Bill Simmons is a douchey yet extraordinarily popular writer for ESPN.com‘s Page 2, and has a short column in ESPN the Magazine. Mick Foley killed himself night in and night out in the ring for 20 years as Cactus Jack and many other characters, and was one of the focuses of a Pro Wrestling documentary, Beyond the Mat.
They both weighed in on Mickey Rourke’s new movie The Wrestler: Simmons loves it, and writes too much. Mick Foley, who apparently has written several novels and a children’s book, weighed in on Slate.
This is clearly a movie to see, but the surprise to me is that Foley is so much better spoken than Simmons. Further proof that the jump from unknown blogger to famous blogger is easier than professional wrestler to novelist. Both articles made me want to see the movie, for sure, but Foley’s calm and insightful article is a better evaluation, and a better read.
The douchification of Simmons really came into being after Ralph Wiley died. He looked around and sadly saw that he was the the big dog on the ESPN block. And he’s not funny in and of himself, as if he’s the Family Guy of writers.
After Boston turned into a major winning town, he became absolutely unbearable, but then that’s true of most every Mass-hole I knew in LA.
Right now my favorite writer at ESPN is Rick Reilly.