Monday, April 30, 2007

Here's Lookin' At You, Douche Bags


No. I don't mean that yes I do. You guys are awesome. And I wanted to drop by sans camisa to give you one more view of my totally gay badass self. Nevertheless, I gotta run. I hear Cleveland wants to party. She-zam, bitches! Oh, and Jamarcus -- you can kiss this.
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Sunday, April 29, 2007

The Wind-Up, Vol. 2


Breaking down the Draft, Broncos v. Chiefs. First up...

THE DENVER BRONCOS 2007 DRAFT

Jarvis Moss, 1st round: I've already addressed our first-rounder. I've also been noncommittal as to my feelings on the young man's ability. He's very high and needs to get stronger, but Jim Bates supposedly likes tall ends; in any case, we all saw the Fiesta Bowl. I'm not sold on immediate help but that might just be my disillusionment. I hope he gets 20 sacks, but four or five is probably a touch more reasonable. Elvis did ring up 8.5 last year, and who knows? Solid pick, a position of need, but I wish we hadn't traded picks to move up when we could have just waited for him at 21.

Tim Crowder, 2nd Round: I like this pick because the guy, even though I can't recall him at all despite seeing the Longhorns on TV about every week, sounds like a real old-fashioned sleeper: he's 6'3 270ish, a hard motor lunch-bucket blue-collar brings his helmet worker bee type who's a good enough pass rusher and evidently showed some more at the Senior Bowl. Street & Smith's wrote of him "strong and tough...Does a good job against the run...While Crowder is not fast and lacks a closing burst, he is very durable and productive." This was a solid, if unspectacular, pick.

Ryan Harris, 3d Round: A continuation of the Shanahan & Sundquist love affair with big-dollar schools, Harris was a four-year starter on the offensive line at Notre Dame, three of which he spent manning the LT spot without missing a contest. He has quick feet, is a good pass protector and knows how to play the position, but, in the parlance of NFL scouts, lacks "sand in his pants." Translation: he played as low as 275 his senior year, a weight that won't serve him in the pros if he wishes to stay alive. He's also Muslim--one of the many religions we tolerate here at HoG--which means that during the Ramadan fast he loses weight. Pro Football Weekly wrote "more quick than powerful, he is efficient in all areas and has the physical tools teams seek in a left tackle to play a long time in the league." He seems like a good fit for our style, so I give this pick the official HoG Thumbs The Fuck Up (to be explained in detail in a future post).

Marcus Thomas, 4th Round: We had to trade three picks to get back to this spot, including next year's 3d rounder, which is a pretty damn steep price to pay for a guy who got booted off last year's championship team. Still. He was, in the words of his teammate and our new first-rounder, "the best player" the Florida defensive line had, an opinion probably shared by a lot of scouts and personnel guys. The character issue: he was initially suspended for a pair of dope smoking violations and then broke terms of his return agreement with the Gators, an incident that, as I recall, involved he and his girlfriend attending a carnival out of town. So I'm torn. Who among us hasn't done that? Except for the "playing football for a major university and having a girlfriend" part? Anyway, ESPN's scouts inc. boys (and presumably girls) wrote of Thomas "explosive and disruptive one-gap interior defender with outstanding first-step quickness and power." Pro Football Weekly wrote "natural athlete who can naturally convert speed to power...Can be nasty...Explosive with his hands." Fuck yes. We needed some d-linemen with exploding hands. If we can keep him away from Ft. Collins' favorite leisure time activity and Six Flags, we might be in business with this guy.

FINAL ARBITRARY GRADE: B
We found some kids with ability and in particular I think that Harris and Thomas--who some people were rating as a top 10, maybe even top 5, choice before the tilt-a-whirl--could be very good players. Consider this, oh fellow Broncos fans: in five games (four starts) this year before he got kicked off the team, he had 26 tackles, 5.5 tackles for loss and 4 sacks. I believe we gave up too much, however, especially in Moss's case...and don't even get me started on how we shoulda out-thunk the Cowboys and traded with Cleveland. Grrr.

And now, for the benefit of our Administrator's kleenex...

THE KANSAS CITY CHIEFS' 2007 DRAFT
Dwayne Bowe, 1st Round: Shiver everyone's timbers! A wideout in the first round! Chefs fans can't depend on midgets and quitters forever, so King Carl adds this big pass-catcher from LSU. He's not a burner as much as he is a solid playmaker, but he went up against the best D-backs in college and did pretty dang well. In his favor, Pro Football Weekly wrote "difficult to press and knock off track...Shows good run strength after the catch and break tackles...Physical blocker, very tough...Outstanding playing demeanor, sets a tone for the offense." They also said he's not very smart and will take a few years to really understand an offense. Even so, the Chefs needed someone here, even if that someone should have had plenty of sand in his pants.

Turk McBride, 2nd Round: the Sporting News' 19th rated defensive tackle played at Tennessee and is not the Junior Siavii fatass type the Chefs have seemed to enjoy drafting the past few years. He was only a one-year starter, which no one likes, but according to The Sporting News "makes plays all over the field...Holds his own at the point of attack." Pro Football Weekly said he "lacks mass...Is not very stout to handle the inside run." They also said that he's "an undersized warrior who leaves it all on the field." Try-hard guys are better than the kind King Carl usually drafts but this was probably a reach in the 2d round.
DeMarcus "Tank" Tyler, 3d Round: If the last few months of the last NFL season should have taught us anything, it would be that you don't want to take chances on character-risk defensive tackles nicknamed "Tank." And he wasn't in trouble for burning one down at the fair: he assaulted a cop in '06 and was ejected from the Southern Miss game that same year for spitting. He has, in the words of every fucking draft magazine I own, a wicked amount of upper-body strength and won this year's combine bench-press competition. The ESPNites claim that he "excels in one-gap schemes, where he can use initial burst and power to penetrate and disrupt...Fires off ball quickly and uses good leverage...Flashes ability to penetrate, disrupt runs in the backfield." But this guy has more flags up than a signalman. PFW really laid it down on him, thusly: "a big, strong, top-heavy nose tackle in a similar mold as St. Louis Rams 2001 first-rounder and current Carolina Panther Damione Lewis. Will likely be overdrafted in a weak DT class and go in the tank once he gets paid. Very likely will not pan out and won't even be stacked on good NFL draft boards." Really. They said that.

Kolby Smith, 5th round: Every year I geek myself out for this, only to be blindsided by names like Kolby Smith. Mel Kiper's hair could probably tell you his height/weight ratio, but I was sunk. Didn't ring a single bell. He was Michael Bush's backup at Louisville and started a few games after Bush was injured in 'o5 and then was part of a rotation last year. ESPN called him a "versatile prospect who can contribute as a runner, receiever, blocker and on special teams" and Street & Smith's said that he is "effective between the tackles...able to break tackles...runs with good vision and balance." Fact remains that he was never the number one in college, but we'll cut the Boyardees some slack with this one. Fair 5th round value.

Justin Medlock, 5th Round: What's funny is, this team plays a few hundred miles from Boulder, where the single most impressive college placekicker I have ever seen, Mason Crosby, singlebootedly kept the Colorado Buffaloes from being shut out for two consecutive seasons...and they pick a kicker from UCLA with Crosby still on the board. Man, that is just effin' nutty. Medlock is "not a long-range bomber, but very reliable on short kicks" according to Street & Smith's, and PFW wrote "had a good senior year, but overall his leg strength may not be good enough to make it." Just...effin'...nutty. I think King Carl scouts from his chair like I do...but with help from a Demerol addiction.

