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Postby BigJohnStudd » 18 Jan 2012, 18:51

So, I found this blast from the past on a random 3.5 floppy I just happen to have saved. I saved this one for a reason, which I will reveal at the bottom of the column. Sorry for the weird-ass formatting:


Bill Simmons brings Boston's
sports to you., 2nd posting
at 6:30pm, 9/7

What do SG, The Jericho Mile and
ESPN's new game show have in common?
Read on... (9/7)

In the penultimate scene of the The
Jericho Mile -- one of the six or
seven greatest sports movies of
all-time -- convicted murderer Rain
Murphy finds out that the Olympic
Committee won't allow him to run in
the 1980 Olympic Trials. It doesn't
matter that Murphy qualified for the
Trials with the best one-mile time all
year. It doesn't matter that his new
coach believes that Murphy is "the
greatest natural runner I've ever
seen." All that matters is Murphy's
record; the Committee doesn't want a
convicted murderer potentially
representing the United States. That's
the bottom line. Just another case of
The Man keeping someone down.

So Murphy gets boned over. When they
finally hold the Trials without him,
he overhears the results on a
transistor radio (Frank Davies won the
mile) and immediately heads outside to
run his own race in the prison yard.
And as Murphy sprints in circles, each
lap faster than the last, the other
inmates catch on and surround the
track, cheering him on -- inspiring
him, imploring him -- and Murphy
crosses the finish line and glances at
his stopwatch, finally lifting his
arms up by his sides in Christ-like
fashion. One of the other inmates
grabs the stopwatch and looks at it --
"He beat the time! He beat Davies!"
And Murphy grabs the stopwatch back
and hurls it over the wall, where it
shatters into a million pieces.

F*** The Man. End of movie. Chills


So what does this have to do with me?
Well, I'll tell you...

About five weeks ago, I received an
e-mail from a reader who was trying
out for ESPN's new sports game show,
"Two Minute Drill." I didn't think
much of it until I received an e-mail
from another reader who was trying
out. At that point, I knew three
things about "Drill":

--1. Inexplicably, unbelievably, there
has never been a good sports game
show. When you think about it, the
ideal TV audience is composed of men
between the ages of 18 and 35 -- we
love buying beer and cars, we're more
likely to change our minds about a
product than anyone else, we're always
willing to make rash, indefensible
purchases, and so on -- and a strong
percentage of that group loves a)
sports and b) wasting time. What's a
better waste of time than watching a
sports game show?

--2. "Drill" was created by the same
producers of "Who Wants to Be a
Millionaire." Very promising sign.

--3. Assuming that everyone involved
in "Drill" possesses an IQ above the
Pedro Guerrero Line, it would have to
be better than that "Sports Geniuses"
show on Fox, a show SO stupid and SO
moronic that Matt Vasgergian's agent
should be thrown in prison just for
suggesting that gig to him.

(Which reminds me, there's bad,
there's reprehensible, and then
there's Lisa Guerrero. Somebody needs
to set her up on a blind date with OJ.
I'm serious.)

Anyway, I was officially intrigued. If
some of my readers were trying out for
Two Minute Drill," why couldn't I
throw my hat in the ring? Hell, I'm
the ringleader of SG Nation! Would
Tyler Dirden have stood by idly while
the rest of the Fight Club appeared on
a new fighting game show? Of course
not! Throw in the fact that I could
win some cash and possibly get some
exposure for the BSG website and this
was a no-brainer.

I immediately went to work, finding
the link on ESPN's web site where you
could send in an "application" for the
"Drill" (it was buried on the
"Contests" section of their web site)
and sending them a funny (well, I
thought it was funny) e-mail with all
my credentials. Astoundingly, the
phone rang one hour later. They wanted
me to come to New York and take "The
Test." It happened that fast.


Before we get to Part Two of this
saga, you need to know one thing about
me: as far as sports trivia goes, I'm
Pedro. It's that simple. I throw in
the mid-90's, I have four pitches and
I throw all of them for strikes. I was
born for this type of game show. It's
like that scene in Jaws when Richard
Dreyfuss is describing the Great White
Shark to the Amity Mayor and says,
"This is a killing machine. All this
animal does is swim and eat. That's
it. It's a miracle of evolution."

