Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Poor Minnesotaens

Post #40 Topic: Adrian Peterson… The Atlanta Falcon???

Sucks to be from Minnesota. Its cold. There are a lot of lakes. Its next to Canada. It has a weird semi-hourglass-like shape. It’s the 2nd most efficient cheese producer in the country, which given the negative connotation of the BEST producer, is quite shameful. Minnesotians have strange accents. Minnesota is the only state that gives its fans bad dome – until the Twins open their new stadium in the next couple years. Bottom line, it sucks to be from Minnesota.

Unfortunately, there is no Lloyd Christmas, no Harry Dunn to “totally redeem” Minnesota for what should command many a harsh look and disproving glare. This year, Minnesota has gone even farther to distance itself from its already misfortuned citizens.

Hockey is huge in Minnesota. Hockey is so big that the Minnesota Wild don’t schedule home games on Tuesdays which happens to be the “state-wide High School Hockey night”. No this is not a typo. Its no accident that many of today’s NHL stars played prep hockey in Minnesota (Sid Crosby to name the equivalent to everyone). Hockey players from all over the country come to university of Minnesota to play Ice Hockey, and thus the Gophers are perennial favorites in college hockey. Over a decade ago, when the Minnesota North Stars left Minnesota for Dallas, it took less than two years for Minnesota businessmen to realize how drastically the lives of the state citizens had been impacted and to obtain a franchise agreement to start a new franchise, the Minnesota Wild. Season tickets to the Wild sold out in the 1st month, and have remained unavailable other than through waiting lists ever since.

Well Minnesota hockey fans are about to get angry again. Wild coach Jacques Lemaire has, does and will continue to play a defensive style of hockey. For newbies, that means defense first and offensive breaks only after the puck has cleared their own zone. That means no breakaways, no lead passes, no fast breaks, no 2 on 1s and no offensive risks for Minnesota Wild star Marion Gaborik. If you saw Gaborik’s game against the Rangers earlier this year you would realize just how good he is. But Gaborik likes the offensive game, and would be better served (statistically and financially) to play in a more open system that is more willing to have defensemen join the chase.

Because of this preference, Gaborik’s relationship with head coach Lemaire is publicly strained. Lemaire has gone as far as to express his displeasure with Gaborik’s stubbornness by limiting him to under 18 minutes a game while the Tampa Bay Lightning alone have 3 offensive players averaging more than 23 minutes per game. So to make a long story only a little less long, it seems as if Gaborik is on the way out of Minnesota come the trade deadline. Off to greener pastures, a more appreciating coach, more minutes, more goals and more notoriety.

Marion Gaborik, however, constitutes only a piece of this article, serving as symbolism for why Minnesota citizens have witnessed their lives go from worse to worser to worsest.

Several years ago Kevin Garnett had an opportunity to leave the Wolves for a “contender”. The Wolves had been stagnantly stuck in the 1st round of the playoffs for several years. But Garnett loved Minnesota, loved his fans and more importantly loved his team. So he took a slight paycut to remain with Minnesota with the hopes that they would rebuild around him; they didn’t.

After putting up with the frustration of losing for several more years, GARNETT STILL DIDN’T DEMAND A TRADE. But GM Glen Taylor realized that it was only fair to give one of the game’s best men, players and hardest workers a chance to win a championship and seal his legacy as one of the penultimate (not sure if thats the right word but it has the right sound) big-men in the history of the game. So off to Boston (see earlier posts for my opinion on Boston sports).

And now this. Damn! That really sucks. Its tough to watch the Knicks, and the Rangers are always disappointing. The Yankees ran out of steroids and the Mets COLLAPSED. But all that agony doesn’t compare to this! NOT THIS!

From the perspective of a Mets fan who knows about his team but not so much about his prospects… Minnesota got robbed. How is it possible that Minnesota was willing to put the FUTURE of their team in jeopardy by losing their Ace (the league’s ace), for 1 sure fire lifeteam near-allstar, 1 pitching gamble, and a 4th and 5th in the rotation potential guys.

Call me ridiculous but is it only a matter of time that Minnesota is willing to trade Adrian Peterson for none other than… the rights to Michael Vick?

Other Notes

Is anybody really sure that dry cleaning actually includes the “cleaning” part?

Hi, I’ll have 8 pounds of crayfish.

I got a splinter, and it hurts and its stuck. Who really gets splinters?

South Park > or = Aqua Teen >>>>>> Family Guy

Monday, January 28, 2008

An Idiot's Manifesto

Post #39 Topic: Woe is Stephon


Here is my track record. I was a rookie with the Timberwolves. Many an analyst predicted great things for me and my cohort, a fresh face out of high school with a lot of raw talent and an incredibly high talent ceiling, Kevin Garnett. Although the chemistry was immediately there, for some reason we just couldn’t crack our way into the playoffs. So I got traded. My team for some reason though that Terrell Brandon would be a better solution, perhaps because he was less interested in shooting and more interested in finding KG down low.

Strangely enough my team was right. That next year the T-Wolves, behind a Brandon to Garnett 1-2 punch reached the playoffs for the 1st time in the team’s young history, unfortunately I wasn’t there to witness it. But things weren’t all that bad. I was traded to a young New Jersey Nets team that had a lot of promise. The Nets hadn’t been relevant in years, perhaps since Kenny Anderson and Derrick Coleman were patrolling the sidelines, maybe even longer… back to the time of Drazen Petrovic.

