25 Things Sports Fans Think (But Won't Say)

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The problem here is that every time someone tries to extort an athlete or celebrity, it takes away from the credibility of all accusers. Athletes are sometimes the victims of bogus paternity suits and criminal complaints, which creates a stigma for future cases. The public perception is that the guys are always innocent. Combine that notion with the ability to afford a high-powered attorney and you've stacked the deck against legitimate claims from real victims.

In an age of political correctness, even the most apparent gender assertions are dismissed as ignorance. Contending that top-level, male high school basketball players are better than WNBA all-stars, while blatantly obvious, makes us feel uncomfortable to write.

Title IX is important. Women have made incredible gains in athletics, but does Brittney Griner have a chance in the post against Julius Randle? No. It's not an equal playing field (as Marlo Thomas suggests in the shittiest article ever written), so we can stop pretending that there aren't physiological differences between men and women that create a competitive gap in sports.

If you're curious how Lance Armstrong got away with cheating for 15 years or why Manti Te'o's fake girlfriend went unnoticed for five months, it's because sports reporters are really just starstruck fans, not hardcore journalists. How many times have you seen an infuriated coach dress down a member of the press? It happens all the time and they never stand up for themselves. Edward R. Murrow would not allow Tiger Woods to brush him off with a simple "That's a private matter." Why? Because he's a journalist. Chris Berman, on the other hand, is just a fan.

We expect athletes to do whatever it takes to win, so we shouldn't act so surprised when they take us up on the offer. While we retrospectively discredit '90's era baseball, the product was a lot better then than it is today. Instead of barrel-chested comic book heroes crushing 500-foot home runs, we have entire rosters that are created using sabermetrics. You don't need to do a statistical analysis of "batting average on balls in play" when your No. 3 hitter crushes 70 bombs per season, and it's a lot more fun that way.

In the wake of the "Steroid Era," Major League Baseball was criticized for its detachment from the obvious. While Sammy Sosa pulled fastballs over the Wisconsin border and Barry Bonds swelled up like a sponge soaked in Triple H, MLB callously celebrated the "return of baseball." If you look at the freakish physiques and rapidly advancing measurables of today's NBA and NFL stars, those sports seem to be similarly compromised. 

It's not an athletic anomaly that all of a sudden guys are running 4.5s at 260 pounds. NFL and NBA writers are making the same mistakes now that baseball writers did in the '90s. And Roger Goodell pays lip service to concussions by fining hits, but hasn't done anything to address what could be a prevailing cause of head injuries in his sport. 

Ray Lewis gets a lot of credit for being a profoundly expressive motivator. But take away the preacher effect and menacing face paint and you're left with a crazy person speaking in cliches and gibberish. Mostly gibberish.

Before Super Bowl XLVII, he addressed his 2000 homicide case by saying, "To the family, if you knew, if you really knew the way God works, he don’t use people who commits anything like that for His glory. No way. It’s the total opposite." In one grammatically butchered sound bite, Lewis managed to marginalize a grieving family, ordain himself as a prophet and, rather inexplicably, endear himself to the press and public for it.

A lot of people mock athletes for blowing signing bonuses and contract extensions, but a half dozen concussions and three semesters at Florida State don't exactly prime the pipes for a sophisticated investment portfolio. If your most productive income years were your 20s, you'd probably have a few foreclosures under your belt, too. Sure, with some responsible asset management most of these guys would be fine, but when you have the immediate gratification of cheering crowds and groupies, serial maturing bonds don't seem so exciting.

The moral stands of baseball writers, which include barring admitted gambler Pete Rose and purported steroid users, would be a lot more admirable if they didn't spend the '90s asleep at the wheel. While these guys grandstand on shutting Barry Bonds out of the Hall, there's very little said of how badly the same independent press missed the opportunity to cover steroid usage while it was rampant in the game.

Similarly, Major League Baseball shouldn't be so quick to lock the door on Pete Rose. The league has no qualms about taking sponsorship money from casinos, but will posthumously take the high road when it comes to Rose. Pete Rose is the league's all-time hit leader and Barry Bonds recorded a .609 on base percentage in 2004. The fact that they're not in the Hall of Fame makes no sense.

Sad, but true. We fetishize knockouts and brawls without much concern for internal bleeding and bruised brains. So long as it means a "good fight," we don't really care if Benson Henderson perpetually misplaces his car keys for the rest of his life. Athletes are replaceable and are only valuable to the extent that they can entertain us. Legends become relegated to car dealership commercials and early onset Alzheimer's and today's stars get their skulls whacked.

Angels backup outfielder Vernon Wells will make more money next year ($21M) riding the bench than your whole family will for the next 150 years. Fans, fools that we are, have driven the market value of athletes so high that we basically exist to pay player salaries and feed the egos of billionaires who own teams.

We're not blaming the players. They're just taking money that team owners would otherwise steal. But, dammit, the Navy Seal who shot Osama bin Laden goes without health insurance while Gilbert Arenas decorates his grotto with a million dollar shark tank. This can't be life.

Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens are torn down because they were superior athletes. You've forgotten names like Randy Valverde and Chad Allen because they never had a season with a .600+ on base percentage, but they're guilty of the same crime. The problem with persecuting steroid users is that it's done indiscriminately, and cheating for the sake of money, fame, and women is something we can all relate to. Bottom line, if you had a chance to make millions of dollars playing a game instead of wasting away in a cubicle, you'd freebase shark testosterone, too. 

