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Last year, when the Bears lost to the Panthers in the NFC Championship game, I cried forcefully wrote about it here. It was a post called Bears Lose. And, well, that Blows. In it, I compared the loss to having intercourse with a supermodel (sort of) and made some sort of poop/alligator comment ... it's how I cope. And while it felt like each member of the Panthers had just fired rusty shards of scrap metal into my testicles, I knew things would be ok. At the end of the post, I wrote this:

"...But hey, let's put things into perspective. The Bears may have lost the game, but mark my words: They have not lost their awesomeness. In fact, it's just the begining. This was a preview of things to come. You think Luke became a Jedi overnight? Did He-Man defeat Skeletor in one day? Did that kid who played Fez on that 70's Show get into Lindsay Lohan's pants in one afternoon? No. Their awesomeness grew over time. You think the Bears were good this year? You just wait. You'll be hiding under your bed by Week 7 next year ..."

Now they're in the Super Bowl. Can I see the future? We'll see. Prediction: Bears.

Labels: Bears, greg, Super Bowl XLI

You know what's cute? How everyone thinks the Colts and Patty Manning are going to win. It was incredible how everyone hopped on Manning's dick as soon as Indy made the Super Bowl. And while that's still the case, as the weeks have passed, the Colts bandwagon has slightly started to thin out. Yet, they are still the favorites. Check out the "SportsNation". Everything is red except for the entire state of Illinois, and a single blue dot in Massachusetts (Hi!). Of course, how can you really blame people, what with Indy's historical dominance in the postseason ... (pause, roll eyes for effect, pause a bit longer) ... And so the story continues. The Bears get no love. That's fine. Like I've said it before, I'd rather be the underdog.

So, as I read all these Super Bowl articles, from fluff pieces to game analysis to Peyton cock rubbing, there have been a bevy of "experts" who seem to have their own "How each team can win" ideas. But since I lack a pHD in "Vapid Bullshit" from ESPN University, I am probably not considered a card carrying member of the "expert" club. But I am an expert at kicking ass and wooing the ladies. So, you know, take that for what it's worth. Anyway, despite what the masses think, the Bears match up very well against the Colts. Here are a few things I think they need to do to win this game.

1. Master the Basics. Establish the run, benefit from the play action and exploit the Indy secondary, play tight, aggressive D and make sure the middle of the field isn't exposed. Of course, with all the "Dallas Clark must get involved in the middle of the field" articles, I don't think the Bears will be surprised by him. Ok, that one was easy. What else?

2. Get physical with the Indy receivers. Jam those bitches on the line. Rough them up. "Bam! Bam! Bam! All day long foot up a dog's ass." (Friday, 1995). Hopefully Manning Jr., Tillman & Co. have devoured vintage footage of Rodney Harrison putting on a "How to handle Marvin" clinic. Throwing him around like a ho who didn't have his money. Disrupt the receivers timing. Let the Bears D-Line welcome Manning to Miami the proper way.

3. Tea Bag Peyton Manning. It's all about getting into Manning's head. And I strongly believe that a salty ballbag slapped on Peyton's lips might do just that. Worth the 15 yard penalty? Probably. "Unsportsmanlike conduct. Number 96. Illegal lowering of testicles into facemask of the Walking Vagina. 15 yard penalty. 1st down." It's the little things. They sack Manning ... maybe they fire a fart into his mouth. Or maybe they just whisper sweet nothings into his ear like, "Eli is your mom's favorite." ... "I heard your dad jerked off Tom Brady with his lips" ... "I just wiped pre-cum on your towel." Things like that. Just to get him thinking.

4. Don't fuck up too much. Hold onto the ball. Tackle. Don't be stupid. "The Fundamentalios" as the Spanish say. When the Bears establish the run, play aggressive defense and take what's given to them, they win. They just have to play smart. Everyone is so "worried" about Rex Grossman all the time. But I think he'll be fine. So long as he isn't exhausted from plowing chicks all week. ESPN, of course, has to run these ridiculous and unimaginative "Who is the worst quarterback ever to lead his team to the Super Bowl?" polls. And of course, Rex Grossman is on there. Everyone seems to forget Sexy Rexy is in his first full year as a starter. And the Bears are in the fucking Super Bowl. Please, suck my dick ESPN.

5. Stop doing the "jump shot" celebration. This has nothing to do with winning or losing. More of just a general statement to the league. This is one of the most ridiculous celebrations I've ever seen. If you're going to emulate other sports, at least mix it up. Maybe pretend you're turning a double play, or firing a slapshot. Or even better, pretend you're bowling or playing darts. Can you imagine the confusion on everyone if Devin Hester runs a kickoff back for a TD and he pretends he's putting on the 18th hole in the final day of the Masters. Crouches down, lines it up. Crouches back down. Commercial break. Back to the game. Still lining up his put. Checks with Ogunleye. Crouches. Removes a piece of grass. Lines it up. Puts. That would be incredible. So please, enough with the jump shots. I know they've been dying down as of late. And I'm not like the haters of all that is fun NFL, I'm all for celebrations. Just come up with a new one. Unless it helps the Bears win. Then I don't give a shit.

Obviously, there are other things too. Mix up the defensive schemes. Confuse Patty. Don't stay in cover 2 all game, but don't overuse the nickel and be susceptible to the run. Blitz, but not too much. Don't force the ball downfield. Etc. There is more than just tea bagging Manning. But none nearly as entertaining. Unless they actually shit in his facemask, while he's wearing it. Might be a bit more than a 15 yard penalty though. Then again, maybe not.

Oh man, one more day 'till gametime. Super Bowl prediction post will be up by early afternoon Sunday.

Labels: Bears, greg, Super Bowl XLI

Sorry for the no post yesterday, but I was on the road all day. I was participating in the US Mens Heavyweight Bodybuilding competition. I thought I'd be the clear favorite to win ... but as it turns out, I ended up getting disqualified for being "too muscular". Apparently, my level of physical fitness was determined to be "superhuman" and "unattainable by other mortals" whatever that means. Anyway, here's this dude ended up winning. I totally had this thing.

Anyway, all night last night I kept dreaming about the Bears. It's weird, I know. I'm such a loser. But it's true. And it wasn't one of those normal dreams either, where the Bears win the Super Bowl and I'm at the game and suddenly they point to me in the stands. Then I look around, acting all confused, then point at myself and say, "Me?" And they say, "Yeah" and wave me down to the field. Then I get up, shake the hands of the Mexican family sitting next to me, then mount a dragon that was tied to the back of my chair. I ride down to the field as the stadium fills with cheers and the comforting melody of "The Final Coundown". Then I get to hold up the trophy, throw on a Gary Fencik replica jersey and make out with a completely nude, 18 ft. Jessica Alba while the King of Spain and the Super Mario Brothers applaud from the luxury boxes. No, I didn't have a dream like that at all. Instead, I had weird dreams.

I wish I was making this up ... But I had this one dream last night where I was in a magazine store trying to get the clerk to sell me a Beckett Fantasy Baseball Guide, only he wouldn't. I remember being annoyed and in a rush because the Super Bowl was about to start. He ended up selling it to me for $2.90 (yes, $2.90 ... I don't know why), but told me his last copy was being reserved so he had to order it and it wouldn't be in for 2-5 weeks. Next thing I know, I'm in a department store buying cufflinks. I'm also panicked because the Bears game started an hour ago. And I'm buying fucking CUFFLINKS?!?!!? Only I don't know why.

So I'm buying the stupid cufflinks, hastily trying them on. (By the way, the only time I've ever worn cufflinks is at weddings and on international spy missions. But whatever. And when one purchases them, I don't think there's any trying-of-them-on, is there? I imagine one just points and says, "I'll take those.") Luckily, in this dream, this men's department store had a flatscreen TV showing the game. Only it wasn't the Bears. It was the Bengals vs. the Lions. I remember being completely bullshit at FOX for not showing the Bears game and opting for this one. Even though it was the Super Bowl. "Stupid local game", I said in my dream. But I live in Boston. I don't know, you figure it out.

