The HoG25: The 25 Best Writers of the Past 25 Years (Part II)

We're back again, and in case you're new to the House, this HoG25 thing we've been doing for the past few months has included NFL quarterbacks, American cinema, baseball hitters, readin' books, starting pitchers, television shows, and wide receivers.

And in case you missed the first chunk of this segment, you can find it here. Anyway, today's segment is the Top 10, but in this particular instance, it's not synonymous with the best 10.

Keep that in mind, and enjoy.

10: Andrew Sullivan

Old No. 7: Gay. Catholic. Conservative. HIV-positive. These seemingly incongruous labels all describe Andrew Sullivan, a British citizen who blogs almost exclusively about American politics on his must-read Daily Dish.

That "conservative" portion of Sullivan's resume is pretty nebulous, as he supports many positions that have been associated with the far left such as gay marriage and climate change regulation. He also championed the presidential candidacy of Barack Obama, preferring Obama's leadership style to the scattershot maverickiness of John McCain.

I often agree with Sullivan, yet nearly as often I'm at odds with the positions he takes. He generates a lot of heat for moving around on issues, but I see that as a sign of an open mind. I personally reevaluate my opinions on many topics all the time -- I once felt Josh McDaniels was a moron, now he's a genius. Trey Hillman, the exact opposite.

But the reason I read Sullivan is not his political slant, it's his mastery of crafting an argument in the English language. After a long career in magazines and books, Sullivan started the Dish back when no one knew what a blog was. He grinds out dozens of posts a day, and they are almost universally lucid and compelling. He gets the immediate-reaction facet of the medium, but he also has a reporter's eye for factuality and supporting data. And when he decides to break out with a long-form essay instead of a quick paragraph post, it's always worth your time.

By the way, of you're ever glancing at Sullivan's work on the Atlantic site, please take a few minutes to also check out Ta-Nehisi Coates. Simply one of the most talented up-and-coming writers around, just don't hold the fact that he's a Cowboys fan from Baltimore against him.

9: Sanyika Shakur

Cecil: Sanyika Shakur, nee Kody Scott, aka Monster, was/is a member of the Eight-Trey Gangster Crips of South Central Los Angeles. He has, to the best of my knowledge, only written two books: one a work of fiction creatively titled T.H.U.G. L.I.F.E., the other his autobiography, Monster. I have no idea if his novel is worth the time it would take to read and have no desire to find out -- but he isn't on this list because of it. Nope, he's here because Monster, a book he wrote whilst incarcerated at lovely California penal institutions San Quentin and (shudder) Pelican Bay, is an absolute literary elbow to the throat.

It's not an easy read. He describes how, as a 6th grader, he dropped out of school to become a full-time gangbanger, how he nearly stomped a man to death as a 13 year-old. How he committed murder upon murder in the name of defending a few blocks of southern Los Angeles real estate from...well, from other kids like himself. The parts that take place in prison are enough to make any wannabe suburbanite criminal put on a tie and go straight to church. But through it all, his voice resonates. Largely self-taught, Shakur writes with force and confidence, even when his subject matter makes your skin crawl; his is a perspective that journalists simply cannot achieve.

Monster is powerful, illuminating and, ultimately, tragic--even his ultimate conversion to Islam and (supposed) renunciation of gang life weren't enough to change his fate. He's currently serving time under California's Three Strikes law, for robbing an acquaintance in 2007 after he was released from prison, and will probably never be a free man again. While he may not be a worthy human being, he remains a hell of a writer.

8: Russell Banks

Bankmeister: I don’t really have much to say about Russell Banks aside from this: He may be the best working/living fiction writer in America. While he has published a ton of work, I’ll point to three works in our window. They are these: Continental Drift, Cloudsplitter, and The Darling. In our HoG books installment, I believe I said that Cormac McCarthy was, as far as fiction is concerned, the most important writer of the 20th century. It is impossible to compare the 21st, young as it is, with the one it succeeded. And it would be irrelevant to do so anyway. As far as fiction is concerned though, I put Banks high up there, close to McCarthy for what he’s doing literarily.

