Posts Tagged ‘Tom Brady’

Knowshon Makes a No-Know

February 9, 2012
*Sorry about the spacing. WordPress hates me today*
What a day yesterday. My goodness. This MLB Fan Cave campaigning is killing me, and it’s only the beginning. I can’t believe how much support I’ve gotten from throwing up a couple links and an event on Facebook. My family and friends are simply amazing for extending the invitation to so many hundreds of people.
I’m not going to lie. The contest means a lot to me. There’s no point in being passive about this opportunity; it’s never going to happen again, so I’m going all-out. That being said, I’m trying to focus on writing a normal Jam Shots blog right now. It’s tough, but here goes:
First of all, big props to my buddies at Bleacher Report for starting the newest sports posing trend: Bradying! I love it. It’s multiple times better than Tebowing, because it actually makes fun of someone. And if you’re starting to feel bad for Brady, get over it. He’s still got three rings and a supermodel wife. Yeah, life is rough.
Now sometimes making fun of an athlete goes a little too far. Did this online pawn shop really have to deliver 900 pounds of Butterfinger’s in Boston to “thank” Wes Welker? Was it really worth the money? I’d like to see anyone at that company catch a 60-yard pass.
And sometimes it is good to give Tom Brady some grief after all. The magician who somehow scored 50 large by betting the first score of the Super Bowl would be a Giants safety is going to donate all post-tax earnings to charity. Including $5,000 to one of Brady’s choice. Beautiful in so many ways.
Knowshon Moreno is, plain and simply, an idiot. I honestly forgot he was in the NFL this year, until he got a DUI the other day. He was pulled over in a car with a personalized license plate that read SAUCED. Seriously. He might as well have been playing flip cup on the hood of his car in the Highway Patrol parking lot. I’m just shocked at the stupidity.
Damn it, I thought I promised to stop talking about football. Ugh. These post-season shenanigans are just too good to pass up! If Brady or Welker think they have it bad, I bet they’ve never had to try to ski without legs. Check this guy out. What an awesome athlete. Completely fearless, and worthy of everyone’s respect, to say the least.
One last thing before I close out here. Do you remember the 7-foot-5 high schooler with the unpronounceable name who is running kids up and down the court in Southern California? He’s got a new highlight tape and it’s just unfair. I don’t know what else to say. Just watch.
Wednesday is for weird web stories. And I’ve given you some freaky deaky stuff over the past couple weeks. But this one might take the cake for strangeness. This, folks, is why I haven’t golfed in over eight years. That sport is DANGEROUS.
Thanks for reading, and please…KEEP VOTING FOR ME!!!!!!!!!! Peace, love and hair grease.
Advertisements

Grading the Super Bowl

February 6, 2012

Warning: If you like boring football games, stupid commercials and a jaw-droppingly awful halftime show, you might want to turn and run right now. Because you’re not going to enjoy my blog. I’ve got to keep this short and sweet today, but here are my grades for the Super Bowl yesterday:

New England Patriots: D

Not just because they lost – but because Tom Brady had the ball in his hand with one minute left in the Super Bowl, but couldn’t get the win? Hello, stone hands. Aaron Hernandez and Wes Welker both dropped HUGE passes down the stretch that may have cost the Pats a title.

New York Giants: C

They won, but they still looked bad. Eli Manning is elite, we get it. Giants fans can stop throwing that one at us now. But as a whole, aside from a couple plays when it mattered, it was a pretty ugly performance by the NFC champs.

Commercials: C+

There were some gems, like the moon walking dog, the sexy M&M and Clint Eastwood’s eerie narration. But for the most part? It was a let down. Maybe we have set our standards too high. But in a year when we KNEW the game would suck, why did the commercials have to suck just as hard?

Halftime Show: F———

I can give that grade, because it’s my blog and I do what I want! I definitely could have happily lived the rest of my life not seeing Madonna’s wrinkly world while she lip-synched and did assisted cartwheels. The best part of the show was laughing at how goofy Cee-Lo looked and the few lines they allowed Nicki Minaj to spit. M.I.A. flipped off the camera, but that was at least controversial and somewhat exciting. And LMFAO had no business wasting their time up there.

Did I mention how unbelievably horrifyingly bad Madonna’s new single is? Why is that grandmother trying to be a cheerleader (that’s what I thought watching it, at least…)? Her new single is the most offensive thing I’ve heard since the GOP debate in South Carolina. I’m shivering just thinking about how close the halftime show came to ruining my life.

Overall: B

Because I was enjoying my Super Browl (yes, bro-bowl combo) time with some old friends, drinking beer and BBQ’ing. That’s what made this game memorable. Not the hail mary at the end of the game or Mario Manningham’s good-but-already-overrated catch. Just the company.

By the way, we drank every time a commercial sucked. I think I’m still drunk.

In honor of the Super Bowl, I leave you with a Monday special. No Nic Cage clip of the week today (I KNOW. I’m sorry.)…instead, the commercial I’ve chosen as the overall best from Super Bowl Sunday. It’s none other than that adorable naked piece of chocolate.

Time to do work. Later, freaks and geeks.

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

February 3, 2012

Oopsies…

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?

Lookin’ Like a Bunch of Bums Out Here!

