By David Scott
BSMW Columnist

RemDawg’s Rempire Robust
It didn’t really strike me until Wednesday night’s opening of Yawkey Way’s RemDawg’s joint, but it’s now indisputable that Remy has taken the (long-idling) torch from Johnny Most - Remy is the closest thing this town has had to Most since the gravelly-voiced one was high above The Parquet. And you can save the Gil Santos/Gino Cap email offerings – Gil doesn’t have the personality and Gino doesn’t have the skill. Mike Gorman’s good, not great, Tom Heinsohn’s awful, not bearable, and the Celtics radio team changes with the point guard. And the Bruins? I dunno, do they have a radio or TV deal? Point is, Remy is now a true, treasure in this town - officially. He is, however, reaching an intriguing point in his relationship with the Sox – at the very time he is becoming more and more tied into the team’s success the team is quite clearly underachieving on several levels. Remy has reached his strata of stardom by being open, honest and critical (more often, perhaps, when, like tonight on CBS4, he’s paired with the edgier, more inquisitive Sean McDonough). By all indications, Remy will continue to offer up his opinions and insight – that’s the analyst in him. We’ll be interested to see how the businessman in him handles the new addition to his growing Rempire. All smart Dawgs know you can’t bite the hand that signs your check. Mix other metaphors amongst yourselves and refrigerate.

Show Me the Baby – and ONLY the Baby
There was the usual point, counter-point this past week regarding the precipitous drop in NBC’s Olympic Track and Field Trials from this past weekend as compared to four years ago for the same block of programming. Scott’s Shots strongly believes that the actual numbers mean very little, there is – as with most money-related things – an underlying story here. Our guy, Yahoo! Sports national columnist, Dan Wetzel, did diligent duty in Sacramento last weekend and filed two worthwhile columns, neither of which I ever would have read had they not been penned by the Norwell native.
For those of you just joining us, Yahoo! is, depending on who you believe, in the Top 3 for sports traffic and because of that, Wetzel routinely gets somewhere around one thousand emails each time he writes (trust, us, that’s impressive). For his two Track and Field trials columns he got under five emails. Not under five hundred. Under five. “Two, tree, maybe” as they used to say in Chelsea.
People do not care about the Olympics until the Olympics are happening, and then it has to be a compelling story, or a marked upset – or both. To suggest otherwise, is to work for the sales department at NBC - right Neumie?
Not so surprisingly, the local newspapers are also guilty of shoving the Olympics down a throat that would just assume gorge itself on Patriots minutia of any sort. The Yellow Boxers are using the inside, back page for Olympian introductions and the Green Boxers have regularly been going below the fold on the Sports cover. Readership for both pages must hover near the “Mendoza Line.”
The Olympics are a corporate event where corporations try and do what corporations are supposed to do: make money. Yahoo! is head over heels into the Olympics because there are advertisers who want to sponsor their coverage. The Globe and the Herald, likewise, have to serve some corporate masters – wait for their preview packages and daily sections. If any of this is news to you, please go find Howard Ziff in the hills of Amherst and smoke a pipe with him for a few hours. Mild blend, of course. And don’t say a word. . . On a similar note: For the couple of years I called the Time-Life building home (thanks for the pencils!), I was repeatedly amazed at how treasured the SI Olympics collection is. That place is OBSESSED with the Olympics, and to some extent, they’re the ones who really showed what a gargantuan event The Games were, are and seemingly always will be. And, just how much cash is thrown around - like the billion or more spent on security alone.

