"More than half of modern culture depends on what one shouldn't read"

- Oscar Wilde

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Round One: PAHN-cey

A look at the draft…

First Round Selection: Maurkice Pouncey (a name Pittsburghers will over-pronounce for years to come), Center/Guard, Florida.

PAHN-cey, as we will dawn him, was an overachiever at Florida. His attitude on and off the field played a role in that. Considering our woes of late, a good kid in the first round who is also a versatile lineman, was a solid choice. There was better talent out there, but the front office decided to turn back to the early days of the Old Man, when our last first round center was drafted in 1937.
Mike Basrak was Duquesne University’s first All-American, MVP of the ’37 Orange Bowl (in which the Dukes beat Miss. St. 13-12), and the 5th overall pick that year in the draft. He eventually became an officer in the US Navy, and then coached high school football in Skokie, IL for 19 years, throughout the 50s, 60s, and early part of the 70s. Pouncey was never the MVP of any game for the Gators, linemen don’t receive such high acclaim as they once did perhaps, but let’s take a look at the run down.
First of all we know that he got more action from Tim Tebow than any girl on campus—Tim’s girlie hands sliding down his big prison back side…lucky guy. And now he gets to be violated by—Ben Roethlisberger! Really can’t wait for that relationship to blossom though. Jokes aside, Maurkice is the man…
He started 39 games at Florida, despite leaving after his junior season. He won the Rimington Award, which is given to the nation’s top center; the only Gator to ever win the prestigious trophy. Last year Pouncey led all SEC linemen with a 91.57% blocking grade, at which time he threw 119 “key blocks” that led to 20 TD’s. But his two most outstanding feats, as I believe, were his penalty free football (ZERO penalties in 919 snaps!), and what I love most about him= he did not allow a single QB sack or pressure in any of the team’s 14 games.
As a freshman he played in 13 games, and started 11 of those games at guard. He subsequently became only the seventh true freshman to ever start a season opener for the Florida Gators. And at Lakeland H.S. (high school football dominatrix in Florida), he and his twin brother (who will leave UF next year for the draft…nudge nudge), led the school to it’s 45th consecutive victory, 3rd consecutive Florida 5A state championship, and back-to-back USA Today National Champion honors. All they did was anchor a line that allowed for over 4,000 rushing yards…and they both graduated with honors.
“He’s a guy that we viewed as an interior capable offensive lineman with position flexibility,” (ok Johnny Cochran) said Tomlin at a draft press-conference. “Right guard first, then we’ll see what else he can do…it made it a fun and easy evaluation to watch him play against guys like Shaun Cody and [Dan] Williams from Tennessee…he communicated to other lineman, and his QB, about certain things like safety rotation; things you almost can’t coach.” Kevin Colbert added, “Florida talked very highly about his intelligence and ability to communicate...he was able to relay info to (Steelers’ first year) OL coach [Sean] Kugler…and we were all very impressed at the way he was able to sit down and nail out what all 22 guys on the field should be and would be doing.”
Mansfield, Webby, big Double-D, Hartings…PAHN-cey. He’s a proven leader on the field, and exactly what the Pittsburgh Steelers needed with their first round pick. Stay tuned for 2nd round analysis on Va. Tech’s OLB Jason Worilds…the next Greg Lloyd (sans the “gun in his 14 year-old son’s throat for a bad report card” type of incidents we hope)??? Quite possibly.
Remember this draft Pittsburgh…this could be the one that leads us, once again, back to greatness…

Baseball in the Burgh

Watching Dallas Braden’s no-no on Mother’s Day was something for the ages. It got me to thinking about the history of baseball and how much the Pittsburgh Pirates are a part of that history. The Bucco’s participated in the first World Series in 1903, losing to the Boston American League club 5-3 in a best of nine match-up (fucking hate Boston…with their tea parties, and their cream doughnuts, and their Catholics). Professional Pittsburgh baseball has been going on since 1876, believe it or not. All teams then were considered “independents,” and no one was actually officiated with any sort of professtional league; nonetheless, they were paying players and running day-to-day operations.

There was actually a small band of teams in the Pittsburgh area; the best players in that cluster of teams would eventually become the Pittsburgh Alleghenys. Allegheny City, which was annexed by Pittsburgh in 1907, is what we now know as the North Side. It seems that most of the area’s best ball players were from Allegheny City. And yes, we were called the “Alleghenys” just like the ball clubs from New York, Boston, and Chicago were call the “New Yorks,” the “Bostons,” and the “Chicagos.”

