Due to the public love for “infected veins to role model for little kids” “rags to riches” stories, pussyboy Josh Hamilton is in the news again. The 2009 Home Run Derby included allusions to the 2008 Home Run Derby, and fuck my asshole, his boring story is hot shit.

For those unaware, Josh did a shitload of drugs, got allegedly clean and then pimped out his Jesus love. The first issue is his drugginess. In my unverified medical opinion, there are two kinds of people that take drugs: 1.) Strong-willed individuals who are curious if drugs can alter their experience, possibly leading to more knowledge, and 2.) Weak individuals who are curious to find out if drugs can help them feel ‘normal’ in a fucked up world. Josh Hamilton is the latter of the two. He is a weak person. He relapsed in 2005, and by the very definition of the word habit, it is likely that he will relapse again.

You, the reader, might be saying “drugs are scary and tough and dehabilitating and addictive”. Yes, that may be true. But you know what, not every drug story reaches rock bottom. Strong-willed individuals know they can decide their own fate. Strong willed individuals, like a shitty psychologist /good philosopher Sigmund Freud can use addictive substances without becoming addicted. Authors, bloggers (I plead the 5th), and people from all walks of life can go ‘cold turkey’ easily. These individuals are never heard from because they don’t make the Rick Reilly’s of the world cream in their pants late at night. For the  most part, people who abuse drugs and cannot come off them are pussies. Pussies like Josh Hamilton.

And in regards to your stupid children. To put it as Joe Morgan would put it, the word is consistency. Don’t vilify Barry Bonds for his drug use, and then glorify Josh “Tyrone Biggums” Hamilton for his drug use. If your stance is “drugs are bad”, then this contradiction is alarming. If your stance is “performance enhancing drugs ruin the game [...] recreational drugs are bad” you are a moron. Stupid parents raising stupid kids to become stupid adults who relay an anti-drug message with no personal research. Fuck you, ignorant parents.

Not to get in a whole religion debate, but this is a secular nation founded by deists. We don’t want to hear about your fucking savior, Josh. Shut the fuck up about the guy in the sandals already. I’m not going to make the Nietzschean claim about reprehensible people at rock bottom “finding Jesus”. Keep your fucking god out of my television, Josh Hamilton.

Fucking pussy. Good luck to Ryan “Black Lava” Howard in the Home Run Derby! Katy Perry after the jump: Read more »

From the GAHHHHHHHHHHHH department of Phillies news comes this gem:

“The Phillies have decided to scout free agent pitcher Pedro Martinez”

Fuck and no! No fucking way would this signing have any positive impact for our Fightins. The disgustingly scary thing is that over thirty percent of the people polled on this news would like to see Pedro in red pinstripes. This should not be shocking news, however, as polls also indicate that a large percentage of the population (excluding Señor Retardo) would not pay tax dollars to see Michael Bay imprisoned and castrated.

If this awfulness were to occur, I would like to invite the Fighins’ staff and readership to join me in a group bum rush/suicide bombing of the printer in the Phillies front office that prints free agent contracts. We can not let this former Met and Red Sock join the World Fucking Champs.

He’s old. He’s frail. He’s a #4 starter at best, and could barely making 15 starts a year. He makes Mark Prior look like Roy Halladay (in terms of innings eatability).

Fuck Pedro. We don’t fucking need him. Plus, Nelson de La Rosa is fucking dead, so his clubhouse presence is useless.

A big question coming from the disturbing hilarious account of fan-player violence, is who exactly attacked “La Roca”.
What kind of person would attack our eccentric bullpen fiend? Could it be those dipshits at GNC, trying to rough up the man who identified them for what they are (drug peddlers)? Could it be Allan Huber Selig, seeking retribution for his strange 2008 World Series?
No, all are unlikely. The man was identified as a Tampa fan, and not one of epic mantit proportions. It only leaves one person, someone who has devoted the past several months besmirching the World Fucking Champions. All signs point to one man, one broseph of the Fightins. A former coworker of meech.one. My sources (the voices in my head that don’t tell me to murder the elderly) identified this man as the assailant.

