Even roaches have kids.....

So the Candace Parker is going to have a child this coming spring. IDK what's more significant - Will this hurt the LA Sparxxx ability to repeat as champs? Will Parker return to form as one of the more fundmentally sound ballplayers in the game? Will she be able to dunk again?
OR and the idea that I'm leaning toward of significance this notion. The father of the baby is...(Drumroll Please!)...NBA star and Duke alum Shelden Williams! Apparently the two are married and you know that because she took his last name - oh wait...
But now Shelden 'No, I don't have a touch of the Downs' Williams is going to be a father. I mean, I'm brimming with questions here. Will she ever take his name? What name will the kids go by? Are these kids being set up to be the most awkward and googly children ever? Will this have any effect on HIS career? (Admittedly, I didn't know the big red retard was still in the L at this point. Next, you'll be twlling me that JJ Redick and his gramma poetry ass is still gainfully employed in the association as well.)
Health and wealth to the Williams-Parker clan in 09....and no June-November babies. (We wouldn't want to hurt the star of the real breadwinner of the family.)

I have a crayon in my brain?

Reports have indicated that Ben Roethlisberger sustained a low grade concussion near the end of the second quarter of last week's Browns-Steelers game. Many pundits have looked back at Coach Tomlin's decision to have B-Roe in the game. Looking back at those oh-so-dominant Colts teams which had such a lead they could afford to rest guys starting in week 14. When they did so, they always seemed to come out rusty and flat in January as no one had played a meaningful game since Thanksgiving.
Today is not about rehashing coaching decisions though. Today we're going to look to the future and what we can expect Ben Roethlisberger to be going through as he recovers from his 'minor concussion'. To provide information, we have enlisted the foremost expert on concussions, Hennessy and illegitimate children, our good friend Barnes. As always, my comments are in red.

• What are the side effects of a low grade concussion?
  ~ The side effects of a concussion are nausea, dizziness, lack of coordination, iritability, and sensitivity to light. (Barnes is always irritable and generally sensitive to light, so those two were not good indicators for the training staff as to his condition.)
• How does it make you feel?
  ~ It's pretty much like getting drunk in high school. You get a good buzz going for about an hour (I remember singing in the training room after my second one) followed by a prolonged hangover. You also get really sleepy, but you can't sleep for 8 hours afterwards. Then when you do get to sleep, you can't sleep for more than 3-4 hours.
• What does that feel like as compared to a high grade concussion?
  ~ The main difference is pretty simple. For a high grade one, in the words of Smokey, "You got knocked the fuck out". Basically, if you don't go unconscious, its a low grade concussion. (Does this mean I've only been low-grade drunk as then?)
• This is Ben's third concussion in as many years – how is recovery time affected by multiple concussions?
  ~ It depends on the time between them and the severity. Mine were all minor, but three of them occurred within 3.5 months of each other. That's not good.
• IE – do you think he can be ready for the Jan 11 Divisional game?
  ~ Yes, I think he'll play.
• Which is more damaging – having a portion of ceiling falling on you while sleeping or bouncing your head off the windshield of a Buick?
  ~ Depends what timeframe you're talking about and if there are any other associated injuries. Short term, the windshield is more damaging. But if that's you're only brain injury, you should be fine. A ceiling falling directly on your back from 12 feet up, made of plaster and soaking wet, that will leave some long term damage. Hence why I have to look like a tool wearing a backback with a suit because a regular laptop bag causes pain after carrying it for 5 minutes.
• Do you think that concussions are directly proportional to cranium size?
  ~ I'm sure it can't help. Since it's essentially two forces (and force equals mass times acceleration) colliding and a concussion too much force for your brain to handle. In the words of Ron Burgandy, "It's science." (For anyone who doesn't know, Barne's has a tiny head. I mean like freakishly tiny. His toddler might have a bigger head. That makes his head trauma all the more enigmatic.)
• Do you feel a kinship to Wayne Chrebet because both you and he had careers cut short due to brain trauma?
  ~ I'm not going to lie and say it didn't help. But there's also the kinship that we're both undersized white guys. And he played at Hofstra.
• Would you recommend me buying a car from Wayne's dealership?
  ~ I would highly recommend it. (End of year clearances abound, as they try to offload all year end models!)
• Would you rather be blacked out from a concussion or blacked out from drunkenness?
  ~ Strictly from a physical perspective, drunkenness. You know it'll go a way in a day or so, and you can make it better by having an eye opener. From a mental perspective, probably concussed. Because I don't have to worry about what I did last night and who's pissed off at me. (I wish there was a way to apologize and not have it be awkward, but I'm still learning how to do it. I think I could spend a lifetime at it and not find a good way to go about it...)
• Have you been blacked out more from a concussion or drunkenness?
  ~ Drunkenness. I never actually blacked out from a concussion because the one thing doctors and trainers tell other people is to not let you fall asleep for like 8 hours. So you have people poking you all the time.
• Moreover, do you remember every occurrence of each?
  ~ I remember the first hour or so after each concussion. After that, its a blank. Most drunken black outs are blank as well, with intermittent highlights, mostly just pictures.
• How many concussions do you need to suffer before 'slipping one by the goalie'?
  ~ From my experience, 4 is the magic number. I'd also recommend that no one test the validity of that. (Don't be a fool, wrap your tool; lest you end up like Mr. TwentyPercent)
• Would you rather beat the Pats and end the Titans undefeated season then go 1-4 down the stretch to miss the playoffs after everyone touted the Subway Super Bowl? Or miss two FGs to lose in OT to the Steelers?
  ~ I'd rather have the former, mostly because I don't live with any Dolphins fans. It's one thing to lose a game painfully, it's another to have to be reminded of it every day. Plus the collapse just proved me right about Brett Favre being a bad move.
• Follow up, did you see Chad Pennington on a play-action pass with Ted Ginn having 3 steps on the NYJ defenders, then underthrow him so badly that Ginn had to come back 5 steps?
  ~ I'll tell you what, nobody in the league throws the "Underthrow the WR because the CB is face guarding" route better than Chad. Just like how he got complemented for his accuracy on short throws two weeks ago.
• Follow up to the follow up, would you rather have had CP or Brett Favre this season?
  ~ I was driving the "Please Don't Sign Brett Favre" bus back in July to the point that I got a text message at 8:15 one morning just saying, "HAHAHAHAHA" and immediately knew the Jets signed him. Back in August I was going to write an NFL preview, but only got around to doing the AFC East. Here's what I wrote about Pennington and what I was looking forward to seeing from Miami: "I'll miss you Chad. Maybe you didn't have a rocket arm, and were missing some shoulder ligaments. But dammit, you were one stupid Herm Edwards call from going to the AFC Championship. Maybe when this is all over, we can get an apartment together." And even better was seeing the Post report that part of the reason Cowher didn't want to go to the Jets was that he didn't want Favre. So to recap, the Jets got rid of the second best QB in their history, for a quarterback who threw more interceptions than TDs and sabotaged the best coach we could have gotten.

