Appalachian State is HOT HOT HOT !!!

If beating Michigan and pulling off the greatest collegiate sports upset since Chaminade knocked off the University of Virginia in the Maui Invitational wasn't enough to get an entire generation of students turned on to the advantages of Appalachian State University, well, I'm pretty sure this is going to do the trick.

Saturday, Saturday, Saturday....

As I’m sure you’re all aware of, the College Football season kicks off (in earnest) tomorrow. This is, without a doubt, one of the greatest days of the year along with the first day of March Madness, Christmas and, of course whatever day I manage to make my way up to Gainesville to watch Florida play in the Swamp. I’m actually hoping/planning to see Florida play in person a few times this season so it could end up being a hell of a fall. Not that last Fall was anything to sneeze at. If you can’t tell, I’m pretty excited about college football. So excited, in fact, that I ended up getting drunk at the house last night while watching the LSU-MSU opener on ESPN. I rationalized sitting through the 4^th quarter of that game by saying I was “scouting” LSU and trying to get a look at their new offense, as well as my first real look at Ryan Perrilloux but really, who was I kidding? I was just giddy about the SEC season opening and I chose to express this giddiness through the majesty of Pabst Blue Ribbon (just $6.99 for a 12 pack at Publix. Boo. Yah.) So, I’m a little hungover today and the funny machine seems to be operating at a less than optimal rate. What do you want from me, it’s the beginning of a 3 day weekend?

Anyway, with an eye towards the first college football Saturday of the year tomorrow, I figured I’d center today’s column around my activities tomorrow which will focus most specifically on the home opener for YOUR 2007 National Champion Florida Gators.

10:30 am: Wake up and turn on Gameday. Smile a warm and knowing smile.

10:33 am: Curse Lee Corso.

10:45 am: Get out of bed, get something to eat. Beer’s on the way soon and I need something, anything in my stomach.

10:47 am: Curse the fact that Florida’s opener is at 12:30 pm and not the traditional 6 pm start. Fuck you, Lincoln Financial Sports.

10: 51 am: Receive excited call from my FSU alum sister about the arrival of college football. Talk shop with her while she yells at her kids to “Shutup while Mommy’s talking football.” You have to love the South.

11:00 am: Go outside and hang up my brand new Gator Nation flag. It’s a beautiful sight to behold. By the way, you’ll see a lot of schools with these flags now and that’s all well and good. However, Florida was the first school to produce these flags because, well, we’re better than everybody else. (Have the last 16 months taught you nothing?)

11:05 am: Bond with my new neighbors across the street who are also UF alumni. Right now, I’m just the “sketchy guy across the street”. By this time tomorrow I’ll be the “great young man across the street who went to Florida”.

11:45 am: Call my old roommate Vitas and scream “TEBOW SMASH!!” at him as he laughs and screams something similar to me.

11:46 am: Hang up phone.

11:53 am: Call my Dad and discuss how wonderful a day it is while casually mentioning that FSU has lost 3 of the last 4 to Clemson. He is not amused. Me? I’m enjoying it.

12: 07 pm: Put on my new Florida shirt. You’ve got to have a new shirt for each new season, especially since I retired last year’s shirt. I think it had earned it.

12:10 pm: Pick up aforementioned 12 pack of PBR at Publix. Mmmm, alcoholism.

12:15 pm: Arrive at Vitas’ house.

12:19 pm: Make annual “Player of the Game” predictions with Vitas.

12: 21 pm: Punch Vitas’ friend and co-worker Sink. It’s a tradition at this point.

12:23 pm: Begin to have uncontrollable spasms at the thought of Gator football.

12:29 pm: Talk about how miserable it must be in The Swamp. There’s a reason Florida doesn’t play games this early in early September.

12:32 pm: And Here Come the Gators!!! It gives me goosebumps when I hear that.

12:37 pm: Kickoff. Jesus, I can’t wait to see Florida hit the field.

12:38-3:53 pm: Entranced by the power of Florida Football. (Some activities that may occur during this time include: Wiping my face with my sleeve ala Urban Meyer, Pointing viciously ala Urban Meyer, Screaming “Percy!” as Percy Harvin blows by a helpless Western Kentucky defender, talking about how huge Cornelius Ingram is (ngs) with Vitas and Sink, avoiding my friend Socks’ drunken phone calls from inside the San Francisco Gator Club (x 3), Making up nicknames for UF players who don’t yet have them (last year’s personal fave was “Gunz” for Tony Joiner, kind of an inside joke), yelling at the TV as Nat Moore once again shows the audience he spent another off-season reworking the basics of the English language, and screaming at various levels of excitement for the many young talented players who will be introducing themselves to the Gator Nation throughout tomorrow’s game.)

4:05 pm: Head home to take advantage of my couch, three TVs and the ESPN Gameplan package. It’s looking like GT-ND on the big TV early with some combo of Wazzu-Wisconsin, Nevada-Nebraska, Wake-BC and Mizzou-Illinois on TVs 2 & 3.

5:15 pm: Possibly sneak in a game of NCAA ’08 (Tennessee is up next on the schedule), or not. It really depends on whether (a) I get too drunk (a nap could result) or (b) the late afternoon games are in any way competitive.

7:15 pm: Food. I must have food. Wings just seem appropriate on a day like tomorrow.

7:45 pm: Plant myself on my couch for the rest of the evening in hopes a too highly competitive games featuring SEC East rivals Tennessee (@ Cal) and Georgia (at home against Oklahoma St.)

11: 30 pm: Cap the night off with a shot of Jagermeister (or two) and an extended viewing of highlights of games I’ve already watched.

11: 45 pm: Make sure I’ve remembered to TIVO the Urban Meyer show on Sunday morning.

1:30 am: Go to sleep happy. Very happy.

Everywhere, like, such as...

I was out of town most of last week at a Conference in Orlando but I did manage to get back home in time to catch my favorite event of the year, Miss Teen USA. Okay, that's a lie. It's my second favorite event of the year after the annual wife carrying championships. Sadly, the same people who fought Title IX all those years are continuing to exert enough pressure on advertisers to keep the WCC's off the air at the Worldwide Leader. (Don't think they'd show the WCC up in Bristol? Well, they recently televised cup stacking.) As a result, I was left to ponder the possibilities of a televised WCC whilst watching the intellectual giants participating in this year's Miss Teen USA Contest. Miss Teen South Carolina seemed to me like she was at the head of this year's class, particularly when it came time for the question and answer portion of the pageant.



I don't see why everybody is making such a big deal out of her answer. I mean, like, it totally, such as...Like made...sense, such as everywhere...South Africa, to me. Seriously, have you ever been to South Carolina? This girl is probably taking AP classes and helping her high school teachers grade papers in between those classes.

To The Face...

This is a weekly column (if it can even be called that) today that I'll be running every Thursday or Friday until further notice. It's a really lame personal take-off on the Cheers & Jeers type columns which hand out praise and disdain to many of the items currently residing in our collective pop culture conscious. I'm not promising that this will be anything groundbreaking, or even really worth the effort it will take to read, but it should allow me to get some posts up that cover some of the random items floating through my head without making my consistently hung over brain work too hard at the end of a typically grueling (bullshit) work week. People, Events, etc. will receive one of two items directly to the face: A nice strong punch or a cool refreshing shot of liquor. I'm a total badass so I enjoy both of these in equal measure but since most of you jerks are total pussies we're going to classify the punch as a negative and the liquor as a positive. Because, honestly, is there any situation where a shot (or shots) of liquor could be construed as anything other than an overwhelmingly positive experience?

Today's edition of To The Face is going to be somewhat truncated due to the combined effects of it being late Friday afternoon and the broken index finger I received while playing basketball earlier this week. Without further ado...