Well, that's me. As far as sports
trivia goes, I'm a killing machine.
Consider the following things:

* Growing up, I was an only child who
read copious amounts about sports. I'm
not bragging, it's just a fact. When
my parents wanted to occupy me for an
hour, they tossed me either a sports
section, a sports magazine or a sports
book. My life revolved around sports
as a kid -- playing, watching,
collecting, reading, everything. Hey,
I'm not proud of it. That's just the
way it is.

* For whatever reason, my brain
possesses the startling capacity to
remember dumb, trivial things. And
it's not just limited to
games/players/events from the sports
world, it extends to television and
movies as well. I couldn't name six
Senators in the United States right
now, yet I could tell you who played
Arnold's buddy on "Diff'rent Strokes"
(Shavar Ross) and what the Celtics'
record was at the Garden during the
'86 season (47-1; they also won two
games in Hartford). I remember
everything. I even remember phone
numbers -- I dial them once and I can
remember them for the rest of my life.
I'm the King of Knowing Dumb Things.

(I have no idea why, either. As Chris
Walken said in the "Trivial Psychic"
skit on Saturday Night Live, "I didn't
ask for these powers...")

* When you think about it, I'm in my
absolute "sports trivia" prime right
now. I'm 30 years old. My brain will
never function better than it does
now. If anything happened from
1975-2000, I undoubtedly remember it,
so I hold a distinct advantage over
anyone younger than me. Yeah, I have
my weak points -- college football and
golf -- but sneaking a basketball
question by me is like trying to sneak
a fastball by Nomar. Not gonna happen.
And yeah, some people might know more
in a certain area -- with the
exception of basketball -- but I
sincerely doubt that anyone could
offer a better overall package. And
when you consider the fact that my
profession revolves around sports and
I spend every morning digesting a
countless number of newspapers and
magazines online... well, I'm the
shark in Jaws. Period.

So it's with that mindset that I
traveled to New York at the beginning
of last month to qualify for the show.
I am Jaws... I am Jaws... I am Jaws...


On August 3rd, I found myself standing
in the lobby of some East Side
building with about 30 other guys, all
of whom looked like either Newman from
"Seinfeld," Bababooey from the "Howard
Stern Show" or Mickey Morandini (an
instant confidence boost - I
apparently came from the highest
phylum in the lobby). After filling
out some paperwork, we were sheperded
into another room to sit at a long
wooden table, where we filled out an
actual 20-question, fill-in-the-blank
test about sports. Swear to God. I
felt like Shoeless Joe walking onto
Ray Kinsella's baseball field for the
first time. A test about sports? Is
this heaven?

Personal note: I love talking "innate
ability" tests. Always have. Back in
high school, I was the kid who took
the SATs three times even though I
didn't have to. I'm weird that way.
Sometimes I wish I was an NFL player
just so I could break the record for
the Wonderlic test. Needless to say, I
aced the "Drill" test and nailed 17 of
the 20 questions; of the ones I didn't
know, one was about the WNBA (I
thought about protesting the WNBA's
involvement with the test but decided
against it), one was about the French
Open (how could I mix up Marcelo Rios
and Gustavo Kuerten?) and one was "Who
was the first player to hit 30 homers
for 4 teams?" (I said Reggie; Canseco
was the answer). They set the cutoff
line at "13-for-20," so everyone in
the room who didn't get thirteen
correct got the big David Spade

(Note to reader: Feel free to remove
your seatbelts and walk around the
cabin for the next few paragraphs as I
describe the game and the rules. I'll
tell you when to return. Back to the

The six people who passed (myself
included) were herded into another
area so they could 1) conduct
individual interviews and 2) actually
"play" some of the game with each of
us. Sitting in the little lobby, I was
fifth in line, so I had time to get
nervous and make small-talk with a New
Yorker sitting next to me who kinda
looked like David Berkowitz. When I
told him I was from Boston, he said,
"I'm a Mets fan... eighty-six, baby!"
I countered by asking him if he had
ever snorted coke with Gooden, Straw
and Hernandez. Advantage, Sports Guy.

By the time they called me in, my
competitive juices were flowing and I
fought off a sudden, minor attack of
nerves -- four people staring at me on
the other end of that same long,
wooden table, flanked by an Orwellian
camera recording my every move -- and
tried to remain jovial and irreverent.

After a five-minute interview, we
played a little of the game... but
before we get to that, I'll explain
how "Drill" works: Even though they
book three contestants per show, each
person competes alone for two minutes,
almost like in "Millionaire." Four
celebrity panelists ask questions from
their respective specialities --
sports movies, Kentucky basketball,
the Masters, World Series, etc. -- and
you answer as many questions as
possible in 120 seconds. VERY cool
concept. If you get one question
wrong, you have to switch panelists.
And each panelist can ask a maximum of
five questions, so you can't answer
more than 20 questions in two minutes.

(In Round One, the two contestants
with the two highest scores advance.
In Round Two, you get to answer a
maximum of 25 questions in two
minutes... the person with the highest
TOTAL score for the two rounds
advances to the Final Round, where
they have to answer a difficult
question in their "speciality." My
specialty was the '86 Celtics, so if I
was chosen for the game and won, my
final question would have been
something about that '86 Celts. Piece
of cake.)

Anyway, I immediately targeted the
girl with the "BASKETBALL" sign in
front of her and buried all five of
her questions in about 3.5 seconds.
From there I had Uncle Mo on my side
(you know, Mo Mentum); I missed one
baseball question and passed on a
college football question, but I
nailed everything else to finish
18-for-20. It was very strange -- I
constantly felt that I wouldn't know
the next question, but then they asked
it and I would think to myself, "Hey,
I know that one!" That's what it was
like for two minutes. Hey, I know that
one. Hey, I know THAT one. And yes,
the panel seemed pretty impressed, and
not just because I did a Clubber Lang
impersonation after answering a Rocky
III question. They said I would hear
from them "in a few weeks."

(Note to readers wandering around the
cabin: you can come back now. Please
put your seatbelts back on and move
your seats to the upright position.)

Leaving the Big Apple, I felt good for
three reasons:

1. I only missed five questions all
day. By Pedro standards, I probably
submitted this pitching line: 9 6 1 1
1 12.

2. The interview went extremely well.
It also helped that three of the four
interviewers were women -- I turned up
the charm like Patrick Bateman in
"American Psycho." Hey, whatever
helps, right?

3. Since they weren't publicizing the
tryouts or paying for transportation,
at least 90% of the potential
contestants in my group were from the
tri-state area and 50% of them looked
like Giants fans or Mets fans. Just in
the name of diversity, I held a
distinct advantage hailing from Boston
and not from New York, especially
because my parents aren't related.

So that was that. I traveled back to
Connecticut for the night (the same
night of that 19-inning Red Sox game)
and didn't utter a peep to anyone
except my girlfriend and a few other
friends. You never know.


You have to admit, you're getting
excited right now, aren't you? The
thought of your buddy Sports Guy
battling for big bucks on an ESPN Game

Well, on August 22nd, I got The Call.

I made the cut. Hell, of course I made
the cut! My show taped on August 31st
and would probably air in September.
If I beat my two competitors, I won
$5,000. If I nailed my "specialty"
question about the '86 Celts, that was
another $5,000. But the best part is
this: they arranged this show almost
like the NCAA Tournament. Win one show
and advance to the Round Two to tape
another show and possibly win more
money. Win four shows in all --
including the Final Championship show
-- and you're guaranteed $100,000.
Nail your specialty question in the
Championship Finals and win another
100 grand.

(I'll add that up for you: $100,000 +
$100,000 = $200,000. Boo yeah.)

