I can't believe I am going to say this in a blog about a racist, anti-Semitic homophobe who has magically overshadowed a 'Hall Of Fame' baseball career with his post-retirement jackassery, but here goes... You'll have to excuse MY ignorance here, because I am so unfamiliar with Sidney Ponson that I couldn't even have told you whether he was male or female before 5 minutes ago. Fortunately, I don't think I have to be all that knowledgable about the career of a former baseball player to be able to spot a farce of a twitter page when I see one. 39 tweets? Followers that only increased from 43 to 137 after a online spat with a public figure that people love to hate? A list of posts that reads like it was written by an 11 year old who just watched 'Super Troopers' for the first time and is modeling his internet persona after Farva? A tag that literally says "not really sid"? If there really is a former MLB pitcher out there that created his own parody account of himself then Curt Schilling managed to find the only other grown man that is as much of a fucking loser as he is, but something tells me this is just another case of him vehemently denying logic on accord of his initial opinion. And you know what? I'm actually a bit jealous. I genuinely believe that Curt Schilling genuinely believes everything he says, regardless of whether there is a rational thought process behind it. Other than the stress that comes with despising everyone that doesn't look or think exactly like him, I bet he lives a pretty damn carefree life. Imagine never once questioning yourself? The worldwide web is as thankless of a platform as there is for a person's thoughts, and I am potentially wrong on it every single day. I wish I could be like Curt Schilling simply because admitting clear defeat absolutely blows. I suppose losing all credibility and having the entire sports world think you're more of an absolute quack than a 'World Series' hero also blows, but hey - at least he's got the next 4 years to celebrate the inauguration of the dude whose shown that ignoring the obvious and talking directly out of your asshole like a complete buffoon on the internet can prove frighteningly successful.
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FTW- Judging by my colleague Hemal Jhavari’s unrepentant disdain for goat yoga, I can’t wait until she hears about this fitness trend. Beer yoga. Not really sure how it helps with any of the stuff yoga is supposed to help with, but it’s certainly something I can get behind.
OregonLive.com has an interesting story about the practice, which has been around for longer than many think, but is only now starting to take off: While she said that beer has no inherent benefit to the practice of yoga, adding it in is “just fun.” “For us, it’s about bringing people together,” she said. “Yoga is something you do for yourself, but beer brings people together. People have been gathering around beer for a long time.” I'll tell you what, when I woke up this morning I didn't think I was going to have to call into question my own personal belief that beer makes everything better. Turns out life is actually full of surprises, because I'm here to tell you that no amount of booze can make configuring your body into ridiculously unnatural positions more enjoyable. This isn't some post blasting an increasing popular form of exercise, because I too have subjected myself to the voluntary torture that is said exercise. It's not even a call to the attention of the obvious contradiction between alcohol intake and an athletic activity that requires balance and flexibility. The biggest problem I have with beer yoga is that is could potentially make someone associate the taste of beer with yoga. I can honestly say that I have never wanted to die more than I did when I was laying flat on my back following an egregiously strenuous stretching session in a 105 degree room. I laid in a pool of my own sweat whispering "namaste" like a conformist asshole that truly believed one peaceful sounding word was going to make me forget that I would have been more comfortable in a public place if I had walked stark naked into an auditorium full of my peers. The last thing I wanted in that moment was to associate with strangers, but a close second was an ice cold beer that wouldn't come remotely close to satisfying my level of discomfort. Before this very moment I thought that beer was undefeated in ridding group settings of their awkwardness, but it would unquestionably take an 'L' in a situation where it would immediately seep out through your pores and drip wastefully to the ground leaving you with one less ever-so-satisfying shower beer. Fuck church and state, the real separation we need to worry about is brewskis and calisthenics.
