No Remorse for Big Mac

Mark McGwire is probably my all-time favorite baseball player. The 1998 Roger Maris home run chase was an emphatic point in my life. I was young(er), and it was the rudiment of my baseball fanhood. McGwire wielded strong arms and hit balls out of every park with sheer power. I loved every minute of that season, watching McGwire hit homer after homer, going toe to toe with Sammy Sosa.

Then a few years later it was pretty obvious that he had cheated after various substances were found in his locker room.

A couple of weeks ago he dropped the bomb. He admitted he used steroids. Done.

The 1998 season was twelve years ago. Ever since then I’ve become accustomed to seeing players admit their use of steroids and move on. I’ve become used to McGwire likely taking them. And then he admitted it.

I was never shocked by McGwire’s admission as many people were. After everything that has happened over the past twelve years, I expected him to admit it sooner or later, or for the truth to eventually be elucidated. Finally, it was, and I figured he would apologize, say that it was stupid, say he wanted to be the best so he took them to be the best, and all that jazz, but he only hit two of three there.

McGwire said he used roids to recover from injuries and nothing more. The man was already a spectacle in 1988, but he did grow significantly. After already having an impressive career, his numbers really didn’t dwindle after the years in ‘93 and ‘94 when he was hurt and unproductive.

I’m tired of writing a load of facts that everybody already knows, but I must say one thing: McGwire’s alibi sucks! He may have used them to heal, but he also used them to keep his muscle in tact and his strength ready to aid him in hitting home runs.

Those who defend the players who have used roids, you are right when you say that roids won’t help you hit a baseball, but if you are already in the MLB, I would suspect that would be no problem, so when you use roids you are only adding to your skill like it’s a video game and you are editing the player ratings.

I’m not a huge baseball fan these days, although I love the St. Louis Cardinals, but I keep up with it enough to still know the game’s ins and outs, the teams, managers, players, and all that good stuff. As a fan I listen year after year to reports on some heralded player admitting their use of steroids, and I never shake my head. Why? Because I’m never surprised. It’s becoming a sport where juice will be the name of the game. Not peanuts and cracker jacks.

It’s baseball, and it hasn’t been completely clean since probably the 1950s.

I’d Rather be Sleeping

Did anybody see the turnover Dwyane Wade incurred last night against the James Gang (Cavaliers)? Oh, man, that’s a rhetorical question — of course everyone did, thanks to ESPN who aggrandizes the hell out of the stardom of both players (D-Wade and LeBron!)

Trying to resurrect this blog isn’t easy, especially since I decided over the past 6+ months that I’d never write another blog on TSTOS ever again, but I’m back in business. Why did I come back? I added a couple of blogs, and then I realized that Google picked them up rather quickly, and that if I wrote frequently again I could possibly get back into the swing of all things sports commentary!

I’m hoping soon that my fiancée Bekki will start her blog about music, because I’ve been bragging to friends and family forever about her music insight and prowess. Not to mention her writing is almost as pulchritudinous as she is. She writes in Goddess-like proportions with her immense knowledge amalgamated with her sweet sarcasm. I can’t wait, and I’ll definitely be making notice of her blog whenever she starts it up!

Obama’s Futile Opinions on Sports

For some reason everybody and their mothers are obsessed with President Obama’s opinions on sports. Wanna know what my opinion is (of course you do, or else you wouldn’t be reading this post)? Who cares?!

He was asked by one of the ESPN correspondants what he thought about the Super Bowl, and he said what any other gushy-mouthed, overly bullshittin’ politician would say: “They are both terrific teams (Uh, obviously), but I’m think I’m cheering for the Saints a little bit more, because of what they have done with themselves post-Katrina (he made it sound like a makeover in terms of losing weight and getting back on the right track like they are the Kristie Alley’s of the NFL!). They mean so much to the city of New Orleans (well, give me a couple of donuts and call me Charles Barkley, how can you exude more of a blatant showing of obvious comments?)

