The Tale of Two Shitties

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”

On one hand, his college team, a team coming off a season so putrid that its fans would dive face-first into piles of diarrhea just to avoid its stench, was suddenly showing promise, playing with pluck, heart and creativity for the first time in 7 years. Sure there were still traces and remnants of poop but it was dissipating, leaving only a splash, a pinch, an occasionally mild dusting of poopiness. In short, to be a Washington Huskies fan is analogous to coaching a teenaged-boy as he starts to discover women: sure he says awkward things sometimes like “I masturbated to your Facebook profile last night;” and every now and then you have to pull him aside and say things like, “no, no, you let her order first and then you take your dick out;” but damn it, that little knucklehead sure does make you proud when he does it right.


On the other, his pro team, the one true love of his sports life despite his daily resistance, was mired in the worst possible time: the year before the rebuilding year. After a period of sustained success, the most successful in their relatively brief history in fact, the players got old, bad luck crept in and the wheels started to fall off. In short, to be a Seattle Seahawks fan was kind of like being in a bad relationship that should’ve ended years ago but for some reason keeps plodding along and delaying the inevitable; inexplicably refusing to cripple under the weight of its own limitations. Then, on one particularly crestfallen night, you push all your chips into the middle and take her out for a fancy dinner, get really drunk, laugh genuinely at first, bitterly at the end, and wake up in a hazy stupor to the harsh reality that in your drunken state you accidentally went home with a transsexual florist named Toni. Does that make you gay? It might but who cares? You’d let the entire Cowboys’ offensive line run a train on you every day for the rest of your miserable goddamn fucking life if it meant you never had to watch Matt Hasselbeck play quarterback again, FUCK YOU, SEAHAWKS, FUCK YOU!!!


(Editor’s note: we apologize for the slight break in motif, we will now return to the bad Dickens impersonation)


Add it all up and what did it equal for our fair narrator? Unfortunately it meant that he could not enjoy the success of one while enduring the failure of another. These two completely separate entities had become unequivocally and inexorably linked in his mind, heart and balls. His was a rare and unforeseen torture, one team emerging from the funk and another about to enter in. Falling back in love while futilely trying to fall out. Like hearing a sexy voice and realizing it belonged to a girl who looks like Nick Nolte, or seeing a girl who looks like Megan Fox only to realize that she also talks like Megan Fox.


Sports. What an elaborate prank it all is. The lowest lows and the highest highs wrapped up in a facade of permanence and significance. Did this mean he would stop watching either team? Of course not. Loving your favorite teams isn’t like loving anything else; sports are the only thing in life you can complain about where the complaints are completely surface level, void of any subtext. There are only so many grenades someone can launch in the direction of their wife, partner, boss, co-workers, friends and family without the subconscious starting to reveal itself. Freud once said that “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar” and that’s true with sports. Sometimes you want to light that cigar and then shove it up your ass, but it’s a cigar nonetheless.


With that said, what did this little tale accomplish? Nothing. Do I feel better for writing it? No. Will I still drag myself to a bar to watch DeMacus Ware have sex with Matt Hasselbeck on live TV this weekend? Yes. Am I happy about this? No. Am I going to call Toni the transsexual and see if he wants to Jim Mora my Junior? Maybe. Has this whole situation, this weird, contradictory feeling made me love my teams or sports in general any less? No. If nothing else, it’s just a reminder that sports are one of the rare things in life that still has the capacity to surprise you on a yearly, if not hourly basis. And if you can’t realize and appreciate that simple fact then you’re probably a Seahawks fan. FUCK YOU, SEAHAWKS, FUCK YOU!!!



JR

Underrated Day 4 – NCAA Tournament

First of all, a special fuck you to Jericho once again for his stupid ‘let’s do a theme week’ idea. Talk about a pain in the ass. It’s the first day of the NCAA tournament, let’s talk about who has the hottest cheerleaders (so far I’m thinking Arizona), let’s remember Pittsnogle, let’s talk about where we were when Webber called that fateful timeout (at Dave’s house, making fun of our friend Mike who LOVED that Michigan squad). But no, it’s ‘theme’ week so let’s try to squeeze a great post idea into something that can be called ‘underrated.’ It’s about as comfortable as the 1992 towel boy for UNLV was after close games. Not cool Jericho, not cool at all.

So, racking my brain, I came up with the following thought. There was a time in our lives when we could sit in front of a TV for the first two rounds of the tournament (Thursday and Friday) and do nothing but watch college basketball. And everything in this world was perfect. In high school we would all go over to the kid’s house whose parents weren’t home. We’d probably order a pizza. Find the dad’s stack of porn. Get hopped up on orange soda and watch basketball until our eyes were about to pop out. In college, we didn’t have to do any sneaking around. The pizza and porn was still there, the orange soda turned to Keystone Ice and our eyes were popping out from things besides staring at the TV. But we were free to watch those games however and whenever we chose to. This my friends was an underrated time in our lives. (see the connection? Sorta? Just go with it.)

