Like always, genuine gratitude to you all for reading my work. Without you, I wouldn't have the motivation to write. Welcome to another edition of "In the Web."
The Notre Dame Fighting Irish have set the collegiate football landscape ablaze this fall en route to a sterling record of 1-7. As a fomer manual laborer, I can easily envision hordes of workers congregating pre-shift outside a convenient store predicting how much longer till Irish Coach Charlie Weiss meets his ultimate demise. Despite the fact that he underwent gastric bypass surgery, an extremely risky operation, to reduce his immense blubbler, Weiss looks more and more like the Caucasian answer to Fat Albert on a daily basis.
Notre Dame has hit a new level of futility thus far into the 2007 season and it's not entirely out of the realm to wonder about Weiss' job status and whether or not he'll be back with the Irish next year (I am positive that he will be). The demise I am broaching in this context involves the digging of six feet worth of dirt and I am confident that Weiss is an en vogue selection in the grand majority of death pools nationwide.
A standard death pool is predicated on the notion that each human being is worth 100 points. When someone expires, you debit his age by the 100 points. So, for example, if Weiss, 51, succumbed to gluttony this coming year, he would be valued at 49 points. That's a significant number of points and something that one needs to readily consider before embarking on a death pool draft.
On a sincerely morbid and tasteless note, Britney Spears, 25, would be a tremendous fantasy pick if you and your friends are contemplating establishing a death pool in 2008. I know, it's sick. But, she would grant you 75 points and that's nothing to sneeze at in this league.
Much to my chagrin, I firmly believe that Kevin Federline, 29, would be a disastrous pick in such a particular league. I view Federline as a survivor and I can envision that cockroach sipping pina coladas at a tropical resort with a loaded 80-year-old widow sometime in the late portion of 2058.
Moments ago, the Boston Red Sox beat the Colorado Rockies 3-2 to win their 2nd crown in 4 years. Obviously, the Red Sox have fielded high-qaulity for the past half-decade. But, not one of their teams could have taken any of the Yankee squads from 1996-2000 and they definitely couldn't have unseated either of the two Toronto Blue Jay teams that captured glory (1992-1993). Nevertheless, the Sox have been very good and they deserve their rightful due.
I'm just so very ecstatic that as I write and by the grace of a higher source, I happen to be 300 miles from Yawkey Way.
I am equally enthralled by the fact that I will no longer be forced to see the most untalented comedian, actor and musician on the globe, Boston native Dane Cook, rearing his ugly mug on another Fox baseball broadcast for quite some time.
The New England Patriot's (8-0) trounced the Washington Redskins (4-3) 52-7 Sunday to further their bid to become the first team to go undefeated in the NFL since the 1972 Miami Flamingo's. The Patriot's are simply in a different stratosphere and one nees to wonder if it's feasible for a team to be charged with running up the score in the first half of a game.
So indeed and without sarcasm and to call the proverbial spade a spade, the city of Beans is reveling in an athletic year for the ages. As noted, The Red Sox just won their second championship in four years. The Boston Collge Eagles have inexplikcably remained unbeaten (8-0) and are seemingly genuine championship contenders in a year marred with mediocity on the college gridiron. Lastly, the New England Patriots are sincere and worthy adversaries to the Miami Flamingo's unblemished mark that they set in 1972. In lieu of all this impressiveness, I ask, "How much for another ticket out of town?"
For those who complain that my writing is badly hindered because of my hatred towards everything that is Boston sports, I want to be emphatically clear that I am, and I have been for years, a big supporter of the fabled Celtics franchise. Still, the Celts had always previously played second fiddle to my beloved New York Knicks. Not anymore, my friends. Rooting for Knicks GM and Head Coach Isiah Thomas is akin to cheering for another outbreak of SARS (severe acute respiratory illness). I yearn for a disease free world.
