Summer's Almost Gone...

....and not a moment too soon. I despise the summer with every fiber of my being and have since birth. Put Casper the Friendly Ghost next to me and my skin tone makes him look like Manute Bol. On British Open Saturday it was 57 degrees and drizzling in the middle of July and I was jealous. That is the type of environment that my ancestors saw fit to evolve for. Its always been a mystery to me why people love the summer. Is there a joy in walking outside and having your nutsack stick to your leg within 30 seconds that I'm missing? Is seeing a couple of broads in bikinis really worth the miserable, sandy, overheated and overcrowded trip to the beach? See the beach girls on the internet, and see them topless. On top of all that, when the heat gets oppressive the city starts to resemble that early scene in Halloween where the looneys are all wandering around the grounds of the asylum. You can keep the summer, its the only time I fully endorse wishing one's time away.

The start of football is the modern way to tell that you've survived another one. Granted, there are bound to be a few more scorchers on the way. But with college football starting we've made it through the rough part of the trip and can see the finish line. College football has done a lot to piss me off in the last few years. The college game is supposed to be about rolling out of bed still trashed from the night before, walking straight to the fridge and slamming down a brew in two gulps before you say your first word of the day. From there you head to a tailgate or a bar for some serious day drinking, which is the best kind of drinking. But lately you've seen more and more big games being played in prime time on Saturday night, when any normal person has either passed out or graduated to shots and will be lucky to wake up with their credit card in their pocket. In similar fashion, the big bowls start so late that nobody who is employed on the east coast can stay up for the end of the games. The timing of these games might mean more ratings now but in the long term the sport will be hurt.

Regardless, these are minor qualms, onto the pick. Right after this. I used to work with a guy, The Big Man, who was a college football gambling machine. On any given Saturday if you walked into his bar (not his meaning he owned it, his meaning he owned a stool a la Norm) he would have literally thousands of dollars on the line spread throughout ten different games. Often this would result in The Big Man's net to be him paying the vig on his losses. I am of the school that you find one monster lock and take a hack at it. Its hard enough to be right vs. the bookies once, its much harder to be right twice or more, which is why bookies love teasers and parlays. So you won't see a list of 30 games picked here. What you will get is the game I love and have already put my bet in on, and the exact spread I got in at. If you go with me and lose you know I lost too. And unlike those shady 900 numbers that claim bullshit like "75% winning percentage" I not only have nothing to gain from you, I'll post my record as we go along. Obviously these are not guarantees as I have no inside info; and please don't be stupid like we once were and bet money you can't afford to lose (Woods can tell that story from junior year when he gets a chance).

Official Week One Pick is.................UCLA -17 at Stanford

Rationale: If you asked me to put a number on this game before I saw 17 I would have guessed 28. And still loved UCLA at -28. Much like their academically challenged (in terms of sneaking 85 morons past admissions) brethren at Duke, Stanford's program has degenerated to the point that they are more like a I-AA team now. UCLA is talking Pac 10 title, and will be geared up with 20 starters back from the team that beat USC last year. Look for a big time UCLA romp in this one.

Fantasy Draft Results

Nothing is more tedious than hearing about someone's fantasy team. Its worse than hearing about someone's birdie putt that was really a bogey putt that they left two inches short. So without further adieu, please step inside the Shark Sandwich war room:

Round One -
I am picking third, can't really fuck this one up. LT first, Gore second because the Dogg is a Niners fan, I go Steven Jackson over LJ because I think Herm may kill LJ this year. Break time.

Two -
I obviously need another running back and there is not much there. That prick Woods picked father of the year Travis Henry one pick before me so I go Ronnie Brown. We get a point per reception and I hear Cam Cam Cam Cameron wants to get Ronnie the bean both on handoffs and short drop offs. I also hear that they had him return a couple of kickoffs to see what happens. I seem to remember the Giants doing that with Sehorn a few years ago and it completely ruined his career. So that's a happy thought.

