Hey, I Heard You Missed Us…

By David Raposa | Published: August 12, 2009

…or not.

At any rate, whether you’re a long-time reader, or someone new to this thing, or just some random Googler looking for “kenny powers toilet seat” — hello there!  The next time this site takes a multi-month hiatus, I’ll try to warn you kind folks (or, ideally, NOT take the hiatus).

As for what’s going on with the site, it’s business as usual, but with one minor tweak: Jockish is on Twitter! Trends are trendy! Just search for “jockish” in your Twitter app of choice or go to http://www.twitter.com/jockish for an unending torrent of 140-character posts (give or take) concerning sports & sports-like topics!  Or just look at the sidebar for the most recent twits! You can’t lose! Unless Twitter shuts down!

Also, if you happen to find yourself in our archive, you’ll find all the posts from the football-centric progenitor of Jockish, called White Lines.  There weren’t many White Lines posts, but if you only have time to go back and read one old post, please let it be this rough draft of John Clayton’s Hall of Fame acceptance speech.  Jockish’s other parent sites (Hard Wood and, of course, Yard Work) still have their goodies where they’ve always been, so if you have an itch that only silly basketball or baseball blog posts can scratch, feel free to visit.

And, of course, we (which right now is me) are always looking for contributors — if you think you have what it takes (and don’t mind working for the sake of the work), or just want to send over some much-appreciated kudos (or the opposite of kudos, which will be appreciated in its own way), the e-mail address to spam is: NEWSFLASH at the website you’re currently reading.  Or you can just leave a comment on your preferred post of choice.

And that’s that.  Hopefully, the best is yet to come (and will come at a more regular pace) (no Adam Sandler). Hope you can stick around for it.  And I’ll stop with the unintentional puns now.  As always, thanks for reading.

DR

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Let’s Get Ready To Not Rumble

By David Raposa | Published: August 12, 2009

It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t long.  It was barely even a fight.  But when Red Sox slugger Kevin Youkilis took a pitch from Detroit Tiger wunderkind Rick Porcello between the two and the zero on the back of his jersey, I swear I saw heard a bell ring.  This meeting of the minds and other body parts was nothing more than a couple of professional athletes coming together over a slight misunderstanding based on some misplaced tosses from both pitchers, including one on the wrist of Tigers superstar Miguel Cabrera that knocked him out of the game in the middle of an at-bat.  This incontrovertible fact, however, wouldn’t prevent a promoter from boxing’s heyday from having a field day promoting this bout between two drastically dissimilar individuals.  Kevin "The Killer" Youkilis versus "Pretty" Rick Porcello.  The Cincinnati Creep versus The Morristown Mauler.  Frankenstein versus the matinee idol.  Chubby mouse versus kiddie mouse, scrapping over who gets to be big cheese.  Stranger bedfellows couldn’t be had if you found an MIT professor and a Hooters waitress stress-testing a Holiday Inn mattress. 

Charging the mound was Youkilis, a ballplayer that, until recently, was known more for his less-than-svelte physique than his punch at the plate.  Prior to joining the Red Sox major league roster, he was best known as the white whale chased, and never caught, by the Oakland A’s front office in Michael Lewis’ Moneyball. And even when he made the big club, there were questions as to what kind of player he could be, if he even was a player.  But as he’s done throughout his playing career, Youkilis made critics eat their words with a side of crow,  helping the Red Sox to a World Series championship in 2007, and becoming one of the most feared and loathed hitters in the American League.  Befitting the fiery red-ass reputation that’s made him the face of the Boston franchise, Youkilis paused briefly to remove his helmet and hurl it at his assailant before continuing on his way towards the inevitable showdown.

At the other end of this exchange, nimbly dodging the plastic red projectlie, was young Porcello, a man just two years removed from his high school graduation.  Where Youkilis had to overcome both scouts and science to achieve the success he’s realized, Porcello’s path to the Major Leagues has been as gold-plated as any walkway outside of Oz.  A lights-out hurler in prep school, the highest-paid high school pitcher ever drafted, up with the big club after only one year toiling in the minor leagues, and now one of the key components of a first place club.  Porcello might be too young to buy himself a beer, but age ain’t nothing but a number when it comes to getting your clock cleaned.

