"Schism" is not that rare of a word. Fucks sake, Anthrax titled a song "Schism" back in '88. Tool recorded a song called "Schism." Clearly it's not just the province of stuffy professorial types.
Also, if you can't tell Jared Allen is being sarcastic in this video, and you're an American, you prove my Euro friends right: we can't tell sarcasm for shit.
Reading this here article reminded me of when that douchewar Fred Durst caught flying screaming crap for using the word "agreeance," or the disbelief over Roger Clemens' claim that someone sometime "misremembered" something. People were aghast: those aren't words! Except they are. (I actually use "misremembered" in No Setlist, in a review that predates the Clemens steroid saga.)
That's why I love words. You can confuse people with them.
Showing posts with label Sports. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sports. Show all posts
Friday, August 28, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
The Golden Boy
Gary Bettman must be very happy. Not only did his pet Sidney Crosby win a Stanley Cup, but he's taking Lebron James lessons in sportsmanship.
Favorite quote:
"Nobody respects the traditions of hockey more than Sidney Crosby," team vice president Tom McMillan said.
Understand that? No one. On Earth. Gordie Howe? No. Wayne Gretzky? No. Bobby Orr? When it comes to the grand traditions of the grandest game, Bobby Orr is lookin' out for Ray Bolger!
Favorite quote:
"Nobody respects the traditions of hockey more than Sidney Crosby," team vice president Tom McMillan said.
Understand that? No one. On Earth. Gordie Howe? No. Wayne Gretzky? No. Bobby Orr? When it comes to the grand traditions of the grandest game, Bobby Orr is lookin' out for Ray Bolger!
Friday, May 29, 2009
Purple Pride
Fran Tarkenton is a god among sad little children. He has said what so many of us in the Vikings fanbase believe, and the media castigated him for it. What a sad day when Marcellus "Sack Machine" Wiley can actually sit down in front of a camera and attempt to demean a Hall of Famer.
What does Tarkenton never winning a Super Bowl have to do with the content of his opinion? Trent Dilfer won a Super Bowl, and no one gives a shit what he has to say. If Dilfer ever came up with a foolproof solution for correcting the current economy, he'd have to relay it through Mel Kiper.
Fran Tarkenton makes me proud to be a Vikings fan.
What does Tarkenton never winning a Super Bowl have to do with the content of his opinion? Trent Dilfer won a Super Bowl, and no one gives a shit what he has to say. If Dilfer ever came up with a foolproof solution for correcting the current economy, he'd have to relay it through Mel Kiper.
Fran Tarkenton makes me proud to be a Vikings fan.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Freedom of Speech, Just Watch What You Say
Some 17-year-old Penguins fan from Chambersburg, PA got real mad after the Pens lost Game 2 of their NHL Eastern Conference semifinals matchup to the Capitals and made a death threat against Caps superstar Alex Ovechkin on a Pens message board. A regular poster on the Capitals message board read it and brought it to everyone's attention, even asking who in law enforcement should be contacted. The general vibe was that this was some young, bored, overemotional douchebag with a mental disorder. I mean, posting on the message board, making death threats, rooting for the Penguins? It all adds up to one disturbed individual. But not all off-kilter people in this world take the lives of others. I read it and thought, Meh.
Yeah, meh.
But the threatening post was brought to the attention of local police by...not Caps fans...not only the Caps front office...but also by the Penguins front office. Which makes all the Internet bitching by Pens fan about the Capitals blowing this out of proportion laughable.
Yeah, meh.
But the threatening post was brought to the attention of local police by...not Caps fans...not only the Caps front office...but also by the Penguins front office. Which makes all the Internet bitching by Pens fan about the Capitals blowing this out of proportion laughable.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
There There, Fellas, Both Your Favorite Teams Suck
Washington D.C. Capital of America. Home of the government. Home of the Redskins.
The Dallas/Washington feud is hilarious, mainly because Cowboys fans take it nowhere near as seriously as the Skins faithful. Maybe at one time in history both fanbases were equal in the fervency of their dislike; but these days, Dallas fans are too into their soap opera storylines to worry about on-field "rivals".
This is a lesson in the misguided passion of those who root root root for the home squad. How fitting it took place on L Street, 'cause an "L" is precisely what the flag-snatcher took.
The Dallas/Washington feud is hilarious, mainly because Cowboys fans take it nowhere near as seriously as the Skins faithful. Maybe at one time in history both fanbases were equal in the fervency of their dislike; but these days, Dallas fans are too into their soap opera storylines to worry about on-field "rivals".
This is a lesson in the misguided passion of those who root root root for the home squad. How fitting it took place on L Street, 'cause an "L" is precisely what the flag-snatcher took.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Plundering With Tavaris and Sage
Sounds like I'm about to season some protein, but no, the NFL 2009 schedule came out today, and the Minnesota Vikings have, on the surface, an easy run of it.
Sunday Sept 13, 12 pm CT @ Cleveland Browns (FOX)
Sunday Sept 20, 12 pm CT @ Detroit Lions (FOX)
Sunday Sept 27, 12 pm CT vs. San Francisco 49ers (FOX)
Monday Oct 5, 7:30 pm CT vs. Green Bay Packers (ESPN)
Sunday Oct 11, 12 pm CT @ St. Louis Rams (FOX)
Sunday Oct 18, 12 pm CT vs. Baltimore Ravens (CBS)
Sunday Oct 25, 12 pm CT @ Pittsburgh Steelers (FOX)
Sunday Nov 1, 12 pm CT @ Green Bay Packers (FOX)
BYE
Sunday Nov 15, 12 pm CT vs. Detroit Lions (FOX)
Sunday Nov 22, 12 pm CT vs. Seattle Seahawks (FOX)
Sunday Nov 29, 12 pm CT vs. Chicago Bears (FOX)
Sunday Dec 6, 3:15 pm CT @ Arizona Cardinals (FOX)
Sunday Dec 13, 12 pm CT vs. Cincinnati Bengals (CBS)
Sunday Dec 20, 7:20 pm CT @ Carolina Panthers (NBC)
Monday Dec 28, 7:30 pm CT @ Chicago Bears (ESPN)
Sunday Jan 3, 12 pm CT vs. New York Giants (FOX)
Starting off against the Browns, Lions and Niners? Two MNF games? Makes up for having to face the Ravens and Steelers back-to-back. Does not make up for the fact that Minnesota's QB corps is just one step above Bobby Hebert/Bubby Brister.Thursday, April 9, 2009
A Loss In the Sports World
Close to home, this. He wasn't even expected to make the Angels rotation so soon, but the team needed his arm, and last night Adenhart proved his mettle with six scoreless innings. A no-decision, but a big "yes" to the question of whether or not he had the tools to hang in the big leagues.
Then he's gone.
Adenhart's signing with L.A. was a big deal in Hagerstown and Williamsport, much pride and hope for a talented guy that by all accounts was also a decent young man. My deepest sympathies to everyone that will miss Nick Adenhart in their lives.
Life is short.
Drunk drivers suck.
Then he's gone.
Adenhart's signing with L.A. was a big deal in Hagerstown and Williamsport, much pride and hope for a talented guy that by all accounts was also a decent young man. My deepest sympathies to everyone that will miss Nick Adenhart in their lives.
Life is short.
Drunk drivers suck.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
On the Disorder List
Reading about MLB pitcher Dontrelle Willis and his brand-swillin' new "anxiety disorder" diagnosis initially made me feel great empathy in the face of much incredulity across the Innaweb. It's not hard at all for me to comprehend an athlete (even a baseball player) being rendered temporarily useless by such an illness because, as any faithful Trapper Jenn reader knows, I suffer from panic disorder. Last year, that brave man running in my family placed me on the 90-day DL (more or less), sapping me of energy, hope, and will, costing me thousands in missed work, packing pounds on my frame, and making even walking up and/or down a flight of stairs an untenable chore.
To read Willis' explanation, however, is to be struck.
“This is not something where I’m too amped up, I don’t know where I’m at, and I’m running sprints up and down the parking lot. This is not something like that. (The doctors) see something in my blood that they don’t like. I’m not crazy. My teammates might think I’m crazy. But this is not something like that.”
Well, yes...one who suffers from anxiety disorder is not crazy. Or at least not because of that.
Willis also says that the diagnosis was determined through the results of a blood test.
"They didn't like what they saw in the blood (tests)," Willis said of the unidentified doctors who are treating him. "They had a very concerned look on their faces."
I'd have a concerned look on my face too, if I had no idea what the hell I was doing.
Anxiety disorder cannot be found via blood work. Not possible. No psychological disorder can! Also, in my experience, the diagnosis identifies a specific type: generalized anxiety, panic, etc.
Any professional purporting to proclaim the existence of such an illness had better refer to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Per DSM-IV, here is the criteria to make such a call:
A. At least 6 months of "excessive anxiety and worry" about a variety of events and situations. Generally, "excessive" can be interpreted as more than would be expected for a particular situation or event. Most people become anxious over certain things, but the intensity of the anxiety typically corresponds to the situation.
B. There is significant difficulty in controlling the anxiety and worry. If someone has a very difficult struggle to regain control, relax, or cope with the anxiety and worry, then this requirement is met.
C. The presence for most days over the previous six months of 3 or more (only 1 for children) of the following symptoms:
E. The symptoms cause "clinically significant distress" or problems functioning in daily life. "Clinically significant" is the part that relies on the perspective of the treatment provider. Some people can have many of the aforementioned symptoms and cope with them well enough to maintain a high level of functioning.