January 23, 2012

This isn’t how I expected to start Jam Shots off. I regret to inform you that the only news I have today is sad news. First of all, let me explain something. This is not ESPN or Sports Illustrated. I will not claim to be an objective journalist with no ties to any teams, while really just trying and terribly failing at masking my love for all New York teams and Tom Brady’s junk.

I am a 49er fan. I love the Dodgers and A’s. And my alma mater, the Washington State Cougars. Therefore, I hate the San Francisco Giants. And the Washington Huskies. It comes with the territory of being a die hard fan. That being said, I guarantee you my blog will be less idiotic and infuriating than anything Skip Bayless has ever said. And since we’re on the subject, I hate that guy too.

Now that the disclaimer is out of the way, we can get back to the bummer of the century. The NFC Championship game last night. The 49ers lost a sloppy game to the New York FOOTBALL (you know, in case you forgot that the New York BASEBALL Giants moved out over 50 years ago…) Giants in overtime. It was such an ugly game that it was kind of like watching your grandparents knocking boots on the kitchen table, but those blue and white bastards got the best of my Niners. An average person might think it’s just raining in the Bay Area today. False. It is the collective cascading of thousands and thousands of people’s tears. The city is flooding.

Normally, I’d go out on a tangent, blindly blaming players and coaches and Indian gods, but today I’m going to take the high road. Well, after I make you sympathize with me.

Let me tell you, I’ve now experienced a broken heart. Sorry ’bout it ex-girlfriends, deceased former pets (R.I.P. Josh, Maggie and P.J.), and the latest Indiana Jones movie. Nothing will compare to how badly that loss hurt last night. This might seem weird, but instead of putting in Win A Date With Tad Hamilton! and downing a tub of ice cream like usual, I microwaved 16 turkey meatballs and stuffed my face with them. I…I don’t know. I was hungry. Uhh, anyways…

I learned all about “DABDA” in high school psychology. And yesterday I flew through Denial (I mean, the scoreboard rarely lies), was too sad for Anger, too tired to Bargain and spent the rest of the night in Depression. Or a meaty, steamy, ball-induced coma. Either way, it was a low point. I didn’t even have the energy to send a death threat to Kyle Williams like half of the Twitter world was doing (Shameless self-promotion time! Yay! Follow me on Twitter @jamblinman).

And that ends the feel-bad-for-the-author segment of our program. Because after a good night’s sleep and a couple dead-fish anger jumps on to the couch this morning, I’ve finally reached the last “A” – Acceptance. The 49ers lost. And I’m okay with it. Forget that this Super Bowl game will undoubtedly out-lame the National Championship rematch. The truth is, none of us fans expected to be here. Going from 6-10 one season to 14-4 the next and being one kick, slip or tackle away from the Super Bowl is nothing short of a miracle.

So props to Jim Harbaugh and his staff. Props to Alex Smith and his resurgence. And props to the most incredible defense the NFL has seen in a decade. And cheers to the fact that they will be back next year. With a full offseason. Completely healthy. And most likely with a couple new wide receivers. Tom Coughlin, I hope you’re reading this; you might need to change your diaper now.

And one last thing – Kyle Williams basically cost us ten points. You’re right. Get off his back. Where were the 3rd-down conversions? Where were the defensive takeaways? Where was the ballsy play calling? Where was the coverage on the 3rd-and-15-turned-into-17-yard-touchdown? Williams is a good receiver, a ridiculous athlete, and he’ll be back catching passes in the slot for us next season. He’s the goat today, but he deserves his fans’ support, not their threats.

Whew. Okay. On to the next bit of news! Oh. Great. It’s still sad. JoePa, a college football icon, passed away early Sunday after his health started failing the day before. All I have to say about him is this: It’s unfortunate that his unbelievable legacy will be tarnished by the recent Jerry Sandusky scandal. It’s understandable, but unfortunate. Hopefully he will be remembered for helping to pioneer the sport of football rather than being a silent accomplice to the biggest creep in the history of the world. They are Penn State. R.I.P. Joe Paterno.

Lastly, today, I have a little bit of basketball news for you. I want to ask – how tall were you in high school? Even after a growth spurt, most people here didn’t break six feet. I, for one, still have my original driver’s license from when I turned 16. It lists me as 5’10” and 170 pounds. Here I sit, seven years later, at 5’10”, 170 pounds. I know. Embarrassing. Besides, I look like I was just booked into a mental institute. Three hours in line at the DMV will do that to a kid.

Anyways, back to the news. Imagine being not six feet tall in high school. Not seven feet tall. But seven and a half feet tall, dominating fools on the basketball court. That’s the life of Senegalese teenager Mamadou Ndiaye (good luck), who plays high school hoops in Southern California. Watch the tape. The dude literally takes four strides from one basket to the other, and towers over the opposing center (who looks to be no taller than Danny DeVito to begin with). If he went to the NBA today, he’d be the tallest player on any roster. That’s just ridiculous. All I’m going to say is if this kid doesn’t average 40 and 40 every game, something’s wrong.

Thanks for reading the first installment of Jam Shots. Hopefully tomorrow will be a brighter day and you don’t have to deal with my whiny, butt cramps about my team losing. Until then, enjoy the Monday Nic Cage Clip of the Week (because just like his acting, Mondays suck ass). Peace.


%d bloggers like this: