Good for you, Vanessa.
You finally stood up for yourself and said, "Enough is enough!" I'm out of here.
There's only so many multi-million dollar diamonds in the world that can buy your loyalty, and I applaud you for that.
Granted, what Kobe did in Denver several years ago invoked the necessity for multi-million dollar diamonds, and priceless news conferences (get some Chap-stick Kobe), but this was different, wasn't it?
This was too close to home. This was simply "I'm too bored because of this damn lock-out and need something to grab my attention." How dare the man!
Vanessa bolted...and I can't blame her. The Lakers are in complete disarray.
What, you thought I was going all Doctor Phil on you?
Lamar Odom is gone, the Zen Master is gone, Chris Paul plays in the stadium (but he's wearing blue and red), and now Kobe is physically and intimately alone. That should work well for the biggest ego in basketball.
So much for high and mighty for the greatest franchise in NBA history, you don't have the TIME for high and mighty. You need help now!
Everybody outside of Kobe knows that Kobe is in the twilight of his career. You have two years, maximum, of the Icy Killer that is Kobe. That means no more of, "He's definitely making this shot" or "We're down by two in the waning seconds, but we have Kobe".
Side Note: How sad is that? I'm not even close to a Lakers' fan but the fact that I will live and see Kobe Bryant not play basketball is very upsetting to me. He was my Jordan.
So the divorce thing affected Michael in a big way. His happened after his playing career but then he went out and became owner of the Charlotte Bobcats. Michael Jordan forgets more about the National Basketball Association by the day than I will ever know, yet, I know not to buy the Bobcats. They suck.
He was divorce-blind though. That's why the greatest basketball player ever bought a professional team in North Carolina. It has nothing to do with roots.
So, with a divorce-blind Kobe, and a rag-tag team of starters, the Lakers are simply screwed. Do you remember when Shaq left and Kobe had that 80 point game but the Lakers were still terrible? Yeah, it's like that but no 80 point game is coming.
At this point, even if the Lakers manage to wrangle Dwight Howard away from the Magic, they would be even more screwed. The Lakers would almost certainly have to give away key pieces of their line-up, as well as potential future draft picks, to get the best big man in the game. That buys them some time, but like I said, two years MAXIMUM!
Then you have no Kobe, Dwight bolts again, and you start starting Clipper-rejects.
Side note: Pairing Blake Griffin with Chris Paul was a total Laker move, about six years ago. What the hell happened? Are my kids going to grow up hating the Clippers and rooting for the Lakers? Bizarro world?
The man at the helm now is Mike Brown, the guy from Cleveland that couldn't get LeBron a championship. Now he's in LA, replacing Phil Jackson, inheriting a rapidly aging Kobe, and a fan base that simply wants to win. That's the recipe for dynamite and I simply can't wait. Blow it up!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Christmas Miracle
Stop it. Please just let it stop. For the love of God, let it stop!
If this is the last Tim Tebow post I will ever write, it's still come way too late.
Look, the guy is a great motivator, a positive influence in the league, and has great hair despite wearing a helmet all day. Seriously, I take a nap and it looks like I just got roughed up.
The sustainability of the Tebow-led Broncos is just not there.
If I'm a Broncos fan right now, I'm loving life, don't get me wrong. But I have to know a great gimmick when I see one. Back in 2008, the Miami Dolphins had a great gimmick and it led them to the playoffs. They played one game and were promptly dispatched and have not been back since.
That's because they played the Ravens and they had a GREAT defense and a smart, efficient offense. Miami had the Wild Cat, which essentially could end in about three ways: 1) Ronnie Brown runs to the left, 2) Ronnie Brown hands it off to Ricky Williams for a sweep to the left, or 3) Ronnie Brown fakes to the left and throws it to the the tight end. That's about it.
At first, when the Wild Cat was unveiled on the New England Patriots, it looked as if this was the next great thing in football. The Miami juggernaut had been unleashed! They destroyed the hapless Patriots and Belichick stood on the sidelines with a "What the hell was that?" look on his face.
I've seen that look seven times now this year on the faces of the Broncos opponents. The way that Tebow guides his offense is eerily similar to how the Dolphins approached their games in 2008.
Notice I keep talking about 2008. This is 2011. We don't do the Wild Cat anymore because there is video tape, and there's meetings, and practices, and game plans, and eventually you learn how to defend what was previously unstoppable. You eventually realize, we can blitz corners to defend the outside run and have a linebacker drop back into coverage on the tight end, because it's a TIGHT END! There's the death of the Wild Cat in a nutshell.
The Tebow-led structure will eventually hit it's buzz-saw and when it happens, it won't be pretty. The majority wants Tebow to succeed and often perpetuates his faith and nature to football for some reason. It's especially bad here in Florida. Every time I see another Broncos 15 jersey I think to myself, "Well, that guy's about to have an eye opening."
The problem with having a gimmick-run offense is that you've committed. You have no room for adaptation and that's very dangerous when you consider that defenses are always changing.
The "Here's what we do and just try and stop us!" schtick works right up to the minute that you get stopped. Now what?
The Broncos play the New England Patriots next. Tom Brady is looking to crochet himself another Division Title Sweater for the holidays and will unleash the dogs of war on poor Tebow.
Now with that said, Denver might win this game. The Pats don't have a great defense and rely on an a high octane offense to win their games. Denver's defense has played unbelievably well in the Tebow stretch. If it's close in the end, who knows? Tebow might eke out another one.
Don't get comfortable though. All good things must come to a smashing and bloody end.
Prediction: New England 24, Denver 13.
Quote: "Screw you, Matt Prater. I won't forget what you did to UCF." - Me, still very bitter towards the Denver kicker.
If this is the last Tim Tebow post I will ever write, it's still come way too late.
Look, the guy is a great motivator, a positive influence in the league, and has great hair despite wearing a helmet all day. Seriously, I take a nap and it looks like I just got roughed up.
The sustainability of the Tebow-led Broncos is just not there.
If I'm a Broncos fan right now, I'm loving life, don't get me wrong. But I have to know a great gimmick when I see one. Back in 2008, the Miami Dolphins had a great gimmick and it led them to the playoffs. They played one game and were promptly dispatched and have not been back since.
That's because they played the Ravens and they had a GREAT defense and a smart, efficient offense. Miami had the Wild Cat, which essentially could end in about three ways: 1) Ronnie Brown runs to the left, 2) Ronnie Brown hands it off to Ricky Williams for a sweep to the left, or 3) Ronnie Brown fakes to the left and throws it to the the tight end. That's about it.
At first, when the Wild Cat was unveiled on the New England Patriots, it looked as if this was the next great thing in football. The Miami juggernaut had been unleashed! They destroyed the hapless Patriots and Belichick stood on the sidelines with a "What the hell was that?" look on his face.
I've seen that look seven times now this year on the faces of the Broncos opponents. The way that Tebow guides his offense is eerily similar to how the Dolphins approached their games in 2008.
Notice I keep talking about 2008. This is 2011. We don't do the Wild Cat anymore because there is video tape, and there's meetings, and practices, and game plans, and eventually you learn how to defend what was previously unstoppable. You eventually realize, we can blitz corners to defend the outside run and have a linebacker drop back into coverage on the tight end, because it's a TIGHT END! There's the death of the Wild Cat in a nutshell.
The Tebow-led structure will eventually hit it's buzz-saw and when it happens, it won't be pretty. The majority wants Tebow to succeed and often perpetuates his faith and nature to football for some reason. It's especially bad here in Florida. Every time I see another Broncos 15 jersey I think to myself, "Well, that guy's about to have an eye opening."
The problem with having a gimmick-run offense is that you've committed. You have no room for adaptation and that's very dangerous when you consider that defenses are always changing.
The "Here's what we do and just try and stop us!" schtick works right up to the minute that you get stopped. Now what?
The Broncos play the New England Patriots next. Tom Brady is looking to crochet himself another Division Title Sweater for the holidays and will unleash the dogs of war on poor Tebow.
Now with that said, Denver might win this game. The Pats don't have a great defense and rely on an a high octane offense to win their games. Denver's defense has played unbelievably well in the Tebow stretch. If it's close in the end, who knows? Tebow might eke out another one.
Don't get comfortable though. All good things must come to a smashing and bloody end.
Prediction: New England 24, Denver 13.
Quote: "Screw you, Matt Prater. I won't forget what you did to UCF." - Me, still very bitter towards the Denver kicker.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Said The Horse To The Dolphin
Hey Miami Dolphins, we couldn't help but notice that you have won your last three games in a row! Good for you! That's a really impressive stat, especially when you look at your 0-7 start. We'll be rooting for you when you play the Cowboys on Thanksgiving.
Of course we will. We'll be cheering and laughing at the same time. While your inbred, ridiculous fans cheer on an unimportant winning streak in the mire of a lost season, we'll be cheering on the guaranteed prospect of Andrew Luck.
You stupid ingrates, you were just too proud, weren't you? You were just too good to lose out, weren't you? You never had the guts to suck up in the first place and choke to death on. It's Andrew Luck! The can't miss, next Peyton, thing-you-haven't-had-in-forever Quarterback!
We were willing to alienate our fan-base from the announcement of Peyton's second...er...we think...neck surgery. We shoved 'some guy' into the fire after the third(?) surgery and gosh dangit, would you know it? He sucks. Somehow, we find our lucky, giving-up asses on the verge on the next Peyton. Suck it, Miami.
I hope the break was enough. If it wasn't, this is my voice now, not the Indianapolis Colts...not sure why I had to insult myself so early in the beginning...
Of course I knew why I had to bash myself. I lost my path. I got swept up in that (damn) media story of the next 'Dan Marino' and hoping it was some guy like me only from Stanford, taller, stronger, better thrower, and way prettier. I'm no Andrew Luck, Andrew Luck is no Dan Marino, and Dan Marino is no Matt Moore. Matt Moore is not a great quarterback. He's a great quarterback RIGHT now. The Dolphins have won THREE games. THREE years from now, he might be selling insurance, but that's the point. I don't care about tomorrow; I care about right now. Go Matt Moore, Go!
I hope that Andrew Luck is the payment that was coming on the blood diamond that was Peyton Manning. If only Andrew Luck would simply venture down the path of Ryan Leaf-dom, then all would be right in the world of the NFL. And I simply say that, because in my weird ass head, that seems fair. Live in mediocrity at best for a decade, Colts. Christ, would it kill you?
Look, Andrew Luck might be the next greatest quarterback of all-time OR he might be THE greatest quarterback of all-time. My point is, he's not playing for the Dolphins, so shit on him.
Of course we will. We'll be cheering and laughing at the same time. While your inbred, ridiculous fans cheer on an unimportant winning streak in the mire of a lost season, we'll be cheering on the guaranteed prospect of Andrew Luck.
You stupid ingrates, you were just too proud, weren't you? You were just too good to lose out, weren't you? You never had the guts to suck up in the first place and choke to death on. It's Andrew Luck! The can't miss, next Peyton, thing-you-haven't-had-in-forever Quarterback!
We were willing to alienate our fan-base from the announcement of Peyton's second...er...we think...neck surgery. We shoved 'some guy' into the fire after the third(?) surgery and gosh dangit, would you know it? He sucks. Somehow, we find our lucky, giving-up asses on the verge on the next Peyton. Suck it, Miami.
I hope the break was enough. If it wasn't, this is my voice now, not the Indianapolis Colts...not sure why I had to insult myself so early in the beginning...
