Spring, Breaking

Posted on by James Franco · Leave a comment

The Alien, unfazed, steps to the plate,

a coil of hard cock and blackest eyes.

Stevedore arms pull back the sculpted ash

and then unfurl their fury at The Sphere.

 

“Look at my shit!” his mighty swing exclaims,

big balls swangin’ as that little ball rides

a one-way ticket all the way downtown

to History, and what may lie beyond.

 

“Look at my shit!” “Look at my shit!” Again

and again, the wood and the screaming yarn.

Ike and Tina. Sean and Madge. Bullets and

bodies. Let them all hit the fucking floor.

 

Four on the floor. Four on the board. Dat ass

on deez nuts. My shit all up in your eyes.

Ashley Benson’s lips were evil candy

on my Eden-snake tongue. That Hudgens, tho,

 

she got that Efron stank, that Skynyrd smell.

But you, resplendent Alien two point

oh my GOD — your fauxhawk and my cornrows

merge sexy, like blue Avatar weavers

 

(no Sigourney) as you plunge your hot dog

into that apple pie and skeet all in

the face of the baseball gods. Look at your

shit. God DAMN. Look at your shit.

James Franco

James Franco is an actor, director, documentarian, artist, author, master of ceremonies, and poet. In April 2014, Graywolf Press issued Franco’s first collection of poetry, Directing Herbert White.

Puck Off!

Posted on by John Kruk · Leave a comment

capitals_rangers

What a time to be a hockey fan! At least, that’s what people that follow hockey told me. When I was approached by Ward York — who runs a little website you might be reading right now — to write about the hockey playoffs, I told him that didn’t make any damn sense. Everything I know about hockey comes from that one time I ran into Eric Lindros puking up what looked like a mix of Geno’s and orange juice outside some Philly dive, and that great scene in that classic movie Swingers where Vince Vaughn makes Gretzky’s head bleed for super fan 99 over there. Other than that, it might as well be something I don’t know a damn thing about, like women’s basketball or nutrition. So that’s what I told my buddy Ward, and I went back to my game of Tapped Out, thinking that was that. (& don’t get me started on that stupid game. I can’t believe, in 2015, people expect me to pay to play a game you gave me for free. That’s like going to a restaurant and getting forks and plates but no food. What the heck am I supposed to eat? The napkin? I’m on a low fiber diet over here!) (Anyway, hit me up on Facebook if you’re playing; everyone I know “IRL” is too “mature” to bother with “playing” “games” like “this.”)

Then, not 5 minutes after I hit SEND, he came back again, almost begging me to do it. He mentioned some stuff about “the outsider’s perspective” and “a fresh outlook” and “liking the cut of my jowls” (ha ha ha Ward), and I mentioned to him that, a lot of times, asking guys to do things in sports they don’t do all that often doesn’t really work out.  See: Me trying to lay down a bunt, or Bartolo Colon trying to hit, or Jose Canseco pitching, or a whole lot of examples. But I guess good old Ward doesn’t believe in evidence, because he just kept on adding zeroes to that paycheck and insisted I take a stab at it. Hey — I’m only human. And maybe looking to replace a cheap BBQ pit. So, without further to-do, here’s my HOT ICE! (Yeah, I know something about hockey — I’m not that stupid!)

ducks_blackhawks

Western Conference Finals: Anaheim Ducks vs. Chicago Blackhawks

First of all — they haven’t gotten to the Stanley Cup yet? It’s the middle of May! And,last I checked, you’re playing on ice! How does that even work? What the heck is the A/C bill like in California? & I thought the NHL was almost bankrupt or dissolved or something? I mean, I know for a fact that they’re not on ESPN anymore, so I doubt they’re making that much money.

Anyway, looking at the stats for both these teams, it looks like it’s a wash. The Ducks have a guy that scored more goals than anyone on the Blackhawks, but the Blackhawks look like they have more guys that scored more goals, though I guess one of their big goal scorers is out for a while? Oh, wait, I’m sorry — he’s back! And doing pretty well, I guess? Goals are like home runs, right? I guess that makes assists RBIs or something? Anyway, that Patrick Kane looks like he’s pretty good; I bet the Ducks wish they had someone as good on their team. Though I guess that Corey Perry’s pretty good, too. (Man, I’m really earning that pool right now!)

With the offenses looking pretty even, I guess it’s like they always said: It comes down to pitching and defense to win the championship. And, if a goalie’s ERA is anything to go by, the Ducks’ Frederik Andersen is going to run circles — or skate circles, I guess? — around the two guys Chicago’s been going with inside the goal. Obviously, any hockey team worth their stones goes with their ace with the game on the line, & the fact that the Blackhawks can’t seem to make up their mind as to who their ace is means they really don’t have one. That’s a tough thing to overcome, especially in a short series like this one. That’s why I’m going with Anaheim in 5. (Also, I really like those Mighty Ducks movies. Emilio Estevez is an underrated actor, and these movies are proof. Except for the one he’s not in. Obviously.)

Eastern Conference Finals: Tampa Bay Lightning vs. (New York Rangers / Washington Capitals)

[NOTE: Hey Ward, or whatever “lucky” intern’s editing this (hey meat) — since you guys wanted this filed ASAP, and I guess that Rangers / Capitals series is still going, and I got things to do for my “real” job, I wrote this so it’ll be easy to slot in the appropriate winner of that series. I’m putting all of the “flexible” stuff in square brackets. Just make sure you or your stupid interns don’t post this online without making those changes. OK! & hey Ward — lemme know when you want to come on down to my little straw hut for some ribs! Unless it’s on a Sunday. Obviously.]