Let me start by saying there are a lot of moving parts that are responsible for James Harden's complete '180' from a (literally) defenseless, ball-dominant scorer for a completely underperforming team to one of the most selfless, versatile weapons in all of the NBA. It would be hard to argue that Mike D'Antoni hasn't been the most impactful personnel change with how well his free flowing style has fit the skill set of the someone who is more than likely your midseason MVP. The signing of shooters like Ryan Anderson and Eric Gordon shouldn't be glossed over either, but I can't help but think that the biggest roster addition to this Rockets team was made by subtraction. I'm usually excessively stubborn when it comes to my opinions on public figures and that's why I was pretty silent in appreciating James Harden's recent career renaissance. However, after watching him make small talk with a spry, young woman on the day she officially hit the century mark I have no choice but to go ahead and say it. James Harden has become likable, and in doing so has put to rest whatever debate was still to be had over who was most at fault for the disconnect that ailed the Rockets last year. The term "cancer" probably gets tossed around in sports discussions far too often considering it's the name of the most debilitating, deadly disease on the planet, but somehow that label doesn't even do justice to how much of a plague Dwight Howard is to those around him. I'm not going to blame the guy with the sociopathic smile for the all-too-common instances in which his former teammate got caught playing "matador defense" (h/t Walk Clyde Frazier), but I'm quickly starting to think that my hate for James Harden was largely by association. I'm not going to sit here and say that the trajectories of the Rockets and the Hawks are completely influenced by the player that moved from one team to the other, but I'm certainly going to imply it. Dwight Howard has been out of Houston for merely half a season and they went from an undeserving 8th seed to a Western Conference powerhouse. He's been in Atlanta for no more than a few months and they are already siphoning off their starters for draft picks. I'm probably being too forgiving since James Harden damn near got an "awww" out of me when he put his arm around an adorable 100 year old woman on her birthday, but ridding his daily life of Dwight Howard's enigmatic ass has to be pretty close to the top on the list of reasons he has to smile.
That's exactly what I needed to hear following that game. You hear enough analysts discuss a player's grudge against his former teammate like it's a quickly fleeting moment of conflict in a romantic comedy and you start to get tricked into thinking that they might be on to something. That's why it couldn't possibly have been more refreshing to be reminded that Russell Westbrook isn't Ross, Kevin Durant isn't Rachel, and there's no 'happily ever after' moment in their near future. I get why some commentators who aren't paid to promote pettiness might say otherwise, but this is a "relationship" that's so fractured that it would be harder to piece back together than a group of high school girls whose friendship imploded over a mutual love interest. Russell Westbrook's animosity towards the "bitch ass" (his words, my thoughts) who promptly bounced to enemy lines without so much as a phone call just weeks after blowing a 3-1 lead clearly isn't going anywhere, and the viewing audience is absolutely better off because of it. I don't care if the Warriors beat the Thunder the next 37 times they play them and not a single one of those games is within single digits in the 4th quarter, because watching the man who is undoubtedly going to end up on the wrong side of most of those match-ups try to harbor his hatred will always be must watch television. The NBA has become just as nauseatingly cliquey as it has talented, and Russell Westbrook appears to be one of the few guys whose spitefulness won't let his hard feelings soften with time. I'm not sure how productive that will be in enhancing his chances of ever winning a championship, but I'll be damned if his bad blood isn't one of the best things going in sports AND entertainment. Here's to hoping Zaza Pachulia becomes a minor speed bump in the next clash of the titans...
BarDown- We got on the phone with Brix City Brewing and asked them about the inspiration for the beer, and it actually came up naturally in the process of brewing. The beer is a Czech style Pilsner, and as big New York Rangers fans, when they heard Czech, the first thought that came to mind was of Jagr.