But things took a strangely sour turn in New Jersey. Almost as quickly as I arrived I began to hear rumblings that the fans, the coach, and management wanted me out. This was all at a point in time when the Nets had no fans. Their lack of relevance over the past decade had divided their fan base amongst the 76’ers, and the Knicks; we were left with piped in applause and Chris Gatling.

On top of that, I couldn’t stand the cold weather. Yes cold weather is the reason that I decided to leave New Jersey for greener (or at least drier and warmer) pastures. The land of the Suns is where I headed. The Nets had the unfortunate fortune of getting stuck with Jason Kidd, one of the most overrated PG’s of our time. Meanwhile I was called on to lead another group of emerging stars from the America West Arena out in Phoenix. We made the playoffs that year, all thanks to me and my 25 shots per game, and consistently declining assist to turnover ration.

Ironically, the Nets got really lucky with Jason Kidd as their point guard. I mean never mind that he was co-rookie of the year during a season in which Grant Hill’s emergence didn’t even garner individualized ROY attention; J. Kidd was a fluke. But somehow the Nets squeezed it out and made the NBA Finals… TWICE IN A ROW. But they soon realized how much they missed my presence, getting swept in back to back seasons. Oh boy do I bet they wish they never traded me... I could have guarded Shaq.

The next couple years in Phoenix were marred by injuries and bad attitude… who listens to a coach named Cotton Fitzsimmons??? Not this Brooklyn bad boy. I play my own style. I like to control the court, drive to the basket, take 3’s when I’m not open. I’m a street player, a NYC legend… no confederate slave driver is going to tell me when to give up the rock.

Fact is that I didn’t fit into Phoenix’s system. It had nothing to do with me being a bad teammate or a “locker-room cancer”. Me and Phoenix just weren’t a match. But between you and me… I played poorly on purpose knowing that a return to the arena (MSG), that made me love basketball was imminent. The Knicks really wanted me too. So much so that they were willing to give up one of the best big men in the league. Nevermind that Kurt Thomas at one point QUIT the Miami Heat to become an ASSISTANT COACH… he makes a mean paella for which no NBA patron can assign an adequate value. Boy do I love me some Paella.

And who is this Steve Nash guy? He doesn’t even care about himself. What an idiot, because of him his teammates look better than he does. What a ridiklis way to play hoop.

So it was destiny… The Knicks would be the team that let me create my legacy, leave my mark, establish MY dynasty. Too bad that moron Dolan up there in the luxury suite didn’t listen to me. Hiring Larry Brown as my head coach. What kind of moron preaches defense first? Everyone knows that you win games by putting points up on the board… Defense is for high schoolers and women! Took Dolan a little while to get on my page, firing Larry Brown, buying out his contract for over 40 million dollars… Finally Isiah got the point: Its Starbury’s way or the highway.

Under Herb Williams as interim head coach I went 3-1. That’s right, a .750% winning percentage. That’s better than the 72 win bulls (by my own fuzzy math), the 18-0 Patriots (football has less games so my 3-1 is more impressive), and Ali in his prime. Stupid Isiah had to get rid of Herb Williams and put himself in as coach. How absurd? (Shit all that Isiah is good for is helping me get laid in the back seat of my Escalade by some inebriated broad I met on the corner of god knows where and 8th ave). At this point I’m thinking, “Starbury ain’t deserve this”. But I played it out. I played 1.5 seasons under this buffoon. I tried his system (for a quarter), I looked to pass, I came off the bench… I did everything I was supposed to. But Starbury don’t take no crap. So I didn’t come to a game. Instead I drove around with my cousin Sebastian Telfair shooting trash cans with 9 mm’s and smoking rock out of nanna’s favorite flower vase. But I got bored, and decided to return to the court… For a few games.

Stephon care about one thing and one thing alone: Stephon. So when I tweaked my ankle I decided it’d be best if I sat out the rest of the season, you know, get myself ready for the next year, get my beauty rest, maybe a couple new tattoos. Now the only problem is that I don’t know where I’m going to play (Hi Latrell Sprewell nobody wants me on their team syndrome).

Turns out that when I stop playing, the Knicks became a new team. Things that never happened when I was on the court started happening. The Knicks showed some good energy. Eddy Curry and Z-Bo started playing defense and looking dominant in the post as was expected of them. Nate Robinson learned to control the ball when relieving Jamal Crawford, who’s demonstrated that he is a natural PG who can hit pressure shots but also draw the double team leaving the big men open down low. Q-Rich is playing stifling D and doesn’t look hesitant to put up the big shots. Jared Jeffries and Malik Rose are playing solid back-up minutes, bringing crazy defense towards the end of tight games. Balkman is lookin like the next Dennis Rodman minus the craziness; when given minutes he’s all over the court. David Lee looks more solid every game… thank god we traded Channing instead of him. The Garden fans are actually showing up to some of the games and the boos have turned to cheers. FUCK, we even won 5 out of 8 games, losing 2 close ones along the way to two really really good teams. This was the team Starbury needed to win. WHERE THE HELL THEY WAS?????

