Archive for October, 2010
Hoo boy. Yeah, I’m sure these bad boys are selling like hotcakes in Cleveland right about now. No? What gives?
A Wisconsin company, the incredibly ironically named Perfect Timing, Inc., printed these unfortunate calendars prior to James announcing his intentions to take his talents to Miami or whatever the hell he said and now, they are stuck with them, as are retailers in Cleveland, who have stated that no, they are not selling like hotcakes. Not even like rice cakes, for that matter.
Tina Facca, assistant professor of marketing at John Carroll University’s Boler School of Business (Boy, that sure is a mouthful. How would like to have to say that every time you introduce yourself at a faculty mixer? “Why yes, I am the assistant professor of marketing at John Carroll University’s Boler School of Business. Can’t you read my completely out-of-proportion, ginormous name tag?”) believes that the calendars might be attractive to collectors, only not in Cleveland. From Cleveland.com (via Pro Basketball Talk):
“Some collectors may still want to revel in the team’s heyday,” she said. “Those products will still sell.”
Yeah, the team’s heyday. Does she mean the seasons when LeBron and the team dominated throughout the regular season only to flame out horribly in the postseason? Quite the heyday there, toots. You’re never going to get tenure at your ridiculously long-ass-named school bringing that kind of insight.
You know, on second thought, I suppose it could be considered their heyday. Crap, I’d have taken it. Then again, my local NBA squad is the Timberwolves and nothing more needs to be added regarding that hot mess of a franchise. KAHN!
LeBron James merchandise languishes in Cleveland area, but his brand sells elsewhere [Cleveland.com (via Pro Basketball Talk)]
Despite an encouraging 3-1 start to the season, officials within the Buccaneers organization are expecting the remaining six home games on the schedule this season, including Sunday’s game against the New Orleans Saints, to be blacked out locally.
Bucs director of communications Jonathan Grella, indicating that the team is “understanding of the pace of ticket sales,” addressed the bad news for fans who will once again get shafted because of an archaic and ineffective policy instituted by the NFL (via Tampa Bay Online):
“We are expecting a blackout for this (the Saints game) and the remaining slate of home games. Obviously, it’s a challenge we’ve been facing for awhile now.”
Indeed they have, just like every other friggin’ team located in the professional sports team wasteland known as Florida. The Jaguars have been having problems for years with ticket sales, the Rays don’t draw even when they’re winning and does anybody in that damn state even realize they have two major league teams, because the Marlins might as well not even exist as far as their complete inability to pique the interest of the fickle fans in Florida is concerned. I’m not even sure Floridians were even notified that the Panthers play hockey in the NHL. And if the Heat didn’t have the Three Douchigos, there would be no way in hell they’d be selling out their arena this season.
Leaving the other moribund franchises in Florida out of the discussion and solely addressing the Bucs here, it’s absurd that they cannot sell out Raymond James Stadium, especially when the fact that team is on a relative upswing is taken into account. What with their fiery leader, um…Coachy McPlaybook, is that his name? Further, we mustn’t forget about the continued emergence of their quarterback…Handsoff Orthrowstheball? And how about the franchise’s ability to develop several young players, including…uh, Rookie Practicesquadguy? Well, whatever their names are, it’s hard to argue that the sky is the limit for these dudes for sure.
Bucs: All home games expected to be blacked out [Tampa Bay Online]
Sweet mercy, tattoo stories sure have been getting a lot of play in the sports world lately. First it was Chicago White Sox Tattoo Epic Fail, then it was Chris “Birdman” Andersen’s “Free Bird” tattoo, next it was the Braves fan who had the face of Bobby Cox inked into his thigh, now this story about how Manny Pacquiao insisted that members of his inner circle get the same tattoo as him, this one being his personal favorite, a comet tattoo on his forearm. That’s some serious peer pressure, man. If Pacquiao and his merry band of followers would have smoked some angel dust beforehand this story would have had all the makings of an ABC Afterschool Special.