Three -
These online drafts go a lot quicker, I can't believe I'm on the clock already. I can shore up my RB bench (we only start two) or get a high end receiver. I go receiver since there is a lot of real estate between me and my next pick and take Roy Williams. I had him a couple of years ago and it was a year too early. This year Martz will get him the ball if it kills him.

Four -
In my downtime a bunch of the top notch QBs are taken and some of the better receivers. But the mini-run on QBs means that Andre Johnson is still there and I snatch him up immediately. Two number one receivers, and I had Andre in my first tier. Score.

Five -
Again, this draft zips by, especially at the end of the row where the picks go rapid fire if the guys on the end know what they're doing. I need to revisit the RB situation and its basically Marshawn Lynch or All Day. I know Marshawn is going to start right away but I'm scared of guys on Buffalo unless we're doing IDP's (we're not). I go with Peterson and the potential for greatness.

Six -
The aforementioned QB run has left the QB cupboard bare and I know I need to pull the trigger around this point in the draft. In the second straight high risk round I go McNasty. I'm officially shitting my pants about this pick. I never focus my team around QBs but if he goes down I am fucked.

Seven -
K2 and Heap go off the board so I'm passing on TE for a while. Last year I weighted my TEs too high and it bit me in the ass so I'd rather beef up other areas. Mark Clayton is going into his third year in the league, a time most guys start to get it. He's the number one receiver in Bawlmer now. Their offense sucks but their defense gives them posessions. I love this pick.

Eight -
The second tier TE's go off the board but Witten is still there. Since the Angry Armenian and the Dogg just took tight ends I know I can wait on Witten with Plexi-Glas staring me in the face. Another guy who is the number one receiver on his team.

Nine -
Witten. I hope I'm not missing something on this guy, I think he is great. I don't know why everyone is down on this guy, its not like he ran a dogfighting ring in his backyard.

Ten -
It basically comes down to Warrick Dunn vs. Braylon Edwards. Dunn is a small guy on the wrong side of 30 coming off back surgery on a team that has a new coach and had some minor offseason incidents. I'm a little WR heavy but Edwards is the star receiver on a team that will be playing from behind a lot vs. a guy in Dunn who I would hope to never use. Not an easy call but I go Edwards.

Eleven -
I want more depth at RB and even though Tatum Bell isn't a question mark, he's ten question marks, he gets the call. The Kevin Jones injury sitch sounds worse by the minute. Hopefully Tatum doesn't see much time for Shark Sandwich.

Twelve -
I was keen on getting either Leinart, Cutler, Rivers or Romo but none are left so I go Eli. He takes a lot of bullshit for not being his toolbag brother but his fantasy numbers are surprisingly good when you look at them.

Thirteen -
I'm not big on handcuffing at all. So needless to say with Chester the Molester still here he just got the call. I'm sure he is thrilled, as am I to have locked down the backfield of a team that some are calling the worst in the league.

The rest -
All meaningless positions like DST (Cowboys, Jets for the homer pick/special teams production), kicker (Olindo Mare for a dome kicker, Mike Nugent for another homer) and Chris Brown for a guy who could surprise.

All in all I like my team. Loaded at wide receiver. A little risky at RB and QB but serious, serious upside potential there. Solid if not spectacular elsewhere in the positions that don't count. I didn't get sucked into any runs and just kept stockpiling weapons. The results will be there soon enough but for right now I can dig it.

Help Wanted

It was perhaps the biggest kick in the nuts I have ever suffered at a live sporting event. Everyone on the 7 train going out to Shea knew better than to think for one second about what came next if we won this one. The tension was so unbearable that people were starting to act weird, like Ghostbusters when it looks like the world is going to end weird. The ride back was even trippier, and not in the wow that tree sure is fucking cool looking way; it was the wow I want this to end so I can finally fall asleep way. There wasn't a hell of a lot of words exchanged, (although one rather rank and drunken bum was just as exasperated as we were that Beltran didn't take a hack), mostly mutterings about never watching baseball again. One statement that my boy Tipper and I did agree on was this: trade Heilman now. The only way guys ever bounce back from something like that is with a change of scenery, otherwise they become mental patients. He ain't gotta go home but he's gotta get the hell out of here.

