Washingtonians have any number of reasons to despise him. This is the player, remember, who Wes Unseld gave up Rasheed Wallace to get here. He's also the guy who mourned our nation on the night of September 11, 2001, by partying at the TGIFriday's in Bowie with Chico DeBarge and whupping ass on a waitress from the nearby Applebee's outlet in the parking lot. No, really. (Full disclosure: Washington City Paper is currently owned by the same folks who own another rival fern bar chain, Bennigan's. No, really.)

A while back in this space I expressed awe that Strickland, what with his reputation and police record, would even be allowed anywhere on a college campus, much less on the bench of a major program, where he was hailed as a mentor to impressionable youth. But that's what John Calipari had done at both Memphis and Kentucky.

And as I pointed out in a Slate.com podcast recorded during the NCAA tournament and during my just-ended paternity leave, Rod went on to get three more DUI arrests than playoff wins as a Washington Bullet. Days after that 'cast, Rod made me look like I knew from what I spoke by getting popped again for the same ol', same 'ol. Career stats, as of 1 p.m. today: DUI Arrests 4, Playoff Wins in DC 0. (Full disclosure: The Slate.com podcast was hosted by my friend and the future of sports journalism, Josh Levin.)

At the time, Strickland was being talked up as the potential next head coach of his alma mater, DePaul University. Instead, Strickland just got booted off Calipari's bench as payback for his latest drink n' drive.

But for all his shenanigans along the way from DePaul to DeBarge, Strickland still has his supporters: John Wall, for instance. The future top Wizards pick came out during the post-draft blitz and constantly credited Strickland with making him a player worthy of a lottery pick. Strickland had likewise mentored the last two NBA rookies of the year, Derek Rose and Tyreke Evans, both from Memphis during the Calipari/Strickland era.

So, if Wall lives up to his Can't Miss Kid status after he gets here, perhaps we'll have to take away some of the demerits Strickland earned in his years as a Bullets bad boy.

But MADD and the Applebee's wait staff can't be the only ones hoping Strick ain't the one charged with counseling Wall how to act off the court. Or what music to listen to.

Seriously: Chico DeBarge?

Listeners are urged, "Bring your best 'Beat Dallas!' sign and you can win a six pack of club seats!"

I can't wait to see how high the "Worst Owner Ever!" banner will place.

***

Moderators at Dan Snyder's message board, extremeskins.com, no doubt emboldened by the see-no-evil clause their boss invoked while banning signs from FedExField, have a type-no-insult policy in place.

Posters on the site have been warned not to say anything negative about the team in a thread announcing a send-off that's being organized from Redskins Park for the Dallas game.

The warning:

"Be advised: This is not an opinion or debate thread. Please do not use this thread to verbally attack, make fun of, laugh at, or otherwise belittle any of the participating members or Redskins players/coaches/staff or owner. To do so will result in a mandatory ban."

(AFTER THE JUMP: Why would Dan Snyder sanction such censorship? Why is Slate so mean to Sandra Bullock? Why didn't the Redskins draft Michael Oher? Why did John Riggins jump on Joe Theismann when Joe Theismann's leg was broken? Did you just say John Riggins jumped on Joe Theismann when Joe Theismann's leg was broken?)

Before this season, these send-off announcements were posted regularly on Snyder's site. But, the gathering memos were stopped because they only inspired fans to tell the owner just how much they loathe him in follow-up posts.

The situation Snyder has created in this market is unlike anything in all of professional sports.

I've said it before, and I believe it: Even if the Redskins go on a miracle streak and win the Super Bowl this season, when Snyder holds up the Lombardi Trophy at the victory rally, he will be booed.

***

In his Slate review of "The Blind Side," the feature film based on the life of Baltimore Ravens' rookie Michael Oher, friend and hero Josh Levin treats Sandra Bullock as Lawrence Taylor did Joe Theismann.

I only used that simile so I'd have an easy segue into this: I haven't seen "The Blind Side," but I'm told it opens with a clip of one of the most famous plays in Redskins history — Taylor playing wishbone with Theismann's leg in that 1986 "Monday Night Football" game.

Looking at the gruesome clip this morning, I noticed for the first time that John Riggins for some reason jumps on top of the pile with Theismann and his newly restructured leg at the bottom. Riggins had tossed the ball back to Theismann just before Taylor hit him during the flea-flicker gone wrong.

Perhaps that's why Theismann went after Riggins so hard last week after Riggo piled on Dan Snyder. Or maybe it's because Theismann is employed by Snyder.

In any case, Theismann never played another down of football. But, he lived to talk about it and everything else...a lot. If he was a horse, Theismann would have had a curtain around him within a minute and there'd be one less sportstalk host in the DC market.

***

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I don't think I'd ever heard a college player booed by home fans like Vasquez was last year. It was like Juwan Howard at MCI Center right before he was run out of town. But Howard was getting paid eight-figures a year (!) to take that abuse.

Vasquez tried to get out of College Park, but yesterday he withdrew his name from the upcoming NBA draft.

Seems NBA scouts thought less of him than the Terps fans.

Seriously, do other college stars get booed at home?

***

Manny Acta lives to lose again!

The Nationals manager-for-now got to watch Elijah Dukes misplay two balls hit to the outfield by consecutive Yankees batters in the seventh inning, turning two outs into two Yankees runs and a lead into a loss in New York.

The .258 winning percentage means the Nats are now on a pace to beat the '62 Mets mark of 120 losses.

Why is Acta still around?

Well, much appreciated Cheap Seats Daily commenter Angry Al posted that Acta's going to stay no matter how much losing goes on, because the Lerners are so cheap they don't want to pay Acta and pay another manager.

I hadn't thought of that. But sounds like a plan!

***

Biggest winner in baseball yesterday: Barry Bonds.

How the hell are the feds gonna move forward  with their lame prosecution of Bonds for a couple dubious lies, now that Sammy Sosa's been outed?

Turns out Sosa's was among the 104 names on baseball's not-so-secret list of positive testers from 2003.

Sosa, Rafael Palmeiro and Roger Clemens all swore before Congress and country that they never ever never ever took anything. And The Man is going to let them walk, even though there's at least as much proof that they're PED-ophiles as we've seen against Bonds? No way. (A-Rod just lied to Katie Couric. That's fine.)

***

Biggest loser in baseball yesterday: Mike Lupica. The enthusiastic New York sportswriter's book "Summer of '98," sanctified that season's home run duel between Sosa and fellow chemical Popeye, Mark McGwire. "Summer" now stands alongside the Washington Post's 2003 editorial about Colin Powell's U.N. speech about all the WMDs in Iraq, a piece headlined "Irrefutable!," as the most ridiculable documents ever published.

(According to a review on Amazon, "Lupica gives both McGwire and Sosa their proper due.")

Please, Cal Ripken. Admit you used steroids! Baseball will never get past the Dead Balls Era™ until you do!

***

On the verge of the U.S. Open: Slate posts a video of what golf, a game where losers are allowed to blame camera clicks, would be like if basketball announcers called the action.

The real treat is hearing a few seconds of Johnny Most, the greatest play-by-play man in the history of history. And I'd forgotten how forced Dick Vitale's calls were.

The piece was conceived by my friend Josh Levin, Slate's sports editor and the godfather of tape-measure journalism (count the measurements!), and put together by his colleague Andy Bouve.

***

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