Rick Reilly, FJM Style: Because Someone Has to Do It.

Picture from espn.com


I think we're going to make this a weekly feature, mocking at least one internet writer. Because I'm such a successful, wealthy, and established writer that I can do things like this, clearly. Anyway, we start with Rick Reilly. Rick's words in bold, mine in regular type.

Here is the question now about this new, softer, calmer, suddenly huggable Tiger Woods:

You mean huggable in the sense that he hooked up with so many women who literally hugged him? Because there is no other way this guy is huggable. He must smell like bad sex all the time. Most of the adjectives in that sentence don't actually mean anything. New? Ehhh. What the hell is softer?

What if the same insatiable hunger that fueled his sex drive is the same insatiable hunger that fueled his golf drive?

What if becoming a better person makes him a lesser golfer?

Being forced to stop banging chicks who are not your wife to avoid losing more sponsors and money in a divorce do not make you a better person.

I remember when Woods was 21 and leading the 1997 Masters by 12 shots with only four holes to play. It was basically a coronation parade in spiked shoes. On 15, he hit a meaningless shot from the rough that, for some reason, just fried his brain. He reached back and slammed down his club, just missing the skull of a small boy who'd snuck close just to touch him.

And I thought: Oh, my God. Nothing's ever going to be enough for this kid.

You really thought that based on one shot, when that's something most golfers do after a bad shot? That's kind of creepy.

As a golf fan, you have to wonder: Now that he says he's changed, will his hit-man instincts change, too?

He is not a hit-man. He does not kill people. He is very good at playing golf. It seems that he has hit-man instincts because he is so good at golf.

After 45 days of addiction therapy and four months of shame and three years of "lying to myself," you wouldn't have recognized the man who sat before the world Monday in his first press conference since he knocked over a fire hydrant and ignited his life.

I recognized him. He looks exactly the same and talked exactly the same, except this time it was about sexing porn stars. If it were on mute I would have thought he were talking about some boring golf tournament.

Woods said things like:

"Did you see the rack on the girl working in the gift shop? Jesus, I have to get her number lat-- Shit. Uh... I played well today."

"I just took it all in today [on his practice round]."

Oh. Well that's boring.

(This from a guy who I once saw blow by Nike chairman Phil Knight and his own mother, Tida, outside the Augusta National clubhouse like they were patio chairs.)

"My anecdotal evidence based on a contextless situation proves that Tiger is a horrible man!"

And ... "I want to be able to help people. ... If I win championships along the way, so be it."

And ... "It's not about championships. It's about how you live your life."

(OK, I'm really going to have to see some ID.)

That's our first rimshot moment.

Look, worldwide humiliation and the fear of losing your family will change a man. I hope Woods really does believe it's about the way you live your life and not about championships. But what if the very traits that left him in the TMZ gutter -- self-obsession, a limitless appetite for domination, me-first-ism to the extreme -- are the same traits that delivered those championships?

Tiger Woods will not suddenly be bad at golf because he can't cheat on his wife anymore. You can't just connect things that happen in his life and assume he'll now suck at golf.

I hope not, but you wonder. We don't usually build statues of nice, helpful, well-balanced men.

There are literally hundreds of statues that would like to have a word with you right now, such as Jesus, Martin Luther King, and of course Endy Chavez.

Exhibit A: Ben Hogan. A tournament winning machine and, by all accounts, one of the most miserable curs to ever stripe a 2-iron.

A cur, you say! Why I challenge you to a duel, you rapscallion!

Exhibit B: Michael Jordan. Did you hear his Hall of Fame speech? Seven years after he'd won everything, he was still trying to step on his enemies' Adam's apples.

Michael Jordan is an asshole. This is not a secret. He is an asshole who is the best basketball player ever. Why should it matter?

Exhibit C: Barry Bonds. Seven MVPs and almost as many friends.

Jesus I would be truly shocked to learn that Barry Bonds has seven friends.

Brad Faxon is a nice guy. Fred Funk, too. But Tiger Woods? He used to be the guy who ran the sword through your spleen, then danced on your corpse. Is that guy gone?

Hyperbole! "We'll miss the Tiger the serial killer/golfer, and especially the Tiger who blotted out the sun as a way to force residents of his community to pay him for power."

I once took a back-country snowcat ski trip with a bunch of buddies in Colorado.

Ooh another anectdote!

Turned out Woods and his buddies had rented the snowcat the week before. I asked the guide how Woods skis.

"I've never seen a guy get so mad at himself," the guide said. "He's just learning, but every time he'd fall, he'd throw his poles and swear. He wanted to beat his buddies down the hill so bad."

He's programmed to be the best. The only professional job he's ever had is to literally be the best person ever to play his sport.

In addiction therapy, you hear these words a hundred times: acceptance, serenity, vulnerability. But not in a million years would you have heard those words applied to pre-hydrant Woods. The words arrogant, unquenchable, bulletproof, maybe.

This is not relevant to playing golf.

If Tiger Woods is going to save his marriage and save his life, he'll have to be unselfish in the ultimate selfish game. Can't you just see it? He's studying a putt when he suddenly looks up and goes, "No, go ahead, take the call, ma'am. I'm in no hurry."

Playing golf to win does not make you a selfish person. He's not beating people with clubs on his way to the hole. He just has to get a lower score than other people who are playing the same game as him.

He vows no more "entitlement." But Tiger Woods always played as though the trophy had his name engraved on it when he showed up Tuesday.

