D.J. King Will Break His Hand While Breaking Your Face

The newest Capital, D.J. King, is no small cookie. At 6'2" and 221 pounds he's around Alex Ovechkin's size, but instead of scoring highlight-reel goals and pissing off jealous Pittsburgh scrubs and getting with stone cold foxes on boats in Europe, he lets his fists do the talking. Gotta applaud him for that.

He even broke his hand beating the snot out of Krys Barch last season. Dedication to your craft. Toughness in the heat of battle. Bad-freaking-ass.



While I'll miss the somewhat unrealistic hope for a guy like Stefan Della Rovere to become a leader and pest on the Capitals in the near future, he was never gonna be the guy to lay down the law at the NHL level this year when need be. King can be that guy.

I was skeptical at first, but what the hell - he's already off to a good start in my book.

When told what Pittsburgh's Max Talbot had to say about Alex Ovechkin yesterday, King shot back, "Wow. I guess that's not going to be happening too much longer, I guess."

Having your teammate's - and captain's - back AND pissing off fans of a hated rival within hours of joining the team? Sign me up.

Uspet du Jour Bodes Well for Terps

The Maryland Terrapins have been handed a golden opportunity by the college basketball Gods after Northern Iowa's stunning upset of top seeded Kansas.

If they beat Michigan State tomorrow they would avoid a nightmarish matchup with the bigger, stronger, and frankly more talented Jayhawk squad, and instead face the suddenly frisky Panthers.

What's that, you say?

"Northern Iowa beat Kansas; why couldn't Maryland? You're a loser and a moron, and you smell like cheese."

Well, sorry douchebag, I did not like that potential matchup with Kansas one bit for all of the above reasons and the simple fact that they would have no trouble getting up for another high seeded, power conference team. They fell asleep against UNI, and you just can't do that against pesky little white guys who can stroke the three-ball, especially in the last minute of the game.

Back to the Terps, they are more than capable of beating this Michigan State squad. While I am looking ahead, it is important that Gary Williams keeps his players focused on the Spartans. I'm so sick of hearing all this talk about Tom Izzo.

"But he's an amazingggggg coach."

I'm not denying that. But you know what? Gary Williams is no slouch and he will surely be headed to the Hall of Fame one day.

Shut 'em up, Terps. UNI awaits.

[Image: NBC Sports via Ronald Martinez / Getty Images]

Wilbon Blows My Mind Yet Again

Michael Wilbon is an idiot.

In his recent column for WaPo's "World Wide Wilbon", he goes above and beyond what I consider ignorant and irresponsible journalism. I say stupid things from time to time, but I'm just a guy blogging for fun. I don't get paid. Wilbon gets paid. To constantly say things devoid of logic and fact:

One of the biggest Olympic winners has to be Canada's Sidney Crosby, who at 22 years old has already won Olympic Gold, the World Championship and the Stanley Cup.

Sidney Crosby has never won a World Championship. Never. Last time he participated, Canada was shut out 5-0 by Finald in the bronze medal game. Canada did win the World Championship in 2007, but without Crosby. Oh, and by the way, Ovechkin won a World Championship with Russia in 2008. Excellent reasearch, Wilbon. I'm glad you're too busy to spend 46 seconds on the internet like the rest of the truth-seeking world.

These graphics from Wikipedia, albeit not the most reliable source but in this case 100% accurate, would have been tremendously helpful. Ovechkin's and Crosby's International histories:

Then:

Right now, Ovechkin would need a telescope to see Crosby, who's that far ahead in this race.

Crosby won a cup his third trip to the playoffs. Ovechkin will presumably participate in his third postseason this spring. Crosby has an MVP trophy. Ovechkin has two. Crosby has a World Junior Championship. Guess what? So does Ovechkin. Because Wilbon doesn't really follow hockey and instead dabbles when tempted to rile up the Caps' fanbase for no particular reason, he couldn't possibly have understood that the Penguins' rebuilding process essentially began one year earlier than the Caps'. And why would he? It's not like we're talking about the NBA, so who cares?!

