A Day in the Life: Erin Andrews

Five years. It's hard to believe it's only been that long. To celebrate Erin Andrews and her first half-decade with ESPN, we're revealing EA's diary from the day of a Duke basketball game. Bruce Pearl begged us to take a look at the entry from the day of the Blue Devils' game against Tennessee. What we found was equal parts titillating and terrifying. Enjoy (thanks to Billynho and BA Barry B. for deciphering the pages):

3:23 a.m.- I get woken up by Kirk Herbstreit wearing a Tebow jersey (Big Ten Boyz Luv Southern Belles). I'm instantly horny.

6 a.m.- My phone is ringing. Who could be calling at this hour? All I hear is heavy breathing. Not again. Bruce!

I get my underwear back from Kirk (he's always trying to steal it) and go to take a shower. Only 13 hours until game time, and it's never too early to look your best.

9 a.m.- I finally get in the shower after getting sidetracked staring at myself in the mirror for three hours. I like to get all dolled up so I spend more time looking in the mirror than Amy Winehouse... well, she uses the mirror for something else.

10 a.m.- I call Hef for the 76th straight day to yell at him. I can't believe he finally put a Gator on the cover of Playboy, and it wasn't me! Everyone knows I'm way hotter than that tramp (Debatable).

10:10 a.m. - I text Thad a "knock knock" joke (he isn't amused). He texts me back a blonde joke. I don't understand it. He's always playing jokesies on me though. One time he even told me that he practiced with a shot clock on the floor when the shot clock above the basket broke during a game. What's a shot clock? I just did my sexy laugh in response. Anything I do is sexy. Except to Thad I guess.

10:15 a.m. - I grab a donut and check Deadspin for pics of me. I like to joke that Deadspin is like my Facebook; everybody on there stalks me. And just like on Facebook, I have another profile so that I can post great things about myself without other people knowing it was me. I check at least thirty times a day. They haven't written anything about me for two days! I better put this donut back.

10:20 a.m. - I turn on ESPN to see if they mention me. I'm just in time for that Hanes commercial with Tyrese and the white guy from Major League. Oh boy, Tyrese has really let himself go. I'd still do him. Too bad he doesn't play basketball.

10:30 a.m. - On my way to work. I always listen to the Christmas album I recorded (us hot, talented young celeb women all sing nowadays... Miley, Hil Duff, Lindsay Lohan, Vanessa Hudgens, Kelly Osbourne, Clay Aiken...) for Bret Beliema last year (he wasn't impressed). Anyways, I tried selling the Christmas album in a Jewish neighborhood, which was MY idea :-), but apparently Jews don't like Christmas! I love Christmas! Hmpf. Boo Jews.

10:32 a.m. - I get tired of listening to myself, so I turn on my Sirius radio and Justin Timberlake is playing.

10:36 a.m. - I pull the car over and change into some dry panties. J.T. makes me wet (Ed. note: true story supposedly). I always carry extras, just-in-case.

Noon - Yes, I finally get to eat. Only celery for me today. Gotta save some room for the media buffet at the Duke game on ESPN tonight. Is Duke owned by ESPN? Or is ESPN owned by Duke? Whatever the case, my paychecks are always by (a very sweaty) hand Chris Berman. He usually lingers around my desk for hours. There's nothing worse.

1:45 p.m. - I check Jenn Sterger's Twitter and see that she just got on a plane. I hope they hit a flock pigeons and are nowhere near the Hudson River...

2:30 p.m. - I meet the executives over at EA to do some voice recording for my new game "Erin Andrews Basketball 2010". It is so cute that they named their studio after me. They have a script for me to read, but I told them I always provide my own special in-game analysis. Duh, don't they watch ME? They say they have many times; that's why they want me to read from the script. Like, anyways, I don't care. I'll read whatever. MY game is going to be awesome!

4:00 p.m. - Time to head over to Cameron Indoor Stadium and walk through Kryzewskiville. They even had some J.T. music playing that we danced to for a while. I happily dance with the boys in North Carolina, but I hate how they dance in Los Angeles. I hope the pics make it to Deadspin later...

4:15 p.m. - I head over to makeup and wardrobe. I HAVE to look great tonight. J.T. may be watching. Mmm J.T..

4:16 p.m. - Changed panties again...

6:45 p.m. - After my constant demands requests, they finally got me looking like the filly I really am. Spandex pants and a small sweater (I'm a large).

