Home > Uncategorized > Running Off At The Electronic Mouth, No. XXII

Running Off At The Electronic Mouth, No. XXII

I haven’t written one of these in about two weeks so my list of random, pointless stories brushed with my own surly, snarky and skeptical opinion is going to be a little longer tonight. Deal with it. (Also, I had a lot of trouble trying to get the alignment straight on this one, so I apologize for that.)

  • Watching Kevin Durant, Brandon Jennings, John Wall and all of these great NBA players making mincemeat out of the guys who think they are big shots at the rec league has been so awesome. It gives you an idea of just how freaking good these guys are.

Sure, Durant’s 66 at Rucker Park was cool. But as far as my favorite montage of an NBA star embarrassing rec league schlubs is definitely this one, brought you by Wall:

From the blocks to the dunks to the speed to the ankle-breaking moves, just nasty.

Oh, and you’ve got to love the blown kiss on the free-throw line.

  • My metaphorical punching bag, Zach Britton, made a much-awaited start Thursday. Well, I was looking forward to it. After becoming the first player in 80 years to allow six earned runs in consecutive starts that lasted less than one inning, Britton actually allowed three runs in the first inning versus Kansas City. I was selfishly excited.

And then Britton did a really stupid thing: He pitched fairly well. He didn’t give up another run until the sixth. So I was left a little unsatisfied as I was looking forward to a third straight debacle from Britton.

That lost hope is all I’ll be left with from him for some time. Get well soon, Zach. We want to see you back out there and throwing meatballs as soon as possible!

Best-case scenario: They are mere extras. No lines. No extensive cameras time. Just scenery. In and out, over.

Worst nightmare: After Roethlisberger finds Ward for a touchdown, they close in on their smiling mugs and then cut to Bruce Wayne waving Gotham’s equivalent of the Terrible Towel. That would be a facepalm situation.

  • Listening to FOX’s national baseball telecasts really bothers me these days. (Insert way-too-obvious joke about Joe Buck’s eternally raspy voice or Tim McCarver’s incomparable ability to be a dum-dum). It’s probably not a big deal to anyone, but it has to do with the music. I don’t know exactly how long it’s been going on, but I realized a few months ago that FOX has gotten real cheap with its music. Specifically, you never hear the original FOX baseball theme anymore. Now the network uses only the football theme for both sports.

I mean, what gives? The football theme is special, but the baseball music has its charm. And I would like to see it return.

  • Did you know? On the day that the Mariners defeated the Yankees last week to end their 17-game losing streak, the Yankees entered the contest with a 61-40 record. That’s a winning percentage of about 60. Now, the 1977 Pittsburgh Pirates were 20-7 when they lost a game to the Atlanta Braves, ending their own 17-game skid.

But among teams that had played at least 30 games and were beaten by a team on a losing streak of at least 17 games, the 2011 Yankees don’t hold the record for highest winning percentage. That would belong, somehow, to the 1926 Yankees. They were 84-51 before they lost to the hapless Red Sox, owners of their own 17-game losing streak. Murderer’s Row of Ruth, Gehrig and Lazzeri went 0-for-11 with five strikeouts.

After the win, the Red Sox still trailed the Yankees by a slight margin — 42.5 games.

The losing pitcher was the appropriately named Sad Sam Jones.

  • I am bummed that Matt Stairs has retired. It’s definitely time, but the ballplayer who looks like a lumberjack, beer belly and all, who misses as much as he connects — but when he connects, boy howdy! — is a rare breed today. Anyone who can play major league baseball for 19 years should consider their career a success. Plus, Stairs left us with the only home that left me in complete awe as it left the bat and for about 10 minutes afterwards.

I know you’ve seen that clip so many times that it has lost its effect. But in the moment, my eyes nearly popped out of my skull. To hit a ball that far up the pavilion in Dodger Stadium at night takes strength that is non-terrestrial.

  • OK, Cleveland, we get it. You don’t like LeBron James or anything associated with him much. But seriously, this is disgusting.

This is about as big of a surprise as the sun setting in the West.

  • A short story: I got my driver’s license only 14 months ago. By the way, I’m 27. A combination of fear, procrastination and finding a car I could actual practice on were responsible for the delay. That’s because I have to drive with hand controls — one hand controls the wheel and the other hand operates a device that doubles as a brake and accelerator.

But back in 1998, I did drive a vehicle with foot pedals. Need I remind you that my feet have the reaction time of a tortoise on Ambien? But for one day, me and five drunk guys (a.k.a. family) thought it would be a great idea if I drove a golf cart for a full 18 holes.

They had the times of their lives at my expense. I nearly died about four different times. I drove into a bunker. I hit numerous trees. I struggled through tall rough. I’m sure I gave everyone who dared to be my passenger multiple cases of whiplash. I drove at least two wheels over the side of a bridge, and only my father’s panicked tug of the wheel saved us from a 10-foot drop into the water. One special moment came when I was faced with a couple of tall bushes. But there was some daylight in between them, so my father told me to “drive through the bushes.”

So I did. Just probably not the way my father intended. I drove though one of the bushes like how Peyton Hillis drives through arm tackles.

But no matter what happened on my journey, I never, ever did this, which was happened at the LPGA’s Women’s British Open last weekend.

Actually, I can see why. The X Games needs comic relief every now and then.

So, Kukoc, who began playing in the NBA while his homeland was in the midst a full-scale war for its independence, which killed more than 6,000 Croatian civilians and destroyed about one-fourth of the country’s economy, should be worried because a woman said she had sex with him for money? Uhh, no.

Also, 500 Euros? That’s about $700 dollars. Damn, he got his jollies off, big time.

  • I’ve set this up badly, and this is an awkward transition, but I am going to end this post on Hideki Irabu, who committed suicide July 27 in Southern California. It occurred in the city of Rancho Palos Verdes, which is about 30 minutes west of me here in Long Beach and is an extremely beautiful place.

Yeah, Irabu never lived up to the hype, but if you remember, the hype was impossible to beat. While he always wanted to be a Yankee, the media frenzy was tough for him to deal with. From what I’ve read, he was a very private person. The rest of his career after New York wasn’t pretty, and he had regrets that he couldn’t be as good in the U.S. as he was supposed to be.

But for one day, I saw him shine live. Of course 21 runs help, but he was really good that afternoon.

R.I.P.

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