Category Archives: Kurkjan

Tim Kurkjian; cementing ESPN's stereotypes

I was reading an article written by Timmy Virgin Kurkjian the other day on ESPN. The world according to Tim; is that the Reds not win the division because of how well they’ve played, but because the Cardinals played poorly.

Let’s allow Tim to put his foot in his mouth here, shall we?


National League Central

The Reds have lowered their magic number to three not necessarily because of how well they’ve played, but because the Cardinals’ stunning collapse has continued. The Reds could wrap up the division this weekend in San Diego against the Padres.


Whether it’s two and a half or one of the other, what does it matter? The Reds were bad less often than the Cardinals. Or in another way of talking about success, the Reds were better more often than the Cardinals.

Why can’t ESPN just accept that the Reds are part of this and their mighty Cardinals are not for one year?

In case you missed Tim Kurkjian's D-Ray Herrera story

“The first time I saw him was last year during the week of the Kentucky Derby, and we figured he would have to leave the team that Saturday to go ride one of the horses,” said Dunn “I’ve never faced him. But I haven’t faced anyone his size since I was 11 or 12 years old.” – Adam Dunn on Daniel Ray Herrera in the ESPN front page story about the Reds mini reliever and other part of the return of the Josh Hamilton deal.

This guy could be our lefty specialist for the next 10 years. And too often it’s forgotten that he was part of the Josh Hamilton deal also.


This morning for breakfast I had oatmeal

That’s right. This morning began like every other morning. I was reading the spring scores and enjoying my fresh squeezed orange juice. I made oatmeal, in the microwave. It had slices of apples in it. I was ready for a shower but I remembered I had done such the night before; I was already as clean as could be. Of course I was, what else do I have to do but keep clean?

Oh, sure. I can go to a game here or do a 2 minute clip on Baseball Tonight about what’s buzzing around the camps in Winter Haven, or Scottsdale. But there’s no real excitement in that.

All I really was thinking is that I want…. no I need to stick my cock in this oatmeal, and dip my balls in some brown sugar. Then I want a toothless smelly whore with walnut breath to lick it off.

Ya know? Something out of the ordinary. I don’t want to just show up on time, every day for the rest of my un-exciting and meaningless life. And when I say show up on-time, I mean I’m there an hour to 2 hours early. Do you know what it feels like to spend your whole life waiting for something because you have nothing else to do with your time?

I mean where’s the excitement? Travis Hafner doubled twice and he looks like he’ll be back this year. Pedro Martinez spoke with Sandy Koufax, and then he told me yada yadda yada. Who gives a shit about that? Not me.

I wanna tie a woman up to the train tracks, bite her left ass cheek and see if the train conductor who’s 100 feet away sees her or hears her yell first. I wanna watch from behind the bushes and see what happens.

I wanna devise one of those traps you see in the SAW movies series and I want to be the voice on the tape recorder, with a puppet to go along with.

I wanna put my fingers in an asshole and give myself a mustache with the shit. Don’t you ever wanna do something that’s that exciting?

Tomorrow I think I’ll have cinnamon rolls. Fuck you.

If it were a video game, the reset button would have been used

It’s not every morning that I can lead off with something that hasn’t happened in 110 years. They couldn’t believe what they saw over at Lone Star Ball. Jared Saltalmacchia as well as Ramon Vazquez each drove in 7 runs. There were two Rangers grand slams hit in the game.

The classic part? The Orioles led 3-0 after a few innings of play. Texas then scored 30 unanswered runs, 4 touchdowns and a safety before regulation expired.

Four Texas hitters had 4 RBI or more, and the point that made Tim Kurkjian orgasm live on Baseball Tonight? The 7,8, and 9 hitters went 13 for 19 and drove in 16 runs. According to Timmy: “That has NEVER happened!”. Kurkjian went on oogling, and cooing and cawing for the entire 3 minute call that was shown. I’m pretty sure he jerked off immediately after hanging up.

