Incomplete and Inaccurate History of Sport

Incomplete and Inaccurate History of Sport

by Kenny Mayne
Incomplete and Inaccurate History of Sport

Incomplete and Inaccurate History of Sport

by Kenny Mayne

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Overview

Painstakingly faithful to its title, Kenny Mayne’s book is neither complete nor is it particularly accurate. Ostensibly an A-to-Z encyclopedia of all known sports, many sports are never mentioned. There’s not a word about rugby, volleyball, Roller Derby, swimming, or (shockingly) Basque pelota or shinty. There is a chapter about sliding, but none about skiing. Competitive eating and rhythmic gymnastics will have to wait for another book. However, there are roughly eight chapters about tackle football–“the greatest sport in the world, and everyone knows it”–and a good four or five about horse racing, so quit complaining before you’ve even read the book. There will be plenty of time for complaining after you’ve finished it (about an hour from now–tops).

Those sports that are covered in the book are examined with exhaustive inattention to unretained detail. Many chapters have nothing to do with sport. For instance, the chapter on hunting is about hunting for a hassle-free triple tall Americano light on the water.

So, then, what exactly is this book-like thing you hold in your hands? Part nostalgic memoir (like the summer Mark Sansaver hit 843 home runs in backyard Wiffle ball), part Dave Barry—esque riffs (like explaining bocce to non-Italians), part scholarly tract (includes the origins of tackle football), and part metafiction (see “Time-outs”). . . all with illustrations drawn by Kenny’s daughters, it is what Kenny calls his anti coffee-table book, or Coaster. The publisher calls it $24.95. Reviewers like Michiko Kakutani may call it “insipid,” but because Kenny has included a revolutionary “backwords” following the book’s foreword, she’ll have to call it an “insipid breakthrough” of a book.

So what is this book-like thing? Like the great mysteries in life, you’ll have to decide for yourself.


*That would include a thought I just had. This thought had something to do with Wiffle ball. What a great chapter. But that’s not to say the chapter on hunting is terrible even though it’s mostly about coffee. Plus I wrote stuff about my children. There’s even a chapter on jai alai. This book has both still photographs and still illustrations. It doesn’t have any moving pictures. That would have required the inclusion of a projector and a big white screen in the book, and I’m trying to take a stand on energy conservation. Strangely enough, Ken Griffey Jr. asked me if the book would have video. This will make sense when you read the chapter on him.

I wish I'd written about the Seattle Pilots. I used to go to their games when I was nine. My favorite player was Tommy Harper.  But this isn't just a sports book. It covers all sorts of things. I hope they place it in the Miscellaneous section. That should draw a lot of attention.  I was told that the presence of a sub-title would sell more books. How am I doing with you? Make sure to tell people about this alluring and informative sub-title. This sub-title is longer than some of my chapters.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780307408709
Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
Publication date: 04/22/2008
Sold by: Random House
Format: eBook
Pages: 256
File size: 3 MB

About the Author

KENNY MAYNE is the little man that seems to live inside your TV. From his decades of hosting ESPN’s SportsCenter, his announcing major events like the Kentucky Derby, his weekly irreverent (bordering on surreal) pregame segments for ESPN’s Sunday NFL Countdown, The Mayne Event, his reality-TV life on Dancing with the Stars and Fast Cars & Superstars, and his appearances on The Martha Stewart Show and Jimmy Kimmel Live!, to his ubiquitous commercials for companies such as Top Flite and GMC, you practically can’t go a day without seeing Kenny on your screen. An Incomplete and Inaccurate History of Sport is the first book in his impending oeuvre.

www.KennyMayneHasWrittenABook.com

Read an Excerpt

Ice Hockey
Barry Melrose was one of the greatest coaches in the history of professional ice hockey.  

Currently, he is the greatest professional ice hockey commentator in the history of professional ice hockey commentating.  

And "O Canada" is a way better song than "The Star-Spangled Banner."  

Some people reading this are thinking, "If you like Canada so much, why don't you just move there?" To those people I say, "Will you help me move?" and "Can I borrow your truck?"  

Hockey was invented a long time ago by people who had nothing better to do when ponds would freeze.  

The point of the game is to make a rubber disk go past a line at the front of a goal area. When that happens, a red lamp is lighted and the people watching punch each other on the arm and spill beer. That's unless the red lamp is lighted by the visiting team, in which case the people just spill beer.  

In ice hockey players often get into fights. It is rare in sport (see also the boxing chapter I wrote and the cockfighting chapter I did not) that the officials in charge stand back and allow fights to continue. In ice hockey, however, fighting is given tacit approval by the officials.  

"Tacit" is the fanciest word I've used so far and it contains just four or five letters.  

If I remember correctly, ice hockey uses about six players on each side. Teams have more players than that-otherwise who would the six players sit next to on the plane? The players who aren't on the ice tap their hockey sticks on the floor to encourage players who are on the ice. The players on the floor aren't encouraged by this, because they cannot see or hear the sticks being tapped on the floor, due to the fact somebody on the other team has them in a headlock or their faces are being smashed into the protective glass surrounding the rink.  