He has, in my opinion, the seldom-achieved ability to hit both the traditional fiction-reading market, and, for lack of better words, the wifey, book-club reading market. And that’s important. Mind you, it’s not important in terms of the market itself, the notion of being a successful publishing author, but it’s important because it means you’re doing really well at your trade.

The reason that Banks is, for now, able to achieve this is two-fold: On the one hand, he’s gifted. On the other hand, he has centered his strategy and philosophy on the notion of a stool. That’s right: a stool. The old-fashioned wobbly wooden kind. The kind that is a metaphor for his type of story. And that metaphor is this: Every good story is like an old wooden stool, standing firmly on three legs, telling, basically, one main story, and two back stories. It doesn’t matter which story you like the best. Chances are you’ll like the main story as it’ll get most of the novel’s pages. But these three stories, legs if you will, all come together at the seat, the platform, and they are bound by the most important, least visible element to any good story: theme.

I don’t include Russell in here because you’ve read him, or because you’ve heard of him, but because you will. He’s that good.

7: Bill James

Old No. 7: I said all I needed to say about James when I nominated his book for a spot in the HoG25. I think he's just the frog's pajamas, obviously. What I still can't get my head around is the idea that some so-called baseball "purists" continue to hold out against advances in sabermetrics. You usually see this in fat middle-aged baseball writers, but occasionally an everyday fan will jump on a soapbox and attempt to beat up the disciples of Bill James.

My father-in-law is a retired school principal who now does consulting work in education. A huge part of his current gig is working with schools who use data collected from standardized tests and No Child Left Behind policies. He's always harping on administrators and teachers who insist on doing things the way they did 40 years ago, with no new methods, no accountability and no path to measurable improvement.

We watched a lot of baseball and drank a lot of beer this summer, and in the course of pursuing these fine hobbies he started a rant about how no one can execute a sacrifice bunt anymore. I pointed out that a sacrifice is almost always a bad play, that it's rarely advantageous to give away your most precious commodity (one of your 27 outs) for a marginal increase in your chance to score a run. He continued on, saying that this kind of thinking was killing baseball. That we worry too much about the stats and the percentages and exploiting matchups and that the random beauty of baseball is in danger of being lost.

I wholeheartedly disagreed, and I told him as much. No amount of number-crunching can replace the sights and smells of a ballpark. When I watch Albert Pujols swing a bat or Tim Lincecum deliver a pitch or Ichiro field his position, the last thing I'm thinking about is the probability of certain outcomes. I'm in awe of their abilities and of the perfection of the game itself. Statistical analysis brings me more understanding of and appreciation for the game, not less. Aside from the Devil's bargain we're forced to make in playing fantasy sports (occasionally rooting for a player who's facing your favorite team), Rotisserie baseball also heightens my fandom. And reading the work of James, Rob Neyer, Nate Silver, Jonah Keri, Tom Tango, Joe Posnanski and others brings me to an entirely different level of connection to the sport.

That's when I brought up my father-in-law's own work in education, how he's attempting to get school districts to move into the 21st century by using data to improve the performance of students. Actively opposing sabermetrics and openly dismissing those who attempt to research the game is the exact same thing as resisting education reform. It's also akin to holding on to creationism in the face of the evidence of evolution. Resisting civil rights because they disrupt "tradition." Ignoring advances such as cell phones, DVRs, vaccines, and Internet pornography because change is frightening.

I've had a further conversation with my father-in-law about the expansion of instant replay in baseball, which he tentatively supports. The technology is there, he says, to make the game better, why not use it? He's making my point for me, you see.

I love sabermetrics, yet I don't spend my evenings poring over spreadsheets and inventing new algorithms about baserunning efficiency. I let Bill James and his progeny do that work, and then I read it and enjoy baseball more.

