Monday Miscellany: In Case You Missed It

When this blog was in its origin stages, I was an obnoxious, loud-mouthed anti-golf dude. Much has changed since those days: I like golf now, and actually watch it on the televisions from time to time. I thoroughly enjoyed some soggy U.S. Open this weekend, and was pleased to be tuned in when Bob Costas dropped this gem live:



Now, this sensation that has slowly but surely swept the nation, has roots. See some, after the jump.

Okay. Well, I couldn't find the one I was looking for, but whatever.



Also, congrats to Lucas Glover for winning the thing today.
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Monday (with Golf Playoff Live Blog!) Miscellany: 6-16-08

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:


http://view.break.com/520928 - Watch more free videos

(video courtesy of With Leather)

(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.)

Free Darko has an interesting take on the NBA Finals.

(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.)
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Golf In The Daytime: Playoff!!?!

There's no day baseball today, in fact MLB has only five games total and they're all scheduled after dark. The best, by happenstance, is the ESPN game featuring Phillies ace Cole Hamels and big greasy ball of fun Bartolo Colon of the Red Sox. I don't recommend viewing that one in high def, but some of you out there have masochistic tendencies.

No, today's big weekday afternoon sporting event is the anachronistic 18-hole playoff for the U.S. Open title, featuring two dudes named Tiger and Rocco. Those are actually their real names--Rocco was born with his while the erstwhile Eldrick had his legally changed in 1996.

After the jump we'll go over a little viewer's guide for the event, broken into a handy and fun little FAQ-style format. For instance:

Golf is fucking lame and you people that like it are fags. Why are you wasting our time with this crap? These are all excellent points. Televised golf is certainly one of those love-it-or-hate-it sort of sports, and if you hate it you really hate it. It's extremely easy to call it snobby, elitist, boring, or environmentally irresponsible. It's also fun to say "It's not a real sport" or "Tiger's knee injury is a joke--hockey players skate for hours on a broken leg." Again, perfectly valid and legitimate. I apologize for wasting your time, please go back to your child porn and Youtube videos of bum fights.

Now that we're free of the riff-raff, how do I watch the playoff? I'm at work. Yes, the day job. Bane of us civilized golficcianados. If you have a Slingbox, you're already well on the way to blowing off your TPS reports in your cube. There's also some gimmick called ESPN360 that allegedly lets you tune in on your computer, but it looks like a pay service and your ISP needs to support it.

My ISP does not, and my Slingbox is on the fritz. I do have access to a TV in spurts on the upper floor of my building, but going to that well to often may make me unemployed--which would allow me to watch all the daytime sports I like but deny me the ability to pay my cable bill. If you have XM you can tune in to the audio feed on 146, and there's always the time-honored tradition I'll be employing this afternoon: Taking a long, late lunch and hitting the sports bar. It's in the hole!

Update: I'm hearing a rumor that you'll be able to watch live on usopen.com. I'll keep you posted as to the validity of this.

Second Update: By gosh it works! How often does that happen? An actual fan-friendly feature that doesn't cost an arm and a leg? The only thing missing is the "Boss Button" that CBS included in its online coverage of the NCAA tournament, which displayed a generic spreadsheet when Lumberg came around.

Will you live-blog it? Not likely. As I said, I'm trying to keep my job. I also doubt I could ever challenge the excellence of Jason Sobel, who's been killing it all week and is one of ESPN's few true rock-star employees.

Does Rocco have a chance? Of course. He has two big things going in his favor--one is the bum knee of his opponent and two is the steady, conservative style of play he's more than comfortable employing. Rocco played perfectly yesterday, especially once he grabbed the lead. For the most part he quit attacking pins and played for par, and had Tiger not pulled off both a brilliant third shot and clutch putt on 18 he would have won the tournament.

That being said, I still think he's screwed. He's playing Tiger Woods, in a situation tailor-made to burnish his legacy. Winning the U.S. Open in a playoff on one leg, and needing 30- and 80-foot eagle putts, a chip-in birdie and a long birdie putt on the 72nd hole to do it--that's what Tiger lives for these days. Well, that and earning enough money to ensure leisure for his great-great-great-great-great-great-grandkids and laying pipe to the hottest wife on Earth. If you're into those sorts of things.

How bad is Tiger's knee? What am I, an orthopedic surgeon? I actually think that the severity of the injury is being augmented a little. He had surgery a month ago and I'm sure it's sore, and it is painful to do what he needs to do with a sore knee--hike 5+ miles over uneven terrain, stopping intermittently to unleash the highest-torque, most-athletic swing movement the world has ever seen. But the wincing and collapsing after tee shots, I think some of that is for effect.

