Pitches Be Crazy

I got a ball. Finally. My very own Major League Baseball. I've been to so many games and never had one for my very own, until now.

 After what can only be categorized as 'Immature/PG-13" heckling, Red Sox reliever Tommy Layne, couldn't take it anymore, and finally broke free from his stoic game-face, and handed me the game ball he was warming up with in the bullpen, where I was joyfully chugging $9 Rainier cans (no lube included).  His smile and nod at me, was as if he just lost a 20 min game of "who laughs first, loses". As happy as I was, I noticed the 11 yr old super-fan next to me who was more than a little jealous. The pint-sized, obnoxious fan, had been yelling "throw me a ball" and "let's go Ms" for most of the game. When Mariner players would come to bat he would mumble their nicknames, and recite their current stats under his breath, as he repeatedly tapped the pocket of his Rawlings mitt with a clenched fist. The little squirt eerily reminded me of a younger "me" right down to the bad bowl-cut creeping from his cap. As much as I hated his choice in teams, and his teal and silver windbreaker, I respected his efforts.

 So now I'm faced with a decision. Give up the ball that I "earned" and feel good about myself? Or keep it?

 He obviously would appreciate the ball more than I would, right? After all, I've played baseball my entire life, and I have buckets of random balls residing in my basement where only spiders and boogie-men dwell. But he could have his mantel piece.  A show-and-tell. A lucky ball to brag about at little league. For 2 innings I debated with mixed feelings of conscience, karma, and self benevolence that tugged at my stomach. Like when someone asks you for gum, but you know you only have one piece left, so for a millisecond you think of saying "it's all gone". I could make this kids day. Even his summer. You know on the first day of school, when you get to go around the room, and tell the class something you did that summer? This could be that story. This could be the gift that only a winning bid of $7.25 on eBay could buy. This little baseball dork would be waaaayyy more excited about this ball than the big baseball dork, currently in its possession, hiding his "sports-boner" from his friends, just to be cool.

 So I came up with a decision around the bottom of the 8th. I'll spin and toss the ball in front of him, and go through my different grips for various pitches, and just wait for him to ask if he can hold it. When he does, I'll say something really distinguished and memorable like "when I was a kid, I always wanted a real game ball, but never got one. Here you go slugger. Take care of it for me, and don't play homerun derby with it." His face is going to light up like he just pulled a 'Griffey Jr' rookie out of a single pack of 89 Upper Deck baseball cards. So I flipped it. I spun it. I taunted him secretly, angling the logo at his eager eyes. And I waited....

 Then in the 9th inning he finally said what I was hoping for.  Finally I could get this obese conscience off my back. "Can I see your ball" he politely asked. I gripped the ball tightly, held it in front of him so he could see it up close, and I said those magical words I've been waiting to say.....

"WIN TWINS" I answered. I put the ball in my pocket, and walked away to the bathroom with a substantially sized grin.  This is my goddam ball, kid. No chance you're getting it.

Birthday Bucket List

Shot from the Portland City Grill before tip-off

When Lebron was interviewed after his first championship I heard him tell the reporter “this is the best day of my life.”  I was taken back, being ever-so-judgmental of him because he’s good.  But in my eyes he’ll never be “Kobe good.”  I looked at my friend and said “did you hear that?”  “He has two kids, and a wife, and THIS is the best day of his life?”  Let’s put sports in perspective.   With that in mind, so far to date, I had a really, really, really, good day last week. 

 

LeBron and Adam.  Both have 2 rings. 

Twenty years from now I’ll be trying to tell another one of my one-upper sports stories, at a bar-table full of wanna-be jocks, that never made it.  I could tell about the time I sat front row (beers on the dugout) at a Twins game in Seattle, and saw a Mariner base runner lean a little towards second, before getting back safely, on a left-handed pickoff attempt at first.  I yelled “he’s going RON” at Twins skipper Ron Gardenhire.  Gardenhire was standing next to the pitching coach who was about 8 feet in front of me.  Definitely within ear shot.  So I said again very confidently “Ron!  He’s going!  I saw him lean!”  Twins all-star catcher Joe Mauer looks in the pitching coaches’ direction for the call of next pitch.  And when Mauer relays to the pitcher, I get anxious.  My $9.00 bud light goes in the cup holder, I scoot forward on my chair, gently lift up my TC hat, and with anticipation and excitement, watch…Pitcher comes set, and with a perfect poker face, barely checks the runner at first, who is inching now to  a bigger lead.  He slide-steps to home, and the runner takes off!  Mauer stands up, steps over, and the ball hits him perfectly in the chest.  A quick transfer to his rocket arm, and a bullet to our shortstop, the ball beats the would-be base thief as he’s just starting his slide.  The ump lethargically holds up his fist to signal OUT, as if everyone couldn’t tell anyway.  The very favorable Seattle home crowd moans.  Except me.  I jump up with animation and squeal something to the effect of “I  TOLD YOU HE WAS GOING, I TOLD YOU!”  Gardenhire then turns around, makes eye contact with me, and touches his bill.  My brother and friends around me go crazy, and I almost get tears in my eyes.  Whether or not my “intel” assisted in the pitch-out, or they saw what I saw, I didnt care.  In baseball when you tip your cap to someone, it’s the ultimate respect.  I sat front row at a major league baseball game and was paid respect by the coach.  Bucket-list. 

From here you can smell the tobacco juice and ball sweat.  Cool huh?!



