Tag Archive: NFL


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A lot of people hate the New England Patriots. Big fucking deal. Every sports team is going to have a grand army of haters. More so when the team’s successful. The Patriots will give haters no shortage of material: Bill Belichick’s philandering, Tom Brady’s Uggs, Brady’s waterslide, Brady being a little bitch on the sidelines, pretty much just everything Tom Brady-related.

Which is what makes this latest hogpile on the Patriots for deflating their footballs in the AFC Championship game such an exercise in complete and utter bullshit.

So apparently, the Patriots deflated their footballs by about 2lbs of air pressure. Deflated balls equal softer balls, which in turn equal grippier balls. Easier to throw, easier to catch. That’s what I read anyway, I have no idea, I’ve never played football at any level.

And of course this is against the rules of the sport.

Cue the angry mouthbreathing public mob decrying the Patriots for CHEATING. “ZOMG, cheating iz soo bad, you guys. So not fair, so cheeky, so awful, such an egregious violation of all that is sacred in football, everything is horrible!!!”

You know what, shut the fuck up.

Because guess what: everybody cheats, stupid. Get the fuck over it.

No sooner did the Patriots get busted for their soft balls, Aaron Rodgers the almighty got called out for having his balls overinflated. (I’ll give you a minute to get over chuckling at that one.) Then Brad Johnson bragged about how he bribed someone to scuff up his footballs in the Super Bowl. The Super Bowl!!! That’s bigger than a conference championship game! Where’s the fucking outrage for Brad Johnson? I mean, there was even a fucking bribe involved! Brad fucking doubled down on that one.

Then you get shitbag Matt Leinart coming out and practically carpetbombing the entire quarterback squad in the NFL, claiming all of them – with the exception of holier-than-thou blockhead Kurt Warner, apparently – fucked with their footballs. I’m not sure why I give a shit about anything Matt Leinart has to say about anything because Matt Leinart is useless, but in this case, his assertion supports the point I’m trying to make.

Here’s the thing: if you’re gonna lose your shit about a team or player playing outside the rules, don’t get mad because they’re doing it, wag your finger because they’re stupid enough to get caught doing it. This is professional sports, for fuck’s sake. This is about money. This is about the business of winning by any means possible. Winning = revenue = the whole fucking point, last time I looked.  Goody gum drops if you think you wanna try and win without using any unfair advantage whatsoever.  That’s not how the rest of the world runs, noob.

You check into professional sports and you come looking for some moral high ground? Do you also believe in the tooth fairy and leprechauns?

Michael PinedaThese shitheads got caught, that’s the only thing that’s out of norm here. Just like when Michael Pineda of the Yankees got caught with pine tar on his neck when he was on the mound. Sure, pine tar’s banned and all, but shit, EVERYBODY uses pine tar in Major League Baseball, for fuck’s sake. Bats and helmets are dripping with the stuff. But Pineda was an asshole for being so brazen about his pine tar use, and for that, he deserved to get busted.

Also like when Bill Belichick and the Patriots were busted for secretly filming the Jets (the motherfucking Jets, of all teams!). YOU DON’T NEED TO CHEAT TO BEAT THE JETS!!! They’re the Jets, they’re going to work very, very hard to easily lose to you spectacularly, so what the fuck are you doing trying to film them? All you’re gonna end up with is hours of footage of how NOT to play football. And that’s what the $750,000 combined fine should’ve been for – not for secretly filming your opponent, but for the fact that they did it against the goddamn Jets. A fine for stupidity, not for cheating.

Formula 1 Spain - StartYet, $750,000 is such a paltry amount when you consider the bar set the McLaren team in Formula One. Also, when it comes to cheating scandals, this one took the motherfucking cake. You’re talking about a multi-billion dollar global sport here in which one team – McLaren – were actively stealing engineering secrets from another team, Ferrari. This isn’t like listening in to another team’s radio transmission during a race to predict when their race car was going to pit. And it’s certainly a different caliber to the Patriots filming the Jets. This was proper industrial espionage. Way more impressive than letting the air out of some balls. And the penalty? A $100 million fine and the exclusion from the 2007 world championship, which resulted in further loss many, many millions of dollars in race result revenue. $100 million.  You wanna kick a cheating team in the balls, that’s how you kick a cheating team in the balls.