Punch: Mohawks. Listen, nobody likes a good mohawk as much as me. True, glue stiffened mohawks are a beauty to behold. Hell, I've even considered going halves on a bastard with my girl just so we could shave a mohawk into our sons hair for the first five years of his life. Sadly, there's no giving kids back when they're five, nor is there any guarantee that we'd even have a boy so we've decided against the bastard, for now. It's just as well because, mohawks aren't cool anymore. I'm not talking about the fauxhawks that frat boys and accountants are wont to rock. Those were never, ever cool. I'm talking about actual honest to goodness, fully shaved on the sides mohawks. You see, when Amare Stoudemire, Dmitri Young's kid and everyone in between is sporting a mohawk it instantly ceases to be cool or noncomformist or anything else that these people think they're doing by hopelessly following a trend that's long since outlived its usefulness.

Shot: Goodfoulers. It took me a day or two to get around to watching this. After I finished viewing it for the first time I felt like a bigger asshole than Nick Saban. Okay, not that big of an asshole. Not even Phil Fulmer's actual asshole is that big.


Punch: Lincoln Financial Sports. The kind folks who bring you the SEC Football Game of the Week (Translation: The SEC Football game that neither CBS or ESPN wanted to broadcast) have decided, in their infinite southern wisdom, to broadcast the University of Florida season opener this year. At 12:30 pm. In Gainesville. On September Fucking 1st. Read that again for me.

This has got to be some sick joke right ? Have any of these people ever attended an afternoon game in The Swamp in September? Well, I have and it's not pleasant. In fact, I'd say it's torturous. This is...madness. Beyond the chance that at least 10 people will probably end up in the hospital from attending this game, this decision also puts a major kink in my normal opening day plans. Florida's opener has started at 6 pm for about 20 years now and it works out perfect. I sit around and watch football all day long while simultaneously getting more and more pumped to catch the first glimpse of that year's Gator fo otball team that evening as me and my buddies toss back booze and work ourselves into a lather over all the possibilities of a new season. Now, I'll barely be out of bed before kickoff and probably won't have any food in me until halftime. What am I supposed to do once the game ends at 3:00 and I'm already half-cocked? Keep drinking? Well, if you say so.

Shot: Tomorrow. They'll only be two weeks until the official start of the college football season when you and I wake up tomorrow morning. That alone is cause for celebration, or shots. I've got an idea. How about a celebration of shots? The best of both worlds my friend, the best of both worlds.

Punch: The Makers of Superbad. I guess my anger is somewhat misplaced here. I think this movie looks hilarious. Funnier than Knocked Up if you ask me. In fact, my girlfriend and I made plans to go see it last Friday night. Until, that is, we figured out that it didn't come out until tonight. Of course, we have plans all weekend and I've already begun to lose motivation to drag my ass out to the theater to see it. See what you assholes did? I was going to be responsible and now I'm just gonna end up getting drunk and puking in the neighbors planter. I hope you're happy, rich hollywood types.

Shot: Curtis Mayfield. Since he's dead I'll take this one on his behalf. How can anybody not love this guy's music? I've been a fan of Superfly for a long time but have more recently started to explore more of his catalougue. I don't think its fair to even call him a genius as it seems genius doesn't adequately capture the immense talent that this man possessed. If you find yourself in a bad mood this weekend, listen to Move On Up and try not end up with a smile on your face within about 30 seconds. You could have a drink too, that always helps.

Five Things I Learned on Hard Knocks

As I’m sure most of you know, HBO has brought back the mini-series Hard Knocks, which follows a select NFL team through the always exciting (read: horribly mundane) weeks of training camp. This year’s version follows the Kansas City Chiefs who, if you ask me, are destined for a record somewhere near 5-11 due to the fact that they have no QB, a traditionally awful defense, a holdout star running back and a completely overrated coach. So why should NFL fans bother watching you ask? Well, I’m glad you asked. Hard Knocks isn’t just about football, its about learning. Here are five things I learned by watching last weeks premier episode of Hard Knocks.

Women are needy: Brodie Croyle’s wife is hot, which is good since she has a predictably thick and unbelievably annoying southern accent. She’s also extremely needy. When asked how marriage was, she replied (I’m paraphrasing), “Its wonderful. Its just really nice to have somebody to hang out with 24/7.” Really? Having to hang out with somebody (anybody) 24 hours a day, 7 days a week sounds like my own little version of hell, even if that person came equipped with a bottomless keg full of cold Sierra Nevada growing out of their back. Alright, I guess that would be pretty cool. I guess my point in mentioning this is that I doubt Brodie feels this way. In fact, I’d venture to guess that the only 24-7 Brodie would prefer to hang out with his wife for is the 24 minutes and 7 seconds per day they are in coitus. He’d probably be okay with her mouth being duct taped shut for the remainder of the day too. Honestly, I don’t think Mrs. Croyle is that different from most women. Think about it, women can’t go five minutes alone in the car without calling a friend of theirs. That’s really what marriage is all about for women (I mean besides gifts, diamonds and everybody telling them how beautiful they are), a playmate. Mrs. Croyle unwittingly let me in on the secret of women’s obsession with marriage. They just want somebody who HAS to hang out with them.

Its cool to dance like a gay in Ft. Wayne, Indiana: Don’t believe me? Take a gander at one Bernard Pollard showing us all, “how they do it in Ft. Wayne.” I think we should all thank the NBA for moving the Pistons to Detroit. Seriously.

Jared Allen loves to get drunk and play Guitar Hero: I didn’t actually see him drinking while playing Guitar Hero but I did see him drinking O’Douls at dinner (Dude, try some prescription painkillers or something if you’re that desperate) and rocking out on Guitar Hero so hard that he was playing behind his head (Note: You do NOT get extra points for this). It’s my guess that at least one of Allen’s DUI’s was a result of him playing Guitar Hero whilst driving drunk. I can’t blame him really. If I had a Wii in my car I’d play that when I drove drunk.

The Chiefs drafted defensive players named Turk and Tank: I like the theory at play here. Turk and Tank just sound like football players don’t they? Beyond that, I’m fairly familiar with the exploits of these two from their collegiate days and both were capable and athletic defenders who should become productive NFL players. Sadly, I don’t think I can say the same for Chiefs defensive coordinator Gunther Cuningham. After listening to Cunningham throughout the first episode I get the distinct impression that he drafted both of these guys simply because, “Their names just sound like a guy who’ll kick somebody’s ass.” Hey, you don’t get a defense like KC’s just by scouting alone.

Herman Edwards has the art skills of my girlfriend’s 5 year old daughter:Good god, did you see the “Welcome to Training Camp” sign Herm designed for his team’s arrival at Camp? I’ve seen better art at the Special Ed classes I used to tutor. Okay, that’s a lie. I never actually tutored a Special Ed class. I was supposed to, but the school was right next to a bar that had a happy hour that started at 2. What am I, made of stone? You know what I think happened to that sign? I think Edwards started off the sign and then realized his markers were scented. Next thing you know Herm was high on markers, glue and white out and prank calling Tony Dungy pretending to be Ken Cuniff from Connecticut. Eventually, he just got one of the janitors at UW-River Falls to finish the sign for him.

Make sure you tune in to this week’s episode where Carl Peterson explains how, after a three day meth binge, he and Pete Stoyanovich came up with idea for the Chiefs mascot. I mean, there has to be some explanation, right?

Not Today.

In light of some rather tragic events that transpired around here last night, I'll be taking the day off and not posting the regular Friday column. I'll be back later on this weekend but making jokes about punches and shots doesn't quite seem appropriate right now. Everybody be safe out there.

To The Face...

This is a weekly column (if it can even be called that) today that I'll be running every Thursday or Friday until further notice. It's a really lame personal take-off on the Cheers & Jeers type columns which hand out praise and disdain to many of the items currently residing in our collective pop culture conscious. I'm not promising that this will be anything groundbreaking, or even really worth the effort it will take to read, but it should allow me to get some posts up that cover some of the random items floating through my head without making my consistently hung over brain work too hard at the end of a typically grueling (bullshit) work week. People, Events, etc. will receive one of two items directly to the face: A nice strong punch or a cool refreshing shot of liquor. I'm a total badass so I enjoy both of these in equal measure but since most of you jerks are total pussies we're going to classify the punch as a negative and the liquor as a positive. Because, honestly, is there any situation where a shot (or shots) of liquor could be construed as anything other than an overwhelmingly positive experience?