Everything indicates that the New York Yankees are on the verge of naming Joe Girardi as the successor to the iconic Joseph Torre. Girardi's hire as a manager could work for the Bomber's. Obviously, it also could backfire. If the choice was mine, I would have rolled out the red carpet for the inexperienced Don Mattingly. But, that's just me and I've been wrong more times than Paris Hilton's had sex.
Whomever eventually manages the men in pinstripes, it appears they will do so without the services of an all-time talent. The famed purple-lipped pariah, Alex Rodriguez, opted out of his $252 million, 10-year contract with the New York Yankees Sunday to essntially end his career in the Bronx. The Bombers just lost the best player in basbeall. The Yankees also just became a better baseball team. Oh, the irony.
As frequent readers of mine know, weeks ago I contemplated permanently removing myself from the entire world of sports. Sunday, I watched live at the Meadowlands as the New York Jets suffered yet another loss to recede to a horrific mark of 1-8. But, this loss, 17-6 to the Buffalo Bills (3-5), was different. I never got mad and my day wasn't ruined. I now realize it's easier for me to watch "Gang Green" when they are flatly despicable instead of when they are contenders incapable of reaching the ultimate level. This is my life. I am a New York Jets fan.
Tip of the hat and much thanks for your time. I hope I kept you interested.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
"In the Web"
I welcome you to another edition of "In the Web." I hope I entertain.
One of the great leaders our country's seen since General George Patton, New York Yankees Manager Joe Torre, snubbed his nose at an incentive-laden contract extension proposed by Bombers suits Thursday evening. As other generations recall Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio and Mantle, I will fondly reminisce of the "Clueless Joe" era. Torre, who defeated prostate cancer in 2001 and established an anti-domestic abuse fund, "the Joe Torre Safe at Home Foundation," guided the Yankees to 4 World Series titles, six pennants and every one of his 12 squads made it to October.
Naysayers and critics alike will always yammer and claim Torre's an average skipper who's a product of George Steinbrenner's pockets. It's also fashionable for Torre bashers to emphasize that he hasn't navigated any of his squads to championship glory since 2000 despite being provided with an embarrassment of financial resources. Listen, Torre's squads haven't exactly bowed to a posse of untalented gumps.
The majority of teams that ousted a Torre led Bomber squad in the playoffs ultimately were crowned champions that year (01' Arizona Diamondbacks, 02' Los Angeles Angels (Jesus, this is long!) of Anaheim, 03' Florida Marlins, and the 04' Boston Red Sox).
My friends, take a look at the futility that was the South Bronx in the 80's and early 90's (I'm going to hope and presume you aren't front-runners and did actually watch back then). Steinbrenner threw money around like an affluent virgin in a nude joint during those painful years as well and his fleet of nine managers won, well, nothing with the dinero they were granted. I have never liked coincidences. Torre's calm demeanor and unparallel ability to relate with his players was the ingredient that catapulted the Bombers to 3 consecutive championships and 4 in 5 years from 1996-2000. I can say with steely confidence that Randy Johnson will be on the cover of Playgirl before a feat like that reoccurs in baseball.
Unfortunately, it seems lucid that the Bomber's brass offered Torre a contract that he had to refuse and one that was presented as a token gesture to ward off an even harsher outcry about their handling of this situation. The Yankees have amassed an impressive formulation of talented youth and veterans and they seem primed to recapture their dominance sooner than later. Nevertheless, the loss of Torre could usher in a return to managerial unrest and utter chaos. Human beings like Joseph Torre aren't found on every corner and I genuinely feel privileged and honored to know that I had the chance to watch him for such a prolonged period. If I'm ever half as "clueless" as Joe Torre is, I'll be satisfied with the way my life has unraveled.
Red Sox ace Josh Beckett should count his lucky stars that he was separated from the Cleveland Indian's Kenny Lofton in Game 5 before the lefty speedster got his paws on him. Lofton would have ended that "Mexican street fight" in the time it takes Takeru Kobayashi to eat a single frank.