Sadly for fans of the sweet science, no punches were thrown, though Greco-Roman wrestling fans might have been satified with the skirmish.  Youkilis quickly pounced on Porcello after missing with the helmet, and while fans of their respective teams might question who brought who down, there’s no question that both men took a tumble.  Shortly after touchdown came their respective teammates running in from all sides of the field, both to pull the two men apart and to perhaps settle their own scores.  But only fellow Tigers pitcher Edwin Jackson, bearing a not-so-passing resemblance to Lou Frazier as he tried to muscle his way through the crowd, looked eager to throw down.  The only other confrontation of note occurred between the two managers, and what happened between Jim Leyland and Terry Francona was completely verbal, and free of any animosity.

So is there much in this to-do, or is it all just a whole lot of nothing?  Mostly the latter – Red Sox fans might like to think that this skirmish is a harbinger similar to the tussle that happened between their team and the Yankees back in 2004, but it’s much too early to say that for sure.  No one was hurt in the fight, thankfully, except potentially for some players’ and managers’ wallets, if that.  As they say, the game goes on, and though the game remembers many notable skirmishes – the scalp massage Nolan Ryan administered to a young Robin Ventura, for one, or Chan Ho Park letting his feet do the talking against Tim Belcher, or that tawdry affair between Juan Marichal, John Roseboro, and a baseball bat – it will go on to forget this little donnybrook.  So move along, folks.  Nothing to see here except some baseball, if you want it.

Boxing guru Bert Sugar was elected to the International Boxing Hall of Fame in January 2005, wrote a whole lot of books, and smoked a whole lot of cigars.

Posted in Bert Sugar, Yard Work | Leave a comment

Welcome To Chicago, Jay Cutler! Hope You Survive The Experience!

By David Raposa | Published: August 11, 2009

Remember when the Denver Broncos traded Jay Cutler to the Chicago Bears?  And everyone thought he was really immature and a headcase?  And maybe they still think that, and wonder what the hell Chicago’s thinking?  Yeah!  Now that the NFL season’s about to start, the fine folks here at Jockish thought it’d be great to see what advice and thoughts some former Chicago QBs from the past ten years had to offer as the Bears enter this brave new world!  So here you go!  Don’t hurt yourself!

Kyle Orton (2005-2008; currently on the Denver Broncos)
It’s tough starting over in a new place.  And I should know, becuase I’m doing the same thing.  But it’s like life — things change, nothing’s forever, and you gotta roll with the punches and get to what’s real.  Just, you know, hang in there.  Keep your head on straight, and keep your eyes on the prize.  Leave it out on the field.  You play to win the game.  All of that stuff. Chicago’s a great place to play, but it ain’t an easy place, that’s for sure.  They expect a lot from you out there, and it’s up to you to deliver it.  And if you don’t deliver, boy, they’re gonna let you know.  But it’s so great when you actually do deliver, it’s like those other twenty or thirty times when you didn’t deliver don’t even matter anymore.  Except when you don’t come through again, and then it’s, you know, like that Madonna song – what have you done for me lately?  So, yeah, it’s great when you’re great, and not so great when you’re not so great.  But it’s Chicago, right?  So it’s great.  I mean, it’s not like Denver, which is great, but it’s still pretty great.  Yeah.

Rex Grossman (2003-2008; currently on the Houston Texans)
No offense, but Chicago can lick my Polish sausage. And I’m sure as heck not Polish, if you catch my drift.  I got ripped when I dumped the ball off, I got ripped when I threw the ball downfield, I got ripped when the pocket collapsed and I lost 30 yards on a fumble, and I got ripped sitting on the bench watching someone else get sacked.  I’m probably getting ripped right now, and I don’t even know it.  Look: if you fat sacks want Jim McMahon, then get him out of his wheelchair, slap on that dopey visor helmet of his, and have at it.  He wouldn’t with a gosh darn thing with the trash I had to throw and hand off to.  Not a gosh darn thing.  When you’ve got a rocket arm like mine at the wheel, you don’t buy a mid-sized compact that gets good mileage to get the job done, right?  And you don’t drive twenty miles under the speed limit, either!  That’s what I thought.

