Posts For Class: Sports Fanatacism

Well, the end of another semester has arrived. This blog began as an assignment for my sportswriting class, but I'm going to continue to keep it up; I know for a fact that it is the primary source of Red Sox information for at least one person (although that one person is GirlfriendRach, and I think she feels kinda obligated to read it).

My final project for the class was to write an article about my own sports fanaticism, a trait of mine that my reader(s) should have recognized by now; I'll post excerpts from the article tomorrow. Today, however, I'm going to post several videos of other fanatical sports fans as a sort of teaser. Each thing you are about to see, I have done. I am a Red Sox psychopath, and I have no regrets.

Phillies Baseball
I would love to say that I would be smart enough to not do this the next time the Red Sox make a deep playoff run. But I know that's all bullshit. I totally would.


Clemson Football
My heart goes out to this guy. I know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out and stomped on by a sports team. It takes a big man to cry over a sporting event. Fear not, ClemsonGuy; the University of Iowa will avenge your pain in the Orange Bowl.


Oregon State Football
This guy is cute. He thinks his school's football team is worth throwing a temper tantrum over. Let me tell you something, Guy; just because you beat USC a couple years ago doesn't erase the fact that your team is called the Beavers and wears bright orange.


Russian Soccer
OK, so I haven't done this one. The thing I love about this video is the fact that a little fat guy can run onto a field for the world's biggest sport, filled with some of the world's premier athletes (and Ronaldo), and is able to scamper around the field completely untouched. Seriously, where the hell is the security?


Photoshop Deluxe
I honestly couldn't tell you where this picture originated; it has been Photoshopped to tailor to just about every team in the world. As far as I know, these kid can be found flipping the bird to the archrival of Little Lord Fauntleroy's School for Albino Hemophiliacs. Coolest kid ever.

Posts For Class: Twitter Ethics

- How do media use Twitter for "good"?
- How do media combat/reach readers who don't know the difference between gossip and genuine reporting?

Twitter is a tricky technology. I've used it on this blog as a documentation of the emotional roller coaster that I ride when I watch the Sox, and it's therefore helped me to create what I feel are some of my funniest posts thus far. On the other side of the coin, however, lies the recent Tiger Woods debacle.

We've all heard about Tiger's car crash, and the media storm that followed. There have been reports of his infidelity, abuse of alcohol, addiction to prescription medications and survival of domestic abuse; about the only thing that Tiger has NOT been accused of this week is fathering seventeen illegitimate children while in Argentina with Bobo the Epileptic Hobo. In short, the media has had a field day with something that, in my opinion, should have remained private.

What bothers me is not that a tree hit Tiger's car at two in the morning. That happens all the time, both to high-profile celebrities and to Joe Schmoe. What really bothers me is that ALL we know is that he was in a car accident. The rest--his cheating, boozing, pill-popping, et al--has thus far been speculation. This is where Twitter gets dangerous. Tweets happen at the drop of a pin, and you can write just about anything you want. This phenomenon has sparked the usual paparazzi-type speculation about Tiger's accident into a flame of debauchery and drugs surrounding one of sport's most pristine figures.

The problem is that people believe what they want to hear and, for reasons unbeknown to me, love celebrity gossip. When an athlete who is arguably the face of American sports gets in a car crash at two in the morning, people are going to talk and people are going to make up shit to legitimize why he was leaving his house when he should have been in bed. That's human nature, and that's the problem with Twitter. It gives everyone a forum, including people who really don't deserve one.

Yes, Twitter can be used for good; it helped expose the recent Iranian election scandal, for example. There can be no doubt that it's one of the fastest ways for news to reach the masses. There needs to be some barrier, however, between Tweets about how much my Red Bull cost in the Denver airport last week ($4.75) and something that actually carries some sort of news implication. I realize that this would mean the Iranian situation would not have had as much of an immediate impact, but that was a story that would have broken anyway because there were hard facts. The Tiger situation has yet to produce any real evidence that alcohol or pills were involved, and Twitter has only served to cause every cable news station in America to speculate. That's not news, folks.