6:59 p.m. - I catch Steve Lavin staring at me before the opening tip. I'll go flirt with him later.

7:30 p.m. - TV timeout. I'm supposed to listen in on the teams' huddles. I really just walk around so people can see me- and my butt- better. I have a great butt. People tell me all the time.

8:00 p.m. - It's halftime. I talked to a sneering life-size rat which turned out to be Coach K, and he told some wild story about breaking a zone. Umm, I thought we were trying to save the o-zone, not break it. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I smiled and nodded. He's awfully short.

8:05 p.m. - I repeat what Coach K told me, but this time on LIVE TV. It made sense to everyone else.

8:15 p.m. - The second half begins and a drooling Bruce Pearl has just been ejected from the game after crossing the floor in a rabid sprint towards me. Thankfully, Bobby Frasor (my other, cuter stalker) tackled him before he reached me.

9:10 p.m. - The game is over. Actually, it's been over for 15 minutes. I didn't notice, though. I always get sidetracked when I bring my mirror with me.

10:30 p.m. - I make the mistake of leaving my Dolce & Gabbana purse unattended while I walk past the Cameron Crazies. I accidentally dropped by microphone right in front of them. It was great, er, sooo embarassing OMG. As I walk back to get my purse, a man in an orange blazer is rifling through it and runs off with my panties. At first I thought it was Pat Summitt. But no. Bruce again!

11:59 p.m. - I finally get home after a long day and what do I see? Kirk in my bed with his Tebow jersey on. I love my life.

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A Day In The Life: Derek Jeter

The New York Yankees failed to make the postseason for the first time since 1993, which also means that this is the first year in which Derek Jeter will not be playing in October.

Kornheiser's Cartel recently spent a day with the Yankees' shortstop, and we were able to record his routine.

8:00 AM - Wake up after a good night's sleep. Roll over. Shit... Mariah. I've had all of the pressure of not making the playoffs and the closing of the Stadium placed on my exquisitely cut shoulders being the captain and all. I don't know how Varitek was able to handle sitting at home 4 different seasons, but he does have a beard and a "C" on his jersey to get him through the tough times.

8:05 AM - Flip on my XM radio, chug a Gatorade, and head to the bathroom. After a quick shave using my Gillette Fusion, I hop in the ol' shower. When I'm done I throw on my Nike gear and slip on my Jumpman shoes.

8:30 AM - Breakfast Time! Even though I keep trying to tell myself that everything's alright, I can't help but feel a little blue. So, to cheer myself up I think I'll eat Wheaties from my private stash of Yankees World Series Champions boxes. '98 looks good, after all we were the greatest team to ever play baseball (suck on that Varitek). ARod wasn't on the Yanks in '98 as I recall.

9:15 AM - Flip on the tube and watch some SportsCenter. A video montage of great playoff performances? Wow, I was in over half those shots...totally need to fire my agent because I haven't seen a dime from ESPN.

9:30 AM - Phone Call. Bud Selig. Yawn. He wants to make sure that even though I'm not playing right now, I'll still make an appearance in Tampa or something. I tell him sure thing, after all I am the face of the entire league. Plus I know a few Buccaneers cheerleaders.

9:45 AM - Plop down on the couch and bust out my cell phone. I usually play about 2 hours of Derek Jeter Pro Baseball 2008 every morning. Since they named it after me, I get special cheat codes that allow me to unlock historical players. I put my boy Brosius in at 3rd and Bernie back in center. Believe me, they're improvements on the current players.

12:00 PM - Lunch downtown at Masa with The Boss. Seriously, that's what he makes even me call him. Not Mr. Steinbrenner. Not Your Excellency. Not even Papa Georgie (that's what Cashman always calls him).

He starts off by saying that he doesn't blame me at all for our failure to make the playoffs. In fact I'm pretty much the only guy he doesn't blame. He tells me he's fired half of our scouts, sold the Trenton Thunder to some Japanese investment firm, and that the guy who sells hot dogs in Section 126 better watch his back. For some reason he is super pissed at Alex too. I tell him nobody was to blame. Except Alex.

After going over what I want my plaque in Monument Park to read, The Boss says he has to use the restroom.

35 minutes later - Obviously The Boss isn't coming back. He always sticks me with the check. Yogi warned me, but nobody ever listens to that old crackpot. He's such a sellout too. The way he turned his old phrases into an Aflac commercial, not cool. I pay with my Visa card and hop in my Ford.