Herbert Taylor, 6th Round: An offensive tackle from TCU. Even though my CSU plays TCU every year, I never noticed this guy...although that might have been because TCU usually was up 35-0 by the end of every 1st quarter and by that point I'd be organizing stamps by color and year of issue. The Sporting News wrote that Taylor "is a top athlete who makes every finesse block in the book...has great knee bend, agility and body control" and ESPN claims that he's "perfect for a zone-blocking scheme." Um, do the Chiefs run a zone-blocking scheme now? Honestly, I don't know--for the last few years they were all old-style man-to-man. PFW, those killjoys, said he projects as a "versatile backup" but we'll give Kansas City the doubt's benefit on this one.

Michael Allan, 7th Round: Ironic that the most clever, high-value pick in the Chefs' draft was their final one, a tight end from that powerhouse Whitworth. This kid definitely impressed people at the combine, and ESPN says he's "fast enough to work the seam and track balls downfield...Makes tough catches in traffic...Runs hard and flashes ability to pick up yards after contact." Doesn't seem to be much of a blocker, which the Chefs need as Dunn ages, but still, a very solid 7th round pick.

FINAL ARBITRARY GRADE: C+
Too much reaching with McBride and too much potential for mayhem with Tank; Bowe could be a very good player and Allan and Taylor could make it but drafting Medlock, with Crosby on the board, was indicative of a serious drug problem in the Chefs' front office.




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The Wind-Up, Vol. 1

There may in fact be no volume two, but I like to stick with the theme...as for the post previous, let me assure the Asian-American Anti-Defamation Society that we here at HoG believe in mutual tolerance, love and respect for all races and creeds at all times, with certain exceptions. And we don't speak in dialect unless we're making fun of midwesterners...oh, wait.

Still, Mr. Chan has a point: Semi-Live Draft Blog ended rather abruptly yesterday. That's because (and the following sentence will not only scare away any reader we have but very likely lose me my posting privileges) my wife and I had to go to a dinner theater in Ft. Collins with my mom and stepdad. We saw "Singin' in the Rain" and they actually made it "rain" onstage.

With water, goddamnit. Not like this. Or this. But yeah, the joke nearly killed me before it finally died in my throat. Nobody at the table would have understood when I threw $13 in singles on the teenage ensemble castmembers/busboys.

So we both had about 10 vodka tonics, ate some pretty seedy prime rib and watched dinner theater. Rock and motherfucking roll. Late that night I flipped on the the flatscreen in mom's basement and saw that my team had selected, in addition to Jarvis Moss, Tim Crowder (DE, Texas) and Ryan Harris (LT, Notre Dame). Today they traded back into the 4th round to take Marcus Thomas (DT, Florida) who was booted off that team last year.

I'll follow up with a detailed analysis--or as detailed as we get here, anyway... Read more

Wha' Happen?


Me no Asian. Me no Asian at all. But me so confused that they no Vorume Foal to Semi-Rive Dlaft Brog. You, Chief, bleak down Chiefs/Bloncos serections for ouw weadels. Me know nothing. Prease firr us in.
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Saturday, April 28, 2007

Semi-Live Draft Blog Vol. 3


Catching up with some character guys...

The Bengals got a good value at 18 with Leon Hall. Hall is not only a good player but reportedly a good person. Hopefully he can fit in.

At 19, the Titans grabbed Michael Griffin. Seems a little high for this guy...

20 was Aaron Ross, a teammate of Griffin's who sleeps with a world-class athlete. Pegged this one on my mock, not that I needed to tell you all that. You can thank me via PayPal.

21, Jacksonville used our pick to take a fine safety, Reggie Nelson from Florida, continuing the Jaguarian tradition of defense, defense, defense.

Then, as we mentioned, the Cowboys scooped up what could be a Top 5 pick next year AND a second this year (!), all for giving up their spot in a somewhat weak first round to the QB-desperate Browns. Browns GM Phil Savage is going to have a hard time standing in a few days, after the national media finishes administering the hundreds of in-print blowjobs sure to come following his acquisitions of Joe Thomas and Quinn, but my guess is Jerry Jones turns out to be the winner here eventually. Could have been Denver...should have been Denver.


Pick 23 proves the interwebbers right yet again as the Chefs take Dwayne Bowe from LSU. It's true they need a wideout, yes, but how is young Croyle going to get the ball down the field when he's in several distinct pieces? Read more

Semi-Live Draft Blog Vol. 2


I was betrayed by the internets right as the Broncos were picking. Figures. Technology, what have you ever done for me?

Anyway. Let's catch up--my team gave up a third, a sixth and their first rounder this year to Jacksonville to move to 17, where they selected Jarvis Moss, a tall defensive end from Florida who murdered the Buckeyes in the national championship game. Most mocks I had seen predicted this was gonna be the Broncos' guy and amazingly, for once, everyone seemed to be right.

Of course, I think he might have been available at 21.

Or they could have traded with Cleveland, who just moved back into the first at 22 and got Quinn. Dallas ended up getting Cleveland's 2008 first rounder. Fuck.

At least the very least, KC got stymied, seeing as they were evidently showing interest in Quinn at their slot.

Here's what Pro Football Weekly's 2007 Draft Preview says about Moss: "Has great length and a lot of room to add bulk and get stronger. Very fluid movement skills. Very limber and flexible." Well, thank god for that. One thing I've said consistently the last few years, we need a more bendable defense. Read more

Semi-Live Draft Blog Vol. 1

I decided that these posts are gonna need a consistent title...

The Steelers take Timmons at 15. Pasquarelli spits a mouthful of Iron City beer on the back of his favorite hooker when he hears the news. Linebacker City gets a guy some had suspected the Broncos of pursuing...of course, some are idiots.

The Packers take an oft-injured defensive tackle from Tennessee, a guy ranked as low on #48 on scouts.com/ESPN's board. They don't want Quinn. Who does?

The rumor is, evidently, that the Browns are trying to trade back into the 1st round to get another shot at him. If Jacksonville passes at 17, none of the next teams--Tennessee, the New York Giants, Denver, Cincinnati--need a QB.

Denver trades! We traded up to #17.... Read more

So far, So %#@*! Good...


Not that we don't swear here at the HoGo, but I dearly love me some curse-icons.

Yesterday I posted a completely uninformed mock draft. To this point, it's surprisingly accurate.

I called the first five picks. Not too tough there, a lot of people had them falling like that, with the possible exception of Levi Brown at #5. And while I flipped choices with the Redskins and Vikings--I had the 'Skins taking Adrian Peterson and the Vikes Landry, it went opposite--I still generally had the top 8 right.

I screwed up the three following, and as I write this, Quinn is still falling. He could fall for a while. Which makes me inexplicably happy. Leon Hall remains on the board as well, and I had Okoye going to Hotlanta instead of Houston.

But! I nailed the following three picks, including the Marshawn Lynch to the Bills, which if I may say so, was a bold and visionary call.

The Jets are picking, after the draft's first trade (with Carolina for this slot and a 6th rounder; the Panthers get the Jets' 1st, a 2nd and a 5th...yow) and the goons are freaking out. They should hold the draft in Sioux Falls . And the pick is...Darrelle Revis, whom I had going a slot later to Pittsburgh.

