"And Matty scores with a case of Tastykakes!"

In the early days of TOOOAST!!!, Matty voiced his revulsion at a shoehorned-in plug for Tastykakes -- a local delicacy of sorts in Philly, where they've been made for nearly 100 years -- whenever a Flyer scored a goal against the Capitals.

I also found the plugs rather unseemly if not downright embarrassing, and certainly more suited to the four-hour shill-a-thons that pass for Philadelphia Eagles radio broadcasts. But then I stumbled onto an ESPN Classic broadcast of Game 6 of the 1975 Stanley Cup Finals between the Flyers and Buffalo Sabres...

Neither Bernie Parent nor Roger Crozier surrendered a goal through the first two periods of the game, and when Bob "Hound Dog" Kelly finally broke through just 11 seconds into the third, Gene Hart announced that Kelly had scored not for the lead in a potential Cup-clinching game, not for the distinct possibility that the Flyers would win their second consecutive championship, but for... a case of Tastykakes.

Later in the third, when future Deep Woods OFF pitchman Bill Clement streaked down the slot all alone, took a pass from Orest Kindrachuk, and potted the biggest goal of his career, Don Earle bellowed that Clement, too, had scored for a case of Tastykakes.

(However, both broadcasters still mispronounced Clement's name "CLEM-ent" rather than "cle-MENT". Hey, what do ya want for a fourth-liner who'd been a healthy scratch the previous game?)

Tastykake -- which currently houses its operations on the former site of the Philadelphia Navy Yard -- also sponsored the Flyers' post-game show in those days.

The current Flyers broadcasters would be well served to dial the plug down a notch: how 'bout not mentioning the product until the second time you state the Flyers have scored, rather than ramming it in there immediately after the puck crosses the goal line?

Anyway, despite the tradition of the campaign -- and mostly because I wasn't around to see the first iteration of it -- the whole idea still seems crass and vaguely inappropriate. But given the the way in which the Flyers routinely fall all over themselves to exploit any and all links to the mid-'70s glory years, and my perception of Tasty Baking Inc. as a relatively un-shitty corporation, I suppose it's not as bad as it seemed.

Is it Kate Smith belting out "God Bless America"? Of course not. But neither is it the "Matt Blatt Splat," or the "BFI Wasted Opportunity Of The Game."

(And as a bonus, it doesn't involve noted wordsmith Mike Quick.)

So tear open some Butterscotch Krimpets and enjoy -- it's not the end of the world.

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"That's your HOME! Are you too good for your home?!"

Uhh, before you book that one-way to YYZ*...

The proud nation that gave us the first placekicker with the dull mind and jagged tongue of an actual pro football player is poised to finally take him back.

For full details, tune in to SportsCentre at 11 PM (12:30 AM in Newfoundland).

I don't want to get in the habit of providing humorous fodder for Cowboys fans or anything, but this guy's a real poopy-poker. Good riddance, eh.


*Canadian "humour" -- "YYZ," as immortalized by the 1981 Rush instrumental, is the code for Toronto's airport. Should the subject ever arise with a Calgarian, (s)he will inform you that the code for the Edmonton airport is "YYY," pronounced more like "Why, Why, Why?" Oh, those canucks.

.

As if America's Not Going Down the Toilet Already...

The economy's screwed.
The NBA Eastern Conference playoffs are eye-gouging...
MMA...
Reality TV...
Jim Rome...

and now THIS!

Canada, here I come.

Upon Further Review, We're Fucking Retarded

As I was watching last night's Boston-Detroit game 5, I got blindsided by something that pissed me off instantly and intensely. After the obligatory WNBA scores went by on the crawler on the bottom of the screen, I see "...NBA acknowledges that a foul should have been called at the end of game 4 of the Lakers-Spurs series..."

I was stunned. Did I really just see something so incredibly asinine as a fucking public admission that the refs missed that call??!! How the hell can they just apologize? What is the point?

As I continued watching the game, I halfway expected to see the following on the crawler:

"...NBA admits that Derek Fisher''s shot hit the rim and LA should have been awarded a new shot clock with 6 seconds remaining..."

"...NBA realizes that Tim Duncan took 11 seconds to shoot two of his free throws in the second quarter and his shots should not have counted..."

"...NBA admits Bill Walton does not actually have a back injury. He was sent to Siberia for the length of the playoffs so we didn't have to hear his hyperbole and THC-infused ramblings..."

"...NBA apologizes to NHL fans for Gary Bettman..."

I was actually stunned that the league would do this. What are they going to do, go back and have Barry shoot 2 free throws and replay the end of the game? All it does is take away from L.A.'s victory and serve to further rile up Spurs fans. "SEE!! WE WUZ ROBBED!! CONSPIRACY!! CRAWFORD FUCKED US!!"

From the league press release:
"With the benefit of instant replay, it appears a foul should have been called," NBA spokesman Tim Frank said.

I now fully expect written reports from the league office after every game, apologizing to both teams for all of the calls that were missed or called incorrectly, after they go through the game with a fine-toothed comb in slow motion.

Stupidist thing I've ever seen.

My All-Star Ballot

In recent years, the Americal League was the league with the good players, so you knew who to pick when all-star time rolled around. If the choice was difficult it was because there were multiple good players to choose between. Well not this year. This year the AL is going to be hard pressed to beat the NL on talent (on the field is another matter).

David Ortiz is currently the leading vote-getter in the AL, which I found surprising when I first heard it. After having voted, I no longer find it surprising. At each position in the AL with that one exception I was forced to pick between the lesser of two evils. You want a giant suck-fest? Pick a shortstop to start for the AL. I double-dog dare you. But we'll get to that in a minute.

So, for fun, I chose blind, without looking anything up, and then went back through to assess the quality of my picks. Lets start with the first basemen. NL after AL (as it should be).

AL
First Base: Youkilis, K., BOS

Comments: Youuuuuuuuk! Sorry, force of habit. You may think this is a homer pick, and it might be, but ask yourself, who else is having a better year? After tearing it up last year, Carlos Pena (TB) is sucking it up, er.. uh, not playing well. Same for Carlos Guillen (DET). Then there are the typical not-in-a-million-years guys (Ryan Garko (CLE), Ben Broussard (TEX), Kevin Millar (BAL), etc.).

Besides Youkilis, the few decent candidates are Giambi, who I'll never vote for (steroids!), Justin Morneau (MIN), and Casey Kotchman (LAA). You could make a case for all of them I suppose, but Youkilis has the second best OPS behind Giambi, but his batting average (+.60 points over Roidy Van Roiderson) and vastly superior defense makes him a better choice.

Would I make this choice again? Yes.

Second Base: Grudzielanek, M., KC

Comments: In my mind, there are four viable second basemen in the AL: Pedroia, Kinsler (TEX), Iwamura (TB), and Grudzielanek. Of the four, admittedly Grudzielanek is the poorest choice, but the difference is slim. The guy who is probably going to make it is Pedroia, but, though I love him like a brother (D.P.!) he's been pissing me off lately by swinging at just about everything. Actually, now that I look at it, Kinsler is having the best season of the four, but Grudz plays for KC, so he got my vote based on that.
Would I make this choice again? No. Probably would pick Kinsler.

Third Base: Beltre, A., SEA

Comments: Alex Rodriquez (NYY) is the obvious pick, but he's missed a fairly significant portion of the season with a bruised dick (I think). Lowell (BOS), the other obvious pick because he plays for the Red Sox, is having a fine season, but not really all-star quality. Scott Rollen (TOR) is also playing well, but he too has been hurt. In contrast, Beltre has been kind of poopy (.270/.321/.435), but he fulfills three important requirements:
1. doesn't play for NY
2. plays good defense
3 doesn't play for NY
Would I make this choice again? Sure, why the hell not.

Shortstop:Young, M., TEX

Comments: The obvious pick here is Jeter (NYY), but he's been mediocre this year (.280/.333/.380) and as we all know, his defense is terrible. Yes, terrible. Other than him, bleeeeeeeah... Young hasn't done that well either, and in fact, he isn't hitting much better than Jeter despite playing his home games in Texas, but he's got the rep, and is a viable anti-Jeter so he got my vote based on that.
Would I make this choice again? No, I'd probably leave it blank.