5:00 PM - I'm a guest on a radio talk show. This show doesn't even begin to compare to the stellar analysis and up-to-the-minute score alerts that can be found on XM radio. But my PR guy says it's good for me to mingle with the people. They ask me my thoughts on offseason moves and I mention that we should look at signing Teixeira and converting him to 3B. The hosts seem perplexed, but I tell them that Posada will likely be moved to 1st, so we don't need anybody at 1B. They still argue that we're set at 3rd as well, but I've tuned them out by now. I plug a charity or two and then I'm gone.

7:30 PM - Dinner with Pettitte, Mariano, and Posada. We reminisce about the good old days and none of us can figure out how Jorge's former backup has become our skipper. We all text Torre saying we miss him and he responds with a huggie bear emoticon. He's so adorable.

9:45 PM - Pettitte knows of a sick party going on, so we all head out, like in Swingers. I'm obviously the Vince Vaughn of the group, since these other guys are super lame and have wives they have to get back to.

11:30 PM - As I'm leaving the party the valet starts riding my ass for not leading the Bombers to another World Series. I run my hand (with those 4 large rings) through my hair, tell him it'll be alright, and help Miss New Jersey into my car. I don't think I'll have as restful a night tonight.

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A Day In The Life: Shawn Marion

With the Miami Heat's training camp officially in session, it's time to check back in with forward Shawn Marion. The Heat had a nice offseason highlighted by their selection of Michael Beasley in the draft. The press is talking about how the Heat will do with their 1-2 punch of Dwayne Wade and Beasley; seems that don't sit too well with Mr. Marion. A Day In The Life of Shawn Marion... ENJOY.

6:30 A.M.–"When one-on-one you can't hold me if your last name was Wade
Only way you wear me out is stitch my name on your pants
I.. am.. number one - no matter if you like it
What does it take to be number one?
Two is not a winner and three nobody remembers"
Every morning, me rapping a song called "Number One" is what I wake up to when my gAlarm goes off. I love to rap, and I'm the best at it to be humble and honest. Some of my friends, I have sooo many (more than you), try to say I stole that song from Nelly, but my version is totally different and better. a) Nelly is not number one, I am and b) the first line of his song says "if your last name was Haynes." I remixed mine to Wade a few months back. It used to say Nash and Stoudamire.

7:30 A.M. – Dwyane Wade is still in bed when I arrive at the gym and videotape myself shooting 701 threes. Reggie Miller practiced 700 shots a day, and everyone said he was the best. Wrong. I'll watch them later to check out my form. Plus it's fun. I'll put the videos online for you all to buy at some point in the future. So check out my site. Everyday. It's awesome. Yesterday it got 34,238 page views, two IPs! Quite Frankly, Stephen A. loves it and Bill Walton get high and visits it all the time, hehe.

9:30 A.M. – Stopped by Riley's office for contract negotiations. He tried to lowball me with a "final offer" of $11 million per for 3 seasons. That pity shit wouldn't even cover my car insurance payments. Riles is smart, but I'm smarter. The smartest in fact. I called his bluff and demanded $35 million a year for 15 seasons. I know negotiations. When we meet in the middle, I'll end up getting $23 million for 9 seasons. Hopefully we won't have the cap room to resign D-Wade. We don't need him, we got Matrix.

11:15 A.M. – I get Frank Caliendo's number and pay him to call Steve Kerr pretending to be Riley and offer me to the Suns for Nash and Stoudamire. I'd have made the call myself, my impressions are better than Caliendo's (you should hear my Allen Iverson... PRACTISS PRACTISSSS PRACTISSSSSS MAN! WE TALKIN BOUT PRACTICE hahaha LOLZ, PRACTISSSSSSSS), but I'd have busted out laughing when Kerr accepted immediately. Which he didn't for some reason. He must've known it was a prank, because he replied, "Is this a fuckin' joke? and hung up."I didn't end up paying Caliendo. And John Paxson was better than Kerr on the Bulls.

12:30 P.M. – I go to lunch... alone... again... No one ever wants to go with me?!?!? Can you believe that? Me neither. Sigh. Probably cause I'm such a good eater. The best in fact. Anyways I go get some chicken wings and try to break my world record. Again. Joey Chestnut supposedly holds the record with 7.05 pounds in 12 minutes. I eat 15 pounds in 12 minutes. I did, I swear. And I'm still not full.

