This is not another post about Michael Jackson’s tragic death. This is not a post about Team USA’s tragic, epic meltdown yesterday. This is simply about a sweet soccer jersey that relates to M.J. and Team USA soccer. Have a look…
Apparently, the late King of Pop was a rabid U.S. soccer fan and The Spoiler would like to remind you that “this is not a cynical and rushed attempt to cash in on the death of an international hero – it’s definitely what he would have wanted.”
After a 9 months of recovery from (count ‘em) four surgeries to remove a brain tumor, pro golfer Seve “Balls” Ballesteros made his first public appearance at a press conference in Spain today. With an eager press corps in attendance to hear about Seve’s battle, the five-time major champ went with what he knows, the Links references..
“Nine months ago my life was hanging by a thread. I feel now like I have a mulligan in life.“
“My recovery is like The Open in 1984 when the ball hovered on the lip of the hole. With all my energy I willed the ball to drop in and it did.
My personal favorite. It wasn’t just a rainbow, it was a veritable rainbow assault on your senses. This should have never been cast aside.
Atlanta Hawks
Suggested by Will Brinson (Fanhouse, Brahsome), and universally agreed upon. The logo worn by ‘Nique. The red could not be more ketchup. The yellow could not be more mustard.
Minnesota Timberwolves
You guys got it right the first time when you put White Fang on your shirts.
New England Patriots
Some crack logo genius managed to design the angriest looking dude short of the Wake Forest Demon Deacon. I hate when people mess with their success.
Carolina Hurricanes
Also, move back to Hartford and change the team name back to The Whalers. Actually, I’d prefer if you went with Hartford, The Whale.
Milwaukee Brewers
Last but not least, the old school yellow and blue brew-crew glove. It’s sexual and violent.
After The Wheedle debacle of 2008, I didn’t think we would deal with another mascot fiasco so soon, and yet…
William & Mary College, of Williamsburg, VA, known as the Harvard of regional historical societies, has been asked to change their mascot – once the Indians, and for the time being the Tribe. The W&M populus is taking the process seriously – with over 400 suggestions. At the same time, you could argue they are not at all taking this seriously, with nomination like Asparagus being counted and apparently, considered?
The College of William & Mary in Virginia is looking for a mascot and ideas have ranged from a feathered horse to an asparagus stalk…The asparagus stalk supporter notes that if served with cheese, the vegetable represents the school colors. (William & Mary mascot ideas include an asparagus)
Asparagus retains a certain undeniable cachet. You grill up a nice medium rare London broil, serve it with aparagus, maybe some coriander. Wash it all down with some brown beer. I get it. However, plant life – diuretic properties or not- should never be a mascot.
Even after seeing this – asparagus beef bacon wraps w/ some sort of mushroom cheesewiz glaze- my feelings on that are unwavering. I don’t even think herbivores should be considered.
In honor of my first trip back to Fenway Park this weekend, I put it out there to some of the sports blog intelligentsia to send: My First Sports Memory
You can read all about my personal moment of nostalgia – a heartwarming tale about how Fenway Park turned a shy six-year old into a leader of men – here. Below is some more true folklore (at least in the eye of the beholder).
If nothing else, this a great chance to see a few of your favorite sports bloggers really, really date themselves ( Game 3 of the 1986 World Series, a Kirk Gibson game, the John Havlicek retirement game!).
My earliest sports memory was Game 3 of the 1986 World Series at Fenway Park. My father had one ticket to the game (second row centerfield bleachers), but he decided to bring me figuring they wouldn’t deny an 8 year old entrance to the game. He was right, the old man at the gate pulled me up over the turnstyle and let me into the game. I don’t remember much about the game other than the fact that Oil Can Boyd was on the mound for the Sox and shit the bed.
I hope this led to a life of hurdling-the-turnstyle crime for Mr. Don Chavez.
I was 7 years old and we went to see the Salt Lake City Trappers on the 4th of July. I believe Hank Aaron threw the first pitch. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew that there was going to be fireworks after the game. The only thing that I remember is that there was a loud bang that just scared me to death, and I
yelped out my first F bomb. The next moments were in slow motion. My step Dad looked at me and then told my Mother what her son just said. My next memory is having soap in my mouth.
They’ll be other examples of kids blinding loving the watered-down experience (especially when you’re not old enough to drink) that is Minor League baseball..as well as more F-bombs.
For me, probably around 1983-84, at Memorial Stadium to see the Orioles play. My father took my 4 siblings and I to the games to give my mom a break in the evenings. We always got there early to catch balls in the outfield bleachers, and get autographs signed by the players during batting practice. Cal “not overrated” Ripken would sign at every game, and sign for everyone. I have one baseball that he signed for me on four different occasions. When was the last time you saw a ball player spend 45 minutes signing autographs on game day? He is from Baltimore, and is Baltimore and every kid growing up in that era and in that area have Cal Ripken as their first and most lasting memory in Sports.
Touching, let’s hear about an autograph signing gone sour, shall we..