Nobody ever asked ‘ol Bush what he thought about sports, probably because he was too inept and simple minded to give a competent retort.

Because the Super Bowl is America’s newest de facto Holiday, I guess everybody gets a shot at emitting their opinion, even when nobody gives a shit.

(NOTE: I’m sure some gratuitious, self-righteous, PC idiot is going to comment this blog and tell me that nobody cares about my opinion and that I have no right to impart my thoughts on Obama’s thoughts on the Super Bowl, that not even an iota of the human population cares. But guess what, people? You probably do care if you are not only reading this but also commenting! Ah, people!)

Peyton Manning is the Man!

 

Peyton Manning throws to the right side to Pierre Garcon. . . TOUCHDOWN COLTS! And just like that, they take the lead!

Manning to Austin Collie near the middle of the end zone. . . TOUCHDOWN COLTS!

Manning to Dallas Clark. . . TOUCHDOWN COLTS!

It was as if Peyton Manning said in his mind, “This is for everybody who’s ever doubted my career performance in the playoffs.”

When the Jets kicked the field goal to go up 17-6, I texted one of my buddies saying “Oh, man, Peyton always fails to deliver in the playoffs!”

I sure as hell was wrong.

Manning sliced and diced the heralded Jets defense, perhaps dismantling them with sheer ‘gusto‘ as the Colts toppled the fledgling Jets defense in the second half. New York did everything they could to try to get into the minds of the Colts’ offense. They tried to pressure Manning, but quick passes that were also amalgamated with the fact that they were perfectly thrown to its intended targets meant that the ailing Jets defense could only bend over and take it.

This will be Manning’s second trip to the Super Bowl, and his second trip to Miami while Dolphin Stadium being the venue of the new de facto American holiday.

When the Colts step onto the field to tangle with the New Orleans Saints, the Colts won’t dare be testing the strength of the Saints’ purported destiny, but rather forcing America and the rest of those watching around the globe to take notice: the Colts are not a team to be reckoned with. Of course, everybody should know that, but the Colts are forcing everybody and their mommas to look out.

What’s With the Tar Heels?

I’m not going to sugarcoat the absolute truth: The North Carolina Tar Heels suck this year. You can call it a rebuilding year or just a year where nothing is going right, but they flat out suck! I’ve never saw a team that, after a year of winning a national championship by having such a polished game inside and out, fall so far from the Heavens when it comes to scoring in the paint. They look like they are playing a game of racquetball with the basketball by using their hands instead of a racket and using a basketball to bounce off the backboard, playing with their teammates as the opposing team tries to catch a rebound.

Hell, opposing teams don’t even have to try. The Tar Heels are so bad at getting the ball in right under the  basket, that they can follow up by ordering a bucket of popcorn (apropos to Terrell Owens’ “getcha popcorn ready!” mantra) and watching on as the little boys in baby blue blow a load of easy baskets.

Roy Williams must be growing balder by the minute. His eyes are probably transcending into two bloodshot beads as his mind becomes decrepit watching his piss poor of a college basketball squad botch everything.

I know that they’ll be one hell of a team pretty soon, and that they’ll get it together and give Duke a one up or two, but damn, they look awful! Plain awful! Warm up the bus and get the hell out! Just get the hell out! They are stinkin’ the place up!

Brett Favre Screws the Vikings and Peyton Manning Plays “Saintly” Good

I truly wanted to see a Super Bowl that featured BOTH Brett Favre and Peyton Manning. I really did. I was all for it. Then the Vikings just had to have 12 players in the huddle, and Brett Favre just HAD to top the cake with a little icing called “run across the field and throw the ball across your body like you’re a Rookie quarterback instead of scrambling for about a good eight yards and setting Ryan Longwell up with about a 52-yard field goal.”

Thank you, Brett Favre. The impending doom was inevitable, and I should have known that when I picked you, Adrian Peterson’s sorry ass and the sorry ass Vikings to advance to Super Bowl 44, but quite frankly common sense wasn’t present when I forgot about how Favre was going to eventually turn into the 2003 version of himself. Roar, damn it!