Luke McCown (N/A; currently on the Tampa Bay Buccaneers)
So,yeah, I guess since you guys couldn’t reach former Bear "great" Cade McNown, you thought it’d be "funny" to talk to me instead?  Because our last names sound the same?  Yeah, ha ha ha, real funny, Deadspin.  "Duuuuuh, I’m Cade McNown!  Me try to steal pretty stripper from Tim Couch!  Then old man Hugh Hefner get mad and make me go home sad in my pee-pee!  I like shaving points! Cheating fun! Derpy derpy doo! Oops! I fumble the magic round thing again!  Sorry Mr. Defense!  Here you go!"  Whatever — I have work to do, unlike some people.

Kordell Stewart (2003; currently contemplating return to NFL)
I am really sad that my time in Chicago didn’t work out as well as I had hoped.  It certainly wasn’t as awesome as my time with Colorado, that’s for sure! But it was an experience I will treasure throughout my career!  I had a lot of fun playing there, and I love to visit whenever I’m in town, too!  Walking the streets of Chicago was almost as exciting as setting up under center during a National Football League game!  Whether it’s looking at the exhibits in the Hard Rock Hotel Chicago and eating at their expensive Chinese restaurant, taking the L train all over the city, or going to the South Side of Chicago to catch up on Major League Baseball’s Chicago Cubs, there was never a lack of excitement to be had!  I remember when the Cubs had me visit the broadcast booth right after I became a Chicago Bear!  When I got to sing the National Anthem during the 7th inning, I will admit that was probably the highlight of my career with the Bears!  If I had to give Jay Cutler advice he embarks on his NFL career, it would be this: good luck!  And try Harry Caray’s restaurant!

Brian Griese (2006-2007; released by Tampa Bay on July 13th, 2009)
OK, so there’s this great little hole-in-the-wall speakeasy place, right?  You gotta know the right folks to find it.  Very exclusive.  Forget what it’s called, Soft Nipple or Le Douche or some shit.  It’s like somewhere in the city, off some street — whatever, look it up on YT, not MT.  So on the outside, it’s like all ghetto and gully and whatnot, real hardcore.  And then you go in through this door that looks like it’s not even there!  It was crazy!  And then you have to wait in this cramped little hallway while people come and go in their evening wear.  And the dude that sits everyone, after you sit around for like a half hour or some shit, he’s like all mysterious, saying "come with me" or something like he’s some butler?  And then WHOA it’s like you walked onto some really posh porn set or something with the lighting and the furniture, the whole nine yards!  Like Jackie Treehorn’s joint in that flick with Lebowski!  Total class.  And the menu’s fancy as fuck, with all this stuff in cursive about the history of like BOURBON like what the hell you are totally blowing my mind!? 

So me and my boys are sitting there drinking our cocktails, pinky fingers up in the air like medieval times, eating these like little lamb puffs or some shit?  And my girl sends me a text.  Some co-ed piece I met a few months before at some bar, we did body shots, she sucked me off, you know the deal.  So I whip it out (haha!) to text her back like WASSAP HOTTIE I AM HAVING FANCY DRINKS WITH MY CREW WHER U AT?  And then the staff hard-ass comes over and is all like, "Excuse me, sir, but we don’t allow the use of cell phones in our establimentarianism."  And I’m like, you better believe you’re talking to an NFL superstar, sweet cheeks.  Your tits are nice, but they ain’t that nice, you feelin’ me, dog?  I got Hall of Fame blood in my veins!  I touched John Elway!  And I paid my $50 for watered-down Mad Dog and lamb pizza rolls, so kindly STFU and enjoy the aura of my celebrity, bitch!  But maybe I’ll break you off a little somethin’ if you gimme your digits, right?  And then some big-ass dude TOTALLY on the juice — I’m telling you, he was ripped like a goddamn fart! — he actually grabbed me by the shirt collar and escorted me and my boys the fuck out!  Fucking stretched the fuck out my brand new Affliction tee, fucking punkass.  If the cops weren’t parked across the street, I totally would’ve taken that Chuck Lidell-looking clown oh you tee OUT!  Suplex you like Thunderlips BABLOW!