Today, we hide in conference rooms with select co-workers and gather around a 10” monitor hoping our connection doesn’t cut out at a critical point during the game. We watch without the sound because we don’t want the dumb chicks around us to realize we’re not staring at our computer and working…we’re watching games for fuck’s sake. When it’s a big moment we have to celebrate in complete silence. We plan meetings around games. We make a joke on a conference call about wishing we were seeing the 6 and 11 matchup…1/4 of the people on the call can relate. We exchange updates with other dudes in the hallway who also 'get-it'. We go to longer lunches, eat shitty food and for a few brief moments feel like we were 18 again, watching the games from the comfort of our own couch. But then the bar starts to empty out a bit, it’s 1:30pm, people are returning to their cubicles and we’re left with nothing but a bill to pay for shitty buffalo wings and longing for simpler times.

Am I being a bit melodramatic? Perhaps. But what I wouldn’t give to be back at my friend’s house right now watching Adam Jacobson and Mark Boelter and Walsh Jordan and Dell Demps and Corey Anders (fuck he was so good) and hell, even little Scooter Thompson. Those days were underrated. No doubt about it.

Percentage Chance...

by Magglio and Jericho

Percentage chance Brett Favre is actually retired: 50%
When Aaron Rodgers takes the first snap then it’s official.

Percentage chance Christian wins Project Runway tomorrow night: 35%
The bitchy chick with no personality seems like she has the edge.

Percentage chance Barack Obama wins Texas and Ohio today: 65%
That bitch is played out. Time to rock out with your Barack out.

Percentage chance 6’8” high school Junior Britney Griner is actually a dude: 88%
Watch 1:45 on this video. Listen to her talk.

Percentage chance that Randy Moss does something really dumb now that he has the security of a three year contract: 87%

Percentage chance that this headline will appear on Espn.com after Randy Moss is arrested for driving with marijuana in his car: Rolling Stoned Gathers Much Moss: 100%

Percentage chance Sean Salisbury has a dildo strapped to his forehead right now and is “pleading” with Chris Berman to let him back into Bristol: 95%

Percentage chance that someone from ESPN will actually have an orgasm on air during a Favre montage this week: 96%

Percentage chance that Memphis and Kansas both won't make the Sweet 16: 67%

Percentage chance Stanford makes the Sweet 16: 75%

Percentage chance that Ryan Seacrest will accidentally out himself on national TV by thinking his mic is off and turning to Simon and saying: "God, I want to fuck you so bad": 68%

Percentage chance that Big Ben used a large portion of his signing bonus to totally supe up his Match.com account: 98%

Percentage chance that a video exists on the web of someone navigating their iPhone with the tip of thier penis: 100% - percentage chance that it's Steve Jobs: 97%

Percentage chance that Eddie Van Halen's mystery ailment turns out to be a major case of "you fucking suck give it up all ready": 98%

Percentage chance that at least one of the candidates will mention Brett Favre in a speech tonight: 17%

Percentage chance that a reporter is interviewing McCain and just thinks to himself "oh fuck it, I'm asking him if he got botox, his eyes are tighter than a baby's kneecaps": 82%

Percentage chance the next question is: Mr. McCain, would you say you're the greatest hero in American history, or the second greatest?": 100%

Percentage chance that "pouring syrup on her pancakes" becomes the hot sex move of 2008: 67%

Percentage chance that the editor of TIME who leads the first general election issue with the headline "Black vs Mac" will be fired immediately after: 100%

Percentage chance Noah Lowry actually caught the Mackey Sasser/Rick Ankiel bug: 33%

Percentage chance Nicole Ritchie is withholding breast milk from her new born baby because she thinks she’s getting fat: 80%

Five Quick Thoughts on the Impending Doom of the Mitchell Report

1.
I fucking hate baseball, I think I need to make that point before I dive in, so take this post with a grain of salt, in fact take this grain of salt and inject it into Rafael Palmeiro’s ass.

2.
Speaking of Rafael Palmeiro’s ass, isn’t that the stupidest, weirdest and most ridiculous part about taking steroids? If you’re Mark McGwire don’t you turn to Victor Conte or whoever your dealer was and say, “look, I’m Mark Fucking McGwire, I’m worth $100 million, can’t you figure out a way for me to take steroids that doesn’t involve being pantless in a stall with Rafael Palmeiro? Can’t you make a Power Bar or a shake or something, I really have to bend over in front of Jose Canseco once a week and say, “OK, Jose, fill me up?”

3.
Here’s the early report from ESPN about the Mitchell findings:

Major League Baseball and the Players Association share the blame for tolerating a widespread culture of drug abuse, George Mitchell's report on doping in baseball says, according to two lawyers who said they are familiar with the report.

