Archive for April, 2008

News Of The World of the Base-Ball

Posted in Exaggerated Satire, Olde Tymey Base-Ball, Toronto Blue Jays, WP Foxtrotty on April 30, 2008 by hzmls
Salutations and greetings; it is I, Worthington P. Foxtrotty IV, your loyal reporter of all things concerning the fantastick new pass-time known as “the base-ball.”

Your Reporter
Having completed my traipse from the Fens to our state-of-the-art printing presses here at the Boston Daily American and Irish-Abuser, I am pleased to note that reports of cholera are down to a mere 75 per week in that far western neighborhood, wherein play the local professional base-ball club, the Boston Red Stockings. While the thought of such hoodlums earning upwards of $0.75 per day playing this so-called “sport” may offend the senses, the fact remains that thousands of the unwashed peasantry of the Hub of the Universe have adopted the Red Stockings as a pleasant diversion from their lives of drudgery and toil. Today the men of the Stockings faced a professional club from the Dominion of Canada, who go by the self-styled monicker of “Bleu Jais”. This swarthy lot of ill-bred fur trappers sent their notorious pitch-thrower Roycraft Halliday (bad seed third son of the Denver Hallidays) to the New Huntington Grounds to combat our local nine.

Despite the anger of our Lord at such frivolity, expressed by the most accurate simulacrum of His flood sent to test Noah — not to mention the wave of cow-filth washed in by the deluge from the adjacent pastures — the contest was nonetheless prosecuted at twenty past the seventh hour. Our local hero, the illustrious Jonathan Lester (who, despite his crippling battle with scurvy last year, has been known to best TWO men at the same time in fisticuffs), dispatched the ruffians with expediency for eight frames of base-ball. Unfortunately, the rustic Halladay was our hero’s equal, matching him thrown-ball for thrown-ball.

At last, however, Fate, the tawdry, fickle Jezebel that she is, bested the provincials, and led our local nine to triumph. In the ninth frame of base-ball, the mighty Halliday dispatched the Free Negro known as Covelli Crisp with dispatch. (Free-man Crisp, whose employment by the Red Stockings base-ball club stands as a shining example of our Nation’s progress in the twenty-five years since the War Between the States, was allowed a chance to participate due to the indisposition of the popular and charming half-breed Ellsbury, whose syphilis acted up at a late hour.) Recent Sicilian immigrant Dustin Pate (born Diecenzio Xaverius Pedroia di Palermo) was no more successful. Damnable Papist!

With the vile Halladay looking invincible, it was up to the unlikeliest association of heros to save the day for the local nine. First, Caribbean-born Free Negro Ortiz, a citizen of the Kingdom of Spain — whom I believe plays as the “designated pinch-hitter” when not serving as an indentured apprentice at team manager Terrianiti Francona’s blacksmithery (damnable Papists!) — drew a timely bases-on-balls, while his countryman Ramirez rocketed a single-hit to the center field. The stage was set for the Mighty Greek, Youkilis, to end the terrorizing reign of Halliday. And one! And two! And flies the ball to center field! It is a hit! Rumble and stumble, Ortiz has tallied a score! Pandemonium ensues as the Red Stockings surround the Hero Mighty Greek! Huzzah!

As the tired but pleased fans fought and caroused into the night, exhaused by the gruelingly long two hour and eighteen minute contest, the battered Canucks retreated to their dormitory-houses for the night. The two sporting clubs, proud gladiators of this Nineteenth Century, will meet again at the New Huntington Grounds tomorrow, when the Inscrutable Chinee Matsuzaki will serve as the local hurler, against the foreigner’s Dustin McGowan (presumably also a damnable Papist).

BREAKING NEWS: Sources have informed this reporter that the Mighty Greek Youkilis is not, in fact, a Greek, but is instead one of the money-changing Hebrites. Shocking!!!!
Advertisements

Yo Bitches, start yo’ engines

Posted in getting my paper, Hazel Maes Landing strip, HZMLS, Randy Mossss, Redneck Heartattack on April 30, 2008 by hzmls



Randy Moss is an enigma, that has never been disputed. The Pat’s star receiver has some extra curricula activities that will keep him busy during the off season. Randy Moss has shown in the past that his interests include beating spending time with his girlfriend, smoking weed, disappearing in the playoffs, yet he has a new hobby. Truck Racing. No, I’m not kidding, Moss is going to be forming “Moss Motorsports” which will be competing in the NASCAR Craftsman Truck Series.