So, yeah, fuck that place.

Posted in Jockish Staff, White Lines | Leave a comment

A Noun, A Verb, And Performance Enhancing Drugs

By David Raposa | Published: August 10, 2009

Cincinnati Post columnist Paul Daugherty wrote a column about the David Ortiz press conference.  This is the first sentence in that column:

Big Popper Ortiz said he was sorry for something.

Since I’ve quoted from it (and I’m trying to be a responsible blogger), I’ve linked to the column below.  But clearly, from the way Daugherty "ironically" modifies Ortiz’s nickname (never mind the actual title of the column), you probably don’t need to follow the link.  If you’ve read one sports columnist’s short-sighted indignation regarding the spectre of PED usage in baseball, you’ve read them all, and you’ve certainly read this one.  The same names are mentioned, the same facts are mangled, and the same hollow bluster is proffered.

Constrast that with, of all people, ESPN Radio’s Mike Greenberg, who said on this morning’s Mike & Mike broadcast (and I paraphrase) that the Ortiz presser shows there’s more going on than what was originally presumed, that he (among others) never thought to ask about what the folks on The List tested positive for, and that the only folks that are benefitting from the dribs and drabs of leaks coming from these still-confidential 2003 test results are folks in the media.  Specifically, folks like Daugherty — journalists and columnists cum Around-The-Horn hopefuls that wouldn’t recognize research or due dilligence if it pulled down their pants and stuck a needle in their ass.

To be honest, I only know about Daugherty because the founder of THE website that preceded this site (Yard Work) brought him to my attention.  The Daugherty that filed copy back in those halcyon days of 2005 seemed thoughtful and considerate, a cut above the Plaschkes and Reillys of the world, the sort that’d rather be soft-spoken and honest than loud and deceptive.  And maybe he’s actually being true to himself (or his readership) with this sort of been-there rhetoric.  But when a writer gets indirectly shown up in the fair-and-balanced department by a radio personality known more for endlessly IDing his show than anything truly substantive, something’s gone off the rails.  (Though Daugherty, in today’s column, does ask for a "Rick Reilly prescription" to help with his writing, so maybe that train was on the wrong track to begin with.)

Meanwhile, there are some folks actually looking into the (in my mind — don’t ask about where my caboose has been) more important and more interesting angles of this Ramirez / Ortiz revelation.  To be honest, I slept on Ben Schwartz’s three part series (and counting) regarding the specious New York Times article that kicked off this mess over at Friend of Jockish blog Can’t Stop The Bleeding, because I associated Schwartz’s blogline with one-sided talk about the Cubs that didn’t do much for me or my lack of desire to learn about why the Cubs are beyond awesome and/or doomed to perpetual failure.  (Don’t mind me while I get unnecessarily & unfairly reductive.)  But damn if Schwartz isn’t doing the damn thing in these posts, asking the questions about this story that aren’t being asked enough (within my earshot, anyway), and raising enough of a ruckus to get NYT Sports Editor Tom Jolly involved in the discussion — Jolly’s comments are attached to the first two posts, and (unnecessary White Sox jabs aside) Schwartz more than holds his own.

But as far as someone inside the sport succinctly expressing the confusion and ennui that people outside the sport no doubt feel regarding this drawn-out boondoggle, no one’s done a better job than Tigers manager Jim Leyland:

"I’ve always thought when something was confidential and sworn to be confidential I don’t know how stuff like that comes out," Leyland said. "I don’t condone steroids or growth hormone or anything else… For the most part, I don’t think fans (care.) The people that probably care about it are the people that probably don’t like baseball. So they really got something to (complain) about baseball. I don’t think the fans care that much. Or maybe they do, I don’t know."

I’d like to think that the parenthesized bits are replacing the more profane interjections Leyland offers when he just doesn’t give a bleep.

