We're back -- and full of material someone else published that we discovered -- for another installment of ThumbTubes and YouNails. In a feature that always guarantees good times (Editor's Note: Not really.) , we've got a small collection of photos and clips spanning the sports world of baseball, basketball, football, soccer, and even some non-patented, unoriginal miscellaneous nonsense. So get your mouses loosened, your speakers turned up, and your browsers refreshed. All that, some pretty bad writing, and more, after the jump. In baseball news, the Royals just completed a sweep of the Cardinals in St. Louis, which tops the good-times heap in my book. Being a bit out of the loop last week, I hadn't been aware of the situation between Royals TV announcer Ryan Lefebvre and Texas Ranger Milton Bradley. Here's a clip of what was said during the game:
And here's a summary of how Bradley responded. Being a longtime fan of Lefebvre's, I'm already biased to the situation, which I really don't think it was much of one anyway. Prior to last year, I already thought Bradley was a piece of work. Then, when a transaction with Bradley and the Royals fell through at the last minute (Editor's Note: Given aforementioned opinion, I was not in favor of such a trade.), it only added to my perception of the journeyman outfielder. Now I think he's more a piece of work than ever. (Note: I do not mean to imply that I was only temporarily out of the loop; I am frequently -- I only just learned, via that linked story, that Nolan Ryan is the president of the Rangers.) In other news, Bobby Petrino no longer coaches the Falcons, and Bob Knight has left the Texas Tech courtside.
In notes of random, Thunder Matt's Saloon speculates on what the Cubs need to do to take it to the next level, while the Big Lead offers a follow-up to their bit on sports journalism salaries, and the NFL's image continues to take a beating with bizarreoff-the-field incidents.
We tend to leave the gratuitous pictures of intoxicated professional sports figures to the more professional sports bloggers. On occasion, we'll jump aboard, especially if we ain't talkin' 'bout practice.
Stuart Scott works for ABC? Clueless. Somebody, quick: Construct a noise meter, see who gets booed louder, David Stern or Gary Bettman. Then get back to me. Or not.
In other Awful Announcing bits, they're monitoring the Jemele Hill story quite closely. Apparently, a Boston radio station seeks to enact upon Hill the same repercussions she expressed for Don Imus back when Imus made his infamous statements that led to the termination of his employment.
If interested in Euro 2008 soccer news, go here. If you're only interested in the "part" of the tournament wherein topless Austrian porn stars in body paint and thongs played a match
against Germany, and were photographed, go here. Yeah. Me too.
It feels great to be back. I mean, golfing, rafting, and boozing for four days in the beautiful mountain town of Vail is fine, I suppose, but I'd much rather be seated in the darks (Now, with less dampness! Thanks de-humidifier!) of my basement, blogging the sportage for our intergalactic audiences. Currently, the playoff is on the 13th hole, and Tiger is aiming for an eagle. I'm trying to Mediate his success with jinxes, whatnot. Every day now and again, we make fun of Canada here on the House of Georges. And most of the time, they've given us reason to do so. Today, they continue that trend.
(U.S. Open Update: Tiger missed the Eagle opportunity, and Rocco shaved a stroke to enter the 14th at +2, though Tiger avoided any gained ground by maintaining his one-stroke lead.)
Bummer. Not as much of a bummer as this, but still:
(Update: Rocco just nailed a killer birdie, and Tiger rimmed his putt, a completely disappointing event that knotted up the score. I gotta admit: this is pretty exciting, and the crowd is super fired up for this gig.
Tiger just drove his 15th-hole shot outside the ropes. More of an edge for Rocco? Perhaps he can get out of the Woods.)
The Big Lead shares with us that Sherron Collins has his own translation of "Rock Chalk, Jayhawk." Perhaps Coach Self should host a "Keep It in Your Pants" party.
(Update: Tiger's drive left him in a bunker. Rocco landed himself on the green with a beautiful second shot, inducing speculation that he would now pull away from Tiger. Tiger responded by not only getting himself out of the bunker, but placing his shot closer to the hole than Rocco's. Unpossible!