I realize that the barrier would go against everything that Twitter stands for; it's a free forum for anyone to post whatever the hell he or she wants. At the same time, however, we must look at Twitter and realize that it IS a forum for EVERYone. Does EVERYone have a press pass that allows them to get the hard facts about Tiger's car crash? No. Then should we be taking our news from a forum where the vast majority of users really have no idea what they're talking about? No. Let Tweeters Tweet and let reporters report. I don't think we can take news seriously when it's on an open forum like Twitter; there's simply too much uneducated bullshit blurring the lines on the site.

Finally, to paraphrase Chris Crocker: Leave Tiger ALONE!!!!

Now That Baseball Is Over...

Baseball is on hiatus (thanks a million, Yankees) and the offseason hasn't really begun yet (no, the Sox signing Jeremy Hermida does not count as starting the offseason when what we REALLY need is a shortstop and another power bat). What's a Sox fan supposed to do to fill his time? Methinks I should watch more "wrestling," if this is the sort of thing happens on a regular basis:



This is one of the more epic things I have ever seen. I can totally do that, I just don't wanna.

Also, a quick question for my Cubs fans out there: what the FUCK happened to Sammy Sosa's face?

Thanks to Hot Clicks for the links...even if Jimmy Traina is a Yankees fan.

Tweets From The World Series

For a Sox fan, there is only one thing worse than the baseball season being over. As of Wednesday night, the baseball season is over because the New York Yankees won the World Series. If that doesn't deserve a "FML," I don't know what does.

I hadn't been watching much of the Series prior to Game 6; as I've stated before on this blog, I hate watching the Yankees for any reason. I broke my own rule for Game 6, however, mainly because Pedro Martinez was pitching in a must-win game and Pedro is the only active player I would want to have in that situation. I'm a little biased towards the guy thanks to his time on the Sox (sub-par Game 6 performance aside, I'd have the man's babies in an instant), so I decided to break my Twitter boycott and bring back my Tweets From Game (Fill In The Blank) series for as long as Pedro was in the game.

I'll complain about the Series on another occasion (God knows I have a lot to complain about...damn Yankees and their 27 championships and their rich owner and their ridiculously hot WAGs), but for now, enjoy my Tweets From The World Series.
---
6:42 pm: Just realized Ozzie Guillen is a World Series analyst...bleepin' hilarious
--Does anyone else think it's ironic and awesome that baseball's answer to Bobby Knight was an analyst on FOX for the Series?

6:48: Someone step on a cat with bronchitis? Jesus that sucked
--Can someone please tell me how the hell Mary J. Blige earned a record deal? I've done better renditions of the National Anthem when I was singing in the shower and too drunk to remember the words.

6:54: Hard to believe this will be Pedro and Pettitte's first postseason matchup...go Petey!!!!
--FOX plays a promo that states that Game 6 will pit Pedro and Andy Pettitte against each other in the playoffs for the first time. Interesting for two guys who have been on so many playoff teams, particularly during Pedro's Red Sox years. Guess Pettitte was never an ace...oh, no I didn't!

7:07 pm: Mound meeting after one pitch? Wtf Pedro
--In all my years of watching baseball, I can't remember another time when I saw a meeting on the mound after one pitch (unless this was the pitch).

7:09: Matchup of the Idiots: Pedro 1, Judas 0
--Petey strikes out Judas with a 75-mph changeup. In case you're wondering, the answer is no: I have not referred to Judas by his given name since he betrayed the Sox.

7:28: Hey, Petey hit 86 mph...woot woot
--Pedro, who had been struggling with his velocity, finally breaks the 85-mph barrier for the first time all game.

7:29: 88? Hot damn
--...and on the very next pitch, he practically breaks the speed of light. Okay, not really.

7:32: Joe Buck thinks Pedro "could very well" get into the Hall...I think Joe Buck is an idiot
--Pedro has been the best pitcher in the Steroid Era; he is a LOCK to make the Hall of Fame on his first ballot. Joe Buck thinks he "could very well" make the Hall? Joe is, in my humble opinion, a...

