Michael the Vick

AS predicted, jocksniffer radio hosts, listener calls, emails, texts, et al are myopically fixed on Michael Vick’s return to the NFL. The Philadelphia Eagles officially announced the signing of Vick, the man who served hard time for crossing state lines to engage in illegal dog fights. The animal abuse, cruelty, torture & execution, were just incidental to going from Virginia to Georgia to do it. Though a case could be made for just going back to Virginia once you made it to Georgia, which I’ve done myself.

At the Eagles press conference Vick, whose criminal acts fit the FBI profile for serial killer, apparently memorized a list of cliches. Learned behavior is something a sociopath is very good at doing. He is being mentored by Tony Dungy, a former NFL coach & born again Bible scholar, who has his own tragic history. The etymology of both their names aside, I have never enjoyed puppet shows after age 5. The debate over whether or not Vick deserves a return to the NFL took up 99% of ESPN program content today ( August 14 ), running the gamut from the inane to the insane. Best of British luck, ya’ll. . ..

AND 99% of those people discussing Vick are not only ill equipped to do so, they can barely articulate the real issue– has he rehabilitated himself ( ty Arlo )? So, as he goes over to sit on the Group W Eagles bench, I’d like to pose a question the great unwashed can all have an opinion on, and even more to the point, it’s at their level of intellect. Here goes—

Do you think the Eagles will cut Vick if he dogs it?

Stay tuned.

The Pennant Chas…er, Chaz

Chastity Bono is entering manhood. The daughter of the late great Salvatore Sonny Bono and the wax figure Cher, is 40 and an out lesbian. Upon reading this news, all I can think about is, it would’ve really hurt Sonny’s chances to become President.

It’s a bit odd, but the last few U.S. Presidents have only had female offspring. The one guy who had sons, George Walker Bush, had a son who became President ( in case you’d forgotten—yeah sure ). So, maybe it’s a good thing. But why all the X chromosomes* dudes? don’t ask. Don’t tell. Gotcha.

Hey! good for Chas Bono. Whatever happens, she’s got to have more balls than the team from the Bronx who went to Boston and got theirs handed to them on home plate. Again. Baseball — people are fond of saying — is a marathon. It’s a long season & there are a hundred games left to play. Luckily for the Yankees, only eleven are v. the Rat Sox.

Seriously kids—whatever drugs you’re not using—start. I haven’t felt this embarrassed since I tried returning a jacket to a store and the saleswoman pointed out pit stains. At the time I told her, ” I’m a Yankee fan ” it was October 2004. She said poor man, patted me on the shoulder, gave me a refund and the number of a homeopathic healer. Wonder if MLB.com will take back all these @#%&*! Yankee caps!

Could all those Beanotown ‘tards be right? do the Yankees really—suck? Frankly, I don’t give a damn. That’s no excuse. Vacuum cleaners suck, but still get the job done. Same goes for hookers. And high schoolers with self esteem issues. The real problem is every other team gets so amped up when they play the Yankees, the opposition often performs way above their skill set. Yankees routinely make rookie pitchers look like Cy Young candidates, if not Cy himself. Why isn’t a fathead such as Josh Beckett 30 and 0? why—because he doesn’t get 30 starts versus the Yankees. That’s why. I hate that arrogant load.

Sigh. It is a long season. But if you have to say it—you are all ready in trouble. The season ain’t long enough for those Mass-holes to forget how they beat everything in midnight blue pinstripes — home and away to the tune of eight straight unanswered ass whuppings. Will the newly masculated Chas, sorry—make that — Chaz Bono be able to hit a big league curve ball? she or he can’t do worse than those choke ponies. Now where is my Phillies cap. . ..

* that’s XX which = a female as opposed to XXX which would be Vin Diesel or Peter North, whoever comes first. . ..

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PS Happy bd Gomer & so long to the cast of REAPER— I’ll miss you kids

The King James Babble

LeBron James is a great basketball player in the NBA (National Basketball Association) & a young man, the league uses as one of its premier representatives. Last night he walked off the court after his team the Cleveland Cavaliers was eliminated from the championship chase by the Orlando Magic. Mr. James is now catching heat from all the jock sniffing media for not speaking into the mics these jerkoffs stick in your face win or lose. Awwwwwww too bad for them.

