Grit, Guts, & Glorious Winners

Sorry, for the lack of posts, but is’s moving time up north.  Hopefully we can get back to ignoring work to write 1000 word posts on a blog that no one reads soon. That’s the kind of productivity that our non-existent readers expect from us.  I leave you to ponder the apycolypse that is surly upon us, now that Rick Reilly is allowed to guest host PTI.  The Marrioti-Reilly endgame is surly soon to come.

Brett Favre is a dick. Everyone knows that. But what we don’t need are hacks like Gene Wojciechowski pretending he isn’t. Wojo can’t understand why the crazy Packers would rather not lose a 24 year old quarterback,  one they had spent 3 years developing , for a sycophantic over-the-hill 38 year old quarterback, who has had one good year out of the last three or four.

Wojo thinks the Packers owe Favre for not coming into training camp and competing with Aaron Rodgers. He forgets the 3 billion dickish things leading up to this point, or that Favre didn’t go to training camp because his little feelings were hurt, not because he is an awesome guy. Because he is not an awesome guy. Remember the whole huge alcoholic doped-up adulterer thing. No? Cognitive dissonance is a bitch.

Here are some of my favorite stupid things that Wojo says.

And nice job on accusing the Vikings of tampering (the Vikes were cleared of any wrongdoing). Plus, wasn’t it interesting that someone leaked a story that Favre allegedly called the Vikings on a Packers-issued cell phone (also untrue).

Isn’t it also interesting that Wojo is making the same kinds of libelous accusations that he is accusing Farve of making? Plus what’s interesting about the cell phone story, it is just a boring caveat to an all out media fuck-fest.

If this were a divorce, then Favre would be the one getting the alimony. The Packers were so eager to ditch the NFL’s all-time leader in passing yards, touchdowns and victories by a QB that they reduced the bidding war to two teams (the Jets and Tampa Bay Buccaneers).

First he left out interceptions. Writers always do.  Which is interesting, because interceptions are probably only record the Peyton isn’t going to break. Also, they didn’t reduce the bidding war to two teams, they talked to the only two teams outside of the division interested in trading for Jesus Farve, like you know every other single team in the NFL would.

Instead of Favre — who earlier last season helped lead the Packers to the NFC Championship Game and finished second in the league’s MVP voting — Thompson would rather have three quarterbacks on his roster with a combined zero NFL starts. He’d rather have Rodgers than the most durable quarterback in the history of the game.

Remeber Wojo, helped, that’s a key word here. Since Ted Thompsen is so fucking awesome at drafting players, basically everyone else from last years good young team is back, and will be around for a while. And being a durable quarterback isn’t the same thing as being a good quarterback.  Favre is thirty fucking eight, even if he has a good year this year, he will either actually retire(least likely) , pull the same shit he did this year(most likely), or more than likely really fucking suck when he comes back next year. Remember a lot of things went right last year for Farve to have a good year.  He played behind the top ranked O-line on passing plays. His wide receivers lead the league in yards after catch (which the quarterback doesn’t have any control of).  He will have neither of those things next year, which means he is going to have a substantially worse year, on top of normal regression to the mean.

But if I’m a Packers fan, I fly my team flag at half-mast today. Or better yet, raise a Jets flag.

They’re only $20 at Jets Shop.

Are you a fucking idiot? Your team trades one player, a player who should be retired anyway, and you think they should become Jets fans? What should they do when Favre actually retires? Come crawling back? Root for his beer-league softball team?   Remember a lot of these packer fans actually own the fucking team! I hate the packers and I think that’s pretty fucking cool. Yet, you are encouraging them to become bandwagon fans, bandwagon Jets fans, because their hero dicked around with their team enough to get traded.  A guy who gives so little of a shit about them that he wanted to play for the Vikings, again, because at best his feelings were hurt.  Fuck that guy, and hell, fuck you to.

Love,

DJ Fabulous Fred

Person Gene Wojciechowski

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Editor’s disclaimer: This article is pure speculation. However, consider that the Red Sox traded two of their top prospects just so they could swap their best player for a worse player. What other explanation is there?

Theo: (Sits alone in a diner.  He checks his watch, yet again.) Oh, where could he be?

Manny bursts into the room.  He pauses for a moment to admire his grand entrance, and then smiles at Theo gently, oh so gently.

Manny: (still smiling) Theo; did you see me, when I came in just now? That was awesome!

Theo: Why, yes Manny! Why, yes it was. Please have a seat.