Another priceless quote, this time regarding Ovechkin's semi-altercation with a fan holding a camera:

Somehow, Ovechkin's lapses in judgment (or was it a disregard of civility?) went largely unnoticed. Ovechkin is damn lucky he's not black and playing basketball; my brethren in the national (and local) media would have put on their Sunday church robes and preached him to death by now. We'd have read about "those thug basketball players" and such. Ovechkin, apparently, is for whatever reasons, beyond their reach. He's untouchable. All these folks writing and talking about the Winter Olympics and I haven't seen a word of criticism directed at Ovechkin, famous as he is.

I just...can't...no words. None. Links to contradict his assertion that Ovechkin is "untouchable"? Sure, here are just a few: THN, Puck Daddy, Deadspin...But Wilbon, perhaps the reason Ovechkin isn't being crucified (in your eyes, at least) is because nobody really knows the truth behind the camera incident. It's all speculation.

Unless, of course, google translations of youtube videos in which Ovechkin is described as a "100-pound hockey player" are considered fact. Then I profusely apologize for discrediting your opinion.

The Bog already touched on this in depth, and a lot that is said here is somewhat repetitive. I just had to get my two cents now so I can mentally prepare for Wilbon's next truly groundbreaking story.

Obligatory Make-Fun-of-the-Cowboys Post

For those who were wondering - yes, my buddy does have a Ween tattoo. Why the hell wouldn't he?!

And for the win (he was wearing this all game, brilliantly oblivious to that sad fact):

Ovechkin vs. Clownie

With a little under 10 minutes left in the Caps' 7-4 loss to the Lightning, and the score just that, Steve Downie - who will henceforth be referred to as Clownie, for this is his only role on the ice - snapped Alex Ovechkin's stick. Or so our beloved captain thought. Either way, the zebras kept their whistles in their pockets. Then...well, read the 100% accurate account below to find out what followed, and to understand why I have fallen in love with this team. 

***

Ovie: You snap stick. I no like.

[Ovechkin skates toward bench to get new stick.]

Ovie: I get new stick. Where is puck?

[Ovechkin locates the puck in the right corner and skates toward it at full speed.]

Ovie: I come for puck. I come for your head!

[Ovechkin slams into Clownie at full speed.]

Clownie: Dear Lord! Where am I? Did I just get hit by a freight train? Should I just wail away at anyone in close proximity like the sucker-punching, marginally skilled loser that I am and see what happens?! You betcha!

[Clownie uppercuts Ovechkin and even drops his gloves. Ovechkin is enraged and fights back.]

Ovie: Who strike me? I hit back! I eat you for food! Roar like lion! Russian machine never break!

[Unfortunate referee steps in front of Ovechkin, akin to a zookeeper attempting to restrain a furious beast.]

Ovie: I see you soon.

Clownie: Thank you, refs, from the bottom of my heart, for saving my life.

[Clownie and Ovechkin are sent to the penalty box for matching roughing minors.]

Clownie: Well, I guess the only way to save face is to skate out of the box like a damn fool and instigate a fight with an infinitely more skilled player who has never been in an NHL fight before. Can't lose that one, right? Man, I'm so effing sweet!

[Ovechkin and Clownie skate out of the box.]

Clownie: You wanna go? Huh? Huh? Huh?!

[Clownie hooks Ovechkin and jabs his stick into his gut.]

Ovie: I give you last chance to go away. Shoo, before I crush you face.

[Clownie does not stop.]

 

Ovie: Okay, you no listen, time for me to crush you face.

[Ovechkin and Clownie drop gloves. Ovechkin takes off his helmet like a man. Clownie does the same, but like a girl.]

Ovie: Come, little boy. Ha, look at little guy try be tough!

[Out of nowhere, Matt Bradley races onto the scene.]

Bradley: You kidding me, punk? I will end you! You hear me, I will end you! Get the hell away from my boy, bitch!

[Bradley pummels Clownie. Ovie looks on - confused, but proud.]

Ovie: Lucky little boy, I no crush you now, my friend crush you. I squash you later time. Like bug.