It’s pretty amazing when you consider this was done by a last place team that the two nights prior had been owned by Johann Santana and Erik Bedard.

[Box Score]

Tim Kurkjian brings us up to speed on the National league!

Tim Kurkjian from ESPN’s Baseball Tonight dropped by to provide us with some of his unique input and analysis from around the National League. This is part one of a two part series from Tim.

Los Angeles: The Dodgers hold a 3 game lead over the Padres in the NL West, suprisingly a competitive division in the NL circuit. Rafael Furcal got 4 hits in 3 consecutive gamesm this week, becoming the last player in 40 years to accomplish that feat. As I stated on Baseball Tonight, that earns an instant “Kurk-Gem”. You know what else is a gem? I was sitting in the 4th row behind home plate last season and I spotted Nomar’s wife Mia Hamm. I stared at her all game long instead of watching the action on the field. I stared and stared and eventually I got what I wanted, a nipple slip. She leaned down to get some chap stick out of her purse and sure enough, there it was, I caught her like a scout looking for a lefty that throws 90 MPH in the Mexican leagues. Let me just tell you, they’re closer to dimes than silver dollars, but it still made my baby carrot become very stiff while sitting in my seat.

Colorado: It’s the same old story with the NL West basement dwellers. They’ve got a decent lineup but no one can find a way to consistently record outs in that ballpark. Even on the road the staff boasts an ERA of over 5.00, which simply isn’t going to get it done. I can’t decide if Todd Helton looks more like a child molester with the goa-tee or without, but I know that if I went to bars, and he approached me in a bar, I would not stop him from ditching me to grab the attention of the bartender even if I had been waiting for 20 minutes for a drink.

San Diego: I’ve got another Kurk-Gem for you. Jake Peavy. I don’t know how anyone gets a hit off this guy. He became the first pitcher ever to have four straight games in which he struck out 10 or more hitters while not throwing more than 7 innings in a game. He also pitches with a healthy wad of tobacco in his mouth and spits golden brown glistening spit after each pitch. I have never chewed anything but Wrigleys, but Peavy just looks so tough out there with that. He looks like a real man, which I would love if people ever said about me.

Arizona: Doug Melvin is a real fuck head. Several times now, he has shit on me and my request for an interview. One time he agreed to do the interview and just seconds before we were about to go live, on-field, he said that something had came up and I had to improvise. This caused me to be very nervous and excitable, and when that happens I perspire underneath my arm pits. There is deodorant and sweat cakes in the armpit of a brand new Hanes undershirt of mine to prove it. Melvin’s team is very good at reflecting and playing similar to the personality of their manager, and they scream mediocrity at this point–barely above .500 at 22 and 20. Keep it up Diamondbacks, and your skipper will be able to open up a bingo hall with his brother Bob.

San Francisco: What else is there to talk about on this team other than Barry Bonds? Barry got off to a hot start and he was spraying the ball all over the field. He then got into some struggles after he started pulling the ball. Recently I told him while he was taking batting practice that I’d really like to see him start hitting the ball the other way more. He growled back at me and told me he would really like to see me successfully please a woman to the point of orgasm and called me a needle dick. I’ll have you know Barry, that I have in fact been with women, exactly 4 times in my life–two of which I got down to just my silk underwear. If I ever spot your mother with my pervert eyes, I’ll be sure to snatch her up, take her back to my hotel room provided by my great company, and fuck her so hard she calls me ‘Bobby’. At least my dad died of natural causes, asshole. Go eat some more Clydesdale medication, you self-loating piece of shit. Just for that I’m not gonna spend any more time in this segment briefing your team. When you break Hank Aaron’s record, may a nice case of sickle-cell anemia strike down upon you and reap the rewards of revenge that I cannot.

