The Cincinnati Reds Are Hellbent On Hurting My Feelings

This is apropos of nothing, I just like the name Bip Roberts

We are now ten games into the second half of the Reds' season and because of some glitch in the matrix they are a mere half game behind the first place St. Louis Cardinals in the NL Central.

Some might say that they are holding on by the hairs on Jonny Gomes' chinny chin chin, and they would be exactly right.  Let's run down a short list of things that need to happen in order for the Reds to make the playoffs:


1. Edinson Volquez must return to form

In the two starts since returning from his year long recovery from multiple shoulder surgeries, Volquez has shown that it might be a bit of a slog before he becomes a consistently productive starter once again.  Against the Rockies, he was untouchable, going six innings and giving up one run on three hits.  Against the Nationals (!), however, he went two and a third, giving up six earned runs while only getting 38 of his 76 pitches through the strike zone.  It's easy right now to pass off that second start as Edinson shaking off the rust of being out of the game for so long, but if we're going to have any shot at either overtaking the Cardinals or winning the Wild Card, we absolutely need him to, more than anything, be consistently serviceable.  He needs to find his control and not get frustrated.  The Reds have a pretty soft schedule the rest of the way, which means he'll be facing some fairly weak opponents over the next two months.  If he struggles mightily against the likes of the Pirates and Astros, we might be in some deep, deep trouble.


2. Scott Rolen needs to get healthy

Joey Votto is hands down our best player, but Scott Rolen is this team's heart.  He is the leader everyone looks to in the clubhouse and the veteran who anchors the infield.  It was inevitable that he would fall victim to the injury bug, but the tenuous look the Reds have when he's out of the lineup is worrisome.  They not only need him in the dugout, they need him on the field and at the plate.  Though Miguel Cairo has been a wonderful surprise thus far in Rolen's stead, he is not Rolen.  Hopefully his hamstring issue will be short lived and he can get back out on the field for the stretch run.


3. Something's gotta give with the bullpen

Right now our bullpen is relying heavily on a batch of young and unproven arms.  Logan Ondrusek has been extremely steady since being recalled from AAA and Jordan Smith has definitely been a reliable arm in recent weeks, but it's hard to say how these guys will react as the pressure of a pennant race builds.  It stands to reason that either Russ Springer or Jason Isringhausen will fill a void before the season's end.  Both are veterans with loads of post season and big game experience and both have seemingly no ceiling for their performance.  Springer has been solid thus far in Louisville and may get called up as early as mid-August.  Isringhausen, on the other hand, hasn't pitched regularly in over a year and is coming off of Tommy John surgery, so it's a pretty hazy forecast for him until he starts facing live hitting and shows us what kind of stuff he still has.  There's still a possibility that the Reds will add a bullpen arm through a deadline trade, but the market is fairly barren at this point and they may be content to just go with what they have.  That being said...


4.  It is in the Reds' best interest to pick up a right handed hitter via trade

The Reds have been shutout 12 times this season.  For those of you playing at home, that's the most of any team in the majors.  The majority of those shutouts were 1-0 heartbreakers.  This team, for all of its offensive prowess, at times has an extremely hard time putting runs on the board.  Some of this has to do with guys like Scott Rolen and Ramon Hernandez being out, but more than that it has to do with the sporadic hitting of everyone else in the lineup.  Jay Bruce, Drew Stubbs, Jonny Gomes and Brandon Phillips embody the very definition of 'streaky'.  They need one more bat to go along with Rolen and Votto to steady things out.  I for one would love to see Ty Wigginton on this team, but no matter who it is, he has to be a consistent hitter and capable of playing more than one defensive position.  We have plenty of prospects to dangle in front of teams, it's imperative that we use them.

5.  Beat the Cardinals

Cincinnati has six more games against the Cardinals.  Three at home and three in St. Louis.  They must either win or split this series.  There is no room for error, especially considering the favorable schedule the Reds have down the stretch.



The most important part of this, of course, is for the fans to enjoy the ride.  It's been a long time since our Redlegs have been competitive and they currently stand to finish above .500 for the first time in ten years.  That alone should be cause for celebration.  The World Series would just be icing on the cake.

Onward.

- Terrence Adams

TEXT WARS VOLUME ONE: BEN WILLS VS. TERRENCE ADAMS

Myself and Ben Wills do not live in the same state.  This has not stopped us from waging a text war against one another that is filled with utter sports-related vitriol.  This is the first installment in what will surely be a long running series entitled...well...just look above, doofus. 

