What happened this week in the NBA is a perfect example of why you should not let fans vote for all-star teams.

First, Shaquille O'Neal made it. Yes, Shaq, the same Shaq who missed most of the year because he was hurt. How the hell does Shaq deserve to be an All-Star this season?

Second, Steve Nash, maybe the best player in the sport right now and on his way to a third MVP title, is not a starter. If Nash indeed goes on to win the MVP it would demonstrate the silliness of All-Star voting.

Then, Dirk Nowitzki is not a starter. Again, a joke.

Who is actually doing the voting for this thing? If you failed to vote Nash a starter, you should be stripped naked, covered in honey, and set out in the hot sun for the ants to snack on.

The one good thing about the voting is that four of the five starters are extremely young players. That means the league's most popular stars have a chance to be in the public eye for years to come and that is a good thing for the NBA.

The league still needs to adjust the voting to where fans have less influence on the All-Star voting because this year the voting was an absolute disaster.

Dear Peyton Manning: I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for calling you an overrated, over-hyped, heartless choker all these years.

I’m sorry for coining the phrase Stat Boy when it came to you and your big game losses.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

You are no longer Stat Boy; you are Manning the Great. You are not Stat Boy, you are Champion Man.

Peyton the great, Peyton the winner, Peyton with the supersized cojones.

While you are still not as good as Tom Brady, and while I am not yet ready to propose to you the way my man Pete Prisco is, you have proven your worth. Finally.

I have never asked Manning the Great to win a Super Bowl, just reach one, and he has done just that.

So the Stay Boy moniker is gone and please accept my apology forthwith.

Goodbye, Stat Boy. Hello, champion.

Dear Rudy Tomjanovich: Thanks for not kicking my ass.

The former Houston and Los Angeles coach was at the Dallas Mavericks’ American Airlines Center, simply minding his own business, heading for his seat on press row, sipping on a soda.

Suddenly a certain idiot columnist -- no, not Doyel -- accidentally bumped into Tomjanovich and knocked his soda all over his extremely nice and probably very expensive sweater.

Instead of punching the braces out of my mouth, Tomjanovich simply smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it.”

He must have thought I was a slob, one taco short of a combo plate, but he acted like a perfect gentleman in the face of my stupendous clumsiness.

Tomjanovich has always been known as a classy guy and proved it by not smacking me.

So thanks for not strangling me, Rudy. I’ll be more careful next time.

And that was a hell of a sweater.

SAN DIEGO -- Was there some sort of mixup at the beginning of the AFC Championship Game between New England and San Diego or was Bill Belichick again playing mind games?

Twice the Patriots were introduced and twice they did not take the field.

Then, when the Chargers were introduced, the Patriots came running onto the field.

Maybe it was just a logistical error.

Or maybe Belichick was starting, even before the game began, to try and get inside the head of the Chargers.

If the recently reported news about Barry Bonds is true -– and that is a big if –- then what Bonds allegedly did to a teammate is far worse than anything else he may have done in the past.

It does not bother me that he allegedly flunked a test for amphetamines. Hundreds of baseball players use the stuff and have for years. Despite them now being against the rules, they are still used by players. You can count on that.

No, what elevates Bonds maybe to the top of the turd class is that he attempted, according to the New York Daily News, to blame his positive test on something he took from a teammate's locker.

If that is accurate, if Bonds really did that, then he will lose all of his few remaining supporters because no one, whether you play baseball, work for a construction company or in an operating room, no one likes a rat.

It just does not sound believable that Bonds, the most scrutinized and watched athlete since Jackie Robinson, would be so stupid as to just remove some substance out of a teammates’ locker and ingest it without knowing exactly what was in it.

Who does Bonds think he is fooling?

It is more likely, if the Daily News report is true, that Bonds took something and was busted.

Then, he tried to squirm out of his problem by blaming someone else.

That should automatically put him in the turd Hall of Fame.

Bill Parcells is undergoing what seems to be his yearly decision of does he stay or does he go.

Here is a question, Dallas Cowboys fans: Why would you want him back?

I have stated this many times. Parcells is no longer an elite coach. He is no longer a good coach. He is an average coach living off of an over decade-old reputation.

In his four years with Dallas, he is 34-32. His best year is 10-6. That season, his first, Parcells lost three of his last five games. The next year, while going 6-10, he lost three of his last four. After that, he was 9-7 again, losing three of his last five. This year, he went 9-7, and lost four of his last five.