St. Louis: Ok, now for the World Champions who have decided not to defend their title. I recently met Tony La Russa at a bar nice restaurant to talk about his team. For the entire evening he called me Mike, acknowledging only once that it was not my name, at which time he called me Frank. When I told him once again that my name was “Tim Kurkjian,” and laughed he replied with “Oh fuckit! You’re gonna write the same shit anyways”. Actually, I’m not going to write the ‘same shit’ anyways. You blew it Tony. You had a chance to give me a good story to tell the press about your team, and tell them why you’ve went from World Champions to an over-the-hill bunch of drinkers who can’t hit for shit. Now I’m forced to tell the sad truth and unleash your lies. He then laid his head on the bar and when the bartender came over to ask him if he wanted another drink, he just held up his index finger. When I told him that the organization he was employed by had recently banned alcohol, he jumped up and said “THE MILKY WAY GALAXY’S ASS THEY HAVE!”.

Cincinnati: I’ve always enjoyed trips to this city. It’s a stone’s throw away from Kentucky and every sleazy strip joint with all the black chicks that a man could want. Jerry Narron deserves to be fired, not because of the team’s underachieving ways, but because he is guilty of nepotism. That’s right, Jerry, you’re not fooling anyone. You created a position for your brother Johnny, to be in the dugout on game days and travel on the road to the team and babysit Josh Hamilton to make sure that his nose doesn’t wind up in any trouble, or cocaine 8 balls. Well what is Johnny’s official position called? What’s his role with this company? I call for your head. Oh and by the way, your brother is a for shit babysitter. Josh Hamilton heard Brandon Phillips calling his pet cat “Cokey”, and the next thing you know I saw Hamilton in the clubhouse trying to snort the entire cat.

Houston: Craig Biggio is now just 44 hits away from the historic bench mark of 3000. After that he’ll be shortest man ever enshrined in Cooperstown. This guy makes Eddie Gaedel look like fucking Godzilla. I am a fan of Biggio because he makes me look rugged. Phil Garner strikes me as a guy who would hate-fuck his own wife and bondage her. They don’t call him the scrap-iron for nothing. Hmmmm, other than that, the last time I was in the Crawford
boxes
at Enron Field Minute-Maid Park, I discreetly and secretly beat my dick in the last row where no one was sitting. A minute later, I waved at Carlos Lee and told him he’s statiscally one of the best hitters of his time.

Milwaukee: Oh wow! Everyone really loves Milwaukee this season. Someone needs to tell Ricky Weeks he’s not a cleanup hitter if they want to continue their success this season. I actually haven’t ventured out to Miller Park yet this season for fear that I would actually be enticed to drink beer. If one more fucking vendor asks me to see some I.D. when it is actually the guy next to me at the ballpark that yelled “I’ll take one cold one,” I’m going totally fucking nuclear on this place. Do I really look that young? Ben Sheets looks exactly like a guy that is the lead role in a porn I own called “Good Cop, Bad Cock”. For that reason I always pay special attention to his starts. I’ve often wondered if left hander Chris Capuano can use both hands to stroke that big cock of his or just his left. He seems like a guy that would be ambidextrous.

Pittsburgh: Despite what David Littlefield will lie and tell you, there is still nothing to be excited about in Pittsburgh. Sure, that Oreo Ian Snell has pitched well at times and they might have found a gem in the rough with him, and they still have Jason Bay and Jose Castillo in the lineup, contenders they are not. Solomon Torres seems to have reached into the fountain of youth as their closer, did you know; and here is another Kurk-Gem for you, that Solomon is 7 for 7 in save chances, in which the game total score ends in an odd number, the game takes place on a monday, wednesday, or a friday, and the attendance can add up to a multiple of between 15 and 25? It’s true, making him the first pitcher this applies to in over 56 years. And they say you can manipulate statistics to represent whatever you want.

