Results tagged ‘ Football ’
And so in this Podcast…
It’s our monumental TENTH EPISODE, y’all! Party is the name of the game as Jeff, Allen and Johanna dive into an exciting playoff tempered show including three hallowed memories, two Morgans (Nyjer and the Captain) and one inception… not to mention a whole lot of confusion over a $500 pair of speedos with Albert Pujols’ face on it. Plus much more, including the Lou Piniella mailbag! All to make you laughy-time!
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thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and
all-around sound guru. Check out
his Undercast podcast and visit his movie-making website Undercard Films if you don’t want him to kick your bum. Did I mention he is an MMA fighter? It’s true. How else do you think Johanna’s face got so disfigured?!? Lookout!
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Recorded Saturday, September 11, 2010
Defeat doesn’t really hit home unless you get a chance to twist the knife after you’ve stuck it to the other team. Think T.O. or Ochocinco. It isn’t enough that they score the touchdown. No, they have to make sure the entire world knows that they were so sure they would score that they took the time to plan an elaborate post TD celebration.
Baseball rarely achieves quite the same heights (or depths) but a guy standing at the plate for just a couple seconds more than he needs to in order to follow the trajectory of the ball as it exits the field gets his point across just fine. Even pitchers get notoriously wound up when they feel their mojo rising to the point that they start yelling, punching and shaking body parts.
A sport that sometimes gets neglected when it comes to discussions of celebrations, though, is the world’s game, soccer. This isn’t to say that there aren’t celebrations, it’s just that they tend to be of a more spontaneous nature. A player sneaks the ball in past the goalie and runs to the sideline to perform an impromptu dance before getting mobbed by the rest of the team. It doesn’t look rehearsed and that spontaneity is refreshing. Sometimes it’s nice to watch pure emotion run rampant.
But that doesn’t mean that soccer players haven’t developed their own well-choreographed celebrations. For instance, even though their economy may be in shambles and their island blowing up around them, Icelanders sure can put on a good show:
Maybe they should hire these guys and their creativity to restructure the Icelandic banking sector. They couldn’t mess it up much more than the previous architects.
I know it’s only the second day of a new year and I know I shouldn’t feel burned out. But, well, sometimes you just can’t control these things. And let’s face it, it’s still bowl season so shouldn’t I really be watching football right now? All excuses aside, though, the burden of a blogger is a heavy burden indeed. That’s why I’m going to let Zach Galifianakis explain instead:
All kidding aside, thanks for sticking with us through 2009 and we hope you keep coming back in 2010. Happy Saturday!
-Video via Skull Swap
Preparations for the holiday season begin (for me) in June, when my epic 180 consecutive days of beer consumption starts to strengthen my tolerance for… eh… other people. Crowds. Yule tide blah blah blah.
But it never really feels like the holidays until my annual MLB.com catalogue arrives in the mail. Just look at how happy it makes me!
Of course, there are a few things that seem a bit odd, a bit off, inside its pristine pages, so before I place it next to the toilet for future browsing, I would like to point out some of the highlights.
One of this year’s most interesting offerings is this official team patch by the Baltimore Orioles (p. 24):
Wait, did I say Baltimore Orioles? I think I meant Baltimore Ravens. But it says “Orioles”. I don’t know. Forget it. I ain’t buyin’ it anyway.
Next, we focus on one of those must-have holiday treats! Indeed, this thing will come in handy to shoo away all those annoying neighbor kids who keep lighting dog doo-doo on fire and ringing your doorbell. Beware, the official MLB licensed “Forest Face” (p. 21):
Dear readers, not every publication is perfect. Typos, misnomers, glitches… these things are pretty common when producing such a large body of work. Like this picture, which is just all wrong (p. 5):
And just in case baby Jesus, Mom, Dad, Barack, Santa and the Easter Bunny are reading this, let me point out my own personal holy grail of a gift idea (p. 22):
I’m sure we can find a stocking big enough for this to fit. Or just give me a couple hundred bucks and I’ll buy the damn thing myself!