The following exchange occurred on Tuesday, July 20th, 2010.  It is offensive, so if you don't like offensive things, cover your eyes.  Onto the good times:

(Out of the blue)

Ben: I'll trade you my Sid Bream and Tom Pagnozzi for your Kelly Gruber and Bob Walk.

Terrence: Throw in your Anthony Peeler Lakers jersey and it's a deal.

Ben: I was considering a Loy Vaught or Mark Eaton signed picture.

Terrence: fag.

Ben: Don't be so hard on yourself.

Terrence: I'm trying not to be but this picture of Terry Pendleton's balls I'm looking at is getting me all worked up.

Ben: He strikes me as the type that would have good, wholesome, quality pubes.

Terrence: Like looking at a well groomed persian cat.

(After watching Randy Winn hit a homerun against the Phillies)

Terrence: Do me a favor and drive down to St. Louis and put a bat through Randy Winn's kneecap.

Ben: Or I could go have some drinks with their pitching staff.

Terrence: Ryan Franklin loves body shots.

Terrence: He really loves doing them off of La Russa's ass crack.

And there you have it, Text Wars Volume One.  More soon. 

Earmuffs.

Onward. 

- Terrence Adams 
 

It Was Worth It

Okay, so it’s a little after the fact. And yes, by this point many of the key components of the Hawks Stanley Cup run have been shipped off. And sure one thinks less about hockey when the thermometer reads triple digits. Nonetheless, I will transcribe here what was written a month and a half ago as game one approached.

What follows was written on the eve of the Cup Finals opener in Chicago. There were no follow-ups as I could barely keep my lunch down as the games proceeded, let alone write something about them. Spectating games of championship magnitude, for those of the die-hard sort, often requires a certain intestinal diligence. Or maybe that’s just me. I don’t feel things in my heart or head, I feel them in my stomach. Literally—my stomach gets uneasy.

If you’ll recall (if there’s really a you out there), I made predictions throughout the Stanley Cup playoffs. I was like a sunset—brilliant in the West, blind dark in the East.

Something had to give in the finals.

Just thinking back to a few short weeks ago has already alleviated some of the summer swoon that engulfs the East presently. Belated…yes. Untimely…never. Ahhh, cold steel on ice.

From May 29, 2010:

I’m on the plane as I write this. I got the itch on Monday. I was febrile by Wednesday. On Thursday I decided it had to be done. Today is Friday, a little more than 24 hours till puck drop.

When I was little, I played more hockey than I watched—and I didn’t play that often. Each winter we had to wait till “the marina” froze over.

The Marina was a little harbor carved into the water-filled gouge of strip mine aftermath we called Goose Lake. The marina, shielded from the wind, always froze first. We’d drag two railroad ties to the ice because we didn’t have real nets. We didn’t use goalies. The nearest railroad was a good 5 miles away, but there were always ties near the marina, I have no idea why.

Some winters we had hockey skates, but being kids, we grew out of them by the first thaw. Maybe then we’d find an old pair of figure skates. I don’t know where any of this stuff came from. Nobody figure skated that I ever saw. But we used whatever we had. We’d play till our frozen phalanges couldn’t hold a stick. We always threw in an obligatory fight or two—not true fisticuffs, just the pulled-punch, enjoy the dance variety. It was more a ritualistic nod to the game than actual fury. You see, the pugilism of the 70s still bruised the reputation of the sport, and I guess to some degree it still does.

I knew two Hawks in the 80s: Doug Wilson and Denis Savard.

By decade’s turn, I became aware of Steve Larmer and Michel Goulet, but (thanks to “Dollar” Bill Wirtz) I never saw many of their games; my family didn’t have cable.

The early-to-mid-90s ignited my hockey awakening. Things changed for the Hawks: they were good. Belfour, Roenick, Cheli, Suter, Graham. Just see Sega Genesis NHLPA ’93 for proof.

By decade’s end, they were bad again. They stayed bad for a LONG TIME.

To date, my predictions of the 2010 S.C. Playoffs have been a tale of two trends: the Western Conference has put me on par with Nostradamus; in the East, I’m like the guy who was the first to say, “The Titanic! That baby’s unsinkable!” Perfect in the West; 2009 Detroit Lions in the East.