Catcher: Varitek, J., BOS

Comments: Each year I hear about how this is the year Varitek goes over the cliff. Well, it may still be this year, but it hasn't happened yet. The Sox Captain is slugging .472 with a .350 on-base percentage. Thems good numbers and for a catcher, thems great numbers. Mauer (MIN) has a higher on-base (.390), but he loses .075 points of slugging. Tek gets the nod for his plus defense. Also, as we who read the newspaper know, Varitek is made of three parts Ecksteinium, two parts grit, and one part pure dirt. Wanna top that shit. You can't.
Would I make this choice again? Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes.

Outfielders: Hamilton, J., TEX, Ramirez, M., BOS, Upton, B., TB
Comments: Hamilton is simply tearing it up. He's the number one outfielder in the AL offensively and likely defensively as well. Manny is being, well, Manny (who else did you expect him to be?), and Upton is hitting .300 with a .400 on base percentage. Thats good enough for the first place team in the east. Magglio Ordonez (CHW) got jobbed here, but other than that this is also a pretty weak field.
Would I make this choice again? Yeah, though Magglio should make the team somehow.

Designated Hitter: Ortiz, D., BOS

Comments: Ortiz started off slowly, but he's come on in the past month, slugging over .600 since May began. Milton Bradley (TEX) is having a great year at the plate (I had no idea how good until I had already voted), and in fact he's been much more productive than Ortiz. Shame he's such an a-hole. Hideki Matsui (NYY) has been at DH sometimes and in the outfield sometimes, so I don't feel good about voting for him for either. He's having an outstanding year at the plate though. Still, F him.
Would I make this choice again? Probably, though I might choose Matsui or Bradley if given the chance.

NL

First Base: Berkman, L., HOU

Comments: Albert Pujols (STL) has been killing the ball. I mean KILL'N it. He's hitting .356/.483/.617. Thats sick. And still Berkman has got him beat. By a lot. Thats how crazy Berkman has been this year. He's slugging a post-steroids-Bondsian .742. Yikes. I guess you could justify a pick for Pujols based on star-power and defense, but theres really no argument to be made if you vote on current productivity, and I do (for the most part).
Would I make this choice again? Absolutely.

Second Base: Uggla, D., FLA

Comments: Everyone will vote for Chase Utley (PHL) here. And they are, as Utley is the leading vote-getter in the NL. Still, Uggla is right there with him, besting him by 30 points of slugging percentage, while Utley has a 10 point lead in on-base percentage. Other than that they're essentially the same hitting-wise. I don't know who's defense is better and I'm not going to bother to look it up. Utley will win this vote, and I have no problem with that, but I thought I'd vote for someone who deserves it just as much.
Would I make this choice again? Yup.

Third Base: Wright, D., NYM

Comments: David Wright is tearing it up, but not like Chipper Jones (ATL) is. Chipper Jones has been Ted Williams so far this year, so this was plainly a bad choice. Should've voted for Jones. No doubt about it. Oops.
Would I make this choice again? Nope. Terrible choice. Any choice but Chipper qualifies as a terrible choice.

Shortstop: Ramirez, H., FLA

Comments: Ramirez is having a great year, but until I looked at the stats (after I voted cause I'm smart like that) I didn't realize how far his slugging has fallen compared to last year. Now, he plays in the modern version of the Polo Grounds, i.e. a home park exceedingly friendly to pitchers, but still he's lost 100 points (or more) off his slugging percentage. Thats a lot.

Rafael Furcal (LAD) has been crushing the ball this year, but he's been hurt too, and I think he's on the DL now. Jimmy Rollins (PHL) is also having a good year at the plate and he's twice the fielder Ramirez is, but he's been hurt as well. I'd rather have a guy who is good and plays every day than a guy who is great and plays some of the time. Strangely enough, Miguel Tejada (HOU) is out-hitting all of them (though I'm sure Rollins is better on D) and has the most plate appearances of all the possible choices as well. So, again, this was probably a bad pick.
Would I make this choice again? Nope. Probably would pick Tejada.

Catcher: Martin, R., LAD

Comments: Martin is having a good year for the Dodgers (.317/.423/.411), but he's being out-slugged (i.e. out-played) by Brian McCann (ATL) by 170 points. Giovanni Soto (CHC) is also probably a better choice.

Would I make this choice again? Nah. As good as Martin is, McCann and Soto are better.

Outfielders: Braun, R., MIL, Burrell, P., PHI, Upton, J., ARI

Comments: Ryan Ludwick (STL) is likely the reason the Cardinals are in first place. Well, he and Poo-holes. Aaron Rowand is having another terrific season, but its for the Giants so who gives a shit. Hunter Pence, Adam Dunn, Matt Holiday, and something called "Nate McLouth" would all have been good choices.

In fact, it looks like McLouth has Pat Burrell's stats without the need to 'take care of business' at any and all opportunities. As for my picks, Upton is having a good year, but not better than any of the guys mentioned above. Burrell = McLouth + rampant masturbation. Braun is killing the ball, but not really getting on base. He's basically a younger, cheaper, honky-version of Alfonso Soriano, who I didn't vote for.

Would I make this choice again? Nope, goofed again. Should've picked McLouth, Ludwick, and I'll stick with Burrell, but only cause he beats it repeatedly.

You Can't Spell TOOOAST Without S.A.

Stick a fork in the Spurs. And put a cork in it if you're one of those ninnies who is crying that the officials decided last night's game between the Smoldering Remains of the Spurs and the Lakers.

"A foul is a foul is a foul! You have to call that!!"

It is not the job of the officials to bail a team out for lack of execution on the last play of a game. Granted, Fisher made contact with Barry, but Barry helped the contact by leaning in a little as he tried to dribble around Fisher to get a shot off. When the eventual last second heave missed, none of the Spurs ran up to the ref to complain, nor did Coach Popovich sprint on to the floor to scream at the refs. Hell, even Barry gave only a half-hearted attempt to look like he got robbed of an opportunity to tie the game at the line. They all knew the truth: Barry was not going to get that call, especially when he tried more to avoid contact than actually invite it and go up to draw the foul. You could even see the look on Ginobili's face as the horn went off, he turned to Barry with a "what was that?" expression.

Before that final play, the Lakers actually had WAAAYYY more right to gripe about the officiating than the Spurs. In the last minute of the game, the Spurs were on the charity end of two huge gaffes:

1. When Lamar Odom blocked Parker's shot, it was still below the rim and had not yet hit the backboard and should not have been called a goaltend. There's 2 free points for the Spurs.

2. Fisher's jumper against the shot clock grazed the rim, then bounced off the embalmed knee of Robert Horry with 5 seconds left. It should've been Lakers ball with a new shot clock and the Spurs would've been forced to foul to send the Lakers to the line. This likely would've made the last seconds meaningless.

Blown calls actually gifted the Spurs the opportunity to even attempt a game-tying or winning shot at the end of the game. And these were just in the last minute. Somehow, in over 41 minutes of game time, and after taking 29 shots in the game against noted hack physical defender Bruce Bowen, Kobe Bryant had taken ZERO free throws. None. That is impossible.

So, while the Spurs fans who are hanging by their fingernails on the edge of the cliff as their team is about to fall in to the "End of Our Championship Window" abyss, it's time to realize that the Spurs are being beaten by a better, younger, more athletic team. The Lakers even gave San Antonio numerous opportunities to take the lead in the game, and the Spurs just couldn't get it done.

That is what lost the game for them.

And although I'm not a San Antonio fan, I must say that the way Popovich, Barry and the rest of the Spurs players handled the questions about "FoulGate" was extremely classy and impressive.

Mediocre Pitchers Can Meet An Odd (and Sad!) Demise

I have this image of South America as a dangerous place, overrun by guns, drugs, and banditos in big rimmed hats. That view may not be current anymore, as the NY Times says Columbia is beautiful this time of year. Seriously. But that doesn't mean that parts of South America aren't still dangerous, because they are, but maybe not for the reasons you think.