So that should be enough to get you in the holiday spirit, y’all! Don’t hate me for that! And don’t hate me ‘cuz I bear the curse of always being right.
Right now, dear readers, you are probably experiencing the same agonizing symptoms of baseball withdrawal that Al and I are. We are here to remind you that we know: it hurts. It will continue to hurt… until pitchers and catchers report. If your symptoms gain in severity, do not hesitate to contact your primary caretaker (for those of you who can afford health care, that’d be your doctor; for those of you who cannot, try calling your congressman. I’m sure that will work).
Football and hockey can only carry us so far (not very, especially if you’re a jaded Bears fan, or in Mr. Krause’s case: a lowly win-deprived Lions fan), so we are left to rely on the offseason baseball hot stove for our daily fixins.
We like our hot stove like we like our coffee: hot.
(Mr. Levin is doing just fine. His skin graph surgeries were successful — well, most of them anyway.)
Hate me ‘cuz I tricked you into processing that painful imagery, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Like the other day when I got mixed up in a drinking contest with two Irishmen and a professional female bodybuilder from Greece when I should’ve been at home paying my bills. I paid for it. Literally and figuratively.
Or like our president, who, under pressure, danced off to Europe championing an Olympic bid that was as busted as Octo Mom’s fallopian tubes (fellow Chicagoans, we know we couldn’t have pulled it off) while he should’ve been here dealing with the health care
debate war. Chicago lost. And we US Americans are nowhere even close to having a functional proposal on the table.
And now, instead of watching a one-game playoff between the equally doomed Detroit Tigers and Minnesota Twins tonight at the Metrodome, we have to wait until Brett Favre makes his highly touted debut against his former team.
Well, okay, so not all interruptions are created equally (y’feel me, Kanye?).
Personally, I welcome this NFL intrusion because, let’s face it: neither the Twins nor the Tigers are going to make much of an impact in the playoffs (believe that!) anyway; and, more importantly, nothing brings me more satisfaction than knowing my misanthropic and oft blasphemous colleague, Mr. Allen Krause, has one more idle day of sweatin’ and shakin’ and spittin’ himself silly knowing that it’s win or go home for his beloved Tigers.
I’m guessing it will be ‘go home’.
Hate me ‘cuz I’m a smarmy callous of a man, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
(*Image courtesy of “anonymous” on the interwebs; I just found it on a message board with no source listed though I’m sure one exists somewhere)
I don’t like it when things come down to the wire. I like to know early what’s going on and then just settle back and not worry about it. Perhaps this explains why I often miss incredible finishes, like Boise State beating Oklahoma in the Fiesta Bowl a couple years ago. Or Michigan coming back against Notre Dame. And Indiana. I’m not sure what it is, maybe my German blood, but just like I don’t enjoy gambling, I don’t enjoy close finishes.
Which is why I’d like the Tigers to make up their mind about the AL Central title. A friend of mine used to describe this peculiar inability to make a decision with the phrase, “Either sh!t or get off the pot.” And maybe someone needs to pointedly remind the Tigers of this. At this point I don’t care so much how it ends (OK, that’s not exactly true) but I’d just like it to end.
Would it be exciting if the Tigers and Twins ended the year tied and (once again) had to go to a one game playoff? Sure. Would I enjoy it? Not one bit. I can deal with it when it’s teams I don’t care about because, well, because I don’t care about them. But watching Michigan when they’re down 5 points in a dogfight with Indiana? Or the Tigers as they try to redeem the season? I’d rather just go to bed. That isn’t going to make me an ideal candidate for Lipitor.
So, here’s the deal, guys. If I wanted drama I’d just pop in some HBO on DVD. If I want mind numbing entertainment, I have the internet. But is it too much to ask for my sports teams to either just win or lose convincingly? At least the Lions have that one down. Kind of.