Between the Lines of Pages (Internet and other)
Adrian Wojnarowski’s Eddie Robinson piece at ESPN.com, is, as with everything Adrian, well worth the visit: (http://sports.espn.go.com/ncf/columns/story?columnist=wojnarowski_adrian&id=1844689) And, yes, we will remember for the “John Chaney of college football,” Eddie Rob. Or vice versa, more likely. . .Wednesday’s Larry Tye book excerpt in the Globe was just about the most randomly-placed block of text since, well. . . When did Danny Boy write most recently? Tye must’ve really had to pull some strings with his old cronies on The Desk. Book excerpts are essentially large, free, advertisements for a product, in this case one loosely related to the section it was placed. Why? Because they’re clueless. . Oh, and if the problem is having too much space to fill, there’s a fella in Hull with some time on his hands. Hangs out at “F” Street and reclines in a chaise lounge, circa 1974. Bring some Mary Lou’s Iced Coffee and we’ll talk. . .In fact, with a couple of Stanley Steamer days on the shores of Nantasket, we got to catch up on some summer mag reading. It’s amazing how predictable some of these men’s titles have become – more on that later. !!!!!!Hot Damn! I’m using Sports Guy teases just like Simmons! What a glorious day!!!!!!. . . Last Sunday’s New York Times Magazine, in addition to offering up two thoroughly engaging Sunday puzzles on Page 56, also had the story of The DID Miss Kid, Matt Harrington. Titled “The Holdout,” and penned by “frequent contributor” Pat Jordan, the four-pager told the simple story of greed gone horribly, awfully, bad. Now with an independent league team in Texas (similar to the North Shore Spirit over at fab Fraser Field), Harrington plays for a manager named Terwilliger in a stadium called the National Dilla Villa. (Hey Charlie Pierce – you would have killed, absolutely killed, on this one.) Jordan too brought a certain panache to the tale, but we do wonder why the writer waited until the story’s last graf to mention the apparent strain the son’s sadly, joke-filled journey has put on the 22-year-old’s relationship with his father? Even so, the piece involves enough other characters and settings to be well worth the read. . .On the other end of the spectrum is the latest MAXIM offering where Anna Kournikova is recycled for yet another turn on a laddie mag cover. This one is only worth it for the steamily sexy full-page of US swimmer, Amanda Beard, who has grown up right before Scott’s Shots eyes. Now 22, we first spoke with the young breaststroker when she was 14 and as cute as could be, even carrying around a lucky teddy bear. There’s no teddy bear anymore, I assure you. The other “Action Figures” profiled in an almost-Olympic package include the sexy mountain-biker (who knew?) Niki Gudex and free dive diva, Meghan Heaney-Grier. The Queen of Bad Decisions, Marion Jones, also shows some skin and says she’s “proud of my body.” And I’m proud of my Neumie for getting a mention in royal Rudy Martzke’s Monday conglomeration in USA Today. . .That reminds us of the solid “Cover story,” our guy, Malcolm Moran offered up in Tuesday’s USAT – he featured the possible “Next LeBron,” in high school junior-to-be Greg Oden, a 7-footer who is having the audacity to talk about going to college before the NBA. Of course, Oden’s still, ah, young. Yes. Young indeed.

Rawhide
Monday night’s Sox debacle was termed “Crushing” by both Don Orsillo and Joe Castiglione within moments of the (again) surreal Boone ending. When both of your play-by-play guys choose “crushing,” you know that it’s crushing. . . Still, we believe. . . Troop’s pun last night about O’s catcher Javy Lopez writing a book called “Me and Machado” was his best in weeks and was proven thus when Stig laughed uncontrollably for a few seconds. Usually he just lets them slide out the window. . .Can’t wait for some recycled Shaughnasties with the Yanks in town. Do us a favor, Danny Boy: “Leave the writing to Ryan.” At least he looks for something new and compelling.

DNC-Friendly Sports Talk
You have just entered the Free Speech Zone of this column. Beware of the barbed wire above. “It’s the reality of the world we live in.” While we’re on the topic, all of these protestors should be able to prove they’re NOT trust fund babies before entering the fenced-in, chicken coop, inmate holding pen, Git-mo: The North End, or whatever you will call it. . . Okay, Wonkette, show me your stuff. The invite to Hull stands – we can make our own gossip over cocktails at Bridgeman’s with the long lost Wahlberg. . .With the Yankees in town, you’ll forgive our rudeness when sudden “Jeter Sucks”/ “A-Rod. . .” well, A-Rod does something too. . . Early bets for most TV time among the politicos during Sunday Night’s ESPN Sox-Yanks prime-timer are, in order: Tim Russert, Giambi Menino (the Incredible Shrinking Mayor) and Paula Zahn. (Yes, we STILL have a huge crush on Paula. One year I was on her show just before a Seder dinner and I swear she was going to have me over to play “hide the Afikomen.” Never happened, but my dream remains. (Gentile translation: “look for Easter eggs.”)

Rants and Raves
CJ Hunter is about as believable as Scott Petersen. But Hunter’s latest allegation does get back to Marion Jones’s horrible life choices. This woman needs Dr. Phil AND Oprah. . . Steve Spears, Barber to the South Shore Stars (and Scott’s Shots too), reports that the new Presidential course in Quincy is getting $85 a round. Tip him well, gents, the man deserves a nice loop at the new place. . . Ted Nugent’s first season of Nugent boot camp was so good that it merited a second season. Nothing shocks me any more. Oh, and Andy Dick has a reality show where a bunch of morons are vying to be his personal assistant. Makes you long for Webster. Or Facts of Life even. . . Alice Cooper is in town next weekend (Sunday, SUNDAY!) at the South Shore Music Circus - I expect to see all you Aliceheads there. I’ll be wearing the boa constrictor. Remember: Only women bleed. . . Looks like Scott’s Shots is going to have to treat Monsieurs Ricky Rochester (the Birthday Boy) and NECN’s Chris Collins to some petit croissants et une demi-tasse (beer and a bourbon, if Monsieur Cavanaugh taught me correctly at Peabody High). Their guy from the start, Mountain Man Lance, is on the verge of something great: more regular sex with Sheryl Crowe. And some more yellow jersey kisses from the French floozies giving shirt.

David Scott writes from a seaside shanty on the shores of Hull and can be reached at david@bostonsportsmedia.com

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