Baseball In The Daytime: 6-6-07
Another day, another selection of ball games on the major league menu. Today's selections feature smoked Marlin and fried, beer-battered Cubby Bear.
Looking to get Adjusted Expectations added to FanGraphs
Another day, another selection of ball games on the major league menu. Today's selections feature smoked Marlin and fried, beer-battered Cubby Bear.
Posted by
old no. 7
at
12:44 PM
1 comments
Labels: Baseball, Chicago Cubs, Crazy Fuckers, Day Baseball, Milwaukee Wisconsin
Editor's Note: The rough focus of this blog is the rivalry between the Kansas City Chiefs (heralded 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.
Posted by
old no. 7
at
2:29 PM
0
comments
Labels: Big Fan Of The Shield, Denver Broncos, Intelligent Drafting, The Chief Rule Is..., The Kansas City Chiefs, The Tradition, The Vagina Symbol
Nope. Not the crap you get at the hardware store and use to fill cracks in your foundation. Some damn recognition. A heartfelt acknowledgement, if you will. Those whacky guys at KSK have seen their hopes and dreams fulfilled. The HoG thinks that is 100% of awesome. We couldn't be prouder. Kudos, guys.
You may now return to reading the best blog the Interwebs has to offer that's not named for a drunken encounter between a reporter and a former athlete.
(Ed: The reporter had nothing to do with intoxicating spirits.)
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Posted by
blairjjohnson
at
12:38 PM
0
comments
Labels: Acknowledgement, Knowing When to Say When, the HoG, Wanting to Kiss Her At Least Ten Times More Than Broadway Joe Did
This week's crop of day games is especially bountiful, with tilts every day until Friday. This afternoon brings us the two-time World Champion Florida Marlins against the Atlanta Braves, who won the Series in 1995, and in 1957 (in Milwaukee), and in 1914 (in Boston).
Posted by
old no. 7
at
12:08 PM
1 comments
Labels: Baseball, Chicago Cubs, Day Baseball, No One Cares About Our Fantasy Baseball
Peter King, as is his wont, made a dumb prediction today. No jolt there. That's Peter; such a textured study of the comfortable professional know-it-all that he should be portrayed on the stage. I see Andy Richter doing it. Maybe Warwick Davis on stilts.
Then he followed with a metric tonne of self-satisfied offal. Read on, MacSitOnYourDuffs...
"Of course, when you're thinking about this year's Super Bowl pick, the first thing that goes through your mind is, "Can I please pick two AFC teams?'' Face it: The best three teams in football right now -- and this cannot be debated -- are New England, Indianapolis and San Diego, in some order. Who's fourth? I don't know. Maybe the Saints. Maybe Baltimore, Denver, Chicago."
Whattya mean, this cannot be debated? What the fuck good is something like your column--indeed, sport itself--if it can't be debated? You issue the decree, vetted by your canape-snorting brethren, and that's it? Bullhockey, Mr. King. Bull. Hockey.
And this little bit of virtual fellatio...
"The Patriots, quite simply, have had the best offseason of any team in the free-agency era since the Packers stole Reggie White in 1993 and he became the best recruiter in the NFL. Even if Randy Moss is cut before the first game, the New England offense is dramatically better because Wes Welker and Donte Stallworth give the Pats the kind of talent at receiver they've never had in the Belichick Era."
Sorry, but does anyone else remember the Redskins of the late '90s? When they were collecting Deion and Carrier and whoever the fuck else? Back then, drunk on The Snyde's new car smell, guys like King ate that shite on toast with baked beans. They're doing it again now. If Wes Welker had gone to any other team in the league, would you have read a solitary word about it?
Finally...
You did the right thing, Billy Donovan. You were taking the job in Orlando for the money, regardless of how you tried to convince yourself otherwise, but there will always be money for people as talented as you.
Hey, Pete...hold up. Here. Wipe that off, man. Your wife doesn't believe you anymore. She doesn't believe anything anymore.
And for Christ's sake, fasten up your belt.
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Posted by
Cecil
at
11:22 PM
13
comments
Labels: Denver Broncos, Gayness, Made-Up Words, March to Victory '07, Peter King
Some NFL goodness brewing...but not anything to do with the above. I just dig the idea of Romo fighting a flame-maned demon horse.
Kinda like Broncos-Chiefs in the '97 playoffs. And we all know how that turned out for the flame-maned demon horse.
(Ed: We mean the Chiefs.)
So the Thinking Man's Team sign well-traveled largebody Sam Adams to a one-year deal (per the Lenster on ESPN.com). Adams, despite looking like nothing more than a fat guy in a striped helmet during last year's stint with the Bengals, might provide a valuable role player in the D-line rotation this year.
(Right here is where every other sports-related blog, publication or spoken sentence would make a crack about Denver not having enough available donuts, or about the civic necessity to re-make those fried peanut butter sandwiches that lured Elvis out for quickie trips. We stoop, but not that low.)
He was, as longtime followers of AFC West football will admit, a fucking beast as a young man. He played for Ol' No. 7's favorite college team when they were good, anchored some of the most talented and underachieving D-lines in NFL history in late '90s Seattle--at one point they lined up Adams, Cortez Kennedy, Michael Sinclair and Michael McCrary--and went on to the Hall Of Run-Stuffin' Fame with the Ravens, Bills, Raiders.
What can he offer the Broncos in the wake of being cut, and by his former Defensive Coordinator in Baltimore, no less? Who knows? Best case scenario: his enormous gut crushes a few running plays, he helps the overall quality of the (hopefully vastly improved) defensive line. Worst case: he has a heart attack during training camp, dies, his family bankrupts Pat Bowlen, our team gets sold to the Monforts and they hire Dom Capers to run the whole show.
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Posted by
Cecil
at
9:46 PM
3
comments
Labels: Beer, Dom Capers abused your parents, The Thinking Man's Team
Posted by
old no. 7
at
2:46 PM
3
comments
Labels: A Little Thing Called the NBA, Baseball, Crazy Fuckers, Day Baseball