WTF do they think he feels or would have to say? they don’t care–he & and all the players owe them. Sure they do. It’s part of their contract – they routinely spout. Sure it is. But every once in awhile how about some media freak makes the human choice too. The choice to not intrude in the name of a clichéd soundbyte. One thing I always loathed about all of the jockocracy, is their lack of grasping basic human emotions in the now. They’re great at it after the fact, telling the athletes they feed off of, how to act, on and off the basketball court. Where is the true immaturity here?

I am no fan of the NBA—those guys don’t even play basketball the way it was invented by James Naismith in 1891. When LeBron James decided to break free and join the professional ranks straight out of high school, I saw a person ready to cash in, skip the phoney college bs & get the bling. But he has been a phenomenon, not just in his skills on the court, but as a model of good behavior. Trust me, he’s a rare man for his age and role, which is 24. I’m glad he is. The history of the recent NBA is rife with thugs—bad dudes guilty of, well, you name it. LeBron was & is a breath of fresh air.

Now, by not shaking the hand of Orlando opponent Dwight Howard or “facing” the media music, it’s time for the media to rip another of their false idols off a pedestal. The carrion eaters are circling, cawing and nipping at James. Oh what a bad man—he’s angry, tired and beaten. But he needs to be a man. Some real men get pissed off at what other perfect (jerks) consider inappropriate times. For them. Most athletes are not exciting extemporaneous speakers. For all my antipathy toward them, I prefer to hear from the media when it comes to commentary on a sporting event.

Jock sniffers live to suck up to all things jock—to call old fools “coach.” To scream orgasmically over a play, then drool over it until something replaces it. In a what have you done for us lately world, LeBron James has made a fatal error, he didn’t do what is expected of him by the peanut gallery. Because he didn’t kiss their fat asses the way they kiss his. When the quid pro quo goes unbalanced, the media has the tools to lash out. And they are pretty much just that—tools. . ..

Give LeBron a break. You two faced vultures. Wasn’t there enough free food to eat in Disney World? When you can’t shoot the 3 from downtown at the buzzer, you can give a press conference and cheerfully explain how you lost the big one.

Joba the Whut?

For a guy who hasn’t lived in or even near NYC for two decades now (yikes!)—I am still a New York elitist. As much as my minimalist lifestyle allows, I pay attention to my old hometown via whatever media sources I can.

That’s why it pains me to say the New York Yankees & some NY sports hosts are idiots. Nothing says it more than the curious case of one young pitcher, Joba (pronounced Jah-bah, yes, like Jabba the Hutt) Chamberlain. Two seasons ago, Joba joined the Yankees at the major league level. He proceeded to become a cult hero as an emergency reliever, smoking out of the bullpen with a success rate of almost perfect, firing bb sized fastballs past batters & striking them out frequently, bats on their shoulder. However…

Chamberlain had been groomed as a starting pitcher in the Yankee farm system, one with a repertoire of four pitches, a valuable & desirable commodity. A lights out closer is a team’s dream. But strong starting pitching and a young pitcher at that, is rare, not to mention necessary. So, when the man, the myth, the legend Mo Sandman Rivera returned to his rightful place as the Yankees closer, Joba was tasked to begin his evolution into the Yankee starting rotation.

OK enough back story. Fluke injuries, gnats, heat for his fervor on the mound & a DUI/strip club related bust, oh yeah and some really bad first innings have reopened the debate. Joba starter or Joba reliever? But the Yankees have proven in the past (repeatedly), they have no clue how to bring along pitchers. In fact since Mel Stottlemyre was banished, a case could be made the franchise can’t even manage veteran hurlers. Injuries happen so often, Joba to the bully now might be a premature move waiting to happen if Chien-Ming Wang (in no pitcher’s land between rehab & redemption) can’t rebound & Phil Hughes remains a roller coaster of results.

One WFAN radio host— let’s call him Bullwinkle— challenges callers who want Joba in the pen by saying “are 21 starts for Joba enough” to determine his ability as a starting pitcher. Well, no one truly knows that answer. But the greatest closer in history, the aforementioned Mr. Rivera, only had ten — count ’em genius —10. So, why is this radio moron so adamant. Joba has had twice as many and he has proven all ready he can be amazing out of the bullpen. Rivera did not have such proven credentials when he was, at the time, demoted!