I swear that I planned to write a little something else this week, but well, you know that usual batch of excuses. Busy, drunk, lazy. Anyway, here we go:

Punch: My TIVO. Somehow it screwed up and neglected to tape the first 50 or so minutes of last week's episode of Big Love. When my girlfriend and I fired up the episode two nights ago the TIVO immediately took us to the murder of Roman Grant. Before we even knew what was happening, Roman was being shot by associates of the Greens. We still watched the episode via OnDemand but it kind of takes drama out of such a climactic scene when you know exactly what's going to happen.

Shot: Margene from Big Love. She didn't do it for me at all last season. Now, I find myself strangely attracted to her chipper disposition and sexual depravity. I understand the attraction to sexual depravity but I'm pretty well stumped on the attitude being a turn-on. I like 'em bitchy, you see.

Punch: Paperwork. I'm not exactly filling out TPS reports all day long but I'm not quite writing out dirty limericks either.

Shot: CNNSI's photo profile of the Top 10 Gator athletes of all time. No real explanation needed here but there are some bonus points to be had for the classic pic of Andy North.

BUCS TRAINING CAMP EDITION

Punch: Whoever murdered Michael Clayton. Somebody's got to track this cold blooded killer down because murder is the only logical explanation for the disappearance of Clayton. This guy was a monster who caught everything thrown his way as a rookie and even enjoyed pummeling DBs whilst run blocking. Now, he's losing playing time in training camp to Maurice Stovall and (punching self) David Boston. It breaks my heart, or hurts my balls. It's tough to tell which at this point. When Chris Simms was getting ready to make his first ever start (during Clayton's rookie year) against New Orleans, FOX ran a great "sounds of the game" clip of Clayton getting Simms pumped up (or at least attempting to) by imploring him to, "Get yo shine on! Get yo shine on!." It was a hilarious while and educational look into Clayton's confidence and swagger. Two years later, I have to wonder if that version of Clayton is laying in the bottom of a Louisiana swamp somewhere.

Shot: Jeff Garcia. I'm probably putting waaaay too much faith in a frail, 37 year old QB but when you consider the guys Tampa has put under center in recent years (Gradkowski, Simms, Rattay), can you really blame me? As I see it, he's the most natural fit at QB that Gruden's had for his offense since he arrived in Tampa and that alone has to inspire some confidence, alright, hope that the Bucs offense can carry its own weight this year.

Punch: The Bucs selection of Michael Clayton over Steven Jackson. Bitter much? Umm, yes actually. I've gone back and forth on this numerous times over the past few years. Actually, that's not entirely true. Clayton's rookie year production pacified my dissatisfaction, as did the numbers posted by Cadillac Williams as rookie in 2005. However, with Clayton now presumed dead and Cadillac reportedly suffering 3 (count 'em 3) bulging disks in his back I'm cashing in my "I told you so" tickets. Cadillac's a good player for sure. Is he anywhere as durable or versatile as Jackson? Not by a long shot.

Shot: Philip Buchanon. The early returns from Bucs camp are that he's already locked down one of the starting corner spots on Tampa's defense. Buchanon was always my favorite player from those late 90's Miami teams and I could never quite understand why he hadn't been successful in the NFL. He's got everything you'd want from a premier corner (save for an inch or two) and was no stranger to covering elite receivers during his days at Miami, as he matched up against the likes of Reggie Wayne, Santana Moss and Andre Johnson in practice alone. However, something never clicked for Buchanon during his time in Oakland. Now, after a few months learning the Bucs' defense it appears as if he may have resurrected his career under Monte Kiffin. If it's true, the Tampa defense has a chance to surprise some of the people predicting its imminent demise.

Punch: Bud Selig. I've never been a big fan of his but this Bonds chase has further proved him to be the whining, self-serving liar that I've always suspected him to be. You're the commissioner pal, and that means you will follow Barry around the country like a lost puppy dog until he breaks Hank Aaron's record. After that, you get to follow him into infamy for turning a blind eye to the explosion of steroids in baseball earlier in your term as Commissioner. Check your job description, it's all in there.

Shot: Big Ten Coaches. Actually, that's the nicknames that I've heard for Big Ten coaches. My two personal favorites? Cheaty McSweatervest (Tressel) and Grumbles the Sea Captain (Carr). While I'm talking about Big Ten coaches, or former Big Ten coaches. Am I the only person who finds it positively mind blowing that Randy Walker and Terry Hoeppner are dead while the adolescent sized hippo that is Barry Alvarez is still hanging out in Madison eating Polish Sausages three at a time for breakfast?

Punch: The NCAA. I honestly don't care if NCAA athletes are compensated in ways beyond their scholarships. I mean, I think high profile sports like football and basketball deserve it but I'm not about to egg Myles Brand's house over it. Now, having to pay $25 so that I can hear Brad Nessler say "Tebow throws for a TD!" instead of "QB #15 throws for a TD!" on NCAA '08. Yeah, that's gonna get you punched Myles, maybe even a nice kick to the shin to go with it.

Shot: Football Practice. The Gators kick off Fall practice on Sunday and it can't come any sooner. For me at least. The lack of work achieved by me while I scour Gatorcountry for in-depth practice reports over the next 28 days is probably gonna be a problem for my boss.

Shot: Half-days. They're perfect for a Friday really. You come into work, sit on your ass for 4-5 hours and then go home and sleep off the remainder of your hangover. Speaking of...have a great weekend.

Update: Numerous Shots for Jake Brown. He took one of the nastiest falls you'll ever see last night during the Skateboarding: Big Air competition (Which is, sure to end up killing a competitor one of these days). Check out the clip below and tell me you didn't cringe (or worse). I still can't get over what happened to his shoes.

To The Face...

I'm starting a new weekly column (if it can even be called that) today that I'll be running every Thursday or Friday until further notice. It's a really lame personal take-off on the Cheers & Jeers type columns which hand out praise and disdain to many of the items currently residing in our collective pop culture conscious. I'm not promising that this will be anything groundbreaking, or even really worth the effort it will take to read, but it should allow me to get some posts up that cover some of the random items floating through my head without making my consistently hung over brain work too hard at the end of a typically grueling (bullshit) work week. People, Events, etc. will receive one of two items directly to the face: A nice strong punch or a cool refreshing shot of liquor. I'm a total badass so I enjoy both of these in equal measure but since most of you jerks are total pussies we're going to classify the punch as a negative and the liquor as a positive. Because, honestly, is there any situation where a shot (or shots) of liquor could be construed as anything other than an overwhlemingly positive experience?

Since this is the is the first go 'round, let's just get right to it.

Punch: Mike Vick. I know taking a stand against dogfighting is a real chance to take in America these days but, what can I say? I like to live on the edge. I hope this asshole goes to jail and I hope his cell has it's own rape stand.

Shot: Pit Bulls. I own one and he's fucking tits (note: His Dad, owned by my good friend, is pretty effin' sweet too). He climbs trees, sleeps in my bed and has been known to drink alcohol straight from a stranger's cup when the mood strikes him. You won't find a more loyal, loving breed of dog out there. I'd love to see somebody crop Mike Vick's ears as part of his punishment.

Punch: Naked Old Dudes. There is a group of old guys who have full conversations whilst naked in my gym locker room. They do this for huge blocks of time and it's really disgusting. Listen fellas, I don't ever want to see naked cock and balls. Your droopy, wrinkly version of these make me physically fucking ill everytime I go work out. Throw a towel on for pete's sake.

Shot: Vacation. Mine got cancelled this weekend but I'm already working on plans to resurrect it in the coming weeks. There's just something fun about getting drunk in new and unfamiliar locations that makes me happy. And, by happy, I mean fully erect.

Punch: Big Sunglasses on girls. They're like huge plastic masks at this point. These things are so big that they cover over half of a girls face sometimes. You can't even get an accurate measure of whether a girl is good looking or not with these on. And that, my friends, is bullshit.