WOW! Shocking revelation! Also, Rafael Palmeiro’s ass, Rafael’s Palmeiro’s willingness to take steroids, and Rafael Palmeiro’s veins mixing the steroids with his blood all played equal parts in Rafael Palmeiro’s steroid use. MLB will try to determine which had the larger role and punish accordingly, Buster Olney reports.

4.
The good news for baseball? At least you have Bud Selig to lead you through this crisis. I mean his face emits intelligence and inspires confidence and calm. When you look at Bud Selig you think, “now here’s a man that does nothing but think, eat, fart and sleep baseball, he loves the game, he’ll see us through.” In other news, did you know that “Weekend at Bernie’s” has been remade as “16 years as Baseball Commissioner?” I mean, I’d never insult an important, powerful man by insinuating that he looks, walks and talks like a corpse, but don’t you get the sense that Bud Selig has been auditioning for 16 years to be in a remake of the Thriller video?

5.
The next few weeks will be flooded with terms like, “standard of fairness,” “Hall of Fame candidacy,” “the court of public opinion.” But honestly, if the report does not also include terms like “head size,” “backne,” “shrinkage” and “Brett Boone coming out of nowhere to hit 40 home runs in one year” then we might as well shove the entire thing up Rafael Palmeiro’s ass and start over.

A Moustache, An Apple and Word Games with Magglio

Apple
I’m a big proponent of opening doors for people. Men or women, I just feel like it’s a cool, classy thing to do. With that said, my new building has a revolving door and I can’t figure out what's considered proper revolving door etiquette. When you arrive at the same time should you a) let them go first, or b) go first, but push really hard so that the door moves for them and they don’t have to do anything? Can we get a definitive ruling on this?

Moustache
If Notre Dame doesn’t fire Charlie Weis after this season then they will unequivocally prove that Tyrone Willingham’s firing was racially motivated. Now granted, Willingham had a rough final two years, going 11-11 and losing 5 games by at least 30 points. That was bad, real bad, but consider these nuggets from Weis’ 2007 team:

- The worst start ever (2-9)
- The most losses in a season ever (9)
- Two of the ten worst losses ever (38-0 losses to both Michigan and USC)
- The first 6-game home losing streak in school history
- Lost to both Navy and Air Force, the first time ND has lost to two military academies in the same season since 1944.

Willingham’s last two years were bad; this year has been absolutely catastrophic. Ty never fit in at ND, his hiring was a surprise and he never seemed to mesh with the rich, conservative, comb-over-white-guy mentality of Notre Dame. His firing raised lots of questions about race but they quickly lost steam and eventually faded away. If ND keeps Weis after this irritated butthole of a season, the race discussion should be reopened. This would be indisputable evidence that Weis is keeping his job only because he's white. Why is nobody talking about this?

Word association with Maglio
I sent a word or a phrase to Magglio over IM asking him to react. These are his unedited responses:

John Mayer:
Falls into the 'dooshbag but nails hot chicks' category along with Nick Carter, Adam Lavine, Adam Duritz, and Jennifer Love Hewitt. The sad thing is, I've heard he's actually a good musician...but it's hard to get past his stupid face. Isn't it?

Writer’s Strike:
First of all...I don't want to waste my energy trying to understand it. Secondly, will this delay The Office or Heroes? That's all I care about. At least Sportscenter remains pure.

Indian Food:
Blowout.

Guys with girl names like Kelly or Ashley:
Unfortunate? Yes. Destined for greatness? Perhaps. Let's dig a bit deeper here. How many dudes do you know named Kelly or Ashley? Not many right? But there's quite a few in the public eye. Kelly Slater, Kelly Kapowski, Ashley Lelie, Ashley Parker Angel (wow, so weak) for example. Does this constitute a trend? No. Do those guys get picked on their entire lives? Of course. Does the website Nutsack.com exist? Absolutely.

Grey’s Anatomy:
I'll be honest, I've stopped watching. I just don't care anymore. Kate Walsh is off the show, Dr. Burke is fighting the Bionic Woman and Meredith looks too much like Renee Zellweger. But I was in Seattle last weekend and I made endless jokes such as "Do you think McDreamy gets his crepes here?" or "If only Izzy knew about this park, her mind would be free again!" or "I wonder if George got the train run on him down that alley."