[Bradley and Ovechkin sit in the penalty box briefly, before Bradley is given a game misconduct for being the third man in an altercation.]

Ovie: Thank you, friend. You are good teammate.

Bradley: No sweat, bro. You'd do the same for me.

***

Yea, so that last part's a little cheesy. And there's certainly no immediate reason to celebrate after tonight - we did just lose 7-4 to the Lightning.

But great teams always have that one moment in a long season in which it is positively clear that what they're striving for is far more important than a single game. A turning point, if you will.

Sure, we got our butts handed to us tonight. But in stepping up for each other, for themselves, for the red, white, and blue, the Caps showed just how strong of a bond they share as teammates.

That camaraderie will be essential to any long playoff run. It's the stuff of Stanley Cup Champions.

UPDATE: A better version of this exact story can be found here.


[Images via ESPN]

Orakpo Snubbed by Peter King

Found this on page five of Peter King's Monday Morning Quarterback and couldn't resist:

Packers linebacker Clay Matthews makes two significant plays a game.

Speaking of first-round rookies, there's a heck of a race for defensive rookie of the year. Buffalo safety Jairus Byrd leads the league with nine interceptions, and Houston LB Brian Cushing had another monster game: 10 tackles, a sack, two other tackles for loss, three QB pressures. Matthews. James Laurinaitis of the Rams. Pretty tough call.

Not even a mention of Orakpo - who received his Defensive Player of the Week award, by the way:

Who'd have thought Orakpo would have rushed the pass more productively in the first 13 games of his rookie year than Demarcus Ware, Julius Peppers and LaMarr Woodley?

The DCLS and everyone's mother did.

Granted, it's one man's opinion, and to be honest, trying to decipher this particular man's rationale has been a fool's errand on a number of occasions throughout the years.

But that doesn't make his embarrassing oversight any less infuriating.

[H/t to DCLS correspondent and former Jay Gibbons enthusiast, Plotty]

Tiger is...human?

It truly sucks when someone's dirty laundry is broadcast for the entire world to see, but it's a small price to pay when your celebrity also nets you millions upon millions of dollars.

When you're the most recognizable athlete on the planet and perhaps one of the greatest of all-time, and are committing indiscretions, it is important to cover your tracks. Which is exactly what Tiger Woods tried to do in this voicemail he left his mistress about a week ago. Which had the exact opposite effect of what he intended. Which only made things way, way worse for Tiger.

Listen for yourself:

[Video removed]

This just...sucks. That's really the only way to describe it.

Raiders Leap-Frog Redskins in Worst Franchise Race

GOOD NEWS ALERT!! The Redskins achieved victory this weekend by not playing, and through the release of some damning news about their main rival. If you think I'm referring to the Cowboys here, you must have just awoken from a 20 year coma. In which case welcome to the Internet! Also, Buffalo wings are now a national thing, China is our main international rival, Taco Bell makes a black-shelled taco, and you can say "shit" on national TV. There, now you're caught up.

Except with respect to the Redskins, whose most glorious battle these days is being fought in the public eye instead of on the gridiron, against the Raiders instead of the Cowboys, and for the title of "most embarrassing professional sports organization" instead of the Super Bowl. Well this weekend, (un?)fortunately, the Raiders managed to leap-frog the Burgundy and Gold with release of the news that their head coach, Tom Cable, is a wife-beater. This on the heels of reports that Cable broke an assistant coach's jaw this summer. Rad!

Now let's be clear: Cable can't be the first head coach to have problems with the ol' ultraviolence at home. And players are not immune to this either (see Marshall, Brandon). But Tom Cable's spousal abuse has been documented FOR OVER TWENTY YEARS. How lazy, dumb, and/or willfully blind do you have to be to hire a scumbag like this? You think you're gonna change the culture of losing by having impressionable young football players follow Ike Turner's example?