2:35 P.M. – Add another entry to my name in Urban Dictionary. And thumbs them all up again.

3:00 P.M. – Back to the Heat facilities. I keep my head low as I pull in so all the paparazzi can't get a photo of me. I don't see any around as I walk in, but you never know. Us stars can never be too careful.

3:30 P.M. – I walk into the gym and see Wade shooting. I tell him he should be practicing his passing, I'll do the scoring.

4:00 P.M. – I go find the rook and tell him I brought the wrong pair of socks to practice and make him drive to my house to get the ones I like. Fuckin' rookies. I tell him not to lock himself in my bathroom when he's there... LOLZ!

4:30 P.M. – Practice starts and Coach Spo wants to know where Beasley went. I don't say anything...

6:00 P.M. – Suicides to end practice. I beat Wade (OBVIOUSLY) which is weird, because I thought his nickname was Flash. How weak is that? I'm The Matrix. I'm sorry, I don't remember... Did Flash have two sequels? Did its trilogy gross over $1 billion? Did it single-handedly revive Keanu Reeves's career? Thought not. Merkin.

7:00 P.M. – I drive to dinner at the flashiest restaurant in town. No reservation, just walk in. They've never heard of me, tell me I can't have a table and ask me to never come back... That's cool, I doubt they'd have let Wade in the door.

8:00 P.M. – I start a Heat franchise on NBA Live. First, I sign myself to a max-level contract extension. Then, I trade Wade and Beasley for Tyson Chandler, so I have someone to rebound for me this year. Finally, I earn enough credits to unlock and sign John Stockton to pass to me.

3:30 A.M. – Still playing NBA Live. 60 games into the season, I'm averaging 74 points and 32 rebounds a game. My team is 13-47 because my teammates suck. But I'm finally and unquestionably THE ONE. Just like Neo in The Matrix. :)



(Entirely made-up. And fictional... as far as we know)

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A Day In The Life: Jimmy Clausen

After Jimmy Clausen’s “impressive” victory over a “talented” SDSU, I decided we should take a look at the diary of the boy with the golden arm. With inspiration from Billynho, I present you with A Day in the Life: James Richard Clausen. ENJOY.

9:30 A.M. – I arise from my slumber to the sound of my bitchin cell phone’s text alert (Alanis Morisette’s “You Live, You Learn”). Sweet, my bros Ricky and Casey sent me a text. First text, “I heard mom and dad crying last night…I assume that’s influenced by you” – Case. This don’t phase me, I’m J-Claw and what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. Next message from Ricky, “Hey bro-fo can I chillax at your place for a while mom and dad are acting hella stoopid” – R.C.

10:00 A.M. – Hop out the shower and run a comb through my blonde locks. 500 strokes to be exact.

10:30 A.M. – Call Evan Sharpley and pretend to be Chuck Weis. Tell him he has been awarded the starting role for Saturday’s game. Sharpley gets all stoked like the chode he is. I let the act go on and right before I hang up I yell “PSYCHE” and slam the celly shut. I know that lil bitch is crying right now and his tears are the fuel to my body. :)

11:15 A.M. – Meet Coach Weis at Fazolis for some midday grub. He talks about football stuff and I just nod and smile, but honestly all I can think about is drinking some brews with my boyz. Coach thinks I don’t notice, but I see him grabbing breadsticks off my plate; I don’t mind; I’d do anything to make him smile.

12:00 P.M. – Coach and I head back to his place to watch some game film. His daughter is obsessed with me, typical girl. It’s cool though cuz we got matching haircuts. I sit on coach’s lap/fupa and we dissect the SDSU game, which was a VICTORY!!!! (LoL Johnny Drama LOL)

2:00 P.M. – Some of my teammates like to watch Michigan’s game film to help prepare for the upcoming match. I think that’s bogus. I just play some NCAA 09 on the 360. The outcome of the game is Notre Dame 56 Michigan 10. I ran for 187 yards and was 40-47 for 472 yards. This game is gonna be hella easy.

4:00 P.M. – I head up to the gym and do the same workout that Brady Quinn does. That bro has got a smokin bod – no homo.

7:00 P.M. – I’m ready to get my drink on!!!!!!!! I call up my buds, nobody’s answering... they must not have good service or something. I go on facebook and check out my man Golden Tate’s page. From his recent activities I see that he is attending a “Golf Pros and Tennis Hoes Party at Turtle Creek Apartments” I jot down the address, grab a bottle of Boonesfarm, and hightail it to this shindig.

