SIAFA LEWIS: NOW, THE COOLEST MAN IN CLOTHING.

                                  He's the only man who can make a pink scarf look manly.

                      When he tucks a handkerchief in his breast pocket it says, "thank you."

                       As he walks into his closet, his wardrobe screams, "we are not worthy!"

                          He's been blessed with so many talents, there is a sign on his back
                                                    that reads, "Standing room only."

                                His picture in the dictionary falls under "Jack of All Trades".
                            However, Webster's has updated it to read: "master of them all."

                        Siafa Lewis is not the most interesting man in the world, but he was
                               the most versatile and fascinating one in local television.

 

 

         But life happens and things change. Lewis was laid off from his job with NBC nearly
         10 months ago. He has a beautiful wife and two gorgeous kids, payments to make,  

         and suddenly, he's out of a job. That's just life in television where people come and our
         let go as if  they are just meat on the hoof, like NFL players. Executives are ruthless,
         co-workers even harsher. It's a dog-eat-dog world and Lewis knew that going in.

 

         As of Wednesday, Lewis is out of that world, and perhaps, for good. He landed a job

         with ISAIA, a high-end clothing company. This is a match made in heaven, a better than

         perfect fit. A clothing horse selling the type of clothes that intoxicates him. This, of course,

         means that Lewis will no longer be spending 23 and-a-half hours of the day on Facebook

         giving us him opinions about the Phillies, Eagles, and Obama.
        

 

         Lewis will be like a kid in a candy store at ISAIA. I just hope that Lewis, as an
         account executive, realizes his job is to sell the clothing instead of perusing it and
         taking advantage of his 50 percent discount to purchase half the inventory.

        

         If you're a friend of Siafa, you can't help but feel a sense of joy for him. He is a great
         man,  husband, and father. He is very real. I'm extremely happy that he has found a
         career that he can be just as passionate about as his last one. What doesn't kill you,
         makes you stronger, right Siafa?

         And remember, you can't spell ISAIA without Siafa. Best of luck, buddy.

         You are the man!

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FOOD FOR THOUGHT....

If Sergio Garcia got 'distracted' in The Players Championship by a little noise from Tiger's
entourages 50-yards away,  I can't wait to see how he reacts in the U.S. Open outside of
Philadelphia next month. The whining Spaniard won't get any brotherly love in that area, especially after making the 'fried chicken' joke about Tiger on Tuesday.

After watching Phil Jackson grab a lot of headlines this week, I'm starting to believe in that whole,  six degrees of separation thing. When the Zen Master was with the Lakers, he coached Lamar
Odom who is married to Khloe Kardashian, who is the sister of Kim, the biggest attention seeking
Kardashian on the planet.

Jackson is showing that he's addicted to the spotlight, too. He was all over the media-sphere
pimping his new book and creating drama that put the spotlight squarely on him. In the span of
three days, Jackson said Michael Jordan was better than Kobe (shocker), the Nets made him the
best offer to be their head coach, and if Seattle wrestled the Kings away from Sacramento, he
was going to be their head coach, too. Phil, you're a great coach, but make up your mind or better
yet, just go away. He's not only morphing into a Kardashian, but the Brett Favre of coaches, too.

Speaking of celebrities addicted to attention, Jose Canseco, the disgraced steroid slugger who
will never go away, is being investigated for sexual assault in Vegas. Of course, Canseco used
the twitter-sphere to proclaim his innocence. I'm sure he'll be on a reality show with Jodie
Arias in the near future.

Why  can't all athletes be like Kevin Durant of the Oklahoma City Thunder. After seeing Moore,
Oklahoma decimated by a tornado, the NBA All-Star donated $1 million to the relief effort. Durant
is one athlete who really gets it, realizing the impact he can make by just being nice. Most of the
players make more than they can ever spend, and helping out those in desperate need of it, is
a great gesture.

Dwight Howard doesn't get it. The Lakers soon-to-be free-agent could be the biggest diva in
sports. The guy whines and complains twice as much as Sergio Garcia and throws more people
under the bus than Brad Steinke, the award-winning coward from Fox Sports Arizona. This week
word somehow got out that Howard said he felt "marginalized" by Lakers coach Mike D'Antoni.
Marginalized? I'm not sure Howard even knows what "marginalized" means.