[More lame apologies by juicers | Cincinnati.com]

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Throw Some PEDs On That Ish

By David Raposa | Published: August 8, 2009

For folks that are able to recover from last night’s 15-inning Red Sox / Yankees 1-0 marathon (which might include the dude typing this who was unceremoniously pulled out of a really odd dream by an obnoxious ring-and-run telemarketer), there’s an exciting event planned before today’s Sabathia / Lester // Buck / McCarver double bill.

Exciting, that is, for folks that need more news on baseball & PEDs.  At 12:30 PM EST, David Ortiz (flanked by reps from the Major League Baseball Players Assocation) will hold a press conference to discuss his inclusion on that supposedly sealed hist of PED positive players from 2003 that keeps springing leaks.  To oil those tracks (as reported by sports business blog guru Maury Brown), the Major League Baseball Players Assocation General Counsel has released a statement.  You can read the whole thing at Brown’s Biz of Baseball site via the link at the end of this, but if you’d like a hit-and-run summary, here goes:

  1. As part of the sealing orders that were supposed to keep the list confidential (oops), the MLBPA can’t legally talk to the players about their 2003 results, meaning that a outed player “finds himself in an extremely unfair position; his reputation has been threatened by a violation of the court’s orders, but respect for those orders now leaves him without access to the information that might permit him to restore his good name.”
  2. The list of 104 (which could be the name of a sci-fi series) contains more players than what the bargaining parties agreed tested positive in 2003 — MLB has a handy chronology of The List’s scintillating & sordid history (including its many cataclysmic & pyrrhic battles with Bad Journalism) right here.
  3. The conditions and standards under which the 2003 tests occurred aren’t as “definitive” as the tests that nab PED users nowadays; as a result, the MLBPA General Counsel asserts that there are “substantial scientific questions” surrounding those 2003 results.
  4. This may explain the point in #2 about the size of the list: each test in 2003 included two sample collections.  The first was “unannounced and random”; the second was taken about 7 days later, after the originally tested player was advised to stop taking “legally available nutritional supplements (that) could trigger an initial ‘positive’ test.”  According to the statement, “a test could be initially reported as “positive”, but not treated as such by the bargaining parties on account of the second test.”

I imagine Ortiz’s statement (whether he gives it, or a representative speaks for him) will undoubtedly follow the script set forth by this press release, so barring a Minaya-esque ad-lib, it shouldn’t be that remarkable assuming you’ve read this MLBPA note.  What’s more remarkable to this writer, though, is the fact that there hasn’t been nearly enough done by the press outlets covering this story to do it (or the affected parties) any semblance of justice.  The facts behind these 2003 tests — including the very important sealing orders — are mentioned in a cursory manner, if at all.  News folks report the juicy sorta-facts (SLUGGER STICKS STEROIDS IN SIDE, SMOTHERS SPORT IN SLIME), and commentators & pundits run with those because it’s easy and listeners / readers like low-hanging fruit.  If any mention’s been made about either the legality of these results being perpetually leaked (and the journalistic standards that allowed these anonymous leaks to go to press) or of the fact that these results were from six years ago, I’ve only seen them come up in very brief passing, and usually by folks on the web who’re wiling away their work days talking about this sort of frivolous stuff.  Like me!  (See the postscript for one notable exception.)

Unfortunately, this sort of non-news gets conflated with actual news (like Manny Ramirez getting caught this year — that’s 2009 for those of you allergic to calendars — for using a banned substance), and it turns into one vast and obnoxious orgy wherein all comers bemoan the purity and sanctity of baseball’s past and present.  And the children, of course, because no one ever stops to think of those little bastards.  And the best part is that Major League Baseball rarely does anything to stop this sort of shistorm — it’s as if Bud Selig thinks it’s good to let these leaks and talks about the past happen, that they’re proving to the fans that the sport is fixing itself.  If Bud (or anyone in MLB) had half a brain (or my half of a brain, at least), they’d release a statement claiming the following (and I paraphrase):

Major League Baseball one of the most stringent and punitive drug-testing programs in all of professional sports, and what was ingested and injected by players before these programs were put into place has no more bearing on today’s game than what players did to themselves twenty-five or fifty years ago.  We would appreciate it if something was done to protect the rights of the individuals that are on the supposedly confidential government list, as was promised when those test were agreed upon.  And we would like everyone else that’s making hay off of these sorts of stories, be they for inclusion in a book or just run-of-the-mill reporting, to run off back to school and take a refresher course on the journalistic tenets you seem to have willfully or mistakenly forgotten over the course of your misbegotten careers. Go Rays.