We don’t have all of the details in place just yet, but I am very excited about Moss Motorsports becoming a part of NASCAR,” Moss said. “I am by nature a very competitive person and this is an outlet for me to compete at another level. There are some pretty awesome challenges in building a program like this from the ground up, but I am looking forward to it. That’s just another aspect of the competition – you want to find the best people available and you’re competing with all the other teams out there. We’re starting to look at who the best people are and working on getting them to be a part of our team.” (msnbc.com)

I am stunned that Moss has the slightest clue what this sport entails, because he seems to lack the usual characteristics of a NASCAR fan (insert whatever stereotype you want). Right now Moss has no drivers on his team, but there is a certain retired Red Sox left fielder who could suit up and drive his truck for Team Moss.

Not. Fucking. Cool.

Posted in 80s tits, Celtics, god that sucked, Hawks on April 29, 2008 by hzmls

Trying to cheer myself up on a dreary Tuesday morning. Look, the mistress of my least favorite baseball player admitted that she did indeed have a relationship with him as a teenager. That’s fun. Oh, over there, some soccer guy is being questioned about transvestite prostitutes, lending further credence to my theory that soccer gives you AIDS. Quite the laugh there. What else. Oh, look, the Diamondbacks called up a pitcher whose name sounds like he skippered Hitler’s catamaran during the war. Bet Berman won’t make that joke. Hmm…looking for news, looking for news…

Oh, that’s right. The motherfucking Celtics LOST. LOST! To the cock-loving Hawks. The series is 2-2 against the goddamned 8 seed! Fuckshitbabyrapingcockballsfistingmotherfuckingshitfuckshit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

But it’s not even that they lost. Teams lose, especially on the road, and the joy of a seven-game series is that a team must lose four times in said series. Which I don’t see happening to the Celtics in this series, despite the pants-shit of last night’s game.

No, what bothered me is how they lost, and how it may portend for the future. Super-athletic swingman exploits our older defenders to score a shitload. Ya think LeBron won’t do the same thing? Physical big men push around our forwards for rebounds, especially late in the game. Figure Detroit may have been taking notes? The Celtics struggled to get shots off down low against a premium shot blocker in Josh Smith. You don’t think Dwight Howard will have a field day? Worst of all, KG’s late-game plan of “make the same low-post move for every single shot in the last two minutes, no matter whether your triple-covered or not” is slightly flawed, and would be devoured by any team with a servicable frontcourt.

Look, I still think that the C’s are going to win this series, but, to borrow a term oft-used during the football season, the Hawks have laid quite the blueprint for beating our beloved Celtics. But I’m worried that the rest of the playoff field is going to wear out tape of last night’s game like I wore out my Dad’s copy of “The Devil in Miss Jones.”

Which reminds me: I miss 80’s tits. They were fuller, came in all sorts of shapes and sizes, and looked completely different (and better) than the “enhanced” tits of today. Aaaah, yes, 80’s tits. Now there’s a distraction.

Welcome to New England, ROOKIES!!!!!

Posted in Elderly Defense, Hazel Maes Landing strip, HZMLS, Last time I talk about this, Lito Sheppard= The missing link, NFL Draft on April 28, 2008 by hzmls


Ok, I refuse to grade the Patriots draft picks as I mentioned before. I have no idea how these guys are going to end up, I trust Bill Belichick but I won’t get excited about a player until I see them play a game at NFL speed. The Patriots did what people expected them to, which was filling needs in their linebacking core and cornerback crew, while improving a pick for next year (Yes I get excited when the Pats pick up a 2nd round pick, my life is pathetic).Unlike last year there were no huge trade that brought a marquise player in, Jason Taylor and Chad Johnson won’t be in Foxborough next year (well as of now). Of course there are question marks about some of these players, and drafting a QB instead of a TE makes me scratch my head. But overall, unlikes GHABBY!(who is befuddled by the Patriots draft class) I am pretty happy with this draft class.

Finally, we have some youth to slide into our linebacking corp. After last years Super Blow, it was painfully obvious that the defense needed an injection of young blood. As a collective unit, they looked like they were sucking wind the entire game. I am a big Tedy Bruschi supporter, but he disappeared in the Super Bowl and during the past few years he has gone the Ray Lewis route in my mind (never makes the big play but jumps on the pile at the end). Junior Seau may or may not come back (I read today he will be, he just needs a physical and work out a contract), and Vrabel is getting old too. Eric Alexander is nothing more than a special teamer, and I cringe every time I see him on the field. At least the veterans can mentor fo the two rookies, and show them how to not get their ass handed to them by Belichick. (Hint: He HATES it when rookies talk to the media). Jerod Mayo and Shawn Crable are both versatile players that could start immediately, but knowing Belichick’s style one or both probably will be start off on special teams or be slowly incorporated into the defense.