Len Pasquarelli, in between bites of a disgusting Pittsburgher fries-and-chicken heart sandwich, prepares to anoint whoever the Steelers pick as a "blue-collar character guy." Read more

Don't Fuck With The Royals

This is pretty scary, but one of the beautiful things about baseball is that it polices itself. Karma can be a bitch, or sometimes a Zach Greinke fastball to the grill.

A couple weeks back, Torii Hunter mouthed off about the exploding numbers of players wearing Jackie Robinson’s No. 42. He implied that whites, Asians and Latinos should not do so, and that only a select few African American players—those who, in his eyes, are carrying out Jackie’s legacy—were worthy of donning the number.

That’s bullshit, and the complaint made me respect Torii Hunter less.

Then, Hunter made headlines again. He apparently violated some dumb old rule that you can’t bribe another team with worthless gifts, something that probably happened back in the Black Sox days. To wit, Hunter had promised the lowly KC Royals champagne if they pulled a Forty-Niner and helped the Twins win the division in ’06. Last week Hunter made good on his word and baseball went ape shit.

This was treated as a novelty story, kind of like when someone unearths old miscegenation and sodomy laws. It left me with one impression, that Torii Hunter is a major league dick. The Kansas City Royals are professional baseball players. The champagne promise was based on an assumption that the lowly Royals didn’t have a prayer of beating the Tigers last season, and Hunter was grandstanding based on this premise. In baseball, in the old days, if you stood around admiring your home run, or if you took a little too long in your trot, next time up you got smoked.

Torii Hunter tried to treat the Royals like little kids, and he got drilled in the face. That’s a comeuppance.
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God Bless Ted Nugent


Jesus, I love this country.

Not in the “Love It Or Leave It” nationalistic madman sense, but I really have a deep appreciation for how awesome America is. Sure, our leadership is a mess, and we don’t care about anything of substance, and we have a million problems.

But you can turn on just about any shower faucet in this country and hot water comes out. You can turn on most any TV and find out if your baseball team won a game, and what laws Ron Mexico is currently in violation of (hell, I was in Mexico and I had no idea until Cecil gave me the heads-up). And we have vast quantities of readily available, affordable food that will give you a solid bowel movement the next morning.

Don’t get me wrong, I love me some travel, expecially the international jet-setting my lofty financial setting affords me. But when it comes to the business of being a sports fan (and pooping), I’ll take the good old U.S. of A.

This gives me the opportunity to also say Fuck Canada. My virulent bias against that nation knows no bounds, and I’ve held back long enough. Canada, I hate you and all you stand for. Even if my stupid government lacks the balls to engage in the easily winnable war to overtake your vast resources, I am launching verbal salvos via the House of Georges’ weapons of ass destruction. No longer will your ham/bacon and God-awful music go unpunished.

Enjoy your draft coverage—I’ll remain on the sidelines and leave it to the experts.
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Friday, April 27, 2007

Ma Cudrapht


That right there, folks, is the single stupidest blog title the world has known. Unlike my inaugural effort in 2006, which I shared only with the captive audience in our fantasy baseball league(s)--I'm currently winning the '07 Ted, by the by--I'm gonna try and keep this short.

However, there exists a not-really-that-small possibility that during tomorrow's opening rounds I'll blog live during each pick. Meantime our Administrator will be winding that slipknot, ala Woody Guthrie's hangman, having completely ODed on uninformed draft blather before the fucking thing has even started. To the mockery!

(Ed. Note: The following bare-bones mock does not take into account trades or anything else, even though trades will most likely occur, possibly even with this narrator's beloved franchise trading into the top 10 to get a crack at a guy like this...or possibly this.)

1. Oakland -- JaMarcus Russell, QB, LSU
Greg Maddux says chicks dig the long ball, and , uh, we at HoG wouldn't have any idea whether they do or not, honestly. But Al Davis sure does.

2. Detroit -- Calvin Johnson, WR, Georgia Tech
How can Millen not take this guy? Even if he had picked Marcus Nash in each of the last 10 drafts, he has to take Johnson. Has to...at least for trade bait.

3. Cleveland -- Joe Thomas, LT, Wisconsin
These guys don't just need a QB, they need to keep one healthy.

4. Tampa Bay -- Gaines Adams, DE, Clemson
Since they couldn't get their boy from the Ramblin' Wreck, a man who was once one of the 50 Most Beautiful People in America takes some help for a rapidly aging D.

5. Arizona -- Levi Brown, LT, Penn State
The team that perpetually needs O-line help takes the best available.

6. Washington -- Adrian Peterson, RB, Oklahoma
Why wouldn't Snyder take the highest-profile player on the board? Even with Portis?

7. Minnesota -- LaRon Landry, S, LSU
A guy who says he "plays like a wild bull" goes to a team with a good D that still needs help in that backfield.

8. Atlanta -- Amobi Okoye, DE, Louisville
This team pisses me off for no other reason...OK, a couple of big ones...than taking this kid, who could play 15 years...since he's only 19. Oh, and did we mention their QB is a real upstanding guy who does not deserve to go to jail?

9. Miami -- Brady Quinn, QB, Notre Dame
They need to groom somebody, because getting this guy, last seen walking across a busy street in his underwear, muttering, isn't going to be a solution, and this guy is going to be cut.

10. Houston -- Leon Hall, CB, Michigan
Aside from Dunta "Pronounced Dun-Tay" Robinson, they have no one at CB.

11. San Francisco -- Patrick Willis, LB, Mississippi
Even though this dude will probably be a good pro, had any of us heard his name before 6 months ago?

12. Buffalo -- Marshawn Lynch, RB, California
The first reach from a team known for them. Ladies of Buffalo, if you date this man, beware.

13. St. Louis -- Adam Carriker, DE, Nebraska
With the exception of Will Shields, Neil Smith and Tom Rathman, name me a good pro Cornhusker. And not this guy either.

14. Carolina -- Alan Branch, DT, Michigan
The Cats stop the big man's fall, which if it happened would cause something on the order of a 5.6 quake.

15. Pittsburgh -- Darrelle Revis, CB, Pitt
Too high for this guy, but he played next door.

16. Green Bay -- Ted Ginn Jr.
Instant return offense for a team that needs help scoring... and we don't mean with Green Bay's notoriously easy female population.

17. Jacksonville -- Jamaal Anderson, DE, Arkansas
Again, the Jags pick up a D-line stud. Too bad he can't play QB.

18. Cincinnati -- Lawrence Timmons, LB, Florida State
These guys haven't had good LB play in years, and as a bonus, this guy is currently not being prosecuted.

19. Tennessee -- Robert Meachem, WR, Tennesee
He played next door, he's underrated and Young needs someone-anyone--to throw the ball to.

20. New York Giants -- Aaron Ross, CB, Texas
Even if he shows up at camp as--surprise!--a quadraplegic, he'll still be better than what the Gints have now.

21. Denver -- Jon Beason, LB, Miami
A worthy successor to our dearly departed former leader. And yes, I know we signed two LBs yesterday...this guy will be better than both.

22. Dallas -- Reggie Nelson, S, Florida
With Roy Williams unable to cover anything faster than Moss--Spanish, not Santana--Jerry's kids take the best safety remaining.

