Category Archives: Assholes

Bryce Harper should quit acting like a dick

The porn stache. The long, punky hair. Blowing kisses after home runs.

I’m in awe of his talent. But I feel the exact same way that Craig Calcaterra of Hardball Talk does:

Harper is a very special talent and, as such, people are going to be gunning for him.  Testing him.  A teammate of the pitcher he blew that kiss to hit Harper with a pitch the other day.  That sucks, and it certainly explains Harper’s response yesterday.  But it was the wrong response. The way to fight back is by depositing pitches in the seats and showing those who would try to take him down that he can’t be intimidated and that they — as insignificant barriers on his way to glory — don’t even show up on his radar screen.  That’s a kind of high road that does not require false humility or the dulling of an edge. It’s the kind of thing, actually, that would turn him into a cold-blooded assassin.  It’s also how he will be expected to handle this sort of thing when he reaches Double-A, Triple-A (if he even stops there) and the majors. Which he’ll be doing well before any of his peers, assuming he has some.

I don’t know who the biggest adult or the former player with the most gravitas is in the Washington Nationals organization. But whoever he is, he needs to have a friendly talk with Harper about how, for as unfair as it may seem, he is a unique case and as such, he has to leave his brash and arrogant 18-year-old self behind and let his bat do the talking for him.  Because if he doesn’t, he’s going to represent a serious case of arrested development by the time he reaches the bigs.

And again, this idea doesn’t appeal to me because I’m an old man who wants arrogant punks like Bryce Harper off my lawn. It’s because I want to see Bryce Harper fulfill the promise he has with as little bullshit as possible.  I want this kid to be everything he can be and more, because if he is, he’ll be able to do things no one else has ever done.

Now you see why the Washington Nationals are being hesitant to call up Bryce Harper. He’s physically ready to start logging big league numbers. Mentally, he’s a long ways off.

I cannot tell you the number of hits that I get daily that deal with searches like: “Bryce Harper’s teammates hate him” or “Bryce Harper won’t sign autographs” or “Why is Bryce Harper such a dick”. Where there is smoke there is certainly fire, and this guy has rubbed a whole host of people the wrong way.

The shame of all of this is that he’s only hurting himself. It might not be a huge deal at this point. But other than Bryce Harper mentally not being as mature as he can be–he has it all. There is no substance abuse problems, shortcomings in his physical ability or anything else that could stop him from being the best of our generation. But this, this anger he seems to play with and lack of general maturity, it’s going to be a problem at some point. It’s going to catch up to him.

Bryce, let the anger go. Start signing a few more autographs. Be a teammate that you’d like to have. Treat people the way you want to be treated. Generally, don’t act like a dick as a rule of thumb. Don’t show up some single-A pitcher that will be working as a doughnut fryer in a few short years after shitting all over him and hitting one over 400 feet into the seats. In the grand scheme of things, he doesn’t mean anything to you.

Be humble, or at least as humble as you can be. Because in general, I’m telling you that people right now as a whole either do not like Bryce Harper, or at the very least are starting to get the wrong idea about him altogether. Either way, stay good and quiet until the stage is yours. And even then stay simple and let your greatness do the talking rather than your foolish actions.

Jason Werth; an asshole, Cusses out a Glass Dad

Last night you might have seen Jayson Werth (baseball’s biggest dickhead) go off on this glass dad. I actually missed it. A buddy told me about it, and now it’s here forever so we can enjoy it together.

Jayson Werth goes after this foul pop fly; now granted it’s 12th inning in a tie game and if he catches it the inning is over. He reaches into the stands and a fan who merely stands up and doesn’t have to even move from where he is in position to catch the foul pop and does–Werth reaches in and can’t make the catch–since the fans hands are just a little higher than his. Well Werth gets pissed and tells the guy to “get the fuck out of the way” right in front of the guys 10ish, 12ish year old son who you know he was trying to get the ball for.

Werth is pretty much one of the worst human beings in the big leagues. Someday when the fame is gone, his ugly ass is going to have nothing to show for his big league careers except some memories, some money, and probably a nice case of gonorrhea.