I don't understand this part. How can you play a full four days of golf as if you'd already won? I think that would just make him an even better golfer if he could win a tournament despite dicking around for four days.

He vows to "tone down my negative outbursts and ... my positive outbursts." But can he win without the fist pump? Can he win without passion?

I think he's referring to having his caddy take people's cameras away, not pumping his fist. Unless he's pumping that fist into someone's face, which would make for great television.

He vows to follow Buddhism, but Buddhism teaches "the greatest effort is not concerned with results." Has the Buddha heard of Jack Nicklaus?

"I'm going to make a blanket statement about a religion based on one contextless quote that says you should note compete."

Who knows? Maybe this whole Tiger Woods 2.0 will be even better on the course. He talked Monday about finally having "fun" again playing golf. He talked about wanting to find "balance."

So... you're saying that there was really no need for this column

Who had his life in better balance than Nicklaus himself, who loved tennis as much as golf and his wife more than the two combined?

Equation of Jack Nicklaus' life, where g = golf, t = tennis, and w = wife: 2w = .5t + .5g

I'm thrilled for Woods that he seems to have found the first few rungs of a very long ladder out of his troubles. Even his face seemed lighter and brighter than it did last year.

Ugh.

Maybe all those creepy secrets sag right through your mind to your eyelids. He seems to finally understand that even though his own father painted him as a god walking the earth, the same mortal rules apply to him: You can't cheat on your wife with your own personal harem and figure you can get away with it. But you wonder if golf's truest rule will also apply: 99 percent of the field loses.

I had a brief seizure because of the above sentences because, well, just read them.

Toward the end of Monday's press conference, somebody asked Woods if he almost "wanted" to get caught.

"Oh, yeah, it was all part of my grand plan. I'm so excited that everyone hates me and I lost a lot of money and maybe my wife, it all worked out so well for me."

He shook his head and said, "All I know is, I acted just terribly, poorly, made just incredibly bad decisions, and decisions that hurt so many people close to me. That's enough."

Translation: Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaamit.

So there it is. The kid finally got enough.

Nah he just finally got caught, otherwise he'd be in a hot tub with Penny Flame right now.

Inside the Mets Clubhouse, Again

Jerry Manuel: Men that was uhhhhhhhh a great uhhhhhh win... out there today. We uhhhhh really played.... well I guess you could uh... say.... WELL. We played well. I'm uhhhhhh proud of the uhhhh job you guys did out there uhhhhh on this particular afternoon. Do any of you uhhhh have any.... words uhhhhh to say?

David Wright: Guys, I'm really proud of what we did out there today. A lot of people doubted us coming into the season, but I think today was a great step in the right direction. We just need to loud crash outside the clubhouse what was that?

Steve Phillips: THAT WAS SOME GREAT BASEBALL OUT THERE TODAY, BOYS!

Manuel: Uh... Mr. Phillips uhhhhhhh... you were released from your uhhhhh duties... several years ago.

Phillips: Are you talking about that Minaya guy? Looks like his green card expired, 'cause I sent him back to the Dominican! OH BABY!

Sean Green: Dude he's a legal U.S. citizen, you can't do that.

Phillips: I can do whatever I want, I drafted David Wright! Remember David? Do you remember our courtship? My phone calls?

Wright: Uh, not really.

Phillips: We forget you anyway, David! Point is, now, I've made some mistakes in my life. Cheating on my wife with coworkers and spewing horribly misinformed baseball analysis, I mean... I just feel awful about all of that. So I'm finally coming back from my leave of absence from the Mets to be the general manager AND manager! I'm back, boys!

Jose Reyes: No no no no no no no no no, this is not good.

Rod Barajas: What's the big deal, man? He seems like a fun guy.

Reyes: You have no idea what it used to be like. This is very bad.

Phillips: Jose you will shut your mouth or I will rip out your thyroid and hyper-activate it for you! First order of business: bring me your wife!

Reyes: Goddam it, not this again.

Phillips: Things are going to change around here, boys, so get ready for a winning culture!

Where Fans Curse Me Out for Wearing a Jets Jersey to a Mets Game - Opening Day

"Hey, is this Pat Holohan? Jets suck, fuck you."

So because I am lazy and haven't washed any of my Mets clothes, I only had a Curtis Martin Jets jersey ready to go as New York paraphernalia for the game. This led to a few J-E-T-S chants and fist bumps (the two marks of true sports intellectuals like myself), but mostly Giants fans (I would imagine, Bills fans seem too sedate and suicidal for that sort of thing) telling me off.

"Curtis Martin sucks! Curtis Martin is gay!"
"Heyyyyyy Jets fuckin' suck faggot! Fuck you!"
"Curtis Martin is gay! Fuck you asshole!
"J-E-T-S Jets fuckin' suck!"

And so on. Very bizarre to be a villain wearing your team's jersey in your own city, but I thought about what Coach Rex would have done:

"I will facefuck you, boys! RIDE 'EM COWBOY!"

And felt awesome.

So a few nice additions to the ballpark:

A video screen in left field. They needed this last year because many fans sitting in left field couldn't see many of the plays happening in the left field corner. which was a problem considering the disaster that was Danny Murphy. Unfortunately, they only showed about half the plays in the left field corner, making me wonder what's the point of having it if they're only going to show Rod Barajas' face.

They shrunk the center field wall a bit (this is not the blog for specifics), making home runs, obviously, easier, and making the back wall in general look like more of a ballpark and less like something that is not a ballpark.