Suddenly the dream jumped to Bears highlights. They were playing the Packers and they had just stripped Ahman Green of the football. The ball went out of bounds, yet they still gave it to the Bears. Weird. But you know how dreams are. One minute you're banging three supermodels, the next minute you on a spaceship with Boris Yeltsin eating hummus.

Anyway, this went on for, what felt like, hours. Anxious moments, Bears highlights, Beckett fantasy guides, cufflinks ... WTF? Very, very bizarre night. I don't know what that means except that I should probably stop reading so many Bears articles. Or maybe just stop eating Doritos in bed at 2 in the morning. Oh man, I can only imagine how I'm gonna be on Sunday.

Labels: Bears, greg, Super Bowl XLI

Ok, so I'm watching this video, which is very good (give it a minute or so to get going, seriously). And I get to the end. The very last frame, the author of the video has a sentence pop up on the screen. I'm not going to lie ... I got a little excited ... since if you look at the first post of our "Most Popular" (over there on the right) you'll see where it originated. Pretty cool. Watch the video. Fast forward to the end if you want to see what I'm talking about. But the video is, in fact good. A bit disjointed at the start like it doesn't know where it wants to go. But then it will pump you up so vigorously, you'll want to go tackle wildlife. Seriously. And look for the end. I really was surprised ... and all giddy like a douche ... all at the same time.

***UPDATE: I apologize that this video is no longer available. Apparently, the NFL doesn't like people getting pumped up about their favorite teams. They also seem to be against celebration, joviality and fun. So, whatever. It was a good video. Light punch to the cheek to whoever put this video together. Way to go, Tiger.

Labels: Bears, greg

Ok, time to finish up with the "Cities with the Best 4-Man Teams" rankings. Had I put them all up at once instead of rambling on for 3,000 words with Honorable Mentions and "Beezer" facts, this topic might have lent itself to a little more debate. Thus far, all I have deduced is that I am an ass for putting Michael Vick in the Atlanta category. Noted. It won't happen again. Anyway, here is the final rankings. As a bonus feature, I'll include all of the Top 10 on here. Then we can all talk. It'll be cute. Like half-naked cheerleaders camping together. Only we won't be wearing half shirts and thongs. That would be ridiculous. Even though I'm 99% muscle. But I'm not one to brag. What was I saying about rambling?

Rankings: 1-5

1. Boston: Larry Bird, Tom Brady, Ted Williams, Bobby Orr
How anti-climactic starting with #1, right? Boy do I know how to build up suspense or what? Here's the deal. This is a very difficult quartet to beat. I went back and forth between Boston and Chicago. But it was Ernie Banks vs. Ted Williams that ultimately broke the tie. More of a 1(b) of sorts. Remember, it's an overall ranking. Feel free to debate. Oh and if Larry Bird doesn't do it for you, swap out Bill Russell. Ted Williams? Try Roger Clemens. Bobby Orr? Mr. Ray Bourque. Tom Brady? Two words ... Steve. Grogan. Yes, the Patriots history is a storied one.

2. Chicago: Michael Jordan, Walter Payton, Ernie Banks, Bobby Hull
It pains me to put any team with Walter Payton on it at #2. It really does. Yes, I live in Boston, but I don't give a shit. I'm a Yankees and Bears fan. Everyone here in the "Commonwealth of" wants me to move as it is. But still, the overall, cumulative ranking gave Boston the slightest of edge. As if the fact that that stupid picture of all the Boston guys we kept using didn't give it away from the start, right? I'm a little lazy. Mike put that together in photoshop and I had no desire to be doing cyber-arts and crafts. Just to mix it up though, I decided to go with a picture of Boston cuff links. Those only go for $160 (wherever I found that image). So you're out $160 and no girl will sleep with you. Sounds like a great idea.

3. Detroit: Isaiah Thomas, Barry Sanders, Ty Cobb, Gordie Howe
When I was making up the list, and I saw Detroit, I couldn't help but say outloud, "Shit, these guys are good." Seriously. Look at that list. One could argue that they could be #1. Of course, I wouldn't listen. Any team with Isaiah Thomas can take a huff of my asshole. Did I mention I'm also a Celtics fan? Although I secretly used to love the Bulls at one point. And the Golden State Warriors before that ... yes, I had issues. Although I fully support the Celtics now. Great choice, right? I'm awesome. Ok, I don't even know what I'm talking about right now.

4. Los Angeles: Magic Johnson, Eric Dickerson, Sandy Koufax, Wayne Gretzky
Not a bad cast of characters. Wasn't sure who deserved the nod at #4, LA or Philly. But Philly booed Bill Burr (O&A fans know what I'm talking about), so there you go. Decision made. Not sure who should represent the NBA here. Magic, Kareem or Wilt. Although Mr. 20,000's worst years were with the Lakers. So that answers that. But James Worthy did have awesome socks. And Kurt Rambis had spoggles, which makes the decision even harder. Football was easy. Chris Everett wasn't cracking this list. Although I'd accept arguments for Deacon Jones. Koufax, no brainer. Gretzky wipes his cock clean on any LA King to ever put on skates.

5. Philadelphia: Julius Erving, Reggie White, Mike Schmidt, Bobby Clarke
I think, although I could be wrong, that in their prime all four of these guys sported moustaches. Which could have, theoretically, catapulted them into the top-3. With criteria like this, I'm starting to understand why I don't get a Hall of Fame vote. "You say you had high socks, spoggles a funny hair cut AND you had a moustache for 12 seasons? ... Well let me be the first to welcome you to the Hall of Fame, sir." By the way, wasn't sure who gets the nod, Schmidt or Carlton. But I think I made the right choice. Somehow Eric Lindros didn't make the list. Maybe one day. Or not.

Anyway, there you go. The Top-5. Just for fun, here's a recap of 6-10.

6. San Francisco: Wilt Chamberlain, Joe Montana, Willie Mays, Owen Nolan

7. New York: Walt Frazier, Lawrence Taylor, Babe Ruth, Brian Trottier

8. St. Louis: Lenny Wilkens, Marshall Faulk, Stan Musial, Brett Hull, Nelly

9. Minneapolis: Kevin Garnett, Fran Tarkenton, Kirby Puckett, Mike Modano

10. Pittsburgh: NBA, Joe Green, Roberto Clemente, Mario Lemieux

There you go. Now discuss. Or don't. I don't give a shit. It's Bears time for the rest of the week. Oh, hello Mr. Boner.

Labels: greg, Top-4 of All-Time

A few weeks ago, Mike D. posed an interesting question. Using one representative from the four major sports, "which city could assemble the Best 4-man team of All-Time?" I've been thinking about it since then and decided to do some rankings. By the way, currently there are 13 cities that have sports teams from the four major sports. Although, they didn't all make the list. Here were the ground rules I followed:

(1) The 4-man team represents one member from each of the four major sports - baseball, football, basketball and hockey. (2) For athletes who have played for more than one team, only the athletes time and playing level/ability during that time in that city is evaluated. For instance, if you're looking at Washington DC, you can use Michael Jordan. Only thing is, you're getting Washington Jordan. Not Chicago Jordan. (3) Rankings are determined by a cumulative average. Some cities are exceptionally strong in some areas (re: New York and baseball), but mind-numbingly weak in others (re: New York and basketball). Therefore, their overall ranking suffers. (4) Only NBA, NFL, MLB and NHL teams are allowed. ABA, CFL, etc. are not.

Simple, right? Good. Here are my rankings.

The Top 6-10:

6. San Francisco: Wilt Chamberlain, Joe Montana, Willie Mays, Owen Nolan
This was a tough one on many levels. First, including the San Jose Sharks in with San Francisco was annoying. Especially considering they are their own city/county/province/state/country? completely independent of SF. Not that it really mattered though. It would probably be the same end result with NHL. Other questions I wondered aloud. Joe Montana or Jerry Rice? Does Wilt Chamberlain belong in Philly? Barry Bonds or Willie Mays? And finally, who the fuck is Owen Nolan?