Boston Red Sox:
Fuck Boston. Fuck Kevin Garnett. Fuck Bill Simmons. Fuck Bruce Springsteen (same thing right?) Fuck the Wahlbergs both Donnie and Marky Mark. Fuck chicks who wear pink Sox hats. Fuck Dane Cook. Fuck Ben Affleck. And fuck Tom Brady. (He sure is dreamy though)

Thoughts on things and stuff

Fantasy Karma:
I’m not going to make the playoffs in Fantasy Football. It sucks. But that’s not my point. As a responsible GM I think when you get to this point in the season there are two general rules you must follow; 1) you have to continue setting your lineup every week. Nobody likes a GM who's thrown in the towel and lays down for an easy victory against teams still in contention. Setting your lineup is your responsibility in the quest for ultimate sports knowledge. 2) you cannot trade any of your players. One of the first place teams in my league is in desperate need of a QB…I am currently holding Hasselbeck and Brees. There is no conceivable situation where I can responsibly trade either of these guys. I don’t stand to gain anything. It would be bad fantasy karma and I need all I can get these days.

I take it back.
There is a gayer movie this holiday season than Enchanted. It’s called August Rush and it potentially is the pinnacle of RTs. A genius boy separated from his parents tries to find them by learning music and playing the songs he grew up with. Holy shit. I’m not going to ruin the absurdity of the trailer...It’s worth seeing yourself…if nothing more than Robin Williams. Jericho chimed in on the Robin Williams issue:

“Don't you feel like there are 5 of him? He has a bunch of clones. One does stand up, one does bad movies, one is a heroin addict in the tenderloin and the other two just fuck each other all day in a hot tub.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Word association with Jericho
This was a fun way to pass the time at work. I sent a word or a phrase to Jericho asking him to react. These are his unedited responses:

Rumer Willis:
“A good lookin’ dude”

Resse Witherspoon and Jake Gyllenhaal having lunch at The Slanted Door on Monday:
“Not sure which one I want to fuck more. Not sure there'd be any difference.”

Zahara Jolie:
“12lbs away from being the heaviest woman in her family.”

Kevin Durant:
“Your favorite basketball team drafting Kevin Durant and then announcning that they're moving to Oklahoma is akin to a prisoner on death row discovering that he's the greatest whistler the world has ever known.”

‘Stewardesses’ is the longest word that is typed with only theleft hand:
“I'm hungry. Don't bug me with that shit.”

Let’s talk warm fuzzies not cold pricklies

My original idea for this post was to ponder the sad state of Bay Area sports. There was a sidebar in The Chronicle today about the success of Boston area sports teams right now; The Red Sox are World Series bound, the Patriots are steamrolling the NFL, Boston College is number 2 in the BCS, the Celtics just landed Kevin Garnett and the Bruins….well, I skip the hockey parts. So you can imagine how this post was going to be, whoa is me, whoa is us, blah blah blah the Bay Area is in a sad state of sports affairs.

But no, not today. Today let’s talk warm fuzzies not cold pricklies. Let’s talk Frank Gore, Tim Lincecum and Matt Cain. Let’s enjoy a blue bottle latte and get excited about Marco Belinelli, Matt Barnes and Jack Cust. Let’s replace our light bulbs with CFLs and celebrate Jamarcus Russell, Angel Miguel Villalona and Logan Couture (damn that was painful.) Let’s re-elect Newsome and watch Javhid Best with our jaws on the floor.

There’s a lot to be excited about for Bay Area sports. Sure we’re never mentioned in national discussions anymore, but we’re on the cusp of something big. The A’s are moving, the Niners might be moving and Stanford moves me to lose my lunch. (If that’s not the most Scott Ostler like line I’ve ever written then I don’t know what is.) Big things are happening here.

Mark my words, one of these days, we’ll be dancing in the street celebrating a world title. We’ll hoist our leather clad neighbors and emaciated hipster compadres on our shoulders and cheer as one. It starts here, it starts now. Today we bond together as The Bay Area. No more hating the Raiders or Niners. No more hating Cal or Stanford. Today we unite and cheer together. We root for each other and bond together to dominate the sports world.

So let’s go Oakland, pull it together. Grow a pair and start throwing the ball deep. Get back on track Niners, quit your griping, tighten your chin straps and play like it’s your full time job. Cal, shake it off. I know it stings, but you’ve still got a top notch offense and a whole lot of season left to play. And Stanford…well, um, cool mascot.

The Five Levels of Sports Knowledge

There are varying degrees of sports knowledge. Over time these degrees have separated into five distinct levels. One is the lowest and five is the highest. I, confidently, am at level five. Jericho also is at level five. You, my reader? The jury’s still out.

It’s a simple concept but one that is often times glossed over or whose intricacies are not completely understood. Whereas my mom could say her favorite Giant of all time was Benito Santiago, (she liked the way it sounds like a party every time you say his name) she couldn’t tell you what position he played. My sister sat courtside at last year’s NBA All-Star game but couldn’t tell the difference between Ben Wallace and Rasheed Wallace. Ok, ok, those examples are easy. Girls either know nothing about sports or are freakishly versed in rattling off the starting infield for the ’91 Oakland A’s. (Let’s see here…Lansford, Weiss, Gallego, McGuire – yep, still got it.)