See.  Beers on the dugout.  When you're with me we play "a beer an inning".  Hope for long innings. 

Here’s another story.  Highlights from my best.  Jan 5^th, 2015:

-I sat on the court to watch my favorite basketball team, the Lakers, almost pull off an upset.   And before you start yelling who cares, understand that I get it.  I get the Lakers are down more than Corky from Life Goes On.  In fact, Rihanna should date one of them because they can’t beat anybody.  But this makes up for all the times I got to cheer for them raising another banner while your team didn’t.  (I don’t know too many Spurs fans) 

-I sat in Paul Allen and Marshawn Lynches’ seats because they didn’t show up to the game. 

-I caught the ball twice when it bounced out of bounds, and handed it back to the ref.  However, not before giving the ref a piece of my mind the second time, and telling him he needs to “get LaMarcus outta the key, he’s camping!”  The ref didn’t care. 



My shoes on the hardwood pic > your bare feet on the sand pic.  Any day. 

I had to refrain really hard not to jump up and touch the rim, just to say I did. 

The people around me must have been thinking who’s sitting in Paul Allen’s seats and talking to the players on a first name basis like he knows them?  It probably helped I had Ray Ray sit in my other seat.  He had his polished bald head, and was wearing a zip-up hoodie with guns printed all over the shoulders and collar.  He couldn’t have looked more like my body guard if he tried. The guy next to Ray asked him if he knows where Paul is?  Like he’s on a first name basis with Mr. Allen…

-I told Meyers Leonard to quit begging for calls because he’s wearing Kobe’s shoes, and he’s not going to get those calls until he gets his own brand.   He fired back, “ya, but he’s not playing tonight."   I had no comeback.

-I saw Ronnie Price get his nose broken and blood spilled profusely onto the floor.  No foul was called, and I literally got to yell "NO BLOOD, NO FOUL, I GUESS?!"  Looking back that makes entirely NO sense, because there was a LOT of blood.  Dammit. 


Look, blood.  No foul huh? 

-Nick Young a.k.a. Swaggy P, in only Swaggy P fashion tried to cross somebody up in the first half.  He shaked, when he should’ve baked, and dribbled the ball off his foot to half-court.  Picked up the ball, noticed the shot clock had 2 seconds on it, and let one fly.  All net.  I immediately stood up and unintentionally screamed “THAT’S WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT”.  Why did I say that?  I don’t know.  BUT, I do know that play made the top 10 that night, and you can see Ray and yours truly (the only one in a Lakers jersey stand up) under the hoop start yelling.  I made the top 10 bitches. 

- Big Rob Sacre noticed me half-way through the second quarter.  He had to use his hand to hold back his smile.  It was a : 3 years of serving him long-island ice teas, driving him to his dorm, taking numerous shots of Patron, helping him guest bartend, and 'damn, someone I know wearing a Laker jersey in Portland' kind of a smile, that he held back.  He came over at the start of the 4^th quarter after a time-out to give me some love.  Boom.  Three years of not getting tipped for all my drinks I've given him, for one fist-pound in front of everyone?  Ill take it!  Now I was the one trying to hold back a smile. 

-I yelled at Nick Young to get back on defense.  He smirked.  I wish I could’ve thought of a “I’m a better rapper than your girlfriend, Iggy” heckle.  But I’m not.  And I didn’t’. 

- I yelled “WOLF” as loud as I could, when nobody else on the team did!  Price got picked from behind and that led to a Blazer run-out and easy layup.   I followed it up with a “ITS NO WONDER KOBE YELLS AT YALL ALL THE TIME, YOU DON’T EVEN TALK ON DEFENSE” type-of-coaches rant.   For one game I was super-fan who was an un-paid coach.   I was the white Spike Lee, watching his favorite, but appalling team, and pretending that the players were actually listening to me.  Hell, they don’t even listen to Byron Scott, let-alone the guy who took Marshawns spot, because he’s probably brushing up on his hooked on Phonics.

-At half-time our row was presented with a page containing the half-time stats that are passed out to the coaches.  You don't get that in the 300 level.

 

- I caught the girl sitting next to me trying to take a picture of me.  I’m sure it was a snapchat to her friend with the caption: who the hell is this guy? 

-A random drunk dude kept running down the stairs to give me hive-fives before being escorted back to his seats above me.  We’ll never know who he thought I was.   Damn middle-class. 
 




Freeze shot after Lillard catches fire.  I'm not hard to spot.  See the only guy in misery in a sea full of happiness?  That's me.   

-I literally had front row to watch the games best pick and roll/ pick and pop matchup (Lillard and Aldridge) run two-man, the last 3 min of the game, and score on every possession.  I don’t know any combo point guard/small forward in the league that can guard that, especially when they both were hitting jumpers, let alone the Lakers.  It was like watching a pick and roll breakdown on what to do when the defender goes under or over the screen.  (i.e. Stockton and Malone) The Lakers had no answer on offense down the stretch either.  Watching them look at each other with no movement or fluidity, its no wonder why the #24 guy, takes most of the shots.  The Lakers should hire William Shakespeare when Kobe sits out.  At least that will make one good play maker.   And in some weird circle-of-life karma, was that old vet I didn't get to watch, who had to watch this game frustrated on his couch some 1000 miles south on the coast.  Resting his tired legs, and seeing the new generation of ballers, like Lillard, effortlessly drop 39 on the Lake show.  There was something so bitter-sweet about not watching Kobe, but witnessing first-hand, a newer version of one of the best players in the league take over the game in the clutch.    