7. New York: Walt Frazier, Lawrence Taylor, Babe Ruth, Brian Trottier
Seriously, for the biggest city in America, this representation is a bit anti-climactic. How does New York not have a better basketball player than Walt Frazier? Ewing? John Starks? Oh, and in case you were curious, the baseball order was Babe Ruth barely edging out Don Mattingly who edged out Joe Dimaggio by a lot. I'd be willing to listen to Mark Messier debates. But don't sleep on Trottier, as the kids say. He was dope, playa. Or something like that.

8. St. Louis: Lenny Wilkens, Marshall Faulk, Stan Musial, Brett Hull, Nelly
Some might argue that Chingy deserves the nod over Nelly, while others would scoff at that notion, crediting Nelly as the father of the St. Louis-style rap. Also, it was very difficult to leave Gibson off this list. Either way, a strong showing in everything but the NBA puts them at number 8 on this list right hrrr.

9. Minneapolis: Kevin Garnett, Fran Tarkenton, Kirby Puckett, Mike Modano
... ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz. The outfield wall covered with chairs in the Metrodome has more intrigue than this list. While this may shock you, this list is nowhere near flashy, or interesting. Yet, it is strangely solid. By the way, it was a toss up between Puckett, Carew and Killebrew for baseball. Really, you can just swap out your favorite one in there. Although, it won't get you anything, they're still #9.

10. Pittsburgh: NBA, Joe Green, Roberto Clemente, Mario Lemieux
That's right, even without a legit NBA presence, Pittsburgh still cracks the top 10. That is a very impressive 3. Football is debatable, but I think Green gets the nod. If Philly would let them borrow Iverson, they might crack the top 5. Of course, that's not the right Answer. HA! Get it? Answer? Because, you know, ... Iverson? ... Hello? ... Because that's his nickname? ... The Answer ... also what you do to a question ... See what I'm doing there? ... I flipped it? ... No?


Honorable Mention:

Cleveland: LeBron James, Jim Brown, Napoleon Lajoie, NHL
Clearly a victim of not having an NHL presence. Two years of the Cleveland Barons don't really count either. Tough call between Lajoie, Sandy Alomar Jr. and Ben Broussard for baseball. Also if you combined Craig Elho, Mark Price and Brad Daughrety into one 19.2 ft. person, could it beat LeBron? Ok, sorry. Too easy. What if Lebron had a wooden leg and an eye patch, who wins? Ok, fine. Lebron has two eye patches, a wooden leg and no arms. Right, still too easy. Lebron has no legs, no arms, no head ... and they're playing soccer. Lebron. Right. Ok, what if ...

Miami: Dwayne Wade, Dan Marino, Gary Sheffield, John Vanbiesbrouck
For such a big city, that's a really shitty collection of stars. Although, here's the bright spot ... Did you know that "Beezer" is the only player in NHL history who has all 5 vowels in his last name? Clearly that alone should catapult Miami into the top-5. Unfortunately, a poor showing in baseball (thank you, fire sales) and having a 3-year veteran as your NBA representative keeps you out. By a wide margin.

Dallas: Dirk Nowitzki, Emmitt Smith, Pudge Rodriguez, Mike Modano
How does Dallas not have a better showing than this? Football, they've got it covered. But baseball? Juan Gonzalez? Joe Torre's boy-toy Ruben Sierra? Charlie Hough? Nolan Ryan (too many teams)? I must be forgetting something here. How does Houston look? Hakeem Olajuwon, Earl Campbell, Jeff Bagwell, NHL. Kinda dull.

Atlanta: Dominique Wilkins, Michael Vick, Hank Aaron, Ilya Kovalchuck
Tough to keep a city boasting both the "Human Highlight Film" and Hank "the tank" off of any top-10 list. But they can send thank you cards to Ron Mexico (who I went with by default over Jamal Anderson, Deion Sanders, Andre Rison and Chris Chandler) and that Russian guy on the Thrashers. Wilkins and Aaron are the hot chicks. Vick and Kovalchuck ... their fat friends who never leave ... one of which has herpes (allegedly). Roll the dice, wing man. Roll the dice.


On Tuesday ... the top 5. Then probably just random Chicago Bears stuff for the rest of the week. Sorry to break this up, but the post got a little longer than I expected (hehe). Plus, if most SportsBlah readers are like me, they have the attention span of a plastic cup filled with dog urine. Anyway, feel free to comment, disagree, or just tell me how handsome you think I am and how you think I can single handedly take down an elk with nothing but my wry wit. Once again, Top-5 cities on Tuesday. Oh, the anticipation.

Labels: greg, Top-4 of All-Time

So yesterday I'm sitting on the couch with my laptop, bored, mindlessly watching one horse blowjob video after another. A few hours later, I changed course and found myself on a major television network's fantasy baseball site reading some useless, late-January nonsense. As I'm skimming, I see an article topic that annoys me every time. It's the annual "Hey, these are the MLB players who are the magical age of 27 who might break out this year!!!" Ah yes, you know what I'm talking about. The ol' "breaking out at 27" theory. Like tulips and prostitutes wearing white ... this can only mean that Spring is almost upon us.

Now the article itself was, whatever. I'm not linking to it, because this isn't meant to be a critique of the article or the writing (which was fine. Just standard, dumbed down fantasy info). Rather, my intention was to offer up more of a diatribe sprinkled with some profanity (tits ... hehe) on how annoying this topic is. But I will say, the article did have a photo of the writer at the top, which always amuses me. What is that supposed to do? "Gee, I didn't like this article, but the writer has such good cheek bone structure. Now that I think about it, this article was great!!!" Dumb. Anyway, in this photo, he looked to be 30+ something years old and was wearing a backwards baseball hat. Not that I'm against the backward hat, but on a major sports website, it feels a little forced. It gives off that "I'm a cool sportswriter who breaks all the rules ... yet I might still live with my parents and have to pay for sex" kind of vibe. But anyway, that's not the point here.

The point is, this correlation between being 27 and breaking out has always reeked of bullshit. Now I'm sure there's some mathematical findings that may indicate correlation. But there are so many variables involved that taking that data at face value is just dumb. Of course, I'm far too lazy and masculine to prove this theory wrong with things like numbers or research. But I can tell you that I have, in fact, read articles debunking this "27 Breakout" nonsense. I just can't remember where. And I know for a fact that it's that kind of cutting edge journalism that keeps you all coming back to SportsBlah. But in the interest of fun, flip through your Baseball Forecaster and look at the age of most of last year's breakout players. Justin Morneau (25), Joe Crede (29), Robinson Cano (24), Jonathan Papelbon (24) , Jeremy Bonderman (24), J.J. Putz (30), Justin Verlander (24). Although, there was Ryan Howard (26), Garrett Atkins (26) and Matt Holiday (26), which is almost 27. In fact, those three are 27 now, but that happened after the season ended. See? I win.

Ok, I know I'm probably missing some guys who were 27. And you can be all like, "But how many guy break out when they're 27, dude?" And to that I maturely say, "Eat my ass." Then I follow it up with the more rational, "But how many don't? And can age truly be the lead indicator?" I want statistical significance here people. So, I propose we change the "breakout at 27" theory to this:

If you are almost 27, or just after 27, or even 27, you might have a good chance of maybe breaking out possibly. But that doesn't necessarily mean that if you're not 27 you won't be breaking out, because you could, but you might not although you most certainly would be if you did. But if you're 27 the general likelihood of you actually becoming a star would almost maybe increase by the sheer fact that you are, most notably, 27 and/or younger or older. Other variables such as experience, talent level and opportunity are rendered ineffective gauges of breakout potential, unless you are or are not 27 years of age.

Again, I don't give a shit about the article. But I have to say, one of the players mentioned poised for a breakout season was ... (wait for it) ... Mark Teixeira. Seriously. Mark-fucking-Teixeira. I don't know if you guys know this, but he's 27. So look out. He might be in for some big things. Probably something similar to the big numbers he put up when he was 25. Of course, Adam Dunn is another guy on that list too. I don't know who's more annoying, Dunn or Eric "this is the year" Chavez. It's especially annoying since I have had some fantasy baseball man-love for Dunn over the past few years. And not the kind where I want to slap his balls on my face and hum show tunes. I'm talking about "he's totally going to hit over .240 and must be on my fantasy team" man-love. Well, he isn't. He never will. Although, you never know. Because this year ... he's 27. But Rob Deer and Tom Brunansky were 27 at some point too, right? Either way, stay tuned.