< Same situation only the player involved is Ichiro Suzuki. He misses the ball and bumps into a girl in the stands, immediately apologizes and then sends the girl a gift pak with a t-shirt, autographed ball and god knows what else.

Jayson, when you see this post; eat shit and die. Like, now.

Another reason it's completely OK to hate the Phillies for the rest of time

In the Phillies season preview, I came off a little snide about my thoughts on Philadelphia Phillies fans. Some might have thought that, but I just call it accurate. And wouldn’t you know it wouldn’t take long for a Phillies fan to prove me right.
Meet Matthey Clemmens. Matthew; who was probably sporting an Utley t-shirt jersey; aparently was also attending a game with a belly full of cheap booze. And things got out of hand from there.
A New Jersey man is facing charges after police say he intentionally vomited on an 11-year-old girl and her father in the stands during a Phillies game.
Twenty-one-year-old Matthew Clemmens, of Cherry Hill, N.J., was arraigned Friday on charges stemming from his behavior at Wednesday night’s Phillies-Nationals game.
Police say Clemmens made himself vomit on an off-duty police captain and his daughter after a companion was kicked out for unruly behavior.
Easton police Capt. Michael Vangelo says he saw Clemmens put his fingers down his throat. Philadelphia police say Clemmens also punched Vangelo and vomited on an arresting
Clemmens is in custody on charges including assault and harassment. Bail is $12,000. His listed phone number is disconnected.
Obviously it’s beyond rhetoric that this guy is a real beauty. And honestly fuck the Phillies and their fan base full of belligerent turds like Matthew. And as for guys like Polanco, Werth, Utley, Victorino and Howard; they can all get fucked in the pants too. I’m tired of Philadelphia and all of their journeyman players who suddenly blossom into studs.

Tommy Lasorda provides us with an oldie but a goodie

You might remember that we have once ran across Tommy (sorry, Tom) Lasorda before. It was in the Diamond Seats in Cincinnati. No clue what he was there for but he was the guest of honor for one reason or another. And we got the courage up to ask him for an autograph. It was accidentally when he was talking to someone else. Big mistake.

Lasorda pointed his bony finger right in our face and scolded us good, boy. He reminded us never to talk while one of our elders are talking. While we might have felt like a second grader, we were no little kid. We were in our early college years. Then as Lasorda begrudgingly signed a menu for us (the best thing we could find for him to sign) he stuck his finger in our face again and told us to stay in school and concentrate on our books and studies. That was after us telling him we were in college.

And really he’s just like the interview you see here. That’s what makes it so golden you see. Notice that look in his eye for the entire 2-plus minute clip. He just wants to get outta there. Yeah, he had that look when we met him too.

Count us in: Colin Cowherd is a fuckshot

So in case you haven’t heard, Colin Cowherd went batshit about bloggers today on his ESPN radio show. So if you have a blog, he was to a degree making fun of you. Cowherd’s war with bloggers is old news. We’ve stayed out of it. Until today.

We wanna join the list of people out there who’d like to kick Colin Cowherd in the nuts. Let’s see what he had to say about ‘all of us’ today on his show. Talk about a slow friday in ESPN radio world:

“Blogs used to feel so edgy. I’ve never seen anything lose their relevance faster than blogs. You can make fun of newspapers, but they lost their relevance over like 150 years. Blogs lost their relevance in an hour and a half. When they first came out they seemed edgy and exclusive. Now Fidel Castro has one, my mom has one, everybody’s got one … the problem with blogs is that they’re too easy to create. And when anyone can create one, it dilutes it.”


“This whole anti-establishment blog thing was always funny to me. You know, these guys ‘I’m against the man, I’m anti establishment. Well, now they’re all owned by the establishment. Gawker media bought most of them.”


“The bottom line with hating the man – it gives you street cred, but you end up hanging out with people who can’t pay the bills. Let me tell you something, bloggers, 400 thread-count sheets are better than a sleeping bag. Trust me on that. You want to be part of the establishment. Anti-establishment is overrated.”

He continued….