Holy Fuck! Rocco counters with a putt that had divine intervention all over it! Amazing! His third birdie in a row! Suddenly, my exclamation point key is going out of control!
Tiger missed! Rocco's got a one-stroke lead as we head to the 16th.)
When we got to the bar in Vail Friday night, I was eager to check in on the Royals/Diamondbacks game. I was floored to see that it was scoreless in the seventh, certain that, after coming completely unglued in the previous series with the Texas Rangers, the boys in blue would totally melt against the first-place D'Bags.
When it went to extra innings, a young lady from Tempe saw Yasuhiko Yabuta on the mound and asked me if he used to be a Diamondback. I could not recall, only inform her that he defines suck. Seconds later, he gave up the lone-run, walk-off homer. Guess he didn't care for that comment too much. When the Unit took the mound on Saturday, I was at first nervous to see how young Luke Hochevar would fare, then pretty pleased with the 12-3 beating they handed Arizona. That contest made the rubber match even more intriguing, and, with the help of David DeJesus' grand slam (with Gil Meche on base via a fielder's choice), another KC victory was had, this one to the tune of an 8-3 mark. They'll continue the interleague action with those hated Red Birds tomorrow.
(Update: Tiger and Rocco are still neck and neck. They're both dancing on the 17th. Mr. Woods of course set himself up gracefully, a roughly ten-foot putt in his way. Rocco's a bit further out. And by "a bit," I mean roughly a quarter mile.)
Okay. Maybe Tiger's putt was more like 20 feet. Either way, he missed it. Rocco sunk his, and takes his one-stroke lead to the 18th hole. Will we see a playoff for the playoff?
Ah, the good old days of terrible commercials. Awful Announcing graces the memory banks with some Pete Rose singing.
(Update: Rocco was totally outdriven, landed in a bunker, and Tiger's right in the middle of the fairway. Fuck.
Amazing. Rocco chipped onto the green, leaving himself about 25 feet from the hole. Tiger's turn. They're estimating he's about 40 feet out. He's taking his time scoping the green. If he nails an eagle, he wins (with a Mediate miss).
Woods is wide of the hole by about a foot!
Rocco's up. I can't imagine how he's staying calm. Oh. My. God. He fucking missed. Maybe six inches left.
Tiger for a birdie opportunity. No way he misses this. A sea gull distracts him, and he backs off. Here it is...he drained it.
Alas, so did Rocco. Sudden death, double OT.)
Courtesy of Deadspin, here's a lot of words about soccer over the weekend.
(Update: Back to the golf. The guys will play the par-three seventh hole here, to try and settle this thing. (Meta-Update: I've had to take a shit for like an hour and-a-half. Just sharin'.) Tiger's in the tee box. After his last drive, he looked like he was in pain. No signs of it here now, though. Jesus. This guy takes more time setting up for shots than those dumb pitchers with their pick-off moves. I always boo them.
And he crushed it. Stayed on the fairway, but barely. Rocco's turn. I gotta believe he won't hit the same distance. Good contact. Holy Christ. More bunker debacle.
That should do it. Rocco hit out of the bunker and layed his ball up in the flippin' crowd. Tiger's turn. He puts it right on the edge of the green. Well, it's been incredible. It really has. The "Let's Go, Rocco" chants rain down, and Mediate looks for a drop. He gets a decent one. He's on the green.)
(More Update: Tiger's putting to win. He's up from about 25 feet. Jesus. He's about three inches shy. Rocco takes to the green for a chance to stay alive.)
Since the House of Georges takes reader requests seriously, I'm going to honor the (newly-acquainted) reader Steve's request to discuss the Seattle Seahawks on a more frequent basis, which would mean mentioning them period. After a touch of digging around, I've discovered that their roster -- or at least current projections of --doesn't look half bad. Of course, and this is all coming via a post from Seahawks blog, Hasselbeck will be under center. Now, Seneca Wallace played some decent ball the last time the 'Hawks and Chiefs squared off, but if both he and Bald Matt get hurt, that leaves Charlie Frye at the helm, and I can't put a finger on what that might mean for a football team. That is, he sort of went through a shitty scenario in Cleveland, but who doesn't? Can he handle a Holmgren-run club?