Of course I knew why I had to bash myself. I lost my path. I got swept up in that (damn) media story of the next 'Dan Marino' and hoping it was some guy like me only from Stanford, taller, stronger, better thrower, and way prettier. I'm no Andrew Luck, Andrew Luck is no Dan Marino, and Dan Marino is no Matt Moore. Matt Moore is not a great quarterback. He's a great quarterback RIGHT now. The Dolphins have won THREE games. THREE years from now, he might be selling insurance, but that's the point. I don't care about tomorrow; I care about right now. Go Matt Moore, Go!
I hope that Andrew Luck is the payment that was coming on the blood diamond that was Peyton Manning. If only Andrew Luck would simply venture down the path of Ryan Leaf-dom, then all would be right in the world of the NFL. And I simply say that, because in my weird ass head, that seems fair. Live in mediocrity at best for a decade, Colts. Christ, would it kill you?
Look, Andrew Luck might be the next greatest quarterback of all-time OR he might be THE greatest quarterback of all-time. My point is, he's not playing for the Dolphins, so shit on him.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Unhappy Valley
I, like most children in our society, was raised based upon three simple principles: always be honest, never steal, and always try to do the right thing.
As you get older, you realize that sometimes these guidelines get in the way of certain areas in your life. For instance, you're going to have to lie to your significant other from time to time, that's just the way it is. It's for self-preservation.
However, the major stuff isn't very hard to keep right. First of all, it's crammed down your throat everywhere you go. Your school, your job, your Home Owners Association...they all have codes of conduct and rules of ethics that must be followed or you suffer the consequence. It's the first paper they make you take home and sign every single grade from kindergarten to 12th.
Moral ethics are unavoidable. You know what they are, whether you use them or not, is up to you. This is something that can be said for all of mankind, big or small.
With that said, I have no defense for Joe Paterno. The man has been God in Pennsylvania for the last sixty years and the best he can do is pass the word along? You're Joe Paterno!
So McQueary comes to you and says he saw Sandusky doing "something" in the showers with a minor, no warning flags shot off in your head? What the hell could "something" possibly mean? Should it matter if the preceding words before that are "old man", "little boy", and "showers"?
Why didn't you march your khaki-ass down to the showers, pull Sandusky out of there, beat the hell out of him and then turn him over the authorities? Was it because you already knew, Joe? You worked with the man for 30 years. In 30 years he managed to keep his biggest and darkest secret from the man closest to him without so much as a hint?
How big can a kingdom get before you don't worry about it crumbling to salt around you? Man lets legend consume him and then it becomes too late to stop. You become bigger than you are and you forget what's right.
Instead of sitting in your house, feeling sorry for yourself for getting fired, maybe you should read the Grand Jury release, Joe. It's 23 pages, of vivid description, of what your friend Jerry Sandusky did to ruin the lives of children he was pretending to help. He SNAKED them out of the charity he set up, Joe. He showered with them on Penn State's campus, in your kingdom. Where the hell where you, Joe?
Paterno said looking back now with hindsight, he wish he had done more. Well look back further, Joe. All your accomplishments, the record bowl wins, the two national championships, and all the years of wearing the crown...it's all hollow. It all loses meaning and there is a tarnish on everything. You traded your moral fiber for a cardboard crown.
But hey, what does it matter. You're 84 years old, you've lived your life. These boys, however, are now in their twenties. What about their lives, Joe? What are you going to do for them?
As you get older, you realize that sometimes these guidelines get in the way of certain areas in your life. For instance, you're going to have to lie to your significant other from time to time, that's just the way it is. It's for self-preservation.
However, the major stuff isn't very hard to keep right. First of all, it's crammed down your throat everywhere you go. Your school, your job, your Home Owners Association...they all have codes of conduct and rules of ethics that must be followed or you suffer the consequence. It's the first paper they make you take home and sign every single grade from kindergarten to 12th.
Moral ethics are unavoidable. You know what they are, whether you use them or not, is up to you. This is something that can be said for all of mankind, big or small.
With that said, I have no defense for Joe Paterno. The man has been God in Pennsylvania for the last sixty years and the best he can do is pass the word along? You're Joe Paterno!
So McQueary comes to you and says he saw Sandusky doing "something" in the showers with a minor, no warning flags shot off in your head? What the hell could "something" possibly mean? Should it matter if the preceding words before that are "old man", "little boy", and "showers"?
Why didn't you march your khaki-ass down to the showers, pull Sandusky out of there, beat the hell out of him and then turn him over the authorities? Was it because you already knew, Joe? You worked with the man for 30 years. In 30 years he managed to keep his biggest and darkest secret from the man closest to him without so much as a hint?
How big can a kingdom get before you don't worry about it crumbling to salt around you? Man lets legend consume him and then it becomes too late to stop. You become bigger than you are and you forget what's right.
Instead of sitting in your house, feeling sorry for yourself for getting fired, maybe you should read the Grand Jury release, Joe. It's 23 pages, of vivid description, of what your friend Jerry Sandusky did to ruin the lives of children he was pretending to help. He SNAKED them out of the charity he set up, Joe. He showered with them on Penn State's campus, in your kingdom. Where the hell where you, Joe?
Paterno said looking back now with hindsight, he wish he had done more. Well look back further, Joe. All your accomplishments, the record bowl wins, the two national championships, and all the years of wearing the crown...it's all hollow. It all loses meaning and there is a tarnish on everything. You traded your moral fiber for a cardboard crown.
But hey, what does it matter. You're 84 years old, you've lived your life. These boys, however, are now in their twenties. What about their lives, Joe? What are you going to do for them?
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Smokin' Joe and Greatness
Joe Frazier died last night.
Ali released a statement that said, "I will always remember Joe with admiration and respect."
Yeah, right.
I'm sure Greatness had a few more thoughts he would have liked to have tacked on to that statement. After all, these two hated each other with a violent passion that defined the sport of boxing. Arguably, the two greatest fights ever were fought between these two men: the 'Fight of the Century' in NYC where Frazier handed Ali his first professional loss and the 'Thrilla in Manila' where the two men almost killed each other.
'Thrilla in Manila' was such a brutal slug-fest that it's still uncomfortable to watch on ESPN Classic even after knowing the outcome.
Still, the way that the two handled each other outside of the ring was quite the battle itself. Ali referenced Frazier as an "ugly gorilla" and once called him an "Uncle Tom".
Frazier was furious. He saw Ali as the embodiment of foolish pride. How dare he declare himself the Greatest? Frazier took it upon himself to give the fool his fall and he did in the 'Fight of the Century'. Even though they fought two more times, and each of the three fights were epic battles, Frazier could never emerge from the shadow of Greatness.
When Ali lit the torch at the Atlanta Olympic Games, Frazier said he wish he was there so he could push him in.
Ali was already stricken with Parkinson's Disease by then.
I remember an interview with Frazier's brother a couple of years ago and the guy asked him if there had been any give in the rivalry over the years that had passed. In other words, was Frazier still pissed at Ali after all this time?
Frazier's brother gave a little smirk and picked up his cell phone and called his brother. Frazier didn't answer, but the voice mail picked up and the following message played:
"My name is Smokin' Joe Frazier, sharp as a razor.
Yeah, floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee,
I'm the man who done the job, look and see."
The irony of it all is as much as the two men beat each other down, they were building up their legends at the same time. Joe Frazier will never be remembered without mentioning Muhammad Ali, and vice versa.
Could you imagine that? The one man you hate more than anything on the planet is responsible for your own greatness...your immortality. With that said, of course Frazier is going to take credit for Ali's Parkinson's.
Frazier dies quickly after a brief battle with cancer and Ali's own end gets drawn out in torturous fashion. I bet he's laughing about that too.
Till the bitter end, Smokin'Joe, till the bitter end.
Ali released a statement that said, "I will always remember Joe with admiration and respect."
Yeah, right.
I'm sure Greatness had a few more thoughts he would have liked to have tacked on to that statement. After all, these two hated each other with a violent passion that defined the sport of boxing. Arguably, the two greatest fights ever were fought between these two men: the 'Fight of the Century' in NYC where Frazier handed Ali his first professional loss and the 'Thrilla in Manila' where the two men almost killed each other.
'Thrilla in Manila' was such a brutal slug-fest that it's still uncomfortable to watch on ESPN Classic even after knowing the outcome.
Still, the way that the two handled each other outside of the ring was quite the battle itself. Ali referenced Frazier as an "ugly gorilla" and once called him an "Uncle Tom".
Frazier was furious. He saw Ali as the embodiment of foolish pride. How dare he declare himself the Greatest? Frazier took it upon himself to give the fool his fall and he did in the 'Fight of the Century'. Even though they fought two more times, and each of the three fights were epic battles, Frazier could never emerge from the shadow of Greatness.
When Ali lit the torch at the Atlanta Olympic Games, Frazier said he wish he was there so he could push him in.
Ali was already stricken with Parkinson's Disease by then.
I remember an interview with Frazier's brother a couple of years ago and the guy asked him if there had been any give in the rivalry over the years that had passed. In other words, was Frazier still pissed at Ali after all this time?
Frazier's brother gave a little smirk and picked up his cell phone and called his brother. Frazier didn't answer, but the voice mail picked up and the following message played:
"My name is Smokin' Joe Frazier, sharp as a razor.
Yeah, floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee,
I'm the man who done the job, look and see."
The irony of it all is as much as the two men beat each other down, they were building up their legends at the same time. Joe Frazier will never be remembered without mentioning Muhammad Ali, and vice versa.
Could you imagine that? The one man you hate more than anything on the planet is responsible for your own greatness...your immortality. With that said, of course Frazier is going to take credit for Ali's Parkinson's.
Frazier dies quickly after a brief battle with cancer and Ali's own end gets drawn out in torturous fashion. I bet he's laughing about that too.
Till the bitter end, Smokin'Joe, till the bitter end.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Said The Dolphin To The Horse
I have sympathy for you, Indianapolis Colts, fresh off your shellacking from the New Orleans' Saints.
Losing sucks, and losing in the most embarrassing way is even worse.
Trust me, I know.
As I watched the Saints pile on the points, I turned to a co-worker and asked, "Why are they beating their asses so badly, do they owe them money?"
It looked like a cliche, cheesy mafia movie. "We're gonna kill you, your family, your mailman, your dog-sitter, and your AA sponsor...they're all dead!" It wasn't a football game, it was a massacre.
It was the kind of beat-down that worried me. It looked as if you have given up hope.
Please, please, please do not do this, Indianapolis. You must not give up, you must not give in, and for God sakes, you must fight! Fight to the brink of doom!
I admit Indianapolis, that my investment is not in your well-being, but rather in the hopeful adoration that the Miami Dolphins be the worst team in the National Football League. I want Andrew Luck--no--I NEED Andrew Luck for the Dolphins. It's the only thing keeping me from choking on a cyanide pill.
Don't be greedy, you have had Peyton Manning, the greatest quarterback ever. You always make the playoffs. You ruled the last decade. You've won a Super Bowl in the time that I've been alive. It just would not be fair if you got Andrew Luck after only six months of misery. I've been miserable my whole life!
The Dolphins last made the Super Bowl the year before I was born and got worked over in it anyways. We've made the playoffs but I like to call those "wife-beating" days. I'm just kidding, I'm not married. Next week our quarterback is probably going to be, "Hey you, you want to come down from those stands and play quarterback for the Miami Dolphins?"