One Man's Trash...

Never more true has that old adage been than this NFL season in regards to Chad Pennington. Cast asunder one month before the season opener for the Living Legend Brett Favre, Chad was picked up by an old AFC rival, the Miami Dolphins. At the time, the move was analyzed as a strong positive for the J-E-T-S (JETS! JETS! JETS!), upgrading from the noodle armed Pennington to the old gun slinger.
At first glance, it was working out great for Gang Green as Favre returned to the form of his glory days. However after starting 8-3, the Jets could only muster a 9-7 finish. This ending was due mainly to Brett being Brett and looking like the old man who could no longer handle the harsh, cold ends of the NFL season. In the Jets 1-4 stretch run, Brett threw 9 INTs including three multi-INT games to end the year.
On the other end of the spectrum, you have a man given the dreaded tag as ‘game manager’. Pennington was near flawless to finish the season with only 1 INT through a 5-0 finish, having a passer rating over 100 in the final four. He even finished the season with a rating over 96 – his highest since 2002, his first year as a full time starter.
I suppose this is the time where I’m supposed to make my big point. Make some grandiose statement about what this means for the league. I don’t have one. In NY, Chad was tagged. They knew what he could do, they knew what he couldn’t do. At least that’s what they thought. Meanwhile, he moved down to Miami, where he doesn’t have to contend with the bitter winters. Then the Sparanos unveiled the Wildcat and you have RBs lining up in the shotgun, which was good enough to get the W versus New England. Now, the Fins are headed into the playoffs as the number 3 seed, hosting (and likely losing to) the Baltimore Ravens. Nevertheless, the Jets jettisoned a proven vet who’d worn out his welcome for an old man who no one knew was washed up until Thanksgiving.

