Ben & Metta

Honorable Mention (13)

Knocked Up ---- Metta World Peace

On a boring night in 2004 my future wife and I were randomly watching the Pacers beat the Pistons ass.  We never thought it would turn into watching Ron Artest and Jermaine O'neal beat the shit out of the Detroit fans.  Sometimes in life shit happens, shit you never planned on, shit that you quickly regret.  That shit might just be throwing away millions to punch some drunk asshole in the chops.

Ron Artest was a special man, known for his quick temper, bi-polar disorder and frequent depression.  Artest has had more screw-ups than most players could escape.  My favorite is when he openly acknowledged drinking before games. Nothing improves basketball performance like an old english 40!  

Any dumb ass can tell you that climbing into the stands and jacking a couple white middle-aged men is a relatively bad idea, ESPECIALLY when you are a basketball player born and raised in queens.  Can you really do much worse? 

The very brilliant Ben Stone would argue you can. 

He unleashed this fury on his impregnated partner.

How the hell do you come back from that?  

I have no doubt after this scene Ben called Metta for advice.  

AGAIN......

This is Ben

   

This is the puddin' he knocked up.

Ben called Metta, Metta bitched at Ben, Ben read some baby books and all was well.  

Ya know... just like real life.

How can you not appreciate Knocked Up?  

How can you not appreciate Metta World Peace?

I DON'T KNOW, I'M NOT A DOCTOR!

Knocked Up had enough laughs built in to leave out this gem.

Apologies for the inappropriate superficial things I perpetuated here.... (R-bizzle)

With Honor I Continue To Mention...

The countdown continues with another honorable mention.  If you don't know what countdown I'm referring to, read my last damn post you son of a bitch.

Honorable Mention (14)

What About Bob ---- Turk Wendell

I can sum up What About Bob in 5 words... Bill Murray is the man.  Yes, feel free to consider me a wordsmith.  This shirt is already in the mail, and headed for my home.  You won't find a better shirt to sport if your agenda involves fucking shit up, or snacking on a bowl of puddin.

                                                         

Bob Wiley is one of Bill Murray's best characters.  Murray has certainly provided better performances in his career, The great "Big Ern" McCracken comes to my mind. Having said that, the other films just struggle to deliver the way What About Bob does.

As we head for number 1 I assure you I will avoid obscure teams and athletes, but I just couldn't live with myself if I didn't make this connection.  Turk Wendell was baseball's weirdo for almost a decade.  His superstitions went to extreme levels. It hasn't been confirmed that he needed Dr. Marvin's books to get through the day, but something tells me he could have benefited from a vaca at Lake Winnipesaukee.  

Turk was known for the following whacked rituals.

- Always chewing black licorice while on the mound.

- Always leaping like a jackass over the third base path.

- Brushing his teeth between innings.

- Wearing the teeth of all the animals he killed.

- Demanding his contract be written exactly at 9,999,999.99.

With Honor I Mention...

A few days back a great scene from The Station Agent flashed across my browser. Without hesitation, I boldly claimed it was "definitely one of my top 10 movies of all time".  Well damn, do I even know what my top ten movies of all time are? Lucky for me (and you) I ooze time to ponder such important topics.  One pen, one piece of paper and 29 movies later, I had my list.  Last time I checked, 29 doesn't equal a top ten.  I also discovered a top ten without the honorable mentions (11-15) is just not going to be OK.  In addition, I write a sports blog, not a movie blog.  Fuck it, it shall come together.  Besides, Jeffrey Lebowski bowls, and bowling is technically a sport.

Since this series could be a flaming pile of shit I'll try to get my legs under me with the honorable mentions.  I contend my favorite films have some great sports equivalents.  The equivalent could be an individual athlete or an iconic team. It is already obvious to me that I could ramble about these comparisons for days.

One important caveat before we get started.  I had to make a tough decision and leave out an entire self-created genre of great flicks.  A genre most of you are very familiar with; the "Horrible-Greats".  Nothing kicks, screams, and yells Horrible-Great like Cliffhanger or Road House.  My apologies to anyone anticipating these classics on the list.  We can both agree they are best saved for a special occasion and a special audience.

youtube is not going to be my friend on this project.  Copyright = Fecal Matter

Honorable Mention (15)
Little Miss Sunshine ---- 79' Pittsburgh Pirates

I give you a team and a film that prompt the same question.  When things get hard, and challenges arise, is there anything more important than family?  Family is a relative term, some people have family that are worth less than shit on a stick.  I am talking about the community you share your time with, the people you go to battle with,  real family.  Sometimes this family coincides with actual lineage and other times it couldn't be further away.