Lightning, for example, can be deadly. So, why am I bringing this up? Because of this:

Former major league pitcher Geremi Gonzalez, who won 11 games for the Chicago Cubs in 1997, was killed by a lightning strike in his native Venezuela on Sunday. He was 33. Emergency management official Herman Bracho said Monday that Gonzalez was struck by lightning at a beach.

I remember Gonzalez because he spent some time in the Red Sox system, mostly pitching for Pawtucket in AAA ball, but occasionally he made a spot start for Boston. As often as not, he got shelled. He threw 56 innings of 6.11 ERA ball for the '05 Red Sox, a team that won 95 games.

Anyway, he is dead which is sad. Oh, and happy Memorial Day.

Philadelphia - Really the Most Cursed Sports Town?

It's been 4 days since I watched those feisty Dallas Stars get adroitly dismissed in game 6, after showing signs of perhaps being only the 2nd team in a million to force a game 7 after being down 0-3 in a series (I'm too lazy to actually look up the numbers, but it's safe to say that this guy has a better chance of winning American Idol than the Stars had to come back and win that series.) So, after having this song rattle around my beer-soaked brain for a few days, it's time to shift focus to other goings on.



When the Flyers lost in the Eastern Conference finals to Pittsburgh last weekend, a clever columnist claimed that Philly was now officially 100 years old - as in it's been at least 25 years since any of their four major sports teams won a title. The Sixers won the city's most recent title in 1983, and despite many close calls in all four sports, Philly has drawn the short stick ever since.







I've heard about "Philly Fan Hell" for years from BMFS, and the SI writer, who is also a Philly resident, captured the city's collective sports sense of impending doom perfectly:



Philadelphia (yes, my hometown) has been a major trophy-free zone since 1983. The drought has battered the area's collective psyche, rendering an entire generation of sports fans wounded, disillusioned and emotionally bankrupt. Whether you chalk up the streak to bad players, bad management or just plain bad luck, the hard numbers remain the same: 100 seasons, zero championships.



Is there a pox on Philly's sports teams, like the Curse of Billy Penn purports? No. Every season is its own snapshot. But there's nervous (read: bad) energy generated throughout the city whenever one of our teams makes a deep playoff run, a palpable tension among the locals as the big game approaches. That much is real.



And if you really want to get kicked in your EagleFlyerSixerPhilliesNutz, read his list of the 100 Worst Moments in Philly Sports History later in the article.



Soooo...I couldn't let these suffering souls from the City of Brotherly Pessimism get off so easily and claim such a title without a little research. While it's true that they do have the longest title drought of any four-sport team, are they indeed the most deprived fans?

I defined "Major Sports Towns" as those with at least three of the major four team sports - if you restrict it to four-sport cities, then Cleveland, Houston, Milwaukee, Seattle, St. Louis and Pittsburgh would all be eliminated from consideration, and I think we can agree that these are major sports burgs.



Without further ado, here are the major sports cities, ranked in order from their most recent team's title (by calendar year):



CITY - YEARS SINCE TITLE

1. New York 0 (Giants)


2. Boston 1 (Red Sox)


3. Miami 2 (Heat)


4. Pittsburgh 2 (Steelers)


5. St. Louis 2 (Cards)


6. Chicago 3 (White Sox)


7. Detroit 4 (Pistons)


8. Denver 7 (Avalanche)


9. Phoenix 7 (D'Backs)


10. Baltimore/D.C. 7 (Ravens)*


11. Dallas 9 (Stars)


12. Milwaukee 11 (Packers)


13. Atlanta 13 (Braves - like any other ATL team will EVER win!)


14. Houston 13 (Rockets)


15. S.F./Oakland 13 (Niners)


16. Minnesota 17 (Twins)


17. Philadelphia 25 (Sixers)


18. Seattle 29 (Sonics. RIP)

annnnd.....drum roll please.............

In last place among towns with at least three major sports teams, the city whose fans have returned like Tantalus ever year only to see their title hopes dashed yet again....

CLEVELAND! Forty-four years and counting! The Browns have been the only team to taste champagne in The Forest City, and that was in the pre-Super Bowl era of the NFL in 1964.

So, yes it's true that the Philly fans are a seemingly doomed lot, at least a parade has plowed through their streets somewhat recently when compared to those in Cleveland.

Interestingly, there is one major city that has doesn't own a title of ANY kind. They are currently only a two-sport town, but they did have an "NBA team" until 1984. San Diego has actually NEVER won a ring in any major team sport (I don't count their lone AFL title). They've been to the World Series in 1984 and 1998, and the Super Bowl in 1995, but never closed the deal. But we don't hear a thing from those fans - once their teams are bounced, they just turn off the TV and head to the beach. Fuck it.

So there Philly - you are joined in a race to the bottom, but you're in third place behind Cleveland and Seattle. But things are looking up in one respect - you're going to make up a place next year when the Sonics move to Oklahoma City, thus making them ineligible for this list.

*I combined D.C. and Baltimore, or else Baltimore would not have been eligible for the list. If ranked by them selves, Washington D.C. would have been #16 - the Redskins won in 1993.

Meet The Teflonics... And Learn Why Phillies Fans Are Insane

The Phillies are a truly odd organization. Big-market but small-revenue. Long mired in tragicomic futility but absent from the average fan's imagination.

How did they get this way? Meet the humanoids who own them.

I've been a Phillies fan since before the current ownership group materialized, and the article linked above has informed me of at least 95% of what I know about them. All of them.

These are the people Bill Conlin calls The Teflonics, the faceless, eminently replaceable Pips to Bill Giles' -- and then David Montgomery's -- Gladys Knight. You dig?

The closest thing the Phillies have to a national public image -- and this applies somewhat to all the Philly teams -- is based on the team's fans. Or more specifically, how pathologically negative and cynical we all are.

(Hey, I guess we're kinda famous -- I mean, do Indians fans or Twins fans or Astros fans have an image to uphold?)

Really, though, we'd rather have a spotlight-crowding owner who gives half a terd about winning. We did like Pat Croce, didn't we? Christ, we don't like anyone and we liked Croce.

Anyway, read that article and find out why being a Phillies fan is like semi-voluntarily smashing your head into a wall. Over and over and over again. Forever.

Note: Being a Red Sox fan was like this for decades, but only one person had to die for it to end. The Phils' ownership group is so subterranean, I have no idea how many old weasels -- and their spoiled, clueless progeny -- would have to buy the farm for us to see a decent ownership group fall into place. Eight? Twelve?

------------------------

Since the puck's about to drop on the Finals, allow me to go on record:

Based on what I've seen so far in the playoffs -- which is virtually everything -- these two teams look like an extremely even match. And not only that, but an even match of teams that are playing exceedingly well in all phases of the game.

But...

I have this feeling that some glaring matchup issue is going to become apparent immediately and the series will end up a sweep for one team or the other -- and numbingly boring. And, of course, I have no idea which team that'll be.

So I'm going to hedge: In a game 7 officiated by Brad Watson, Bennett Salvatore, and Don Knotts, Sid The Kid and The Incredible Diving Mealtickets prevail.

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Time To Fix The Bad Calls

Its time to institute instant replay in baseball. The sheer ridiculousness of the missed call on Sunday Night Baseball's Yankees/Mets game has finally pushed me over the cliff on this.

I consider myself a traditionalist, though in truth I probably am not. I hate to admit that I like the DH*, inter-league play doesn't bother me (though I'm no fan of the uneven schedule), and tying home field advantage in the World Series to the All-Star game makes as much sense to me as alternating it, or for that matter, flipping a coin.

Baseball has a storied history of badly missed calls at historic moments. Just in my lifetime there was Don Denkinger's missed call in the 1985 World Series, Chuck Knoblach's phantom tag of Jose Offerman in the ALCS, and probably most famously, Derek Jeter's "home run" in the '96 ALCS that was stolen from Orioles outfielder's Tony Tarasco's glove by Yankee fan Jeffrey Maier. While all of these might be good stories, none of them are a credit to the sport. And instant replay could have fixed all of them. Easily.

