Tuesday, April 28, 2009

FINALLY...



...the Rock HAS COME BACK to Cleveland!

I see you have an 11-game win streak, Boston Red Sox. I'll tell you what you can do with your win streak.

Take that win streak...

shine it up real nice...

turn that sumbitch sideways...



AND STICK IT STRAIGHT UP
YOUR CANDY ASS


GO TRIBE

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Cleveland Rocks

Now, DJMJ is more than permitted to tout his city and his teams when they're in the playoffs, especially when they're going up against a team representing the unholy cesspool that is Detroit. To that end, let me share with you the best Cleveland Tourism video that I've ever seen. At this time, I'll refrain from naming the nine million other sites that have already linked to this.

Tangible proof that Laker fans are douchebags

This is Mario Ruiz.


Mario is a "musician" based in Hollywood who's been steadily cranking out rap music with all of Jay-Z's bravado and none of his talent.

His latest creation is equivalent to a hip-hop barf bag, one minute and 12 seconds' worth of stomach-churning Laker love that could only be appreciated by other douchebags wearing yellow and purple shit.

Here are some of his genre-splotching lines:

This is our year, Lakers baby
Utah can't stop us baby
NBA playoffs baby
L.A. be goin' crazy

Sad thing is, it probably took him more than 30 seconds to write that.

Got one goal in sight
Kobe wants ring number four, right
You know L.A. got your back, right
Staples Center jam-packed on game night

I've never quite understood why an entire fan base gives so much love to a guy who doesn't give it back.

I'm talkin' about Kobe
Best stand back, Andrew Bynum's back

That doesn't even rhyme.

We run L-A

Oh, I get it. The song "I Love L.A." plays after every Laker win, and you've gone and twisted it with hip-hop macho slang. Groundbreaking.

Apparently, Mario is signed with Pompous Pack Entertainment. I have no idea who they are, but they sure sound friendly.

Here's a link to Mario's MySpace page. Just check out the music box next to his profile picture and click the song called "We Run LA (Lakers Remix)" to hear Mario's audible abortion.

The worst part is that people around Los Angeles are actually rallying around this shit. The guys at 710 ESPN are absolutely in love with it, and southern Californians are playing it left and right. I don't get it. Maybe I'm not gangsta enough.

Then again, I'm not a douchebag. Which is more than I can say for this guy.


Yeeeeah.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Mike Brown is a better basketball coach than you are

He has the award to prove it.

Brown was named NBA Coach of the Year today after leading the Cavs to the best regular season in franchise history and the No. 1 overall seed in the playoffs. His defense-first philosophy has turned Cleveland into one of the NBA's top defensive teams every year. He's also wisely deferred to his assistants when it comes to running the offense. Oh, and that LeBron fellow chipped in a little bit, too.

LeBron will probably get his first MVP award in a few weeks, and he's a dark horse for Defensive Player of the Year, too. It all means jack shit without the Larry O'Brien Trophy, but it's a great time to be a Cavs fan nonetheless.

Smile for the cameras, coach. You earned it.


Now I'm gonna go eat some pot cookies.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Reminder

The Pirates are 7-6. Fuck yeah.

End transmission.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

You know the rules...and so do I



What's up y'all. My name's Mikey T, and I'm one of the badass members of Piston Nation.

We got Game 1 against the Cavs today, but I can't see it cuz I'm too busy cookin' crabs for minimum wage down at the Long John's on Warren Ave. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna hop back into the manager's office and log on to the Pistons' site to see how shit's goin'.

Okaaaay...gimme one second here, y'all.

Mm-hmm, click on "scoreboard"...okay...

There we go.

Huh?


YOU JUST GOT RICK ROLL'D

LET'S GO CAVS

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Top-seed turvy



That was me, for a bigger portion of this afternoon/evening than I care to admit.

No, wait. Screw that. I admit it. I was glued to my computer screen, which had the Cavs-Pacers gamecast on it, which was the only way for me to follow the game.

By defeating Indiana 117-109, the Cavs improved to 66-15 and clinched the No. 1 overall seed in the NBA. Considering our 39-1 home record, that's a handy asset heading into the playoffs.

