Luis Castillo spent his off season working out with and teaching Emilio Bonifacio.

“We’re the same players, me and him,” Castillo told the Miami Herald. “That’s what I tell him.” Read the rest of this entry »

…I REALLY want some guy to be injured even worse than he already is?

Hear me out on this…

Jeremy Sowers, the former #6 overall pick has been an abject disappointment for my former favorite team, the Cleveland Indians.  Here’s your average Sowers start…smokes the lineup the first time through, next time through they figure him out a little bit, and by the third time through the lineup, it’s bullpen time as Sowers gave up an absolute fucking murder of crows huge, extra base hits.  He’s the classic AAAA player (no, not NL, though they might actually be the same thing), you know, the guy who dominates AAA ball (seriously, check out his numbers), but can’t make it in the bigs.

So now he’s hurt his shoulder, setting him back two weeks from the rest of the staff, and if he doesn’t make the team this spring, he’ll be out of options.  Back to the original question…am I a bad person if I really hope that Sowers injury forces the team to unload him, thereby getting rid of the mindfuck hex he’s put on Tribe fans for the past four years?

I say no.  What say you?

Baseball has been berry berry good to me, save for this ridiculous afro.

Despite what you may think, this post serves two purposes: 1. it allows me to put my favorite baseball card of all time up here on the Internet. And 2. it gets me pumped for baseball season. YAY pitchers and catchers!!!

Well look who’s finally calling it a career.

Some of us might have fond memories of the Big Skirt, namely Happy, but not me.  I’m not one of these blindfolded goons who can’t see past the faggotry of certain players, nay…I’m a fuckin’ prophet when it comes to shit like this.  And if you read Spencer 3:12-18, you’ll notice that I prophesied that Frank Thomas gobbles peen.

Frank Thomas was a dildo wrapped in an anus.  A jerk who was so bland and so worthless that people just accepted his dickery for no reason other than to just get this fucker to shut up and go away, and yet, for some reason (most likely the Meth) he’s beloved by White Sox fans and, in some circles, considered to be a Hall of Famer.

But back to the rashy asshole…here we have a dude so reviled, yet so overwhelmingly bland that, despite 24/7 scrutiny in the era of omnipresent PED use, a man with Tyrannosaurus legs and arms thicker than a phone pole managed to get away completely unscathed, despite the tell-tale statistical proof that he indeed was a synthetic product.  This isn’t a man who provided good defense or timely hitting.  This isn’t a man with a signature moment.

Nay…this is a man who was such a tremendous prick that people simply ignored him.  And alas…I wish I could do the same.

Thus begins the new chapter in Frank Thomas’ life…the one where he stands in the backyard of his golf course home, watering his back lawn all day just so he can yell at golfers who try and get a ball that landed on his property.  The one where he’ll probably chase a tiny white guy with a bat on Pros vs. Joes. The one where his line at autographing kiosks at sports collection conventions will be nearly empty, rendering him with a distant indifferent look transfixed on his face.  He’s a poor man’s Albert Belle, or a homeless schizophrenic’s Barry Bonds…crazy enough to be hated by anyone who came in contact with him, but not crazy enough to leave a legacy of batshit.

While having a productive streak that would rival that of most in history, Thomas will always be remembered as a singles hitter in a Hall of Famer’s body.  A player who could feast on the weak like no other, yet shrank hilariously in the face of competent opposition.  He’ll be remembered as a player who was good, but ultimately forgettable in the grand scheme of things…good enough to merit instant consideration, but one who ultimately wasn’t even good enough to usurp the careers of Rafael fucking Palmeiro and Joe Carter.

And you know what?  It couldn’t have happened to a better guy.

So I read this after the awesomest Mexican trip in the history of Mexican trips and my cheery, albeit tired mood instantly takes a turn for the worse.

The Indians are looking at Jermaine Dye?

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO, a million fucking times NO.

I swear to LeBron, if Dye is signed, this will be the last straw.  The final straw in my Indians fanhood.  I mean it…I’ll abandon the Tribe and move to a team that actually gives a shit.  It’s not just that Dye is awful (because, as a baseball player, he could be worse), it’s that if the Indians sign him, they’ll be waving a white flag to the rest of the American League that they’re simply not interested in winning.

Yea, fuck giving that money to Cy Young caliber pitchers like CC Sabathia or Cliff Lee, what we need is an aging, slow moving, power hitter with iffy power getting $10+ mil for a season’s worth of work that will no doubt end with him shutting it down with an incredibly questionable injury.  This is the only possible scenario.