8:00 P.M. – I’m hilarious, so to keep my funny-man reputation I decided to dress up as a Tennis Hoe. (LOL WTF am I thinking) Everybody loves it. When I walk in the door they all point at me and laugh for like 15 minutes. Some people love my costume so much they threw tennis balls at me, but they did throw them kinda hard, but once again it don’t phase me I’m J-Claw.

10:00 P.M. – This party blooooows. Nobody’s taking pics of me and the bros don’t wanna do body shots. I think I’m gonna head out of this party.

10:30 P.M. – “Honey I’m home!!!!” JK I live alone (HAHA) :( I decide I’m about ready to call it a night cuz I got school tomorrow YUCK (LoL) but first I polish off my High School State Championship rings.
11:00 P.M. – Hop into my racecar bed pull my leprechaun blankets up to my chin and rest my sweet lil head on my pillow. Goodnight “friends”.

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Dara Torres: My Diaryah

For the past two weeks I have been in a strange place. Some sort of event is going on. Today, a kind young whipper snapper escorted me out of my bed because at my age, I no longer have the energy. Soon a young lady came to my side and began our daily routine. I wish I could tell you her name, but I don't know my own at this point in my life.
Anyways, as she fed me this lovely recipe that she calls Gurbur (I think its German, but I do not care, its delicious). After I'm fed, I take a nap. When I wake up I realize that I missed "The Morning Show". I just love to see the interesting colors on the t.v. When I grew up you were lucky to have a radio in your house. Oh yes you were. Yep...yep.
Another young man soon came into my room and gee golly willikers he asked me a lot of questions above motivation and inspiration. I told him about when I was young I had to walk 10 miles to school everyday. He then asked me if I had any grandkids and if they were in "my space" or something like that. I said what. He said my space. I said my space? I told him "no, they aren't in my room". He then pulled out a light from his pocket and was touching it and it changed colors. He told me he added my grandkids and they are going to meet up later. I don't know what he meant, but Oprah was on and that was all I was worried about. He then left the room and mumbled about how he "hoped my grandkids were as easily persuaded as me". I don't know his name, but he looked awfully similar to that man that is always on t.v. here.
That Oprah is a really cute black woman. I like her. Everyone was racist when I grew up but I'm not, I think all kinds of people are cute. After Oprah a young girl came and wheeled me to some sort of crik. They put on my shower cap, it seemed a little tighter than usual. Yep it did... yep yep.
They usually hold me when I am in the water, but today they let go. I flailed back and forth in the crik and it was really easy so I don't know why there were so many people around cheering for me but I liked it, it was good, it was the loudest cheering I'd heard since my husband came back from World War II on the plane with all the other handsome boys. He never actually came back to me though, like I said, there were many handsome boys.
If those weren't the good days I reckon I don't know what were. My husband's dad was born in Dupree, South Dakota and he moved and built a house and it was beautiful and it was across the way in Mt. Rushmore and my that's the most beautiful mountain I ever did see. Ya reckon? I reckon. Yep yep...
After I got finally reached some wall they gave me the prettiest silver necklace I ever did see. Right then all I wanted was to go back and watch more Oprah though. I didn't need a necklace, I'm too old to use it. Yep yep.
I got wheeled back to my room and they brought me some pork chops that were the best pork chops I ever tasted in my life. My great-grandmother made fresh pork chops that I ever had when I was just a little girl. I wasn't the only one that almost drowned today though. Another little girl was in the crik today and she didn't like drowning either because she got out before I did. She may have been afraid of beavers. I remember when I was a little girl I would never get in the water because as Poppa put it, "those damned beavers dammed the damn crik". That's what he said alright. Yep yep.
We didn't have air conditioning so I swam in the creek every day once I caught all those damned beavers.. We all did. We caught crawdads and we never heard of no computers and we had fun. I liked swimming. We caught crawdads and we never heard of no computers and we had fun. I like swimming. We caught crawdads and we never heard of no computers and we had fun. I like swimming. Yep yep.
Anyways. She had a really pretty underwear on.
Well, I have to go. I think I just stained the lining of MY underwear. I can't really see too well anymore. I made this dress myself. Yep yep.

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A Day in the Life of Usain Bolt

NUGGETS, NUGGETS, NUGGETS!

When Usain Bolt was asked how he prepared for the Olympics' 100 Meter Final, he waxed on about nuggets and little else.

