Tag Archive: NCAA


Every time “Rudy” is on TV, I drop everything and I have to watch it.  Even though I’ve watched it about a hundred times by now.  And every fucking time, it makes me cry, right at the end.  I’m an enormous pussy like that.  But then again, I understand that this movie has the same effect on a lot of dudes.  Even some die-hard life-long Notre Dame haters.

“Rudy” is one of the greatest films ever made.  Shut up, ‘cause I’m not taking any argument about this.

So Game 1 of the 2012 World Series rolls around, we cut to a commercial break and I hear the “Rudy” theme.  It’s quick cut footage of kids and grown-ups, all doing every manner of sport.  90-seconds later, the end frame reveals that it’s a spot for Dick’s Sporting Goods.  90-seconds of growing aural exhilaration and it’s a giant cock tease for a shitty sporting goods chain store.

Fuck. That.

You can’t fucking do that.  The “Rudy” theme carries meaning.  It has a certain quality to it.  In fact, it’s got lots of qualities to it because of the film: tenacity, redemption, grit, glory.  NONE of which apply to a sporting goods chain store.  So, fuck Dick’s (that sounds weird).

There are very limited occasions in which you’re allowed to use the “Rudy” theme.  Here are the very few occasions the “Rudy” theme is be allowed.

  • Football games.  Of course, part of it is the theme’s pedigree – it’s football music for a football film.  But it can only be used with football.  Not hockey, not basketball, not baseball, not any other sporting event – despite what Dick’s wants to sell you.  A lot of that has to do with the late, great Steve Sabol, who with his dad, perfected the art of overdramatic football film.  The Sabols had this remarkable talent to slow down film and make even the derpiest football action look like a Wachowski action sequence.  And not to get all band geek here, but mostly because the “Rudy” theme is a bit of a march.  No other sport has in-game action that mimics a march like football does.  No other sport has such military-esque assembly in which such attention is paid to orchestration and timing.  No football, no “Rudy”.
  • Weddings.  Specifically as the bride walks down the aisle.  Shut up and stop being so selfish, girls, let the groom have this one.  The whole fucking day’s already all about you chicks.  For some reason, dudes always are nervous as shit on their wedding day (I have no idea why – I got married in my mid-20s and it was a fucking breeze).  So the least the guy can have is a cool-ass theme song as his bride walks down the aisle.  It’s a fucking kick ass piece of music, it’ll pump up the dude and get rid of his nerves, and it’ll be the one thing – the one fucking thing – that’s about him on that day.
  • Pre-school graduations.  This is mostly for the dads who have to go to these stupid things.  As a rule, kids get too many graduation ceremonies growing up.  Pre-school graduations, kindergarten graduations, first grade ceremonies, the list goes on.  Stop making a big deal out of something the kids are SUPPOSED to do – finish the grade and move the hell on.  So for something as goddamn gratuitous as a pre-school graduation, you might as well make it kick ass for the attendees.  No “Pomp and Circumstance” – that’s college material, and you 5 years-old ingrates haven’t earned it.  No, put on the “Rudy” theme, the kids won’t know any better and every fucking dad is going to be high-fiving each other.  Everybody wins.
  • After an In-N-Out Double-Double, Animal-style French fries, and a milkshake.  Because you know that meal is fucking epic.  Which means it needs to be celebrated.

So, just for good measure, here’s the ending of “Rudy”.  The bit that always makes me cry.  That’s what the “Rudy” theme means.

Goddamnit, I just cried again.