The New York media reported that Mark Sanchez had three interceptions in practice this week.
In the words of Allen Iverson, "We're talking about practice, man. Not a game, but practice."
Since when did anybody care about a quarterback throwing picks in May.  And in the case of
Jets maligned quarterback, that's an improvement. Sanchez was responsible for more than 50
turnovers in the last two years.

On his radio show Tuesday, Dan Patrick interviewed Michelle Beadle on her perceived
"rivalry" with Erin Andrews? Really? Isn't the spat between Tiger and Sergio in the sand box
enough for the sports world to handle?

RGIII made his wedding registry open to the public and his fans actually sent him gifts, which
has to be a first. What do you think I should send him? Flak-jacket? Knee braces? How bout a recording that tells coach Mike Shanahan, "No way am I going back into the game with my
knee shredded up like spaghetti."

I'm wondering what Tim Tebow is doing right about now.

Still hard to believe the billion-dollar cash cow that is ESPN is going to be laying off up to
400 workers and Stephen A. Smith and Skip Bayless won't be among those who will get the
pick slip.

Is it me or has Albert Pujols aged about 10 years in the last two? He looks older, slower, and
hardly the "machine" that saw him put up video-type numbers in his first 10 years in the league
with the Cardinals. Give management with St. Louis credit for not locking up Pujols to a long-
term deal north of $250 million. The Angels are still on the hook with Pujols for 8 years and
$180 million. When it's all said and done, the worst contract in baseball history could belong
to Pujols, not A-Rod.

Terrell Owens has been quiet for an awful long time. I'm sure he'll back in the news soon
with something stupid and outrageous. Perhaps, he's going to hook up with Stephen A. Smith
for a new show on ESPN.

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SERGIO GARCIA PLAYS THE 'FRIED CHICKEN' CARD

If you taunt, chide, and try to be funny at someone else's expense long enough, something
is bound to blow up in your face.

On Tuesday night, Sergio Garcia, who seemed to be enjoying throwing darts at Tiger Woods
as if he was representing everyone who hated the best golfer on the planet, ignited the TNT
that's finally wiped the smirk off his face.

At a golf dinner in Europe, Garcia, who has no major victories in his illustrious career, was
asked in jest if he was going to be inviting Tiger over for dinner during the U.S. Open. Garcia,
who often whines like the petulant 5-year old child at the toy story who didn't get the stuffed
giraffe, fired off words that he'd like to have back:

"We'll have him round every night,'' Garcia said, according to multiple media reports. "We will
serve fried chicken.''

Oh, no he didn't. Unfortunately, for him, yes, he did. Sergio Garcia played the 'fried chicken'
card. I don't have to tell anybody what using fried chicken in the same sentence with a person
of color means, but it's racist.

After the second round of the Masters in 1997, which Tiger Woods won in historic fashion, Fuzzy
Zoeller used fried chicken in the same sentence as Woods and it cost him dearly.

"He's doing quite well, pretty impressive. That little boy is driving well and he's putting well.
 He's doing everything it takes to win. So, you know what you guys do when he gets in here?
You pat him on the back and say congratulations and enjoy it and tell him not to serve fried chicken next year. Got it."

Zoeller, one of the most popular players on the tour, never recovered. His sponsors dropped
him like he was hot, and Zoeller pretty much dropped off the map. He was toast.

Up until Tuesday night, Garcia seemed to be relishing his role as Tiger's adversary and "standing
up" to him. During the controversy at The Players Championship two weeks ago, Garcia said
Tiger "wasn't the nice guy on tour" and also wasn't "true to himself." Never mind that Garcia
was his same old self, whining and complaining that he was distracted during a shot by the commotion Tiger's entourage created. Garcia put all the blame on Tiger being Tiger.

For a guy who has no major titles on his resume because he chokes when the pressure gets too
hot, this was almost comical. I realize the media has made Garcia out to be a player who has
seven major titles under his belt, but in the grand scheme of golf, he has done nothing. He was
trying to pull Tiger, who has 14 majors and 78 victories to his credit, down in his sand box.

To his credit, Tiger never really took the bait. Oh, sure, he called Garcia what he is, a complainer,
but he didn't abuse Garcia's major-less career like he could've have. Tiger just went on to win
The Players Championship, thanks in large part to Garcia, who evaporated in the heat like a
snowball in the desert.