The Red Sox defeated the Indians 11-2 Sunday night to win the ALCS in 7 games and advance to their second World Series in four years. Genuinely, the Yankees had better start to panic. If the Sox do in fact prevail and beat the Colorado Rockies they will have captured 7 whole crowns in their long and illustrious history. That’s only 19 less than the Yankees have recorded.
I love Chad Pennington like a brother and I would go to combat with that man in the bat of an eye. Nevertheless, it's time to usher in the Kellen Clemens era.
As a New York Jets fan, watching this version of the New England Patriot's (7-0) is akin to being sent to Guantanamo Bay. After watching their 49-28 route of the Miami Flamingo’s, nothing and I mean nothing, indicates that barring injuries this team can be beat. Make no mistake, cheaters or not, this is a genuine dynasty for the ages and this particular team may ultimately prove to be the best of any age.
Indiana University men's basketball is rudderless with Kelvin Sampson running the program. The Hoosiers don't necessarily need "Norman Dale." But, they do need someone and that someone is not Kelvin Sampson.
Granted, I'm biased because "I hate the fucking Eagles, man." But, eventually, Boston College will fold like a cheap suit.
If Miguel Cotto's fight on November the 10th against "Sugar" Shane Mosley is as tremendous as I anticipate, boxing will have had quite a few good months.
My most sincere thanks for reading another posting of "In the Web."
One of the great leaders our country's seen since General George Patton, New York Yankees Manager Joe Torre, snubbed his nose at an incentive-laden contract extension proposed by Bombers suits Thursday evening. As other generations recall Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio and Mantle, I will fondly reminisce of the "Clueless Joe" era. Torre, who defeated prostate cancer in 2001 and established an anti-domestic abuse fund, "the Joe Torre Safe at Home Foundation," guided the Yankees to 4 World Series titles, six pennants and every one of his 12 squads made it to October.
Naysayers and critics alike will always yammer and claim Torre's an average skipper who's a product of George Steinbrenner's pockets. It's also fashionable for Torre bashers to emphasize that he hasn't navigated any of his squads to championship glory since 2000 despite being provided with an embarrassment of financial resources. Listen, Torre's squads haven't exactly bowed to a posse of untalented gumps.
The majority of teams that ousted a Torre led Bomber squad in the playoffs ultimately were crowned champions that year (01' Arizona Diamondbacks, 02' Los Angeles Angels (Jesus, this is long!) of Anaheim, 03' Florida Marlins, and the 04' Boston Red Sox).
My friends, take a look at the futility that was the South Bronx in the 80's and early 90's (I'm going to hope and presume you aren't front-runners and did actually watch back then). Steinbrenner threw money around like an affluent virgin in a nude joint during those painful years as well and his fleet of nine managers won, well, nothing with the dinero they were granted. I have never liked coincidences. Torre's calm demeanor and unparallel ability to relate with his players was the ingredient that catapulted the Bombers to 3 consecutive championships and 4 in 5 years from 1996-2000. I can say with steely confidence that Randy Johnson will be on the cover of Playgirl before a feat like that reoccurs in baseball.
Unfortunately, it seems lucid that the Bomber's brass offered Torre a contract that he had to refuse and one that was presented as a token gesture to ward off an even harsher outcry about their handling of this situation. The Yankees have amassed an impressive formulation of talented youth and veterans and they seem primed to recapture their dominance sooner than later. Nevertheless, the loss of Torre could usher in a return to managerial unrest and utter chaos. Human beings like Joseph Torre aren't found on every corner and I genuinely feel privileged and honored to know that I had the chance to watch him for such a prolonged period. If I'm ever half as "clueless" as Joe Torre is, I'll be satisfied with the way my life has unraveled.
Red Sox ace Josh Beckett should count his lucky stars that he was separated from the Cleveland Indian's Kenny Lofton in Game 5 before the lefty speedster got his paws on him. Lofton would have ended that "Mexican street fight" in the time it takes Takeru Kobayashi to eat a single frank.