6: Anthony Lane

Cecil: Anthony Lane has been writing movie reviews for the New Yorker since '93, a job he shares with the easily dismissable David Denby (who is such a sap that he managed to be victimized by a Nigerian confidence scam; who wants to read a review by a guy who honestly believed that the Right Honorable David M. Ngidabala was really planning to wire him 150 million dollars once he found refuge in Switzerland?). Lane is anything but easily dismissable. Oh no. He's the critical equivalent of Bolo Leung.

You know Bolo Leung. He was the villain in Bruce Lee's "Enter the Dragon," not to mention about 50 B-level kung fu flicks, and played the indestructible badass Chong Li in "Bloodsport" alongside a pre-lame Jean-Claude Van Damme. Bolo Leung is an actor, but he is also a guy that, even at age 71, can rip your skull out from inside your face. I mean, I would rather run into any group of MS 13 members (link here) in a dark alley than have to hold a brief, friendly conversation with Bolo Leung. I may get stabbed in the one situation, but I would at least hopefully keep control of my bowels; whereas the very sight of Mr. Leung would cause my drawers to quickly fill with warm brown terror.

Anthony Lane brings that kind of heat. He's so good, so cutting, so funny and so effortlessly better than basically everyone else in the world who does his job (admittedly, I have a soft spot for Mr. Ebert) that reading him is almost intimidating. I can't make a multi-level pun that seamlessly weaves together Sunset Boulevard, Tom Waits and an orange Tastee-Freez, nor can I hold fire on my lede for five graphs without pissing off the reader, nor am I British. Anthony Lane, man, he's got it all.

5: Jay Glazer

Bankmeister: This is my crapshoot of the round, my roll of the dice. I don’t intend to dazzle you with words or include a bullet-point list of things Jay Glazer has done as a writer. Conversely, I don’t even know what they are. My point in taking Glazer is this: change.

What does that mean? It means that, back in the hallowed halls of print journalism, when you and your father and his father awoke to the newspaper in the driveway for you news, and that was really the only way of getting it, being a beat writer had a different meaning. That is, if you scooped the story, and your story made the edition, your job as a reporter, and yes, a writer, was a successful one. You’re sitting here reading the House of Georges right now, which, I’m guessing, means that you don’t take the local paper. I do. I know Old No. 7 does, and Cecil at least used to.

Truth of the matter is that you don’t come to the House of Georges for scoops and breaking news. You come here for wise-crackery, perhaps to peep a photo, or on the rarest of circumstances, maybe to learn something. And I’m here, writing this specific entry to learn you this: Jay Glazer, is the man, when it comes to getting and delivering today’s scoop, regardless of the means in which he does it. Now, maybe a lot of the scoops he gets are delivered to the masses via his Twitter page. I mean, I’m sure that folks follow him on Twitter, get his tweets, and then go to his page on FOX, which, if you click to follow and see, is full of breaking news. Maybe you don’t like that page. Maybe you want it delivered quicker, swifter, and more concisely. You can go to his scoop page, if you please.

Whatever you do, do not turn into his television program, or watch clips of it on the InterWebs. It’s terrible.

That’s okay, though. We’re not here to criticize the man for being a goofy television figure. We’re actually not even here to examine his participles, and measure his literal cadence. We’re here to acknowledge the guy for one thing: access. He is, above and beyond, the leading sportswriter with access baggage in this country, and it is he, above all, that brings us the NFL news that we so ravenously desire.

Stupid pick? Maybe you think so. I disagree, and remind you, that a significant portion of the NFL news you’ve heard was made possible by the investigative writing and reporting of no one other than Jay Glazer himself.

4: Malcolm Gladwell

Old No. 7: I have seriously struggled with this entry on Malcolm Gladwell. In fact, I've missed my deadline for submission by almost a week, and the Administrator is threatening to pull my tickets to the Broncos game at Arrowhead. Because I value nothing more than watching bad football with fat people, here it is.

My main hangup here is the widespread scorn faced by Gladwell the author. I have no doubt that much of this stems from his success -- many of the writers who go after Gladwell or his readers have published books themselves yet have sold far fewer copies. But is there something more substantive to this strain of thought, beyond mere jealousy? Am I, as someone who religiously reads Malcolm Gladwell, the victim of a hoax?