In the Finals, something has to give. Here’s the problem—everything’s at stake now. Not just my predictions, but my hopes for the denouement of the season.

Now I pride myself on being practical, logical, reproaching anything or anyone that risks irrationality. But sports are funny. It’s the ultimate collision of careful consideration and chance. Plots and interference. Architecture vs. Mother Nature. Control. No control.

Only, in this case it’s not me wristing a shot at a railroad tie. It’s not me in any capacity outside of what I can shout—and I shout a lot—at the game, and with lack of control one is apt to turn to witchdoctors, or gods, or talismans. Hindsight gives ample opportunity to identify inane causes for unwanted effects. One such inanity is the “jinx.” Just ask any 90% free throw shooter. We all know what happens the minute an announcer says, “He’s hit his last 19 attempts.” Even amongst the stoutest logicians, the effects of the jinx can be felt. Causation? Correlation? It doesn’t matter. It may not make sense, but we think it can explain everything. By way of our need to make sense, we provide senseless explanations for why things occur. Humans are complex simpletons.

As much as I want to say it, I won’t.

I won’t risk the jinx. Even though I know it doesn’t really exist, I won’t predict a thing. Even though I understand that nothing I write/do/say will affect anything. I won’t. Anyone who knows me knows what I think. But I won’t say it. It means too goddamn much to me.

Chalk it up as a cop out. Put this round’s “predictions” in the L column. I don’t care.

I’ve nearly emptied my bank account for it. I’m on a plane as I write over cloud-blanketed Pennsylvania or Ohio—can’t really tell from here—to get home for it.

I’ll be yelling during the National Anthem if I can get any sound past the lump in my throat. Twenty thousand strong standing with Stan and Bobby and Tony and J.R. and Glenn and Pierre and Rocky.

And yeah, it’s going to be especially hard to look at #3 in the rafters tomorrow.

***End Flashback***

So there it was. That was me then. Later, it will be me now.

When will then be now?

Soon.

-Kyle Wills

Mel Gibson Has No Affiliation With This Blog

But you can!  If you, humble reader, want to write articles for this fine internet publication, all you have to do is:

1. Email me, Terrence Adams at ohiowarmusic@gmail.com.

2. Pitch a story idea.  Pretty much anything will do just as long as it's about a sport and not fucking dumb. 

3. Be nice.  Don't be a dick. 

That's it! 

There's no money in this, but I'll totally write you a letter of recomendation.

Onward

- Terrence Adams 

Looking Into My Crystal Balls: 2nd Half MLB Predictions

The NBA is tiresome, the Brett Farve (I refuse to spell it "vr") talk is already starting (ugh, it's only fucking July), and the WNBA is... apparently still a sports league. Thankfully, 2nd half baseball commences today.

Pre-season predictions in baseball are like a Fox News broadcast: not very accurate. With injuries, trades, breakout rookies, and comeback seasons from individual players, it's too hard in March to pick what will happen over the next 6 months. For example, who would've predicted the Padres to be in the race out west. That's right, no one. And if anyone says they did, tell them to go back to their cubicle and look up who Mat Latos is, because they don't know and they didn't see this coming.

But, after the All-Star break, even Buster Olney might have seen enough to possibly make some baseball sense about how things might play out. Unfortunately, all he'll do is continue to talk about the Yankees, Red Sox, and Phillies.

So, here are my 2nd half MLB predictions.

AL

East: Well, I hate to say it, but it'll be the Yankees. I'm pulling for Tampa Bay, and I think at the moment Tampa Bay has a better staff for the stretch run, but the operative phrase is "at the moment". "Spank" Steinbrenner will honor his dad by gobbling up any player he can get his hands on, and he'll most likely focus on pitching. Don't be surprised if the Yanks take a run at Oswalt or Haren, and adding either or those two to C.C. Sabathia and Phil Hughes would make for a pretty impressive minaga toi' at the top of the rotation.

For all you bean towners, no chance. This will be a two horse race for the top, and it'll be New York over Tampa Bay by 1 game.