Wayne Gretzky is arguably the greatest ice hockey player ever. He was better at being a player than Melrose was at being a coach or is at being a commentator. I mentioned Melrose earlier because he's a good guy who one time handled an entire three-minute-long ice hockey highlight for me when I had to fill in on the NHL 2Night on ESPN2 when Bill Pidto was ill. The NHL 2Night highlight lad had delivered me a shot sheet (the notes written up to match the highlight video) for a thirty-second highlight, but then they instead rolled the three-minute version. I said to Barry, "You've always wanted to call a hockey highlight by yourself, right?" Then I walked away. Barry nailed the highlight without any notes in the same way I can make toast without a recipe. But back to Gretzky, who has never done anything for me.  

The fact I'm calling him arguably the greatest ice hockey player ever when he's never read a hockey highlight for me says something. It says I'm probably minimizing his greatness by inserting "arguably" when his very nickname was and is the Great One. I don't know if he makes his wife or children call him the Great One. I used to make my daughters call me Sire or Lord of All Nations. That was back when they believed I invented the sun. Way before fake earrings.  

Of Wayne Gretzky, Barry Melrose is quoted as saying the following: "a unique person and athlete who comes along very, very seldom." The fact Melrose said "very" twice makes me think there won't be an ice hockey player called Another Great One for a very, very long time.  

"O Canada" is a good song but I'm not moving to Canada, because I don't know very much about ice hockey.  

This book is making an excellent coaster.  

Australian Rules Football  

Australian Rules football is very popular in Australia, where many people know the rules.  

Very few people know the rules to tipping.  

Sure, there are those little slide rules one can purchase to cut down the time spent calculating just what the waiter or waitress deserves. I'm speaking instead of the larger question, the true rules of tipping-a great philosophical dilemma.  

I knew a guy in college who was taught by his parents that one should tip one dollar no matter the total price of the meal. That family is the reason waiters spit in food.  

We know by now that tips should be around 15 to 20 percent of the total bill. Is that before or after taxes? What if the food costs $100 but your date picks out a rare $2,500 bottle of wine? Should the waiter be tipped the 15 to 20 percent on the entire bill? If so, the tip would exceed the cost of the food. That better be good wine.  

Also, should there be a second date?  

I don't have to worry about that last scenario, because I'm married and rarely drink.  

But I do face the issue of tipping because of the great amount of travel I incur.  

"Incur" is a strange-looking word.  

My grand-nephew (I'm that old or my niece had a baby that young) James once tipped his teacher a twenty-dollar bill. He thought she was doing a good job.  

That was one of the rare occasions where a tip was refused. In many cases, the tip is built into the pricing, often disguised under other names. At fine hotels, room service is delivered with a high base price and an automatic tip. With the addition of "service and delivery" charges, I once had a cheeseburger, salad, and Coke (not Pepsi) for   seventy-eight dollars in New York City. There was a price for the actual food, another for the fact that the food was delivered to the room, and still another for the fact that a hotel employee had to push an elevator button and knock on my hotel room door. In addition, the room-service waiter did indeed offer a full review of exactly what had   occurred.  

Waiter: We have the cheeseburger, salad, and Coke.  

Me: Right.  

Waiter: Will there be anything else?  

Me: No. I think seventy-eight dollars is enough.  

It's at this point the waiter typically lingers in the room, unfolding my cloth napkin, inquiring as to whether ice cubes will be necessary, and pointing out how the Yankees are doing either quite well or not so quite well. It is at this point the waiter is hoping I put pen to paper and add Additional gratuity.  

I will do no such thing.  

I'm all for hefty tipping when the waiter or waitress has been a great sport, particularly inside a restaurant.  

Waiter: Will there be anything else?  

Me (circling the preassigned total on the bill): No. I think an effective tip rate of 25 percent is fair given the fact that all you did was push an elevator button and knock on my door.  

Waiter: I did also announce all the items that had been delivered. They were cheeseburger, salad, and Coke.  

Me: I'll put the tray in the hall.  

Housekeepers? They should be tipped even more often than teachers. And teachers should split their tips with janitors.  

Housekeepers should be tipped except in those cases where they already are being tipped. Some hotels now insert an extra 10 percent fee on the bill for "general services." When I caught this once in upstate New York, it was explained to me that the money is for the bellmen, valets, and housekeepers. Those were the same people who gladly accepted fives and tens from me all week.  

The automatic tipping charges act as protection for staff in the event the hotel is full of people who would also be capping all restaurant tips at one dollar no matter the price of the meal. Most people, however, actually tip a fair amount of money for a fair amount of work. What the institutionalized tipping does is create a standoff in what ought to be a friendly exchange of money for service.  

You know, the free market.  

Bellman: Will there be anything else?  

Me: You mean like me handing you more money?  

Bellman: Pardon me?  

Me: How 'bout you, the valet guys, and the housekeepers all run up to the front desk. They are holding your tip money in escrow.  

I feel like a jerk right now for not tipping that bellman, and this is just a book.  