“These blogs … they’re like the high school goth chick who hates the high school QB because he’s the high school QB. The second he would ask her out (voice gets very high) ‘Oh my god! Why am I wearing black nail polish! I gotta shower this month! Oh my god!’ That’s blog guy.”


[Pretends like he’s on a phone call] ‘Hi, this is New Yorker magazine, would you like a job with actual benefits?’ [Pretending to be a blogger] ‘ABSOLUTELY! I’ll pay for my own cab!’ What’s the name of the guy from the big one … Will Leitch at Deadspin – ‘Hi, this is the New York Times, our magazine would like you to be an editor … ‘I’ll take the job!’ … ‘Uh, we haven’t finished our sales pitch …’ ‘I’ll take the job!’


“In any business, if you’re any good, you’ll be embraced by the establishment, and they’ll drop money on you. This anti-establishment blog mantra is lame. You’re all bought by the establishment now. I’m all for emerging media, and i think that one that we knocked off, they they do a good job, The Big – it’s lively, they do funny stories, it’s kind of sexy …”

And finally he STFU…

“They all want to tell you they have a unique angle and approach. Do you know 99% of all bloggers are white, 18-34, from the northeast, liberal … they’re all the same guy! They’re all the same voice! Middle class or above, prep school, overwhelmingly white. You’re the same guy! If i put you in a room i couldn’t tell you apart. They just link back and forth to each other. To me it’s funny. They’re the goth chick. Trust me, when the QB asks you out, it will make your year.”

I don’t even know where to start dissecting this guy. He’s obviously got a complex of some kind that makes him bitter against bloggers, right? At the same time, he is pretty in touch with the blog world. He knows the household names. He knows about Deadspin and Will Leitch. He knows about The Big Lead. He knows how the blogger business and hobby works.

Or is it just that he’s trying to use a little backwards ass psychology in a controversy creates cash sort of way? I mean like he said, we bloggers all talk to eachother. If we all start writing about Colin Cowherd, maybe just maybe he’ll gain a few listeners. God knows no one listens to ESPN radio anymore. I always tell my friends that if you’re in the car find the Fox Sports Radio affiliate and leave it there. Cowherd might know what 400 thread count sheets feel like (my mom bought me some of those off Ebay for cheap as shit) but the fact of the matter is he couldn’t hold JT the Brick’s jockstrap, or Andrew Siciliano. Hell if you held a gun to my head I’d even listen to Jim Rome over Cowherd. Cowherd has a radio show that drags on. It was probably dragging today, which is why he went on a blogger tangent.

It’s good to know that you’re accepted as part of the ‘establishment’, Colin. We’re glad that your producers and ESPN bigwigs put up with you in a manner that your own ex-wife could not. Truth is we’ve listened into Cowherd’s show many times because there was nothing else on and the worst part about it is the guy doesn’t seem to know a lot about sports. He hits on hot button issues, but doesn’t know the details. He’s always short on facts. That’s why bloggers (many of them anyways, like us) are better then Colin Cowherd, because they know who played right guard for the Atlanta Falcons in 2006 or who was the number one guy off the Dodgers bench in 1995.

Reasoning that there are a ton of blogs doesn’t make the luster wear off of the good ones. Re-read the quotes. Cowherd said it himself. The cream rises to the top. The best bloggers are being plucked to be part of the ‘establishment’ and go write for the big boys. Also, shithead forgets that not all bloggers slam ESPN (who we assume he meant as the ‘establishment’). We like ESPN, fuck it’s all we have. There are parts of it that suck and you’re going to hear about it when it surfaces in conversation; like your show for example. ESPN could always improve. But really we just blog because we love sports. Where else can you talk about the SI Swimsuit edition, Marlboro Chew, or video games in one area? It’s a one stop shop for great things! One blogger said it best: blogs are a blank canvas for you to do what you want with. It’s one of the only places in life where you can have that.

There are some people who just like to blog, Colin. They aren’t all liberal. Believe us. What’s wrong with wanting to have an online and infinite notebook of cool stuff you’ve written your thoughts about? It’s good for the mind, Colin. Ask your psychologist.

