Roger Clemens Is A Cheater.

There are numerous examples of Roger Clemens' use of performance enhancing drugs. For starters, no other power pitcher in the history of the game has improved his game after reaching his mid-30s. The scar tissue in his ass (from numerous shots) would also be glaring evidence if the court could subpoena his proctologist. Let's not forget his 'roid rage on national TV during the 2000 World Series when he threw half a Louisville Slugger at Mike Piazza. And if that isn't enough, the smoking gun in the case against Clemens can be viewed here.

Goose Bumps

Life is scattered with unforgettable moments, experiences you appreciate as they’re happening because you know you’re part of something special. I imagine watching your wife give birth to your first child falls under that category (also falls under the “holy shit, how is that possible?” category). Kissing the bride in front of your friends and family (especially when it’s your bride), walking across the stage to receive your college diploma, and attending a Rage Against The Machine concert also bring similar feelings.

Sports have a similar place in each person’s history of unforgettable events. Any Boston fan born after 1969 can tell you where he/she was when Carlton Fisk waived his home run fair in 1975. Any American older than six in 1980 will always remember the Miracle On Ice. For younger fans, no Texas fan (or USC hater) will forget watching Vince Young dethrone the heavily favored Trojans for the BCS National Championship. And since I’m still avoiding all sports as part of Lent(see I Quit), thought I’d write about my past experiences while I continue to recover from last weekend’s sickening defeat. I’m sure any Giants “fan” will agree Sunday’s improbable victory ranks as one of their top-3 moments.

Side note: At my staff meeting on Wednesday during our “kudos” session (I live on the hippy west coast, remember), one of my coworkers gave kudos to another coworker for hosting a great Super Bowl party. Without thinking, I replied by saying, “I don’t want to talk about it.” I need to find a Boston support group here in San Francisco.

February 3, 2002
Super Bowl XXXVI

I found myself holding my breath the entire second half as my Patriots
continued to lead the heavily favored Rams. Then, faster than you could
say Az Akim, the other shoe finally dropped as the Rams tied the game
w/ less than two minutes to go. Admittedly, I was in denial. The air
had finally been let out of our balloon, and the better team was on the
verge of victory. Or was it? What happened next defied all odds (kinda
like the most recent Super Bowl). Tom Brady proceeded to march his team
down the field, the Rams defense being picked away like a week-old
scab. And when Adam Vinatieri split the uprights (always nice to kick
in a dome), my roommate and I began dancing around the living room in a
way only Rocky and Apollo Creed could understand. The moment was a
culmination of the honeymoon ride that began in the Snow Bowl, coupled
w/ an incredible halftime show (before nipples were acceptable) and the
still-fresh patriotism (no pun intended) felt by our nation. It was one
of the greatest nights of my legendary senior year of college. Then
again, isn't everyone's senior year legendary in their eyes? If you
disagree, take out some loans and go get another four-year education. And bring condoms.

April 27, 2003
Celtics/Pacers, First Round of NBA Playoffs (Game 4)

With the Pacers leading 48-36 at halftime, it appeared the Celtics were in danger of letting Indiana tie the series at 2-2. And then it happened—someone reminded Paul Pierce he’s the greatest scorer in Celtics history. After spending much of the first half deferring to his teammates, the Truth came out more aggressive and sank his first few shots, awakening the home crowd and fans all over the country. The exclamation point came with seconds left in the third quarter. Pierce, dribbling behind the arc as time wound down, stared down his taller defender (Al Harrington). Thanks to NBC cameras, everyone watching at home could read his lips as he said, “I hope you’re ready, ‘cause I’m ready to bring it.” He then rose up and drilled a three at the buzzer, giving him 21 points for the quarter. The small crowd watching with me in the AmeriCorps dorm lounge in Sacramento went nuts. In just 12 minutes of play, Pierce transformed these casual sports fans into a fevered (peaceful) mob, and reminded me why I live and die with Boston sports, even when I’m on the other side of the country. And in case you were wondering, Pierce finished with 37 points, including his 21 in the third quarter (new Celtics record). His postseason play helped a much weaker Celtics team overcome the talented Pacers and move on to the second round. Indiana coach Isiah Thomas contributed, as well, laying the groundwork for his futile career as an NBA coach and general manager.

