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Jocks behaving badly is nothing new, but the past couple of weeks have been remarkable. We haven't seen idiotic one-upmanship like this since John Schneider and Tom Wopat left The Dukes of Hazzard, and the producers continued with a couple of vaguely similar cousins.

Ron Artest's misguided foray into the seats in Detroit has been all but wiped off the sports pages by a litany of moronic acts that -- if this keeps up -- will culminate with some NBA power forward doing some Christmas shopping and getting into a scrap with a department store Santa that leaves Kringle with a snapped neck, the player facing a murder rap and 200 shocked kids in therapy.

So in the spirit of this outbreak of jackassitis, I've decided to crown an Idiot of the Week, which, if it works out, will be a recurring feature in this space. (If not, I'm sure I'll get e-mails suggesting I am the Idiot of the Week. Actually, I'm guessing that's going to happen no matter what.) This week's winner is a tough call.

You've got Denny Neagle -- though it can be argued the prostitute was dumber, since she told cop that Neagle's belt was unbuckled because he had paid her $40 for a bit of the ol', well, you know.

You've got Latrell Sprewell barking vulgarities at a female heckler. If he didn't preface his bon mot with something to the effect of, "Move over Artest, you've got nothin' on me!" he should have.

Then there's Kobe Bryant. Now there's a guy who understands repentance. OK, your criminal charges were dismissed, but that doesn't mean you can go around ripping one of the few guys who stood up for you.

I'm not even going to consider any of the self-confessed or guilty-by-association steroid freaks. You want to mangle your body, be my guest. But speaking of mangled bodies, our first winner comes to us from Geneva, Switzerland. That's where Servette -- a soccer team -- plays. On Sunday, Paulo Diogo set up a goal for Servette and celebrated by leaping over a chain link fence. Alas, his wedding band got caught on the fence and his ring finger was severed. Now, Diogo isn't the winner -- losing a finger is tragic, not idiotic. No, our Idiot of the Week is referee Florian Etter, who had the good sense to show Diogo a yellow card for excessive celebration. Way to prioritize, Florian! ...

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Last week, I expressed a mild disagreement with Peter King over the new U2 album. This week, I beg to differ with the argument in Peter's MMQB column that Bill Belichick was the worst coach in Browns history. Belichick led Cleveland to one good season, a very aberrant 11-5 campaign in 1994. The rest were rubbish, and, as Peter rightly points out, Belichick was horrible when it came to dealing with the press and, by extension, the fans. People still don't forgive him for releasing Bernie Kosar, even though it turned out that Kosar was, in fact, through. Anyway, my dad, a season-ticket holder of that era, insists Nick Skorich was worse. He followed Blanton Collier and oversaw the the '74 team -- the first truly bad squad in the franchise's history. (In his defense, his '72 Browns almost beat the Dolphins in the playoffs.) Dad also had little good to say about Forrest Gregg. So there. Perhaps next week I'll have my mom take issue with Peter's taste in coffee. (Incidentally, the gingerbread -- not the gingerbread latte, but the gingerbread -- Starbucks is selling is awesome.)

Here is why I'm psyched to see The Life Aquatic. This piece, which ran in The New Yorker a few years back, was written by Noah Baumbach, who has made a couple of really funny movies and co-wrote Life with Wes Anderson. If you've never read a Zagat guide, don't bother with this. If you have, you'll laugh out loud.

Speaking of The New Yorker, leads like this are why Anthony Lane is the best writer around: "The new Mike Nichols film, Closer, starts with a man falling in love with Natalie Portman. From this we may assume that the movie is concerned with universal, a-priori truths, although there is a scene in a lap-dancing club when the a-posteriori version comes in handy."

I'm a big supporter of Major League Soccer, but how ridiculous is the name of the Salt Lake City expansion team? Real Salt Lake? Real Madrid is so-called because it enjoyed the patronage of King Alfonso XIII. What's so regal about Utah? And what are the chances most people will pronounce it Reel Salt Lake? A bit silly, if you ask me.

As always, thanks for stopping by. Stay classy.

Mark Bechtel covers NASCAR for Sports Illustrated and SI.com.