 

 

  • This morning, I saw a dad checking to see if his kid had a poopy diaper.  No biggie, just pulled the top band and peeked into the kid’s crack.  I’m so fucking grateful I never ever have to do that again with my kids.  The next time I have to do this with my kids, the roles are gonna be reversed.
  • It should be perfectly alright to make fun of a guy who wears pleated trousers.
  • If you shoot a video with your camera phone in vertical orientation, the phone should prompt you, “Are you sure you wanna shoot it this way, stupid?”
  • It is entirely too fucking soon to have pumpkin beer on the shelves.  It’s fucking August, for fuck’s sake.  First of all, pumpkin beer is for assholes, so let me get that out of the way.  Beer needs to taste like beer, not like a pie.  There are rules for this shit.  But if you must stock pumpkin-flavored beer, August is too soon.  Everyone bitches when Santa shoves his ass into our faces by Halloween – selling pumpkin beer before Labor Day is exactly the same fucking thing.  Fuck off with pumpkin beer.
  • You know what I really need?  A Michigan filter.  This time of year, every insufferable Michigan fan farts their fandom to make sure that everyone knows that they went to Michigan.  Fuck Michigan.   No one – NO ONE – is more annoying than a Michigan fan.  They go on about the motherfucking Big House.   Good one, Michigan – the prison metaphor fits you assholes perfectly.  Yet, you’re like boneheaded Raider fans who are too pussy to earn proper criminal records.  “Go Blue” is such a fucking stupid pointless chant.  Last time I checked, this little bitch team had two colors – blue and yellow (fuck off with your “maize” – that’s corn, motherfucker).  Why the fuck are you ignoring the yellow?   Dipshit NY Giants fans also holler “Go Blue”, so way to go, Michigan.  Way to set yourselves apart.  Fuck Michigan.

I wanted to wait to post this.  Not while the Knicks were rolling win after win after win.  I didn’t want to post this, then have the Knicks lose their first game with Jeremy Lin in the line-up.  I’m more than a bit superstitious when it comes to sports.  Now that they have a couple of losses under their belt, I guess it’s alright.

In any case, it took ESPN exactly no time whatsoever to draw many comparisons between Jeremy Lin and Tim Tebow .  Whatever it takes to cram Tebow’s name back on air, right ESPN?  ESPN is such an asshole network.  They fucking ruin everything they touch (case in point: Monday Night Football has been unwatchable for years – first with the insufferable Kornheiser, then with the three-now-reduced-to-two retards in the booth).

If ESPN are going to continue to singlehandedly lead the charge of the Tebow bridage, just because football season is over doesn’t mean they have to stop wanking to Tebow, right?  Which means Jeremy Lin’s emergence on the scene is ripe – not just for really awful racist remarks, but also for pointless pontification for the express purpose of draggin up Tebow’s name again.  Fuck you, ESPN, the rest of us were really looking forward to not having to hear Tebow’s name again until the late spring at the earliest.  But we all know you can’t fucking contain yourselves up there in Bristol.  No, you can’t.

Here’s the thing: Jeremy Lin and Tim Tebow couldn’t be any more different despite what the pundits will have you believe.  They’re like chalk and cheese, for God’s sake.  It’s such a non-story that whomever keeps perpetuating the comparison needs to be nominated for some kind of Best Fiction award.

On the one hand, you have Tim fucking Tebow.  This shithead has been hyped since his freshman year at Florida.  Two NCAA championships under a much-lauded Urban Meyer program.  1st overall draft pick.  Yet when he entered the NFL, critics quickly labeled an underdog.  He is NOT AN UNDERDOG!  How many underdogs do you know have two championships and gets drafted first overall?  He may have some of the shittiest throwing mechanics you’ve ever seen (and he does), but an underdog?  Get the fuck outta here.

On the other hand, you have Jeremy Lin.  You wanna talk about a proper underdog.  Passed over by everyone.  And if you watch video of his early years, high school, etc. – they’re all over YouTube now, by the way – you can sorta see why.  Lin was lanky and scrawny.  He only bulked up after he got to Harvard, and got into a proper training program after being told that he was the weakest incoming classmen.  I guess he did reasonably well at Harvard, but he got passed over when he went to the pros.  It is now the stuff of legend how no one gave him a goddamn chance, and everyone who passed on him is now performing seppuku (calm down, I KNOW Jeremy Lin isn’t Japanese, that’s not the point).  In my book, there was a ton of prejudice that played into his getting passed over.  I’m not one to typically play the race card, but shit, even when I read about his for the first time, I immediately wrote him off as another never-gonna-amount-to-anything player.  I immediately forgot about him after I read that story.  Why?  Because he has two things working against him: he’s Chinese and he’s Ivy.