Know what else is a Kurk-Gem bit of information? On my desk at work, I sprinkle boogers. After I sprinkle the boogers all over an sheet of white index or notebook paper, I take one of my business cards, preferably one that has been bent that I won’t have to worry about handing to someone. I sweep up all the dried booger particles into a pile, and then I take my index finger and roll those particles into a ball. When I head into the urinal at lunch time or whenever I have to release the hounds, I smear that ‘booger ball’ on the urinal’s sensor, blocking any signal it can get of motion detection thus making it unflushable. By the day’s end there are several booger balls on the urinal sensor, making for quite a job for the lazy ESPN cleaning ladies. Bitches. Still bitter that one of them rejected me for a hand job.

Chicago Cubs: Who the fuck are the Cubs this season? I love the spark that Lou Piniella has brought but they’ve got about as much chance of getting back into this thing in the NL Central as Haray Caray coming back to sing another 7th inning stretch. The only runs they’re going to have are similar to the ones permanently frozen in time on my tighty, whitey underwear. That’s right, I have skid marks on my underwear, every pair. I bleach and I wash, I bleach and I wash and continually the shit stains remain. This has several times been the cause of a woman’s rejection of my affection and them declining to spend the night in my one bedroom condominium in Connecticut. Fuck me. It’s not my fault alright? You fart sometimes and even if it feels like no shit comes out there is still remnants of the son of a bitch. So sue me, I’m fucking human. Like you’re above that you cunt, like you don’t fart. I bet your pussy smells like dog shit anyways. Tell any other woman about this and I swear to God you’re finished in this world. That’s right. I know people.

Florida Marlins: Miguel Cabrera spits more game at more women, I swear. I wish I had the gusto that this young man did. It’s like his words coupled with the Cuervo laden margaritas he so generously purchases for the girls are like instant pantie dropper. Oh yeah and he is a great hitter and all that, bla bla bla. I wonder if he’s even given it up the ass to a dominican broad with D cups? It sure would be nice to have Josh Beckett still in the rotation, but everyone knows he’s gettin’ his dick wet in Boston now. More on that later. Dontrelle Willis has retired 78 of 90 batters that….. aw, fuck the stats. I’ve got an agenda to attend to here. Dontrelle smokes weed, and drinks gin, and then he drives. He does this often.

Atlanta Braves: Chipper Jones is back, with 11 homeruns already. He’s looking like an All-star once again this season. In my book he will always be an All-Star because he has accomplished something that I can only have in my wettest of dreams. He has banged a Hooters waitress and made her his wife. He also chews tobacco and is tough in a John Wayne, Charlton Heston sort of way, which I very much desire to be. Bobby Cox can hold his own when talking liquor and manages games still drunk. He’s not afraid to bump an ump either; getting tossed in 128 games in his liqour induced haze of a career. That’s a Kurk-Gem type stat. One NL umpire once told me that ‘Bobby didn’t really do anything to get thrown out of the game, but his breath smelled so strong of peach schnapps that I just had to throw him out. He actually said fuck it that he wanted to leave anyway after I told him he had been run.’ True story. Atlanta is damn good folks, but they don’t have the firepower of the New York Mets, or the cock girth size.

New York Mets: Jose Reyes has been all world this season. I really love this guy, he hits .340 and has a legitimite chance to be the first guy since Rickey Henderson to steal 100 bases in a season. That is also a Kurk-Gem. It’s no coincidence that Rickey has been spending some time coaching Reyes on when to steal, how to steal, and how to roofie young nubian queens in the Big Apple. Maybe I should talk to Ricky for a while, afterall I always wanted some chocolate to cover this scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Philadelphia Phillies: Charlie Manuel smells like horse manure, and talks like he lives near a field of it. I can’t say enough about the dissapointment of this team. I had them in the World Series before the season started, I take my eyes off them for one second to wipe the dick trickle from my stinger, and wham! Brett Myers is their closer, Ryan Howard is on the DL, and Cole Hamels is smoking weed and drinking booze at a pace that would make John Daly and Ricky Williams’ offspring sick.