October 18, 2004
Red Sox/Yankees, ALCS (Game 5)

You knew Boston’s championship season would make the list, didn’t you? Still floating after the previous night’s dramatic win in the face of elimination, a hint of hope had crept into my thought process. Living in DC, I struggled to find a group of loyal Sox fans. It didn’t help that none of my roommates were sports fans. So that Monday night, I went to my friend Taresa’s place to watch the game w/ her and her sports fanatic boyfriend Gregg (now husband). He’s a Mets fan, she’s a Phillies fan, but they both found themselves rooting for the Sox, as did everyone else in her small living room that night.

Down two heading into the eighth inning, the sinking feeling only Sox fans can understand began to return. Then David Ortiz led off the inning w/ a home run, igniting the crowd that had been desperate for a spark. As he did the night before, Kevin Millar drew a walk and was replaced by pinch-runner Dave Roberts. After moving to third on a Trot Nixon single, Roberts scored on Jason Varitek’s sacrifice fly, marking the second time in less than 24 hours the supposedly untouchable Mariano Rivera blew a save. The result was extra innings for the second consecutive day, and another long night for baseball fans. Each team threatened during the extra frames, but the score remained the same until Ortiz came up with two runners on and two outs. On the 10^th pitch of his at-bat, he fisted a bloop single just past the infield, allowing Johnny Damon to come speeding around to score the Sox’s second walk-off run in as many nights. If Fenway Park was a dome, the roof would’ve blown off as thousands of fans witnessed another piece of the dream season. As we cheered loudly in Taresa’s living room that night, Gregg, lost in the moment, got in my face and yelled, “I don’t know how you Sox fans do it every night! I thought I was gonna have a heart attack and I’m a Mets fan!”

Since that season, I’ve met dozens of people from all over the country who also got swept up in the fever that October. Most now consider the Sox their second favorite team because of what they endured—they were a part of that team, as was all of Red Sox Nation. In fact, I imagine many non-Sox fans would include at least one game from that season in their goose bumps list. And isn’t the possibility of witnessing the unforgettable on any given day the best thing about sports? That and cheerleaders, of course.

Dook Sucks

Allow me to welcome myself to this blog. You may look forward to my rants regarding the evil Dook basketball program and my full support of every Carolina program in existence: basketball, football, soccer, women's field hockey (national champs, baby!) lacrosse and baseball. Let me begin by showing you what Coach K teaches his little satan minions: http://youtube.com/watch?v=s0upQDkY-pg

Is this the guy you want coaching your team USA basketball team?

Oh yeah, I love the Red Sox, too, so at least we have that in common. The Patriots: I'll pull for them over anyone else in the NFL, especially now that I have a Maroney jersey. Celtics: I prefer the Bobcats but I'm willing to jump on that bandwagon. And Clemens is a lying bitch who will probably be pardoned by Bush.

Raymond Felton and Sean May are my idols.

Keep it classy, Westbrook.

Andy Petite: Class Act

Man, that Andy Petite is just a class act. He must be, since everyone from Congressmen to Sportswriters to Roger Clemens says so. I mean he's deeply religious guys, I hope you realize that, and these proceedings have taken such a toll on him. Poor guy. He's so filled with angst from all of this that he has to show up late to spring training. Just a real classy guy. All he ever did was cheat twice, or maybe a few more time than that, by doing HGH...but he told the truth, sort of, every single time he was asked except for a few times! A class act! I think he should be even more heavily lauded for his integrity than he already has been for only lying about cheating a few times! What a great guy Andy Petite is!

Thanks Mikey!

But that was my friend Mazzo. We all know I am not eloquent.

An Eloquent Eulogy

I have to hand it to Steve. His latest post was accurate, elegant and tone perfect. He caught the overall depression that I have been harboring since the debacle. His list of consequences of that stinkhole game articulates for me what I myself could not. I have been a rabid Patriots fan forever, and I am emotionless now. The catharsis is complete. I hope I can get it back by next season, but I think there may be wholesale changes in the team. It was now or never, or at least not for a while.

What a waste!

Bravo Steve! A truly Sports Guy diatribe. And I hope you feel better for writing it. It helped me just to read it!!

