Results tagged ‘ Steve Stone ’
And so in this Podcast brought to you by Lifestyles…
Jeff, Allen and Johanna kick back on all the baseball drama comin’ down the stretch including STRASMAS!, Verlander’s MVP bid, Nyjer AHHHHHHH Morgan and several other topics sure to offend as much as entertain! The crew also gets a visit from AM 670 The Score’s very own Tim Baffoe, the one and only Ten Foot Midget!
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Subscribe via iTunes by clicking *HERE*
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Recorded Saturday, September 3, 2011
And so in this Podcast…
Once again, Jeff and Johanna tread the unconventional waters of mischief-making as they delve into important social issues such as cock-fighting Aramis Ramirez, Stephen Strasburg’s golden elbow, Katy Perry’s wisdom, the Lou Piniella mailbag and much, much more! Turn up the volume and chuckle with us, y’all!
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Subscribe to the RSBS Podcast by clicking *HERE*
Subscribe via iTunes by clicking *HERE*
thanks to Keith Carmack — our engineer, director, editor and
all-around sound guru. If you like laughing or just wanna listen to some wildly impromptu conversations about food, film making and other important life subjects like living on display in a museum, check out his Undercast podcast. Visit Undercard Films!
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Recorded Saturday, August 28, 2010
Dear readers, these are the things that keep me up at night:
- The St. Louis Cardinals
- Erin Andrews (click *here* to see why — Yum!)
- The destruction of our environment (click *here* to join me in my mission)
- Wal-Marts, Super Wal-Marts, and Super Wal-Marts Beijing Style
- Erin Andrews in a sexy bathing suit
- Flashbacks of the Malarchuk injury
- Jesse Jackson getting his n***s cut off — ooh, did I say that? Whoops. Hot mic! Hot mic!
- Bill O’Reilly
- Erin Andrews in a sexy bathing suit making out with Lucy Liu who just so happens to be wearing a leather body suit while wielding a whip
- White people
With all of these sensitive and sensitive subjects on my mind, I was grateful that my memory recounted a comment that was posted here at RSBS several months ago:
“When I need a nap, I usually tune in to a Sox broadcast. Hawk and DJ
work better than a handful of ambien and a bottle of Jack. Their actual
commentary goes beyond irritating, yet their vocal tones could induce a
Now it’s no secret that I follow the Sox very closely. And I have admitted here before that at times, even I, Fulbright Scholar that I am, find Ken “the Hawk” Harrelson and Darrin “DJ” Jackson’s over-the-top homerisms amusing; but if I really want to enjoy the game from start to finish, I turn on the radio and let Ed Farmer and Steve Stone call a sound game.
But it has been a long week, folks. Still recovering from myriad things I can’t remember from the 4th of July weekend and endlessly troubled by the aforementioned list of sleep-stoppers, I decided to take waltcproductions’ advice and turned the sound up on the television.
The Sox were in Kansas City to face the Royals. Buehrle v. Greinke. Potential for a pitcher’s duel. It was… though I wouldn’t have known it.
I nestled into my couch without a beer in my hand — shockingly, for the first time this month — and made sure I was comfortable enough to accept sleep if it so decided to fall upon my eyes. It did. I remember my lids getting heavy around the bottom of the second; Hawk and DJ were — surprise! — rehashing the ‘old days’ by talking about their .239 and .257 career batting averages, respectively. I remember thinking, ‘Gee, I’ve heard them say that before… about a thousand times…’
…but I was already long lost in a blissful land of somniferous slumber.
I woke up in the bottom half of the 8th to the roaring crowd of 29 people at Kauffman Stadium cheering on their Royals who had suddenly taken a lead, which inspired Hawk to grunt one of his trademark utterances: “Doggone it!”
Immediately, I hit ‘mute’, turned on the radio and listened to Stoney explain how a Konerko error combined with a less than Dotel outing for Octavio Dotel turned a brilliant Buehrle performance into a loss for the Sox.
At least I got some sleep.
You can hate Hawk and DJ, but don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I live in Chicago’s Southside neighborhood of Bridgeport. We’re
famous for being a pleasant, working class area made up of cops,
Mayor Daleys, Italians, Mexicans, Chinese and one Cardinal fan.
We don’t get a lot of press or recognition because we’re a quiet folk
who routinely go to work, pay our taxes and get raped by our government
because our leaders won’t make universal healthcare a top
priority. We do this because we have to, not because we love to. But despite the hardships, we tend to be quiet about them and
take joy in a simple stroll through the park or taking in a baseball
game. We don’t riot in the streets; we write our Congressman Dan Lipinski (who doesn’t really get
us because he’s Polish and they mostly live west of us). So
that’s Bridgeport. Imagine how exciting it is when we hear public
figures praise us for our work ethic, good manners and fantastic
This afternoon during the AM 670 broadcast of the White Sox victory
over the A’s, Steve Stone (one of Chicago’s finest) raved about a
Bridgeport restaurant called Ramova’s Grill.
My ears perked up and a smile cracked as Stoney’s caramel voice spoke
unyielding devotion to this Southside gem. He told Ed Farmer that
he went to Ramova’s for breakfast this morning and was tempted to order
the most famous dish on the menu: Ramova’s Chili.
This would’ve been a good time for Stoney to go on to a different
subject — like the hit and run or the squeeze play or Ed’s favorite Chicago
restaurant… anything would have been better than chili for breakfast because we were
all thinking what Stoney said next:
“I figured you and the guys would have a real hard time sitting next to
me in the booth and then on the flight to Baltimore if I had ordered
the chili. Whew. Wow. No, that… if I would’ve
ordered the chili, whew…”
No matter how old I get or how much wiser I may become, fart-jokes will always be funny.