If you have the time, read this. It pretty much covers all the bases of Gladwell criticism but is thorough and fair instead of nasty. And, again if you have the time, read Gladwell. Most of his articles from The New Yorker are online, and his first couple books are available in paperback for a pittance.

Gladwell's writing makes me happy, and the more I examine this happiness I've realized that it's because it makes me feel smart. I have no idea if I am truly smarter having read what he's written, or if I've simply been duped by a master of manipulation. But at the end of the day, who cares? Good music is good music, and good food is good food, because it makes us happy.

3: John McPhee

Cecil: There are plenty of inimitable practitioners of that inimitable practice known as Literary Journalism: Tom Wolfe, Paul Theroux and Gay Talese, for instance. Even early, pre-dissolution Hunter Thompson. Excellent craftsmen, all. But for my money -- which, admittedly, is made of wood and carved in the shape of a pendulous tit -- the best among 'em is John McPhee.

Now, I know the "within the last 25 years" conceit behind these here lists of ours unfortunately disqualifies some of his best work, particularly the sprawling and spectacular Coming Into the Country, a first-person account of the Alaskan frontier circa the mid-1970s that introduced America at large to Sarah Palin's political hero, Alaskan separatist Joe Vogler, who would a few years later die in what the New York Times described as a "plastic explosives sale gone bad." (You know, as opposed to all the ones that end with beers and backslaps.) It also forces me to expunge The Deltoid Pumpkin Seed (experimental aeronautics), A Sense of Where You Are (basketball, Bill Bradley) and Oranges (oranges) from my case, here. But it's a measure of McPhee's greatness that, even leaving aside such efforts, he's still a lock for this list.

Try on Assembling California, for instance, one of his many books dealing with the practical and human impact of geology, or The Founding Fish, an historical look at the importance of shad to early Americans. Peruse "In Search of Marvin Gardens," originally published as a long-form piece for the New Yorker, a brilliant piece of writing that I'm simply not qualified to describe in anything other than the most basic terms: it's about both the game of Monopoly and the game's actual, physical representations in Atlantic City, New Jersey.

McPhee is not a showman like Thompson or a personality like Wolfe. He's not flashy, he doesn't become the story, his subjects are rarely the raw material of history. What he is, though, is the greatest living nonfiction writer in America.

2: Joe Posnanski

Bankmeister: Most any angle I take writing about the writer that Joe Posnanski is will fail in some sense. So take what you are about to read with a grain of salt. Joe Posnanski is the best working writer in America. I’ve had the luxury of reading him for over a decade, and his work has educated me, inspired me, and humbled me on every occasion in which I have encountered it. Posnanski has been a large reason why I was drawn back into baseball. He’s refueled my tank on many needed occasions when my hope for success with the Kansas City Royals has coasted on less than fumes.

He has immersed himself with personalities like Priest Holmes, George Brett, and the late Buck O’Neill, and done so in a fashion that leaves me with but one word: perfect.



He has embraced, or so it would seem the technologies of the modern writing world, and taken to Tweeting and blogging. He has continued to write about the sports nature of his native city of Cleveland, while living in Kansas City, which I admire. He has covered the Olympics, graciously accepted a well-deserved position as a senior writer with Sports Illustrated, while vowing to still write occasionally for The Kansas City Star, which I also admire.

He has won countless awards for his craft, and through it all, he has remained, or so it would seem to an outsider, a heck of a human being, father, and husband. He, as a figure, is my lone duplicate from our books entry, and I have zero shame in admitting that. Posnanski has, for whatever morsel it might be worth, has existed as a modicum of aspiration in this sense:

When a young person says they want to be a doctor, a lawyer, an athlete, a cop, a teacher, what have you, the formula for achievement is tangible. It’s laid out, drawn up, and gridded like a map. When someone says, however, I want to be a writer, the next piece of conversation is either non-verbal, like a shrug, or silent, like a still prairie night. As if the listener doesn’t have the heart to say, “I’m sorry to hear you say that. Good luck.” Joe Posnanski and his career are the qualifier that eliminate awkwardness from that conversation, for the speaker can simply point to his body of work and say, “Like that.”