23. Kansas City -- Joe Staley, OL, Central Michigan
What doesn't this team need? They start by rebuilding a former strength with this converted tight end.

24. New England -- Paul Posluszny, LB, Penn State
They need a 'backer, he's a good fit. Peter King will write 5,000 words next Monday on why this was the single greatest draft pick ever by anyone.

25. New York Jets -- Michael Griffin, S, Texas
Great special teamer and tackler fits this D perfectly.

26. Philadelphia -- Ben Grubbs, G, Auburn
Andy Reid loves drafting linemen, they say, and it should be said, appears to have devoured one himself.

27. New Orleans -- Brandon Meriweather, S, Miami
He'll get a chance to open fire on opposing runners in this completely safe city.

28. New England -- Marcus McCauley, CB, Fresno State
Not only is Belichick a pal of Pat Hill, but the Pats have enough depth to take a chance on this kid.

29. Baltimore -- Ryan Kalil, C, USC
The chalk pick, right. Go eff yourself.

30. San Diego -- Sidney Rice, WR, South Carolina
See the Pats' last pick. The loaded Bolts can afford to groom a potentially good starter.

31. Chicago -- Kevin Kolb, QB, Houston
Sexy Rexy is the handsomest man alive, but his days at the helm in BigShouldersville are numbered.

32. Indianapolis -- Anthony Spencer, DE, Purdue
Might continue the Boilermakers' recent tradition of sending quality ends to the league. In any case, gets the played nearby homer vote, which means a lot to these people.

Talk to you kids tomorrow, bright and early... Read more

Thursday, April 26, 2007

God damn, we're handsome

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Fun With Print Journalism, HTML

I racked my brain for hours today. I thought and I thought, and I fed the kleenex and fell asleep in my chair thought some more, but it wouldn't come. I couldn't think of what to write about today. Hockey playoffs? Check. Draft nauseum? Check. Tradition post of the week? Check. We Are Hot Chicks post of the week? Check. This is an actual stream of my consciousness. Deep. I know. NBA playoffs? See just below red print.

Okay. Okay. I'm secretly cheering for the Nuggets. Settle down. I ain't watchin'. And that's only because how can you not cheer for the flippin' Nuggets? They've had so little success in their history. They pulled the strings to get
AI (that's right Kobe, suck a lemon). And they're named after dense fluffy mega-morsels of weed! What's not to love? I'm also secretly cheering for Golden State. Not to win. Just to make a good series out of it, which, by Warriors standings, they already did by winning a post-season game.

I happen to, despise my hatred of all things Texas, root for the Mavs most every year. I mean, when people tell me they're playing, I'm all I hope they win it all, inside. And of course, I always become a huge Suns fan come late April, or whatever time of year that ultra-stud Steve Nash can drop fecal samples in Kobe's coffee. The Lakers, after barely making the playoffs, are down 0-2 against Nash and crew. Shit. Can't we call it a championship there? My point? I'm gettin' there. Settle the fuck down. Old No. 7's in Mexico. We're still at least a day away from hearing from the One-Man Mobile Uplink Unit Weekend Correspondent. I'll take my sweet-ass time.

The Lakers, actually, to get to my point, suck lots of goat balls. No. I'm not sure if goats have balls, but work with me here. Also in the animal ball-sucking category are the Detroit Red Wings, down 2-0 in the second period of game one against the Sharks. Uber-sweet. The guest of honor at this Ball Sucker's Ball, however, plays in a division some of you may know as the American League East.

Yeah. Now, you're seein' the theme. I was sitting there thinking fuck you, Interwebs, give me a picture of today's MLB standings, so I can post it. And it hit me. I can cut out things from my very own newspaper, scan them, and save them to my computer. I know. Archaic, right? Archaic, but sweet. So I did. And it's crooked, and fuzzy, and surrounded by a tacky white border, and I'm pretty sure I scanned a piece of lint in there, too. But hey. I procured an image to portray Team Douche Bag. Right above those standings are the Central's. No surprise who's in last place there. They're supposed to be in last, though, right? Not the Brokebacknx Boofersmbers.

They're practically royalty. I suppose it's alright, though. We're tolerant creatures here at the HoG. We're mildly intelligent, too. So, if we want to tolerantly put together a small little equation -- you know, a little something like:









you wouldn't mind, would you? I didn't think so. But you already knew what I was going to tell you. You already knew all of that. I sincerely apologize for wasting your time.

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Wednesday, April 25, 2007

The Quest for the Cup: HoG's Conference Finals Preview


And then there were eight. It's kind of like March Madness going from the Sweet Sixteen to the Elite Eight, except it takes two weeks. And nobody -- myself excepted -- south of our northern border is watching. The great part is that, with Old No. 7 heading south of the border, no one is reading this. Common thread? I think so.


So, I'll break down the NHL's Conference Semi-Finals for myself, and tell myself, who I think will emerge victorious from each series. I must first, however, pat myself on the back for being relatively successful in my playoff hockey picks thus far. Making those bold selections was a task no man should challenge alone. Nevertheless, I venture into the chasm of puck predictions once more. Ready? Yes. Confident? Absolutely. Afraid? Maybe a little.


Eastern Conference
The puck drops in both EC series tonight. Lindy Ruff's Buffalo Sabres host Tom Renney's New York Rangers. Of my Conference Semi-Finals predictions, the Rangers were one of two (one per conference) picks I didn't get right. Make no mistake this time, however. Club Ranger will be sniped. The Sabres, my pick to skate with Lord Stanley's trophy, should dispose of this wishy-washy New York club in four straight. Should. But Jaromir Jagr, Marian Hossa and company proved to be pesky last round. So, we'll say six.
The other matchup pits the Ottawa Senators against the New Jersey Devils. This is the toughy of all four series. Ottawa handled the young Pittsburgh Penguin crew just as I imagined they would. They also played tougher than the previous game as the series wore on. New Jersey took one game more to eliminate the Tampa Bay Lighning than the Sens did the Pens, but the Devils all but dominated Ottawa in the regular season. Ultimately, the Devils have to withstand the toughness of the Senators, and the Senators have to find a way to put the puck in the twine behind the league's best goaltender. Martin Brodeur has had such a stellar year, that I don't think Ottawa will be able to withstand a series in which New Jersey has the home-ice advantage. It'll be a rubber match, the distance, one in which Sens netminder Ray Emery only remembers how well he played in the previous round. This time? Not so much. Devils in seven.