So I guess hitting 53 goals means [a lot / nothing] when making a Game Seven prediction. No doubt Alex Ovechkin [regrets / savors] opening his big mouth and [keeping / putting] his foot [out of / into] it. That was a great game, though! I can’t believe it [went into overtime / was a nailbiter / was a blowout]! Did you see that [play] [player name] made? It was like he was [stupid hockey saying]! What a tremendous [effort / blunder]! And I just love that tradition of [shaking hands at the end of a playoff series / getting into a bench-clearing brawl]. It’s a perfect show of what makes hockey great.

At any rate, with a team as good as [New York / Washington] going up against a team as good as Tampa Bay — who I didn’t even know had a hockey team, never mind a good one — it should be a great playoff series, and whoever comes out on top has a shot at taking home the Stanley Cup as well.

As for who can take it, who knows? Once you get this deep into the playoffs — and boy are the NHL playoffs Chicago-deep-dish deep (with a side of twisty bread!) — it’s anybody’s game. A bounce here or a passed ball there can make all the difference. That’s why you bother playing the games. Otherwise, you can just throw computers up in the air and see who comes out on top, and I’m sure Tampa Bay and [New York / Washington] don’t want to do that. You can throw your stats right out the window with the baby, the bath water, and maybe even the bath. It just comes down to who wants it more, and this guy here will take the intestinal fortitude of folks that have to deal with ice and snow 6 months out of the year over a bunch of dudes that wake up to palm trees and sunshine every day. It’ll be a tough one, with [Alex Ovechkin / Rick Nash] needing a lot of help from [other Capitals / other Rangers — you pick, Ward] in order to succeed. I think the [Rangers / Capitals] will pull through, though. That’s why I’m saying [Rangers / Capitals] in 7. [NOTE: If you guys want to change the number of games, or just rewrite this whole stupid thing, that’s fine. You’re the “experts.”]

Now let’s lace up those skates, put some pine tar on those sticks, say a prayer to the Hanson Brothers, and kick some HOT ICE!

John Kruk

Former MLB All-Star John Kruk has been an ESPN baseball analyst since 2004, and joined the ESPN Sunday Night Baseball broadcast team in 2013. He was inducted into the Philadelphia Baseball Wall of Fame in 2011.

BEERBONG SPORTS: Pats Fans Are A Bunch of Stupid Whiny F*cks

Posted on by Thomas Callahan III · Leave a comment

EDITOR’S NOTE: We here at Yard Work are happy to announce a partnership with an exciting new online sports-publishing venture called Beerbong Sports. Over the next few months, posts from their website will also appear here. These posts will be edited for content. Thanks for reading! 

bradybros

Unbelievable. Those shorts-squirting dick-rubbing clowns over at that other website that I’m not even going to give the time of day right now — because f*ck those clowns with someone else’s [member] — think they’re so f*cking clever with their [happy] ass stunt at NFL HQ. You know who thinks you’re real f*cking clever? The cops that busted your stupid [bundle of sticks] asses, that’s who! “I hope you know this goes on your permanent record!” HAHAHAHAHAH you sad-ass f*cks.

(& don’t think I don’t know you’re behind this sorry bullsh*t, too. Because who else would think it’d be “satirical” or “funny as f*ck” to start crowdsourcing for a f*cking multi-million dollar organization and its multi-billion dollar owner? Holy shit, you knobgoblins; I gotta take a break from pwning yr *sses because I’m laughing so f*cking hard right now LOL OMG BFF.)

If you jagbags could get Belichick’s [member] out of your mouths long enough to think for a second, you’d know that the Patsies got off sooooo f*cking easy. Hell, back in the day, back when yr boi Tagliab*tch was driving the bangbus, Patsies used to get away with f*cking MURDER, bro. F*cking MURDER. Even during Roger “Jane” Goodell’s early days, too! Remember “The Tuck Rule” game? Remember SpyGate? Remember Drafting a F*cking Dude That’s Now A Convicted Murderer? Oh & hey remember teams just bending over for you on a week-to-week basis because I don’t f*cking know why? Thank GOD for that [bundle of sticks] Eli Manning. He might be as much of a [mentally challenged person] as his dumbsh*t pizza-f*cking brother, but he stuck it to your Patsies but good. TWICE!

& now that your poor wittle Patsies got caught doing what they always did — that’s CHEATING, bee tee dubs — you’re gonna pretend like the NFL is being unfair? Do you middle-class hillbillies know what “hypocrisy” is? You should — you got yr pee-wee sized [members] drowning in a pile of it right now! “Now go get your f*cking shinebox.” Here’s a clue: The NFL only cares about the NFL. When your pwecious little Bewicheck and your pwecious wittle Bwady were all the rage, of course the NFL kept all those happy endings coming for Patsies Nation. It was good for business. & now that the NFL recognizes that Tom “How Did I Ever Pull a Hollywood Actress AND a Supermodel While Looking Like A Brain-Damaged Paperboy” Brady is about to start qualifying for Social Security, no more rub-and-tugs for the sh*ttiest “dynasty” to ever teabag professional sports while fingering professional sports right in the stinkeye without asking first.