During their championship season the 79' Pirates were famously powered by the Sister Sledge anthem "We Are Family".  Facing a 3 games to 1 World Series deficit to the powerhouse Orioles would have been too much for most teams, but not a family like the Buccos.  Three subsequent games, and three victories for the family followed.  The family allowed two runs in the final three games to bring the steel city another championship.  If I could pick a city and decade to live in, I would have a hard time naming one better than  Pittsburgh in the 70's, a true city of champions.  

Familial adversity presents itself in a variety of ways.  Sometimes the issue at hand is very clear, sometimes it's fucked up and creepy.  Everybody has that creepy uncle, it's OK.  My mother still doesn't believe where my uncle put his thumb. Well, the Hoover's have their heroin addicted dead grandfather (in the back of their vw bus), their suicidal uncle, and a father with the worst/best intentions to cope with, all while trying to get their daughter through a demented contest she has no comprehension of.

The Buccos and the Hoover's deliver a performances worthy of some top notch bread puddin accompanied by a standing ovation.  Shit gets fucked up and they tackle it head on.  If you are unfamiliar with either of these great performances spend some time and get acquainted, you won't be disappointed.            

            ; 

                 
   

Phonies Gargle Balls

Recently, Nike created a stir with their new Tiger Woods publication.  Many insist this line of marketing is crude and insensitive.  (What marketing isn't?)  Nike was the only sponsor to stay with Tiger as one mistress after another came forward to talk about their sex-capades.  One could understand a sponsor potentially staying after the news of one mistress broke, Nike hung around after news of at least 6 mistresses broke.  It was clear to the world Tiger was full on sleaze and Nike didn't care.

Nike didn't get to the top of the sports apparel world by running their company on rainbows and bubble gum.  They had the business acumen to know this shit would go away and they, once again, would be making a fortune off captain sexy time.  If you can't recognize Nike's "IT FACTOR" "Sleaze Factor", just look at Kobe Bryant; Nike signed Bryant fresh off a rape charge.  These bastards simply do not blink.

I don't want to give you the wrong impression, Tiger woods is not lame for having sex with multiple partners or for this ad campaign.  Tiger is lame for being a phony shit-bag, and for sporting the worst facial hair since this crazy fuck.

So many professional athletes play the field literally and figuratively, and the ones that want to be left alone, do so without being married.  How fucking hard is that to understand?  The media more or less praises athletes for bagging multiple partners with ease.  Just ask Derek Jeter, his life rains vuh-jay-jay and nobody cares, NOBODY.  Jeter could make every man or woman he sleeps with roll in puddin on his NYC balcony pre-coitus and the media still wouldn't give a shit.

All the more reason Tiger Woods is an ass clown.  He got married so Buick would let him sell their shitty road boats.  I think only one conclusion can be drawn from the trials and tribulations of Tiger Woods.  It is blatantly clear Peyton Manning is going to be found in a back alley, fucking 4 transvestite hookers, while trying to trade a stolen cell phone for some meth, it's only a matter of time folks.  Be prepared, be prepared.

Cup a coffee, yea!

After being reminded of this absolute masterpiece the other day, I kept thinking about famous athletes and their love for cocaine.  Diego Maradona, Mike Tyson, Shawn Kemp, Martina Hingis, Gary O'connor, Dwight Gooden, Daryl Strawberry, Tim Raines, Dexter Manley, Steve Howe, Lawrence Taylor, and of course, the entire 1990's Dallas Cowboys.

Naturally these athletes enjoyed varied levels of success during their pro careers. The above list is much longer in reality, and would stretch on for days if we included users of amphetamine, especially in baseball.  Mike Schmidt, Hank Aaron, and many other hall of famers are on record acknowledging their use of amphetamine, and the rampant use throughout baseball before, during, and after their time as players.  If you want the ability to play 162 games in 180 days it only makes sense you may need a little "pick me up" from time to time, All The Time! Just ask The Macho Man.  Professional Wrestling is the only "sport" that can boast a more grueling schedule than baseball.

I put together a  list of sports figures that should have, or should start snorting EVERYTHING.  If The Macho Man can produce such quality puddin, more sports figures can too.

1. Tim Duncan. 

 The big fundamental is a no brainer! Look at this unemotional bump on a log.   

2. Rajon Rondo. 

 This guy already looks like an alien, let's add some methamphetamine! 