The most telling part of the Raiders' incompetence in this oversight is that Cable physically abused a woman as recently as THE MONTH HE WAS HIRED: January 2009. I mean, it's one thing to excuse events long past. It's quite another to fail in basic due diligence, you know, maybe asking a recent girlfriend "hey, so what's Tommy Boy like after he's quaffed a few?" Call me crazy, but if you're going to put your $100 million+ on-the-field investment in the hands of a guy, you'd hope those hands would be good for character molding and not punching women in the face. The alternative explanation, that the Raiders knew all along and simply didn't care, is far more damning.

The Redskins might operate like the Third Reich with their dissent-banning and pathological denials; their marketing department may have received degrees from the Somalian School of Piracy; their owner may derive sustenance from baby seal blood and be as ruinously meddlesome as Mr. Nosferatu Al Davis; but at least they don't hire wife beaters. So, good job Redskins. That's one humongous comparative NOT FAIL we can now stack against the thousands of other FAILS in this race towards epic humiliation. You were in the lead for a while there.

Your move, Snyder.

Excerpts From the Book the NBA Doesn't Want You to Read

This is pretty sobering.

When the Tim Donaghy drama unfolded over two years ago, basketball fans around the globe were in shock. What a scumbag, we all thought.

Well, according to his book, Blowing the Whistle, which apparently is no longer being published, suspect officiating goes a lot deeper than one degenerate gambler. Perhaps not so surprisingly, the league sends subtle messages to their refs, and the zebras call the games accordingly.

A little more eye-opening, though, is the fun these refs have on their own volition.

Here is one of the many golden excerpts, via Deadspin:

We had another variation of this gag simply referred to as the "first foul of the game" bet. While still in the locker room before tip-off, we would make a wager on which of us would call the game's first foul. That referee would either have to pay the ball boy or pick up the dinner tab for the other two referees. Sometimes, the ante would be $50 a guy. Like the technical foul bet, it was hilarious — only this time we were testing each other's nerves to see who had the guts to hold out the longest before calling a personal foul. There were occasions when we would hold back for two or three minutes — an eternity in an NBA game — before blowing the whistle. It didn't matter if bodies were flying all over the place; no fouls were called because no one wanted to lose the bet.

Often times we forget that referees are human, just like us. Prone to mistakes. Victims of temptation. Awestruck by susperstars.

I strongly suggest you read some of the excerpts from the article above. Where else can you find detailed insight on the abomination of an official named Dick Bavetta, or the personal beef Steve Javie had against Allen Iverson? Wait, scratch that - those are both pretty blatant.

Campbell Deserves the Benefit of the Doubt

I meant to post this a few days ago, but exams and mononucleosis decided to join forces and kick my butt. Seriously. It's sore. Anyway, it's not that important, just like most things I post aren't, but still...I need to get this off my chest.

Dan Steinberg wrote a very interesting article the other day on Jason Campbell. The gist of it, for those too lazy or without the balancing skills to read two blog entries simultaneously, is that teammates are fully behind JC17 and are practically begging him to get out of his own head - to 'unleash himself', as Steinz puts it. This came following Sunday's turnover laden 16-13 victory over the woeful Bucs, in which Campbell fumbled on the team's first possession and threw three interceptions to Aqib Talib.

My question, directed at nobody in particular, is how the hell can Campbell get out of his own head when we - fans, media, uninformed idiot bloggers - lock him in there?

The fact is we are never happy with his play.

Could he be putting up better numbers? Absolutely.

Could he be putting up better numbers in this system with this offensive line, with this receiving core, with this uninspiring playcalling? I really don't think so.

Campbell is the fall guy. Let's face it. That's what he is. And nothing he does will ever be good enough for us, at least until the rest of the offense exhibits competence. Sometime in the year 2013 is my guess.

The first three games? Campbell was too conservative, checking down way too often, too afraid to go for the jugular, a la Colt Brennan Brett Favre.

Last game? Campbell took too many risks, trying to make plays that weren't really there which resulted in turnovers.

To his critics: you can't have it both ways!