It’s with other dudes that the levels can be tricky. And as we’ve noted before, there is nothing worse than entering into a conversation with a guy who knows nothing about sports. Often times they try to disguise themselves but their knowledge comes straight from the headlines of CNN.com. (“Wow, they’re sure throwing the book at Michael Vick aren’t they?!”)

The following describes the various levels of sports knowledge. Included are specific examples and recommendations to improve to the next level. It’s like karate or one of those nerd video games, the more you “play” the higher the level you reach.

***Level One***
This is the lowest level. Most women and small children are at level one. At this level you can recognize the physical difference between a baseball and a football. However, when asked to identify a basketball from a group of objects, you stare blankly. For those at level one we recommend giving up. There is no purpose for living any longer.

***Level Two***
The second level is reserved for girlfriends who hate sports, men who were in the school band and Europeans. At this level you immediately have an adverse reaction when seeing a loved one on the couch enthralled in a game. You say words like “this is so boring” and “it’s just a game” to try and get attention. It rarely works. Recommendations for this level include trying to identify a sport you can relate to. Like shuffleboard, horseshoes or canasta*.

*Please note, while not technically a sport, canasta is still a game whose competitiveness and strategy sort of mimic actual physical sports. Well, not really. But anytime you can sneak canasta into a blog post you know things are going well.

***Level Three***
This is the lowest level any respectable man can fall into. At this level, you can participate in very top line sports conversations revolving around teams and their former big name superstars. There isn’t any substance behind what is said, but at least 95% of the time the reference is correct. For example:

You: “Hey, how are the 49ers doing this season?”

Me: “They’re terrible. Their offense is anemic, their defense spends too much time on the field and they’ve seem to have lost all momentum from last season.”

You: “San Francisco was much better when Joe Montana was around.”

(See, this is my point. While the level three person thinks they’re advancing the conversation, they’re actually killing it. How do you reply to something like this? Now imagine you’re at a cocktail party or a double date and this is the other “guy” you’re supposed to be “nice” to. It stings doesn’t it?)

At this level, we recommend reading the sports page a few more times a week. Visit ESPN.com more often. Take an interest in one sport or one team. Follow them for an entire season. Rinse and repeat.

***Level Four***
Most red blooded men in America are at level four. You probably played a sport in high school (a real sport – not waterpolo), have been to multiple professional sporting events and claim either Michael Jordan, Ken Griffey Jr. or Bo Jackson as your favorite athlete of all time. You have played fantasy football for a couple of years but consistently get a loss or two each season because:

a) You forgot to change out an injured player

b) You were out of town for a period of time with your significant other. (Not an excuse. The Internet is everywhere or you find a trusted resource to manage your team while you’re away.)

c) You were already out of the running and instead of being a man and finishing the season, you threw in the towel. (Karma’s a bitch buddy. Just wait till you need a win from the last place team in the last week of the season.)

At this level we recommend you re-evaluate your priorities. You are close to achieving ultimate sports knowledge but without making personal sacrifices you’ll never get there.

***Level Five***
The ultimate goal for every man in America. You can easily name the colleges of the following athletes:
1) Kobe Bryant
2) Stacey Augmon
3) David Carr

After enough thinking, you can manage to name the colleges of the following athletes:
1) Adonal Foyle
2) Ladell Betts
3) Darnell Autry

Signs you are at the fifth and highest level of sports knowledge:

You plan your children’s birth dates in the months of April and May. You religiously read the sports page every single day. You have seriously considered naming your first-born Don Mattingly Harris. Your favorite player on a football team is a lineman, a safety or a linebacker. Whenever a major upset happens in college sports you know exactly which friend to call to rub it in. You have watched an entire major league draft either in person or on TV. You have most likely won a fantasy sports championship and if you haven’t you know exactly what you would have done differently. On Saturday nights you dream about the day your fantasy football team is about to have. You check espn.com more than 10 times a day. You have waited in line for more than 5 hours for a major sporting event. You know exactly whose jersey you would own if you lived in any major city in America, for every major sports team. For at least one season, you have watched or listened on the radio to every single game of a baseball team’s season. You’ve cried at some point in your life because of a sports team. You write for Apples and Moustaches.

An open letter to Alex Rodriquez

Dear Mr. Rodriquez,

Let me be the first to officially welcome you to the 2007 off-season. Can I offer you a cool beverage or a tasty snack? And while we’re at it have you ever really been to San Francisco? Sure you stopped off this past July for a few days, but did you have time to stop and enjoy the views? Or a chance to walk around The Embarcadero? It’s a nice little place to call home.

Our ball club isn’t too bad either. Sure, we have our share of old timers but we also have some promising young guns too. Ever hear of a guy named Matt Cain or perhaps Tim Lincecum? (I guess you don’t read this blog much. We here at Apples and Moustaches are avid supporters of our young gun slingers.) Well, soon you and the rest of the league will know of their super powers. But I digress. San Francisco is an excellent place to live and an even better place to play ball.