3. Pablo Sandoval. 

 He might actually think he is a kung fu panda. 

4. Adam Dunn. 

 I just want to watch the 6'6 giant sprint to first after all 106 of his walks in 2013. 

5. Bill Belichick. 

 I just want to see his heart explode on national television. 

6. Jim Harbaugh. 

Why? See #5 

7. Lance Armstrong. 

Why not?  He has taken everything else! 

8. Iman Shumpert. 

 Nothings says crack/cocaine like a new jack city flat top. 

9. Harry Caray.  

Holy Cow!

Wonderful Time Of Year...

Opening day is less than one week away and more snow fell today.  These two things are not supposed to go together.  Snow is bullshit, complete and total bullshit. Anyone that appreciates snow needs their head examined.  But I digress, this is a great time of year.

Fantasy baseball is not for the faint of heart, it is a grind.  162 games in 180 days. There is no rest for the wicked.  Daily lineups, 15 and 60 day trips to the DL, innings caps, transaction limits, waiver priority, even trades, uneven trades, stupid managers, arrogant managers, po-dunk managers, and me, I Lust It!

Any jerk-off with an internet connection and cable can play fantasy football.  It's nothing more than a coin flip each week, especially in leagues with 12 teams and less. Baseball, much like the real thing, requires a clear strategy and a passion to take chances.  Do I sit on Eric Hosmer and his shitty bat for another couple weeks?  Or do I tell him to eat shit on the waiver wire while I add Chris Davis and his 12 bombs in the last 28 days?  It really is beautiful.

Baseball leagues also show you if your competitors could pass a fifth grade math test.  A really simple example for you... In a standard rotisserie league the innings limit for the season is 1,250.  With 6 starters and 4 relievers on your roster you are going to reach that limit.  In addition, total strikeouts for the season are a scoring category.  Knowing these two pieces of information you would have to be a complete shithead to not use strikeouts per nine innings when ranking your pitchers.  When you exhaust your total innings for the season, if your total strikeouts are not between 1,200 - 1,300 you are dumber than a 5th grader.  

This week includes 2 online drafts from Sunday, an additional online draft Thursday night, and the annual Milton Money League on Saturday.  I am the only three time champion, and I can't wait to bring the title home again in 2013.  Our league has been going strong since 2001 and there really is no better puddin.  Some guys have left, only to be replaced with equally competitive people.  It is my favorite day of the year.

However, even I know nobody wants to read about some asshole and his fantasy team, it is the same as listening to your "life-challenged" co-worker explain their NCAA Bracket in detail.  While you are sitting in your shitty house Saturday, waiting in anticipation for your fat-ass Easter basket, think of me enjoying my favorite day of the year!

"Dee-Lish" -Brian Shrawder    

 

Tops Pops

Gregg Popovich is a bad mother fucker.  He has won at least FIFTY games 15 of his 17 years as a coach.  No, that is not a misprint.  Of the two seasons Pops didn't win 50, one occurred when he took over for a beleaguered Brian Hill and lost David Robinson for the season (17-47), and the other (37-13) occurred during the lockout shortened season of 1998-99.  Every full season coached by Popovich has lead to a minimum of 50 wins.  For christ sake he won 50 games in the 66 game season of 2011-12.  He has won four NBA championships in his career.  He is already the second best coach in the history of the NBA.

He never leaves home without his wallet.  That is all.

  

   

Cranium

Two NFL stories released on this fine Saturday have my simple brain thinking they are probably related:

1. The Pittsburgh Steelers released five time pro bowler and defensive player of the year James Harrison.

2. The NFL and players association crept closer to an in season Human Growth Hormone testing program.    

To be clear up front, the NFL has more hyped up players taking performance enhancing drugs than any other sport.  There is no sport based more on power and speed than Football.  You could possibly argue combat sports like MMA also fall into this category. These guys are all taking something, anything, to get an advantage. Let's not kid ourselves about any of this.  If you continue to be surprised by these neanderthals, and the lengths they will go to stay competitive, you're also a neanderthal.  

Naturally, the NFL has taken a strong public stance on Steroids.  Especially after the abuses that occurred in the 70's and early 80's.  As the Steroid test have begun to at least appear more rigid than in the past, these beasts find other means to get stronger and faster.  Enter Human Growth Hormone (HGH), an absolutely wonderful tool to mix in with their cocktail of steroids and pain killers.  This hormone stimulates bone and tissue growth throughout the body.  In basic terms, it helps your bones/joints to grow and therefore how more muscle and also increases recovery.  