Face facts, losers. The Steelers had Terry Bradshaw, Lynn Swann, Franco Harris and the Steel Curtain defense. The Cowboys had Staubach and Dorsett, and then they had Aikman and Smith and Irvin. I don’t need to list who the 49ers had. Hell, even the Giants had Bill F*cking Parcells. What do the New England Patriots have? A coach that dresses like a twice-divorced unemployed fast food manager, a bunch of nobodies and retreads on both sides of the ball, and a f*cking cheater taking the snaps. I mean, come on, bro. The dudes that were deflating the balls for Lord High Commander Brady were making fun of his stupid ass ON THE REG. & if those [bundles of sticks] knew how much of a joke Brady is, imagine how the rest of the world feels about that no-good piece of sh*t. This day’s been coming ever since that overrated turd Wally Pipp’d Drew Bledsoe out of his rightful Hall of Fame career (& me giving a flying sh*t about these tri-cornered clowns), and I am LOVING. IT. SO. F*CKING. MUCH. F*ck YOU, Bob Kraft. Have a cheese slice on me, b*tch!

So, yeah, enjoy your 15 seconds of fame, *ssholes. Enjoy getting gladhanded by the dull & dumbest of the Boston Sports Media (& probably some mouthbreathers over at the WWL as well, because who knows what the f*ck they’re doing). (Bababooey, Billy S!) & maybe when you get back to your offices, one of you sh*t-tossing monkeys can dig a checkbook out of that stack of pizza boxes and Chickenhawk Quarterly over in the corner & write a certain former co-founder a check for the f*cking money you stupid baked-bean-f*cking chumps have OWED me for the past TEN-PLUS YEARS. That’d be a f*cking great change of pace for you backstabbing clowns. & then, after that f*cking check clears (because I trust you [bundles of sticks] as far as I can throw that dumb fat Bridesmaids [female dog]), you can go back to cornholing a box of wine while fantasizing about your latest arf-faced “smokeshow” and posting baby dick pics like real f*cking men. Sit & spin on Manute Bol’s dead zombie [member], bros. Until next time — SUCK IT!

Thomas Callahan III

Callahan, AKA “The Human Heatcheck,” is the founder, financier, and sole writer for Beerbong Sports, “the first and foremost post-online mancave for all things men and manly in the world of sports and other manly pursuits. For men.” He has Jeremy Piven’s autograph tattooed on his right calf.

Cut It Out!

Posted on by Dr. Ricardo Salvay · Leave a comment

Hello again, everybody! It has been a long time to see you! In case you have been forgetful, allow me to give your start a jump. I am of course the resident expert on medicine for this website blog, as well as a part-time film actor and all around successful Sicilian fancy man, called Dr. Ricardo Salvay! And boy oh boy has my expertise been given quite the exercise this major baseball season, most definitely for the pitchers!

If you look at all the faces that have gotten hurt up until now, you might say it is a row of murderers. Homer Bailey, Alex Cobb, Yu Darvish, Brandon McCarthy, Josh Johnson, Jose Fernandez, Matt Moore — all of these, good pitchers, and more! Clearly, this is bad for the baseball sport and the baseball fan, but also and most of importance is how bad the pitchers are for this! Also clearly, I have some thoughts I want to share with these feelings about getting hurt so much. I am sorry to apologize if these are my deep thoughts, but I never can speak my mind clearly when these things come to happen.

First and most forward, the Tommy John surgery is a craze that is running out of course! There are so many getting this, or have already gotten this, and might even get this again. And what for? To get that extra MPH on their fastest balls, of course! As shown by research all over the place, getting put under the knife means everything for their speed, and the money that is attached. So now are these pitchers doing themselves on purpose to get under this magical knife? Who knows? What can be said? But there is lots of proof, and some others as well, that openly suggests it is true and otherwise.

Which is how I can say that I am out against these surgeries, once and forever. If the baseballs are serious about getting rid of the PED crack-downs, then what is keeping them stopped over cancelling this illegally obvious enhanced performing? What is a scalpel other than a needle that doesn’t inject anything? Science moves faster than that, and baseball — if not sports everywhere — need to find themselves getting there ahead of time. It, and they, need to get the front out and see what’s happening already and in the future, and then put one foot in front of the other with some authorities.

As a matter in fact, let me put these feet out one step further on this short pier and maybe say that we ban all surgeries from baseball and sports? After all, what good is a game of chance like sports if there is no chance you can not keep playing after getting hurt and doing some of the rehab and maybe hoping with prayer you come back at 100% or close to better? I reserve my mind to say something else, but it feels like right now, if you cannot get some dirt on it and keep continuing, then you cannot rightfully keep playing. However, this is just me spitting on balls, as is said. I mean nothing but to not bite the hand that has the food I chew on. And as long as the checks keep paying, I will keep having advice. Until then!

Dr. Ricardo Salvay

Dr. Salvay is an online-accredited doctor practicing in parts unknown. He can be seen as a featured extra in the upcoming 50 Cent / Bruce Willis poker-cyber-thriller, Microchip & A Chair.

The Green Helmet

Posted on by Mike Piazza · 1 Comment

Hey, I’m Mike Piazza, and I’d like to talk to you about Jade Helm 15.

You might have heard some chatter about Jade Helm 15 in the last few weeks. See, there’s an awful lot of crazy talk lately about how the government is using some “military exercises” to enact martial law and threaten the sanctity of this great nation. Sure sounds far-fetched, right?

“P,” you might be saying to yourself, “these folks have their jocks in a twist. This is all the usual cockamamie fear and rumor-mongering. Texas? They’re gonna take out Texas?! Everybody knows that if you mess with the bull, you better get ready for the horns.”

