Steven Jackson...one sick puppy.

St. Louis Rams running back Steven Jackson has been accused of beating his 9-month pregnant girlfriend, Supriya (say that five times fast) Harris, so badly that she was "bleeding heavily!" Jackson reportedly beat her, threw her on the ground, and against a door repeatedly until his own nephew came and broke it up.

Their son was born 10 days later. Being a smart lady, she left. The two are currently in major battle in court over child support. Shocker.

That just grosses me out.

Sad day.

This really has nothing to do with sports, but I must give a small shout out to J.D. Salinger. I still own my high school copy of Catcher in the Rye. It's something I am unwilling to part with.

- It's funny. All you have to do is say something nobody understands and they'll do practically anything you want them to. -

Rest in peace, Mr. Salinger. Thank you for your words.

Mr. Baseball passes on.

I'm surprised that I missed this one. Bobby Bragan, known to many as Mr. Baseball, has passed away at the ripe old age of 92. Bragan died in his Fort Worth, TX home on Thursday.

Bragan originated his MLB career with the Brooklyn Dodgers. After returning from a stint in the military, he came back and played for the damned Yankees. Bragan also managed many teams in the majors over many years, and also coached the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Definitely one of the best things to happen to baseball. But all good things must come to an end.

Loretta is moving on.

Los Angeles Dodgers infielder Mark Loretta has accepted a front office position with the San Diego Padres. After spending 15 years in the big leagues, and being a two time all-star, Loretta goes back to San Diego after spending a few years in Los Angeles.

This once again leads me to wonder what the Dodgers roster is looking like these days.

But hey, congrats for actually maintaining a career post-baseball.

You may think that boning a duck is an impossible feat...

Mark McGwire recently lost a battle of self doubt and guilt prior to taking up a coaching position with the St. Louis Cardinals and came out about his use of performance enhancing drugs during his record breaking career.

Amidst all of that, I received some pretty entertaining emails about other suspected steroid users in the MLB, however true they may be, all in jest. Until I received an email about MLB Hall of Famer, Ernie Banks, flat out calling on one of the greats to come forward and admit to his own drug abuse.

You might wonder what in the world is Sammy Sosa doing other than bleaching his skin. You might wonder if any of the greats did anything great at all without the use of something other than agressive training and practice. Something other than guts. I'm starting to wonder about a lot of things.

Banks was quoted in a recent interview telling Sosa to "come clean with it."

We'll see how this one plays out.

Some not so shocking news.

I grew up around sports. A lot of baseball, but sports.

When I was in middle school, I realized how much I liked sports. This had nothing to do with the fact that I was a cheerleader. I'm still not sure how that part of my life came to be. Actually, I didn't just like sports. I loved sports. I loved sports so much that I stole the sports page from my parents' papers and cut out all of the numbers and stats I was interested in to tape them into these little notebooks. I think my mom still has these little notebooks somewhere in her garage. I should resurrect them sometime.

Anyway, this love for sports developed on Sundays, soon adding Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays. Soon enough, there was something I wanted to watch every day. The notebooks were filling up, and I had officially tapped myself to be a sports aficionado. I think I was 12.

One of my best friend's dad knew about my passion for sports. At that time it was mainly football. Brett Favre and the Green Bay Packers to be exact. He came home one evening with tickets to the 98-99 NFC wildcard game. The Green Bay Packers against the San Francisco 49ers. Suited up in our puffy NFL team jackets and jerseys, we headed to the San Francisco bay on a cold January day to watch a live football game.

I jammed my finger playing catch during our tailgate party, but I was so excited that I didn't tell anyone until after the game. I didn't want anyone to drag me off to a doctor or anything. I wore a brace on my finger for two weeks after that day.

The Packers lost that game, and I came home with a swollen and bruised middle finger, but that was one of the best days of my life.

I watched Favre evolve over the years, retire, change teams, retire, change teams and now...probably retire again. For real this time.

After a heartbreaking loss to the New Orleans Saints yesterday, Brett Favre says he is heading home for a few days to think it over, but a return to the NFL is unlikely. As unsurprising as those words are to me, they are a little sad this time because I think they are true.

But I wonder if he will still do commercials? I really like those Sears commercials he's been in lately. Seriously. Not even kidding.

Sick day, part un.

The one benefit of being home sick is the ability to indulge in endless amounts of recreational reading. Assuming you are up for anything other than sleeping or watching made for TV movies. I slept for most of the day, but I have finally had enough Emergen-C to do something other than zone out while looking at an LCD screen.

The brain is back on, and I have officially graduated to sitting up in bed with a laptop trying to pilfer through articles and emails in an attempt to give you something entertaining to read.

The New York Jets played a pretty decent hand this season. Aside from the occasional floundering rookie stuff, it's the best they have looked in years. Even though I went into yesterday's game believing they would not pass the Colts, I was slightly disappointed when they blew it in the second half. Oh well. Another Super Bowl that I will watch as indifferently as any other.

Congratulations to the badass Peyton Manning and his Colts, and to the New Orleans Saints as they make their first ever Super Bowl appearance. Although they only made it that far because Favre turned the ball over five too many times, and the refs blatantly made some questionable calls. But who am I to judge? All I do is get opinionated, and share it with strangers on the internet.

My winding wheel.

My wonderful world of sports hasn't really done anything exciting for me lately. Yes, I know that football is drawing near a close. Yes, I know the Jets are playing today. I will watch the game. I will cross my fingers for bad calls against the Colts in Indianapolis. I will hope that our rookie quarterback can throw long and actually connect. I will not hold my breath.

Let's have a bit of a reality check as you cock your eyebrow at me right now. I just don't like to set myself up for disappointment. If we get an unexpected win (as we did with the Chargers), I will be pleasantly surprised. Awesome.

I'm loosely paying attention to everyone in then MLB aside from the Dodgers making deals. Signing Juan Padilla gives us an idea of how you start building a pitching staff. Aside from that, I'm beginning to wonder what our opening day lineup is going to look like. I look forward to trips to Arizona for spring training.

I also look forward to March Madness. While I also pay little attention to college basketball until the end of February, I get really into it about then. And when it's over, it's basically baseball season, and my life is pretty good for the next six months.

What I'm trying to say is that I know this has been stale since I pledged to be more exciting in the new year, but it's not my fault sports hasn't given me anything juicy enough to rag about. I'm feeling antsy, and I apologize if it is rubbing off on you.

Another shocker!

(photo courtesy of globe sports)

After years of denial, hiding from the public, and evasion from the age old question, Mark McGwire sobbed the truth about his enhancement drug abuse during his record breaking baseball career. Big Mac admitted that he regularly used steroids and human growth hormone to achieve size and strength that catapulted his numbers out of the ball park from 1990 to 1998 when he broke Roger Maris' single season home run record.

McGwire took a job with the St. Louis Cardinals as a hitting coach that he will be starting this spring. He knew that he had to come clean before he began his new career. I guess he realized he better warn the team before they tried to learn from the power hitter without his juice.

Oops! But tell me something I didn't know.

Rex Ryan Rules.

New York Jets coach Rex Ryan and his winning team dedicated their playoff triumph against the Cincinnati Bengals to owner Woody Johnson in remembrance of his late daughter, heiress Casey Johnson.

The players gave Casey a moment of silence before the game, and all players wore juvenile diabetes awareness bracelets in her honor.

When asked if if all the love made him feel any better, Johnson replied, "no, it doesn't help."

It's the thought that counts, right?