Washington Nationals: Does Ron Washington remind any of you of John Holmes if ‘Johnny Wad’ came back as a colored man? I just thought I’d throw that out there. I bet the Nats skipper is right there in cock size. He’s going to be a great manager but it’s going to take time to turn this thing around. I’d really like to stay and build up the youngsters on this team like Ryan Zimmerman, Ryan Church, Austin Kearns and Matt Chico, and tell you lies about how good they’re going to be in a few years but at 1:00 on starz, “Milk Money” starring Melanie Griffith is on, and she’s really a hot little thing. I think that there is an ass shot of her in that. Can you say, Kurk-jian is going to wear out his Tivo this afternoon?

Stay tuned for the AL Wrap-up….

The 'other' Tim Kurkjan

Hi there everyone! I’m ESPN’s Tim Kurkjan and you probably think I’m here to talk about a heart-warming story about Oakland A’s GM Billy Beane, or Sammy Sosa’s heroic comeback. Well I’m not. This is my time, and I’m operating on my watch today. I’m here for something totally different. I’m tired of being pushed around by the big-whigs at ESPN and I’m tired of being lacky to that Gobbler-Chin fuck, Gammons and that fat Hawaiian shirt-wearing swine Chris Berman. I’m tired of people calling me an egg-head, and I’m tired of ‘coloring within the lines’ of commentary. No more Mr. nice guy, got it? I’m running the fucking show today and turn off that fucking tele-prompter because I’m not reading the cues anymore.

You think I don’t hear what people say about me? You think I don’t have two ears that hear just like yours? Well fuck you, asshat, because I have two ears that do hear, and they hear quite well. No, I have never played the game of baseball, but just to clear things up, I know the game better than any of you fat, stitched to couch lowlifes that sit and watch me and try and live the big league dream every day bicariously through my words. I take a dream and put it in the form of a baseball highlight every night for you people and this is the thanks I get in return? Suck my fucking pecan skinned cock!

I passed Stuart Scott at the Oasis water fountain in the company cafeteria the other day and you know what he asked me? “Hey there, do you know where you’re at? Can I help you?”, then the prick tried to have me taken in by security and escorted off the premisis. Well I have a nugget for you, Mr. Scott, you oatmeal-smelling fuck, I do know where I’m at and I am where I’m supposed to be. Where are you supposed to be, you Jackie Robinson immortalizing piece of shit, cheating on your wife, perhaps? Fuck you and the Rolls-Royce you rode into town on.

You see these loafers? Look closer, look at the tread on the soles. You see that green? That came from Camden Yards in Baltimore. Have you ever stepped foot on the shrouds of Camden? That’s what I thought. Take a whiff, that smells of success you horse manure-eating, self-suffocating prick. Don’t you dare turn those cameras off. I’ll go so fucking postal that you people won’t even know the light of day. I’ll bury this company. If you know what you’re doing Miguel, you’ll keep those fucking cameras rolling. This is my spotlight and I’m finishing the segment.

So what, you hear my voice and because it’s soft you think I haven’t done great things in life? You think I’m here for your amusement? Wrong again. Last time I looked at my watch, it was telling the right time and it told me to tell you people to blow me! Let me let you all in on a little secret: last night, I had the most incredible sex of my life, she was a prostitute named Veronica. She blew me twice in the parking lot, I made her stop, then I slapped her in the face, pulled on her tits while I gave her a monstrous money shot of cum right to her nose. I had never done that before but it was so gratifying. I asked her how it felt to be Daddy Tim’s little whore and she said it was great. To top everything else off, I did something else totally shocking. I used that dick move most used by Keith Olbermann and I didn’t even pay her when she was finished licking the nectar off my boton. I told hear to “lick the meatus, lick the meatus. That meatus is sensitive, lick it, lick” and she did. I shriveled myself up, short of energy and hollered the bitch right out of my car. That’s right, so blow me! You people have no clue what I’m capable of.