1: Michael Lewis

Old No. 7: I get really bummed out every time I see the trailer for "The Blind Side." It's based on the book of the same name by Michael Lewis, but apparently the folks that made the movie decided to target it to my wife. Sure enough, when she saw the trailer she got a little teary-eyed and said she wanted to see it, because she loves Sandra Bullock movies where everyone speaks in cliches.

Problem is, The Blind Side is not really about Leigh Anne Tuohy, the real-life person played by Bullock. And it's not really even about Michael Oher, the first-round draft pick of the Baltimore Ravens, although he serves as the book's center of gravity. Fundamentally, The Blind Side is about the evolution of the left tackle position in football -- how the quarterback became the sport's most important player, which then made the guy who rushes the quarterback the next desired commodity, which then made the guy who protects the quarterback...you get the idea.

Lewis is at his best in breaking down complex subjects -- pass protection schemes, MLB scouting, software development, financial derivatives -- and allowing his readers to engage with the people that inhabit those worlds. I guess that's how Hollywood was able to build a movie around Leigh Anne Tuohy. Even though she was a secondary player in Lewis' book, she was fully developed and fed the underlying narrative.

One of these days Joe Morgan is going to accidentally read a Michael Lewis book or magazine article and thoroughly enjoy it. And all levels of ironicality will have to be recalibrated.

There you go, faithful readers. Another one down. If you must the first installment of this piece, find it here.
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The HoG25: The 25 Best Receivers of the Past 25 Years (Part Two)

There's been a theme with this feature we've dubbed The HoG25: arguing. We may hit on it a touch in each introductory paragraph, but it's necessitated. We've bickered over categories, how we'll select them, the selections we've made, how we'll rank the selections, and that's only scratching the surface. It's no skin off our backs, though. We're here to deliver what you want to read. One of these days, we'll get around to that, too. Promise. So far in this series we've covered NFL quarterbacks, American cinema, baseball hitters, readin' books, starting pitchers, television shows, and as recent as yesterday, we brought you part one of the best receivers. We know you've been waiting for the Top 10, so get past the jump and devour.

10: Michael Irvin

Old No. 7: As much as everyone despises the Cowboys, particularly the How-Bout-Them versions that won three titles under Jimmy Johnson and Barry Switzer, you've got to give it up for The Playmaker. Rarely in the anals of the sport has a receiver been as great as Irvin when the games meant the most.

In three Super Bowls, Irvin grabbed 16 catches for 256 yards and a pair of scores. Sure, most of those were against the Bills, but still. He Made Plays. If memory serves, he did the same in numerous playoff games, but the Internets like to hide easy access to playoff receiving statistics for some reason. Online, I can find everything about every baseball game ever played, right down to what inning Babe Ruth took his bowel movement. But I can't get a box score for the 1993 NFC Championship without jumping through nine hoops. This is bullshit.

Also, Irvin was a big fan of the cocaine and the prostitutes. And fur coats. Good for him, I like a world where big-time Dallas Cowboy celebrities can get really high and really laid whenever they feel like it. And stay warm. It just feels right, you know?

9: Rod Smith

Cecil: I remember two things in particular about the beginning of Rod Smith's career: the first catch, for a touchdown and the win against the Washington Redskins, and something that an old Vance Johnson said back in Smith's rookie season. I don't recall the exact quote, but it was along the lines of, hey, this team's going to be all right at the receiver position, this undrafted kid can really play. I dunno why that stuck with me, but it did--maybe we all should spend more time listening to Vance Johnson, because that motorcycle crashin' deadbeat knew of what he spoke.