Which brings us to our current sitch. If you must punish the Patriots for their soft balls – and you probably should, not because they actually deflated the balls, but because they were stupid enough to get caught – what’s the right penalty? A fine? Unless it’s $100 million, who gives a shit. Loss of draft picks? Warmer, but again, who gives a shit because the free agency market can help backfill that. Pull them from the Super Bowl and sub in the Colts? That would be hilarious.

However the NFL act – or don’t act, as is typical with the NFL – on this, it doesn’t matter that the Patriots played AFC championship game, or any other game leading up to that one, with their soft balls. Stop crying about it.

Because you’re missing the whole fucking point.

 

 

The New York Jets: A Love Story

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The New York Jets are my second favorite football team. That’s the goddamn truth. Right after the Pittsburgh Steelers, I HEART the Jets. I heart them so much.

As I sit here to watch the final game the Jets will play in 2014, I’m experiencing this weird blend of joy and longing.

My love for the Pittsburgh Steelers is quite one-dimensional. The Steelers are the team that I root for, and I bank on them to win. But also, despite my not being from Pittsburgh, long ago I pinned my fandom on the Steelers when I was in college while trying to impress my then-girlfriend-now-wife, who is properly from Pittsburgh.  So there’s that.  (In case you’re wondering, she couldn’t possibly give less of a shit about the Steelers – worst Yinzer ever.)

On the other hand, the joy I get from the New York Jets is so wonderful and complex, I’m frankly I quite astonished that I can process such thought and emotion.

Quite simply, the Jets are by far the absolute most hilarious professional sports team in the world, and I’m a sucker for top-shelf comedy.

In my entire life of watching sports on TV, I have never seen another team more hilariously horrible as the Jets. There are so many persistently awful teams in American sports, but none of them are horrible the way the Jets are. The Chicago Cubs? Frankly, I find them quite lovable in their aww-shucks brand of loserdom. The Cleveland Browns? As much as they lose, as corrupt as their owner might be, they’ll forever get a pass in my book because the Baltimore Ravens are the most despicable relocation team of all time. Of. All. Fucking. Time. (I’d like to take a brief moment here to digress: fuck the Baltimore Ravens forever.)

There are so many ways to love the Jets.

Let’s start with the fans. The best thing about actual Jets fans? That insane, delusional hope each year that their team are going to turn things around. That somehow, a new coach or a new draft pick is going to be their ticket to back to a winning season. “This is the year is going to be different.” “This is year is when we turn things around.” It’s like a very real pathological case of mass amnesia through allegiance – somehow Jets fans completely forget that they’re backing the New York fucking Jets, a team created for the sole purpose of masterfully fucking things up 24/7, 365 day a year, every year.

jets+steelers+1That’s why I’m happy for Jets fans when the Jets actually win a game once in a while. This year, when they were working so hard to lose, they beat the Steelers, but even I couldn’t be bummed by that. I hate seeing the Steelers lose, but to see that glimmer of delusional hope in the eyes of Jets fans – “OMG, we beat the Steelers, we’re practically in the Super Bowl now!” – knowing that there’s only crushing defeat and a return to tears and gnashing of teeth for these Jets fans is so, so sweet.  There is no nectar on this earth sweeter than a bowl of Jets fans’ tears.  Try it, it’s delicious.

fireman-ed-anzalone-jets-fan-52893dfacd878d41_largeOn the subject of fans, there’s the Jets’ number-one-cheerleader-best-fan-forever, that Fireman Ed asshole. Look at his stupid face.  Seriously, fuck this guy. This is their number one fan. The embodiment of their fan base in one fat, bald sack of shit. This asshole’s only life accomplishment is that he can scream four letters of the alphabet repeatedly for three hours on a given autumn Sunday in New Jersey. He is supposedly their number one fan, and he fucking gave up on going to their games ever again. He cited that his fellow Jets fans were all assholes (shocker) at the game, so he ditched his season tickets. Waahhhh! So even though he might be the single-most irritating fuckwit in the part of the hemisphere, he might also be the smartest Jets fan in decades. Which, by definition, no longer makes him an actual Jets fan.