Despite another major choke job, Garcia kept coming at Tiger, saying on Monday that Tiger
told the truth for the first time in 15 years when he called Garcia a whiner.

Tuesday, Garcia passed the point of no return with the 'fried chicken' comment. Oh, he apologized
through a press release, but the damage has been done. It's too late. By Wednesday at noon, this
will dominate talk radio and the twitter-sphere. Garcia is going to get destroyed in the court of
public opinion. It's one thing to be a complainer, it's quite another to be perceived, even in the
slightest of ways, of being a racist.

Will Garcia recover? Well, he's young, so time is on his side. However, if he comes unglued
when the pressure's on during a round of golf, it'll be interesting to see if Sergio comes completely
undone by the heat and hatred he will feel by the rest of the world for making the fried chicken
comment.

Garcia chided Tiger for being untruthful. It'll be interesting to see how Sergio acts now that the
truth about him has finally come out.

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ESPN: TOP 5 PEOPLE THEY SHOULD LAY OFF

ESPN is the cash cow of the Disney family of networks. It generates revenue of more than
a billion dollars annually and is the only sports network of the 287 of them on the air, that
people watch or even care about. Oh, you love the NHL network? That's good. Count
yourself as one of the ten people who watch it or even know where to find it in the galaxy
of 1000 channels.

But there is trouble is Bristol. Disney is forcing the World Wide Leader to cut up to 400 workers
and pronto. Don't expect to see any of the 2.7 million sports anchors and analysts that you see everyday, walk the plank. The cuts will come from the production unit and probably the crew
from the award-winning ESPN Deportes channel. If ESPN were to cut on-air  "talent", here are
the Top 5 personalities and analysts who should get the pink slip.

5. TIM HASSELBACK (NFL analyst). Let's face it, the only reason this guy has a spot on
the ESPN team is because his wife is Elizabeth Hasselback, who has been carrying him on her
back since starring on "Survivor" which she turned into a coveted role on "The View" despite
having no  television experience. Tim was a very good player at Boston College, but he was
nothing more than a clipboard holder in the NFL. Oh, right, I respect his opinion when he
points out what Tom Brady and Peyton Manning are doing wrong. That's like me trying to
criticize Mark Zuckerberg just because I know how to use Facebook.

4. JAMELLE HILL (First Take/Sideline reporter/Guest panelist) She is the lighter and female
version of  Stephen A. Smith. Like Smith, she gained attention either ripping athletes or playing
the race card. Brings nothing to the table. Nothing.

3. CHRIS BROUSSARD. (NBA analyst) This would be a good time to give this blowhard the
boot. Several weeks ago, he was asked how NBA players were reacting to the coming out party
of Jason Collins. Broussard turned it into his personal platform and tried horribly to bring his
personal beliefs, the Bible, and how homosexuality is a grave sin, into the picture. Let's see, Rob Parker got canned for calling RGIII a "cornball brother" and Broussard is unscathed despite
telling everybody the Bible thinks homosexuality is a sin. He's just another pinhead writer who
got addicted to the limelight and attention that ESPN brought him. Broussard also tweets more
than any human alive.

2. SKIP BAYLESS (World-Wide Blowhard #2). Bayless criticizes every athlete, dead or alive.
He'd probably find something bad to say about Jim Thorpe, too. It'd be one thing if Bayless was
a former professional athlete, but he's just a wannabe. Loved the fact that Jalen Rose called him
out and chided Bayless for averaging 1.4 points a season as a junior varsity basketball player.
I'm sure Bayless requires security when he heads for the parking lot. Many athletes would kill
for the chance to kill him in a back alley somewhere.

1. STEPHEN A. SMITH. (World-Wide Blowhard #1) I'm not exactly going out on a limb
here. Pretty much every sports fans in the country hates this guy. He is everything wrong about
sports television today. You don't have to be right, have credibility or talent. Just yell, scream,
and  create a controversy like Screamin' A and you can work for ESPN, too. ESPN fired him
once already. They should write and produce the sequel but never let him set foot on the Bristol
campus again.

With all that money saved, perhaps ESPN can finally find a spot for AJ Clemente. It's always
been his dream to go from Bismarck to Bristol.