In 1890, the Pittsburgh Burghers came to light with a dramatic season that crippled the Alleghenys. Many of the Alleghenys’s stars left and joined the Burghers. That led to what is still considered the worst season in franchise history, going 23-113, and at times unable to field nine players in the bottom halves of away games. The owner through all of this: Dennis McKnight (yes, McKnight Rd.). He gave up and gave the team back to the league due to monetary differentials (a.k.a. he lost money like me at a card table in A.C.). Amazingly (and I can’t stress the sarcasm enough), McKnight was able to back the Burghers as a minority owner; however, even as a bastardized owner, he was able to repurchase the Pittsburgh National League franchise and re-charter it under a different corporate name, thus rendering the services of previous “jump-ship” players once again legal (smart lawyer jazz as I’m told).

McKnight had a knack for finding talent though it seems, and he signed a man named Lou Bierbauer (awesome fucking name). Bierbauer played for the American Association’s Philadelphia Athletics, and Philly (in their usual incompetence) forgot to add ole Lou to their reserve list. You know those game cards you fill out for beer league softball—they used to actually be important….read The Beer and Whiskey League, by David Nemec, to get a better grasp of pro ball in that era. In 1891, the Athletics, now in Oakland, CA, filed an official grievance with the league, claiming that our move was “piratical”—thus the name stuck. We didn’t officially dawn the nickname on our jerseys though until 1912.

After the 1899 season, the Pirates made what is arguably the best player transaction in franchise history when they picked up nearly all of the star players from the Louisville Colonels. Louisville owner Barney Dreyfuss (sound familiar?) had been told that the Colonels were slated for elimination when the National League contracted from 12 to 8 teams. He secretly purchased a half-interest in the Pirates, then after the season sent nearly all of the Colonels' stars up the Ohio (or Ohia, depending on whether or not you grew up in said region) River to Pittsburgh. Since the transaction occurred before the Colonels officially folded, it was structured as a trade; the Pirates sent four relatively unknown players to Louisville. Despite their nickname, the Pirates at least waited until after the season to pull off this blockbuster trade. This is unlike what happened in 1899 to the Cleveland Spiders, and, to a lesser extent, the Baltimore Orioles, who were also part of two-team ownerships. Dreyfuss later bought full control of the team and kept it until his death in 1932 (thank you Wikipedia).

The next century is history…great history.

Five titles and a lot of grief later, here we are. It’s hard to be a fan when the great players you remember are famous for being on other teams. I hate haggling with people who consistently root for them (sorry Grandma), but it is what Nixon (you love him Gram) would call “a damned shame!” We tell our fans that we are producing young talent (and we do!), but then we ship them off early June. You make money…give some back! Many like to dismiss owners—I understand their financial deviance, but operating as such is a crime.

Why does there need to be a salary cap in baseball?...because America owes it to cities like Pittsburgh, Baltimore, and Cleveland. People like George Steinbrenner are a cancer to professional sports. If Bill Gates bought the Dolphins, what do you think would happen? Jerry Jones is another mogul. Build a bubble that holds 100,000 people and then demand the world show you favor…fuck off Jerry, you deserted simpleton. Professional American sports are for people from Pittsburgh. WE are the essence of what drives this country’s moral value. SO GIVE US GOOD BASEBALL!!! If you’re going to groom these Double A’ers then fine, but keep them! It is imperative that baseball stops making cities like Milwaukee, Kansas City, and Pittsburgh pay for the ongoing corruption. Give me a contender every year…something to talk about at least…something to tell others about. Give back the dream that McKnight first dreamt.

$8 for a beer=fuck you...


Big Ben's Big Boo Boo

Well, Benjamin, it’s all out. The run-a-mucking, the tomfoolery, the nipple twisting, the bill-bailing, the pubic poaching, and the gerrymandering of “just of age” Jane’s and Judy’s skinny jean button flies. It’s all out big guy…but here’s a thought—he’s obviously been acting like a jack ass for longer than any of us probably know. In high school, Ben didn’t claim the starting role at QB until he was a senior, so for this blog’s purpose we’ll travel back in time to an era I remember well.