Don't do this to me. I try to be a good guy. I'm aware of breast cancer!
You must summon inner power and rise up to greet this challenge. Use this latest ass-kicking as a jump-off point. So the Saints can just treat you like that and get away with it? I don't think so! Go out there and take it out on your next opponent, the Tennessee Titans. You hate those guys! It's a division opponent, they're aren't that great either, and you have animosity built up! Unleash it!
It's like this, Colts, I have been dragged through shit and fire being a Dolphins fan and the only glimmer of a vanilla-scented aloe wipe that I've seen in a long time is Andrew Luck. Do the right thing and bow out. Start winning or I'm going to start doing methamphetamines.
Losing sucks, and losing in the most embarrassing way is even worse.
Trust me, I know.
As I watched the Saints pile on the points, I turned to a co-worker and asked, "Why are they beating their asses so badly, do they owe them money?"
It looked like a cliche, cheesy mafia movie. "We're gonna kill you, your family, your mailman, your dog-sitter, and your AA sponsor...they're all dead!" It wasn't a football game, it was a massacre.
It was the kind of beat-down that worried me. It looked as if you have given up hope.
Please, please, please do not do this, Indianapolis. You must not give up, you must not give in, and for God sakes, you must fight! Fight to the brink of doom!
I admit Indianapolis, that my investment is not in your well-being, but rather in the hopeful adoration that the Miami Dolphins be the worst team in the National Football League. I want Andrew Luck--no--I NEED Andrew Luck for the Dolphins. It's the only thing keeping me from choking on a cyanide pill.
Don't be greedy, you have had Peyton Manning, the greatest quarterback ever. You always make the playoffs. You ruled the last decade. You've won a Super Bowl in the time that I've been alive. It just would not be fair if you got Andrew Luck after only six months of misery. I've been miserable my whole life!
The Dolphins last made the Super Bowl the year before I was born and got worked over in it anyways. We've made the playoffs but I like to call those "wife-beating" days. I'm just kidding, I'm not married. Next week our quarterback is probably going to be, "Hey you, you want to come down from those stands and play quarterback for the Miami Dolphins?"
Don't do this to me. I try to be a good guy. I'm aware of breast cancer!
You must summon inner power and rise up to greet this challenge. Use this latest ass-kicking as a jump-off point. So the Saints can just treat you like that and get away with it? I don't think so! Go out there and take it out on your next opponent, the Tennessee Titans. You hate those guys! It's a division opponent, they're aren't that great either, and you have animosity built up! Unleash it!
It's like this, Colts, I have been dragged through shit and fire being a Dolphins fan and the only glimmer of a vanilla-scented aloe wipe that I've seen in a long time is Andrew Luck. Do the right thing and bow out. Start winning or I'm going to start doing methamphetamines.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
R.I.P. N.B.A.
I told you I was going to write more often...
I didn't write a single post about the NFL lockout and it was because I never truly believed it. The NFL lockout was like that couple we know that is always fighting and determined to break up but as soon as we turn around, they are making out. They never really meant it--they just wanted to reaffirm one's love for the other.
Today, the NFL is back in full-force and we forget that Mom and Dad even fought to begin with. We have successfully been bribed with candy, my friends.
The NBA lockout is a completely different story. To keep with my string of similes, the NBA lockout is like Mom coming home and finding Dad in bed with a gopher. It's confusing and ultimately maddening.
The NBA lockout is for keeps and promises and whatever else childhood saying you used to use. Billy Hunter, the player's rep, and David Stern, the Emperor and secret leader of the Sith, are both MORONS. Stern will stand up there and dreadfully declare that games are being canceled left and right, until all we are left with is one week of the season. Hunter will stand up there with his thumb up his ass--because he doesn't know where else to put it.
See, the NFL lockout got resolved because the player's rep, DeMaurice Smith was conventional heroic-stupid. He resolved to resolve the resolution and do it with pride, damn it! His adversary, Roger Goodell, was completely and irrationally evil. He hated things like it was his life-blood. However, the wacky combination worked: lovable idiot + complete embodiment of evil = I'm kicking ass at fantasy football!
The NBA is NOT shaping up this way. Stern and Hunter are proving to be really difficult to deal with each other, and not in a marketable Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau kind of way.
I get the feeling that neither one of them would care if the NBA played this season and that's incredibly damning to the cause of oh, let's say, PLAYING THIS SEASON.
Stern's strong-armed approach of canceling the first two weeks of the season and declaring the Christmas games' in jeopardy is helpful to the cause like putting a Band-Aid on a compound fracture.
As if His Evilness wasn't enough, players have jumped from the NBA ship like it was the Titanic. I can't take a piss without hitting a story about another NBA superstar reportedly going to play basketball overseas. The day Kobe Bryant dribbles a ball in Italy is officially the day that the NBA dies.
Let me say this, for all the players going overseas to play ball, or the ones that are less-selfishly organizing charity games in the States, I think you are doing the completely right thing.
You are pressurizing Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum into making a decision, while still honing your skills, and while still making money for the less fortunate.
You saw this in the NFL too, and years ago in the NHL, with the players just simply wanting to get back out there and do what they do best.
Too bad for their sakes, and ours, that the ones with the keys are completely greedy and stupid.
Hope you guys like college basketball, because that's all I will be talking about this year.
I didn't write a single post about the NFL lockout and it was because I never truly believed it. The NFL lockout was like that couple we know that is always fighting and determined to break up but as soon as we turn around, they are making out. They never really meant it--they just wanted to reaffirm one's love for the other.
Today, the NFL is back in full-force and we forget that Mom and Dad even fought to begin with. We have successfully been bribed with candy, my friends.
The NBA lockout is a completely different story. To keep with my string of similes, the NBA lockout is like Mom coming home and finding Dad in bed with a gopher. It's confusing and ultimately maddening.
The NBA lockout is for keeps and promises and whatever else childhood saying you used to use. Billy Hunter, the player's rep, and David Stern, the Emperor and secret leader of the Sith, are both MORONS. Stern will stand up there and dreadfully declare that games are being canceled left and right, until all we are left with is one week of the season. Hunter will stand up there with his thumb up his ass--because he doesn't know where else to put it.
See, the NFL lockout got resolved because the player's rep, DeMaurice Smith was conventional heroic-stupid. He resolved to resolve the resolution and do it with pride, damn it! His adversary, Roger Goodell, was completely and irrationally evil. He hated things like it was his life-blood. However, the wacky combination worked: lovable idiot + complete embodiment of evil = I'm kicking ass at fantasy football!
The NBA is NOT shaping up this way. Stern and Hunter are proving to be really difficult to deal with each other, and not in a marketable Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau kind of way.
I get the feeling that neither one of them would care if the NBA played this season and that's incredibly damning to the cause of oh, let's say, PLAYING THIS SEASON.
Stern's strong-armed approach of canceling the first two weeks of the season and declaring the Christmas games' in jeopardy is helpful to the cause like putting a Band-Aid on a compound fracture.
As if His Evilness wasn't enough, players have jumped from the NBA ship like it was the Titanic. I can't take a piss without hitting a story about another NBA superstar reportedly going to play basketball overseas. The day Kobe Bryant dribbles a ball in Italy is officially the day that the NBA dies.
Let me say this, for all the players going overseas to play ball, or the ones that are less-selfishly organizing charity games in the States, I think you are doing the completely right thing.
You are pressurizing Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum into making a decision, while still honing your skills, and while still making money for the less fortunate.
You saw this in the NFL too, and years ago in the NHL, with the players just simply wanting to get back out there and do what they do best.
Too bad for their sakes, and ours, that the ones with the keys are completely greedy and stupid.
Hope you guys like college basketball, because that's all I will be talking about this year.
Through My Judging Eyes
First off, I am going to try and make it a point to write the good ol' SP more often. If I don't do it, who will? Plus, let's face it, you miss hearing my voice in your heads as you imagine me reading my own words. It's cute and I'll indulge you.
Second off, this is going to be a second straight post about the Miami Dolphins. I know I said I hate talking about my personal favorite teams, but damn it if they don't keep popping up in the news! So, as the renowned professional journalist I am, I am left with no choice but to keep on writing about them.
Third off, this post is also about Tim Tebow. I felt the need to warn some of you about that because this has proven to be a sensitive subject. People will step aside as I blaspheme and curse my goddamn ass off, but shame on me for talking ill of the Tebow! I understand that throwing mud in the face of God's Chosen One will more than likely be the downfall of the SP, but like I said, renowned journalist...I have to write about it.
I first wrote about Tim Tebow a while back when he was writing his memoirs. I won't take the trouble to link it because you should already have it bookmarked. To spare you the indignity, it was essentially about how ludicrous it was that such a young man, who in the grand scheme of things, had accomplished so little and was yet writing the tale of his life. A man, who devoted his life to God, had by all accounts started worshiping another idol--himself! Trust me, he'll be the first one to tell you that the book is a source of inspiration and a thought-provoking journey. I know of another Book that does the same thing...
Like I predicted, you all are idiots, and the book made the best-seller list.
However, I digress, as much of a hypocrite and shadow personality that I find in Tim Tebow, my head is shaking at the Miami Dolphins even harder...once again.
This Monday, the Dolphins play my arch-rival New York Jets, then they play the Denver Broncos the following Sunday. The newly Tim Tebow-led Denver Broncos will come to Miami and bare witness to a Dolphin-hosted ceremony honoring the 2008 NCAA football champion Florida Gators.
In what would seem like a nice gesture honoring our state's champions, one can't help but notice one slight transgression.
By 'one', I mean me, and by 'slight transgression', I mean huge bed-shitting. This is the same Florida Gator team that was led by none other than...Tim Tebow.
Are you kidding me, Miami? It's not enough that I have to sit here and PRAY that you lose every game to secure your future but now I have to sit here and watch you honor the opposing quarterback?
What is this, some sort of sick joke?
I know and understand the old adage, "If you can't beat them, join them." Hell, we can't beat you...but we'll throw you a parade!
Now, to Miami's credit (and this is a small, small credit), they planned this way in advance and had no idea that Tebow would be the starter at this point over incumbent, Kyle Orton. The same Kyle Orton that Miami tried to trade for at the beginning of the year, who is now benched on a equally shitty team, in favor for the half-time honoree.
I know that some of you don't know sports and probably think I am making all of this up, and I wish it were true.
Hey, I understand the audacity in praising the opposing team in your own stadium, I really do. However, if it takes God's Child to push us one step closer to Andrew Luck, I'll get up and cheer for him myself.
Look, I think Tebow is better suited on a street corner, unshaven, holding a sign that reads, "John 3:16", than he is holding a football on a National Football League field. The fact that he'll be wearing a Denver Bronco's jersey and standing on Dolphin turf while the Dolphins' honor him?
Well, that just sickens me.
Second off, this is going to be a second straight post about the Miami Dolphins. I know I said I hate talking about my personal favorite teams, but damn it if they don't keep popping up in the news! So, as the renowned professional journalist I am, I am left with no choice but to keep on writing about them.
Third off, this post is also about Tim Tebow. I felt the need to warn some of you about that because this has proven to be a sensitive subject. People will step aside as I blaspheme and curse my goddamn ass off, but shame on me for talking ill of the Tebow! I understand that throwing mud in the face of God's Chosen One will more than likely be the downfall of the SP, but like I said, renowned journalist...I have to write about it.