In the backfield, the additions of Julius Jones and T.J. "Fat Guy in a Little Shirt" Duckett are key, according to our inside sources. The receiving corps, I argue, needs help. Maybe it's just me, but the trio of Branch, Burleson, and Engram spells a tired-ass deep threat, and maybe 150 catches combined. What Ben Obomanu and Courtney Taylor bring to the mix, I have no idea. This is the NFC we're talking about here. In ends of tightness, Jeb Putzier might very well be the sleeper, but he used to be a Donkey, which makes him a mule for life. Oops on that signing.
The O-Line has Pork Chop Womack on it, so that's tight, and the linebacking corps contains Lofa Tatupu, who I've heard of, which means zero. But other guys, like the cats over at Field Gulls, know a thing or two about linebacking. Or, there's the dudes at Seahawks Addicts. They're out there scooping all the Seahawks sludge from the windshields and beach umbrellas in Seattle. Like the Seahawks version of Cedric Benson, Rocky Bernard. (Editor's Note: Isn't that the guy from "Mask?")
Anyway, those guys are hard core. They cover things like "inccidents" and "differed" charges. So there's your Seahawks skinny, Steve. I trust you will never again frequent the House of Georges, thus relieving me of my NFC West duties. Glory be to God.
(Perhaps the Final Update: And he missed by just about as much as Tiger did. Another victory for Tiger Woods. Well, at least I can poop now.) Read more
Editor's Note: Welcome back to Guest DJ Scratchin', our guest writing "series" on the House of Georges. Like our other features, it's sure to be a massive failure huge success, something we all bask on for months and years to come. The debut effort by the one and only Lone Reader, wherein he examines the infinitely popular game of soccer can be found here. This installation, his follow-up, is also big surprise, about soccer. There's some soccer happenin' out there in the world, and TLR's gonna break it down for y'all.
Canada’s most well attended sporting event in history continues today and tomorrow . Eight teams remain in FIFA’s U-20 Men’s World cup of soccer and only four will be left by Sunday night.
“Waaaah!! Waaaah!! Not another soccer article. Soccer is stupid and they kick things. I don’t like when they fall on the ground. Waaah!! Waaah!!” Diving is in every sport, asshole. Just ‘cuz you hate Rodman, doesn’t mean you gotta hate the game. Now, like I said, shut the fuck up.
I coasted to a sweet 3-FOR-8 (0.375) in my stage 2 first round picks … that’s like a Bush family report card … fuck. I guess it’d win me a batting title.
The game goes on and so do I … roll on, lil’ brotha, roll on.
Round 2, Stage 2; The Quarterfinals
Austria vs USA
The African nation of Gambia couldn’t stop the precision of the Austrian set plays. Discipline made the difference. Uruguay came out tough (dirty) and the US fought to win. They may have lost 3-goal scoring striker, Altidore in the process.
Austria had flown under the radar, and the US continues to soak up media love. I wanna pick Austria here, but I can’t help but think Adu has something to prove. He won’t let ‘em lose. Austria goes down in extra time … 2-1.
The winner will play the winner of …
Czech Republic vs. Spain
The Czechs are playing the kind of ball of which they are often capable, but rarely do. Spain has decided to delay their choke, and Brazil felt their wrath. After going down 2-0, the Spaniards scored 4 straight. That’s momentum and that’s enough. The Czechs can’t handle the fancy footwork, though they’ll look good tryin’. Spain wins, 2-1.
Chile vs. Nigeria
Nigeria dominated Zambia. It was painful to watch. Fear not mother Zambia, mwakosa sana. Mukabwela … bwangu-bwangu. Chile overcame injury and a tough travel schedule to beat Portugal handily. I’m back on the bandwagon. Nigeria can’t out muscle Chile so easily. The Nigerians are goin’ home. Chile wins 3-0.