I was the kid in gym class that always got shit on and picked last. I was the son that the father never hugged. I was the kid who got his tooth brush stolen from his sleepover bag at slumber parties by “friends” and had them pass it around in a circle and wipe their ass with it right before I brushed my teeth for the night. No more of that shit! I’m not brushing my teeth with a fecal mattered fucking toothbrush anymore here at the world-wide leader in sports. I’ve got something more valuable than that fucking worthless paystub you provide me with: Kurkjan Pride! I am a man, and none of you will ever be able to take that away from me. Fuck you!

I have an agenda as well, that I am giving my attentions to at the moment. Usually that agenda included 12 hours of sleep, cleaning in all the areas that I should, abstinence, vegtables, a nice interview or segment in which I was forced to play the fiddle of kindness for you fucking people and your big-shot prick athletes, and lots of other things that kept my body in homeostasis! Well no more, it’s new-agenda time here for Timmy boy, how do you like me now, fucking cum rags.

This morning I awoke, ate 12 slices of bacon, scratched my fucking nards, and went out of the house only commando underneath my dress-khakis–which were still smelling of shit in the seat of them because I didn’t wash them! Is that man enough for you fucking macho-big shot assholes? How about this, I went into the gas station, asked for a pack of Marlboro Reds, when I was asked to be ID’d for them I told the fucking heeb behind the counter that I had a knife in my suit jacket, and he handed them over. Amazing how a little swagger can change a man’s fortunes in this country. I then lit one after the other driving on the way to work on an empty tank and opened my window and yelled obscenities all the way to the studio parking lot. I yelled them until I couldn’t catch my breath in between puffs. I don’t mind the cigarettes, there not bad really. When I walked in, some nice little pretty girl in the green room gave me a fake “hello how’s your day Mr. Kurkjan?”. Wrong day for that missy. I replied with “I don’t fucking know you, don’t pretend like you know me unless you’re ready to hand over whats between those thieghs,” and walked away. It got Harold Reynolds released from this captive island of fucking hostility, maybe it will work for me.

Is that fucking camera still on? It better be.

Maybe you people have seen the movie Falling Down, with Micheal Douglas. I’ve seen it and that is how I feel. I’ve been pushed around, and pushed around, and be-littled, and underappreciated for too long. The world will pay it’s price now. That’s right. I’ve lost my fucking little toy mind. I’m sitting here with my pants down to my ankles, belt undone, and I’m jerking off thinking of images of Marilyn Monroe. When I am finished relieving myself under this desk I’m walking out to my car, grabbing a sniper rifle I just purchased and I’m going to the top of the highest building in this city and I’m going to treat the city streets like they are my ant farm. Guess what, you people out there are all my ants! I’m the kid now with the magnifying glass. I’m going to pick you off one by one until my fucking hearts content. Then I’m going to pull out my cock and blow my brains out.

The tragic fall of an American masterpiece

To baseball fans, this show is (was) the Holy Grail. It is to the baseball fan what the market report or Mad Money is to stockholders and money junkies. When your team or player leads off baseball tonight, it’s instantaneous hard-on. Nothing, and I mean nothing can make a man’s night like that happening. A close second is seeing 5 of your fantasy baseball team members on the ‘Going…Going…Gone’ list at the end of the show, one with a multiple homerun game. But to have Ravech and Gammons lead off the show with your boys, well you knew it was either an amazing win, or they got their ass kicked in startling fashion.

But that was then. There’s something different now isn’t there. I can’t quite put my finger on ‘it’, but something is definitely not the same. The treat has been stolen off the top of the cupcake, or something. It’s still an enjoyable program, because it’s the only thing we’ve got. ESPN’s Baseball Tonight has lost its swagger. The gleam is gone.