In the end, do I care that Kobe was “resting”?  Hmmm, not really?  Who’s to say what I would’ve done if he would’ve played.  Really, by hearing he wasn’t playing, I posted about how grumpy I was that I didn’t get to see him on my birthday.  Someone I know felt bad for me, made a couple of calls, and before you know it, I’m playing a waiting game on my phone from some guy I've never met, and he’s texting me “If Paul and Marshawn, or his agent, don’t go tonight, you get their tickets.  It’s not for certain, but if you don’t get them, at least you’ll have a good story to tell.”

Life is weird.  12 hours ago I was watching my friend sing Pearl Jam at strip-a-roki. ( It’s a seedy little hole called the ‘Devils Tooth’, where C-squad, skinny-fat girls, take off their K-mart under-panties on stage, while you sing karaoke next to them.  It’s so disgusting and shameful, that it automatically makes you have the best time you can have without getting a virus)  And now, 12 hours later, I’m waiting to see if I get to sit on the floor at a NBA game watching my oh-so-beloved-and-awful LAKERS!??  Very rarely can you say WTF, but really…WTF?!   For all the times I mumble “I have the worst luck” when I get a parking ticket or I run out of hair-gel, I’ll remind myself of this experience and think “well, not really”.   

Bucket list:  Sit court-side at an NBA game, on your birthday, to watch your favorite team play, and interact with the players.  Check. 

I Got 99 Math Problems But a Perfect Bracket Aint’ Won

I woke up today with a vision.  I was thinking about basketball and being rich.  I know, not really out of the ordinary.  Usually you can throw in a couple of those “sports reporter babes” popping up on TV, that I’ll never get to meet, and you've got my "dream tri-fecta."  I don’t really ever have nightmares, or dream of people chasing me like some of you weirdos.  Instead I dream about winning one of those “all-inclusive vip trips" you sign up for on espn.com, and get a chance to meet the Lakers.  It’s my dream, so in my dreams I end up catching fire from the top of the key, and beating Kobe in an animated game of 1 on 1.  I then catch the eye of Charissa Thompson, who wants me to co-host Sportscenter with her, and she falls in love with my dad jokes and fake tanner.  Anyway, back to reality, and trying to pay for Comcast bills...this is my scam...
 
Selection Sunday is this weekend and everyone will be "bracket crazy."  People that aren't normally sports fans, will be.  Like when the Seahawks go to a superbowl.  Brackets will be filled out, and people all over will be praying that "Steve, in accounting" doesn’t win the $45 dollar office pot, for the third straight year.  What a dick.   I recently saw that Warren Buffett and Quicken Loans is giving ONE BILLION DOLLARS (in my best Austin Powers voice) to the person that can fill out a perfect bracket this year.  Since on-line brackets have been available, no one has ever been perfect.  Nobody.  I have a higher chance of opening for Tupac next week than being perfect in this bracket.  This is what is called (use air quotes) “low probability”...
 

So I think to myself,  “Self, what would happen if I hired a team of data-entry assistants (by “hire” I clearly mean “voluntary interns”  as it will “look great on their resume”) on Monday morning, after the brackets are released on Sunday, to work all day, and fill out every possible entry, under a different name, associated to my account?  Ex: Shanecrice1, Shanecrice2, etc......It wouldn’t even take a fancy algorithm to do.  Every game has one winner each time.  Hire a couple math professors to make sure the assistants (in my mind, these "assistants" are hot, college seniors, obviously) are assigning the right winners for each game, and crossing off winners as we go.  Making sure that every possible outcome is filled out, assuring I will win.    Sounds like a pretty simple idea for ONE BILLION DOLLARS, right?!
 
Here are two major flaws to my theory.   1.) Mr. Buffett is smarter than yours truly, and I’m sure he thought of this before he decided to throw in a "bill".   2.)  I’m better at jokes with numbers, than actual math. 

Why is 6 afraid of 7? Because 7, 8, 9. 

What did the 0 say to the 8?  Hey, I like your belt. 

Did you know that 5 out of 4 people have problems with fractions? 

Did you hear about the constipated mathematician?  He worked it out with a pencil. 

But I did pay attention a couple of times in school.  The simple, but not-so-simple math is: if each game has one winner, and there are 68 teams (with the play-in games) the formula is simply 2 to the 68th power (or pretty freaking close to that)......sounds easy right?  Uhhm, NO.  I was too lazy to figure out what 2⁶⁸ is, so I googled "how many possibilities to fill out NCAA bracket?"  Apparently 2 to the 68th power is 9,223,372,036,854,775,808.  That’s 9 quintillion....Or in other words a "shit load".   Or in other, other words, $27 dollars more than the Lakers paid Kobe and Steve Nash this year, to stay hurt, so we can end up with Jabari Parker in the lottery.  I looked up some odds of weird "stuff" happening, and figured out you would have a better chance of winning the mega-millions and getting struck by lightning on the same day that you bone Mother Theresa.  (Actually I made that last part up.  She's dead.)  That’s way more options than myself, a couple math instructors, and a team full of hot, data-entry assistants, can throw together in 4 days!   Ok, new plan.
 