*This post in no way condones the harassment of one David Chalk. He is the brah-iest of the brosephs of the Fightins. Shut the fuck up with your complaints of him, you pussy ass cockjets. Anyone who uses the comment section to be a dick, shall get said dick shoved up ass. Oh well, satire always works so well…

Love melons after the jump:
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Terrell Owens. Jimmy Fallon. Daulerio. James Madison. Adelaide Brubaker & Mary Jo Catlett. All of these names had the unenviable task of replacing a legend, be it Jerry Rice, Thomas Jefferson, or Mrs. Garrett on Diff’rent Strokes. And the empty space in the Phillies broadcast booth is one that will not soon be filled.

Aside from Harry the K’s death being all sad ‘n shit, it made us realize that, without Harry, the announcing is average at best. In Philadelphia, we are lucky to have top notch announcers in every fucking sport. Now we only have that in 3/4 of them.

This predicament (as Howdy S. Thompson sees it) is restated as a result of Harry Kalas finally being included in the Radio Hall of Fame. Let us me review the current booth
- While some find Tom McCarthy enjoyable, I find his giant baby head a distraction. He’s not particularly interesting, and his voice isn’t very memorable. While Phillies management and PR are trying to make him the venerable Simba of the Phillies announcers, he’s too vanilla for my tastes. And I find vanilla to be fucking delicious.
- Chris Wheeler has the tenure, but he is the Keanu Reeves of the group. Enjoyable in a strange way, but not a Hall of Fame broadcaster. Well, some tend to disagree…
- Sarge Matthews is the closest thing to a deity, but Cadillac Time will always be an add on, not the original call.
- LA seems too angry/bitchy to be the spokesperson for anything.
- Frankze is decent, but is still a youngster. He good by my standards, but not exactly stand-outish.

My solution (the most important opinion), is one the Phillies are accustomed to. They brought back Jose Mesa and Terry Adams, the aforementioned baby head man, but this will be a great recall.

Scott Fucking Graham.

Many were perplexed with his leaving, and no one truly understood why. Sure, there were some that didn’t like him, but there are always dumbasses out there. How could you not be charmed by the utter Carlos Ruiziosity of his Graham Slam commercial? Confusing a man with an ice cream, that’s funny in a ‘supposed to be funny, but unfunny, making it funny’ way.

With his half-decent charisma, the man had a fucking memorable voice. Both Harry and Scott did work for NFL Films. And you need a fucking voice for that shit. Scott ain’t too busy these days, just spouting gold for all of us to hear on CN8’s coverage of the Atlantic 10, or NFL Films reruns.

Put that motherfucker back in the booth. Put that one in the announcer column for the Fightin Phils!

*On an unrelated note* If anything, I always find it a point to include something unrelated to Phillies baseball in my posts. ‘Tard girlfriend once asked me what my blog was about, as she had presumed it was a simple factual rundown of the previous game. It obviously isn’t. This is to be addressed to David Letterman. To put it simply, stop being a fucking pussy and stop fucking apologizing and catering to that underqualified cuntrag from Alaska. Fuck Sarah Palin, and fuck her dimwitted daughters, all of ‘em. Never apologize in comedy. Never.

If the Phillies first pick in the ‘09 draft Kelly Dugan ever becomes a major leaguer, he will be relieved. Notsomuch that he is a success and achieved something he wants to achieve, but that he won’t be inundated of questions like “what is it like have a famous Hollywood director as a dad?”. Every reporter will come up with some witty way to rephrase this, and Kelly Dugan will have to resist the urge to skullfuck every half-ass reporter as they spout stupidity, such as: “which is a brighter light, the Hollywood radar, or the big league show”, “have any of your actor friends taught you how to mentally derail an opposing hitter” and “is it true that you were seen at the Chateau Marmont getting a ‘tuggy’ from starlet Helen Mirren?”.