Can anyone think of anything the team management have done that ISN’T a complete fuckwit move? That Fireman Ed shithead cried all the way home, and the Jets actually tried to get this guy to come back to the games by taking him out to lunch. They tried to woo a fan, for fuck’s sake. Who does that.

I’ll tell you who – a group of fuckwits led by Woody Johnson, that’s who. Was there a better Woody moment than when he told the press that he didn’t want to sign Tim Tebow, but his team went ahead and fucking did so anyway?   Imagine megalomaniacs like Jerry Jones or Bob Kraft admitting to such a thing, that your team probably thinks that you’re just some senile old man so they ignore the living shit out of you and get up to their own bullshit anyway. You’re the one signing all the checks, yet no one gives a shit what you think. Even the Wilpons weren’t blown off, but instead held a firm hand in driving the New York Mets right into the fucking ground. I’ll bet Woody Johnson still snacks on paint chips he peels off in his office.

EXCLUSIVE: NY Jets coach Rex Ryan and wife Michelle show some PDA whilst enjoying a Bahamas vacationYou know who’s not snacking as much? Dear Rex Ryan. Oh shit, I am going to miss that guy. Seriously, I am. When I think of colossal Jets coaching failures, first my head spins with so many names and faces that I fucking black out, but when I come to, there’s only Rex Ryan’s stupid jowly mug. You think your Jets were scary bad under Bruce Coslet or Rich Kottite? Holy shit, at least those guys had the decency to shut the fuck up while they were shitting the bed. Not so with Rex. In fact, no spawn of Buddy Ryan ever shuts the fuck up about anything (oh hey, Rob, how’s it going!). The hollow promises, the toe-sucking adventures, the Mark Sanchez jersey tattoo… I mean, holy shit, the most coked-up Hollywood writer couldn’t come up with a character this who’s this much of a shitshow. I’m gonna fucking miss Rex Ryan.

Rex Ryan was a big part of what made the Jets of recent years the best Jets ever. With him, the Jets have been in peak Jets form for a while now. Rex Ryan. Sanchize. The Buttfumble. Tim Tebow and the time they had like 10 quarterbacks on the team. Joe Namath and Suzy Kolber (OK, I’m cheating a little on this one, but that shit was awesome). I mean, they’re just Jetsing so fucking hard right now. And I never want it to end.

If it were up to me, Rex Ryan would be head coach for life. Tim Tebow would return as quarterback for life. That fireman dickhead would return to the stadium each home game, scream his balls off, then have to be carried outta there in the crushing shambles of defeat. Each year, they’d single-handedly earn the top draft pick, and they’d blow their first three rounds on shitty quarterbacks.  And each year, my Jets friends will regale me with high hopes and dreams that they’ve “definitely got a chance this year.”

If it were up to me, the New York Jets would never, ever fucking change.

 

 

 

Dear Jets fans

Why do you do it?

I’m writing this to you on Black Friday. Or as it should now forever be known within your circle, “The Day After The Hilarious Thanksgiving Day Massacre.” Part of me does feel bad that your beloved Jets had to play a game on Thanksgiving Day when they didn’t really need to – Thanksgiving is traditionally reserved for annual losses for the Detroit Lions and the Dallas Cowboys. Detroit and Dallas Ls are as American as a turducken. Thanksgiving is THEIR time.

But the greedy fucks at the NFL just HAD to squeeze in one more game. Probably based on enough market research that show that by the late afternoon/early evening, the American public are so fat and bloated from gorging on Thanksgiving dinner (America, fuck yeah!), closely resembling the humans in Wall-E, that they’d be too ossified to do anything other than dissolve into the couch with football on TV. Can’t even be arsed to tap the remote to change the channel.

By know, you already know that you support the single-most comical team in the history of time. A team whose entire heritage, relevance, and foreseeable future can be summed up in one play.

Why do you continue to be a Jets fan?

In my 20 years or so of following the NFL, I can think of no other team that has had more seasons of pure hilarity and humiliation as the Jets. Of course there are other awful teams in the NFL, but none of them are so completely devoid of saving graces as the Jets. You can try and call out the Cleveland Browns, but you’d be wrong. You see, the Browns are lovable losers. And you can thank dead asshole Art Modell for that. Art Modell martyred the team, and committed the Browns to football sainthood when he packed up and moved his business to Baltimore. You don’t fuck with NFL legacy like that. So as horrible as the hapless Browns will be in the foreseeable future, it’ll always be OK to root for the Browns because they got fucked by an owner.