The Mets museum in the Jackie Robinson Rotunda (having the rotunda allows us to see the same eight clips of Jackie Robinson for the next fifty years. He never played for the Mets, by the way. I MUST BE RACIST FOR SAYING THAT.) is a nice touch.

There's still a lot of dopey stuff like the constant pop music, weird choices in organ music, and contests between innings.

Also, they put the Shea Stadium home run apple outside of the stadium, and it looks excellent.

And It Didn't Take Michael Kay Long to Get Into Midseason Form

(Image from fullcountpitch.com)

Some highlights from tonight's Yankees-Red Sox game:

The Yes Network finally added OBP to the infographic that they show at the bottom of the screen when players come up. It had previously been BA, HR, and RBI, and I was hoping that they'd get rid of RBI, but I guess that's here to stay for now. It would be nice to add SLG but I don't think we're quite there yet.

Yes also added a constant pitch count in the score box at the top of the screen, making them, as far as I know (having checked nowhere but my memory, but still) the first network to have this up there. This led to Michael Kay simultaneously praising Yes for having it there but trashing baseball for being so concerned with pitch counts, which makes sense to everyone, if by everyone you mean Michael Kay.

Yes had a commercial for Slomin's home security that had me almost on the floor with laughter. Bad dialogue, worse acting. I look forward to a full season of local commercials from Yes and SNY. A quick top three local commercials in New York history:
1. Computer Mechanics on Calll
To start, the Long Island accents really get me in the right frame of mind for this one. The chubby guy with the stacks of paper... why does he have so much paper? If they're having a network problem, doesn't that imply that all the reports are online to begin with? Isn't this guy just adding to the problem by crumpling dozens of important documents in his hands? Also, the boss who says they need to call the geek, he just abandons all responsibility. "Network problem? Shit, I have no IDEA what to do! Underlings, figure this out!"
2. Giuseppe Franco This one gets better with time because I've seen him interviewed on SNY and he is the exact same guy from the commercials. He does a bro-hug with Gary Busey, as if that's going to make any sane person want to buy his hair product... one of the guys who speaks on behalf of the product phones his statement in, and it sounds like the guy is in a tunnel. They use that instead of literally any production assistant just reading two sentences on a piece of paper... risk free trial!
3. Two Brothers Scrap Metal - Apparently video doesn't exist on the internet for this one. It's a 30 second Jersey Shore audition that encourages you to make the most of what must be many opportunities to dispose of scrap metal laying around your house.

For some reason, Daryl Strawberry is throwing out the first pitch at Shea tomorrow. Go Mets. Yowza.

Why We Reject Advanced Statistical Analysis

You have to understand, son, there's something poetic about the game of baseball. Here's a game where you have to take a cylindrical bat and a round ball and stand 60 feet, six inches away from a man who's going to hurl it in front of you. And you have to hit that squarely, see? Hit it where they ain't and cause havoc on the basepaths.

Now, we don't want you up there looking to get a walk. You ever heard the saying about what singles hitters drive? Same type of situation. Get up there and be a slugger, a real five tooler.

We can measure these things with our eyes, boy. Some people may tell you you're not selling jeans, but there's a certain look that the good ones have. Something behind the eyes. A cold determination, you see. It's about men who can buckle down and shut out the outside world.

Now, don't get me wrong, son. We need some kind of tangible evidence to determine exactly what our boys are doing up there. We got those numbers, though. You ever heard of a triple crown? Homeruns, RBIs, and batting average. That tells you about everything you need to know, don't' it? Power, hitting, helping the team score. There's a beautiful simplicity to it.

Now some people are going to tell you you need fancy stats, all sorts of words that don't mean nothing. VORP? Gimme a break. We had our old stats since the 1800's! And they're gonna tell me they're the geniuses that are gonna do it all different and make it better? Bunch of eggheads. Probably never smelled the grass of a baseball team.

Why, I met one fella last week who told me that Ben Zobrist was one of the best players in baseball. Now, Zobrist ain't a bad player, but one of the best? He's no Derek Jeter. You see the way the captain stands in at the box. That's what a real hitter looks like.

Firsthand Thoughts on Spring Training

Old people, housewives, or burnouts work at Tradition Field (which apparently became Digital Domain Ballpark, or something like that, a couple of days before I arrived.) The old people are confused. They're thrilled to be there. Out of the house. Contributing. Helping people eat fried dough and find their parking spaces.

The women are maybe the jolliest of all. They joke with you, try to get a bite of your food, want to take a minute to talk. Working for the Mets is a thrill, and everything is a joke. Eighty percent new people everyday, whether they be tourists or Cardinals fans taking a short trip.

I don't know what used to happen to people who were strung out. I'm not in the drug scene. I'll drink a bit but that's about it. I know some friends who are on that. Not a particularly good or bad scene in either direction. It just exists. But these guys are kind of done, in the Harry Potter-ghost sort of way. They'll give me my funnel cake or ice cream but there's really something missing behind the eyes. It keeps me from enjoying any of the things I buy from them. I want to shake a fist but I end up just sitting down and pacifying myself with sugary foods. Edit: I was clearly not in a rational state of mind when I wrote this paragraph but uh... I'm gonna keep it.

These people set the mood at Tradition Field, because they set the structure. They create the mood because they control the food and the money. The score doesn't matter, and who's playing generally doesn't matter. With that, all things are equal. This gives the employees greater control than they'd previously had to unintentionally control a game. It just happens that way. A bases loaded jam in the sixth is less important than your snack in the fifth.

It's a different universe. In Flushing, you can always count on the focus always coming back to the home team. Not true in Port St. Lucie. My attention drifts. Why sit and watch these men? They're just practicing. But we can get close to them. You can hear my voice on tv if I yell loud enough you fucks.

Here's a place where we watch baseball happens but ERA, RBI, and OBA don't matter, and even VORP, WAR, FIP, and BABIP don't really matter. But we'll sit, we'll watch. It just seems like the right thing to do. I need my fix.

These Are Things That Happen at Spring Training

The bullpen pitchers are professionals at more than one thing. These are men who can throw balls at ridiculous speed and angles, better than anyone on the planet except for the five men in the rotation who start the games. They finish games. They come in when situations become difficult.

They are also professionals at ignoring the people in the stands. I do not fault them for this. It's a necessity of being a bullpen pitcher at spring training. You make millions of dollars, and the response is probably going to get negative. Putting the news stories together, I can estimate that Bobby Parnell had probably been told before the game, or a day earlier, that he was not going to make the big league roster for opening day. Or, maybe he knew all along.

Poing is, this guy knew. And he had to sit there, do exactly what they told him to do, and sign autographs for a bunch of people who didn't know anything about him more than that he threw a baseball at high speeds and that he had a uniform. He did not have a smile on his face while signing. This makes him a selfish man. He makes millions of dollars. He should happily sign autographs.

So they disconnect. They learn, after a while, that they have to totally ignore everything that the crowd does short of throwing projectiles at them. How do they do that? How do you train yourself to completely ignore dozens of people around you?

"Can you sign for me?" they ask. They don't know his first name. Why would they? He's a middling reliever on a bad team. Who gives a shit. It's an AUTOGRAPH, man. Little kids hang over the edge. Mothers encourage their children to get autographs of men they don't know. Their names are on the backs of their jerseys.

The fucking bullpen catchers sign autographs. It's probably against their contract. They shouldn't. It's dishonest. But why would they not sign? You don't pass up fame, and you don't pass up admiration if you're starved for it. You'll never get in a game. But they want you. They need to justify their trip. They need a man's signature.

So they create their own world. Bobby Parnell, Sean Green, Pedro Feliciano, Jenrry Mejia. K-rod isn't there, but it would be the same thing.

"Are you signing?"

They're going home to a wife, a girlfriend, a family, a beer, a group of buddies.

"Can you sign?"

We don't care who you are, we just want your name. We spent so much money on this trip. We deserve your name. Sign a part of yourself over to us. You know how much we pay for these tickets? This parking? This concession? You're a fucking ROLE model, man.

So you create a world. You make something up, because otherwise you have to look people in the eye. You have to tell these people, "I see you. I see you, and I don't care. Leave me alone. I'm doing my job. I'm scared. I might not get this guy out. Leave me be and let me work."

But there's a tension. I paid for this. You're right here. I can't throw this ball. ACKNOWLEDGE me.

Feliciano will massage his fellow bullpen mates. Parnell's going to sit in his chair and relax. Olly just wants to talk to the fellas. This ain't a fucking sideshow. We're trying to work. These are grown-ass men.

So now you're Palahniuk. You get it. It makes sense. You're going to analyze them. I am a writer, I must comment on the inner workings of these human beings. Fuck them anyway, it should be us. We'd put the money to good use. We'd appreciate it. Shit, you pay me that much, I'll sign autographs.

I'm at work, you fuck. I'm talking to my coworkers. Eat shit. Eat your funnelcake. Let me throw the ball, and let's just pretend each other isn't here. Have that much respect.

Final Round!

Steve and I didn't include picks for the Super Bowl because our previous picks can only be described as "very ass."

1. Bambrick 532
QB: Painter 0, Brunell 0
RB: Addai 26, Thomas 20
WR: Wayne 9, Meachem 2, Henderson 14
TE: Clark 15
K: Hartley 11

2. Little Curry 514
QB:mark brunell 0, curtis painter 0
RB:Joseph addai 26, pierre thomas 20
WR:devery henderson 14, austin collie 12, pieree garcon 17
TE: jeremy shockey 10
K:garrett hartley 11

3. Canova 500
Coming to the Super-bowl with a full roster of Super-Duper Sports-Stars

Peyton “Better than Curtis Painter” Manning 18
Andrew Christopher Brees 22
Pierre Garcon 17
Austin Collie 12
Devery Henderson 14
Pierre Thomas 20
Joseph Addai 26
Jeremy Shockey 10
Matt Stover 4

“You can run, but you can’t hide. Bank that one Mother-Fucker”
-George W. Bush*-

*Presidential Inauguration

4. Curry 470
QB: Brunell 0, Painter 0
WR: Wayne 9, Garcon 17, Colston 15
RB: Addai 26, Thomas 20
TE: Shockey 10
K: Stover 4

5. Ethan 447
"Last game of the year Brent. Can't hold anything back now."

QB: Drew Brees 22 (NO), Mark Brunnel 0 (NO)
RB: Pierre Thomas 20 (NO), Mike Bell 0 (NO)
WR: Devery Henderson 14 (NO), Reggie Wayne 9 (IND), Pierre Garcon 17 (IND)
TE: Dallas Clark 15 (IND)
K: Matt Stover 4 (IND)

6. Holohan 379
7. Steve 330

And your winner is Chris Bambrick!
Steve is the beanpicker.

Playoff Pool - Championship Weekend!

1. Bambrick 437
QB: Drew Brees 23, Payton Manning 32
RB: Adrian Peterson 32, Reggie Bush 10
WR: Marques Colston 4, Jerricho Cotchery 15, Percy Harvin 8
TE: Dustin Keller 18
K: Jay Feely 3

2. Little Curry 404
QB:drew brees 23, peyton manning 32
RB:shonn greene 4,reggie bush 10
WR: Reggie wayne 8, percy harvin 8, lance moore 1
TE: dalas clark 13
K:ryan longwel 4

3. Holohan 379
QB: Mark Sanchez 20, Drew Breesus 23
RB: Shonn Greene 4, Adrian Peterson 32
WR: Jericho Cotchery 15, Sydney Rice 14, Marques Colston 4
TE: Visanthe Shiancock 12
K: Jay Feely 3

4. Curry 367
You see, I've been saving all my good players for this week.
QB 1: Peyton Manning 32
QB 2: Drew Brees 23
WR 1: Percy Harvin 8
WR 2: Sidney Rice 14
WR 3: Devery Henderson 13
RB 1: Adrian Peterson 32
RB 2: Reggie Bush 10
TE: Dallas Clark 13
K: Jay Feely 3

5. Canova 357
“To all the Jet fans who ‘strategically’ took the Sanchize last week… thinking your team would lose… you disgust me!”
QB 1 – THE Mark Sanchize 20
QB 2 – Brett Favre 12
WR 1 –Jerricho Cotchery 15
WR 2 – Sidney Rice 14
WR 3 – Bernard Berrian 17
RB 1 – The playoffs leading rusher -- Shonn Greene 4
RB 2 – Superstar Reggie Bush 10
TE 1 – Dallas Clark 13
K 1 – Garrett Hartley 7

Still got Drew and Peyton!!! Someone’s smelling week 4 comeback!!!!

6. Ethan 346
"Fuck all y'all."
QB
1) Peyton Manning 32 (IND)
2) Brad Smith 3 (NYJ) (Oooooooooh, interesting. what is he thinking?)
RB
1) Adrian Peterson 32 (MIN)
2)Joseph Addai 8 (IND)
WR
1) Sidney Rice 14 (MIN)
2) Braylon Edwards 18 (NYJ)
3) Percy Harvin 8 (MIN)
TE
1) Jeremy Shockey 1 (NO)
K
1) Ryan Longwell 4 (MIN)

7. Steve: 330
QB: Sanchez 20
RB: Reggie Bush 10, Shonn Greene 4
WR: Sydney Rice 14, Bernard Berrian 17, Jerrico Cotchery 15
TE: Visanthe Shiancoe 12
K: Ryan Longwell 4

Playoff Pool - Divisional Weekend!

Welcome back for another exciting round of fantasy playoff football!

As always, players are listed by penile girth in decreasing order, most girthy to least girthy.

1. Little Curry, 301
QB: Philip Rivers 17, Kurt Warner 4
RB: Adrian Peterson 9, Marion Barber 1
WR: Sydney Rice 38, Marques Colston 20, Vincent Jackson 18
TE: Jason Witten 19
K: Nate "The Nate" Kaeding -1

2. Bambrick, 292
QB: Brett Favre 33 (MIN), Mark Sanchez 8 (NYJ) Chosen for strategic reasons... not because it is funny.
RB: Shonn Greene 20 (NYJ), Beanie Wells 6 (ARI) Yes, I just picked two rookie RBs.
WR: Miles Austin 8 (DAL), Pierre Garcon 8 (IND), Sidney Rice 38 (MIN)
TE: Visanthe Shiancoe 8 (MIN) The man has a large penis.
K: Nate Kaeding -1 (SD)

3. Holohan, 252
QB: Kurt Warner 4, Brett Favre 33. These fuckers are old!
RB: Darren Sproles 9, Thomas "It's not unusual!" Jones 4
WR: Larry Fitzgerald 13, Percy Harvin 3, Vincent Jackson 18
TE: Antonio Gates 17
K: Neil Rackers 1

4. Canova, 245
QB 1 – Philip ‘the homo sissy’ Rivers 17
QB 2 – Kurt Warner 4
WR 1 – Wayne 20
WR 2 - Colston 20
WR 3 – Breaston 9
RB 1 – AP 9
RB 2 – Felix 12
TE 1 – Tony Gates 17
K 1 – John Barney 0

5. Steve, 234
QB: Drew Brees 27, Brett Favre 33
RB: Ray Rice 19, Adrian Peterson 9
WR: Marques Colston 20, Percy Harvin 3, Devery Henderson 18
TE: Dallas Clark 12
K: Nate Kaeding -1

6. Ethan, 226
As a great man once said "I don't have no trouble with you fuckin' me. But I got a little problem with you not fuckin' me"
QB: Kurt Warner 4 (ARZ); Brett Favre 33 (MIN) (A classic rematch of Super Bowl XII I think)
RB: Shaun "Rolling in the" Green 20 (NYJ); Beanie "My baby fell into a" Wells 6 (ARZ)
WR: Miles "Steve" Austin 8 (DAL); Larry "Not Actually Irish" Fitzgerald 13 (ARZ); Jericho Cotchery 5 (NYJ)
TE: Dustin Keller 10 (NYJ)
K: Neil "Huge" Rackers 1 (ARZ)

7. Curry, 219
QB 1: Mark Sanchez 8
QB 2: Tony Romo -1 (outstanding choice!!!)
WR 1: Derrick Mason 10
WR 2: Steve Breaston 9
WR 3: Miles Austin 8
RB 1: Shonn Greene 20
RB 2: Beanie Wells 6
TE: Antonio Gates 17
K: Nate Kaeding -1

Love,
Future Champion

Playoff Victories for the Glorification of Jets Nation!!! - Wildcard Weekend!