A reporter asked me the other day why the Knicks were playing so goodish without me. I told him it was an easy question to axsk. Stephon is the court general. The Knicks are my army. An army don’t go to no war without its general. When General Motors lead the U.S. into WW II you think his troops would have been ok without him? Heck no! Instead they went and fought a couple battles real hard and stuff and showed him how badly they wanted him back. It’s the same for the Knicks. The Knicks want… nevermind they need me back on the court. I am the final piece to the puzzle for the Knicks. And if I decide to play again this season, ain’t nothing getting in the way of me taking my team to the championship. The Knicks need me. Isiah needs me. Them poor kids who wear my shoes needs me. New York needs me. The NBA needs me. I am the Freshman out of Georgia Tech who can change the way basketball is played. I am Starbury.


Stephon Marbury.

P.S. please take me back. Pretty Pretty please. Everywhere I’ve played I’ve been a loser on a losing team. Everytime I leave a team that team starts winning. I’m almost out of opportunities. I’ll do anything. I WILL PASS I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL ACTUALLY PASS. I won’t whine. I’ll be morally responsible. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

Other Notes

People say that Dane Cook is not funny. While I may or may not agree, you know what’s really not funny? People constantly talking about how unfunny Dane Cook is.

There is a house in New Orleans, they call the rising sun, and its been the ruin of many a poor boy, and god I know I’m one.

System of a Down is the new System of a Down (think about it).

If you have any responsibilities in life, do not buy rock band.

You know what really makes a party? Fluffy whip. But not when you put it on stuff.

Monday, January 21, 2008

The 2nd to last laugh... 1 laugh to go

Post # 38 Topic: Manning Up

Football was a sport that took me a long time to understand. Growing up, my parents were not into sports and I had no older siblings to teach me how important it was for “your” team to win night in and night out. Its difficult to develop an allegiance to something at such a young age without being constantly exposed to it. Perhaps that explains why my initial sporting interest was in baseball; an extremely complex game to the educated fan but a fairly simple one to the casual observer.

Soon after baseball came basketball: A bunch of guys acting like thugs on the court while trying to get a ball in a hoop within a certain time limit: it was like the Thundercats but with REAL LIVE ACTION… Basketball soon thereafter replaced baseball. I even remember my very 1st basketball game. It was the Knicks vs. the Magic and we were driving into the city from my hometown when my friend’s dad asked, “does anyone know who we’re going to see tonite”, of course the obvious answer was Shaq. It was 1994 and Shaq’s 2nd year in the bigs, and although the Knicks would make a storied run to the finals that year, I was PUMPED UP to see the Magic. Fortunately and wisely, I had spent my entire weekly allowance on basketball cards for the past several months and knew that Anfarnee Hardaway, a SG from Memphis nicknamed Penny was the 2 of the brand new 1-2 Orlando punch (acquired on draft day in exchange for Chris Webber… imagine Webber and Shaq in their prime on the same team… Scary!!!). Of course I later became a Nets fan, and right in time to see the end of Drazen Petrovic’s career while cheering on the all ABA team of Rick Mahorn, Armon Gilliam and Dwayne Schintzius (spelling)? – D.C. and Kenny Anderson were also on that team.

But I was a smart young lad and basketball wasn’t quenching my thirst for an academic game. I needed something that reflected poetry in motion, something that was smooth and calculated whilst also being vicious and intense. It was at that point that I began to develop my passion for hockey. (yes the Rangers suck and yes they lost two games in a row to Boston… another post for another day).

These three sports made up the majority of my youth TV time. While other kids were watching football on Sundays I was at Hebrew School working on getting expelled (which took nearly five years of laborious dedication – and no that does not mean that I am a Jew). In fact, it wasn’t until college that I actually began to take notice of Football (See earlier blog posting). That year (2001), Syracuse was competing for the national championship until the very end of the season. Living across the street from the Carrier dome was conducive to developing an interest in the game, which could only be increased by joining a fraternity where talking about football is the best excuse to spend a Sunday downing Keystone lights (or ices depending on who bought), only to be capped off by an abusive amount o 25 cent wings and other extracurricular activities.

Being a sports fan helped me pick up the ins and outs of football relatively quickly. Also, the constant play stoppages enabled me to ask a lot of questions regarding, “what the hell just happened”, and slowly but surely my knowledge increased. Supplemented by some ESPN the Magazine, a little Around the Horn and even some Mike and the Mad Dog, I became a football fan. But I was a football resident without a home, a teacher without a ruler, a dog without a bone… While all my friends grew up cheering for this team or that, I had no team, and nowhere to focus my energy.

Amazingly, to this day I have no such allegiance. I’ve lived with people from California, Boston, New York, Florida, Texas and Maryland amongst other locales. Never have I ever been sufficiently intrigued by any of these friends’ interest in their team to hop on the proverbial bandwagon.

Being from NY, the obvious choice would be to suddenly declare myself a Giants fan, however this is one perversion for which you will never find me guilty (at least not as a question of law… perhaps as a question of fact). In fact, I think witnessing the Patriots go undefeated would be pretty remarkable given the rarity with which such feats occur. However, while I acknowledge the greatness that is the team from OUTSIDE BOSTON…, I also must acknowledge the going ons taking place on what will be the alternate side of the pigskin come 13 Sundays from now (or so it seems); the coming out party of Eli Manning. Yes ladies and gentleman, Eli Manning is gay and I’m the first to report it (this was a chain puller and nothing more).