So, I love New York. But I lament the hubris of guys who can’t take in actual data and realize they might be barking up the wrong alley. Naturally, at this point no one even knows if Joba can return to his glory status as a reliever. Maybe he misses getting a beer buzz & seeing a few boobs. Because boobs they may be, those deciding his fate are not the same as cornfed mamas for a young man with a high hard one.*

* for non-baseball fans—a high hard one is a good major league fastball–or not…

Apparently—I Love NY!

Having just realized I rarely say anything about the sports media people I like, I hope to remedy that a bit here. One reason I neg out a lot is, the guys who provoke me seem do it when I’m nearest to a keyboard. The other is I’m bitter. Here are thumbnail mentions of a few who just happen to be from the NYC metro area. How’d that happen!

Michael Kay, who began his pro career as a sportswriter, currently straddles two media giants. One owns the New York Yankees, the other takes cheap shots. Long before the NYY launched the YES Network (Yankees Entertainment & Sports), Kay made the move from print to the broadcast booth, paired with legendary egoist John Sterling. I thought Kay was great—at a time when the beloved pair of Phil Rizzuto & Bill White (my former neighbor) were ending their run, Kay was a breath of fresh & knowledgeable air. Yankee brass agreed. Now he anchors the YES play by play team & does a daily afternoon drive radio show for ESPN’s New York affiliate. AND I like him a lot. Joe Torre, on the other hand, may not. That’s another story.

Howard Megdal is a regular & integral contributor to a podcast—The New York Baseball Digest (hosted by Mike Silva). He’s also an author The Baseball Talmud— a non-fiction work which chronicles the history of professional Jewish baseball players. However, his main gig is covering NYC baseball for a newspaper The New York Observer. Though an ardent Mets fan, his sharp wit & ability to extemporaneously turn a phrase on mic, make him a rare exception in the sports media—intelligent beyond the sports arena. I used to be pretty good at this: I’d place his IQ at 130, if not slightly higher. He’s one of the few I can actually listen to criticize the Yankees, typically because he’s right. His Achilles’ heel is WFAN megastar Mike Francesa—don’t get him started. . ..

The next man I have come to praise (and not bury) is another sportswriter & blogger Pete Abraham. His LoHud.com Yankees blog has so many hits each day, I can rarely leave a comment due to my slow dial up—because there are frequently too many other comments, often well over 300-400, sometimes many more! Pete is the Yankees beat writer for The Journal News & also makes many radio appearances, providing his insight to Yankee baseball. Even when he’s on a break, he often files a post, because he loves baseball. Sadly, the immense popularity of his blog doesn’t exclude him from the current economic downward trend in newspapers, and he’s actually on an unpaid furlough for a week! Sigh. BTW Pete was at the game anyway last night as a fan. Here’s hoping it all turns around for everybody. Except for Boston — I ain’t smoking any of Mary Lou’s bud.

Not in any way would I minimize the work, talent & efforts of the next two. I place them in tandem because Sweeny Murti & Ed Coleman cover the Yankees & Mets respectively, for WFAN AM New York, the King of sports talk radio. They are both routinely on air around the clock, doing phone reporting i.e. Sweeny was on today at 4:25 AM. Are the Yanks on the West Coast? did a game run extraordinarily late or something extremely awful happen? Nope—though Joba Chamberlain did take a batted ball off a kneecap (he’s OK—hmmmm). Sweeny is also very bright (Penn State grad). Mercifully(?) the Mets were on a travel day to Feng Shui Park for the weekend ugh, unless you like hubris with your chowdah. So, Eddie had a respite from the Mets woes.

See, I can say nice stuff. Especially when it’s true. Yankees v. Phillies this weekend, should be balls flying out of new Yankee Stadium. While I am naturally rooting for the Yanks to win more than they lose, I have a soft spot for the Phils from my 20 years of living & working in Bucks County PA.

Oh yeah — Let‘s GO METS!

Aks me no questions. . ..

I’m well aware most of you @#%&*! jock sniffing morons, who somehow were hired to be professional media announcers only made it to sixth grade. So, one more time:

If a proper name ends in the letter s i.e. Phil Hughes and you need to make it a possessive, as in— Phil Hughes’ next start—that is how it is enunciated. Don’t add another s. Not only is it unnecessary, it creates sibilance, which is bad for audio, most importantly as spoken, it’s AWKWARD sounding. BTW no doubt you were asleep, dreaming of showering with the football team that day in class, because they teach that rule by sixth grade. Pete Rose’s name only sounds as if it ends with s. You’re on your own with Rodriguez, Gomez, Martinez & Aziz et al. That ain’t English.