But back to Sunday night. In case you weren't watching, with two runners on base, Mets first baseman Carlos Delgado hit a fly ball down the left field line at Yankee Stadium. It went over the wall and hit the bottom of the foul pole. That makes it fair, so three run homer. The third base umpire ruled it a home run, but home plate umpire (?) Bob Davidson** inexplicably overruled him, calling it foul. The non-homer homer took three runs off the board for the Mets, though ultimately it was only two runs as Delgado singled to drive in a run a few pitches later.

The real problem is that there is no excuse for this. None. Reply could have solved the problem in seconds.

Umpires: "We don't know. Lets check replay."
Replay: "Fair. Home run."
Umpires: "Home run."

There. Not much more to it than that. We're not talking about checking all balls and strikes. A simple policy that would get used like once a week tops would save embarrassing gaffs like Sunday night's (and the '85 Series, and the '96 ALCS, and...) from ever happening again. And that is a good thing.

* Not because I like the idea, but because I like the way it works out on the field.
** Said Davidson, "I fucked it up. I'm the one who thought it was a fucking foul ball. I saw it on the replay. I'm the one who fucked it up so you can put that in your paper." Classy guy.

"Cover Your Eyes! Giambi Is In A Slump!" (now with update)

This morning I made myself a good pot of coffee and was sitting by the window enjoying the beautiful morning weather here in Philly and reading junk online. Today was a good day to read articles online because the Red Sox didn't play yesterday so they weren't able to lose and thus I was able to enjoy net surfing without being reminded how crappy the Sox are playing. But, after one sentence, I digress.

So, I'm reading about music, and books, and the upcoming baseball draft, (a.k.a. reason #4,876 why the Pittsburgh Pirates are run by incompetent boobs) and I come across this article about Jason Giambi and his current hitting slump (link coming in a second). Giambi is hitting .181 on the year, which sounds terrible (and kinda is), but he's still getting on base (.341 on-base) and hitting for power (.438 slugging) so as to make him a decently valuable player (though not worth the $26M the club still owes him). Still, the baseball establishment, often including players, seems to measure hitting success in terms of batting average. This means Giambi thinks he is in a slump and the main stream media agrees with him.

So, how do players get out of a slump? Many take extra hitting practice, listen to advice from their hitting coach, peers, or trusted advisers, etc. There are many different ways to do it and of course it varies from player to player. Some players are more superstitious than others, and this is where this story takes a turn for the worst.

So, I'm enjoying my coffee and I come across a story about Giambi and his slump in an online magazine called Portfolio. The article is by someone named Franz Lidz. The fact that the number of Zs in the author's name exceeds one should clue you in to the fact that Lidz likely knows far more about soccer than baseball. I mention this because its quite possible that Lidz isn't aware of the social norms that we have here in America (pronounced: "Um-ur-ika"). So he might not know that what Giambi told him was, um, strange.

At this point, I'm just going to quote from the article:

Jason Giambi has a deep, dark secret. Deeper than his compulsion to sleep on the side of the bed nearest the door, and darker than his dream of growing up to be a heavy-metal musician.

The deepest, darkest secret harbored by the New York Yankees first baseman is that whenever he is in a prolonged hitting funk, he wears a gold lamé, tiger-stripe thong under his uniform. "I only put it on when I'm desperate to get out of a big slump," he confides.

Snarf! Coffee on the computer screen and on my new Ovechkin shirt.

But wait, it gets worse. Apparently Giambi's understanding of one of the kindergarten rules of conduct, sharing, is, well, going to make me hork:

Over Giambi's checkered career in the Bronx, he has left the "golden thong" in the lockers of slumping teammates Derek Jeter, Bernie Williams, Johnny Damon, Robin Ventura, and Robinson Cano. "All of them wore it and got hits," he reports. "The thong works every time."

There are a couple other choice quotes from Giambi, all which serve to make him look like an even bigger doofus. Such as, "As long as I can have a fast boat and a margarita machine and can light my hair on fire, I'll be just fine." Also this: "He loves strip joints, cites Letters to Penthouse as his favorite work of literature, and lives by the motto "Party like a rock star, hammer like a porn star, rake like an all-star." (Maybe he should add "dress like a phague" to that list.)

All of those only serve to obscure the point, which is Giambi wears a tiger-striped piece of women's underwear under his Yankee uniform because he thinks it has magic powers and then shares the same piece of underwear with other men because they also think it has magic powers.

Still, there are even more questions to be answered, like, 'what the hell is 'lamé?'' and, 'if its really his deepest, darkest secret in the whole wide world, why is he telling Franz Lidz, journalist?' Maybe he assumes Lidz only speaks German.

But back to the (forgive me) meat of this. Jason Giambi gets out of slumps, big slumps, not by taking more hitting practice, or by studying video tape, but by wearing a gold lamé, tiger-stripe thong. Then, when one of his teammates gets into a slump, he loans the gold lamé, tiger-stripe thong to them and they *gulp* WEAR it.

This revelation on the series of tubes of the dubya-dubya-dubya (and possibly on actual paper) is bound to make Giambi even more popular in the clubhouse than he already was. ("You told who what?!?") You never know what crazy shit is going to come out of his mouth. The lesson here is it might be something so gross that it causes whatever is in mine at the time to come flying out.

Twenty bucks says the next time Giambi goes to Fenway he gets pelted by tiger striped thongs. Now I gotta go clean off my wife's computer screen.

**Update**

From the NY Daily News:

Derek Jeter agreed that Giambi's thong works, although "it's so uncomfortable running around the bases." ...

Asked if the thong got washed between wearings, [Jorge Posada] gave a cringe-worthy answer. "Ask Jason," said Posada. "Jason is a little strange."

A Shirt That'll Make BMFS Smile

It was inevitable that someone would come up with this. The NBA keeps updating their "There Can Only Be One" split-screen commercials based on current opponents. Well, it probably took some hip-hop head about 10 blunted seconds to think "Hmmm...they need to do a shirt like that with rappers. I wonder who are the biggest rap rivals ever are?"





The answer:

Now we just need the white trash version of this shirt: the Kid Rock - Tommy Lee split on a wife beater.

Speaking Of Toooast: The Flyers And The Stars

Poor BMFS.

Just a few days ago we were talking about the potential problem he'd have if both the Stars, his adopted team, and the Flyers, his inherited team, won their respective conference finals and faced each other for the Stanley Cup. What would happen? Would his head simply explode? Would he be forced to retreat back to da 2-1-5 to save face? Or would he just crap his pants? (My money is on option 3.) One way or the other he would be forced to Benedict Arnold one of his teams.

Well, there's good news and bad news on that front. Or, as they say in Redskins Park, "I've got amazing news and utterly unbelievably amazing news." The utterly unbelievably amazing news is we won't have to worry about the self-immolation that will surely befall young William if forced to choose between his two teams. The amazing news is he'll have all the free time in the world after both his teams get their arses swept.

So, I ask you, is it worse to get swept, or to lose in overtime of Game 7? And while you're thinking that one over (take that fork out of your eye), you can ponder this: Man is that guy from Insidehockey.com stupid. Its one thing to get it wrong (he picked the Flyers and Stars to win), its a whole 'nother thing to go against the grain and pick 'Dukakis' when all the polls say 'Reagan.' Twice. Credit where credit is due: BMFS picked the Wings and the Penguins to win.

So, whats the lesson in all of this? We don't have to go with 'Don't root for two teams who end up facing each other because no matter who wins, you still lose.' So, how bout we go with this one. Rooting for a team down 3-0 is much like repeatedly beating yourself in the nards with a golf club: its painful and ultimately pointless.

Two words for you, William: Baseball season. BEE-LEE DAT!