Western Conference
The Detroit Redwings host the San Jose Sharks, the latter of which I did not predict to still be around. Given that Calgary hassled the elderly as much as they did in the last round, I'm not sure Detroit has the edge to advance. Dominik Hasek is not the unbeatable machine he once was. The Sharks will feed off of the first-round momentum they acquired, and outskate, outshoot, and outcheck the Wings. No amount of Babcock or Chelios will help them here. Sharks in six.
The Anaheim Ducks take on the Vancouver Canucks. The Ducks, my pick to represent the West in the Cup Finals, will have more problems than I initially imagined the Vancouver squad could dish. At times, the Canucks dominated the Dallas Stars in round one; others they were flat. I imagine this matchup will be a give one, take one type of exchange, one in which Vancouverites get their hopes up, only to have them dashed in the late goings. Anaheim in six.
As the Conference Finals near, tune in for my nitty-gritty shakedown of how the Buffalo Sabres will not Scott Norwood themselves in the end.
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Fatlock Follies


I certainly don't mean to imply that "Fatlock Follies" will become a regular HoG feature. But it just might. Homeslice (who hasn't responded to an email of mine in like three years) is all over the place these days. I mean, sure, it's easy to do when you're as big as any NBA player's SUV of the day. Fa' reals, though. He -- aside from writing an occasional column for The Kansas City Star -- keeps popping up everywhere. The Page 2 conundrum. The AOL column, which he shrewdly used to continue airing said conundrum. The NBA All-Star game, which he had abundant opinions about. The Don Imus firing (see second half of previous sentence). The interviewing for Don Imus' replacement. Where is it that Big Sexy (as he likes to call himself for reasons only he understands) isn't? I'll tell you where. Not da' club. Yes. Da' club. This was just too good to pass up. Credit to Senor Pablo S. Torre's Pablog column on thecrimson.com. Good, good stuff. Good, good times. Don't forget your umbrella.
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We Are Hot Chicks Wednesday: Miss Monica Bellucci

Monica Bellucci has starred in a number of films I am unfamiliar with. They're out there; I just ain't seen 'em. I did happen to catch "The Matrix: Reloaded." Several times. Her scene -- she plays Persephone and is married to a French douche bag -- kicks more ass than any team playing the Yankees this month. She's smokin'. If I were Trinity, I'd've been jealous of Persephone's lips wrapped 'round Neo's package, too. One of these days, her hotness will get me around to watching "The Passion," "Brothers Grimm," or something else she's been in. For now, though, let's just have a nice long study hall of some Bellucci imagery.





Yes. This looks like a fine place to start. The always-sensual strands of hair across the face. The strange ensemble of patchwork clothing she appears to be discarding (always a big fan). The mesmerizing rack. Arms raised innocently over head. The I-know-you're-just-gonna-pound-the-shit-out-of-me gaze. Luscious lips, and, did I mention the chest? Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.




Even better. The garment's gone. Arms back down in feigned modesty. Turned to the side, as in headed towards the bed -- or the top of the air conditioning unit in the back yard if that's how you roll -- with a gaze that now says "Hurry up, you hot provider of meast. Mama needs her medicine." She's also seized the opportunity to cup one of those luscious man pacifiers, and adjusted her hair to imply she'll need a banging after her banging. Good stuff.




To color photography and to Green Bellucci. No. Really. That was a toast. Drink to that shit, homes. Love them skivvies. And mid-section. And part in between mid-section and neck that I've already mentioned twice. She's got a knack for face-makin', too. Yikes. That face-making exercise there makes me think her baby-makin' skills might'nt be far behind.




Speaking of faces, sweet Jesus. Or, sweet baby Jesus, as Cecil would say. Digits in orifice makes Daddy happy. So does that ridiculously sexy red hoodie. I'll bet she's got a small picture of her self taped to the inside of that hood. She's most likely looking at that picture in this picture thinking to herself, damn, I'm hot. That thing they say about pictures saying something about words...whatever it is, is true.




A few years back --2003 I think it was -- we was rollin' through my hood after the Kansas City Chiefs special teams did not clip the Denver Broncos three times in the same kickoff return, permitting Dante Hall to take it to the house for the game-winner. We were hungry for some Popeye's chicken. I had a jersey on. So did my three Bronco comrades. After we placed our order, the young woman not quite as hot as Monica Bellucci asked me why I hung out with them but didn't match their jersey? I explained to her the importance of rooting for the home team, then asked her why she (apparently) didn't like the Chiefs. Her answer went a little exactly like this, "First of all, I don't even like red." Don't forget token letter-C-shaped wave of her hand in front of my across-the-counter face. If, oh proud baker of biscuits, you find yourself floating through these here HoG pages, I think now you'll be forced to disagree. Peeking nips. Steamy glass. I just shuddered typing that. Oo, and my shorts are a little damp, too.




I don't know what's going on here, but me likey. Anytime we mess ourselves at the same time, sign me up to the mailing list. Huge fan. I have no idea if that's paint or tar or beads. I am pretty certain, though, that I'm well-qualified to apply and remove said mystery substance.




A bit odd. Yes. But it works. Especially when I pretend that thumbnail (yes, that actual nail on her thumb) is busy tweaking nip. Grr. That open, above-cleavage area reminds me of my map of 49 American states. The only thing missing is Hawaii.



So she's got a thing with her arms over her head. Wanna fight about it? Just pretend they're expert hands, skilled in the art of headboard clutching. Yeah. See? That's what I thought. Oh, and I just bought 467,000 shares of stock in any and every thing mesh.



I'm always in favor of getting one step closer to nakedness. Night or day, really. It's a nice effect. Leaving something for the imagination is always in everyone's best interest. And everyone's best interest clearly involves not copying and pasting this link: http://meedown.com/d/15478-2/Monica-Bellucci-71.JPG Read more

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Tradition Tuesday: SEC Gunslingers Invade AFC West (well, the two teams that matter, anyway)
















Editor's Note: The rough focus of this blog is the rivalry between the Kansas City Chiefs (represented by Bankmeister) and the Denver Broncos (championed by Cecil and Old No. 7). It may seem unfair that it's two vs. one, but once KC gets that second Super Bowl we'll even out the delegation.

Seven years ago we started The Tradition, in which Broncos fans travelled out to the Truman Sports Complex with their team, and I returned to the Rocky Mountains with mine. We tailgate, we talk massive amounts of shit, our wives occasionally get assaulted by rival fans, and we almost always watch the visiting team lose. It's a grand old time.

Here at the HoG, we're going to keep The Tradition alive all year long with Tradition Tuesday--a weekly state-of-the-rivalry address.


Thus, we have installment two of Tradition Tuesday.

There are some interesting things to keep in mind about this post. One would be that I'm wasted. Two would be that I struggled, for literally hours, to get images of Brodie and Jay that were actually the same size. It, as you can plainly see, was not possible. My hope was to avoid sophomoric comments like, "See, our QB's picture is bigger, thus he's better."

Not that I would ever anticipate such a statement from either of my colleagues, but whatever. The point of today's Tradition Tuesday post is to examine the scary what-ifs of this upcoming season in the esteemed AFC West, a.k.a. the only division in the league that really counts for anything. As a whole, we know that the Art Shell's club --wha'? he's not the coach anymore? -- will fuck things up. Somehow. It doesn't matter how disgraceful your club was last year, or how impressive your franchise used to be. Bottom line=you still suck.

Moving on. Norv Turner will achieve tremendous success as head coach of the San Diego Chargers. How could you not? It won't be good enough, though.

This division, as always, will come down to Kansas City-Denver football. I know -- I didn't forget that the Bolts went 14-2 last year. Trust me. It was their thing. They had 'roids and luck on their side. But they also had Martyball. Bad times. I speak from experience, mind you.

The aim of today's post is to look at the young quarterbacks of these two fine franchises. On the one hand, you have a fan base that, as of day one of the 2006 season, was calling for its QB's head. If you're not sure who that guy is, allow me to assure you that he is the
king of Classville. Another top-notch signing by the In-Com-Plete franchise. And let me assure you that he led them. Oh, he led them far. And by far, I mean into the depths of the fifth-biggest drubbing one franchise has ever seen in conference title/world championship matchups. In case you didn't get that, it was one team's fifth ass beating in a big, big game.