Shot: Shark Week. Yep, its here. Well, for you people its here. I live every week like it's Shark Week.

Punch: Otis Smith. I realize that you're a little strapped for cash at the moment, what with giving out two separate max deals in the last few weeks but could you even try and score a bargain or two in the free agent market? Hell, Houston got Luis Scola for nothing from San Antonio and guys like Juan Carlos Navarro and Mickael Pietrus are still available for less than the mid-level exception (with the trade of draft pick in Navarro's case). Don't you want to at least attempt to add some depth to your roster? I mean, maybe just send out a feeler or two? I'd have even been happy with picking up Brandon Bass to give the bench a little interior scoring. Of course, he signed with Dallas where he'll never, ever play so I can see why you didn't pursue him. I mean, if he's can't play over Dirk then he's certainly not going to take minutes away from Marcin Gortat.

Shot: Caron Butler. First we learned about his straw chewing fetish, then he shows up at some kids birthday party. Now, he's gonna buy himself a few Burger King's. This guy is awesome. If I was dying from some inoperable disease (My doctor says herpes doesn't count...dick) my wish would be to hang out with the Wizards on a 6 or 7 game Western Conference road trip.

Punch: July. Shittiest. Month. Ever.

Shot: August. You hear that? That's the combined sounds of rat bastard kids going back to school and two-a-days kicking off on college campuses and NFL Training Camps all across our great country. In the words of an immortal SEC fan, "Fuck, fuckin yeah!"

Punch: Staph Infections. What a bunch of bullshit. I contracted one last week and I had to cancel a trip to DC, stop playing basketball and haven't had more than 3 beers in a single night in over a week and half. Oh yeah, I've also had to pay a shit ton of money in medical bills and had part of forearm removed. Remind to kick Scott Staph's ass next time I run into him. What's that? It's Scott Stapp. Whatever, I'll kick his ass anyway.

Shot: NCAA '08. The one and only thing that kept me sane while I recovered from my staph infection. I may have become a cutter if this game had been released a week later just to break up the boredom. This maybe the greatest football video game ever. I mean,wow. The implementation of the spead option (the new man-in motion feature completely changes the game) of this game is, well, amazing. It also doesn't hurt my opinion of the game that Percy Harvin is peel your skin off fast and Tim Tebow runs through linebackers like Lindsay Lohan runs through cock (That is to say, face first). Has anybody ever married a video game? No? Well, that's just silly.

Shot: Me. Actually, that should read "Shots". I'm off antibiotics and I plan to drink myself into the form of a baby this evening. A baby who curses, smashes tail lights, and pisses on the neighbor's cat.

I'll see you in HELL July!!!

I have, like I assume many others, been bored out of my mind recently. Each night seems to be a fruitless hunt for something worthwhile to watch on TV. Each weekend day a constant fight to keep from drinking one’s self into unconsciousness before sundown. Why? Because it’s fucking July, that’s why. July is undoubtedly the most excruciatingly boring of any month of the year. Sure February sucks, what with the sudden absence of football and the deepening of winter’s grasp on us all but it could never, ever compare to the mind numbing boredom produced by July.

Honestly, I don’t mind February that much. I live in Florida so it’s never really “too cold” to go outside. Besides that, the college basketball season begins to heat up as conference races take shape and teams fight for spots upon the proverbial bubble. Hell, even NBA All-Star Weekend is a welcome sight for one who enjoys basketball (or any extremely bastardized version of such) as much as I. July, on the other hand, completely and totally sucks. After the patriotic debauchery of the 4th, what’s left? Not much as far as I’m concerned. Baseball is still a little too far away from the playoffs to inspire much excitement. Honestly, would anybody pay as much attention as they do to baseball if there were any sort of alternative sport to divert our collective attention? Highly doubtful. Don’t believe me? Take last year’s World Cup for example then. Despite soccer being, at best, a secondary sport in this country nearly everybody I knew took some level of interest in the goings on in Germany. Some people even “became” soccer fans as a result of last year’s World Cup (cough, Simmons, cough). So, I ask you, was last year’s World Cup so exciting that it finally opened the eyes of people across the country to the merits of “the beautiful game” or were sports fans so hard up for meaningful competition, of any sort, that they latched onto the closest thing they could find with neither apprehension nor trepidation?

You see, that’s what July does to sports fans. It bleeds us dry. Football (real football, not practice) is still over a month away, baseball is hitting the point of separation (where many fans officially, mercifully even, have zero hope of their franchise nabbing a playoff spot) and the NBA supplies little, save for a hodgepodge of rookies, has beens and never-will-bes running about in its various summer leagues. (Note: I love the Summer Leagues but realize I am in the extreme minority as many sports fans now refuse to even watch regular season NBA games, much less the retarded Panamanian step-child of the NBA: The Summer League). There’s just nothing out there this time of year to capture and hold my attention (and many others’) for anything longer than the average length of a youtube clip.

As I write this, I can practically hear some hippie telling me that I should be outside enjoying nature and basking in all its splendid glory rather than searching for reasons to stay glued to my couch. To that I say: Have you seen my couch? That, kind sir, is glorious. Why would I leave this thing just to go get all sweaty? It’s July for christ’s sake and it’s like 105 degrees outside. Go pick me some mushrooms and we’ll see about spending an afternoon outdoors with good ole Ma Nature. Until then, I’ll be planted on my glorious fucking couch playing NCAA ’08 until my thumbnails bleed.

Excuse me if I'm not overcome with excitement just yet

I've talked about the Rashard Lewis signing as much as Im going to at this point. It's the summer and I want to enjoy it. I'll start getting bitter about this again when the Magic trot out a starting frontline of Dwight, Lewis and Hedo Turkoglu come November. Well, that's not true. I'm bitter about it right now. But, I'm going to keep it to myself for the time being. We all know it was knee jerk reaction to having loads of cap space by the perenially overmatched slags in the Magic front office. Those who've followed the organizational history of this franchise expected as much.

So, for now, I'll leave Mr. Lewis alone and wish him luck in finding a nice new home in the Orlando area (which shouldn't be tough as I hear there are a few athletes who live in the area). The subject I'm most interested in today is the inspired summer league play of former collegiate player of the year JJ Redick. There's been much discussion about JJ's play of late and some experts seem to think that his statistics so far in summer league play indicate that he's due for a breakout season with the Magic. I am not one of these people. Would I love to see JJ Redick become a valuble and offensively potent member of this team? You bet your ass I would? The Magic haven't had a decent shooting guard since the last days of Penny "there's sand in my vagine" Hardaway. It's no secret that I was never in favor of the Magic selecting Redick. He was an extremely one dimensional player in college whose size and relative lack of athleticism didn't bode well for futher diversification of his game at the NBA level. Of course, Redick's back injury last summer made the transition to the pros even more taxing than expected and he struggled to even crack the rotation in his first year in Orlando.

With those struggles firmly embedded in Redick's psyche, he needed to play well in Summer League in order to restore some of his swagger and overall confidence in his game. With that in mind, its very encouraging to see Redick play so well up to this point. That's where the significance of his play ends as far as I'm concerned. Why? Well, here's a couple of reasons:

1. This isn't the Vegas Summer League. This is the Orlando Summer League. It's much smaller (6 teams as opposed to 22) and Redick's essentially playing home games as these games are being held in the Magic practice facility. As anybody who's ever played basketball will tell you, its a lot easier to shoot in environments you're comfortable in than in a foreign gym. I'd also venture to guess that it helps to sleep in your own bed each night as well.

2. It's the Summer League. The level of athleticism is a notch or two below that which Redick will be facing during the regular season. Getting you shot off against Robert Hite will be substantially easier than getting looks against Joe Johnson. Most of the guys who Redick is playing against right now are the same types of players he was able to light up at Duke. We already know waht he's capable of against this level of competition, its the high caliber NBA level defender whom I'm interested in seeing Redick score on.

