Dallas Green once told me while holding Nino Espinosa’s head inside a tub of rattlesnakes: “Being named to the All-Star team only makes you half-good, pudface!”
That was in 19-fucking-80. It might as well have been 19-fucking-80 million years ago, because at least back then when you were named to the All-Star roster for your nice fucking first half of one fucking season you FUCKING SHOWED UP.
Someone told me that 85 players have been named All-Star this year thanks to all the crampy cunts who dropped out. That was half the fucking league before all you pantywaists got your precious Marlins and Rockies thanks to expansion.
In my time, you didn’t miss the All-Star Game because of an ouchy fucking thumb. You did what every blue-collar American did in order to get out there to earn a paycheck: You took a handful of greenies, stuffed them in your cake hole and flew to fucking work! And I don’t want to hear about greenies being outlawed. Spitballs were illegal, but you didn’t see that stop Gaylord Perry from putting enough Vaseline on his person to lube up the starfishes of every one of Derek Jeter’s 3,000 “hits.”
Tell you this much: I’d much rather be the All-Star representative of cheating than the designated fucking hitter.
Anyway, Mooch wants me to do these midseason awards — like any of these candy-asses deserves a prize.
Hello, Philly. I’d rather have my balls waxed with a Yankee fucking Candle and 700-grit sandpaper by fucking Dallas Green than do this, but a guy needs to make a fucking living and Matt Macchio here offered me some decent scratch and 50 Cambodian greenies to do this preview, so fuck it.
Let’s start by saying this: These two teams are here by default. The National League this season looked like the fucking volunteer table at a breast cancer walk. The fucking joke of a team I coached should’ve sold its titty milk to San Fernando Valley soccer moms. The Phillies were a fucking physical wreck all season and no one could catch them. Katy Perry’s rack hits her in the face when she jogs with more consistency than the fucking Giants do. Aubrey Fucking Huff is your offensive leader? Jesus H Christ.
So, who will win the series you ask? Well, I’m going with the Phillies in 6. Why? Because I called J-Roll the other night and fucking ripped him a new asshole for turning into Ivan DeJesus this year. I could tell he needed a fucking pep talk, and I delivered it. So if he has a sliver of fucking balls left in his heart, he’s going to put aside this pansy-ass sore leg bullshit and show the fuck up. And when he’s swinging his cock around like Brett Favre in front of his Droid, that team can’t be beat.
The pitching you ask? What the fuck do you want me to say? That if I had Halladay, Hamels and Oswalt I would’ve won 120 games and had so many fucking World Series rings that I’d have had one fitted for my cock by now? Because I would have. The Giants have some quality guys, including that fucking pothead. But come on. We started Vicente Padilla on Opening Day, and the Padres were trying to win in September with the Flyin’ Fucking Hairston brothers clogging the clubhouse shower with their twat hairs. Please, assholes.
Anyway, I’m thinking about taking a managerial gig in Japan next year. Ichiro used to call me Hetakuso, which I think means Baseball Master in Japanese. Fuck this noise. At least I know Padilla can’t fucking follow me there. He and Wheels are fucking banned after they took that winter trip there with lollipops and Little Boy Blue costumes.
Well, well, well. What in the hell is this thing? I’m no Internet expert, but I’ve seen enough rough-sex porn sites to know when I’m seeing a Web page that hasn’t upgraded since 2004.
Anyway, this is your good friend LarryFNBowa, taking a break from misting umpires with my spittle to do a midseason report card. I’d like to thank this Meach guy for sending me the stack of free passes to Show & Tel and for arranging a fuck fest with that @ZooWithRoy chick. Any woman who wants to go balls-deep on Halladay in the lion’s den has to be a freaky fucking broad.
Let’s get something out of the way: If you’re a kid, get the fuck out of here. This is for adults. And if you’re an adult who is offended by “bad words,” you should leave too. There is going to be the use of a lot of bad words. Want an example? Cunt. I’m going to use cunt several times. Did that send you reaching for the Bible? Then go put on the 700 Club and jerk off to the thought of your preacher, OK?
So, unlike my friend Jayson Stark, this isn’t going to be some attempt to jack off as many guys as possible in one column. I mean, I like Jayson and everything, even if his shaving that cum mop of a mustache he had was the worst fucking idea ever,but Sigh Young? Eat shit.
Anyway, let’s do this.
- Crocks on The Unrecognized Revenge of Bill Hall
- Fred Flintstone on Open Game Thread: 7/15 Phillies at LOLMets
- Chooch on Sports Illustrated’s Profile of Chooch Will Make You Laugh; Cry.
- Kung Fu Fightins on Open Game Thread: 7/15 Phillies at LOLMets
- If you have nothing good to say say nothing on The Unrecognized Revenge of Bill Hall
- 700 Level
- Brotherly Glove
- Chicks Dig The Longball
- Crane Kick Chronicles
- Crashburn Alley
- Finger Food
- High Cheese
- High Hopes
- House That Glanville Built
- I want to go to the zoo with Roy Halladay
- Long Drive
- Maule of America
- Philadelphia Will Do
- Philled In
- Philly Gameday
- Philly Gossip
- PHL Sports Fans
- Phoul Ballz
- That Balls Outta Here
- The 701 Level
- The Good Phight
- The Insider
- The Zo Zone
- Where's Weems?
- Whiz Witout
- Who Does He Play For?