Four years ago when the Giants traded Philip Rivers and what eventually turned into Sean Merriman to the Chargers for Eli, the NFL extended an invitation to ELI to join the “Elite Party” being hosted by his more famous brother, Peyton.

Eli must have been very uncertain as to whether or not he wanted to attend, spending time behind Kurt Warner and raising some questions as to whether Tim Hassleback would be a more appropriate starter (effective exaggeration). But finally Eli has decided to RSVP, and from what I can understand through that annoying southern drawl, Eli will be attending the NFL elite party for many years to come.

In case you haven’t been watching, ELI HAS LOOKED PRETTY DAMN GOOD IN THE PLAYOFFS. Yesterday Tom Brady tossed 3 picks, while Philip Rivers and Brett Farve each hucked two. Eli threw none! The week before against the ‘Boys, Tony Romo threw only 1 pick… ELI: Eli threw none. Against the Bucs? Jeff Garcia 2, Eli Manning 0. Not impressed by his IMMACULATE TD to INTERCEPTION ratio? First off I don’t believe you! A majority of the harsh criticism Eli has taken over the years has been founded on his unwise 4th quarter passing. This playoffs Eli has been a beast in the 4th quarter.

Still not impressed? Take a look at some other passing categories. 1st in completions, 2nd in attempts, 2nd in yards, 2nd in touchdowns, 1st in interceptions and 2nd in QB rating. Pretty impressive given some of the other names he has been competing against. Even more impressive given how much heat Eli has taken throughout the season. What’s even more impressive is that Eli EVEN CRACKED A SMILE this past Sunday… perhaps he knew that Green Bay recently opened a Waffle Haus.

Am I asking the world to inaugurate Eli as the 2nd coming of Peyton? NO! Hardly! Peyton Manning is a special quarterback with special talents and special vision. Eli is a talented quarterback with good pedigree and a solid skill set… the difference in adjectives reflects the difference in the value of one brother vs. the other.

What I am asking is for an immediate apology from every sports analyst who declared Eli a bust as recently as 4 weeks ago – you guys have been bashing Eli relentlessly for weeks. Nothing to talk about? Bash Eli. Peyton got a win? Bash Eli Tony’s nailing Jessica Simpson? Who’s Eli hooking up with? The trend has been fierce and predictable; despite a decent 10-6 record in a competitive NFC east, Eli gets less love than _________ (insert misfortuned person here).

One unnamed (because I forgot who said it) ESPN analyst categorized all the young quarterbacks in the NFL by potential; Eli was rated last below JASON CAMPBELL, TAVARIS JACKSON and RYAN LEAF… Well not Ryan Leaf but seriously… these other two guys haven’t done a thing, and given Todd Collins late season heroics we can even argue that NEITHER has made it to the playoffs. If I recall correctly, this year was not Eli’s first playoff run… merely his 1st successful one. Must we remember how long it took Peyton’s Colts to get to the Playoffs… and then how long it took for them to actually win a game? The simple answer is far far longer than it took Eli.

So it is right here on DCMSG that I demand a retraction from every person (YES PERSON) who ever accused Eli of being soft, throwing off his back-foot, making bad decisions, being a grouch and being a bad leader (Oh man do I love how stupid Tiki Barber looks now. He retires, runs his mouth for a season only to have his former team make the Super Bowl).

Looking at Plaxico Burress, a guy nearly exiled from the Steelers for his bad attitude, yesterday after the game summed up just what everyone should think of Eli. Eli took a team into -20 degree temperatures and beat a team that skinny-dips in those temperatures to cool off. Eli Manning is a quarterback with the potential to take a decent team facing extenuating injuries all the way to the Super Bowl, through two teams widely considered to be amongst the top 5 in all of football. If that doesn’t earn Eli some credit then he might as well throw in the towel on the next of his Patriotic challenges.

So, although I expect the Pats to win and would honor the opportunity to witness a “perfect season”, I will all the while be cheering for Eli, hoping that his final performance of 07-08 season solidifies his recognition, regardless of what his stats may tell you as one of the steadiest, headiest (sorry I had to) most reliable quarterbacks in the NFL.

Other Notes

Rumplestiltskin used to turn straw into gold on VHS… imagine what that little bastard could do in hi-definition.

What happens in New Orleans… stays in Vegas.

I’ll take molestation for 100 Alex. Burt Reynolds, that is The Mole Station, not MOLESTATION you freaking idiot.

The best part about taking a break from the new video game “Rock Band” is that when you pick up the controllers again you can say “We’re getting the band back together”.

R.I.P. Bobby Fischer. Bobby Fishcer, where is he? I dunno. I dunno.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Keeping up with the Joneses

Post #37 Topic: Mr. Jones and Me

Call me stubborn, perhaps ignorant…maybe you could even go as far as to call me a jackass. But wrong is one adjective you would be hard pressed to find in any descriptive fashion when analyzing my anylsissssss.

Dear Marion Jones, I DO NOT FORIGVE YOU. Well that might be a bit of an overstatement. The truth is that I really don’t care about you and your sob story. I don’t want to hear your excuses, or the moral lessons you’ve gained since encountering this self-imposed adversity. Marion Jones should not be forgiven.