3. Travis Diener. The Magic's third PG was the talk of this very same league last summer when he torched defenders to the tune of 20+ ppg. Of course, this breakout performance led to Diener being shackled to the bench for most of the year and logging more DNPs than guys like Mardy Collins and Sergio Rodriguez.

So, good job JJ. We're all very proud of you. Just don't go popping your collar just yet. You've got a long way to before you even come close to establishing yourself as a viable NBA scorer and erasing the memories of Trajan Langdon. A very long way.

Let's all meet up at The Max...

Ugh. I feared this day would soon be upon us. I tried to convince myself that the Orlando Magic had changed their collective ways. I even somehow rationalized that Otis Smith would operate differently than every other Magic GM to come before him, based on his previous NBA experience. Which is to say, he actually played basketball as opposed to predecessors like John Gabriel and (gulp) John Weisbrod. However, in my heart of hearts, I knew. I knew that the Magic wouldn't be able to sit on a ton of salary cap room without making the proverbial "big splash" in free agency, even with the promise of possibly the greatest free agent class ever looming on the horizon in 2008. Even though I knew all of this, I wasn't prepared to see the Magic sign a one dimensional player like Rashard Lewis to the a max contract. Yes, you read that right. The maximum contract allowable under NBA guidelines. For a player who's never been anything other than the second best player on his own team. Did I mention that said team has made the playoffs exactly once in the last 5 years? Umm, yeah...that too.

As if signing Lewis for 5 yrs./$85 million (banging head against desk) wasn't bad enough it looks as if the Magic won't be able to retain Darko Milicic as a result of this completely overpriced contract. Listen, I'm not in love with Darko's game. Hell, I'm not even making eyes at it at this point (give me a few drinks) but he is a young, skilled big man who fits well with the Orlando franchise, otherwise known as Dwight Howard. There's still hope that Darko can be retained by virtue of a sign and trade with Seattle but, frankly, I can't think of a single player on Orlando who would pique new Seattle GM Sam Presti's interest. Not unless the Sonics ae looking to cultivate their Puerto Rican fanbase through the acquisition of Carlos Arroyo.

I'm hoping I come around on this signing the more I think (and drink) about it over the next couple of days but right now it's awfully hard to figure out how the Magic have significantly improved their future by pinning their hopes to a 6'10" small forward who's never averaged over 7 rbs, 2.5 asts or even a measly 1 blk a game over the span of his nine year career. Sure, he's an upgrade over Hedo Turkoglu but the last time I checked, Hedo wasn't making anything near $17 million a year. At least I have another excuse to get bombed tonight.

Drunken Drafting: Volume 2

After months of workouts and what seems like weeks of speculation (both trade and draft related), the most exciting day of the NBA year is finally here. Normally, I’d be too nervous to put together any sort of column this close to the draft. However, the Orlando Magic are without a first round draft pick this year, which leaves me plenty of time ponder the endless possibilities of this draft without swallowing my own tongue at the thought of names like Fran Vasquez, Jeryl Sasser and JJ Red…Whoa! Sorry about that. It seems the memories of drafts past are still a little too fresh for me.

Anyway, its been a strangely enjoyable lead up to the draft this year. Instead of pining for the likes of Brandon Roy and Channing Frye (can I get a mulligan on that one?), like each of the last two years, while knowing full well that the Magic wouldn’t make a drastic (read: ballsy) move to acquire players who fit their team’s needs this June, I’ve been able to sit back, relax and read up on the pre-draft process with a (fairly) impartial and decidedly unemotional take on all things draft related. Its been strangely therapeutic. Don’t get me wrong, I’d still rather that the Magic have a first round pick this year. Its just that I don’t have the sense of impending doom hanging over my head like so many cartoon storm clouds. The only thing about this draft that even causes me to have any type of homeriffic interest is the overwhelming Florida Gator representation in this year’s draft. However, even that is lessened by the probability that all three of the “big three” Gators will go within the first ten picks tonight. I’m much more interested in seeing where Taurean Green ends up and whether or not Chris Richard gets drafted than in the exact positions or specific teams who select the Noah, Brewer, Horford triumvirate.

I’m not going to do a mock draft or even give many opinions on the projected first round picks as it’s a little busy here today. ( I will predict that Jason Smith is playing in Europe in less than 4 years, for what its worth). I’ll get to that some time this weekend once the draft day maneuvering is over, as much of a draftee’s early success can be attributed to the team which selects them. What I am going to do is list a few of the players whom I’d like to see the Magic select in Round 2. There will be some solid players still available in Round 2 for the organization that does their homework (read: Not Orlando) so lets get right to my second round sleepers.

Nick Fazekas: I wouldn’t go within two miles of this guy in the first, or even early second, but he represents some value in the mid-second with his shooting and passing ability. He’s a defensive liability for sure, but Dwight Howard should be able to cover up for that a little.

Ramon Sessions: I wish this guy had tested positive for meth at the pre-draft camp in Orlando because I don’t think there’s a chance that he lasts until the Magic’s pick at 44. (Why did they give up their highest 2nd rounder to the Heat again? Couldn’t they have traded #54 for Stan Van Skunky?). However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t think he’d be great for the Magic. He’s a big (6’3) point who plays unselfishly and provides solid defense. He’s a couple years away from starting (needs to tighten up his jumper) but the Magic are a couple years away from contending.

Marcus Williams: I’m not completely in love with this guys game as he seems a little lax on D and somewhat petulant at times but he can really score. He’s the epitome of a natural scorer. He's a good, not great shooter who finds a way to get the ball in the bucket from all angles. With Hedo Turkoglu possibly heading out of town (please God), Williams would be a nice addition off the bench at the 2/3 and provide the Magic with many of the attributes that are lacking in Trevor Ariza’s game at the moment.

Ali Traore: I’ve seen a couple mocks that have the Magic taking him at 44, which would be great. He’s big (6’9), strong and very proficient offensively in the post. He even (reportedly) has a solid stroke out to 15 feet. In my (extremely optimistic) mind’s eye I’ve imagined him as a European Chris Gatling. You know the type: Good scorer with an array of post moves and solid athleticism. Not quite good enough to start on a contender but a terror as a second unit scorer. Am I going overboard here? Yeah, probably. Oh yeah, one more thing that reminds me of Gatling: Traore is apparently not a very enthusiastic rebounder. That’s okay, Dwight will get all the rebounds. All the rebounds.

Renaldas Seibutis: Admittedly, I know very little about this kid. Here’s what I know: He’s Lithuanian, athletic, has good size (6’5) and is a little more aggressive going to the hoop than the average Euro guard. He’s also got a ton of offensive skill and just needs to fill out a bit (185 lbs.) and gain a little more experience against high level competition. This is exactly the kind of guy that smart organizations draft in the mid second round (after they’ve fallen a bit) and stash in Europe for a few years while they continue to develop. Which, of course, is exactly why the Magic have probably never even heard of this kid.

Some others I like in Round 2 (that I think might actually be around when the Magic are selecting): Reyshawn Terry, Joao Gomes, Alando Tucker, DJ Strawberry, Demetris Nichols & Jared Jordan.

I’ll be back tonight with some thoughts in the comments section. Feel free to stop by and laugh at me. There’s a good chance I’ll be drunk (day off tomorrow!) and belligerent so it should be fun.

It's hard out here for a pimp.

While this may be true in some locales, its most certainly much harder for any lady friend of a pimp. Especially one who wishes to disassociate herself with said pimp. As evidence, I present the following tale of former "rap star" Foxy Brown:

Rapper Foxy Brown has denied reports that she was assaulted by four women in a Brooklyn housing project early Saturday morning (June 23). According to police, Brown was involved in an argument with her unidentified boyfriend around 5:30 am in the Louis H. Pink Houses in East New York. Brown was allegedly attempting to dump the man, after she found out he was a pimp with a criminal record. The man called four prostitutes, who allegedly attacked Brown, ripped out her hairweave, stole her hearing aide, her purse and $500 dollars.

