tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63765040909272222892024-03-14T10:30:32.204-04:00The Sporting ScribeA courteous blend of news, opinion, and outright fiction inspired by the world of sportsCGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-51018248777674263892013-06-26T15:27:00.001-04:002013-06-26T15:27:17.318-04:00The Greatest Innovations in Sporting Equipment History<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfFGFHIj3L39e47NKv4k222SnRsXJ0DMXprDwamU2IZhyHtqbCUpw42EyB0bPwVOQzWULM3WxmpwhXmlXZ_Z5jQlR89uk5wCiKX3t2Vhovro5bzIls4Uj6SD1vBUsWF9RTegfviXk1Cl1/s1600/jacques_plante_putting_on_mask_gr75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfFGFHIj3L39e47NKv4k222SnRsXJ0DMXprDwamU2IZhyHtqbCUpw42EyB0bPwVOQzWULM3WxmpwhXmlXZ_Z5jQlR89uk5wCiKX3t2Vhovro5bzIls4Uj6SD1vBUsWF9RTegfviXk1Cl1/s320/jacques_plante_putting_on_mask_gr75.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I’m sure I can only speak for myself when I say that studying sports equipment is really interesting. See, I know most sports fans out there aren’t thinking about what kind of resin Justin Verlander powders on his hands before hurling a 90 mph heater. And there aren’t many fans, like me, who see a boxer laid out on the canvas and wonder what kind of mouthpiece it is laying beside him in a puddle of his own drool.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It’s this hazy attention to details that causes many of us to take these seemingly innocent innovations for granted. We fail to see the important roles they play in the lives of our athletes and rarely think about how things would be different without them</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Therefore, I feel it is my duty to present to you the most important innovations in sports equipment history.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBRs-VfsUWIYu2I-dWZVlgk4CHice00V7rgBD08fHeu6oRFYRQfwfEwMjjd8cg0Dynrs5zyyft0VzELbuw5rCNbn-Fhmdw2E-zddhTRFpQ7h4zbBwblSrTlom-MTRHda6NtO7aRE30TBh/s1600/6279805.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBRs-VfsUWIYu2I-dWZVlgk4CHice00V7rgBD08fHeu6oRFYRQfwfEwMjjd8cg0Dynrs5zyyft0VzELbuw5rCNbn-Fhmdw2E-zddhTRFpQ7h4zbBwblSrTlom-MTRHda6NtO7aRE30TBh/s320/6279805.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Honorable Mention – Nerf Footballs</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ok, so these flashy globes of foam rubber aren’t really pieces of equipment used by the professionals, but they sure make your Uncle Harry look like Johnny Unitas. Maybe he was telling the truth when he told you he would have went pro if not for that damn alien abduction. Either that Nerf ball is scientifically designed to soar 90 yards with a flick of the wrist, or your Uncle Harry’s stashed some performance enhancers in that six pack of brew he’s got dangling from his belt loop.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpsklHp6f5MrSAL82qS3jQJ4T14kCf0zaBitT4UZBaxY_LYs7Qv9lUJiVc9euQbFkW5UIr-AeiQOrIDEO9UZJpMlOEp1jNkPE5UvWFujiUHdN-14hrVaZzAyGrphKX5tDAgoWRR4ywAKa/s1600/950616_f260.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIpsklHp6f5MrSAL82qS3jQJ4T14kCf0zaBitT4UZBaxY_LYs7Qv9lUJiVc9euQbFkW5UIr-AeiQOrIDEO9UZJpMlOEp1jNkPE5UvWFujiUHdN-14hrVaZzAyGrphKX5tDAgoWRR4ywAKa/s320/950616_f260.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">5. Football Helmets with Facemasks</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Just think, it wasn’t until the 1950’s that the modern football helmet and face mask were mandated in the pros. Before that, guys pretended to be tough while wearing the same leather helmet worn by Snoopy in his exploits as the Red Baron. Could you imagine how many teeth must have littered the turf by game’s end? It must have looked like closing time at the Chic-let factory. I guess on the bright side, however, not having facemasks would have eliminated pretty-boy smile guys like Tony Romo and Tom Brady from the game. Of course, I’m sure it also eliminated any chance of having the ability to produce rational thought after an average playing career.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4. Batting Helmets</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The original batting helmet, used from the mid 1800’s all the way up into the 1950’s, was portable, fit like a glove, and was incredibly inexpensive. That’s because it was the human skull. Apparently no one thought it was a priority to protect the most vital organ in the body from whizzing, rock-hard projectiles. That is until the Major League death toll from wild pitches tallied six players by 1951. Teams like the Pittsburgh Pirates took notice of this scary statistic and began wearing protective helmets. Of course, the rest of the league immediately branded them as pansies… until 1954, when Joe Adcock was knocked unconscious by a wild pitch for a full 15 minutes. After that, the league decided to mandate the helmet rule for all players. Now you couldn’t catch a ballplayer standing in the on-deck circle without a helmet.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">3. Hockey Goaltender Masks</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2rvLH9kGKNtItX6yMnzplx7q1Jm8EJlZLt_QX2hPPHTskwcrpFC5ROAMnmXrF8HyjbX17vgDk28CZaTfVmp8VAakSheahJdCD72wvkA3FymVyGu4i-OCBljpO_Z1H5g7tcAmFgaRY1jl/s1600/jason_voorhees.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2rvLH9kGKNtItX6yMnzplx7q1Jm8EJlZLt_QX2hPPHTskwcrpFC5ROAMnmXrF8HyjbX17vgDk28CZaTfVmp8VAakSheahJdCD72wvkA3FymVyGu4i-OCBljpO_Z1H5g7tcAmFgaRY1jl/s320/jason_voorhees.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You have to be either extremely brave or extremely stupid to stand in front of a blazing slap shot and stop a puck with your face. Until Jaques Plante of the 1960 Canadiens finally donned a protective mask, hockey goalies were a little bit of both. Since then, the goalie mask has progressed from the full plastic variety, made famous by Jason Voorhees in the slasher flicks <i>Friday the 13<sup>th</sup></i>, to the modern version of a helmet and a protective metal cage that we commonly see today. Both varieties have allowed goaltenders to escape their playing days without losing an entire row of teeth or winding up with a face only a mother could love. </span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2. Protective Cups</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There’s really not much to say here. To even provide a reminder of sports without the trusty walnut shell would be an exercise in barbarity to anyone who’s ever taken a knee to the groin during a game of rough-touch football. But, yes, the forefathers of sports didn’t think twice about leaving the little guy open to injury. Makes you wonder how we all came to be, doesn’t it? The first cup was actually just a rolled-up piece of leather. Yeah, that gives you peace of mind. Thankfully, a wide variety of lightweight and sturdy materials now exist to protect you from the ultimate manly mishap.</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1. Baseball Caps</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t sing the praises of the baseball cap. I mean, I where a cap so often it’s become my hairstyle, and that’s the way it is for millions of hat-dependent Americans each day. Don’t feel like combing your hair? Baseball cap. Don’t want your hair to get wet in the rain? Baseball cap. Don’t have hair at all? Baseball cap. It’s the answer to most head-related issues…at least in my book.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1qQ6zsWEN6NEeMCts-lFfk1aeMiZReEcFXjGJ1RiGeeakKEBTna6EMpjzaOrIeZsYs5qKa6cB3MwFLhKTE5XqhDjFwNn7V40M4XANmUm419sbxs8zYMPzsEuzfyyM2MvGHFk8ugWv2wu/s1600/9990947-farmer-in-a-straw-hat-smoking-a-corn-cob-pipe-looking-up-to-the-sky.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH1qQ6zsWEN6NEeMCts-lFfk1aeMiZReEcFXjGJ1RiGeeakKEBTna6EMpjzaOrIeZsYs5qKa6cB3MwFLhKTE5XqhDjFwNn7V40M4XANmUm419sbxs8zYMPzsEuzfyyM2MvGHFk8ugWv2wu/s320/9990947-farmer-in-a-straw-hat-smoking-a-corn-cob-pipe-looking-up-to-the-sky.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But one thing that can’t be disputed is the modern ball cap has become an American staple, like the cowboy hat or apple pie. Thankfully, the original straw hat worn by the 1860 Brooklyn Excelsiors has come a long way. It’s been updated to the modern 59-50 style worn by current major leaguers. Otherwise I’d be sitting on a porch with a goofy straw hat and a corn cob pipe trying to whittle something right now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> And, really, who wants that?</span></div>
CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-80448304319153177842013-06-19T10:23:00.000-04:002013-06-19T10:35:45.394-04:00At the Table With...Baseball Legends<br />
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We’ve all heard the obligatory conversation starter before: “If you could have dinner with an influential person, who would it be and why?” Ah, the sounds of a high school history class…except without all the snoring and with only half the amount of drool.</div>
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Believe me, I’m not asking you to relive it with me because, seriously, those conversations usually turned out to be as exciting as a Florida Marlins home game.</div>
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Personally, I always thought it’d be more interesting to think about what you’d actually say to these people as they were huddled around your kitchen table. What would you serve them? What in the hell would they say to you?</div>
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Ok, so maybe I think about pointless stuff a little too much. But I only do it so you, the faithful readers, don’t have to.</div>
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I’m a baseball guy, so let me share with you the top five ballplayers throughout history that I’d dine with. But I’ll even take it the extra mile for you. I’ll let you in on our conversations.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">5. Alex Rodriguez</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlIP5m8nOUEC4MO-u3e3HnS090L5RQ_JGyd-U7y9ZdxEQzgmHyeCQtOZ_kIkgavSkbfM3uKMBM0m4b6xFSasYGYqeLgGLWou9DfSIyveeAyAi5xgNUiJpZJwnIhEl1kO6gIVdNNK24_t6m/s1600/ku-medium.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlIP5m8nOUEC4MO-u3e3HnS090L5RQ_JGyd-U7y9ZdxEQzgmHyeCQtOZ_kIkgavSkbfM3uKMBM0m4b6xFSasYGYqeLgGLWou9DfSIyveeAyAi5xgNUiJpZJwnIhEl1kO6gIVdNNK24_t6m/s1600/ku-medium.jpeg" /></a><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Meal:</i> An assorted tray of creams, jellies, and exotic antler sprays</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Conversation:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> I’m glad you decided to stop by, A-Rod. Hey, you tired of that name yet? I know I am.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A-Rod:</b> Big time. Thinking about starting a movement to change it. Maybe something like #50Cent_aur or #Lil_Shrink_Rod would work. Gain a little street cred , you know?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> No. I don't. But speaking of cred...how do you see the whole Biogenesis thing shaking out?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A-Rod:</b> Does it really matter? There's a pretty good chance I nailed Madonna. </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> What does that have to do with anything? I mean, you're facing a pretty stiff suspension.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A-Rod:</b> You said stiff. </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> Yes, Mr. Centaur, I did. Try to stay with me here. Don't you think this scandal will leave fans with a pretty grim outlook on your entire career?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A-Rod:</b> Once again, the Madonna thing. Plus, don't tell Cashman but I'm about to cash his ass out over the next four years. I don't even have to play. I can just sit back, visualize the next six posters I'll have printed with my head attached to the body of a mythological creature, and collect my millions.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> Weird. Very weird. But hard to argue with you.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A-Rod:</b> You know, you're starting to sound a lot like Bud Selig.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> Ok, I think this dinner's over.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">4. Joe DiMaggio</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Meal:</i> Veal Parmigiana and a pack of Marlboro Reds</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Conversation:</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Joe, I’ll always be in awe of your 56-game hitting streak. How’d you deal with the pressure?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Joe D:</b> Trust me, it was easier than being married to Marilyn.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>High maintenance?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Joe D:</b> You don’t know the half of it.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Was it worth all the trouble?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Joe D:</b> NO!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, yes.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> Shocking.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">3. Pete Rose</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Meal: </i>Bread and water</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Conversation:</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbNduyEdDa5H4y-5vXh0gwq-ryr85SOcowdGSsvgJsC6S8bXeEFTzWaQaVcygm5HmANs8Uy4O0XaThdGgHrpRZam8ry1hz9GmQUYV5IlFKco8McadwbgroP_om5GotvFyKSbCAIljVMPtM/s1600/Pete-Rose-Gold-Star1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbNduyEdDa5H4y-5vXh0gwq-ryr85SOcowdGSsvgJsC6S8bXeEFTzWaQaVcygm5HmANs8Uy4O0XaThdGgHrpRZam8ry1hz9GmQUYV5IlFKco8McadwbgroP_om5GotvFyKSbCAIljVMPtM/s200/Pete-Rose-Gold-Star1.jpeg" width="200" /></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Sorry about the skimpy meal, Mr. Rose. You know, economy’s not all too good these days.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Rose:</b> Don’t mention it. Besides, it happens to be one of my favorites. I used to refer to it as the after-parlay special back in Cincy.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Sounds, um, healthy. Speaking of health, what’s your take on the whole Biogenesis scandal?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Rose:</b> I’d be willing to bet more than half the league was using performance enhancers.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Uh, are you sure you wouldn’t like to rephrase that last statement?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Rose:</b> Why?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Never mind….So how 'bout those Phillies?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQeYLaQvkIhMxiBSC3txyELtXsCVcngE7OUHCwzKiX6uNW4g-XRgnL6CmcFKoLGqkSnytO3nlxOOd-4_AYfb_jLtbMwUpuGumMB-T3GLoJF4AP_oLjkPEiBGWChFxNhGCaSk0JVYiCvNrt/s1600/ty-cobb-bobby-jones-golf-detroit-tigers-georgia-baseball-1927.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQeYLaQvkIhMxiBSC3txyELtXsCVcngE7OUHCwzKiX6uNW4g-XRgnL6CmcFKoLGqkSnytO3nlxOOd-4_AYfb_jLtbMwUpuGumMB-T3GLoJF4AP_oLjkPEiBGWChFxNhGCaSk0JVYiCvNrt/s320/ty-cobb-bobby-jones-golf-detroit-tigers-georgia-baseball-1927.jpeg" width="320" /></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">2. Ty Cobb</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Meal:</i> Fried chicken, collards, biscuits, and gravy</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Conversation:</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>It’s an honor to have you, Mr. Cobb. I’m a huge fan. I celebrate your entire body of work.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ty:</b> I don’t know where you think this dinner is headed, boy, but you best leave my body out of it.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> What?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ty:</b> You know what I’m gettin’ at, you yella-bellied pretty boy.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Actually, I don’t.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ty:</b> Look, just eat your damn chicken and zip your lip.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: …</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ty:</b> That’s better. Now finish all your vegetables before I sharpen my spikes on that big old nose of yourn.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> Mr. Cobb, it’s been real.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1. Yogi Berra</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvr_hdFd8XJPBP0fQodq7OdZ_LVyDH1vPgZJ3ik7jPyLfzn54GSLDe5QOsoNr4cQQPXUTGt7I4QqAQtDDub9XMw1RNjYN3bqLDRGbwVBwfXDSE3_WYi0DkjhoY1CCoMRypSkDAWxI1H6h2/s1600/Corbis-BE049597.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvr_hdFd8XJPBP0fQodq7OdZ_LVyDH1vPgZJ3ik7jPyLfzn54GSLDe5QOsoNr4cQQPXUTGt7I4QqAQtDDub9XMw1RNjYN3bqLDRGbwVBwfXDSE3_WYi0DkjhoY1CCoMRypSkDAWxI1H6h2/s200/Corbis-BE049597.jpeg" width="199" /></a><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Meal:</i> A bowl of Cap’n Crunch</div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Conversation:</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Boy am I glad to be sitting here with you, Yogi…a man known for his dialogue.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yogi: </b>Well, they say a man’s dialogue is his treasure.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Who says that?<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yogi:</b> Well, it ain’t us, so it must be them.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Of course it ain’t us, but who is “them?”</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yogi:</b> All the people who think a man’s dialogue is his treasure.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>But I never heard anyone ever say that.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yogi: </b>What do you mean? I just said it two minutes ago.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Are you sure you weren’t just reading random stuff off the back of the cereal box?</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yogi:</b> Uhhh….ummm…It ain’t over till it’s over!</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>What the…? Oh, forget it. Where’s Ty Cobb when you need him?</div>
CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-71300560888710457482013-06-18T16:01:00.000-04:002013-06-18T16:01:18.552-04:00Lost in Translation: NBA Finals Game Six Remix<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDa2jXQmQqC6PDw-jK_CEfwCPrkLhLlGTgF5BTsu0co0bPdRVvKhvXjNhegqo_Z-4XyyaTongtEQRmi1nlT9G1Ys5JKKKluJgRYHTGG0V8taLgt_zCbgmkpHwvYKlcNyI8Yuj0SdrxJJNO/s1600/imgres-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDa2jXQmQqC6PDw-jK_CEfwCPrkLhLlGTgF5BTsu0co0bPdRVvKhvXjNhegqo_Z-4XyyaTongtEQRmi1nlT9G1Ys5JKKKluJgRYHTGG0V8taLgt_zCbgmkpHwvYKlcNyI8Yuj0SdrxJJNO/s1600/imgres-3.jpeg" /></a></div>
"I need to play harder."<br />
<br />
"It was a team win."<br />
<br />
"They're a tough team. We had to keep fighting."<br />
<br />
Guaranteed you can find these generic quotes, or some derivation of them, in any morning sports page in the universe. But players in the NBA are different, right? Guys like Metta World Peace have no trouble speaking their minds. They're walking sound bytes.<br />
<br />
So, why can't we cut through the rah-rah tram crap during one of the more entertaining NBA Finals of the past decade?<br />
<br />
I know, I know. Let the play on the floor speak for itself. Blah, Blah. Blah. The guy who coined that phrase probably invented every recycled sports quote in history. But if you want to be all holier than thou about it, fine. I'll let it slide.<br />
<br />
But first I'm translating the mundane into the meaningful...because we're all doing it in our heads anyway. Admit it.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0slK2nIhd1TGMkRcIhx9_x0GvGDQRbcRtKd5MzE2qj3c2J5YKLOKe6EqrzzprwdZJmWLAD6aleRHrfN6i_E_cO1P2btvZKzGQ3Ux3fZlYhTVPtjSeOPmaj78Q4sdmiD3UAtYoGOoV5P0/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0slK2nIhd1TGMkRcIhx9_x0GvGDQRbcRtKd5MzE2qj3c2J5YKLOKe6EqrzzprwdZJmWLAD6aleRHrfN6i_E_cO1P2btvZKzGQ3Ux3fZlYhTVPtjSeOPmaj78Q4sdmiD3UAtYoGOoV5P0/s1600/imgres.jpeg" /></a><b>Chris Bosh on stopping Danny Green’s reign of terror in
the land of three:</b> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“We’ll see how he shoots it when somebody’s always on
him.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>Translation:</b> <i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“There’s no chance we’re stopping this kid. I mean, this
is the plan we’re sticking to after five games? Cover him? Uggh.”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkMS6DJ7BwW2HvFqhdu83f1Y6x4inlNE4GwT5BIlbd_VP9kfowekDbtfapvis6PwS4GqgsKr0ab0E12KlXXO7gnJPj1ezHEge_4dtPidrs5B581ssUs93_s4CT4FY4Ah28K3FlI-xOhNV/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZkMS6DJ7BwW2HvFqhdu83f1Y6x4inlNE4GwT5BIlbd_VP9kfowekDbtfapvis6PwS4GqgsKr0ab0E12KlXXO7gnJPj1ezHEge_4dtPidrs5B581ssUs93_s4CT4FY4Ah28K3FlI-xOhNV/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" /></a><b>Lebron James on how the Heat will push the series to a
seventh game:</b> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“I have to come up big, for sure, in Game 6.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Translation:</b> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Would any of y’all be able to identify a basketball if I
didn’t play in this league? Seriously, it’s not complicated. I dunk on them.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>NBA front office on Game 6 officiating:</b> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXskkNi_MBpjeAcVS8tr38uYXILdbVIj4Q6cByGrr7sM1-GSajIXlizX1Ii7uzFRvGRLiTAf-Ax9bn-W6FXmO1PCaL822MqsNU-4SpQqrcChgl3sJyt__S7Jxx1NKBa7etR2504QYih5o/s1600/imgres-2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXskkNi_MBpjeAcVS8tr38uYXILdbVIj4Q6cByGrr7sM1-GSajIXlizX1Ii7uzFRvGRLiTAf-Ax9bn-W6FXmO1PCaL822MqsNU-4SpQqrcChgl3sJyt__S7Jxx1NKBa7etR2504QYih5o/s1600/imgres-2.jpeg" /></a><i>“Joey Crawford will lead the crew of officials in Game 6.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Translation: <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Joey Crawford will eject Tim Duncan early in the fourth
quarter for something arbitrary, like creeping him out with his Eddie Munster
smile, thus creating a controversy that will ruin the integrity of the NBA for
years to come.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmr3Z6OpkRM0MQjxQ7zZXxCOfBdBNxLaKBOLzEdkgyggkZMajGH9bVEJBTWPt586k0RAqc7uIXxE3iMTiUX3rBdlZV0S6s3MuJeytxozF-w0Q9esNhqCZk63BLawaZthQp0ex3kkiyeXr/s1600/imgres-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmr3Z6OpkRM0MQjxQ7zZXxCOfBdBNxLaKBOLzEdkgyggkZMajGH9bVEJBTWPt586k0RAqc7uIXxE3iMTiUX3rBdlZV0S6s3MuJeytxozF-w0Q9esNhqCZk63BLawaZthQp0ex3kkiyeXr/s320/imgres-4.jpeg" width="320" /></a><b>Heat coach Erik Spoelstra on his team’s strategy in Game
6: <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Can we put together our best game on both sides of the
floor in Game 6?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Translation: <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Can we put together our best game on both sides of the
floor in Game 6? No, seriously. Can we? I don’t know. You can’t expect me to do
everything. Already spent my whole day coming up with the Danny Green defense.
Cover him. Beautiful. I came up with that. I was the guy.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz6gh3RblXmcvG4L5Nj5w0RXDEY964QGUp95eKTPWq9PtK5Hb3HmwfNQALk0uQeo-D9akoSje9X8ffRQ7e4DNAvPs4Eu2MXS8Z_w7mrVpDBZDst7ZOXnSlgKXcl6XBor1aK5wv2FvUUv9k/s1600/imgres-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz6gh3RblXmcvG4L5Nj5w0RXDEY964QGUp95eKTPWq9PtK5Hb3HmwfNQALk0uQeo-D9akoSje9X8ffRQ7e4DNAvPs4Eu2MXS8Z_w7mrVpDBZDst7ZOXnSlgKXcl6XBor1aK5wv2FvUUv9k/s200/imgres-5.jpeg" width="132" /></a><b>Dwyane Wade on facing the Spurs in Game 6: <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“I mean, this is the kind of team that I feel capitalizes
on any mistake you make.” <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Translation: <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Can I get a little help? Chris? Lebron? Mario? Anyone?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<!--EndFragment-->CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-53098800242205208512013-06-15T06:00:00.000-04:002013-06-15T08:53:03.654-04:00Golf's 20 Most Hilarious Quotes<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYEkQz5n2fVbJYwZXdbn4ozV3cz5R-AL7Y-Xj954X8Dqq1BF4GatMPZEzQ-JzsU7y7FT_Go7yv4PFZwXNT0uwS0wUp6vYvIX637lAGBLe6-P2iDCMJusqeCr6ay3gVvKNh1CVwXW9sUGl/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxYEkQz5n2fVbJYwZXdbn4ozV3cz5R-AL7Y-Xj954X8Dqq1BF4GatMPZEzQ-JzsU7y7FT_Go7yv4PFZwXNT0uwS0wUp6vYvIX637lAGBLe6-P2iDCMJusqeCr6ay3gVvKNh1CVwXW9sUGl/s400/imgres.jpeg" width="218" /></a></div>
The green of the grass. The cool, fresh air. The sound of grown men insulting their friend’s sisters as a small white ball bounces aimlessly off surrounding oaks. This is golf: the sport of gentlemen.</div>
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But for a sport that is so civilized, how can you explain why a private course would allow a buffoon like myself to take huge chunks out of its fairways with my meat cleaver of a wedge? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s because golf is the sport that takes an uncivilized lump of coal like myself, and molds him like clay into a refined young man of substance. Ok, maybe not.</div>
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That’s why I’ve compiled a list of golf quotes that exposes the game for what it truly is: an excuse to light a few cigars and talk a bunch of smack with the boys. So stuff a fat Macanudo between your teeth, throw on a pair of goofy, plaid knickers, and enjoy some of Golf’s most hilarious one-liners. Take as many mulligans as you’d like.</div>
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20. "I owe a lot to my parents, especially my mother and father." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Greg Norman</b></div>
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19. "I know I'm getting better at golf because I'm hitting fewer spectators." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Gerald Ford</b></div>
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18. "Golf is a game in which a ball - one and a half inches in diameter - is placed on a ball 8,000 miles in diameter; the object being to hit the small ball but not the larger." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- John Cunningham</b></div>
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17. "I had a wonderful experience on the golf course today. I had a hole in nothing. Missed the ball and sank the divot." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Don Adams</b></div>
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16. "After hitting two balls into the water, by God, I've got a good mind to jump in and make it four." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Simon Hobday</b></div>
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15. "Some have psychologists, some have sportologists. I smoke." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Angel Cabrera</b></div>
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14. "Pressure is playing for $10 when you don't have a dime in your pocket." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Lee Trevino</b></div>
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13. "Golf and sex are about the only things you can enjoy without being good at." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Jimmy Demaret</b></div>
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12. "Golf is a fascinating game. It has taken me nearly forty years to discover that I can’t play it." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Ted Ray</b></div>
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11. "Give me the fresh air, a beautiful partner, and a nice round of golf... and you can keep the fresh air and the round of golf." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Jack Benny</b></div>
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10. "The first time I played the Masters, I was so nervous I drank a bottle of rum before I teed off. I shot the happiest 83 of my life." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Chi Chi Rodriquez</b></div>
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9."Golf appeals to the idiot in us and the child. Just how childlike golf players become is proven by their frequent inability to count past five." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- John Updike</b></div>
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8."If a lot of people gripped a knife and fork the way they do a golf club, they’d starve to death." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Sam Snead</b></div>
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7. "I don't need to know where the green is. Where is the golf course?" <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Babe Ruth</b></div>
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6. "You can make a lot of money in this game. Just ask my ex-wives. Both of them are so rich that neither of their husbands’ work." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Lee Trevino</b></div>
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5. "It took me seventeen years to get 3,000 hits in baseball. I did it in one afternoon on the golf course." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Hank Aaron</b></div>
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4. "The reason the pro tells you to keep your head down is so you can't see him laughing." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Phyllis Diller</b></div>
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3. "I'm not saying my golf game went bad, but if I grew tomatoes they'd come up sliced." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Lee Trevino</b></div>
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2. "After all these years, it's still embarrassing for me to play on the American golf tour. Like the time I asked my caddie for a sand wedge and he came back ten minutes later with a ham on rye."<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> - Chi Chi Rodriguez</b></div>
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1. "Hockey is a sport for white men. Basketball is a sport for black men. Golf is a sport for white men dressed like black pimps." <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">- Tiger Woods</b></div>
CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-41489523096298832932013-06-13T16:00:00.001-04:002013-06-13T16:36:42.348-04:00Lost in Translation: The Baseball Remix<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">With a veritable smorgasbord of drama being served up this week in the bigs, I figured some in-depth reporting would become the cherry on top of the sundae. I said to no one in particular, "Wow. A PED scandal, a brawl, All Star balloting, trade rumors, coaches on hot seats. If questioned, one of these guys might actually say something...that, you know, means something."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I was wrong. So, I guess that puts my nose back to the old translation grind stone. I will not rest unless every scrap of meaningless drivel that serves as a quote in a morning sports page is eradicated. Until then I'll just help you get the true essence of these ready-made pieces of MLB drivel:</span><br />
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<b>Phillies manager Charlie Manuel on moving Ryan Howard out of the cleanup spot after hitting one homerun in his last 111 at-bats:</b><br />
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<i>"What the %$#*@ are you getting at? I'll do the managing. Whoever hits there, hits there."</i><br />
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<b>Translation:</b><br />
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<i>"In my day, we used to walk five miles....wait, who am I? Why am I here?"</i><br />
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<b>Kirk Gibson on Donnie Baseball's fisticuffs during Tuesday night's ugly brawl between the Dodgers and D-Backs:</b><br />
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<i>"Donnie was mad."</i><br />
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<b>Translation: </b><br />
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<i>"Donnie really whipped Trammell's ass, didn't he? Don't let the Just For Men mustache fool you. This guy can still throw down."</i><br />
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<b>(According to Bob Nightengale of USA Today) Office of the MLB commish on the fallout from the brawl:</b><br />
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<i>"Suspensions will not be handed down until at least Thursday"</i><br />
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<b>Translation:</b><br />
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<i>"Donnie really whipped Trammell's ass, didn't he? We'll need to examine the video a few more times. Bud, pass me a beer."</i><br />
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<b>(According to David Lennon of Newsday) Mets front office on the possibility of a coaching change:</b><br />
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<i>"There's absolutely zero chance of Wally Backman being a replacement."</i><br />
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<b>Translation:</b><br />
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<i>"Please join me in welcoming the new manager of the New York Mets, Wally Backman!"</i></div>
CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-39390443767045721882013-06-11T15:36:00.001-04:002013-06-11T15:36:23.072-04:00The 20 Greatest Baseball Quotes of All Time<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Everybody loves a good sports quote. Ranging from witty insults to deep, sometimes spiritual, insights into life, a legendary line from our favorite athlete can serve as the inspiration that keeps you going, or as something that simply makes you laugh.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To me, no sport has contributed more generously to our supply of sports quotes than the game of baseball. You can easily spend endless hours reading through quotes relating to our nation’s pastime and trying to decide on a small list of favorites. Trust me. How do you think I came up with my list of The 20 Greatest Baseball Quotes of All-Time? Well, you didn’t think I’d keep them all to myself, did you?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, grab yourself an ice-cold beer, some ballpark franks, and a few bags of peanuts and have a look for yourself. And don’t worry, you can toss the shells on the floor…we don’t mind.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Baseball’s 20 Greatest Quotes</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">20. Honus Wagner, <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Pittsburgh</city></place> Pirates</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“There ain’t much to being a ballplayer, if you’re a ballplayer.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">19. Lou Piniella, Cubs Manager</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Statistics are like bikinis. They show a lot, but never everything.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">18. Leo Durocher, Dodgers Manager</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“I have never questioned the integrity of an umpire. Their eyesight, yes.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">17. Al Stump, Ty Cobb Biographer</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Was Ty Cobb psychotic throughout his playing career? The answer is yes.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">16. Richie Ashburn, <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Philadelphia</city></place> Phillies</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“A good lead-off hitter is a pain in the ass to pitchers.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">15. Rocky Bridges, Minor League Manager</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“There are three things the average man thinks he can do better than anyone else: build a fire, run a hotel, and manage a baseball team.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">14. Cy Young, <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Boston</city></place> Red Sox</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“A man who isn’t willing to work from dreary morn till weary eve shouldn’t think about becoming a pitcher.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">13. Hank Aaron, <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Atlanta</city></place> Braves</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“The pitcher has got only a ball. I’ve got a bat. So the percentage in weapons is in my favor and I let the fellow with the ball do the fretting.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">12. Mike Schmidt, <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Philadelphia</city></place> Phillies</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Anytime you think you have the game conquered, the game will turn around and punch you right in the nose.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">11. <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Durwood Merrill</city>, <state w:st="on">AL</state></place> Umpire</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Baseball is the only sport that lets the managers and coaches go out onto the field and rant and rave”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">10. Willie Mays, <state w:st="on"><place w:st="on">New York</place></state> Giants</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Interviewer: “Willie, how do you compare this catch with other catches you’ve made?”</i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Willie Mays: “I don’t compare ‘em, I catch ‘em.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">9. Johnny Bench, <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Cincinnati</place></city> Reds</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Slumps are like a soft bed…they’re easy to get into and hard to get out of.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">8. Casey Stengel, Mets Manager</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Come out and see my Amazin’ Mets. I been in the game a hundred years but I see new ways to lose I never knew existed.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">7. <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Stan Coveleski</city>, <state w:st="on">Washington</state></place> Senators</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Lord, baseball is a worryin’ thing.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">6. Tug McGraw, <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Philadelphia</place></city> Phillies</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Ninety percent of my salary I spent on booze and women…and the other ten percent I wasted.”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">5. Yogi Berra, <place w:st="on"><state w:st="on">New York</state></place> Yankees</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Slump? I ain’t in no slump. I just ain’t hittin’.”</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">4. Ted Williams, <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Boston</city></place> Red Sox</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“All I want out of life is that when I walk down the street folks will say, ‘There goes the greatest hitter that ever lived.’”</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">3. <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Jim Bouton</city>, <state w:st="on">New York</state></place> Yankees</b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“You see, you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball; and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time.”</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">2. <place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Lou Gehrig</city>, <state w:st="on">New York</state></place> Yankees</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth…”</i></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1. W.P. Kinsella, Author of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shoeless Joe</i> (adapted to the screen as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Field of Dreams</i>)</b></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“The one constant through all the years has been baseball. <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">America</place></country-region> has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game, is part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good, and what could be again.”</i></div>
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It goes without saying that objectivity is not something you can really apply to a list such as this. Therefore, it’s inevitable one or more of your favorite quotes went missing. Post your favorite in the comments.</div>
CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-1835844435691176142013-06-10T12:43:00.001-04:002013-06-10T13:26:32.815-04:00Lost in Translation - Vol. I<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCMvx9hJ35LvvKAdmX6pi5vuskw8pO4M5yVWNHCp0Rs1XkoCbcVPdGqqCb6D2h3DmtwpVLeVgb5ZBRcxNszqVUNaMgLMquN5nmj1HObx0ZgpsRDlOAI6wGrhP2x6miQHu0emw-G1nTrtU/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCMvx9hJ35LvvKAdmX6pi5vuskw8pO4M5yVWNHCp0Rs1XkoCbcVPdGqqCb6D2h3DmtwpVLeVgb5ZBRcxNszqVUNaMgLMquN5nmj1HObx0ZgpsRDlOAI6wGrhP2x6miQHu0emw-G1nTrtU/s320/imgres.jpeg" width="288" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I shouldn't be saying this, but I often feel like sports reporters are obsolete. Not that they don't captivate us with random top ten lists, or intrigue us with up to the minute tweets from the smelly stall in the Cav's locker room, or boggle our minds with statistics that would numb the brain of Sir Ronald Aylmer Fisher. What? He's a famous statistician. Ok, so I had to look that one up. So what.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Something I never have to look up to be certain of the utter irrelevance is any quote...by any pro athlete...in any morning sports page. These guys never say a thing, yet today's reporters seem content to mop the mental vomit from these players' lips like creepy mama birds tending nest. Apparently regurgitation trumps follow-up questioning...but I digress.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm here to offer the miracle cure. I guess I'll call it Lost in Translation, an exercise many of us perform daily (not that, sicko) that I'll attempt to put in print from time to time. My goal is to cut through the crap for you guys. So, I scoured the sports pages for today's most lackluster quotables and put them through the old translation machine...screw you, Babel Fish.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Mark Sanchez</b> <i>on the looming battle to be the Jets' starting signal caller:</i> "I'm really having fun." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Translation: "I'm really looking forward to carrying Geno's jock this season."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Michael Vick</b> <i>on his future in the NFL: </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I have a couple more years left."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Translation: "I have a couple more years left before I'm flat broke and drunk in Newport News."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPY5GxdYPBmLfNxhof71wHmWRSo-gWf0g9M8Bm4qiZB0hwtxS0geHnpqISNsgPbLTgfPxy5wbPNI2nhDccBJ1gUd2lpEaLB0E0GpQ3or1PgRck9p2bhkLel8bxKKG8QKdmXlw1pMkoX6Xi/s1600/imgres-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPY5GxdYPBmLfNxhof71wHmWRSo-gWf0g9M8Bm4qiZB0hwtxS0geHnpqISNsgPbLTgfPxy5wbPNI2nhDccBJ1gUd2lpEaLB0E0GpQ3or1PgRck9p2bhkLel8bxKKG8QKdmXlw1pMkoX6Xi/s200/imgres-1.jpeg" width="153" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Judge Kathleen McHugh</b> <i>after handing down a 30-day sentence to Chad Johnson for violating probation:</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"You should thank your lawyer. He did a great job for you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Translation: "You're a garden variety douche bag. Ever thought of a name change?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Wes Welker</b> <i>on being able to speak his mind in Denver: </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I feel like I can be myself a little more for sure."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Translation: "The Patriot way is for pansies."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Aaron Rogers</b> <i>on his future in the NFL: </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I played eight (seasons), I think I can play eight more."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Translation:<b> </b>"Must...beat...Brett...at</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">everything...related...to...football...life...and...texting."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Matt Birk</b> <i>on boycotting the White House visit with the his Baltimore Ravens teammates:</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"I wasn't there. I am active in the Pro-Life movement and I felt I couldn't endorse that in any way."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Translation: "There's a clear connection between football and abortion. My publicist told me so."</span>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-32314276439637724852013-06-06T15:40:00.000-04:002013-06-06T15:50:37.528-04:00A-Rod's Five Greatest Faux Pas...in Hindsight<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Unless you were locked in the hole of a federal prison the past three days, you may have heard a thing or two about Alex Rodriguez. His implication in the latest Biogenesis scandal and the inevitable suspension that will follow is about as obvious as a hard-on during Math class. But really...didn't we all see this coming? I know I did.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLKq4J-tWzsgdc5IzCFSNvxnMs-U4HhObeemDB31OQ5qJg5JFmu-eMXxhkGs-13aaavDKBVVuz64YjxGd4t3plLpJtFrNqJDCq3jK-3p5_Igq5rPeXAJn-nJ0LzTGvhM1YrL6SqkfVfu0/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLKq4J-tWzsgdc5IzCFSNvxnMs-U4HhObeemDB31OQ5qJg5JFmu-eMXxhkGs-13aaavDKBVVuz64YjxGd4t3plLpJtFrNqJDCq3jK-3p5_Igq5rPeXAJn-nJ0LzTGvhM1YrL6SqkfVfu0/s320/imgres.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Apparently, no one told A-Rod...even while he was bathing in muscle cream and transforming his body into the near likeness of a mythological centaur. If someone had bothered to tell him, maybe he wouldn't have spent his entire career making the most hypocritical statements in sports history.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Take a look and remember: hindsight is 20/20. God, I love hindsight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i style="background-color: #f3f3f3;">5. "We have a responsibility not just as athletes, but as members of society to treat people well. To do things the right way."</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>4. "What I've learned from Cal is to respect the game, respect the fans. Nothing fancy out there. Just do your job."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>3. "Anyone can forget about talent, but if you're a good person, your name will be remembered a long time."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>2. "I want to be known as a good major-leaguer, and good major-leaguers work to become good."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>1. "There is a difference between image and reputation. Image is nice, reputation is developed over an entire career. Reputation is what I'm searching for."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;">Yes, Alex, it appears as though you've earned quite the reputation. Congratulations.</span></span>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-80074087173695570052012-10-25T12:11:00.003-04:002012-10-26T22:02:22.697-04:00Ode to a Moustache<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxI-sBhgfdmGvYhZ7-yfQYdX9dUcDzTOuu5QhC9cS8Ia031F7uCPBHKvwtmfl1iAQXlYXf7mEV0VsxtmUIcIF5ZeH49Xw3Xgsy7fUZmkwxi-f1uY9bYpsA3ruHqgbERF1HMUCnoh8sIjQk/s1600/rollie_fingers_27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxI-sBhgfdmGvYhZ7-yfQYdX9dUcDzTOuu5QhC9cS8Ia031F7uCPBHKvwtmfl1iAQXlYXf7mEV0VsxtmUIcIF5ZeH49Xw3Xgsy7fUZmkwxi-f1uY9bYpsA3ruHqgbERF1HMUCnoh8sIjQk/s320/rollie_fingers_27.jpg" width="320" /></a>You keep my lip cozy and warm,</div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
And never let my nose get harmed.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
A manly man cannot go far,</div>
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
Without his trusty handlebar.</div>
<br />
<br />
November is male-related cancer awareness month. To show my solidarity with men across the globe who are currently fighting the good fight against prostate and testicular cancers, I will do my best Rollie Fingers impersonation and grow upon my upper lip the greasiest, most finely-twisted example of moustachey goodness this country has ever seen. I plan to provide you, my faithful readership, with a pictorial journey from clean-shaven to fully clad. If you'd like to join the fight by raising your own awareness on male-related cancers, or if you simply want to provide me with a small sponsorship, please visit <a href="http://us.movember.com/mospace/3471061"><span style="font-size: small;">http://us.movember.com/mospace/3471061</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>HAPPY MO-VEMBER!!</b></span></div>
CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-67981558059861552932012-02-02T06:00:00.002-05:002012-02-02T06:00:00.452-05:00Super Bowl Monday: Post Game Work Excuses<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Bm_HOdGGhbrKASjooUOA7_uqfD9SvOw-iFWkErxG_64OAY5__tG-EADw2zmah7AdV0yvtrnL4-PAR652VL9HdLiI4y5p0LRdHu_Lm5PcyFij7-pbUx78Uhu9TsWnL1d5FmLnp_VotLVJ/s1600/bueller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Bm_HOdGGhbrKASjooUOA7_uqfD9SvOw-iFWkErxG_64OAY5__tG-EADw2zmah7AdV0yvtrnL4-PAR652VL9HdLiI4y5p0LRdHu_Lm5PcyFij7-pbUx78Uhu9TsWnL1d5FmLnp_VotLVJ/s320/bueller.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Super Bowl Sunday is a glorious day. It’s filled with parties and people, keg stands and corn chips. It’s a celebration of 20 weekends spent huddled in front of our sets waiting for the teams to be whittled down to two. And when it finally happens, there are at least four perfect hours of pure football freedom.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But then the game ends, and with it the weekend. The last thing you want to do is toss back a few Alka-Seltzers and prepare yourself for another grueling work week. Can’t you have just one more day?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. I’m here to guide you through some of the good, the bad, and the just plain ugly ways to make that inevitable Monday morning call out.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>THE GOOD</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Stall-ing Out</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">When it comes to guaranteed success, no other excuse in the book is more reliable than the old stomach bug routine. Think about it. There’s not a boss in the business that doesn’t have sympathy for an employee who ate a bad batch of hot wings during the Super Bowl and spent the rest of the night dropping shots of Kaopectate on the throne. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Plus, there’s no chance even the stingiest of managers would have use for someone whose main contribution to the work day will be peppering the toilets in the employee john. It’s a can’t miss.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Some Say a Good Phony Fever…</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Zk-rgfVsxp5peuNZhZyX56JfLCDaGVr_0oI0xqxNi3BIplZ-FNOuzsIjnfz1sBRzg0XKaGReqxWolONuNGoRHp86gkbKxPlQJ5X7Iy9nW1R1cZyroEmwEKfzILeyaHjs9GpMAzjY-oQF/s1600/ferris-buellers-day-off.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Zk-rgfVsxp5peuNZhZyX56JfLCDaGVr_0oI0xqxNi3BIplZ-FNOuzsIjnfz1sBRzg0XKaGReqxWolONuNGoRHp86gkbKxPlQJ5X7Iy9nW1R1cZyroEmwEKfzILeyaHjs9GpMAzjY-oQF/s320/ferris-buellers-day-off.jpg" width="320" /></a>When it comes to the working world, Ferris Bueller’s sage advice that a phony fever will get you nabbed is pure hogwash. Sure, a very small percentage of offices ask for a doctor’s note. But chances are yours is not one of them, and that leaves you with a great excuse. The beauty of the Super Bowl is that it’s played in the dead of winter; also the height of flu season. Coincidence? I think not. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The chances of catching the flu at a crowded Super Bowl party are actually pretty darn good, so your boss will have trouble questioning the absence. A bonus is you can probably stretch this one out for a few days as the “flu” works its way out of your system. Go for some sympathy points by telling the folks at your office you got sick before the Bowl and had to miss the game. Then spend your Monday finishing off the left over pizza crusts and hanging around in your boxers until dinner.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>An Offer They Can’t Refuse</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">You don’t have to be a stand-up comic to impersonate the voice of some idiot with laryngitis. You probably have the idiot part down already. Now, call your boss at the crack of dawn, do your best impression of Marlon Brando in <i>The Godfather</i> as you tell him you screamed yourself hoarse during the game, and proceed to enjoy your day off. It’s time to pull the covers back over your head for a few more hours of quality snooze time. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This excuse works really well for people who need to predominantly use their voices during the course of a work day. You know, teachers, receptionists, telephone operators, politicians (that’s right Barack, I know you’re thinking about logging in that sick day), and the like.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>THE BAD</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>To the Funny Farm…</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">Nothing screams, “I’m a psychotic nutcase!” more than a bad excuse that conjures up an image of you as a lunatic super fan. So, before you call your boss in the morning and tell him you’re covered from head to toe in red face paint and that your now-hairless chest bears the logo of the New England Patriots, please think again. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A tactic like this may get you the day off, but don’t be surprised if a bunch of guys in white suits are sent to your home with a tailor-made straight jacket, compliments of the company. Trust me, not only is this a poor excuse, it’s altogether a very poor idea.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Care to Place a Little Wager?</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">I once knew a guy who tried to tell the boss he lost a bet which prevented him from coming to work. Being that he was such an “honest” gentleman and, therefore, bound to his debt, he couldn’t possibly break the deal. He had this elaborate story all boiled up and everything. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The boss actually stood there and listened to that crap for a full 15 minutes. You know where that guy is today? Neither do I. He got canned about five minutes later. The fact is, not many employers appreciate the Pete Rose type. Go figure.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Sossifer, I’m Ober</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">If you take nothing at all from this article, remember one thing: DO NOT USE BEER AS AN EXCUSE! Regardless of the fact that the Super Bowl is one of the biggest days of the year for alcohol sales, we are all supposed to suddenly turn back into sweet, innocent, little pixies once the clock strikes midnight. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bottom line, unless you’re a member of the Kennedy family, do not under any circumstance call your boss and slur something to him about not being able to legally drive this early in the morning.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>THE UGLY</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Boss a Pats Fan?</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEBqxN9zLqRHiLvzZq_2pptMZ1dvwTDe2SnjOPguCRoFVbbP6FN_oxrIeb4kjHHm59fXyqd44O3sCaybS1QJwL2YLdboYYI8g2JZvzEre3VpVPB2MGWLuWtWaaPmZl95g1tgIbqkc91UqI/s1600/rooney.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEBqxN9zLqRHiLvzZq_2pptMZ1dvwTDe2SnjOPguCRoFVbbP6FN_oxrIeb4kjHHm59fXyqd44O3sCaybS1QJwL2YLdboYYI8g2JZvzEre3VpVPB2MGWLuWtWaaPmZl95g1tgIbqkc91UqI/s320/rooney.jpg" width="320" /></a>If you just want to be brutally truthful and you happen to be a Giants fan, give the old boss an excuse that’s both believable and amusing. Tell him a large gentleman dressed in big blue smacked you in the chops, heisted your pair of Brady-inspired Uggs. I mean, the guy's not gonna make you walk to work barefoot...is he?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Brighten his morning with this little nugget of information and you might be finishing off stale pork rinds and watching re-runs of <i>Good Times</i> all week.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Enjoy your Superbowl Monday, folks. You’ve earned it.</div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-11350625838665454412012-02-01T06:00:00.003-05:002012-02-01T06:00:06.370-05:00Top 5 REALLY Old School Sports Games<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCgyRZ_OruBesVxvPeFDDn1q8GmIXTxvzJv-gHk2Iav1ZpMbZtKR2ei4ToKmQvUuNYujBURtXmAQpfss8sS20XDD3IuIfiOKRf9ySw_axNVSVxq1l0rMnPXfv2THuxAFurvIC1NZNCZnt/s1600/paperfootball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGCgyRZ_OruBesVxvPeFDDn1q8GmIXTxvzJv-gHk2Iav1ZpMbZtKR2ei4ToKmQvUuNYujBURtXmAQpfss8sS20XDD3IuIfiOKRf9ySw_axNVSVxq1l0rMnPXfv2THuxAFurvIC1NZNCZnt/s320/paperfootball.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It may be hard to remember a world without video games, the internet, or satellite TV. But, like disco, we can’t go around trying to forget what was once reality. Even then, us sports geeks found ways to get our fix on rainy days, during math class, and even in our cubicles.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">These were the top five sports games of a bygone era. If you’re busy filling out some mundane office form at this very moment, it may be the perfect time to bring one of these classic, sports-minded time-passers back to life. Anyone got a quarter?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>1. Supa-Fly Flicka Football</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">Sweep the halls of any high school and you’re bound to find a piece of white-lined paper that’s been meticulously folded into a sharp triangle. But that’s no mere piece of paper, my friend; it’s a make-shift pigskin. Now, just bring it to the cafeteria, force some pimple-faced freshman to act as your human field goal posts, and you’re ready to play a little Supa-Fly Flicka. Simply spot the paper football at various distances and become a one-man place-kicking combo. Drill a few from 50 yards out and celebrate like a Grammatica brother. Give yourself some quality points if you can send the freshman home wearing an eye patch.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>2. Suction Cup (aka Landfill) Basketball</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLjZg6QFBozj109AhnFQj_tFg5tpYuh7p-21ZZsnxfuC7wzIqy480Wk1p8L06vGTKP-ENbmbg-mqCMGAVeAwsB4FdDH9y6Yjr0h0v1mELjXoewgFpcYtWN3PsG6ugqCHv044CieZP-SRj/s1600/suctionhoop.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmLjZg6QFBozj109AhnFQj_tFg5tpYuh7p-21ZZsnxfuC7wzIqy480Wk1p8L06vGTKP-ENbmbg-mqCMGAVeAwsB4FdDH9y6Yjr0h0v1mELjXoewgFpcYtWN3PsG6ugqCHv044CieZP-SRj/s200/suctionhoop.jpg" width="200" /></a>Here’s a dorm-room classic for you. Spending half the night spreading saliva on a pair of oversized suction cups is well worth it once you have the cheesy, plastic hoop installed above your doorway. Now it’s time for a mini jam session, or if you want a real challenge, spot up from the land of three and make it rain foam rubber. If you don’t have a fancy, plastic mini-hoop, or if you’re trapped in an office right now, don’t despair. All you need is a trash can and a few balled-up pieces of paper and you’re ready for a quick game of Horse. If your boss gets nosy and asks what you’re doing, just tell him you’re really into recycling. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZhA3_Aq35WgruWO7OHz_J92skuWUIcnulmpEmKYyj7OwCmyVlzV49yi_cMhCND-J1pzd7TNq85GrqERibcRXEmUDSeaUxNP0ei4wtbcty8Yb3Bs7-uZNng9Ut0OYJ1DuLZYONcDv8SU2/s1600/hockeypencil.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZhA3_Aq35WgruWO7OHz_J92skuWUIcnulmpEmKYyj7OwCmyVlzV49yi_cMhCND-J1pzd7TNq85GrqERibcRXEmUDSeaUxNP0ei4wtbcty8Yb3Bs7-uZNng9Ut0OYJ1DuLZYONcDv8SU2/s200/hockeypencil.jpg" width="200" /></a><b>3. Pencil Case Hockey</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">Can’t skate? Don’t worry, you can still make your mark as an ice rink warrior—just as long as that ice rink is the surface of a desk or table and your skates are the four legs of a chair planted firmly on the ground. Bust out a #2 pencil (your trusty stick) and one of those replacement erasers that fit on the end (the puck) and you’re ready to challenge that office geek whose wax lips seem stuck to the boss’s rear, or that annoying kid in class whose hand is permanently stuck in the raised position. Rip a few wrist shots past either one of these clowns, make a few dazzling saves with your custom-made Meade, and you’ll be more than vindicated. Don’t forget to drill your opponent with a devastating hip check as you make your way to the door. True, it might not be part of this mini-game, but it sure would feel good.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>4. Desktop Football</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">The beauty of this game is you only need a shiny quarter and a desk or table, so it’s perfect for study hall or the break room at work. Get ready for kickoff as you spin the coin down the Formica turf in search of supreme field position. Then use your four downs flicking the coin wildly across the gridiron until you reach the end zone, the edge of the table. Get the coin to break the plane and it’s touchdown city. Shoot the coin over the edge and you lose the ball, even if you do gain the indispensable experience of how it feels to play for the Dolphins. Once you’ve exerted your mini-game dominance, feel free to spike the coinage in your opponent’s eye and do an oddly choreographed dance. There’s no need to worry about getting flagged for excessive celebration in this game. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>5. Honest Abe’s Soccer</b></div>Yet another mini-game that only calls for the use of coins and a table, Honest Abe’s Soccer is pretty easy on the pocket. Just toss three pennies on the playing field and its World Cup time. Flick the penny at the rear through the gap between the other two pennies to dribble your way down the field. Once you get inside the 18, bicycle one Pele style into the goal, actually your opponent’s thumb and forefinger held at the edge of the table. There’s no better way to play soccer than without all that mindless running. Now, all you need are a few pints of brew and a couple hooligans and you can bring the post-game riot into the comfort of your very own living room. I assure you, Honest Abe would be prouCGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-16354882237401861242012-01-31T06:00:00.005-05:002012-01-31T06:00:00.790-05:00Bud Bowl III: Great Taste or Less Filling?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7ttciCb2Mygk6kLptQFSqdicue-hPb0OBq29sIKIb1jQ9MR9CunHFrGIUn7JQO_AUkhtLVBTe8Ub-ck9GKv6Z5Nul43_SoO1f24KUAnw5f24jjKs-FDZF0NR0jRScvDz1CE1OX7HQ8Hy/s1600/bud-bowl-I.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7ttciCb2Mygk6kLptQFSqdicue-hPb0OBq29sIKIb1jQ9MR9CunHFrGIUn7JQO_AUkhtLVBTe8Ub-ck9GKv6Z5Nul43_SoO1f24KUAnw5f24jjKs-FDZF0NR0jRScvDz1CE1OX7HQ8Hy/s320/bud-bowl-I.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Seems I can think back to a simpler time; a time when Super Bowl Sunday wasn’t the selfish, end of season hype generator it is today; a time when our nation’s most widely televised game could share the spotlight with another omnipotent, if ever-juvenile, contest; a time when the stop-break mayhem of a beer bottle football game played ring master to America’s most coveted day of commercial programming.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Of course, I can only be talking about Bud Bowl, the Anheuser-Busch company’s slick marketing ploy which began in 1989 and featured what was billed to be an annual gridiron slugfest between animated teams of Bud and Bud Light bottles. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But I’m not just speaking in general terms here, people. I’m dedicating <i>this</i> article to the <i>genuine</i> article: The greatest Bud Bowl of them all, Bud Bowl III.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">To me, this piece of stop-break goodness outshined all other beer-related sporting contests before and after its time. Part of the charm of Bud Bowl III was dependent on the fact that it consisted of a whopping seven ads placed strategically throughout the course of the actual Super Bowl game. That meant you were bound to be treated to an all-important Bud Bowl update nearly twice a quarter on average, instead of the pitiful two or three ad performances of more recent contests.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Also, it was a matchup that set the stage for a possible King of Beers three-peat. A win by Bud would have given them an unprecedented third Bud Bowl championship and an automatic seat in history next to the other dynastic legends of the adult-beverage sporting contest world. Ok, maybe there’s not much competition in this arena. So what?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At any rate, Bud Light wasn’t about to simply crack under the pressure. They had themselves a scrappy team, and past defeats had helped them develop quite a sizable chip on their, eh, shoulders. The addition of top draft pick and star quarterback, “Bud Dry,” also didn’t hurt in the way of boosting Light’s often watered-down confidence.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Aside from all the background hoopla that built Bud Bowl III up in terms of fan excitement, the game itself did not disappoint.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">From the opening kickoff, which actually tallied at least 20 seconds on the hang-time meter before ascending out of the stadium, to a big opening drive that featured Bud Light linemen busting open a huge running lane with the aid of a giant-sized can opener, to the introduction of “helmet cam” strapped to the caps of Billy and Bobby Bud (the brothers from Cerveza, TX of course) on a nifty play-action catch and run to open up the King of Beer’s scoring, to the intoxicating play-by-play of ESPN legend Chris Berman, this installment of Bud Bowl had it all. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There was even an encore touchdown plunge by larger-than-life Bud bottle “The Freezer” and a sweet Hail Mary pass to a certain “long necked” Bud receiver to give the defending champs a 21-17 lead with just seconds to go.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the final play of Bud Bowl III is what cemented it as a commercial masterpiece. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In a play eerily reminiscent of Tennessee’s homerun throwback play (which didn’t happen for another eight years. I think Jeff Fisher may have done a little advance scouting at the Anheuser-Busch facility), surprise kick returner, Bud Dry, collected the kickoff, made a nifty move, and pitched the ball across the field to one of his teammates. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This unidentified Bud Light bottle rumbled down the sidelines, dotted with gasping Budweiser players and coaches, and directly through an over zealous Budweiser team band prepared to celebrate what seemed like a sure Budweiser victory. Then he plowed into the end zone, even with a Tuba uncomfortably clinging to his thermos-chilled body, and gave Bud Light its first ever Bud Bowl championship by a score of 23-21.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">By setting up a key TD play earlier in the contest, and through his heroics on the game winning kickoff return, Bud Dry was the clear MVP. True, he may have deserved it. But tell me, folks: Where is Mr. Fancy Pants Bud Dry today? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Discontinued, that’s where.