I was stoked immediately after the game ended, but now I'm sort of over it. It's a tremendous accomplishment, so I felt it deserved a post. Now we've got the top seed. What are we going to do with it?

There's more work to be done.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Somebody call the WAAAAAHMBULANCE

Did you catch the Cavs game today? Where we massacred the Celtics by 31 points on national television?

By the fourth quarter, everyone not dressed in green was dancing, including Cleveland's two most important players...


Delonte West is the owner of that arm all the way to the right. He was grooving to Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up" as well, albeit with less coordination than Bron and Mo.

Turns out Celtics guard Ray Allen didn't take too kindly to the Cavs' celebrations in the non-eventful fourth quarter. I'm sorry, Ray. I must have been distracted by the tradition at the new Garden that finds you guys busting a move to the Bee Gees' "You Should Be Dancing" at the end of victories.

Or maybe it was the elbow you threw squarely into Anderson Varejao's nutsack in the third quarter, retaliation for what you claim was Andy throwing you to the ground but what the cameras showed was a mild tangle-up.


Andy even had something funny to say about it after the game:

"He doesn't like Brazilians, or maybe he doesn't like my hair."

Haha, good stuff. Not quite as good as your "Chosen 2" shenanigans, but I like the charisma.

I don't like Ray Allen's attitude, and to be honest, today was the most fun I've had watching a Cavs game this season. Maybe ever.

This new batch of Celtics is starting to piss me off. Kevin Garnett is a tremendous competitor, and he's still one of my favorite players. But Paul Pierce is a cowardly, gigantic douche who was gift-wrapped a pair of all-stars to help rescue his floundering career. Allen is less dangerous shooter and more bitter old man. The rest of the group flaunts a false bravado as long as they have their three stars to hide behind.

As a fan, I don't usually get too hyped about blowouts. I've been on the shitty end more times than I care to remember. But I savored every second of today's succulent slaughter. The Celtics are an asshole franchise that thinks it's entitled to everything. Don't take my word for it. Read Bill Livingston's excellent column from Sunday's Plain Dealer.

History will probably look back and pinpoint some specific moment when this generation of Cavs and Celtics became true rivals. I hadn't bought into it since the formation of the new Big Three, because frankly, we haven't beaten them in any meaningful fashion, not to mention the games were hotly contested but never veered outside the realm of respect.

Well the Celtics officially piss me off. This rivalry is on.

We want you green-and-white fucksticks in the Conference Finals.

Friday, April 10, 2009

It's gon' be a good day, tater

Two huge events on the Cleveland sports agenda today.

First, the Cavs can clinch the No. 1 seed in the Eastern Conference and go up a full game on the Lakers for best overall record with a win tonight in Philadelphia. Our last meeting with the Sixers capped our unholy destruction tour in November and December, and they're a better team now that's fighting to get into the 4/5 matchup in the East.

The good news is that Ben Wallace returned on Wednesday against Washington, and the rotation of Big Ben, Big Z, Anderson Varejao and Joe Smith presents several matchup problems and makes other front lines look lilliputian in comparison. There would be a certain poeticism to losing tonight and slaughtering the Celtics at the Q on Sunday to clinch the top overall seed, but home court the entire postseason is too important, considering our bed-shitting performances against the Lakers this season.

On another note, J.J. Hickson's back injury opened up a roster spot the Cavs filled with Jawad Williams, the Lakewood native who was cut midway through the season. He probably won't see the floor unless it's garbage time, but it's a feel-good story nonetheless. Unless you're J.J. Hickson's back.

Before that takes place, the Tribe faces the Blue Jays in the home opener at the Jake, er, Prog. Our starting pitching has been wretched, but the Rangers have a dynamite offense and they, along with the A's, inexplicably play well against us every time we face them.

Moral of the story, it's not panic time yet, especially not with hot young prospect Scott Lewis taking the mound. He was 4-0 last year with a 2.63 ERA, and with a win today he'd become the first Indians pitcher to win his first five starts since 19-fucking-20. That'd be pretty impressive.

The offense has been mashing reasonably well, Pronk's swing looks fairly clean and the defense has only committed one error through three games. Plus, Ben Francisco hit a meaningless home run the other day. Things are back to normal!