Of course, there was another subplot
to this whole thing: what if I went on
this show and lost? How could I face
all of you? How could I ever call
myself the Sports Guy again? As far as
choke jobs go, me blowing the "Two
Minute Drill" would be right up there
with the '86 Sox and the '99 Blazers,
wouldn't it? I decided I wouldn't
mention anything on this site about
"Drill" until after the taping... and
if I happened to lose, I would move to
Tuawateneo to work on Andy's boat with

Now I had a big knot in my stomach.
And it stayed there for nine days as I
kept telling myself, "You're the shark
in Jaws... you're the shark in
Jaws..." Ultimately I immersed myself
in writing my columns and avoided
thinking about the show, other than
reading Sports Illustrated's "Sports
Almanac" for an hour a night in the
bathtub, just to bone up on useless
facts like "Who was the only safety to
win a Super Bowl MVP?" (Jake Scott, if
you're scoring at home). In time, I
became more excited about the thought
of competing than for the potential
financial windfall. I couldn't imagine
anyone beating me. I really couldn't.

I was Pedro. I was Jaws. I was

But not for long.


So there we were on Thursday, ten of
us, sitting in a quarantined room in
the Sony Music Soundstage at ten in
the morning and getting briefed by the
producers of the show. They were
filming three shows that day, so they
had summoned nine contestants and one
alternate. Here's a surprise --- all
the contestants were guys! Everyone
looked pretty nervous except for one
guy who was trying to make friends and
saying stuff like, "Hey, we're all in
this together." As for me, I tried to
remain as intimidating as possible and
gave off an "I'm in Allen Iverson's
posse and yes, that's a gat" vibe. I
wasn't here to make friends, dammit.

A lawyer entered the room and passed
around a contract with "clauses" of
eligibility for the show. As I glanced
at the first page, something jumped
out at me: the standard section that
said "I swear that I have no family
members that work for ABC, ESPN,
Disney, etc." Only this section said,
"No family members and/or friends or

Uh-oh. As you probably know if you
ever read this site, one of my closest
friends works as a coordinating
producer for ESPN -- my buddy Gus --
and through him I've met a number of
ESPN people, including Rich Eisen, Dan
Patrick and even "Two-Minute Drill"
host Kenny Mayne. If you want to take
things a step further, I have a number
of readers who work for ESPN in some
capacity as well. If ESPN's the mob,
than I'm Frank Sinatra.

Conflict of interest? Yeah, probably.
I have to admit, I was hoping it
wouldn't come up. I have met Kenny
twice, the first time at the shower
for Gus' son (I'm the godfather) where
Kenny almost floored me by telling me
how much he enjoyed my "Grading the
Wimbledon Babes" column. So we knew
each other in a very casual way. As
for Dan and Rich, I know both of them
pretty well; they could definitely
pick me out of a police lineup, but I
wouldn't classify them as "friends" by
any stretch. Acquaintances? Maybe.

But Gus? That's different. If knowing
someone at ESPN was a conflict of
interest, than I definitely had a
conflict of interest.

At this point, I had a dilemma: should
I even mention anything about this? I
read the contract and it was pretty
explicit; it even said that they could
pursue legal action against anyone who
answered the questions on the contract
dishonestly. And I started thinking
about all the times I mentioned Gus on
the site and the Behind the Scenes at
ESPN column I did three summers ago --
where I spend large chunks of the
column talking to Dan and Rich -- and
it just seemed too improbable that
they wouldn't find out if I kept
winning. What if a newspaper broke a
story like "Game Show Champion once
met host!!!"? What if Gus or Kenny
somehow got in trouble? What if Dan
Patrick stopped thinking I was cool?
There just seemed to be too many

So I spoke up. Like a robbery suspect
spilling his guts, I told the lawyer,
"Yes, I know someone at ESPN. One of
my best friends, actually."

As I spoke the words, one of the
ladies who served on the Selection
Committee did a double-take and her
shoulders sagged. Right then, I knew
it didn't look good. They told me to
write down the history of my
connections at ESPN and told me they
would discuss it and make a decision.