Just some notes

– What about Favre’s fledgling band of followers in Mark Schlereth, Merril Hoge and Ron Jaworski? As to what those guys will now do, as their erections have gone flaccid, remains to be seen. However, if the noises said to be coming out of stalls or cubicles of the mens’ room in the “SportsCenter” studios will be anything to go by, then one can surmise that they’ll no doubt be relieving themselves by some form of self arousal.

– Maybe Adrian Peterson should learn from a real running back on how to hold onto a football (Steven ‘Action’ Jackson, perhaps).

The fact that a flag was not thrown when Brett Favre was taken down Tom Brady style, that was bullshit. However, when you give up the ball five times, prepare to face defeat.

A lot of people are touting a shootout between the Colts and Saints, but I would expect that Peyton Manning and Co. are going to wear out the Saints defense and exploit them up and down the field with several check down passes to Dallas Clark, Austin Collie and Pierre Garcon. In Super Bowl 41, Manning and Reggie Wayne hooked up for a 40-some yard touchdown pass. In Super Bowl 44? That just may happen again.

Maybe I’m looking too far into things in thinking that the Colts are going to do to the Saints as to what they did to the Bears in Miami in 2007, but those two offenses are completely different (I don’t even need to run down a list of discrepancies).

The Saints sure look like a team of destiny, and maybe their destiny was to deliver New Orleans their first Super Bowl berth, but are you really willing to bet against a battle tested Indianapolis Colts team that, to me, favorably compare to the type of veteran fortitude that the San Antonio Spurs feature in the NBA?

Didn’t think so.

Singin’ the David Woodley Blues!

Over the past weekend I’ve been thinking about David Woodley. You don’t know who I’m talking about? Oh, sure you do! He was the starting quarterback for the Miami Dolphins in Super Bowl XVII. A season later, the Dolphins had drafted Dan Marino and by week five he had his ass sat on the bench, and after the season over he was traded to the Pittsburgh Steelers. Ensuingly, he practically ostracized himself from the NFL and fell into a tenure of alcohol abuse before he died in May 2003 of liver and kidney damage.

I’ve been thinking about Woodley because, at the time (1983), he was the youngest quarterback to start a Super Bowl (24 years of age). Hell, the Dolphins led 17-10 over the Redskins at halftime before the Redskins scored 17 unanswered points to beat the Phins. Woodley’s career is a reminder that once you have a shot at the glory in the NFL, you may never reach the mountain top again after you’ve nearly ensconced the pinnacle.

Look at the 2002 Oakland Raiders — they never made it back to the Super Bowl. Look at the 2003 Carolina Panthers — they never made it back to the Super Bowl. Look at the 2004 Philadelphia Eagles — they never made it back to the Super Bowl. 2005 Seattle Seahawks — they never made it back to the Super Bowl. Look at the 2006 Chicago Bears — they never made it back to the Super Bowl. Look at last year’s Arizona Cardinals and how they fared this year, making the playoffs after playing against a weak division, having to rely on their offense to beat the Green Bay Packers, and getting their asses kicked by the NFC champion New Orleans Saints.

You have to seize the opportunity. Take it and keep it. Don’t let go. Hold on. Play for all the marbles.

Tim Lincecum is Relentless

Every time I see Tim Lincecum on television, I keep wondering how old the guy is, even though I already know (25), because he looks like a teenager who hangs around burger shacks and sips on milkshakes.

Instead of being the said teenager who hangs around burger shacks and sips on milkshakes, he’s an ass-kicking pitcher for the San Francisco Giants of the Major League Baseball. If you wanted a more pithy statement to sum up Lincecum’s abilities, sit down, because there’s nothing else that needs to be said.

He’s faced my St. Louis Cardinals four times in his career. Three times he’s stifled the Cards at Busch Stadium (most recently last night in a 10-0 Giants win). In total, all four have resulted in wins for Lincecum.

The sky is the limit for this guy.