It’s been called the best park in baseball with views of the Bay Bridge and Oakland. On a nice summer day the bleachers are just about the coolest place to be. The place reeks of garlic fries and 1 out of every 5 fans is talking on their cell phone at any given time. But the fans are forgetful, forgivable and damn it if they aren’t loyal. And, sometimes Willie Mays even makes an appearance.

In New York there are tons of celebs and high profile individuals clamoring for the spot of top dog. Hell, you’re not even the most popular person on your team. San Francisco could use a real tried and true male celebrity. Sure, we have Gavin Newsome and don’t get me wrong he’s amazing, but it could be time for some fresh socialite, scene stealing blood. And while Barry Bonds undoubtedly commanded our respect and admiration, he rarely actually set foot in San Francisco.

So come on over Mr. Rodriquez and have a look at what we’re all about. Our salary just got about $18MM lighter and I’m sure Peter Magowan and the boys would be willing to open their pocket books just a little bit more. Did I mention the Folsom Street fair?

Sincerely yours,
Magglio

P.S. Matt Cain, 20 wins next season. You heard it here first.

TOUCHDOWN USC!

The words will forever haunt the Stanford play-by-play announcer. For the life of me I cannot remember his name but I will never forget his call. Lined up 10 yards from the end zone with just under a minute to play, Stanford faced a 4th and Goal situation. Down by 6 points, Stanford had one final shot at unseating the number 1 team in the country. Now, unless you were touring wine country this weekend or antiquing in Alameda you know the outcome.

The scrawny Stanford quarterback threw up a prayer and “the big guy” answered him. (In case you missed the QB’s post-game interview, it came off like Sunday morning at the White House.) And the announcer screamed at the top of his lungs, “TOUCHDOWN USC!”

The biggest call this announcer will ever make, the biggest upset in college football this season, the defining moment in Stanford football in the new millennium and this guy yells the wrong team name. I was almost as shocked as Rachel was when Ross said her name during his wedding to the British chick.

Announcers can truly make or break a game. How many times have announcers foreshadowed impending doom for the home team? How many times has an announcer uttered the words “no hitter” moments before an infield single? How many times has an announcer correctly predicted a fumble, an error or any other game breaking play? Or worse, have you ever listened to Tim McCarver do baseball commentary? He goes completely against the grain and ONLY tries to predict what will happen next.

The craziest part of all is that in today’s technology consumed world, the Stanford announcer’s call will forever be immortalized. Jackass.

Guess whose back?

Like O.J., Brett Favre and Elton John’s sick fetishes…I’m back at it and ready to make some noise. Fresh from a 3 week sabbatical my mind is as clear as Joe Simpson’s sick perversions. So let’s get to it...

From a fantasy perspective, rookie running backs in the NFL are so hard to predict. Who knew that 3^rd round pick Frank Gore would rumble to become the most successful back in his 2005 draft class after being picked behind Ronnie Brown, Cadillac, JJ Arrington and Eric Shelton (wtf?) And who knew that Ki-Jana Carter would go from the number 1 pick overall to nothing more than a funny punch line to a 4^th grade genital joke?

Every year I take a chance on a rookie running back, and every year I’m left with either a gigantic man crush that continues throughout a player’s career or I’m left with a bench stacked with ‘coulda beens’. Let’s explore some of my picks, the good and the bad. Note: The round in which I drafted the player is noted in the parenthetical.

1990: Blair Thomas (3rd round)
Yes, this is what started it all. Blair Thomas was a can’t miss college prospect. All the rage. He turned out to be crap. 600 yards and 1 measely touchdown? I decided not to take another rookie that year, Emmitt Smith. 900 yards and 11 TDs later, Emmitt was well on his way to becoming a fantasy legend.

1994: Errict Rhett (4^th round)
Tampa Bay was in the midst of being the worst team in the history of sports. Why in the world would I take a chance on a rookie RB?…because he was Errict Rhett…badass back from Florida. He had a decent freshman year, breaking 1,000 yards and getting 7 TDs, but I also passed on Marshall Faulk from SDSU. (1,200 yards and 11TDs)

2000: Jamal Lewis (4^th Round):
I wanted Ja-Lew and I got Ja-Lew. Fourth round sounded a bit early at the time, but it turned out to be a fantastic pick. Ja-Lew rumbled for over 1,300 yards and 6tds in his initial campaign. And though I only had him one other year, I have been a big fan of his ever since.

2004: Steven Jackson (early 3rd Round):
I stretched for this pick. My man crush developed in college for Steven Jackson and was only solidified when he went to the Rams. Not because I like the Rams (I can’t stand them) but because he was joining such a high powered offense. It seemed too good to be true. Well, Marshall Faulk didn’t relinquish his starting role and Jackson saw only limited time on the field. Two years later he was one of the top RBs in the game.