Labels: Fantasy Baseball, greg, MLB

Sorry for the no post yesterday. I was still a little bit amped up from the win on Sunday. All day, all I did was scream out "Bears!!!" and try and rub my erection on anything that moved. Probably a bad day to decide to go to the aquarium. By the way, did you know that most aquariums have a "you cum on it, you keep it" policy? So if anyone is in the market for 2 (slightly confused) penguins or a sand tiger shark, email me. Anyway, if I tried to post anything yesterday, it would have been happiness and bonerification organized into a collection of awkward, misspelled words. Which I guess isn't too far off from my usual nonsensical ramblings. Either way, I was still in a little bit of hangover mode. So, you know, whatever.

Anyway, that was a crazy AFC game Sunday night, eh? Incredible to see ARod Patty Manning grow a set of man balls and finally beat the Pats. Early on, though, when he threw that INT to Samuel, I found myself just shrugging and saying, "This fucking guy ... Unbelievable." Not that I gave a flying shit either way, other than the fact that I was a little tired of the Patriots winning. But it was just mind boggling how utterly terrible Manning was in the playoffs. That is, until they were down by 18. Of course, hopefully he got the heroics out his system, and Urlacher & Co. will be fisting him vigorously by the end of the 1st quarter a week from Sunday. Sentences like that last one ... that's pretty much why the ladies love me. I'm romantic.

Of course, now the talk is the Colts are going to win the whole thing. I mean, seriously? That's the angle now? For YEARS it was "Manning sucks. Manning can't win." And he finally has ONE good game in the playoff and now the Colts are favorite? Hey, that's fine with me. Keep the Bears hungry. It's not like the "experts" know what they're talking about anyway. Oh, and what was with the pre-game talk about the Brady/Manning "friendship". Anyone catch that? I don't believe that for one second. For being pals, Brady sure ran off the field pretty quick. I didn't see him wait around to congratulate any of the Colts, especially Manning. Then again, when you have Giselle Bundshcnshenen in the dressing room waiting to be plowed ... I'd probably scurry off too. "We lost? Oh well. Gotta go."

Anyway, in case you couldn't tell, I'm just talking about nothing right about now. This will probably happen a lot over the next two weeks. Just mindless chatter about the Bears and my genitals and maybe baseball or, you know, whatever. Hey, did you know the Bears are in the Super Bowl? Yeah, just wanted to say that again.

Labels: Bears, greg, Super Bowl XLI

Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. The best game the Bears have played in months. Anyone still want Brian Griese to start? ... Didn't think so. So pumped right now. Speaking in fragments. Bears win. Super Bowl XLI ... we're coming.

P.S. Bernard Berrian is my hero.

39-14. NFC CHAMPIONS. Boner time.

Labels: Bears, greg, Super Bowl XLI

No foreplay today. Just, you know, predictions. Which is like intercourse. Only with words. And less crying.

Patriots vs. Colts: Here we go again. Patriots. Manning. Hype. Replays from yesteryear. And drama. Definitely drama. Because the Patriots are Peyton Manning's kryptonite. Well, that, along with maybe winning big playoff games, playing well under pressure and controlling chin acne. Many kryptonites, but for the most part, it's the Patriots. And I think it's finally going to end. This Patriots magic has to stop sometime, doesn't it? This is the weakest Patriots team in years. The Colts have finally established a running game. They have two of the best WR's in football. And their defense is angry. Plus, Tony Dungy needs to win one sometime, doesn't he? Peyton Manning actually has to have a good playoff game sometime, right? So why not this year? The Colts don't quite deserve to have made it this far. But neither did the Patriots. But guess who has Vinatieri this time? Gostoskskonski blows the game, Manning drives them down, Vinatieri wins it. That's how the story needs to end. By the way ... Do you think when Peyton Manning saw that Patriots won last week, he just clenched his teeth and stared at the TV in silence as a single tear rolled down his cheek? Then he got up, went to the garage, huffed some paint thinner and watched a snuff film to unwind. I don't know about you, but that's how it played out in my head. Prediction: Colts

Saints vs. Bears: Ok, I know what happened last year in Louisiana was horrible, and the Saints were a remarkably terrible team. But, if the Saints weren't from New Orleans ... say they were from Akron ... would everyone be predicting them to win? Or would they just be the dome team with the lousy defense and the good QB coming to Chicago to play the #1 team in the NFC, outside. I'm just curious. And predictably, of all the ESPN "experts", none of them like the Bears. Not a single one. Well, John Clayton does. And the Accuscore computer. But that's it. Of course, the computer gets a column in the chart, but not Clayton. Probably because the computer doesn't look like a lizard with hepatitis. Also, far be it from Clayton (who is probably their best NFL analyst) to know as much as the genius "experts" like Sean Salisbury and Mark Schereth. So here's the question. Why did they all pick the Saints to win? Here are your choices:

a. Rex Grossman. Oh he's crazy. Which Grossman will show up? Honk! Honk!
b. The Saints are the hot bandwagon team.
c. Everyone at ESPN is a douche bag.
d. Other predictable nonsense that involve them talking out of their assholes.
e. All of the above.

You are right. The correct answer is (C). Everyone at ESPN is a douche bag (except for the Accuscore Computer ... good guy). I tell you what, I'm glad everyone is on their bandwagon and not ours. It was getting kind of crowded for a while. And can we please stop talking about Grossman. He's fine. The true weakness of the Bears is their lack of a run-stopping presence in the middle without Mike Brown and Tommy Harris. Two huge injuries that would have crippled most teams. Yet, here are the Bears, in the Championship game. And this one might be a shootout. And my money is on Grossman. So enjoy your stay in Chicago, Mrs. Brees, Bush, Colston and McAllister. I hope you brought your mittens. Prediction: Bears

Labels: greg, NFL, predictions

This is cute. Barry Bonds thinks that Mark McGwire and Pete Rose belong in the Hall of Fame. That's like Michael Jackson saying Mark Foley deserves to lead a Boy Scout Troop. Why even bother making a statement like that? Because, honestly, people are really going to have to contemplate if Bonds himself should be in the Hall. Which is a completely ridiculous notion considering his career. But if steroids are proven, he could go the way of Pete Rose. It just boggles my mind to think of how far Bonds' stock has tumbled over the past few years. This is the guy who hit 73 HR's. Won MVP after MVP. And now what? I mean, don't get me wrong, he has always been regarded as a gargantuan asshole (whether valid or not). But he was always the asshole who was the greatest baseball player of our generation. Now, he is everyone's poster child for what's wrong in professional sports. Well, everyone but ESPN.

In fact, I would be willing to bet there is no more polarizing player in professional sports than Bonds. You either love him (which means you live in San Francisco) or hate him. I feel like there's no in between, at least now. In the case of most superstars, you might not like them, but you can respect their skill and ability. With Bonds, I'm not sure the respect is even there anymore. You're either the guy in the theater rooting for Darth Vader or you're rooting against him. That's it. Although I'd be willing to bet that if Barry Bonds started wearing Vader costume, his fan base would instantly increase by at least 17%. Granted 8% of those people would think he's great at "dunking touchdowns", but it's better than nothing at this point.

And it's not just Bonds. McGwire ... Sosa ... I mean, these guys are credited with SAVING baseball after the strike. While it's a bit of a hyperbole, it's almost incredible to believe that they don't get the love anymore. McGwire is holed up in a bunker somewhere. And Sammy? He probably works at Target now. And no one cares. Collectively, Bonds, McGwire, Sosa & others ... they are The Steroid Crew (allegedly) and they have become the heels of MLB. Without realizing it, they have morphed into the Million Dollar Man, the Iron Sheik and Mr. Sexy. And there's nothing they can do about it. It's crazy to think about. People hating McGwire and Sosa. That's like people turning on puppies and snowflakes. Palmiero you can kind of understand people turning on him ... you know, because of the mustache. But those other guys? Unbelievable.