Fuck, how wrong we all were.  Wrong because Lin is quickly showing he’s the real fucking deal.  He’s not the answer to all of the NBA’s woes, of course.  For example, he commits far too many turnovers that anyone should be comfortable with.  And it’s not like he puts on some human highlight reel each time he steps on the court.  But when you watch the games, you can see that he doesn’t need dazzle to put up meaningful points on the board.  It isn’t luck, it’s good proper hard court hustling.  Even when the Knicks lose, he’s putting up over 20 points, with more than just a handful of assists.  Maybe he hasn’t shown this level of skill ‘til now, but what’s important is that he’s showing that skill now, and now is all that matters.  The Knicks win because of him, and they lose in spite of his production.

The Denver Broncos, on the other hand, won games IN SPITE of Tim Tebow.  In all their wins, they didn’t win because they had a productive quarterback.  Most of the time, they only just squeaked the W in, but Denver fans will profess that the W is all that matters.  But is it?  Look how each win came and you tell me if that’s a sustainable strategy to a championship.  Anyone who says yes is either a complete fuckwit, or lacks any rudimentary understanding what it means to play good football.  I’m looking at you dipshits, Denver.  And ESPN.  They won games with a half-baked running back who was trying to convince everyone he was a quarterback.  Mainly because he’s a quarterback who can’t throw.  How the fuck can a quarterback be any good if he can’t throw?  That’s like saying despite Crapplebee’s serving famously shitty food, it’s deserving of a Michelin star.  With that sort of thinking, you sir, can fuck right off.

Then there’s the whole Christian thing (I probably shouldn’t bring up Christianity so immediately after telling someone to fuck off).  Anyway, this is one of the things that the shitheads like pundits at ESPN like to use to compare Lin with Tebow.  “Oooh, they’re both such devout Christians.”  Oh sure, but there’s an ocean of difference between the two.  One doesn’t seem to make a big deal his religious beliefs, the other takes every single opportunity to ram it down your throat whether you like it or not.  Lin’s not coy about his religion – he’s stated in the press that he believes in God and does supposedly super-Christian things like listen to gospel rap and shit.  But that’s about as much as you’re gonna get from Lin.

Tebow, on the other hand, wants you – nay, needs you – to never fucking forget that he is the most pious human being on earth, that he is indeed the chosen one, the one whom God has hand-selected to do his work here on earth, every Sunday.  He makes sure his pre-game Songs Of Praise routine is audible and visible to all the cameras that are on him.  He makes sure that one way or another, you’re gonna see him every Sunday – at the stadium and at home – get on bended knee to pray himself to victory.  It’s all about him.  Not Him… him, Tebow.  “EVERYONE SEE WHAT A MEGA CHRISTIAN I AM!!”  Jesus is the pedestal on which Tebow stands when he reminds you that he’s super holy.  I swear this shithead needs some good ol’ Old Testament smiting.

If you really must compare the two, let’s face it: Jeremy Lin isn’t all he’s been cracked up to be.  Because he was never cracked up to be anything special.  So to that end, he’s already exceeded expectations.  Unlike Tebow, who is a complete and utter farce.  It’s just high time that Denver realizes what the rest of us (who aren’t ESPN) all realize.

One of these is not like the other.  And New York oughta be so very grateful for that.

 

In college, one of my fraternity brothers bestowed this nugget of wisdom with me – teams’ performances often match the appeal of their uniforms.  Well, he didn’t exactly say it that way.  He was more like, “Teams with shitty uniforms never fucking win.”  Then he probably puked out the window after downing a case of Natty Light in our booze-free dorm.