The Pats also used a 2nd and 4th round pick to fill needs in the secondary. Samuel, Gay and Eugene Wilson are all gone, leaving ummm…Brendan Meriweather, Rodney HGHarrison and James Sanders as the only returners. Ouch, that is scary. How did Belichick fix this? He grabbed a bunch of scrubs as free agents, but I can’t imagine any of them will be a factor. He grabbed a guy who has alot of talent but a wrist that has had 3 surgeries was fused together and still has limited mobility. Jesus. Another corner struggles to get his hands on the ball and gets hurt alot. Awesome. Bill, I know this will never happen but please, please, please I am begging you, figure out a way to trade and sign Lito Sheppard. He wants out of Philly, its a win win situation! Give them a 2nd round pick next year, come on we have two! I know you wouldn’t give Asante Samuel the money he demanded, but there is no fucking way we can go into next season with the secondary in the shape its in. Somewhere in Manningville Peyton is licking his chops.

The Pats also picked up a QB to fill in for Cassel after he becomes a free agent, and another Wide Receiver (why the hell not?). We still have some depth issues at TE, Ben Watson is made of glass, David Thomas is white, and Marcus Pollard is Marcus Pollard. The off season starts to heat up now, as mini camps and preseason workouts begin, aren’t you excited to see non contact drills and running plays without pads? Woooo!

Image courtesy of Boston.com

Making up with hockey

Posted in (Providence) Bruins, Bruins, embarrassing admissions, futuremrsrickankiel, Raquel, Stanley Cup Playoffs 2008 on April 28, 2008 by hzmls

So the Bruins are out of the postseason.

That’s the first time I’ve actually typed that. This is a step forward. It was a great series. It really was. I expressed cautious optimism. I got swept up in the momentum. I refused to get discouraged. In the end, though, I was left weeping sloppily in my apartment with my roommate sympathetically attempting to feed me rice as Montreal coasted off with the series win. Au revoir, fuckers.

However, we’re still in the thick of the Stanley Cup playoffs, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a thing like crippling depression or crushing disappointment keep me from enjoying the greatest month of the greatest sport in the world. BOOYAH. (Hey, and the Providence Bruins are leading their divisional playoffs series 2-0!)

That said, it’s time to pick sides among those who remain. My first loyalty obviously, inevitably goes to the San Jose Sharks, who cruised into the playoffs at the top of the Pacific Division with a whopping 108 points on the season. I get a little twinge every time I watch the Sharks play: god, I miss Joe Thornton. The Sharks are currently down 2 games to Dallas (GO BACK TO MINNESOTA YOU LAMEWADS) in the Conference semifinals, but I remain confident that my Joey will lead them into the Cup finals in a blaze of glory – or, at the very least, will pound the shit out of Steve Ott for being a dirty-hitting little rat. Observe:

Mmm. That goes down smooth.

My pick for the Eastern conference? Well, that’s a little embarrassing to admit. Obviously, I adore Sidney Crosby. This is not optional. If you love hockey, you love Crosby. People who whine about him taking dives and deliberately drawing calls don’t fucking know what they’re talking about. The kid is the purest incarnation of the sport we’ve seen since Wayne Gretsky. He’s obviously been coached to play cautiously and avoid the hit, since he’s a) the team captain, b) the strongest offensive player on the team, and c) an easy and obvious target for ice thugs. This isn’t football, kids. Crosby is god.

Speaking of ice thugs… you know who else I love?

SEAN AVERY.

Heh. I love Avery for the same reason I love Roger Clemens and Chad Johnson: he’s just such an unrepentant bastard. He loves playing the villain, and he does it gleefully and well. My favorite Avery moment ever came in an interview after the oh-so-contentious series with New Jersey, when the much put-upon Martin Brodeur (understandably, perhaps) refused to shake Avery’s hand following the final game. Avery’s response: “Everybody talks about how unclassy I am, and fatso over there forgot to shake my hand.” BAHAHA. I would totally go drinking with Sean Avery. I freaking love Sean Avery. So, here we go: LET’S GO RANGERS!

Is it a coincidence that both teams I’m pulling for have blown 3-0 game leads in the playoffs already? Ah, well. A Sharks/Rangers final series would be scrappy and entertaining as hell – and virtually guaranteed to go 7 games. Bring it on.

