Posts Tagged ‘college football’

Is Driving a Zamboni Even Possible When You’re Sober?

February 3, 2012


There’s going to be so much college football recruiting news in today’s blog, you’re going to be tackling red shirt walk-ons in your sleep. We’ve got a Jamarcus Russell-sized QB commit, one who loves fast food, and one who could allegedly be the butt of “therapist” (insert a space in the appropriate place and figure it out) jokes when it’s socially acceptable in a few years.

Let’s talk about Fatty McFattysons first. And please don’t tell him I said that, cause the dude is SCARY. I don’t know how effective a passer he’ll be in college, as he’s already rated as a “worse passer” than Russell was at this point in the recruiting process. But one thing is for sure. If he gets past the D-line when he’s scrambling, the only person with a prayer to bring him down is the mascot in a celebratory jump hug. Here’s to hoping he turns out more positively than Russell did.

Now this is just hilarious. I remember the day I had to choose which college I was going to attend. Not because I was signing a letter of intent to smash opposing players in the mouth, but because my mom called me at lunch in high school and told me I had to decide by the end of the day. But I absolutely did not choose Washington State over San Diego State because there were two McDonald’s in Pullman, WA. Give me a break, kid.

This one is not as funny. It’s scary, sad and troubling. If it’s true, of course. When it comes to the combination of sports and crime, though, it can be pretty gut-busting. For example, how does one get a DUI? If you drink, don’t drive. Duh. But, if you get a DUI driving a Zamboni on the ice rink?! That’s just silly. And you deserve a high five before getting locked up.

Hey, did you all hear? Tom Brady is now “The Most Hated Man in Buffalo!” Do you know why? He said the hotels in Buffalo weren’t that great. Jesus, media members. Chill the hell out. People in the city named after a stinky, dirty, ugly animal are offended that somebody was unhappy with the mints on their hotel pillows. Who gives a buffalo dropping?

The fact that this story is news pisses me off. And the fact that Buffolians are pissed off about it makes me want to punch a puppy. An ugly one though. Cute ones are unpunchable. This whole Brady-hatred-for-innocent-statement saga makes no sense. It’s not newsworthy. If he had pulled something like this, I’d understand a little anger.

Here’s some anger for you. If I could do this even from a distance; from a remote island to a disappearing ESPN cruise ship sailing into the sunset, I’d die happy. Then I’d draw “Screw YOU Skip!” in the sand and pee all over it. Props to you, Mr. Smith. And am I ever jealous.

I hate to end this blog on a sad note, but I have no choice. Josh Hamilton is one of the best sports stories in the world. He’s like Miracle combined with the Natural combined with Warrior, all on steroids. Oh, shit. Not on steroids. That joke definitely doesn’t work when referring to baseball. Comic relief aside, reports have surfaced that Hamilton was spotted drinking in a bar in Dallas. I really, really hope that these aren’t true. I’m a big Hamilton fan. And relapse is okay when you’re Jamblinman and you’re drinking the daily sports scoop. But when you were suspended for multiple years for drug and alcohol abuse, relapse is not ideal.

What can I do now, but leave you with an awesome song to jam to while you read the rest of my fabulous blogs? By the way, Buffalo. Everyone hates you. How appropriate, given my Friday Song of the Week. I feel like an actual band made up entirely of horses would sound a hell of a lot worse. Alright, go away…time for a beer. Too soon?

Skip Schumaker Is Less Than Or Equal To…

January 31, 2012

…A squirrel? Check out his baseball card for 2012. Honestly, the rally squirrel is definitely more recognizable than Skip, but that’s still kind of a slap in the face. Thanks a lot, Topps.

My real story today is about the most infuriating, terrifying cheerleader of all time. Which picture is less attractive? Hers, or the Georgia mascot’s? D’awwww who’s a good boy who’s a good boy?? Ah. Sorry. Puppies just kill me. Okay, fine. This isn’t my real story. But I had to squeeze it into the blog somehow.

Before I get to the real meat of the pork belly, let me tell you a couple of things. A couple of things that are in the news that me, you, your mother, her mother, your mother’s mother’s lover and Philip Rivers is sick and f*&!$in’ tired of hearing about. By the way, that picture of Rivers isn’t him going crazy from this mundane, repetitive news, although it fits perfectly with my theme here. Sadly, that’s just what he looks like. Yikes.

This. This. That. And This. Whoa, sorry. I don’t know how that last link got in there. I told you I had a crazy birthday weekend…Oh and did y’all hear?? Dwight wants to go to the Bulls now! The only things I want to end more than Dwight Howard trade rumors are high gas prices and that annoying squeak the leg of my desk makes when as much as a hair lands nearby.

Snap back to reality, whoop there goes gravity. Here’s what I really want to whine about. I’m a LeBron James fan. “The Decision,” was not his decision, and you haters will never make half as much in your lifetime for charity as LeBreezy made in one hour of self-indulgent TV time. So shut your yappers.

I bring this up because of him riding his bike to the Heat game yesterday, and how people were blowing up saying he was doing it to show off and get attention. Now the dude can’t even do something healthy and refreshing without being hated on. What’s next, King James breathes too much of us poor peoples’ oxygen? If you are one of these haters (which you are), please kindly shove your head up this guy’s sweaty bunghole.

Told ya I like LeBron. Defend him ’till I die! And here’s one more thing I missed. By like two weeks. That’s embarrassing. But even though the playoff will never happen because that would cost those precious execs their lunch money, I like that it’s being publicly acknowledged by important peeps. It gives me hope.

This guy, though? He’s got no hope. Diop missed that shot worse than this octo-baby misses a typical bone structure.  One last thing before I let you go. Congratulations to my good friend Lauren’s father, Scott Pruett, whose team placed sixth at the Daytona 24 over the weekend. That’s a lot of turning left in sweet-ass cars! Obligatory weekly racing reference, complete.

I leave you with volume two of the Tuesday Tweet of the Day. Fillmoe!

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