7:43: When learn to speak English, Joe Buck will?
--Buck has this incredibly irritating habit of putting his subjects at the end of his sentences; "0-for-5, Francisco is." Stop it, Joe.

7:59: Matchup of the Idiots: Pedro 1, Judas 1
--Judas walks, and I die a little inside.

8:01 pm: Come on, Petey...you're supposed to hit JUDAS. Preferably in the face.
--Pedro hits the very next batter, Mark Texiera, with a pitch to load the bases. If you're going to hit anyone, please hit the traitorous sunofabitch with no morals, loyalty, or male genitalia.

8:05: That's why Pedro's the best pitcher in the 'Roid Era...he makes 'roiders look stupid
--Petey makes A-Roid look like, well...

8:12: Aww, did ickle Judas get a booboo? Grow a pair, douchebag
--Judas leaves the game with a hamstring pull. There's nothing I enjoy more than seeing Judas get hurt, but I really do prefer when it's something manly. Like what Randy Johnson did to that bird. That would be manly, Judas. Take notes.

8:46: I really hope that's not the last we see of Pedro...not his best stuff, but a champion nonetheless
--Pedro was pulled after five innings. It was the last appearance of his contract with the Phillies, and I don't have words to express how badly I want him to come back for another year. He's one of my favorite players ever; I'll even forgive him for the shitshow that was Game 6 (more on that in my next post).

Top Three Pedro vs. Yankees Moments

Last week, Pedro Martinez (in his infinite awesomeness) claimed that he is "the most influential player that ever stepped in Yankee Stadium." This is up for debate (some guy named Babe Ruth spent quite a bit of time in the Cathedral, after all), but the 38-year-old has had more than his share of fabulous moments against the Pinstripes. I love the guy for all the time he put in with the Sox, and when Petey gets another chance to face the Yanks in an hour, I'll personally be hoping for another one of these:

3. Jeter and Soriano Hospitalized: Pedro has never been afraid of any batter, and proved it in 2003 when he sent both Derek Jeter and Alfonso Soriano to the hospital with beanballs. Throwing at batters is one of my least favorite parts of the game, but I'll excuse anything when it happens to the Yankees. Which leads quite nicely to...

2. The Pedro-Zimmer Incident: I don't exactly condone this particular moment, but you can't deny that it helped cement his legacy as the Yanks' most-hated opponent of the decade. Yankees bench coach Don Zimmer was 72 years old, and should have known better than to bullrush anybody during a bench-clearing brawl. Pedro probably shouldn't have grabbed his face and pushed him to the ground, but what else would he have done in the situation? Baseball rules don't allow a pitcher to carry a toreador flag onto the field, so Pedro did the next best thing. Not that I condone violence against the Yankees, of course.


1. Pedro's 17 K's: Vintage Pedro, the guy the Phillies really need to show up tonight. On September 10, 1999, Petey blew the Yankees away with 17 strikeouts in a one-hit complete game; the win helped wrap up Pedro's first Cy Young award, and helped me fall in love with the guy. Who's your daddy, New York?

A Moment Of Schadenfreude

I haven't been following the World Series especially closely, because I hate the Yankees so much that I try to avoid watching them unless it's absolutely necessary (i.e., when they play the Sox). I've been keeping track of the scores, and that's about it...until last night.

I was sitting on the Internet in GirlfriendRach's room following Game 5 last night, and I came across this gem on Yahoo!. I started cackling uncontrollably, because I am a horrible person and I love watching the Yankees suffer. GirlfriendRach, who has so far been able to resist my attempts to turn her into a baseball fan, looked up at me and delivered the line of the night.

Me: "Mwahaha...heeheehee...hehehe...hohoho..."
GirlfriendRach: "...baby, I love you but that's really creepy."

Yeah, I get that a lot.