So, yet another unoriginal idea from me, then.  Still, I’ve always kept this concept in the back of my head as I follow different sports season in, season out, year in, year out.  And you know what – he was fucking right.

Since I work in a creative industry (hah!), I’m always drawn to aesthetics.  I think it’s mostly because I probably always wanted to be a creative person.  But since I don’t do well with rejection (“What the fuck do you mean you don’t like my idea of midgets swimming with eels as an idea to sell penis pills?!”), I never pursued it properly.  Doesn’t stop me from always judging things by their aesthetics.  You don’t have to be Steve fucking Jobs to constantly see that things can work and look better.  Case in point: bigger boobs win almost all the time.  You know I’m right.

Anyway, shitty uniforms.  My buddy Keith was fucking right – teams with shitty uniforms don’t win shit.  The sport world is absolutely littered with examples to support this.

Look at the Denver Broncos.   I’m not talking about Jesus H. Tebow.  This pre-dates him by over a decade.  This involves his boss upstairs.  Again, not talking about God, let it go already.  John Elway, bitches.  That shitty orange and royal blue with the snorting horse in the D cursed Elway for almost his entire career.  Thank fuck they went to the Cyber Bronco design just in time.  Design change = instant Super Bowls.  Two of ‘em, in fact.

 

[Side note:  While I’m so, so fucking tired of the zoo that is Tebow Time, I just need to say that if Tebow was as fucking pious as he keeps telling us, he wouldn’t have been a professional football player.  This fucker chooses the one profession outside of the clergy that absolutely requires that you work on the Sabbath.  What a dick.]

More evidence?  The Tampa Bay Bucs had the pussiest orange uniforms ever.  They were completely and utterly useless.  Until they went to the pewter helmets and red jerseys.  And they dropped the creamsicle color, the stupid swashbuckler and went with a proper pirate logo. Sure, they became much more cartoonish – they have a pirate ship with real working cannon right there in their stadium! – but that swashbuckler was such a douchebag logo.  And wasn’t (isn’t?) Jon Gruden a real-life cartoon anyway?  In any case, new uniforms = Super Bowl.

Speaking of naff-looking mascots, I present the fucking New England Patriots.  Look what happened when they dropped Paul Bunyan Revere (EDIT: idiot moment) in a three-point stance.  Flashy silver helmet, stylized logo that’s not vomit-inducing = dynasty.  Granted, it’s a dynasty of voodoo-wielding, peeping tom assholes.  But a dynasty is a dynasty anyway you get it.

 

A subtler, less successful example would be the Philadelphia Eagles.  The Eagles went from looking like green M&Ms to that slick-looking hunter green – it’s just a much cooler shade of green, isn’t it.  With that new green, they consistently marched into the playoffs (in 2011, it appears that the new uniform mojo has completely worn off).  Fuck Andy Reid, it was the uniforms.

On the other hand, teams that constantly change their colors and/or logos deserve to fuck right off.  The most egregious offenders?  The MLB and the NBA.  Bar none.  How many times have the Texas Rangers, the Arizona Diamondbacks, or the Houston Astros changed their team colors?  Or the Milwaukee Bucks or the New Jersey Nets (Brooklyn represent!)?  Fuck ‘em.  Pick your goddamn colors and stick with them.  Learn to create a fucking legacy instead of trying to be like the sports equivalent of InStyle magazine.

So by definition, if teams with cool uniforms do more winning, then the reverse has to be true – teams with shitty uniforms don’t win shit.  This elite class of failures is practically overrun with willing participant teams: the New York Mets and Jets (spiritually these two are the exact same team who happen to play with different-shaped balls), the aforementioned Milwaukee Bucks, the New York Islanders, the Miami Dolphins (their stupid cetacean is wearing a goddamn helmet… on a helmet), and the reigning king of retarded uniforms, the University of Maryland football team.  Listen, you half-shell fuckwits, if you’re gonna show up on the field looking like a truck full of Skittles slammed into your locker room before the game, you’re gonna get your asses kicked like the goddamn clowns you resemble.