I remember going to a Bullets-Pistons game at the Capital Centre with my dad and one of my friends, around 1990. Well after the game ended, a few of the players including John Salley went down the line of waiting fans to sign autographs. Salley got the group to my right, looked directly at my friend Sean and me, and went directly to the next group on our left. My dad tried to get autographs for us also but he refused to sign for him too. I’ve never been a John Salley fan since.
Then again, if this goes differently, imagine the shame you’d be feeling right now if you grew up loving John Salley…
1986, it must have been. Tony Pena’s last year with the Pirates. I woulda been 2. I remember someone telling me that Pena was up to bat at Three Rivers Stadium…either my dad or the announcer. I was sitting in the nosebleeds, but remember saying “He’s gonna hit a home run,” which he did, to the leftfield seats way below me. Pena’s always been one of my favorite players because of that.
One of the many Red Sox games of my youth also featured a Tony Pena home run – the rarity of which can not be overstated (1,988 games career games – just 107 HRs).
1983, Left Field at Veterans Stadium, sitting in ubstructed view seats, so I actually ended up watching on television screens on overhang, my uncle lectures me, “Just remember that your Godfather took you to see Pete Rose play baseball.” I remembered. Though, I could have seen the same game at home.
I remember going to the Phoenix Firebirds game at Phoenix Municipal Stadium on my brother’s birthday. The Firebirds were the AAA affiliate for the Giants back then and I got to see a bunch of great players come through. But that night I couldn’t have been older than five or six. It was a night game because it’s Phoenix in the summer and you don’t play baseball during the day outside. I remember how packed the place was. Matt Williams was on the team and there was a buzz about him but I didn’t care about that. I just liked the environment of the ballpark. Nothing of note happened (besides hearing my brother’s name announced over the PA) but it was my first trip to the ballpark and I still remember the way the sky looked and the way the mountains made strange shadows on the field.
We were up in the nosebleeds. the place smelled real bad. I remember my science teacher Mr. Coyle was selling beer. Very surreal. On the floor for the Celtics were guys like Pistol Pete Maravich, Dave Bing, I remember they were playing buffalo and ernie d the former braves star but local kid from providence was on the celtics at the time. the place went absolutey nuts for hondo. ab-so-lute-ly nuts. i dont remember the garden ever rocking like that and we had seasons all through the bird years. thats the night my love
affair with the celtics began.
Josh, we can deduce that you were at least in grade school when this game took place – in 1978 – how old are you?
Little background info:
I was born in Bremerhaven, Germany and lived there until 1995 then moved to Olympia, WA.
After living in WA for a few months we went to a Mariners-Yankees game in the 1995 divisonal series playoffs. We went to game 5 of the series so the series was 2-2. It was a great game, we sat in left-center at the Kingdome(old Mariners stadium shared with the Seahawks). Since it was a old stadium, not all the seats were that good but who cares it was game 5. It went to 11 innings that night with my team, the Mariners(who I am still a huge fan of), winning the game 6-5.
My first baseball game: Mariners-Yankees, game 5, 11 innings. Mariners Winning.
This wins the reward for decrepit sporting venue visited in thine youth…whoops, wait a second…
My first live sporting event memory was on a cold October night at the old Tiger Stadium in Detroit. Back when Sweet Lou and Trammel ruled the middle of the diamond and Kirk Gibson was in shape.
My dad had a stache like Jack Morris and it was his first game as well.
It was 1984 and I was 10. The ball park seemed like a magical place despite the scary surroundings of Motown. The bathrooms had long pee troughs like a farm, the floors were dirty and the hand rails were sticky with beer (hoping that was the case).
I remember thinking that the field seemed way smaller than I expected and the grass much greener.
It was a frosty night and I also remember having a lot of hot chocolate to keep my hands warm, more so than enjoying it as a drink.
I don’t remember who the Tigers were playing, nor who won but I do remember Gibson hitting one out of the park and into the lumber yard across the street. It was all anyone was talking about.
I was just glad I did not miss it.
It may not of been the most glamorous place but the old Tiger Stadium will always have a soft spot in my sporting heart.
Back in like 1996 or 1997 the NBA pre-season schedule grabbed a spot in Missoula, MT of all places which happened to be a couple of hours from where I grew up. So my Dad and I and a couple of friends grabbed some tickets and went. The game was between the Sonics and the Grizzlies (Vancouver of course) and was a big deal to us small time Montana folk. Long story short – at some point in the middle of the game, George Karl showed his disagreement with the officiating by dropping an “F” bomb. Now you have to understand how small the arena was and as you can imagine, the entire place heard it, staring back at George in complete shock. George, realized he had been caught, and dropped the sheepiest of all sheepish grins while look around in embarrassment. Classic.
You sure you don’t remember flyfishing first? Because you were probably flyfishing the day before…and every day at 4 a.m. before and after. What is is with Montanadians and the fly fishing, anyway?
And what is it about effin that leave such an impression on the kids? Moving on…
My parents took me to a Yankee game when I was a really little kid. We had great seats on the first base line through my dad’s work. It’s every kids dream to catch a foul ball and on that day, mine came true…well almost did.