GO TRIBE

LET'S GO CAVS

Thursday, April 9, 2009

It's time for Carl Pavano's first start!

Cliff Lee got rocked on opening day. Fausto Carmona struggled in the second game.

That's OK, we've got the $11 million man CARL PAVANO closing out the series! Let's go Pavano!












Tuesday, April 7, 2009

C'mon and raze up

I don't know how you can't have respect for North Carolina.

The tradition extends from Frank McGuire in the 1950s and '60s to Dean Smith's 36 seasons of outstanding accomplishment to Michael Jordan to Roy Williams' current run. It also extends off the court, from the passionate fan support to the fact that UNC, despite what cretinous Duke fans will tell you, is a pretty damn strong academic institution.

This is a program that demands excellence, from both its players and coaches. This is a program that, unlike Kentucky, gives its leaders a legitimate amount of time to make their mark (yes, including Matt Doherty). This is a program that, unlike UCLA, didn't go through a decade-long orgasm of championships it still clings to as we speak.

This program just won its fifth national title Monday evening with a dominant performance over Michigan State.

And with that said...


Fuck North Carolina.

All tournament long I had to listen to announcers and analysts talk about how last year's Final Four loss motivated this group, how Kansas ripped UNC's manhood from its loins and the Heels couldn't be complete until they got it back at Ford Field this April.

That's exactly what they did.

You did it, Tar Heel country. You reached the summit once again, with an expert coach and a roster laden with lottery talent. You fielded a team of the highest quality. Your organization is as efficient as it is successful. You know who you remind me of?

The Pittsburgh Steelers. The Philadelphia Phillies.
The Boston Celtics.

You're a championship team. You're what Cleveland has dreamed about for 45 years.

Your North Carolina Tar Heels had more talent, athleticism and smarts than everyone else competing, and you took home a major title because of it. Make no mistake, there are only six "major" titles in North American sports: the Super Bowl, the World Series, the NBA Finals, the Stanley Cup Finals, the BCS championship, and the NCAA Tournament championship. Nobody cares about anything else on a year-to-year basis. Nothing else leads Sportscenter or headlines the news or makes Sports Illustrated's front cover.

You have one of those titles. One of those titles is what Cleveland wants.

The more times I watch other teams hoist a trophy -- even for sports in which Cleveland doesn't technically compete -- the more I identify with the plight. I'm going to wake up tomorrow morning, run two miles and bust my ass at work. I'm going to do the same thing the next five days until the work week's over.

Why? Because life's about work. It's about doing things you don't want to do in order to accomplish things you do want. It's about being the best you can be, even when other people have what you want.

That applies to everyone. That applies to me, whether it's a Browns, Cavs or Indians championship or a high-profile journalism job.

Congratulations, North Carolina.

We're gunning for your fucking spot.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Would You Rather: A Creative Differences Test Post

Normally, when trying out a new type of post, a blog would look to its comments to see whether or not people liked the feature. Since it's hard to divide by zero, I'll just decide whether I like this after it's posted.

Would You Rather is a dual DJMJ/FLS conception, asking the age-old questions and then attempting to answer them. For instance, "Would you rather be eaten by a shark, or burned alive," which happens to be today's installment, and so forth. They won't always deal with the macabre, and at times, they'll even be happy ones that deal with winning the lottery and subsequently purchasing an entire country. Giving today's opinion, it's FLS.

Without further ado, I present to you, "Would You Rather?"

There's something viscerally scary about getting eaten by a shark, I won't argue that. Perhaps this feeling is something promulgated by overly effective filmmakers and their legitimately frightening movies (I'm looking at YOU, Spielberg). I can't think of too many sensations worse than the one you'd have if you knew a hungry shark was bearing down on you. I'd pee my pants, for sure, and brace myself for a very interesting talk with God, or the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or whatever it is up there. Seeing several rows of teeth, any two of which could cause a fatal wound by themselves, is a sobering reminder that, yes Virginia, you're gonna die.