Instead, even with the knowledge that I'm getting hammered at checkout, I'll fork over fives and tens to bellmen, valet attendants, and housekeepers just so they don't talk about me when I leave.  

The automatic tipping charge is like the Alternative Minimum Tax. It was invented to catch cheats, but it ends up hammering those who might have been honest in the first place.  

Will there be anything else? Yes. There will be the guy at the fancy hotel who hands you a valet parking slip.  

Guy at Hotel Who Hands Me Valet Parking Slip: Will there be anything else?  

Me: This five dollars?  

Guy at Hotel Who Handed Me Valet Parking Slip and Accepted Five Dollars: Thank you.  

Next in line is Guy Who Takes Luggage out of Excessively Large Family Vehicle Purchased to Guard Family Against Damage Caused by Other Excessively Large Family Vehicles. That guy takes our luggage out of the back and moves it just inside the door of the hotel.  

Guy Who Took Luggage out of the Back of Excessively Large Family Vehicle Purchased to Guard Family Against Damage Caused by Other Excessively Large Family Vehicles: Will there be anything else?  

Me: This ten bucks?  

Next comes Guy Who Pushes Luggage on a Cart to the Bell Stand Area.  

Guy Who Pushed Luggage on a Cart to Bell Stand Area: Will there be anything else?  

Me: This ten bucks?  

Then comes Nice Lady at Counter Who Actually Gives Us Keys to Our Room but who is ineligible to accept tips even though she has also said, "Will there be anything else?"  

Me: Change for a hundred?  

Next comes the actual bellman, the fifth person we've encountered, but only the fourth eligible for a tip. He works way harder than the guy mentioned previously who was automatically tipped for pushing an elevator button and knocking on my door. In this case, he doesn't have to push the elevator button, because my daughters fought each other for thirty seconds for the right to be the one who got to touch a filthy elevator button, and he doesn't have to knock on the door, because we open it for him with the key, but still he does have to lift a bunch of luggage and the cart looks like the Clampetts have arrived because we always pack like we are moving away permanently, so yes, he worked pretty hard relatively speaking. He gets a nice tip for all that but mostly because he gives us back our luggage.  

Guy Who Gives Us Back Our Luggage: Will there be anything else?  

Me: This twenty?  

We've gone through forty-five dollars and all we have to show for it is the repossession of our luggage. We order cheeseburgers.  

Later we go to dinner, in an actual restaurant, and encounter Waitress Who Is Mean Until the Two-Minute Warning to Moment of Tip Declaration. Throughout the meal she was impatient with the kids. She acted like we'd requested that she swim the English Channel when another fork was needed because Annie had launched the first one across the room. She cited government regulations when a small substitution request was made. She never looked at my wife.  

But when the Two-Minute Warning to Tip Declaration was silently sounded, the girl was all smiles. Suddenly she had cleavage. She talked about the weather. She patted one of the girls on the head.  

After an hour of surliness, she's selling kindness. But we're not buying.  

We've seen this act before. It's too late for her to spit in our food. All she can do is talk about us.  

Words are cheap. And in this case, so are we. But in this case, it feels rich.  

A dollar for her.  

Badminton  

Lots of people call badminton "bad-mitten."  

Those people don't know what they are talking about.  

In badminton, your father takes about three hours to set up a net because there are rocks under the grass where he is trying to jam the posts in.  

In the meantime, you and your friends kill each other with jokes about how the thing you are supposed to hit over the net, if your dad ever gets it set up, is called a "shuttlecock."  

You keep repeating "shuttlecock" over and over. Eventually, one of your friends laughs so hard he pees his pants and has to go home to change clothes.  

Shuttlecock.  

I just peed my pants and would have to go home to change my clothes except I'm already home.  

We live on a hill in Connecticut and the front yard is slanted so severely there is no shot at playing badminton, even if I let my daughters say "shuttlecock." Plus my dad died in 2001 so there is no one around to set up the game.   Anyway, in badminton, once your dad has set up the net, you hit the shuttlecock back and forth over the net. If it hits the ground on your side your opponent gets one point.  

I think the games are played to 15, but who cares? Badminton is not as cool as tackle football but you usually don't break your femur as often. Then again, I've never seen anyone play badminton with Lawrence Taylor.  

Baseball  

Baseball players are among the most superstitious of all athletes. I don't really know if this is true, but it's been repeated so often I'm going with it. And there's no way I'm going to call anyone to find out. To do otherwise would insult the integrity of this book's title.  

I do know, from personal experience, that every baseball manager or player I have ever seen avoids touching the white chalk foul line when coming on or off the field.  

I don't really know why baseball coaches are called managers. I have never heard a player say to a manager, "How are you today, manager?" They might say, "How are you today, boss?" Or, "How are you today, skipper?"  

As far as I care to know, in every other sport except tetherball, the highest-ranking person on or near the field of play is known as the head coach. That is true except in those cases in which the general manager or owner comes down to the field from the luxury suite to poke and prod the players they own. In baseball, general managers and owners don't have to worry about touching or not touching the white chalk foul line, because they usually stay back by the batting cage and talk about the players.

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