It was mid-way through the game when my dad went to get himself and my mom a few beers. When he got to his seat, one of the Yankee players hit a foul ball and it was coming right at us. Without any time to put the beers in each hand down, my father stuck the cup in the air in an attempt to catch the ball. As the ball fell from the sky closer and closer, my dad targeted the ball with the cup. And then, he caught it. Right in his cup. This was a million to one shot. You know that game where you have a ball attached to a cup with a string and you try to catch the ball in the cup? Well this was like that on PEDs and no string. I couldn’t believe he caught the ball.
We didn’t even have a chance to savor the moment. As this miracle catch happened, the asshole behind us was going for the foul as well. The ball didn’t even have a chance to get wet. This dick swatted at the ball hitting my dad’s cup, sending the ball 4 rows in front of us. Unbelievable.
Steve Melfi, who eventually forgave his dad for that fumble last Summer, wishes you all a Happy Father’s Day.
I shouldn’t even give this criminal low-life the satisfaction of being affiliated with one of the great faux criminals (read: realistically, nothing more than one of, if not the, most badass TV characters of recent times), but the look-alike factor is just too staggering not to point out.
See it for yourself, animosity after the jump…
The real reason I’d like to interject The Wire into the conversation, one of the great mantras of show re: doing hard time amongst the convicts on the show was, “You only do two days – the day you go in, and the day you get out.”
Well, here’s hoping those two days of Donte Stallworth’s not-at-all laughably unjust 30-day sentence (30 FREAKIN’ DAYS) for DUI manslaughter are unpleasant and unusually unsettling.
This weekend, I’m making my long awaited return to Fenway Park – a place I haven’t been in over 10 years.
As a young lad, going to Fenway was a yearly ritual. I’m pretty sure my first game was during the 1990 season – the Roger Clemens era, yes, but also the Mike Greenwell and Jack Clark era. That was the season the Red Sox set the record for grounding into the most double plays (174). Now the Sox are better known for records like selling out every seat since 2003.
I’ll never forget that first game though. On the way in, taking the Green Line T from Framingham, MA, my Uncle Ronnie informed me that when someone on the opposing team strikes out you bound out of your seat and yell “Sit Down!” as menacingly and berating as possible. With my hat already nearly pulled fully over my eyes and a glove that may or may not have had velcro capabilities, my uncle probably thought it was more likely that I’d be asleep by the fourth inning.
Well, unless his true intentions were to create the most jawing 6-year old in New England that night, he should have never gave me those instructions. I’m pretty sure the game went into extra innings, and the Redx Sox pitchers K’d the opposition a few times during warm-ups too (how else could I have told no-less than 35 batters to “Sit down!!” – which is what I approximate).
I’m sure there’s backyard whiffle ball or youth league soccer glory from the late-80s documented on a beta-max in the attic, but I can’t really recall that. I remember vividly however giving the Red Sox opponents – let’s call them the Blue Jays (remember how annoying the early-90s Blue Jays were?) – the business though.
In honor of my sure-to-be triumphant return to Fenway…as well as punk little kids everywhere, I’m once again putting the sports blogger intelligentsia to task, and asking bloggers far and wide to send me a brief anecdote on:
During a conference call to promote the upcoming American Century Championship Celebrity Golf Tournament in Lake Tahoe, ‘Zo expounded on the imminent NBA Championship victory of the Lakers. Let’s just say, if this were Good Will Hunting, Koby is Damon and Phil is Affleck…Casey Affleck.
He left out, “put me and a pair of tinted lenses on the sideline!”
Phil’s response..well, his response if I were Phil:
Time Out Alonzo, how many rings do you have as compared to my nine secured and tenth one fast approaching? what? WHAT?
The answer is of course, Alonzo got the single ring many moons ago with Miami in 1996. He’s also a 100/1 favorite to win the American Century Championship (July 14-19) in Nevada next month.
Meet George Spady Jr. He’s neither the father of the year (he enlisted his son, and other youngsters from the Little League team he coached to rob a store), nor that much of a criminal mastermind (he chose to pilfer the overhead lights, and some bolts?)
ARLINGTON — An Arlington Little League coach is accused of showing some of his players how to steal more than second base.
Investigators allege that George Spady Jr. was with his son, a nephew and another player from his baseball team when he broke into a vacant shop and took overhead lights and bolts. The boys were encouraged to assist with the break-in, Snohomish County deputy prosecutor Edirin Okoloko wrote in court documents.
Spady’s like a regular Walter Matthau in TheBad News Bears, only more lawless.
[The boy] told investigators that Spady’s son crawled through a vent on the back side of the shop and unlocked the door for his father. Spady, his son and Spady’s nephew then went inside and came out with light fixtures and some other items, according to court documents.
[The boy] told investigators that Spady yelled at him to go inside and grab more from the shop, and told him to hurry up because he saw a truck drive by, Okoloko wrote.
They don’t say how old the accomplices he coerced are, but Spady Jr. is 31, so I’m guessing 10 (maybe younger??) Geez. I see a restraining order (don’t even come within 200 ft of the snack shack) and “visitation rights, denied” in this guy’s future.