Best guess. Colin is bitter and harboring an insane amount of resentment about the attention blogs are receiving and depleting his newspaper journalist buddies of. He then spun in his mind that he could possibly gain some listeners out of it. The bottom line is The Herd with Colin Cowherd on ESPN radio is just not that great of a show. He’s living on a reputation that was once stronger; and time that is probably borrowed. If he doesn’t start coming up with better material, maybe he’ll no longer be one of the establishment that he speaks of. But you can’t force a girl to love you who doesn’t. A leopard can’t change its spots. Colin Cowherd will not be able to stop sucking because that is who he is. What goes around, comes around dude. We’re now gonna be part of the crowd who is laughing and throwing tomatoes when your run at the top comes to an end and you are the one in the sleeping bag.

No, I'm not firing ya. I'm FIRING YA!

Today is the best day for me as a Reds fan in the past 5 years. That includes me being at the game when Adam Dunn hit a walkoff grand slam off Bob Wickman, and the day that old Bob Boone got the axe. There’s been a lot of good days. But today; today is really special.

The Reds fired that incompetent fuck Wayne Krivsky.

Wayne, if you’re reading this: (and I know you are because what else do you have to do with your time now that you can’t build shitty teams and take chances on big league wash-outs) I want you to know that your fucking charade you pulled the last couple years with my favorite big league organization was horse-shit. You never deserved the job to begin with, because doing jack-shit in Minnesota (not a real baseball town) doesn’t mean you get to come and play house in Cincinnati. A monkey at the controls would have done as much as you Wayne, and been able to fuck up less.

The save the open-ended letter to Krivsky by saying this: I knew this day was coming for a long time. Unlike most baseball blogs, we will also provide a little scoop for you. Per one of our sources:

WK was fired b/c he is a huge, giant, unbelieveable A-Hole. People working under him chafed, those above him did not like his attitude, and the media hates him b/c he is more tight lipped than dick cheney and basically hates them too.

Jocketty was to be the ‘quality control guy’, but clearly there was going to be a shifting of power in the coming months or year. WK did not much appreciate this, which in turn mad ehim even more sour to work with/for. Anyway, I was never told that WK was gone, per se, but that Jocketty would be the buffer between owner and gm, b/c simply put, the owner thought WK was an arse. At some point, unless you get overwhelming results, you will reap what you sow. As the results from WK are mixed — all sides should be able to admit that — his leeway grew shorter. I do not know if a specific incident sparked this (I suspect so), but I can state with 99%certainty that if WK weren’t such a jerk he would have had quite a bit longer to get some better results.

Enjoy the job market, Wayne. Hope you studied well because you’ll never be in a Major League Baseball front office again. Oh what’s that? You don’t ever have to work again if you don’t want? That’s fine, you been here 3+ years and haven’t worked. Fucko.

A Story involving Will the Thrill

Will Clark definitely takes us back to our boyhood years. When we first fell in love with teh game of baseball, Clark was still a very good ballplayer and the face of the San Francisco Giants. In fact, the neighbor boy wouldn’t trade us a couple of Clark’s cards he owned for the world, even though it only booked in Beckett for 5 cents the stubborn prick wouldn’t budge. We understand. Afterall, Will Clark was baseball’s version of Clint Eastwood.

We enjoyed this story on about Will Clark, but we didn’t like how he treated one of our favorite writers, Jeff Pearlman. Pearlman wrote the piece about John Rocker a few years ago; he wrote a book about Bonds too, but the reason we love Pearlman is because he wrote The Bad Guys Won! which is our all-time favorite piece of writing.

We love stories about athletes not towing the company line and this fits the bill. We’re also proud of Jeff Pearlman for standing up to Will ‘The Thrill’ and telling him he was a real horse’s ass.

Case of the mondays: Someone shut Sheff' the fuck up!

Every monday, people all over the world suffer from a “Case of the Mondays,” and it can cause even the happiest people to be a little cranky. Each and every monday, we’ll come strong with a rant in which we rip someone. Today, we’re ripping you Gary Sheffield.