Plax Packs Gats

http://www.nypost.com/seven/12012008/news/regionalnews/plax_bid_to_keep_his_shot_in_dark_141709.htm?page=2

There are so many good morsels in there. I thought it was funny when I first heard about it. But now I'm reading and it just gets better. Antonio Pierce won't tell anyone what happened. The supposed third man was told the Plax was shot and can only muster, 'Oh really?' our of his phone convo before going right back to it. As if this were complete normalcy. But my personal favorite is the thought of Plaxico in a Lex Ave night club on a Friday night in sweats. Who is going to tuck a burner into sweats? Get a fucking deringer that'll fit into the pockets. Goddamn that dude is retarded. Big ups to the Big 10. Go Spartans!

America's Team?

http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=3714369

Uh-Uh. No way. You're not going to feed me that humble as pie bullshit. Are you fucking serious? I'm supposed to buy this about this guy? 'Oh, hi. I'm Tony Homo. I do good things for good people.' I only hope it comes out that the homeless guy is homeless because he used to be a school teacher and he molested little children. Because that's what the Cowboys are. Everyone knows that the Raiders are ex-cons. And the Cowboys are child molesters. Especially Roger Fucking Staubach. To this day complains about losing to the Steelers in one of those Super Bowls. Are you serious? Get over it.
And half way down they say the he stopped to help a couple change a tire on the way home from opening day. Really? You know why he stopped? Because she had tits the size of Tijuana and he was a Cowboys fan. Which by definition means they were brother and sister. So big brother wanted his sister to have someone from outside the blood line inside her.
Fuck you and Jessica Simpson. Matter of fact she was molested too. By her father. If you think I'm kidding, check out some of the shit he's said about his daughter's tetas. Lemme guess, next we're going to find out that they are missionaries - not the position - and they've converted 39 little brown children to Methodism or some God awful snake handling Protestant church. Message to white people: let brown people be, they don't need salvation. Salvation won't help third world people achieve dinner. Cock suckers.
Speaking of cock suckers, I think Tom Landry molested collies. It's why he wore that hat. So the dogs wouldn't recognize him on game day and tell Timmy he's the reason they howl at the moon on Saturday nights.
And if you're a Cowboys fan ~ Attack! Attack! Attack! My left nutsack! Enjoy rooting for Homo while he's throwing another game in January for you. Jackasses...

CC Sa-bathe-in-cash-ia

As attested by my consistent finishes in fantasy baseball over the life of the Horsemen league, I am far from an expert in the field of baseball. The proverbial diamond of baseball, if you will. But allow me to break thisdown for you by some of my basic tenets. Actually, there is no plural ~ that should read TENET...albeit with some addenda.
The AL is superior day in and day out to the NL. Yes, I know the NL has won the World Series recently - including this year by the Goddamn Phillies. I'm not saying that head to head the AL will win in a landslide everytime. But let's delve a little deeper into my reasoning.
PITCHERS SHOULDN'T HIT! I think I've explored this theorum previously, but now I'll apply to something a tad more pertinent. Namely, the Yankees and their offer to CC Sabathia. Pause for a moment if you will and digest this:
CC Sabathia was traded from Cleveland (AL) to Milwaukee (NL) on July 7.
His Milwaukee Stats: 11-2; 1.65 ERA.
In toto for 2008: 17-10; 2.70 ERA.
Assuming that the onliest people who've made it to this point of my dissertation are baseball people, you can do the math and see that CC had a tremendous 2nd half. You can also see he had it against the NL ~ where you have a guaranteed out at least once every three innings.
Now this is where it can get interesting--I invite any of my readership to show me a pitcher whose gone from the NL to the AL and succeeded. And by succeeded I mean be worthy of a contract greater than 6 years, $138M. Go ahead, I'll wait.
...
...

Oh that's right, this isnt interactive. I'll keep on looking for any comments wherein you blast me Peter North style for my statements above. Keep this in mind though. I don't hate the idea of Sabathia or Lowe or Burnett playing for the Bronx Bombers. I don't like the idea of them spending 9 figures on any of them. Lowe and Burnett are already over 30. Sabathia is only pushing 30. But he's also a danger to push 300 - pounds not wins.

I'm not 100% sure what my point is. Other than to say fuck baseball one more time. Then say how much I hate the Yankees when Sabathia signs that ginormous deal and moves into the nearest Old Country Buffet, working on the old Clemens circa 1994 weight watch plan. As in, I watch the weight pile on.

Goddamnit! Baseball is so slow!

