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He tried to leg a double into a sexual assault


BREAKING NEWS: Reports out of Boston that the son of famed Sox and NESN announcer Jerry Remy has been arrested and charged with indecent assault and battery for groping a woman at a bar in South Boston. Jordan Remy (didn't know you were such an MJ fan, Mr. and Mrs. Remy!) has been accused of assaulting the woman outside the Boston Beer Garden, which has been the home to more meathead activity like your local butcher shop. Apparently the young Remdawg was cahtting up a woman, but when she became disinterested in his conversation (which might have gone along the lines of "Hey did you know my Dad hit 7 career home runs?" or "Hey did you know my Dad's restaurant sells a fry dough burger?") and as she left the bar, he took a swipe of her crotch. Yes, the son of Rem dawg tried to steal home. Very bold but not always the smartest play. Jordan was arraigned this morning and released on $2500 bail, which, hey is the same price of Monster seats for tonight's game.

-Reece
 
 
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September 26th marks the return of HBO's Eastbound & Down, featuring the quessential 21st century athlete, motherfuckin Kenny Powers bitch! Kenny Powers is shit-talking, steroid chomping self-centered asshole, played perfectly by shit-talking mullet master Danny McBride. The show, centered around Powers fall from grace from super stardom to a complete embarrassment as he returns to his hometown to beg for a gym teacher job, is a hilarious portrayal of the athlete after-life. He's the talking head that you kind of wish athletes are now - swearing, selfish, telling it exactly how it is and not hiding behind a bullshit act of humility and "respect for the game." Kenny's catch phrase of "You're Fucking Out!" (after he K's the last batter to win the World Series) should be something that Mariano Riveria, or Jonathan Papelbon or K-Rod you know they wish they could say, but never will.

Funny or Die, where Kenny powers' character originated, released a 5 minute promo for not only the upcoming season, but Powers' "endorsement signing" with sneaker brand K-Swiss. The resulting footage is funnier than any scene in Entourage, Hung, or any other "comedy" HBO has produced in years. Enjoy...

-Reece
 
 
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A Special Sports Report By Reece


Madden NFL 11 hit shelves on Tuesday, and for the first time in my life I did not feel compelled to drop everything, rush out to Best Buy, and drop $50 bucks on what has easily become the most popular sports video game of the last 20 years. I have been a Madden junkie for years; I can still recall being a losersy high school kid, staying in when others kids were out, working on my franchise while listening to Bone Thug N Harmony. I still remember my first undefeated season with Madden 99 on the All Pro level (I can rattle off Drew Bledsoe and Terry Glenn's stats like my social security number). I remember the haunting voice of Pat "Flag........on the play............." Summerall and John "Watch this play right HERE...BOOM" Madden still in my head to this day. I still remember when the Patriots won the Super Bowl in 2004, that I couldn't wait until Madden 2005 because the player stats and ratings would be through the roof. But over the years my interest has waned less and less. I bought last year's Madden 2010 for PS3, but honestly, I only played it twice and never even started a franchise. Gross, I know. Nice waste of $50 bucks. Now here I am, Madden 11 week and I can't even get a sports video game boner anymore. Do I need Mike Ditka to come by and give me some Cialis in pixalated form? I am just officially too old for this shit? I hope not, because that would just be depressing.

So in toasting a glass to the end of my Madden life, I am looking fondly upon my career. Some of my most fun video games memories have come from sounding beating friends and roommates in college on the fake gridiron. I have also flipped out, thrown controllers, screamed and uttered more obscenes in the name of Madden than any other situationm in life. My mother once told me when she heard me playing Madden in the basement, the language coming out of my mouth was enough to make her ommediately go to confession. Some of my own personal Sportscenter moments include:

1997 - When I finally made the switch from NFL Blitz to being a  Madden guy. Blitz was my game and NFL Blitz on PS1 was me and my brother's go to game to unload video game aggression. But after a while there were only so many times you could powerslam Jerome Bettis after a five yard run and then triple elblow him after the whistle. Madden was crisper, more fluid, and um, an actual football game. I was hooked then. Even if the graphics sucked dick.