The Conference Semifinals: EIGHT TEAMS ENTER. FOUR TEAMS LEAVE.

Not so catchy?

The Rays Are The Devil

Posted in Red Sox, ShitShow wrote this but doesn't understand the concept of timestamps, torture on April 28, 2008 by hzmls

There there, fella. I feel ya.

Even with the myriad of injuries and ills that have assaulted the Sox over the past two weeks, one would think the defending champions had enough in the gas tank to take one or two from the Rays over the weekend. Wakefield, who went game one, has historically been dominant against Tampa Bay. ClayBalls was scheduled for game two, and outside that meltdown in NYC, he has been pretty nasty thus far this year. And Beckett was set to come back for game three after missing time do to the flu, neck soreness, and gigantic ballsyawesomeness. I was hoping sweep, but figured at least two out of three.

Then Friday night we lost in extra frames after having chances in the ninth, tenth and eleventh…

And on Saturday night, Clay hung a curve to Akinori Iwamura in an otherwise superb start…

And then, for shits and giggles, the Sox bats took Sunday off to get ready for… their Monday off, wasting a great start from Josh Beckett.

All in all, not Super Phun Times for Sox fans. I think I’m gonna toss Boomtown Rats on repeat and cry into my coffee.

Notes that are gonna piss me off as I type them…

I watched Clay pitch at a friend’s family party in Southie Saturday, one of those situations where all the women are out in the living room talking while the men huddle around the tv and talk sports. It’s amazing how everyone becomes an expert with a few beers in them while talking on front of strangers. I think I heard about the spin of a 12-6 curve ball discussed seven times during the game.

That Iwamura home run was painful, from the beginning of the pitch where you could see it hanging, through the contact when you knew it was gone, to the flip of the bat that made me wish the city of Uwajima had never been founded after annexing the village of Yahata in 1921 (thanks to Wikipedia, you learned something today!) What a kick in the nuts.

I woulda bet my life that Beckett was gonna come up big and stop the sweep. Thankfully my bookie doesn’t consider “human souls” currency.

After Josh struck out the first five, I started trying to think of witty text messages to send people notifying them of his current domination. I was toying with something involving the movie The Scout, or something about balls made of pure badass. Yes, I know neither of these would have been witty, but I didn’t send them, so it doesn’t matter.

By the way Josh, that’s twice you’ve started a game on a Sunday to stop a sweep, and twice you have not gotten the win. I know you pitched well and didn’t get support. I’m just saying.

All in all, the Sox looked plain tired all weekend. I think the time off and coming home is exactly what they need. Let’s just hope they don’t lose to the off day. Starting Tuesday, the Blue Jays come to Fenway, and if we get past Halladay at home, I say sweep.

Dear Sir, Eat a Bag of Dicks: Al Horford

Posted in Al Horford, Celtics, eat a bag of dicks, Hawks, Sheiky Make You Humble on April 28, 2008 by hzmls

Dear Al,

I can’t tell you how much it pains me to tell someone who went to the Greatest University in All the Land to gorge on a basket of phalii (with tartar sauce), but, in your actions of Saturday night, you have forced me to do so. You, sir, made me cry tears of joy twice in your career as a Florida Fucking Gator, but now you will make me cry tears of laughter when Paul Pierce gives you the Iron Sheik Humbling treatment.

But then you went and done did this:

Seriously, Al? You won a game. One game. At home. Your team won a little more than half as many games as the Celtics during the regular season. You’re down 2-1 in the series, and the first two games were such blowouts that P.J. Brown received playing time in both. That guy was retired like two months ago.

And to piss off Paul Pierce? Is that REALLY the guy you want to anger? The guy has been to six All-Star games, or six more than you. Dude got stabbed in the face 49 times and came back and played an hour later. He You don’t think he’s going to drop 50 on your ass, then have his boys from Inglewood carjack you after the game? Pierce is friends with Antoine Walker man, and that guy would do anything for the right amount of money, including shooting you in the leg and shimmying away in glee.

Most importantly, you’re a goddamned rookie. Who gave you the right to talk in the first place? In the NFL, if you even said “Hi” to the media, your teammates would sodomize you in the shower while simultaneously shaving your head forcing you to sing “Polly Wolly Doodle.” Ray Lewis would most certainly stab you. Shawne Merriman would break every bone in your body. The Broncos would send you to a nightclub to have you shot, and then make you bleed all over Javon Walker.

I would conclude by telling you to eat a bag of dicks, Al, but instead, I’m having Paul Pierce serve them to you tonight. Way to piss off The Truth, buddy. Good luck with allll that.