Posts For Class: West High Season Preview

This blog originated as an assignment for a sportswriting class at the University of Iowa, and I therefore must occasionally update it with posts that do not relate to the Red Sox or how much I hate the Yankees (who are losing in Game 1 of the World Series as I write this, and there is much rejoicing). This post is the first in that series: enjoy.
---
BJ Mayer does not subscribe to the theory that basketball players must be tall to be successful. The head coach of the Iowa City West High girls' basketball program, Mayer fields a team that reached the second round of the playoffs last year despite having only four players taller than 5 feet 9 inches.

"We're not tall, so our weakness will be defending inside," said Mayer. "We want to create a tempo that's chaotic and crazy to get other teams out of their element...we want to wear teams down."

The Trojans will need that tempo in order to compensate for the loss of last year's two leading scorers, departed seniors Emma Krieger Kittle and Madison Sadecky. The team will focus more on three-point shots, hoping that their pressing defense will create more opportunities on the offensive side of the court. Mayer expects guard Kristin Fomon to be the Trojans' main threat behind the three-point line, and the senior is also a front-runner for a spot as team captain.

The Trojans begin official practice on Nov. 9, and Mayer will begin the season by focusing on team chemistry and installing the new, high-octane playbook.

"The kids need to play together...we have a lot of new varsity players, and they need to get on the same page," said Mayer. "It's very important that we get off to a good start so that we're able to get the young kids some confidence and allow them to play relaxed."

My Five Stages

Yes, I did rip the title of this post from an episode of Scrubs. I've never really bought into the Dr. Phil psychobabble that the Kübler-Ross model of grief seems to reflect, but at this point I'm open to pretty much anything that will make me forget the humiliation of being swept by an Anaheim team that we've dominated in the postseason for as long as I can remember. Even Dr. Phil-type crap.

Stage 1: Denial: When the Angels pulled ahead in the ninth inning, I was still optimistic. Hell, our third batter in the inning was going to be reigning MVP Dustin Pedroia...we were going to be fine.

Stage 2: Anger: I did a job on my room when the game ended. I kicked over RoommateCoop's ironing board. I let out a string of profanity that Bobby Knight would be proud of. And, of course, I continued to channel Coach Knight by throwing my chair across the room. I scare myself sometimes.

Stage 3: Bargaining: Dusty knocks a fly ball over the infield, and I respond with: "Drop, drop, drop, dear God please fucking drop..." I'm an atheist. For me to invoke God takes a lot.

Stage 4: Depression: Dusty's ball is caught, and I collapse. I sob. I pound the floor. I was a wreck. It took a long walk and Dairy Queen therapy with my girlfriend for me to crack the smallest of smiles. That DQ Pumpkin Pie Blizzard is divine.

Stage 5: Acceptance: I'm still working on this one, not gonna lie, but I think I'm doing a little better. The Sox were out-pitched, out-hit and out-hearted by Anaheim; I can't deny it, and there's not much point in trying. The season is over, but a new one begins in March. In the meantime, there will be plenty of news for me to follow. Free agents will come and go, the Varitek era will officially come to a close, and hopefully Theo will make some moves to put us in a better position next year (first suggestion: get rid of Manny Fucking Delcarmen, already). We once waited 86 years for a World Series victory; next season will mark the third year of our current dry spell, and I'm okay with that in the big picture. We still got this, baby...I've accepted it.

"Don't blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we couldn't live without you
Red Sox, you are the only, only, only"
- Dropkick Murphys

Tweets From Game 3

I'm devastated. When Dustin Pedroia flew out to end the season, I went insane. I kicked over RoommateCoop's ironing board. I pulled a Bobby Knight and chucked my game-watching chair across the room. Finally, I collapsed to the ground and sobbed into my Curt Schilling jersey. I stayed like that for a long time.

I had hoped that my Tweet series would last longer than two posts, but I guess that wasn't meant to be this year. Still, I had fun doing it (especially when it looked like we would win Game 3; I mean, come on, we were one fucking strike away), so here are my Tweets from yesterday afternoon.

