Tony LaRussa slimy.  Too much effort to shape opinion.

And please, fucking please stop mentioning Willis Reed and Paul Pierce in the same breath.  Here's why:

"Reed's most famous performance took place on May 8, 1970, during Game 7 of the NBA Finals against the Los Angeles Lakers in Madison Square Garden. Despite a severe thigh injury - a torn muscle - he started the game in front of a thrilled audience and scored the Knicks' first two field goals on his first two shot attempts."  

Torn fucking muscle.  Not "right knee sprain."  That Pierce came back so hoppy and bouncy give some real indication about that nature of his exit and return?  Like "right knee sprain" could be trainer/PR guy code for "Shit, uh, nothing really happened here."  He didn't play through anything.  He didn't overcome anything.  He was off the court for 1:45.  Come on would-be drama clowns.  Legendary?  Shut the fuck up.