More than just the actual fear of imminent death, which I've felt before when I had a midterm or something due, is the look of the monster that's about to murder you in a grotesque fashion. The shark does not care what you think, its eyes are the same blank black, the shark simply thinks you are a seal, until it bites into you and realizes that you taste awful, and likely spits you out, leaving grievous injuries that, if you don’t bleed out first, will attract other sharks to the area, and they will messily devour your body. The shark does not care, it will simply move on. Kind of like Andre Smith at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

All that said, all those awful images conjured up, getting eaten by a shark is a fucking picnic compared to being burned alive.

At least with a shark you have a fighting chance. A shark is a living creature. If you’re extraordinarily lucky, you can gouge a shark’s eye (Great White, of course, no other shark has ever attacked a person, ever) and make it turn fin and run. Your chances are about as good as the chances of you winning the lottery tomorrow, but you’ve got a shot, much like Lloyd Christmas in Dumb and Dumber. Fire? Fire is an inanimate object, Buster. Fire has no eyes to gouge, no teeth to offer quick and momentarily painless death, and no enemies except water (not likely that you’ll have any if you’re trapped and burning alive) and a complete lack of oxygen—wouldn’t you know it, that’ll kill you too!

Fire ends your life in a hideous, unimaginably painful fashion. Sure, people that have been burned and survived say that once the nerve endings are burned, you don’t feel a thing. Guess what, that doesn’t happen right away. You’ll be in for several minutes of pain during which you’ll be begging for a shotgun or some ricin. Better yet, if you should somehow survive, you’ll look like an extra from a zombie movie, and that’s if you’re lucky. Being burned alive sucks. Further still, say you get eaten by a shark—even if you die, you can get a few good shots in. It’s always been a personal fantasy of mine to punch a great white to death. Do you have any idea how long that would take? It would be awesome. Anyway, you get to take a few shots at the offending creature to make yourself feel better as you leap off this mortal coil. Maybe St. Peter (or Satan, who is very easily impressed) will have some encouraging words for you as you shuffle into the afterlife. Fire? You can punch fire all you want. It doesn’t have a body. It isn’t living. If you punch fire, you burn your hand. Fire blows.

Conclusion: I’d rather be eaten by a shark than burned alive ANY day.

The Diff, featuring a suspension of hostilities

Editor's note: The Diff is a new every-other-day feature that tells you how things are going in my world at the moment. Topics in play are sports, entertainment and various other leisure activities. Sometimes I'm Bill Raftery, sometimes I'm Billy Packer. Let's go.


A moment of silence

For the three Pittsburgh officers slain in the line of duty Saturday morning in a suburban standoff. Browns fan, Steeler fan, it doesn't matter. Sports rivalries are totally insignificant in this light.


On a lighter note...

Michigan State upset UConn this afternoon and gave the city of Detroit -- really, the whole state of Michigan -- something to be happy about. I love talking smack about the Pistons, but the truth is that their rivalry with the Cavs isn't as fun when the Palace of Auburn Hills isn't jam-packed with Cavs-hating Piston fans. It hasn't been recently thanks to Michigan's crappy economy. Hopefully the economic upswings of the last couple weeks are here to stay.


Brian Windhorst owns all other NBA beat writers

Even when he's writing negatively about the Cavs. Check out his lead from Friday's game story after the Magic beat the living shit out of us:

ORLANDO, Fla. -- The Cavaliers were in their throwbacks Friday night, throwback to about 2002.

Golden. Just plain golden.

Friday, April 3, 2009

The Diff, featuring I-told-you-sos

Editor's note: The Diff is a new every-other-day feature that tells you about how things are going in my world at the moment. Topics in play are sports, entertainment and various other leisure activities. Sometimes I'm 'Sheed, sometimes I'm his curious bald spot. Let's go.


Not that anybody asked...

...but Penn State just won the NIT by showing more skill, focus and heart than everyone else all tournament long. It's only the second postseason title in my alma mater's revolting basketball history, and I don't think there's any question that we should have been one of the seven Big Ten teams in the NCAA Tournament. Hey Final Four winner, WE GOT NEXT.


Speaking of Penn State...

My editor just gave me Blue-White weekend off, so I'm 99 percent certain I'll be flying back for the annual spring game. College football is our religion, and tailgating is our mass. Drink up, Nittany Nation.