[Prior to Ortiz Press Conference, MLBPA Releases Statement Regarding 2003 Drug Test]

PS: I’d be remiss, in the course of bloviating about all the lack of coverage of the confidentiality angle, if I didn’t link to Doug Glanville’s excellent New York Times op-ed on The List and the ramifications of releasing all the names.

PPS: In the midst of blogging the above (it’s really hard!), MLB spit up their own press release, and I can’t read it without imagining Selig at his most noxious and snake-like navigating its wishy-washy waters.

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When Peformance Enhancement Goes Too Far

By David Raposa | Published: August 7, 2009

I’ll leave the Michael Vick joeks to those bloggers that worry about things like “traffic” and “page views” and such silliness:

Some saffron finches seized last month in an alleged Connecticut bird-fighting ring had sharpened beaks, and at least one had a sharp metal object attached to its beak, police said Friday.

Investigators said in an arrest affidavit unsealed Thursday that their search of a house in Shelton, west of New Haven, turned up superglue, antibiotics, skin and blood supplements, a mini digital scale and unknown powders that are being tested.

“We feel it was things to treat the injured birds or to increase their stamina or their ability to fight,” said Shelton Police Detective Benjamin Trabka.

About 15 birds had serious head, neck and chest injuries, Trabka said. One had a sharp piece of metal attached to its beak and investigators were told spurs were attached to the birds’ beaks, the detective said.

That’s right — finch and canary fighting.  Cock fighting’s clearly for those pussies outside of the tri-state area.  Of course, in the Phillipines, spider fighting is hot with the kids (from 1998, at least — guess that means the £1.50 those little dudes fetched a decade ago’s appreciated some).  And no doubt someone somewhere has “Eye of the Tiger” cranked up to 11 while trying to teach the sleeper hold to their pet guppie.  To paraphrase Qyntel Woods (or, more accurately, “Qyntel Woods”), you need to teach that fish to fight.

[The Associated Press: Conn. police: Fighting finches had sharpened beaks]

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Give Brian Bannister Ten Minutes, He’ll Fix Victor Zambrano And Dewon Brazelton

By David Raposa | Published: August 7, 2009

Article (& even the quoted bit) ganked from Baseball Think Factory’s Newsblog, but if the internet’s about anything, it’s about sharing, so:

Bannister recalls Rick Peterson, the Mets’ pitching coach at the time, talking about pitch counts. It was simple math — "If you get ahead of a guy in an 0-2 count, his batting average goes down," Bannister says — but the message stuck.

"It got me intrigued into how different things affect my future success in this game," Bannister says. "It’s been a process, because nobody is out there using sabermetrics as a tool in player development.

"I kind of feel like I’m a pioneer in that aspect of the game. That every fifth day when I go out there, the Major Leagues is kind of my way to apply this stuff and see if it can be used in the future for developing players."

These sort of "stathlete" articles were around & about for Bannister back in ’07, when he first broke through with the Royals (and if I could find one of them, I’d link to them right here).  But as this MLB article notes, Bannister was skeptical of his success in ’07 (due to a low K/9 rate, and an abnormally low BABIP), tried to make some tweaks in ’08, got lit up, was eventually demoted, and went back to the drawing board in prep for 2009. 