***

In other news, it appears that after last night's loss to Baltimore Manny Ramirez was interviewed wearing MLB-sanctioned underwear on his head:

I Take A Big Stinky Link Dump On Yr Ass

*A few days ago, the Redskins signed two undrafted free agents. Based only on name, I'm pretty sure that Jason Goode won't make the team, but Andrew Crummey will.

*Ex-Caps Goalie Olie Kolzig has officially stated that he will leave the organization next season for greener pastures. I'm not sure where these greener pastures are, but the ECHL surely has some openings.

*During last night's Red Sox/Twins game, Minnesota starter Livan Hernandez threw a 55mph curveball. Or, as it is also known, an eephus ball.

*Something we all suspected about Roger Clemens has finally been confirmed.

*The Red Sox (finally) DFA'd Julian Tavarez. Fortunately he has another career to fall back on, which, if you've ever looked at him, would likely surprise you.

Apparently Ol' Dusty Has Been Overworking Mr. Redlegs' Head

This, from the fine folks at Bugs And Cranks:










Any child who witnessed this grotesque tragedy could not possibly have been more acutely traumatized.


Well... maybe if you took him here:















.

We Interrupt this Grainy Footage of Brunnstrom Deking an Armoire...

...for my Conference Finals diatribe!

When I was trying to get some sleep after the Stars' 4-OT marathon Monday morning, something fairly dire occurred to me for the first time:

My fan bigamy will really bite me in the arse if the Flyers and Stars both get through to the Finals.

For as long as I can remember, big wins have been in short supply for all my favorite teams, and now that I actually have some emotional tie to two different teams in the same league, they might end up playing against each other for a championship? What a nightmare. I don't think I can bring myself to show up for every playoff game, up to the Finals, rooting for the Stars, then show up for the Finals rooting against the Stars. I'll have to go into hiding, or perhaps escape back to Philly for a week.

What I'd really like is for one or the other to make it through. Then, for the first time in a decade or so, a team I really like will be playing in the Finals... and -- bonus! -- it'll be against a team against which I have at least some antipathy (Detroit) if not outright hatred (Pittsburgh).

(I was rooting against the Sabres and Devils in '99 and '00, of course, but didn't become an actual Stars fan until after I moved here in '02, and it was gradual at that.)

But it won't happen; again this year I'll be watching a Stanley Cup Final in which, in every game, I hope the score is 0-0 and everybody gets hurt.

Predictions:
Sid The Kid and The Incredible Diving Mealtickets in 6
Red Wings in 6

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Stars Sign Hockey's Version of Sasquatch

Alleged Swedish hockey player and future NHL superstar Fabian Brunnstrom has been compared to the Loch Ness Monster, Yeti, and aliens - not that he's freaky looking or lives under water, but because he's gained international acclaim, yet it seems no one's really seen him play.

Like Chinese NBA flop Yi Jianlian, who the Milwaukee Bucks chose 6th overall in last year's draft, it appears Brunstromm's legend is largely the product of YouTube (um...there are highlights of him scoring on virtually an empty net and hitting the post on a wrap around) and some masterful work by his agent.

His legend was only increased by some heavy bidding by the "braintrust" of the Toronto Maple Leafs, who were so confident he'd find it such an honour to wear the Big Blue Leaf that they didn't even fly him in to Toronto to meet. As interim GM Cliff Fletcher put it:

"He's been here before, he knows the city," said Fletcher.

But Fletcher did pull out the heavy artillery:

"We even had Borje Salming talk to him (about playing in Toronto). So we've covered pretty well all the bases," said Fletcher.

Well, sorry Toronto (and Montreal and Detroit), you can suck it. The Stars have landed...we're not sure what. But at least we beat you! Scoreboard bitches. Sunny weather and strip clubs beat "tradition" any day.

At least we'll see him with our own eyes next year. We think.

Hey Roger, I'll See Your 15...

Roger Clemens is deservedly being raked through the coals for his apparent relationship with a 15-year-old Mindy McCready. However, there is another story out there right now that isn't receiving nearly the pub it should: That Hall-of-Famer Karl Malone actually FATHERED A CHILD WITH A 13-YEAR-OLD GIRL! There is no grey area here. No wondering if the relationship between the star player and the underage girl was sexual, as there is in the Clemens story.

Malone had a child with a girl who was barely a teenager. That child, Demetrius Bell, overcame the odds he was born in to and has recently made news of his own when he was drafted by the Buffalo Bills.

Malone was 20 at the time and a sophomore at Louisiana Tech when he impregnated Gloria Bell, who was 13 at the time. Imagine how different the NBA record books would look had Bell and her parents decided to press charges against the budding NBA superstar.

Incredibly, Malone hadn't learned his lesson, or found his pack of rubbers, after previously fathering twins when he was 17 years old. It wasn't until one of those twins, Cheryl Ford, started making a name for herself as a college basketball star that Malone even finally openly accepted responsibility for her and accepted her in to his life.

He still hasn't accepted Demetrius in to his family at all, and as the Buffalo News tells it:

Bell didn’t even know Malone was his father until after graduating from high school. When they finally met, Malone told the 18-year-old Bell it was too late to be his father, and that Bell would have to “earn his money on his own.”
In a 1998 story in the Salt Lake (Utah) Tribune, Gloria Bell said, “Demetrius is ashamed that his dad doesn’t claim him. But I’ve told him it is not his fault.”

Unbelievable. And unforgivable.

Malone made roughly $100 million as a NBA player, and he could have easily slid the fatherless Bell family some monthly funds to help them through their lives. Having removed himself wemotionally from them, this was the LEAST he could do (eventually, when a court ordered that Malone pay $125/week for support, he challenged it as being "excessive"). Instead he completely disowned them and, in fact, banished them to rough life fending for themselves, while secretly Gloria Bell knew the truth.

Karl Malone is a rapist and a deadbeat dad.

Add that to his Hall of Fame plaque.

I always hated him as a player - his "stray" elbows and flying knees, his "I'm just a good old boy who drives a semi", and his ignorant comments when Magic Johnson announced he had contracted HIV. I thought about giving him DA NUTZ, but he's nowhere near being worthy of them. He is beyond douchedome.

A Modest Proposal

The Washington Capitals are in a bit of trouble this off season. After an exciting run to the playoffs re-energized the Nations Capital, the Caps for the first time will be forced to deal with the pesky specter of expectation.

That expectation could remain unfulfilled if the Caps are unable to resign Cristobal Huet, their reliable and often outstanding goalie picked up at the trade deadline from Montreal.

Still, they'll have a few choices. They can go crawling back to Olie Kolzig and offer him back his starting job, but that seems unlikely to work from both sides. Sadly, Kolzig's time both in DC and as a starting goalie are likely over. Alternately, they could promote current backup Brent Johnson, but there is a consensus that Johnson would be over matched in such a role. They could promote a rookie from the minors, though both young goalies in the organization thought to be future NHL goalies likely aren't yet ready for the rigors of an NHL season.

Their last and probably best option is to go outside the organization. Unfortunately, if the Caps aren't able to come to agreement with Huet, there aren't many great choices available on the free agent market.

But I propose that if the Caps think outside the box a bit there may be some people who can do the job. Let me throw out a name: Thorsten Scheibler. Not familiar with him? I'm not surprised. Here's a picture:




Yes, Thorsten Scheibler is a sumo wrestler. Like Olie Kolzig, he's from Germany. Unlike Kolzig, he is 6'5 and weighs 439 lbs. Keep in mind a regulation NHL net is 6'x4'. Scheibler easily consumes the vast majority if not all of that available space.

Scheibler would have many advantages with his size. Often a potential scorer has trouble lifting a puck up and over a goaltender. This realization led to the butterfly style of goaltending, who's primary tenant is to protect the ice surface of the goalmouth. Scheibler would have no problem doing that, and additionally would be able, through sheer girth, to protect much of the upper areas as well.

Goalies are a combination of size and agility. Kolzig was successful for so long due to his size. He was able to position himself in such a way that the puck would simply bounce off him, or he would force the shooter into a bad shot simply through positioning. Huet is smaller but has quicker reflexes that make up for his lack of size. Scheibler's size would make him an extreme Kolzig. But it would also limit the distance he would have to go to make a save, meaning his size actually reduces the importance of agility.