Let's pause.

They've been to seven conference title games. In two of them, they advanced, and won a little something we like to call the Super Bowl. Those two times were also back to back. My Chiefs have been in three of said conference championship games, and won two, one of which resulted in a world title. Yes, dinosaurs roamed the earth then, cars hadn't been invented, and the team drank a primitive version of Gatorade. Please, take a moment to fill in your own asterisks. They, however, never had their asses handed to them. Except for Super Bowl I. A 25-point defecit doesn't equate to braggin' rights. But, oh, how I've gotten off track.

We're talking about the upcoming season. And we're talking about young quarterbacks.

Initially, the aim of this post was to compare Jay Cutler's stats at Vanderbilt against Brodie Croyle's stats at Alabama, and find a skewed, totally biased way of proving Croyle's ability/edge over Cutler's. Let's not waste our time, though. Cutler's a stud. He's got a
rocket laser arm and is totally set for success. Brodie Croyle has broken every bone in his body, strained every muscle, and is just plain too small to even get out of bed in the morning without hurting himself. So the matchup is obvious. Cutler's better than Croyle.

Let's look into the upcoming season. Broncos Head Coach Mike Shanahan made a switch many
Denver fans hoped he would make earlier than he did. Chiefs/Broncos day in Denver was ridiculous. Some Broncos fans screamed for Cutler --again, this was week two -- while others screamed at the screaming fans for such insanity. In the end, they were all on the same page. Mr. Vanderbilt got the nod, and almost led his team to a playoff berth.

In Kansas City, Croyle only saw mopup duty. Talk about
pretty. Oo, boy. So the edge is obvious. Shanahan made the change, not to make the playoffs last year, per se, but to win the Super Bowl. He didn't specify which one, but that matters little. Come opening day this year, if Kansas City Head Coach Herman Edwards decides that Brodie Croyle is the starting quarterback of the Kansas City Chiefs, his aim to win the AFC West could be in trouble. We'll now remember Kansas City's own quarterback controversy of last year.

That issue appears over as the Chiefs look to trade Trent Green, having signed Damon Huard to a new contract. All signs, however point to Croyle being the '07 starter, pitting the former SEC rivals against one another again. Cutler has the edge, having started NFL contests already, and if rumor holds true, Croyle can't stay healthy.

We shall see...
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Monday, April 23, 2007

Eli's Recipe For Salvation



Editor's Note: This is the second edition of the HoG special feature "Why We Love The Manning Family." From time to time, we'll tackle a topic such as this and pass it around the staff, like a finely rolled spleef or a young lady that's been enjoying jug wine. I can only assume that our Weekend Correspondent will eventually grace us with his fine opinions on the subject, followed by a new "assignment" for next week. Alls I know is I'm done with mine so our God damned Adminstrator can fucking leave me alone about it already. Jesus.




Although the latest edition of the greatest rivalry in sports is well underway over for now, and although there are apparently other games happening somewhere, at the HoG our minds are always on the NFL. Specifically, the official First Family Of Football.

No, not those guys. I’m talking about the sons of Archie. Formerly the butt of jokes—many, many, many jokes—the Brothers Manning have been granted a reprieve by the American Establishment due to Peyton’s big win, newfound lovability, and apparent heterosexuality.

I suppose I can handle Peyton as a winner. I’ve always respected his talent, actually marveled at it. He’s the best technical quarterback I’ve ever seen. And I have no issues with Peyton usurping Dreamboat as the face of the NFL either. His commercials are fucking hilarious and other than looking like an underdeveloped fetus he’s tremendously likable.

I’ll never accept that Chesnning is a myth, however. You’ll have better luck convincing me that Tupac is dead or that the Freemasons didn’t plan 9/11.

Even though the story of Peyton’s coming out (so to speak) is possibly the most fascinating in sport, I spend most of every day pondering the fate of poor Eli. What makes him tick? Is he happy? Will he ever suck less?

Eli Manning is better than Tommy Aaron, Dan McGwire or Ken Brett. He’s better than Mike Maddux, Billy Ripken, and Gerald Wilkins. He’s certainly better than Ozzie Canseco.

A best case scenario for Eli might be to parallel the career of Clay Matthews. Clay played 18 years (at fucking linebacker, no less) while his brother Bruce is considered one of the greatest O-linemen ever. Clay made four Pro Bowls playing on the very good Cleveland Browns teams of the 80s, and he failed to tackle John Elway many times in AFC Championship games. I blame Shottenheimer.

Clay Matthews also had a dad who played in the NFL, and he was also a high first-round pick, after following his brother’s All-America career at USC. If Eli could emulate these achievements, most would say he’s done all right.

Eli will never get the chance to have a Clay Matthews career of pretty damn good play and longevity. Due to the nature of the position he plays, the profile of his brother and ass of a dad, and the media market he chose to play in after being the No. 1 overall pick, anything less than the Hall Of Fame would be a failure to some. And he’s not a Hall Of Fame quarterback.

My suggestion to Eli would be to start smoking the marijuana. It is a gateway drug, and perhaps through herb he could be introduced to the hard stuff. A few arrests would help—at least one DUI, battery of a lady or pre-op tranny, maybe a Page Six photo licking Britney. He needs to bottom out, get humiliated, have America mock him.

Then, by no effort other than playing the sport he’s fairly good at, he can become a hero. The media in this country is really stupid. They love when an athlete comes from hard times (which Eli did not), but the next best thing is someone who pisses away talent and then redeems himself. Look at that Josh Hamilton kid in Cincinnati. He’s one of the most talented prospects in baseball, but he was a flipping meth head. He received an indefinite suspension for pulling a Darryl Strawberry, but now he’s back and every beat writer in baseball is proclaiming his the feel good story of the summer. Look for Charlie Sheen to play him in the movie.

If you don’t drug out, Eli, then you’re doomed to wilt in the shadow of Big Brother. Please forego the path of Johnny Drama, there’s something you can save from this thing yet. The dopes that cover and cheer for sports in this country will give anyone—ANYONE—a chance to make them happy. Christ, look at Alex Rodriguez. In two weeks he’s gone from overpaid asshole choke artist to beloved clutch slugger. Two weeks! Hit the rock, young man.
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Let Mel Kiper's Hair, a.k.a. the Vomiting, Begin; or How Draft Coverage Will Take Over Your Life Whether You Want it to Or Not


You know. Just as sure as you're sitting there, the four-letter network (and perhaps the HoG) will continue to soon bombard you with more draft coverage than you could possibly ever desire in one lifetime, let alone a week. No one can really put a finger on when it started, how it developed, or why it really matters that much. I ask you, dear readers, to ask yourselves, "Would life as a huge/borderline-overdevoted NFL fan really be that different if you just plain watched the draft?

Notice I said readers, Cecil. I know you've been rubbin' 'em out left and right with each new draft website and/or magazine you discover. Honestly though. When draft day weekend comes, teams do what teams do, and that's all part of the excitement. When clubs swap spots, finnagle for picks, barter for trades, that's exciting. It's our tiny little window to look into the still-behind-the-scenes behind-the-scenes action that is the National Football League.