Ghetto Gary is at it again. I’m starting to wonder if any amount of experience will ever shut this should-be veteran up. Can’t he knock off this “I’m the victim” shit, pursue his 500 homeruns and close out what is a Hall of Fame hopeful career with some class?

Aparently not.

Andrea Kramer the interviewer asked Sheffield what organizations treat blacks differently and he said the Yanks. This all led to Kramer mentioning that the Yankees most prominent player was black to which Sheffield said, “Derek Jeter is black and white.” When asked what the significance was he said, “There’s really no significance. You just ain’t all the way black.” Amazing, did you hear that Derek you just ain’t all the way black, that’s why New York and Joe Torre like you.

When asked about steroid use:

“In a million years, I don’t care what anybody says, steroids is something you
shoot in your butt. I do know that . . . The bottom line is steroids is
something you stick in your butt –- period.”

Sheffield added:

“I tell myself every offseason I’m not going to say anything crazy. I’m just
going to have a peaceful season . . . Can’t do it. I’m cut from a different

Different cloth indeed. Perhaps Carl Everett, Lastings Milledge, and Elijah Dukes share the same fiber in their fine make-up. This isn’t the fucking NBA, and Sheffield should honestly no longer be able to have an easy outlet for his idiotic rants. When will people learn with this guy? He’s a fucking mental mess!

The Best of Gary Sheffield (100% Injury Rate)

How many broadcasters do we really need in the booth, or on the field???

I tell ya, broadcasters disgust me. Almost all of ’em. I hate Berman. He is a moron. I hate “My Daddy was a broadcaster, so therefore, I should be a broadcaster” Buck. On top of egotistical maniacs such as these, who, if given the proper mental evaluation, share striking similarities to totalitarian dictators. I mean, if he could, wouldn’t Berman create monuments to himself in Bristol?? You bet he would!

I am reminded of utter ridiculousness of having all of these guys in the booth. I am especially reminded, as I follow my now slumping Mets on MLB Extra Innings. The Mets are shown on SNY. The lead broadcaster, Gay Cohen isn’t too bad. He grew up in Flushing, a local kid and he got the dream job…he’s the broadcaster for his favorite team. Then you got Ron Darling, former Met great, who actually does a great job. Now this is full capacity for any booth roster. Two guys to do a game. That’s all you need. Well, to add to the mix, we have our beloved loudmouth, Keith Hernandez, who has a corrosive attitude. I mean, he really acts like he is your grouchy 80 year old grandpa when he his in reality, half that age. Then, instead of a sideline bimbo, we have Chris Cotter…a stuttering buffoon, obviously straight outta grad school from a rich family that was able to get him this cushy job.

I hated watching the Braves for years on TBS, as they are the 2nd worst homer broadcasters expect for the Mets. Hernandez is standing on his head, ready to yell obsenities when there’s a bad call. He got in hot water when he picked on that trainer girl, who was in the Padres dugout a few years back. He is a disgusting man.

Well, tonite, as I watch the Dodgers continue to kick our balls, I am enjoying the LONE longtime Dodgers broadcaster, Vin Scully. This guy is fantastic. He has been voted, “The best baseball broadcaster of all-time. I’d never heard him do a game before until I got Extra Innings for the start of this season. He’s got the voice, the presence, the knowledge, and he sticks to the game (aka, the broadcast isn’t about him, it’s about the game. Guys like Berman and Buck ACTUALLY THINK we watch soley because of them). Scully is also a bad ass, as he wears suits from the 70s. I mean, he looks like he belongs on the Anchorman set. Oh, I forgot to mention, the guy pretapes during commercials the bits usually reserved for the sideline bimbo. They show these clips when they come back from commercial and then resume the broadcast. Incredible…Scully does the work of four people on SNY!

And now, as I watch my Mets get their asses handed to them, at least I can enjoy the game audibly, the way it should be: with a lone, professional, broadcaster.

The difference between you and I? Well; is that I make this look good.

That’s right. I do expect a fucking modichem of gratitude to be extended by you fucking lollies out there upon my presence. I’m Joe Buck, and I’m the best damn sports anouncer that the world has ever seen.