No such compassion for the Jets, I’m afraid. Your Jets haven’t had anything catastrophic happen to them. Everything the Jets have fucked up, they’ve done to themselves. No mercy, no sympathy. And they’ve not earned anything in their past to be able to lean your adoration on. Please do fuck off with Super Bowl 3 – you look up “fluke” in the dictionary, and Joe Namath’s whisky-marinated douche face is what you’ll find. Is that the crock of shit what you fuckers are pinning our fandom on? That’s fucking pathetic.

Face it, there hasn’t been a single memorable thing – I’m talking about a good memorable thing here, not your unintentional hilarious performance on the field each week – the Jets can boast of in the past 20 years. Shit, even the pathetic Browns managed to get Peyton Hillis on the cover of Madden one year. (By the way, that Madden curse? TOTALLY REAL.) The Jets? Anything memorable? Some distinct event that rises above the rest? NOTHING.

And don’t give me your Bill Parcells years. The only thing Bill Parcells did right with your team was redesign your uniforms from looking like ‘80s mall chic to something barely resembling a highs school football team. And even so, your uniform blows. I mean, it seriously fucking blows chunks. I see that shitty emerald green and I wanna puke my eyes out. I stand by my argument that teams in the shitty uniforms don’t win shit. The Jets have massively shitty uniforms.

Which I suppose is befitting the caliber of players the team will rush out to sign each year. It’s like some otherworldly system designed to help the rest of us easily pick out which are worst players in the NFL – no need to look to hard, they all wear Jets green. At some point, I think the entire Kansas City Chiefs team will be absorbed into the Jets.

Who else but the Jets would do the Jetsiest thing ever and sign a quarterback who isn’t allowed to throw a football? What other team would you expect to have a player declare a jihad on the press after a win? What other team has its own meme – LOLJETS – on Deadspin? Any other team got a loudmouth coach (well-publicized foot fetish aside) that tries to pull a Namath guarantee each week only to have to eat shit the Monday after?

Why do you continue to be a Jets fan, after all this? I just don’t get it.

Yes, part of me is trolling here, because let’s face it, this is easier to do than betting if Lindsay Lohan gets arrested again before the year is out. The other part of me is genuinely fascinated by this willingness to put a stranglehold on hopelessness and humiliation? Seriously, why the fuck do you put up with it?

I pose that question with some ethical dilemma because I think switching teams is bullshit (I have first-hand experience with this, but more on that at another time, I promise). That said, if there is one market in which you’re allowed to switch teams with little recourse, it’s New York. No one would blame you for burning your green paraphernalia and treating yourself to some fresh gear in blue. (At this point, I need to clarify that I hate the Giants as well; these fucking guys and their herpy-derpy-derp-derp-doo Eli – fuck the Giants). My point is, you fucking guys have a legitimate out and you won’t take it.

What the fuck?

 

[EDIT – November 26, 2012]: It appears that your annoying-as-fuck human bullhorn, Fireman Ed (what a wanky nickname), has decided to call it quits. This fucker, arguably the most delusional human being associated with the Jets who is not on the Jets’ payroll, has decided to come to his senses. If even this douchetard can see the futility of it all, what the hell is wrong with you? More importantly, when a bonehead fan can make the news off the field, doesn’t it speak volumes for the ineptitude of the team on the field? For fuck’s sake, you people.

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

A while ago, there was a Deadspin article about horribly shitty names that assholes of the world were giving their kids.  I remember thinking that some of the names were entirely too comical to be real.  These weren’t even the retarded names that celebs give their future headcase offspring (I’ll get to that later).  These were names that were accumulated off some database – I’m guessing here, I have no idea if any of it was legitimate – which seemingly average people were giving their perfectly average kids.

It’s frustrating when I can’t figure out which group of parents I loathe more.  Is it the dullard parents who give their kids the most unimaginative of names? “Oh, your son’s name is Jonathan? How clever!  We just don’t hear that name very often.”  Or those who try too hard by coming up with completely insane spellings for what are otherwise the most unimaginative of names?  Looking at you, Dwyane Wade’s mom.  Worse are those with terminally-doomed-to-be-a-stripper names like Tiffany, when they’re spelled in the most insane way, like Teaphuneigh or something.