Here's the worst part: while they were
deliberating, they showed us a tape a
"mock game" they did last month, with
Kenny as host and three actual
contestants who hadn't made the cut
for the actual show. The other
contestants in the Green Room were
shouting out answers like
no-confidence idiots, but I wasn't
saying a word. Two thoughts here:

1. I knew almost every one of answers.
No joke. Every nine out of ten, I knew
the answer. So for the first time, I
was thinking to myself, "If I can
somehow get my ass on this show, I'm
going to actually win the damned

2. You will LOVE this show. The
creators knew what they were doing;
over a 30-minute span, they throw out
between 100-110 possible questions ...
and they're all about sports! And
Kenny Mayne and celebrity panelists
are involved! How great of an idea is
this? If this show doesn't succeed, I
will write a 10,000-word WNBA preview
next summer while dressed in drag. You
have my word.

While I watched this show and silently
nailed every question, they abruptly
waived me into another room where I
was interrogated by the executive
producer, a well-dressed British guy
named Michael. Instantly I knew this
was bad luck -- I've always hated
British people. I think it stems back
to the Tea Party Act. And British Guy
voiced his concerns and sugarcoated
things as much as he could before
giving me the El Shafto -- "With all
your ESPN connections, I just don't
think there's any way I could put you
on this show and feel good about it."

Understandable, I guess. If I were
him, I wouldn't have allowed me on the
show either (nothing gets people riled
up like a game show scandal). Now I
just wanted to get the hell out of
there -- I was disappointed and pissed
off that nobody had mentioned the "You
can't know anybody at ESPN" thing
before I hauled my ass all the way to
New York and dusted off my "Larry in
the '86 Finals" game face. They
offered to let me stay to watch the
tapings of the other shows, which
sounded to me about as fun as watching
the taping of a porn movie when you
haven't had sex in two years.

Within five minutes, I was standing on
the street, my shirt pulled out of my
pants, a bag thrown over my shoulder,
trying to hail a cab in the Big
Apple... looking like a scene from a
bad movie.


And so the story ends. "The Two Minute
Drill" debuts this Monday on ESPN at
7:00, with new episodes airing every
Monday for the next two months. And
I'm sure I'll watch every one of them.
And when they show the episode with
The Alternate who took my place -- an
African-American guy named Chris --
I'm going to tape that particular show
and watch it later that night.

Why, you ask?

Well, when Chris finally sits down for
his two-minute drill, I'll be shouting
out the answers the same way Rain
Murphy ran that final Jericho Mile.
Murphy had four minutes, I'll have
two. Murphy had his fellow inmates
standing around the track; I'll have
all of you, watching that show,
rooting against that Chris guy,
knowing I'll do better than him,
cheering me on from your sofas to a
hollow victory. I'll be Pedro and Jaws
rolled into one. I'll have all my
pitches working. I'll be a killing

And I will win. I will win. And after
I beat everyone's score for that show,
I'll remove the tape from my VCR and
throw it off my deck in the relative
direction of New York.

It's the least I can do, don't you

Reach this site every day at


So, why did I save this column? Well, I'm quite a game show fan, more than I am a sports fan for sure, and I was curious how he actually did when the show he would have been on aired. So I wrote him. And he responded in a later column, either one of the last columns, or one of the first ESPN Page 2 columns. I thought I had saved that one too, but I don't know where. (I was surprised that I even had this one. Funny stuff on these unlabeled disks.) It turns out that Billy would have bombed out on the episode that would have been his. I believe that categories would have been the Olympics and college sports, but don't quote me on that. I'd love to see that column again, but has never been archived at Maybe it's on one of these other disks.
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Postby Montecore's Revenge » 18 Jan 2012, 19:13

I tried out for that show. I passed the test and did fine in the practice rounds, but the show got canceled. Not sure if I would have been on or not.
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Postby pattern recognition » 18 Jan 2012, 20:50

thinking about the show, other than
reading Sports Illustrated's "Sports
Almanac" for an hour a night in the

the sports guy luxuriating in the tub for an hour every night struck me as funny.

thanks for posting that, i'm trying to remember how i felt about him back then--i'm having a hard time.
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Postby RUSF18 » 19 Jan 2012, 10:12

Montecore's Revenge wrote:I tried out for that show. I passed the test and did fine in the practice rounds, but the show got canceled. Not sure if I would have been on or not.