I'm going to take a while to heal and figure out where this blog is going to go now that the season is over. I'll still be posting regularly, but if you're looking for more level-headed and rational Sox analysis during my healing period, you should check out my friend Evelyn at What's Bruin In Beantown.

Also, you may have noticed that my last post came well before the end of the game. I was in no shape to Tweet after the final run. I was too busy panicking. Before the playoffs, I had no reason to use Twitter besides to occasionally talk about my breakfasts when I was especially bored. As such, I probably won't be updating my page for a long, long time. Twitter is stupid.

1:26 pm: Just realized the time difference means the Sox game is already half over...I'm such a bad fan.
--The Sunday game came just a few hours after the University of Iowa's Homecoming festivities ended, so I have to admit that I was asleep during the first six innings of the game. Still, coming in while we were up 5-2 made me kinda happy.

1:36: I'm starting to appreciate Bard a hell of a lot more.
--Daniel Bard strikes out two and enduces a groundout in his second inning of work.

1:40: Does Buck Martinez's voice make anyone else want to kick a baby, or is that just me?
--Don Orsillo was a nice choice as the play-by-play man for the series (but I might be a little biased). Martinez as the color man? Not so much.

1:51: Someone tell George Lopez that he's not remotely funny and to leave my baseball alone.
--The problem with TBS is that they plug the same damn shows over and over and over again. That's especially problematic when the show belongs to Lopez (although they played his spots much less frequently than Frank Caliendo's crap last year).

1:53: Social D makes a much better highlight song than Bon Jovi.
--"Reach For The Sky" vs. "We Weren't Born To Follow"? Bon Jovi was so 1985.

1:56: Something about Wagner's delivery bothers me...wont argue with the results though.
--Seriously, someone should shoot the guy who taught Billy Wagner his mechanics. They're just butt-ugly.

1:57: ...case in point. Siddown Hunter, you annoying bastard.
--Wagner strikes out Torii Hunter looking, and there was much rejoicing.

2:01 pm: C'mon, Wags...you cant walk Guerrero, thats impossible.
--Vladimir Guerrero, who literally swings at anything within 20 feet of the strike zone, draws a walk. I'll go ahead and blame Wagner's delivery.

2:09: Get some, Willits.
--Papelbon picks off Angels pinch runner Reggie Willits by a mile.

2:16: I love it when Bay strikes out without swinging once.
--I love Jason Bay, and think Theo pulled off the trade of the decade to get him, but a slugger can do a hell of a lot more for his team when he swings the fucking bat.

2:22: Yeah baby...no way Papi would have scored on that.
--Joey Gathright scores on a Mike Lowell single after pinch running for David Ortiz...Papi would have stopped at third and asked for oxygen.

2:26: Crunch time...we got this.
--Top of the ninth, two-run lead, Papelbon on the mound...how the hell did we not win this game?

2:27: It should be illegal to record a Beatles cover as bad as the one in the Blackberry ad...blasphemy.
--At this point, I was still optimistic enough to complain about commercials. Funny how quickly that changed.

2:33: I'd forgotten how shiny Terry's head is.
--Francona takes off his cap, and I'm temporarily blinded. Unfortunately, my vision returns in time for me to witness Papelbon's breakdown.

2:43: Pap takes too long between pitches...I'm having heart attacks here.
--It's one thing if you wait 37 minutes in between pitches and get positive results. It's a whole 'nother thing if you single-handedly end your team's season.

2:47: FUCK.
--Guerrero drives in the go-ahead run. It's about this time that I stop caring about Twitter and just start praying to the baseball gods for a miracle. Thanks for completely ignoring me, baseball gods. I'll send you guys the bill for my new game-watching chair.

Manic Depression Is A Frustrating Mess

I hoped I wouldn't have to write this post this year. This was supposed to be the year. This was supposed to be the third time this decade where I could run screaming through the halls, screaming my love for the Sox at the top of my lungs. This was supposed to be the year where I could dance in the middle of the street without worrying about getting hit by a bus or looking like Bobo the Epileptic Hobo, a year where I would be so happy that nothing else would matter.

Fuck Anaheim.