Specifically, he turned to MLB’s PITCHf/x technology.  He talks (like, actual audio) about it in more depth in this interview from waaay back in July, The Hardball Times‘ Harry Pavlidis goes in depth to look at what’s changed for Bannister, and Fangraphs‘ Dave Allen adds a little garnish.  As for the actual results of Bannister’s experiment to reproduce 2007′s success in a less fluky fashion, so far so good:

  • 2007: 165.0 IP, 76 R, 4.20 K/9, 2.40 BB/9, .266 BABIP
  • 2009: 123.0 IP, 60 R, 5.78 K/9, 2.85 BB/9, .287 BABIP

Thank god Dayton Moore is backing up the yeoman work done by guys like Bannister & Zack Grienke with powerhouse offensive acquisitions like Yuniesky Betancourt and Willie Bloomquist.

As for the Rick Peterson sideswipe in the title, looks like Brazelton’s path did vaguely cross Bannister’s — DB was in the Royals organization from 12/4/06 to 4/27/07; Bannister was acquired from the Mets on 12/5/06.  No fixing occurred, sadly.

And here’s a link to Bannister’s Fangraphs page, if you want to get your butter straight from the churn.

[For Bannister, the secret is in the numbers | MLB.com: News]

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Right School Of Thought, Wrong School

By David Raposa | Published: August 7, 2009

Hey, you know, Zeke also ran a professional sports league!  FIU business BAs looking for an advisor — take note!

Like every other college basketball player with a lick of talent, Dominique Ferguson has one goal: to play in the NBA. So when it came to picking his college, Ferguson decided to go with a coach who played, coached and evaluated talent in the NBA.

In a decision sure to stun many in the basketball community, Ferguson, rated the No. 8 rising senior in the ESPN 100, gave a verbal commitment to Florida International on Friday.

I don’t think anyone doubts Thomas’ eye for talent, especially when it comes to the NBA draft — ESPN Insiders can even read about it, if they want!  It’s just when he has to manage & coach & utilize & do everything else with said talent that his two left feet come out.  Though I guess the collegiate Jerome Jameses & Jared Jeffrieses of the world will have to forego dreams of MLE monies & settle for a scholarship & other NCAA perks (like, um, a scholarship).

[Dominique Ferguson makes verbal commitment to Florida International Golden Panthers - ESPN]

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Cleveland (Is On The) Rocks!

By David Raposa | Published: August 7, 2009

LIZ LEMON! What’s up chicken butt? ;)  And if you don’t know, now you know – it’s the Floydster!  Do the dap!

I know we haven’t talked much since that, um, incident in the airport with the key and the schadenfreude, so I’m trying out this AWESOME new technology that’s all the craze with the kids and their parole officers. It’s called "electronic mail delivery," and I’m pretty sure that this is going to be as hot as Pet Rocks or DJ Jazzy Jeff or that American / Mexican flair-happy fusion restaurant idea we had called Oi Me Stomago. Get in on the ground floor before that ‘vator goes all Willy Wonka on you Liz Lemon! (BTW, I have a meeting this week with one of the Lachey brothers about investing in Stomago — so stoked!  Hope it’s the cute one!)

Anyway, with summer about to head south in the Jewel of the Buckeye State known only as CLE, a young and attractive law stylist’s thoughts obviously turn to that most traditional of all American traditions. That’s right, I’m talking about adultery! I mean baseball! I have to admit, I wasn’t all that up on the old pepper squad back when I was rocking training wheels and a spit-up bib, and if you had a team festooned with gallant goofuses like Cory Snyder and Rafael Belliard, you wouldn’t be either! (Oh wait, you know what I’m talking about — you have the the Mets! My condolensces to Keith & his moustache. :p)

So, yeah, between that and my burgeoning sexuality blossoming just as the team actually decided to not suck anymore, me and Chief Wahoo were like two ships passing in the night. Except I was getting some — BOOYAH. But now that I’m a successful professional whozits back in the greatest city in the world, me and the Chief, we were getting it on all night long. Or at least when there’s a game on the television. What I’m trying to say is that the Indians are awesome and are TOTALLY gonna swarm all over the American League like Canadian soldiers on the fat neck of some over-hyped crybaby pitching prospect. (Ya burnt, Joba!)