F. The condition is not due to a substance or medical issue
To read his words, Willis doesn't even seem that out of sorts.
"They asked me how I was feeling, and I told them I felt good but amped-up to go out there," he said. "It's a fine line between being too amped-up and anxiety. ... I don't know what (test) revealed it. They drew blood and told me a whole bunch of things."
They told me a whole bunch of things. In the case of a real anxiety diagnosis, Willis should be telling them a whole bunch of things.
To read Willis' explanation, however, is to be struck.
“This is not something where I’m too amped up, I don’t know where I’m at, and I’m running sprints up and down the parking lot. This is not something like that. (The doctors) see something in my blood that they don’t like. I’m not crazy. My teammates might think I’m crazy. But this is not something like that.”
Well, yes...one who suffers from anxiety disorder is not crazy. Or at least not because of that.
Willis also says that the diagnosis was determined through the results of a blood test.
"They didn't like what they saw in the blood (tests)," Willis said of the unidentified doctors who are treating him. "They had a very concerned look on their faces."
I'd have a concerned look on my face too, if I had no idea what the hell I was doing.
Anxiety disorder cannot be found via blood work. Not possible. No psychological disorder can! Also, in my experience, the diagnosis identifies a specific type: generalized anxiety, panic, etc.
Any professional purporting to proclaim the existence of such an illness had better refer to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Per DSM-IV, here is the criteria to make such a call:
A. At least 6 months of "excessive anxiety and worry" about a variety of events and situations. Generally, "excessive" can be interpreted as more than would be expected for a particular situation or event. Most people become anxious over certain things, but the intensity of the anxiety typically corresponds to the situation.
B. There is significant difficulty in controlling the anxiety and worry. If someone has a very difficult struggle to regain control, relax, or cope with the anxiety and worry, then this requirement is met.
C. The presence for most days over the previous six months of 3 or more (only 1 for children) of the following symptoms:
1. Feeling wound-up, tense, or restlessD. The symptoms are not part of another mental disorder.
2. Easily becoming fatigued or worn-out
3. Concentration problems
4. Irritability
5. Significant tension in muscles
6. Difficulty with sleep
E. The symptoms cause "clinically significant distress" or problems functioning in daily life. "Clinically significant" is the part that relies on the perspective of the treatment provider. Some people can have many of the aforementioned symptoms and cope with them well enough to maintain a high level of functioning.
F. The condition is not due to a substance or medical issue
To read his words, Willis doesn't even seem that out of sorts.
"They asked me how I was feeling, and I told them I felt good but amped-up to go out there," he said. "It's a fine line between being too amped-up and anxiety. ... I don't know what (test) revealed it. They drew blood and told me a whole bunch of things."
They told me a whole bunch of things. In the case of a real anxiety diagnosis, Willis should be telling them a whole bunch of things.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Known To Be The Master of the Frozen Field
This video is dedicated to the Tampa Bay Lightning and their rapidly-dwindling fanbase. It's also dedicated to Don Cherry and all the hockey fans who claim that Alexander Ovechkin's goal-scoring antics are a disgrace to the great game.
Two goals, two assists, three hits, a Caps win...
Two goals, two assists, three hits, a Caps win...
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Even Your Grandmother Fills Out a Bracket
Hey, did you know Barack Obama filled out an NCAA tournament bracket? Did you? Did you? Shit's taken up more time on the news than the unchanging interest rates.
I'm not leading the free world, but check my CBS Sports bracket here and here. That's right, I got Louisville bringing back Kentucky pride and Florida State as my "surprise" team. Got a good vibe about them in the ACC tournament. As far as the womens tourney, it's gonna be Connecticut vs. Maryland. In my land of fantastical happenings, Kristi Tolliver hits a game-winning 3 to pull off the upset, but in reality the Lady Huskies will probably smash their shells. Doesn't hurt to believe though.
I'm not leading the free world, but check my CBS Sports bracket here and here. That's right, I got Louisville bringing back Kentucky pride and Florida State as my "surprise" team. Got a good vibe about them in the ACC tournament. As far as the womens tourney, it's gonna be Connecticut vs. Maryland. In my land of fantastical happenings, Kristi Tolliver hits a game-winning 3 to pull off the upset, but in reality the Lady Huskies will probably smash their shells. Doesn't hurt to believe though.
Monday, February 23, 2009
A Week in the Life of a Caps Fan
If you ignore the Avalanche loss (which perhaps would be a bad idea--it exposed the inconsistent goaltending and defense that right now comprise the biggest obstacles standing in the way of a trip to the Stanley Cup Finals), last week was a hell of a seven-day stretch to be a Washington Capitals fan. Whether you're a vet at it like me (15 years and counting), or what Penguins fans like to call a"bandwagon idiot", having the world's greatest hockey player on a team that's actually kicking ass is a glorious combination. It's hard not to be excited, and hopeful. What else does DC have to look forward to, sports-wise? The Redskins are gonna suck again. The Wizards blow. The Nationals? Are we seriously gonna talk about the Nationals?
It all came to a head Sunday, when NBC televised an afternoon matchup between the Caps and Pens. Oh how I wanted to be at Verizon Center; to cheer, to scream, to laugh, to curse the refs, to head down the escalator to the Metro, spot some black-and-gold sweaters hanging from dejected shoulders and yell, "Russian Machine doesn't break, swear to Gah!" Washington won 5-2, and took home the moral victory too. On the ice, everyone in red was decking the dudes wearing white, facing only mild reprisal. The Pens best player, Evgeni Malkin, was a non-entity incarnate, while Sidney Crosby was subject to endless taunting and the occasional jab/smoosh. This isn't exactly new territory for the young man that the NHL has anointed their savior above all, but he never had the real best player in the league getting in his face and styling on him.
It's akin to Gretzky and Lemieux getting into a tussle, which as I can recall, never happened. It's an occurrence so beastly that even ESPN's daily battle of the blowhards, Pardon the Interruption, had to talk about it. Or mainly Wilbon talked some sense about the rivalry while Kornheiser parroted some pro-Cosby patter and admitted that his daughter loves Ovechkin. (Any Caps fan who sees Kornheiser at the VC this season has carte blanche to knock him stupider with Horn Guy's instrument.) Only the most astonishing, breathtaking of NHL events can cause the Worldwide Leader to take notice. The fact that within the span of one week, actual on-ice activity managed to crack the stained glass of Sportscenter is nothing short of incredible. No shock that both times, Alexander Ovechkin stood at the epicenter.
Wait, you don't know about what happened earlier on in the week? When Washington played Montreal?
Ovy scored only the second greatest goal of his young career, a dazzling display of skill, puck-smarts, speed, and stick-to-it-iveness that showed the interested world that here, finally, was the true greatest player in the National Hockey League. He never lived in Mario Lemieux's basement, never was given team captaincy while a teenager, doesn't have English as his first language. He just loves to play the game he's superb at, and it's about goddamn time the league had a guy who not only could operate at a maximum skill level, but also hits like a tank, runs his mouth, and celebrates goals--his, his teammates--with tackles, blown kisses, leaps, and yes, Hulk Hogan-esque crowd-baiting. He's got personality, sure, but it's more than that. It's the X factor when trying to explain why Ovechkin has surpassed Crosby.
It's duende.
Duende is a Spanish word used primarily to describe art and artists. It indicates soul, but goes beyond that. The Larousse Spanish-English Dictionary translates duende as Goblin, elf. There is also the term tenor duende, to have a certain magic. Per Christopher Maurer, editor of "In Search of Duende," the elements of duende are: "irrationality, earthiness, a heightened awareness of death, and a dash of the diabolical." Maurer's book lists dance, music, and bullfighting as the arenas most likely to attract duende. But really, it's not hard to see it in sports as well.
John McEnroe had it; Jimmy Connors did not. Babe Ruth for sure possessed duende; not so much Roger Maris. Lebron James has it; Kobe Bryant does not. As you can see, the metaphysical concept that is duende does not apply to mere talent. The athlete visited by the "goblin" exudes this ineffable quality even in the throes of failure. Boston Globe columnist George Frazier described such a scenario perfectly: "It was what Ted Williams had even when striking out, but Stan Musial lacked when hitting a home run."
And that, friends, is what ultimately separates Ovechkin and Crosby. It is no knock on Crosby, but rather an invitation to marvel at Ovechkin. He is an anomaly in pro hockey, while Crosby is another in a long line of humble Canadians who gives assembly line answers in interviews. Even now that their feud has spilled over into the media, each man delivers what you would expect.
"What I can say about him?" Ovechkin said. "He is a good player, but he talks too much."
"Like it or lump it, that's what he does," Crosby said when asked about Ovechkin's showmanship. "Some people like it, some people don't. Personally, I don't like it."
("Like it or lump it?" How Marge Simpson of you, Sid. I guess I'm just gonna have to go get in the crawl space again!)