Fast forward ten months to tonight's barn burner between the Mets and Padres in a rubber game that is a potential October preview. Mets go down, battle back. Go down, battle back. Go down, battle back. Then the asshole who is too good to come out of the bullpen finds himself in the all too familiar position of looking over his shoulder at the winning home run.

Our bullpen is shaky enough as it is with Omar's idiotic decision to re-sign Mota after he failed a juice test. Failing the test means two things. Number one, the guy is a fucking moron since everyone knows you switch to HGH during the season. Number two, and more importantly, you KNOW that his performance last year was enhanced. Newsflash: steroids make you better at sports, whether it is hockey, golf, football, jai alai, dogfighting....it really doesn't matter. They enhance one's performance, hence the name. Don't sign a guy if you know for a fact he isn't going to be as good when he's off the sauce!

But back to Heilman. He acts like he'd rather be at an insurance seminar than on the field. He crumbles in big spots. He hates the organization because they won't let him start. But we can't trade him now because the deadline has passed. I would never advocate assassinating a player (at least not publicly). But if nothing else Tonya Harding taught us that a well placed shot with a crowbar can do wonders. Who's willing to take one for the team (if its your first offense you're looking at max one year in the big house, you can get it down to 8 months with good behavior) and pull a Jeff Gillooly to get rid of this guy for the stretch? Somebody please step up!

Yeah Eli!

Jets-Giants is not a rivalry by any definition. Yes, thanks to those bloodsucking pondscum Dolans the Jets are the extra man in the porno scene in Giants Stadium (and will be for the next 30 years). But despite having even closer physical ties than Mets-Yankees (as far as I know the Mets and Yankees only shared a stadium when the seventh circle of hell was being renovated in the 70s) the blood fued amongst fans isn't there. We also don't share a division like the Islanders and Rangers do so the hatred that could be brewed there doesn't exist (although if they ever re-align how about Jets, Giants, Patriots and Eagles in the same division). We only play each other every four years. Jets and Giants fans are Rodney King's wet dream: we all just get along.

So as a Jet fan, while I had been mostly ambivalent towards Eli Manning so far, I was fired up to read that he basically said "Deeez nuuuuts" to Tiki Barber after Tiki took some not-so-veiled cheap shots at Eli. This is the single best thing Eli has done in his football career (and the second best thing he has ever done, behind only scoring the prime piece of ass that is the future Mrs. Eli). Tiki did lead my fantasy team to a championship belt a couple of years ago, but last year he not only quit on his (and my) team, his coaches (both me and Coughlin) and the Giants fans that wait 35 years to get season tickets, he spent every waking moment self-promoting when he was max two months away from having the rest of his life to do so. I don't begrudge any NFL player that walks away, especially a running back. But do it with dignity and respect for your teammates. You know, maybe keep it on the DL that you don't give a rat's ass anymore.

A little bit before Christmas last year I was discussing the future of the G-Men (this was before they backdoored into the playoffs but his view was the same even after they made it) with my uncle. He said he couldn't wait for the season to end so Tiki would be gone already and then he hoped they would cut Strahan so it would be Eli's team. Well Strahan is back (and with the terms of that divorce he will be playing until 2038) but by publicly telling Tiki to go piss up a flagpole this could be the first step in the Giants becoming Eli's team. Good hustle Eli, next time disguise your voice, say you're from NBC and tell him Matt Lauer's fluffer called in sick. Tiki'll teleport to the studio for that opportunity.

Pinners

- every time I turn around someone else is asking if I watch "Hard Knocks". The answer is no, simply because I absolutely despise Herm Edwards and always have. I'll grant that he can provide a great sound bite. But he is an absolutely terrible game coach, and the half-assed effort he put forth in that Chiefs-Colts game was an embarassment. He gave his good buddy Tony Dungy an easy win so he would have an easier road to the Super Bowl. He did the exact opposite of "play to win the game". Despicable.

- major downer as word is the Canes are moving out of the OB. To an outsider, the OB is a complete dump, a disaster area from a bygone era. But it is important to note that most outsiders got their teeth kicked in whenever they came to our house. It may be a dump but its our dump, and no stadium in this country has seen more great victories for its home team in the modern era. Oh and they serve El Presidente.

- dated, but relevant as the college season is around the corner. Every year there is no real champ college football loses ground to the NFL. With one or two exceptions my buddies in NYC actively go out of their way to avoid college ball. The lack of a tournament = lack of integrity in their eyes. In lieu of a tournament most would prefer the old disjointed bowl system than the current contrived steaming pile of crap. "Boise State won for the little guy!". Won what exactly? Did they knock off a tough opponent on their way to the semi-finals? Or did they win a meaningless game that served the sole purpose of promoting awareness of the latest flavor of Tostitos? All you NFL prospects out there, you need to develop a stomach virus and sit these meaningless games out unless it is the title game.

- finally, it has to be addressed. The other day, from what I could actually comprehend, some psycho on the FAN a guy who could scarcely speak English was essentially saying Vick should be electrocuted through his nuts. One major point first. The "rape stand" is more commonly known as a "breeding table" and one is owned by every single dog breeder in this country, most of whom love dogs more than people. There are a million talking points in this story, that isn't one of them. On the main point, nobody in this country, especially me, is going to publicly condone dogfighting. But I think Goodell has the same plan for Vick the psycho on the FAN was advocating. The combination of the overwhelmingly unpopular nature of the crime, terrible PR thanks to every media outlet jumping all over the easy meat, and whoever these PETA assholes are are sending Vick to the tank more so than his crime. Luckily for me, my fantasy draft hasn't happened yet. Penn State is good, state pen doesn't help me regain my championship belt.

80's vs. 90's

Whenever the decades of the latter half of the 20th century are discussed people always talk about how the 60's rocked, or how the 70's were the groovier version of the 60's, or how the 80's were just 10 straight years of pure awesomeness (note: the 50's, while technically part of the latter half of the century, fit much better in the 20's vs. 40's debate that rages amongst octogenarians in assisted living facilities throughout the land). The 90's are only spoken about in the hushed tones one uses when talking about a disgraced family member's latest misdeed. That's all about to change right now, at least for anyone who ventures into this neck of the woods.

The 60's and 70's will be left out of the discussion (for now at least). The easy answer is that I wasn't even born during the 60's and was all of 3 1/2 years old when the 70's ended so I have no first hand recollections of either decade. The real reason is that there is nothing worse than listening to some self-worshipping baby boomer babble on about how their generation stood for something, and changed the world, and blah, blah freakin blah, especially if said boomer claims to have been a hippie back then. You weren't trying to change the world, you were trying to get into the pants of the non-bra wearing blonde with a flower in her hair who seemed impressed by your bullshit. Save the sermon and let her suffer through it next time she has a break between conference calls.

So that brings us to 80's vs. 90's. Going through each topic one by one in separate posts, I will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the 90's were far superior to the 80's in music, clothing, sports, movies, and in general (in general = other topics that don't fit neatly into the ones named). Its high time we, the redheaded stepchildren of the 20th century, stood up for ourselves against those 80's punks who are awash in cheesiness. The 90's were our decade, and it was the best damn decade that century ever saw.

R.I.H. NBA

In sixth grade a new kid named Paul moved to town and was put into my class. Back then, (kind of like now), my judgment of guys largely revolved around their interests in sports and Paul was a sports nut. So I was shocked at the response when I asked if he had watched the opening game of the Knicks season. He looked at me as if I asked if he still crapped his pants regularly. "NBA? How can you watch that garbage? Everyone knows its fixed."




That was roughly 19 years ago in the height of the Larry-Magic-early Michael years. In the years to follow the Dunk Contest became an event almost on par with the Super Bowl for me, I simultaneously stood in awe of and hated Michael Jordan, fueds with "Bulls fans" sometimes got physical, I owned a pair of Ewings and wore them to school until they fell apart, and the Knicks ripped my heart out when Starks kept clanging brick after brick.



My love of the Knicks continued into college. I sat in Howl at the Moon with only the bartender for company the night after everyone moved out junior year and screamed at the tv as the Knicks fought their way out of the Heat series in '97. Even after college we marveled at the greatest dunk contest ever won by Vince Carter in 2000.



The worm has turned since then. The Knicks have become persona non grata in my mind, and the fact that they suck isn't even why. First they hired a guy that I have hated with a passion my whole life, a man who has failed miserably at everything he has done off the basketball court. Then, the hated Dolans blocked the Jets from moving back to New York. This I cannot forgive, and I cannot possibly buy tickets/merchandise to financially support these men who prevented New York from having a football team, a Super Bowl, stadium concerts, and billions of dollars of revenue.



But these are all legitimate reasons to hate the Knicks, and this is supposed to be about hating the NBA. On that point, the way palming/travelling are called, the game more resembles European Handball than basketball. When Starbury drives he covers the ball up with both arms like a running back and takes three steps minimum. The quality of play has become a joke since everyone is drafted on potential instead of production unless they are taken by the Spurs. Additionally, all anyone ever talks about is contracts. The most valuable player on a team is usually the guy whose contract expires the soonest. Related to this, the meaninglessness of regular season games has gotten to the point where you'll see more effort in an over-30 half court league.



BUT these are all things that can be fixed (just call travels, adopt the NFL anti-Maurice Clarett rule and have non-guaranteed contracts). The hurdle I can't get over anymore is the now-proven orchestrated nature of the league. Don't let the Blazers beat the Lakers, the Blazers won't draw ratings. We need a squeaky clean young star, get Dwayne Wade to the line. The other night on PTI Wilbon was saying the NBA will be fine if they can prove it was just one guy involved. That's like saying if Bonds passes a test tomorrow he never did juice. I refuse to waste my time on the league and honestly hope it becomes less popular than the lowly NHL. Rest in Hell NBA. If they didn't know before, now everyone knows its fixed. Just like Paul told me.

R.I.P. Scooter

You have to look long and hard to find people who hate the Yankees as much as I do. I would rather go for a discount prostate exam in a trailer than go to their rathole stadium which is akin to the seventh circle of hell for me. I would rather listen to nails on a blackboard than have to suffer through conversations with their fans, especially when they start referring to themselves as die-hards. The Yankees are a thorn in my side that gets twisted repeatedly by such a multitude of reasons that it merits its own post. I hate everything about the organization and am risking a turn in hell for the evil I wish upon their persons.

This all being said, there was always one exception. I genuinely liked the Scooter. Like all good people from Long Island I grew up watching the Mets religiously, even when they were absolutely terrible. But when they weren't on and I watched the Yankees the Scooter made it fun. It was similar to watching a game with a grandfather or great uncle who would regale you with great, sentimental, quirky, sometimes silly, but always engaging stories of good old days long past. Some involved tales from the Scooter's historic playing days and teammates. My favorite was one that spanned a good two and a half innings about the time he broke his nose walking straight into a glass door he didn't see coming at an airport. He was funny without forcing, always warm and engaging and was just a pleasure to invite into your home.

Rest in peace Scooter, your old family and buddies have been waiting for you to join the game up there. I tip my Met cap to you, sincerely and respectfully.

Thomas Jones

While I don't remember exactly what I was watching, I do clearly remember seeing the espn crawl when the Jets traded for Thomas Jones, specifically because I had to see it three times to make sure I wasn't missing something. I immediately called the Dogg to confirm what my eyes wouldn't believe. All we had to give up was what? That's it? This guy just ran them to the friggin' Super Bowl, why would the Bears trade him to us for nothing? What don't we know about this guy, is he damaged goods? And then I blurted out the words I wish I could take back:

"With our luck he'll probably blow out his MCL in the first pre-season game."

Now at this point it is important to highlight a footnote of family history. My uncles have had season tickets to the Jets since they played at Shea, and their current seats are five rows behind the Jets bench. In that fateful season of 1998 my aunt had won a Jets Super-Fan contest which entitled her to an all expense paid trip for two to the Super Bowl if the Jets made it (she has acheived a special level of hatred for Keith Byars that cannot be described in mere words).

After sulking for about a month after the Debacle in Denver, Jet fans licked their wounds, bucked up and said you know what, we're gonna go out in '99 and steamroll the AFC. We're due. That attitude was palpable in the car ride to the Meadowlands as my uncle stated emphatically "We've got the D! We've got the weapons on offense! We've got the Tuna! As long as Vinny doesn't get hurt we're going to the Super Bowl baby!"

Needless to say, Vinny was hurt almost instantly. All was not lost as his immediate replacement lead the team valiantly for the remainder of the first half. Unfortunately Parcells made the curious decision to go with lifetime zero Rick Mirer over punter/phenom QB Tom Tupa in the second half when Tupa was on fire in the first. Shellshock from losing Vinny made Tuna stick with Mirer until the Big Man was awakened by the loud crashing sound of the season imploding and sent in Ray Lucas, the superior option all along, to nurse us to a respectable 8-8. The lone bright spot of the season was that we held off on booking those hotel reservations for the big game.

What I'm hoping is that my family history doesn't repeat itself. My original quote said first preseason game, Jones got hurt in practice. I also predicted that he would blow out his MCL, he apparently has something curiously known as a lisfranc sprain. This is one of those new injuries that didn't exist 10 years ago, like a sports hernia. In layman's terms I think he has a sprained ankle. But just in case, let's just say its a good thing Ben Graham used to play rugby.

Dwight/Darryl/Tyson

As anyone who attended or visited Fordham University up until the end of the school year 1999 can tell you (and we're talking the real Fordham in the Boogie Down BX, not that Lincoln Center b.s.) the place to be on Thursday nights was Clarke's on the corner of Fordham and Webster. Five dollars for all you can drink Scheiffer's (sp) draft from 10-1 in a bar that was colossal by NYC standards. Where the concept of ID's was a complete joke in the mid 90's, bowl-smoking didn't need to be hidden at all, and anyone drinking out of anything but a plastic cup was considered a pompous prick. Where the beers give you gas and the Bundy's kick ass.......

If you're still reading and didn't go to Fordham; God bless you. But I'm sure you had a similar bar at your school. The one completely unique thing at Clarke's (to me at least) was a 4x6 picture hanging on the wall that only regular Locals (read: raging alcoholic Irish immigrants) and hard-drinking students (read: sons of raging alcholic Irish immigrants) knew intimately. A photo of Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry in full Mets regalia bookending Mike Tyson. The three ultimate symbols of drugs gone bad, lost potential, and the dark side of 1980's New York in one tiny wooden photo frame. And they were all my hero's.

I look back now and wonder who was to blame for that era, if anyone. I know for sure many people were full of shiznit. I love Ronald Reagan, he is undoubtedly the greatest president of my lifetime and the 20th century. But Nancy's "Just Say No" campaign was not only an absurd waste of taxpayer money, it was inherently stupid. I don't really smoke weed anymore but lumping marijuana in with real drugs like crack and heroin was incredibly uninformed and irresponsible. Not the same ballpark, not even the same sport.

Which brings me back to the title/point of this post. The 1986 Mets are considered by some (read: me and other screwballs from Long Island) to be the greatest baseball team of the modern era. I couldn't care less that they were by and large boozehounds, womanizers, pill-poppers and dope-smokers. They provided me, at the age of 10, the single most enjoyable season of any sports team I have followed in my lifetime. Mike Tyson was the most electrifying man in sports entertainment (from Crooklyn!) when The Rock was still hoping a pube or two had shown up. Mark Gastineau was the leader of the New York Sack Exchange. Three/fourths of the Final Four in 1985 (well before the boring football schools took over the current commercialized snoozefest), the Big East ballers were blowing rails before games, winning and then hanging banners/carrying belts.

And I'm left to wonder why this was all bad........

Post #1 - The Single

Likes:
- New York Mets - no other team can rip your heart out like the Mets can.
- New York Jets - no other team can kick you square in the stones like the Jets can.
- Miami Hurricanes Football - the one gem in a group of rocks. Most dominant program in football in the modern era, by far. Two top five NFL Draft picks starting on the D right now. A year away from another Sears Trophy. And the Shea Stadium of college football as their home field where they serve El Presidente by they .22. IT'S GREAT....TO BE...A MIAMI HURRICANE......
- Fordham Rams Basketball - if you want a team to make you feel good about the Mets and Jets just take the D train to Fordham Road and walk east 'til you hit civilization......
- Golf, specifically if the commenters are aware that there are players other than Tiger Woods. I don't hate Tiger, I actually have a tremendous amount of respect for him. I just hate the mainstream coverage of golf, its either Tiger or Non-Tiger, at least say the leader's name guys!

Dislikes:
- Yankees Fans/Players, in that order until someone admits booing Payrod.
- Feel good sports stories - some prick who undoubtedly shat on people through his first 20-odd years of life develops a drinking/drug problem/goes broke and finally squeaks out a decent season just in time to sign another multi-million dollar contract/book deal about his drinking/drug/going broke problem doesn't make me feel good, it makes me feel naseous.
- The Rehab Culture. There are people that certainly need rehab. Lifetime barfly's, like plumber's union members or door-to-door rug salesmen, who spend significant chunks of all day/every day for decades in dark, dingy, roach infested $5 hummer from the waitress missing her two front teeth bars have a choice between rehab and death. For these people, continuing their current path will literally mean drinking themselves to death. Their best option is to go AA and never, ever, ever touch a drop of booze again (or at least until the reaper is in the room, which I can totally respect). If you're under 35, are concerned about any drug that doesn't involve a needle or are a celebutard, get out of the way of actual alcoholics, grow a set, and deal with it like the rest of us.

Favorite:
Football Player - Vinny Testaverde
Baseball Player - Keith Hernandez
Basketball Player - Patrick Ewing
Hockey Player - Marcelle Dionne

Second Favorite(s):
Football Player - Keyshawn Johnson/Mark Gastineau
Baseball Player - Dwight Gooden/Darryl Strawberry/Ron Darling
Basketball Player - Kenny Anderson/Chris Mullin/John Starks
Hockey Player - John Vanbeisbrouck/Stefan Matteiu/Ron Dougay (spelling on all)

Former Likes:
- NBA - the lack of effort in the regular season/ridiculous money contracts just kill me, stop guaranteeing those contracts! I don't want to be more sober than the guys in the layup line!
- NHL - part of the blame goes to the '94 Rangers, when they won it a major burden was lifted. The rest of the blame goes to whoever negotiated the VS deal and expanded the league.

I'm going to be honest. I'm not doing this blog to make money or to get attention or to try to impress anyone. The quotes you see above are mostly direct pulls from conversations I have with my best buddies here in NY via email while we pass the time when the market is slow. This format gives me the option of expanding on thoughts that would get me fired if I put them in email form as the SEC monitors our emails. This is a hobby for me, if you're still reading I hope you enjoy my future posts I'll try to entertain and be as offensive as possible.