So anyway, when Barry Bonds comes out and gives his opinion on the Hall of Fame, people smile politely and say, "Oh yeah? That's nice." It's too bad. Because he's the guy you want to tell your grandchildren stories about. But at this point, none of us really know what that story is going to be.

Labels: cheaters, greg, MLB

Ok, once in a while I like to take a quick look on eBay and see what kind of wild, unadulterated craziness is going on over there. Basically, I like to marvel at the incredible prices lunatics are paying for autographed rookie sports cards. I know, right ... "Ooooooh, crazy!!!" Lawless debauchery running rampant over there. Bearded men with pizza stains on their shirts selling cardboard. It's like an underground Fight Club. And I'm blowin' the lid off that bitch. Ok, I don't even know what that means.

Anyway, back in the day, I was a pretty big card dork collector. And, well, I am pretty fascinated as to how the hobby has changed so much since the days of the shitty Topps set "with the wooden borders". It's all about the autograph rookie card (RC) nowadays. And I will admit, occasionally I get a little nostalgic and still make a purchase or two. But some of the sales, and asking prices and book values ... they're a little unbelievable. But hey, whatever. I spend most of my money on Tupperware and unicorn stickers. So I'm not one to judge. Anyway, here are some of the most incredible auctions out there right now.

1. Lebron James Autographed RC. Please, please, please check that out. It will boggle your mind. No bidders yet though. Gee, wonder why. Maybe because for $650 less, you could get this. Although come to think about it, I'd probably rather have the Lebron card.

2. Frank Gore Autographed RC. No seriously. Look at how much you can pay for a Frank Gore rookie card. I mean, he's a great running back and all. And sure the card is rare. But Frank Gore? You could probably buy your own zebra for that price. Charge people $5 to ride it. Maybe put up a lemonade stand. Charge $2 a drink ... Wow. I don't want to brag, but I'm a fucking business genius.

3. Laurence Maroney Autographed RC. The perfect gift for that Patriots fan you love. Or you could just buy them a two-person dive and float shark cage. And still have money left over. I wish I was kidding. (By the way, click on the link and check out that first picture. Those two idiots totally look safe from that Great White, don't they? Two dummies in a plastic bag and a shark thinking, "You're kidding, right?")

4. Tom Brady Autographed RC. This one is for the ladies. Not only is this Tom Brady's best rookie cards, but Upper Deck guarantees that it is only 1 out of 10 cards that he autographed AND rubbed on his balls. So if you're lucky, a stray pube might still be stuck to the hologram. And it probably smells like conquest and whatever flavor gum Bill Belichick chews.

Oh, by the way, feel free to bid on any of these. Don't let me hold you back. I'd bid on some myself, but I've got my eye on this new Tupperware set that actually features a unicorn fighting a horse. It's bad-ass. They're bitter rivals you know. Although you'd think they'd have settled their differences by now.

Labels: greg, online purchases, sports cards

Well, would you look at that. It appears as if David Beckham's arrival "across the pond" (as assholes like to say) has already made a significant impact on MLS ticket sales. Apparently the LA Galaxy, Beckham's new team, has "... sold 5,000 season tickets since Thursday's announcement ..." which is pretty impressive. Although, if they signed Matt Leinart they would have sold out by now. But I guess one of the world's biggest soccer stars is a close second. Plus, OMG what if, like, you totally get to sit next to Victoria at the game. Like that would be, like, so rad!!! LOL! I would totally be, like, "OMG! I totally love you. Like, I have you as my IM icon. You should totally call me L8R and we'll go shoot botox into our assholes. This is totally a dream come true. I love your hair. Super Sweet!!!"

What's a little more confusing about the Beckham/MLS ticket sales correlation is that "... the expansion Toronto FC said it sold 2,600 of its 10,000 season tickets." The article made it sound like that was because of Beckham ... which sounds strange. That's like the Milwaukee Brewers selling more season tickets because the Giants signed Barry Zito. Of course, that's a ridiculous comparison, because the Brewers signed Jeff Suppan for 4-years, $42M with a partial no-trade clause. I mean, come on. What could possibly get more people into the stadium than that? Well, other than maybe "Free pony rides with Chris Capuano" or "Bud Selig Nude Photo Weekend". That last one would be awesome. Scratch and sniff. Mmmm. Sexy.

Anyway, grab your local MLS tickets now. Because you definitely won't find them on eBay for half-off in about 3 weeks.

Labels: Foreigners, greg, MLS

Thanks Robbie.

Labels: greg

Bears fans, here's something to get you a little pumpered up. Found this on the ol' You Tube. Complimentary reach around to whoever put this together. Video quality is a tad blurry, but the music choice was excellent. GO BEARS!

Labels: Bears, greg

Let's celebrate the 2nd round with some "predictions".

Colts vs. Ravens: Sometimes, I like to imagine what players are thinking during game situations. I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but every time I see Manning flapping his arms and pointing like a lunatic I think to myself, "The Colts must hate him." When he changes the play at the line every time, Reggie Wayne & Co. must be like, "(Sigh)... What's this muthafucka saying now? 388-Stunt-what? It's 9 degrees and I can't hear shit. I hate this guy." I'm not quite sure why they even huddle. Either way, I'm just really looking forward to watching those commercials with the home videos of Peyton running around as a child again. You know, where he's wearing a Cowboy hat, chasing after his brothers. Yeah. I've seen them so many times, I think they're my own home videos. But those usually involve me wearing a see-through thong, converse high tops and a "Free Breast Exams" t-shirt. That's a story for another day. As for the Ravens, I just can't help feel that they're a little overrated. I'm probably wrong and they'll bore us to death in another Super Bowl. But hopefully Peyton can strap on a pair and actually have a good game. I'll go out on a limb here. Prediction: Colts.

Patriots vs. Chargers: I know it's the Chargers, who are arguably the best team in the NFL. But it's Marty Schottenheimer. In the playoffs. Where he stinks. Vigorously. And who's he playing? Oh look, Tom Brady and Bill Belichik. Lucky him. Maybe Marty will surprise everyone and run the ball. This is a tough game to call. But we just need another Indy/NE matchup, don't we? This time the Colts would have home-field, and Adam Vinitieri. Of course, that only means we'll see SD/BAL. As for this game, if it were in New England, I'd say 80% chance the Pats win. Since it's in SD, I'd say 60/40. Prediction: Patriots.

Eagles vs. Saints: Drew Brees blah blah blah. Marques Colston is good, etc. Poop joke. Hey look it's Reggie Bush!!! More words, insight, gossip. Eagles injuries. Sentences filled with analysis. Joke. Jeff Garcia football leather chaps Lito Shephard more words. Observations. More words. Female genitalia. Prediction: Saints.

Seahawks vs. Bears: Hear that? Those are the nervous shits lowering themselves into my ass cavity, prepping themselves for launch. Make no mistake, they're coming. I may seem calm now. But come Sunday, I'll be pacing the room like a caged animal, farting anxiously, hoping I don't spray the inside of my Tommy Harris glow-in-the-dark boxers. I'm going to be a mess. There's no denying it. And this is just the Seahawks. Either way the Bears should win. There's my in depth analysis. But here's a question ... where was Devin Hester on the NFL ROY of the Year balloting? You know, spry young fella, 2nd round draft pick out of Miami. Set a new NFL record for kickoff returns. Fast enough to outrun most spaceships. So, where was he? Oh, what's that you say? ... nowhere? Not a single vote? Awesome. He scored 6 TD's this year. Tied for most on the Bears. One more than Tiki Barber. I guess Special Teams doesn't count. As payback, Hester should run one back on Sunday and have sex with an actual seahawk in the endzone. As in, the bird. Obviously he'd have to wear those giant leather gloves for protection. But that would be great. If, you know, you're into that sort of stuff. Which I may or may not be. Prediction: Bears.

Labels: Bears, greg, NFL

Sorry, I got myself involved in a bare-knuckles Royal Rumble style street fight today. Had to protect the honor of my new lady friend who I just rescued from a gang of dragons. So, no time for a post. Playoff predictions will be up on Saturday. Sorry for the delay. But when you're overwhelmingly masculine, you tend to find yourself in these situations more often than not.

