marriage, pro sports-style.

Given the recent news of Amani Toomer's impending nasty divorce following on the heels of teammate Michael Strahan getting taken to the cleaners and Nets guard Jason Kidd likely suffering the same fate, I feel a need to offer unqualified and out of my league advice to all athletes preparing for marriage, despite terminal single-hood and lack of a legal background.

1) Know what you're looking for.

Mr. Toomer is making his particular claim because he feels he was lied to; his wife allegedly aborted his children, wouldn't change her name, etc. Again, the couple were married in Vegas. I doubt there was that much consideration. As the Head Chick notes, you can get a wife or you can get a chickenhead. Know what you have.

2) Make sure you know the difference between devotion and worship.

Pro athletes, by nature, seem to have a need to feed the ego -- they've had most things given to them on a platter due to freakish athletic talent, and sex is one of them. Before you go through with this, if you want her to wait on you hand and foot, make that clear. No need to give up half because you didn't define the terms in advance? Unromantic? Yes. But we're here to protect YOU. We advise devotion -- less likely to ditch you after the first few years and cry for half. Something about that, isn't it?

Today's worshipful groupie is tomorrow's gold-digger.

3) Come to terms with various indiscretions.

You're gonna have groupies throwing themselves at you left and right. Either work into an agreement a number of indiscretions per year, or keep a side account that can be agreed on for a faux "Honey, I'm sorry" gift -- Kobe Bryant keeps a spare couple mil on hand just in case, and it worked for him. Mr. Kidd, however, apparently played cheapskate with the apology jewelry. The sincerity of your apology as a star athlete is measured by how much you spend.

Or, do it the Andrei Kirilenko way -- remember, his wife gives him one indiscretion per year, but we suspect it only lasts as long as he keeps playing well, and he's never used it yet (Would you? This isn't the best picture, but I wouldn't.)

4) Get the Massey Pre-Nup.

Or its real-world equivalent. You want something so iron-clad a whole semester could be taught on it at Harvard Law. Of course, unlike Mr. Strahan, you want to make sure that Massey is written in your favor.

If you really want to be thorough, spell out every possible expectation: sex, kids, housework -- anything you can think of. Weeds out the unqualified applicants. Again, unromantic, but best for your interests, and it keeps you from having to come back to see us in five years for less pleasant experiences.

(Side note: Intolerable Cruelty is really one of those movies that is gang-busters, laugh out loud funny for the first half-hour and then falls completely off the rails.)

equal pay for better work.

The All-England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club has, after years of semi-controversy over the issue, decided to offer equal prize money to the women. So, when Serena Williams utterly destroys everyone this year, she'll get paid the same as Roger Federer after he decimates all comers.

I've believed for a while that women's tennis has been a much better deal for viewers than the men's division (Federer's super skills notwithstanding). Three-set matches are just flat out better to watch and more exciting to play, because those points mean more, and some of the minor events on the men's tour are three-set events. Hell, I believe women could do five-set matches, but would it really be in anyone's interest? As it stands right now, Wimbledon is finally offering equal pay for better work. The women's field in tennis has had better players and matches (despite occasional lack of starpower) for at least the past decade, despite the best efforts of Federer, Sampras, and Agassi.

(Andy Roddick is a choking lout.)

While we await Roland Garros following suit for the French Open, let's institute a sliding scale for the men to increase their incentive, especially since not too many of them are putting up fights against Federer:

1) If you don't break Roger, he gets a quarter of your money.
2) If you lose 6-1 or 6-0 in a set to Roger, he gets a third.
3) If you lose by 6-1 or 6-0 in straight sets to Roger, he gets half your money.

Rule #1 of strip clubs: don't be a cheapskate.

Rule #2: Don't threaten to kill a security guard after he sees you beating on a dancer for taking the bills you leave out.
Rule #3: Definitely don't have one of your posse shoot a few people.

Unverified, but since it's an investigation into a shooting in Las Vegas during the tail end of All-Star Weekend and Titans CB Adam "Pacman" Jones is involved, it's curious that, as the Big Lead notes (and a hat tip to them), ESPN has done fuck-all on this yet. Usually they're all over police blotter-worthy incidents, and boy, is this one a doozy.

The Monday morning shooting paralyzed one security guard, hit the other, and hit a female customer. How witnesses are saying it went is something like this: Jones throws tons of $1s in front of the dancers, gets pissy when one takes bills on the ground without his permission, beats on her, guard breaks it up, he threatens, gunman comes in. Now, witnesses and investigators say/think Jones knows the gunman.

These things always start because of money. If you're going to throw it around, don't get pissed about who comes up to take it.

UPDATE: Per With Leather, Sports by Brooks reports that there is surveillance video of this.

that boy's gone crazy.

Has Troy Smith lost his mind? Despite (or possibly due to) his falling draft stock, he's angling for the Cleveland Browns to pick him and make him the hometowner who gets picked to stay in state for a pro career. After the BCS championship, Smith will be lucky enough to be drafted high enough to save face; he shouldn't be too picky or angling for his hometown team -- never mind that the Browns are a mess until they figure out how to cobble an offensive or defensive line together (it'll always be a source of wonder how Mike Shanahan could trade for the Browns' D-line and get them to play when Cleveland couldn't.)