1999 - My first memory of the old ambulance coming on the field to pick up a devastatingly injured player. I remember it being some shitty Pats special teamer but the way the ambulance drove out on the field and loaded the guy up, while Pat Summerall said in his sullen, monotone voice, "John....there's a man down.....and it doesn't look good......" Ah man that was great. I was lucky enough to never have lost a starting QB to the ambulance or any other year ending or career ending injury. Definitely some running backs, receivers, a few defense players. 13 years of Madden and not one QB. If only that could happen in real life.

2003-2005 Umass Amherst, where on a floor of all dudes in the basement of our dorm I honed my craft and engaged in easily 4,089,543 Madden battles with my roommates and randoms. Tournaments for money, tournaments for fun, tournaments for the last slice of pizza or last Busch Light - no real excuse was needed. Something about playing in college makes you Steve Spurrier behind the joystick - you throw out all sorts of crazy shitgun plays and throw 70 yard go routes and Hail Mary bomb it every other play and if you ever THINk about punting on 4th down, you're a pussy. You always go for it. I'll never forget a game I played with one of new roommates my first year - we didn't really know each other yet, but once we both pulled out two copies of Madden 2003 and two PS2s, the shit was on. He ended beating me on a last second bullshit play but if not for Madden, maybe we never would have wanted to get to know each other. Even though in real life, Steve McNair never would have made that throw.

Some time in 2006 - All I know about this Madden memory is I came home shitfaced from the bars at 2 in the morning and for some reason I decided to heat up a pizza and play Madden. After the oven dinged and I had myself some sweet Celeste, I stumbled into my room and fired up my franchise. I woke up 7 hours later in my bed, hungover as fuck, my controller in hand, and the final score was 40-3. I lost bad, wrecked another chance at a perfect Madden season, but how the fuck did I make a field goal??

2008 After the Super Bowl Which Shall Never Be Discussed, I almost bailed on Madden. I couldn't do it. To see football again in August after what had happened to the Pats in Arizona against that piece of shit tweedle dumb Eli Manning, I could barely stomach football at all. Even though the Pats would be Madden-stacked and Brady, Moss, and Welker would be 99s going on 10,000, I was iffy. Then the season started, Brady got knee-tackled by that demon in human form Bernard Pollard, and suddenly, who gives a fuck about real football. It was Madden time. At least Brady's knee worked in Madden. And I could always hit the reset button if anything looked bleak.

2009  Fresh off a Ps3 purchase, I went slightly retarded and bought Madden 2010, NBA Live 10, Fight Night 4, and Call of Duty: Modern Warfare to keep me going through a long, cold winter. My girlfriend had other plans: snowboarding, hot chocolate, and other gay shit. The decline of my video game career had begun. Chicks, man. They wreck it all.  


And now here we are - cycle complete. While I'm sure Madden 11 will be the balls, I feel good about walking away now. I have heard all the Maddenisms and I have done every single play in the playbook across the board. I no longer get mad when Madden says "Why'd he try to kick from there, why does he think he's kicker's Superman?" when you whiff on a tough field goal. I no longer feel the need to win 108-0 against the computer on the Rookie level to make myself feel better about life. I will miss Madden, but I think it's time to walk away.

But hey you never know. Maybe I'll hit reset on this blog and pretend it never happened.
 
 
Kudos to "funnyman" Seth Meyers for the following twitter post he recently left regarding that piece of shit Brett Farve:

"[Brett] Favre will be announcing his decision in a month-long special on ESPN called ‘ESPN.’"

Great work.  But he forgot to add:

"Reports out of Shitville, Mississippi are that Farve has been vigorously cutting up the brims of his Bass Pro Shop hats, and refusing to shave increasing the likely-hood that he will be making multiple press conferences in the upcoming year."

Interestingly enough I actually found this Brett Farve Twitter post the other day:

WranglerMan4Life: "This is tough for me......It really is.....but I'm gonna have to take a shit....now I cant really tell you when... It all depends on how I feel... If my asshole is 100% healthy I will be taking a shit...all I ever wanted to do was hang with the boys in wranglers and take shits...But I can't be sure...Once it turlteheads I'll know for sure."