Manny: Okay beautiful. (Manny sits down).  How are you doing today?

Theo: Ok, Manny ok. Well that’s not true. Something has been bothering me.  I noticed you sneaking out of the apartment last night. I need to know… where did you go last night? Manny… where did you go?

Manny: Oh you see, I go down to ballpark, to work on hitting balls far, you know.

Theo: Manny, I know that’s not true. I checked with the security guards, you never showed up to the ballpark last night.  It was HIM wasn’t it.  It was the Big Papi, wasn’t it?

Manny: I’m sorry baby, but Manny just needs something more sometimes,you know. It’s just Manny being Manny, you know.  YAY, everything’s okay now.

Theo: I’m sorry Manny, but I can’t let it go. Not this time.  I am going to trade you to the Dodgers, while unloading two of our best prospects, just so we can get Jason Bay in return. Sweet, sweet, Jason Bay.

Manny: NOO! Don’t do it, Theo! That’s a terrible trade! I can be better, I promise!

Theo: I already did it, Manny. Thirty-five minutes ago.

Well, it must have gone something like that anyway.

Look! Ponder the magnificence that is Derek Jeter! So thoughtful, so emotive, so fetching in black and white! Derek Jeter plays shortstop for the New Yankees. He is a very good shortstop. He has a career OPS+ of 121. That is very good. He is also the second best shortstop on the New York Yankees, but that is another rant for another time.

Derek Jeter is a very bad fielder. He handles balls hit right at him very well, but he can’t get to balls hit, well, not right at him. That means Jeter turns those ball from outs, into singles. This is a bad thing. Unfortunately, the only people who realize that are people who think about the game intelligently (read: not sportswriters). Bill James has written that Jeter “… was probably the most ineffective defensive player in the major leagues, at any position”. Worse than everyone else in baseball is pretty fucking bad.

But the media fucking loves this guy. Peter King thinks this guy is the best player of our generation. That is why I hate Derek Jeter. The guy is the worst fucking fielder in the league and he gets a gold glove, not once, but three times. What the fuck? I know that gold gloves don’t mean anything, unless Greg Maddux wins them (then they count double). (34 Gold Gloves! Holy Mother of God Fucking Shit!) However, not only is Jeter the media’s second favorite circle jerk material (BRADY!), but he has an even worse flaw. He’s fucking boring.

Derek Jeter might be the most boring player in baseball. He hits well. He doesn’t field ground balls. He is a gritty, gutty, winner. He dates models, who, while also pretty, are also boring (they can’t field short either). That is about it. He never has anything interesting to say, which is awesome for a guy the media fucking loves, and is therefore reserved a 15 minute block on SportsCenter every night. I get, you are going to give it 110%. 1 game at a time while not thinking about the next game. NOT EVER!

Fuck. I wish Jeter sucked A-Rod, at least then he would be interesting. But no, time to go date another lifeless supermodel. Lame. Jeter should kill a guy, like O.J. Peter King. Or bang hookers like George Herman Ruth (that’s what true Yankees do). Or recover from a crippling crack cocaine addiction, like Josh Hamilton.

Or pee on rookies, like Greg Maddux.

That guy’s fucking awesome.

Derek Jeter is not fucking awesome. I know for a fact he has never peed on a rookie. Wimp.

In conclusion:

this guy

and this guy

are fucking awesome.

This guy

loved hookers.

And this guy

is a douchebag who sucks at fielding.

Class Dismissed.

Rick Reilly is the highest paid sportswriter in the country. He is also a complete hack. In this semi-regular feature we will take Reilly’s latest columns down, Fire Joe Morgan-style.

My favorite olympic sport? Translating anthems.

Who knew, Rick Reilly translator extraordinaire! Maybe that’s how he justifies his salary, because his 800 shitty words a week sure aren’t doing the job.

Here come the Olympics, when we are reminded of the unquenchable spirit of the athlete, the true fellowship of nations through sport—and the Spam-brained quality of most national anthems.

Really, Spam-brained? What does that even mean? Tasty to Hawaiians?

It’s so sad when bad anthems happen to good countries. America, for one. Ours goes up and down so many octaves only certain German shepherds can hear all of it. Still, I’ve covered eight Olympics, and our anthem doesn’t come close to these:

Is it really that sad? I mean, how many people actually listen to national anthems? And, anyway, isn’t the knock on our anthem that it is hard to sing? I can hear it just fine.

Also, apparently you need to have covered eight Olympics to have heard non-US national anthems.