I don’t know if it’s my destiny in life, or just in my fucking bloodline to be this good, but I am nothing short of half-man, half amazing. I’m the fucking Lebron James of sports broadcast journalism, only I’m better. I am going to become the first play by play man in the world to win Sports Illustrated’s Sportsman of the Year. That’s right, they’ve fucking got my cell number for a reason. The way I calculate it I’m on speed-dial and any minute they’ll call to tell me I just beat out all of humanity in the sporting world, and then the rest of you normalcy lifeform band of underachieving cockrags can say it yourselves, “That Joe Buck, simply incredible”.

I’ve turned down interviews with Forbes, Playboy, Fortune, Time Magazine, Readers Digest, you name it, Big Joe has been offered the spotlight. I’ve taken a 3 time Superbowl winner and carried his ass through 2 seasons of FOX NFL sunday now. That’s right, you should of seen Troy’s dumb ass stumbling through his fucking cue cards, studdering and fumble fucking his way through his lines. I told him, this is how you do it SON:

“Picked off. Rodney Harrison, and the New England Patriots are on their way to becoming a dynasty.”

That’s right. That was only one of my Hall of Fame calls. Football is like my little side-hobby you see. Did you know at the ripe young age of 25, I became the youngest man ever to call a slate of football games on National Television? I jumped straight from the depths of Minor League hell straight to the fucking pros baby, like a freight train demon on crack. That’s like, a Minor league ballplayer making the jump to the Major Leagues, and the NFL, at the same point in his life. Suck on that tit Bo Jackson, and Deion Sanders. Know what that equals Einstein? Joe’s nuts are bigger!

Ok time for another one of my Hall of Fame Calls:

“Down the left field line – is it enough? Gone. There it is, sixty-two. Touch first, Mark. You are the new single-season home run king.”

That’s right. That was what I said after that injected meat steak with legs Mcgwire broke that old fucking stiff Roger Maris’ homerun record. Big fucking deal. The guy was strong and hit 63 long pop flys. Did he graduate from fucking Indiana University Undergrad with a BA in Journalism? NO. I did. That’s right. Daddy fucking owns him.

Speaking of Dad’s, my father might have passed on a little bit of his genes to me, but without a doubt I am the greatest Buck of them all. I’m such a great Buck that I thought about changing my name to ‘Stallion’, Joe Stallion. I left my name Buck because a Buck is the King of his woods. He can fuck any doe he wants, at any time. He can half crazy deer sex with many does in one night. That’s what I’m known for. That’s right, I’m new and improved. I’m better looking, re-invented, and more creative then that passed away sad-sack. I’m fucking more energizing that a whiff of smelling salts. Listening to my father was like being half asleep at the wheel on a 2 hour drive home from Cleveland, you keep smacking yourself, sticking your head out the window, trying not to let the booze get the better of your drunk ass and just press on and drive through it. They wanted me to take my fathers job, I declined. I am not here to make anyone look bad. By the way, don’t ever talk about my father. Ever.

Anyone who can be on primetime and be so graceful with a stiff like Tim Mccarver is more than excellence. I take a microphone and I create dreams for people. I am inspiring. I am fucking invigorating. Mccarver? The guy is passion-less, has no spirit, and as my father said “his playcalling was as uninspiring as watching him play catcher.” That’s right. He was a fucking catcher, don’t pretend like you haven’t heard him talk about it. He was lousy, just like in the booth that I fucking carry the operations in.

I’ve been asked to write a book. I don’t think it would be doing myself much justice to write the words down on paper and let millions of peons like you everywhere read the shit, in your own voice. That’s right. I bring the voice, I bring the presence, not you. That’s why I’m going to be the first author ever to do his autobiography on tape. You can listen to me tell my life story.
Have you ever made a woman cream in her pants by simply orating:

“In the air to left field. Back, at the track, at the wall, We. Are. Tied! …”

Well I have. I’ve been stopped in bars all over the country by fans of mine, that simply begged not even for an autograph, but to hear me just say the words “and that’s ball four.” When I am in the company of a woman, between her legs, I simply start to whistle and then I call out “here it comes, game seven, see you tomorrow night” and it’s like insta-cum. Women’s orgasm’s have just become second nature to me, they cannot help themselves around my voice and my presence. I am to broadcasting what Abner Doubleday is to baseball, but I’m more innovative, you see.