“I know he wasn’t here for very long, but people don’t realize how many Rangers Records he holds. Plus, who doesn’t like Jagr?” They noted that he also played in New Jersey, but it was less about where he played and more of the Czech connection to the beer. Plus, now we have to ask the question, who doesn’t like Jaromir Lager? Here’s how they describe the brew on their website: “Jaromir Lager is a traditionally brewed Czech style Pilsner with an ABV of 5.0%. Czech Saaz hops are exclusively used in this brew to both bitter and flavor.” This idea is so genius that I'll even overlook the fact that Rangers fans were responsible for it. Seriously, if there were a power rankings of things that you'd have to be an asshole to dislike then a crisp, refreshing pilsner would be 1(b) to Jaromir Jagr's 1(a). I'll even give these dudes a pass for including an 'E' when a much more appropriate name would have been 'Jaromir Lagr'. After all, you can only expect so many acts of ingenuity from a couple of diehard Ranger bros that named their brewery after the city that their rivals call home. Still, almost impossible not to give them credit for following through on a concept that is either brilliantly simple or simply brilliant. Especially when the label sports the most glorious mullet in sports history. I do hope they get started on production soon though. Not only because I needed a 6'er of it ASAP, but because with the way Henrik Lundqvist's performance is trending they'll need a hell of a lot of 5.0% percent beers to help them get over the fact that their favorite team pissed away the best years of a 'Hall Of Fame' career and has nothing to show for it. There's only two ways to forget how much of a perennial disappointment the New York Rangers have been, and since one of them is having Chris Kreider beat you over the head with your own helmet I would suggest they expedite the brewing of their #68 special.
I'm just going to come out and say it. I don't think this is all that good of a look for the Chargers. Honestly, do you think that guy is a lifelong fan that is so passionate about his team and his city that he traveled to his team's new city just to scream obscenities at their dickhead of an owner? I'm not saying that's not the case, but I would say it's equally possible that he's just a hipster that bought that jersey around the corner for 60% and was just looking for an opportunity to protest and fight the power instead of hitting up the same old underground record store for the umpteenth day in a row. I can't imagine what it would be like to feel scorned by one of my sports teams, but so far those that have been the most outspoken about the move haven't been the most convincing of supporters. Whether it was the old guy that looked like he just had a spoiled carton of eggs to get rid of or this dude who looked like he was pissed that he wasn't able to get his $8 coffee from the craft java spot prior to watching Dean Spanos' attempt to be personable and sincere, the San Diego faithful are going to need some better representation if they want me to truly sympathize with their pain. P.S. Our boy Lance Alworth - who unquestionably only showed up hoping there would be a fight - is the guy I need present at the rally when the team eventually moves away from the City Of Angels like the countless football franchises before them. Other than rich celebrities that are only there to keep up appearances, he's the prototype for what I expect out of the Chargers new fan base. Probably only went with the throwback because he forgot to bring his Dodgers jersey to the cleaners to get the blood stains out.
Can anyone explain to me what I just watched? I'm legitimately confused as to whether that "groundbreaking" was supposed to be a photo-op for a new facility or whether it was supposed to be "groundbreaking" in the sense that it attempted to reinvent a boring event in which old, rich white people celebrate the impending fruits of other's labor. I know the Warriors owner thinks his fucking basketball team is revolutionizing the world or some shit, but I'm not sure I would consider handing a bunch of gymnasts crossing guard outfits and parking cones so they can put on a Cirque Du So, So lame performance for a bunch of confused millionaires is what I would call a step in the right direction. I guess it kinda worked since I'm newly aware that the Warriors are in the process of switching arenas, but I'm pretty sure that could have been accomplished with a press release. Not that I'm against making life a little more interesting, but I think Joe Lacob's energy could be better focused into making sure LeBron doesn't turn his organization into the world's most nauseatingly repetitive meme (AGAIN) instead of treating the digging of a little dirt like it's Billy Madison's 3rd grade graduation party. I don't want to tell a wealthy man how to spend his money, but maybe he should cut the shit before he cuts the ribbon, because I can promise him that no one was impressed by an egregious waste of wealth that you'd have to be on 'shrooms to even mildly appreciate. There's a thin line between genius and insanity, and if Steph Curry stops hitting 3's from his parking spot than Joe Lacob is going to end up on the wrong side of it. LBS- Durant told Anthony Slater of the Mercury News that he believes James Harden could have thrived in a sixth man role with the Thunder had he not been traded to Houston.