The other day I read a ridiculous story about some girl named Shiseido“Yes, that’s right, nurse, I’m naming my child after my wrinkle cream.”  And now we know why she’s so fucked in the head.

And do my eyes deceive me every Sunday, when I turn on the TV, and three quarters of the football field have players whose names start with some prefix, like Le- or De- or D’?  LeJonathan-something-or-other.  D’merit-wha?  I don’t understand this trend.  Even more perplexing is the growing fondness for football players to hyphenate multiple last names.  Everyone’s an Anglophile all of a sudden.  Previously, the Poms seemed to be the only people on earth who had two last names that were hyphenated.  Now, every other football player strives to be English gentry.  In two years’ time, I wanna watch Roger Goodell’s head explode when some NFL rookie tries to add “Esq.” to the back of his jersey.

There are any number of reasons why your kid’s name sucks.  But one of the most contemplative reasons – at least for me – is giving your kid a name for which you have absolutely zero intention of ever using to address him or her.

Yesterday, I read that Uma Thurman named her kid Rosalind Arusha Arkadina Altalune Florence Thurman-Busson.  I hate that I fucking know this.  First of all, that’s just being fucking greedy.  Why are you amassing all those names for just one kid, Uma Thurman?  Second, you’re gonna fuck her up when she’s got forms to fill out – they’ll never give you enough boxes to fill in her full name.

Third, Uma Thurman plans on calling her daughter “Luna”.  That’s night, because Luna is one of her na… oh, right, IT’S NOT EVEN HER NAME!!  Listen, you crazy bitch, if you want to call you daughter Luna, JUST NAME HER LUNA!!  This is such a typical celebrity asshole move.

Actually, that’s not entirely true.  The big about this being a typical celebrity asshole move.  Because tons of pretty average non-celebs do it, too.  I’ve lost track now of how many new parents I’ve run into who boast, “We’re going to name him X, but we’ll call him Y”.   This isn’t a case of calling a kid Joe when the name on his birth certificate is Joseph.  This more like, “His name is Charles, but we call him Brad.”  Fuck you.

I get the super-ultra-mega-WASPy thing of giving your kid the WASPiest nicknames in the universe, like Chip or Bo.  I watched enough shitty ‘80s high school comedies to understand that culture well enough.  It’s part of what makes you the whitest human being on the planet, I get it.

Which I guess is par for the course because you think about who else is given a name but is called something entirely different?  Show dogs.  Show dogs owned by the whitest people on earth, by the way.  You ever watch one of these insane dog shows?  You think race horses have crazy names?  Show dogs have like five horse names strung together.  “Grand Ballerina Of The Martian Nile” or some shit like that.  But make no mistake: that Lhasa Apso is called “Muffy” at home.

Awesome, so you’re treating your kids like show dogs now.  That’s nice.

Listen, I’m not saying my kids have the best names (they do).  After all, we named one after a race car driver, and another after an insane murderous king.  Them’s the breaks.  As it is, I’ve already fucked things up because Chinese heritage says that you shouldn’t consciously name your kids after someone else, especially not an ancestor.  Given the reverence of ancestors in Chinese culture, having your kids bear their name would be far too great a burden on the hapless child.  Think of the children!

But in the end, I’m calling my kids what I named them.  It’s their names, if I have the gall to give them these names, the least I can afford them is their privilege of actually using them.  It may seem like some insignificant gesture, but it’s one thing – one thing –  I can do to not fuck things up for them.

 

Yes, there is an overwhelming amount of teeth-gnashing and grumbling over the Jets’ brilliant move to pick up Tim Tebow.  I know my Twitter feed and Facebook updates page practically imploded with Jets fans seeming to perform a virtual mass suicide yesterday.  Poor Jets fans.  And yesterday was the one and only day I was rooting harder than I’d ever rooted for the Jets.

But I can’t help but see the upside of this whole circus around Tim Tebow playing for the Jets.  I only see fun and good things.