I have been offered oral sex by men and women in public washrooms, at truck stops, anywhere your small mind can imagine, just to hear one of my world famous calls. All it took was one:

“Red Sox fans have longed to hear it: The Boston Red Sox are World Champions.”

And I was being blown on command. He was damn good too.

I wish I knew which was longer, 3/8, a half, 5/8, I just don’t know. What’s longer, Troy, a half or 5/8? Well I’m sorry that it surprised all you oblivious morons out there that I didn’t just know the answer, but when talking about lengths, I’m much better working with full figure. That’s right, “The Buck” as they used to call me in my college days, has a full 10 inches of hard cock, and he’s coming to get you. I know that’s longer than those 5/8 cleats the Bears were wearing in the playoff game last January.

You wish you were me. Women want me. Men envy me. The Buck is here, and he’s here to stay. Bow to me and kiss my royal toes you slouch, cause let’s be honest, your life can’t possibly be even half as interesting as my own.

You, too, should be interested in the awesomeness of a Bachelor’s degree, online, no less!

I'm willing to bet Mike Lupica had a nice little mothers day

Yesterday I awoke from my alcohol induced slumber to have ESPN’s The Sports Reporters on my television set. Absent from the stage was the shining star of the show (just ask him), Mike Lupica. I gotta say, from now on, I think the blog is about three things; baseball, raisin’ hell, and Mike Lupica. He is both the question, and the answer. Lupica? Lupica!

Since he’s the star of that big time show airing weekly on the Worldwide Leader every sunday morning, he gets special privliges that the others do not. I can just imagine him, demanding he have mothers day off:

“Yeah, so like, I’m so fucking not on for mothers day. Afterall, it’s in my contract if you want me to enforce it, if you’re asking me to be an asshole I have no problem being an asshole. Oh, and just so you know, I’ve got tenure here. Ten-ure. Do you fucking get it? I am the Sports Reporter; the original one. My mother and wife are more important than you, and all those couch-dwelling peons out there that will be watching anyway, so tell that weird-eared fuck Albom that he finally gets his big chance to run things, and tell John Saunders that he can talk some more about God knows what he dreams up, oh and tell Conlon that he can drag his fat ass in here with his coffee mug, cause I’m heading to Stover’s in Manhattan for the fucking brunch for my wife and mother, assholes.”

It’s funny because I started watching the Sports Reporters at a very young age. From the very beginning, I noticed a few things from the beginning. Two things; to be exact. One, was Mitch Alboms ears. I wish I wouldn’t have noticed Alboms ears. He was hard enough to listen to, now I have to try not to look at his ears. It’s a good thing he’s not one of the people I’ll get to meet in Heaven or I’d be afraid to get kicked out for staring at them.

The other thing I noticed, was that Lupica fucking runs the show. I mean it’s his fucking show. From day one, I said to myself after hearing him talk, and watching him talk with so much nerd filled anger, ‘Wow, this guy is probably a real shithead to deal with on a real-life basis.’ Sure enough, somehow it came up in conversation with editor George one day. Much to my delight he mentioned that Lupica was from somewhere nearby in Connecticut, and that he had actually interacted with Lupica before. It went something like this (while Georgie was working at a sporting goods store):

George: “Hello, Bob Sports, this is George,”

Lupica: “Yeah, Hi. This is Mike,”

George: (Long pause, silence…….)

Lupica: “You know, LUPICA?

George: (Extended pause 2…..more silence)

Lupica: “From the Sports Reporters. Yeah. I need to know if you have any more kids baseball gloves, for my son, little Mike. Go in the back and check for me. Thanks.”

Now, tell me that isn’t the exact fucking way you’d expect this guy to act. From now on, I’ll have to mention every Lupica tidbit my mind can dream up because this guy is a complete fucking asshole and he of course owns the place and he’s going to let you know. It’s Mike Lupica’s world, we’re just living in it.