All stupid questions coming from dumbasses. Every titwad thinking they are so unique in connecting him with his Hollywood past. On that note, let me talk about Dugan’s Hollywood brosephs congratulating him on his draft! Specifically, this picture:

See the fatty 3rd on the left, with the shitty facial hair? That’s shitty movie actor, decent TV show creator, and even shittier stand up (if you haven’t seen his stand up, it’s a lot like Dane Cook, only with trans fats) comic Kevin James. But there’s something strange about that…

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While it may not be an appealing phrase, rhyme-wise, (just like how Lidge’s entrance isn’t appealing, musically) many people are suggesting that Madson be moved to closer duty, given Lidge’s recent suckiness on the mound. While the numbers may suggest this is an improvement, Mad Dog closing move could also totally fuck up the bullpen and leave a shitstorm after the 7th inning.

History tells us that Madson does not adjust well to new roles. I was one of the overly optimistic fools that believed Mad Dog would flourish as a starter. The man was a cotdamn monster when he first came up from the farm system! But whence he was designated a starter in ‘06, he stank more than a Amy Winehouse-Courtney Love scissor session. Logically, one would believe that the adjustment fucked him up. Motherfucker forgot how to pitch after becoming so comfortable as a mid to late relief man. That is what’s worrisome about the thought of him closing.

As the moving picture box has told us lately, professional athletes are total pussies. Errr, I mean professional athletes suffer from anxiety and sociological problems. Some deal with it by taking anxiety medication, others choose to light farm hands on fire and machete the fuck outta them. Lidge being moved from a closer’s spot could affect the man some believe to have his fragile moments. So moving Madson to closer would most likely make Lidge the setup man. This can go one of two ways 1.) Madson is a successful closer, and Lidge is a decent setup man, or 2.) Madson shits himself again in a new role, Lidge cannot deal with the demotion, making the bullpen totally fucked.

While 6 blown saves are pretty sucky, I’m not sure if this is a risk you want to take. Madson could work as a closer, but I doubt B-Lidge would be a successful setup brah. If only the Phillies had another infielder with an oddly shaped head they could trade for a homicidal middle reliever…

Nipple holders after the jump:

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From Todd Zolecki’s MLB log:

“A scout for one Major League team said the Phillies have been following Red Sox right-hander Brad Penny”

Yucks. Fuck no! I have been one to opine on the Phillies signing players that might not have led to success, but even I’m not on board with this one. There is a simple equation when it comes to a pitcher’s success:

Alyssa Milano’s pussy + x = failure

x is a variable for formerly adequate starters

Also, Brad is a fatty pitcher. And when fatty pitchers start to suck, they’re fucking done.

But aside from the Trans Fat and “ohs gross, he was a fucking Red Sock” arguments, here’s one based somewhat in reality and fact (my immortal, abstract enemies). Since 2004, Bradley Wayne Penny has spent a shitload of time on the disabled list. You may remember him fucking up his arm when he made his second start for the Dodgers back in ‘04 against the Fightins. Even as a healthy pitcher, he’s regressed towards averageness recently. That combined with the $5 million salary makes him an unattractive trade prospect.

So considering the overall doughiness, avergageness, expensitiosity, and the whole ‘he probably got Barry Zito’s gonorrhea from that broad from Growing Pains‘ argument, me no wanty Brad Penny.

Oh, and this fucking disgraceful shirt. We got too fucking many of them on our brahs already.

Let’s stick with the young bastard.

Suck it, GNC! La Roca is eligible to return to the Phillies tonight.

Ahhhh shit (in the ‘damn, that sucks’ tone, not the ‘cool black guy emphasis on shiiiiiiiit’ tone) news for the Phillies from our brah Todd Zolecki:

“I have not discussed Philly with Jake because nobody has asked us to discuss Philly,” said Peavy’s agent, Barry Axelrod.

While agentspeak usually means nothing and professional athletes lie constantly in regards to their status (i.e. Brett “Turdface Magoo” Favre), this news is frownworthy.

“He has a strong preference to play in the National League,” he said. “He also wants to play for a contender. Both of those two things play into Philly’s hands. … The personnel is awesome. If there is one downside, it’s the geographical difference for him, given that he has made his family home in the San Diego area.”