Troy: be quiet, accept where you're picked in the draft bereft of first round QBs unless your name is Brady or JaMarcus, and hope you don't go to Cleveland or Detroit. Look, I still believe he could be a decent pro, and possibly better than either Charlie Frye or Derek Anderson, but home-state loyalty should only go so far.

(Ted Ginn is also pictured because he'd like to play for the Browns, and I think Brady Quinn is from Dublin. All these blue-chippers whom the Browns should go nowhere near early in the draft...)

your new White House press secretary.

Now that the Head FUPA in Charge has officially handed in his retirement to the Dallas Cowboys, ESPN has done the predictable oral fellation with a special edition of SportsCenter. However, one of the more redeeming features was an entertaining pack on the press conference behavior of Bill Parcells, which gave me an idea for his next career move.

(Setting: Washington, D.C., 8 AM. White House press room.)

Bill Parcells: OK, guys. We've made it through one hour; let's wrap this up.
David Gregory, NBC News: Bill, what motivation could the administration and the President have for sending over 20,000 more troops to Iraq?
BP: Look, you guys have the charts right in front of you. If you're not gonna read 'em, I'm not gonna take the time to explain them to you.
DG: But is this a real plan to win the war or another cynical calculation?
BP: David, I'll say it again: the reason we're doing this is because if we're not going to give it a shot, we might as well pack up and go home. Success is never final, but failure can be. Suzanne?
Suzanne Malveaux, CNN: On the eve of the State of the Union, is the president going to re-state his goals from his last speech or are we going to hear something new?
BP: There will be changes here, there's no doubt about that.
SM: The Iraqi Prime Minister has been saying that the U.S. needs to give the Iraqi government more money and weapons so they can handle their own security. Will the President endorse such an idea?
BP: We see a little progress. So as long as we keep seeing that, then we're willing to give him everything we've got. Terry?
Terry Moran, ABC: Bill, does the President have any comment on the jury selection in the Libby case and the fact that the Vice President is expected to testify?
BP: We're not gonna talk about that aide. We're just not gonna talk about him. Helen?
Helen Thomas, AP: You'll be sorry.
BP: I already am. You have no idea.
HT: Given the various reasons the administration has used to justify the war in Iraq, isn't it fair to ask what the real reason for war was?
BP: OK, look. Isn't liberating the Iraqi people enough? I wish I could say I had something new for you, but I don't. When I know, you'll know. Promise. See you guys tomorrow.

(Parcells exits stage right to flashbulbs and more questions.)

biting off more than you can chew.

Via What Would Tyler Durden Do, it seems Fed-Ex is looking for 50 big-large from the Redneck Trainwreck in exchange for full custody (and dude was dumb enough to shoot down $30 mil a while back.)

S2N does not limit its advice to musicians who play pansy-boy to get chicks when they've got man-sized musical skills. I'm also here to consult the gold-diggers of the world, and in some cases, I'd console 'em. Obviously, this is not one of the latter cases, but the former definitely applies.

Kevin, come on. You scored tail way above your station in life and got to live on the hog for a couple years, never mind wrecking a woman whom most dirty old men had fantasies about from the first video where she dressed up as a very naughty schoolgirl. You've got two other kids to take care of from your other baby mama, and you're trying to get $20 mil more for custody?

Let's be honest here: I bet you don't even remember the kids' names at this point, and what's $20 mil? You've already hit the peak; just take the cash, get an investment guru, and coast. I mean, you've been trying to live on the relatively cheap since you got the heave-ho, and it sucked. Hell, with $30 million, you can be a music mogul, or at keep your "famous for nothing" rating at least as high as Paris Hilton. Even better: get on one of those VH1 specials about the 80s.

The Brass Balls Program.

John Mayer busts out some hot licks in this ad, and he's a talented guitar player. So, why do his records suck? We here at S2N are frustrated, recovering musicians, and we'd love to see nothing more than this Hendrix-and-SRV-acolyte hit it big with good songs. The problem is, he's either incapable of writing them (he is a lousy lyricist; "Your Body is a Wonderland," anyone?) or so eager to put a pop gloss on his recordings that he's dumbing it down.

John, we care. We've seen you bust it out on stage with Buddy Guy and on Austin City Limits, and we thought that trio album you did with Pino Palladino and Steve Jordan wasn't half bad; in fact, we think there's something there to be aiming for. You were also self-aware enough to be a good straight man for Dave Chappelle, which means there is hope for you.

Thus, we've decided to offer our help in the form of our Brass Balls Program, inspired by rockers young and old.

1) Never be seen in public without a bottle of Jack or Jameson. You look like you missed out on the keggers while going to Berklee.
2) Two words: Marlboro Reds. We expect you to be at a pack a day in three months. Get some rasp in your voice. While you're at the smoking bit, find and meet your local weed dealer.
3) A more indiscriminate attitude to grooming would help. The longer hair's a step in the right direction. We sense you're the type of dude whose attempts at facial hair only allow for Adam Morrison-style fuzz-staches, but if you can get some good stubble going, it wouldn't be a bad idea.
4) More leather, tighter jeans. More black. Just don't head down the "leather pants" road. We're begging you.
5) Two more words: weight room.
6) Rumor has it you're hitting up Jessica Simpson again. That's kind of lame, but she's blonde and dumb, and we'd probably hit it. However, she also might be fooling around with the QB for the Dallas Cowboys. We say dump the woman already, but if you win the battle, do us a favor: don't let her sing on your records.

Follow our steps and you'll be ripping it up and raising hell with the best of 'em.