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BROOKLYN 13.1: IT WAS ALL ABOUT THE JOURNEY

When I set my alarm clock on Friday night, I was kind of hoping the battery on the cellphone
would die or malfunction before 3:45am around. I was emotionally spent after marking the fifth
anniversary of my father's death and covering an adrenaline-filled story for a local television
station. I didn't know where the energy to run the Brooklyn Half-Marathon was going to come
from.

3:45am arrived and my phone went off like a 5-alarm fire. Man, that was painful. I rolled out
of  bed with my running shorts already on. I didn't care. Anything to save time. I smelled like a
pair of socks that hadn't felt liquid Tide in two weeks, but I had no interest in taking a shower,
after all, I was going to run 13.1 miles, not trying to find a date for that night. A generous
stick of Old Spice and Crest would take care of that, anyway.

I looked in the mirror and saw something staring back at me that looked like it got hit upside
the head with a shovel. It wasn't pretty. Father Time caught me and is kicking my ass. I went downstairs, stuffed my face with the leftover pasta I chowed on the night before. Had to do
that carbo-loading thing. Still half-asleep, I wolfed down two bananas, a cold hamburger from
the fridge, and a pear. There's nothing scientific about my race day diet. I eat pretty much the
first thing I see. I stopped at a McDonald's drive-thru on the way to the race and stuffed
three pancakes (more carbs) and a piece of sausage down my throat like it was my last meal.

As I was making the 1.5 hour drive to Brooklyn at 4:30am, I said to myself, "What the hell are
you doing? You're 48 years old and going to run 13 miles in Brooklyn, New York. There's
nobody on the road and you're eating dry pancakes from McDonald's!"

I got down to lower Manhattan where I planned to park and then take the subway to Brooklyn
for the race. As I was looking for a spot, I passed a nightclub at 5:15am. A throng of 20-something partiers were coming out of night club. Boy, did I feel old. I'd much rather be in bed at this time
and these kids are just going home. I'm going to run a half-marathon, and they're going to get
laid. What's wrong with this picture?

I parked and made my way to the nearest subway station and quickly discovered I was heading
in the right direction. The platform was filled with people looking exactly like me. Jogging shoes,
shorts, IPod, Bib number already attached to shirt, and bottles of water in hand. It's 5:30am and
I was in great company with people who, like me, wanted to punish their bodies as the sun was
coming up. I didn't feel badly. I actually felt energized.

We all walked out of the subway an exited near the Brooklyn Museum. I had never seen so
many joggers in my life. It felt like the United Nations with Nike's on. Black, white, Asian,
Muslims, there was even two guys dressed up like Jake and Elwood who sported British accents.
This had all the makings of a great experience, and it was.

Nearly 20,000 people entered the race and took off around 7am. The Ethiopians were long gone
and out of sight by the time the mere mortals and weekend warriors crossed the starting line. I
cranked up my IPod and opened up the race to Jay-Z's, "Empire State of Mind". I found it
fitting because he's from Brooklyn and rapped about many of the places we'd be running through. It was easy to feed off the song and the energy of New York City. There is no place
like it.

The people's whose idea of exercise is watching people run, lined the streets to gaze at everybody
going by, perhaps laughing at all of us who chose to endure nearly two hours of pain on a Saturday
morning. I love people watching, and I got as much out of viewing the characters of New York
City as they got out of checking out 20,000 runners barreling through their neighborhoods while
sweating and writhing in pain. It'll take me a while to get the sight of an overweight,  frosty-
white man in nothing but a red, white, and blue speedo that was two sizes too small, out of my
mind. Right, it's NYC, what else did I expect.

My only goal on this day was to finish without injuring myself. I strained a calf muscle just
three weeks before the race and I was apprehensive every time my left foot landed and hit the
pavement. But I ran the first three miles of the race with a canyon-sized grin on my face. This
was fun and exhilarating. I took in the atmosphere, the faces, and all the charm of Brooklyn.
I can only imagine how great things were when it had the Dodgers and Ebbets Field.