Ethan
QB: Aaron "Mr" Rodgers (43) (GB); Tony "No Homo" Romo (21 POINTS) (DAL)
RB: Ray "Instant" Rice (26 POINTS) (BAL); Thomas "Outta My Way" Jones (9 POINTS) (NYJ)
WR: Desean Jackson (10 POINTS) (PHL); Derrek Mason (1) (BAL); Donald "Pile" Driver (6) (BAL)
TE: Brent Celek (8 POINTS) (PHI)
K: David "40" Akers "and a Mule" (2 POINTS) (PHL)
Hey thanks for the shitty nicknames, Berman!
Total: 126

Holohan
QB: Donovan McNabb (12 POINTS), Aaron Rodgers (43)
RB: Cedric Benson (27 POINTS), Ray Rice (26 POINTS)
WR: Julian Edelman (22), Desean Jackson (10 POINTS), Derrick Mason (1)
TE: Brent Celek (8 POINTS)
K: Stephen Gostkowski (1)
This guy really seems to know what he's doing, baby!
Total: 150

Little Curry
QB: aaron rodgers (43), donovan mcnabb (12 POINTS), RB: thomas jones (9 POINTS), ray rice (26),
WR: jeremy maclin (27 POINTS), larry fitzgerald (24), miles austin (21 POINTS), TE: brent celek (8 POINTS),
K:jay feely (6 POINTS)
He's the littlest curry there is, folks!
Total: 176

Normal Sized Curry
Message: "Here you go fuckface, prepare to be fucked... in the face."
QB 1 ? Kurt Warner (43)
QB 2 ? Joe Flacco (1)
WR 1 ? Larry Fitzgerald (24)
WR 2 ? Julian Edelman (22)
WR 3 ? DeSean Jackson (10 POINTS)
RB 1 ? Ray Rice (26)
RB 2 ? Thomas Jones (9 POINTS)
TE ? Jason Witten (6 POINTS)
K ? David Akers (2 POINTS)
This gent really doesn't seem to be sure of his picks! Fear and loathing for sure!
Total: 143

Bambrick
QB: Kurt Warner (43), 1999 Rams
QB: Donovan McNabb (12 POINTS), Eagles
RB: Thomas Jones (9 POINTS), Rex Ryan's favorites
RB: Ray Rice (26), Rutgers
WR: Larry Fitzgerald, Kurt Warner's team (24)
WR: Julian Edelman (22), Wes Welker wannabe
WR: DeSean Jackson (10 POINTS), team from the same piece of shit city as the Phillies
TE: Brent Celek (8 POINTS), same team as McNabb and Jackson, so I really hope they don't win
K: Mason Crosby (8), Packers
Let's hope for a puke free game from McNabb!
Total: 164

Steve
QB: Aaron Rodgers (43), Donovan McNabb (12 POINTS)
WR: Donald Driver (6), Desean Jackson (10 POINTS), Derrick Mason (1)
RB: Brian Westbrook (3 POINTS), Ryan Grant (9)
TE: Brent Celek (8 POINTS)
K: David Akers (2)
Total: 94

Canova
QB:Anthony Romo (21 POINTS), Donovan McNabb (12 POINTS)
WR: DeSean Jackson (10 POINTS), Miles Austin (21 POINTS), Larry Fitzgerald (24)
RB: Ray Rice (26), Tommy Jones (9 POINTS)
TE: Jason Witten (6 POINTS)
K: Jay Feely (6 POINTS)
Total: 135

Canova and Normal Sized Curry's picks are coming at us all the way from Boston, baby!

Other Things Manny Ramirez Didn't Do

I didn't kill nobody.

I didn't rape nobody.

I didn't steal no candy from no baby.

I didn't try to exterminate no large group of people in no mass genocide.

I didn't get no country stuck in a never-ending war with no middle-eastern nation.

I didn't break your Butterfinger bar or nothing.

I dind't start no internet campaign to elect no minor leaguers or steroid users to no all-star game.

I didn't tarnish my image or nothing.

I didn't get suspended from the game for very long or nothing.

I did, however, ruin some peoples Fantasy Baseball teams.  For that, I apologize profusely.

Kobe Bryant takes "Manny Defense" to deny Steroid use

"Hey, I didn't kill nobody. I didn't rape nob- Oh, actually, wait a second..."

I Love Cheese! I Put Provolone in My Socks at Night So They Smell Like Your Sister's [Sports Ticker] in the Morning!

-The Orioles have asked Vice President Joe Biden to throw out the first pitch today. Due to their lack of pitching, he will also throw the following 99 pitches.

-I am not going to make a joke about Brett Myers and potential continued domestic abuse after his getting shelled last night. That would be inappropriate.

-There's a category on Sports Center called "Unhappy Coach," which I think is the title of the new Mitch Albom book.


-Jay Cutler asks Bears to paint his locker black in order to "reflect the gloomy forecast of [his] soul."

-Report: Donte Stallworth "alarmed" to learned that manslaughter means murder and does not refer to a manwhich type barbeque dish.

-Michael Jordan elected to Basketball Hall of Fame, narrowly misses induction to Baseball Hall of Fame.

That's Not a Fortune!

From the inside of a fortune cookie: "It's fun being a kid."