What if I just hire a couple of REALLY smart, hot chicks, from Microsoft (does God make those) to write some computer coding and scripting that does all of this for me, with a few revisions to simplify?  What if the program could be made this weekend and on Sunday we enter in the teams to the computer money machine and let the computer do its thing?  Voila!  I’m rich, bitch.  Considering that no team seeded higher than 8 has ever won a title, (Villanova in 85’) that eliminates half the field.  And no #16 seed has ever beaten a #1 seed (this includes Gonzaga last year).  We have to be getting to workable numbers now don’t we?  Honestly Morehead State isn’t winning anything. Other than the coolest name possible!  Its sounding a little more conceivable doesn’t it?  You thought Mike Tyson blew his money?  If you add up all of MC Hammer, all the past football players from the Raiders and Cowboys, and any rockstar from the 80’s, you still wouldn’t have enough frivolous, immature, and senseless spending as I would throw down, if I won,  earned, ONE BILLION DOLLARS!  Ever seen Bill Gates take a body shot off Charles Barkley?  Me either.  But with a cool “bill” I bet I could pull that off.    
 

Actually, no.  Reality break.  It just occurred to me that I’m sure I’m not the first person to think of this, and before ONE BILLION DOLLARS is up for grabs, my bright idea has been thought of already, and to be protected.  I spent one hour writing this.  One hour thinking of it.  And I’m still going to end up the same dumb jock I was last week, searching for get quick schemes that don’t include multi-level marketing.  Nobody likes those people.  And like Daniel Tosh says "ugly women are like men, they have to work for their money."  So back to the grind I go, having to work for money.  Ugh...babysitting my personal training clients to drink more water, put the fork down, and counting their reps to 15 for them, in sets of 3.  Now that's the math I can handle!

It's Never Sunny in Seattle.

Now you can buy a Seahawk #71 jersey with your milk and bread at Rosauers.  Barf-a-roni

I’ve decided from now on I’m only going to date chicks that are from Seattle.  They’ll just be happy without a ring.  And I'm so tired of the bandwagon that has become “Hawk nation”, I can’t handle it like a Mariner shortstop.  So here you go Seahawk fans.  Here you go Seattle.  You suck, and here’s why:

Oh Seattle…You’re so cute in your North Face fleece wearing, double-mocha latte sipping, depressing 90’s music listening, maddening traffic driving, lifeless weather experiencing, and terrible sports team backing.  Yes, I’m jealous of the Seahawks.   Yes, I’m so jealous, it has inspired this rant.  You ARE actually good this year and it makes me nervous that you might win it all.  So I better get a few cheap shots in before someone tags “beastmode” on my house in teal and lime green or poisons my dog with Skittles.   But, just like everyone who has ever loved Gonzaga basketball, watched Dumb and Dumber 2, or purchased the latest Kanye album, I’m also predicting a giant let-down.  Some things in life sound like a good idea but just aren’t.  They are, in no particular order: a kiss on the cheek from a grandparent, jogging, waterbeds, watching Transformers because it’s the 6^th highest grossing film of all-time, 50%off protein bars, taking a laxative to shed a few pounds for a photo shoot, AND cheering for any team that's from Seattle .  So I can’t help but hate on the city that is most famous for throwing fish.  Leeggo…

If you ask almost anyone from the East coast what is the first thing they think of when they think of Seattle, a wide majority will respond “where Kurt Cobain killed himself.”  Nice.  I’ve always heard from people that Seattle has the highest suicide rate in the country.  But whenever someone brings that up in conversation, there is always one wanna-be hipster friend in the group, that emphatically says “nuh uh, Portland is” like it’s a cool hipster thing to be proud of.  (Portland people do say this) So, I did a little research on my own.  Part of the fun of writing these blogs is that I get to research crap that I’ve been hearing, and ignorantly repeating, without knowing the truth.  Here’s what I found:  Yes, Portland DOES have a higher suicide rate than Seattle.  (There you go hipsters.  IPA’s for everyone ) And it's no real surprise that Las Vegas has the highest rate.  BUT the funniest, but not-so-funny stat that I DID find:  Seattle has the 2^nd highest non-successful suicide rate of any city!!! Bahahaha.  Next to Dallas, Seattle people try to kill themselves and miss it, more than any other city.  HA.  You can’t even win that stat either, you losers.  Talk about a giant city of attention-getters.  (Another fun game to play when you’re around those smelly Portland people, is to say “you know it rains more in Seattle than anywhere in the northwest?”  Wait for it…”Nu uh, Portland does”…hook, line, and sinker) 

Ok, on to the next statistic I had to research to get actual facts for.  I know you’ve all heard some made-up stat (Dads and uncles are famous for these stats) that “you know, I just heard that Seattle has just passed San Francisco for the worst city as far as traffic goes?!”  Hmmm…I better check:  According to a CBS report I found from last year, Seattle is the #5 worst city to drive in America, and #7 in the world.  This suicide thing is starting to make sense.

Facts are fun.  Lets do more! 

-In 2013, the Seattle Mariners were 25^th in home attendance filling 45% of their seats for the entire year.  However, on the road, they sold 67% of the home teams’ capacity.  So other cities draw better when the Mariners come to town, than Seattle does AT HOME!!!  Other cities appreciate Seattle, more than Seattle?  I bet Oklahoma City would appreciate the Mariners.  I bet Portland would “kill themselves” for a baseball team. (See what I did there) But I don’t blame Mariner fans for never showing up.   Cheering for the Mariners is like dating someone from Whitworth: It sounds like a great idea at the time, but it takes at least 3 nights to get to third base.

True Mariner fans.  Both of them. 

