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