The biggest complaint I have with the show’s fall from grace of the Golden Years (1990-2002ish, R.I.P.), is it went away from everything that brought it to the dance. Back in those years, you could count on it being on every night, the 10:30 edition, and the 12:00 late edition. The only night you wouldn’t be able to see it was when Wednesday and Sunday Night Baseball got the stage, and on those nights you could see it before the game came on after Sportscenter. Now you’re forced to play a game of ‘poke and hope’ with the remote control. Some nights it can be found on ESPN at 10:00 ET. Some nights it’s on at 10:40, (given a shitty 20 minute timeslot to promote the ‘trifecta’). Other nights it gets ESPN2 all to it’s lonesome, oh goody, but it is on only at midnight, and by then you think it’s been replaced for the night by the chess world #1 contender match that runs right up until midnight when you’re tired of the guessing games. Is it that hard to leave the time slots the fuck alone for the most part ESPN? Your best show, the one thing you haven’t sold out on over the years–isn’t anything sacred anymore? You people are monsters.

I’ll tell you why I still watch. Every once in a while there is that golden glimmer that takes you back years, and reminds you of the good ol’ days in BBTN broadcasting. Karl Ravech and Petey Gammons being alive and on the show will give you that much (although Gammons gave us a scare when he had a stroke). They get rid of Dave ‘Soup’ Campbell and Harold Reynolds for bullshit reasons. They replace the pair with Rob Dibble (no longer on the show) and John Kruk, with all due respect, two guys who have NO BUSINESS telling me analysis on how the game should be played. Then they go and try to shove a pompus asshole like Steve Phillips down our throats nightly. Phillips uses the show, what used to be ‘our’ show, the people’s show, as his own personal spotlight and agenda to spout off about what is important to him or what a winning GM does.

That brings me to my next point. There is a new segment on the show, outlined as ‘Most Important Thing’. This segment features analysts’ comments on the most important story from the day’s happenings in MLB. This is usually the final segment of the show. Where do they get off thinking we give a fuck. I don’t know how many times that I’ve heard Kruk or Phillips say, “well it was huge for that team that Pedro came in the 5th inning before he left the ballgame and get a 1-2-3 inning even though he was roughed up for the rest of the day. That will be huge for this team down the stretch.” Hey, ESPN, how about you stop worrying about what is most important to your analysts and start focusing on what is the real ‘most important thing’, people like me who kept your show afloat for years.

Two things on the show I cannot complain about aside from Gammons and Ravech, would be that they’ve kept Web Gems around, and they put that little needle-dick Tim Kurkjan on the show. You know, I’m pretty sure Kurkjan never played baseball. In fact, I promise he never did. I’m not sure how he got mis-aligned from the world of cyber-pedophiling and building space shuttles, onto covering baseball, but I am sure glad he did it. He’s a wonderful addition. You’ll never see him meddling into other’s affairs and constantly reminding us of his accomplishments on the Major League Baseball stage. Just good, solid, analysis from a journalist that cares, even if he probably couldn’t last 4 minutes in the sack with a naked woman.

They can throw segments like ‘Extra bases’ and ‘On the Phone’ down the shitter along with ‘touch em all’. Fuck that. Extra bases is basically them dedicating 10-12 minutes of the show talking about the daily Red Sox or Yankees game. Every once in a while they’ll throw in a no-hitter by the Indians or Marlins, or someone on the Reds hitting 3 homeruns, maybe. On the Phone is cool, to a point, but not every night. Especially not when they were trying to market that shitty ESPN Mobile phone that didn’t work worth a fuck. And I’ll say it again: Isn’t anything sacred? Do the pricks at ESPN have to sell out everything? Even something as good and American as Baseball tonight?

I’ll watch again this year, every night, endlessly surfing through the channels trying to wonder what went wrong with this once great show. I’m dream of the boyhood days when the graphics and colors were bad, but the content was great on baseball tonight. That was then, this is now.