To be successful, sumo wrestlers have to be strong (stronglikebull!), but also quick and agile with all limbs. This is because sumo wrestling is as much about positioning as it is about brute strength and weight. Positioning in terms of arms on your opponent and legs on the mat are of prime importance. These skills are highly transferable to goal tending. Scheibler's agility would allow him to go post to post and react quickly to a deflection or rebound shot.

In short, the Caps need a goalie if they aren't able to luer Huet back to DC. Scheibler is a sumo wrestler in a country that ignores sumo wrestling but loves ice hockey. How badly would he love to become a hockey player? How badly would he love to follow in the footsteps of his countryman, Kolzig? There is an answer to the Caps goalie problems, and his name is Thorsten Scheibler.

Happy Capitals Day! Now Go Sign Huet

This isn't to celebrate the official end (a.k.a. reign of terror) to Jaromir Jagr's time in Washington, or at least on the Caps payroll. Instead, its a tribute to a good and, everyone assumes, up and coming team that went on quite a remarkable run to end the season.

However, it won't be an up and coming team if they don't have a goalie, and right now they don't have a goalie. Cristobal Huet, who's play backstopped the Caps to the Southeast Division crown and just about took them past the Flyers, is a free agent. If the Caps are serious about competing next season they'll need a goalie, and as there aren't any other good goalies on the market and the Caps don't have anyone ready to step in and play, they'll need Huet.

The Caps (for some reason) haven't begun negotiating with Huet's agent yet, but apparently plan to when Huet returns from playing for France in the World Championships. Huet's agent, Stephen Bartlett, spoke to the Washington Post about a potential return to DC for his client and made a couple somewhat-promising-but-then-again-maybe-not statements.

Such as, "Washington will get strong consideration as a place that makes sense for him." Yay! Then he followed it up with, "I can't sit here and tell you that Washington is his first choice or second choice, but he felt he was treated well there, he liked his teammates, the coaching staff." Boo!

As usual, it'll probably come down to Show Me The Money. Which is fine. Huet looks to be the premiere goalie on the market, so he should get paid. And the Caps should find a way to work something out with him if at all possible. If they can't, they'll have to find a goalie somewhere else, and I don't have the slightest clue where that would be.

In the meantime, Happy Capitals Day to you and yours.

Clemens Apologizes For Global Warming, Genocide, Pontiac Aztek; Denies Sex With Underage Girl, Polar Bear Murder

"Even though these articles contain many false accusations and mistakes, I need to say that I have made mistakes in my personal life for which I am sorry," former pitcher Roger Clemens said in a statement issued through a spokesman today. "I have apologized to my family, the German people, everyone who owns beach front property in Florida, and to my fans. Like everyone, I have flaws. Like Bob, for instance. When he was a kid, he hit his grandpa in the nards with that frying pan. Sure, the old man had it coming for shitting in his cyclorama, but, you know, that's just not a mature way to handle things. I have sometimes made choices which have not been right. "

The apology was first reported by the Houston Chronicle. Brian McNamee, Clemens' former trainer, accused the pitcher in December's Mitchell Report of using performance-enhancing drugs in 1998, 2000 and 2001, before players and owners agreed to ban them from baseball.
Clemens, a seven-time Cy Young Award winner and 354-game winner, has repeatedly denied using steroids and human growth hormone, and claims to have only been an associate designer for GM at the time of the development of the Aztek.

"I believe my personal life has nothing to do with the accusations of steroid and HGH use," Clemens said. "which is why I haven't had sex with either steroids or HGH. Now, I have been accused of having an improper relationship with a 15-year old girl. Nothing could be further from the truth. For one thing, she was 14-years old, which is just an example of how this relationship has been twisted and distorted far beyond reality. It is just one of many, many accusations that are utterly false. Like murdering polar bears. Simply put, I've never murdered a polar bear. It just hasn't happened.

"I realize that many people want me to simply confess and apologize for the conduct that I have been accused of, but I cannot confess to, nor apologize for, things I did not do. Well, OK, I could, but that would be admitting things I did not do, which would be telling people that I did things that I did not do, and since I did not do those things I did not do I don't want people to think that I've done things I did not do. I have apologized to my family for my mistakes, and having offered this apology to the public, I would ask that you let me and my family deal with these matters in private." At which point all employees of the NY Post and the NY Daily News stood up in unison and said, "Yes, sir!"

BMFS: Hero of the Stupid

According to the chart on this page, I have witnessed -- in their entirety, in one of the game's participants' home cities -- four of the five longest NHL games in modern* history.

Actually, no, the chart doesn't say that. It doesn't mention me. It just lists the games. But I slogged through the full telecasts of the first-, second-, and fourth-longest games, and earlier this very day, I witnessed in person the fifth longest game in modern* NHL history.

Highlights from my senseless odyssey over the years:

5/4/00, Round 2
PHI 2, PIT 1
5 OTs, 92:01
Watched the first four periods at friends' home in suburban Philadelphia. Probably ingested a stromboli there at a high rate of speed. Sped wildly through narrow streets back home into the city to watch the rest of the game. Had to test new software first thing in the morning at work the next day; didn't care -- plenty of other people at my office were gonna be zombies from watching this. In the second or third OT, I remember thinking Keith Primeau had more jump than anyone else on the ice. He'd missed some time that season with an injury. Maybe a lot of time. As a 9-to-5er, I'm having a hell of a time staying awake during intermissions at this hour, and actually resort to watching porn to keep myself awake during one intermission. Primeau finally puts Steve Levy and Darren Pang out of their misery by posterizing Darius Kasparaitis. Game ended at approximately 2:35 local time.

4/24/03, Round 2
ANA 4, DAL 3
4 OTs, 80:48
Early start; game ended at a reasonable 12:32 AM Central time. (By this point I'd moved to the Central time zone.) The tent-like Jean-Sebastien Giguere gives up a cheapie late in regulation to tie the score, then stops a preposterous 40 shots in the overtimes as we become convinced that he's on some sort of performance-enhancer. The following morning at work, I'm in the restroom, uh, eliminating all the poison I'd ingested while watching hockey 'til the wee hours, and I reach for some toilet paper, only to (1) see an enormous cockroach charge out of the dispenser as soon as I touch it, and (2) freak the fuck out. Fucking Texas. (And by the way, my place of employment was a hospital.)

4/11/07, Round 1
VAN 5, DAL 4
4 OTs, 78:06
First game of the playoffs. Snizza, one other guy and I head from our local bar over to a bar uptown where a Stars diehard friend works. Mental patient lurking at local bar overhears our conversation, follows us there, sits next to me, asks me incomprehensible questions. Doesn't do anything illegal or violent and is thus not ejected from the premises. We move to a spot in the bar where there are only three seats. Mental patient follows us, stands behind us, continues one-way conversation. Bartender introduces us to the Crown Kamikaze, apparently a local good luck charm that worked magic during 1999 run to Stanley Cup. Records are spotty, however -- it might have been the table-wide dunes of cocaine that did the trick that year. Crown Kamikazes don't make the Stars score, but embolden me to start screaming at the mental patient, who is still lurking behind us and finally leaves. Bar starts to get crowded and noisy; back to the local tavern after the first OT. Fast forward to last call and the game is still going on. I am starving. I idle around the corner to my apartment -- I shoulda walked for safety's sake, but I don't have a portable AM radio to hear the game. I round up some food and set up shop in front of the TV, and as soon as I settle in, one of those fucking Sedins scores. Shit. I gotta go to work in about three hours, don't I?