2. You will LOVE this show. The
creators knew what they were doing;
over a 30-minute span, they throw out
between 100-110 possible questions ...
and they're all about sports! And
Kenny Mayne and celebrity panelists
are involved! How great of an idea is
this? If this show doesn't succeed, I
will write a 10,000-word WNBA preview
next summer while dressed in drag. You
have my word.

Where's the column?
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Postby Colonel Angus » 19 Jan 2012, 14:53

Sweet fancy Moses, BJS:
"Isn't it no, baas or something? That's how I read it in a boxing book. It's South African or something."
- _, on Roberto Duran.
_ - Sun Jan 31 5:06 pm:
"it was such a sexy goal, that punched me right in the balls. metaphorically"
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Postby BostonSucksMyBalls » 19 Jan 2012, 15:42

I like his michael jackson nose.
I'd rather not die alone. True Flush fans know what I mean.
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Postby Iron Mike Sharpe » 19 Jan 2012, 15:47

BJS, are you Barry Petchesky?
"It's time to go."

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Postby Prez » 19 Jan 2012, 17:57

At, a message board devoted to all things Simmons...


Ballz: So, I fucking got a BJ for $250 total, and wore a rubber. It sucked, I couldnt even feel it, so i jeckyled onto her tits. She was cute. Not even that far out of my league, it was a waste of $250
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Postby Gregs Kite » 19 Jan 2012, 20:54

Iron Mike Sharpe wrote:BJS, are you Barry Petchesky?

Stop deflecting, Sharpie. I know you're Margary.

Balls is, of course, Emma Carmichael. You vultures.
You fuckers ruined kite.

Apr 22, 2015 3:49 pm Clayton Bigsby i enjoy sports

TheWolf - Fri Apr 15, 2016 3:26 pm: i'm ctz. i'm sober at 3:30 pm. dork

Frank the Tank wrote:If I die I leave my red font to Kite.
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Postby BigJohnStudd » 20 Jan 2012, 12:53

Well, it was nice of them to clean up the formatting. But not even a hyperlink to this website? I'm definitely an outsider here at SOTSG, but that still grinds my gears.


A reader contacted Simmons asking him how he would have done with the questions on the episode he was scheduled to tape. Simmons replied that he would have bombed, with the questions heavy on Olympics and college sports.

"A reader", huh? Yeah, that was me you fucking turds, the guy who posted the column in the first place.

Gotta sign this one, folks, since I'm not gonna get credit for it otherwise.


Edited to add: There was a link to this post, I see now. I was thinking more about how "" in the intro paragraph didn't have a link.
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Postby Jew Jitsu » 20 Jan 2012, 13:44

I wonder if that vagina Margery read up my column breakdowns and cried in the back seat of his windstar minivan #ballsdeep
ctz31 - Mon Mar 10, 2014 3:19 pm: Also blood people told me no alcohol for 24 hours. I made it 1.5.
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Postby mj3528 » 23 Jan 2012, 12:38

2009 NFL Pick 'em Champion
SOTSG Fantasy Basketball (Almost Entirely) 2012 Champion
2015 SOTSG NFL Survivor Champion, Part 2
2015 SOTSG Death Pool Co-Champion
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Postby BostonSucksMyBalls » 23 Jan 2012, 13:10

LMBBAO I remember that one
I'd rather not die alone. True Flush fans know what I mean.
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Postby Colonel Angus » 23 Jan 2012, 13:36

Did BJS decide to cut out the middle man? Thank you, BJS. It was annoying when all the Deadspinners crashed the site last week.
"Isn't it no, baas or something? That's how I read it in a boxing book. It's South African or something."
- _, on Roberto Duran.
_ - Sun Jan 31 5:06 pm:
"it was such a sexy goal, that punched me right in the balls. metaphorically"
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Postby BigJohnStudd » 23 Jan 2012, 16:08

Not mine, sorry.

Why is he rating the attractiveness of women players? I thought Simmons was into dudes.
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