What About Pau Gasol?

The Los Angeles Lakers racked up their 15th title on Sunday night. Congratulations. I’ve had to take a few days to get the vomit out of my system, and, because I’m Troy Sparks, I would like to take the time to bash the Lakers really quick before I toss out some really freakin’ ornery props toward them. Eh, so the Lakers are now touted as being once again two titles behind the Celtics (yet the Lakers are 2-9 all time against the greatest NBA franchise to ever lace ‘em up), yet I say we remove five of their titles. The five I’m talking about are the ones that they won in Minneapolis. Yes, that’s right. The ratio should be 10:17 instead of 15:17. Nobody says that the Cleveland Browns have a championship from the Baltimore Ravens’ Super Bowl victory in 2001, do they? I mean, the ‘Ravens’ were touted as being the ‘original Browns’, right? So leave the five titles to the Minneapolis Lakers and give the ten others to the Los Angeles Lakers. It’s only fair.

Kobe Bryant finally did it. No longer riding on Shaquille O’Neal’s coattails, proving the doubters wrong, making everybody in the world and those watching from outer space believe that he’s such an enthralling leader, all of that crap, yaddee-yaddee-yah. Yep. Yeah. Yes. Congratulations, Kobe. I’m not going to sit here and bore the hell out of everybody reading this with a bunch of verbose bullshit negating anything that Kobe’s did, but KOBE (yes, I’m speakin’ to ya, bro), why did you do that fake ass, premeditated, jackass-esque Michael Jordan-over-Craig Ehlo-wannabe fist pump!?!?! WHY!?!??!?! Damn it!

I’m not going to bloviate about the NBA Finals. It’s late Wednesday morning, and the Finals finished up three nights ago. You know everything about the games and the ending. So if I need to tell you how it ended or break down any stats, then you are in the wrong place (and apparently the wrong mind).

Pau Gasol was the real MVP of this series. While Kobe thrived in a couple of games, keep in mind that he had a few subpar games and failed to live up to his ‘Closer’ appellation by not being able to close out game three, having a mediocre second half. Gasol never had a bad game. He stood tall in every game. Proved all the doubters wrong (yes, I was a DOUBTER), played physical basketball, took it to the Magic, shot face up jumper after face up jumper against the lost-minded Orlando Magic, took hook shots to the basket, and all in between, played the best defense I’ve ever seen the man play.

So, yeah, yeah, congratulations Lakers.

However, the true victories are the ones you win through the Boston Celtics.

I also have no doubt in my mind that if Kevin Garnett and Leon Powe were healthy (at least Garnett), the Celtics would be racking up number eightteen right now. And yes, that is my bisaed Boston Celtics fan-mind speaking. Thank you very much.

Sammy Sosa Cheated Six Years Ago, So Why Are We Talking Now?

Reports ascended yesterday that Sammy Sosa, the man whom along with Mark McGwire brought baseball back to prominence in 1998 when both men chased Roger Maris’ single season home run record, used some good ‘ol steroids in 2003. Well, who cares?

The year is 2009. 2003 was a long time ago. 2003 was a time when the Florida Marlins were rockin’ out, and the Yankees were still making World Series appearances. 2003 was a time when the New England Patriots were getting ready to make headway on their run for two Super Bowl championships in a row. 2003 was a time when my father passed away.

2003 is long gone.

The only reason this issue is being thrown at everyone’s faces is because it is a plague on baseball that is exclusively brought to you by steroids! Steroids are the only type of vice that will have the past haunt you like it does now. What other type of issue in sports will bring bullshit up from the past?

I don’t care that he cheated. Everybody is practically cheating in baseball today, so I’m not surprised a single bit. Sosa is one of the heroes of many kids growing up in the late 90s/early 2000s, but the year 2009 is among us and I’m no longer surprised at anybody who is injected needles in their asses.

At least baseball is slowly snubbing everybody out, one at a time apparently, even though Bud Selig is the most corrupted bastard I’ve ever seen in my entire freakin’ life!