Those tsk-tsking Alex Ovechkin for his expressive brand of hockey need to understand that this is beyond arrogance, a sense of entitlement, or age/cultural differences. He is made of different stuff, material that fits together in only a select few men and women (oh yes...Babe Didrikson had duende. Danica Patrick, no. But hey, she's got that GoDaddy sponsorship going for her). Allow me to repeat Maurer's explanation: the elements of duende are: "irrationality, earthiness, a heightened awareness of death, and a dash of the diabolical." It's the third element that I think gets very overlooked when evaluating Ovechkin's on-ice character, and perhaps this is borne out of respect. But the fact is that Sergei Ovechkin pushed his little brother to play hockey again after dropping out while still only a pre-teen. And the fact is that Sergei Ovechkin died without seeing Alexander play in the NHL. Knowledge of the fragility of life streaks behind Ovechkin as he makes play after incomparable play. As he irritates the traditionalists with his joyous post-score behavior. As he waves dismissively at the Boy Who Would Be King.
As he plays hockey.
It all came to a head Sunday, when NBC televised an afternoon matchup between the Caps and Pens. Oh how I wanted to be at Verizon Center; to cheer, to scream, to laugh, to curse the refs, to head down the escalator to the Metro, spot some black-and-gold sweaters hanging from dejected shoulders and yell, "Russian Machine doesn't break, swear to Gah!" Washington won 5-2, and took home the moral victory too. On the ice, everyone in red was decking the dudes wearing white, facing only mild reprisal. The Pens best player, Evgeni Malkin, was a non-entity incarnate, while Sidney Crosby was subject to endless taunting and the occasional jab/smoosh. This isn't exactly new territory for the young man that the NHL has anointed their savior above all, but he never had the real best player in the league getting in his face and styling on him.
It's akin to Gretzky and Lemieux getting into a tussle, which as I can recall, never happened. It's an occurrence so beastly that even ESPN's daily battle of the blowhards, Pardon the Interruption, had to talk about it. Or mainly Wilbon talked some sense about the rivalry while Kornheiser parroted some pro-Cosby patter and admitted that his daughter loves Ovechkin. (Any Caps fan who sees Kornheiser at the VC this season has carte blanche to knock him stupider with Horn Guy's instrument.) Only the most astonishing, breathtaking of NHL events can cause the Worldwide Leader to take notice. The fact that within the span of one week, actual on-ice activity managed to crack the stained glass of Sportscenter is nothing short of incredible. No shock that both times, Alexander Ovechkin stood at the epicenter.
Wait, you don't know about what happened earlier on in the week? When Washington played Montreal?
Ovy scored only the second greatest goal of his young career, a dazzling display of skill, puck-smarts, speed, and stick-to-it-iveness that showed the interested world that here, finally, was the true greatest player in the National Hockey League. He never lived in Mario Lemieux's basement, never was given team captaincy while a teenager, doesn't have English as his first language. He just loves to play the game he's superb at, and it's about goddamn time the league had a guy who not only could operate at a maximum skill level, but also hits like a tank, runs his mouth, and celebrates goals--his, his teammates--with tackles, blown kisses, leaps, and yes, Hulk Hogan-esque crowd-baiting. He's got personality, sure, but it's more than that. It's the X factor when trying to explain why Ovechkin has surpassed Crosby.
It's duende.
Duende is a Spanish word used primarily to describe art and artists. It indicates soul, but goes beyond that. The Larousse Spanish-English Dictionary translates duende as Goblin, elf. There is also the term tenor duende, to have a certain magic. Per Christopher Maurer, editor of "In Search of Duende," the elements of duende are: "irrationality, earthiness, a heightened awareness of death, and a dash of the diabolical." Maurer's book lists dance, music, and bullfighting as the arenas most likely to attract duende. But really, it's not hard to see it in sports as well.
John McEnroe had it; Jimmy Connors did not. Babe Ruth for sure possessed duende; not so much Roger Maris. Lebron James has it; Kobe Bryant does not. As you can see, the metaphysical concept that is duende does not apply to mere talent. The athlete visited by the "goblin" exudes this ineffable quality even in the throes of failure. Boston Globe columnist George Frazier described such a scenario perfectly: "It was what Ted Williams had even when striking out, but Stan Musial lacked when hitting a home run."
And that, friends, is what ultimately separates Ovechkin and Crosby. It is no knock on Crosby, but rather an invitation to marvel at Ovechkin. He is an anomaly in pro hockey, while Crosby is another in a long line of humble Canadians who gives assembly line answers in interviews. Even now that their feud has spilled over into the media, each man delivers what you would expect.
"What I can say about him?" Ovechkin said. "He is a good player, but he talks too much."
"Like it or lump it, that's what he does," Crosby said when asked about Ovechkin's showmanship. "Some people like it, some people don't. Personally, I don't like it."
("Like it or lump it?" How Marge Simpson of you, Sid. I guess I'm just gonna have to go get in the crawl space again!)
Those tsk-tsking Alex Ovechkin for his expressive brand of hockey need to understand that this is beyond arrogance, a sense of entitlement, or age/cultural differences. He is made of different stuff, material that fits together in only a select few men and women (oh yes...Babe Didrikson had duende. Danica Patrick, no. But hey, she's got that GoDaddy sponsorship going for her). Allow me to repeat Maurer's explanation: the elements of duende are: "irrationality, earthiness, a heightened awareness of death, and a dash of the diabolical." It's the third element that I think gets very overlooked when evaluating Ovechkin's on-ice character, and perhaps this is borne out of respect. But the fact is that Sergei Ovechkin pushed his little brother to play hockey again after dropping out while still only a pre-teen. And the fact is that Sergei Ovechkin died without seeing Alexander play in the NHL. Knowledge of the fragility of life streaks behind Ovechkin as he makes play after incomparable play. As he irritates the traditionalists with his joyous post-score behavior. As he waves dismissively at the Boy Who Would Be King.
As he plays hockey.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
As a Parting Gift, Please Accept This Middle Finger, Upraised With Great Insouciance
Finally!
Make it last this time, asshole! And don't even think of coming back, and definitely not to the Vikings. Tarvaris Jackson sucks goose eggs, but not so much that the fanbase would even consider rooting for you.
That said, I wish you a long, fulfilling post-retirement life. That way you'll be able to see Peyton Manning shatter every NFL record you own. Except the interceptions. Yeah, I think that one's safe for a while.
Make it last this time, asshole! And don't even think of coming back, and definitely not to the Vikings. Tarvaris Jackson sucks goose eggs, but not so much that the fanbase would even consider rooting for you.
That said, I wish you a long, fulfilling post-retirement life. That way you'll be able to see Peyton Manning shatter every NFL record you own. Except the interceptions. Yeah, I think that one's safe for a while.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Shakes Your Hand, Then Punches You in the Face
It really is pretty amazing, being a Minnesota Vikings fan. I don't refer to the fact that geographically it makes no sense for me to root for the purple and gold, being a lifelong resident of Maryland, but most people in my neck of the woods root for a Pennsylvania football team anyway. Rather it's the fact that Minnesota shares, along with the Buffalo Bills, some rarefied air: 0 for 4 in Super Bowls.
My brother-in-law, who won two Bowls as a member of the Pittsburgh Steelers back in the 70s, says that basically the Vikings won their conference four years, and that's nothing to be ashamed of. Of course, he won two Super Bowls. Winners can afford to advise the less-fortunate on the value of the moral victory.
Last weekend was supposed to be a bit of vindication for the two unluckiest conference champs in the sports history. The Hall of Fame would be announcing its newest inductees, and sure to top the list were a Bill, monstrous defensive end Bruce Smith, and a Viking, gracefully devastating wide receiver Cris Carter. So imagine my shock and apall when the ESPN2 scroller showed that while Smith indeed made it...Carter did not.
My initial disbelief was tempered by the justice that longtime Vikes guard Randall McDaniel was voted a Hall of Famer. 12 Pro Bowl selections in 14 years, 9-time First Team All-Pro, a spot on the League's 1990s All-Decade Team, and the lynchpin of the mighty Purple o-line of the late 90s. Well deserved.
As far as Cris Carter, hell, I guess this is going to be another Art Monk situation. Although Monk had nowhere near Carters stats. Third in all-time receptions, second in TD receptions, eight Pro Bowls, and, like Mr. McDaniel, a member of the 1990s All-Decade Team. Know the only receiver to record two 120+ catch seasons? Carter. Who mentored Randy Moss? Carter. Who would have won Super Bowl MVP in 1999 if Robert Smith wouldn't have kept running out of bounds and stopping the clock in the last minutes of the NFC Championship, thereby giving the Atlanta Falcons ample time to kick a game-winning field goal? Carter! Stupid fucking Broncos!
My brother-in-law, who won two Bowls as a member of the Pittsburgh Steelers back in the 70s, says that basically the Vikings won their conference four years, and that's nothing to be ashamed of. Of course, he won two Super Bowls. Winners can afford to advise the less-fortunate on the value of the moral victory.
Last weekend was supposed to be a bit of vindication for the two unluckiest conference champs in the sports history. The Hall of Fame would be announcing its newest inductees, and sure to top the list were a Bill, monstrous defensive end Bruce Smith, and a Viking, gracefully devastating wide receiver Cris Carter. So imagine my shock and apall when the ESPN2 scroller showed that while Smith indeed made it...Carter did not.
My initial disbelief was tempered by the justice that longtime Vikes guard Randall McDaniel was voted a Hall of Famer. 12 Pro Bowl selections in 14 years, 9-time First Team All-Pro, a spot on the League's 1990s All-Decade Team, and the lynchpin of the mighty Purple o-line of the late 90s. Well deserved.