Every year, I ask myself the same question. How was't that thou were't blessed with such large membrage Why does it really matter what 147 different "experts" from around the nation think might happen? I guess, to a degree, I understand lining up some of the first rounders. Some. But, for Pete's (do we know who this Pete guy really was? The Disciple? The former Royals infielder
LaCock -- great name --? Charlie Hustle himself?) sake, lay off the draft prediction sauce. I'm begging you. E-motha'fuckin'-nough, already. Let us watch some good April baseball, some playoff hockey (okay, sometimes "us" means everyone, sometimes it means a dozen or more, or fewer), some first round NBA playoffs even.

Maybe I'm the only one that feels that way. Don't get me wrong. I'm stoked for draft day weekend. I love knowing who my team's new players are. I adore developing my own opinion on whether or not they addressed the roster areas that needed attention. I just don't need to think about it six weeks in advance. We don't devote this much energy to who will be the five-man rotation for each club come opening day. We don't pay even a shrivel of this much attention to any other sport's drafts. Hell, you read about those events in the paper the next day. The NFL draft is a complete crapshoot, too if you look at all involved. What's the percentage of drafted guys that make it through camp, are on the squad come opening day, and have a significant career with that team? Or some other team, if they're traded. So let's say significant career period.


Sure. Significant is subjective. Either way, I'm sure someone has crunched these numbers. So, raise your hand, point me in the direction of said research, and let's discuss. 'Cause I ain't researchin'. I will, however, continue -- quite arrogantly, I might add -- to pound home my point, and whole-heartedly disagree with yours. Bring it. Or consider it brought. Or just wait for more pictures of scarcely clad females on
We Are Hot Chicks Wednesday. Whatevah. All's fair in sports and breasteses.
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Saturday, April 21, 2007

What's Awesome?




Besides this, you mean?

Evidently when you type the phrase "millen picture in ESPN the mag" into Google, House of Georges pops up number 6. And since literally hundreds of thousands of people search those words regularly, this is huge. Beyond huge. Big, even. Read more

Detritus

Signing in, your weekend correspondent. I tossed forth a few when the week was young but now I'm drinking vodka instead of something like this.

Greg Oden's going pro, the Sox and the Yanks are at it, the Nuggets and Spurs tip it tomorrow at 7, and Barbaro lives. Lotta stuff happening...you know, sorry for even mentioning the horse. That's really these guys' schtick. We'll stick to what we know: the big three sports (since there are only three and if there were a fourth someone would have told us about it) a note on soccer every four years and this stuff.

You might call we HoGers focused. You might call us specialists. You might call us specialistic focusaters, but if you did we'd totally make fun of you because that doesn't mean anything.

The NFL Draft happens next week. Our Administrator's team was predicted to win the AFC West by a chicken that picks stocks on public television. Picked it, the damn thing did, to go 11-5 and beat my beloved Denver Broncos not once but twice. Twice! In the same season, even, not consecutive ones. Chickens. What're you gonna do?

I've already addressed the future of my favorite footballing squad. You all, and by you all I mean our nonexistent readership, probably read it on this here site. To borrow a conceit from a fat man who loves John Elway and might be taking over for Don Imus on New York's WFAN, cut that shit out, put it on your refrigerator, refer to it constantly over the season. It's like peering into the future. You read that and you're a goddamn time traveler.

More to come when I refill. Read more

Friday, April 20, 2007

Cellar Evacuation Com-...Cellar Evacuation Comp-...Cellar Evacuation Compl-...Cellar...Aw, Eff It

Alright. I'll accept it. Sox-Yanks is pretty big. Dudes across America are gettin' excited for this series, fans are bustin' out their seriously hilarious gear. Television ratings will go through the roof. Good times will be had by many. Especially by those of us watching this, this or this instead of installment one of 27 that these two AL East clubs will meet this year. Okay, not many of you will be watching this one or this two. Hell, maybe even less of you will be watching this three. I, for one, though, am excited for Twins/Royals matchups this year. Yes. The Twinkies opened the season storming diamonds left and right, and will likely march straight through the summer, reaping the rewards of the AL Central division title. Their hitting/pitching combo dominates most foes. And they have certain guys that continue to crush even the loftiest of Royals' optimists every year. His unofficial title as Royal killer, though, may have been passed on to another division foe.






Either way, tonight's Ponson/Perez matchup kicks off Twins/Royals baseball, and it should be a doozy. Neither has pitched well thus far, and each team has a couple of bats approaching hot. Tomorrow night's probable starters are Boof Bonser (who? and, thanks Mr. & Mrs. Bonser) versus Zach Greinke, and Ramon Ortiz takes on Jorge de la Rosa on Sunday. Good times, indeed. But they don't end there. Oh, no, no, no. Tonight's game attendees will receive free stadium blankets and enjoy a Free Fireworks Friday after the pitching duel is complete. And Sunday is a Royals' Friends and Family Day, where, for the low price of $40 American dollars, a fan gets four tickets, four hot dogs, four Pepsis and a GameDay magazine. The fun just never ends.






The real story about this weekend, though, is the stick that squatty # 14 has been showing at the plate as of late. I've been listening to Ryan Lefebvre, Denny Matthews, Splitt & Bob Davis talk about the potential in this guy ever since this went down. And I'll admit, I have periodically been excited about it, as excited as one gets over catcher hype. But, as a Royals fan, one learns to be faithful. One simply has no other choice. Unless one wants to ride the negativity wagon for eternity. No thanks. He's already on pace to break his homerun and RBI season highs, assuming skipper Buddy Bell doesn't give Jason LaRue a ton of starts. Assuming he stays healthy, too.



KC game callers, since the trade, have also developed the tendency of assigning much, if not all, of the responsibility of pitching development on Buck's shoulders. An obvious concept, one might think. Pitching development, however, has not been a resident of Kauffman Stadium since, well, they changed the name to Kauffman Stadium. This is not to say that the current rotation or the current pen is stacked with potential. It's far from it. But the front office continues to make baby steps in the direction of strengthening the pitching staff. Hence, perfect timing for Buck to develop his swing, up his clubhouse respectability in that regard, and continue to nurture relationships with Royals hurlers.


The other part of the trade -- we'll pretend the Mike Wood factor was never in effect -- is this shortstop-turned-third-basemen-turned-rightfielder.




Trust me when I say it's pronounced "Teein'." His stick -- after a brief re-assignment to Omaha late last year -- came alive with fury. His pre-season outfield ability looked very little like an ability of any kind. But he's come around. I was supremely pissed when it looked as though the Royals were going to give Angel Berroa another shot as opening day approached. I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why they were putting Teahen in an already-crowded outfield when they could just cut their ties with the '03 AL Rookie of the Year and shuffle Teahen into is spot. The addition, however, of Tony Pena, Jr. has been nice. He's currently tied with New York Mets shortstop Jose Reyes for the MLB lead in triples. And he's displayed a sweet glove as well.

Now, if the Royals can just get Mike Sweeney out of his God-awful season-starting slump, keep DeJesus' bat crackin', and get a little more production out of the middle of the order, they'd be halfway home to decency. The rest of course would involve not blowing leads and giving up huge leads early in games, feats the Royals have mastered over the last two years. I'm staying optimistic. I'm watching zero very little Yankees/Sox this weekend, and I will definitely be getting my Boof Bonser on this weekend. Let Operation Climb Out of the Cellar commence.