By all accounts, Usain is insane (Writer's note: Bolt is also hilarious, incredibly talented, charismatic, and seemingly nice... but that's not funny to highlight). It starts with nuggets, but there's so much more to tell.

Read a minute-by-minute account of how the Marcus Green-lookalike will spend the day of the 200 meters final.

5:00 AM: Sleep.

6:00 AM: Wake up. Look out window. Realize you're in Shanghai. Wrinkle forehead because you'd thought the Olympics had been in Beijing, and the party you'd been at was definitely in Beijing. Puke because you're still drunk. Shove three topless bitchez off bed. Sleep.

9:00 AM: Turn off phone because coach and dad, er, Asafa keep calling. Sleep.

12:30 PM: Wake up. Check phone messages. Laugh because your coach is in Beijing for some reason.

1:00 PM: High-step around Shanghai in search of nuggets. Settle for Kung Pao Chicken. Shove vegetables to side.

1:30 PM: Finally answer coach's calls. Learn Olympics have actually been in Beijing. Yawn. Order coach to come pick you up. And bring NUGGETS! Lots and lots and lots of nuggets...

1:45 PM: Realize you've been walking around all day barefoot. Shrug.

2:00 PM: Find empty street. Make sure speed limit is under 35 MPH. Measure out 100 meters. Warm-up by running 5 X 100 in 9.3 seconds each. Then, run 5 X 200 in 18.7 seconds each.

2:45 PM: Real work-out: S-T-Y-L-E! Gotta look good tonight. Find mirror. Smile at self. Wink. Like what you see. Practice ripping off shirt. Perfect high-stepping form. Attempt cartwheel. Contemplate diving at full speed across finish line.

3:00 PM: Eureka! Decide to crush field for first 180 meters of 200 final before crabwalking last 20 to finish in 18.9 seconds.

3:30 PM: See exhausted looking white man in goggles, swimsuit, swimcap, and gold medals running by screaming. Watch tiny, drooling white boy with raging clue run after him. Recognize tiny boy as Little Bob Costas. Breath sigh of relief at not being American.

4:00 PM: Remember 200 meters final is tonight. Gotta hydrate. Thank lucky stars after finding Red Stripe. Drink case while waiting for coach.

4:30 PM: Watch helicopter land. Coach and Asafa get out, demand you get on plane. Offer to race Asafa 50 meters to helicopter for shotgun. Give Asafa three seconds head start. Pass Asafa 10 meters before reaching the helicopter.

4:45 PM: Wonder how many topless bitchez could fit on a helicopter. Decide to buy a helicopter and find out after winning your second gold medal.

5:00 PM: Feast on nuggets.

6:00 PM: Land in Beijing. Leap off helicopter acrobatically in case anyone is watching. Stretch arms for pre-race poses as you walk to the track.

6:30 PM: Arrive at Bird's Nest. Scan crowd for topless bitchez...

6:45 PM: See black American with "Gay" on shirt approach. Exchange pleasantries. Ask coach if all gay Americans so proudly display it on their shirts. Laugh when coach claims "Gay" used to be the World's Fastest Man. First funny thing coach ever said. First funny thing anyone else ever said actually... World Records didn't exist before Usain Bolt.

7:00 PM: Line up for race. Give the fans what they want: Classic Olympian pose, Michelangelo's David, The Discus Thrower, The Heisman...

7:05 PM: One last swig of Appleton before the gun goes off.

7:06 PM: Get in blocks facing backwards.

7:07:11 PM: Gun goes off.

7:08:22 PM: Cross finish line exhausted. Check clock... 1 minute, 11.4 seconds! A new-PR! A world-record for a 200-meter crabwalk? It is!

7:10 PM: Realize cameras are following dis mon. But he finished in 19.71 seconds...? That's not a world-record! Glare at photographers. Stomp off track. Swear off Olympics forever.

7:30 PM: Find party in Olympic village.

7:45 PM: Blackout.

11:00 PM: Wake up in bed. Turn on light. See same white boy that was in Shanghai earlier with all the gold medals tied up, scared look in eyes. Look under covers... Bob Costas!? Shudder. Shrug. Turn off light. Sleep.

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Webb, Distance Running Fans Need to Focus on Positives

Hyperbole and hysteria dominated the milieu of LetsRun.com's World Famous Message Board following the failure of everyone's favorite American-born miler's effort to make the US Olympic Team.