I mean, they would if they didn’t totally suck ass again.  It’s like Joey Belle never stopped hitting fans in the chest!  Their best pitcher — gone for the 2nd year in a row.  One of the best catchers in the AL — gone.  Garko Milicic — buh-bye.  That snooty sense of big-city superiority that Indians fans treasure – le poof.  My man-crush on manager Eric The Wedge — gonzo like the Muppets taking Manhattan.  I’ll miss daydreaming about his rugged barrel chest and oddly square chin.  But at least we still have the awkward racist mascot, tho!  Redskins Schmedskins, sez me!

And on top of it all, we got the owner crying poverty like he’s auditioning for a Major League remake!  Wow, you really think that attendance will decrease after you trade away the team’s best players?  What gave you that idea — common freakin’ sense??? I guess the only reason he hasn’t flipped Grady Sizemore is that his wife would divorce him.  (Seriously, though, I’d get divorced if Grady left town.  Not that I’m married.  Seriously.  I’m not.  I mean, maybe eventually.  To someone special.  That likes snack foods flavored with bull semen.  And wanted to move to a really cool happenin’ burg housing the reigning NBA MVP and the place with the cheapest PBR tallboys this side of the Hoover Dam.  I mean, we got a Hall of Fame for Rock AND Roll.  Just saying.)

At any rate, I dunno, I think I might just give the old baseball squad a little rest.  We need some time apart.  Also, she’s getting a little heavy around the midriff area.  (That’s a metaphor, son, you’re supposed to laugh!)  Maybe I’ll take up the Browns, or ritual suicide.  I don’t know, it’s such a tough choice!  Really, tho, what I need to do is stop picking up Indians on my damn fantasy team.  Who has two thumbs and drafted Jhonny Peralta with his 2nd round pick?  I don’t know, but you might’ve engaged in a little Ronin cosplay with him, Liz Lemon!

(By the way, we were TOTALLY on the Ronin bandwagon before those Apatow lamers hopped on board with their bromance and pink-eye jokes. TOTALLY. Draw it again! I just took you out with a cup of coffee! Fucking Mamet, man. Total classic. Remember to tell me to not tell you about my fantasy involving Natasha McElhone, fried eggs, and a She-Ra brazier.)

Anyway, I could go on and on like a Twilight fan at Comicon (what?), but I should probably go back to pretending that I have work to do.  Gotta maintain a certain level of morale in the office environs.  But you know all about that, don’t you, Liz?  WINK WINK  And I didn’t even get to share with you the Pine / Quinto Heroes / Star Trek slash I wrote last night!  Maybe next time.  Give Jackie Boy & any other 30 Rockers that give one (1) fig my best.  And if you happen hook up with Dennis Duffy again, make sure to hose him down with some Lysol first.  And, hell, give him a purple nurple from me!

Love, peace, and pizza grease,
yr Floyd.

Floyd has a last name, but if he told it to you, you would have to die.  Or you’d make fun of him.  So, yeah, you’d have to die.

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Ticket Stub All Torn Up & A Twitter

By David Raposa | Published: August 6, 2009

Took this from Ball Don’t Lie, but what might be bigger news than Big Baby’s fruitless quest for some mid-level-exception loot is that he has a Twitter account (@bigbabybball)!  And he loves exclamation points!  Some highlights:

“Anybody know what’s going on with the Celtics? Cause I don’t!”

“I wonder how the weather (is in) Boston cause I haven’t been there in so long!!!!”

“I like some of you guys’ ideas!!!! (I’m) going to tell Danny (Ainge) about some of you guys’ ideas!!!! I don’t know why then they sign (Shelden Williams) before me!!”

I’ll take a stab at that last one — maybe it’s because Williams is a low-risk high-reward cap-friendly type of guy?  I’m not saying that Big Baby’s savvy and gumption aren’t admirable traits, and I’m definitely not denigrating his contributions these past two years.  Nor am I suggesting that Williams can hope to match what Big Baby brought to the C’s (though he is a Dookie, which means so much).  But paying almost $6 million for an undersized and weight-challenged power forward, regardless of salary cap considerations, would (and should) give any team pause.  Or maybe Ainge just doesn’t like dudes that play bigger than they are.

(Is Glen Davis really 6’9"?)

[Glen Davis upset with Celtics - BostonHerald.com]

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