On the Jade Helm 15 documents, you can plainly see that Texas is marked as “hostile territory.” Last time I was there, they sure seemed like awful nice folks. What gives?

Well, let me tell you something about these so-called conspiracy nuts polluting the air with their pissant little theories: they’re half right. The real meaning of the exercise is staring you right in your own dumb little faces, if you’ll only WAKE UP, SHEEPLE:

millar_marlin

Kevin Millar’s batting helmet.

Let me explain. You remember Millar, right? Mr. Cowboy Up, certified red-ass. Nowadays Millar makes bank as the host of “Intentional Talk” on the MLB Network. Don’t watch it? Hell, neither do I. Well, one thing you don’t know about that good ol’ boy is that he lives in a big mansion in Austin, TX nowadays. When he isn’t doing his studio show in Jersey, he’ll do it from his well-equipped compound in the Hill Country. They call it “Studio 1-5.”

Starting to ring a bell?

Or maybe you remember him from his days as a Florida Marlin, where he wore a teal batting helmet. In other words, a jade helm. And his old uniform number?

15.

I wish I was making this stuff up.

FACT: Recently, a bunch of Wal-Marts in Texas closed in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. Some people think they’re going to be used as staging centers for Chinese troops hell-bent on seizing American guns. Some people think they’ve already built a system of tunnels from place to place, the better to run resupplies along the NAFTA highway.

If you overlay the locations of those Wal-Marts on the Jade Helm 15 map and triangulate those tunnels, all roads lead to Austin. AKA Kevin Millar’s driveway. And sooner than you can say, “Ni hao, dear leader Millar!” we’ll be marching to the beat of a pinko drummer.

FACT: According to Jade Helm 15, there’s an upcoming “JOAX event” scheduled for right around Austin. Think that means “joint operational access exercise?” More like jerkin’ over Americans, xtremely.

FACT: I recently wound up spending the night in the Hicksville IKEA with two-thirds of Generation K after an autograph signing at the Broadway Mall went, well, “awry,” let’s just say. Some people might chalk it up to the case of Lime-a-Ritas I split with Paul Wilson in the parking garage. I like to think the good people of Long Island just didn’t want to hear me jack truth bombs the way I jacked 40 dingers in ’99. Point is, I’ve seen Bill Pulsipher turning 360s on one of those pallet jacks until he puked green slop all over Småland. So I know a few things about what kinds of crap you can get up to in a big empty department store. I can only imagine what’ll happen when they erect the FEMA domes over those Wal-Marts in Texas.

FACT: I have documents, held securely in escrow in the event of the unspeakable, that will conclusively prove that the Miami Marlins organization and its Manchurian dirt dog, Kevin Millar, are in on this whole conspiracy.

FACT: I spent eight days in the Marlins organization in 1998. They couldn’t get the jade helm on ol’ Mike, believe me. Kevin Millar was a scab player. He’d do *anything* to play major league baseball. Makes you wonder, huh?

Is Kevin Millar using his bully pulpit on the MLB Network to transmit secret signals that’ll activate sleeper cells from coast to coast? I’ll leave that as an exercise for the reader. But the next time you hear him yell “Got HEEEEM!” ask yourself: who talks like that anyway?

Don’t believe me? Remember the owner of those old Marlins: Wayne Huizenga, billionaire head of Blockbuster Video. Think Wayne knows a thing or two about closing stores?

What do you suppose they did with all those old empty Blockbuster Videos, anyhow? Miniature internment camps? Propaganda production centers? Secretly tainting the nation’s supply of Goobers and Sno-Caps with fertility-sapping Masonic fluoride? Those VHS copies of “The Big Lebowski” with all the F-words taken out – yet another by-product of our sorry nanny state, by the way – aren’t going to recycle themselves. This nation could use a few more Walter Sobchaks, if you get my drift.

And when *was* the last time you saw Wayne Huizenga out in public without his motorcade of jackbooted morality enforcers? Maybe it was when he was jet-setting off to Davos to meet with the rest of the secretive global elite and sign off on this sinister plot to take down the America we love.

I guess this really must be what happens when you find a stranger in the Alps.

I’m Mike Piazza, and I approve this message.

piazzaMike Piazza

Mike Piazza retired in 2008 with a career slash-line of .308/.377/.545, and currently holds the MLB record for most career home runs hit as a catcher (427). In 2015, Piazza received 69.9% of the vote from the National Baseball Hall of Fame electorate, failing to qualify for enshrinement for the 3rd consecutive year.

 

Pay A-Rod!

Posted on by Rickey Henderson · Leave a comment

Before Rickey says what’s on Rickey’s mind about this Alex Rodriguez nonsense, let’s get one thing straight. Rickey Henderson — AKA The Greatest Of All Time, in case you got hit on the head or died, which are the only excuses you’d have for forgetting that — lived his life, and continues to live his life, clean. Rickey was immaculate, inside and out. Pure as the driven snow that got nowhere near Rickey’s nose. No additives, no preservatives, no fillers, no substitutes. Real Rickey, no gimmicks. Rickey puts the “lean” in “clean,” because Rickey is 100% All Natural Rickey. (Rickey would also put the “c” in “clean,” except Rickey was never anything less than “A+,” and that doesn’t spell anything except maybe “alien” if you’re cross-eyed, so Rickey just kept that to himself.) Instead of calling that overpriced beef “Kobe,” it should be called “Rickey,” because Rickey makes Kobe look like “Benji” or “Mr. Ed.” (Also, unlike some Nutella-eating beaver-teething chumps, Rickey can still dunk without needing his knees scoped every other week.)