I first wrote about Tim Tebow a while back when he was writing his memoirs. I won't take the trouble to link it because you should already have it bookmarked. To spare you the indignity, it was essentially about how ludicrous it was that such a young man, who in the grand scheme of things, had accomplished so little and was yet writing the tale of his life. A man, who devoted his life to God, had by all accounts started worshiping another idol--himself! Trust me, he'll be the first one to tell you that the book is a source of inspiration and a thought-provoking journey. I know of another Book that does the same thing...
Like I predicted, you all are idiots, and the book made the best-seller list.
However, I digress, as much of a hypocrite and shadow personality that I find in Tim Tebow, my head is shaking at the Miami Dolphins even harder...once again.
This Monday, the Dolphins play my arch-rival New York Jets, then they play the Denver Broncos the following Sunday. The newly Tim Tebow-led Denver Broncos will come to Miami and bare witness to a Dolphin-hosted ceremony honoring the 2008 NCAA football champion Florida Gators.
In what would seem like a nice gesture honoring our state's champions, one can't help but notice one slight transgression.
By 'one', I mean me, and by 'slight transgression', I mean huge bed-shitting. This is the same Florida Gator team that was led by none other than...Tim Tebow.
Are you kidding me, Miami? It's not enough that I have to sit here and PRAY that you lose every game to secure your future but now I have to sit here and watch you honor the opposing quarterback?
What is this, some sort of sick joke?
I know and understand the old adage, "If you can't beat them, join them." Hell, we can't beat you...but we'll throw you a parade!
Now, to Miami's credit (and this is a small, small credit), they planned this way in advance and had no idea that Tebow would be the starter at this point over incumbent, Kyle Orton. The same Kyle Orton that Miami tried to trade for at the beginning of the year, who is now benched on a equally shitty team, in favor for the half-time honoree.
I know that some of you don't know sports and probably think I am making all of this up, and I wish it were true.
Hey, I understand the audacity in praising the opposing team in your own stadium, I really do. However, if it takes God's Child to push us one step closer to Andrew Luck, I'll get up and cheer for him myself.
Look, I think Tebow is better suited on a street corner, unshaven, holding a sign that reads, "John 3:16", than he is holding a football on a National Football League field. The fact that he'll be wearing a Denver Bronco's jersey and standing on Dolphin turf while the Dolphins' honor him?
Well, that just sickens me.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Dive, Dolphins, Dive!
I have always been a big proponent for sportsmanship.
It's important for those participating in sports to embrace an idea where all participants are respectful, not just for each other, but for the history of the game.
Remember where you came from and forge ahead with those same principles.
With that said, I think the Miami Dolphins should take a dive for the rest of the season.
Lay it down, completely. Let the other team get ahead and run the ball the rest of the game. Throw errant passes at your receiver's feet. For God sakes, turn the ball over!
None of this will be too hard for them to do because these are all things they've been doing while they have supposedly been trying to win games. Well, stop trying and just keep the goose egg in the win column until the draft in April when an opportunity to finally turn this franchise around will present itself to the glorified losers.
Andrew Luck has been the can't miss prospect, future franchise quarterback, for the last TWO years. That's never happened before. He's the future face of the team that drafts him for, at least, the next decade.
Who's been the face of the Dolphins since Dan Marino? Jason Taylor? Ricky Williams? Hell, Jay Fiedler? I'm a Dolphins fan and not even I can tell you who the face of the franchise has been since Marino.
Luck is smart, he's a Stanford product, and he's got a freakish arm strength/accuracy combination that makes pro-bowlers out of people like Davone Bess and Brian Hartline, two of Miami's slot receivers.
I fully embrace the "Suck for Luck" campaign.
You wouldn't trade one year of animosity for a decade of contending for titles? I'd do it in a heart-beat.
Think about it: If the Dolphins win out, that puts them at 10-4. First, winning out isn't improbable, it's quasi-impossible for this team. Second, even at ten wins, a play-off spot is far from guaranteed. They won ten games before and missed the play-offs. A ten win season could potentially keep Miami out of the play-offs and still stick them with a late first-round pick.
Then where are they? Another lost season with-out so much as a glimmer for future success.
However, if they just hold back a tad bit more than they are right now, they can go win-less and lock down Luck and automatically give the team tremendous upswing. Then it's just a matter of ditching Tony Sparano, which should happen NOW, and bring in a proven winner for a head coach. Cough, cough, Bill Cowher.
You think Cowher will turn down a chance to live in South Florida coaching a team with the best college prospect in, probably, forever? Not a chance.
The Henne-Sparano experiment was a huge failure on the field, that much is clear now. But the Henne-Sparano experiment will be a gigantic success if it directly leads to Luck-Cowher.
I understand that in proposing to go win-less, you are asking 52 men to surrender their pride and swallow their dignity. But this is the same team that's lost seven straight games dating back to last year. Their only creativity is in the ways that they come up with to lose each week. How can they have any pride left anyways? Wouldn't they be proud standing on the podium in a couple of years, holding the Lombardi trophy?
NFL teams have a very short memory. Years from now, when Luck is racking up MVP awards and passing titles, who is going to remember the team in 2011 that couldn't win a game?
Winning really does cure all ills and I'll certainly look back at this season and laugh as the Dolphins are three-peating championships.
I'm sick and tired of the failed decisions of the Miami Dolphins over the past decade. The mistakes piled up like we had a "Bad Decision" making machine that just spewed out head-slaps all day. The drafting of Ted Ginn, the decision to pass on Matt Ryan, choosing Daunte Culpepper over Drew Brees, trading Wes Welker, and on, and on, and on.
The irony of it all is that this time around, the key to winning it all--is to fail. Fail hard and fail often.
Do it gracefully and with honor. Hell, you can even make them close games. Just don't win.
"Suck today, Luck tomorrow!" - The Official Campaign of the 2011 Miami Dolphins
It's important for those participating in sports to embrace an idea where all participants are respectful, not just for each other, but for the history of the game.
Remember where you came from and forge ahead with those same principles.
With that said, I think the Miami Dolphins should take a dive for the rest of the season.
Lay it down, completely. Let the other team get ahead and run the ball the rest of the game. Throw errant passes at your receiver's feet. For God sakes, turn the ball over!
None of this will be too hard for them to do because these are all things they've been doing while they have supposedly been trying to win games. Well, stop trying and just keep the goose egg in the win column until the draft in April when an opportunity to finally turn this franchise around will present itself to the glorified losers.
Andrew Luck has been the can't miss prospect, future franchise quarterback, for the last TWO years. That's never happened before. He's the future face of the team that drafts him for, at least, the next decade.
Who's been the face of the Dolphins since Dan Marino? Jason Taylor? Ricky Williams? Hell, Jay Fiedler? I'm a Dolphins fan and not even I can tell you who the face of the franchise has been since Marino.
Luck is smart, he's a Stanford product, and he's got a freakish arm strength/accuracy combination that makes pro-bowlers out of people like Davone Bess and Brian Hartline, two of Miami's slot receivers.
I fully embrace the "Suck for Luck" campaign.
You wouldn't trade one year of animosity for a decade of contending for titles? I'd do it in a heart-beat.
Think about it: If the Dolphins win out, that puts them at 10-4. First, winning out isn't improbable, it's quasi-impossible for this team. Second, even at ten wins, a play-off spot is far from guaranteed. They won ten games before and missed the play-offs. A ten win season could potentially keep Miami out of the play-offs and still stick them with a late first-round pick.
Then where are they? Another lost season with-out so much as a glimmer for future success.
However, if they just hold back a tad bit more than they are right now, they can go win-less and lock down Luck and automatically give the team tremendous upswing. Then it's just a matter of ditching Tony Sparano, which should happen NOW, and bring in a proven winner for a head coach. Cough, cough, Bill Cowher.
You think Cowher will turn down a chance to live in South Florida coaching a team with the best college prospect in, probably, forever? Not a chance.
The Henne-Sparano experiment was a huge failure on the field, that much is clear now. But the Henne-Sparano experiment will be a gigantic success if it directly leads to Luck-Cowher.
I understand that in proposing to go win-less, you are asking 52 men to surrender their pride and swallow their dignity. But this is the same team that's lost seven straight games dating back to last year. Their only creativity is in the ways that they come up with to lose each week. How can they have any pride left anyways? Wouldn't they be proud standing on the podium in a couple of years, holding the Lombardi trophy?
NFL teams have a very short memory. Years from now, when Luck is racking up MVP awards and passing titles, who is going to remember the team in 2011 that couldn't win a game?
Winning really does cure all ills and I'll certainly look back at this season and laugh as the Dolphins are three-peating championships.
I'm sick and tired of the failed decisions of the Miami Dolphins over the past decade. The mistakes piled up like we had a "Bad Decision" making machine that just spewed out head-slaps all day. The drafting of Ted Ginn, the decision to pass on Matt Ryan, choosing Daunte Culpepper over Drew Brees, trading Wes Welker, and on, and on, and on.
The irony of it all is that this time around, the key to winning it all--is to fail. Fail hard and fail often.
Do it gracefully and with honor. Hell, you can even make them close games. Just don't win.
"Suck today, Luck tomorrow!" - The Official Campaign of the 2011 Miami Dolphins
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The Tampa Track Meet
It's purely just coincidence that I'm going to talk about baseball on the same night that Miami just got stomped on Monday Night Football.
Ok, it's not. Screw, Tom Brady.
However, there is a topic that just cannot go ignored anymore and I'm looking at you Yankee and Red Sox fans. No, not the "I don't really like baseball but if I have to root for a team, I'm going Yankees" fans. I'm talking to the ones that really know their stuff. I'm talking to the ones that were resting comfortably on their laurels a week ago and are now anxiously looking behind them.
Brace yourselves, conventional wisdom, the Tampa Bay Rays have closed the gap significantly and are moving in on the wild card spot.
Boston, who was in first place at the beginning of the month, is now in second and just a mere three games ahead of the team that was supposedly dead in the water, the Tampa Bay Rays.
I will only touch for just a second on how dangerous this team can be in the post-season, simply because I hate looking like an idiot. Have you seen their rotation? David Price, James Shields, Jeremy Hellickson, Wade Davis, and Jeff Niemann. Aside from the Phillies, who wouldn't face them until the Series, who can match up with that rotation in a 'best of' series?
I have spent time on it, and I just don't see it. The fact of the matter is, this is a very scary team in the post-season.
If Tampa reaches the post-season, and despite recent success it's still a very big IF, they are a force to be reckoned with.
But they are already a force to be reckoned with, aren't they, David Ortiz? Ortiz promptly pressed the panic button Monday after being destroyed by the Rays yet again.
Ever hear of a bell curve? It's that chart where at the start and the end is really low, but the middle is the fattest. Sound familiar, BoSox? Remember that 0-7 start? Have you seen yourselves lately?
Boston was constructed like a summer blockbuster. They have their moment in the sun and then nobody really cares that they get released on DVD. The Rays are built like the little engine that could, and they are proving it. As September days tick away, the Rays are increasing momentum.
People are quick to forget that in the face of the "Evil Empire" and the "Red Sox Nation" that the team from Tampa has won the division two out of the last three tries. We are not to be trifled with any longer.
Little brother has grown up, and guess what? They're taller than you.
Tampa has a 41 million dollar pay roll. That's second to last, ahead of only the Kansas City Royals, a team that is currently 24 games below .500. Does it matter that New York has the highest pay roll at 201 million and Boston has the third at 161 million?