Having buried myself in the negativity—and ignored rational explanations in Webb's defense—I've been able to piece together a typical day in the life of Alan Webb in the build-up to his greatest failure, as told by the his numerous critics that dance on his every defeat.

11:30 A.M: Roll out of bed.

11:35 A.M: Swallow Propecia tablet. Pre Classic coming up. Take second pill. Time to step it up for the cameras.

11:45 A.M: Roll into McDonald's parking lot. Curse luck at once again missing breakfast hours. Order two Big Macs, two large fries, and 44 oz. Coke. Ask cashier to Supersize it. Curse when informed McDonald's no longer supersizes. Order extra Big Mac to make up for it. Remember that Olympic Trials are in a little over a month. Think to self that three Big Macs may be excessive. Order double-cheeseburger instead.

12:30 P.M: Base building. 15 miles at 5:20 pace.

2:00 P.M: Ask Scotty why message boarders think he's doing too much strength work. Nod gullibly when Scotty blames it on Warhurst.

2:15 P.M: Biceps day. Again. Just like yesterday. And the day before. Admire guns. Practice intense face to be unleashed after prelims win.

3:00 P.M: Order Kung Pao Chicken. Send back when not greasy enough. Smile as bowl is returned drenched in grease. Order seconds.

3:30 P.M: Call Rupp to talk tactics. Agree to only run races with rabbits. Congratulate Galen on time trial win yesterday. Remind Galen that, no, you don't want to sleep over in his altitude tent in Phil Knight's basement. And, no, you don't need to borrow any Breathe Right strips. Tell Rupp you haven't been on message boards today.

3:45 P.M: Check LetsRun message boards for 12th time today.

3:50 P.M: Send Lagat text message, "How's my FAVrit Keny~ er, American miler doin? Just chekkN to C if U got my texts last few days/weeks/months? I'm tellin U man. U got 2 take out the Oly Trials Final faaast. Make it a time trial. U n me. 3:32 or faster! Leo n Lopez can kick, but they can't TT!"

4:00 P.M: Instant message Ritz to make fun of this picture. Giggle when he sends back this picture. Agree that Rupp is a time trialing big race bottler. And totally gay!

4:15 P.M: Base building. 10 miles at 5:00 pace. Not going to peak too early this year. No speed work until July. Training right through the trials.

5:30 P.M: Biceps. Pre Classic coming up. Means two-a-days. Time to step it up for the cameras.

6:00 P.M: Take call from reporter. Make confused frowny face when asked if you are overtraining.

6:30 P.M: Check phone hopefully to see if Lagat replied to text message.

6:35 P.M: Think about eating a salad. Whimper. Go to Five Guys Burgers and Fries with Scotty! Ask Scotty how come message boarders think he needs a new coach. Nod gullibly when Scotty blames it on Warhurst.

7:30 P.M: Check phone hopefully to see if Lagat replied to text message. Frown when only message is from Rupp. Tell him for the last time that you don't want to use his underwater treadmill.

8:00 P.M: Attend Hair Club for Men meeting.

8:30 P.M: Start LetsRun thread encouraging Jeremy Wariner to move up in distance. Snicker.

9:00 P.M: Talk training with Scotty. Nod gullibly when Scotty tells you to run New York City Marathon. Just to build up endurance. Ask how come you keep running long races. You're a miler, you say! Nod gullibly when Scotty blames it on Warhurst.

10:00 P.M: Ice cream! Warhurst never let you eat ice cream…

10:30 P.M: Beers in South Lakes High School parking lot. Tell self that you'll never leave. No matter what they say.

11:30 P.M: Check phone hopefully to see if Lagat replied to text message.

12:00 A.M: Tell self that you will make McDonald's breakfast on time tomorrow. Sleep.

Being an optimist—and an unabashed fan of the hair-follically challenged runner—I intend to dispel the doom-and-gloom and point out the lunacy in depicting Webb as an existentialist disappointment lacking devotion to the pursuit of fulfilled potential and world records.

Rewind just over 10 months to Osaka where Webb entered the 2007 World Championships on the heels of a victory over Bernard Lagat for the US Championship; hopes were high, but haters espousing predictions of another flame-out weren't hard to find.

Their prognostications proved prescient when Webb finished eighth (when it apparently would've been easier to finish first, at least according to those on the boards).

His year's impressive achievements (3:46.91AR mile win, 3:30.52 1500 meters win, 1:43.84 800 meters win) were deemed worthless.