Smith is easily the best receiver in Denver Bronco history. no small feat when you consider the Lionel Taylor, the Haven Moses, the Ed McCaffrey, the Steve Watson and, yes, the Vance Johnson. He owns the team records for career touchdowns, receptions and yards gained. He's the all-time NFL leader for yardage by an undrafted player. He has two Super Bowl titles and could easily have been voted MVP of the second, were it not for the inevitability of Elway. He even returned punts when called upon to do so in emergencies, and scored a few touchdowns in the process. He was the best blocking wideout in the game for most of his career, and I'll stand on Hines Ward's coffee table in my Chuck Taylors and say that.

But Smith's importance to this franchise is not so easily quantifiable. It's past on-field exploits; he's one of the lifers. He's made his home here, he stays involved with the team. He defends them to the dipshit Jamie Dukes of the world in typically hilarious, gravel-throated fashion. He's also reportedly back to mentoring Brandon Marshall, and finally listening to Rod would be the best decision that kid ever made. I can say without reservation that, after a lifetime of Bronco fandom, Rod Smith is my all-time favorite player. Beyond Gradishar, beyond Meck', beyond Dennis Smith, beyond even #7.

The fact that Rod Smith hasn't ever left the Broncos, even in retirement, gives me the kind of warm fuzzy that little kids get from sleeping in the back seat on long drives. As long as he's around, everything's going to be OK.

8: Isaac Bruce

Old No. 7: He's a sneaky one, this Bruce. Bill Parcells would call him a "Jap" player, a surprise thing, no offense to anyone. None taken, Bill! Isaac Bruce tends to creep up on you like that, lie in the weeds, and then BAM! He's putting up massive numbers and headed to Canton.

But wait a minute, you say. Isaac Bruce, in the Hall of Fame? That's crazy talk. Sure, he's a nice player, but can you really put him up there with the legends?

Uh, yes you can, but I understand the skepticism. Like I said before, we live in crazy times. The explosion in passing offense in the last 15 years has shredded the record books and made receiving totals from any time before the Clinton Administration look puny. Hines Ward and Muhsin Muhammad, two guys that did not make our list of 25, have stats that dwarf those of dozens of Hall of Fame players.

Bruce, though, stands out. He's been at it forever -- he went to school at Memphis State and was drafted by the Los Angeles Rams. Neither one of those institutions exist anymore. Though 16 NFL seasons he's amassed over 15,000 yards (one of only five to do so), 80 TDs and 1,000 catches (one of only two to do so). He's had eight 1,000-yard receiving seasons.

But still, you say, Torry Holt and Marshall Faulk were the straws that stirred the drink on those Rams teams known as The Greatest Show On Turf. How can a third-fiddle go down as one of the greats? It's a valid point, but let's look at Holt in particular. He was the Rams' No. 1 receiving option almost immediately after being taken in the first round in 1999. And his numbers are indeed spectacular. But Holt has still not caught up to what Bruce has done, and Holt is finished. Seriously, have you seen him lately? Cooked. Meanwhile, Bruce keeps chugging along, five years his senior, with a better body of work. Sometimes, these things just sneak up on you.

6: Steve Largent

Bankmeister: The 1975 Houston Oilers went 10-4, which was probably a bummer for Bum Phillips: it only got his club a third-place finish. In the 1976 draft, the Oilers took a kid named Steve Largent out of Tulsa with the 117th overall pick in the draft. After four preseason games, the brass was ready to cut the wide out, but instead traded him to the expansion Seattle Seahawks (Editor’s Note: Old school AFC West! Weird.) The Oilers went 5-9 that season, while the Seahawks won a mere two contests. Largent, however, dropped 705 receiving yards as a rookie, en route to seven Pro Bowls, eight 1000-yard seasons, 100 career touchdowns, and over 13-grand in career yardage.

He makes the Top 20 in career receptions, yardage, and touchdowns, and for 14 years, he gave Seahawks fans something to cheer about, which, by my tally, is much better than Jerramy Stevens. No, I mean Curt Warner was fine and dandy. Dave Krieg was clearly HoG25-worthy, but it was Largent that made that offense dangerous. In fact, at the time of his retirement, he was number one in each of the aforementioned categories, which was 1989, before the kids put on their Zips and started mainlining their Wheaties.

