And so in this Podcast…
Jeff, Allen and Johanna vehemently compare and critique Croc-based lifestyles, which (surprisingly) include but are not limited to the many labels of Josh Hamilton (including those who are scantily clad), Derek Jeter’s inner Pete Rose, Jeff’s go-to-Gehrig impression, Ozzie Guillen’s mess-mouth and much, much more… all so you can at least laugh while you waste some valuable time!!! Go ahead, laugh it up, fuzzball!
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*Special thanks to our PodMaster Keith Carmack. Keith is involved in some impressive projects himself. Check out his work at Undercard Films. Seriously. Do it. Or I’ll have Prince Fielder sit on your face.
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Recorded Saturday, October 30, 2010
Tim Lincecum. Cliff Lee. Buster Posey. Josh Hamilton (with special guest, Jesus of Nazareth).
This… spells… EPIC.
Unfortunately, only the folks in San Francisco, Dallas/Ft. Worth and the diehards (like myself) will be paying attention.
Such is a World Series without marquee cities and pinstripes galore (see 2006 for more info).
But I have an idea… a way to rope in the casual fan from Syracuse to Sandusky to Sacramento and beyond.
In between innings, give a hot chick a gun and let ‘er rip:
‘Cuz, THAT, dear readers, is ‘Merica!!!
Yes. Yes, you can thank me later.
Just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Oh, man, these last few days living the life of a bonafide Yankee fan have been some sort of trip! Jeesh, the amount of work that goes into it… it’s just… staggering.
But overall, the sense of entitlement, inflated ego and blabbering-slandering mouth I’ve picked up have helped me transition.
Just to prove my ability, if you haven’t noticed, the Yankees still have 27 trophies. Still have iconic pinstripes. Still tout the achievements of the Babe.
we won Game 1 of the ALCS. Ha! Jesus may be on Josh Hamilton’s side,
but underneath that purple robe and thistle crown, Jesus flashes
pinstripes. Believe that!
Of course, not everything about being a
Yankee fan is easy… which is why I want to share with you my biggest
test yet: enduring Suzyn Waldman.
Jeff as a Yankees Fan, DAY 5:
Yankee posse overloads me with a heavy ear workout, forcing me to
listen to the worst broadcasters ever known: Chip Caray, Hawk Harrelson,
Joe Buck. My coaches insist this is necessary. I have to build up my
tolerance. Because I won’t have the option of turning off the radio,
even though I will most certainly want to.
ears, sore as can be, can’t take another minute of awful announcing…
so I am forced to endure a thousand papercuts on each lobe instead.
lunch time. I’m starving. And instead of a good healthy meal full of
the necessary proteins and vitamins I will need before game time, I am
presented a platter of fatty, fried foods. “What’s this?” I ask.
“Standard pre-Yankee game meal, Jeff” says the chef. “We gotta get you
full of s*** so you fit in tonight.”
I take a nap. I have a dream. I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former Yankees and
the sons of former Red Sox will be able to sit down together at a
table of brotherhood and —– what the — damn, that was a stupid dream.
Game time. I f****** HATE the Rangers. Go Yankees!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Suzyn Waldman’s voice… it’s… at
game time it’s even worse than… no… three more hours of… I gotta
listen to this crap for three more —
Are we winning? Are we losing? I can’t stop my ears from bleeding. Damn you, Suzyn Waldman. Damn you!!!
It’s all over now. It’s been over. We won. But wow… it was not
easy. I never thought I’d say this, because I find him to be a perfect
example of everything that’s wrong with modern day broadcasting, but
thank the baseball gods for John Sterling…
Now, does anyone know a good ears, nose and throat guy?
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To be continued…
Jesus and I may not love the uni he’s been donning the last few years; but heck, it’d be pretty sacrilegious to hate on a man who has provided the masses with unfettered improvisational entertainment throughout his entire career.
So Al, I and the RSBS interns would all like to wish Lou Piniella the very best in his retirement while reminiscing on those things we’ll miss the most about him:
His Preggers Belly
You know the drill. Lou shows up to Arizona in the Spring in excellent shape, nary a roll on his tummy. A few hapless months of frustrating baseball and countless cold ones later and he magically looks like he oughta be resting for the end of his third trimester. Some managers utilize the brim of their caps to intimidate umpires during a raucous; Lou bumps bellies.
His Indomitable Will
Whether it’s dealing with Sori’s hop, Rob Dibble’s grappling moves or Zambrano’s homicidal tendencies, Lou Piniella never seems to show a weak link. He can fight. He will fight. He will fight you… if you give him a reason. And the chance. That is the epitome of bad@$$ and that’s why I would love to take Lou out drinking sometime.
His Love for the Bottle
Realize that I realize that I am taking certain liberties in proclaiming that Lou has a love for booze. I mean, he’s a man. He’s also a ballplayer. And he’s often seen in the clubhouse with a drink in his hand. So that makes him like 90% of the people I know on earth (me included) which makes me like him even more. It almost makes me want to bar hop the Tampa Bay metro area until I eventually run into him. I can’t promise I’ll be able to form coherent sentences at that point, but I would sure try.
Be good, Lou. Be good.
And come back if ya want. Baseball without you just won’t be the same.
Hate me ‘cuz I hate on your sCrUBBIES, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
I know, dear readers. It’s only been three days. And sprinkled in there I got to indulge in a long awaited Senior Circuit victory in the only All-Star Game that US Americans actually care about. But three days is three days; and without a constant barrage of baseball stuff (pick-offs, home-plate collisions, oppo-taco bombs) I tend to go a bit batty.
Thankfully, our trusted RSBS interns know how to quell my baseball madness as they were able to use their unpublicized delinquent ways to grab me a sneak peek at the much anticipated and poignant decision making tell-all by our 43rd president, George W. Bush. The book is called Decision Points.
And yes, that title (with that author) is an oxymoron.
Still, we think you’ll appreciate these snippets of Dubyan enlightenment:
“I ran the country like I ran the Rangers and if that meant sitting in the bottom of the West, well, then that’s what it takes… or is it took? Tooken? Yeah, that’s what it tooken.”
“I told Mel Gibson, ‘if you’re gonna make a Jesus movie, make sure there’s lots of blood. Whip that Jesus! And make Mary Magdalene hot. No fake boobs, but make her hot.’ Did you know Mel Gibson’s from Austria? He don’t even have an accent.”
“Hehehe… wait til ‘Merica finds out I’m a big Nickelback fan. Look at this photograph… hehehe… it’s hard to say it, goodbye, goodbye. Kinda makes me wanna cry. Hey, that rhymes too! Hot dawg!!!”
“If it looks like a Saddam and it talks like a Saddam then it must be Osama bin Laden! Let’s blow some s*** up!”
Hate me ‘cuz I got to see it before you did, just don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.