Labels: greg

Randy Johnson is gone. Finally.

And why would I, a huge Yankee fan, be happy to see him go? Because, put simply, Randy David Arbuckle Old Spice Johnson III sucked horse shit. Not since the fall of Kevin Maas had I been this annoyed with any Yankees player (although the postseason A-Rod has been making his case). And when it came to the handsomely mustached Johnson, there were many reasons for my disdain.

First, the Yankees chose to sign RJ after the 2004 season. Why does that matter? Well, with Steinbrenner's unlubed fist firmly entrenched in his asshole, Cashman inked Johnson and immediately declared the Yankees out of the running for Carlos Beltran. A brilliant move, oozing with cunning and foresight for the future of the team. Especially considering they had the young, spry Bernie Williams out in CF, doing his best not to look like Morgan Freeman. So signing (or at least attempting to sign)arguably the best all-around center fielder in baseball, instead of a creepy giant, probably made too much sense. That's not to say I don't love Williams (I do) or that the Yankees would have definitely signed Beltran, but they "settled" for Johnson. While I blame Steinbrenner, Randy also deserves some of the collateral scorn here.

Now in all fairness, yes, the Yankees did "need" another starter. And Randy did have a mullet and an impressive resume. So in theory signing him was all fine and great. Except for the fact that Johnson was 89 years old. And boy did it work out swell. I mean, the Yankees could have signed anyone to go out and give up 8 runs a clip to the Blue Jays. Here was the most dominant left-hander since Koufax getting donkey punched by the likes of Russ Adams. So every five days, he'd head out to the mound, engulfed in mediocrity, and ultimately tax the bullpen. As the runs went up, he'd just stand there on the mound, slumping like a superhero who's lost his powers. When the camera would zoom in, you'd see him sporting the same look on his face that a monkey gets when you try to teach it Spanish.

It should also be mentioned that Carlos Beltran Randy Johnson was awesome in the playoffs. In fact, in one game he started, he almost gave up less than 5 runs. No wait, I'm sorry, he didn't. He sucked.

2005 ALDS vs. LAA: 0-1, 7.1 IP (2 games), 6.14 ERA, 1 BB, 4 K
2006 ALDS vs. DET: 0-1, 5.2 IP (1 games), 7.94 ERA, 2 BB, 4 K

Pretty fucking sweet numbers, right? Yeah.

Anyway, I could go on for another 3,000 words. But the experiment is over and Randy "not Carlos Beltran" Johnson is heading back to Arizona. And some might argue, "but 2005 wasn't completely terrible, right?" And while a quick glance at the stats would lead some non-Yankee fans to agree, a guy like Randy Johnson comes with certain expectations. Most of those center around the word "dominance". A 3.75 ERA isn't exactly that. And 2006? I've seen buckets filled with prostitute vomit look better than his stats.

So while I would have liked the trade a lot more (from a sheer player perspective) if they got Dustin Nippert in that deal instead of Ross Ohlendorf, I was happy with it. The Yankees are making smart moves, subtracting, not adding in this crazy offseason. Rebuilding the minors. And while I would have loved Conor Jackson (never happening), getting the stench of RJ's old ballbag out of that clubhouse was victory enough. And replacing him with Andy Pettite (one of my all-time favorites), well, that's simply boner inducing. That's like replacing bleeding hemorrhoids with cotton candy and sunshine. And I like sunshine. I also like when the Yankees win the World Series. Maybe this will help.

Labels: greg, MLB, Yankees

I will hopefully be posting something actually sports related later tonight. But in the meantime, you can pass the time with this holiday themed video from SNL that I'm sure you've seen by now. But on the off chance that you've been ball-gagged and chained in a midget-themed sex dungeon for the past three weeks, here you go.

Labels: greg, obvious filler

Great quote from Vince Wilfork. This was in reference to his astute pickup of a deflected "lateral" yesterday against the Jets and almost running it back for a touchdown.

"How many yards did I go?'' Wilfork asked reporters. "Thirty-one? A lot of guys would have done the same thing if they were where I was. I'm a pretty good athlete, and I always like to do stuff other than playing nose tackle. But I was like, 'Man, that's a long way (meaning the end zone). Is it a touchdown yet?' I had to turn on the jets. Two hours later, still no touchdown.''

That was almost as good as Belichick angrily shoving a camera man out of the way to "hug" his old friend "Eric" Mangini after the game. It was a tender embrace that didn't look awkward or uncomfortable at all. Of course, so much was made out of the sudden dislike between these two that the hug was kind of like Hulk Hogan holding up the Macho Man's hand after beating him in a title match. "He fought hard and someday we might be friends again" the gesture is meant to symbolize. So, maybe that's what it means for these two old pals. Then again, maybe I don't care. Yeah, that's probably it.

P.S. The Manning sisters looked awful in the playoffs ... what a surprise.

Labels: greg, NFL

Alright, back to business. I'll ease back into the Blah with some NFL playoff predictions for this weekend. I'll be resting easy, since next weekend, with the Bears playing, I'll be a mess. Probably have the nervous shits upwards of 12 times before the game. Anyway, here are my predictions for this weekend. I'm probably wrong on all of them. But whatever it's not the destination, it's the journey. Or whatever it is those dirty hippies say. Good to be back.

Colts vs. Chiefs: The talk this week was how Larry Johnson was going to run all over the Colts. Here's the thing. The Colts KNOW that Larry Johnson is the only chance the Chiefs have. So they can commit an extra defender to stopping LJ and let Trent Green beat them. Which, judging how Trent Green has played this season, is mathematically impossible. Because he is awful. And by awful, I mean, he is awful. Also, good luck stopping Peyton Manning. Now that the Colts sort-of have a running game again, this one won't even be close. Then again, it is Herm Edwards vs. Tony Dungy. Could be the first time ever that both teams lose the same game. Prediction: Colts

Seahawks vs. Cowboys: A few weeks ago, ESPN had a poll up asking who the best team in the NFC was, and if the Cowboys were them. Of course, this was after they went on a hot streak, rumors of Romo banging Jessica Simpson were flying, and Rex Grossman was in a little slump. By the way, Dallas is a #5 seed. So, you know, there you go. I will say though, ESPN is cute with their little polls. The questions are always so reactionary. Reggie Bush scores 4 TD's and they're asking if he's greatest rookie in the history of the universe. It's like they have a 5-year old in charge of SportsNation. Anyway, as for this game, neither team is particularly dominant. Inconsistency has plagued both all season long. Shaun Alexander is "back". And the Seattle has the better defense. Yet I feel like the Cowboys could just as easily win this. The X-Factor: Terry Glenn. It'll be close. Prediction: Cowboys

Patriots vs. Jets: Let's go back to this week's chatter. "No one knows New England's weaknesses like Eric Mangini." Makes sense. Of course, one could also make a case for Romeo Crenell, Charlie Weis, or anyone who owns a VCR and can review game tape. While the Jets beat the Patriots earlier this season, one has to wonder if Mangini has already shown his hand. I mean, the Jets blitzed the shit out of the Pats. That, and an exceptionally muddy field, did the trick. You've got to think the Patriots will be ready this time. Plus, it's tough to bet against them if they're not playing the Broncos. Not this early. Prediction: Patriots

Eagles vs. Giants: I thought the NFC East was supposed to be incredible this year? Granted the NFC, overall, isn't strong. But the teams from the East in the playoffs all look a little better than mediocre. Except for the Giants. They stink. On the flip side, I don't think the Eagles are as good as they've played lately. Their secondary should shut down Ashlee Manning but I bet Tiki has a HUGE game. I'm sorry if I'm not buying the fairy tale, but Jeff Garcia? I don't think so. But if Philly wins this game, the Bill Simmons Ewing Theory/Donovan McNabb article won't be too far behind. I'm sure there are plenty of Karate Kid reference there to be made. Although, I don't think it happens. Prediction: Giants

Labels: greg, NFL Predictions

Ok, well, as loyal readers may have noticed, we've sort of been not around for a few weeks. With a combination of the holidays, vacation, technical difficulties and being a little burned out, we sort of took a little vacation from the site. We apologize if we sort of left all of you without your regular helping of mediocre writing and genitalia jokes. But we're back and rejuvenated and we'll be posting regularly again. Heck, I'd like to say that we might even up the ante and post more than once a day. But let's take it slow. We'll worry about getting something up (hehe) everyday and just hope you guys still want to spoon with us.