And so it goes that the world’s de facto millionaire man-child, Milton Bradley, sees his season end prematurely — stopped cold by the Chicago Cubs’ general manager Jim Hendry. Or so we are led to think…
After the tumultuous inaugural season Bradley had with the eternally ill-fated Cubbies, isn’t it possible that Milton simply quit on his own and Hendry & Co. were left to cover up what would otherwise be the Major League scandal of the year? At this point, I am willing to believe anything; which is why we put our loyal interns to the test — to uncover the hidden meaning in Hendry’s public statement, to discover what’s really going on, to report the Truth.
Dear readers, here are the results — the top ten reasons why Milton Bradley’s season came to an abrupt and early end:
10. Wanted to give lifetime minor leaguer Bobby Scales a shot at breaking the .250 mark
9. There is only room for ONE colossal fail per team and Alfonso Soriano has a pretty good beat on it
8. Admitted to being an avid reader of the Chicago Sun-Times
7. Suffering from an acute torn mental labrum
6. Decided to dedicate more time to establishing universal health care
5. With the NFL season under way, wanted to pass the “Chicago Public Relations Disaster” moniker on to a more accomplished, more deserving, more disappointing (and prettier?) candidate in Jay Cutler
4. Made secret promise to self that if he succeeded in beating Jacque Jones as the most hated right fielder in the history of the Chicago Cubs he would pack up and go home, satisfied, with $10 million more in his wallet
3. Worried his name might leak as Candidate Number 3 in Rod Blagojevich’s pay-to-play federal investigation
2. Adamant about having the Ricketts Family rename his team: The Chicago Uncle Toms
And the number one reason why Milton Bradley’s season came to an abrupt and early end:
1. He’s just… a whiny… little… bee-otch
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Dear readers, there is no denying it. The 2009 Washington Nationals are a complete embodiment of the new, hip and devastatingly adroit four-letter word dominating the interwebs. And that word is FAIL.
The Natinals‘ pitching is atrocious. Their defense is vomit inducing. Their front office is turbulent.
And, worst of all, Teddy Roosevelt still can’t win a race.
But this is U.S. America, my friends. And in U.S. America, we U.S. Americans can do anything we put our minds to… well, anything except provide universal health care, halt military action in Iraq and establish a sound domestic economy, of course.
Yet I have faith in the future of this franchise. They can hit. The Zimmerman/Dunn centerpiece in D.C. provides a solid foundation. Indeed, there is hope.
Because if someone can take this:
And make this:
…then miracles are possible!
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
There isn’t a whole lot to like about Massachusetts. The Patriots are cheaters and cocky loudmouths. The Red Sox and their fans have gone from being objects of pity to objects of disdain in the space of five years with their whiny crybaby antics. Even their success has now been called into the question with the slow leak of the Mitchell Report.
But if there’s one thing that Massachusetts does well, it’s politics. Deval Patrick’s gubernatorial candidacy in some ways presaged Barack Obama. And no less a conservative than Mitt Romney once led the People’s Republic of Massachusetts. However, there’s one name that stands above all the rest, even if destined to live on now only in myth.
During the night, the last great flame of the Kennedy family flickered out. Tiny cinders like Patrick Kennedy still dot the political landscape but they fade in comparison to what used to be a towering inferno of political ambition. At least Ted got to go more or less on his own terms, without suffering the same fate as his brothers. But his death is no less devastating, especially since Kennedy had long championed the health care reform that is slowly inching its way through the Congress.
Today people from both sides of the aisle, those who watch FOX news and those who rely on MSNBC, will pay their respects to “The Lion of the Senate” before returning to the partisan war of attrition that defines politics today. And despite all the excitement of divisional races and the upcoming publication of A Magical Mystery Tour (Part II) which will take us deep into the frightening recesses of Jeff’s brain, we here at RSBS also take a step back today to pay homage to Senator Edward Kennedy.