Central: Hey Keith Law, sift through my pubes, find my balls, and suck 'em. You put the "ass bag" in the term "really big fucking ass bag". "You want some sprinkles on those cupcakes?" Umm, you wanna do some research? Oh, I forgot, you work at ESPN and don't have to. The White Sox went 25-5 heading into the break, which would be impressive against little leaguers, let alone any Major League talent. But, what is so ridiculous about that statement is that you did the journalistic equivalent of selective hearing, you wrote only what applied to prove your point and conveniently omitted 2 wins over the 2nd place Tigers, a 3 game sweep over the NL east leading Atlanta Braves, not to mention while facing their top 3 pitchers (Hanson, Hudson, and Lowe), 2 of 3 over the 2nd hottest team in baseball (behind the White Sox) the Texas Rangers, and a 4, yes I said 4, game sweep over the Angels. Keith Law, you are a shitburger. A shitburger with cheese.

Anyway, the Sox are my pick to win the central. It's not just the 25-5 run, but it's more the great starting staff, the at times unhittable bullpen, the timely hitting, the ability to score runs in numerous ways, and most astounding, the lack of panic over losing Jake Peavy for the season. This team has a confidence that is rarely seen from a team that had such a shitty April, May, and part of June, and I expect that to carry over into the 2nd half.

Both the Tigers and the Twins have great line-ups, but neither can match the pitching staff the Sox throw out on a daily basis. The White Sox are expected to make a move to acquire a bat, and if they do that, no one in the division would be as good top to bottom as the South Siders. And if the Sox can get a lefty specialist to add to an already dominate bullpen they would begin to look even scarier. The Chicago White Sox by 3 games.

West: The Texas Rangers have a 4.5 game lead starting the break and I am confident that lead will expand as the season progresses. Texas boasts a mashtastic middle of the order with Vlad, Josh Hamilton, and Nelson Cruz. If Ian Kinsler can stay healthy and set the table for those guys then there is no reason the offense should fall off in Arlington.

The addition of Cliff Lee was huge because Colby Lewis won't be able to keep up his performance from the first half, so the Rangers needed to add pitching. Tommy Hunter has pitched very well for so far, but you always have to expect some set back for a young pitcher.

Not to take anything away from the Rangers, but the fact that the Angels have been so inconsistent and the A's and Mariners are so bad is as much of a factor in why the Rangers will run away with the west than it is the Rangers themselves. Unless Los Angeles of Anaheim of Orange County of California make a big splash in a trade, the Rangers will win the division by at least 6 games.

Wild Card: No way!? The Wild Card will come out of the East this year! Yawn. It shouldn't come as a surprise that it'll be either Tampa Bay or Boston, with Detroit and Minnesota (not really Minnesota, but come on, even they don't want to have to focus solely on the Brett Farve media rape) being the only real outsiders that can contend.

In the end it will be Tampa Bay. With Price, Shields, Garza, and Niemann, they have 4 great arms that should lead them into October. They would love to add another bat, but unfortunately for them, they also don't want to sell the farm for anyone. So, most likely they will stay fairly "as is", but "as is" for them should be good enough to get the to the post season. Tampa Bay takes the Wild Card by 2 games.

NL

East: The race for the NL East could be exciting, but only if the Phillies decide they want to actually participate. The Mets are very much in this too, but unless they make a big move before July 31st, they don't have enough to overtake the Braves.

Philly is a damn good team that has, by most people's standards, underachieved. They somehow went like a month without scoring a run at one point, and with their line-up that's pretty amazing. Philly could very well get hot, and they could bring in another arm, but most likely not of the Cliff Lee stature (Pedro, maybe). But when all's said and done, this division crown will belong in Atlanta.

The Braves pitching staff of Lowe, Jurrjens, Hanson, Hudson, and Medlen or Kawakami is too much nasty to lose this division. Their line-up is solid, but it will be reliant on Jason Heyward's health and productivity to continue to stay atop the division. I'm surprised they aren't in more discussions about landing an impact bat, which the trade for Alex Gonzalez isn't, but I guess they hope that McClouth can also return to his 2008 form along with getting a healthy Heyward back.

All said, Atlanta wins by 3 games.

Central: Everyone is taking the Cardinals, but not me. I'm going with the Reds. Everyone is also pointing out that the Cardinals are getting Brad Penny, Ryan Ludwick, and David Freeze back, but I'm pointing out the Reds are awaiting the return of Aaron Harang, Homer Bailey, Chris Dickerson, Ramon Hernandez, Mike Lincoln, and Eddison Volquez. Getting Volquez back will almost be like making a trade for a star pitcher since Volquez has electric stuff when healthy, so if all or most of those pieces come back healthy, this team will look damn good.