The winner plays the winner of …
Argentina vs. Mexico Argentina continues to be a favorite after they smoked everything Poland had to offer. They are a goal-scoring machine. The Congolese looked dull as Mexico’s quickness on both offense and defense frustrated
THIS IS THE GAME TO WATCH IN THIS ROUND. WATCH THE FUCKIN’ GAME, DAMNIT!!
Both Mexico and Argentina boast teams capable of winning it all. Both countries love their soccer, but the Mexicans have more to prove. This is their time, and I think they know it. Watch the fuck out. Giovanni Dos Santos will put Mexico on the global map of soccer once again. Mexico 3, Argentina 2.
Ah what a fine day, soccer fans. The MLS has begun itsrun to the top, and the cup’s are soon to come. I’d be happy to tell you how I know this, but I’ve got a game to catch.
Oh, yeah, if you’re still cryin’ … shut the fuck up.
Cheers all,
The Lone Reader
Note: TLR actually submitted this post for publishing prior to deadline. Technical difficulties not related to the massive demands of international soccer coverage ensued, however, and its publication was delayed. The HoG offers its sincerest apologies to all of our soccer fan.
I'm not sure what El Rey had in mind when he went to make this gesture, but I do know one thing. This story has gotten really old. The wife and I had a lovely stay in sunny Costa Rica. In the few moments I was able to escape to the bar, the only sports highlights available -- in extreme redundant nauseum I might ad -- had to do with a silly sport that's very popular down there.
But I return home, and, strangely, find myself longing for more highlights of guys like these:
And guys that bow to/wave this:
Heck, even paying attention to guys that dress up like who knows what, just so they can root for their club and lock arms with Jose Lima's ex-wife other adoring fans would be cool at this point.
Anything to make the ever-so-sleepy Green/Peterson debate go away, and go away fast.
It wasn't easy down there. I had to learn what baseball statistical abbreviations in Spanish look like/mean. I had to wade through tired seas of sweaty Yankee-capped fans dancing salsa, and wait until every other piece of futbol-related news had been covered 400 times just to find out whether or not the Royals had won.
And this is what I come home to? Come on. Let's move on, already. We have a Huard brother. We have a mighty young SEC grad waiting in the wing. Let it play itself out. When the deal is over, let's cover it then. Not before.
I don't wanna get the Master of Verbalizationall tired out before pre-pre-seasonmini-camps OTAs are over. Last time I checked, that would just be flustrating.
The last weekday baseball of this go-round takes place today. The pitching matchups aren't the greatest, but it sure as fuck beats tape-delayed soccer.
Leading off, at 11:05 Mountain time, are the Angels and the Tigers. Ervin Santana takes the ball for Los Anaheim, while Detroit sends Jeremy Bonderman against the anemic Halo offense. Bonderman is fresh of the disabled list, and in his stead the Tigers called up rookie phenom Andrew Miller, exciting many a pitching-desperate fantasy owner. Alas, Miller's big league career was put on hold for another day, as Leyland seems to favor steady (if uninspiring) Chad Durbin over the tantalizing potential of the ex-Tar Heel.
Speaking of fantasy ownership, is anyone else beginning to sour on Santana, the erstwhile Magic Man? His home/road splits are brutal: 3-1 with a 2.33 ERA in the O.C., 0-4 and 7.86 elsewhere. In my main league I'm giving him one more chance in a road start today (no choice, I've got four starters on the DL and a Rocket in the minors) but then that is it, you bastard. Broadcasts are on DirecTV Extra Innings channel 734 and XM 180.
At 11:10, Tom Gorzelanny leads the Pittsburgh Pirates into St. Louis to face Braden Looper and the Cards. St. Louis' season, it's enough to drive a guy to drink (or make a guy drink and drive, one of the two). Catch this one on 735 (DTV) and 187 (XM).
Finally, Seattle (Ramirez) invades the empty dome in St. Petersburg to take on the D-Rays (Seo). There is nothing I could possibly say that would make this game interesting. Thankfully there is no television information, but diehards can tune in to XM 181 to listen to the sounds of silence.