Andorra. I look forward with great zeal to the day when a 350-pound Andorran shot-putter with phone booths for arms stands on the podium and sings: “I was born a princess, a maiden!” Hey, with today’s medical breakthroughs, it’s possible.

Wow, he starts it off with a tranny joke. Hey! Leave that alone, Rick! That there’s blogger territory.

Thailand. This anthem is played each day at 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. It declares, “Every inch of Thailand belongs to the Thais.” Odd. Was anyone under the impression it belonged to Diddy?

No Rick, I think they are referring to the fact that their country has been under constant threat of invasion for the totality of its existence. Is that really the kind of zany national anthem lyric that deserves to be in a national column? I think not.

Algeria. “We have taken the noise of gunpowder as our rhythm and the sound of machine guns as our melody.” This is why no one invites your band anywhere.

Oh man, the Algerian Civil War was so fucking hilarious! Good one, Rick!

Sweden. Here is a national anthem that has almost nothing to do with the country it honors. It’s mostly about the Nordic way of life. Swedes are like that. Once, at an Olympic soccer game, I listened to Swedish fans chanting and singing. Finally, I asked one what they were urging their players to do. “The players?” she said. “We simply chant: ‘We are from Sweden, we have come a long way and we are drunk!’”

This is why Swedish people are cooler than Rick Reilly. Unfortunately this is the only reason Swedish people are cooler than Rick Reilly.

Russia. Another country that has gone through more national anthems than Amy Winehouse has rehabs. The latest, adopted in 2000 by order of then-president Vladimir Putin, goes like this: “Russia, our homeland, most beautiful of all nations, sing it loud or you’ll farm icicles in Siberia rest of days.” (Okay, I made that up.)

Blah blah blah, Amy Winehouse Joke, blah blah blah, Russia=Soviet Union, blah blah blah. Real topical, Rick.

However, it does seem Rick knows what Stalin’s mustache was up to. Kudos to him. Fuckin’ Commies.

And here’s a cool fact: Afghanistan’s anthem was banned during the reign of the Taliban. Now it’s back.

A cool fact? Not a depressing fact? Or maybe a horrifying fact? Wait, no, you’re right, the Taliban were fucking cool-guys!

That’s pretty much it. While I am disappointed I didn’t see much translation, just other national anthem’s lyrics, followed by hacky jokes, at least we got the hacky jokes. Oh well, see you next week!

This is Ned Colletti. He is the Dodgers GM.  He is very bad at his job.  He likes Gritty old winners, like Andruw Jones, Juan Pierre, Jeff Kent, Nomar Garciaparra.  He dislikes players who are good at baseball, like Matt Kemp and Andre Either.  But he really hates Andy Laroche.

Here’s Andy. Hi Andy!  Andy LaRoche is a very good 3B prospect.  Baseball America ranked him the 31st best prospect in baseball this year. He is only 24.  Despite getting hurt this year, Andy LaRoche put up a 444 OBP in AAA ball this year! So, Ned Colletti rushes him into third base this season, since he can contibute now and will only get better. That’s what any sane person would do. Right?

Wrong.  Ned Colleti trades two good prospects for two months of Casey Blake.

Casey Blake is okay at baseball. He is pretty average at third base. Before the season, Marcel’s Batting Projection pegged him at an ok 760 OPS.  It also pegged  Andy LaRacoche at a 760 OPS.  So, we could expect roughly equal production from them this year.  But one of the players is a cheap 24 year old prospect who will only get better, while the other is a two month rental who costs two good prospects.

What does Ned Colletti do? He makes that bad decision.  The Dodgers really must hate Andy LaRoche, as he has only gotten 59 at bats this year. And they are trading away prospects so as to not play him. And Ned Colletti was seen throwing molotov cocktails at his car. And has written, “I hate Andy LaRoche” at least 150 times in his diary.

Clearly, Andy LaRoche is banging someone’s wife.

Look at the Fuwa. Ponder their deep, soulless eyes. Know that you are staring into the pit that is death itself. The Chinese know. They know the truth of these adorable doom-bringers. Each one portends a disaster. Each of those disasters befell China this year.

Oh, look! What a cute little panda!

WRONG! This cute soul-sucker caused the earthquakes in Sichuan. This little bastard has killed more people than all but three of the other Pandas! Maybe four. They’re sneaky like that.