Wow, just wow. Was it really neccessary to steal her hearing aide? On the other hand, this man's pimp hand must be pretty strong if he can get four prositutes to show up and "take care of his light work" in such a expeditious manner. I can't get four prostitutes anywhere at the same time without a tranquilizer gun. I'd like to feel bad for Foxy here, really I would, but she kind of had it coming when she stole her name from Pam Grier.

Drunken Drafting: Volume 1

With the NBA Draft fast approaching and speculation abound on the ebays about who’ll be selected by whom after picks 1 & 2, I figured I’d contribute to the completely unfounded speculation by giving my thoughts on a few of the potential draftees/scenarios that we may or may not see come to fruition in just over a weeks time. I’m going to continue to give my thoughts in this space on the most intriguing draft in years as we inch closer to draft day, so stay tuned…

- You really have to respect Atlanta Hawks GM Billy Knight. If only because its quite clear he doesn’t give a flying fuck what anyone thinks about his ability to evaluate talent and/or assemble a team of composed parts that actually fit together. However, what’s really become clear of late is that I have been grossly underestimating the man all this time. You see, I actually thought he was going to finally bend to the unrelenting criticism this year by selecting the somewhat overrated Mike Conley, Jr. with the #3 pick (I’ll get to him in a minute). Nope. Word out of Atlanta is that Knight is now enamored with Florida PF Al Horford and plans to select him at #3. On face value, this isn’t a bad choice until you remember that Knight “promised” Shelden Williams (a nearly identical but less talented version of Horford) at #5 last year despite Williams being seen as a late lottery pick at best. What’s more, two of Knight’s other recent draftees, Marvin Williams & Josh Smith, also play extensive minutes at PF. So, to sum it up, Knight is planning on using the #3 pick in the draft to select a player who’ll be competing for minutes with 3 of his last 4 first round selections. What? I have a feeling that if you were able to enter Billy Knight’s head it would end up looking and feeling an awful lot like that new Stephen King movie with John Cusack.

- I mentioned Mike Conley, Jr. earlier and I’d like to talk a little more about him. As you may know, tired player comparisons drive me crazy. So, I nearly ripped my own hair out (wait, I don’t have any hair) when I read this yesterday, “The Grizzlies think Conley is the next Tony Parker.” Why exactly is he the next Tony Parker? Because he’s short, fast and has no jumpshot to speak of? Ah, I see. And that is meant as a compliment? You’ll have to excuse me for a second while I wonder if that is the kind of “compliment” I’d want paid to somebody I’m investing a top 5 NBA Draft pick on. Don’t get me wrong, Parker is a very nice player but he also carries a career average of 5.4 assists per game. That’s not exactly hall of fame material for a point guard. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say that any PG who goes in the drafts top 5 should immediately be near the top of the NBA in assists or scoring. Parker does neither of these and will never do either of these. If you’re drafting Mike Conley, Jr. because he’s “the next Tony Parker” then I’d advise you to trade down or see if you can’t find a little more value with the 4th pick in the Draft. (Note: Conley and Parker and far different. Conley’s a better passer and defender as well as more physically developed already. Parker a much better natural scorer but he’s really more of a two in a point’s body). I’m not saying that Conley won’t be a heck of a NBA player and probably an All-Star. Rather, what I’m saying is that Conley isn’t really anything like Parker (save for a very nice floater and the aforementioned lack of jumpshot) and that he’s going to end up being selected much too high in this year’s draft. Think about it, is he really that much better a prospect than Rajon Rondo was last year (Rondo went #21)?

- Chad Ford reported that Brandan Wright had an “amazing” workout in Milwaukee recently. While I’m not accusing anyone of lying here I am left to wonder how “amazing” a workout can be when a player isn’t working out against anybody and their range only extends to 10-12 feet. I’m sure Wright is an unbelievable physical specimen, but how impressive can somebody really be when all they’re doing is dunking, shooting jumphooks and grabbing rebounds over a 6’1 assistant coach?

- Ford also reports that New Orleans is interested in USC G Nick Young. This seems, to me, like a match made in heaven. New Orleans will finally get an athletic shooting guard who can actually shoot (Sorry Desmond) to run with Chris Paul and Nick Young will get a ton of open looks by virtue of playing around proven scorers like David West and Peja Stojakovic (if healthy) as well as the best young passer in basketball in Paul. Furthermore, this move would give the Hornets the most formidable starting lineup they’ve had since the franchise left Charlotte. Assuming that Peja is healthy, the starters would look like this:

PG: Paul
SG: Young
SF: Stojakovic
PF: West
C: Chandler

If New Orleans were still in the East (somebody still needs to explain that to me) that’s a top 5 team right there.

- Want to know who I think is a guaranteed bust in this year’s draft. No? Oh well, it’s my blog. Thaddeus Young. Young is a marvelously athletic player with no defining skill other than his aforementioned athleticism. His handle is extremely shaky (Dare him to go right) and his jumpshot is slow and inconsistent. Despite his size (6’9) he lacks any real post game and due to his shaky handle can’t really create for himself off the dribble. Sure, he’ll get out on the break and finish with aplomb but good luck getting anything out of him in the halfcourt. If you ask me, he’s a less athletic version of Josh Smith. While his jumpshot may be better than Smith’s, its still erratic and he doesn’t have nearly the motor or defensive ability of Smith. I’m going to go ahead and mark him down for 50+ DNP CD’s this year.

-Finally, I’m not sure if you’ve heard but Tim Tebow recently had a son. Here’s a video clip of him. The genes are strong in the Tebow family.

Want to win a Championship? Get yourself a Gator.

It's a busy day at the office today. Well, not really. Actually, I have a tattoo appointment later this afternoon. Either way, I don't have a lot of time to piece together a post this morning but I didn't want to let the day pass without throwing some congratulations towards the one San Antonio Spur who doesn't inspire me to commit homicide, Matt Bonner, on his victory over the Cleveland in the NBA Finals. Some may wonder what exaclty the big redhead contributed to the Spurs championship run. Well, wonder no more as I present you with photographic evidence of his New Hampshire bred awesomeness.

(Take special note of the influence that Canada had on young Mr. Bonner)

Congrats to Matt and the rest of the Spurs (burn in hell assholes) on their hard fought win. Now, If you'll excuse me I'm off to go attempt to freeze myself (Cartman style) in hopes of avoiding the next 2.5 months of non-stop baseball and quickening the arrival of the sweet, dulcet tones of college football. Wish me luck.

Finally, one last question to ponder whilst enjoying your favorite adult beverage this weekend:

Why are all motorcycle cops fat? Seriously, have you ever seen one who's not 30-40 lbs overweight? Other than on C.H.I.P.S., I mean.

To hate like this...

Its been quite some time since I’ve posted anything. There are a number of reasons that I could give as to why it’s been so long but none are really sufficient and even less are worth the time they’d take to type. So, I’m not going to bother you with excuses. Instead, I’ll just say that I didn’t enter rehab (yet) and have not been evicted from my house. In fact, I’ve moved of my own free will, and some slight cajoling from my girlfriend, (That’s right. I’m officially “living in sin” as my grandmother used to put it. Then again, she had a pig valve inserted into her heart and continued to smoke two packs a day so she might not have been as wise as I was once led to believe). During this time, I’ve also managed to grow yet another fantastacular beard (two months and counting), survived a four day visit from my former minor league co-workers (barely, just barely) and continued my 5 year streak of avoiding arrest. All in all its been a bang up six weeks and I couldn’t have asked for much more.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I did ask for more. Specifically, I asked to have the San Antonio Spurs eliminated from the playoffs and, subsequently, from my life until late October. Alas, David Stern interceded and sent the Phoenix Suns packing instead which left us with one of the more life draining Western Conference Finals in recent memory. If it hadn’t been for LeBron’s performances last week I may have had to resume the construction of that meth lab in the woods in order to fill my time as the thought of watching the Spurs square off against the Pistons might have been to much for me to handle without the assistance of lethal controlled substances. I’m not saying that I don’t think the Spurs are the best team in basketball because they most certainly are. I’m saying that no team since the late 90s Knicks fills me with as much contempt and rage as the San Antonio Spurs. Think I’m kidding? I wish. I’ve literally been driven to yelling at my TV on numerous occasions this summer for no reason other than my unadulterated hatred of all things Spurs. In order to help you understand how one (fairly) impartial fan can be driven to such lengths, I’ve decided to break down my hatred of the Spurs player by player and I even included a few coaches and front office personnel for good measure.