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Regardless, we still have to give Bud Bowl III some today for being the greatest string of stop-break folly to ever grace all those wasted minutes between Super Bowl drives. Have a look for yourself:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ALDFMiHOTFs?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-16837530585440436352012-01-30T12:00:00.003-05:002012-01-30T12:00:06.413-05:00The Sporting Scribe's Super Bowl Spread: Chicago Style Dogs<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWNcFgMxR9bfmstQ7uBn__aGf8CO4ytlsPZA56iDjPMESfrSPeB77p3gPk-08AWZPxVh_sdKcL6iQFqHEqqzDCNOgdK3vstK4n-3cYOdczRPpQuZNEIOTcEKescqvJpo0smtwWwHKsWrOb/s1600/bradyuggs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWNcFgMxR9bfmstQ7uBn__aGf8CO4ytlsPZA56iDjPMESfrSPeB77p3gPk-08AWZPxVh_sdKcL6iQFqHEqqzDCNOgdK3vstK4n-3cYOdczRPpQuZNEIOTcEKescqvJpo0smtwWwHKsWrOb/s200/bradyuggs.jpg" width="178" /></a></div>If the Jamaican Jerk Chicken recipe I gave you earlier wasn’t enough, don’t worry. I’m on your side. All week, while you’re busy surfing the internet behind your supervisor’s back and pretending to look busy whenever he walks by your cube, I’m dreaming up a deliciously artery-shattering meal for the big game.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Nothing is easier, more delicious, and less healthy than the classic Chicago-style hot dog. Just ask Jay Cutler. Dude probably eats scores of these things on his romantic strolls through the Windy City. In fact, now that I think about it, that mysterious leg injury shouldn’t be much of a mystery at all. Can you say, “I got gout?” At any rate, enjoy.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Chicago</span><span style="font-size: 16pt;">’s Hottest Dogs </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Ingredients</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgb_TgGKkFFm7bLs32SDh3kwiVRVa9FQGsF6UYDVRiJE16rH94z6sYkfPy2xKTZVBzXWBCKl6ST9qzH4hUF9AOarUWWFvyt1RjIKtZJ7Wb1xRGeq35Enp9ftEjgE7B5AakNChhLiyM_N3g/s1600/hotdogchicago.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgb_TgGKkFFm7bLs32SDh3kwiVRVa9FQGsF6UYDVRiJE16rH94z6sYkfPy2xKTZVBzXWBCKl6ST9qzH4hUF9AOarUWWFvyt1RjIKtZJ7Wb1xRGeq35Enp9ftEjgE7B5AakNChhLiyM_N3g/s1600/hotdogchicago.jpg" /></a>1 tbs. grainy mustard </div><div class="MsoNormal">2 tsp. white-wine vinegar </div><div class="MsoNormal">Coarse salt and ground pepper to taste </div><div class="MsoNormal">½ of a Vidalia onion, thinly sliced into spears </div><div class="MsoNormal">½ of a hot house cucumber </div><div class="MsoNormal">1 large tomato, sliced </div><div class="MsoNormal">1/2 cup celery leaves </div><div class="MsoNormal">2 tablespoons hot banana peppers, chopped </div><div class="MsoNormal">4 hot dogs (I’ve used all-beef and turkey dogs; both have been delicious) </div><div class="MsoNormal">4 hot dog buns, grilled or toasted</div><div class="MsoNormal">1-2 pickle spears </div><div class="MsoNormal">Dill relish to taste</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Directions</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">1. Combine the mustard and white-wine vinegar in a medium bowl and whisk until smooth.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">2. Add salt and pepper to the mixture, to your taste. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">3. Add the Vidalia onion, cucumber, tomato, celery leaves, and hot peppers to the mixture. Toss. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">4. Throw the dogs on the grill over medium-high heat until browned and heated through, about six minutes. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">5. Serve your Chicago-style dogs on grilled buns. Top each with a sliced pickle spear and some dill relish.</div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-81567563434353800452012-01-30T06:00:00.004-05:002012-01-30T06:00:05.383-05:00The Sporting Scribe's Super Bowl Spread: Jamaican Jerk Chicken<div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNEMVOnhTlCrBPX88QtnxSsJrzFtc6PK4MQWvvQNQwr7yz2XSF4O3PFXJq5m3KA8P843Gq0c-KDiOYbt-cMrFqOZlONPiRepOw51GQj2D8zhyZnOTisT5q_xWoobdwevI5TmcYO0rMP0YY/s1600/wingbowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNEMVOnhTlCrBPX88QtnxSsJrzFtc6PK4MQWvvQNQwr7yz2XSF4O3PFXJq5m3KA8P843Gq0c-KDiOYbt-cMrFqOZlONPiRepOw51GQj2D8zhyZnOTisT5q_xWoobdwevI5TmcYO0rMP0YY/s320/wingbowl.jpg" width="320" /></a>It’s that time of year again, folks. Time to throw caution to the wind. Time to stuff ourselves full of preservatives, processed meats, cholesterols, and fats. Time to drink beer after glorious beer until our livers scream out for mercy.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> It’s time to watch some football, people. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">And while our favorite athletes are out on the field of battle abusing their bodies in the name of the game, shouldn’t we also put ourselves through an equal amount of abuse? I think so. That’s why I put a lot of thought into my Super Bowl spread this year. Who cares if I’ll be the only one around to eat it? I didn’t want to share anyway.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Today, I give you the main course…Jamaican Jerk Chicken. If you don’t mind putting in a little work ahead of the big game, you’ll be picking the bones on this spicy, sweet treat come half time. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 18pt;">Jamaica’s Best Jerk Chicken</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">INGREDIENTS: </b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1 tbs. ground allspice </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1 tbs. dried thyme </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1 1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1 1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1 1/2 tsp. ground sage </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSOi1CVRnRyVaSr42LpCMZ05S-ZOxVH5D5f7TjhyKVwMLcXIN22EsBVIoZOcJ-nsUf0LpuJgTiPS5HVJgjrmDvLLa9k91du77coslA9KP6ZorXAbWOt1FGR6DsSkW-dKJ6y7AcshTOhjZ/s1600/jamaican_jerk_chick.jpg" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSOi1CVRnRyVaSr42LpCMZ05S-ZOxVH5D5f7TjhyKVwMLcXIN22EsBVIoZOcJ-nsUf0LpuJgTiPS5HVJgjrmDvLLa9k91du77coslA9KP6ZorXAbWOt1FGR6DsSkW-dKJ6y7AcshTOhjZ/s1600/jamaican_jerk_chick.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">3/4 tsp. ground nutmeg </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">3/4 tsp. ground cinnamon </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1 tbs. salt </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">2 tbs. garlic powder </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1 tbs. sugar </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1/4 cup olive oil </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1/4 cup soy sauce </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">3/4 cup white vinegar </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1/2 cup orange juice </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Juice of 1 lime </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">2 Habanero peppers, finely chopped </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1 cup chopped white onion </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">3 green onions, finely chopped </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">1 whole chicken cut in pieces trimmed of fat </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">DIRECTIONS:</b></div><ol style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Combine the allspice, thyme, cayenne pepper, black pepper, sage, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt, garlic powder and sugar in a large bowl. </li>
</ol><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.25in;"><br />
</div><ol start="2" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Slowly add the olive oil, soy sauce, vinegar, orange juice, and lime juice. Stir it together with a wire whisk. </li>
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</div><ol start="3" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Add the Habanero peppers, onion, green onions, and mix well. </li>
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</div><ol start="4" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Put the chicken pieces in the mixture, cover with plastic wrap, and marinate for six to 24 hours (the longer the better). </li>
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</div><ol start="5" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;">Preheat an outdoor grill to medium high heat. Remove the chicken from the marinade and grill for 8 minutes on each side, or until fully cooked. Baste the chicken with the marinade every two or three minutes to keep it moist. Enjoy.</li>
</ol>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-42986181031879594692012-01-29T06:00:00.001-05:002013-06-18T08:33:21.394-04:00RE: The fate of your worthless trading cards<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Readers,</div>
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I’d like to speak to all of you about a very pressing issue that affects many of us on a daily basis. That’s right, folks. I’m talking about the boxes full of worthless trading cards that forced your bowling ball bag and ironing board out of the closet and into your bathtub.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbPzana93naDahYd6WXwHQsKI0Jbpdm9em8X4eex87Tlmn8ptHS3jfK5CJ9QdQtXORtsGzeuE4KVtmnA7OZzy25LCadYZv_0G2EhhL4Ah4HtOGnaHXdQxkcCKHe9_hXwyV8tWCEK7oIaG/s1600/GlenallenHillThumbFun.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbPzana93naDahYd6WXwHQsKI0Jbpdm9em8X4eex87Tlmn8ptHS3jfK5CJ9QdQtXORtsGzeuE4KVtmnA7OZzy25LCadYZv_0G2EhhL4Ah4HtOGnaHXdQxkcCKHe9_hXwyV8tWCEK7oIaG/s320/GlenallenHillThumbFun.JPG" width="320" /></a>Now, I’ve faced this problem on more than one occasion. There was that grab bag of batboys-through-the-ages cards I picked up for a bargain price at the card show. I’m sure you’re surprised to hear <b><i>that</i></b> little experiment didn’t pan out. </div>
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Then there was the time I thought I’d struck it rich when I strung together a dozen full sets of ’87 Topps cards. What I didn’t take into account was the fact that Topps produced enough packs of cards in 1987 to give a stale piece of tooth-shattering, flavorless bubblegum to every man, woman, and child south of the moon. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQ_wg2mtBk-1jbxFRsZeOwbDZtawH3b_iV5yCI3nNWNf-QeL6oBI3Y3n54dR4vMIHEAlrRvTW0kQSSutP88YEiqu26gmykXkQ3p-Gc0DpMNxNQi2z32fLR5hIxoiAuJoVXovhxoKGRsTW/s1600/rickschu.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQ_wg2mtBk-1jbxFRsZeOwbDZtawH3b_iV5yCI3nNWNf-QeL6oBI3Y3n54dR4vMIHEAlrRvTW0kQSSutP88YEiqu26gmykXkQ3p-Gc0DpMNxNQi2z32fLR5hIxoiAuJoVXovhxoKGRsTW/s320/rickschu.jpg" width="230" /></a>But still, no choice was worse than allowing a pallet-full of Rick Schu rookie cards to “just happen” to fall off the truck and “roll voluntary” into my garage. And out went the riding mower, my tool set, and the car…not to mention my last shred of dignity.</div>
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But I’ve had enough, people. I’m taking my garage back, and I’m doing so at the expense and reputation of those bargain basement baseball cards. And I’m not just talking about the average Joes, neither. I’m going for the throat. I’m heading straight for the scrubs, the most worthless cards I can find. Oh yes, my friends, they’ll be facing my wrath first.</div>
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Here are just a few of the ideas I’ve come up with in trying to free myself of these worthless cards. </div>
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<b>The School of Hard Looks</b></div>
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In the fine tradition of all past and present ball players who have mimicked the pained expression of a hardened criminal in their trading card photos, I give you the game of Hard Look War. That’s right. It’s just like the ordinary playing card version of War that you’re used to, except the winning card is always that of the player with the hardest, most intimidating expression on their face. So basically, you want to stay away from any card with David Eckstein on the front. But definitely drop a Pete Incaviglia card on the table and watch your opponent’s ’95 Kevin Stocker Donruss shrivel up in fear. </div>
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I guess you’re wondering what happens when the inevitable dispute arises from a difference in judgment between you and your opponent. I gotta to be honest with you, I don’t see this one ending pretty. Just make sure you pick a playing partner that is small, fragile, and slow of foot. Isn’t that why younger siblings were invented, after all?</div>
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<b>Drink The Blues Away</b></div>
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Ok, so you’re looking for any excuse to knock a few back on your day off. Isn’t that the perfect reason for a new drinking game? I think it is.</div>
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But then you hear it: “Honey, you said you’d move your baseball card collection out of the closet. It’s been sitting on top of my wedding dress for three years!” </div>
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Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. Go in there and grab that dusty box of baseball cards. Hell, while you’re at it, you might as well throw that dress on a hanger for her. Good, you’re golden. Now grab yourself a six pack and get to work. </div>
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The game is simple. Grab a handful of cards, toss them in the air and let them fall where they may. Then, pick up the card that landed closest to you, and then next closest, and so on. Every time you pick up a card with a player whose career average is under .250 you chug a beer. </div>
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There, that should keep you busy for at least ten minutes. When you’re finished, toss the cards in the trash and repeat with another handful.</div>
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<b>Melt Them Down For Energy</b></div>
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Hey, all I’m saying is I’m tired of signing over half my pay check to the pimply geek behind the counter at Sunoco. I’m also tired of a frigate’s-worth of crappy trading cards hogging my whole garage. Are you starting to connect the dots? I mean, can you imagine a world where the Bud Smiths and Rick Reuschles of the world contributed to the conservation of world energy? It sounds like Utopia to me, folks.</div>
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In fact, the more I think about it, the more convinced I become about the inevitable conversion to crappy trading card energy. Then again, it just may be because I’m pretty sure Al Gore is probably sitting on an unopened case of ’87 Topps. The dude needs some space for his solar panels in that garage of his.</div>
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<b>Make Them History</b></div>
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You’ve heard of Casey At Bat, but why not Momar or Churchill At Bat. All you really need is a few crappy trading cards, a black marker, and a hazy understanding of world history and you’re ready to morph your least favorite baseball players into your favorite historical figures…at bat. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXK9m6IUyvBQA8M-YQxBQOeAKg6CEugK_edN0mOKlCO1DspYe4bEef9T8eBECeztUZSuDQigz7zco8-6-SSeJuHH-Ipl5YxOjq1Jlgkg3oE3qKSd4PQ_h4YK1uc4p_miJJEfg3djLLoNzg/s1600/PonceDeLeonGranger.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXK9m6IUyvBQA8M-YQxBQOeAKg6CEugK_edN0mOKlCO1DspYe4bEef9T8eBECeztUZSuDQigz7zco8-6-SSeJuHH-Ipl5YxOjq1Jlgkg3oE3qKSd4PQ_h4YK1uc4p_miJJEfg3djLLoNzg/s320/PonceDeLeonGranger.JPG" width="320" /></a>The best thing about it is you don’t even need art skills to turn Von Hayes ’85 Fleer into Von Kaiser Hayes ’85 Fleer. The possibilities are endless and, I assure you, the revenge is sweet.</div>
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Some of my personal favorites include Brian “Davy Crockett” DuBois ’90 Upper Deck, Lloyd “Rick James” Moseby ’88 Donruss, Jeff “Honest Abe” Innis ’90 Upper Deck, and Jeff “Ponce De Leon” Granger ’94 Upper Deck. (pictured here)</div>
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<b>Make Them the “Butt” of All Jokes</b></div>
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This one basically speaks for itself, and I’m not talking about actually bad mouthing your baseball cards to your friends. What I am referring to is probably one of the most childish and immature things you could possibly do to your worthless trading cards. That’s also why it’s my personal favorite.</div>
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A friend of mine back in middle school once astutely likened the small crevice which forms on the side of your index finger when you bend it down towards your palm to yet another crevice which undoubtedly makes more sense with the subtitle I’ve so subtly placed above. Of course, I did what any sports-minded person would do after hearing something so nonsensical. I took the ball and ran with it. </div>
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Therefore, for ultimate comic relief, I suggest you get yourself a pair a scissors and a few worthless trading cards and follow my directions. </div>