As far as Cris Carter, hell, I guess this is going to be another Art Monk situation. Although Monk had nowhere near Carters stats. Third in all-time receptions, second in TD receptions, eight Pro Bowls, and, like Mr. McDaniel, a member of the 1990s All-Decade Team. Know the only receiver to record two 120+ catch seasons? Carter. Who mentored Randy Moss? Carter. Who would have won Super Bowl MVP in 1999 if Robert Smith wouldn't have kept running out of bounds and stopping the clock in the last minutes of the NFC Championship, thereby giving the Atlanta Falcons ample time to kick a game-winning field goal? Carter! Stupid fucking Broncos!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Jeremy Roenick For Commish
'Cause Bettman is taking the incompetence thing too far!
Jeremy Roenick has always been good for the NHL. Natural talent, passion for the game, and honesty before the media. It's why he's the only hockey player you'll see on PTI despite neither Wilbon or Kornheiser knowing or caring about the sport. (And they should; the Caps are for real, and the Wizards suck.) If not a player/commish, Roenick should at least be an offseason media coach.
“You know, Sidney reminds me a lot of Wayne Gretzky in the way he deals with the media. It’s like he’s watched tapes of Wayne as a kid and memorized all his lines. Wayne never went out of the ordinary in terms of what he said, and that was fine for him. But as a league you definitely need some of your key guys to step up and be colorful.
“Then you look at Ovechkin – his heart is on his sleeve, he’s out there smiling all the time, he’s talking during games, he’s jumping in the air after he scores, he’s not afraid to say what he wants to say during interviews.
“Every time he’s out there, he’s showing the people what a joy it is to play hockey. We need as many guys like him as we can get.”
Reminiscient of Alex Rodriguez studying under the unwitting tutelage of Cal Ripken re: "How to Be a Phenomenal Athletic Talent While Still Maintaining an Utterly Milquetoast Disposition." Crosby really can't win for losing with the way the league has set him up to be a savior, but if he showed some backbone, some wit, some color, some proof of pulse...maybe hockey fans outside the Steel City wouldn't look at him as some pampered uber-douche. You never know.
Jeremy Roenick has always been good for the NHL. Natural talent, passion for the game, and honesty before the media. It's why he's the only hockey player you'll see on PTI despite neither Wilbon or Kornheiser knowing or caring about the sport. (And they should; the Caps are for real, and the Wizards suck.) If not a player/commish, Roenick should at least be an offseason media coach.
“You know, Sidney reminds me a lot of Wayne Gretzky in the way he deals with the media. It’s like he’s watched tapes of Wayne as a kid and memorized all his lines. Wayne never went out of the ordinary in terms of what he said, and that was fine for him. But as a league you definitely need some of your key guys to step up and be colorful.
“Then you look at Ovechkin – his heart is on his sleeve, he’s out there smiling all the time, he’s talking during games, he’s jumping in the air after he scores, he’s not afraid to say what he wants to say during interviews.
“Every time he’s out there, he’s showing the people what a joy it is to play hockey. We need as many guys like him as we can get.”
Reminiscient of Alex Rodriguez studying under the unwitting tutelage of Cal Ripken re: "How to Be a Phenomenal Athletic Talent While Still Maintaining an Utterly Milquetoast Disposition." Crosby really can't win for losing with the way the league has set him up to be a savior, but if he showed some backbone, some wit, some color, some proof of pulse...maybe hockey fans outside the Steel City wouldn't look at him as some pampered uber-douche. You never know.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Puck the Fens
Washington Capitals players claim that the Pittsburgh Penguins are no longer their blood-feud rivals. Forget the years of first-round matchups in the playoffs (and the endless ass-handings suffered by the Caps), forget Ovy vs. Sid, Ovy vs. Geno, Semin vs. Crosby, all that stuff. The real obstacle facing the team in their quest to even get the chance to hoist the Cup offets the black with orange, not yellow.
It's quite true--the Flyers were the team that eliminated the Caps in last years hard-fought first-round battle, bringing an almost unfathomable ride to an abrupt, ugly halt. That series still stings anyone who rocks the red and means it. (Not that I don't also adore the bandwagon fans. They're so cute, with the not knowing how to pronounce the last names of half the roster, the inability to relate to those of us who lived through Sergei Fedorov in the '98 Cup Finals.)
The Penguins, though? Non-entity these days. Halfway through the season, Pitt is floundering, currently 10th in the Eastern Conference, and out of contention. Their sizable Internet fanbase is in full-on Dramamine Queen mode. Beating the Pens now--as the Caps did last night, 6-3--is like beating an old woman at arm wrestling.
The desperation level is such that Pens fans are actually begging Jaromir Jagr to abandon the faltering KHL to put the bird on his back again. They're dying alive, those poor schmucks.
It's quite true--the Flyers were the team that eliminated the Caps in last years hard-fought first-round battle, bringing an almost unfathomable ride to an abrupt, ugly halt. That series still stings anyone who rocks the red and means it. (Not that I don't also adore the bandwagon fans. They're so cute, with the not knowing how to pronounce the last names of half the roster, the inability to relate to those of us who lived through Sergei Fedorov in the '98 Cup Finals.)
The Penguins, though? Non-entity these days. Halfway through the season, Pitt is floundering, currently 10th in the Eastern Conference, and out of contention. Their sizable Internet fanbase is in full-on Dramamine Queen mode. Beating the Pens now--as the Caps did last night, 6-3--is like beating an old woman at arm wrestling.
The desperation level is such that Pens fans are actually begging Jaromir Jagr to abandon the faltering KHL to put the bird on his back again. They're dying alive, those poor schmucks.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
ESPN's Talking Goo Tub Outdoes Self Yet Again
Today's NFL Countdown on ESPN was a must-see for me, if only because I knew the Brett Favre controversy would be "debated". Further, I knew that Chris Berman would make every excuse possible for his boy.
Sure enough, I was right.
The only analyst to call the situation correctly was Keyshawn Johnson (who is turning out to be imminently more tolerable as a talking head than as a player). Key stated that the Jets players voicing concerns over their quarterback receiving seemingly preferential treatment--not being with the team at every practice, not being chewed out by coaches for mistakes--was a natural part of being a team competitor. Then Mike Ditka railed against footballers running off at the mouth to the media. Then someone yelled "Obama!" and Mike went pale, then wept widow-style.
Former Bronco (loser, in other words) Tom Jackson then used the old "what has Thomas Jones done prior to this year, is he a first ballot Hall of Famer?" to try and undermine the argument against Favre. This tactic is an appeal to ridicule, saying that since Jones is not a superstar caliber player nor has he ever been, his opinion of another player with many individual records to his credit is absurd. This tactic is also used by people who can't admit that someone or thing they love beyond reason is fucked up.
No one brought up the idea of Favre retiring, which is what he should do. His arm is shot, his field vision is terrible, and his comprehension of football as a team sport is muddled at best. Instead we got a lot of "he needs to adapt if he wants to continue". This is where Berman shined.
"Knowing Brett as I do...if that is what he has to do, he'll do it. He absolutely will do it. I know that he will."
It was brilliant; it sounded like a parent encouraging their young child to finish reading a sentence out loud. "I know you can do it, Brett! Sound it out!" I bet Berman cried elephantine tears into his Large-Ass Popcorn when he saw Free Willy for the first time.
Chris Berman Brett Favre ESPN
Sure enough, I was right.
The only analyst to call the situation correctly was Keyshawn Johnson (who is turning out to be imminently more tolerable as a talking head than as a player). Key stated that the Jets players voicing concerns over their quarterback receiving seemingly preferential treatment--not being with the team at every practice, not being chewed out by coaches for mistakes--was a natural part of being a team competitor. Then Mike Ditka railed against footballers running off at the mouth to the media. Then someone yelled "Obama!" and Mike went pale, then wept widow-style.
Former Bronco (loser, in other words) Tom Jackson then used the old "what has Thomas Jones done prior to this year, is he a first ballot Hall of Famer?" to try and undermine the argument against Favre. This tactic is an appeal to ridicule, saying that since Jones is not a superstar caliber player nor has he ever been, his opinion of another player with many individual records to his credit is absurd. This tactic is also used by people who can't admit that someone or thing they love beyond reason is fucked up.
No one brought up the idea of Favre retiring, which is what he should do. His arm is shot, his field vision is terrible, and his comprehension of football as a team sport is muddled at best. Instead we got a lot of "he needs to adapt if he wants to continue". This is where Berman shined.
"Knowing Brett as I do...if that is what he has to do, he'll do it. He absolutely will do it. I know that he will."
It was brilliant; it sounded like a parent encouraging their young child to finish reading a sentence out loud. "I know you can do it, Brett! Sound it out!" I bet Berman cried elephantine tears into his Large-Ass Popcorn when he saw Free Willy for the first time.
Chris Berman Brett Favre ESPN
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Anatomy of a Fantasy Football Champion
Is there anything better than winning a fantasy football championship? Of course there is. Sex, for one. Pizza, also. Getting all 120 stars in a Mario game, sure. Seeing Sonic Youth live, no doubt--just so long as the date isn't August 17th.
That said, finishing a Fantasy season triumphant is the dogs balls. It's immensely gratifying to see "1st place" or "league champion" next to the fantastic nickname you chose to represent your immaculately-selected gaggle of number-munchers.