Most of Pacquiao’s crew acquiesced and got inked, save for one man, Joe Ramos, one of Pacquiao’s managers, who even declined a $20,000 offer from the boxer to get the tattoo and was only let off the hook after his wife interceded on his behalf. What a candy ass. First refusing to get a tattoo and then having his wife take an active role in the refusal? Not good. My guess is Mr. Ramos has been bumped down a bit in the Pacquiao friendship hierarchy. As I often do, let’s put this in perspective via Diff’rent Strokes. In that scenario, by not getting the tattoo, Ramos would now be like Robbie Jayson to Pacquaio’s Arnold Jackson while everybody else would be getting the Dudley Ramsey treatment. Have no idea who in the hell Robbie Jayson is? Exactly.
Manny Pacquiao offers $20K tattoo incentive [Game On!]
Great news for all the die-hard Timberwolves out there in Minnesota: if a person elects to spend some of their hard-earned money to buy a 10-game “Flex Pack,” the team will announce your devotion to the floundering franchise by announcing it to the world…at least the tiny corner of the world otherwise known as the area around Target Center in downtown Minneapolis.
That’s right, fans will have the honor (or indignity?) of being able to “see their name in lights” as illustrated above on a electronic billboard once a purchase of the highly-touted “Flex Pack,” which is a key component of the T-Wolves’ “Fan Development Program” which has been “designed to reward loyal fans with tremendous value and increased flexibility.” In an attempt to generate at least marginal interest in the team, fans can take part in “a new variable pricing plan for this season’s home schedule, ensuring that fans will get the most value for their investment and empowering them to customize their fan experience based on their schedule and their pocketbook.”
Sounds like a decent enough deal. Said Timberwolves President Chris Wright regarding the promotion (via Timberwolves.com):
“Our fans are the centerpiece of everything we do, and this is our way of welcoming new fans to the pack and giving them an experience they won’t find anywhere else. Just as our team continues to develop on the court, we’re working to make our Fan Development Program one of the most aggressive in sports, and we’ll continue pushing the envelope to find new and innovative ways to meet our fans’ needs.”
A very original, grass-roots-based and innovative way of marketing a team. I suppose you have to give the Timberwolves credit for at least trying something different. But is publicly shaming them after they plunked down some dough for tickets the best idea? What if their friends/family/coworkers see the announcement on the billboard. that Joe Schmo has nothing better to spend his money on than T-Wolves tickets. Talk about awkward. Even more awkward, though? If a fan purchases a 20-game Flex Pack, David Kahn will tell anyone you ask him to that you are a changed person and not smoking too much pot anymore. He’ll also ignorantly hammer on Chris Weber, too, but that’s free of charge.
Fans Can ‘See Their Names in Lights’ [Timberwolves.com]
Weird. Who would ever have suspected that Canadians take their hockey so seriously that when a couple living in a cul-de-sac in Nova Scotia complained that the kids playing street hockey in front of their house were encroaching on their property, they would be greeted with not only derision, but vandalism? And here I thought Canadians kind of liked hockey but it wasn’t a part of their entire national identity. Most peculiar.
To wit: Ray Warren and Donna Beeler believe that their house has been egged and the air has been let out of their cars’ tires recently in retaliation for Beeler calling the authorities a couple of weeks ago to complain that eight or so kids playing street hockey in front of her home were being noisy. Saying that her home is now located in “the neighbourhood from hell,” Beeler’s complaint set off a chain of events which included a Mountie showing up in their Prospect neighborhood to order the kids to stop playing and culminated in a spate of vandalism which has left Warren and Beeler worried about what is going to happen next. My suggestion: deportation. These people are clearly not true Canadians.
Unfortunately for the street hockey players, the law appears to be on the side of these self-loathing Canadian impostors. Players can be fined up to $394 for violating “a section of the provincial Motor Vehicle Act that deals with pedestrians failing to yield.”
You know what? That does it. I don’t even know who Canadians are anymore. What’s more, I’m shocked they haven’t enacted a “Game On” provision to the Motor Vehicle Act which would allow street hockey players and the hockey-hating doppelgangers posing as Canadians to co-exist in peace. At least until pissers and moaners such as Ray Warren and Donna Beeler are sent to Canuckistani Reeducation Camps. It’s for their own damn good.
Road hockey complainers hit by vandals [CBC]
What? Was Buckethead not available? Be that as it may, no word on whether he’s been dancin’ with Mr. Brownstone lately, but we can say for certain that Slash was on-hand last night at the Staples Center for the home opener of the Los Angeles Kings. Slash performed the national anthem on one of his trusty Les Paul guitars before the puck was dropped between the Kings and the Atlanta Thrashers, and did so admirably. Sure, not as good as Jimi Hendrix’s legendary performance of the Star-Spangled Banner at Woodstock, but was nonetheless a rousing performance. Hey, it sure as hell beats Justin Bieber or some other comparable no-talent hack bastardizing our nation’s anthem, right? I’ve had about enough of those travesties.
