Thursday Morning Cupcheck - Handing Out the Coveted LVP Awards

by Todd Maternowski

Top of the morning, hockey fans! Last week we re-discovered the joys of reading via the sacred medium of angry emails; this week, I was planning on writing my tri-annual Thursday Mourning Cupcheck column in which I hilariously riff on the most senseless and tragic catastrophes in hockey history ("#141: Alexei Yashin"), but world-shattering recent events forced me to write about something far more crucial to the human race's survival than mere death, history or Swedish waffles.

Of course, I'm talking about the Fort Worth Star Telegram's "Metroplex's Most Valuable Player" contest. Now, I know I'm on the record for thinking that comparing athletes from different sports, eras, zip codes, and wombs is an inexact science. I know that I've often stated that such contests only encourage the wrong kind of behavior in our nation's athletes, fueling that cross-sport competitive drive, molding young draft-eligible minds in their man-boy infancy to accept Athletic Darwinism -- and do we really want a bunch of muscle-bound proto-meritocratic Golden Gods running around reading Ayn Rand novels and forcing their physical/mental/sweaty superiority over those of us who write better than we can kick a touchdown?

No, no we do not. Way to go, FWST. Good job. No, really. Oh, your good buddy Benito Mussolini called, he wants his mind-set back. Jerks.

But I digress. What a great contest! It appears that Mike Modano will win this thing, over such Arlington-based sports luminaries as Gerald Laird, Brad Wilkerson and Oddibe McDowell. But does this contest go far enough? Anyone can debate the merits of an MVP race: in fact, the Useless Sportswriters Union of America dictates that MVP awards exist solely so underworked hacks can churn out a minimum of four unreadable columns of tripe a year, just on these contests alone. (Of course, this pales in comparison to the mandatory two-dozen Hall of Fame columns required every year in every sport: "Should anybody, ever, be in the Hall of Fame? Should we close it down, burn the building and salt the earth where it lay? What about fat pasty sportswriters? Can I get in? Pretty please? Really? YESSSS!! Please, ladies, not all at once! There's more than enough of Peter King to go around!)

But where are the LVP awards? Are we just going to sit idly by and pretend to ignore the tremendous contributions of our least valuable athletes? In dishonor of our city's greatest disappointments, I've compiled a comprehensive and exhaustive list of Dallas' Least Valuable Players, together with some scientific commentary and a startlingly accurate grading system comparing said players to similarly-useless items. Read it and weep, Mr. Staubach -- you're just going to have to look longingly at this list and wonder what could have been, had you chosen to eat cheetos and watch Montel instead of showing up at practice every day. Sucka.

Chad Kreuter, Texas Rangers: Don't let his .166 average, 6 home runs and 16 RBI over four seasons fool you. This guy, according to the Dallas Morning News, was the real deal. Who could have predicted that Kreuter's world-shattering fame would be for getting into a fight with fans during a game, rather than his .237 career batting average? Besides, as someone who used to sit in Wrigley's bleachers and mercilessly heckle opposing outfielders, I'll be the first to admit that Cubs fans often deserve to be taken down a peg or two. Two-fisted Angel of Justice, thy name is Chad. LVP Rating: 4 2003 World Champion Chicago Cubs T-Shirts out of 10

Janne Niinimaa, Dallas Stars: A huge liability in all three zones on the ice, Janne was that too-rare combination of Incompetent and Finnish that we may never again see in our lifetimes. The defenseman was so terrible that even Ruslan Salei dunked on him during one particularly embarrassing defeat in 2005. However, Niinimaa's LVP rating is adversely affected by the fact that he was traded straight-up for Mike Ribeiro, forever solidifying Janne's enduring legacy as At Least Worth Something. LVP Rating: 3 Small Puddles of Yellow-Gray Snow out of 10

Uwe Blab, Dallas Mavericks: The second of many foreigners on this exalted list --let's face it, people from other countries are just not as good as Americans-- Blab rocked the NBA with career averages of 2.1 points and 1.8 rebounds per game before calling it quits. Impressive numbers indeed, except that he was tall and allegedly got paid to play professional basketball for a living. Points are shaved, however, for being born with such an endlessly-amusing name. Uwe's father The should be proud. LVP Rating: Two Pushy Vegetarians out of Ten

Joey Galloway, Dallas Cowboys: While not a foreigner, Galloway carved out a pants-wetting reign of pointlessness during four injury-plagued seasons with the Cowboys in the Dark Times of the early 2000s. Don't get me wrong: I'd trade away two first-round draft picks for a guy who maybe touches the ball 3 times a game every year if I could. That's just smart thinking right there. But who could have foreseen that a tiny, fast and overpaid man would get injured on his very first game with the 'Boys? And that the team would refuse to miss him? The two first-rounders Seattle got turned out to be Shaun Alexander and Koren Robinson: and if you pretend Alexander never once existed on the material plane, Robinson's 12 touchdowns over four seasons match Galloway's exactly. Advantage: Jones. LVP Rating: 8 Used Condoms on the Sidewalk out of ten

Jamie Pushor, Dallas Stars: There is no sport in the world --except for monster truck racing-- that keeps fans on the edges of their seats like hockey. And there's no play in hockey that keeps fans on the edge of the edge of their seats like the no-look pass to an opposing forward camped alone in front of your own net. Pushor was the undisputed master of this play, long responsible for inflating Eddie Belfour's vast library of highlight-reel saves. No one could thread the needle like Pushor, sending countless Stars fans into cardiac arrest every time he stepped onto the ice and retrieved a puck from behind his own net. You may be gone but you will never be forgotten, Pushor. LVP Rating: 8 Leaky Batteries out of ten

Larry Parrish, Texas Rangers: Growing up a Rangers fan, there was one constant in the universe, something so relentlessly reliable that you could time the nuclear clock to it: if Larry Parrish came up to the plate with the bases loaded, it was going to be a pop-up to the catcher. Low-flying birds beware! Gino Petralli just walked, and Parrish is leaving the comfort of the on-deck circle! And with each bases-loaded Easy Out, a sad-faced 12-year old in the cheap seats lost a little of his innocence. LVP Rating: 6 1986 Rangers Souvenir Cups out of ten

Bill Parcells, Dallas Cowboys: While never technically a player, I include Parcells on this list for being a playa -- as the Man Who Taught Bill Belichick Everything He Knows, who do you think inspired Belicheat to go ahead and film all those sex tapes with that married chick? Don't hate the playa, hate the game, ladiez! Parcells rode into Dallas on a cloud of dust and rode out on a cloud of bust: those frumpy clothes he's always wearing are actually the perfectly-intact remains of a wet paper bag he's been trying to coach out of since he left the Jets. While much is made of Parcells' long history of never winning a single playoff game without Belichick on his staff, far too little is made of Parcells throwing his final playoff game against Seattle in a jealous hissy-fit over all the attention being given to Tony Romo. Now, with 24-hour access to the bronzed man-meat of South Beach so tantalizingly close, can a Bill Parcells sex tape be far behind? The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse say, "Go for it, Bill!" LVP Rating: Ten Post-Marino Miami Dolphin Quarterbacks out of ten

Well, that's it for this week's fact-driven Cupcheck. Tune in next week when I break the exclusive scoop on Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian's new roles on the Miami Dolphins' assistant coaching staff, and how night-vision game tape is revolutionizing the sport of professional football.