My fellow SY head "Rob Instigator" has run a Yahoo-based fantasy league for seven years now, the last three featuring yours sincerely as the leader of "Snoopy's Smash Squad", a handle that evokes nothing less than the sublime visual of a coolly rabid beagle with a facemask-free helmet on his head and a chilled football in his hands, as he plows over some hapless would-be tacklers on his way to the end zone. My first year--2006--I finished in second place for the regular season and captured third overall, losing in the semis to my boyfriend (arguably the Charlie Brown-iest moment of my life so far. And then he promptly gave up on the whole fantasy racket, complaining it was "too taxing". What a friggin' pussy.)
In 2007, I ended the regular season in third, and felt I would just sashay my big ass to the big dance. In a turn of events that should be minor legend in the Fantasy universe, the top four seeds lost their first round matchups, and the eighth seed overall ended up taking top honors. Meanwhile my ass finishes seventh of ten.
I entered the 2008 Fantasy Football world with Lincoln-esque determination. The year before I had the top pick in the live draft and didn't even make the semis. For '08 I got sixth--and there were ten players again in the league. My first pick was Patriots megabeast receiver Randy Moss. By draft's end, I could sit back and gaze with parental pride at what I just knew would be the most powerful Squad incarnation yet. I had two studs at QB: Tony Romo and Philip Rivers. In addition to Moss, I acquired Chris Chambers, a former Dolphin who I figured could sneak up on a lot of defenses. Other than Antonio Gates at tight end, Rivers didn't have a real go-to option through the air. Despite a suspension which would cause him to get ass-splinters for the first two games of the year, I could not pass on Steve Smith of the Panthers. To help the cause, though, I snatched up dependable Derrick Mason.
Tight end, being such a notoriously scatter-pointed (and thus ulcer-inducing) position, was very much on my mind. I beat the other coaches to the punch in the draft and snapped up the first TE pick with Jason Witten. Santonio Holmes would serve well as my flex player, and no one as far as I could tell was fuckin' with Jones-Drew and Fatboy White as my dual RB corps. Just because I could, I took Rudi Johnson as my backup. And prayed devoutly for the health of my frontline.
The kicker is the party skank of your team, so not only is that position undrafted mostly, but is unquestionably the most interchangeable. Of course this year we had some tardboy who couldn't be there at his comp for the live action, so he pre-set his players for the system to pick for him as they became available. Which is not what makes him a tardboy. That would be selecting Adam Vinateri in the fourth round. How the hell do you pre-set a kicker? You could kinda tell dude's season was gonna be cow crap mixed with hog maw after that. I ended up getting Josh Scobee off the wire just 'cause I had to get somebody.
For my first two romps in the Instigator park I used the vaunted Baltimore defense. This year, though, I really believed in my Vikings. I bought into all that shit about their stupendous defense, how it wasn't just gonna be stopping the run this year, hell no, they're gonna be shuttin' down some passin' game too! However, I noticed as the draft wound down that none of my fellow coaches had snatched up the other purple team. So, out of tradition and seeing so many of their games on local TV that I actually know first-hand what they're capable of, I got the Ravens as a back up.
Like kickers, defensive players are also sluts, unless you stumble upon a super stud that you want all to yourself. To further display my Purple Pride, I selected Jared Allen. Then Phillips, then Ekuban, and finally Atogwe, mainly 'cause I dug the name. Which is as close to stereotypical "girl coaching" as you'll ever catch me doing.
(Being a female coach in Fantasy Football is really no big deal. Being a female coach who directs her team with intelligence, cunning and guile--thereby making her a certified "boach"--is the best deal. Even when the dudes you compete with act like they're not fazed, they quite fucking are. A few philistine leagues still ban women, well aware of the admonition given by Cato the Censor way back in 215 B.C.: "Suffer women once to arrive at an equality with you, and they will from that moment become your superiors.")
Now let's take a look, week by week, at my championship season.
Week 1
Green Bowl Packers 70.62
Snoopy's Smash Squad--68.97
Each of the previous Week 1's I walked away from my glowing screen victorious, convinced that a 1-0 start was the ultimate rabbits foot for the season ahead.
So of course I lost my first match this year.
My opponent was another Sonic Youth fan I knew via the Interweb (although he's a sight more than an SY fan; he's one of the most ecumenical fans of music I've ever encountered). He had a good lineup, but I felt super confident. Romo did get his points, but should have put up even better numbers versus the Brownies. Even with Tom Brady gone for the whole year with a poetic knee injury, Moss got over 100 yards and a score. The pickup of Chris Chambers proved fortuitous as well.
To be a successful Fantasy coach you really need your backs to be productive. So LenDale White's touchdown and 40 yards total (the most he can run at one time without vomiting, incidentally) was tempered by Maurice Jones-Drew's 2.50. Holmes let me down badly; sub 1 is never anything but sucking spermwhale wang. And Minnesota lost their first game of the season. To Green Bay.
The only thing shitter than my point total was the fact that I lost by less than two points! It was the TE and flex positions that really did me in. Then I scoured my bench afterwards and saw I'd sat Atogwe and thus lost out on nearly six points. Oh, and Rivers, my backup QB? 24.68 points with 3 TD's.
Week 2
Snoopy's Smash Squad 98.00
The Glass Wrath 52.63
The rebound was quick, with a smashing of some fucktard who would quickly lose his heart for Internet coaching. Romo delivered with over 24 points and Chambers scored yet again. The effects of a Brady-less Pats hurt Moss, but both of my backs scored, creating that numerical symmetry that us FF types dig like bacon-fried bacon. Witten attained 100 yards receiving, which is really like 200 yards for a tight end.
As far as Rudi Johnson at flex--it was only week 2. I had no inkling that the Lions were destined for historical suckassness and that their players (save for their party skank) were to be shunned like the works of Jack Kerouac from my bookshelves.
I noticed Rivers got over 30 points. And I remember feeling proud that I had two studs, in case one got injured. But...was I starting the premium stud?
As for Ass Bath, a good rule of thumb is that any time your quarterback finishes with less than a single point you will lose. (We hadn't received the office memo about Browns players, either.) And when you have a receiver with no points? That means you fell prey to the sophomore slump and picked Colston! Also his TE put up the goose egg. And two of his defensive guys didn't even suit up.
Week 3
Snoopy's Smash Squad 101.52
Sonic Life 82.67
Whupping the commish is awesome like riding a Super Monkey Ball over steaming hot lava, 'cause he's the dude making your glory possible and you get to show him up. Understand that Rob did not lose this game. I won. Five positions garnered 10-plus points, including exactly 30 from my backs combined and a stab-happy 20 from the Ravens. I also picked up Chris Gamble for D.
And yeah...Rivers doubled up on Romo again. How much longer could I let ol' Marmalard kill it on the pine?
Week 4
Snoopy's Smash Squad 115.15
Blindbandits 53.75
Blindbandits is a Fantasy pro, and a multiple winner in Rob's league. This gave him the balls required to dis my ass with some inspired pre-game smack talk that referenced my gender and my Snoopy fetish. So naturally I destroyed his ass. Double up, like that bullshit Mase album.
Romo lost to the Skins, but still managed 3 TD's and over 300 yards. Rivers beat the Raiders, but only got eight points. That's how important real life scores are to Fantasy.
I decided to christen my backs 8Ball & MJD.
Week 5
Devilsluts 115.07
Snoopy's Smash Squad 91.37
It was poor Devilsluts who'd drafted Brady in the first round. But he picked up Delhomme and trudged onward. Slutty is Rob's bro, and he sucks, pretty much. That's why this loss stung. Like on some "Devilsluts bit my bottom! Now my bottom's big!" type nonsense.
I can't blame it on my decision to bench White for Johnson, 'cause they each fell under 2 points. Actually, LenWhale managed but 0.20 points. Other than that, my squad was straight antihistamine money, homey. I just couldn't beat a team with two receivers who go over 10 and a back that racks up 23. Reggie Bush, what a numbnuts.
Week 6
Snoopy's Smash Squad 106.70
Son of a Bookie 77.88
Cracking the century mark again, and how good it felt. Like cunnilingus good.
If I am to reflect upon the actual head-to-head, however, it was a bittersweet victory. Like an elephant crushing a flea circus. Guy had over 12 points from a receiver and a combined 31 and a half from his backs (including that brittle shitface Portis). But he forgot that his TE and a Defensive Back were on a bye! And then another DB slot is empty just 'cause he forgot to fill it, just like he never fills a vagina.
Starting Minnesota's D against Detroit over Balto's D facing Indy was my move of the week. But what the hell was I thinking, leaving Atogwe on the bench still? He put up eleven points!
Week 7
Snoopy's Smash Squad 116.38
Les Existentialistes 55.65
Romo's injury forced me to start Rivers--who promptly puts up 11.88 in a loss to the Bills who at this point were still not entirely naked in the eyes of the NFL.
My decision to fill a WR slot with a return guy--just like Cribbs last year--backfired. A Jags bye week meant one more week of Rudi Johnson's woeful incompetence, but the Space Age Pimp scored three times and made a happy boach indeed.
I have now decided that Balto must be my main defense. I love the Vikes, but they're not the purple sage to ride. More to that end, I dropped Jared Allen.