It seemed that Webb and his coach Scott Raczko responded to the critics with real adjustments in 2008, determined not to peak too early once again. We all know what happened, so a quick recap will suffice:

They supposedly attempted to be patient and not force Webb into race shape too early in the season. Unfortunately, his muted performance at the Pre Classic sounded the alarms that the duo may have got it wrong once again.

He entered the Olympic Trials ranked fifth in the 1500 meter rankings by LetsRun and finished in the same position. 2008 was a terrible year on the track for Alan Webb.

His performance has raised multitudinous questions. I'll try to answer some of the more loudly voiced ones posed by typical LetsRun.com posters:

No way the 1500/mile is the best event for Alan Webb, I mean, he hasn't even won a gold medal or broken a world record yet. And he's already 25. He clearly sucks. And the dude has no race tactics. Shouldn't he move up?

The subject of three threads a day for the last six years (more on days when Webb runs), the answer is an emphatic no.

While his range is extraordinary and incomparable today (he's oft-compared to Olympic champion Said Aouita historically), his times rank with the best in the world in the mile. He hasn't always been consistent, but his PR keeps dropping. He's won a host of US Championships and twice made the finals at Worlds. He became the American record-holder at age 24.

When he's on form, he's perhaps faster than anyone in the world over this distance today. That can't be said for him in any other event.

Hahaha! Nuh uh, whatever, Jason Rexing is faster in wooden clogs and a straitjacket while gurgling Kenenisa Bekele's next EPO injection in the back of his throat! But think about it, if Webb focused his training on the 5K or 10K his kick could carry him over the top… Couldn't it?

Gross. It's easy to understand why many are quick to promote a move to a longer distance. He's run respectable times, super-elite for an American, of 13:10.86 and 27:34.72 in efforts over 5K and 10K. If he trained exclusively for those events, he would undoubtedly see a drop in time.

The problem is that the 5K and 10K seem to be more tactical at the highest levels than the 1500. If Webb, with all of his experience in the 1500, still struggles to know when to start his drive for the finish line, how will he react to the teams of Ethiopians and Kenyans randomly throwing in surges to break him?

Bekele won the 2004 Olympics 10,000 meters in 27:05.11, almost 30 seconds below Webb's best. More notable is the fact that he ran the last lap of that race in 53.02 seconds. Does Webb even close 800 meter races that quickly?

Why are we even still talking about Webb!? He refuses to fire his high school coach! He eats fast food! He's not a cocky, intimidating jerk like a true champion! He clearly isn't dedicated to being great. Not like Pre was, eh?

Whether people are actually serious or not when ripping Webb for eating french fries every once in a while, it's hard to discern. But that may be the best thing about him. He's an every-man, he's blue-collar, he's humble, he seems genuinely nice, and he's just like us.

A few years back (I believe in 2004), an account that he brought a keg in the back of his truck to a small meet and drank afterwards with everyone was all over running message boards.

The biggest star in US distance running, having a beer with people who couldn't touch him on the track. Can you imagine Kobe Bryant or Michael Vick doing this? Would you even want to hang out with them?

As far as switching coaches, I don't think it's necessary. It would be one thing if his times weren't steadily improving, but they have been. Yes, his coach was unknown before Webb came along, but he is said to not be shy to question the cognoscenti of distance running. He didn't drive Webb to run a 3:46.91 mile on his own, and he likely listened to a lot of advice before changing gears in 2008.

The other problem with a change in coaches is that Webb may not adjust well initially to the new system. It happened when he ran for Michigan, and it took him two years to get back on track (pun unintended). At age 25, he can't really afford to have two more bad years. What purportedly little confidence he possesses would be non-existent.

I heard he broke up with his last girlfriend without the aid of Power Point. He's hopeless.

Maybe you're right, but I don't think so. I think if he sticks to what he has been doing and is patient, success will come again.

Getting a medal at either of the next two World Championships would be huge. He needs to shave 1.25 seconds off his 1500 meters PR to rank in the top-10 all-time. Those two goals are significant and achievable.

He also needs to continue to learn how to race. Runners can find the secret long after they run the times.

He need only look to Bernard Lagat for validation. Lagat had yet to win a medal at a major championship at age 25. He's been in contention constantly ever since and is a favorite to win the 1500 and 5K at the Olympics in Beijing.

Hey, why does Galen Rupp wear that thing on his nose?

Ah, back to normal.

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