Apparently not. The Rays are winning because of a very dangerous aspect. They have seemingly embraced the 'underdog' status. They seem to win night after night, simply because, the world doesn't want them to.
If the Rays complete this huge comeback and overtake Boston for the wild card spot, make the post-season for the third time in their history, and prove their detractors wrong yet again--it won't make a lick of difference.
And I'm completely comfortable with that.
I'm a Rays fan, I love the hunger and intensity in their play, and I will be more than happy to let this continue on for as long as possible.
There is talk around the MLB about realignment in the divisions. I would hate to leave Boston and New York. I love our 'little brother' status and I love mucking with history. Every time that Tampa beats Boston and New York, there is a rift in the system. Frankly, it shouldn't happen. But it's happening more and more frequently.
And if it happens just a little bit more, Boston will be out, watching Tampa roll.
Ok, it's not. Screw, Tom Brady.
However, there is a topic that just cannot go ignored anymore and I'm looking at you Yankee and Red Sox fans. No, not the "I don't really like baseball but if I have to root for a team, I'm going Yankees" fans. I'm talking to the ones that really know their stuff. I'm talking to the ones that were resting comfortably on their laurels a week ago and are now anxiously looking behind them.
Brace yourselves, conventional wisdom, the Tampa Bay Rays have closed the gap significantly and are moving in on the wild card spot.
Boston, who was in first place at the beginning of the month, is now in second and just a mere three games ahead of the team that was supposedly dead in the water, the Tampa Bay Rays.
I will only touch for just a second on how dangerous this team can be in the post-season, simply because I hate looking like an idiot. Have you seen their rotation? David Price, James Shields, Jeremy Hellickson, Wade Davis, and Jeff Niemann. Aside from the Phillies, who wouldn't face them until the Series, who can match up with that rotation in a 'best of' series?
I have spent time on it, and I just don't see it. The fact of the matter is, this is a very scary team in the post-season.
If Tampa reaches the post-season, and despite recent success it's still a very big IF, they are a force to be reckoned with.
But they are already a force to be reckoned with, aren't they, David Ortiz? Ortiz promptly pressed the panic button Monday after being destroyed by the Rays yet again.
Ever hear of a bell curve? It's that chart where at the start and the end is really low, but the middle is the fattest. Sound familiar, BoSox? Remember that 0-7 start? Have you seen yourselves lately?
Boston was constructed like a summer blockbuster. They have their moment in the sun and then nobody really cares that they get released on DVD. The Rays are built like the little engine that could, and they are proving it. As September days tick away, the Rays are increasing momentum.
People are quick to forget that in the face of the "Evil Empire" and the "Red Sox Nation" that the team from Tampa has won the division two out of the last three tries. We are not to be trifled with any longer.
Little brother has grown up, and guess what? They're taller than you.
Tampa has a 41 million dollar pay roll. That's second to last, ahead of only the Kansas City Royals, a team that is currently 24 games below .500. Does it matter that New York has the highest pay roll at 201 million and Boston has the third at 161 million?
Apparently not. The Rays are winning because of a very dangerous aspect. They have seemingly embraced the 'underdog' status. They seem to win night after night, simply because, the world doesn't want them to.
If the Rays complete this huge comeback and overtake Boston for the wild card spot, make the post-season for the third time in their history, and prove their detractors wrong yet again--it won't make a lick of difference.
And I'm completely comfortable with that.
I'm a Rays fan, I love the hunger and intensity in their play, and I will be more than happy to let this continue on for as long as possible.
There is talk around the MLB about realignment in the divisions. I would hate to leave Boston and New York. I love our 'little brother' status and I love mucking with history. Every time that Tampa beats Boston and New York, there is a rift in the system. Frankly, it shouldn't happen. But it's happening more and more frequently.
And if it happens just a little bit more, Boston will be out, watching Tampa roll.
Monday, August 22, 2011
The Death of Man
Today is the annual reminder of the day of my birth and like most men, I view it as a crude slap in the face of my own mortality.
I understand that in the grand scheme of things, I'm not that old (shut up, I'm not), but it's the bigger picture that I'm always interested in.
Twenty-six years have come and gone and every single second of those years will never be had again. I'm not going to make any trite cliches about grains of sand in an hourglass because that's just not the case. It's more like watching a movie. As you watch it, you take it all in and don't really care to go back and watch it again unless you found it particularly interesting. It's why we buy DVD's and why we take pictures.
At the end of it all, only the best scenes stick in your head and are worth re-watching.
As narcissistic and cocky as I like to be at all times, my best scenes are always provided by the other actors that I surround myself with. It's them that make me flourish and deliver my best lines.
Now before I go passing out daisies and hugs, let's get back on topic.
The point is, everything that happens leaves a thumb print. (First rule of writing is not to alienate your audience and I just pissed off everybody that doesn't have thumbs)
What I mean by that is absolutely everything you do is remembered by somebody in some way.
I used to say that I live my life free of regret but that is a bold-faced lie. It's impossible to live your life full of regret. Whether it's something as simple as wishing you never ate that fourth slice of pizza or something as complex as wishing you never killed that guy, we all have something we wish we could take back.
It's human nature, and despite our recent adaptations, we're pretty natural beings.
I have things I wish I could go back and do-over again and I think about them all the time. It doesn't seem like it at most times, but the fact that I can't change a thing is absolutely beautiful.
We have one shot to do it right and every single miscalculation sends us on a different path. We're like NASA.
So, today, as my life-abacus sends another bead to the left, I choose to get as humanly drunk as possible. Think about it: It's never a waste if you can't do it when you are dead.
All I can do is hope I have nothing to regret tomorrow and odds are I won't. Like I said, I surround myself with the best possible actors.
I understand that in the grand scheme of things, I'm not that old (shut up, I'm not), but it's the bigger picture that I'm always interested in.
Twenty-six years have come and gone and every single second of those years will never be had again. I'm not going to make any trite cliches about grains of sand in an hourglass because that's just not the case. It's more like watching a movie. As you watch it, you take it all in and don't really care to go back and watch it again unless you found it particularly interesting. It's why we buy DVD's and why we take pictures.
At the end of it all, only the best scenes stick in your head and are worth re-watching.
As narcissistic and cocky as I like to be at all times, my best scenes are always provided by the other actors that I surround myself with. It's them that make me flourish and deliver my best lines.
Now before I go passing out daisies and hugs, let's get back on topic.
The point is, everything that happens leaves a thumb print. (First rule of writing is not to alienate your audience and I just pissed off everybody that doesn't have thumbs)
What I mean by that is absolutely everything you do is remembered by somebody in some way.
I used to say that I live my life free of regret but that is a bold-faced lie. It's impossible to live your life full of regret. Whether it's something as simple as wishing you never ate that fourth slice of pizza or something as complex as wishing you never killed that guy, we all have something we wish we could take back.
It's human nature, and despite our recent adaptations, we're pretty natural beings.
I have things I wish I could go back and do-over again and I think about them all the time. It doesn't seem like it at most times, but the fact that I can't change a thing is absolutely beautiful.
We have one shot to do it right and every single miscalculation sends us on a different path. We're like NASA.
So, today, as my life-abacus sends another bead to the left, I choose to get as humanly drunk as possible. Think about it: It's never a waste if you can't do it when you are dead.
All I can do is hope I have nothing to regret tomorrow and odds are I won't. Like I said, I surround myself with the best possible actors.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The Death of the Blog
Who would have thought a little blue bird would have been the death of the blog?
Probably the same people who thought the blog would be the death of the newspaper.
In the world of journalism, well traditionally speaking, I am considered a hypocrite. I vaulted for the survival of the American newspaper and then promptly started my blog and my Twitter account simultaneously. These are conflicting ideologies.
I have embraced social media from the start. Sure, just like all new things, there is a lot of crap to wade through first. There is too much potential for good to shine through for it to be ignored though. It encourages free thought from something other than what gets delivered from a faceless entity to our doorstep every morning. It's free thought from random people! Insane!
Regardless, I fought for the newspaper. I wrote, not necessarily, for something that I still believed in, but for something that I wished would adapt. I want my kids to see a newspaper outside of a museum, for Christ sakes. It upsets me that paper is taking a back seat to computer screens.
There are plenty of different means to access information nowadays, that I understand. But understand this: it's all in a completely different context.
What the Associated Press is posting on your home page is just facts. Cold, hard, and never-want-to-cuddle facts. And that's all fine. We're in a hurry these days and can't be bothered with trivial things like description and emotion. The fact that I like to think that when I read something, it's being written just for me, might just be another tally mark for my narcissism.
So with the advancement of technology, came the means for the average person to produce what they perceived as news and distribute that across the internet. Yes, I get the irony, leave me alone.
Behold, the blog. My opinions, 24/7, because that's what I want to hear, dammit!
However, if for whatever reason, I want to read your opinions, or your cheesy jokes, or where you are having lunch today, how could I do that? I would have to take the trouble to FOLLOW your blog in the first place, then wade through your mindless drivel to find what I was really looking for.
Like I said, too busy, can't be bothered.
Behold, Twitter. The device that connects me to my friends and favorite strangers and keeps our interaction to 140 characters or less. Because, if there is anything I can't stand, it's actually speaking to someone I know.
Twitter, however, is actually pretty cool. It's managed to spider-web an entire world. I've never been to California but I can tell you what the porn star Sasha Grey did last night. (She had sex)
And that's all thanks to Twitter. And just like newspapers met their demise to the newest and coolest, so goeth the blogeth. If I can't get across to you in 140 characters or less what I'm trying to say, then what's the point? There possibly can't be anything worth reading beyond that.
Twitter makes me proud in the way that the guy who developed the first microchip for Cyberdyne felt. Except, maybe, I'm a little more paranoid.
R.I.P. Blog. Don't rest on your laurels too long, Twitter. Your eulogy will come swift enough.
Until then, be sure to follow me @natedeezybaby.
Probably the same people who thought the blog would be the death of the newspaper.
In the world of journalism, well traditionally speaking, I am considered a hypocrite. I vaulted for the survival of the American newspaper and then promptly started my blog and my Twitter account simultaneously. These are conflicting ideologies.
I have embraced social media from the start. Sure, just like all new things, there is a lot of crap to wade through first. There is too much potential for good to shine through for it to be ignored though. It encourages free thought from something other than what gets delivered from a faceless entity to our doorstep every morning. It's free thought from random people! Insane!
Regardless, I fought for the newspaper. I wrote, not necessarily, for something that I still believed in, but for something that I wished would adapt. I want my kids to see a newspaper outside of a museum, for Christ sakes. It upsets me that paper is taking a back seat to computer screens.
There are plenty of different means to access information nowadays, that I understand. But understand this: it's all in a completely different context.
What the Associated Press is posting on your home page is just facts. Cold, hard, and never-want-to-cuddle facts. And that's all fine. We're in a hurry these days and can't be bothered with trivial things like description and emotion. The fact that I like to think that when I read something, it's being written just for me, might just be another tally mark for my narcissism.
So with the advancement of technology, came the means for the average person to produce what they perceived as news and distribute that across the internet. Yes, I get the irony, leave me alone.
Behold, the blog. My opinions, 24/7, because that's what I want to hear, dammit!
However, if for whatever reason, I want to read your opinions, or your cheesy jokes, or where you are having lunch today, how could I do that? I would have to take the trouble to FOLLOW your blog in the first place, then wade through your mindless drivel to find what I was really looking for.