But some broadcasters wouldn’t be able to deliver this type of bathroom
humor, or any humor at all for that matter, and get away with it.
I have already professed my allegiance to the greatness that is Steve Stone,
which explains why I think he is the exception, but there are some
White Sox broadcasters that people absolutely detest:
I point out Russell’s comment because this is something that has a life
of its own — a complaint that I have heard ever since I was a kid and still frequently today, even here in the Chi. I assume he’s referring to Ken “The Hawk” Harrelson
and Darrin “DJ” Jackson, the White Sox television broadcasters who seem
to anger all types of viewers, including White Sox fans. Harrelson
is known for his southern drawl and signature phrases like “He Gone!”,
“Duck Snort” and “You can put it on the booooaaaaarrrrrd, YES!” not to mention other favorites like “Sacks full of Sox”, “Big Hack, No Contack”, “Ball Four Base Hit” and “Dadgum Right”.
I find these catchphrases pretty amusing myself, but I know many people are infuriated by them. But why? Is it the fact that
Hawk is a no-holds-barred redneck with a voice that sounds like an out of tune trombone? Do people across the country think he is representative of Southsiders as a whole? Or is it that Hawk and DJ maintain an extreme bias against all things non-White Sox, sometimes going too far? I must admit, at times even I find their banter ridiculous, like Hawk’s recent third grade expletive rant:
“Doggone it ball. Stay fair! Doggone it! You dumb
ball. You dumb ball! Jeesh, you coulda stayed fair.” He said this after a Jim Thome foul
ball missed being a homerun by about four feet on Sunday. It’s just one example, but when you spend 3 hours saying things like this during a broadcast, I can see how people might be ticked off — like these guys, who are trying everything in the world to get rid of him. Russell, if you want to get really angry, spend a few minutes reading this website. It might just make you laugh.
I grew up listening to the gravel-pit voice of Jack Buck (who was great) alongside a drunk Mike Shannon (not so great, but we love him anyway), so I’m used to hearing strange things from the broadcast booth. In fact, Shannon still refuses to believe that somebody (or somebodies) other than Abner Doubleday invented the game of baseball, even though history has proven the Doubleday tale to be pure myth.
In the end, I have to say that I love that these guys say what’s on their minds, dumb or not, and I always have the power of hitting the mute button.
Don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Despite the simple fact that 90% of the entries on this highly contested blog are written by me, let me remind everyone that this is, in theory, a site authored by two different people. Many of you know that Allen Krause, my partner/opponent/evil-twin in this baseball debate, is the blue in Blue State, the tig in Tiger, the dumb in Dumber. We started Red State Blue State because we had a nasty habit of writing extremely wordy and often hateful diatribes back and forth to one another during the baseball season; so we thought: “hey, let’s make the awful things we say available to the public!”
So far so good… at least that’s how I feel because I have actually been writing posts and having a great time doing it. But I gotta tell ya, it’s not as fun pointing out how wrong someone is when that someone disappears for weeks at a time.
I know, I know… but Al works for the Government and he’s extremely busy saving U.S. Americans from the evils of the world so I can focus on more important things like finding out what exactly a gyro-ball is and whether or not I can find Erica Hill‘s address so I can see if she’s really that hot in person. Of course, I was giving Al the benefit of the doubt — until tonight.
You see, I was in my own perfect little world: American Idol was on the television, Cardinals/Rockies game was on one computer, live scoreboards/gametrackers/fantasy stats were on the other. Serene. It really was. Then, I got a text…
“Watching ur girl on american idol rite now”
What!?!? Allen has enough time to watch American Idol but he can’t write a post and respond to the fact that he’s not a real Tigers fan or that his MLB/NFL manager/coach comparison was blasphemous or that he’s just simply retarded?
Look, I love American Idol just as much as the next sensible, 29 year-old, heterosexual, extremely single male. But I also have priorities. I understand the fine art of scheduling. I make time for the things that are important in life: baseball, CNN, Mozart. Al hasn’t been blogging because he’s been out saving the world… he hasn’t been blogging because he’s been oogling my girlfriend! In fact, while I was watching Ramiele do her thang, I was also watching Lohse pitch five scoreless innings against the Rockies. It’s called multi-tasking. I’m a child of divorce. I’m great at it.
So I have no choice but to call Allen out — yet again — on his unacceptable behavior. Readers, I invite you to do the same. Maybe Al will be welcomed back with open arms…
…like… (*cue the cheesy segue)…
How about that! During the Opening Day festivities, one thing that really excited me was listening to Steve Stone’s debut on WSCR The Score’s broadcast of the Chicago White Sox. Finally, Chicago has brought him back for good as he signed a contract to do the color commentating for the Sox full time this year. This is great for Southsiders and anyone who enjoys listening to a game on the radio. Stoney is one of the most informative, uncensored, learned broadcasters in the game. And remember, I am, and always have been, a Cardinals fan. In fact, during my childhood, Stoney was the only redeeming quality of the entire Chicago Cubs organization. He isn’t afraid to say what he thinks — because he’s usually right — and he isn’t arrogant about it. That voice? It’s like buttuh.
And now he will be affiliated with a Chicago team that can actually call themselves winners. Welcome to the Southside, Stoney.
And Al, welcome to my s***list.
I just ask that you don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.