The Red Sox defeated the Indians 11-2 Sunday night to win the ALCS in 7 games and advance to their second World Series in four years. Genuinely, the Yankees had better start to panic. If the Sox do in fact prevail and beat the Colorado Rockies they will have captured 7 whole crowns in their long and illustrious history. That’s only 19 less than the Yankees have recorded.
I love Chad Pennington like a brother and I would go to combat with that man in the bat of an eye. Nevertheless, it's time to usher in the Kellen Clemens era.
As a New York Jets fan, watching this version of the New England Patriot's (7-0) is akin to being sent to Guantanamo Bay. After watching their 49-28 route of the Miami Flamingo’s, nothing and I mean nothing, indicates that barring injuries this team can be beat. Make no mistake, cheaters or not, this is a genuine dynasty for the ages and this particular team may ultimately prove to be the best of any age.
Indiana University men's basketball is rudderless with Kelvin Sampson running the program. The Hoosiers don't necessarily need "Norman Dale." But, they do need someone and that someone is not Kelvin Sampson.
Granted, I'm biased because "I hate the fucking Eagles, man." But, eventually, Boston College will fold like a cheap suit.
If Miguel Cotto's fight on November the 10th against "Sugar" Shane Mosley is as tremendous as I anticipate, boxing will have had quite a few good months.
My most sincere thanks for reading another posting of "In the Web."
Sunday, October 14, 2007
In the Web
I thank you for reading another edition of "In the Web."
Seemingly since I've been able to utilize my gams and walk, I've been an enormous sports fan. But, this past Sunday afternoon I had an epiphany akin to the one that Lester Burnham experienced towards the end of "American Beauty." Sitting in a prominent Boston sports bar, I was disgusted when I looked to my right and saw an obese and hideously unattractive woman donning a pink Red Sox hat frothing at the mouth rooting on "Big Papi." Much to my chagrin, I then looked to my left to see a low-rent middle-age man with two children by his side wearing an "A-Rod swallows" tee-shirt cheering on the New England Patriots. The combination of seeing these two repulsive New Englanders coupled with my favorite teams futility actually began to cause physical ailments within my body.
I was sweating like Patrick Ewing and my heart was beating like I was a hooker in a cathedral and for what? To passionately support a fleet of overpriced, often arrogant and surly men throw a ball around? Sports are simply games and they should not be taken more seriously than that. Nevertheless, I do love them and, in a less frenetic and more mature way, I will still attempt to entertain you with my take on the world of athletics.
Clearly, I am not a clairvoyant and I certainly don't have the psychic powers that Whoopi Goldberg's character had in the movie "Ghost." My prediction that the New York Yankees would lambaste the Cleveland Indians could not possibly have been more erroneous. The Yankees were manhandled by the upstart Tribe in four decisive games as Cleveland advanced to their first ALCS since 1998 (which they lost to the Bombers 4-2). After utilizing words such as "bloodbath" and "massacre" to project the Yankees ALDS domination, I made a fool of myself and any prediction I make in the foreseeable future should be heartily scoffed at. In essence, if I say "Go east," go west and your life will flourish.
New York's third consecutive ouster in the first round has Yankees suits scrambling for answers and into action. Most speculate that Joe Torre has managed his last game for the Yankees and New York's overall leadership is in utter disarray. My admiration for Torre is unparallel and I will forever cherish the sporting moments and championships that he's brought to the Big Apple since his arrival in the Bronx in 1996. Nevertheless, it may simply be time to move on. A new voice in the clubhouse could create new passion and more championship banners for a fabled franchise that hasn't won a crown in seven whole years.
Still, the longer it takes the big, bad owner of the New York Yankees, George Steinbrenner, to mull the fate of Torre, the better the chances are that legendary skipper will return for a 13th season in Gotham. "Clueless Joe" may be hanging by a thread. But, he's still hanging.
It's time for New Yorkers to say good riddance to the greatest post-season failure in the annals of sports, Alex Rodriguez. A-Rod's ship has sailed in Gotham and a change will behoove all parties involved. A voyage into the free agency market will also enable the insatiable Rodriguez to purchase more designer knicker's and even better and more pricey hair frosting products.