Every game has its flaws, but all too often the ends of basketball games destroy what's otherwise a great product. We can handle the guessing game on fouls, but six timeouts per half is a bit ridiculous and dragging out the final 90 seconds into a half-hour long free-throw shooting contest is painful. It sucks to watch the best athletes in sports stand at a line and bounce balls off the rim like a real-life Buffalo Wild Wings commercial, where games are needlessly extended for the sake of a wings special. 

Before reading this headline, you probably dismissed the ass slap as an acceptable way to celebrate a made free-throw. Now, you're probably scratching your head and saying to yourself, "You know what, that is kind of weird." Anyone who has ever played sports has probably slapped many a butt. Try that after an especially spirited board meeting and you'll do a night in jail.

Ron Artest was given the J. Walter Kennedy Citizenship Award in 2011. Michael Vick returned to football as a celebrated, almost sympathetic media darling. Lance Armstrong went to Oprah to deliver a half-hearted apology, assuming the empty gesture would once again deify him. It's a calculated media relations play and often it works.

The public—but especially the sports media—loves a comeback story. If Michael Vick is anything short of a repeat offender, he's effectively the ultimate redemption story, which is complete horseshit. Many of these guys have paid their debt to society and there's no reason to punish them further, but they shouldn't be on a pedestal, either. In reality, these aren't misunderstood folk heroes. They're flawed human beings who happen to be incredibly athletic.

There is nothing less appealing to the girlfriends and wives of grown men than seeing their boo wearing another man's name on his back. She probably looks at the guy on the field or court and realizes he's 50 times the man you'll ever be, with a bank account to match. If you were 6'3" and could throw a ball 70 yards, would you have an ounce of respect for the grown man wearing your name on his back? No, absolutely not. 

People swear, especially in the heat of the moment. It's not a big deal. In a game where Jared Allen can shatter an unsuspecting quarterback's knee caps, it's silly to force the announcer to publicly apologize for screaming the f-word when it happens. Complex loves the kids and we know they watch sports, but let's get a grip. 

The fact that hockey fights are cheered instead of prosecuted is an odd enforcement of the law. If two players get in a fist fight on the ice, it's cool. If two fans throw haymakers while waiting in line for the bathroom, it's a bail hearing. Don't get us wrong, we like watching a couple grizzled maniacs go at it as much as the next person, but it's totally weird. Metta World Peace caves in James Harden's temple with an elbow and he has to change his name back to Ron Artest. But John Scott splits Sidney Crosby's eye open with a hard right and he's just doing his job.

You shouldn't expect anything out of an athlete other than superior on-field performance. These guys are either in a gym or on Twitter. When your connection to humanity is in the form of exhaustive vomiting and hash tags, there's a lot that's lost in translation. If you have kids, make sure they never act like professional athletes. Otherwise, you'll have a volatile Little Leaguer that's addicted to pain killers, arguing strikes, and sexting. 

Like the jackass who mocks a lion at the San Diego Zoo, fans taunt players with no regard for the potential consequences. Fans constantly blur the barrier by tossing drinks at players, hurling insults, and occasionally running on to the field. Let's be honest, the fan in Auburn Hills who hit Ron Artest with a beer deserved to have his ass beat. Everyone's a tough guy until they realize the guy they just called a "bitch" is 6'8", 260 pounds, and athletic as hell.  

This topic could probably use its own list, but let's start with a recent report that the University of Alabama has offered a scholarship to an eighth grader. If your head hasn't exploded, you should know that Bama can withdraw the offer without consequence. So, if this kid injures his knee playing high school ball, he'll learn a harsh lesson about non-binding contracts. 

We're not saying that David Stern is an asthmatic version of Dr. Oz, controlling the NBA with an Illuminati of ratings pirates. But athletics and gambling go together like coffee table legs and stubbed toes, so it's not outrageous to assume that points are occasionally shaved and games are sometimes thrown. 

Why do people hate LeBron James? Because he turned his back on Cleveland. Spend 30 minutes in that city and tell us you wouldn't do the same thing. So why do people really hate LeBron James? Because he's so good at basketball that it's almost unfair. Everyone hates a winner. When it comes to explaining why, it typically boils down to wishing they weren't such losers.

Actually, statistically speaking, more than one of your favorite athletes is probably gay. According to Gallup, roughly 4% of the United States population is gay which—if it disperses evenly in sports—translates to 18 players in the NBA, 28 in the NHL, 31 in MLB, and 68 in the NFL. 

Before Super Bowl XLVII, 49ers cornerback Chris Culliver said, "Ain’t got no gay people on the team. They gotta get up outta here if they do. Can’t be with that sweet stuff.” This really just confirms what we already know, which is that sports culture is miles behind popular culture. Sadly, it also explains why none of the Complex-estimated 145 homosexual athletes in mainstream professional sports have come out. 

While created under the guise of global unity, the Olympics really just polarize us further. A nation's ability to spend a lot on specific programs directly correlates to how well it does during the games. Medal counts become an almost poetic parallel to how well your country performs in the global economy. We pretend that this event brings us together, but it really just demonstrates how far apart we are. 

While comparing generational changes in athletics, you could dismiss yesteryear's heroes for playing during segregated eras. Or, you could just watch some film of 1940's basketball players, with belts in their shorts and pomade in their hair, and quickly reach the conclusion that most of these guys wouldn't score in the YMCA men's leagues of today. Your dad probably goes nuts about "real football" after every roughing the passer penalty, but back in his day linebackers topped out at 220 pounds and smoked Winston cigarettes on the sideline. Y.A. Tittle's a little banged up here, sure; he wouldn't even make it to his knees if he was playing with James Harrison.