I expect my fortune cookies to tell me that an attractive stranger is going to rub my feet, not something like that.

People Who Spin Me Right Round, Baby, Right Round, Like a Record Baby, Right Round

You.

Words I Can't Spell

1. Chaffeur

Rick Reilly, FJM Style

I know very little about golf. That being said, I've wanted to do something on Rick Reilly for a while and he just happened to write a golf column this week. There was recently an article he wrote about a limbless man who participated in triathlons, but even I am not enough of a dick to mock quadruple amputees. Rick has 14.5 reasons why the U.S. will win the Ryder Cup.

Prediction columns are like Velveeta recipes—too easy and too cheesy.

I think Ricky’s target audience is probably males 18-45, the same as his hated ESPN counterpart, Bill Simmons. While it’s well documented that Simmons overdoes it on the Rocky and Vegas references (tell us one more time about that cold streak at the ten dollar table in ’04, Bill!) at least he’s generally funny and I know what he’s talking about. I honestly have no idea what Velveeta is. This could be me being an idiot and not Rick making a weird connection, so let’s ask Wikipedia… Ah, awesome. It’s cottage cheese. Notable characteristics include its “soft, creamy” texture.

But what's going to happen in Louisville at the Ryder Cup starting Friday will go down as the greatest shocker since

Giants-Patriots 2008? Yankees blowing the 2004 ALCS?

Lyle Lovett married Julia Roberts,

Of course, I nearly fell out of my chair when he mentioned it out of sheer shock. Reilly knows how to appeal to the emotions of the common man.

so here goes

The Americans, playing without Tiger Woods, hopelessly outmanned, with their worst on-paper team since Europe was added to the mix, will pull the Cupset [Ed. Note: LOL] of the Century. They'll need 14½ points to win, which is weird, because that's exactly how many reasons there are that they will.

It really is bizarre that Reilly has the same amount of reasons that there are points needed to win. It’s almost like it was premeditated.

1. For the first time in 12 years, Tiger's out. This will work for the Yanks! Tiger doesn't like this thing. Can you blame him? Does the executioner play on the prison softball team? No. So that Tiger buzzkill is gone.

Finally, the buzzkill of having the greatest golfer ever, playing in his prime, is gone. Thank God. What I’m wondering is to what degree the Americans are going to care about it.

American players are free to care about it, hard.

Well that’s settled, then.

Plus, without Tiger, they're The Little Team That Could. Best of all, the Euros, who usually go bat-guano-crazy whenever they beat Tiger, have no Goliath to slay. Buzzkill back at you.

No, they’re not. They just suck more. That might also be the first bat guano reference anyone’s used in an attempt to be funny since Ace Ventura When Nature Calls. We are off and running!

2. Europe captain Nick Faldo screwed the pooch by not picking Colin Montgomerie. It doesn't matter how bad Monty's playing, when he comes to the Ryder Cup, he becomes Jack Nicklaus on beta blockers. He makes everything. This is a mistake the size of New Coke.

A Google search of Colin Montgomerie reveals this very creepy photo:

Those of you playing at home can cross “New Coke reference” off your Rick Reilly scorecard.

3. There is a man on the Euro team named Oliver Wilson. It was unclear at press time whether Wilson was a member of Parliament or the team haberdasher. It may have been a misprint. He is the first Euro to make the team without ever winning a pro tournament. Perhaps he is Faldo's butler.

Reilly may be a goofy bastard, but the man is supposedly a good golf analyst and the most he can do is make a joke about a weak joke about Wilson’s name? Also, upon finishing the column, Reilly went to his local haberdashery (Haberdashing by Hank, Inc.) to get some clothes haberdashed.

4. Word is USA captain Paul Azinger is setting up Valhalla like a $19 muni, so the Euros' fancy punches and miracle gunch shots won't help. It'll be: bomb the driver, float the wedge, bury the putt. Hell, J.B. Holmes may even skip the wedge part. This USA team is longer than Tolstoy.

We have our first section of legitimate golf analysis. Also, a War and Peace reference is always a nice touch in a golf column.

5. Euros like hard courses and nasty weather. Louisville forecast: sunny, 80 degrees, fairways as open as new 7-Elevens.

Describing the openness of a fairway is not part of a weather forecast, Meteorologist Rick. And I’m a little confused on the 7-Eleven comment. Are newly made 7-Elevens open later than their crusty old relatives? At what point does a 7-Eleven reach the age where it has to start to close, in order to, I assume, store energy? Rick is fucking with my head.

6. Faldo, a great announcer, was icy as a player and he'll be icy as a coach. He usually eats dinner in his room, where—no joke—he'll practice his drops. No Euro will fall on a grenade to win for him. I'm not sure they'd fall on a pillow mint.

Again, are we really going to accept the argument most recently made by Mets fans over Carlos Delgado’s performance that having an unpopular coach will cause a player to intentionally play shitty, hurting his career and making him lose potentially millions? And the mint reference? I think we’re a little over the limit on food metaphors, Rick.

Bonus Half Point Reason: More about Faldo the Fridge. He's such a loner he only has one assistant coach. Zinger has three. So when those morning matches end and Faldo's got 20 mad minutes to figure out who's hot, who's not, who wants to play again right away, who needs a blow and who needs a new partner, he'll need information. He'll need a pair of smart eyes on all four matches. Can't do it with only two sets.

Information, dammit! It’s hyphenated to stress its incredible importance! And there’s no way he could possibly keep up with the matches with some sort of video technology? Tricky stuff, I know, but at least Rick doesn’t think we’re stupid for not –

Duh.