2006: Jerious Norwood & DeAngelo Williams (8^th and 13^th rounds)
I went for it in 2006. I was feeling like I knew something. Warrick Dunn was bound to break in half (right?) and DeShaun Foster was so sketchy - it seemed like a no brainer. Sure, I passed on guys like Maurice Jones-Drew, Laurence Maroney and Joseph Addai, but I thought I knew something. I’ll get to the point. I didn’t know anything.

What have I learned? Nothing. This year I drafted Adrian Peterson (decent) and have recently picked up Brian Leonard (it’s hard to trust this much hype) and Selvin Young (look it up.)

Stay tuned. And get ready Darren McFadden…I like how you run.

The Ace of the Staff

Matt Cain again displayed his ace stuff last night, going 7 innings, scattering 4 hits and striking out 8 in a 3-1 victory for the Giants. He was setting guys up with his slider and mowing them down with his fastball. He dominated seasoned hitters and made grown men look like little leaguers. This guy is the real deal…and he’s only 22.

Let’s dig down into some of his numbers shall we?

• Matt Cain is 19-5 when he gets at least three runs of support…in his entire career (a year and a half)
• Matt Cain is 4-1 with a 2.18 ERA in the month of August
• Matt Cain has 40 strikeouts in 41 1/3 innings in August
• Matt Cain has thrown a staff leading 171 1/3 innings this season so far
• Matt Cain is 7-13 this season

It’s not your fault Matt Cain, it’s not your fault.

Hey Dickhead

Isn't it amazing that dooshbags like this can actually make a living being full-time writers? I dare you to try and read more than 10 lines of this article. It's like Fisher-Price's 'my first newspaper column'.

Who is the target here? Old guys eating their Rasin Bran in their boxer shorts?
"Ha! He drafted Albert Pujols...in a football draft?! That's OUTRAGEOUS."

Dickhead.

Our blog is itching for a ranking of current sports writers. Beause some of them are incredible and a majority of them could use a foot in the ass. (oh yeah Ray-Ray...you're next Fatboy)

5 Lines That Fellow Inmates Could Use While Raping Vick in the Shower

1. That’s what we call a rape stand in the joint. You stand there, I rape you.

2. Now we gonna run a bootleg. I stick my boot up yo’ ass, then my whole leg.

3. I’m gonna collapse yo’ pocket

4. Now I’m under center, muthafucka

5. That’s not in the playbook…but it should be.

Let the games begin!

Apples and Moustaches particiapted in their annual Fantasy Football draft last night. This league is a 12-team league with a majority of the participants located in lovely Seattle, Washington. Jericho had the 3rd pick overall, Magglio had the 5th. We thought you'd like to know.

Jericho:
QB: Drew Brees
QB: Ben Rothlisberger
RB: Shaun Alexander
RB: Jamal Lewis
RB: Tatum Bell
RB: Fred Taylor
WR: Lee Evans
WR: Santana Moss
WR: Chris Chambers
WR: Devery Henderson (no really)
WR: Brandon Jones
TE: Randy McMichael
K: Jason Hanson
DST: 49ers

Magglio:
QB: Vince Young
QB: Alex Smith
RB: Frank Gore
RB: Deuce McCallister
RB: Adrian Peterson
RB: Priest Holmes
RB: Anthony Thomas
WR: Steve Smith
WR: Reggie Wayne
WR: Hines Ward
WR: Matt JOnes
TE: Kellen Winslow
K: Robbie Gould
DST: Broncos

Rambling rants on the third worst team in MLB

Matt Cain is the unluckiest pitcher in the history of baseball. He has ‘ace’ stuff, he could easily be the number one pitcher on half the teams in the league, but he is getting killed by the Giants lack of hitting. Cain is 4-13. Again, Matt Cain has 4 wins and 13 losses this season. His ERA you ask? 3.77. Yeah. You do the math.

Luck is a HUGE factor in baseball. Especially in a sport when the best player fails over 60% of the time. Pitchers need luck like the rest of them, but for some reason it’s all gone Pete Tong. Er, wait, it’s all gone Matt Cain.

As much as it pains me to say this, Matt Cain should be traded. It’s potentially the only thing that can be done to save his career at this point. Fun fact, in the previous 20 starts Cain has made, the Giants have failed to score at least 3 runs in 15 of those games. He’s only 22 years old, how much can his psyche take? A pitcher’s ego is his lifeline. It’s like a battered woman, the more you put her down and don’t support her, the more likely she’s going to start believing she’s no good. You are good Matt Cain. Your supporting cast just blows.