UPDATE: Gadget disaster. I forgot my XM receiver today, so I'll have to rely on MLB.TV in the office and suffer through dead air in the car. I picked a Thursday, of all days, to pull a boner like this.
SECOND UPDATE: Ervin Santana yields 8 ER in 3 2/3 innings of work, and can burn in everlasting hell.
What a day to be a Spartan. Capturing their third Frozen Four Championship in Michigan State University history, the Spartans served Boston College a healthy serving of misery, as the Eagles fell in the championship game for the second (not quite as bad as four) year in a row. After a period and-a-half of scoreless hockey, BC struck first, only to see MSU equalize things halfway through the third. Just as overtime seemed certain, MSU broke the tie with less than 20 seconds to play in the game. The Spartans would add an empty-net tally to seal their 3-1 victory, but North Dakota's Ryan Duncan would take home a piece of hardware all his own. Duncan became only the second Fighting Sioux to win college hockey's MVP, and only the third sophomore to ever claim the award. North Dakota fell to the Eagles 6-4 Thursday night, a match in which Duncan was held without a point.
In other news, a bunch of dudes walked around this piece of Georgia real estate all weekend looking for a jacket. It was said to be an ethnically diverse group of men, many of whom are suprisingly married to attractive women. HoG's own oNs (a.k.a. Onus) delivered to our lone reader a variety of excruciating stimuli in the form of a slew of posts covering the Masters Invitational, a fantasy golf tournament he drubbed up years ago. Let me tell you, following this annual bucket of orgasm is nothing shy of stellar. It remains impossible to match the levels of exuberance attained on the three -- and by three I mean six -- days the invitational spans. I, for the first year in tourney history, was not invited to play, an oversight I can only attribute to some horrid virtual glitch that the Hootster must alleviate prior to next year's outing. Perhaps the most exhilirating and newsworthy bit to surface from the invitational was that the Irish leapfrogged Blacks (Tiger Woods, y'all), Hispanics, and Asians (Tiger Tiger Woods, y'all) on Hoot's list of races he -- how shall I say this -- despises. I had my money on Polynesians making the top five, but there's always next year.
In still other news, soccer's slated to start soon. Yay. That should be about as exciting as attending the Easter Vigil mass. There's nothing I enjoy more than taking a chore of an hour, stretching it into more than double its length, and looking at your watch every 36 seconds in hopes that at least 15 minutes have gone by. And just when you think you're out of the hole, there's stoppage time. Stoppage time embodies euphoria. It's like that part of church where the service has ended (for the love of Pete, the priest has even said so), but you sing one more song and wait for his Holiness, the altar servers and all the pews in front of you to make their way for the door before you can leave. For real though, soccer's pretty brutal. There're two things I like about soccer a lot. The first, and clearly most important, is the fans. I have tremendous admiration for those across the globe that show support for their club with fantastic fervor and decor. The second thing I really like about soccer falls something along the lines of when it's not on, as in, the off-season. That kicks ass. Now World Cup soccer is pretty cool. The whole world gets into the sport for a month or so, and all 17 American soccer fans talk about how they're gonna get out of bed at crazy-ass hours to watch the games. That's downright devotion. You gotta love that. Just don't talk to me about it. And please, I beg you, don't do the now-overdone Hispanic "Gooooooooooooooolllllllllllllll" shout. I've had plenty already.Read more
We're back -- and full of material someone else published that we discovered -- for another installment of ThumbTubes and YouNails. In a feature that always guarantees good times (Editor's Note: Not really.) , we've got a small collection of photos and clips spanning the sports world of baseball, basketball, football, soccer, and even some non-patented, unoriginal miscellaneous nonsense. So get your mouses loosened, your speakers turned up, and your browsers refreshed. All that, some pretty bad writing, and more, after the jump.
In other Awful Announcing bits, they're monitoring the Jemele Hill story quite closely. Apparently, a Boston radio station seeks to enact upon Hill the same repercussions she expressed for Don Imus back when Imus made his infamous statements that led to the termination of his employment.
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