Is it important for him to find a medium? Of course. But without sufficient help from his teammates and coaches, he is being forced to find this balance on his own, a pretty daunting task. Yea, I know, he makes millions of dollars a year, blah blah blah, but he's also human. It's damn near impossible to exceed already unrealistic expectations in a failing context. And that's exactly what this is - a failing context.

So next time Campbell does something less than perfect, try to give him the benefit of the doubt. He's better than you think he is. No, he's not Peyton Manning, but he ain't Danny Wuerffel.

At least he's got his teammates' support, and hopefully that positivity will breed some success.

From Clinton Portis following the game: "That was the best thing that happened today, seeing Jason throwing the ball around and having turnovers and bouncing back and continuously fighting and everyone kept fighting with him."

Portis' pockets is straight, and we know that. Maybe with some success, Campbell's will be too when it's all said and done.

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DC's Most Classy Franchise Soon To Be Associated With Television's Douchiest Franchise

Red Rover emerges from his law school slumber to report that at least one castmember of The Real World DC is working for the Caps as an "intern", as part of the show's meager attempts at instilling respectability in its usually vapid and unlikeable castmembers.

If you haven't heard, MTV's hit franchise, The Real World, is currently filming its 574th season in DC. If you're unfamiliar with the show, they usually find a local company looking to garner some publicity in the 14-year-old-non-stop-text-messager demographic by providing "jobs" for the cast. One year they had members of the show make smoothies (Miami?), another year they worked at a surf shop (Hawaii), another year they were party publicists (Vegas). That job actually made sense though, because it trained them well for their post-Real World careers making paid appearances at terrible bars around the country. ("Hey, I saw DARREN from REAL WORLD SANTA CRUZ at LIBATION STATION in POUGHKEEPSIE last weekend, it was soo sweet braaaa!! We're facebook friends now!")

Because the Real Worlders are unequivocal failures when it comes to basic adulthood, in most cases they are given minimal responsibility. In the actual real world, lower case r, lower case w, that's called being unemployable; to MTV and the organizations that "employed" these dinkuses, that's great entertainment and publicity, respectively.

So for a classy organization like the Caps to bring these MTVers into the fold, I can only hope they have their wits about them. If this guy "Ty" is given any more responsibility than to count the leaves on the trees outside Kettler, I'm blaming any season henceforth that does not end in a Stanley Cup victory on Viacom, Inc., and bringing suit, and according to these law books I have to read every night, I just might have a legitimate claim.

[Image via DC Sports Bog]

Never Hire a Bouncer to Do Anything But Look Tough

I'm sure some of you have already seen this, but as mentioned in this month's ESPN The Magazine, Ovie was not allowed into a Vegas nightclub because he was wearing flip-flops. On the surface, not a big deal, as Ovie was eventually recognized and flew past that dumbass doorman like an NHL defenseman.

More importantly, this is just another example of bouncers being incredibly stupid and only knowing how to follow the rules set forth by their managers. You really think stopping an international superstar from attending a party is a good idea? By the way, he makes like $20 million/yr and likes to party. Oh, and the party was for Jeremy Roenick's T-shirt line, so it's not like this was a white-tie wedding; this was an NHL party and the biggest NHL star was stopped at the door! Meathead!

Also note that Ovie's bed has hydraulics and Crosby sleeps in a crib.

Steroids Accuser Out on Bond

Currently residing in second most obvious place: mom's basement. Soon to be in most obvious place: prison.

Caps Doping Investigation

Momma Plotty once said people living in glass houses should not throw stones. She followed that up by cautioning me against trusting people who are facing 21 criminal charges, including possession and importation of illegal anabolic steroids, possession of a firearm during the commission of a felony, and maintaining a residence to sell drugs. In light of said criminal investigation, it appears Momma Plotty's nuggets of wisdom may have some traction:

"NHL investigators have been unable to make a connection between Thomas and the Caps."