Like I said, too busy, can't be bothered.
Behold, Twitter. The device that connects me to my friends and favorite strangers and keeps our interaction to 140 characters or less. Because, if there is anything I can't stand, it's actually speaking to someone I know.
Twitter, however, is actually pretty cool. It's managed to spider-web an entire world. I've never been to California but I can tell you what the porn star Sasha Grey did last night. (She had sex)
And that's all thanks to Twitter. And just like newspapers met their demise to the newest and coolest, so goeth the blogeth. If I can't get across to you in 140 characters or less what I'm trying to say, then what's the point? There possibly can't be anything worth reading beyond that.
Twitter makes me proud in the way that the guy who developed the first microchip for Cyberdyne felt. Except, maybe, I'm a little more paranoid.
R.I.P. Blog. Don't rest on your laurels too long, Twitter. Your eulogy will come swift enough.
Until then, be sure to follow me @natedeezybaby.
Monday, April 4, 2011
The Best Of Morgan Freeman?
There has been one voice in my generation that has gone unmistakable and that voice belongs to Morgan Freeman. Besides being an uncanny narrator, the man has been a fantastic actor. Hell, he's been in almost every movie. Since he's loaned his actor talents to so many different outlets, there's a very interesting debate to be had. Which of Morgan Freeman's projects is his greatest?
A bold question, of course. Well, there needs to be some ground rules before we begin. First, I'm not talking about which of his movies grossed the most amount of money, that usually means nothing in the grand scheme of things. Also, it might not necessarily be a movie in which he won an award. That would just be too simple. I guess this is going to be just simply what I think is Morgan Freeman's greatest accomplishment, which hell, it's my blog so why not?
So, my ground rules. I was born in 1985. Shut up, I'm not old. I've taken a penchant to some movies that were around before my birth, but none with Morgan Freeman in them. So anything before '85 is out. Until the time I was five, the only significant movie he was in was Glory. A fine movie, except that two things happened: Matthew Broderick was the lead actor, and there was another prominent black actor, Denzel Washington. So that's out.
So basically, anything post 1990, starring Morgan Freeman as the lead, in which he wasn't trying too hard to win an oscar, is in the running. Let the games begin.
First Nomination: Unforgiven (1992)
Morgan Freeman plays a retired hired gun in this western about the redemption of prostitutes, no seriously, that's what it's about. He plays the old partner of Clint Eastwood, who particularly needs the reward money to feed his pig-farming children. When it comes time to pull the trigger, Morgan gets cold feet as he can't live that life anymore. As life is such a cruel bitch, he ends up being killed for it anyways as Gene Hackman plays an incredible dick in this movie.
Second Nomination: The Shawshank Redemption (1994)
Oh hell yeah. Great movie. Morgan played "Red" the prison lifer who was best friends with co-lead Andy Dufresne (played by the lame ass Tim Robbins). This was also the first film that Morgan also narrated, as far as I'm willing to research. Red was a man who could get things, things that were simple for us in the real world to obtain, but behind a fortress made of stone...it was downright next to impossible. Red achieved such wondrous feats like obtaining posters of hot women from the 40's, being really well-rounded for someone who spent the majority of their years in a prison, and fixing most things that relied on chance for his favor.
Third Nomination: Se7en (1995)
Boom. Morgan followed up the ruby of Shawshank with the diamond of Se7en, pronounced seven. He played Detective Somerset, an aging, fed-up detective living in a city of evil that he's just had too darn much of. Brad Pitt played the new gun on the block and wouldn't you know it, it just so happens that the case they are working on is the strangest and most profound of Somerset's career. Kevin Spacey is running around killing people based on the seven deadly sins. The seventh, wrath, dooms Brad Pitt, causing Somerset to stay on the force and fight for something he doesn't really believe in. Yeah, I still don't get it.
Fourth Nomination: Million Dollar Baby (2004)
So Morgan took a bunch of time to do some "eh" movies, a lot of them based on James Patterson novels. He did play God in a movie with Jim Carrey and that deserves a mention, but not a nomination. Then he got back together with his old pal Clint Eastwood and made a heart-wrenching female boxing movie...in which he also narrated. This was a great, great film. He played the old, worn-out boxer who stuck around his old trainer's gym to basically clean up the place, I guess. However, this movie is out because he won best supporting actor for this. Wow, I guess I totally wasted your time reading this paragraph.
Fifth Nomination: Batman Begins (2005)
Here we go, a friggin' superhero movie! He played the confidant of Bruce Wayne/Batman, Lucious Fox. Morgan was the man that supplied Batman with most of the stuff that made him Batman. More so, he didn't narrate the movie! He was the level-headed genius that saved Batman's ass time and time again. This is a good one...
So let's see, after this, he narrated a bunch of crap, starred alongside Jack Nicholson in some crap, blah, blah, blah...I didn't see Invictus...ok, I guess that's it.
And the winner is...uh, Se7en! Why not? The reason being, of course, is that I just watched it on AMC and it's fresh in my mind. So there you go, the greatest movie that Morgan Freeman has ever done is Se7en. Se7en.
A bold question, of course. Well, there needs to be some ground rules before we begin. First, I'm not talking about which of his movies grossed the most amount of money, that usually means nothing in the grand scheme of things. Also, it might not necessarily be a movie in which he won an award. That would just be too simple. I guess this is going to be just simply what I think is Morgan Freeman's greatest accomplishment, which hell, it's my blog so why not?
So, my ground rules. I was born in 1985. Shut up, I'm not old. I've taken a penchant to some movies that were around before my birth, but none with Morgan Freeman in them. So anything before '85 is out. Until the time I was five, the only significant movie he was in was Glory. A fine movie, except that two things happened: Matthew Broderick was the lead actor, and there was another prominent black actor, Denzel Washington. So that's out.
So basically, anything post 1990, starring Morgan Freeman as the lead, in which he wasn't trying too hard to win an oscar, is in the running. Let the games begin.
First Nomination: Unforgiven (1992)
Morgan Freeman plays a retired hired gun in this western about the redemption of prostitutes, no seriously, that's what it's about. He plays the old partner of Clint Eastwood, who particularly needs the reward money to feed his pig-farming children. When it comes time to pull the trigger, Morgan gets cold feet as he can't live that life anymore. As life is such a cruel bitch, he ends up being killed for it anyways as Gene Hackman plays an incredible dick in this movie.
Second Nomination: The Shawshank Redemption (1994)
Oh hell yeah. Great movie. Morgan played "Red" the prison lifer who was best friends with co-lead Andy Dufresne (played by the lame ass Tim Robbins). This was also the first film that Morgan also narrated, as far as I'm willing to research. Red was a man who could get things, things that were simple for us in the real world to obtain, but behind a fortress made of stone...it was downright next to impossible. Red achieved such wondrous feats like obtaining posters of hot women from the 40's, being really well-rounded for someone who spent the majority of their years in a prison, and fixing most things that relied on chance for his favor.
Third Nomination: Se7en (1995)
Boom. Morgan followed up the ruby of Shawshank with the diamond of Se7en, pronounced seven. He played Detective Somerset, an aging, fed-up detective living in a city of evil that he's just had too darn much of. Brad Pitt played the new gun on the block and wouldn't you know it, it just so happens that the case they are working on is the strangest and most profound of Somerset's career. Kevin Spacey is running around killing people based on the seven deadly sins. The seventh, wrath, dooms Brad Pitt, causing Somerset to stay on the force and fight for something he doesn't really believe in. Yeah, I still don't get it.
Fourth Nomination: Million Dollar Baby (2004)
So Morgan took a bunch of time to do some "eh" movies, a lot of them based on James Patterson novels. He did play God in a movie with Jim Carrey and that deserves a mention, but not a nomination. Then he got back together with his old pal Clint Eastwood and made a heart-wrenching female boxing movie...in which he also narrated. This was a great, great film. He played the old, worn-out boxer who stuck around his old trainer's gym to basically clean up the place, I guess. However, this movie is out because he won best supporting actor for this. Wow, I guess I totally wasted your time reading this paragraph.
Fifth Nomination: Batman Begins (2005)
Here we go, a friggin' superhero movie! He played the confidant of Bruce Wayne/Batman, Lucious Fox. Morgan was the man that supplied Batman with most of the stuff that made him Batman. More so, he didn't narrate the movie! He was the level-headed genius that saved Batman's ass time and time again. This is a good one...
So let's see, after this, he narrated a bunch of crap, starred alongside Jack Nicholson in some crap, blah, blah, blah...I didn't see Invictus...ok, I guess that's it.
And the winner is...uh, Se7en! Why not? The reason being, of course, is that I just watched it on AMC and it's fresh in my mind. So there you go, the greatest movie that Morgan Freeman has ever done is Se7en. Se7en.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Heat Wave of Tears
Miami Heat Head Coach Eric Spoelstra revealed to the collective media after Sunday night's loss to the Chicago Bulls that the players were crying in the locker room.
Really coach? That's the way we are going to play this?
We care so much about the triumph and turmoil of this team that it brings us to tears in our locker room...and you air it out in the internet age? Not to mention, why are these robots crying?
What about the savior, Mike Bibby? (Had to mention him, just to appease NBA conspiracy theorists)
If the Miami Heat storyline wasn't juicy enough, Spoelstra went ahead and made sure we were grabbing lemons so big that the citric acid turned our hands purple. It's not supposed to make sense, most of you never passed chemistry in high school.
Look, it's one thing for a coach to say something to inspire his players. In fact, words of encouragement, words of inspiration are qualities of a great coach. Players need to be sure that the man in charge has their best interest. It's how they gain faith.
So, for the big guy in charge to admit that his team was blubbering and sobbing...well, that just doesn't look good in the outsider view. Beyond that, it doesn't look good in the locker room, um, for the fans, or for anybody that watches tv.
King James...D-Wade...and to a lesser extent...that guy from Toronto...were potentially crying?
For some people, these are their heroes. What if it was Bruce Willis crying?
That's unsettling for me.
I'm a die-hard NBA fan and Bruce Willis fan. I long for the lost rivalry of Bird-Magic. There will never be a single-handed domination like the ways of Jordan. The Houston Rockets will never be relevant again. These things were treasures of the past and I'm OK with that. Things change by the minute. But, in the end, I'm still unsettled that the "super team in America" might be calling foul.
And why?
Because, in this day and age, we are no longer sure that the super stars we are supposed to acknowledge, may or may not be cry babies.
And it's because of their friendships. Due to the world championships and Olympics, most of the NBA stars have played together...and hung out together. Thus, they have developed friendships...and it's very disturbing. This is not the nature of the sports. We are supposed to hate our opponents. It's the way of the game.
When Jordan played, he hated everybody. Even Pippen. He hated Pippen.
The point is, Miami has been fed to the general public as this year's "team". And I don't blame you if you don't care about anything about today's NBA and you root for the Heat. Because villains get fans too. And with that said...they cry in the locker room.
Think about this, What if the Joker lured Batman into a trap and all of sudden Batman cried, "Not fair!"
We would all laugh and tell him to deal with it. He's Batman. We've been raised to know that Batman is invincible and that any outcry would have to be some sort of distraction.
But then, what if Commissioner Gordon said, "Hey, leave Batman alone."
Well, now we have a different story.
The hero we thought he was, ended up being a fraud. Simply because someone came to his "rescue". The big, bad team that was promoted in the off-season has feelings? Are you kidding me?