 

 

Let me explain:

  • By releasing Peyton Manning, the Colts put a domino effect into motion that pretty much guarantees that the Jets will have the Colts’ 2011 season record for several years to come.  As if it was as simple as taking off a sportcoat (clearly not a yellow sportcoat) and putting it on someone else.  Which sets up the next point…
  • The Jets will also have a lock on the first overall draft pick for 2013 and several years after that.  Not because they’ll trade up, but because they’ll have earned it outright.  Who gives a shit about the loss of your fourth- and sixth-round draft picks?  You’re number one, baby!
  • With all the money the Jets will save from all the costs of not going to the Super Bowl anytime in the near future, maybe they scrounge up enough money to entice Sean Payton to sign on as head coach after his one-year suspension is done.  Because this is clearly the last year that Rex Ryan will be allowed anywhere near the Jets.
  • They made everyone think they were signing another QB, but what they’ve really done here is fortify their running game.  This is sort of chicanery is super-competitive cloak-and-dagger shit.  Cheer up, Dirty Sanchez, you’re still on deck to throw 50 interceptions this coming season!
  • With a fresh face in town, maybe Ford will be inclined to replace Derek Jeter in all those gawdawful commercials.  Anything to get Jeter’s shitty acting off our TVs, amirite?
  • The media can’t seem to get enough of Tebow.  Nevermind that anyone with any working knowledge of football knows that he’s a textbook disaster of a football player, because who gives a shit about facts, it’s the media we’re talking about!  So what better market for Tebow to be in than New York?  You know that every network in NY just pissed themselves in delight the minute the pen left the signed contracts yesterday.  Huge win for the media, guys!
  • Antonio Cromartie was clearly not happy with Tebow coming to town.  But these two are gonna get along just fine. They’re going to be BFFs halfway through training camp, I just know it.  Cromartie clearly loves children, and Tebow is all about pro-life.  These two are all about babies and children and shit.  And if babies and children can’t bring us together, what will?

Thanks for this move, it’s going to be an AWESOME year for EVERYONE, guys.  The atmosphere in the league has gotten quite dark in recent years – crippling head injuries, player stomping, bounties, and a myriad of other fiascos.  This trade injects a healthy amount of much-needed comedy and levity into the sport.  The Jets are being the Jettiest they’ve ever been.  And all is right in the universe.

This past Sunday, I had grand ambitions on how I’d spend my evening.  I thought I could settle in the basement workshop and change all the strings on my guitars.  Or I could sift through my CDs, rip a bunch of songs and make a cool mix tape.  Maybe I could write another blog post, this time pointing out what a colossal waste of time the NBA Slam Dunk contest was (it was fucking terrible, done).

But, nooooooo.  I got the message loud and clear that my attention was needed in front of the TV watching the goddamn Oscars with the missus, and she’ll have no argument about it.  Having kept some ungodly hours at work last week, leaving her to deal with our two ingrates single-handedly meant that I owed her, and if that means three hours of mental flagellation in front of the TV, so be it.

5 minutes into the Oscars, I wanted to throw myself out the window.  I mean, seriously, who gives a shit.  All this pompous, self-congratulatory bullshit celebration of a horribly, horribly mediocre industry filled with awful terrible people.  Billy Crystal going the extra mile t to prove that nine times is way too many times.  And what the fuck was all that circus bullshit – did anybody understand what that was going on about?  Seeing all the cringeworthy banter from plastic-faced people like Gwyneth Paltrow made me want to pull a Sylvia Plath and wear my oven as a helmet.

But this isn’t about the Oscars.  No, this is about what saved the Oscars for me: Twitter and live blogs.

There I was, stretched out on the couch, iPad in hand, my eyes darting between the TV and my Twitter feed.  And Gawker’s live blog.  In particular the live blog made the whole affair not just survivable, but actually enjoyable.  It didn’t make me like the Oscars, but I do know the hilarity of the live blog couldn’t have happened without that train wreck on TV.

And Twitter.  Seeking out the #oscar hashtag provided a steady stream of bullshit comments.  Some funnier than others, most quite dull.  The tweets seemed to average one comical comment for every thirty or so dull-as-fuck ones.  Yet I still tracked the action on Twitter like some degenerate gambler at a racetrack.  Somehow I seemed to be seeking validation for my agony of watching the Oscars.  And I realized that this wasn’t the first time I felt dependent on tweets and live blogs while watching TV.  I did the same thing with the Grammys.  And the Super Bowl.

