Draft Dodger

Alright kids, the NFL Draft is pretty much over now that we're midway through the fourth round and I have the analysis that you've all been waiting for.

 Most professionals would probably take the time to break down each pick by each team, you know, to keep things fair.

Well, screw that.

 I'm talking about ONE pick from ONE team.

 Come on, I'm sure by now that you're probably used to this sort of treatment.

 The Miami Dolphins had just a shitty enough year last season to hold the rights to the eighth pick in this year's draft. Being in the unique position of having a completely horrible team, the draft provides a lot of options for you. When you couple that with the amount of talent that has since departed the team, well, you could pretty much take anybody and have it be a good pick.

The Dolphins hate to love to disappoint and took a guy who appeared on draft boards about a month and a half ago.

 I don't know Ryan Tannehill. I've never watched a Texas A&M game in my life. I've followed sports my whole life and I still don't know squat.

 I, however, do recognize a trap. It's a trap!

Remember when the whole world was going nuts over Furby? Furby was the little toy creature that would open it's eyes and speak in some gibberish whenever you approached it. I didn't really understand it but I knew that everybody else was eating this thing up. When the cool kids at school decide to get a Furby, even if you don't understand it, you know that you need a Furby now too.

So you go to your mom and tell her, "Hey mom, I need a Furby." And her response? The obligatory "Well, Christmas is coming up soon, maybe Santa will bring you one."

 And to that you say, "Mom, I'm 26-years old, just buy me a damn Furby."

Nevertheless, Christmas morning finally arrives and you're bursting with excitement. Finally, your time has come! You'll have a Furby just like all the cool kids.

You search for the right shaped box, tear open the wrapping paper, and come face to face with your brand new...Fuzzby?

A Fuzzby?! Are you freaking kidding me? I specifically asked for a Furby!

Mom says, "Well, the store didn't have any more Furbies but the man said that this was just about the same and could even be more popular than a Furby in a couple years!"

Mom never seems to understand. It's just not the same. It never is.

Fuzzby goes deep into your closet and is never spoken of again. That's my summation of the Ryan Tannehill pick. He's a Fuzzby when all you really wanted was just a damn Furby. But hey, there's a silver lining! He's got a really, really attractive wife. Seriously, she's got the goods. What's she doing with a Fuzzby?

The Dictator and the Douche Bag

Ladies, please, let me be the voice of generally sane male individuals aged 10-40, and let me tell you that I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

This world has churned more than high tides on full moons (which is a saying that nobody has used ever but I'm hoping it catches on to make me some sweet cash) and the end result has been men that simply do not get the joke.

The joke, is of course, life. You can choose to accept it and live out your merry days as a blogger for a prominent sports blog that's popular in Russia or you can be a complete douche bag. The point is, the choice is yours, and yours alone.

So, when Ozzie Guillen and Bobby Petrino jump fully clothed into the douche bag pool, I am not surprised, but I am sorry.

You never should have to put up with this.

These are the guys your father has conniptions about you dating. I don't trust this guy, he says weird things, and he never addresses me as sir. I have yet to date a girl that I want to refer to her father as 'Dad' but I have still upheld the simplest form of respect and that's a handshake and a 'sir'. It's not hard to show respect, unless you are disrespectful.

Ozzie basically says he sympathizes with Fidel Castro.

You work in MIAMI!!!

Are you kidding me? Stop it with the "I said it in Spanish but I thought it in English" bullshit. I'll save you the time. That doesn't make any sense. What you did was say something that you thought was straight up, crazy, pure Ozzie, and lo and behold it bit you in the ass. Hard.

Ozzie, you probably don't read this since you are not in Russia, but you should have lost your job. The five game suspension is a laughable punishment. If the Marlins were serious about embracing their strong Latin community, you would be gone. Your presence there dictates otherwise.

And I feel really bad for the Miami community, considering most of them are refugees from Castro's dictatorship, they were excited for the new 'Miami' team and the new 'Miami' stadium, and for a manager they thought would sympathize with them. So sorry.

And then we have the stand up guy that is Bobby Petrino. This guy has been a snake for years.