As far as I’m concerned it’s a low down dirty shame that dignity doesn’t come in metallic form because it was her dignity, not her medals, that Mr. Jones should symbolically have been stripped of.

Here we have a woman that accomplished an amazing feat. Mr. Jones won 5 medals in one Olympiad… a record often targeted but seldom realized. Strangely, shortly thereafter, Marion’s Beefmaster (husband) was charged with steroid use, and similarly stripped of his Olympic accolades. At the time, one would have thought that Marion was frighteningly appalled as she immediately cut off her reasonably long relationship. Good for you Marion. Way to stand up against the hypocracy that has engulfed professional sports. Athletic competition is intended to be a contest of people with equal access to training competing against one another. Now, what we have come across is a strange paradox… we have the naturally competing people compete against each other while the cheaters (and there are a lot of cheaters) compete against each other. Marion Jones was the first to vocally express his (or her depending on what angle you look at IT from) distaste for cheating. As far as I’m concerned (and by “I”, I necessarily mean the entire world), Mr. Jones had some serious brajoules to dump her husband… but of course we already knew that medals weren’t the only things swinging between her legs.

This paragraph is edited in due to astonishing information I compiled after finishing writing this. Jones met former Shot-Putter husband (uhhh, how do you spell DEAD GIVE AWAY) at the University of North Carolina. The two then began training under Trevor Graham. Name sound familiar? Graham was one of the heads of the BALCO controversy. When news of Hunter’s “indiscretions” surfaced… Jones went as far as to, get this, WRITE A BOOK DESCRIBING HOW HER HUSBAND’S STEROID USE TARNISHED HER REPUTATION AS AN ENHANCEMENT FREE ATHLETE. To think that Queens of England have had their heads cut off for not calling their husband King… By Olde English standards, Jones should be publicly stoned, tarred, feathered and then beheaded.

Fortunately for Jones she was able to replace Hunter with another athlete husband, Tim Montgomery, after whom she named her first child. Shortly thereafter, Montgomery was DISMISSED from Olympic trials for failing drug tests (notice the theme?).

But something wasn’t right. Not only did Marion win a majority of her competitions; she often did so comfortably. Questions surfaced about whether the track star could possibly have cheated, and with a Palmeiro-like feign of honesty, Dr. Jones vehemently denied the accusations.

Apparently the statute of limitations on feeling bad for lying to the whole world expired as Marion recently went “on tour” explaining the rational behind her deception and lying. Marion went on Oprah, (the worst thing to happen to daytime television since sliced bread) to state: “I realize that what I did was wrong, but people make mistakes. People do things that are wrong and when we find out that we did wrong things we learn and can therefore avoid doing them again” Wow, that’s almost intelligent enough to serve as the foreword for my favorite piece of American literature: “Everybody Poops”.

But historically, Jones doesn’t care who she harms on her path to riches and fame. Lets see: two husbands, a child, oh and an Olympic relay team that unfortunately but fairly will inevitably be forced to forfeit their team medals as a result of Jones’ cheating.

Our country has a major problem in the form of a chain and it goes something like this. People make mistakes; people get lauded for their mistakes; people refuse to acknowledge the mistakes; people become hated by the public; people look for ways to restore their reputations and finally, PEOPLE GO ON OPRAH. Going on Oprah is not a free pass. Telling Oprah your sins is not equivalent to going to confession or fasting or praising the aliens that live in the Pyramids (Tom Cruise you are a crazy son of a bitch). WE CAN’T GIVE PEOPLE FREE PASSES BECAUSE THEY GO ON OPRAH.

I watched the highlights of Oprah (and only the highlights) and discovered that there were actual real people, not made out of plastic, CRYING AT MARION JONES’S REFLECTION ON HER ACTS. We’re talking about a woman who was indicted on federal counterfeiting charges: save your sympathy for someone who deserves it.

Jones even lied under oath about these fraudulent acts. Why on earth should we accept an apology from a person who is known to lie ABOUT HER LIES. Shit this is so ridiculous. I can’t possibly believe that there isn’t a South Park episode on the topic yet… this woman is crazy.

Enough about Marion Jones. Seriously this woman makes me naugheous (for some reason my spellcheck highlighted the word naugheous and didn’t suggest a replacement… but I think spellcheck is a fascist governmental instrument).

Allow me to address all professional athletes: Stop doing steroids. It really is stupid. I personally couldn’t care less if you cheated or not, but I do care about the impact that your cheating has on the game. Athletes should be people that love the sport. People that love the sport shoudlk be athletes. THESE TWO RELATIONSHIPS ARE EXCLUSIVE. If you don’t love the sport, don’t play it! How do we know who loves the sport? Look at Lenny Harris (formerly of the NY Mets). Lenny set the all-time record for most pinch-hits. Translation: Lenny Harris was not quite good enough to be a full-time player. But still, Lenny had to have competed (passive voice is making a comeback... but don't call it a comeback) for many years to solidify such a unique record, and to me this demonstrates that he loved baseball.

If Lenny was concerned with home runs or stolen bases or Olympic gold medals, he could have easily obtained the cream and the clear from those dispensers that MUST have been standard in all professional locker rooms. But Lenny resisted. Fools would believe the extra money to be earned from doping didn’t appeal to Lenny. But Lenny knew his role in baseball and executed it nearly artistically.