Stats aside (and that’s saying a lot about a guy who threw up a .179/.293/.297 after the All Star break), performance aside, skill set aside…Jermaine Dye should still be considered unsignable.  Why?  Because he’s a straight up faggot, that’s why.  Dye is one of the biggest piles of shit in all of MLB.  He’s a straight up douchebag.  He likes meat in his seat, wears his keys on the right, and really, I’m not sure he’d even be able to sign a contract considering he has dick in his hands at all times of the day.

Fuck Jermaine Dye.

Dolans…consider this a warning.  If you even HINT about making a move regarding Jermaine Dye, not only will I become a Yankees fan, I will spend every single waking hour making sure that the worst kind of vitriol is spewed all across the Interwebs.  I will stage protests.  I will throw Molotov cocktails at the Jake Prog.  You do not want to cross me, Dolans, by forcing Shapiro to sign Jermaine Dye.

Consider this your warning.

Ahhhhh. The scent. The taste. The texture. The way it settles. There is nothing finer that a Brett Favre Season Killing Interception. There are many vintages of the Season Ending Pick. They are truly like a fine wine, everyone has a favorite. My personal favorite is the 2007. I am sure many in Louisiana and Wisconsin may be partial to the 2009. Read the rest of this entry »

This may not be news, but I’m gonna write it anyways.  Why?  Because fuck Mark Sanchez, that’s why.  Fuck the Jets, fuck Dirty Sanchez, fuck the Jets again and fuck the Jets.  There has been nothing quite as entertaining as watching the wheels fall completely off this overrated pile o’ shit in a mere three weeks since he’s been lionized as the next great QB in the NFL despite, you know, NOT DOING A SINGLE FUCKING THING.

So, needless to say, when I saw that Mark Sanchez threw 5 INT’s against one of the worst defenses in the NFL, not only did I have myself a hearty laugh, I instantly recorded the highlights and watched them twelve times in a row.  Is that a little disturbing?  Probably, but you know what?  I fucking hate Mark Sanchez.

Now, when I think about Sanchez’ shining moment last weekend, I’m not sure what was the best part of the whole ordeal.  It was really nice watching Thomas Jones and Leon Washington look at him on the sideline after yet another pick, with that look of, “thanks for fucking up all the shit we worked for today asshole,” on their faces.  Hell, it wasn’t even just them, it was the entire team.  It was awesome seeing Rex Ryan waddle his gunt over to Sanchez after throwing a terrible pass and watch him restrain himself from choking the bitch.  It was just great.

But after I calmed down and stopped shaking from uncontrollable glee from another person’s misfortune, I looked at myself and asked, “why do I hate Mark Sanchez so much?”

A number of reasons really. Read the rest of this entry »

Enough already, you fucking spoiled brat piece of shit.

Act like a fucking adult and don’t fucking berate people like they owe you something when you fucked up.  Take it like the man you are and just move the fuck on.

You know what?  Just quit…quit tennis altogether.  Just give it up if it’s this much of a pain in your gigantic, cellulite ridden ass.  You obviously don’t care about the ONE THING you can do well that lets people know who you are.  Nobody would give a shit about you if you didn’t play tennis, yet, you don’t pay back the game that gave you the attention you obviously crave.

Serena…you don’t work out, you’re fat, you don’t work at your game, and yet, because you’re the most talented man to ever play women’s tennis, you win pretty much everything you enter.  That’s slapping every single person you encounter right in the face.

Class act you fat fuck.  Shave your fucking mustache.

I want to preface this entire post by saying I do not want MLJ to ever be the Us Weekly of sports. Or the Page Six. Or the TMZ.  I heard this on the radio and then saw it in the NY Post, Derek Jeter and some girl named Minka Kelly are “secretly engaged”. Now I don’t even know who Minka Kelly is, I don’t care where the wedding is going to be, when it will be, what she will be wearing, who will be in the bridal party, if A-Rod will be there. I don’t give a shit. My point to all of this is Derek Jeter always has done things the right way. Off the field. If this is true, then I think he is doing more of the right thing.

I have always admired how Derek Jeter handled his private life. I mean if I was young, rich, famous and good looking, I too would play the field and bang every hot piece of ass in New York, LA and Miami. Really. It is very simple. Most baseball players don’t follow this formula. Most of them are drafted out of high school or college and get a big signing bonus. Or even a moderate one. Then they are sent to some fucking minor league town in the middle of nowhere where they flash their cash, party their asses off, meet some 19 year old waitress at the Bowling Alley/Nightclub, bang her out, marry her and then make it to the Bigs. Now he is in his early 20’s, making Major League money and stuck will a Pensacola 10 (who turns out to be a big city 4) and are possibly stuck with a kid or two to pay for. Derek Jeter never did this. I mean the players that do still go get random ass but then that leads to “scandal” and then a messy divorce where they have to pay off the Pensacola 10 leaving him with half his shit. Read the rest of this entry »