What about Rocco's back? I actually think this could play a bigger role. The guy's 45 and has had back surgery, and it could flare up at any time. bad backs are no joke. In case you needed another reminder of the age difference between these two guys...

What the fuck is up with Rocco's Bill Parcell's pants? Every time you try to make the argument that these guys are athletes, you get Duffy Waldorf showing up in his ridiculous gear, or Rocco sporting a FUPA. Professional "athletes" playing professional "sports" don't wear high-waisted pants and employ peace-sign belts as gunt-equators.

OK, seriously, what's happening? Rocco botched his par putt on 1, and Tiger took a one-shot lead. After both parred the second, Tiger buried his tee shot on the par-3 third in the bunker, a miserable fried-egg lie. Rocco followed this by a magnificent blast, which rolled to within a foot or two. He missed an ace by a half an inch. Jaw-dropping. Tiger got out quite well but rolled his par putt by, and the two-shot swing gave Rocco a lead of one stroke. Both are in the rough on 4.

Update: My video is now acting spotty. It's possible that the millions of HoG readers logged on simultaneously, causing it to crash. If so, I hate you guys.

Second Update: It looks like any chance we had for a half-ass live-blog is shot. My guess is that once America learned about the streaming web video it got crushed by traffic. I'll be off to the sports bar in no time--thanks for tuning in.

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Thursday ThumbTubes and YouNails

More professional sports bloggers will likely offer the tagline "there's nothing going on today." I say screw those no-talent ass clowns. There's plenty happening out there, says the guy with no job, no car, a seven-of-seven (stupid Saturday blackout rule) track record of catching televised Royals games, and an affinity for the Stanley Cup playoffs. For those that don't fall into any many of those categories, however, there's a few tidbits of entertainment, a mere click of the mouse away. Have a look.


Well, I'd better start with a quick hockey clip, especially after the Penguins came out and absolutely owned the Senators last night. That and Gatorade paid us 50 large to roll this clip.



The Royals, amidst a raindrop or two, took the home-opening series against the Yankees last night. Former Royal David Cone was in da' boof for YES, and he, uh, had an interesting way of describing the last-minute pitching change.



(courtesy of Bugs and Cranks)

Speaking of the Royals, this kid can hit. And eat. And barely drink legally.



Speaking of hitting, so can this kid. But, uh, look out there, young hurler.



(courtesy of The Big Lead)

Some skippers are sold on the idea of small ball these days. If yours is one of those managers, and he asks you to bunt, here's how not to do it:



And while we're on the subject of baseball...



From Jedi Baseball to Star Wars/Muppet beatbox...



I guess that flute/beatbox dude has a CD out now. That's cool. He's comfortable with who he is. Matter of fact, so are we. Actually, we're more comfortable with who we're not. In case it hasn't been made clear, We Are Not Marshall.



Please, number 15, go a-fucking way, and die a more miserable death than this guy's character in this movie. I'm begging you.

In less obnoxious and not-yet-beat-to-death-with-a-horse-whip news,



this guy was gracious enough to conduct an interview with A.J. Daulerio, and it's a pretty darn phenomenal read.

And yes, as Seven indicated earlier, the Masters started today.



I guess I fall in the not-a-golf-guy category, but I mean, if you get married and or pay my green fees, pay for the cart and the beer, I'm your partner. Guaranteed. By the way, since when did this prestigious course/tourney start letting black guys play? I hate feeling out of the loop.

(courtesy of With Leather)
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We Are Hot Chicks Wednesday: Keepin' Up Appearances

It's good to hear from Banky, who apparently has yet to succumb to flesh-eating viruses (link NSFW) and third-world kidnappers on his honeymoon. I am aware of my grave responsibility in publishing this week's edition of WAHCW (that's a terrible abbreviation, by the way. If this were the military, it would be We Are The Chicks of Hotness...WATCH).

I'm up to the task. It involves two things I don't really enjoy, examining soft-core photos of hotties and drafting the accompanying snarky prose. That was a joke, a front, a facade if you will. I actually really enjoy those things.

