Game On: Iron Ref Round 6 - Ugly Play

The sixth round of HHR's Iron Ref is on.

Click here for a look at this week's competitors and an overview of the contest. CAST YOUR VOTE IN THE COMMENTS.

Voting will be tallied at 5 PM EST on Thursday. Remember, winners will return to compete for the title of HHR's Iron Ref. If you are interested in competing, drop us a line.This round's secret ingredient:

UGLY PLAY

Brian Bassett

Ever been to a ballpark when they show a sports blooper video, likely synched with Benny Hill saxophone music (if you're lucky) and bunch of slide whistles for emphasis and boing-oing-oing!! style sound effects, assuring you it's OK to laugh at rich athletes? Of course you have!

It might not keep you from getting that $7.50 Bud Light Lime or from hitting on that jailbait wait in the next row, but more than likely, even though it's totally juvenile, it's still amusing at some level. I'll bet that even bastion of culture Buzz Bissinger has been known to chuckle at a running fielder crashing through the outfield wall now and again. **slide whistle down**

Well, why is that?

How many times can you see an NBA player posterize a white European? Boo-ring!! The ugly play helps to remind us, that even though We Are Witnesses, we're also witness to some choice airballs … freethrow airballs that is.



THERE IS NO GOD!!! BRON-BRON MISSED A FREE THROW!

Ahem … sorry about that.

As a Knicks fan, I know something about ugly play, just ask Zack Randolph. One night he's sinking half court rainbows with a defender in his face, and the next looks like looks like he just came from Ron Burgundy's "first in the ratings" party.



Either that's professional basketball, or I just was witness to Champ Kind literally shitting a squirrel. Whammy!

My thought, is that we mere mortals – and especially us bloggers – who dare to tread amongst these athletic demigods like reminders that they are in fact, just humans. If a guy who made $13 million for the Knicks can lose the ball and then chuck up an airball with seven seconds still on the shot clock, then dammit, why can't I?

That and maybe for once I don't have to think that my life is the only one set to a series of Benny Hill blooper reels. **slide whistle up**

Andrew

Some call it the code. Some call it the unwritten rules of baseball. I call it shit. Shit? Follow this line of logic, and you shall agree that "The Code?"

It's sports answer to Shepherds Pie.

You have a baseball player, an egotist. Let's call him Manny Ramirez. He takes a hanging slider deep off of a pitcher. Let's call him Vinnie Chulk. And Manny, being Manny, decides to take an amble down and around the bases.

And Bruce Bochy, after having to deal with the various mishagoes of having such a miserable team, decides that he's got to get his vengeance. And so you know what that means? Casey Blake pays for Manny's misdeeds in blood.

And even though the umpires decide that they are warning both dugouts. Joe Torre doesn't care. Deep down, he's old school as well. And you know what that means?

Dave Roberts has got to pay! And suddenly? It's a brawl! Blake DeWitt is going brick shithouse on Randy Messenger! Juan Pierre is going after Andruw Jones! A bench coach just hit Jonathan Broxton with a spinning piledriver! Buh Gawd it's a Pier Sixer!

The bruises may heal, the suspensions get served. But you know what? It was completely unnecessary. People had no need to punch each other. YouTube didn't need another highlight. All because the code demanded blood.

The code makes baseball like the drunk uncle that always hit people after he had too much to drink. The code is what makes the game ugly. Some may like it. But for the consensus?

It's as bad as English cooking.

Scott Sargent

On that fateful day in November of 1995, Cleveland fans were hit with the earth shattering news of Art Modell signing a deal that would relocate their beloved Browns. Lawsuits began to fly, Congress got involved, and even Steeler fans were behind this town. But it was all for naught as the 5-11 season of ’95 was our last memory of our team.

While Cleveland NFL Football LLC was formed, fans counted down the days to 1999 – the year that football would return to the city that housed the burning river. Though comprising several long years, football did in fact return to Cleveland; and the savior was none other than the quarterback from the University of Kentucky Tim Couch.

A Heisman Trophy finalist, this is the Couch that Browns fans thought that they were receiving on that fateful day called the 1999 NFL Draft:



But not so fast. Couch would take the helm of a team that was simply destined to fail. While the Baltimore Ravens were winning a Super Bowl, the new Browns were rapping up their second season that finished with a combined record of 5-27.

As one can imagine, things got a bit tenuous in Cleveland. The uber-amazing Kelly Holcomb was hot on Couch’s heals; before advancing his career as the would-be back-up of the Buffalo Bills. Amidst a quarterback controversy, Couch continued to get pummeled thanks to less-than-shoddy offensive line work. Then, during the first week of October, 2002, Couch would lay on the ground for several minutes after suffering a concussion against – who else? – the Baltimore Ravens.

While most fans would be deathly silent if their starting quarterback were lying motionless, Browns fans that filled the stadium on that day cheered as Couch was being shown the sideline. While Holcomb would lead a comeback that just fell short, the career of Tim Couch in Cleveland was summarized with the following quote:

"I've been here four years now, and laid it on the line for this team and city," he said, his eyes filled with tears. "For them to turn on me and boo me in my home stadium is a joke. It's hard to take, man."

I’m willing to post a reward for anyone that can find the actual video evidence of this interview, but it’s legacy will never die in Cleveland. And people wonder why he turned to HGH…