Video follows.
Wake N’ Blog is the Sportress of Blogitude’s morning link dump. Send tips, links, etc. to weedagainstspeed@gmail.com.
• Bryan Hartman was arrested and booked on Monday on cannabis cultivation charges after authorities discovered 17 marijuana plants – some as big as seven feet tall – growing in the front yard of his St. Cloud, Florida home. Damn nosy neighbors. [Yahoo!/AP]
• Cliff Lee is Mr. Automatic. In the playoffs. In a car, he’s more of a manual transmission kind of guy. [Larry Brown Sports]
• Another epic fail by the ESPN graphics department. This time, it was using a photo of Chad Henne when it should have been Dan Marino. Well, they have both played QB for the Dolphins… [Busted Coverage]
• Presenting OOB’s Mascot Power Rankings. [Out of Bounds]
• Are the Chargers trying to bring disgruntled receiver Vincent Jackson back into the fold? [Rumors & Rants]
• Noted hockey goon George Parros is a face-flicker. [Tirico Suave]
• Have a chuckle by checking out Week 5′s edition of LOLNFL. [Kissing Suzy Kolber]
• Everybody was Kung-Fu fighting at a China-Brazil basketball game. Those cats were fast as lightning and stuff. [Bob's Blitz]
• Here’s the digs on a new Les Miles app. [TAUNTR]
• Who better than Alice Cooper to preview his hometown Phoenix Coyotes? [Melt Your Face Off]
• A look back at 10 fantastic endzone celebrations. [The Legend of Cecilio Guante]
• Even political columnists for Yahoo! are taking shots at Philly fans now. [TheWizWit]
• JWoww from Jersey Shore has signed a contract with TNA wrestling. [The Sporting Rave]
• Photos of people playing Ping Pong are hilarious. [Unathletic]
• Friend of the Sportress Butter Chicken is a teeth grinder. He shares his harrowing experiences with us. [Food Court Lunch]
• The Onion Headline of the Day: Scientists Say Lifelike Pleasure-Bot Nowhere Near Tested Enough
It’s 4:19, You Gotta Minute?
Posted by:
• Randy Moss insists that he and Tom Brady are still the best of buds. [Larry Brown Sports]
• Alexander Ovechkin’s disembodied head doesn’t like bowling. [Puck Daddy]
• Is there anything more irritating than allowing a kid in a wheelchair to score a touchdown in a high school football game? Apparently to some degenerate idiots, there is not. [Out of Bounds]
• So long, Bobby Cox. [With Leather]
• Welcome back to the blogosphere, Sean Avery, you cockknocker. [Melt Your Face Off]
• Can Allen Iverson be the final piece to the puzzle in winning Arabs over with American values. Possibly. [TAUNTR]
• WFAN Tracy Burgess apparently did not realize her radio appearance was being documented by a webcam. [Bob's Blitz]
• The Onion Headline of the Day, Part II: High School Equipment Manager To Skip College, Manage Equipment At Professional Level
Send tips, link submissions, etc. to weedagainstspeed@gmail.com.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but honoring your favorite baseball manager by getting his likeness tattooed on your thigh is most certainly a perfectly sensible thing to do. At least it must have appeared to be to one Andy Pruett, a 23-year-old apparently diehard Braves fan from Lawrenceville, Georgia. Knowing that Cox’s legendary career was coming to an end this season, Pruett spent $300 two months ago to get that tat. What say you, Andy? (Via the Atlanta Journal-Constitution):
“He’s the only manager I know. Nobody has ever spoken a bad word about him, other than being the coach of the team that went to the playoffs for 14 years straight. He’s a good guy,” said Pruett, who has a total of 13 tattoos.
“Some of my friends think I’m crazy,” he said, “but a few others absolutely love it.”
I hate to break it to you, Andy, but the few others who absolutely love it? They are so not your friends. They’re secretly mocking you behind your back due to the fact that you have an elderly man’s face inked onto your upper thigh. Andy even considers what it would be like to meet his managerial idol.