And so, in searching for a theme for this week's installment of our (by far) most popular feature, I scrapped the first idea. Hot Chicks Of The WNBA didn't make the cut. Sue Bird is cute, and Swin Cash is legitimately attractive, but page after page of fugly horseflesh doesn't do it for my crotch fabric tension. I need cheap slutty gold-digging whores, and for that, we bring you the following fronts, facades and outright jokes:

HOT FAKE WIVES OF ATHLETES I KNOW TO BE GAY

How do I know they're gay, you ask? I just know. Rumors exist for all of these cats, and if they don't they should. And sixty per cent of the time, rumors are true every time. If you feel I've libeled any of these pole-polishers, feel free to boycott our advertisers.

MIKE PIAZZA (ALICIA RICKTER)

Piazza's gayness is so mainstream that he has to call press conferences denying it. His "wife" was once on Baywatch, yet she can't act worth a shit--isn't that weird? This is clearly the hottest photo of her on the Interbays, I'd say she's a solid 6 in this field.

JEFF GARCIA (CARMELLA DECESARE)

Like Piazza, Garcia overcompensates for his homocity by hiring a Playmate as arm candy. Jeff is really committed to the charade, because he paid lovely Carmella to get into a wicked lesbian catfight on the pretense of jealously guarding his affection. Brilliant. To say Jeff Garcia is the Babe Ruth of gay celebrity sham marriages is an insult to overused metaphors. Garcia, who's rather handsome, has no peers in this field.

SERGIO GARCIA (MORGAN-LEIGH NORMAN)

I honestly don't think Sergio takes it in the ass, unless Morgan-Leigh (daughter of Greg) straps on. She's simply not hot enough to be a true gay cover wife, and Serge also once dated Martina Hingis...yuck. I simply find it amusing that the golfer with a ton of talent who always chokes in majors would date the daughter of the golfer...you get where I'm going here.

RICKY WILLIAMS (WEED)

I've always had a theory that Ricky is gay, but it was his 60 Minutes interview with Mike Wallace that sealed it. In it Mike reminded us that Ricky has three daughters from three broads but no girlfriend, toured with Lenny Kravitz, is misunderstood and has a high-pitched pussy voice. Guilty.

TERRELL OWENS (FELISHA TERRELL)

I'm not sure, and I don't really care, but I think this was the chick that dumped TO, leading to his fake suicide. She's fairly pretty and used to work for a modeling agency, so if TO's publicist wanted to hire her to look good and deflect attention from his trysts with young boys it wouldn't be too much of a stretch. I'm especially fond of how TO chose a fake wife that has the same name as him--sound familiar?

JEFF GORDON (INGRID VANDEBOSCH)

Gordon is actually on fake wife No. 2, as initial employee Brooke took him for a reported $15 mil in the divorce settlement. Ouch. If there's anything worse than the loneliness of having to pretend that you're heterosexual with a hot chick you don't want to have sex with, it's having that bitch clean you out in court. Brutal.

DEION SANDERS (PILAR SANDERS) & PEYTON MANNING (ASHLEY MANNING)

Two more dudes who I actually don't think are gay, I just like to give Google one more relevant hit for when someone searches "Deion fag" or "Chesnning."

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This Update Is Hilarious Or Else

Well, we've got some scores from the Masters Invitational, and half the field is bummin' right now. This is the hardest part of any Club Chairman's job...who the fuck am I kidding? I love making cuts, especially when I am not one of them.

Mayor McVesco, you fielded the single worst team in this entire tournament. You finished the second round at 40 over par, which is like Baxter eating an entire wheel of cheese. I'm not even mad, I'm impressed. 40-over? Even our esteemed Administrator could not accomplish that feat on my wedding day, and he tried his darndest. Blame Sergio, as usual.

In eleventh place are Brenda-Pan's Pimps, a team captained by our favorite left-wing political operative. You finished 30 over par, but I'm sure you're not sweating it too bad. You see, this owner is getting married this summer in Ireland to a lovely young lass. Alas, I won't make it to the Emerald Isle (I've made it fairly clear how I feel about those potato-grubbing swine, the Irish)--consider this my non-RSVP.

We had a tie for ninth place at +28. The Asshole Yankee Fan and the catcher on our summer softball team fell victim to the foibles of Hefty and Serge, respectively. Sayonara.

The Dancing Wookie made a run at it, but fell short at 26-over and eighth place. Da Schmelz, who actually won this pool back in the halcyon days of 2003, missed the cut by a stroke at +24.

Let's move on to the people with actual intelligence. Booze submitted the Masters Invitational's most expensive entry, $12 over the standard budget. Unfortunately, all that extra cash went to his two benched teams (one of which imploded at 33 over par). The starting four for Team Booze ably acquitted themselves, sliding just under the cut line at +23. Even better, all four players on that foursome (Tiger, Cink, Sabbatini and Rollins) as well as the four from the "B" team (Scott, Ogilvy, Ames and Beem) made the real cut at Augusta. Booze has options.

Slightly handicapped are the Corona Hammers, who lost one player from each of their three foursomes. The remaining players did their job, however, posting a +22, good enough for a share of fourth place. The Hammers have decided to stick with their "A" team, consisting of Ogilvy, Cink, Weir and no one (Darren Clarke missed the cut).

The father and son Slinger teams made it to the weekend at +22 and +20, respectively. These men are very disappointed in black sheep brother Sling (the softball catcher) and will spend the evening beating him with a 6-iron. The old man has two full groups to choose from, while the youngster has a sleeper foursome at his disposal--his "C" team of Scott, Stenson, Wetterich and Calcavecchia. Sounds like a bunch of filthy immigrants, but they can swing it.

Alone in second is yours truly, sparkling at eleven o'er par. My value-priced powerhouse quartet of thugs (relatively intimidating gents, for golf anyway) launched themselves into Saturday with stunning length (like me!) and poor puttering (no comment). If Ogilvy, Stenson, Wetterich and Cink can quit whiffing on the three-footers (sounds like when I lived in the dorms) we can bring home the bitches (and by bitches I mean, well bitches).

Please rehearse your boos, catcalls and raspberries for our description of our leader, one Arvada Schwag (go home, hippie!). This despicable villain has not only hogged the coveted Green Jacket (we really have one, we gaffled it from a hobo) for two consecutive years, he looks poised to greedily hang on to it for a third. He can kindly eat a bag of dicks. All that needs to happen is for Tiger to miss his tee time, and I've got it in the bag. That shit happens all the time.

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Kung Fu Update

Daisuke Matsuzaka has had a few control issues early but is currently handling the Royals' lineup. MLB.tv is currently issuing a free trial, so you can watch that shit at work. Unlike CBS' March Madness On Demand, however, there is no "Boss Button" (which muted the broadcast and displayed a generic spreadsheet--incredibly awesome).

In Augusta, the biggest news is Phil Mickelson. And no, by biggest I mean not his prodigious man-breasts. The defending Masters champ is currently +5 through 13 holes, throwing into jeopardy the entry of one Asshole Yankee Fan. His Russelson team in the Masters Invitation is the only one featuring Big Sexy.

Among other players who've finished and are being counted on by Invitational participants: Davis Love (72), Tim Clark (71) and Vaughn Taylor (71). Not bad. My team is anchored by Geoff Ogilvy (+4 through 14), Stewart Cink (+4 through 11), Henrik Stenson (-1 through 16) and Brett Wetterich (-1 through 9). A composite six-over is not going to get this done, boys.

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Breakfast In Augusta

And we're off, in this cheap desperate ploy for more readers. If you're affiliated with the Masters Invitational pool and are reading this blog for the first time, welcome. We hope you're not offended by our course language, blatant disregard for for the rules of journalism (and grammar) and consistent wrongness in prediction...actually we're not. We hope you are offended, new readers. Fuck you and the mule you rode in on. We hope you hate the HoG and never, ever come back. Readers are a needless accesory to this endeavor.

Quickly, I must address the last post by our blog's administrator, the (redacted). I have no objection to his making sport of the NFL's greatest coach. But the photo was in very poor taste. Yes, that fat lady did show up for Denver Broncos cheerleader tryouts. But so did these. And these. And these, with The Man in back. Smokin'. Just because one tubby tried to make the squad, that's no reason to denigrate the lovely ladies who don the orange and blue. Of course, none of these broads hold a candle to the Kansas City Chiefs Cheerleaders.

Anyhoo, back to the links. The Masters Invitational was, of course dominated by the selections of one Eldrick Woods, the world's No. 1 player and a pretty fair puller of tail. Tiger appeared on eight of the 12 entries, but only three participants elected to start him for Rounds One and Two. Savin' the big gun for the weekend, I assume. Best of luck with that strategy, gents, and we'll see you this afternoon.

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Golf is rad.

For the next five days this site is going to turn into something our Administrator will hate. We're going to focus on the splendid goings-on at Augusta National Golf Club. The renowned Masters Invitational pool will set up shop with scoring updates and info. If your in the Invitational and are visiting this blog for the first time, welcome. Feel free to look around, and if you wish to comment you'll need to register. Remember, club policy dictates that only men are allowed, and we tend to value some level of anonymity around here.

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