Johnny Gomes is channeling his inner Eric Davis, Joey Votto is an MVP candidate, and Orlando Cabrera wins everywhere he goes. I still have a gut feeling that Cincinnati has a trade up their sleeves (why not Ben Sheets?) and I think they have enough to stay ahead of St. Louis down the stretch. Pujols and Holliday move over, this division belongs to Votto and Phillips. Reds by 1 game.

West: If I was picking this division by what city has the hottest girls, San Diego might have a shot, but the sentimental favorite is not the logical choice here. I really want San Diego to win. Honestly, I do. But, they played way over their heads and they don't have enough offense to go with their lights out pitching. Latos and the boys will fall short, though their run has been fun to watch.

The question becomes who will overtake the Friars, and the answer is...complicated. Right now, Colorado would be my pick. With Ubaldo Jimenez having a tremendous season, and the Rockies explosive offense, it's hard not to pick them. But, if the Dodgers trade for some pitching, maybe a Roy Oswalt, or San Francisco can obtain a bat, say a Prince Fielder, then the whole landscape of the division changes.

So, my pick for now will be the Rockies. Even if the rest of the division improves, I'll take the spirit of the Rockies (remember the 2 straight comebacks against the Cardinals) over the prospective talent of the rest of the division. Rockies win by 2 games. And if anything else happens, well, then I told you so... kind of.

Wild Card: You can take the Phillies. You can take the Dodgers or Giants. And if you're stupid, you can even take the Mets. Me, I'll take the Cardinals. I would like nothing more for two Mid-West teams to enter the National League playoffs. The Phillies right now would be the favorite, but I can't seen Carpenter and Wainwright not dominating down the stretch to get this team into the playoffs. Cardinals clinch on the last day of the season.

Awards

AL

Cy Young: Cliff Lee- His .095 WHIP is pretty impressive, and his wins will go up now that he's on a good team.

MVP: Josh Hamilton- He wins over Miguel Cabrera based on the fact Texas will make the playoffs and Detroit won't. Going for the triple crown doesn't hurt either.

Manager of the Year: Ron Washington- He traded in cocain for wins, and I'm still not sure that was the better choice. Party at Ron's house.

NL

Cy Young: Josh Johnson- Ubaldo Jimenez is getting more attention, but Johnson's stats are better, and he is a better pitcher, which is kind of frightening.

MVP: Joey Votto- He's leading in home runs (tied with Adam Dunn), slugging, and on-base percentage. Basically, he's the best damn player in the NL right now.

Manager of the Year: Bobby Cox- He's 143 years old and still has his team in the midst of a playoff hunt. He narrowly beats out John Russell, who's only in consideration because he still shows up for work on a daily basis.

Enjoy the 2nd half of the MLB season, crackers.

-Ben Wills

The Day After The All-Star Game, Where Sports Go To Die

I like granola.  I eat granola every day.  Different kinds, sure, I'm not that bland, but granola nonetheless.  Matter of fact, I'm eating granola right NOW!  Isn't that exciting?

You're shaking your head at me.  You don't think this is exciting.  Well, shit man, what exactly do you want me to say?  It's the day after the MLB All-Star game and there are, for the only time all year, zero sports happening.  No baseball, no football, no hockey, no soccer, no basketball, no college baseball, no college football, no tennis, no...whatever they call Australian football.  None.  Zip.  Zilch.  Nada.  It's like the movie Dune out there in the sports world today, which is to say, it sucks. 

Last night's game was good, though, right?  The National League finally pulled out of their 14 year slump and beat the American League 3-1 with the help of Scott Rolen (first to third, bitches!) and Brian McCann.  That was nifty.  It was also nifty that the National League didn't use Arthur Rhodes, which made me, a Reds fan, happy.  Saves his arm for the stretch run, if there is one (oh, please let there be one). 

But today?  No, today we get Full House re-runs and reality television.  Today we get ESPN Classic and MLB Network showing old All-Star games.  Today we get nothing but a bag of stale potato chips.  It's sad.  Hurtful even.  My fandom is all dressed up with nowhere to go. 

So what else can you do today?  Well, let's run down a list, shall we?