Then I found this post from his agent:

IEatBabyShit: "I vehemently deny that Brett told anyone he's taking a shit.  A decision will be made after he and I asses the situation."

Finally, I turned on the TV and saw the following .
Brett Farve Sucks
I don't know about you but I'm going to follow this story like a fly on ....

alright I'm done.

- Artie
 
 

In order of the recent scrum during the Red Sox-Indians game for this week, we here at Mindwafers have decided that there's is really nothing better in life than a good old fashioned sports brawl. You take a wholesome  American setting like a ball field or a court, and you interject crazed athletes, super-human levels of testosterone, and multiple camera angles, and you have a recipe for goddamn masterpiece theater. People love a good sports fight. They'll talk about it for days, they'll review the video of the fight like its the Zapruder film , and they'll never forget it if they are lucky enough to witness one live. So with that being said, here are some of the finest sports fights and sports brawls we have ever had the pleasure of witnessing....
The Greatest Sports Fights Of All Time!
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I couldn't believe this one existed. I mean this was Shaq when he was Shaq Diesel, Shaq Fu, basically Shaq the 7-foot, lean, cut gigiantic warrior, not the overweight bethemont he is now. Not that I would fight either one, but I would much rather take my chances with a 400 pound lumbering Shaq than a 24 year old ripped hungry and energetic Shaq that is just itching to crush somebody's skull with two of his knuckles. But of course it's Barkley that steps to him. If there was one crazy motherfucker in the NBA that wouldn't be scared of Shaq-Fu smashing his spine apart, it would be Sir Charles. Check out how he just walks right up to him and whips the leather into his face (tough to see with the quality unfortunately but you can kinda see him launch it). Can I just say...what balls on this guy!! Jesus Christ I would have pissed myself if 1999-Era Shaq even looked at me funny. Hell I remember getting his Fleet Gold Rookie Card and getting explosive diarrhea at the sight of the guy. So Shaq just throws a hook and it's on like Donkey Kong after that. Sure the thing morphs into a scrum where nobody is even punching anymore - which was probably the safest thing for Barkely's life at that point - but still, I gotta give props to Barkley or stepping up on Shaq Daddy. He outweighed him by at least 70 pounds (which seems impossible considering Barkley's plumpness) and has a good 10 inches on him as well. Yet Sir Charles was like, "Fuck you pal", whipped the ball at him, and took his beating like a man. Very impressive. And hey Shaq, welcome to the Celtics!
 
 
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A Special Sports Report By Reece

Nick Saban, coach of national champion Alabama and owner of super-perfect hair, recently compared sports agents to "pimps", referring to their inappropriate contact with college athletes, which has been taking place since the dawn of time. In the last week, 3 SEC teams were under the gun for alleged infractions involved contact between agents and amateur athletes. At the SEC media day, Saban, who never met a dollar bill he didn't like, rallied against the unscrupulous tactics made by agents: " I don't think it's anything but greed that's creating it right now on behalf of the agents...The agents that do this -- and I hate to say this, but how are they any better than a pimp? I have no respect for people who do that to young people. None. How would you feel if they did it to your child?"

And now we have Nick Saban, moral compass for America, speaking for the rights of student athletes. This is the same Nick Saban, who went from Michigan to LSU to the Miami Dolphins back to the college ranks at Alabama like a Xs and Os mercenary. This is the same Nick Saban who lied to the media for a month straight when inquired if he was going to leave LSU to go to the NFL, and then did the same exact thing 3 years later when asked if he would abandon the Dolphins to go to Alabama when the head coaching vacancy opened. This is the same Nick Saban who appeared as himself in The Blind Side to whore out himself and his school and offers Michael Oher the world if he agrees to attend LSU. And sports agents are the problem in Nick Saban's world.