The bullshit factor in this case is through the roof, but let us recap. Richard Thomas and his heinous wife are arrested in their home with $200,000 worth of anabolic steroids, among other paraphernalia. The cops require three sets of cuffs to subdue this guy, so clearly he is either a fucking animal, off his goddamn rocker, or some combination of the two. The standard operating procedure in any arrest that involves three separate sets of handcuffs immediately should set off alarm bells that the arrestee probably isn't too thrilled about the prospects of jail time, yet the Lakewood Police Chief Donald Judd apparently finds the words of a just-arrested heat-packing meathead to be worthy of the public record. Seriously, take a fucking look at this nutjob, it's 11 pm, do you trust your National Hockey League franchise with this guy? Major League Baseball has fucked itself so royally with steroids I can't completely exculpate the Nationals. But the Capitals? On a team that had only five players log more than 100 hits this season? And passed five rounds of drug testing over the last two years without incident? As flimsy as the accusation appears on the surface, the incident itself and Commish Gary Bettman's recent public comments make me slightly uneasy. If they've passed drug tests (which they have) but the NHL establishes some connection to Thomas and the Caps (which they have not), expect the league to levy a massive fine on the Capitals organization and institute much tougher league-wide testing policies. This publicity would be devastating for the NHL, which needs the news that players are passing league-instituted drug tests and juicing like I need a groin punch. But for all intents and purposes, lock this guy up and let's put to rest this ridiculous story.

Pronger Could be the D-Bag the Doctor Ordered for the Caps

So I'm sitting at a bar in Brooklyn on Saturday nursing a beer. Apparently someone that speaks hipster had spread the word about the Sierra Nevada draft special and a horde of these fuckers took over the bar. After four to six full sips of beer each, they started "dancing" like wacky, waving, inflatable arm flailing tube men and irritating me to no end. So naturally, my thoughts turned to violence. How sweet would it be, I wondered, if Chris Pronger walked into this bar, elbowed and stomped these clowns, hoisted the Stanley Cup over his head and paraded around the bar in triumph over their bloodied corpses? And then Caps GM George McPhee traded Tom Poti, Tomas Fleischmann, D prospects Josh Godfrey and Joe Finley and a 1st rounder for him?

But my fantasies rarely become reality, except for the time I ordered the Super Juicer. And the obstacles preventing this dream from coming to fruition are steep. For one, the Ducks' ridiculous asking price: three blue-chip prospects, one of whom is a studly two-way defenseman in the Pronger mold. That, however, was during a seller's market trade deadline and the asking price is sure to go down this offseason - especially if Scott "Brett Favre" Niedermayer decides to return to the Ducks for another year.

For another, that pesky salary cap. By my math, and after making a few logical assumptions about which RFAs will be retained (Fehr, Gordon, Schultz, Jurcina) and which UFAs will not, the Caps will have around $52 million in salary towards the cap with only one open forward spot available. The 34-year old Pronger has one year left at $6.25 million. The cap this year was $56.7 million and is expected to go down. Balls.

Details shmetails, I say! Pronger is 100% tenacious in his defensive end, which makes him a perfect fit on a Caps blue line that currently has 0% of that. His track record alone would make guys think twice about coming across the middle. Mike Green needs someone to ease the burden of being an offensive stud AND a physical presence, which he tried and failed to be these playoffs. Erskine and Jurcina...Scott Stevens and Rod Langway they are not. Plus I think Pronger would like it here: we have plenty of hot sports reporters available for him to impregnate.

Pronger bait. [Photo via Wikipedia]

More importantly, however, Pronger will bring the edge to the backline that Ovie takes care of up front, and the young guys like Alzner - who curiously prides himself on not hitting - could stand to learn a thing or two about what it takes: namely a dose of d-baggery when appropriate.

As I finished my beer one particularly pissy, life-hating hipster was at the bar whining about his $3 Sierra Nevada being too hoppy; about Modest Mouse becoming too "commercial;" and other such bullshit things. It occurred to me that this was the Michael Nyander of the bar: he talked in circles like Nylander skates them and sucks the life out of the room like Nylander sucks it out of the Caps' offense. And similarly, is the final road block to fun/improvement. The 36-year-old Swede is $5 million in cap deadweight for the next two years and it'd be a shame if that kept the Caps from acquiring a guy like Pronger. Though not nearly as shameful as the way in which the corporations have like totally screwed us over again, man. Dumbass hipster.