For me, baseball isn’t the best example. Rather, imagine that we discovered that Mark Messier had been cheating. When I think about all of the time I’ve dedicated to supporting the Rangers, largely as a result of Messier’s emotional charge to a 94 cup championship, it frightens me to think “what if he cheated?”. It frightens me so much that I just peed myself a very very little and insignificant bit. Afterall, if I took all of the time I spent watching hockey and refocused it I could easily have cured world hunger… TWICE!

Then there are the Marion Jones’ of the world. To give credit where it is due, Jones set various state records in high-school track and field and was at one point considered a dominant basketball player. That past sentence would be how I would like my biography (being written by a descendant of Shakespeare) to begin.

DC wrote a blog, but was later determined to have obtained the capacity to be so witty and handsome from the periodic injections of intelligence he received from his local witch doctor. In my opinion (obviously, as everything contained herein is necessarily my opinion), this would be a shitty preamble. Well… then again I guess my fate wouldn’t be sealed. So long as I could fake a tear, reek of regret and humility and speak in front of a national audience, I guess I could always ask for forgiveness from Oprah, lord of the pies. In that case, pass me the juice.



Other Notes

I went on a diet for a day. I stopped after I caught myself eating my backpack in an act of unconscious desperation. Dieting is so awful, I think its just better to eat nothing… or everything.

If you’ve never sat down and rocked out to some Elvis… you’re missing out.

Pirates are making a comeback. Watch your boats and other sea-vessels. Pirates are typically no non-sense types of people and will steal your treasure.

You must be this tall _______________________________________________ to read this blog.


Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Target within Range-RS

Post #36 (this time I mean it) Topic: You’ll shoot your eye out!

As always, all good things must come to an end, or in this case a beginning. My 1 month vacation ended today as I resumed school… with 4 classes, which is the same amount I attended my entire senior year of college (that good ole’ Orange Education). Just got back from Florida. Had an amazing time, drank and ate to my heart’s content, relaxed in the sun and returned nice and tan, visited some cool places (Mexico, Caymans, Miami) 2 of which I had never previously visited, and generally feel good. Oh, and I met some supremely interesting characters (eh that Vinny Scallopine kid ain’t got squadush on me… what about it?).

To my dismay, when I got back to reality/misery, I noticed that my beloved Rangers were at the back end of a 1-5 stretch over which they fell from 2nd in the atlantic to last, and to 9th in the Eastern Conference leaving them currently out of playoff position.

If the Calgary flames lose 5 games in a row, the only noticeable impact is the immediate reduction in cheery mullets, which are replaced by the less popular, less-cheery mullet (the business starts creeping towards the back and the fun begins to hibernate). In the big rotten Apple, if the Rangers lose 5 games in a row, HEADS MUST ROLL… GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Now I understand that there is a lot on the line for a team that signed 2 #1 centers in the off-season, neither of which has developed any chemistry with the team’s captain and supposed star. Instead, these two guys have been relegated to a majority 2nd and 3rd line duty, amongst intermittent “chemistry” experiments in trying to force a Drury/Jagr or Gomez/Jagr goal manufacturing facility. Truthfully, the Rangers should be winning. They’ve got the offensive talent, a quickly improving, young, physical, heady defensive core, and one of the league’s best goaltenders. What they don’t have are the points to show for it.

Logically, the conclusion that many journalists have reached is that Jaromir Jagr must be traded (or as they would say in Boston (BTW, my prediction of the Celtics winning 71 games was looking great until this week) Yoggaaaaa). In response I insist NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! – you’ll shoot your eye out.

Take a look at the last two years. Ranger fans have witnessed the rebirth of a team once thought to be dead in the water. They hadn’t made the playoffs in years, Sather was a moron, blah blah blah blah. Then, as if magically, the post-lockout Rangers (predicted to be one of the worst teams in the league) made the playoffs behind a Jagr-esque 120 points from the current captain. However, the Jagr train was derailed by the Scotty Gomez lead satanic incarnates ending the Rangers otherwise pleasant season far too abruptly. Last year, with slightly lower production but slightly higher importance, Jagr was perhaps 7 seconds away from a Eastern Conference finals showdown with the eventual east champions Ottawa Senators.

Now this year, Jagr’s production has dipped to below his standard point per game level and the garden smells of fear. The Rangers are amongst the league worst in goals scored per game and people are demanding bigger nets.

WELL FEAR NOT LOYALS, for I assure you that Jaromir remains one of the most talented players in the game; he has merely changed his approach. Furthermore, goals don’t lead to the playoffs, POINTS DO, and points can be accumulated in a number of super duper ways.

The previous two years, an admittedly aging Jagr expended a majority of his energy simply trying to reach the playoffs. The end result in both seasons was an underproductive playoff Jagr. What this team needs, and what I believe Jaromir has come to recognize, is that the Ranger need a 100% Jagr in the playoffs. In past years, Jagr lacked the support that he has now and was required to put the weight on his shoulders. Now, Jagr has the support of two seasoned playoff veterans, a maturing defense and an experienced goalie; the weight should not rest solely on his shoulders.

I by no means am giving Jagr a free pass to loaf for the rest of the season, and there have been various instances in which it is clear that Jagr is “taking a night off”. I’m simply arguing that Jaromir preserving himself can have positive consequences for this team in the longrun, regardless of current struggles and that HE MUST NOT BE TRADED AT FIRST SIGN OF SLOWING! (especially since he’s good buddies with Roger “Barry Bonds” Clemens.