Let me, one Howdy S. Retard, convince you, Jake Peavy, to play in Philadelphia rather than San Diego.

1.) San Diego is the birthplace of Kendra Wlikinson. Nice body, she might have, but her personality is worthy of a brick to the head. Thems the bitches you want to hang around with? Philly has much nicer ladies(NSFW!).

2.) Califiornia is known for its homeless population. Our homeless freeze up and die in the winter time, while your balmy temperatures leave vagrants year ’round to harass people just trying to visit a liquor store at 2 AM in a peaceful fashion.

3.) Fucking hippies. I’ll take Philly’s crackhead population over some highfalutin college hippie stoner anyday. Fuck nature.

4.) Your population doesn’t care about sports because they’re too busy being douchebags.

5.) Miss California: homophobe, religious extremist, dumbass.

6.) Where the fuck is Carmen Sandiego?

7.) Other famous residents: Shawn White (emo skater douche), Adam Brody (dreamy hearththrob douche), POD (shitty fake nu-metal crap), and Reggie Bush (overhyped douche).

8.) Oh, I forgot the biggest scrote to ever pick up a guitar is a San Diego Countyian. Dave Mustaine. That cockdick. He’s such a worthless fuck that he has an entire Wikipedia page devoted to his loserdom.

So come to Philly, Jake Peavy. Say hello to me at the ballyard tomorrow (Section 113), I’ll save you a seat. And remember, this is what San Diego has to offer you.

And in Philly, our blogs have tits. After the jump:

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When meech.one emailed the Fightins crew earlier this week reminding us that the site was to celebrate it’s first birthday, I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to write, so here’s my odd attempt:

Waxing poetic (i.e. ‘faggy’) about time is usually how these things start out, these fuckin’ drolling retrospective pieces. That is not a problem for me, for my concept of time and memory has been truly fucked by certain substances and alcohol. I was truly shocked when Meech asked me to come to this staff ’round Octoberish of 2008. If he had met me for a one-on-one interview beforehand, my belief would be that I would not have been hired.

My baseball knowledge may not be up to par with statistics-driven douchewads and I do not have the journalistic credits of a cockwand like Sam Donellon. That’s why this site works, because no one on here is a cockwand. Meech set it up fuckin’ admirably. I don’t have to worry about my integrity because I have journalistic freedom. I don’t have to censor myself, and I don’t have to be some hoe for a cell phone provider just because they advertise on the site. The fucking freedom and ease knowing that you don’t have to double-check because you might offend someone is beautiful. I knew the site would last this long, I just didn’t know if I’d be a part of it (I have gone through what my letter of resignation would be, just waiting for that email after some post where I went apeshit).

Our fearless fuhrer, Mike Meech, is a fucking blog deity. I spend a day or two thinking up a post, and he cracks out 5 or 10 in the same time, with the same or greater quality. I don’t know how he fucking does it. It took great balls for him to bring me, Chamo, and Dash into his world. I am eternally greatful, as this blog does mean a lot to me in a therapeutic sense. As an amateur writer, my work is the thing that keeps me relatively sane. Great balls not to fire me after witnessing my paranoid emails and the unveiling of a hate-ridden personality. Great balls knowing I could still write even without the intoxicants and shituations that arose for me in the fall of ‘08. Great balls to have someone finally justify my writing as probing, rather than rambling nonsense.

The Fightins has truly risen as one of the best sports blogs, and one of the best in the Delaware Valley. And if Meech has told me correctly, this is only the beginning and big things are coming for one Chamomiles Davis, Dash Treyhorn, meech.one, and Howdy S. Thompson.

With an affinity for Sarge Matthews and Shane Victorino, we will strive to blow up even fucking more in the future. Thank you for bringing me in, meech.one. And thank you, Fightins commenters. Whether they read ‘great post’ or ‘I hope your children get AIDS infested cancer’, we appreciate every one.

And remember this:

1981-2007. No Fightins blog, no World Championship.

2008. The Fightins dot com is born. World Fucking Champions.

I highly doubt that was a coincidence. The first lady of the Fightins’ titties after the jump:

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