Jingjing supposedly symbolizes the harmony between man and nature. You know, the harmony that involves nature continually killing fucktons of us. (Insert hacky global warming joke here/)

Huanhaun. This is the “rebel,” responsible for all of those disruptions of the Olympic torch relay. What, did you think people suddenly started caring about “human rights”?

Here’s a test:

Do people care about what Roger Clemens inject in his ass? Fuck yes!
Do people care about atrocities committed against people on the other side of the world (it’s so far away, what can I do!)? Fuck No!

Yingying resembles an antelope or something. He’s probably responsible for the “problems” in “Tibet.” Whatever.

Now this one, Nini, she’s a real little shit. The real terrorist of the group. Fucker takes out a whole goddamn train. Why? Because fucked up terrorist bird-panda-lizard mutants hate public transportation. You’re lucky this monster has no idea about buses.

Beibei. The eco-terrorist. A town using too much water? She floods the whole goddamn town. “They can have all the water anyone could want,” she says. And she stares.

You see? The Fuwa won’t be happy until we all slump, dead before the stare of their soulless button-eyes.

But some still doubt their horrible power. Oh, they are just cute, cuddly animals. What harm could they cause?

Well, Stalin’s mustache was cute and cuddly too. Look at how many people it killed.

Value Adjusted here. We’re debuting what we hope to be a weekly feature, our Friday Conversation. We intend for this to be a fairly free-form, back and forth, discussion of some concept or happening within the sporting world that had some significance during the week. The DJ and I will alternate choosing the topic of discussion. The DJ will choose the topic on the second and fourth Friday of each month, and I will choose the topic every first and third. If there’s an odd number of Fridays in the month, the topic will be determined by a poll of the readers! We’re hoping to do other things in the future to get readers involved with this feature, but we’ll talk more about that when we get…uh…readers. We might also try to get some guests on this, but Bill Simmons didn’t respond to our emails, voicemails, letters, telegrams, singing telegrams, or notes we left scrawled on his front door in rats’ blood. So, maybe next week.

Before The DJ starts us off, you should watch this shiny video! (Credit goes to: Awful Announcing)

DJ Fabulous Fred: For the first installment, we’re discussing brawls in sports.  As we all know, Brawls are so vital to the concept of sport, that their existence is required for an activity to become a sport.  Tennis, golf, swimming, cycling, running: no brawls therefore clearly not sports.  Football, baseball, basketball, and legislating: all clearly sports.  In fact, I think we all remember a few days ago when the WNBA finally became a sport. How could we enjoy sports without the threat of some hulking moron whipping a 90 mph fastball at our heads, sending us to the hospital?

I shudder to think of that world.

Value Adjusted Phineas: I think I’m going to have to mostly agree with the DJ. There’s nothing I enjoy more than seeing Kyle Farnsworth charging at, well, just about anyone looking at him askance. It really reaffirms the notion that I’m watching an athletic competition.

However, I think you may be a bit narrow in his brawl-based criteria for status as a sport. I think the three activities you highlighted are no-brainers; football, basketball, and baseball provide ample opportunities for brawling, thus satisfying this criteria for sport status.

However, I question where you draw the line in your selection of sports. Are only certain brawls applicable when considering whether or not something is a sport? Do we include athletic competitions that have had only a certain number of brawls as sports? Do the brawls have to have happened during a certain period of history? Must they have occurred at the professional level of the athletic activity being considered for sport status? And on and on. Perhaps additional criteria need to be set before this is a viable mechanism for determining status as a sport.

After all, I’m pretty sure these cyclists engaged in brawling while attempting to engage in a athletic event. Perhaps you can confirm, DJ.

DJ Fabulous Fred: Well clearly the brawls need to take place at the professional level for it to be considered a sport. Who gives a fuck about amateurs? Brawls don’t need to frequently occur, but you need that feeling that, at any given moment these fucksmiths could beat the hell out of each other.  As for those cyclists that was clearly a performance enhancing drug induced hallucination and not a brawl.  You know how those cyclists are. Have you every tripped balls on EPO? It’s Fucking Awesome!

Value Adjusted Phineas: Ah, do you then feel all brawls occurring in the proximity of the usage of performance enhancing drugs are hallucinations? Because, I think I’d have trouble including baseball (and football) as a sport, in that case…

DJ Fabulous Fred: Well first off, we know that no one in the NFL takes steroids. Except Shawn Merriman, but he’s sorry.