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HoG Feature: How Doth We Lovest Thou, O Manning Family? Let Us Count the Ways

We've nailed down the skinny on the HoG. Old # 7's Editor's Note exuded precision when it professed our strict, AFC West-based religion. We have that in common, regardless of our differences. Their (oNs & Cecil's) side of Kanorado embodies a Christian belief; the Messiah has come, he delivered them the grace of God, died for their sins, and will has come again in glory to judge the living and the dead perhaps take them once more to the Promised Land. Our (my) side is a shitload bit more Jewish than that; we believe that said Messiah was a man -- a pretty good man at that -- but by no means the son of God.



We do, however, have agreements from time to time. One thing we frequently agree on is the uber-existence of stand-up guys on teams we a) hate, b) don't care about, or c) don't care about how much we hate. Pardon the cliche, but the dime a dozen category isn't exactly full of this caliber of citizen/athlete. Therefore, when we see a dandy chum -- or two -- we feel it to be our journalistic responsibility to point them out. Especially when they cruise under the proverbial radar. That's why we would like to turn your attention to these fine two lads.




God, they're handsome. That's a mere one of thousands of characteristics we love about Peyton and Eli Manning, though. These boys came virtually unnoticed out of the ranks of college football. They, like the rest of underprivileged America, borrowed federal loans to pay for their tuition, worked full-time jobs while taking full class loads, and still managed to partipate in athletics at their respective little-known Division II universities. Most folks had barely, if at all, heard of them by the time they declared themselves eligible for the NFL draft. Those that knew of the Manning boys shared the opinion that their chances of making a team were slim to none. Thus, they had their sights set on playing Canadian football, with the ultimate hope of maybe one day making an NFL Europe roster, or perhaps a practice squad here in the states.



Amazingly, though, they bucked all of the odds, and worked diligently to get onto actual NFL teams of their own accord. Peyton, the elder Manning, was courted by the Indianapolis Colts halfway through the 1998 season when their long snapper snapped his fibula. After a grueling 18 months of perfecting this art form, he worked himself into the permanent position of backup punter. Having excelled at these positions, he tried out for wide receiver and, by virtue of the Colts' starting quarterback contracting a mean case of salmonella, wound up taking snaps under center. He remains the Colts' starting QB today. Eli's stories of adversity are no different. He now boasts the starting QB role for the New York Giants. Their tales do not end there, though.



The Manning brothers have thwarted standards associated with today's NFL quarterbacks. They get, and are content with, next to no exposure from the national media. Nor do they seek it. Furthermore, while quarterbacks like Atlanta's Michael Vick, Green Bay's Brett Favre, and New England's Tom Brady rake in boatloads of American dollars, the Mannings play for pennies, often times giving away the few they have earned. When you couldn't think they could do anymore positive, they both continue to impress their colleagues as both leaders and good teammates. Living their modest lives both on and off the field has become a staple to the brothers. Their workingman's salaries are fairly taxed, just like any other citizen, and both have declined opportunities to model products for endorsement money.



What's more, Peyton and Eli have a third brother, Cooper. Physical ailments prevented him from slaving away to get into the system like his brothers, but he is there in spirit and in thought at each and every Colts and Giants practice, meeting, and game. These sentiments are slivers of hay in the 1000-acre field of reasons why the HoG loves the Manning brothers. They are stupendous examples of hard work, humility, and perseverance in a sporting world that seldom recognizes such qualities. For these reasons, and many more, we salute you, boys. Now go out there and get your teams some well-deserved recognition. Salud.

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Thursday, April 19, 2007

A Buehrle Effort

I came home from dinner last night and flipped on the tube. Randomly, my TV was tuned to whatever Extra Innings channel the Rockies had been on the night before, and that channel last night was carrying the White Sox and Rangers. The game had just ended, and players were a-hootin' and a-hollerin' and spraying beer on one another.


The Wife asked what was going on, as this was not normal postgame behavior on a cold April night. I speculated that someone might have just thrown a no-hitter, and sure enough, Mark Buehrle had just accomplished the task. Even more impressive, he faced the minimum and very nearly hurled a perfect game. In the fifth, Buehrle walked Slammin' Sammy Sosa and then picked him off first base.


I'm very bummed that I missed the game, for a couple of reasons. One is that I am the world's biggest jinx of no-hitters, and until Anibal Sanchez's gem last season I had never seen the end of such a game live. Normally, when I catch wind of the feat, I'll flip the game on and within a few pitches the first hit drops in.


More significantly, I can't even imagine how entertaining it would have been to have Kenny "The Hawk" Harrelson call a no-hitter. He exclamates strikeouts with a lightning-quick "He-Gone!" When the White Sox hit a home run, his dopey yet endearing call is "You Can Put It On The Board...Yes!!!" Buehrle K'd eight Rangers, and the Pale Hose lofted three jacks, so it surely was a feast of The Hawk last night.


Anyway, congratulations to Beuhrle. He's pitched like shit the last year, is in the walk year of his contract, and is a well-known Cardinals fan. Since St. Louis is bombing hard and their pitching staff blows, he'll probably cash in this one game for $30-plus million, even if he sucks the rest of the year. Well played, sir.
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Wednesday, April 18, 2007

We Are Hot Chicks Wednesday: Girls We Know, Girls We Don't

Today's installment, Girls We Know, Girls We Don't, features, well, you get it. We'll have a space-bar-jammed peek at some scantily clad receptacles of meast in a way you've most certainly gotten tired of but continue to ogle never seen before.





Miss Adriana "Don't Call Me Jose's Wife" Lima sports an interesting lingerie duo that we don't know the name of. Her face, while not quite as intriguing as certain images of it -- kivered in man cocktail -- circulating the Interwebs, delivers an interesting effect here. One might add that her midsection does the same.



We haven't the slightest on who this fine piece of meast rubbage is, but we like her. Lots. Her "Break-'em-off-Some" gaze, and Amazon 'do let you know she means business. And by business, I mean Cock-a-Doodle-motherfuckin'-Doo. Big props on reminding us how unruly fake tits, naked tanning, and bikini waxing can make a man go blind.






If Miss Banks wasn't in mind when the Underground wrote the line "Ladies, oh how I love ta' thump thee," they should throw those lyrics in the trash and write 'em again. We know. She's all over the place. She has an obnoxious television show, and you could shoot a drive-in movie off of her fivehead. What better to match her lovely top in this pic, though, than a good old-fashioned pearl necklace. As much as Cecil despises loves quoting Blue Collar Comedy, even he would have to agree that the work order attached to that facial expression reads a little something like "get 'er done."









No idea who this broad is. Nice stockings, though. And tits. And facial skin that is hot, soft, and absorbent all in one. She should be available in your local grocery store aisle. Speaking of aisles, that narrow corridor looks like a horrible spot to catch yourself alone with her in.

Leeann Tweeden hails from the great state of Virgina. She has graced the pages of a certain publication's Sexy Book of Lingerie, for which we were thankful. Several times. She also graces pictured stool with the pleasure of touching her delicious backside. Eat your heart out, Anthony Ray. She also has -- um -- some really nice gloves.




Thanks to SI, and numerous other nauseating pieces of media, we're well aware of this young lady's existence. What bad remarks could you drudge up against such a fine package? Absolutely nothing. She's flawless. Now if you'll excuse me, there's a dolphin at my door that needs flogging.

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