When Rickey was busy breaking all those Major League Baseball records, it was because of Rickey. Rickey didn’t need speed; Rickey was speed. Rickey was high on Rickey, which is the most natural high available only to the greatest base-stealer and run-scorer and on-baser that ever jumped into a pair of stirrups and changed the world of sports forever. Everyone else was snorting this or popping that or pushing whatever into wherever, and Rickey just did his push-ups and ran his laps and occasionally prayed to the only greater power than himself to ask Him to make sure his hamstrings stayed strong. (Rickey assumes He had more important things on his mind, like rescuing those less fortunate, or parting some Red Seas, or making Beyonce and Nicki Minaj and my beautiful beautiful beautiful wife (hey girl), when those chump hamstrings acted up.)

But Rickey digresses, which can happen when a subject of such magnitude and greatness is mentioned. The reason for all this dancing around is because of Alex Rodriguez. Straight talk: Rickey has no problem with whatever Alex Rodriguez did or did not in order to do what he does on the baseball field. After all, not everyone can be as naturally gifted as Rickey. And if you can eat or drink something that will help you approach Rickey-like levels of greatness, you do it. If you get caught doing something you shouldn’t, you do your time, and you keep on. If you don’t get caught, you don’t get caught. You’re getting paid to do a job, and if you can do that job better, you get paid better. And, as everyone already knows, Rickey is all about getting paid. And, no matter what kind of smokescreen they try to throw up, that’s all baseball is about, too.

Don’t come waving that “integrity of the game” / “purity of the game” / “cheater cheater protein-powder-eater” hand-jive at Rickey. Baseball’s not “cleaning up the sport.” They’re just moving the mess from the place everyone’s looking to a place no one’s looking. Yesterday’s greenies are today’s PEDs are tomorrow’s science-fiction Rickey implants. That’s what they’ve always done, and that’s what they’re going to keep doing, because that’s what works. And if that didn’t work, they’d do something else that works, because that’s how baseball works, and that’s how everyone in baseball gets paid.

If baseball thought it could make money with a bunch of Terminators and Rocks and Supermans out there hitting balls out of stadiums every at-bat, baseball would hire all sorts of chumps in pocket protectors and taped-up glasses to put PEDs into every damn thing. There’d be PED’d sunflower seeds, PED’d chewing tobacco, Big PED’d League Chew, PED’d colored water, PED’d pine tar, PED’d batting gloves, and PED’d jock straps. They’d put PEDs into the PEDs if they could. Instead, baseball got caught with its pants down and a needle sticking out of its hairy lumpy un-Rickey-like ass, and it pretended like it didn’t actually just jab the needle into that ass not two seconds ago. Like anyone with half a brain (or one-quarter Rickey’s brain) didn’t see through that nonsense.

But, again, Rickey digresses. Because if there’s one thing Rickey can’t stand, it’s some duplicitous backhanded bullshit that keeps a man from getting what’s owed to him. And don’t get it twisted: The stunt the New York Yankees are trying to pull with Alex Rodriguez and his contract incentives is some duplicitous backhanded bullshit. It’s the Yankees fault they put those home-run milestone clauses into that contract. No one twisted their arm. No one forced them to sign a 32-year-old player to a 10-year contract. And it’s for damn sure not an issue about the Yankees not having the money.

In the time it took Rickey to hit the ENTER button on this keyboard — yes, Rickey types these articles up by himself; Rickey’s real middle name is “Nelson Henley,” but his other middle name could be “Mavis Beacon” — the Yankees probably made a bajillion dollars selling some loudmouth chumps in some overpriced Yankee shirseys drinking some sugar-filled drinks out of a Yankee Big Gulp cups some “authenticated” lumps of dirt that Derek Jeter might’ve maybe spit or walked on but probably didn’t. It is downright stupid the amount of money the Yankees make. People make a big deal about Alex Rodriguez’s “overpriced” contract, but he’s not even the 2nd-highest paid player on the team! And they aren’t even sweating that stuff! They have money to hire people to burn all the money they have! And they’re going to sit there with a straight face and say they’re not going to pay a player what they promised to pay him? Shut up with that nonsense.

You can also shut up about that “unmarketable” horsepie. If you’re the Yankees, what would you rather have people focus on: All this stupid yip-yapping about A-Rod hitting home runs and not getting paid, or the Yankees being a triple-digit bust? You want to put the focus back on those chumps at 2nd base and shortstop that aren’t Robinson Cano & Derek Jeter? You want people to ask more questions about Carlos Beltran’s .195 batting average or CC Sabathia’s 5.45 ERA? & don’t give me that “they’re in first place” fart-stuff. The Astros are in first place. Some Nelson Cruz is leading the world in HRs and RBIs. There’s a dude on the Marlins hitting over .430. In other words, it’s early May. Wake Rickey up when September ends. (And not with that stupid boring-ass song by The Green Days. If Rickey wanted to take a nap and throw up at the same time, Rickey would watch a Harry Potter movie while eating a Big Mac that someone hid in their armpit for a month.)

And that bowtie-wearing high-horse-riding bug-eyed nonsense about A-Rod being forced to give bonus to charity? You can stick that pile of gibberish back in the goofy-looking mouth it came from. If A-Rod wants to give his $6 million to charity after he’s paid? That’s his business (unless it’s not). If Yankees want to donate another $6 million to charity after giving A-Rod the $6 million they owe him? That’s their business. If the Yankees want to weasel out of paying a player that helped them win a World Series & sold them a pantload of overpriced swag a contractually-mandated bonus? That’s Rickey’s business, and that’s everyone’s business, because that’s not how you do business. That’s how chumps do business. Only chumps don’t honor agreements. And if there’s one thing baseball could use a lot less of, it’s no-good cheap-ass double-talking dirt-selling chumps.

In conclusion: Pay A-Rod! And give whatever’s left to you-know-who.

Rickey Henderson

Rickey Henderson was elected to the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame in 2009. His current work-out playlist is “Four-Door Aventador” and “Truffle Butter” back-to-back on repeat.

 

 

Pay Through The Nose

Posted on by Bishop Morenobud · Leave a comment

“Arturo ‘Arte’ Moreno is an American businessman.” That’s the first line of the Angels’ owner’s Wikipedia page, and there’s no better way to describe such a great man. His life is a shining exemplar of what makes America great. He is a veteran of the Vietnam War. He is a college graduate. He is a loving husband and the father of three wonderful children. He paid his dues and diligently worked his way up the ladder of success. And now he is a billionaire and (according to Forbes Magazine, and any right-minded Angels fan) “one of the best-loved owners in Major League Baseball.”

On the other, much more pathetic and decrepit, end of the spectrum, we have a know-nothing duplicitous reprobate who managed to parlay a couple of years of athletic over-achievement on the baseball field into a huge unearned payday. I won’t bother to mention his name; anyone reading this knows the coddled Appalachian incest baby of whom I speak, & even thinking about pushing on those keys in the proper sequence on this keyboard to spell out his name makes me want to throw this computer in the trash where that useless human skidmark belongs.

No one was happier than yours truly when Flaily The Snowman was sent packing back to Texas. With Coke Zero out of the Los Angeles dugout, the Angels can get back to doing what they do best: Playing baseball the right way. And Arte Moreno can get back to doing what he does best: Owning the greatest franchise in all of sport. But there’s still some unfinished business to take care of. More specifically, there are some bills that need to get paid. Some long-overdue reparations, if you will. Pardon the slight hyperbole, but the Angels have been a slave to this behemoth contract to far too long, and we deserve to be compensated for the abuse and degradation suffered while under its thrall.

Remember a few weeks ago, when Rangers slugger Adrian Beltre sent Angels ace-in-training Garrett Richards an invoice for three broken bats? A hilarious stunt, right? Well, now it’s time for the Angels to return the favor. For real. Obviously Arte Moreno’s too much of a class act to even suggest that you-know-who-does-blow give back some of the $80 million the Angels will be paying him over the rest of his contract. It’s a testament to how much Moreno appreciates and values character that he was willing to eat all that money in order to freshen the air. It must’ve been a hard pill to swallow, and it’s one he’d probably prefer to forget he even ingested.

I’m a different kind of animal, though. I’m an elephant; I don’t forget. I ain’t too proud to speak truth to a waste of space. So consider this your invoice, Posh Pigelton. Arte Moreno paid you good money to come through in the clutch, and all you came through with was a flaming bag of your own feces and a bunch of weak-sauce excuses. All that nose candy you did — and do, and will probably continue to do until you find yourself sucking on a sewer grate — probably eradicated what little decency or shame you once possessed.  But if you can find it in yourself to do the decent thing — FOR ONCE — then you should give back all that money you didn’t deserve in the first place.

The free meals are over, Toots. Time to pay the bill before you cash in all your chips. Or someone cashes them in for you.

bishopmorenobud2Bishop Morenobud

Unlike another longtime Angels blogger (who was recently fired for writing a post that “crossed the boundaries of our community guidelines and standards”), “Bishop Morenobud” was fired from his long-running Angels blog Trout Wars (pka Seeing Jered) (pka We All Chone On) (pka The Glaus Haus) for attacking his editor with a pair of hand-crafted wooden Thundersticks while debating the merits of the Gary Matthews Jr. contract.

King Variations

Posted on by Peter King · Leave a comment

 The Bucs hired private investigators to check out Winston, who’d been accused of, but not charged with, sexual assault. Twice he was exonerated by prosecutors, and once by the university after a probe by a Florida state supreme court justice found insufficient evidence to charge Winston with sexual assault. This was a great test of the innocent-till-proven-guilty mantra in the American justice system, and the authorities could not prosecute Winston.

 – Peter King, MMQB (May 4, 2015)

Despite terrible reviews, the fourth Transformers movie, Transformers: Age of Extinction, grossed over one billion dollars worldwide. The last two films in this franchise both crossed the billion-dollar mark in worldwide receipts, and the franchise has made over $3.6 billion in theaters. This was a great test of the money-rules-critics-drool(s) mantra of the pop-culture universe.

The 2014 Kansas City Royals had one of the worst offenses in all of baseball. They were 9th in the American League in runs scored, 10th in OPS, and dead last in both walks and home runs. However, on the back of their above average pitching staff & some timely hitting, they won the AL Central and came within one game of winning the World Series. This was a great test of the validity of the MLB playoff system as an arbiter of excellent baseball teams.

As a congressman in the Philippines, boxer Manny Pacquiao opposed legislation that would mandate sex education, subsidize contraception, and expand family-planning offerings. He also spoke out against same-sex marriage, reportedly owes millions in back taxes, and allegedly assaulted a fellow politician. However, his many shortcomings couldn’t hold a candle to the repeated-assault-and-battery skeletons hiding in plain sight in Floyd Mayweather’s closet. As a result, their championship bout this past weekend was a great test of the whoever-wins-we-all-lose (and-both-boxers-make-tons-of-money-anyway) truism.