By pacing himself, Jagr forces Drury and Gomez (the younger of the teams many veterans) to assume the weight. Gomez has been playing well and as far as recent highlights have illustrated, Drury seems to be regaining his nose for the net. THESE GUYS NEED TO BE COMFORTABLE ON GARDEN ICE COME PLAYOFF TIME. They must be ready for the pressures of playoffs in NY. Sure Drury played on cup contenders in Colorado, Calgary and a near miss in Buffalo. Sure Gomez won two cups across the river in Jerz. But these pressures couldn’t hold a candle to the expectations set upon this New York team by its New York fans.

Assume, hypothetically, that these two get going. Drury finishes the seasons with 35 goals and Gomez with 95 points. Meanwhile in the background Jagr finishes with a respectable 80 +/- a few. Several results would necessarily follow.

1. Opposing team’s defenses are forced to focus on Gomez and Drury, attempting to shut them down. These are two guys who do great things with the puck, and thus require constant attention from the opposition to ensure minimal puck possession time.

2. Brendan Shanahan is given the space he needs to resume his effective sniping which dissipated in the end of last year’s regular season but reappeared somewhat in the playoffs. Factor in the various rests that Shanny has been gifted due to minor injuries and we’re talking about one of the most dangerous playoff weapons in the history of sports having his motor running at full capacity.

3. If Drury and Gomez are effectively centering their lines, our 3rd line can and will be given extra minutes. Dubsinky, Prucha and Dawes/Cally/Hossa/Moore/Avery are fast and difficult to pursue. If Drury and Gomez are going at full speed, this line will be up against other teams’ 3rd and 4th lines, which could equate to increased offense.

4. And most importantly, Jagr slips under the radar (as much as he possibly can). If Gomez and Drury are going (as they say in hockey) then Jagr gets no double teams, he gets no shadow from John Madden or Jay Pandolfo, he absorbs no bullish checks from Jarko Ruutu. Unequivocally, an underappreciated Jagr is a deadly weapon that this team needs in the playoffs. The Rangers should be running on all cylinders.

Any talks of trading Jagr are founded on the belief that we do not need him. But what exactly would he bring in return? Chances are that any team gunning for him is doing so to increase their playoff chances. Would such a team send us a Marian Hossa or a John Liles or any of the other names that have been fired around in return? Doing so would appear counterproductive.

Rather, what the Rangers can expect is a package of prospects or expiring salaries. In trading Jagr the Rangers will show that they think they can win with the rest of their pieces; that Jagr… OR ANYONE LIKE HIM, is expendable. But given the strength of the farm, the logjam of defensive prospects and future centers, are more draft picks really the answer? I say no.

And the Rangers don’t need any more role players. They don’t need another good with the puck but can’t score Marcel Hossa, or face-off/PK man Blair Betts, or a banger Hollweg/Orr. What they need is someone who can tally goals when they really count.

Instead, ponder this. With no Jagr the Rangers make the playoffs. At that point, what would be the best thing to add to the line-up? A HEALTHY, HUNGRY, CONTRACT FIGHTING Jaromir Jagr.

Of course this entire theory hinges on us making the playoffs. However, given the glaring weaknesses of some of the other teams currently occupying spots, I do not foresee making the playoffs as an issue. All that is necessary for a playoff birth is a fully functional Gomez and Drury 1-2 center punch. I am confident that the rest of the pieces will fall into place. Then, come time for the playoffs, assuming Jagr awakes from his coma the Rangers all of the sudden gain an enormous weapon. And anyone claiming that Jagr doesn’t want to win must not watch him play; this guy hates to lose.

Come playoffs, 1 of two things happen.

1. Jagr wakes up. He begins meshing with whatever center he’s given, he gets more open ice as Gomez and Drury demand more attention. He starts scoring at a dangerous clip creating more chances for everyone else. The youngsters get excited and turn in surprisingly veteran like performances. Henrik regains that feeling he had when he won Olympic gold and transforms into a goal-size brick wall. The Rangers become THE most dangerous team in the league and sweep their way to a Stanley Cup Showdown with none other than the VANCOUVER CANUCKS, lead by Peter Forsberg and a similar combination of great young defense and godly goal-tending.

2. Jagr never wakes up. He loafs into the playoffs (or the Rangers miss them entirely). In that scenario we don’t even need to discuss whether or not we should traded him. His contract is up (for failing to meet the option requirements (another playoff series and 85 points), and he is soon replaced by Alex Cherapanov, the league’s next young Russian Phenom. The Rangers then start off the next-season 10 years younger, and nearly 5 million (on Jagr alone, ignoring Straka, Avery, Shanny…) dollars lighter.

Assuming these are the only two possibilities, I must beg that Mr. Sather and Co. give Mr. Jagr some time. Afterall, championships aren’t won in the regular season; they’re won in the playoffs. And championships aren’t won by top of the line but nonetheless SUPPORT CENTERS (Drury and Gomez), they’re won by superstars… namely Jaromir Jagr.

Other Notes

Is there anything funnier than a 40’s gangster? The answer is no.