Brent Barry: Easily my least favorite of the brothers Barry. He’s one of the league’s laziest defenders whose offensive game consists of standing around and shooting set shots despite being blessed with far more size and athleticism than either Drew or Jon cluld have ever hoped for. Oh yeah, he also wore his warmup jacket during the slam dunk contest. Why not just wear a cardigan sweater next time?

Bruce Bowen: Dirtier than a Tijuana hooker. He’s intentionally tried to hurt players like Steve Nash, Amare Stoudemire, Ray Allen, Jamal Crawford and Vince Carter (can’t blame him there) among many others. What makes it worse is that he’s rarely, if ever, punished for his misdeeds and reporters all seem to give him a free pass because he’s a “nice guy” off the court. You know who else was a nice guy off the court? Kermit Washington. That doesn’t change what he did. Is Bowen going to have to break somebody’s face before the NBA actually punishes this goon? Do you want to know how big a douchebag Bowen is? His own family disowned him.

Jackie Butler: Fat, useless Bama. He also committed to the University of Tennessee out of high school (see: Fat Bama) which makes him evil by default.

Tim Duncan: Booooring. If Zydrunas Ilgauskas hadn’t already claimed the nickname I’d recommend we all call him Big Z because that’s exactly what he makes me want to do, take a nap. He’s also a huge fucking dork. Seriously, the guy plays D&D and other assorted nerd based games and video games for fun. No wonder nobody ever does stories on this guy. I mean, have you ever seen any stories about the freaks that play Magic: The Gathering at your local Denny’s at 3 am in your newspaper? Didn’t think so. (link: slam)

Francisco Elson: His name is Francisco and he’s Dutch. I rest my case.

Melvin Ely: He’s the proverbial talented yet extraordinarily lazy big man who does absolutely nothing with his god given talents. He’s also looks completely ridiculous with his unbelievably long hair and goatee whilst wearing suits on the sideline. On top of all this, he attended Fresno State during the Jerry Tarkanian era so there’s a 99% chance he’s a criminal. Still not convinced? His mother’s name is Melvina.

Michael Finley: Have you ever seen a close up of this guys face? Jesus. He looks like he tried to make out with a panini press. Also, jumped ship to his former team’s chief rival in order to try and win a championship. I’m sorry, you can tell me how “classy” a guy he is all you want (I’m looking at you David Aldridge) but after a move like that, well, I refuse to believe it.

Manu Ginobilli: Ass...hole. Is there one thing about him that doesn’t scream this? I nearly punched my TV when he faked the bump (during a dead ball) from Derek Fisher in Game 4 of the Western Conference Finals until I realized I wouldn’t actually be hitting him. One of the league’s most notorious floppers who, somehow, has managed to continually bamboozle the refs into thinking he can be knocked over by a stiff breeze. It’s maddening to watch him get away with the same bush league tactics over and over again. Basketball may not be soccer but it damn well may become it if Manu’s allowed to keep playing another 10 years. Also, he’s Argentinian and those people are pure evil. I’m not kidding. All the other South American countries hate them because they don’t consider themselves South American. No, they fancy themselves as displaced Europeans. Oh yeah, Argentina also allowed Nazis political asylum after WWII. Like I said: Ass...hole.

Robert Horry: Singlehandedly destroyed the Suns-Spurs series. Spent a career riding on the coattails of stars and winning championships despite being one of the more physically gifted players of his generation. Once said that though many pegged him the as the “next Pippen”, he had no desire to fill that role because “it takes too much energy to defend and handle the ball that much”. That’s exactly the kind of effort and attitude I’d expect from somebody who spends most of the year sitting on the bench eating cheez doodles. While many will say Horry’s had a great career, I respectfully disagree with this sentiment. He was the 11th pick in the draft coming out of college. Personally, I expect a little more than some timely (off the bench) clutch shooting from someone drafted in such a lofty position if I’m going to go so far as to anoint their career as “great”.

Fabricio Oberto: He’s Argentinian (see: Ginobilli, Manu). He wears one of those stupid soccer headbands on his early 90’s grunge haircut and his favorite band is the Foo Fighters. Additionally, he doesn’t even have the good sense to secure an endorsement deal with the beef jerky company which bears his name.

Tony Parker: Umm, he’s French. He also manages to get away with more egregious traveling violations than any player in the league. He’s a vapid waste of space as evidenced by his listing of Face: Off as his favorite movie. His first rap song (and accompanying video) was the worst entry into the genre since Brian Austin Green. Also, every time that I watch him I’m reminded that the Magic passed on him in order to draft Jerryl Sasser. (Banging head against desk).

Beno Udrih: His name is Beno and he isnt named after Beano Cook. Need I say more?

Jacque Vaughan: Quite possibly the worst jumpshooter in NBA history. I know junior high kids who have more accurate jumpshots than him. He’s been perennially overrated since college due to his nice guy demeanor and fan friendly attitude (read: He doesn’t scare middle aged white people). Finally, watching him play (and repeatedly launch that horrible jumpshot) for the Magic easily took 5-10 years off of my life.

James White: It’s tough to hate somebody who can do this. However, that’s precisely why I hate him. He’s easily one of the 10 most physically gifted players in the entire NBA, yet he can’t even manage to make a teams active roster (Note: Its not just the Spurs, he couldn’t do it in Indiana either).

Gregg Poppovich: A pockmarked, elitist prick. Every time I watch him smugly reply to reporters in a press conference it makes me want to fly to San Antonio and break one of his $1000 wine bottles over his head. Universally lauded as a great coach despite the fact that he never saw fit to take over as head coach of the Spurs until after San Antonio won the rights to Tim Duncan in the lottery. Of course, once this happened he fired Bob Hill and named himself coach of a team that suddenly featured two of the league’s top 5 big men and (eventually) Top 50 players of all time. If Phil Jackson’s accomplishments are lessened by the fact that he was blessed with a ton of talent on his championship teams than Gregg Poppovich’s are too. Except, Jackson didn’t have to stab one of his employees in the back to do it (after forcing that employee to tank in order to increase the franchise’s odds of receiving said pick).

RC Buford: It’s tough to say something bad about a guy who recently adopted a kid from Cameroon. Until you realize that the kid in question was a 6’8” stud basketball player who will be attending the University of Texas next year on a basketball scholarship. Wow, what a coincidence. Buford goes on a trip to the country in Africa thats routinely producing Division 1 basketball players and comes back with an adopted son who is among the brightest prospects in the entire country. Man, that RC is one altruistic son of a bitch, aint he?

In conclusion, My thoughts on the San Antonio Spurs can be summed up thusly:

Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re cool (Matt Bonner). Fuck you. I’m outta here.

The Final Countdown

In less than 8 hours, three of my friends from various areas of the country will be filing into my house and dropping their bags for the duration of the weekend. The purpose of their trip is simple: Drink ungodly amounts of alcohol, watch/comment upon/become suicidal over the NFL Draft and contribute our well earned pay to the college funds of various young women of virtue true. All in all, it should be a liver destroying weekend that will serve as yet another reminder of why I (and those who choose to associate with me) are awful human beings who should be denied the ability to procreate.

You’ve met the cast of characters before, as these are the same people whom I spent last year’s NFL Draft with, my former co-workers Calvin, John and Duper. Last year we convened in Seattle and since Calvin lives in Danville, VA and Duper lives in Whitefish, MT, well, my house was our next best option. They are all flying in this afternoon and should be at my house by 7 or so. Unfortunately for me, I have a city league playoff game tonight at 8 so I’ll have to put my drinking on hold for a couple of hours until later on this evening. After that though, I don’t expect to go more than a handful of conscious hours without a hearty buzz for the weekend’s entirety. If you can’t tell, I’m really looking forward to this weekend. The last time I saw any of these guys was a year ago, and they’re also some of the more enthusiastic drinkers I know so, you know, it should be, umm, interesting.