Why the fuck can’t I just sit and watch TV like a normal human being anymore?  How did I suddenly develop this unnecessary dependence on mobile devices piping in a steady stream of social commentary horseshit?  It’s not like most of the shit on Twitter is stuff that I really need to know anyway.  Most of the time, it was like “OMG, did u c Nicky Minaj perform! WTF!!” (no, Sherlock, you were the only living person tuned to the TV at that moment in the Grammys, the rest of us several million folks collectively got up to go take a slash), or some pointless declaration like “Go Giants!! #patriotsuk” (that’s right, because without your all-important tweet, the Giants surely would’ve lost the game).

And it’s not limited to big TV events, is it.  I mean, Vanity Fair tweet throughout every episode of Downton Abbey every weekend.  Why do I know?  How the fuck do you think I know.  It’s Downton Abbey, for God’s sake.  We’re all tweeting… about poncy poms sweatin’ their virginal reputations… and emotionally-barren old ladies being snippy to each other.  Dear God.

The day I find myself checking my Twitter feed or live blogging while watching an episode of Phineas & Ferb with my kids, I’m throwing my phone through the TV, I swear.  That’s probably going to happen this weekend.

 

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.

 

 

A bunch of folks at the office decided before the year-end holidays that it’d be a good idea to do some inane “Biggest Loser” contest in the new year.  I was challenged to participate.  I thought about it for a good, solid 4 or 5 seconds before deciding, “fuck that noise.”  I’m a fat ass and I have the willpower of Paula Deen at a Velveeta cook-off.  It’d be much better to poke fun at those dummies participating.

But come the first day of work, I crack inside of 2 minutes under peer pressure.  “C’mon, you can’t be the only one of us who doesn’t do this.”  “Dude, come on, you gotta do it.”  “You really should…”  ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, SHUT THE FUCK UP, I’LL DO THIS IF YOU JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!

So like the feeble, weak-minded shithead that I am, I stupidly joined the office “Biggest Loser” contest.

Day 1:  The weigh-in.  I was not even remotely prepared for this.  If I had planned on joining this contest, I’d have prepped a bit better.  I’d have worked harder at packing on some holiday fat.  I sure as hell ate like a fiend and drink like a fish, I should’ve packed on more poundage.  Instead, I gained nothing.  When I need gain weight, I can’t.  That is some fucked up metabolism I have.  Anyway, I weigh in, and while I’m quite fat, I’m not nearly as fat as I could’ve been.  I could’ve eaten a heartier breakfast (a double order of a Denny’s Grand Slam comes to mind), and maybe I could’ve washed it down with two milkshakes.  Something to bloat the scales at the weigh-in, that’s how it’s done.  But no – that morning, I had an apple and two cups of coffee.  And I went to the gym that morning.  I had to be healthy.  I am off to a massively shitty start.

Day 3:  Chicanery in the workplace has begun.  Unwittingly, yesterday I was offered a banana by a competitor and I ate it.  After that I looked up a calorie count – about 140 calories.  WTF, IT’S A BANANA!!  It’s fruit, it’s supposed to be good for you!  Well played, you dick, well played.

Day 6:  Travel will be my downfall in this contest.  It is positively brutal to stick with healthy eating options when traveling.  If it isn’t really shitty road food, it’s overly indulgent fare.  This evening, a ravaged Pittsburgh Steelers improbably lost to the hallowed Denver Broncos in the AFC Wild Card playoffs, and I watched it all implode from my hotel room in Boston.  After I sat in stunned silence for 10 minutes after the game, I decided to pop downstairs to grab some dinner and eat my grief away.  But I’m such a loser I couldn’t even do that properly.  Go big or go home, right?  Not me, I went half-hearted.  No booze, I drank water.  I loaded on a large arugula salad (oooh, healthy crap), then dove into some over-the-top roasted duck breast that was surrounded by rich, fatty sides with complicated French names.  The duck was mega, but it was an incomplete and shameful experience because I totally pussed out by not going all the way.  If I was going to pig out, the least I could do was booze it up, inhaled an entree with drenched with delicious cream and bacon, doubled up on dessert.  Instead, I executed a pointless, unfulfilling exercise.  I retired to my room more defeated than ever.

Week 1 was tedious at best.  It’s going to be an insufferable month.

 

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.