Steve Largent was a stud for an often surprisingly troublesome squad to face, so much so that the organization found his performance worthy enough to name an award after him: The Steve Largent Award. Fun facts include: Steve Largent was the first recipient of the Steve Largent Award; Steve Largent’s number 80 is retired in both Seattle and at Tulsa, save for a quick run of Jerry Riceness in Seattle, when Largent allowed it to become unretired so’s that Jerry could wear it; and after football, Largent became a Congressman, and once ran for governor. Steve Largent: Hall of Famer, politician, humanitarian, and qualified to win the Steve Largent Award.

5: Marvin Harrison

Old No. 7: As Exhibit A for my case on why judging athletes based on perceived character is folly, I offer you Marvin Harrison. Don't get me wrong, I too would rather root for good guys than creeps. I'd rather have upstanding citizens on my team's roster than thugs. And it makes it much easier to root against your rivals if their players are slimebags. I play the character game just like everybody else, but I try to spend the bare minimum of time on my moral high horse, because of guys like Murderous Marvin.

Admit it, you loved Marvin. Whether or not you liked the Colts (due to the fact that they knocked the Broncos out of the playoffs something like thirteen years staright, I did not), you had all the respect in the world for Marvin Harrison. At a position full of selfish showboats, Marvin was for a time the greatest receiver on the planet and did nothing -- absolutely nothing -- to draw further attention to himself. He worked his ass off, dominated opposing secondaries every single week, and after every play, every score, he merely flipped the ball to an official and went back to work. No gaudy celebrations, not for huge touchdowns or routine first downs or for any play. He did his job with incomparable skill and zero lip.

Harrison's 1102 receptions are second only to the total posted by Jerry Rice. His 128 receiving TDs are fifth all-time, and his 14,580 yards rank fourth. Had he played this season, it's likely that he could have captured the 2-spot in yards as well, but Marvin is done with football. Although he's reportedly healthy and could almost certainly contribute to a team, Marvin can't get a job. Because Marvin Harrison almost certainly shot a man in cold blood last April 29.

None of us knew anything about what Marvin did in the offseason, because he didn't give interviews or do commercials or get into trouble or have his own reality show. Marvin owned a bar in his hometown of Philly, and it seems that outside of playing a legendary level of professional football all Marvin wanted to do was run his bar. And last April 29, something happened that resulted in a dude getting gunned down with Marvin Harrison's pistol. This is a rough part of town, a neighborhood where witnesses to these sorts of things aren't very forthcoming with cops. But it looks like Marvin, instead of being the kind of guy we thought he was, is actually the kind of guy who'll smoke a fool that crosses him.

And that's why Marvin Harrison is blackballed from the league he spent 13 years in, doing things only a handful of men ever have. Goes to show you that we don't know these guys, even if we think we do.

4: Terrell Owens

Old No. 7: I'm going to keep this short and sweet, because you don't want to read any more about this douchebag, and I don't want to write any more about him.

Terrell Owens has scored 142 touchdowns in his career. In the entire time that NFL football has occurred on gridirons across America, only three men have visited the end zone more: Jerry Rice (208), Emmitt Smith (175) and Marcus Allen (145). As unlikeable as TO is, as many teams as he's killed, as many QBs as he's thrown under the proverbial bus, you can't take that number away. The point of playing offense is to get the ball downfield and score, and TO has done that with more regularity than just about anyone ever.

Luckily, he's just about at the end of the line and soon enough he will go away. If you drafted TO on your fantasy team allow me to offer my HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. And with that, I'm going to hit the showers and wash the TO filth from my body and mind.

3: Cris Carter

Bankmeister: I used to hate Cris Carter. I used to think the Minnesota Vikings were a sorry excuse for a football team that had a pair of ass clowns named Randy Moss and Cris Carter that would catch footballs thrown from Rich Gannon, Wade Wilson, Warren Moon, Brad Johnson, and Daunte Culpepper, and Randall Cunningham, and Sean flippin’ Salisbury. Oh, and Jim McMahon. I know they had some good teams in the ‘90s, and even near the turn of the century, but they always seemed like a worthless bunch of hooligans that could never quite compile a complete roster.