On the bright side of the pinstriped rainbow, the Yankees will have Joba Chamberlain, 22, for an entire campaign next year. Chamberlain (2-0, 0.38 ERA) is the most exciting athlete to grace the "Big Apple" since Dwight Gooden arrived in 1984 and he may ultimately prove to be the greatest unveiling in the city since Scores Gentleman's Club.
The Yankees lost to the Indians fair and square. But, if it wasn't for the biblical plague of gnats that descended upon Cleveland last Friday in Game 2 and rattled Chamberlain, things may have been different. At the very least, it would have been an entirely different series.
If "Tricky Dick" Nixon was a crook and New England Patriot's Head Coach Bill Belichick is a cheat, then Roger Clemens is a thief who is guilty of stealing millions of dollars from Steinbrenner for 4 uninspiring months of mediocrity. Although the most powerful union in America, the Major League Baseball Player's union, would never enable it, Clemens should exhibit some testicular fortitude and attempt to reimburse Steinbrenner for the unmitigated disaster that he was this
year. On second thought, his testicles have likely vanished as the result of years of abusing steroids.
Speaking of banned performance enhancing drugs, a report surfaced moments ago indicating that former U.S. Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell will release his report into steroids before the end of the year and the investigation will link many superstars and previously unmentioned players to the doping scandal. Run, Roger, run! Maybe A-Rod should start warming up to.
As the Big Lebowski himself said, the New York Jets "plane has crashed into the God damn mountain."
Watching Adam "Pacman" Jones (5'10"/185 Lbs.) wrestle the other day on TNA was astonishing. The chiseled and uber athleticJones looked like miniscule to the other behomeths in tights in the squared circle. With exaggeration out of the window, the shredded Jones looked skinny enough to play the role of a skinny crack dealer on HBO's "The Wire." The Pacman better get in the good graces of NFL czar Roger Goodell and back on the gridirion soon or his career's going to end performing in the world of sports entertainment.
TBS Baseball analyst and legendary slugger Tony Gwynn has packed on even more blubber since he retired from the sport of baseball at the end of the 2001 season. His expanded waistline has ballooned to such immense proportions that it looked like he could run "Porky's Nightclub."
"Get it....At Porky's."
If the Boston College Eagles inevitably ascend to number two in the latest college football polls, we can all safely assume that this is a down year for college football. As noted in a previous post, like Jeff Lebowski, "I hate the fucking Eagles, man." But, with no bias intended, if the Eagles are the second best team in the nation, college football is mired in parity that is bordering on shire mediocity.
Thank you all for taking the time to review my column. I bid all a safe and happy week wherever I may find you.
Seemingly since I've been able to utilize my gams and walk, I've been an enormous sports fan. But, this past Sunday afternoon I had an epiphany akin to the one that Lester Burnham experienced towards the end of "American Beauty." Sitting in a prominent Boston sports bar, I was disgusted when I looked to my right and saw an obese and hideously unattractive woman donning a pink Red Sox hat frothing at the mouth rooting on "Big Papi." Much to my chagrin, I then looked to my left to see a low-rent middle-age man with two children by his side wearing an "A-Rod swallows" tee-shirt cheering on the New England Patriots. The combination of seeing these two repulsive New Englanders coupled with my favorite teams futility actually began to cause physical ailments within my body.
I was sweating like Patrick Ewing and my heart was beating like I was a hooker in a cathedral and for what? To passionately support a fleet of overpriced, often arrogant and surly men throw a ball around? Sports are simply games and they should not be taken more seriously than that. Nevertheless, I do love them and, in a less frenetic and more mature way, I will still attempt to entertain you with my take on the world of athletics.
Clearly, I am not a clairvoyant and I certainly don't have the psychic powers that Whoopi Goldberg's character had in the movie "Ghost." My prediction that the New York Yankees would lambaste the Cleveland Indians could not possibly have been more erroneous. The Yankees were manhandled by the upstart Tribe in four decisive games as Cleveland advanced to their first ALCS since 1998 (which they lost to the Bombers 4-2). After utilizing words such as "bloodbath" and "massacre" to project the Yankees ALDS domination, I made a fool of myself and any prediction I make in the foreseeable future should be heartily scoffed at. In essence, if I say "Go east," go west and your life will flourish.