All Hallow's Eve

I know it’s mid-November but I still want to rehash my Halloween for you…
I was in the Burgh that night and I started out on 8th Ave handing out candy to the ninos in the neighborhood. MJ was the great pumpkin and he was a fierce pumpkin. The kid loves picking up Pop’s cane. He already knows what to do with a weapon, his daddy’s proud. Banana and Summation were Bo Peep and a sheep. Summ was so cute as a sheep. It was even cute when she started throwing a tantrum cuz she was so damn tired…
Then the real fun began. I went to the Univ of Pittsburgh to chill with Morty for the night. My brother as you may or may not know is like 6-6, 6-7…fucking tall for the rest of the world. He also has a terrible Jew Fro – this despite not being Jewish. So he bought a white head band and colored orange stripes on each end and went as Jackie Moon. He had his white Nike shorts rolled up and they were waaaaaaaayyyyyy too short – it was awesome.
I went as Jesus Christ. Because it’s awesome. All night long everyone was recognizing me and taking photos. If you’re on myface or spacebook and you see random people with Jesus from Halloween, there’s a decent chance it’s me. Morty was pissed at first because as we go walking down the street, I changed my gait and all night long I walked slowly with my hands folded in front of me. I tried to keep a peaceful look on my face under the beard all night. I thought it was awesome. He did too eventually but at first he was pissed that I was walking so slow.
We first go to one bar and split a pitcher, checking out the scene. I went to check out the up stairs portion and there was a live band so they tried to charge a cover. I asked the bouncer if he could let the son of man in for free and he told me he was an atheist. I instantly smote him.
Up next was a bar on the next block, which I found out later is notorious for shootings. We entered the main portion to an empty house, rifled down a shot and split a pitcher and went to the side with the dance floor. The people in costumes were surrounding the DJ booth. Morty and I made our way up there.
As we got there, the DJ announced a dance competition. We stood in the circle for the cipher and there were some terrible dancers, but there was a blue care bear with the lit belly who was doing the old rave moves from the mid-90s who had some decent rhythm. I let the anticipation build around me and everyone started to chant for their savior by name. the DJ called me into the middle. I walked slowly, then came to life doing every move I’ve ever seen in a music video. I think I even did a lil ‘Crazy in Love’ (just for you amor…).
Then they called in my brother. He looked at me with more fear than I’ve ever seen in him. A whiter man I hath never lain eyes upon. It was bad. It was so bad that he made the semis along with me and the care bear. So we start the semis and Morty is up first. this time around, he strode to the center with a confidence that was a high as his fear the round before. He gets to the middle. And he starts to stretch. It was a piece of comedic genius on his part. They proceeded to boo the ever loving shit out of him. Up next was the Care Bear and it was more of the same. I thought he’d come back with some pop lock but it was just mid-90’s rave moves. I’m up again. To a chorus of ‘Jesus! Jesus!’ chants again. I again bust out more music video moves. I did a lil motorcycle, took it up town for a shake, then brushed the dirt off to the Care Bear and his crew who was now booing me, in the greatest sign of hateration since Pilate sentenced the original Me in the days of yore. The DJ stops it and informs everyone that Morty was eliminated and Jesus and the Care Bear were to come out face to face for a dance off.
The music started and I was still again while the Care Bear went back to the well one more time. I let him go for a minute then when I started getting my chants again, I hit a lil Dwight Howard heart beat to match the rhythm just to get moving. The care bear presented and was grinding his bulbous buttocks against his savior. So I took it down low and started spanking him to the beat which got everyone laughing. The DJ asked the Care Bear to stop and let me go. He didn’t oblige but he moved away and I went back to music video moves. His boys called me out on doing the same shit – which I found funny for the aforementioned reasons. Then the DJ switched it up to Pitbull and I started some Salsa-esque Cha-Cha moves that brought the house down. Because how many times do you see your savior gyrating like a modern day Ricky Ricardo?
They proceed to announce the winner as I head for the nearest stool as I am completely out of breath and feeling like I’m going to vomit. Mid-stride the DJ announce me as the winner and I am to come to the booth to claim my prize. They awarded me a Miller Lite snowboard. On my way to the booth, I asked the Care Bear if he snow boarded, cuz Dad knows my black ass doesn’t do winter sports. He did so I said I’d give it to him. Some bitchy waitress stops me to ask if I even snowboarded. I smote her as well. I asked the DJ for the mike and have no clue what I said then gave the board to the Care Bear. In hindsight, I should have said ‘I can walk on water but I cannot glide upon snow’. But something else came out.
So there’s some douche bag at Pitt with my trophy, probably telling Jesus’ ass in a dance competition. I don’t care because I got a great story, I don’t need the board to justify what happened that night. There is more from the night, but this is long enough for now.