-This year Forbes magazine ranked Seattle as the #1 most miserable sports franchise!  Woo Hoo!  Lets party like its September 10^th!  Let’s consider some numbers using the Mariners, Sonics, Seahawks, and Pilots.  Seattle has had a collective 115 years in existence to win a championship.  Take a wild O.J Simpson stab at how many they’ve won?  1.  LOL.  1 in 115 collective years.  Congrats 1979 Sonics!  Seattle sports has an all-time championship round record of 1-3 and a semi-final round record of 4-7.   Seattle sports is a bigger let down than spinning the wheel at Fast Eddies.  “Oh, another $5.00 chip!”   Seattle sports are more disappointing than scrolling through THE facebook the day after Nelson Mandela died and all you see is “R.I.P. Paul Walker, my first crush” bullshit.  I think another local rapper from Seattle said it best: “What, what? What? What, what? What, what? What? What, what?”- Macklemore

-Although the names Kurt Warner, and Curt Warner are homonyms, they are hardly synonymous.  One won 2 MVP awards, a superbowl MVP, and is now an accomplished philanthropist and football commentator for the NFL.  The other is the running backs coach for Camus High School, AND the name every real Seahawk fan has to say he owned a jersey of, when he/she was little, to prove they didn’t just NOW jump on the bandwagon.  

-Texas A&M started the 12^th man in 1922, and trademarked the term in 1990.  Seattle started the tradition of raising a 12th man stadium flag before kickoffs in 2004.  ^]The Seahawks continue to use the phrase, having settled with Texas A&M out of court, after a trademark lawsuit was filed by Texas A&M.  Instead of thinking of their own phrase, they would rather pay money to Texas A&M, and STEAL that one?!  And to make matters worse, now the Spokane Shock has the 9^th man!  Thanks a lot Seattle.  Now we have degenerate, white-trash, #9 Shock jerseys flooding our Wall-mart’s, because Seattle can’t come up with their own marketing idea. Now I have to see #9 on the boobs of the Shock dance team every time I try and watch them, and all I can think about is how much I hate it!  First the Aggies start it, Seattle steals it, and now the Shock steal it again.   It’s like 3^rd generation douchbaggery-theft. 

Home of the 12th man, Texas A&M.  Somehow confused with Capitol Hill. 

-No Husky football fans, you don’t have a lone national championship.  It’s shared with Miami. And in the two decades since then, you’ve seen the Seahawks go without a playoff win until 2005.  You’ve seen the Sonics up and move, but not before their infamous playoff meltdown to Denver (they were the first #1 seed to lose to an #8 seed).   And just when the Mariners finally got good, they lost Ken Griffey Jr., Randy Johnson and Alex Rodriguez (I must fight A-Fraud) then somehow failed to reach the World Series despite winning more games than any team in American League history.  See what I mean Sea-town, you let more people down than a syndrome with too many chromosomes.   

Meet Gary.  Gary lubs the Thehawks.

 I will admit though, I hate not having NBA hoops 4 hours away.  The last time I saw the Sonics was 5 years ago and I was clad in a Laker, #8 jersey,  and watched Kobe go for 47, 8, and 6.  Yes I was one of those obnoxious, drunk fans, that chanted MVP, MVP every time he went to the line and I loved it.   “It’s ironic, I had the brew she had the chronic, The Lakers beat the Supersonics”.   I also love bringing up to Sonic fans that in 1987 you traded Scottie Pippen to the Bulls for Olden Polynice.  Pippen went on to win 6 championships with the Bulls, widely considered one of the best small forwards of all time, hall of famer, number retired, one of the 50 greatest players of all time.  Polynice went on to an illustrious career as the color guy for the WNBA’s Sacramento Mystic.  Advantage: Chicago.  

Ok, it’s time again to chat football.  'Tis the season.  If the Raiders are the most comical team, and the Cowboys are the most overrated,  then the Vikings West (I’m pretty sure half the Seahawk roster is made-up by former Vikings) are by far the biggest annoyance.   Ok, time for a rant with-in a rant.  Is every fourth person in the world a Cowboy fan?  And why?  Because they were good when people started to like football?  Because girls like "stars" and boys like how cool "America's team" sounds?  Everyone our age jumped on the Cowboy train in the 90’s when they were relevant, and now are wishing they could trade teams faster than their Dez Bryant jersey?  I mean he’s a great role model?  Hey Cowboy fans, you have 1 playoff win in 20 years!  Shut.  Up.   



Pete Carroll.  Get a life.  Stop chewing your gum like a Doberman licks peanut butter.  Stop trying to prove how “young” you are by throwing the ball around and jog/limping up and down the sidelines.  If you wouldn’t have gotten caught cheating at USC, you would still be there, giving recruits houses, and trying to convince young co-eds to jump in your convertible camero.   

Russell Wilson.  Get a personality.  Just once will you let America know who you really are?  We are dying to see you get out of “robot mode”.  Just once can you give an interview without saying “First I give praise to God, and secondly my teammates for really pushing today.  I mean you have to give credit to fill in the team, they are such a good team….”  Blah blah blah.  Wilsons canned answers make me want to increase the un-successful suicide rate of Seattle.  “Hey Russ.  Nice shoes where did you get them?” “Oh, great question Shane.  First though, I would like to thank God for letting me wear shoes.  Secondly, you really have to give credit to the shoe salesmen at Nordstrom.  I mean the salesmen at Niketown are SOO good too, so I’m just fortunate to have these on my feet, and I’m really just looking forward to my next foot purchase with all my teammates.” That’s why I love Jameis Winston.  His interviews radiate personality, leadership, and he can beat a rape charge faster than Big Ben. 