Whoever invented the buffet is a genius. Or so I thought. Originally, when there was no currency, people probably ate whatever they wanted/could whenever they desired. Then some asshole invented currency and things started costing money. Then, people started purchasing rations and the buffet became nothing but a Vegas thing or nourishment for crackheads (no one eats at old country buffet… no one: Its like going to Hooters for Wings). I say abolish currency and bring back the standard buffet. DCMSG FOR PRESIDENT!!!!!!!!!

ROOOOLLLLLLLLL OUUUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT THOOOOOOOOOOOOSE Lazy, hazy crazy days of summer. Those days of sodas and pretzels and beers.

Why do people in serious relationships insist on inviting a 3rd wheel along to their events? Don’t they know that being the 3rd wheel sucks? Or are they just looking for the acknowledgement that they tried and the ability to say “at least we offered”?

South Park is funnier than Family Guy. No ifs ands or buts about it.

Is this Dorcea?

Don’t pronounce Schedule as “SHEDULE”, seriously… its ridiculous.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

Only 276 of the same to go

Post #36 Topic: Nascar… COME ON AMERICA!

Who really watches Nascar? The rules in themselves seem to support the conclusion that the sport is absolutely ridiculous. For example, every car is restricted by certain mechanical limitations. This means that regardless of how intelligent, how crafty, how “modern” a crew may in fact be, one team’s car is actually NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE ANY ADVANTAGES OVER ANOTHER. This is one sport that had better start lobbying for anti-cloning regulation or else risk a lot of ties. And what makes one driver better than the other??? Is it a question of who is more hungover, or maybe even who is less drunk at the time of the checkered flag… (MOM, you promised me Waffle Haus for chrismtas, git your ass down here).

Perhaps if the track was through the wilderness, on a linear course, with unforeseen geological features, unpredictable weather, reckless opponents and standard FM Radio… perhaps then I could even begin to comprehend any sort of fan following.

But look at Nascar (but not for too long because like the sun, if you look at Nascar for too long, dire consequences will ensue. While staring at the sun will cost you nothing but your measly vision, if you watch more than one lap of ANYTHING OCCURRING IN DAYTONA, you will immediately become attracted to your sister and corndogs). Here we have a sport with 30 of the same vehicles, circling the same track, sometimes upwards of 200 times. Seriously, what the hell is going on?

Back to the Daytona point. Daytona is the most filthy place in the world. For most Nascar skeptics, a negative Daytona comment might in fact be unfounded, but not for DCMSG. I myself have ventured to Daytona and allow me to tell you that Daytona is undoubtedly the dirtiest place in the world. Coming from me that means a lot. I’ve been to New Orleans post-Katrina, Eastern Europe, Baltimore and Mexico, which assume the 2nd through 5th most dirties places in the world spots respectively. Daytona however, is far seedier than even the seediest “water fountain” in downtown Mexico (yes, downtown Mexico).

Only in Daytona can you witness a drunken spring breaker bearing all on the counter of a Wendy’s to prove to the half-retarded employee that she is in fact “100 percent southern woman” (this really happened). Only in Daytona do people drive on the beach in tricked out hearses with interior fog machines blasting Lil’ John. Only in Daytona do bikers bring their semi-nude he-wives to local barbecue joints to get the $5 off biker week discount… Uhhh, can I help you with your cheap shit? (See Chris Rock, at Bigger and Blacker (1999)).

Now that all of you fortunate enough to never fall victim to a $200 air and accomadations spring break package in Daytona can relate, are you surprised that Nascar fans get bigger on their trailers so they can see over the sea of other trailers that populate Nascar events?

DC… WHERE DID THIS ALL COME FROM? Well… Today I was watching Talladega Nights, which similar to but not on the same scope as Night of the Roxbury gets funnier each time, and was stunned at something that had escaped me since ______enter hick name here______ won the Nextel Cup; specifically, that Nascar is still in existence. Not only is Nascar alive and well, but the shit is popular. Nascar manages to sell out stadiums of 80,000 people who sit and watch cars go in circles over and over and over again. Simply unbelievable.

Raise your hand if you’ve ever seen one of those digital clocks that spins the image in a circle so fast that it appears to be solid font. Raise your hand if you have any idea what I’m talking about. For those of you with your hands down, we can admit that said clocks are rather amusing: FOR ABOUT THIRTY SECONDS. These mongoloids watch the Ricky Bobby’s of the world go in circles for four hours A WEEK. Not to mention the poll races on Saturdays, the “minor-leauges” of incest Busch series races on Fridays, and then listen to Jeff Gordon preach about why Behr is no match for Benjamin Moore when you’re painting your outhouse and/or your grandma’s favorite rifle.

Dennis Miller: I don't want to go on a rant, here, but America's foreign policy makes about as much sense as Beowulf having sex with Robert Fulton at the first battle of Antietam. I mean when a neo-conservative defenestrates it's like Raskolnikov filibuster deoxymonohydroxinate...

Peter Griffin: What the hell does rant mean?

Other Notes:

Every time I go to Miami I leave wondering the same thing: Why the hell don’t I live in Miami?

I had a salad for dinner yesterday and enjoyed it. Don’t tell anyone.

Although I like fishing, I can only imagine ancient fishing. You drop your line in with a human as your bait and hope a monster comes up.

ADIOS NYC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When I return from Miami, and school once again begins, I will return to my more consistent posting ways. You can bet your 1st born on that.