He is 0-2 in the postseason with Dallas.

Again, why aren't Cowboys fans demanding better? Why aren't they asking Jerry Jones to tell Parcells: "You know, Bill, that vacation you asked for? Go ahead. Take it. Forever."

His tenure with the Cowboys has been a roaring failure.

The only reason Parcells has not caught more heat is because he cozies up to some of the top national media types, who ignore his failings in Dallas.

So I ask again, Cowboys fans.

Why would you want Parcells back?

Could the absolutely, un-freakin'-believable happen?

Could Bill Cowher end up as coach of the Cleveland Browns?

The hated Cowher, the despised Cowher, a Steeler, coach of the Browns? No way, right?

Right about now Browns fans are thinking that I have been chewing on too many dog bones. I like dog bones. They're swell. Taste like chicken.

Well, the notion might not be as far fetched as you think. The example to consider is Bill Parcells.

Parcells won two Super Bowls with the New York Giants. He was Mr. Giant. He was as identifiable with that team as almost any coach of his generation has been.

Then, he did the unthinkable. He would eventually coach the New York Jets. The fans of the Jets were happy to have him but Giants fans were initially shell-shocked.

Then, if that was not bad enough, Parcells would later coach the team most Giants fans truly despise, the Dallas Cowboys.

It would not be quite the same as a Cowher-to-Browns jump but close.

The current coach of the Browns, Romeo Crennel, is struggling in Cleveland. If he does not win next year, Crennel could be gone. That would give Cowher his year off and the Browns would have an opening.

I know this is blasphemy, craziness, silliness. What are you going to say next, Mike? Art Modell is coming back to Cleveland?

Yes, it seems like an insane idea. But who would have ever thought you'd see Mr. New York Giant, Parcells, wearing the star?

I'm a loser. With no bowl games to watch, no toilet bowls left to clean in the house and my cereal bowls stacked away neatly in the dishwasher, I am watching Godzilla vs. Mothra: The Battle for Earth.

Mothra looks like someone took a piece of carpet and attached wires to it. Godzilla looks like an extremely short person, maybe an 8-year-old, wearing a very bad costume, on a poorly designed set of miniature trains.

There is of course the outstanding acting and crack dialogue. "We can't defeat all of them!" says one about-to-wet-his-pants general speaking of Godzilla, Mothra and the other thing-a-ma-bob, evil whatchamacalit the name of which I cannot pronounce.

And just why is it exactly that in an American movie, the bad guys attack New York? In a Japanese movie, the bad guys attack Tokyo? In a French movie, they attack Paris and if the movie is made by English blokes, they attack London?

Why can't Godzilla go after, oh, I don't know, College Station, Texas? Is he an Aggies fan?

As you can see without a bowl game to watch, I am losing my mind.

Florida-Ohio State cannot come fast enough.

Just so you understand, Nick Saban is not going to Alabama.

So stop asking because that Nick Saban, bless his heart, is a man of his word.

No way he’s leaving. Saban said he wasn’t, so I believe him.

Oh, wait. Breaking news. A coach lied his ass off.

It’s shocking, I know.

We all make mistakes; I know I have. Yet Suitcase Saban’s lies seemed to have reached a new low. And for an NFL coach, many of whom lie about what they had for lunch, well, that is truly saying something.

It is not just that, on Dec. 21, Suitcase Saban said, emphatically, he was not leaving the Miami Dolphins for the University of Alabama. It was the way he said it; like the suggestion of his bolting was just about the most ridiculous thing ever.

Saban guaranteed he was staying.

It is not just that he consistently lied to the media. We are used to coaches lying to us. We tell you fans all the time that coaches lie hourly and you never believe us until your coach bolts town.

No, the worst part about this was how Saban treated the two most important groups of people in his professional life: the players and his assistant coaches.

He told the players he was not leaving.

Then, when he did leave, if you believe published reports, he called his assistant coaches together in a room and informed them by speaker phone that he was leaving.

He did not meet with them face to face.

That’s just spineless.

Gutless. Beyond cowardly.

Can’t he at least buy them a pancake breakfast at one of those Waffle Houses down there in Florida before jetting off?

So, Crimson Tide fans, Suitcase Saban, the NFL’s version of Larry Brown, is all yours.

Until the next job comes along.

And he promises, absolutely swears, he is staying at Alabama.