Wizards of wavering play

If Cavs-Wizards was a rap battle, it'd go like this: the Cavs drop several ridiculously hot Jimmy Rabbit lines on the Wizards, then the Wizards counter with two lines about our moms that don't even rhyme but they talk shit like they totally dissed us anyway. Brendan Haywood made his season debut tonight, Gilbert Arenas saved the best performance of his head-scratching return for tonight, and thousands of fans got to pretend that one victory makes up for three straight postseason pink slips and the most losses in the league this year. Whatever casts your spell, Washington.


Sergeant Sulk gets to pout in the NFC North

Before Jay Cutler was traded to the Bears, I was ready to spin some cathartic yarn about the Browns taking a Bronco quarterback and winning the Super Bowl after a former Bronco quarterback prevented us from winning it three times. That dream has gone down the tubes, although I'm sure the trade isn't hitting me as hard as the guys over at KSK, who are now deprived of two guaranteed meetings every year between Cutlerfucker and his archenemy Marmalard.


Shameless stargazing

Several European teaser posters for the upcoming Star Trek reboot came to my attention, and one of them spoils what I believe was supposed to be a big reveal in the movie. You can read all about it in my forthcoming Star Trek treatise, which could appear anytime in April. *Pushes up glasses*


Gaga for GaGa

I heard that Lady GaGa song "Poker Face" at the bar again tonight. That song is everywhere. Bars, clubs, radio airwaves, sports arenas. Hell it's probably even JoePa's new power walking music.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

April Fools!

Here's an AWESOME April Fool's Day joke: The Denver Broncos traded Jay Cutler and a fifth round pick this year to the Chicago Bears for Kyle Orton, Two first round picks, and a third round pick. Isn't that fucking hysterical?? What a knee slapper. The Bears would have to be dumb as shit to give up that much for a floppy-haired wuss? I know I'd want an emotionally fragile douchebag as MY quarterback! Oh, man, what a good one. APRIL FOOLS WOOO!

Oh, you mean it really happened?

Excuse me for a moment.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA GOOD GOD is a roomful of chimps with cell phones running the show in Chicago? I LOVE this story.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

The Diff, featuring hall-of-fame leads

Editor's note: The Diff is a new every-other-day feature that tells you about how things are going in my world at the moment. Topics in play are sports, entertainment and various other leisure activities. Sometimes I'm Jerome Lane, sometimes I'm the backboard. Let's go.


Tom Withers knows his way around words

From his AP story about the Cavs-Pistons game tonight:

CLEVELAND (AP) - LeBron James fired down the lane at full speed, ignored Rasheed Wallace's feeble attempt to stop him and scored.

Cleveland's star then stood under the basket, flexing his biceps like a bodybuilder for all to admire.

Make no mistake, there's a new bully in the Central Division.

No finer way to kick off this new feature.


The Lakers don't know their way around Charlotte

For the sixth time in the last seven meetings, the Charlotte Bobcats beat the Los Angeles Lakers, knocking the Lakers three games behind the Cavs in the race for best overall record with eight to play. But Team Gerald Wallace is still no match for Team Kobe on the Aggro Crag or the Hidden Temple Run.


Notre Dame knows it'd happen in football, too

Sixteen months after knocking the Fighting Irish all over the gridiron, my alma mater knocked the Fighting Irish all over the hardwood, further strengthening its case as an NCAA Tournament team. We can still play our way into that, right?


Should have pilfered a napkin

I had drinks and appetizers with a friend last night at the Beverly Wilshire, which is one of the most luxurious places in Los Angeles. My friend told me that some actor from Slumdog Millionaire was also there, but I was far more interested in choosing which fine culinary item to steal. I ended up taking a clear plastic drink stirrer and leaving other items that were actually embroidered with the Beverly Wilshire logo and would make my apartment seem less, well, slummy. Maybe I should see that movie after all.


File Twitter with Ipods

When it comes to most trendy pieces of technology,
I'm no different from anyone else. I had a DVD player before the turn of the century. I have a Blackberry and a Bluetooth. I see all movies in IMAX now. I'm on Facebook and MySpace. I have this blog.

But one thing I absolutely cannot see myself using is this Twitter bullshit. Seriously? Random thoughts? At random times? With no discernable value to either the person posting or the person reading? Eat penguin shit, Twitter.