[Pronger image via CBC Sports]

Jay Gibbons ACTUALLY Has a Baseball Job?!?!

Look I realize the economy is in the shitter right now and Americans are making tough choices to put food on the table. The city formerly known as Detroit seems to have revitalized itself as Dresden circa 1933, Midwestern auto-industry laborers are tanking like OSU football come January, and I know like one college grad who has a steady job, and he's a dog walker. But apparently somewhere, a minor league general manager is turning back the clocks to a time when the Dow was climbing above 14,000 and it was socially acceptable to wear Von Dutch in public, and STILL TO THIS DAY has the audacity to employ a one Jay Gibbons. Don't remember Jay Gibbons? He's a former Oriole outfielder who was conceived on the set of the 80's arm-wrestling/homoerotic love-fest Over The Top, when Sly Stallone happened to run into Carrot Top dick-first during the shoot. The kid couldn't field worth shit, and if you don't believe me check that wikipedia picture, dollars to donuts he misses this grab, way to close your eyes ass-clown. Throughout his entire career Gibbons was touted as a 'slugger'...except for the fact that douchebag couldn't hit dingers. He had a carrer-high 28 HRs in '03, which I suppose is exceptional if your name is Julio Lugo but not for someone named in the Mitchell report. Saying Jay Gibbons 'roided is like saying Jack Lalanne works out.

Indisputable.

In today's Wall Street Journal an article titled "Where People Still Cheer for Armando Benitez" (that's a double-whammy of goonery, referencing former Birds Benitez AND Gibbons in the country's most respected paper), the following text was actually written by an author, passed approvingly through editors, and delivered to millions of unsuspecting hard-working Americans:

"Fantasy league washouts like Jay Gibbons and Shawn Chacon round out the roster. The Bears are drawing nearly 2,000 fans a game on average -and according to the team, a fair number of scouts. Perhaps the road to baseball salvation begins in Newark?"

2,000 fans, eh? Things must be REALLY bad in Newark for 2,000 people to pay to see Gibbons on ANY squad. I don't care if the outfield consists of Mickey Mantle, DiMaggio, and Gibbons. Under NO circumstance should it be permitted for Gibbons to be within 200 feet of a baseball diamond, not baseball, not softball, not cricket, not stick-ball played by Puerto Rican youngsters in the Bronx. Yes, yes, a moronic blog post won't convince baseball's version of Ricky Bobby to give up the dream, and unfortunately many fans will encounter Gibbons when their hometown team hosts the Bears. My favorite independent Atlantic league team, ummmm, the Atlantic City Surf, actually has a fledgling rivalry with the Bears. Few things in life will give me greater satisfaction than heckling Gibbons until I am forcibly removed not only from the Sandcastle, but from the city-limits of Atlantic City due to excessive vulgarity.

WhatwhatWHAAAA!?!?! Florida Meathead Links Caps, Nats to 'Roids

Late last night, Tampa police busted above d-bag steroids distributor/user named Richard Thomas and his complicit wife, Sandra, seizing nearly a quarter-million worth of juice. While the Thomases were getting their faces kicked in by some bad-ass SWAT team dudes, Richard managed to blurt out something about selling 'roids to the Capitals and Nationals, clearly the two biggest threats to his beloved Tampa Bay Lightning and Rays. You bitter sonofabitch. If the Nats are on 'roids, they're obviously doing it wrong. And if the Caps are on 'roids, how do you explain the twig that is Sasha Semin?

I don't really know what to make of this yet. Thomas also reportedly said during the arrest: "You name the sport, and I've sold steroids to athletes who play it." Some cop blurted out "curling," and then another blurted out "darts," and then the most bad-ass cop in the bunch pistol-whipped the little steroids guy unconscious before he could verify. So sadly, we'll have to wait to learn whether these two studly dart champs are guilty. Though based on their build, I'm going with definitely. Expect 24/7 ESPN coverage on this.