2010 offered a little something for everyone. There were elections in the US, implied succession in the DPRK and in between all that, we even found time to play a little baseball. 2010 was also special because the Krause-Lung powerhouse accomplished a feat that had not even been attempted in many years. That’s right, we got to hang out on two separate occasions!
In the world of RSBS, we provided the hard-hitting analysis and cheap shots you’ve come to expect. Cheap shots. You know, like not once but twice writing on David Paterson and making puns about blindness in both titles. Luckily we could always fall back to classy topics, like in the tenth edition of the Podcast when the idea of sprinkling AIDS on Bud Selig’s salad somehow slipped out.
Although Mr. Lung’s interests are legion, he always makes sure to come back to sure-fire crowd pleasers, like the Cubs. Or pictures of half–naked women. However, this year Mr. Lung managed to take things to an entirely new level by combining both his hatred of the Cubs AND his love of gratuitous, scantily-clad women.
Ultimately, we kept doing what we have been doing since 2008. Red State Blue State gets out there and addresses the issues and topics you want to know about, just like the following top five Jeffery Lung bylined entries of 2010:
2nd Honorable Mention:
Sure, we aren’t the biggest fans of the Yankees over here at RSBS. But you can’t say we don’t make an effort to be fair. Mr. Lung took this sense of fair play to a previously unheard of level when he spent several days towards the end of the season as a Yankees’ fan. To get the full picture you’ll have to read the other two parts but Day 1 sets the tone and sets Mr. Lung on a path that few others have dared to tread.
That famous RSBS sense of fairness also flared up back in March when Jeff addressed the notion that we were biased for or against certain teams and players. He then proceeded to take the piss out of all 30 teams showing once and for all that bias is only in the eye of the beholder. Unless you’re talking about the Cardinals in which case, “Guilty as charged.”
2010 was notable for RSBS in the we got the chance to sit down and talk to several Hall of Famers. The series kicked off with Jeff’s interview of Ken Griffey, Sr. in which Jeff and Ken (can I call you Ken? Mr. Griffey? Mr. Griffey, Sr.?) discussed a topic close to all three of us, prostate cancer. Between the Griffey interview and Strasmas, the end of June turned out to be quite eventful.
1st Runner Up:
This Took 18 Years!?!?
Despite the irreverent tones, RSBS takes both its baseball and its politics seriously. So when the Congress finally overturned the abomination of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell just before Christmas, it was inevitable we’d have something to say. Mr. Lung met the challenge head on and delivered an impassioned defense of all that makes America good.
And the Winner is…:
There are certain moments that mark us all. Certain events rest forever in our memories and fundamentally alter our psyches. I’m guessing Jeff’s interview with Ozzie Smith was one such moments. Put aside the fact that the guy is a Hall of Famer and one of the best shortstops to have played the game. Forget that generations of Cardinals’ fans look at his career as the second coming of Christ. Jeff got to sit down with his childhood hero and talk to him one on one. That, my friends, is something special.
So, there you have it. The Year in Review, RSBS style. And stay tuned as we roll into another year. There will be baseball. There will be politics. And evidently, if Mr. Lung has anything to say about it, there will be gratuitous scantily clad women.
The learning curve on being a Yankees fan isn’t nearly as forgiving as one might expect given the Evil Empire’s age old stranglehold on professional sports fandom. I’m a smart guy; but even I am having a hard time understanding it all:
“We friggin’ HATE A.J. Burnett!”
“We friggin’ LOVE A.J. Burnett!”
“WHO the friggin’ frig is A.J. Burnett!?!?”
But don’t let lightning fast fluttering allegiances get ya down, especially if you’re a bandwagoneer. As long as you remember the basics (i.e. Jeter is GOD; Mo will kill you in your sleep and not break a sweat; Posada is a defense-challenged commodity) then you shouldn’t have any troubles navigating through the Yankees’ world of privileged self-righteousness.
Of course, there’s one more thing you should know: once you go there… you can never go back. You can never unsee. Never unfeel.
When Mark Teixeira went down with his injury the other night, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking…
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?
– – –
To be continued…
Yeah, I got a big mouth.
Sometimes it gets me in trouble. Sometimes it gets me… opportunity.
So that’s why when I told Confessions of a She-Fan author, Jane Heller, that I would throw all my postseason fandom towards the Evil Empire as long as she celebrated series clinchers with pics of she boozin’, I didn’t even think to… well, think. At least, not too much anyway.
But what’s done is done. And now I’m in. With the Reds eliminated, I don’t have anything to lose this postseason… so gimme an interlocking “NY” and watch me chamelonize into a slithering, spoiled, seedy Yankees fan…
Jeff as a Yankees Fan, DAY 1:
I put aside my normal breakfast of greek yogurt and blueberries for an authentic New York Jewish bagel. It’s so authentic, it insults me and tells me to go back to Hobboken.
I tune into Sportscenter and am pleasantly surprised to see my newfound team featured in every, single, friggin’ segment. Yeah, son! Yeah!
Riding the bus, I see some chumwad in a Red Sox cap. I am brought to my knees with an overwhelming sense of disgust, nausea and uncontained anger. I march right up to him and say, “Hey, buddy, how’s the number 27 sound to ya? Huh? Yeah! Eat it, son! Eat it!” Then the bus stops and I get off as fast as I can.
The office manager was able to send out five faxes, five emails and five phone calls to our customers — all within one work day! So I showed him I cared by giving him a shaving cream pie in the face.
I turn on Sportscenter and am pleasantly surprised to see my pinstripers featured in every, single, friggin’ segment!
Some jape wearin’ a Twins cap walks by my house so I yell out “Go Yankees!” and he flips me off so I moon him then he throws a rock at my window and then I shoot him. In the face.
Ohhhhhh what a day. This Bronx Bomber stuff is really taxing; but it is good to go to sleep knowing that I rest on top of the sports universe — that all professional sports franchises in all corners of the known galaxy must look up at me, in my great big pinstriped bed. Happy and relaxed, I flip on the t.v. and let Sportscenter and its endless Yankee-love-fest woo me to slumber.
– – –
To be continued…