It was only when Carter’s career was dwindling down did I begin to develop an appreciation for what the man had accomplished all those many years up in the Hugh. The man played a really impressive career for an off-and-on decent club. He makes the top 10 in all of the important lists, and he did go to eight straight Pro Bowls. Ultimately, you kind of have to feel sorry for the guy in the same way one might sympathize with Marty Schottenheimer. That is, he has a mountain of impressive stats, kept his nose clean, and now does a pretty good job behind a desk. But, in 14 playoff games, a 4-10 record can’t be fun.

I can only imagine what it’s like to string together such a remarkable career and never taste true post-season success. Carter started off with six straight playoff losses, then lost a playoff game after earning a previous-win round in the four other seasons in which his team qualified. I guess the jewelry just wasn’t meant to come Carter’s way, but his feats as a pass catcher still land him on this list in convincing fashion. Great hands. Great numbers. And great eyebrows.

2: Randy Moss

Cecil: Randy Moss is probably the most physically gifted professional football player of my lifetime.

The phrase "he's an athletic freak" has been overused to the point of meaninglessness, having been applied in recent years to third-tier nobodies like Adam Archuleta and Kevin Kasper, but there's simply no other appropriate descriptor for Randay. When he came out of college he was clocking 40 times in the 4.3/4.4 range. At 6'4". He could outleap literally every defender in the league. His body control, at a full sprint, was (and is, still) simply boggling. No one in my memory -- or possibly in league history -- has been better at adjusting to the ball in the air. He had the agility of a Santana Moss and the size of Herman Moore. Defensive coordinators didn't know how to deal with him because they had simply never seen anyone like him before, ever. He might as well have been a creature from another dimension, just without the thousand eyes and

Sure, he's had an attitude. Sure, he only plays when he wants to play -- ask the trogs out in Oakland, but don't go heavy on the syllables. Sure, he ran into a meter maid with his car and dragged her down a street. No one said he's the guy you want watching your house while you're out of town. he's the guy you want as your QB's outlet, the game-changer capable, at any moment, of completely re-arranging the scheme of an opposing defense.

Plus, he's a big bass fisherman. And he admits to toking up, even if it's only once in a blue moon. Guy's solid in my book.

Bankmeister: And if you didn't see this one coming...

1: Jerry Rice

If you’re a sports fan and you’ve been following this series, you know that debates about sports are oftentimes arguable. As we’ve said in our intros in earlier installments of this little project, the Iron Triangle of the House of Georges likes to argue. A lot. By the time this feature is finally put to bed, we’ll have examined 300 items. We’ll have made fun of one another for selecting certain items. We’ll have scoffed at statements made in defense of our selections, and we’ll have bickered about the orders in which we’ve ranked these things. It’s possible that all of that is true for 299 items. Gerardo Arroz is the lone exception.

If one can make a convincing stance for why Mr. Rice is not the greatest receiver of all time, this is your chance for doing so. Let’s run through the numbers real quick, though: One thousand five hundred forty-nine catches (1st); 22,895 receiving yards (1st); and 197 receiving touchdowns (1st). Those are all career numbers of course, and there are a few single-season ones to throw out as well, i.e. his 1995 campaign wherein he caught for 1,848 yards. There’s also the 13 Pro Bowls, the 33 catches/589 yards/eight touchdowns/one MVP that he managed in four Super Bowls. So go ahead: argue.

It has become somewhat widely accepted that next year, when Rice becomes eligible for enshrinement in Canton, his induction into the Hall of Fame will be certain, carrying zero speculation. He was inducted to the NCAA Football Hall of Fame in 2006, but his professional accomplishments and records are so impressive, that I will even link to a Wikipedia page for emphasis.

Don't know about y'all, but we're exhausted. Hope you enjoyed.
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