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First, you need to find a card with a good pose on it. In this case we’re looking for anything that gives new meaning to the line from Rookie of the Year, “Pitcher’s got a big butt.” </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbPzana93naDahYd6WXwHQsKI0Jbpdm9em8X4eex87Tlmn8ptHS3jfK5CJ9QdQtXORtsGzeuE4KVtmnA7OZzy25LCadYZv_0G2EhhL4Ah4HtOGnaHXdQxkcCKHe9_hXwyV8tWCEK7oIaG/s1600/GlenallenHillThumbFun.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbPzana93naDahYd6WXwHQsKI0Jbpdm9em8X4eex87Tlmn8ptHS3jfK5CJ9QdQtXORtsGzeuE4KVtmnA7OZzy25LCadYZv_0G2EhhL4Ah4HtOGnaHXdQxkcCKHe9_hXwyV8tWCEK7oIaG/s400/GlenallenHillThumbFun.JPG" width="400" /></a>Then you need to go to cuttin’on it. Basically, you cut the player’s mid section out of the card. Stay with me here, the results are worth it. </div>
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Finally, you need to bend the tip of your index finger down to your palm. Look for the crease on the side of your finger…it’s hard to miss. Now, simply place your bent index finger behind the little window you created with the scissors. Take a look.</div>
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Woops, looks like somebody took part in a little too much sliding practice! Is there any wonder why there’s such a pained expression on Glenallen Hill’s face as he slides into home?</div>
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<b>Please Help!</b> </div>
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So there you have it. In this writer’s opinion I’ve provided you with a fairly comprehensive list of possibilities when confronted with the troubling problem of what to do with your useless trading cards. I just wish there were more options out there because that pallet-full of Rich Schu rookie cards in my garage isn’t getting any smaller. That’s why I’m open to any ideas you all may have out there to alleviate my problem. Please keep them coming.</div>
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Thank you so much for your time and understanding in seeing me through what is obviously one of the more pressing issues of our times.</div>
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Sincerely,</div>
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C.G. Morelli</div>
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The Sporting Scribe </div>
CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-80645896387457972302012-01-28T06:00:00.001-05:002012-01-28T06:00:02.242-05:00Heart of the City: The Northeast Taproom<div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEeFJqeGl9QQ-wlDxf3CoP4KSo8hJj0yw3dboUDt3ldTUtGUis0bmqsmyyTAVChE4ktQ_SeuDvAwsS38Jdc2Qrzl44eVgRa55-_CFW6Cs8wSnFwTRdU-m8Y4yyThJMPQh1IuVyLkRI7jtQ/s1600/taproom2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEeFJqeGl9QQ-wlDxf3CoP4KSo8hJj0yw3dboUDt3ldTUtGUis0bmqsmyyTAVChE4ktQ_SeuDvAwsS38Jdc2Qrzl44eVgRa55-_CFW6Cs8wSnFwTRdU-m8Y4yyThJMPQh1IuVyLkRI7jtQ/s320/taproom2.jpg" width="238" /></a> Aaah. Reading, Pennsylvania. Once nicknamed the Compton of the East, some would say a bullet proof vest is perfect attire for a day of outlet shopping in the city’s downtown district. But don’t despair if you happen to find yourself passing through the area this summer. If you’re brave enough to venture into town and you can tolerate the pungent odor of mushrooms multiplying on the surrounding farmland against 90 degree heat, you may find yourself pleasantly surprised…especially if you find yourself on a pilgrimage to a little beer drinker’s Mecca called The Northeast Taproom on N. 12<sup>th</sup> street.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">From the moment you lay eyes on the dingy, broken-shingled exterior of The Northeast Taproom as it sits on the corner of street lined with similarly tattered residences in a run-down and inconspicuous section of the city, you know you’re not dealing with the ordinary. Even so, if not for a small sign and a set of steep, stone steps built into the corner of the block, you could easily mistake the place as a part of the neighborhood itself. And once you step inside, you quickly find that statement isn’t too far from the truth.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You’re greeted at the door by the owner’s golden retriever as your brain struggles to process the endless stream of off-beat art, Elvis memorabilia, strange mosaic tiles, and other assorted oddities that hang from the walls. Shells crunch beneath your feet, a product of the endless cracking and tossing of complimentary peanuts by the thirsty patrons. You notice the men’s bathroom is actually built into the crawl space beneath an apparently unusable staircase, and that the sink to said bathroom is actually hanging on the wall on the outskirts of the barroom with a sign that reads, “Please wash your goddamn hands, we’ll know if you didn’t.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A group of locals, who presumably know each other on a first name basis, huddle around a hand-pump loaded with a variety of craft beers such as Rogue Schwarzbier and Anchor Old Foghorn. There’s also a refrigerator stocked with an assortment of bottles ranging from the ordinary (Sierra Nevada) to the bizarre (DogFishHead). With so much variety on tap and in the cooler it’s hard to decide on a winner. But don’t worry. The bartender at the Taproom is quick to let you sample the goods. If that fails simply order the house specialty, appropriately termed a “classic.” It’s a goblet full of Guinness and a bottle of Lord Chesterfield Ale. That’s right, you’re going two-for-one, folks. Drink from the goblet, refill with the Chesterfield and repeat.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt9wb9Whhdk2AM30u1UylbSC65ceVCie05FmHCW4WfoxynPT6kC48ocvAAsTZEeRF01M3RaNXp-N2pgu-p5pheEtv4K_rnc553EJWJxsgTu6nHXG4_imMdcheZ0xN_X4pXbYMDtrmZrTay/s1600/taproom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt9wb9Whhdk2AM30u1UylbSC65ceVCie05FmHCW4WfoxynPT6kC48ocvAAsTZEeRF01M3RaNXp-N2pgu-p5pheEtv4K_rnc553EJWJxsgTu6nHXG4_imMdcheZ0xN_X4pXbYMDtrmZrTay/s320/taproom.jpg" width="320" /></a>Now all you need is something to keep you busy (as if double-fisting brews and downing free peanuts doesn’t eat up your time). A lounge area inside the bar houses a vintage “Dr. Dude” pinball machine and an arcade Pac-man game, not to mention dart boards, puzzles, trivia games, beer placards, a few random trophies, a leather couch, and a ping pong table. There’s weird crap to hold your interest all over this place. And let’s be honest, people, what goes better with beer than weird crap to help you idle away the time?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Northeast Taproom is gritty. It’s the kind of place that stays with you even after you trudge back down the heavy corner steps at the end of the night. If you like good beer and a great environment to enjoy it in, it’s a place you really can’t miss. </div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-90674588886945302432012-01-27T06:00:00.001-05:002012-01-27T06:00:13.650-05:00The Most Important Innovations in Sports Equipment History<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7akFCXglD_SZCu_axC33hW27hpxjVuNBvmYTk2-pIF2jv1PlFcuDRmXC_VslXiGc4JeDILvL5w6qpgQ4sbgRn6BIS4a-WEgPi-oewkwmQyKw3Mk9lAz7PBhVZ4xTHTzLqAcQQxnV0_RFV/s1600/jacques_plante_putting_on_mask_gr75.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7akFCXglD_SZCu_axC33hW27hpxjVuNBvmYTk2-pIF2jv1PlFcuDRmXC_VslXiGc4JeDILvL5w6qpgQ4sbgRn6BIS4a-WEgPi-oewkwmQyKw3Mk9lAz7PBhVZ4xTHTzLqAcQQxnV0_RFV/s320/jacques_plante_putting_on_mask_gr75.jpg" width="317" /></a></div> I’m sure I can only speak for myself when I say that studying sports equipment is really interesting. See, I know most sports fans out there aren’t thinking about what kind of resin Roy Halladay powders on his hands before hurling a 90 mph heater. And there aren’t many fans, like me, who see a boxer laid out on the canvas and wonder what kind of mouthpiece it is laying beside him in a puddle of his own drool.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It’s this hazy attention to details that causes many of us to take these seemingly innocent innovations for granted. We fail to see the important roles they play in the lives of our athletes and rarely think about how things would be different without them</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Therefore, I feel it is my duty to present to you the most important innovations in sports equipment history.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Honorable Mention – Nerf Footballs</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">Ok, so these flashy globes of foam rubber aren’t really pieces of equipment used by the professionals, but they sure make your Uncle Harry look like Johnny Unitas. Maybe he was telling the truth when he told you he would have went pro if not for that damn alien abduction. Either that Nerf ball is scientifically designed to soar 90 yards with a flick of the wrist, or your Uncle Harry’s stashed some performance enhancers in that six pack of brew he’s got dangling from his belt loop.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>5. Football Helmets with Facemasks</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">Just think, it wasn’t until the 1950’s that the modern football helmet and face mask were mandated in the pros. Before that, guys pretended to be tough while wearing the same leather helmet worn by Snoopy in his exploits as the Red Baron. Could you imagine how many teeth must have littered the turf by game’s end? It must have looked like closing time at the Chic-let factory. I guess on the bright side, however, not having facemasks would have eliminated pretty-boy smile guys like Tony Romo and Tom Brady from the game. Of course, I’m sure it also eliminated any chance of having the ability to produce rational thought after an average playing career.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>4. Batting Helmets</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">The original batting helmet, used from the mid 1800’s all the way up into the 1950’s, was portable, fit like a glove, and was incredibly inexpensive. That’s because it was the human skull. Apparently no one thought it was a priority to protect the most vital organ in the body from whizzing, rock-hard projectiles. That is until the Major League death toll from wild pitches tallied six players by 1951. Teams like the Pittsburgh Pirates took notice of this scary statistic and began wearing protective helmets. Of course, the rest of the league immediately branded them as pansies… until 1954, when Joe Adcock was knocked unconscious by a wild pitch for a full 15 minutes. After that, the league decided to mandate the helmet rule for all players. Now you couldn’t catch a ballplayer standing in the on-deck circle without a helmet.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>3. Hockey Goaltender Masks</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">You have to be either extremely brave or extremely stupid to stand in front of a blazing slap shot and stop a puck with your face. Until Jaques Plante of the 1960 Canadiens finally donned a protective mask, hockey goalies were a little bit of both. Since then, the goalie mask has progressed from the full plastic variety, made famous by Jason Voorhees in the slasher flicks <i>Friday the 13<sup>th</sup></i>, to the modern version of a helmet and a protective metal cage that we commonly see today. Both varieties have allowed goaltenders to escape their playing days without losing an entire row of teeth or winding up with a face only a mother could love. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjlOoDFCJ5UdHv5Z6umDE-Uyv259pYFlRUxjCj5V74xewM1ryO1cbWV9heQWMyBvGsMZWxbRzFfpuH6s7ilK7oQd7wgCG0gbnyg1OV5QEMlD8hu8AVnnWFH2hQxjkQo8w9iIVVg6-A1JA/s1600/cupcheck.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggjlOoDFCJ5UdHv5Z6umDE-Uyv259pYFlRUxjCj5V74xewM1ryO1cbWV9heQWMyBvGsMZWxbRzFfpuH6s7ilK7oQd7wgCG0gbnyg1OV5QEMlD8hu8AVnnWFH2hQxjkQo8w9iIVVg6-A1JA/s320/cupcheck.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>2. Protective Cups</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">There’s really not much to say here. To even provide a reminder of sports without the trusty walnut shell would be an exercise in barbarity to anyone who’s ever taken a knee to the groin during a game of rough-touch football. But, yes, the forefathers of sports didn’t think twice about leaving the little guy open to injury. Makes you wonder how we all came to be, doesn’t it? The first cup was actually just a rolled-up piece of leather. Yeah, that gives you peace of mind. Thankfully, a wide variety of lightweight and sturdy materials now exist to protect you from the ultimate manly mishap.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>1. Baseball Caps</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t sing the praises of the baseball cap. I mean, I where a cap so often it’s become my hairstyle, and that’s the way it is for millions of hat-dependent Americans each day. Don’t feel like combing your hair? Baseball cap. Don’t want your hair to get wet in the rain? Baseball cap. Don’t have hair at all? Baseball cap. It’s the answer to most head-related issues…at least in my book.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But one thing that can’t be disputed is the modern ball cap has become an American staple, like the cowboy hat or apple pie. Thankfully, the original straw hat worn by the 1860 Brooklyn Excelsiors has come a long way. It’s been updated to the modern 59-50 style worn by current major leaguers. Otherwise I’d be sitting on a porch with a goofy straw hat and a corn cob pipe trying to whittle something right now. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> And, really, who wants that?</div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-44247333056553752962012-01-26T05:00:00.004-05:002012-01-26T05:00:01.549-05:00Top Dawg: Bernie Kosar<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuT7XZzkFBDXYS-UjR5cCIVTx568Zri0yo7nb16Ds-1_294IeNpCcjbP226KYrhcGUhDCjphN1eC0ZOyjlqnIW8kPviuO97MVMysrdPYGqcQhee7zL1QjZN-MvJP-qBpVTyUH_F5jrST0/s1600/bernie-kosar.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuT7XZzkFBDXYS-UjR5cCIVTx568Zri0yo7nb16Ds-1_294IeNpCcjbP226KYrhcGUhDCjphN1eC0ZOyjlqnIW8kPviuO97MVMysrdPYGqcQhee7zL1QjZN-MvJP-qBpVTyUH_F5jrST0/s320/bernie-kosar.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Growing up, my friends and I spent the bulk of every summer playing sandlot baseball. Of course, each of us would take a shot on the mound and see how accurately we could imitate the quirky wind-ups of our favorite major league pitchers. You know the old drill: “Hey, I’m Kent Tekulve!” “Look at me, I’m Fernando Valenzuela!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Once the weather got colder we’d trade the bats and gloves for a football. But it was never as easy to imitate our favorite quarterbacks. They pretty much all looked the same when they released the ball, especially in the eyes of an eleven-year-old kid. Unless, of course, that favorite quarterback was a Cleveland legend. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Look, I’m Bernie,” I’d say. Then I’d whip a sidearm bullet to an open receiver for a TD (ok, so the sidearm part is accurate even if the “bullet” remark is debatable). What was never debatable was Bernie Kosar’s impact on the city of Cleveland during his sometimes-brilliant, sometimes-embroiled tenure as the Browns’ starting quarterback.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kosar was a Brown in the making since his first day on Earth. He was a fan of the team as a young boy growing up in Youngstown, Ohio. His love for the team grew as he played football at Boardman High School and began solidifying his legacy as a brilliant quarterback. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He earned Parade All-America honors his senior year at Boardman and then moved on to the University of Miami, where he took over as starting quarterback in 1983 after a red shirt season. His impact on the Hurricanes offense was immediate. He threw 15 TD passes on his way to an 11-1 season and a berth in the Orange Bowl. Then he followed the brilliant regular season performance with a 300 yard, 2 TD shocker against top-ranked Nebraska. He did the unthinkable in leading Miami to its first national championship in a stunning 31-30 victory over the Huskers. The following season Kosar threw 25 more TDs and finished fourth in Heisman voting. It seemed he was ready to join the NFL ranks. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Rumors began to surface that Bernie would forego his remaining collegiate eligibility and enter the draft. Kosar denied the reports, and then rebuked his denial. A messy draft scenario ensued. The Cleveland Browns jockeyed for position. The Minnesota Vikings made accusations. Kosar stood fast by his claim that he wanted to come home to Ohio. Cleveland fans held their breaths and crossed their fingers….Long story short, the commish at the time, Pete Rozelle, allowed Kosar to enter the 1985 supplemental draft and the Browns scooped him up with the first pick. And, just like that, Cleveland’s love affair with an unlikely hero began.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kosar never possessed the athletic gifts of John Elway or Dan Marino, but he did have two things going for him: accuracy and heart.