Sometimes I think whatever happened to David Chapelle?  And then I realize he's Russel Wilson.

Hey Seahawks team, how many times are you going to get suspended for drug use?  Is that 8 or 9 suspensions in last three years?  I forgot because I stopped taking aderol.  In 2006 Brandon Browner missed multiple notifications for drug tests because he reportedly “let his cell phone service lapse”.  Fact.   I swear this cheating team gets away with murder.  (See Ray Lewis blog) 

Hey Paul Allen, how come you can’t afford braces? 

One of the richest men in the world....always has candy corn in his mouth. 

Hey Richard Sherman, how come the only person you’ve ever talked shit to ‘with your helmet off’ was someone who endorses UGGS?  (See Tom Brady blog)   Is Richard Sherman the most annoying person in the world?  Somewhere Jamie Patrick is at a Nickleback concert, wearing a #9 Shock jersey, and even he thinks so. 

hide yo wife, hide yo kids,

Hey Lil’ Jon, I mean Marshawn Lynch, why don’t you ask for a trade to New Orleans?  You have that “look”.  I will give Seattle some credit however.  "Beast Mode" sounds much better than yelling "GO FETAL ALCOHOL SYNDROME!!!" 

Hey Golden Tate, ever heard the saying “act like you’ve done it before? 

Hey Seahawk fan wearing a #12 jersey with “fan” on the back, throwing Skittles.  Is your last name really "fan?"  Go fuck yourself.  With your rainbow colored hands.  In your jersey.   

Hey girl at the bar who gets her conversation about hair styles interrupted to randomly give hi-fives and post “Love my Hawks!”, you’re not fooling anyone.  And they're not "your" Hawks.  They are Paul Allen's.  He's the guy that helped invent freaking computers, not the latest updo.   

Hey dipshit in your recently purchased Steve Largent jersey, quit yelling “D-Fence” on 3^rd down at the TV like you’re actually at the game.  *According to the Puget Sound Business Journal, last year Seahawk merchandise went up 88 percent after the week 13 win against Chicago, and by the end of the season, total sales went up 242 percent!!!  This should infuriate every person reading this that considers themselves a FOOTBALL FAN.  Where were these people 5 years ago?   If you can’t present me with a 3^rd grade picture of you wearing your Hutch uniform to school, with a “Boz” haircut, then kick rocks.  If you CAN present me with a #3 Rick Mirer jersey, my sincere condolences.   

Hey people of Spokane, quit saying “I’m not on the bandwagon, I just support my local team.”  First, it’s not “local”. If you want to jump on a local bandwagon try North Central High School where they’ve won 8 cross-country state titles in a row.  Girls, get off instagram every Sunday in your freshly purchased Wilson jersey, and get back to making my Americano.  #beastmode #selfie #hawknation.  Quit saying you grew up here, so that’s why you like the Seahawks.  It’s not called the Washington Seahawks, it’s the Seattle Seahawks, so you don’t HAVE to like them because they are 4 hours away.  Get a mind of your own, and pick a team like other girls do.  Pick the team with the cutest quarterback (See Tom Brady post.  Shit.)  or the best colors, and quit liking them just because your boyfriend does.  He’s going to cheat on you anyway.  

…..Actually….DON’T!  Keep doing it!  Go on and post-away!  Because when another Seattle “local” team chokes again, and they will, I will re-post this blog.  I will help ease your pain with my posts of : SEATTLE STORM WNBA WORLD CHAMPIONS, 2004, 2010 POSTS!!!  I’ll say awesome things like “don’t worry Seattle fans, you still have your Sounders!”  You support them more than you do real sports, like baseball and basketball anyway!!!” 

So when you’re cheering for your Seattle fill-in-blank team this year, and in the future, understand you’ll probably get really excited about them, but in the end you’ll be let down.  Realize that “sports blue-balls” also comes in Sea Green and there is no use in crying over spilled non-fat lattes.  I’m warning you.   Kurt Cobain.  Thanks a lot Seahawks. 

I MUST FIGHT ALEX RODRIGUEZ

I thought about quitting this blog after the last one.  The pressure of trying to be witty and funny, factual and persuasive, obscene and offensive, is a lot to take on when you already have 3 jobs and you’re not getting paid to write.  And honestly, how much is there to write about that most of my friends don’t already know?  I’ve already used all my “killer” “dad-jokes” on the Ray Lewis blog, so there goes any potential Aaron Hernandez humor.  Stop me if you’ve heard me tell these after a few “sodas”….

-In prison everyone loves a tight end!....

-”Is this just some big hoax?” Manti Ta’o……

-The Patriots actually released him because they have their own surveillance footage of what happened (side note: New England hasn’t won since “spy-gate”)….

-”I wish Aaron would stop being such a distraction to our football team!” Tim Tebow….

-Orenthal James Simpson, Aaronthol Hernandez, not the same.  Orenthals friends escort him away from the murder in a white bronco, and Aaronthol’s friends turn on him faster than Ryan Braun’s steroid-hands on an inside fastball…

-If Hernandez gets picked up by the Packers they can start their new “discount double-murder check” touchdown dance and insurance promo…

-Red, white, and blue #81 jerseys are sooo last month.  Orange, #8146543 is the new fad in gang attire….

Maybe I could go off about Riley Cooper?  Cooper is being torn apart, and rightfully so, for saying "I will jump that fence and fight every nigger here, bro" while wearing a cut-off plaid shirt, at a Kenny Chesney concert.  (Here is a stereotype also: cut-off plaid cowyboy shirt, and using the word “bro” in a sentence at a country concert?  Sounds about right.) What an idiot.  Who in this day and age thinks its o.k. to make this comment?   What a racist, stereotypical, and ignorant thing to say.  Riley, we all know that you're white, and there is NOOO way you would be able to jump that high to get over that fence you butthole....

Ok, fine, I’ll blog now that “I’m on a roll” like a fat girl at Tomato Street,  but if I continue to do this blog for you, my friends, and your viewing pleasure, you have to help me do one thing.  I MUST FIGHT ALEX RODRIGUEZ!!!!    No seriously.  I MUST FIGHT ALEX RODRIGUEZ.   I’ll do if for charity.  I’ll do it for free.  Shit, I’ll pay money to a charity, just to FIGHT ALEX RODRIGUEZ!  My hope is that one of you somewhere, knows somebody, who knows somebody, who can make this happen.  I want to FIGHT ALEX RODRIGUEZ on pay-per-view, MMA style, and I want every last penny (who in their right mind wouldn’t pay money to watch a “nobody” from Spokane FIGHT ALEX RODRIGEZ) to go to the coaches vs cancer fund.  People, I'm serious!  If we can make this happen we can raise a jillion dollars to cancer research!

Alex Rodriguez is a joke.  He’s a lying, hypocritical, insincere, two-faced, over-paid,  phony, that is the opposite of clutch every post season.  I want the next hurricane in October to be named "hurricane Alex", that way we know it won’t hit anything.  Chris Brown has more “hits” in the fall than A-Fraud…Listen up, its rant-time bitches….

 

Alex Rodriguez broke one of my teammate’s bats in college hitting b.p.  He told us that when we went down to Peoria AZ, for spring training to hit him up for one of his bats after the Mariners took b.p.  So here we are, 19 years old, heading down to play Arizona, and Arizona St, and most importantly get big league treatment from big league players, who we can only aspire to be like.  It’s the day of the game.  We get there early with the anticipation of prom night with the “head” cheerleader.  A-Fraud takes his b.p. and is effortlessly spraying lasers to all parts of the field with every oooh, and ahhh of the crowd.  As his bat cracks the leather on the ball, we all marvel at his power and quick hands.  He starts to strut off the field, as only A-Fruad can, and everyone on our team starts yelling at him.  We are all perched over the dug-out, trying to get his attention.  “Alex, Alex, what’s up man?!  It’s us, you told us to grab you in spring training” my teammate yells, hoping Alex will just throw him his bat he just hit with.  (Remember:  At this time, we, including A-Fraud, are all about the same age.  The only difference is we are trying to pass Geology, eating Top Roman and drinking Busch lights, and spending time trying to get the girls on the volleyball team to page us later about the kegger.  Meanwhile A-hole is on the cover of Sports Illustrated; the number one overall pick in the draft, projected the best new talent in baseball, and just signed a multi-million dollar contract.)  As he descents into the dugout he hears my friend, looks up and sees all of us.  He puts his head down and disappears underneath us, “big-league’ing” us like no other.  Not a bat.  Not a ball.  Not a “hello.”  Not even a smile….It was at this point I knew my calling in life:  I need to FIGHT ALEX RODRIGUEZ.

Remember that Sports Illustrated article I told you he was on the cover of?  In the article he talks about how he doesn’t drink, he doesn’t womanize or want a girlfriend so he can concentrate on being the best, and he doesn’t go out at night.  Instead he stays at home, and likes to relax by reading his bible.   But meanwhile in “real life”,  he’s 20 yrs old in north Spokane doing a hitting camp, breaking my teammates bat, and trying to get into “Swackhammers” a.k.a. “Swaxx”.  Soo you don’t go out huh?  But you're trying to get into a Spokane night club?  Here’s the best part: the bouncers at Swackhammers won’t let him in because he’s under-age.  (Should’ve gotten a fake I.D. like the rest of us that were inside, binging on well-tequilla you piece of shit!  Let it also be known that Shane Rice got into a bar that A-Hole was turned away from.  My town homie.  Not yours.)  After getting turned away, he starts to make a scene and yell belligerently drunk at the doormen, “You know who I am? You know who I am.  I’m Alex Rodriguez, I don’t wait in line, and I get what I want”….(What he really said is unsure after the generations of Spokane’s infamous night-scene story tellers has taken and twisted the words like Paul Bunyan folklore.  But every time I hear someone tell that story, it’s about the exact same version as mine.)  Funny that a dude that doesn’t go out, drink, or womanize, shows up to a nightclub in Spokane WA, and is drunk, acting out, and has jersey-chasers wrapped on his arms like a 21 yr old who sees a GU basketball player getting drunk at the Monterey for the first time. 

About 6 years ago, my friend Erick Hughes, who then was an assistant coach with the Toronto Raptors, now with the Brooklyn Nets, invited me to his 40th birthday party in Vegas.  (I have more Vegas stories than the Stratosphere)  This wasn't like any other birthday party.  You see, Erick and Gary Payton grew up together in Oakland and have remained best friends since then.  This party was going to be at Gary Payton's house...yep, you know the one that was on MTV cribs...and I was invited.  So, I go to Vegas, go to this party, kick it with Gary-freaking-Payton, and then we hit the strip.  First stop, Bellagio.  So here I am walking through the Bellagio with Erick, two other friends, and the "glove".  Have I ever felt cooler?  Well, realistically I really was cooler-than-a-polar-bears-toenails...Gary had tickets to a fight that was going on that night, so he was going to ditch us, but first we made a quick stop at the "high-stakes gaming" to watch someone play blackjack?  Who?  You guessed it.  A-Roid.  A-Roid called Gary and told him that he was skipping the team plane to L.A. and making a pit stop in Vegas.  So as I watched A-fraud from 10 feet away, all by himself, play 5-25K per hand, and talk to Gary as he was carelessly playing, it made me hate him more.  He had no friends with him.  He couldn't have talked one of teammates to hang out with him?  I hated his girly accent and his soft-spoken, care-free attitude.  Every time you hear him talk it sounds like he's trying to say something profound.  Like he's thinking about what he wants to say to make it sound amazing.  Listen to his press conferences.  He sounds like he's trying to create a sound-byte every time he speaks.  What a polluted pile of Chicago-Bear-shit.  Oh ya, he was also losing more on one hand of blackjack than I make in a month and didn't care one bit.  He literally was trying to look cool by playing blackjack?  We get it A-Hole, you have more money than us.  Yes, we really love your popped collar on your yellow polo.  No, we don't have tickets like you do, to the Oscar De La Hoya fight.  But I’ll tell you who I do want tickets to fight?   I HAVE TO FIGHT ALEX RODRIGUEZ. 

 

Do you remember when A-Fraud left his wife and kids to date Madonna?  I do.  Do you remember when A-Fraud had an affair with the stripper from Toronto?  I do.  How about before he was divorced an exotic dancer told the New York Daily news that Alex prefers the "she-male, muscular type"?  I remember that also.   

Do you remember in game 6 of the 2004 playoffs when he slapped the ball out of Bronson Arroyo's glove with an attempted tag at first base?  Busch League.  Not "Busch" enough for ya?  How about with 2 outs in the ninth against Toronto in 2007, when Jorge Posada hit a pop-up, and as A-Roid ran past third baseman Howie Clark on third, video replays clearly show him yelling "I got it" and "mine"?  The ball dropped, and Jays shortstop John McDonald had to be restrained from attacking him.  He's mine McDonald!  Stay away! 

How about in Joe Torre's book he writes "A-rod monopolized all the attention, and was unable to concern himself with getting the job done.  He instead becomes distracted with how he looks."  That's coming from your coach, dude...

He was featured in "Details" magazine in 2009.  In the magazine there are pictures of him kissing a mirror, and lying shirtless on a bare mattress. (and you thought my pictures were embarrassing)  Equally embarrassing, the “Cameron Diaz feeding him popcorn at the Super Bowl video”, makes me want to barf.  And makes me hate Cameron Diaz.  And popcorn in general...

A whole new way to masterbate. Im suprised he got close enough to the mirror to kiss it, with the boner he probably gave himself.

While he was benched in the 2012 ALCS opener, A-Fraud cared so much, and was so into his team winning, he sent a ball-boy up in the stands with a note to give to an attractive fan in the stands asking for her number.  Now that's keeping your "head" in the game!   

211 game, ban by baseball, the longest in baseball history.  You know you're only supposed to get 50 games for your first offense for using P.E.D's right?  Then why did A-Hole get 211?  For cheating.  For lying over and over.   For helping taint the most sacred "numbers sport" ever.  For being a douche.  For being a black-eye on baseball.  For being ingenuine.  For making everyone in the world want to fight him.  But not as much as me.    

*this makes my fists tighten..

BUT, do you want to know something that will really make your skin crawl?  Something that is more douche-chilling than MMA fans screaming in Affliction T-shirts?  Worse than dudes that order "strong islands" or yell "jager-bombs"?  Worse than people posting "blasting shoulders today" at Oz Fitness? Worse than self-pics in the mirror with no shirt on?  Worse than anything ever said by Dane Cook.  Worse than the guitar playing guy at campfires?  Worse than Galaxy Man???.....Here goes, brace yourself:

In 2009, Kate Hudson told "US Weekly" that Alex Rodriguez "is so vain, he had not one, but two painted portraits of himself as a centaur, and one was above his bed"...........................(deep breath).........................(wipe down goosebumps)...............ok, everyone good?...........Soooo, he has not one but TWO PAINTINGS, and one is above his BED, of HIMSELF, as a HALF-HORSE, HALF-HUMAN?...................Ok, everyone together say it with me, 1,2,3, ready, "FML"............ 

I hate A-fraud, and I hate cancer.  Lets beat them both. 

Once again people, I HAVE TO FIGHT ALEX RODRIGUEZ!!!!!!!!

Let us compare stats: 

A-Fruad                                  vs.           Sugar Shane                                     Advantage:

height:                       6'3                       6' (with shoes on)                              A-Fraud

weight:                      230                      192.73 (Im giving up 40lbs)             A-Fraud

career homeruns:      620                      0                                                        A-Fraud

romance covers:          0                      17                                                       A-Fraud

PED of choice:        All steroids         Vodka Soda, muscle-milk, red bull    A-Fraud

Friends:                       0                             247568                                         Sugar Shane

Winner:  Sugar Shane

C'mon friends!  Let’s raise some money for charity!  Let's watch me beat the hair-gel out of A-fraud (or vice-versa).  Let’s make this happen!  Who knows somebody????   Maybe I should ring the “glove”?  I NEED TO FIGHT ALEX RODRIGUEZ!!!!!!!!!!!