1. WATCH THE BACK TO THE FUTURE TRILOGY

You know you haven't watched it in a while, and you KNOW you want to.  You even want to watch the old western third one with Mary Steenburgen.  Admit it, you thought she was hot.  I know I did.  Especially in Parenthood, which I suppose you could watch too.  Meeee-oowwww.

2. READ A DAMN BOOK, YOU ILLITERATE PUNK

There's this thing on your shelf, it has pages and letters n' shit.  It's called a book.  Pick it up and read it.  Use your imagination (or, if you're a Guns N' Roses fan, Use Your Illusion).  It's been lying dormant long enough, it's time to let it out of its cage.  Get your Levar Burton on. 

3. WRITE A SONG

If you're single, write a love song for the one that got away.  Call it "Love Blows" or something classy like that.  Record it and burn it to a CD.  In fact, burn two CDs.  Send one to a record company (Columbia, they'll totally listen to it) and send the other one to your lost love.  He or she won't think that it's creepy at all, unless you talk about sneaking up on them in the bushes and dragging them to a weird sex cave or something like that, which I'm sure you wouldn't even think about doing, because you're an upstanding citizen. 

4.  CLEAN YOUR ROOM, YOU FILTHY HEATHEN

If you're like me, you can go literally months without making too many alterations to your living conditions.  I mean, like, sure, I clean my room, but it's in fits and starts.  Well, now you have a full day and evening to make that shit spotless.  I mean spit shine spotless.  Mop your floor, clean your sheets, dust your TV, do it all, baby!  And really, as your friend, I would advise starting underneath your bed, something is fucking growing under there, dude. 

5. GO TO A FIRING RANGE

I've never been to a firing range, but I've always wanted to go.  Why, you ask?  Because I want to fire some goddamn guns, that's why!  I mean, where else can you get the full enjoyment of unloading a clip into something without having to murder your neighbor?  I would want to fire a shotgun, personally.  Just let that puppy RIP.  That target paper thingy is going to look like fucking swiss cheese when I'm done with it.  It's gonna wish it never saw the likes of ME. 
 
I'm sure there's more things that can be done, but I'll leave it to all of you in the comments.  For now though, try to get through this day as best you can. 

Onward

- Terrence Adams
 

The All-Star Game Will Save Us: Finally, sports will show some class

Taking a key from the droning powerhouse band that is Staind... it's been awhile.

In what has been a month of constant sports turmoil, (college football becoming more and more of a joke, more NFL arrests, the NBA being... well the NBA) I have to quickly interject some thoughts about the classiest event in sports: The Major League Baseball All-Star Game.

Baseball is it's own one-man show tonight, providing the only sports entertainment of the evening. The Nathan Lane of the sports universe, if you will. I ask that every die-hard NBA fan who has been trying to justify the actions of the entire league, from dickface liars like LeBron James and Dwayne Wade, to irrelevant reporters like Jim Gray, to owners like Dan Gilbert (insightful and honest, albeit classless), to David Stern, the worst commissioner in sports, watch how a real American sports outfit comports itself.

Since 1933, Baseball's greatest players get together to play the mid-summer classic, and... gasp... actually put forth the same effort they would in an actual regular season game. There are no rule restrictions in which pitchers can't throw breaking balls or runners can't steal? And what's that? They don't dance in the dugout and come up with elaborate pre-game dances when they are announced along the foul lines?

No, the game is about the talent of pitchers like Ubaldo Jimenez, Roy Halladay, Joakim Soria, and Josh Johnson, just to name a few, matching up with hitters like Albert Pujols, Josh Hamilton, Joey Votto, Joe Mauer, and Paul Konerko. It's about watching the best in the game represent every team in the league. So for one night, Pittsburgh is represented alongside New York, Twins and White Sox represent the same team, as do Reds and Cubs (or Cub in this case). It's not about the self-absorbed "all about me" players, it's about the fans, it's about the game itself, and if you turn down your volume so not to listen to Joe "Joe Buck Yourself" Buck and Captain Obvious Tim McCarver, it's mostly about class. Something the rest of sports should take some notes on.

Oh, and watch how quickly MLB will come up with a classy way to show respect for George Steinbrenner, who died this morning, even though he probably has done more to hinder the quality of the sport than help it. Baseball is just the best sport in the country, and probably the best sport in the world, and douche bags like Bill Simmons can continue to sit on their Celtics bean bag chairs, playing with their Starting Lineup figurines, pretending that the NBA is "America's Sport". yeah, maybe for 8 year old suburban kids, which Bill Simmons continues to act like.