After meandering our way through New York City's largest borough, we came down a highway
ramp that led to the final four miles of the race. It was nothing but a flat, straightaway, leading
to Coney Island and the finish line. This was my third half-marathon since March 24th, so my
body was accustomed to the pain and punishment that goes with a 13.1 mile race. I was hoping
for a 1:48 finish, which would have been a personal record. When I reached the boardwalk at
Coney Island, I checked my watch and saw that wasn't going to happen. But I didn't care. This
run was all about the journey. The 3:45am, the drive to NYC, the subway ride, and the 13.1
jaunt through Brooklyn. It was a great experience. Running in the Big Apple is simply awesome.

I crossed the line in the amusement park at 1:53:04, which came out to be 8:38 per mile. Out of
21, 378 runners, I was the 7, 908th to cross the line. Finishing 7,908 never felt so good. I saw
some of the pictures taken of me on-line early Sunday night, and I, well, I didn't look so good.
The pain on my face said I was laboring with quintuplets. Nobody ever looks good with pain
on their face.

Inside though, I felt great. It wasn't about the ending, but rather the journey, and it was awesome.

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MARIO WILLIAMS AND HIS WICKED EX-FIANCE

Several years ago, I let my ex-fiancé keep the engagement I gave her. I called off the wedding
and knew the pain I caused her because of it. I didn't even ask for the ring back. It was had a nice diamond, but I can  tell you this, it didn't cost me $785,000!

Mario Williams, who received a $100 million contract when he signed with the Buffalo Bills
nearly two years ago, slapped a monster diamond on the finger of his then girlfriend, Erin
Marzouka. soon after. That diamond cost his bank account nearly 800K, but his emotional
savings is and reputation are taking a much greater hit.

Williams is suing his now, ex-fiancé,to get the ring back. She's not about to give it up. I'm figuring
she's figuring that a rock like the one she has could turn into a pretty significant nest egg for her.
It's not everyday, someone puts something worth $785,000 in your hand, or um, on your finger.
The decent and right thing to do, would be to give the ring back. I realize Williams sent texts
stating Marouka could keep it, but he wasn't in the best of mental states, even Marzouka, admitted that, and worse yet, has told the entire world about.

She saved the text messages sent by Williams, and of course, her lawyer is using them as
ammunition in the case to keep her ring. On Saturday, it was revealed that Williams was battling bouts of  depression over their break-up, which occurred during his first season with the Bills.

In one exchange, Williams texted her: "No money in the world should leave me with suicidal thoughts." This isn't dirty laundry, it's just a nasty thing to do. A private matter has been made very
public. In this land of tweets, I'm sure Williams will be cast as nut case by everyone by the end
of the night.

In addition, Williams texted that he took three hydrocodones the morning of Buffalo's game
against New England and  planned to take two more on the plane home. Hydrocodone is a
narcotic used to relieve moderate to severe pain. Marzouki urged Williams to get help, texting back,
"Why don't you talk to someone? Clearly you're not happy & if your takin pills that's bad,"
Williams apologized, and  texted her that he's furious and should not have texted her in "this state."

Williams added: "I need to go back n my shell. There's no telling what  Ill do to myself at this
point. I'm sry Ill disappear from now on." Well, he pretty much disappeared on the football field
after that.

I'm guessing Marzouki wants to win the battle for the ring pretty badly. To release all this information to the public is just despicable. Perhaps, she wants to get on a reality show or create
her own one called, "Exes of the NFL: We Play Down And Dirty."

The reputation of Williams has taken a bigger hit than the ones he used to deliver on the football
field. He is now the star player addicted to painkillers, depressed, and thinking about suicide.
His employer, the Buffalo Bills, who gave him a $100 million contract, must be loving this.
Just another disaster for a team that experienced more than it's fair share of them over the last
decade.

It wasn't smart of Williams to lay that kind of rock on his girlfriend's finger. $785,000?!! It's
one thing if you're the richest man in the world like Bill Gates. It's quite another when only
about half of that $100 million Williams got, is fully guaranteed. Nice gesture by Williams,
but it was just plain stupid.

He also wasn't smart "texting" all that highly personal information. Did he not learn a thing
from Tiger Woods? Words like "suicide" and "hydrocodones" are tough to forget about, much
less erase.

For all his stupidity, Williams certainly has gained some sympathy because his ex-fiance' now
looks like a gold-digger who spread personal information out about Not-so-super Mario,
out to the entire world. She appears to be the villain in all of this. Oh, she might eventually
win the battle to keep the ring, but her reputation has taken a much bigger hit than that of
Williams.