5/4/08, Round 2
DAL 2,SJ 1
4 OTs, 69:03
A well-connected associate manages to get us out of our regular seats in the Van Allen Belt and into the Platinum Club, which means closer proximity to the ice, full bars that stay open past the end of the game, easy access to smoking areas, waitstaff-shepherded beverages, and shorter restroom lines. (You're not getting a Crown Kamikaze in the nosebleeds.) But we don't have actual seating assignments, so we've gotta stand at the counter behind the Platinum-Level seats all game. (Normally this is no problem whatsoever.) Stars score first and then go into what Snizza's boy Shannon called the "35-minute penalty kill." The trap era is almost as finished as the heavy metal era, but if the arena entertainment maestros aren't aware of the latter, why should the players and coaches be aware of the former? Turco looks really sharp, but gets screened on a wrist shot in the third period and whiffs on it: 1-1. The 35-minute penalty kill does not work anymore. Morrow sends Michalek into next Tuesday at the close of regulation. Cleanest hit I've ever seen incapacitate someone.

Everyone expects OT to be short like it's been in all the other games. It is not. The bars around the Platinum Level are beginning to close, one by one. At this rate I'm going to have a hangover before I even leave here. After the second OT, I do a lap around the Platinum Level and find one bar that's been running credit-card tabs all night and is still open for a few waning moments while people are closing them out. I purchase what are possibly the last two beers sold in the entire building that night -- drafts, unfortunately -- and somehow ferry them all the way back around to our spots without spilling anything. We need some Crown Kamikazes now, but we're shit-outta luck. The shot discrepancy on the scoreboard -- in which the Stars have been on the short end since the second period of regulation -- is growing steadily larger. Gee, that's an awfully marginal penalty to be calling on the Stars in the third overtime. I think there will be a make-up call. The images of children sleeping in their seats are starting to crop up on the Jumbotron. People are starting to give up and file out a few at a time. Out on the balcony, the smokers are heckling fans walking out of the arena below. One guy yells, "I haven't seen ONE Sharks fan leave here yet!" (There were maybe a dozen in the entire building.) I yell, "I'm going straight to work from here!" People actually laugh. Everyone up here is wasted and punchy beyond belief. Fourth overtime: we just go sit down in some empty seats in one of the Platinum-Level sections in the end of the rink. No ushers even look at us. They've all dragged chairs over to their posts at the top of each aisle. What's left of the crowd -- probably 80% -- is making an impressive showing, and... Hey, it's the make-up call! And a power-play gooooooall!! And the tiredest, slowest team handshake of all time.

*No chicken-wire boards, the coach isn't a member of the team, players don' t spend the off-season working in a rock quarry, no frozen moose doot as a puck -- you get the idea.


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Julio "Oldy" Franco Calls It Quits; Excretes Waste Into Bag

Julio Franco announced his retirement from baseball today. Over seventy-five years after breaking into the big leagues with Connie Mack's Philadelphia Athletics, Franco hit .278 in over 86,000 professional at-bats.

Known as "Oldy", "Geriatric Julio", and "The Reanimated Corpse" in and around baseball, Franco played for 21 teams over 75 years, including teams in the Mexican League, the Italian League, the Negro league, and the Bundeslege.

Towards the end, a myriad of hip and obscure bowel injuries made it difficult for Franco to play without the aid of his trusty walker 'Willy the Walker' and his trusted colostomy bag, Mr. Bag-of-Shit. Mr. Bag-of-Shit made it especially difficult for Franco to make it around the bases.

The end for Franco came when he shat his pants while sliding into home on a close play at the plate in last year's playoffs. Franco, shown at left enjoying a cigarette in an undated photograph, went unsigned this year, and saw the writing on the wall. He will now devote his time to his other hobbies, like phosphorus, carbon paper, and phonographs.

Frankensteinbrenner

I was going to do a post on the Redskins draft and why it is/was stupid with maybe a few too many poop jokes, but since seeing this a few weeks ago, I can't get this image of Hank Steinbrenner out of my head.

This one:


Hank is a weird looking guy. He's got that big head, but theres lots of space on his face because of his puckered mouth and deep eyes. The thing that gets me is his turned up nose combined with his eyes. Hank has this... well, this monster thing going on. I can't quite place it, but it reminds me of Herman Munster.

Thats not exactly it though. Its too goofy. I'm not sure Hank has ever actually laughed in his whole life. The one thing he has inherited from his father (besides looks) is a complete lack of a sense of humor, and Herman Munster was hilarious.

So, drop the smiling and you get more Frankenstein-ish.


Thats closer. More serious, like you'd expect of someone who is dead and/or running the Yankees. Frankenstein's face is too thin though. Hank has that round head... More like, I dunno, like a pig monster? I'm not familiar with any pig monsters, so I googled "pig monster" and got this:


Strange to say there are some serious similarities there. The round face, the deep set eyes, and the pig nose all evoke Hank. Still, thats not quite it... If theres one thing we know about pig monsters, its they are all business. You know, eating people and such... I guess? While he doesn't have a sense of humor, theres still a comical aspect to Hank that isn't represented in the pig monster. Also, Hank doesn't have his left eye sewn shut. So far.

No, theres something more comical than that pig monster, but still pig monster-ish going on with Hank.

Wait! I've got it!

ManBearPig!


To refresh your memory, ManBearPig is half man, half bear, and half pig. He's got some of Hank's facial features (pig nose, tiny deep-set eyes, big head), he's comically covered in blood, and he's hilarious!

Hey Mavs Fans, Fuck You.

-Totally crap the bed for the second half of the season? Check.

-Shoot like a cross-eyed amputee in the playoffs? Check.

-Openly talk about my pot smoking, and say most of the league smokes dope? Check.

-Completely disregard coach's orders? Check.

-Forget about getting blown out in game 4 of the playoffs because I got to have a kickass birthday party after the game? Check.

-Get benched for the 4th quarter of game 5? Check.

All in all, it's been a great year for me. Thanks to all my fans.

Love,

Josh

Anybody got a lighter?

Urethra! I Have Found It!

My malfeasance in posting has opened the door for Matty the K to attempt to turn this into a Red Sox blog. But no more.

Standing in my apartment this morning -- musing on exactly how my keys ended up in the refrigerator -- I had a moment of clarity regarding H.B. "Poopy Pants" Bissinger's verbal homicide attempt-turned-career suicide attempt on HBO's "CostasNOW" the other day:

I've seen this before!














January 6, 1988: North Stars winger Dino Ciccarelli repeatedly clubs stunned Maple Leafs rookie "defenceman" Luke Richardson upside the head with his stick until a brawl erupts.

Bissinger: "I think you're fulla shit!" / Ciccarelli: *Whap!!*

Leitch/Richardson: "Hey, what're you doin'?"

Ciccarelli: *Whap!!*

Richardson: "Hey, cut it out!"

Ciccarelli: *Whap!!*

Richardson: "C'mon, you're just embarrassing yourself at this point, and it's starting to hurt."

Ciccarelli: *WHAP!!!*

Of course, Ciccarelli spent a night in an Ontario jail for his troubles, which I think might help cure what's ailing Bissinger as well.

(Video of the incident from two different angles -- Ciccarelli's, I mean, not Bissinger's -- is available here as part of a 1988 CBC News feature.)

Back with more later about L'Affaire Big Daddy Balls...

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Where Revisionist History, and Throwing Everyone Else Under the Bus, Happens

One of the beautiful things about the Internet, other than the instantaneous access it gives us to an endless supply of 38 DDs, is that you are able to find past stories and quotes from people that you can then use to call "BULLSHIT" on them when they try to rewrite history. Today, former Mavericks Head Coach is gonna get the business. The Little Private(s)' (BMFS came up with that one) press conference yesterday was so full of self-admiration and revisionist quotes that I just had to fire up the intersearch and reveal what a two-faced weasel he turned out to be.

On the Jason Kidd Trade:

From February 19:
"He's going to help us," Mavericks coach Avery Johnson said, "because at the end of games, he just knows how to win."

"We've got somebody who when you are in the red zone can help you get touchdowns," said coach Avery Johnson, going all football on us. "We feel this inches us a little closer."