Also, we're currently tightening up the site a little bit. There might be a few changes here and there, but nothing major. For instance, we've got tags at the bottom of our posts now. Of course, no tag archive yet. But we'll get there eventually.

So ... yeah.

Labels: apology, greg

According to local Boston news, it appears as if Tom Brady is now a single man. Ridiculous as it may sound, this is quite newsworthy in Boston after he and his girlfriend of three years, Bridget Moynahan, announced their break up. Now, to be clear, I don't really care about this. And I'm sure that none of you care about this. But I'll tell you who does care about this a whole bunch ... Tom Brady's penis. Can you imagine the miles of whores that thing will be plowing through in the coming months? Oh man, I'd be excited too.

Now I don't know how other cities handle their news coverage. But in the Boston area, if someone who's "kind of a big deal" like Tom Brady so much as takes a liquidy shit, the cameras are out there covering the story. And since this was such a monumental, life-changing event in Prince Brady's life, the station I was watching had a 3 minute, pun-filled expose about it. I'm genuinely surprised it wasn't their leading story.

Normally, the news is an orgy of overly depressing coverage of tragedy after tragedy with a sprinkling of stupidity in between. But last night, they broke out of their normal drudgery with a slew of laser beam sound effects "p-pew-pew" and a backdrop picture of Tom Brady with some snappy (re: dumb) headline. They also traipsed out the token "attractive" female newscaster to tell the story in excruciating detail and visibly get moist at the thought of a night with Tom Brady. So as you can imagine, it was a compelling, well thought out report. It even went on to speculate that maybe Tom's poor play of late was due to heartache. And that when playing Detroit, sources say "Tom was acting funny". Well, there you go. Why is Brady playing poorly? "He's sad." Mystery solved. Of course, not mentioned in the report was the fact that most high school girls field hockey teams have better wide receivers than the Patriots. But, you know, whatever.

And hey, I'm not defending Tom Brady, and I'm especially not defending the Patriots. I mean, if they never win another game again, I would care less. But the complete ridiculousness of this whole thing was mind boggling. I will say that my favorite line of the report was in reference to why Brady and Moynahan broke up. Something along the lines of (and I'm paraphrasing from memory here), "Tom Brady's got three rings, but the ring she wanted ... one with a big diamond ... was not to be."

That, my friends, is journalism at its most awesomeness.

Labels: football, greg

There are so many things I want to write about. The BCS. The Bears. The Red Sox super awesome and reasonably priced J.D. Drew signing. But free time has been limited. Being an internationally certified pubic-hair artist is very taxing during the holidays. I can't tell you how many mistletoes I've shaved into women's foresty honey pots over the past week. ("I'm sorry, kiss you where? Yes, Happy Holidays to you too.") And Mike D.? No idea where he is. He popped in last Wednesday. But I think he's back in his dungeon doing who knows what. Probably re-reading the dictionary and putting the finishing touches on his life-sized, latex Jim Rice doll. I think it has kung-fu grip too. Not sure what you'd need that for. Anyway, we will update very soon, if you even care. I promise. In the meantime, watch this video. I think it's from Robot Chicken. Perfect if you like Star Wars, or can speak English.



Oh and by the way. I propose a new law be passed. If a DVD is dubbed as unrated, there should be AT MINIMUM, at least three scenes where breasts are exposed where they previously were not. I'm talking any movie. I don't care if it's Showgirls, American Pie or Bambie. "Unrated" should mean "Automatic Boobs". Am I alone on this? Probably not. For instance, I just got my "Unrated" copy of Grandmas Boy this weekend. Watched it immediately. Looks remarkably similar to the "rated" version. Love the movie, hate the false hope. I just think something needs to be done about this. Admittedly, I haven't watched the extras yet. But I'm sure it will be sans boobs. They always are. It's not that I don't know where to find boobs. We're just talking principle here. Anyway, updates soon.

Labels: greg

Being a sports fan is funny. There are times when everything seems to go right. You know what I mean. You're teams are winning. They're getting the calls. Coming back from large deficits. Balls are bouncing the right way. Clutch shots, tackles, throws all seem to just happen. And then, well, there's the complete opposite of that. Which was pretty much what my teams did this weekend. In fact, I believe the correct mathematical term for how well my teams fared would be "fucking terrible". Let me relive the fun for all of you.

First off, USC beat ND. Am I a big Irish fan? Let me put it this way. I'd rather have an overweight, 72-year-old prostitute (with syphilis) queef into my open mouth than have to root for Notre Dame. I'm a Michigan fan. You may know them as the second best team in the nation - who just got bumped down to #3. Sweet. Thanks Notre Dame. Way to show up. Everyone was right. Notre Dame is soooo amazingly good. Wow. Watch them win the National Championship everybody. Look, here they come!!! Brady Quinn, now that's someone special. This is the year. They're so great. No, wait, they suck. I am so tired of everyone praising this team. For what? Beating Navy, Air Force AND Army in the same season. Hey, congratulations fellas. Well done.

See, that's what drives me nuts. All these "experts" saying Michigan shouldn't play for the National Championship because they didn't even win their conference. Really? Yet these same "experts" were standing around all season long, dry humping each other through their Notre Dame sweat pants at the mere mention of the Irish in the National Championship. Yet, Notre Dame ... SURPRISE!!! ... doesn't even play in a conference. But that's totally different though. Because Notre Dame is awesome, remember? Whatever. They can have fun losing to Boise State in the Irrelevant Bowl. It's all up to UCLA now. Which is, um, great.

What else? Oh, loyal readers may know I have a slight affinity towards the Chicago Bears. Yeah, it's just a casual enjoyment of the team which absolutely doesn't border on obsession at all. It's not like I made a life-sized replica of Lovie Smith out of chest hair, scotch tape and empty Tinactin™ bottles and kept it in the front seat of my car so I could talk game strategy on the way to work each day. I mean, that would be nuts, right? Hahahaha. Well, as it turns out, my beloved Bears lost to the Patriots. Which sucked quite ferociously. Good part was, I was at the game. Bad part was, I was at the game. More on this later in the week.

Oh, this weekend, I also lost every single fantasy football game in every singly league I'm in. It was great. By the way, I am now officially sick of Mike Shanahan. Forget about the fact that he looks like he shouldn't be allowed within 9 feet of children. His handling of the Denver backfield cost me one, maybe two wins. Here's the thing, in one league I have Portis*, Steven Jackson, McGahee, Tatum Bell, A-Train and Ladell Betts (It's a keeper league, which is why I still have Portis. And we start 2 RB's and 1 RB/WR flex). So if you know Tatum isn't playing, Mr. Shanahan, why upgrade him to probable? Would that brilliant strategy throw the Chiefs for a loop? They couldn't possibly know how to prepare for virtually the same exact running back, could they? (By the way ... Mike Bell, 10 carries for 28 yards.) Or were you hoping that Herm Edwards would activate Tatum Bell on his fantasy team and forget to check the updates on Rotoworld right before the game (because, you know, it was Thanksgiving) thus forcing him to have an inactive Bell in his lineup while an apparently healthy Willis McGahee sat on his bench for his one good game of the season? Is that what you were hoping to do Mike? Because if so, I feel his pain. P.S. Your running game sucks this year and your obvious fake teeth/dental implants make everyday look like it's Halloween. Thanks again for the misinformation.

So, yeah, not so good in the sports department over the past few days. Oh, and here's the kicker: Adam Eaton SIGNED WITH THE PHILLIES!!! Ok, that was a joke. I'm not even sure Adam Eaton's parents care that he signed with the Phillies. But I am surprised the Yankees didn't go and sign Barry Zito for 9 years, $300 million. You know, just to top it all off. Ah well. There's always next weekend. That's what they say, right?