Secondly, we need to know what kind of drugs people are on. Steroids make you mad, not hallucinate. They just add to the aggression already present. Tripping just makes you look like you are fighting while you think that you are bouncing off lily pads on your way the cheesemoon. In conclusion, Steroids=Crazy Brawls EPO=Awesome Saturday night.

Value Adjusted Phineas: Well, I will have to concede that point to you. I clearly do not have the experience with the effects of performance enhancing drugs you have…

However, beyond what I still consider as a murkiness within this criteria, I wonder what impact utilizing this criteria will have. How do we, as viewers, understand these brawls (other than staring at awe of their display of unbridled human potential for rage and slapstick styling)? How are we impacted? What do they do to the people participating in the sport? For that matter, what do they do to the sport itself?

DJ Fabulous Fred: MAKE IT AWESOME!

Value Adjusted Phineas: Sigh.

See you next Friday!

I grew up in a state without any pro teams. The best we had was a short lived arena league football team and a AAA baseball affiliate.  I was left a sports orphan.  I grew up with no one to root for.

However, it is near impossible to watch and enjoy sports without picking a side.  When you have no one to root for, you pick someone to root against. Who you hate. That is how I have enjoyed a large amount of sporting events. Hate. Fuck Duke, fuck the Yankees,  fuck the Red SAWX and the Cubbies.  Fuck the Packers.  And fuck the Patriots.

I couldn’t have cared less about who won the Super Bowl last year, yet I was transformed into as big a  Giants fan as anyone.  Yes, that was almost entirely because one of my roommates is from Bawston. I couldn’t bear the thought of the impending Brady media-serviced rim-jobathon. Does that mean I enjoyed the victory any less? I don’t think so.  It was a great game, and, because I had a rooting interest, I was able to maximize my enjoyment.

Think of me as a sports pragmatist.  If you are strictly a lover, you can only enjoy the games that your team plays in. Maybe only the times that they win.  But as a hater, I can enjoy a greater variety of games.  Be it Notre Dame getting smacked around or Brett Favre throwing up yet another JV-style interception, I will be there, getting my twisted rocks off.

Don’t think that I am entirely devoid of team allegiance, dear reader.  I am deeply devoted to my Alma Matter and The Brew Crew.  My hate doesn’t consume my sports enjoyment, it just adds a little spice.  And really, who among us doesn’t like seeing Brady get smacked around a little bit?

I think a good place for us to begin our torrid journey, o’ dear non-existent reader, is with the curious case of one Mr. Elisha Nelson Manning. You see, before last season Eli Manning was awful at football – atrocious! Fucking Cooper Manning was probably a better quarterback.  And he played wide receiver.  And has spinal stenosis.

However, you should not fear for the young Manning boy. One day in February, everything changed for little Eli. Here! I made a handy chart to explain this wonderful transformation.

Who doesn’t love a nice handy chart!

God football writers would have us believe Eli sucked at football before the third of February. Afterward, thanks to one beautiful night, he was amazing at football.  Only one game took place, yet Eli Manning transformed himself – he utilized sheer moxie and can-do attitude – from a fucktard of a quarterback to the best quarterback since Sliced Bread Jesus.  Mmm, delicious, delicious sliced bread Jesus.

How can we take anyone who believes that you can entirely judge a player’s ability on one fucking game seriously?  If David Tyree doesn’t catch a football against his fucking head, Eli is still the shit-storm of a quarterback that he probably is.  But, no – Tyree DID make that catch, Eli is a WINNER now.  Hopefully now he can be brilliant like Brett Favre (Jesus) and turn the act of throwing interceptions into gunslinging. It will be a symbol of his magical winner power, rather than his shittiness as a quarterback.

Fuck.

Football is a game that, by and large, is played by large, brutish morons.  We have no problem with this.  In fact, we draw great pleasure from this. Watching giant human beings beat that crap out of each other is endlessly entertaining. The problem is that football is a game that is written about by large, brutish morons.  We enjoy this fact to a radically smaller degree.

This is true for a lot of other sports. Really. We read SI.

We created this blog to promote a more objective view of sport. A more nuanced view of the games.  A more verbose view of these pastimes.

We all know a certain large volume of verbosity equates to an equally large volume of great writing.

So, be it a Peter King column about how much that fat fuck loves coffee, another column about Brett Favre’s magical ability to win games utlizing only throws that result in interceptions, or a Jon Heyman invents yet another deragatory term for smart people, or anyone uses the words Mother and Basement in the same sentance in a non sarcastic way. fear not, dear sports fans. We will be there!