Note to major know it all Colin Cowherd–the word is pictorial. Not pictoral.* As for some audience members who call in radio programs—how do you exist at least twenty plus years in a country where English is the primary language, and mispronounce the word ask? Laughable and depressing at the same time. Audio-verbal dyslexia—the new epidemic.

OK— recess you dumbasses. Go enjoy some repressed homosexuality. Don’t aks…

* next time I heard that particular promo, the pronunciation had been corrected—incroyablé!

Ortiz Or What?

Pay attention. You are about to witness how the Boston baseball franchise and their fanbase treat one of their heroes. Make that former hero. David Ortiz, hired gun—that’s right, he is not a product of the Boston system, has lost his one skill, hitting a baseball. No more worshipping him with the drooling femmo nickname, one typically used by Latinas for their lovers. No mas hombre, what have you done for me lately? That’s the modus operandi for Beano-town. Just ask Fred Lynn, Wade Boggs, Roger Clemens and crazy old Bill Lee. Oh and what’s his name? that guy in LA!

Yeah, they love you big time, as long as you can beat the Yankees. Not so much when you go 0 for April. And May. You can fool some Red Sox fans some of the time, but they have a sixth sense for weakness, as do most rats. Mr. Ortiz, who may or may not be chemically altered, or be slightly older than his “baseball” age—listed as 33 going on hmmmmm 38, is currently experiencing a drop off in hit production. The fans have noticed and they are ready for a new hero. Oh, golly gee, they’d never go outside the organization! Hey! Michael Vick is available. Don’t think too hard about it. Kind of a made for each other thing.

It’s a great opportunity to watch these hypocrites go into action. Somehow they’ll manage to throw up a smoke screen of misdirection. Manufacture some more anti-Yankee gear. That seems to be their go to move. The Yankees admittedly had a chance to sign Ortiz the last time a team figured he was done (Minnesota Twins); they lived to regret it. If Ortiz could play 162 games exclusively v. the NYY, he and Neanderthal poster-boy Jason Varidreck would be lock Hall of Famers. Alas, they cannot.

As Boston sits the kids down to tell them it’s time to divorce Big Papi, the rest of us can take notes on how to dump a guy when he’s down. It’s what they do there along Yuckey Way, while pretending like some 8 year old kid— it wasn’t me throwed that spitball Miz Crabtree—it was that damnyankee A Rot…

Addendumb: Mr. Ortiz homered last night, his first after 149 at bats. Apparently he was both excited & confused. He had been informed New York was coming to town. Sorry, David, it’s the New York Mets. BTW I adore Ortiz & Varidreck—I hope they have their best seasons ever. Seriously. I mean it. No, really.

The Artless Dodger…

It seems Manny being Manny was aided and abetted by performance enhancing substances†[please see below]. All those clutch, drop the Yankees hits while with the Boston team, were bullshit. Now, while that city and its players enjoy the rewards their envy and hypocrisy continue to provide them, they need to admit they are phonies. If they can hate on and gloss the NYY as the evil empire, riddled with cheaters, then they themselves are surely the Weasel World of sports. Yankees suck? you m*****r f****rs suck and blow.

I have been watching, and for a short youthful period, playing baseball since 1956. I steeped myself in the game via what media was available then— TV, radio, books, magazines and baseball cards. It never seemed enough—sure baseball was talked year round—with friends. Nothing like the current media, carpet bombing 24 hours a day, seven days a week; pervasive and invasive coverage. Really, it’s too much. It encourages excesses and it gets them. From everyone involved.

Too much and yet the magpies who pass for talk show hosts on all sports radio outlets, discrete team owned tv, and networks like ESPN & Fox, turned a sycophantic blind eye to some tried and true practices. Amphetamines before games and shopping trips after—lining up groupies for stars. AND the last 20 plus seasons of slowly unfolding revelations of anabolic steroids and human growth hormones (HGH)usage by the big names of the big leagues.