Right.

Labels: complaining, greg

There are a few things in life that give me an instant erection. Obviously, boobies and vajay-jay's come to mind as immediate qualifiers. Also listed under "boner inducing" would be the Yankees winning the World Series, Michigan winning a national title, the Bears winning the Super Bowl and the Celtics or Bruins winning more than 9 games. Of course, also on the list (but more towards the bottom) would be Monica Seles eating skittles, prostitutes playing RC Pro-AM and brisk Fall breezes (it's a long list). But, what would really throw the front of my sweatpants into a whirlwind of chaos would be scoring Bears tickets for Sunday's game against the Patriots at Foxboro Stadium. So by that logic (and this is about to get awkward), I have a rather impressive boner right now. Why? Because through complete luck, I was able to get two tickets. So, my friends, I am going to watch the Bears play the Patriots this weekend. Live. Oh glorious, glorious day!

So I figure I'll write about it. Sometime next week, I'll recap my experience. Not to spoil what must be incredible suspense already building, it will probably go something like this. "I got there. I drank beer. I urinated upwards of 30 times. The Bears won." Of course, I'll be sure to sneak in a few genitalia and/or diarrhea joke along the way. I might even take some pictures. Of course, none will be of me, since I like to stay shrouded in a ninja-like cloud of mystery and awesomeness. But it'll be fun. So, you know, Bears stuff. Next week. If you give a rats shit.

By the way, has this ever happened to you? You're sitting on your couch writing a mindless post on your sports-themed blog, eating a delicious snack. Then sometime later, after your snack is finished, you look down at your shirt and see what appears to be a piece of food on it. So you mindlessly pick it up and just put it in your mouth. Then when you start chewing it you realize it tastes nothing like anything you've eaten in the past five years. Do you ever get that "Hmm, I really hope that was food and not pigeon shit I just ate" panic? Yeah, me neither. That totally never happened about 5 minutes ago. I was just making conversation.

Labels: football, greg, NFL

Well, it looks like baseball has officially lost it's mind. Seriously, what is going on with these contracts? Juan Pierre, $44M for 5 years? Are you kidding me? What could be worse that that? "Well, how about giving Gary Matthews Jr. $50M for 5 years?" If you said that, you would be correct. Because that is worse. Much, much worse. Hooray! Baseball is stupid again.

Remember a few years ago when baseball was all like, "We can't give out big contracts because we are correcting this inflated salary bullshit by dolling out smaller deals, our own self-imposed salary controls, since the players union will never approve it, blah blah whatever." Wow, that lasted long. Fucking cowards. They can't help themselves, can they? They are like reformed crack addicts, back on the rock, blowing guys in rest areas for right handed power hitters. I mean, come on, Gary Matthews Jr.? 5-years? What? Because when you have a 32-year-old journeyman who hit over .300 for the first time in his career, who until last season never had over 500 AB's in a season, who also boasts a career OPS of .755 ... you've got to lock him up at $10M a season until he's 37. That's what any smart GM would do. And sure, not every player can hit 19 HR's and drive in 79 runs in 620 AB's. That's sheer power. Especially in a pitchers park like the Ballpark at Arlington. I'm surprised he didn't get ARod money. Essentially, he's a shittier version of Preston Wilson. Who, by the way, made $4 million this past season.

And then there's Juan Pierre. You know who loves that signing? Cubs fans. It's bad enough that some unfortunate fantasy owner is forced to draft a virtually useless, one-dimensional player taken way too early each year who does nothing but make you marginally competitive in one category in 5x5 leagues while simultaneously sucking the life out of your other statistical categories forcing you to rip divots out of your pubes in frustration Pierre somewhere around the 5th round for his stupid SB's. It's brilliant for the Dodgers too, since Pierre is nothing like Rafael Furcal and Kenny Lofton. He provides a refreshing compliment to their skill set. And on the same team, the three can combine forces to form a Voltron of "the worst lead-off hitter in the history of baseball". After this signing was rumored to be true, good friend and super-SportsBlah-commenter Felton Trigg sent me this email:

So Juan Pierre is 29 years old. Here's the question: If you (as a
major league team) got Pierre for free (5 years, $0/year) but only under
the condition that you must play him and bat him leadoff in every game
(assuming he's not on the DL) for the full 5 years -- would your team be
smart to take him?

Really interesting question. Let's quickly break it down.

The pros: he'd be free, he's fast, while he's probably wearing a woman's extra-small sized uniform it still always looks three-sizes too big on him.

The cons: he can't get on base, he's not particularly good, he grounds out to the pitcher 132% of the time.

That's a tough one. But I'd probably go with "no".

Oh, and since when is Orlando Hernandez worth $6 million a year? I'm telling you, this whole thing is completely ridiculous. $6M? That's the equivalent of the Mets paying $78,000 for a used Hyundai, that breaks down every three weeks, who was pushed over from Japan on a raft. At this rate, Carlos Lee should get about $78 million a season. At least the Soriano deal makes sense. I mean, probably too long of a contract for a little too much money. But at least he's, you know, good.

Hmm, I wonder if the Cubs would trade him for ARod?

Labels: baseball, greg

"I don't think they're the best corners I've played against or we've played against this year. By far, no," Burress told the Newark Star-Ledger. "Those guys make plays [on] the balls that are thrown straight to them, but they're not just covering guys straight up and just shutting them down. I haven't seen any of that.

"They're very beatable."

That's interesting. Those are the words that came out of the mouth of Plaxico Burress this week. Now that the game is over, let's look at the numbers Mrs. Burress put up against the beatable Bears.

The Mighty Plaxico Burress ... 4 receptions ... 48 yards ... 0 TD ... and 1 steaming hot spray of diarrhea into his open mouth. He also fumbled on the 9 yard line in the second quarter which was recovered by Charles Tillman which was then stripped by some fat piece of shit on the Giants which actually wasn't really stripped but Ed "Thunder" Hochuli got the replay wrong because his bulging eyelid muscles were probably blocking his view. So the bad call, the holding penalty, and the fat dude all let Burress off the hook. Too bad.

But hey, the important thing is, Plaxico was right. With those 4 catches for almost 50 yards (total), he really showed the Bears why he's nearly tops in the league in receiving yards (21st) and even more super-awesome in receptions (T-39th) and is also sure handed and masculine (T-1 for most fumbles by a WR). The Bears could hardly contain this All-Pro (0 appearances).

And just for fun, these were Ashlee Manning's numbers: 14/32 ... 141 yards ... 0 TD's ... 2 Int. It should also be noted that he pees sitting down.

It really is a shame the Bears CB's can only make plays on "balls thrown directly at them". Because the Giants clearly exploited them, losing 38-20.

Plaxico and his vagina must be very weepy right now. Don't worry man, you don't look like a complete idiot/dress-wearing-Sally at all. No, seriously, you almost caught 5 balls. That was good.

Labels: greg

This clip is just so ridiculously funny. I've played it about 30 times today and laughed every time. Then again, I also laughed at a video clip of a woman getting explosive diarrhea in a hot tub, which I've watched repeatedly. So, take that into consideration.

Labels: greg

It's pretty incredible the crap you'll come across when you're doing an image search. Take Monday for instance. I was on Google doing a search for a photo to go along with my "A Champion in Life ... and Fantasy Baseball" post. I didn't know what to look for, so I typed in a few keywords like "champion", "trophy", "holding trophy", etc. and eventually got one I was happy with. But somewhere in that search, I also found this photo:




Which is ... ummmm... well, I'm not quite sure. I mean, seriously, what exactly are these two supposed to be doing? I have a pretty good guess. I do know it's supposed to be a trophy. I just didn't know they gave them out for, you know, that sort of stuff. Imagine some kid coming home from camp with that thing, slightly confused. Mom, dad, look at what I "won".

Now I'm no expert on trophies (except for the thousands I've been awarded for kicking ass), but I'm pretty sure they could have used a second draft of that design. I can envision this conversation going on at Trophy Emporium, or wherever that thing was created.

Jim: Hey Bruce, you design that trophy yet?
Bruce: Oh you bet I did, J