Week 8
Snoopy's Smash Squad 118.37
Dildoughnuts 109.70
This was the match of the year for the regular season. I had only two losses and sat in second, underneath only Dildobreath, who was undefeated. If anybody could take his smug ass down, it was the boach. My team fucking brought it: Rivers 27+, Smith near 20, Moby Prick over 12, and Balto's D in double digits yet again. Even Return Guy scored to justify his flex spot.
Dildo damn near stole it away on the Monday night game with Rob Bironas kicking his way to 16 points, but luckily Fat Boy found the end zone twice to save me. Good job, Lard Lad--I owe you a Mountain Dew.
This game marked the point where these fuckboys had to recognize me as a general in this shit. I even added Ray Lewis because I could.
Week 9
Alief Street Frogs 99.60
Snoopy's Smash Squad 76.73
Hanging around the upper echelon was ASF. Letdown was inevitable.
With Romo nursing a boo-boo and San Diego on a bye, I chanced it with the Jags' David Garrard (he's no Byron Leftwich, but at least he's playing). Well, he sucked. No TD's, 1 pick and three sacks against the Bengals. Moss sucked too, although seeing the Pats lose to the Colts is always hilarious. Blame Wes Welker for that.
My running backs are taking turns being studs. Oh that's wonderful, that.
In the what the fuck moment of the season, I benched Witten for Bo Sciafe. His 1.30 was a full half point better than what the bench-bound 'Boy managed. What a fuckin' position tight end is.
New kicker! Pass 'em around....
None of which stood a chance against Kurt Warner's own private Arena-ho, Eddie fucking Royal, and a ten point game from the Redskins kicker. Oh man...that hurt. (It's much funnier hearing that in Alex Rocco's voice.)
Bye week really kicked my ass.
Week 10
Snoopy's Smash Squad 106.98
Green Bowl Packers 76.35
Revenge is a dish best served al dente.
Week 11
Snoopy's Smash Squad 71.37
The Glass Wrath 63.00
This was too close. Oh the ethereal nature of crap shoot glory.
Romo returned, but I was skeptical and rode Rivers--against the Steelers. Romo ended up with eight more points. Out of print.
New kicker!
Week 12
Snoopy's Smash Squad 130.52
Sonic Life 103.57
Commish tried hard...aww, Commish always tries hard! But I had Romo, Moss and the D all over 20. MJD and JLH each over 10. *cues "Bridge is Over"*
But, again, Rob coulda beat anybody else that week. Pennington beasted, AP was AD, and hell even his kicker beat the ass of my kickers, inasmuch as the pussiest player on any given team can beat another team's pussy. But he faced the Squad. Story over.
Week 13
Snoopy's Smash Squad 115.93
Blindbandits 96.18
This fucker again.
Once more Romo surpassed 300 yards with 3 TDs. Unbelievably, my promotion of Derrick Mason pays off and WideAss White finds the end zone twice, thanks to some strategically-placed Carl's Jr. burgers.
Can't believe I sat Witten. Only got 115 yards and a score. As for the BB pellets, if only two of his guys hadn't thrown shutouts, he mighta pulled it off. Must be fucking awesome to lose when a player gets 30 points, huh, BB?!
(Before we go on to the next week, I would like to apologize for the baseball metaphor in the previous paragraph. Because if this week has taught us anything, it's that baseball fucking sucks and fuck the Yankees and MLB get a fucking salary cap because your sport is becoming a goddamn joke that a consecutive games streak won't be able to "save" this time. Idiots. Those ridiculous contracts look real good to the public in a recession, you sickening wads of vomitous fuck.
Can you imagine playing Fantasy Baseball? 162 games! I'd rather play Fantasy Chess or some nonsense.)
Week 14
Snoopy's Smash Squad 101.95
Devilsluts 68.92
Again I serve up a plate that would make the offerings on this season of Top Chef look awesome, thanks quite much to a top-heavy roster for my opponent. I started Romo against Pitt's crazed D, because Rivers was facing Oakland again--and he did quite piss-poor in the initial meeting. So of course he bombs their secondary for 26.08 Fantasy points. Football, you drive me crazy!
Pleasant surprise--Mason with another score. Really, Flacco didn't have much else.
New kicker! The Pats dude.
Week 15
Snoopy's Smash Squad 111.38
Blindbandits 76.57
11-3, ranked first overall, and in the playoffs. My third tete-a-tete with BB pellets is the most crucial yet, and he choked like Mama Cass didn't. Whew! I mean other than Turner, damn. That shit just makes you wanna crack screens.
Starting Rivers at KC was disastrous until he engineered an unbelievable fourth quarter comeback that had me gaping at the TV like I was about to accept a long-distance wadshot. Add in some boss catching numbers and another trip to the Cribbs well, and I could not help but destroy.
Bonehead move of the week--picking up Robert Mathis and his ass doesn't even play!
Week 16
Snoopy's Smash Squad 122.00
Dildoughnuts 87.90
Dildo beat ASF in the other semi matchup, and it could only be that way. We were the best two teams all year, and he desperately wanted to avenge his first loss of the year. I feared him, mainly due to Brees playing the Lions. I could just feel the 40-ness creeping up on me. But I had to put together the best team I could with what I had available. I thought, If I cannot win right here right now--cue the Van Halen and I'll wound you--I don't know if I have the heart to do this for another year.
My biggest sticking point was Saturday's Ravens-Cowboys game. As I don't get NFL Network, I'd have to depend on the Internet to drive me crazy with updates. I couldn't fully trust Philip Rivers against a stingy Bucs pass D, so I started Romo against my own defense. I started Witten (with fast-rising John Carlson on the bench) and picked up--on Saturday afternoon--faster-rising 'Boys back Tashard Choice. I had a real good vibe about Choice because Marion Barber was likely not going to suit up and Choice was riding a hot streak in the last couple games, including 100-plus cumulative yards against the Steelers.
It all paid off. Romo got 15 points thanks to late scores, Witten scored, and Choice ran in the first TD of the game.
The third receiver slot got run a train on for sure. I couldn't trust Cribbs, a return guy who may see some snaps at QB, may catch some passes, may run the ball. Randle El, shit no, I'm not trusting a Redskin in the most important game of my life. Between Mason and Holmes, I chose the latter, figuring Big Ben had a slightly better chance with his secondary matchup.
So Mason got a touchdown Saturday night and I about shit marble.
Another pickup was Sammy Morris, part of the Pats platoon of backs. I trusted him way more at home against Arizona than Moby against the Steel Curtain.
Come Sunday, I had a 20+ point lead on my opponent, and I never lost it. Holmes made a fantastic TD grab in an otherwise butt-ass game. Morris didn't score, but gained solid yards.
But then Rivers got 33 points against that "vaunted" pass defense and I'm like, fuck! Shit! Dildo had his backs playing 4 o'clock games, and my cynical mind could see Thomas Jones and Steve Slaton running roughshod over bullshit defenses.
But then something happened. The Grinch's heart grew three sizes that day! He went to Seattle and shat a bunch of snow upon the field! Merry Christmas, Jets! A field goal for your stocking! He visited the Texans and the Raiders and piled presents so high in the Texans end zones that not a ball could break the plane!
And Dildo's receivers? Calvin "Megatron" Johnson was straight cheeks! And Bernard Berrian, why children, he was mo' cheeks! And by Monday night, with Chicago's D needing to surpass forty points to win, Dildo knew he was done, and the mighty Smash Squad boach rejoiced even as the Bears win meant the Vikings could still blow the division lead.
I'm a winner...but some shit never changes.
That said, finishing a Fantasy season triumphant is the dogs balls. It's immensely gratifying to see "1st place" or "league champion" next to the fantastic nickname you chose to represent your immaculately-selected gaggle of number-munchers.
My fellow SY head "Rob Instigator" has run a Yahoo-based fantasy league for seven years now, the last three featuring yours sincerely as the leader of "Snoopy's Smash Squad", a handle that evokes nothing less than the sublime visual of a coolly rabid beagle with a facemask-free helmet on his head and a chilled football in his hands, as he plows over some hapless would-be tacklers on his way to the end zone. My first year--2006--I finished in second place for the regular season and captured third overall, losing in the semis to my boyfriend (arguably the Charlie Brown-iest moment of my life so far. And then he promptly gave up on the whole fantasy racket, complaining it was "too taxing". What a friggin' pussy.)
In 2007, I ended the regular season in third, and felt I would just sashay my big ass to the big dance. In a turn of events that should be minor legend in the Fantasy universe, the top four seeds lost their first round matchups, and the eighth seed overall ended up taking top honors. Meanwhile my ass finishes seventh of ten.
I entered the 2008 Fantasy Football world with Lincoln-esque determination. The year before I had the top pick in the live draft and didn't even make the semis. For '08 I got sixth--and there were ten players again in the league. My first pick was Patriots megabeast receiver Randy Moss. By draft's end, I could sit back and gaze with parental pride at what I just knew would be the most powerful Squad incarnation yet. I had two studs at QB: Tony Romo and Philip Rivers. In addition to Moss, I acquired Chris Chambers, a former Dolphin who I figured could sneak up on a lot of defenses. Other than Antonio Gates at tight end, Rivers didn't have a real go-to option through the air. Despite a suspension which would cause him to get ass-splinters for the first two games of the year, I could not pass on Steve Smith of the Panthers. To help the cause, though, I snatched up dependable Derrick Mason.