Late 90’s to early 00’s Buttfuck, Ohio—Ben Roethlisberger—baggy jeaned and rocking Wu-Wear—has just been named starting QB at Findlay high school’s spring weight room work-outs. His prom is in two weeks, thus the pimple faced ironing board who gave good handie’s and has had her prom dress since X-mas break is again dateless, but the kind of hot still awkward girl’s basketball captain vows to lose her virginity—she’s not sure where he’s going, but she knows that in a year and a half he’s getting the fuck out of Findlay.

A senior year that’s full of fame, both on the diamond and the grid-iron, solidifies a spot on a D-1 roster somewhere for Ben. His blowjob tally just rose 100%, yet Ben refuses to distinguish himself from the other two black guys in town, but no one cares—because that shit is cool. And what’s this?! Ben, you no longer have to draw a pencil thin goat-tee with your sister’s “Pretty Paula Perfume and Make-up” set—you have your own face pubes!! You go down on pre-med coed at your first college trip to Miami…a freshman fifteen poster child—she’s definitely looking YOU up next fall.

For the next three and a half years you are literally the BMOC (big man on campus). And as a junior, you lose your opener to Iowa, then barrel through 13 straight opponents on your way to the school’s first GMAC bowl victory, where you trounce Louisville 49-28, throw for 376 yards, and 4 TD’s—what a way to go my friend. That night, you have an orgy with the women’s lacrosse team. They’re a little rough and seem to be into each other more than you, but that’s ok—some foreign exchange student from Peru is giving you a reach around while another from Austria tweeks your nipples. They all ask you to tuck your sack between your legs and do the “Charlie Brown”—you decline and they hold you down while Greta the goalie sits on your face—nothing could be better.

You’re chosen as the first pick of the Pittsburgh Steelers in the 2004 draft. We actually trade up to get you. You’re legendary before you even put on your first backward Steeler hat. Maddox tears thumb ligaments in a game against Baltimore 5 months later and, from September 27, 2004, the rest is history. In an interview after the game that day (a game in which we lost, but Ben didn’t start, thus his record 13 straight regular season wins as a rookie will never be broken) Alan Faneca told reporters when asked if he was excited to play with Ben, “Exciting? No, it's not exciting. Do you want to go work with some little young kid who's just out of college?” He would eat those words—it was the beginning of a new dynasty in Pittsburgh.

So was Ben getting jerked off under tables by high-waged hookers at the LeMont then? No, that’s not what I’m saying. He let the country know that baggy slacks and Sean John button downs were cool on Letterman, but the young man is not the new fashion guru of Pittsburgh, he’s the goddamned quarterback. He’s done a ton of charity work and been endorsed by the Pennsylvania State Police (which isn’t saying much, but looks good nonetheless). He always gives the right answer on camera—his interviews sound more like they’re coming from a professional hockey player; not a high profile NFL QB. And he plays with the passion that all of you adore. It’s true he can be an ass in public sometimes I suppose. I used to pour beer at an establishment he would frequent after home games, and I’ll admit he wasn’t always the most cordial guy, but he shook my hand and looked me in the eye, and that’s enough for me.

I’m pretty sure he was nailing one of the bartenders there too, but who cares?! She was all about it. And what dumb slut from Po’Dunk, Anystate wouldn’t hop on the chance at that? These “poor girls” should have to undergo treatment as well. To make Ben look like the monster here is bullshit in my mind. Young lady, you had the chance—neigh, the opportunity—to get the screaming dolphin from Ben Roethlisberger. Not some mullet-wearing redneck from Milledgeville, GA who works at the Waffle House, but two-time Super Bowl winning QB Ben Roethlisberger—and then you have gull to essentially tell on him?—I call bullshit.

I bet you sucked a lot of cock in your young life, Ms. Garglespit, and I’m positive none of them were as prestigious as Big Ben…so don’t ruin an entire town’s hopes and dreams because your Bratz look-a-like friends are telling you about dollar signs. At the very most, I think a text requesting ten grand not to talk would have been sufficient. You’re not a hero to women with low self-esteem everywhere, you’re just a drunk girl with too much make-up and an addiction to glam and Glenfiddich.

In the same breath, Ben—no more of this. Get married and cheat on your wife like everyone else. If the money grubbing whore decides to tie the knot with you then just let it be known that when she gets fat or cranky (a.k.a on her period) you will cheat on her, and that it will be in her best financial interest to just go along with what you say. At least then, Ben my friend, you have an alibi …