Thank you MLB, for keeping some respectability in an otherwise disrespectful sports world.

NL wins 5-3, Joey Votto MVP.

-Ben Wills

Douchepocalypse Now: My Experience At The Strangest Reds Loss Ever

So I can't make this post long.  I just can't.  It's 5:28 a.m. and I just returned from Philadelphia after spending the entire day Saturday eating cheese steaks and watching baseball. 

What kind of baseball, you ask?  Reds fucking baseball, where we lost for the third straight game in extra innings in glorious walk off fashion.  That sucks, and hurts me to my very fucking soul. 

However, besides a loss, what I did see tonight was a Reds rookie pitcher almost get himself a perfect game in his third start.  I did see Roy Halladay pitch nine shut out innings.  I did see both of these pitchers get a NO DECISION.  That's what I saw. 

The Phillies ended up winning, yes.  It hurts me to say that, once again.  However, to watch a duel like the one I saw tonight makes me truly believe that bullshit about this being the year of the pitcher. 

Travis Wood's cutter was unhittable, Halladay continuously worked out of jams.  It was glorious.  Both guys brought their A-game.  I was literally about to throw up after every single pitch.  Holy Moly.

Now, if the Reds can salvage one game from this series against Cole Hamels, I'll be truly satisfied. 

Onward

- Terrence Adams

LeBron James Is The Hollywood Hulk Hogan of The NBA

There's certainly a lot of hoopla concerning this LeBron James shit going on tonight, and I would rather not make this a forum to add fuel to that self-congratulating fire.  So what I will do instead, is mutter these words about the whole situation:

Fuck LeBron James, Fuck ESPN and Fuck the NBA. 

The NBA, as far as I'm concerned, is the bastard child of professional sports and has been for years.  With crooked refs, a commissioner who manages his league as though it were Wrestlemania and players who have about as much loyalty as a college cheerleader on ecstacy, there is nothing noble or ethically viable left to admire. 

The league's best days have come and gone and now we're looking at what can only be described as the twilight for what once used to be a highly competitive and highly entertaining spectacle.  They've removed defense, replaced rivalry with ribbing and left all of us who grew up watching Jordan vs. Ewing with bullshit like the Lakers/Celtics NBA finals, a series that was only interesting because it was interesting in the 60's and 80's.  Did anyone actually watch the NBA finals and find themselves sitting on the edge of their seat?  Can you remember ANY NBA game in the last ten years that has left you breathless?  I certainly fucking can't.  It's showboats and money-mongers and "All-Stars" acting like babies and just...ugh.  That's all there is to it. 

LeBron James is a fantastic athlete, but he is also a fame-whore douchebag who is on the verge of throwing an entire fanbase under the bus for the chance to, what, win a worthless title in Miami?  Who the fuck CARES about winning an NBA championship?  What does it even MEAN?  I mean, in baseball, you play every day and go through multiple ups and downs throughout a season and have to rely on luck and guys who get paid jack shit to step up and prove themselves in the clutch.  In the NBA, you get...what...Derek Fisher?  Robert Horry?  Yawn.  Fucking yawn. 

Hockey and football at least force their guys to earn their paychecks by getting their ass kicked every time they play a game.  They actually come close to earning the millions of dollars heaped upon them.  NBA players?  Not so much, at least, not as much as they let on.  There are floppers and whiners and bad defenders and lazy ballhogs and...again...ugh.  It's hard to even deal with it anymore. 

So what do I think about LeBron James?  I don't, howabout that.  I don't care if he goes to the Heat or the Knicks or the Bulls or the Cavs.  It doesn't matter, just like it doesn't matter that Chris Bosh and Dwyane Wade are playing together.  It's a pointless exercise.  A mind-numbing dog and pony show that gives guys like Bill Simmons a reason to get up in the morning.  I'm done with professional basketball.  I'm done with every aspect of it.  I have no rooting interest for any team.  It's over.

Witness that shit, why don't ya. 

Onward

- Terrence Adams 

My Friend...Don't Be a Jerk

So by now I'm sure most of you have at least heard about the fan at last night's Indians/Rangers game that took a thirty foot fall from the second deck after trying to lunge after a foul ball (if you haven't, read the full story here).  All signs seem to point toward him being okay, but the lesson here shouldn't be ignored. 