Tight end, being such a notoriously scatter-pointed (and thus ulcer-inducing) position, was very much on my mind. I beat the other coaches to the punch in the draft and snapped up the first TE pick with Jason Witten. Santonio Holmes would serve well as my flex player, and no one as far as I could tell was fuckin' with Jones-Drew and Fatboy White as my dual RB corps. Just because I could, I took Rudi Johnson as my backup. And prayed devoutly for the health of my frontline.
The kicker is the party skank of your team, so not only is that position undrafted mostly, but is unquestionably the most interchangeable. Of course this year we had some tardboy who couldn't be there at his comp for the live action, so he pre-set his players for the system to pick for him as they became available. Which is not what makes him a tardboy. That would be selecting Adam Vinateri in the fourth round. How the hell do you pre-set a kicker? You could kinda tell dude's season was gonna be cow crap mixed with hog maw after that. I ended up getting Josh Scobee off the wire just 'cause I had to get somebody.
For my first two romps in the Instigator park I used the vaunted Baltimore defense. This year, though, I really believed in my Vikings. I bought into all that shit about their stupendous defense, how it wasn't just gonna be stopping the run this year, hell no, they're gonna be shuttin' down some passin' game too! However, I noticed as the draft wound down that none of my fellow coaches had snatched up the other purple team. So, out of tradition and seeing so many of their games on local TV that I actually know first-hand what they're capable of, I got the Ravens as a back up.
Like kickers, defensive players are also sluts, unless you stumble upon a super stud that you want all to yourself. To further display my Purple Pride, I selected Jared Allen. Then Phillips, then Ekuban, and finally Atogwe, mainly 'cause I dug the name. Which is as close to stereotypical "girl coaching" as you'll ever catch me doing.
(Being a female coach in Fantasy Football is really no big deal. Being a female coach who directs her team with intelligence, cunning and guile--thereby making her a certified "boach"--is the best deal. Even when the dudes you compete with act like they're not fazed, they quite fucking are. A few philistine leagues still ban women, well aware of the admonition given by Cato the Censor way back in 215 B.C.: "Suffer women once to arrive at an equality with you, and they will from that moment become your superiors.")
Now let's take a look, week by week, at my championship season.
Week 1
Green Bowl Packers 70.62
Snoopy's Smash Squad--68.97
Each of the previous Week 1's I walked away from my glowing screen victorious, convinced that a 1-0 start was the ultimate rabbits foot for the season ahead.
So of course I lost my first match this year.
My opponent was another Sonic Youth fan I knew via the Interweb (although he's a sight more than an SY fan; he's one of the most ecumenical fans of music I've ever encountered). He had a good lineup, but I felt super confident. Romo did get his points, but should have put up even better numbers versus the Brownies. Even with Tom Brady gone for the whole year with a poetic knee injury, Moss got over 100 yards and a score. The pickup of Chris Chambers proved fortuitous as well.
To be a successful Fantasy coach you really need your backs to be productive. So LenDale White's touchdown and 40 yards total (the most he can run at one time without vomiting, incidentally) was tempered by Maurice Jones-Drew's 2.50. Holmes let me down badly; sub 1 is never anything but sucking spermwhale wang. And Minnesota lost their first game of the season. To Green Bay.
The only thing shitter than my point total was the fact that I lost by less than two points! It was the TE and flex positions that really did me in. Then I scoured my bench afterwards and saw I'd sat Atogwe and thus lost out on nearly six points. Oh, and Rivers, my backup QB? 24.68 points with 3 TD's.
Week 2
Snoopy's Smash Squad 98.00
The Glass Wrath 52.63
The rebound was quick, with a smashing of some fucktard who would quickly lose his heart for Internet coaching. Romo delivered with over 24 points and Chambers scored yet again. The effects of a Brady-less Pats hurt Moss, but both of my backs scored, creating that numerical symmetry that us FF types dig like bacon-fried bacon. Witten attained 100 yards receiving, which is really like 200 yards for a tight end.
As far as Rudi Johnson at flex--it was only week 2. I had no inkling that the Lions were destined for historical suckassness and that their players (save for their party skank) were to be shunned like the works of Jack Kerouac from my bookshelves.
I noticed Rivers got over 30 points. And I remember feeling proud that I had two studs, in case one got injured. But...was I starting the premium stud?
As for Ass Bath, a good rule of thumb is that any time your quarterback finishes with less than a single point you will lose. (We hadn't received the office memo about Browns players, either.) And when you have a receiver with no points? That means you fell prey to the sophomore slump and picked Colston! Also his TE put up the goose egg. And two of his defensive guys didn't even suit up.
Week 3
Snoopy's Smash Squad 101.52
Sonic Life 82.67
Whupping the commish is awesome like riding a Super Monkey Ball over steaming hot lava, 'cause he's the dude making your glory possible and you get to show him up. Understand that Rob did not lose this game. I won. Five positions garnered 10-plus points, including exactly 30 from my backs combined and a stab-happy 20 from the Ravens. I also picked up Chris Gamble for D.
And yeah...Rivers doubled up on Romo again. How much longer could I let ol' Marmalard kill it on the pine?
Week 4
Snoopy's Smash Squad 115.15
Blindbandits 53.75
Blindbandits is a Fantasy pro, and a multiple winner in Rob's league. This gave him the balls required to dis my ass with some inspired pre-game smack talk that referenced my gender and my Snoopy fetish. So naturally I destroyed his ass. Double up, like that bullshit Mase album.
Romo lost to the Skins, but still managed 3 TD's and over 300 yards. Rivers beat the Raiders, but only got eight points. That's how important real life scores are to Fantasy.
I decided to christen my backs 8Ball & MJD.
Week 5
Devilsluts 115.07
Snoopy's Smash Squad 91.37
It was poor Devilsluts who'd drafted Brady in the first round. But he picked up Delhomme and trudged onward. Slutty is Rob's bro, and he sucks, pretty much. That's why this loss stung. Like on some "Devilsluts bit my bottom! Now my bottom's big!" type nonsense.
I can't blame it on my decision to bench White for Johnson, 'cause they each fell under 2 points. Actually, LenWhale managed but 0.20 points. Other than that, my squad was straight antihistamine money, homey. I just couldn't beat a team with two receivers who go over 10 and a back that racks up 23. Reggie Bush, what a numbnuts.
Week 6
Snoopy's Smash Squad 106.70
Son of a Bookie 77.88
Cracking the century mark again, and how good it felt. Like cunnilingus good.
If I am to reflect upon the actual head-to-head, however, it was a bittersweet victory. Like an elephant crushing a flea circus. Guy had over 12 points from a receiver and a combined 31 and a half from his backs (including that brittle shitface Portis). But he forgot that his TE and a Defensive Back were on a bye! And then another DB slot is empty just 'cause he forgot to fill it, just like he never fills a vagina.
Starting Minnesota's D against Detroit over Balto's D facing Indy was my move of the week. But what the hell was I thinking, leaving Atogwe on the bench still? He put up eleven points!
Week 7
Snoopy's Smash Squad 116.38
Les Existentialistes 55.65
Romo's injury forced me to start Rivers--who promptly puts up 11.88 in a loss to the Bills who at this point were still not entirely naked in the eyes of the NFL.
My decision to fill a WR slot with a return guy--just like Cribbs last year--backfired. A Jags bye week meant one more week of Rudi Johnson's woeful incompetence, but the Space Age Pimp scored three times and made a happy boach indeed.
I have now decided that Balto must be my main defense. I love the Vikes, but they're not the purple sage to ride. More to that end, I dropped Jared Allen.
Week 8
Snoopy's Smash Squad 118.37
Dildoughnuts 109.70
This was the match of the year for the regular season. I had only two losses and sat in second, underneath only Dildobreath, who was undefeated. If anybody could take his smug ass down, it was the boach. My team fucking brought it: Rivers 27+, Smith near 20, Moby Prick over 12, and Balto's D in double digits yet again. Even Return Guy scored to justify his flex spot.
Dildo damn near stole it away on the Monday night game with Rob Bironas kicking his way to 16 points, but luckily Fat Boy found the end zone twice to save me. Good job, Lard Lad--I owe you a Mountain Dew.
This game marked the point where these fuckboys had to recognize me as a general in this shit. I even added Ray Lewis because I could.
Week 9
Alief Street Frogs 99.60
Snoopy's Smash Squad 76.73
Hanging around the upper echelon was ASF. Letdown was inevitable.
With Romo nursing a boo-boo and San Diego on a bye, I chanced it with the Jags' David Garrard (he's no Byron Leftwich, but at least he's playing). Well, he sucked. No TD's, 1 pick and three sacks against the Bengals. Moss sucked too, although seeing the Pats lose to the Colts is always hilarious. Blame Wes Welker for that.
My running backs are taking turns being studs. Oh that's wonderful, that.
In the what the fuck moment of the season, I benched Witten for Bo Sciafe. His 1.30 was a full half point better than what the bench-bound 'Boy managed. What a fuckin' position tight end is.
New kicker! Pass 'em around....
None of which stood a chance against Kurt Warner's own private Arena-ho, Eddie fucking Royal, and a ten point game from the Redskins kicker. Oh man...that hurt. (It's much funnier hearing that in Alex Rocco's voice.)
Bye week really kicked my ass.
Week 10
Snoopy's Smash Squad 106.98
Green Bowl Packers 76.35
Revenge is a dish best served al dente.