It has resulted in the breeding of hack writers such as Selena Roberts (Sports Illustrated) who indicted the Duke Lacrosse team for party fouls at the rapist level before they were found NOT guilty*, to her present exposé book of Alex Rodriguez. These jock sniffing carrion eaters turn on you faster than a whirling dervish and they care not a whit if they are subsequently off the mark. The bullshit “court of public opinion” is the demographic they court. The lowest common denominator, once the exclusive stained and chawn turf of the National Enquirer, a newspaper no self respecting journalist would’ve been employed by when I was in J school, is catered to via sensationalism passing for reporting and writing.

It has also grown the barely literate radio talk host, most of whom have never read a book. If they have, it was about sports and no doubt, at the level of a fifth grader. Video games began cutting into the sports dollar heavily during the eighties and in some cases supplanted it for youth recreational time and bucks. The spawn of gamers are the announcers of today’s media. Dumb as rocks without the charm and personality. The majority of athletes, even less so. Easy to see how in this environment a clownish thug such as Manny Ramirez can thrive and pull the double-knit polyfiber over the eyes (and the limited intellect within their heads) of the feral media. One moment they are sucking up, the next, sucking the life out of their prey—the superstar, over paid and undereducated.

Major league baseball itself is led by a septuagenarian former team owner and used car salesman. He needs to step down; he never should have been there to need to do so. Baseball needs restructuring, it is at once archaic and contemporary, the new parts grafted on top of its decay, an aging Hollywood actor made of plastic. A Joan Rivers face, attempting to deceive the world into thinking she’s Megan Fox. A world moving so fast, it almost works—one because even if they had attention spans, most humans own the observational skills of two year olds.

No Boston fan will ever own up**—Manny ain’t theah prawblem anymore. I’m sure they’ll say he never got caught copping ‘roids down by the Charles River. He is however, the true face of the MLB, smug and bloated, and they only suspend him for 50 games? ha ha ha. Manny loves a vacation, he comes back well rested (pumped full of some new undetectable designer dope) for the stretch run and leads a slumping LA to the playoffs again. This is almost a strategic gift! Blow up baseball and bring the Dodgers back to Brooklyn—if you rebuild it they will come. But you won’t, you’re too fucking stupid. And so are your ugly, dumbass friends.

Did I mention beam me up, Simon? Simon! Theodore? ALVIN!!!**

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†  Ramirez tested positive for a  female(!) fertility drug HCG, or human chorionic gonadotropin. HCG is popular with some steroid users because it can mitigate the side effects of ending a cycle of the drugs. Going off steroids can stop testosterone production, decreasing sperm count & shrinking testicles. Manny apparently wants to maintain those big balls as well as cheat…

* Niether Roberts nor SI printed a retraction—creeps.

** Denis Leary, Doris Kearns Goodwin & Jonathan Schwartz might, but they are exceptions because they are exceptional.

** Simon Pegg appears as Scotty in the new Star Trek movie—Alvin & the Chipmunks reference 110% gratuitous, though a nuts connotation is implicit

Set Phasers on Stunned

The new Star Trek movie (US release May 8 ) has a lot of really good things going for it. I have not seen it yet, but I will. This, despite the fact that along with some very poignant secondary casting i.e. fulfilling a dying academic’s last wish, director J.J. Abrams has included that pretentious prat, T. Perry.

Zoe Saldana portrays Lt. Nyota Uhura—I’m sure Perry is heartbroken he didn’t get the role. Does he play her mother? He’d be perfect as a Klingon—but they don’t wear mumus and eye shadow. This clown must have video of major Hollywood players doing donkey shows. Fortunately the rest of the cast can actually act, I’m praying to Zeus & Apollo the hacktor CD, has limited screentime. Somehow, I knew those old airline barfbags would come in handy.

AS for the old gag reflex, personal events kept me from commenting on the Yankees woes. Even a curmudgeon fifty-plus year baseball fan, knows not to get too negged out in April. Yet one can’t ignore the obvious. I admit I was wrong—this 2009 season’s version of the Yankees bullpen will not shine. Wow–do they suck. And A.J. Burnett, who had appeared to be the only Free Agent acquisition who came to play, totally blew up against the Rat Sox. Sorry, I guess he was nervous once he found out I was watching. I won’t do that again.