“Hopefully, I would just respectfully shake his hand and thank him for all the years of great baseball he’s allowed me to watch.”
And that’s when Andy would make the mistake of taking off his pants to show Bobby Cox how much the Braves manager has meant to him. Authorities are called, Andy spends a night in the clink, the whole ball of wax. Not good.
Excuse me, but is that Bobby Cox on your leg? [Atlanta Journal-Constitution]
Um…yeah.
Jay Busbee over at Devil Ball Golf is very much hoping that this latest entry into the pantheon of Cigar Guy Memesanity will be the final nail in the coffin, finally putting an end to the much ballyhooed (and perhaps a tad bit overplayed) craze. Uploaded by vlogger thesurfingviolinist, “Cigar Guy Rap Feat. Cigar Head-Wrap Man” is, well, it’s something. Let’s just leave it at that.
Video and lyrics follow.
I missed this yesterday, but I would be remiss if I didn’t wish the lovely Michelle Wie a Happy Belated 21st Birthday. No word on how she celebrated the milestone, but I hope she at very least found the time to go out and treat herself to a Banana Daiquiri.
The Golf Blog: Michelle Wie turns 21 today, is the best yet to come? [The Golf Blog]
Maybe I’m missing something here and while I applaud La Russa’s efforts and his commitment to issues he cares strongly about, are puppy mills really that much of a hot-button topic? I mean, has anyone ever come out and said they are in favor of a seasoning made out of ground-up puppies? Way to stick your neck out there, La Russa.
La Russa goes to bat for “puppy mill” proposition [St. Louis Post-Dispatch]
Jeez, the guy slips to number three in the ATP World Tour tennis ranking and all of a sudden he’s a goddamn pariah. The suddenly friendless Federer is seen here, alone with his thoughts, on Sunday night at the Swiss Pavillion during the Shanghai World Expo.
What did Roger do to deserve such shunning? It’s hard to say, it could be a multitude of things. Maybe he farted or something.
But here’s the prevailing question at hand: is Lonely Roger Federer meme-worthy? Does it have what it takes to capture the imagination of Photoshoppers all across Internetmemeland, much like Sad/Lonely/Hungry Keanu recently did? While I believe the above image certainly has potential – there are several ways of tackling this image and get amusing results, although exactly how and in what manner I’m not entirely sure. I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see. Have at it Photoshop Wizards.
Wake N’ Blog is the Sportress of Blogitude’s morning link dump. Send tips, link submissions and your personal tales regarding when you nearly drowned chasing after a one-legged animal to weedagainstspeed@gmail.com.
• Sometimes, these bizarre stories require no embellishment. Today is one of those cases. Via the AP: “WAUSAU, Wis. – Wausau rescued and arrested a drunken man who plunged into the Wisconsin River while chasing a one-legged goose. The 40-year-old Wausau man told officers he wanted to catch the bird and roast it. He said he took off his shirt and shoes Thursday afternoon and jumped into the frigid water…Authorities said he was overcome by the cold water and had to be rescued by firefighters. Police said the man had been drinking heavily before the stunt.” [Yahoo!/AP]
• Jive Turkey: Allen Iverson is headed to Istanbul. [Larry Brown Sports]
• Ah yes: Poon of the Big Ten. Very nice. [Busted Coverage]
• Crikey! Race car driver almost runs over a kangaroo. [Outside the Boxscore]
• James Wisniewski would like Sean Avery to suck something. [The Sports Hernia Blog]
• Here’s Adam Sandler narrating Brooks Conrad’s rough time in the field the other day. [TAUNTR]
• The Onion Headline of the Day: Nobel Prize Awarded To Man Who Helped Humans Have More Fu**ing Babies
Site Note: much like this edition of Wake N’ Blog, today will be an abbreviated version of the Sportress as far as posting is concerned. Stuff to do, places to see, yadda yadda yadda.
Like a muskrat in heat tied to a post in the middle of a trailer park with a twister comin’ around the bend, Jimmy Joe’s getting all hot and bothered about the Chase for the Sprint Cup. And lookee here: Tony Stewart won the Pepsi 400, bouncing him way up in the standings. Between the video and Jimmy Joe’s silky smooth delivery, all you need now is a nice glass of lemonade spiked with lighter fluid and you’re good to go.