Oh. Nevermind.

7. Every Ryder Cup mints a new star. This time it will be Anthony Kim, a bad ass and a huge talent who's too young to know how big this is. He's about to get very rich.

Badass is one word, motherfucker.

8. There's a grittiness to this team I haven't seen since the Corey Pavin teams in the early '90s. Holmes is tougher than a Costco steak.

Hey now! More food!

He went iris-to-iris-

Which is even closer than eye to eye.

-with Tiger for most of the Accenture Match Play. Justin Leonard is the Hero of Brookline —the last American win, back in 1999—and still has glorious bloodstains on him. Steve Stricker won the Accenture, which is about as close to a Ryder Cup Starter Kit as you can get. Jim Furyk and Stewart Cink have steel sacks. And Boo Weekley once said, "It isn't that I don't give a s***, I just don't give a s*** about golf." You think he'll be scared?

People who curse aren’t afraid of anything.

9. Zinger has a new strategy. He doesn't give a deceased rodent how comfy the team-room couches are. Last time out, Tom Lehman gave the players the best experience ever and still got fricasseed. "I don't want them happy and comfortable," Zinger says. "I want them nervous and a little tense from the start. Because otherwise, when you get to that first tee Friday morning, you're gonna be shocked at the pressure." Smart.

To all those people who say golf isn’t a real sport: Isn’t couch comfiness a major factor in every sport? I can remember those great seventies Steeler teams being inspired on defense because they were so energized due to the couch comfiness in the locker room.

10. Silence is intimidating. Well, Chad Campbell is quieter than a one-man funeral. Ben Curtis doesn't say 10 words in a round. Furyk and Cink can make you think your hearing has gone. You need to lean in to hear Stricker. This squad would make excellent mimes. …

Nothing more exciting than watching a team so boring that its players don’t even talk to themselves.

11. … Except for Weekley. Finally, America has somebody who can say how a lot of people feel about Europe and lettuce sandwiches and $9 cups of Starbucks. The Alligator Hunter once came to the British Open and, when asked about the food, declared he didn't like it one bit. Why? "Ain't got no sweet tea and ain't got no fried chicken." Team spokesman!

Yeah! We’ve finally got a guy who makes rash and probably ignorant generalizations about an entire country’s culture! Also: Crocodile Hunter is the preferred nomenclature, dude.

12. The USA has six rookies who don't know the Euros usually whip the Americans like Rachael Ray whips eggs. They don't know about losing five of the last six, two of 'em Little Bighorns. Ignorance is bliss.

When has going into a tournament of huge importance with tons of rookies? I understand the whole idea of fresh blood, young guys who are “gamers,” and so on, but that hardly seems a good reason why the U.S. is assured victory.

13. Faldo violated the time-honored Too Many Swedes theory. Swedes are the sweetest people on earth. Wouldn't hurt a kipper. No Swede has ever won a major. Faldo's got two on his team.

I think Too Many Swedes would make a great name for a porno.

14. Azinger has always had Faldo's number. In four matches over three Ryder Cups, Faldo never got better than a tie against him. He won't even get that this time.

A bold prediction, but serious analysis to end it. I get the feeling Rick genuinely knows a lot about golf but enjoys being a preening jackass a lot more than he cares about being a legitimate writer. Rick, could you please send us off with some disturbing imagery of you using your tongue in a manner it’s not meant to be used?

That's my prediction. If I'm wrong, I'll tongue bathe Windsor Castle

Thanks.

Take My Wife, Ted

Mr. Thompson,

I understand I've caused something of a ruckus for you and all my former teammates here in the great state of Green Bay. Ted, I can't make it clear enough: I've made a terrible mistake. I thought all the footballin' I did have in me was gone forever, to be replaced by days of being a shitty analyst who laughs at awful jokes on one of the many overcrowded NFL pre-game shows.

I want back in, Ted. I'll do anything. I know you don't want Aaron Rodgers leading this talented group! That douchebag can't even jerk off without blinding himself. I know I fucked up bigtime, and I think Peter King might kill himself if I'm gone, so I've come up with a fantastic solution:

I want you to have sex with my wife.

Now, I know this might come off as "adulterous," or "wrong," or for the intellectuals out there "morally repugnant," but just think about it! As we all know, she's an incredibly beautiful woman, and a sexual dynamo at that. I want to show you how dedicated to I am to this team and the prospect of winning another Super Bowl! We can go over the details in person, but just know that there can't be any weird shit. And no video taping.

Please just consider it.

Thank you,
Brett

P.S. If my wife is not enough I will consider sacrificing my oldest child.

Manny Ramirez, while "Being Manny," Breaks Fan's Hand

In case you haven't seen it, click here to see the gruesome footage of Manny Ramirez attacking a poor, defenseless fan.

In what has become a repeated occurence, Manny Ramirez has shown blatant disregard for human life.  The worst is his defense, saying he was just "being Manny."  This is no excuse for his actions.  First it was his tendency to throw his helmet off while running the bases (an obvious tripping hazard), but then at least he was leaving the fans out of it.  This poor fan (who will remain nameless to protect his safety) first drew the attention of Maniacal Manny with his Red Sox shirt.  He thought he was safe behind the 7-foot wall in left field, but unfortunately the man-beast Ramirez was able to scale the wall in his attempt to destroy the innocent bystander. 

According to the preliminary hospital reports, the fan is expected to make a full recovery.  Our prayers go out to him and his family.