My fun loving baseball fans -- don't be a bunch of jerks.  Catching a foul ball is a fun part of the game, but it is hardly worth losing your life over.  Be aware of your surroundings, for Christ's sake.  Pretty much every ball park (this happened at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington) in the country has steep upper decks and one should at least be aware of the fact that it can be a balancing act to just stay in your seat sometimes.  It's fine to try and go after a foul ball in your row, but don't go all gung-fucking-ho for a ball that's too close to the railing, okay?  The point of being at a baseball game is to WATCH THE GAME.  You should enjoy that part of it more than anything else. 

Also, don't bring a glove to the park if you're over the age of 12, it makes you look like a total fucking dweeb. 

Onward. 

- Terrence Adams

Oh My Sweet Children, How Do You Put Up With Us?

A few quick notes to start off your Tuesday post-America loving holiday work-week fun (suckers!):

The Cincinnati Reds are twelve games above .500 and have a 2 game lead in the NL Central, to which your humble author must raise a fist to the air and scream "HOLY JUMPED UP CHRIST!"  Joey Votto got fucking JOBBED out of the All-Star Game by Charlie Manuel, by the way.  Omar Infante?  Really?  Why not just get Jerry Hairston, Jr. in there?  Or maybe Jeff Keppinger?  Fucking asshole, way to choose Ryan Howard too, ya homer.  You know what Charlie Manuel?  Eat a bag of dicks.  If the NL loses this year, it will be because your dumbass doesn't understand the concept of ALL-STAR.  I mean seriously, you have Martin Prado on that team, and he can play every position plus bat-boy, so why in the hell is Infante taking up my beloved Joey's rightful spot?  Well, there's at least one chance left to get him on there, so I advise all of you to go ahead and VOTE VOTTO for the final spot in this year's ASG.  Also, vote for Paul Konerko, too.  Why, you ask?  Because Kevin Youkilis looks like a pedophile, that's why.

Merrrrrrr, what else, what else.  OH!  The New York Knicks signed Amar'e Stoudemire!  He got something like six trillion dollars for thirty years.  It doesn't matter.  He is not going to save that team.  They have a skeleton of a franchise right now.  Once David Lee skidaddles (and he will fucking skidaddle) the second best player on the Knicks will be....Danilo Galinari?  Yeah, they're fucked.  Even if they manage to get Dwyane Wade they're fucked.  Trust me.  Whenever I use this much foul language, truth is being spoken. 

World Cup soccer continues.  We got, what, Netherlands vs. Uraguay today?  Yeah I got nothing.  I told myself that I would continue to care even after the U.S. team got ousted.  I lied.  I do not give a shit anymore.  Not one iota.  Not even one little bit.  Take your World Cup soccer and shove it up your World Cup ass.  Fin. 

Let me, for a moment, speak about the heat in New York City.  It is 101 degrees PLUS humidity.  It is hot.  It is beyond hot.  It is hellfire.  I slept like shit last night and had dreams that would rival the worst hallucinations of acid freaks.  You know how awesome it is to wake up in a pool of your own sweat?  It's fucking incredible.  I haven't taken a shower that cold since the morning after my senior prom. 

Oh hey, did you guys hear that JaMarcus Russell got busted for having Purple Drank?  Do you know what Purple Drank is?  From our friends over at Wikipedia:

"Purple drank is a slang term for a recreational drug popular in the hip hop community in the southern United States. Its main ingredient is prescription-strength cough syrup containing codeine and promethazine. Cough syrup is typically mixed with ingredients such as 7Up soft drink and pieces of Jolly Rancher candy. The purplish hue of purple drank comes from dyes in the cough syrup."

So yeah, that's what Purple Drank is.  It slows your motor skills and makes you fucking dumb.  What a shocker that Russell was knocking that shit back.  Good luck getting signed now, jergoff! (Ed. Note: If the Cincinnati Bengals sign JaMarcus Russell, I'm going to 'splode something).

Blllaarrghh, is there anything else to talk about?  Shit I don't know, this has turned out to be more of a rant than anything else, but that's what you come here for, to be mildly offended by yours truly.  At least that's what I heard.  There should be updates from both of the Wills' brothers soon, if they decided to get up off their lazy asses and write something.  If not, I'll be here for you, caressing your hand and telling you that everything will be okay in the end. 

Onward

- Terrence Adams