They are supposed to be ruthless. James, Wade, and Bosh are supposed to run through opponents like construction paper. Most off-seasons for teams don't end in some weird 80's rock band concert like the Heat had when they revealed the "Big Three". They were portrayed in a way that made them seem material. They aren't human. Crying is very human. I'm conflicted.
So, the Heat can cry after a regular season loss to a potential contender in the Eastern Conference, and we can buy into their wolf crying...or...
We can all see that they finally don't even know their own identity.
Look at it this way, who is the best player on the Heat?
James? Wade? Bosh? Can we even tell because we group them all together now after the Decision? Did anybody care about them until James signed?
The Miami Heat doomed themselves to be the perfect storm of ambiguity. They are now the Bruce Wayne of the NBA.
They are the true identity of what they hope to be perceived as some sort of super hero. They can be one thing by night, and another by day. Unfortunately for them, one of these identities is a crier.
The coach himself proclaimed this.
LeBron, Dwayne, and sure, you too, Chris, grab the tissues. I guess life was harder than you thought.
Really coach? That's the way we are going to play this?
We care so much about the triumph and turmoil of this team that it brings us to tears in our locker room...and you air it out in the internet age? Not to mention, why are these robots crying?
What about the savior, Mike Bibby? (Had to mention him, just to appease NBA conspiracy theorists)
If the Miami Heat storyline wasn't juicy enough, Spoelstra went ahead and made sure we were grabbing lemons so big that the citric acid turned our hands purple. It's not supposed to make sense, most of you never passed chemistry in high school.
Look, it's one thing for a coach to say something to inspire his players. In fact, words of encouragement, words of inspiration are qualities of a great coach. Players need to be sure that the man in charge has their best interest. It's how they gain faith.
So, for the big guy in charge to admit that his team was blubbering and sobbing...well, that just doesn't look good in the outsider view. Beyond that, it doesn't look good in the locker room, um, for the fans, or for anybody that watches tv.
King James...D-Wade...and to a lesser extent...that guy from Toronto...were potentially crying?
For some people, these are their heroes. What if it was Bruce Willis crying?
That's unsettling for me.
I'm a die-hard NBA fan and Bruce Willis fan. I long for the lost rivalry of Bird-Magic. There will never be a single-handed domination like the ways of Jordan. The Houston Rockets will never be relevant again. These things were treasures of the past and I'm OK with that. Things change by the minute. But, in the end, I'm still unsettled that the "super team in America" might be calling foul.
And why?
Because, in this day and age, we are no longer sure that the super stars we are supposed to acknowledge, may or may not be cry babies.
And it's because of their friendships. Due to the world championships and Olympics, most of the NBA stars have played together...and hung out together. Thus, they have developed friendships...and it's very disturbing. This is not the nature of the sports. We are supposed to hate our opponents. It's the way of the game.
When Jordan played, he hated everybody. Even Pippen. He hated Pippen.
The point is, Miami has been fed to the general public as this year's "team". And I don't blame you if you don't care about anything about today's NBA and you root for the Heat. Because villains get fans too. And with that said...they cry in the locker room.
Think about this, What if the Joker lured Batman into a trap and all of sudden Batman cried, "Not fair!"
We would all laugh and tell him to deal with it. He's Batman. We've been raised to know that Batman is invincible and that any outcry would have to be some sort of distraction.
But then, what if Commissioner Gordon said, "Hey, leave Batman alone."
Well, now we have a different story.
The hero we thought he was, ended up being a fraud. Simply because someone came to his "rescue". The big, bad team that was promoted in the off-season has feelings? Are you kidding me?
They are supposed to be ruthless. James, Wade, and Bosh are supposed to run through opponents like construction paper. Most off-seasons for teams don't end in some weird 80's rock band concert like the Heat had when they revealed the "Big Three". They were portrayed in a way that made them seem material. They aren't human. Crying is very human. I'm conflicted.
So, the Heat can cry after a regular season loss to a potential contender in the Eastern Conference, and we can buy into their wolf crying...or...
We can all see that they finally don't even know their own identity.
Look at it this way, who is the best player on the Heat?
James? Wade? Bosh? Can we even tell because we group them all together now after the Decision? Did anybody care about them until James signed?
The Miami Heat doomed themselves to be the perfect storm of ambiguity. They are now the Bruce Wayne of the NBA.
They are the true identity of what they hope to be perceived as some sort of super hero. They can be one thing by night, and another by day. Unfortunately for them, one of these identities is a crier.
The coach himself proclaimed this.
LeBron, Dwayne, and sure, you too, Chris, grab the tissues. I guess life was harder than you thought.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
In Defense of Wild Thing
It's a natural fact in the world that most baseball movies are pure crap.
They are usually sensational, overblown ridiculous scenarios that will never happen in real life. (See Little Big League and Rookie of the Year)
Then there's the ones that are the feel-good, emotionally charged family pieces. (See Angels in the Outfield)
And then there's a whole new category for any baseball movie that Kevin Costner is in.
But then, something miraculous happened in 1989. A great baseball movie was made.
Tom Berenger portrayed the aging, baseball-lifer, chasing the dream one more time. Wesley Snipes played the flashy, Willie Mays-wannabe. Rene Russo looked awesome. Plus, Bob Uecker was actually playing Bob Uecker.
There was also one more piece that was integral to Major League becoming the greatest baseball movie of all-time. It had the Wild Thing, Charlie Sheen.
Sheen was only 24-years old when he portrayed Ricky "Wild Thing" Vaughn but he managed to capture our hearts.
His torn sleeves, his rebel haircut, his skull and crossbones glasses, and his deadly fastball are the glorious images and weapons of the Wild Thing.
The part where Vaughn believes himself to be cut from the squad was absolutely priceless. He launched into a verbal tirade against the manager and then turned it into a physical altercation with the player that pranked him.
In fact, the majority of the film's out-bursts and profane moments came from Vaughn. Even though it was unbeknownst to him at the time, he was involved in an affair with the wife of fellow teammate, Roger Dorn.
The carefree use of alcohol, the adulterous lifestyle and the bouts of cursing were the what made the Wild Thing.
He was indeed, a rock star from Mars. People would burst into song whenever he emerged from the bullpen! Women threw themselves at him like they were under his magic spell.
The Wild Thing wasn't bipolar, he was bi-winning. Underneath his tough "California Penal" exterior was a man who cared deeply for his teammates.
Without him, the Cleveland Indians would have lost the pennant and Major League would have sucked.
Let's hear it for the Wild Thing.
They are usually sensational, overblown ridiculous scenarios that will never happen in real life. (See Little Big League and Rookie of the Year)
Then there's the ones that are the feel-good, emotionally charged family pieces. (See Angels in the Outfield)
And then there's a whole new category for any baseball movie that Kevin Costner is in.
But then, something miraculous happened in 1989. A great baseball movie was made.
Tom Berenger portrayed the aging, baseball-lifer, chasing the dream one more time. Wesley Snipes played the flashy, Willie Mays-wannabe. Rene Russo looked awesome. Plus, Bob Uecker was actually playing Bob Uecker.
There was also one more piece that was integral to Major League becoming the greatest baseball movie of all-time. It had the Wild Thing, Charlie Sheen.
Sheen was only 24-years old when he portrayed Ricky "Wild Thing" Vaughn but he managed to capture our hearts.
His torn sleeves, his rebel haircut, his skull and crossbones glasses, and his deadly fastball are the glorious images and weapons of the Wild Thing.
The part where Vaughn believes himself to be cut from the squad was absolutely priceless. He launched into a verbal tirade against the manager and then turned it into a physical altercation with the player that pranked him.
In fact, the majority of the film's out-bursts and profane moments came from Vaughn. Even though it was unbeknownst to him at the time, he was involved in an affair with the wife of fellow teammate, Roger Dorn.
The carefree use of alcohol, the adulterous lifestyle and the bouts of cursing were the what made the Wild Thing.
He was indeed, a rock star from Mars. People would burst into song whenever he emerged from the bullpen! Women threw themselves at him like they were under his magic spell.
The Wild Thing wasn't bipolar, he was bi-winning. Underneath his tough "California Penal" exterior was a man who cared deeply for his teammates.
Without him, the Cleveland Indians would have lost the pennant and Major League would have sucked.
Let's hear it for the Wild Thing.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Super Bowl Commercial Ideas
Ok, kids, let's have a little fun today.
I know a lot of you are looking forward to the Super Bowl on Sunday and there's a large population of you that are doing so with no regard for football.
The Super Bowl is an event, the pomp and circumstance is so big that it attracts even non sports fans.
A big part of this is due to the highly touted Super Bowl commercial slots.
Big companies will spend upwards of three million dollars on thirty second spots so these commercials are generally the cleverest and funniest of the bunch.
Being a journalism major, which is essentially a skip away from a marketing major, I figured I would lend some ideas to these companies looking to make the water cooler conversations come Monday morning. I figured there had to be some at least a few CEO's that read the Studly Pastures...
1. UGLY CHICKS
Ok, first off, everybody is doing hot chicks these days, so in order to really stick out from the rest of the crowd, you should really jam pack your commercial with dog-faced women. Beautiful women are stunning, so stunning that you might actually confuse your consumers with what you are actual peddling. People will remember something so awful that it sears into their brain. Memory is key, and ugly chicks will help you achieve that.
2. C-LIST CELEBRITIES
You're gonna need an endorsement from somebody with real credibility to sell your product. The key here though, is to not go too big. A-listers come off as pompous and untouchable entities...not real people. B-listers try too hard to bridge the gap to A-listers. We need to go C-level here. Ashton Kutcher pitches me a camera, I'm not interested. Ashton Kutcher is a douche bag. The guy who played Puddy on Seinfeld mentions the word "Arby's" and I'm headed out the door for a roast beef sandwich. It's that simple.
3. CUDDLY ANIMALS
This one is essentially a no-brainer. Women, even the cold, heartless ones, will slit a man's throat to save a puppy. The best commercials that people will remember will have a puppy in them. For extra points, dress it up in some little costume like a little lab coat with a tiny stethoscope and have it be named Dr. Piddles. Perfect. Word of advice though, limit the puppy count to under three. If you overdue it, things can get messy.
4. CATCHPHRASE
This is the money maker right here, the golden goose. You get your C-lister celebrity to wink at the camera and yell something like, "Slammy Whammy!" and you're good to go. It doesn't have to make any sort of sense, in fact, it's probably better if it doesn't. I guarantee you, you won't make it through Monday without hearing like seven people yell "Slammy Whammy" in your daily routine.
So there you have it. All you need to do is have Patrick Warburton come out holding the product you are trying to sell, he mentions how it's doctor suggested, turns to Dr.Piddles for his recommendation, makes out with ugly woman, winks at camera, and yells "Slammy Whammy."
Instant gratification.
I know a lot of you are looking forward to the Super Bowl on Sunday and there's a large population of you that are doing so with no regard for football.
The Super Bowl is an event, the pomp and circumstance is so big that it attracts even non sports fans.
A big part of this is due to the highly touted Super Bowl commercial slots.
Big companies will spend upwards of three million dollars on thirty second spots so these commercials are generally the cleverest and funniest of the bunch.
Being a journalism major, which is essentially a skip away from a marketing major, I figured I would lend some ideas to these companies looking to make the water cooler conversations come Monday morning. I figured there had to be some at least a few CEO's that read the Studly Pastures...