On August 9, 2014, in Ferguson, Missouri, 18-year-old Michael Brown was fatally shot by Ferguson police officer Darren Wilson. In the entire altercation, Wilson fired a total of twelve bullets, with at least six shots striking Brown. Brown was unarmed. The Brown shooting was just one of A St. Louis County grand jury elected not to indict Wilson for the shooting, and an FBI investigation cleared Wilson of any civil rights violations in the shooting. A GoFundMe campaign to in honor of Wilson, who lost his job following the shooting, raised over half a million dollars before the campaign was shut down. This entire incident was a great test of the the-world-is-fair truism, and is definitely not going to ever happen again.  Ever.

Sports Illustrated’s Peter King was awarded the Dick McCann Memorial Award for his writing in 2009 and named National Sportswriter of the Year for 2010 by the National Sportscasters and Sportswriters Association. However, he’s come under fire of late for his out-of-touch observations and his purported tendency to “carry water” for the NFL. In the past week, he’s come under fire for his “out-of-touch” and “intellectually dishonest” and “downright bizarre” interpretations of both the Jameis Winston sexual assault persecution and the mental health concerns of Dallas Cowboys draftee Randy Gregory:

Clearly, this was a great test of both the haters-gonna-hate dictum and the ironically-named Peter Principle.

king

Peter King

Peter King has written for Sports Illustrated since 1989. In 2005, New Jersey Governor Richard Codey appointed King to a fact finding task force in an attempt to end steroid and human growth hormone use in high school athletics. He reportedly prefers the Ethan Hawke / Selena Gomez / Jon Voight thriller Getaway and the Ice Cube / Martin Henderson / Adam Scott action-adventurer Torque over any of the Fast & Furious films.

Whitlock And Load

Posted on by Ben Smith · Leave a comment

So I don’t know that much about sports. Compared to Jason Whitlock, I mean. But I know a lot about publishing and editing and supervising and that whole part of the business. Maybe more than Jason, maybe not as — let’s just say I know enough. And, like I said, I know what it’s like to have people in your business all the time, talking to you and telling you things all the time. But, again, it’s not like I know more than Jason. Calling what I’m writing here “advice” sounds like I’m giving him needed counsel, and that’s not — Jason is doing just fine. He’s in a great position to succeed. He has the backing of a great company, his upper management has his back the whole way, and he knows what he wants to accomplish with his website, and despite some setbacks, he’s off to a great start. I’m just writing this to share my experiences and expertise with you all. And with Jason, who’s been going through a lot of stuff recently.

So I’m just going to try and write this like a friendly open letter to Jason, because that’s what this is, really. I’m not trying to lecture him or presuppose anything. We’re just talking, like a real honest dialogue about our careers. A couple of colleagues shooting the breeze over some quality banquet beers. Because this is — as the editor-in-chief of BuzzFeed, Jason, I have a lot on my plate, just like you. And these things on this plate are coming from all over the place, just like you. I’ve got writers doing their thing over here, I’ve got our really great creative team over there, there’s the higher ups and our advertisers to answer to, there’s the past, there’s the present, I’ve got the internet, I’ve got — I mean, those guys over at Gawker. I don’t need to tell you about them, right? Don’t get me wrong, they’re great people. Really great people. They keep folks like us right on our toes, right on the edge, right where we need to be. Because this is what we do. Because this is where we are. Our careers have taken us to these moments where anything can happen, if we allow that to be something. And it can be spectacular. So, with all that in mind, here are (no pun intended):

5 Pieces Of Expert Advice That Will Keep “Big Sexy” Big And Sexy

1. Be the best you that you can be!

So, first of all, you have to stay true to yourself. As if I need to tell you that, Jason. That’s who you are. That’s who you’ve always been. That is your brand. And where I work is all about brands, so I know a little something about that. You just have to stay rigorous and consistent with your message. You can’t equivocate about this and that, or say one thing and then — your word is you, and you are your word. Just like Scarface. You have to stay true to that. And, sure, you’re going to make some people unhappy, even some people you hired. That’s OK. That’s just the cost of doing business. Collateral damage is unavoidable What’s important is the message you want to share with people, and keeping the people you have to answer to happy, and never selling yourself or what you stand for short.

2. Listen to Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise.

Sometimes, you have to get off the internet. I know that sounds crazy — after all, it’s where we make our living! Seriously, though, it’s a godsend, just stepping away from all those computers and phones and e-mails and just taking a moment to capital-L live. Let me tell you a little secret: On a regular work day, I give myself at least five minutes every four hours. I get up from my desk, lock my phone in my drawer, go into the bathroom, grab a seat in a stall — I like the handicapped ones, personally, for all that room — and just take a minute to simply exist. Breathe it out, let that cool toilet seat work out all those tensions, and just take a lookg and assess yourself and your life. Sometimes I can’t even believe, when I look at — if you told me at the 2008 Democratic National Convention that seven years later I’d be getting excited about publishing a listicle that included a dog meme hiding under the hat of that guy from The Neptunes, I couldn’t even begin. That’s what makes life so interesting!

3. Guess where all the haters can go?

Nuff said.

4. This is just an excuse for me to ask you for advice & include some doge.

Seriously, though. I can’t get enough doge. Such clever. Much insight. Wow.