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In 1986, Kosar’s first full season as the Browns’ starter, the sidearm slinger connected on 310 completions for nearly 4,000 yards in leading the team to the AFC Championship Game. Who could forget Bernie’s 489 yard performance in a comeback win against the Jets to get them there? It took the mighty John Elway and a certain 98-yard drive to stamp out Cleveland’s Super Bowl hopes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kosar dialed up 22 TD passes in 1987. He led the AFC in QB rating, and his Browns once again rumbled into the AFC Championship Game. But Bernie’s 356 yards and three touchdowns still could not top Elway’s Broncos.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kosar made one more trip to the AFC Championship in 1989. He was once again unable to slay the dragon that was John Elway. But through all the heart-breaking defeats, Kosar embodied the never-say-die attitude that defined the Cleveland fans and complimented the hard-nose atmosphere of the vaunted Dawg Pound.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Perhaps the most telling sign of how deeply Kosar had touched the Cleveland fan base with his gritty play came in 1991. That was when Bill Belichick took over as Browns head coach. Belichick’s first order of business was to bench Bernie in favor of Vinny Testaverde. Later in the season, after a bad round of backup work, Belichick ordered Kosar’s outright release. The Cleveland fans were outraged. Angry Dawg Pounders showed the new head coach what they thought of him by wearing Bernie Kosar masks instead of Dawg masks at the next game (by the way, I’d love to get my hands on one of those masks before Halloween). Think Cleveland fans still hold a grudge? Let’s just say Billy boy shouldn’t throw on an old, sleeveless hoodie and take a moonlit stroll down West Third Street any time soon.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But Bernie, in classic Bernie style, kept his chin up and moved on. All he did in 1991 was sign a million dollar contract with the Cowboys and win that elusive Super Bowl ring as Troy Aikman’s backup. Bernie completed the final three years of a brilliant career back in Miami, playing second-fiddle to Dan Marino. Then he faded away from the spotlight and took his rightful place as a Cleveland legend.</div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-49067799965298599632012-01-25T16:40:00.000-05:002012-01-25T16:40:53.539-05:00The 20 Dumbest Football Quotes<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmmGpxjhVmAy2iX-R4wcc4_yxQzQdTYGPQde7Eh7JvG6TLf-BMOiUk2UyXlqBgvAiq6XHvqWlaNXclPOCMMSiSHYBVwhxkEtaBjx3dhe-iwzq0JgEVZdXEbuFvaptUjiMpXwW9Lapde-s/s1600/butkus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwmmGpxjhVmAy2iX-R4wcc4_yxQzQdTYGPQde7Eh7JvG6TLf-BMOiUk2UyXlqBgvAiq6XHvqWlaNXclPOCMMSiSHYBVwhxkEtaBjx3dhe-iwzq0JgEVZdXEbuFvaptUjiMpXwW9Lapde-s/s320/butkus.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Let’s face it, football players are measured more accurately on stop watches than on IQ tests. Don’t get me wrong. I‘m not complaining. It’s not like I tune in every Sunday for rocket science. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Actually, I’m here to support athletic stupidity in all its forms. Without it, how would I compile a list with such absurd notions as the ones you’ll see below. Thank you, sweet football, for yet another 20 reasons to spend half my weekend drooling before you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">They may stupid. They may be childish. They may not make a shred of sense. But at least they’re something. I give you: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">20 Really Stupid Football Quotes</span></u></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>George Rogers, former Saints RB</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“I want to rush for 1,000 or 1,500 yards, whichever comes first” </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Bill Peterson, former Oilers Head Coach</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">"You guys line up alphabetically by height." </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Dick Butkus, former Bears LB</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">"I wouldn't ever set out to hurt anyone deliberately unless it was important -- like a league game." </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>William</b> <b>“Refrigerator” Perry, former Bears DT</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">"I've been big ever since I was little." </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Thomas "Hollywood" Henderson, former Cowboys LB</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><i>On Terry Bradshaw’s brain power</i>…“He couldn’t spell cat if you spotted him the C and the T.”</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Joe Theisman, former Redskins QB </b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“Nobody in football should be called a genius. A genius is a guy like Norman Einstein." </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="quote-words"><b>Jim McMahon, former Bears QB</b></span></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="quote-words"><i>On traveling to Europe…"</i>The people don't take baths and they don't speak English. No golf courses, no room service. Who needs it?" </span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>John McKay, former Bucs Head Coach</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="quote-words">"Well, we've determined that we can't win at home and we can't win on the road. What we need is a neutral site." </span><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Randy Moss, Titans WR</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“When you're rich you don't write checks. Straight Cash, Homey!” Randy Moss</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>John Madden, former Raiders Head Coach</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">"The purpose of the center during the snap is to get the ball to the quarterback; and if that doesn't happen it usually results in a fumble." </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Terry Bradshaw, former Steelers QB</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid.” </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Craig “Ironhead” Heyward, former Saints RB</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“People say I’ll be drafted in the first round, maybe even higher.” </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Randy Cross, former 49ers RG</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“The NFL, like life, is full of idiots.”</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Chuck Knox, former Rams Head Coach</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“Most of my clichés aren’t original.”</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Gale Sayers, former Bears RB</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“The only thing I got out of football was the ability to work hard, and that’s it.”</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Joe Namath, former Jets QB</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“I guarantee a win.” </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Bum Phillips, former Cowboys Head Coach</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“If I drop dead tomorrow, at least I’ll know I died in good health.” </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Jim Mora, former Saints/Colts Head Coach</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“What’s that? Playoffs? Don’t talk about — playoffs?! You kidding me?! Playoffs?! I just hope we can win a game!” (former Saints and Colts coach Jim Mora</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Bill Cowher, former Steelers Head Coach</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"> “We’re not attempting to circumcise the rules.” </div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNoSpacing"><b>Bruce Coslet, former Bengals Head Coach</b></div><div class="MsoNoSpacing">“We can’t run. We can’t pass. We can’t stop the run. We can’t stop the pass. We can’t kick. Other than that, we’re just not a very good football team right now.”</div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-64457531154727557212012-01-22T17:53:00.001-05:002012-01-22T18:05:37.162-05:00We'll Miss You, Joe Pa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisQeDmPX3HIXHR8n9Cjx0kDf2sfcvns1TS8UXSYaZpRrGuayiPLGRGmPLxNHI4i-5aifGQp28lwhiAxkeNqrjvWAMB09KXUE_IJS4_n1kpwUHBkBwD1ecl93lNjvTeT6Xz8fonmuYwZfjZ/s1600/joe-paterno-409th-win-illinois-vs-penn-state.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisQeDmPX3HIXHR8n9Cjx0kDf2sfcvns1TS8UXSYaZpRrGuayiPLGRGmPLxNHI4i-5aifGQp28lwhiAxkeNqrjvWAMB09KXUE_IJS4_n1kpwUHBkBwD1ecl93lNjvTeT6Xz8fonmuYwZfjZ/s320/joe-paterno-409th-win-illinois-vs-penn-state.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>On this sad day, as a college coaching legend departs our cruel world, I am once again reminded of the impermanence of life and of speed at which our only true gift can be taken away from any one of us. What is even more sobering, possibly, is the fickleness of prestige, the fleeting nature of the public's opinion, and the modern desire to pulverize the mystique of the past.<br />
<br />
I, for one, am sick and tired of our disposable society. Have we become so attached to the rapidity of a drive-thru lane or the immediate gratification of a Twitter post that we've forgotten that the benevolent acts of a lifetime actually take....a lifetime? Are we such slaves to the me-first, me-now attitude that a man and his remarkable body of work spanning at least four decades can be dashed by some second-party hearsay, a few weakly-researched news clippings, and the fall-guy mentality of a puzzled trustee base?<br />
<br />
Unfortunately there are still many days of speculation ahead of us, but on this day, let us pay our respects to a great man and admire some of his epic triumphs:<br />
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My heart goes out to the Paterno family and the entire Penn State community during these tough times. You will be in my thoughts and prayers.CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-31317120762767520792012-01-20T11:22:00.000-05:002012-01-20T11:22:43.818-05:00On the 8th Day God Created...Tom Brady?!?<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7rlHmXEyCrne1f89HWxZzY0Qu2ADN3kieg8FvwDr5L99h47n4nfS4d-aKd_n4jkJ7GWz4ehijBTs1dD8Qc4lvN0RrNqIQ2QvxvJ5st5ZfeNGTRPY2tJMYE2W0rqCeybUjjXlwU-BN4Vf/s1600/Brady_Mane_Football_767317l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja7rlHmXEyCrne1f89HWxZzY0Qu2ADN3kieg8FvwDr5L99h47n4nfS4d-aKd_n4jkJ7GWz4ehijBTs1dD8Qc4lvN0RrNqIQ2QvxvJ5st5ZfeNGTRPY2tJMYE2W0rqCeybUjjXlwU-BN4Vf/s400/Brady_Mane_Football_767317l.jpg" width="273" /></a></div>I don’t think I’m the only one who’s getting tired of the Tom Brady/Bill Belichick love fest that occurs every Sunday around noon. So far this football season, the bitter taste of Brady’s almost effortless performance has left me speechless and frustrated. But when I heard the following joke the other day in a crowded checkout line, I was left slightly refreshed:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Many years into the future, God layeth down his mighty robes and strapethed on his NFL foam finger. He headed to his own personal 50-yard line seat at his own personal stadium, and readied himself for an exciting week of professional football…played to his specifications, of course. On either side of him was an empty seat for whomever he deemed worthy enough to be his guests at the game. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Lord had just taken a rather large bite of chili dog and wiped some dribbling cheese-wiz from his chin, when the spirit of Drew Brees came walking down the concourse. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Do you mind if I sit with you, uhhh, God?” Brees asked sort of confused.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Well, my son,” said God mildly, “What do you think it is that makes you worthy of such a seat?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Uhh…well, during my career I played football like a warrior. I ignored injuries, I lifted my teammates, and I also thanked the guys around me for allowing me to have so much success on the playing field.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Hmm,” God responded, “It sure seems like you’ve made your contribution. Please, have a seat on my right.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Drew obliged and began enjoying the game from the best seats in the house…literally. A few moments later, as God and Drew Brees shared a pile of spicy nachos, another spirit made his way down the concourse.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Is this seat taken?” asked Peyton Manning with a smile.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFecSqQoGNO7LTCn-PJp_3zEYnsj2Y1eCZGT_lpMzd4wT9F6Fr8XM5gVTgLZ38ECiX98S3no7T4Qtz421kIt3wxNRs_5AWoXBMoY4C_jqp0iZvEmsJUiAMjZncsrtHGftrgpyeTn2FCiIh/s1600/brady-long-hair.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFecSqQoGNO7LTCn-PJp_3zEYnsj2Y1eCZGT_lpMzd4wT9F6Fr8XM5gVTgLZ38ECiX98S3no7T4Qtz421kIt3wxNRs_5AWoXBMoY4C_jqp0iZvEmsJUiAMjZncsrtHGftrgpyeTn2FCiIh/s320/brady-long-hair.jpg" width="214" /></a>“Well, my son,” said God gently, “It is not taken as of yet. However, it is reserved for someone most worthy. Do you think you are that man?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I’d have to say that I am,” Manning claimed. “For one, I always made it a point to treat the game like a game and have fun with it. But, at the same time, I remembered that my teammates and my city were counting on me, and I made sure to take it seriously as well. I think I was able to find the perfect balance.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“That is quite an accomplishment,” said God with a grin, “I believe you are the man to take the seat at my left.” Peyton took his seat and snagged a stray nacho from the plastic tray, and the three miracle men took in the sights and sounds of barbaric poetry ringing from their private playing surface.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">They were silent in their observations for a long while, until something from the stands caught their attention. This time, it was the spirit of Tom Brady who was making his way down the steps. There was an awkward moment of silence as the two legendary spectators, and of course God, glanced nervously from Brady to the row of occupied seats and back at Brady again. They simply had nowhere to put him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Of course, Tom had no intention of missing the game. Do you know what he did?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He looked God directly in the eyes, tucked his very own biblical hairstyle behind his ears, and said, “Hey, buddy, I think you’re in my seat.” </div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-1437626079533980862011-03-21T21:53:00.000-04:002011-03-21T21:53:49.979-04:00You're Outta Here!!<div class="MsoNormal">By: C.G. Morelli</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglE1A0urizuNahAQNohTiZnAx4L6ntp9v2s8SoVa_QQGRdEbl2Rz7CLha1TV28vmM1lmCeO9oIUAIxjAZU1_qtbC_IU4MbAkUI2IOAPp3zowVHsSI9s3D2l8TF9BOZJ4tW_cjvYaX1cZSh/s1600/lou-piniella-argues.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglE1A0urizuNahAQNohTiZnAx4L6ntp9v2s8SoVa_QQGRdEbl2Rz7CLha1TV28vmM1lmCeO9oIUAIxjAZU1_qtbC_IU4MbAkUI2IOAPp3zowVHsSI9s3D2l8TF9BOZJ4tW_cjvYaX1cZSh/s320/lou-piniella-argues.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal">Before you get all worked up over my not-so-politically-correct decision to sing the praises of unsportsmanlike conduct in the game of baseball, please spare me the tears. I’m not here to endorse fighting, or cursing, or even umpire bashing. I’m not here to teach you how to kick dirt on someone’s shoes. I’m simply not the kind of guy who condones this type of behavior.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But still, there’s something inherently passionate about a coach who storms out on the field to defend his version of justice before his team. I don’t care who you are, there’s something completely satisfying about seeing an umpire’s arm reach to the heavens before unceremoniously pointing a manager in the proper direction for a shower.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As much as we can all admit this behavior is better left to the dogs, we still can’t quite forget there’s something about a manager meltdown that’s essential old school baseball. It’s gritty, and it brings us back to the days of old John McGraw, when winning a ball game was more about protecting your pride than protecting the fan base.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That’s why, as I attempt to fill the next three months until opening day and the next million Sundays until football starts again in Carolina, I’d like to share with you some of the most entertaining meltdowns in baseball history.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Most Entertaining Manager Meltdowns in Baseball History</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We’ll start out with the simple but classic approach to getting ejected. Here’s Ricky VanAsselberg of the Alexandria Aces minor league team giving a gentle nod to the old school as he buries home plate under a mountain of sand. Give a few style points to the ump on the toss.