Anyway, since we’re using the NFL Draft as our "reason" for the weekend’s festivities I figured I’d leave off here with a few notes about the greatest non-sporting event in sports.

- The best pickup of the weekend could very well have nothing to do with the selection of a formerly (cough) amateur football player. Rather, it would be the acquisition of Michael Turner by a team in need of a #1 tailback. Like, say, the Tennessee Titans for example. Turner’s a stud tailback who has barely seen the light of day in San Diego due to playing behind the best back in football, LaDanian Tomlinson. San Diego needs to get something for him in return, lest they lose him to free agency in the summer of ’08. So, it makes sense for San Diego to look to deal Turner for a draft pick or two this weekend. He’s essentially a first round talent that can be acquired for a mid-round pick. And one more thing about Turner, his agent’s name is Bus Cook. I don’t even care that it sounds completely and totally made up, that name is awesome. So awesome that I want to hire Bus as my agent. Agent for what you say? Fuck you and your damned details.

- Has anybody ever figured out exactly who Mel Kiper, Sr. was/is? Was he a scout? Or was he, like, the pomade king of the east coast or something, ala Eriq La Salle’s dad in Coming to America? Anybody? Alright then, we’re going with Pomade King of the East Coast. I hear him and Abe Froman were close.

- My lack of faith in JaMarcus Russell is well documented. He never really scared me as anything other than a force of nature at LSU and I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen a QB throw balls at his receiver’s feet like him since the heyday of Rick Mirer. Yet, even with his questionable mental acuity and his overall lack of polish as a passer, the most damning thing I can possibly say about him as an NFL prospect is this: Do you really want to spend a 1st rd. pick on a guy who could conceivably look like this in a couple of years?

- Another player whom my opinion on is well documented is Reggie Nelson, affectionately known as RFN amongst Gator fans. So, you can imagine my dismay at the scouting reports which list him as the 3rd or even 4th best safety available in the draft. Give. Me. A. Break. Other than being a little light (200 lbs) there’s not much else you could ask for in a safety. While I don’t doubt I’m biased, he’s the most complete and versatile safety in this draft, and that includes Laron Landry. Listen, I watched Landry play for four years and he’s a heck of a safety, a future Pro Bowler even. However, he doesn’t possess nearly the coverage skill that Nelson does and, despite his size, doesn’t deliver the devastating hits that Nelson has shown such a proclivity for. So much of playing safety is about timing and Nelson has an innate ability to time his breaks and hits for just the right moment. When you take into account that Nelson would’ve been moved to corner at UF (and had been shutting people down early in the fall) this year had Ryan Smith not transferred in from Utah, his versatility becomes even more impressive. Mark it down right now, Reggie Nelson will be the best safety or corner taken in this draft.

Since I’ve written about a few players whom I consider underrated/overrated, I’m gonna finish up this post with a list of players whom I think are one or the other coming into this weekend’s draft.

Overrated:

Lawrence Timmons: He only started for one year at FSU and put up decent numbers. He’s been praised for his freakish athletic ability but measured a full 2 inches shorter than his listed height at the combine and ran his 40 two tenths of a second slower than had been previously reported. At this point, he seems a little too unproven and little too inflated to warrant the being the 2nd or 3rd LB off the board.

Greg Olsen: Workout wonder. He never put up big numbers at Miami, nor dominated a game like predecessors Kellen Winslow, Jr. and Jeremy Shockey. Playing in Miami’s anemic offense over the past two years certainly didn’t help, but I can’t say I’m sold that he’s worthy of a first round selection. I know tight ends are game changers now but some years there aren’t gonna be any tight ends who are worthy of selection in the first round. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Levi Brown: Fat, bad knees and not a dominating blocker in either phase. I’d take him in the first round but not in the top 15. For the record, I felt the same way about Kenyatta Walker.

Chris Houston: He’s fast as hell and has good size. He also never played any zone in college and had a tendency to make mental mistakes at inopportune times over the course of his career. Maybe its me but that’s not something I’d want out of my #1 corner. Again, I’d look at him late in the 1st or early in the second, but not as the first or second corner off the board.

Tedd Ginn, Jr.: Fast as hell. Ummm? He’s great in the return game. You’ll have to excuse me here, other than having blazing speed, I can’t think of one attribute that will make Tedd Ginn, Jr. a great NFL receiver. He doesn’t run great routes, is reticent to go over the middle and he has limited experience. I’ll come right out and say it, Anthony Gonzalez will have a longer and more productive pro career than Ginn. Seriously.

Underrated:

Patrick Willis: How can somebody who’s going to be the first LB taken be underrated? 163 tackles helps. If this kid played at LSU or Auburn he’d be going in the Top 5. It just so happens he’s been stuck in Oxford on horrible football team for the past 4 years. There was some question about his athleticism, until he went to the combine and tore it up in every way. He’s everything you could ever want out of a LB. Perennial Pro Bowler.

Steve Smith: Another #2 receiver who I think ends up better than his collegiate teammate. Smith was unbelievably consistent over the course of his career at USC. Though Dwayne Jarrett had more impressive numbers, it was Smith who moved the chains for USC. Smith is more polished, faster and has better hands than Jarrett. Smith should immediately move in as a team's #3 receiver as a rookie and will play in the NFL for a decade.

No, no, not that Steve Smith! You know, for a helper monkey, you're not helping at all!!!

Ben Grubbs: He’s the highest rated guard in this year’s draft but probably won’t be selected until late in the 1st round. That’s not a referendum on his talent as much as it is a case on the value of guards to your average NFL front office. Personally, I believe a dominant guard is a vastly underrated component to an NFL offense. A dominant guard allows O-coordinators much more flexibility in their schemes and can change the complexion of a running game. Grubbs should go top 15. I’m not saying he’s Steve Hutchinson, but I am saying that teams should look at the difference a player like him can (or in Hutchinson's case, did) make for an offensive line.

Sidney Rice: The most dominant offensive player in the SEC over the past two years, and that’s with a bad offensive line and erratic (at best) QB play. I'll say it again, the most dominant offensive player in the country's best conference over the past two years. I’m usually skeptical of “big” receivers but I’ve seen enough of Rice to know that he plays faster than he times and possesses unbelievable ball skills. His background in basketball makes a terror on jump balls in the redzone too. He’s going to slip b/c he played in Spurrier’s system and didn’t run a great 40 but he’ll end up being better than most of the recivers selected in the 1st round.

Buster Davis: He’s pretty much the exact opposite of former teammate Timmons. He was amazingly productive at FSU, leading the team in tackles each of the past two years and seems to possess an innate ability to fight through traffic and find the ball. He’ll slip to the 5th rd. (or lower) because his measurables aren’t NFL worthy in any way (5’9”, 245) but he’s going to make somebody’s team and end up starting by his second season (if not sooner). The guy was born to play LB, plain and simple. He was said to be too small to play at FSU and he dominated his competition during two years as a starter. I don’t expect his tenure in the NFL to be any different.

Sleeper: Usama Young (CB/Kent State): Great size (6’1”, 200) and speed (4.4) as well as a productive career at Kent State. He’s a guy who could come in as a third corner and play this year and should move into the starting lineup within a year or two of being drafted. A lot of people will question the level of competition he played against in the MAC. However, while the receivers weren’t as athletic or polished as those in some of the BCS conferences, he was exposed to a number of highly sophisticated passing games during his time in the MAC. The size and the speed could have me hoodwinked here, but he seems like a bargain in the third round.

Alright, that’s it. I’ll be off tomorrow and (more than likely) drunk before you even have your first drink tomorrow afternoon, which should help me transition nicely into the all day bender that Saturday promises to bring. Enjoy the Draft and Go Magic! I mean seriously, just win one fucking game. Is that too much to ask?