Now I’m off to figure out what I can wear with my University of Texas sweatshirt which I made the mistake of buying when I visited Austin.  That burnt orange color is bullshit and matches with NOTHING.

 

It started as a grand ambition.  To squeeze some major Americana into one weekend in some distant city.  I scoured the sports schedules.  MLB schedules, NFL schedules, NASCAR, you name it.   After several evenings of fucking around with dates and events, it came together:  I would go to Chicago one September weekend.  A Cubs game on the Saturday, and a NASCAR race on Sunday.  Two of the most Yanktastic sports imaginable: baseball and idiot car racing.  If we were a smarter nation, we’d combine the two – baseball car racing.  Both sports involve going around in circles anyway, how hard would it be to drop a dozen cars in the middle of a ballpark and go nuts.

Anyway.  Cubs and NASCAR.  The sports of kings.  No, I don’t mean “kings”, do I…  The sports of Larry The Cable Guy.

 

The Cubs game was superb.  The bonus bit was that the Cubs actually won (!!!).  I was convinced that they’d find a way to choke (you know, like the Mets’ season-long game plan), but holy shit, they won!  Truth be told, I didn’t give a shit if they won or lost, it was being at Wrigley Field that made it such a goddamn thrill.   The ivy-covered wall in the outfield, the absence of a blinding jumbotron or other gratuitously shiny gizmos, and… the Old Style!  Ohmigod, where have you been my whole life, Old Style?   The ridiculous cheap-ass cans, the crisp yet watery flavor, the logo that looks like it was lifted from Medieval Times?!  It fuckin’ made the ballpark for me.  It allowed me plenty of visits to Wrigley Field’s famed piss troughs.  And that was fucking awesome.

After the Cubs won, we wandered down the street and checked into some lively bar.  It was a glorious moment when I realized that we’d walked into a Michigan State bar.  Michigan State and the Indianapolis Colts bar, actually.  How the fuck you put those two together I have no idea.  But I didn’t give a shit – on every screen in this place was the Notre Dame-Michigan State football game and I was surrounded by stupid Spartan green.  Fuck it, I was going to ride this game out in this bar.  It was a peculiar thrill ‘cause I had never been around so many Michigan State fans before.  This was going to be awesome!  Many, many, many, many pints later – and some hot wings that seemed to be made of molten lava – Notre Dame soundly spanked Michigan State.  And with that, we took our leave.  But not before we were treated to some of Chicago’s finest partying heavyweights:

500 lbs of grain-fed, alcohol-marinated Iowa football fanatic, sprawled in the middle of Clark Street with such finesse and grace, it took half a dozen pedestrians (who themselves were a right mess) and two squad cars to drag this lifeless lump off the asphalt and onto the sidewalk.  Well done, Hawkeye, well done.  I, for one, have never seen a beached whale this far from the ocean.

 

But you can never get too from the hipster douchebags.  Here were two of the top candidates who sauntered right by me.  It was interesting how these two bros were playing off each other.  I really didn’t quite get the vibe they were going for as a unit.  Was there a costume party that spontaneously broke out in the middle of a Saturday afternoon?  Did Chicago have its own Running Of The Bulls event that hadn’t been savvy to?   ‘Cause I’d love to have seen that – several hundred shitheads getting mauled by tomorrow’s Applebee’s combo dinners.  What of the colossal douche in the hat, sportcoat and penny loafers?  Maybe these two assholes confused a bull run with a bull fight.  How I wish the shithead with the hat was on his way to a bullfight.  Those red shorts would be the most perfect target for getting cockpunched by a raging ox.

 

 

Tomorrow: I fail to take a bite out of the chicken-fried steak of American sport