Honestly, I should probably be the one asking you for advice. That “elements necessary for a good story” breakdown is — I wish I had thought of that. You’ve got a real grasp on how to manage people and situations, Jason. That example of your hands-on involvement in that Deadspin piece, where you’re really fact-checking that piece, making sure — I mean, the writer of that piece (like any good Nick Dentonite) wants the reader to think you’re a flip-flopping lazy paranoid megalomaniac that doesn’t know the basics of managing a publication. See, but that’s not what I read. I see a pioneer on the verge of discovering a new country, or a captain steering a ship into uncharted waters. I see someone that won’t accept the truth unless it’s explained to his satisfaction, that won’t let a lack of experience get in his way, and that wants to make sure that every T is crossed the right way. That’s the kind of attitude you need to run a potentially great publication.  (Funny thing — I must’ve typed “ruin” instead of “run” at least 3 times before I got it right. Sometimes, these fingers, you know?)

5. Profit!

You said it, Ryan Gosling! You got this, Jason! Success is right there, waiting for you to grab that brass ring and take it all the way! Just trust yourself and your instincts and your team! And know when you can’t trust yourself or your instincts or your team! And just keep on keeping on!

Ben Smith

Prior to becoming editor-in-chief of BuzzFeed, Ben Smith wrote for Politico, where he covered controversies including then-Senator Barack Obama’s contacts with former Weatherman Bill Ayers, conspiracy theories about Obama’s citizenship, and Barack Obama religion conspiracy theories. He interviewed President Obama for BuzzFeed in 2015.

A Celebration Is Not A Riot

Posted on by Roger Goodell · Leave a comment

Photo by Patrick Smith

As the commissioner of the National Football League, it is my pleasure to speak out in times of crisis for the league. I relish the opportunity to stand up to these challenges and address them in a forthright and honorable manner. However, as the public representative of one of the largest business conglomerates in the entire world, it is my obligation to speak out in times of crisis for the world outside of the National Football League. If men in my position fail to take a stand when the going gets tough, when the words that have yet to be spoken need to be said, when the ball is on the one-yard line and needs to be jammed home for the go-ahead score, what does that say about men like me? What does that say about the National Football League? What does that say about America?

It says something that doesn’t sound good, that’s what. Unfortunately, that’s the kind of message we have all seen broadcast from Baltimore this past week. What’s happening in Baltimore in the name of justice is, to be blunt, deplorable. The atmosphere of fear and violence that has been instigated and promulgated by certain factions both inside and outside of Baltimore should not, and cannot, be tolerated. And the people responsible for this abominable behavior should be ashamed of themselves. They should be ashamed of the contemptible words that fall out of their mouths, they should be ashamed for the actions that have been abetted by those words, and they frankly should be ashamed for the lives they have lead.

I’m speaking, of course, about those dangerous self-appointed pundits in the social-mediasphere equating the celebrations that follow the winning of a sports championship with the riots that have nearly decimated the home of one of the NFL’s most honorable franchises. The irresponsibility exercised by these know-it-alls is as damaging to the world of sports as those unjustified riots are to the small business owners whose livelihoods are being ruined beyond redemption.

https://twitter.com/FEM1NIST/status/593079311491407874

Clearly, these people don’t understand the difference between well-respected tax-paying citizens reveling in the glory that comes with bringing the Vince Lombardi Trophy home, and a group of thugs finding any sort of flimsy excuse to pound their chests and destroy private property. Celebrating after a victory is an honored tradition that goes back to the days of vikings and gladiators, when actual lives were on the line day in and day out. After successfully conquering a city and its populace, it only made sense for these valiant warriors to expend their pent-up energies on whatever or whomever came across their path. To put in in more modern terms: They worked hard, so they played hard. And what better way to celebrate the victories of today’s valiant warriors than for their fans to emulate their venerable predecessors? Some might claim these “riots” are “destructive” and “pointless.” I say they’re an extension of our rights — as citizens of the greatest country of the world — to free speech, a right that every person (within reason) should be allowed to exercise. Furthermore, I say these exuberant demonstrations are a part of who we are, and we should never deny, or be forced to deny, who we are.

Meanwhile, policemen have one of the toughest jobs in the world. The lives of the people they’re sworn to protect are literally in their hands. The pressures they work under are unimaginable. And, as hard as it is to accept, sometimes mistakes are made. And sometimes these mistakes happen in such a way that, if looked at in a certain light, patterns of abuse and oppression can be suggested. And sometimes these patterns can be unintentionally supported by the words and actions of those in power. But such semi-frequent mistakes and statistical aberrations and ill-timed public displays of incompetence don’t give people the right to express their dissent so publicly. The key part of the word “civilization” is “civil,” and the key part of the word “society” is “social.” That kind of behavior is the complete opposite of either of those two words, as well as the two words that those two words are part of.

To put it simply, this is not how people that want to be a part of civilized society should act. There are words I could use to describe such third-world savagery, but they would undoubtedly be misconstrued, so I’ll refrain from using them. I only wish those carelessly equating the fine fans of the National Football League and other professional sports leagues with the hooligans running wild in the city made famous by The Wire and the 2012 Super Bowl Champion Baltimore Ravens were a fraction as mindful.

My thoughts & prayers, and the thoughts and prayers of everyone in the front offices of the National Football League, are with the government of the City of Baltimore & those fine upstanding citizens affected by the property damage.

Roger Goodell

Roger Goodell is the Commissioner of the National Football League. A letter written by the NFL Players Association in response to Goodell’s handling of the 2012 referee lockout asserted that “[Goodell’s] actions are looking more and more like simple greed.”