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$550 MILLION POWERBALL: THINGS I'LL BUY AFTER I WIN.

The Powerball lottery has reached a staggering $550 million. Next drawing take places on
Saturday and I'm thinking it could be my lucky day. Here are a few of things I'm going to spend
some money on after I hit it big.

DESIGN, BUILD, AND PLACE A BOSTON STRONG STATUE
The iconic photo of Carlos Arredondo and Jeff Bauman is an unforgettable image from the
Boston Marathon bombings. It signifies courage, determination, unselfishness, and strength.
I'd create a statue from the photo and buy a piece of real estate near the finish line on Boylston
Street and place it there so it will be a reminder that good always overcomes evil.

PURCHASE EVERY UGLY UNIFORM IN COLLEGE FOOTBALL TO SPARE
US THE PAIN OF SEEING THEM AGAIN. Maryland, West Virginia, South Carolina,
and a number of other schools broke out alternative uniforms made by Nike, Addidas, and
Under Armour. Let's get back to having some tradition, please.

BUY TITUS YOUNG A 10-PACK OF THERAPY SESSIONS WITH DR. PHIL.
It's been a rough week for the NFL receiver. Young was arrested three times, including twice on
on the same day. His father told the world Titus has "mental problems", which might just be the
understatement of the year. Titus is still sitting in prison, so I'm going to use some of my winnings
to bail him out and send him to Dr. Phil. Titus needs some TLC and a little self-exploration and
Dr. Phil could be the guy to help get his life in order and stay off the police blotter.

PURCHASE P90X VIDEO AND NUTRISYSTEM MEAL PLAN FOR OJ SIMPSON.
Did you see the pictures of the juice at his recent court appearance? Wow. Simpson looked like
Re-Run from the 70's hit show, "What's Happening?" Seems like the only thing happening in
Simpon's joint is that he's stealing the food of all the other inmates. He's said to be tipping the
scales at 270, or about the average weight of his offensive line in Buffalo. P90x is in order for
the Juice, along with a balanced diet.

SPEAKING OF FOOD....
I'm going to pay Mark Zuckerberg $10 million to ban people from posting pictures of their
food on Facebook. A cheeseburger? Come, on. I've never seen that before. Enjoy your meal,
enjoy your company, but just don't stop in the middle of a restaurant to go all Ansel Adams
with your chow.

BUY THE MIAMI MARLINS. South Florida needs a major league team, not a AA one.
Owner Jeff Loria snookered the taxpayers into all but paying for the parking lots at their new
facility, then traded away all his high-profile players. Everybody in the city hates Loria and
the team stinks. I'll buy the team, sign Giancarlo Stanton to a long-term contract, and make
sure to have buy-one, get-one free Cuban sandwiches every night of the week. I'm thinking
about buying the Dodgers and Angels, too, because they, like the Marlins, they are a mess
right now.

PURCHASE THE RIGHTS TO HOSTESS FOOD PRODUCTS. I don't know where
that fiasco stands, but I'm going to pony up  and buy every Twinkie, Ring Ding, and Ho-Ho on
the planet. I won't post the pictures on Facebook, but I will be stuffing my face with all
those treats, morning, noon, and night.

PAY DENNIS RODMAN $50 MILLION TO ATTACH HIMSELF TO A NUCLEAR
WARHEAD. I'm so tired of this guy. He needs to go away. The Worm's circus act in North
Korea was just another embarrassment in a life filled with them. He can used the money to
pay off the balance of the child support bill he has outstanding and use what's left to secure
a spot for a ride on a North Korean missile headed for the ocean.

PAY SOMEONE TO SHOW TIGER WOODS HOW TO MAKE A LEGAL DROP

PURCHASE THE LARGEST TENT IN THE WORLD TO PUT OVER THE CIRCUS
THAT IS NEW YORK JETS.

SEND BOBBY VALENTINE THE BOOK, "HOW TO WIN FRIENDS AND INFLUENCE
PEOPLE".  The former Red Sox manager has a history of alienating people at the word, "Hello."
On July 1st, Bobby V will take over as the athletic director at Sacred Heart University. This book
might help him smooth out some of his rough edges and get people on his side----for once.

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