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Butch Hobson of the Can-Am League Nashua Pride added a little creativity to his meltdown routine. Hobson decided a call on a close play at first was so blasphemous that no one should ever again be allowed to touch that base…except, of course, the group of ten year olds seated near the top of the bleachers he delivered it to after being axed. Give this one a minute, it’s worth it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">There are a million clips of Tommy Lasorda hurling insults, spit, and whatever else at unwitting and perhaps even dimwitted umpires. The man’s slight problem with his temper is well documented. But, to me, nothing is more telling of the man’s passion for the game, his team, and his player than this clip. I mean, the guy was ready to argue even in spring training! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Asheville Tourist’s manager Joe Mikulik would probably like to do these few minutes of his life over again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/N4DPRuEJUVM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sometimes when I watch Lou Piniella really give it to an umpire I have to ask myself, “Was he basically put on Earth for this exact purpose?” If there’s such a thing as a meltdown artist, Sweet Lou would have to be the one and only. Here’s a double dose for you.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is perhaps my favorite clip of all time, in any sport. Phillip Wellman, manager of the minor league Mississippi Braves, puts on a performance worthy of an Oscar after getting tossed from a Southern League game. Take note as he army-crawls to the mound, pulls the pin on the, uh, resin bag? And then tosses it grenade style? Genius.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I present to you Earl Weaver, Master of Language. WARNING! Let’s just say this might not be the best clip to play on full volume in the middle of a board meeting. But if a few choice words aren’t enough to get your panties in a bunch, I promise you’ll be in tears during this one. And, by the way, don’t ever put your finger on me again. You’ll know what I’m talking about in a minute.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Honorable Mention</b></div><div class="MsoNormal">I know, I know. How can I compile a list like this without including all time ejections leader Bobby Cox of the Atlanta Braves? Well, for all the times Bobby’s been given the old heave-ho, he’s really been able to keep a lid on it. That’s pretty surprising when you consider Cox has been sent packing 158 times in his professional managerial career. At any rate, here’s an honorable mention for a guy who clearly prides himself on quantity over quality when it comes to arguing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://2.gvt0.com/vi/IL-b55DqX_I/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/IL-b55DqX_I&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IL-b55DqX_I&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-3259700735659410402011-03-04T16:32:00.003-05:002011-03-04T16:35:15.633-05:00At the Table With...Baseball Legends<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">By: C.G. Morelli</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlrSdrMcaaYyi-XddO6BMDEwiWxlPU01Eymb9NwZg3Cb7g570Hm3Rv61tGDkSt69P5SYTfvzzaZ6fEJ1bRN_nl_6c4OqsHyo6_yfMWapZdh478SRgZOcIseEO3ZhPYtg8aeuDnig85167/s1600/place-setting-2_300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlrSdrMcaaYyi-XddO6BMDEwiWxlPU01Eymb9NwZg3Cb7g570Hm3Rv61tGDkSt69P5SYTfvzzaZ6fEJ1bRN_nl_6c4OqsHyo6_yfMWapZdh478SRgZOcIseEO3ZhPYtg8aeuDnig85167/s320/place-setting-2_300.jpg" width="256" /></a>We’ve all heard the obligatory conversation starter before: “If you could have dinner with an influential person, who would it be and why?” Ah, the sounds of a high school history class…except without all the snoring and with only half the amount of drool.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Believe me, I’m not asking you to relive it with me because, seriously, those conversations usually turned out to be as exciting as a Kansas City Royals home game. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Personally, I always thought it’d be more interesting to think about what you’d actually say to these people as they were huddled around your kitchen table. What would you serve them? What in the hell would they say to you?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Ok, so maybe I think about pointless stuff a little too much. But I only do it so you, the faithful readers, don’t have to.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I’m a baseball guy, so let me share with you the top five ballplayers throughout history that I’d dine with. But I’ll even take it the extra mile for you. I’ll let you in on our conversations.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">5. Manny Ramirez</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Meal:</i> Something extremely rich</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Conversation:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> I’m glad you decided to stop by, Manny.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Manny:</b> Me too. I can never pass up a free meal, especially when I don’t have a place to call home.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> Free? I never said that.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Manny:</b> It doesn’t matter. You’ll pay for it. Come on, look at this face. How can you resist me?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> Do I look like Ned Coletti?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Manny:</b> Actually, yes.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> Take that back.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Manny:</b> Give me 30 million.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> What?!?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Manny:</b> I meant 45 million.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> Ok, I think this dinner’s over.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Manny:</b> (walking to the door) You’ll call back. They always do.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">4. Joe DiMaggio</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Meal:</i> Veal Parmigiana and a pack of Marlboro Reds</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Conversation:</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Joe, I’ll always be in awe of your 56-game hitting streak. How’d you deal with the pressure?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Joe D:</b> Trust me, it was easier than being married to Marilyn.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>High maintenance?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Joe D:</b> You don’t know the half of it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Was it worth all the trouble?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Joe D:</b> NO!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, yes.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> Shocking.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">3. Pete Rose</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Meal: </i>Bread and water</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Conversation:</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Sorry about the skimpy meal, Mr. Rose. You know, economy’s not all too good these days.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Rose:</b> Don’t mention it. Besides, it happens to be one of my favorites. I used to refer to it as the after-parlay special back in Cincy.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Sounds, um, healthy. Speaking of health, what’s your take on the whole steroids scandal?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Rose:</b> I’d be willing to bet more than half the league was doing them.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Uh, are you sure you wouldn’t like to rephrase that last statement?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Rose:</b> Why?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Never mind….So how about those Phillies?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">2. Ty Cobb</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Meal:</i> Fried chicken, collards, biscuits, and gravy</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Conversation:</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>It’s an honor to have you, Mr. Cobb. I’m a huge fan. I celebrate your entire body of work.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ty:</b> I don’t know where you think this dinner is headed, boy, but you best leave my body out of it.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> What?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ty:</b> You know what I’m gettin’ at, you yella-bellied pretty boy.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Actually, I don’t.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ty:</b> Look, just eat your damn chicken and zip your lip.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: …</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Ty:</b> That’s better. Now finish all your vegetables before I sharpen my spikes on that big old nose of yourn.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG:</b> Mr. Cobb, it’s been real.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1. Yogi Berra</b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Meal:</i> A bowl of Cap’n Crunch</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Conversation:</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Boy am I glad to be sitting here with you, Yogi…a man known for his dialogue.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yogi: </b>Well, they say a man’s dialogue is his treasure.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Who says that?<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yogi:</b> Well, it ain’t us, so it must be them.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Of course it ain’t us, but who is “them?”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yogi:</b> All the people who think a man’s dialogue is his treasure.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>But I never heard anyone ever say that.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yogi: </b>What do you mean? I just said it two minutes ago.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>Are you sure you weren’t just reading random stuff off the back of the cereal box?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yogi:</b> Uhhh….ummm…It ain’t over till it’s over!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CG: </b>What the…? Oh, forget it. Where’s Ty Cobb when you need him? </div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-76944847255880735232011-02-25T17:05:00.000-05:002011-02-25T17:05:38.521-05:00Heart of the City: Pop's Water Ice<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">By: C.G. Morelli</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirF28a8-1EJbb6g7eCfyPsC5M2QQPwnTCPGqD7oGVyhiyt3U3ziPhMJXEcaluqJ-pScihwa-c7mhydbGdS7WWZ5QUjzIg3A0drGpRVap40Ujx5kkSqK9CO-IYfhE68NiueG_Hi7Xs5RvpH/s1600/pops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirF28a8-1EJbb6g7eCfyPsC5M2QQPwnTCPGqD7oGVyhiyt3U3ziPhMJXEcaluqJ-pScihwa-c7mhydbGdS7WWZ5QUjzIg3A0drGpRVap40Ujx5kkSqK9CO-IYfhE68NiueG_Hi7Xs5RvpH/s400/pops.jpg" width="300" /></a>Most of my love for the game of baseball can be traced back to a single, humid July evening in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Philadelphia</place></city> in 1982. That’s when my father showed me a pair of Phillies season tickets and explained we’d be going to Veteran’s Stadium for my first baseball game. From that very first walk down the heavy, concrete steps which led to section 325, peanut shells crackling beneath my Velcro sneakers, the smell of stale beer and shouts of “Hey Schmidty!” floating through the air, and a curious green mascot dancing around on the rooftop of the first base dugout, I was hooked.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Today, I can’t remember many details of the actual game. There was just so much for me to take in; I guess the game itself sort of molded together with the new and exciting surroundings of the Vet. But one thing I remember quite clearly is the moment the game ended. My father leaned over and said, “Now it’s time for the best part…we’re going to Pop’s.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">At that moment I couldn’t see anything redeeming about going to my grandfather’s row home at 10:30 at night, but I quickly realized my father was instead referring to a South Philadelphia mainstay known as Pop’s Water Ice.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">For those of you who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say “water ice,” here’s a quick lesson. If you walk into a supermarket and head to the freezer section, you might find a box of <place w:st="on">Dixie</place> cups with a rock hard concoction inside. People often like to call this stuff Italian Ice, but it’s actually just a cheap and somewhat embarrassing reproduction of real water ice. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">A more authentic alternative to the supermarket stuff comes from a popular chain called Rita’s, which happens to be the leading rip off artist of the Pop’s tradition. Rita’s is decent, but it’s certainly not Pop’s. It often lacks the most satisfying characteristic of a good, refreshing cup of water ice: the fact that you should never need to bother yourself with the use of a spoon. At Pop’s you simply need to squeeze the sides of your cup and basically drink the semi-frozen slush that rises to the top. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">It’s the same way people enjoyed the treat as far back as 1932, when Filippo “Pop” Italiano first started selling his water ice from a single push cart in South Philadelphia’s <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Marconi</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Plaza</placetype></place>. Seventy-five years later his frozen treats are a staple along Oregon Avenue, in the shadows of <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Philadelphia</place></city>’s major sporting venues. The Italiano family has continued Filippo’s tradition, sticking closely to his famously guarded recipe and building a reputation as the perennial winners of the South Philly Review’s Best of Philly Award.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">If you don’t believe the hype, simply drive past the Pop’s storefront after a Phillies game and notice the line that routinely trails to the end of the city block and wraps around the corner. Or, try to park your ride anywhere in the vicinity of the famous stand and I guarantee you’ll be sitting in a pile-up of automobiles that runs three-deep to the curb. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">In this case, your best bet is to partake in another South Philly tradition and simply park your car on the median. Don’t worry about getting a ticket, because there’s always a good chance the fuzz will be sitting in line waiting for a large cup of lemon water ice and a pretzel rod along with you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">One thing I’ll tell you is Pop’s Water Ice is not a flashy place, nor is it a huge entertainment complex where you can unload the kids in front of a row of arcade games. The place has really changed little since Pop himself was pushing his cart through <place w:st="on"><placename w:st="on">Marconi</placename> <placetype w:st="on">Plaza</placetype></place>. But one thing’s for sure, this place has always been a respite for battle-weary Phillies fans to heal their wounds after a tough loss or celebrate the glory of an unlikely victory.</div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6376504090927222289.post-3323409622442006432011-02-17T09:00:00.000-05:002011-02-17T09:00:28.391-05:00Stan the ManBy: C.G. Morelli <br />
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Throughout his career, Stan Musial was a man's man. It's no surprise the nickname stuck. In addition to compiling a cartoon-like career stats line (475 dingers, 3,630 hits, a lifetime .331 average, and three MVP awards), serving in the Navy during WWII, and being elected to the Hall of Fame with over 93 percent of the votes in 1969, Stan the Man touched the lives of so many of his fellow players, coaches, and fans that you'd need at least twenty Busch Stadiums to contain them all.<br />
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On Tuesday, President Obama honored Musial with the highest honor a civilian in the United States could possibly receive: the Presidential Medal of Freedom.<br />
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Congratulations, Stan, the honor was long overdue. Here's a recap of the all time Cardinals great accepting the honor:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/H35l9iAreSo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>CGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13111623524317932989noreply@blogger.com0