“I think he’d have stayed in that role. I think so,” Durant said. “He’d have still been a really great player. You look at it, a lot of people wouldn’t have looked at him as a Sixth Man. He’d have been better. I think he’d have been better. Obviously I’m sure he loves what he’s doing now, but if we would’ve won a championship, I think the perception of him would’ve just been as a great player. ‘He’s the heart, he’s what makes us go.’ That’s what his label would’ve been, instead of just Sixth Man. He would’ve probably been the best Sixth Man that ever was.” Pretty groundbreaking realization from Kevin Durant here. The guy who is one of the early favorites to win the MVP award during the NBA's most talented era ever would have flourished playing the bulk of his minutes against backups. Who woulda thunk it?!? I didn't know I would be doing this today, but I think this calls for a definite Top 10 list of players that would make a huge impact off the bench... -James Harden -LeBron James -Steph Curry -Russell Westbrook -Kevin Durant -Anthony Davis -Kawhi Leonard -Chris Paul -Blake Griffin -DeMarcus Cousins Now, regulating any of those players to the bench seems excessively counterproductive to winning games and wouldn't come anywhere close to fully utilizing their talents, but I'll be damned if it wouldn't guarantee them a '6th Man Of The Year' award! Obviously I know what Kevin Durant means, but once you say it out loud doesn't it sound insanely stupid? James Harden may have won a championship if he wasn't shipped out of Oklahoma City, but he wouldn't be a "better player" if he was picking up whatever statistical scraps Russell Westbrook and Kevin Durant left behind. Of course, in retrospect, James Harden would be the best role player that ever lived if he was fulfilling a role that was ridiculously beneath him. In fact, I'm surprised it took the guy that bolted to the winningest team of all time after choking away a 3-1 lead to them until now to piece that thought process together.
I am undoubtedly not MLB pitcher Matt Garza and Ben Boulware surely isn't an independent woman that is trying to have recreational sex without becoming a mother. That's why I won't be the one to tell him what to put on or in his body. I will, however, discourage athletes from permanently branding themselves every time they prove a talking head wrong. That's partially because getting a retaliatory tattoo seems like a horrible idea, but - more importantly - it's because the radical state of sports media would have a player that was successful with any consistency running out room for new ink quicker than J.R. Smith. Obviously an understated ode to an unforgettable memory in a place that won't keep the Clemson linebacker from going corporate after football isn't the most ill advised of body art. However, if this becomes his "thing" then he's going to exhaust all of his symbolic extremities by the time his second season in the NFL rolls around. His collar bones will only provide a pretty limited canvas after showing Mel Kiper that he can - indeed - "shoulder" the load. I don't want him to have to saran wrap his calves during the summer after his draft status is undeniable proof that Mike Mayock was full of shit when he said his scouting report didn't have a "leg" to stand on. That trophy will never not mean something to Ben Boulware after he helped Clemson stake their claim to it by beating the collegiate equivalent of a pro football factory in the National Championship. That said, the unfortunate truth is that posting it on Twitter only let's Desmond Howard know that someone was actually paying attention to his dumbass and - really - that's far more important to him than being anywhere close to accurate. Siena's Coach Went Through An Imaginary Handshake Line After Things Got Ugly In A Win Over Rider1/18/2017
As someone that has been accused on being a less than gracious winner on multiple occasions, I think I'm at liberty to say that there aren't many feelings that trump showing up your opponent after defeating them. Unfortunately, the grown men that are responsible for holding emotional college kids in check are held to a higher standard of conduct than the athletes that they coach. That's why there's really nothing you can do but tip your cap to Jimmy Patsos for hilariously mocking his opponent while still remaining the bigger man. In a lot of ways, fulfilling his sportsmanlike duties by running through a ghost handshake line is more disrespectful than stomping off the floor like a toddler whose mother is making him put back the potentially diabetic cereal. That said, he added insult to injury in a way that somehow appeared far more professional than the man whose saltiness got the best of him as he stormed off the court. Forget about beating a rival in a heated matchup. Jimmy Patsos got his biggest 'W' of the night when he held