Good news is, once they leveled the A Rod-less Yanks, the Beanotown Nine has lost a bunch of games. Couldn’t happen to a more deserving bunch. I have no doubt both teams will be brawling against each other down the stretch. If Alex Rodriguez survives and hits, and Mark Teixiera finally shows up in the same batters box as his bat, the Yankees will be in it at the end. That said—

Selena “The Middle-aged Witch” Roberts’ book about A Rod has crawled out from under its slimy rock. She is the same Sports Illustrated writer who jack-rabbited a story accusing the Duke lacrosse team of party rape several years ago. Those student athletes have since been exonerated of crime, but not after Roberts made her tainted bones off them. Alex Rodriguez and I are not acquainted—but I’m guessing he might be guilty of using illegal, performance enhancing drugs. The key word, as always, in all this crap, is illegal. Because — corrective lenses for players with vision problems or batting gloves for players with sweaty palms are in fact, performance enhancing. As are bigger baseball gloves, tighter wound baseballs and @#%&*! lights for night games—of which there are way too many.

Having gone to journalism school, and been in trouble for my own work ( a few misplaced commas and ummm, some verbiage ), I know what it’s all about. Selena Roberts is only doing what comes natural, like the scorpion did to the frog. I personally chose not to be a reporter. Though, if I could nail Tyler Perry for something I would do it. But unlike Roberts, I wouldn’t write a book. I’d go to Mr. (?) Perry and tell him—if you stop making movies – I won’t publish. Quid Pro Quo Vadis.

They all lived happily ever after. Beam me up Simon…

38 Ditches

What a sad day. Curt Schilling announced his retirement from baseball. Notice he didn’t mention anything about retiring from shooting his mouth off. Most recently he boldly denounced Roger Clemens as a past, present and no doubt, future ” cheater.” Really went out on a limb with that one huh. He and that fathead burgomeister looking Papelbon need to keep holding those Bundestag bashes. Herr Oktober & Herr Oktoberfest–two clowns who would not have appeared out of place singing the Horstwessel Song in 1936.

Curt wants to enter the pure and virtuous world of politics. If he doesn’t like cheaters, he better rethink that move. Not to mention any dirty laundry he might have around, specifically hemotropic hosiery. He also has a blog. Hey! I have a blog. But all my socks are blood free, so far. He could do an album of songs & title it Blood on the Sox. Or Soxday Bloody Soxday. That spotlight ho Bono would probably sing back up. A Hollywood bio-pic could work for him too (not too big a stretch for his ego, or socks)— There Schill Be Blood. Only some suggestions. Nothing written in blood.

Schilling is/was an anomaly among athletes. He rarely resorted to spouting cliches or avoiding the media. In fact, he rarely waited to be asked to give his opinion, often calling a radio program & speaking his mind. Though he’s not a gifted extemporaneous speaker, he dazzles the jockocracy. Of course, they are the same clowns who think Kid Rock is major talent & Peter Gammons is a good guitar player. Not, to the former and meh, to the latter. Being fair & balanced, as a Yankee fan, I would say former NYY center fielder, Bernie Williams is a better guitar player than Kid Schlock & Gammons. That said, that ain’t saying much.

When Mr. Schilling did go to Washington, testifying in the Congressional Hearings on the dumbass Mitchell Report, he was uncharacteristically brief, if not actually curt. His pre-game had loads of bluster, I guess he choked when the game was on the line; he only wins v. the Yankees. For money and the fickle love of Beanotown. Still, who knows, Curt Schilling might help turn the fortunes of the USA around, just as he did with the Red Sox. He didn’t exactly leave there in perfect harmony, but hey, who ever does. At least his doughy pal Papelbon didn’t gloss Schill a ” cancer ” as he did another former soul, er, I mean team mate Manny Ramirez, the current poster boy for Boston persona non grata status. The Boston MLB franchise’s ESPN sponsored annual American League pennant front runner label, comes naturally to them; the fans have been front runners for a century. We’ll see. For sure we’ll hear.

So, Schilling can talk and form his own opinions. Yowzah. It’s easy to admit he was a clutch pitcher (damn facts), who twice got it up to beat the Yankees in championship level games. All this will serve him well if he enters the political arena. He might want to invest in a good pre-wash stain remover though. Politics is a much bloodier game than baseball. Those boys & girls do more than steroids to get a win. Someday he might rather he was in Philadelphia. . ..