Week 11
Snoopy's Smash Squad 71.37
The Glass Wrath 63.00
This was too close. Oh the ethereal nature of crap shoot glory.
Romo returned, but I was skeptical and rode Rivers--against the Steelers. Romo ended up with eight more points. Out of print.
New kicker!
Week 12
Snoopy's Smash Squad 130.52
Sonic Life 103.57
Commish tried hard...aww, Commish always tries hard! But I had Romo, Moss and the D all over 20. MJD and JLH each over 10. *cues "Bridge is Over"*
But, again, Rob coulda beat anybody else that week. Pennington beasted, AP was AD, and hell even his kicker beat the ass of my kickers, inasmuch as the pussiest player on any given team can beat another team's pussy. But he faced the Squad. Story over.
Week 13
Snoopy's Smash Squad 115.93
Blindbandits 96.18
This fucker again.
Once more Romo surpassed 300 yards with 3 TDs. Unbelievably, my promotion of Derrick Mason pays off and WideAss White finds the end zone twice, thanks to some strategically-placed Carl's Jr. burgers.
Can't believe I sat Witten. Only got 115 yards and a score. As for the BB pellets, if only two of his guys hadn't thrown shutouts, he mighta pulled it off. Must be fucking awesome to lose when a player gets 30 points, huh, BB?!
(Before we go on to the next week, I would like to apologize for the baseball metaphor in the previous paragraph. Because if this week has taught us anything, it's that baseball fucking sucks and fuck the Yankees and MLB get a fucking salary cap because your sport is becoming a goddamn joke that a consecutive games streak won't be able to "save" this time. Idiots. Those ridiculous contracts look real good to the public in a recession, you sickening wads of vomitous fuck.
Can you imagine playing Fantasy Baseball? 162 games! I'd rather play Fantasy Chess or some nonsense.)
Week 14
Snoopy's Smash Squad 101.95
Devilsluts 68.92
Again I serve up a plate that would make the offerings on this season of Top Chef look awesome, thanks quite much to a top-heavy roster for my opponent. I started Romo against Pitt's crazed D, because Rivers was facing Oakland again--and he did quite piss-poor in the initial meeting. So of course he bombs their secondary for 26.08 Fantasy points. Football, you drive me crazy!
Pleasant surprise--Mason with another score. Really, Flacco didn't have much else.
New kicker! The Pats dude.
Week 15
Snoopy's Smash Squad 111.38
Blindbandits 76.57
11-3, ranked first overall, and in the playoffs. My third tete-a-tete with BB pellets is the most crucial yet, and he choked like Mama Cass didn't. Whew! I mean other than Turner, damn. That shit just makes you wanna crack screens.
Starting Rivers at KC was disastrous until he engineered an unbelievable fourth quarter comeback that had me gaping at the TV like I was about to accept a long-distance wadshot. Add in some boss catching numbers and another trip to the Cribbs well, and I could not help but destroy.
Bonehead move of the week--picking up Robert Mathis and his ass doesn't even play!
Week 16
Snoopy's Smash Squad 122.00
Dildoughnuts 87.90
Dildo beat ASF in the other semi matchup, and it could only be that way. We were the best two teams all year, and he desperately wanted to avenge his first loss of the year. I feared him, mainly due to Brees playing the Lions. I could just feel the 40-ness creeping up on me. But I had to put together the best team I could with what I had available. I thought, If I cannot win right here right now--cue the Van Halen and I'll wound you--I don't know if I have the heart to do this for another year.
My biggest sticking point was Saturday's Ravens-Cowboys game. As I don't get NFL Network, I'd have to depend on the Internet to drive me crazy with updates. I couldn't fully trust Philip Rivers against a stingy Bucs pass D, so I started Romo against my own defense. I started Witten (with fast-rising John Carlson on the bench) and picked up--on Saturday afternoon--faster-rising 'Boys back Tashard Choice. I had a real good vibe about Choice because Marion Barber was likely not going to suit up and Choice was riding a hot streak in the last couple games, including 100-plus cumulative yards against the Steelers.
It all paid off. Romo got 15 points thanks to late scores, Witten scored, and Choice ran in the first TD of the game.
The third receiver slot got run a train on for sure. I couldn't trust Cribbs, a return guy who may see some snaps at QB, may catch some passes, may run the ball. Randle El, shit no, I'm not trusting a Redskin in the most important game of my life. Between Mason and Holmes, I chose the latter, figuring Big Ben had a slightly better chance with his secondary matchup.
So Mason got a touchdown Saturday night and I about shit marble.
Another pickup was Sammy Morris, part of the Pats platoon of backs. I trusted him way more at home against Arizona than Moby against the Steel Curtain.
Come Sunday, I had a 20+ point lead on my opponent, and I never lost it. Holmes made a fantastic TD grab in an otherwise butt-ass game. Morris didn't score, but gained solid yards.
But then Rivers got 33 points against that "vaunted" pass defense and I'm like, fuck! Shit! Dildo had his backs playing 4 o'clock games, and my cynical mind could see Thomas Jones and Steve Slaton running roughshod over bullshit defenses.
But then something happened. The Grinch's heart grew three sizes that day! He went to Seattle and shat a bunch of snow upon the field! Merry Christmas, Jets! A field goal for your stocking! He visited the Texans and the Raiders and piled presents so high in the Texans end zones that not a ball could break the plane!
And Dildo's receivers? Calvin "Megatron" Johnson was straight cheeks! And Bernard Berrian, why children, he was mo' cheeks! And by Monday night, with Chicago's D needing to surpass forty points to win, Dildo knew he was done, and the mighty Smash Squad boach rejoiced even as the Bears win meant the Vikings could still blow the division lead.
I'm a winner...but some shit never changes.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
It's Just a Fantasy. It's Not the Real Thing.
So after three years in the Instigator Fantasy Football League on Yahoo, I've finally reached the championship game. My opponent is a fellow Sonic Youth fan who stood at number one for most of the season until being defeated and usurped by my awesome ass.
If I lose, I finish second. A position in which there is no shame, at least not when you're talking about internet-based competitions.
And a loss is a real possibility. Although I do have the edge in head-to-head battle, can I do it again? I'm a 17 point underdog, thanks to the presence of Drew Brees (playing fucking Detroit! The Lions!), Steve Slaton (the Texans don't suck anymore!), LaDanian Tomlinson (one TD, 63 yards), super-kicker Rob Bironas and DeMarcus Ware on his team. On my side I have Pro Bowl snub Phillip Rivers, Randy Moss, Steve Smith, Maurice Jones-Drew, and the Baltimore defense.
I will likely not win. My main hope is, then, to not lose by a lot. I have no players taking the field in the Monday night game, while my opponent has the Chicago defense against the Packers. It's like a clash of the shitans, but there's always the chance Aaron Rodgers could not gulp 'n' blow.
If I lose, I finish second. A position in which there is no shame, at least not when you're talking about internet-based competitions.
And a loss is a real possibility. Although I do have the edge in head-to-head battle, can I do it again? I'm a 17 point underdog, thanks to the presence of Drew Brees (playing fucking Detroit! The Lions!), Steve Slaton (the Texans don't suck anymore!), LaDanian Tomlinson (one TD, 63 yards), super-kicker Rob Bironas and DeMarcus Ware on his team. On my side I have Pro Bowl snub Phillip Rivers, Randy Moss, Steve Smith, Maurice Jones-Drew, and the Baltimore defense.
I will likely not win. My main hope is, then, to not lose by a lot. I have no players taking the field in the Monday night game, while my opponent has the Chicago defense against the Packers. It's like a clash of the shitans, but there's always the chance Aaron Rodgers could not gulp 'n' blow.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Fantastic Firsts, Sloppy Seconds, and Thorough Thirds
Sean Avery received a six-game suspension from the National Hockey League for an indirect insult to a much better player, Calgary Flames defensemen Dion Phaneuf. I don't take umbrage with the substance of Avery's words, no matter how crude, and certainly don't find distasteful verbiage a legitimate reason to temporarily deprive a man of his livelihood. What does rub me the wrong way, though, was the way Avery went about it.
Reporters were waiting to speak with Avery about disparaging remarks he'd made last month about Flames star Jarome Iginla when Avery walked over to the group and asked if there was a camera present. When told there was, he said, "I'm just going to say one thing."
Reporters were waiting to speak with Avery about disparaging remarks he'd made last month about Flames star Jarome Iginla when Avery walked over to the group and asked if there was a camera present. When told there was, he said, "I'm just going to say one thing."
"I'm really happy to be back in Calgary; I love Canada," the Ontario native said. "I just want to comment on how it's become like a common thing in the NHL for guys to fall in love with my sloppy seconds. I don't know what that's about, but enjoy the game tonight." He then walked out of the locker room.
How unstoppably douchebag is that? Avery must have been up all night not only planning the exact words to say, but the manner in which he'd say them. He probably approached the media quicker than planned when he realized he was about to forget what he wanted to tell them, and just managed to get his so-clever comments out in the nick of time. Phew!
The worst part of this whole debacle is Avery was forced to sit out that night's game against the Flames, thereby denying hockey fans the chance to see Phaneuf--one of the league's fiercest hitters--put hockey's leading metrosexual through the plexiglass.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The True American Bailout
Simply put, this man will save the United States. He may or may not know the names of all fifty of them, but that's hardly the point. One nation under Ovie. Prosperity, peace and vodka shots.
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