New York's third consecutive ouster in the first round has Yankees suits scrambling for answers and into action. Most speculate that Joe Torre has managed his last game for the Yankees and New York's overall leadership is in utter disarray. My admiration for Torre is unparallel and I will forever cherish the sporting moments and championships that he's brought to the Big Apple since his arrival in the Bronx in 1996. Nevertheless, it may simply be time to move on. A new voice in the clubhouse could create new passion and more championship banners for a fabled franchise that hasn't won a crown in seven whole years.
Still, the longer it takes the big, bad owner of the New York Yankees, George Steinbrenner, to mull the fate of Torre, the better the chances are that legendary skipper will return for a 13th season in Gotham. "Clueless Joe" may be hanging by a thread. But, he's still hanging.
It's time for New Yorkers to say good riddance to the greatest post-season failure in the annals of sports, Alex Rodriguez. A-Rod's ship has sailed in Gotham and a change will behoove all parties involved. A voyage into the free agency market will also enable the insatiable Rodriguez to purchase more designer knicker's and even better and more pricey hair frosting products.
On the bright side of the pinstriped rainbow, the Yankees will have Joba Chamberlain, 22, for an entire campaign next year. Chamberlain (2-0, 0.38 ERA) is the most exciting athlete to grace the "Big Apple" since Dwight Gooden arrived in 1984 and he may ultimately prove to be the greatest unveiling in the city since Scores Gentleman's Club.
The Yankees lost to the Indians fair and square. But, if it wasn't for the biblical plague of gnats that descended upon Cleveland last Friday in Game 2 and rattled Chamberlain, things may have been different. At the very least, it would have been an entirely different series.
If "Tricky Dick" Nixon was a crook and New England Patriot's Head Coach Bill Belichick is a cheat, then Roger Clemens is a thief who is guilty of stealing millions of dollars from Steinbrenner for 4 uninspiring months of mediocrity. Although the most powerful union in America, the Major League Baseball Player's union, would never enable it, Clemens should exhibit some testicular fortitude and attempt to reimburse Steinbrenner for the unmitigated disaster that he was this
year. On second thought, his testicles have likely vanished as the result of years of abusing steroids.
Speaking of banned performance enhancing drugs, a report surfaced moments ago indicating that former U.S. Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell will release his report into steroids before the end of the year and the investigation will link many superstars and previously unmentioned players to the doping scandal. Run, Roger, run! Maybe A-Rod should start warming up to.
As the Big Lebowski himself said, the New York Jets "plane has crashed into the God damn mountain."
Watching Adam "Pacman" Jones (5'10"/185 Lbs.) wrestle the other day on TNA was astonishing. The chiseled and uber athleticJones looked like miniscule to the other behomeths in tights in the squared circle. With exaggeration out of the window, the shredded Jones looked skinny enough to play the role of a skinny crack dealer on HBO's "The Wire." The Pacman better get in the good graces of NFL czar Roger Goodell and back on the gridirion soon or his career's going to end performing in the world of sports entertainment.
TBS Baseball analyst and legendary slugger Tony Gwynn has packed on even more blubber since he retired from the sport of baseball at the end of the 2001 season. His expanded waistline has ballooned to such immense proportions that it looked like he could run "Porky's Nightclub."
"Get it....At Porky's."
If the Boston College Eagles inevitably ascend to number two in the latest college football polls, we can all safely assume that this is a down year for college football. As noted in a previous post, like Jeff Lebowski, "I hate the fucking Eagles, man." But, with no bias intended, if the Eagles are the second best team in the nation, college football is mired in parity that is bordering on shire mediocity.
Thank you all for taking the time to review my column. I bid all a safe and happy week wherever I may find you.