1. UGLY CHICKS
Ok, first off, everybody is doing hot chicks these days, so in order to really stick out from the rest of the crowd, you should really jam pack your commercial with dog-faced women. Beautiful women are stunning, so stunning that you might actually confuse your consumers with what you are actual peddling. People will remember something so awful that it sears into their brain. Memory is key, and ugly chicks will help you achieve that.
2. C-LIST CELEBRITIES
You're gonna need an endorsement from somebody with real credibility to sell your product. The key here though, is to not go too big. A-listers come off as pompous and untouchable entities...not real people. B-listers try too hard to bridge the gap to A-listers. We need to go C-level here. Ashton Kutcher pitches me a camera, I'm not interested. Ashton Kutcher is a douche bag. The guy who played Puddy on Seinfeld mentions the word "Arby's" and I'm headed out the door for a roast beef sandwich. It's that simple.
3. CUDDLY ANIMALS
This one is essentially a no-brainer. Women, even the cold, heartless ones, will slit a man's throat to save a puppy. The best commercials that people will remember will have a puppy in them. For extra points, dress it up in some little costume like a little lab coat with a tiny stethoscope and have it be named Dr. Piddles. Perfect. Word of advice though, limit the puppy count to under three. If you overdue it, things can get messy.
4. CATCHPHRASE
This is the money maker right here, the golden goose. You get your C-lister celebrity to wink at the camera and yell something like, "Slammy Whammy!" and you're good to go. It doesn't have to make any sort of sense, in fact, it's probably better if it doesn't. I guarantee you, you won't make it through Monday without hearing like seven people yell "Slammy Whammy" in your daily routine.
So there you have it. All you need to do is have Patrick Warburton come out holding the product you are trying to sell, he mentions how it's doctor suggested, turns to Dr.Piddles for his recommendation, makes out with ugly woman, winks at camera, and yells "Slammy Whammy."
Instant gratification.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Super Blah
So it's the Packers and the Steelers, eh?
Two of the most storied franchises in NFL history competing against each other in the biggest game of the season, you don't say?
The Packers, winners of the first two Super Bowls and three overall, against the Steelers, looking to break their own record of Super Bowls won, going for their seventh.
Well wake me up on February 7th.
I cannot stand a team or individual dominance over a sport. The New York Yankees, Lance Armstrong, Jimmie Johnson...you don't impress me, you bore me! It takes the fun out of cheering all season long, just to get to the end and realize, "Wow, these teams are here again...I feel like an idiot for rooting for ANYBODY else."
Ok, so Packers fans, I realize that you haven't been to the big show since '96, but you've been at least a playoff team 90% of the time since then.
Steelers fans, shut the hell up. I know most of you are asking yourselves, "what the hell is he talking about, we have the chance to win our third championship in the last seven years!"
Exactly. You're very proud, good for you. The rest of us are SICK of you. Take solace in knowing that the only team we are more sick of than you are the New England Patriots and they've choked harder than a rookie porn star these last three years.
We thought we finally caught a break when Big Ben struck again this off season. There was no way you guys were gonna stay afloat with all this drama from the center of your franchise...AGAIN!
But yet again, you weathered the storm, won the games you had to win, and made me physically ill in the process.
Where is all this parity that the NFL hypes up year after year? I thought because of the salary cap limit, the NFL draft, and free agency we were supposed to believe that ANY given Sunday that ANY team can win?
Who cares if Green Bay or Pittsburgh wins another title besides the die hard Packers and Steelers fans?
Seriously. Honest question. Do you care?
If so, why? Where's the draw? What are the headlines this year?
Can Aaron Rodgers step out of Brett Favre's shadow? I thought he already did that by keeping his head held high and letting Favre self-implode over the last four years.
Can Big Ben step out of his own self-inflicted image gunshot wounds? Hasn't he already done that by staying out of trouble situations this year and guiding his team to the Super Bowl?
Is that it?
It's certainly not because the Black Eyed Peas are doing the half-time show this year because they're hackneyed garbage...
I guess it's the commercials then. Those of us outside of Green Bay and Pittsburgh get to care about the marketing this year.
Happy Super Sunday, kids.
Two of the most storied franchises in NFL history competing against each other in the biggest game of the season, you don't say?
The Packers, winners of the first two Super Bowls and three overall, against the Steelers, looking to break their own record of Super Bowls won, going for their seventh.
Well wake me up on February 7th.
I cannot stand a team or individual dominance over a sport. The New York Yankees, Lance Armstrong, Jimmie Johnson...you don't impress me, you bore me! It takes the fun out of cheering all season long, just to get to the end and realize, "Wow, these teams are here again...I feel like an idiot for rooting for ANYBODY else."
Ok, so Packers fans, I realize that you haven't been to the big show since '96, but you've been at least a playoff team 90% of the time since then.
Steelers fans, shut the hell up. I know most of you are asking yourselves, "what the hell is he talking about, we have the chance to win our third championship in the last seven years!"
Exactly. You're very proud, good for you. The rest of us are SICK of you. Take solace in knowing that the only team we are more sick of than you are the New England Patriots and they've choked harder than a rookie porn star these last three years.
We thought we finally caught a break when Big Ben struck again this off season. There was no way you guys were gonna stay afloat with all this drama from the center of your franchise...AGAIN!
But yet again, you weathered the storm, won the games you had to win, and made me physically ill in the process.
Where is all this parity that the NFL hypes up year after year? I thought because of the salary cap limit, the NFL draft, and free agency we were supposed to believe that ANY given Sunday that ANY team can win?
Who cares if Green Bay or Pittsburgh wins another title besides the die hard Packers and Steelers fans?
Seriously. Honest question. Do you care?
If so, why? Where's the draw? What are the headlines this year?
Can Aaron Rodgers step out of Brett Favre's shadow? I thought he already did that by keeping his head held high and letting Favre self-implode over the last four years.
Can Big Ben step out of his own self-inflicted image gunshot wounds? Hasn't he already done that by staying out of trouble situations this year and guiding his team to the Super Bowl?
Is that it?
It's certainly not because the Black Eyed Peas are doing the half-time show this year because they're hackneyed garbage...
I guess it's the commercials then. Those of us outside of Green Bay and Pittsburgh get to care about the marketing this year.
Happy Super Sunday, kids.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Flipper Turns Flopper
A rule of thumb that is generally used throughout journalism is to keep an unbiased opinion and stay away from things that would be considered a conflict of interest.
This is why you will not find very many things on this blog dealing with the Miami Dolphins or the Tampa Bay Rays.
Those are my favorite two teams in sports and I can get a little...passionate...when writing, speaking, or shouting about the two of them.
However, the actions of the Dolphins front office staff over these last few weeks cannot go ignored, not even by this biased, crappy piece of publication.
And, Hell, if Bill Simmons can get away with writing about all things Boston all the time, I should be allowed a freebie every now and again.
So, quick recap, Miami ends what should have been a promising season with a 7-9 record, compounded worse by the fact that they only won one game at home all year long.
Naturally, rumblings starting coming about that head coach Tony Sparano would probably be losing his job.
Enter into the mix things like retired coach Bill Cowher stating to the media that he would be interested in coaching the Dolphins and Stanford coach Jim Harbaugh announcing that he was ready to go to the NFL and now we have ourselves a few options to the heir apparent in Miami.
So, Stephen Ross, the owner, flies out to California to meet with Harbaugh and to reportedly make him an offer that would make him the highest paid coach in the NFL.
Now, here's where if you were my editor you would point out to say that I forgot a huge chunk of information here. The only problem is, I didn't
Ross never fired Sparano.
He went to find Sparano's replacement, while Sparano was STILL on the job. This is the kind of shady, under-handed stuff you could get away with in the 60's and 70's when the media was severely limited but in this day and age, you get your bullshit called on you.
What a tasteless, gutless act by Ross. It reminded me of those jerks in high school who would be dating a girl and then see a prettier one and go up to her and say, "Hey, when I dump her, you wanna go out?"
Poor Sparano didn't do anything but sit there with the mud on his face, waiting day and day for somebody to decide his future for him.
And in the end? Harbaugh went to the 49ers and Sparano was resigned for another year extension.
Are you kidding me? How are we supposed to believe that he's going to go ahead and give himself 100% to a team that clearly has no interest in reciprocating?
The whole situation is a nightmare. Ross was never man enough to bite the bullet and do what he wanted to do and now we're stuck in this weird "we're married but we sleep in separate beds" scenario.
Look, Sparano is a good coach. It wasn't his fault that Chad Henne had some sort of embolism and regressed about fourteen years in his progress as a quarterback. Plus, the offensive coordinator last year was ancient and out of touch with today's NFL and didn't know how to utilize the weapons he had. He's already gone and Henne most certainly won't be the starter next year.
But would you blame Sparano for mailing it in next year as some big eff you to the ownership?
I sure wouldn't.
Ross would certainly have it coming to him.
It just sucks that, in like most marriages on the brink of divorce, the ones who suffer the most are the children.
This is why you will not find very many things on this blog dealing with the Miami Dolphins or the Tampa Bay Rays.
Those are my favorite two teams in sports and I can get a little...passionate...when writing, speaking, or shouting about the two of them.
However, the actions of the Dolphins front office staff over these last few weeks cannot go ignored, not even by this biased, crappy piece of publication.
And, Hell, if Bill Simmons can get away with writing about all things Boston all the time, I should be allowed a freebie every now and again.
So, quick recap, Miami ends what should have been a promising season with a 7-9 record, compounded worse by the fact that they only won one game at home all year long.
Naturally, rumblings starting coming about that head coach Tony Sparano would probably be losing his job.
Enter into the mix things like retired coach Bill Cowher stating to the media that he would be interested in coaching the Dolphins and Stanford coach Jim Harbaugh announcing that he was ready to go to the NFL and now we have ourselves a few options to the heir apparent in Miami.
So, Stephen Ross, the owner, flies out to California to meet with Harbaugh and to reportedly make him an offer that would make him the highest paid coach in the NFL.
Now, here's where if you were my editor you would point out to say that I forgot a huge chunk of information here. The only problem is, I didn't
Ross never fired Sparano.
He went to find Sparano's replacement, while Sparano was STILL on the job. This is the kind of shady, under-handed stuff you could get away with in the 60's and 70's when the media was severely limited but in this day and age, you get your bullshit called on you.
What a tasteless, gutless act by Ross. It reminded me of those jerks in high school who would be dating a girl and then see a prettier one and go up to her and say, "Hey, when I dump her, you wanna go out?"
Poor Sparano didn't do anything but sit there with the mud on his face, waiting day and day for somebody to decide his future for him.
And in the end? Harbaugh went to the 49ers and Sparano was resigned for another year extension.
Are you kidding me? How are we supposed to believe that he's going to go ahead and give himself 100% to a team that clearly has no interest in reciprocating?
The whole situation is a nightmare. Ross was never man enough to bite the bullet and do what he wanted to do and now we're stuck in this weird "we're married but we sleep in separate beds" scenario.
Look, Sparano is a good coach. It wasn't his fault that Chad Henne had some sort of embolism and regressed about fourteen years in his progress as a quarterback. Plus, the offensive coordinator last year was ancient and out of touch with today's NFL and didn't know how to utilize the weapons he had. He's already gone and Henne most certainly won't be the starter next year.
But would you blame Sparano for mailing it in next year as some big eff you to the ownership?
I sure wouldn't.
Ross would certainly have it coming to him.
It just sucks that, in like most marriages on the brink of divorce, the ones who suffer the most are the children.
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