From May 1 Dallas Morning News Mavericks Blog:
Avery was asked whether he had everything in place to be successful here. His answer: "No, not this year." He followed that by mentioning that the Mavs had the best record against the Western Conference before the Kidd deal, and that he'd told Mark Cuban and Donnie Nelson that he wanted to develop Devin Harris. He hinted that the Mavs made a panic move despite his protest after Harris was injured and the West picture was changed with other blockbuster deals.
"The team was changed," Avery said. "We never really got back on track."

Avery then said that he didn't want to drag the names of Harris or Kidd into his firing. Funny, that's exactly what he had just done without being asked about the trade.
"I'm on record as what my feelings were," Avery said. "Hey, it's over with now. It was something that was tried, and it didn't take us anywhere close. We were struggling to make the playoffs, so it didn't nearly bring us the rewards that we wanted."


He obviously was on board for getting Kidd when the trade went down. According to this, and this, it was widely known that Avery wanted to make the trade. But then, after the team stumbled down the stretch, he pulls the rug out from his owner and GM by implying they screwed up his team. Douchey.


On Devin Harris:

From the December 8, 2007 Fort Worth Star-Telegram:

When Avery Johnson made Devin Harris his starting point guard, the coach relinquished much of the play calling to Harris. But, that will change some in tonight's home game against Utah as the Mavs try to stem a two-game slide and Harris tries to end his own four-game slump in which he's averaged 7.0 points and 3.4 assists.
Johnson said he'll be calling more of the offensive play sets, at least for now.
"I'm going to call a few more plays now and help us get better in some of the sets I know we need to be in and make sure the ball gets in the right places," Johnson said after Saturday morning's shootaround. "We tried to not do that that, but we just need to kind of do that a little bit more because I always pretty much know where I want the ball to go and it doesn't always get there."


From yesterday's press conference:
“We had Devin Harris knocking on the door to be an All-Star,” Johnson said. “He was going to be an 18 (points) and 8 (assists) player for us. I invested a significant amount of time in him. If we just hold on a little while … The team was changed and we never really got back on track. The deal was made. Hey, it’s over. Something was tried, but it didn’t take us nearly to where we wanted.”

One, 7.0 PPG and 3.4 APG is not close to being an 18/8 player. Not even if you convert his numbers to the metric system.

Two, Devin Harris was not close to being an All-Star. To be an All-Star point guard in the Western Conference, you have to be better than Stave Nash, Deron Williams, Chris Paul, Tony Parker and Baron Davis. Harris, who has tons of speed and talent, would never be better than any of those players, especially under the controlling micromanagement of The Little Private(s).

Three, if he was so confident of Harris' abilities and future, he never would've allowed him to be traded. In a radio interview yesterday, Mavs GM Donnie Nelson said the Mavs' decision-making panel of Mark Cuban, Avery and himself voted unanimously in favor of making the blockbuster deal.
"There isn't a decision made that three people didn't check off on," Nelson said. "Period."

And I love this take from DallasBasketball.com.


Johnson went on to say that the Mavericks even making the playoffs this year was a "miracle." Really??!! A MIRACLE? The team that won 67 games the year before, and was a few coaching blunders and Bennett Salvatore calls from winning the title in 2006, needed miracle work from its head coach to be a seven seed? Nice work.


Bottom line, Johnson inherited a perennial 50+ win team and was a fresh voice that pushed them to the Finals. Since game 3 of the Heat series, this thing has been on a steady decline, with the rift between the coach and players reaching Grand Canyon width by the middle of this year. The real judgment of The Little Private(s)'s coaching abilities won't be known until he takes over a middle-of-the-road team and attempts to coach them up to the lofty heights he seems so sure he can achieve. As long as those around him don't fuck things up.

You Stay Classy, Yankees Fans

In case you've been too caught up in the NHL playoffs to notice (and I sense that you have), Your New York Yankees started May by finishing up a sweep. Uh, that is, they got swept. By the Tigers at Yankee Stadium. So as you'd expect, I was reading about it while masturbating profusely this morning.

Until I got to this passage:

It was the seventh inning of Detroit’s 8-4 victory over the struggling, injury-weakened Yankees on Thursday night at Yankee Stadium. Fans began to flee
from the chilly rain following a two-run home run by the Tigers’ Miguel Cabrera.

Suddenly, a broom with a long red handle sailed from the upper deck to the ground in front of the Yankees’ dugout. Such events sometimes occur when the home team sweeps a three-game series and the fans gloat.

But it is rare for a team to be taunted that way in its own ballpark, even when it drops three consecutive games to the visitors, as the Yankees did.

So, after the first month of the season Yankees fans are not only giving up on the team (who are all of 3.5 games behind Boston for first place in the division), but are attempting to humiliate them in their home park.

**

I acknowledge the above picture has nothing to do with this story, but it makes me wet my pants just looking at it.

WTF?!?

Two outs in the bottom of the ninth inning. The Red Sox are losing 3-0 to the Blue Jays. BJ Ryan is on the mound for Toronto. The Red Sox have one runner on first courtesy of a two out walk. Ryan rears back and throws and Crisp pops it up to short right field. The right fielder catches it for the third out. Game over.

Except, no.

The second base umpire ruled that Ryan balked when throwing the pitch, negating the pitch and Crisp's subsequent pop up. Strangely enough I noticed the balk and yelled it out just after it happened proving yet again that even a broken clock is right twice a day.

But the important part was that Crisp now wasn't out. Predictably Toronto Manager John Gibbons went nuts at the umps, dropping f-bombs left and right. But the umpire was correct. When throwing from the stretch position, as pitchers do when there is a runner on base (and may relievers do anyway), he must come to a stop at a 'set position' before throwing the pitch and Ryan very clearly wasn't doing that.

Watch the first ten second of Ryan in this video when nobody is on base. If there were men on, he would be required to come to a stop, but there aren't so he doesn't.



However, in the game there were men on, but he still threw exactly as in the video. No stopping. So, despite Gibbons setting the English language back three centuries with his profane Buzz Bissinger-esque diatribe (captured in close up by NESN HD), Ryan had balked, Crisp wasn't out, and the game wasn't over.

As anyone who watches sports on a regular basis knows, that just about guaranteed that Crisp would get a hit, which he did two pitches later.

But that wasn't the strange part. The strange part is after having the balk called on him, Ryan didn't change his motion one bit. He continued to not come set (i.e. balk) on every single pitch he threw in that game. And not one of them was called a balk. I don't get it. If the ump notices one you'd think he'd pick up on the next twelve in a row. But no.

So, the Sox lost, BJ Ryan balked on every pitch, and John Gibbons proved that screaming obscenities into the face of an umpire until he throws your ass out of the game can somehow work in your favor.

No Words Necessary

This really is a case where a picture tells the whole story. Wait a minute, I just used some words. Fart.

Roger Clemens: [in gay voice] Man Whore!

We all know Roger likes to put stuff in his butt, like needles, steroids, his head, etc. But what we didn't know is that he likes to put things in other people's butts (or vaginas) too. Even if he isn't married to them. And, apparently he does this a lot. Thats A LOT.

Actually, even more than that.

Keeping track of Clemens women, which is a sub-category of Clemens screw-ups/lies, is a full time beat for the NY tabloids. Not only is Clemens cheating on his wife with (at least) three women, but he's paying for their apartments, and flying them around in his private jet.

Oh, and far be it from me to gloss over this: one of them was 15 years old when they started their "relationship!" Welcome to the Clemens home, please leave your 'morals' and 'sodomy regulations' outside! Lucky he's normal gun-loving, democrat-hating Christian, otherwise the government would have something to say about this kind of behavior.

I know, I know, as columnist Wallace Matthews says, probably with intended sarcasm, "A ballplayer who cheats on his wife? I am shocked." But this isn't just a ballplayer, Wallace, its Roger Clemens, defender of morality, family values, and the American Way.

Clemens hasn't yet had his Dean Scream moment like Rafael Palmeiro did with his finger waging in front of congress, but its coming, man, its coming. Clemens has nothing left on his side approaching the truth The only thing left to do is publically call out people in a position of power over you and then hide under the bed while the shit hits the fan.

Also, his taste in music isn't very good either.