up his end of the unspoken agreement that coaches make to shake hands regardless of the result in a Machiavellian manner that all-but-guaranteed that Kevin Baggett's bush-league behavior would catch ablaze and run wild throughout the internet. It's a good thing that I wasn't in the room when Taylor Hall declared a Western Canadian road trip that was set to end against one of the hottest teams in the entire league a "do or die" moment of the Devils' season. Something tells me our extremely one-sided relationship would have been fractured beyond repair if I spit my drink out on his shoes before laughing uncontrollably right in his face. That lack of faith in a team that had seemingly been on life support since mid-November was only strengthened when they blew a late lead in Edmonton only to lose on a line change that was so self destructive that it must have had John Hynes' dialing up crisis centers and making suicide hotlines bling. So excuse me for throwing on a black suit and waiting for the inevitable phone call, because even the most optimistic of fans had to have accepted that the end was near. That's not to say that a trifecta of hard fought wins - that were no more than a bounce from going the other way - are proof that the Devils' cancerous flaws are a thing of the past, but I'll be damned if they haven't found a cure that will, at the very least, keep their playoff hopes alive a bit longer. Obviously a red hot Cory Schneider has proven - once again - to be the ultimate life line, but a defense that has a renewed sense of accountability in their own end has provided a refreshing spark to a team who somehow looked more lost mentally than physically. I'm not exactly ready to un-retire Scott Niedermayer's #27 for Karl Stollery or watch the game through squinted enough eyes to trick myself into thinking that Steve Santini has adequately replaced what the Devils lost when they traded Adam Larsson, but they've basically been guardian angels to a blue line that had all but flatlined. The offense might not be the most aesthetically pleasing thing to watch at times, but the high end talent that's being paid to score timely goals is finally starting to fulfill that promise. Expecting more four goal nights against a stellar goaltender like Devin Dubnyk is probably a dangerous proposition, but even Jacob Josefson has begun to create chances that he has no chance of finishing so maybe there is some more blind hope to be had. This team is still far, far away from being able to think of the postseason as a possibility. That being said, last night Blake Coleman displayed some Jaromir Jagr-esque puck possession prior to finding Beau Bennett who finished with authority when he had the game on his stick. If you don't think that this game winner is definitive proof that 'Stranger Things' have happened then you're basically living in the upside down...
P.S. This picture turned me into a bundle of all-too-confusing emotions prior to the game last night, but now that the Devils have made Zach Parise leave the ice a loser twice this season I can say that it warmed my heart to see the bromance recaptured - if only in one single snapshot... Sharks' Goaltender Martin Jones Tried To Score In An Empty Net Annnd The Exact Opposite Happened1/17/2017 In the interest of full disclosure, I must say that I don't like a goaltender risking a late goal against by selfishly and unnecessarily trying to get his name on the stat sheet.... I absolutely fucking love it. Considering the stiffness of competition in the NHL, there aren't many times in a netminder's career when he gets the chance to join the short list of players at his position that have scored a goal without putting his team at immediate risk. Receiving the puck up 4-1 with 20 seconds left in a game that was already decided, however, is the perfect example of one of those all-too-rare opportunities. So, Martin Jones ended up making a comical gaff that harmlessly ended up in his own net. At least this time it was he that cost himself a goal against his own average instead of one of his teammates - whose jobs aren't largely thankless - putting their last line of defense at odds by trying to pad their stats at the expense of a vulnerable, beaten team. As far as I am concerned, Martin Jones can shoot the puck in his own damn net as long as it doesn't cost the Sharks a victory. I don't know why he'd do that when he could potentially solidify a spot in the history books by launching the puck towards the gaping goal mouth of the opponent, but he's earned the right to do so by reaching the pinnacle of a profession in which the sole job responsibility is to cover other people's asses. Judging from this sheepish grin, I would say he's well aware that's the case... The Chargers New Coach Just Poured Salt In An Open Wound By Forgetting What City He's Headed To1/17/2017