When he straight up abandoned the Atlanta Falcons, mid-season, he became the coach of the Arkansas Razor Backs.

When you coach for Arkansas, pretty much all of Georgia hates you anyways, let alone the one time you abandoned their star football team. Nice going, douche bag.

Well, Bobby "Trusty" Petrino crashed his motorcycle earlier this month. Turns out the married man, with children, lied about being alone. He had a female half his age on the bike with him.

Stop right there.

We've already established that Bobby Petrino is a douche bag. He is. A big one.

What I need to establish, at this present place and time, is that there is still a lot of good out there. There are plenty of people like me that don't condone the actions of Ozzie Guillen and Bobby Petrino and hope and pray that two assholes don't control the flow of the universe.

There's already enough out there to adjust for the good that it just makes sense that people have given up.

Well, fear not, we are still here. We battle tooth and nail for the righteousness of man and we will not give up or give in. The good ones are still out there and I implore you to keep looking.

Guillen and Petrino are just two public figures that have yet to figure out the joke.

A co-worker of mine has a young son that I love talking to because he's a fucking gem. He talks better than you, trust me.

He looked at me dead nuts and said, "Thank you for walking with me to my home, I hope you come back and visit really soon."

If a toddler can get it right, why is it so hard for you? Take some notes.

Return To Glory!

Loyal readers of the Studly Pastures probably noticed that I have been absent from posting.

I'm talking to you, Latvia.

Relax, I haven't been comatose, or traveling the world, or even been remotely busy with anything else that would have kept me from my SP duties.

Quite simply, it's been a rough sports month for me.

OK, quick recap, the Miami Dolphins missed out on Peyton Manning, they missed out on Matt Flynn, they traded Brandon Marshall, they signed David Garrard, they don't seem to have any plausible draft strategy for the end of this month, and nobody in the front office seems to give at least two shits.

Side note: That's all I'm going to say about the Miami Dolphins for right now. They don't deserve their own post and only talking about it further is just going to raise my blood pressure to unnatural levels. I'm almost out of scotch because of those ignorant morons.

The University of Nathan Curtis had a decent tournament run until our point guard, Kendall Marshall, broke his wrist. He's only the guy that runs the offense and sets the plays, you know, no big deal. With him gone, the Tar Heels were simply treading water until those grain-eating flat-heads from Kansas put them out. They aren't smart enough to not build their houses in a tornado hotbed but they sure are purdy good at puttin' the ball in the hoop! I'm just kidding, people of Kansas, but it's only natural for me to be hateful. Oh, and, just to make sure there is little to root for next year, four of our five starters are going to the NBA. Last time that happened? UNC lost to Dayton in the NIT final. I need to invent some new expletives. The old ones aren't cutting it anymore.

I WAS getting excited for baseball season to start with the arsenal of pitching the Rays are set to deploy this season. Then our outfield started dropping faster than Brandon Marshall in clutch time. Who has an outfield collision in spring training?! I didn't even know that was physically possible. I love the tenacity behind it but when it means you are now going to miss time playing REAL baseball because of the injury you sustained in FAKE baseball, maybe take a dive next time. We're already going to score the least amount of runs in the game, we need you out there chasing down fly balls, BJ Upton and Sam Fuld!

So where have I been? I've been sitting in the corner of a dark room, rocking back and forth, wondering about why everything I care about sports-wise is circling the drain. Sometimes it really sucks living in the Twilight Zone.

Then I realized that I was being really selfish. The people need to hear my words of wisdom to get them through their idle lives. It was my fault that I gave them a little taste and then rudely denied them for so long. I pledge to be here more often to fulfill your lives of depravity.

Still looking at you, Latvia.

By the way, kids, I'm working on developing a podcast so that instead of just imagining my voice of gravitas in your heads, you will actually be able to experience it first hand! Then all you'll have to do is picture my svelte body in your heads! Convenient!

There's just a small technological hiccup that I have to get ironed out first. By 'small technological hiccup', I mean that I don't understand the technology involved and when I try to set it up I end up just mashing the keyboard with my palms and yelling incoherent gibberish.

Once I get some more scotch though I should be able to figure it out. Stay tuned!