Bone Growth!?!?  What the fuck, that doesn't sound like a great idea to an average person, but it definitely sounds great to a gifted athlete who wants to be the best. By far the funniest part about the bone growth is how big your head can get on this shit.  Just look at this god damn thing... Harrison looks like a cartoon character. There is no doubt this dude has been ingesting HGH like puddin since he went from a no-namer out of Kent State to a champion, and defensive player of the year.  

The most publicly known abuser of HGH is Barry Bonds.  Everyone knows that he transformed from a pencil neck chump into the beard of zeus pretty quickly.   Nobody can hide their head and brow increasing in size, nope, sorry, can't be done. Barry's head started to engulf his ears it got so big.    

                

    

Arod, another known HGH inhaler.

Sosa saved basbeall with his HGH cranium.

Lebron tries to hide his HGH lust with a headband.

As a kid I never thought my baseball cards would predict the future...

Brady Redemption?

I have always despised Tom Brady.  As long as I can remember, he was a tool. Knowing that he hasn't won a super bowl in the 8 years since the league caught his team and head coach cheating....

Icing on the cake!

The extent to which they were cheating

 was never revealed by The Fuerher Roger Goodell.

One could easily argue there is a big reason for that.  The Pats won 3 Super Bowls in a short amount of time, always making the "right adjustments" in the second half of pivotal games.  The bastards cheated, got away with it, and the league buried the proof to avoid embarrassment.  A very common scenario in professional sports, just ask David Stern and Michael Jordan.  Jordan was caught gambling and banned from basketball for a year retired and decided to play baseball for a year.

Tom Brady is one of the great quarterbacks of all time, he is no shlub, just a tool. Recently, ol' Tommy Boy signed a contract that raised the ire of many:  under market value, loaded with suspicion, but still a more than reasonable amount of guaranteed money which extends late into his career.  What is this?  Tom Brady making an effort to win without cheating?  No way, can't be.  Did he just do something admirable?  It appears that way.  I would not be surprised if sleezy Robert Kraft gave him double secret shares of the Kraft conglomerate as quiet compensation in the deal.

Let's just say this arrangement is actually on the "up and up" and he really wants to win a title without cheating.  The team is able to sign some quality support and they go on to finally win their first honest title.  Does this remove him from the land of giant dildos?  It pains me to say, but I would have to consider it.  Considering something of such magnitude is difficult for a sports fan.  It's been over fifteen years and I still wish pain on Michael Jordan.  Karma is clearly kicking Jordan in the balls, have you seen the Bobcats play?  Jordan is the worst owner in basketball.  It's puddin-riffic. Tommy Boy appears to have done something rarely done before in professional sports.  Maybe he is making amends for whatever deal he made with the devil years ago?

Hell, I even find myself respecting a deal with the devil, it has to be fun to party with Satan!  Having said this, Satan or not, Bill Bellicek is still a lumpy piece of shit. How can I begin to tolerate a player who reports to a lumpy piece of shit?  Ahh HA! This is where it all comes together... Tommy, if you are reading this, and you want my respect, all you gotta do is hit Bellicek with your car.  You don't even have to drive fast when you do it.  That lump of shit would splat at any rate over 9 mph. I'll leave it up to you if you want your mistress in the car when you do it.

       

   

   

Porcelain Divorce

Today at work, I began my daily journey to find a suitable toilet.  Would I be able to settle with the 2nd floor conditions or journey in disgust to the the third floor for resolution?  Would it all be a waste, as I once again walked across the street to Wegmans for the most reliable environment?  This uncertainty followed by the confirmation that Wegmans was my best option.... reminded me of my relationship with the New York Mets.

Approximately 15 months ago I finally divorced the New York Mets.  It was your typical failed marriage, littered with shame and unfulfilled dreams.  As I gained the courage to sever all ties, I searched for another way to fill my heart.  The alternative was right under my nose for the past 12 years.  Fantasy Baseball.  162 stat filled games in 180 days.  Pure puddin lust.  Mmmmmm, yea, dirty stat filled thoughts.

I also walked away with a valuable life lesson.

 

If it smells like a Met,

lets you down like a Met,

chokes like a Met,

it's probably a Met.

The toilets at work have proven time and again they are the god damn Mets.  A daily serving of hope, consistently smeared with pubes and fecal matter.  As I again prepare to sever all ties, Wegmans has appeared, consistent and reliable, just like my first true love, the fantasy baseball season.            

 

Caveman Critiques NBA

this missing from NBA

these guys lucky it missing