I'll tell you what, it's a good thing that Anthony Lynn isn't headed to San Diego or he would be public enemy #1 to the 24.6% of the population that actually gave a shit about Chargers football after making an honest mistake that 90% of people would have made in the same situation. That ever so slight slip up may have been the ultimate head slapper to his new franchise and the ultimate dick kicker to their former fans, but I'll be damned if doesn't roll off the tongue a hell of a lot better than "LA Chargers". In retrospect, the brand new head coach thats been entrusted with helping a professional football team adjust to a new city that only seems moderately interested in their arrival probably should have rehearsed the most important part of his intro in the mirror a few times prior to the press conference, but generally hindsight is as flawless as the flow of "Saaan Diego Suuuper Chargers". I want to say this was an inexcusable mistake, but - speaking as someone that likely won't associate Los Angeles with it's new red-headed stepchild of a football team for upwards of 2-3 years - it's also a completely understandable in my eyes. Surely the diehard Bolts fan that's re-loading his right arm with another carton of eggs disagrees, but can you really blame a guy for being confused by an organization that changed their logo three times over the course of a 24 hour period? When their now-retired theme song is as catchy as this, I would argue the answer is no... Something Tells Me Tony Romo Wasn't Interested In Receiving Sympathy From The Packers Towel Guy1/17/2017
I got to be honest here. I'm not exactly sure what the Green Bay Packers' Senior Hydration Consultant meant by "you deserve better". If he was trying to say that Tony Romo is unquestionably too talented to be riding the pine in a league that has become a breeding ground for terrible quarterback play then he would be absolutely right. If he was trying to say that the Dallas Cowboys mishandled the situation by continuing to start Dak Prescott once his predecessor got healthy enough to play then he would be unbelievably wrong. Whatever the case may be, I don't really think it's something that Tony Romo needed to hear from his opponent's Executive Towel Distributor. I'm admittedly not the upmost authority on body language. That said, the excessive nodding and generic expression of appreciation seemed eerily reminiscent of someone receiving belated condolences that did nothing more than remind them of the tragedy they were trying to put in their rearview. Tony Romo is well past mourning the premature death of his career as a Dallas Cowboy, so bringing up the disappointing way in which it ended months after it all-but-ended is more selfish than anything else. If Grandpa Gatorade really felt some type of way about the situation then he would have reached out shortly after Tony Romo gave a press conference that was only slightly less depressing than Magic Johnson announcing that he was retiring from the NBA due to HIV. I don't know why he didn't, but he damn sure shouldn't have tried to make up for it by calling a proud quarterback's attention to the fact that he could/should have been playing in the playoff game that he just watched from the sideline. Enjoy...
I'm no stick in the mud that has derives pleasure from taking a wet blanket and using it to smother the fun out of ridiculously eventful sporting events. I know the headline may read that way, but the truth is that I have a shameless amount of love for 8-7 shootouts (as long as they don't end in shootouts). I just think it's only fair to acknowledge that a game featuring nine goals scored in twenty minutes of professional hockey required defense that can only be described as offensive and goaltending that was so counterproductive that it would be better defined as 'net-under-minding'. Obviously there was a ton of firepower on display, but it burned a hell of a lot quicker once it got caught by the wind that two of the best teams in the sport outright refused to throw caution to. That doesn't mean I can't enjoy a performance that may have singlehandedly increased scoring enough to silence those that want to tear up the very fabric of the sport by making the nets bigger. It doesn't mean I don't think the novelty of a scoring output that would put the point totals of the Los Angeles Rams to shame wasn't worth the torching of the two GAA's that it ultimately destroyed. It just means that what took place in Pittsburgh last night was basically the athletic equivalent of reality television in the sense that it was so unapologetically a mockery of itself that it became a more captivating version of itself. Even Roberto Luongo couldn't turn away, and I think he was trying to be funny just as much as he was trying to laugh himself through the second-hand pain of watching two of his peers get their dicks kicked in....
Look, I could sit here and try to manufacture a case that Michael Thomas should only be second to Ezekiel Elliott in 'Rookie Of The Year' voting. I'm not sure it would be all that compelling since it's tough to deny how impressive Dak Prescott was in leading his team to 13 wins and a #1 seed at a much more difficult position to attain early success, but it could probably be done. After all, we are talking about a guy that finished in the top ten of the three most important statistical categories for wide receivers in a league that is chock-full of premier pass catchers. At the very least that's more impressive that Carson Wentz accomplishing nothing more than making it through a full season without being labeled a bust in record time like the quarterback that was selected before him. I suppose I could debate whether Michael Thomas' had a bigger impact than Deion Jones or Joey Bosa, but I would rather just shake my head at the amount of negligence necessary to totally exclude from the list of candidates. That said, I don't really mind the fact that his astronomical numbers got lost in the shuffle when it came to acknowledging the most extraordinary performances by first year players. I don't know if it's because that oversight seems all-too-fitting for the guy whose personal mantra has been "shhhh" since before he got drafted or if it's because it can only motivate him going forward. Either way, the NFL hasn't seen the best of Michael Thomas and that's scary considering what they somehow managed to miss 92 catches, 1,137 yards, 9 touchdowns, and countless displays of veteran poise from a 22 year old. Disclaimer: This post is mildly influenced by the fact that Drew Brees doesn't get anywhere near enough credit. As much as I would love to refute the obvious, I can't - in good conscience - deny that the things that Aaron Rodgers has proven capable of from the quarterback position are acts of athleticism that have never before been seen from one person with any regularity. The scrambling ability that leaves men with superhuman combinations of size, strength, and speed grasping at air. The presence of mind that allows him to be productive despite repeatedly hitting the snooze button on his internal clock. The pin point accuracy that shouldn't be possible with how often he gives a nice big "fuck you" to fundamental mechanics. The arm strength responsible for hail marys that consistently leave my 50 inch television screen only to reappear in the arms of an awaiting receiver 60 some odd yards down the field. It's getting to the point where it's nearly impossible to argue that the current quarterback of the Green Bay Packers isn't one of the most purely talented players ever to step on a football field, yet - after fluffing him nearly to completion - I must say that it somehow feels like he still gets too much credit. I like to think I am objective enough to appreciate greatness regardless of the source, but I do find it odd that Aaron Rodgers is the only signal caller in the NFL that is able to avoid criticism when he's not remotely close to near perfect. Before this historic run of games started the Green Bay Packers were rapidly approaching a full calendar year of exceedingly underwhelming football, yet the only explanation that oft-pessimistic analysts could think of was that the entirety of Aaron Rodgers locker room let him down. Playing quarterback is supposed to be a gift and a curse. You are supposed to get all the praise when you win and all the blame when you lose. That's how it is for literally every other person that lines up under center. Why did the guy who was nonsensically getting compared to Michael Jordan six games into last season get treated with kid gloves when his career hit a speed bump that was more reminiscent of LeBron's first stint in Cleveland? These are same "journalists" who were quick to say that Tom Brady had fallen off a cliff when the Patriots started 2-2 in 2014 and are ready to put Drew Brees football career in the morgue every time he throws multiple interceptions. Yet when a physically superior quarterback - with obvious personality flaws - struggles they are quite to point the finger elsewhere like parents who blame their teenage son's new "crowd" when he goes from a 4.0 GPA to rolling joints with his D+ essays? Excuse me for acknowledging facts here, but is it possible that the guy who has a rocky relationship with family, friends, and - most importantly - former teammates (with whom he won a championship) only has one Super Bowl for a reason? I'm not ignoring the seemingly impossible things he's able to do with a ball in his hands, but don't we think the lack of leadership he displays literally every time he throws an incompletion and immediately proceeds to toss a teammate right under the wheels of the nearest bus is worth mentioning? I'm definitely being too hard on a guy that's riding a streak that's hotter than his brother's run on 'The Bachelorette', but - god dammit - it's about time someone said something bad about the guy that appears to be an insufferable asshole during the increasingly rare occasions that he's not wowing a viewing audience.
Well, well, well...would you get a load of the pot mocking the kettle's blackness, and on Martin Luther King Jr. Day no less! I've never been one to defend the theatrics of LeBron James and I'm certainly not going to start after he was so overly dramatic about a routine collision that it made professional wrestling look real by comparison. I encourage everyone to get their jokes off at the expense of the 6'8, 250 Mack truck of a human being that should be sued for insurance fraud after trying to claim he was totaled by what amounted to a mere fender bender. That said, some people have more room to talk than others, and the guy that embellishes so much that he has some basketball fans (that are far too forgiving) considering the possibility that maybe his body - and only his body - defies anatomical science is essentially packed into a phone booth so small that it makes Colin Farrell's appear cozy. I don't say this to take away from the fact that the most freakish specimen on the planet stinks at playing dead, but Draymond's dramatization of LeBron's dramatization appeared to be eerily similar to the exact same reaction he has when someone has the gall to wander within his kicking radius. I don't care that one player is more concerned with causing extreme testicular discomfort than drawing flagrants while painting himself as a victim, because the fact remains that both of them are guilty of exaggerating so egregiously that the talent evaluators at a soap opera audition would kick them out for bringing shame to their craft. P.S. Flag on the play! Flag on the play! Excessive declaration of toughness. 15 yard penalty. $25,000 dollar fine. Loss of the right to wear colorful cleats for one week per season...
TMZ- Future claims he didn't go to the Falcons-Seahawks game this weekend to spite Russell Wilson ... he's just a huge Falcons fan ... plain and simple. Obviously, with the history between Future and Russ (and Ciara) -- it was verrrry interesting to see the rapper on the sidelines opposite the Seahawks QB at the NFL playoff game in ATL on Saturday. But a source close to Future says the rapper is adamant his appearance was not meant to be a shot at his ex's husband. We're told he's tight with a bunch of Falcons players -- especially stud receiver Julio Jones-- so that's why he was invited to the game ... and he'll probably go this coming Sunday too. Call me crazy for not buying what Future is selling, but I stopped investing in things that hardly seemed authentic in 8th grade when I broke two pairs of F-Oakleys in the same week. The only response I had when I read that Future was claiming innocence on a blatant act of pettiness was a passive aggressive "k.", because that seemed like a fittingly elementary reaction towards shenanigans that were right out of whatever book high school exes call their post-breakup plays. Don't get me wrong. I have no problem believing that an Atlanta rapper is - indeed - a big time Falcons fan so it's no surprise he was in attendance, but that doesn't mean I believe that he serves any genuine purpose whatsoever roaming the sideline with another one of his ex-fiance's former flames... So can we just call that thing that looks like a inverted heart with a golf tee jammed through it a spade and admit that Future willingly subjected himself to being used as a pawn in an attempt to mentally checkmate the guy that's raising his son? I'm sure Dan Quinn could probably be tricked into believing that Future was his third string safety whose on IR, but something tells me that a popular hip hop artist who didn't used to dick-down the life partner of the most important player on the opposing team would probably only garner an invite to the postgame celebration after a playoff win. Unless Julio Jones is befriending Ciara's exes in hopes of gathering intel for when her and Russell Wilson inevitably split then the Atlanta Falcons are guilty of doing everything they can to give themselves an edge. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's nothing short of obvious when the opposing quarterback is looking across the field at a lineup of dudes that used to penetrate his wife. Everyone remember this guy, who preceded the National Championship by throwing a football that was worth one million dollars so poorly that you'd have to question whether or not his family and friends were going to continue to associate with him?
Well, he's back and - by golly - he is somehow worse than ever....
Look, I'm not saying I have too much pride to completely and repeatedly embarrass myself on national television in exchange for - at the very least - a year's worth of free groceries. Shit, I'd let this noodle-armed son of a bitch beat me in arm wrestling if the price was right. I'm just genuinely concerned that everyone, myself included, has become so enamored with public shaming that we are willing to gift people significant sums of money to provide us the opportunity to mock strangers. If the decision to throw a goddamn football underhanded while 7 yards away from the target isn't an indication that this was all a sham that was set up by 'Good Morning America' then the fact that he "won" despite his unbridled display of basic male motor skills certainly is. Regardless, it says a whole hell of a lot about how easily amused we have all become. Forget about the kids that are getting presented with 'Honorable Mention' trophies after striking out in tee-ball, because these videos were such egregious examples of sucking your way to success that they made the motives of pornographic secretaries seem genuine. A handshake deal could have been put in place to assure that this dude's attempts were intentionally feeble, but the fact that they were made to appear unintentional and still worth a year's supply of sustenance is an eye-opening indictment of the sadistic monsters that the internet has turned us into. |
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