Blow up the team. Save Lincecum…and maybe Rajai Davis (though the jury is still out) and that’s it. Trade ‘em all. Dump some salaries. Let’s field a Billy Beane team with players who can hit and enjoy playing the game. I’ve had enough of the Pedro Feliz experiment. I’ve had enough of the Rich Aurilla experiment. It’s like that scene in Major League when they realize they had a big name on their roster, Roger Dorn. And then somebody points out that they’re about 4 years too late on the player actually playing up to his big name. Sound familiar? Ryan Klesko? Dave Roberts? Ray Durham? Randy Winn? If this was 2003 we’d be doing some damage. But the Raiders aren’t in the Super Bowl and Durham isn’t fighting for a contract.

What is the point of this post? I have no idea. A place to vent about how shitty the Giants are this season maybe. Give Bochy another shot. No coach should be fired after one season unless of course it’s Dennis Erickson. Let Sabean do what he do…and let’s get back in this thing. Huuuuuuuuum Baby!

Chickens vs. Macchiatos: A Friendly Wager

A candid conversation between Jericho and Magglio...

Jericho: Let’s talk Fantasy Football running backs

Magglio: Ok, what’s on your mind?

Jericho: I like Shaun Alexander and fast Willie Parker

Jericho: I don't want Larry Johnson

Jericho: Steven Jackson, Brian Westbrook and Frank Gore make me nervous

Jericho: So does Joseph Addai

Magglio: I don’t like Alexander

Magglio: at all

Jericho: you can get him at 4, 5 or 6

Jericho: and that's a great pick

Jericho: member how hard he ran against CHI?

Magglio: I guess. He's kinda a pussy. And now he's filthy rich. What does he have to prove? He's not a team player. I dont think he wants it bad enough at all.

Jericho: Ladanian Tomlinson broke his record while Alexander sat and watched, you don't think that motivates him?

Jericho: Who cares about team players, this is fantasy buddy

Jericho: Alexander’s injury was freaky last year

Jericho: He's never had injuries to legs or shoulders

Magglio: Alexander doesn’t care about records, wins, team

Magglio: at all

Magglio: I see ZERO desire in Alexander’s eyes

Magglio: He's just a really talented football player who now makes a TON of money.

Jericho: He was making that same money when he played against CHI last year

Jericho: You’re telling me he didn't want it then?

Jericho: 1600 yards and 18 TDs

Jericho: in the books this season

Magglio: I think he goes through the motions

Magglio: I really do

Jericho: Want to bet?

Magglio: You know what Alexander is doing right now?

Jericho: Sit ups.

Magglio: Right.

Magglio: And then looking at his abs in his mirror. And then getting a non-fat caramel macchiato and flirting with the coffee girl.

Magglio: You know what frank gore is doing right now?

Jericho: Resting his hand.

Magglio: He just fisted a chicken until he reached its brain…to heal the hand

Magglio: That my friend, is the difference between a player who wants it and one who is simply going through the motions.

Jericho: I'll bet you $1000 that Alexander has 1500 yards and 15 TDs this year

Magglio: Double it. He may hit 1500, but no way on the 15

Jericho: $2000 on 1500 and 15

Magglio: Done

Jericho: Easy Money

VOTE FOR BONDS!

Tomorrow is the last day to vote for Barry Bonds for the all-star game. He's currently in 4th place in voting, one position away from starting the game. And he should be starting...not only is he still the most feared hitter in MLB...the game is IN San Francisco.

Do your part...Vote for Bonds!

"You just can't teach that"

Famous words in sports. "You just can't teach that." You hear it everywhere, when a basketball player makes a no look pass or when a wide receiver seems to float in the air over defenders to haul in a catch. Announcers say it when a hockey player annihilates an opponent or when a tennis player fights through pain to outlast an opponent. These things, you cannot teach.

But golf?

I could've sworn I heard the announcers utter this phrase over the weekend while watching the U.S. Open. And it got me thinking....is there anything in golf that is unteachable? Is there some deep down athletic ability or God given talent that the elite golfers have? No. The answer is no.

The ability to stay out and putt for hours and days on end demonstrates an inner passion and commitment...I guess. But is it unteachable? No. There is nothing in golf that isn't taught by countless repetition. It's just time. If you want to be good at golf, you need time. That's it.

Sorry Tiger.

Note to dudes everywhere...

DONT TELL YOUR GIRLFRIEND SHE REMINDS YOU OF KIRBY PUCKETT.

Sure, it seems simple enough. Don't compare your chick to a short, round faced, pudgy, scooting centerfielder. Right? But let's examine the facts for a second.

Kirby Puckett was the premier centerfielder of the late 80's and early 90's. He was the undeniable leader of the Twins on and off the field, in 1986 he hit 31 homers along with 96 RBI's and a .328 batting average, and he single handedly won the World Series for the Minnesota Twins? Now ask yourself...does that sound like a compliment to be called Kirby Puckett?

To be compared to Kirby Puckett means to be called a leader. A visionary. An athlete. An inspiration. Now being compared to Adam Keefe, that's a whole other thing.