Seth Petricelli demolishing Kimbo Slice’s face will never get old.

Nor will watching the Cubbies flatline at the end of the season. Just how bitter are those tears, Chicago? >:D

I caught this story live Monday morning during WGN’s warmup to the Chicago Cubs’ opening day.

Seriously, when you make Dutchie Caray angry, that’s like making your own grandmother upset. Way to go, AT&T!

To those not in the Chicago area, this was the best I could find, but here’s what Dutchie’s so peeved about…

Quitter.

Countdown sucks.

At some point in everyone’s life they will wonder it there is a supreme being that’s watching over us. For some of us, it is embedded since childhood that there is a higher power in control. Others may find that they believe in a creator at a significant point in their lives. Still others may never believe.

Then there are the believers on Sunday football. All races and creeds join together in prayer for that winning touch down. They pray for the other team’s quarter back to be sacked and in doing so, if the football gods are so gracious, his ankle be broken in the process.

Yes, these followers are true believers, feasting on chips and beers to please the football gods. They pray that the pass is caught, the kicker makes those critical few extra points, and the call is on the other team. Then again, these followers can go astray, and lose their faith. With an interception, the followers will curse their name, at least until the defence pleases them.

You may be wondering why this important question is being asked within the context of football. Well, the answer is that we may have found the first factual evidence that God exists. The evidence is that no god, let alone a just god, would allow cheaters to win the Super Bowl. So undoubtedly unsuspected things can happen, and we have Super Bowl to thank for it. We discovered that nice guys can finish first, cheating is still bad, and karma does happen.

With Knight’s sudden departure from Texas Tech, it made me wax nostalgic. Not for his tantrums or diminishing returns, but for the times in the past that I’ve talked about this extremely talented, but extremely emotionally undisciplined, sports legend.

Here’s two.

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Fuck Destiny.

To indulge in a couple of football cliches:

That’s why you play the game.

AND.

Any team can win on any given Sunday.

At any rate, the Patriots will probably spend a long off-season thinking about the events of tonight. Lord knows they’ll have a lot of video to go over.

If you can’t read it too well there, click on it for the full size image. You can always check to see if the Amazon page is still up: http://www.amazon.com/19-0-Historic-Championship-Englands-Unbeatable/dp/1600781500/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1202095244&sr=8-1

It is amazing how, in this day and age, there is such a rush to be first to market with something to take advantage of an opportunity (created by someone else entirely), that we see more and more things like this. A book about the unbeatable, 19-0 New England Patriots. Except they aren’t unbeatable or 19-0.

I get the baseball caps and t-shirts. But friggin’ books? That still won’t be ready to ship for a week or two anyway?

For the record: yes, I’d buy it if it was available…and hope that it became a collectible, like the Dewey Beats Truman newspaper.

After a hard fought game, the New York Giants are going to the Super Bowl. The NFC championship game was back and forth, with the Eli Manning and Bret Favre battling through a close first half. The Giants outplayed the Packers in the second half, but Lawerence Tynes missed two potentially game-winning field goals. In overtime, following a Favre thrown interception, the Giants got into field goal range again, and Tynes kicked a 47 yard field goal to end the game and send his team into the big game. Now it’s Giants vs. Patriots. This makes the Giants only the second NFC Wild Card team to go to the Super Bowl. Congrats, Eli.

They need to fire this ignorant bitch?

Golf Channel commentator Kelly Tilghman apparently thought that it was funny to suggest that other young golfers today should “lynch Tiger Woods in a back alley.” It took her two days to apologize. As of now, she still has her job.

Why?

If Imus can get shitcanned over the phrase “nappy headed ho”, then why does the pretty white girl get to stay after using a phrase that carries a plutonium-charge of racial insensitivity? Is it because she’s a pretty white girl? Is it because Tiger’s married to a pretty white girl, so a little joke won’t hurt his feelings?

It’s difficult to believe that a professional commentator would be this profoundly stupid, but there it is. Perhaps she didn’t mean any lasting harm. Perhaps she is just massively clueless. But really, using the word “lynching” and not understanding that it carries a racial conotation? In this case, I say let it be job-ending cluelessness (even allowing that she does hail from a place that elected Strom Thurmond governor and sent him to the senate for almost 50 years). Her alma mater, Duke, should be ashamed for producing an athlete that obviously learned nothing.

May 4, 2007. Friday morning. event day. I awake and miss the team breakfast at IHOP, but I am not worried about it because I slept in, and let me tell you, for someone who has severe sleeping disorders, sleeping in was great. No, it was better then great, it can only be described by using a word that has not yet been created, so I will create it now. Sleeping in was Supawesomlypendous.

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With just one round, the “face of MMA” changed.

I joked before the fight with the crew of fighters and friends that I sat at a sports bar with that Chuck was going to lose because he had been on the cover of ESPN the Magazine.  Everyone else at the table agreed that Rampage was going to win it, people more  knowledgeable than I. The only Liddell stalwart, besides the rest of the crowd at the bar that had never heard of Quinton Jackson, was a college wrestler who had just lost $20 betting against Karo Parisyan and was now lamenting that Chuck was going to lose because he had bet on him.

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Recently I threw down the gauntlet on behalf of Chicago baseball fans as to who would take the low road more often with the Cubs and the White Sox respectively featuring two of the game’s most volatile managers.

Right now my money is going on the White Sox. From the owner and the general manager, down to the skipper and the players, this is a team that has issues on every level.

So most of you probably don’t know that my fiance is currently a competitive fighter. It’s one of the main reasons that I’m the addict that I am, and I thought it might be interesting to share his inside view on the craziness that goes on before, during, and after a mixed martial arts fight. Sure, you could watch The Ultimate Fighter, but why stop there? So this is the first half of his fight diary.

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I came late to being a fight fan. I grew up with a vague awareness of boxing champs as they floated through the collective consciousness–Marvelous Marvin Hagler was huge, and a local boy, when I was a kid in Massachusetts. I was never terribly interested. I watched football and hockey and defended the hockey guys against the girls who complained that they had no teeth and broken noses.

In college, a hockey-loving boyfriend turned me on to the Ultimate Fighting Championship. We would drink red wine in his French Quarter apartment and watch early UFC tapes, rooting for tattooed brawlers like Tank Abbott. Some of those old UFC fights were little more than hockey fights, sans skates.

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