I Quit

(Disclaimer: I have limited access to the internet, thus I'm only posting this now, although I wrote it Monday)

Some people give up alcohol for Lent. Others take a six-week break from chocolate or coffee. I’ve decided 2008 will be the first year I observe the Christian holiday, swearing to abstain from sports until Easter (or March Madness, whichever comes first). That’s right, I’m quitting cold turkey, avoiding it on TV, radio, in the newspapers and online. My divorce from sports began Sunday night around 7pm PST, as I helplessly watched my beloved Patriots succumb to a lesser team in front of millions of uneducated viewers.

If you’re a football fan, you understand how selfish the Giants were in robbing the nation of witnessing history. If you’re a New England sports fan, you’re still recovering from a sleepless night that began with nausea and/or tears. And if you’re a New Yorker, you’re not fooling anyone by switching out your Jets hat for a Giants one. Neither team, by the way, plays in your state, so you might as well start rooting for the Bills. Or wait for baseball season (pitchers and catchers report February 14).

As stunning as the upset was, no one will care 10 years from now. Your kids won’t ask you about the 2007 Giants, their season or Super Bowl XLVII. Instead, they’ll want to know why no team has gone undefeated since the ’72 Dolphins, and why Mercury Morris appears on ESPN every October talking about how great his team was (even though they didn’t beat a single playoff team in the regular season and only had to play 17 games to finish undefeated). Actually, they’ll ask you how such an annoying kook gets so much air time.

Since traditions are so important (New Year’s, Doody’s Invitational, etc.), I’ll revert back to my college days and give you the top seven reasons why the world would be a better place if the Patriots had won the Super Bowl.

1. Junior Seau, one of the greatest linebackers of his era, will now retire with the same number of championship rings as you, me and Dupree.

2. The Giants defensive coordinator looks like a rat. I hate rats.

3. Get ready for even more Manning commercials. There’s Peyton pretending to be a football player who uses Gatorade! There’s Peyton as a high school quarterback! There’s Eli acting as an overrated quarterback who makes a deal with the devil to enable him to complete a huge third-down pass after almost being sacked in the closing minutes of the game! There’s Peyton giving head to a Budweiser Clydesdale! There’s Eli opening a Bud with his teeth as he delivers his lines in broken English! The possibilities are (unfortunately) limitless.

4. The Giants dumped ice water on Coughlin once the victory was secure, thereby crushing the hopes of everyone who put money on purple as the color of Gatorade poured on the winning coach.

5. Our grandchildren could hear stories of how exciting it was watching the Patriots complete a perfect season when no one outside New England, including the NFL commissioner, wanted them to win. We’d reflect on a record-setting offense led by the greatest coach and quarterback of all time. We’d tilt our head back slightly, look off in the distance and smile as the season returned to memory. Instead, we will never again speak of the 2007 season.

6. Bill Bellichik did not accept the Lombardi Trophy from Commissioner Roger Goodell, an exchange that had the potential to surpass Michael Scott’s diversity training on the awkwardness scale. I’m sure Tom Coughlin provided great theater during the awards ceremony, but I’m guessing it was less awkward and more scary/angry. Since I’d already begun observing Lent, I missed it, but would not be surprised if he screamed obscenities at the commissioner and shoved him off the podium.

7. The Patriots’ narrow loss only adds fuel to the Spygate accusations. As a fan, I can honestly say Super Bowl weekend was not fun. I began Saturday reading about new allegations that my team taped the Rams’ walk-through practice before Super Bowl XXXVI. Then, right before the big game, my girlfriend was harassed by three Giants fans for wearing a Red Sox sweatshirt as she walked (alone) to the grocery store. Then, I sat through the entire game too nervous to enjoy it, anxiously texting friends and making a desperate halftime call to Sol for reassurance. And after Corky Manning completed his improbable pass into quadruple coverage, my stomach began to feel as if I’d been kicked in the nuts while suffering from food poisoning. Worst feeling since Grady Little’s last game as Red Sox manager. Thank god we have Josh Beckett.

Worse Than You Think

It's really bad. Now we have to listen to those old Miami geezers for another 35 years, next year we will be blitzed to death, and we lost the game the same way we lost it last year: our defense collapsed at the worst possible moment.

We got a lot on offense over the off-season; now we need a lot more speed on defense. Bruski and Seau were pretty quiet, it seems to me.

Damn it.

That was awful.

Very 2003 Red Sox.

Talk about a missed once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.