Saban is a god in the coaching universe. He can get athletes and their families to commit with a couple one-liners, his warm smile, and his portfolio of winning. And it's true. He's a winner. But for him to call out agents as the ultimate evil of college sports when there are many things wrong with the NCAA world right now is completely disingenuous. Sure there are many ruthless, crooked agents out there that cross the line. But what steps are made by schools to protect their athletes. Where's the accountability? Right now the NCAA is investigating whether three student athletes made a trip to  Miami to go to a PARTY. I feel like Allen Iverson right now. A PARTY? We're here talkin about a party? It's not like they were doing private workouts for 10 sports agencies and doing drills for prospective NFL teams. We're talking about a PARTY people. Schools rarely make the move to correct wrongs while they are happening; it usually only after the NCAA investigation that they say, "Whoa!! We had no idea this was happening?!?" Yeah right. These colleges invest buttloads of cash into their sports programs and they can't keep track of who contacts their star athletes? NCAA violations for inappropriate contact can cost schools millions. I think they know what is going on. It's an altogether different matter how much they like to get involved to stop it.


So if agents are the pimps, then who are the whores? The coaches and the schools? They get on their hands and knees during recruitment trips. They promise the world to their recruits, doing everything short of sucking their dick in an effort to get them to sign with their program. Then they abandon programs as soon as the going gets tough. Look at Pete Carroll. He was arguably the best head football coach in college sports in the last decade. But as soon as school sanctions hit USC for alleged impropriety (allegations still ongoing concerning if Reggie Bush took gifts from agents) and the NCAA banned them, Pete took his millions and fled to the NFL. All those players he helped recruit in the last few years before he jumped ship? They're left with blue balls Pete gave em a quick rub and tug and then ran out their door with their tutition money. Coaches take the money and run all the time. Rich Rodriguez. Lane Kiffin. Charlie Weiss. Tell me a profession where somebody gets paid a ton of money, does very little for the adulation of others, and scoops out the door as soon as the heat is on - and I'll show you a dirty, dirty prostitute.


Ok so we have pimps and hos. So what are the athletes? Let's see. You're nineteen. You have never worked a day in your life because 17 hours of your day is consumed with practice, weight-training, and class. You make zero money for punishing your body and risking your health so that football programs and millionaire head coaches can rake in dollars on sponsorships and bowl bids. You're technically not even allowed to drink yet everyone from school boosters to sports agents want to throw you cash in anticipation of what you can do or may do in the future. You get an invite to a house party in Miami from some super agent. There's nothing to sign, there's no committment, it's just a party. You aren't going? If some fine girl throws her perfect ass in your face and no one will know about it, you aren't hitting that? Yeah right. College athletes are the johns in this perfect world. They get money, fame, girls, parties, gifts thrown in their face, and only the strongest of moral character can turn it down.  Kudos to those who can. But for every report about a student athlete caught with gifts from an agent or who was given a free pass during classtime by his school, there's got to be 10 more that got away with it. The cash cow of NCAA sports is just too big to be wasted on things like "rules" and "academic ineligibity" and "student-agent misconduct."

 
So we've got the pimps, ho's and johns. What about the fans? Hell we're just along for the ride. Saban can wax poetry about how sports agents are evil and corrupt the minds of the pure, wholesome student athlete, but c'mon. Saban is a hired gun, just a majority of student athletes are hired guns, just without the "hired" part. The graduation rates for the top NCAA schools list none of the top 5 football schools with a rate over 70%. Only one school has more than 55%. A little less than half these athletes are earning their eligibility and riding off into the NFL sunset. And really, is that so bad? What other job out there asks you to do just as much as professionals with zero percent of the pay? In the world of agents, coaches, and players - it's pretty similar to pimps, ho's and johns. People get paid, people get used, and usually somebody is stuck with their dick in their hands when it's all over. It's the world's oldest profession.


-Reece
 
 
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News came today that Ilya Kovalchuk has reportedly re-signed with the New Jersey Devils for an almost in-comprehensible 17 year, $100 Million new contract.  A contract that will keep the 27 year-old Kovalchuk a Devil until 2027 when he will be 44 years old and robots will enslave humans and harvest their babies.  But seriously, what the fuck are these GM’s thinking? First was the 15 year - 67 million dollar deal the Islanders gave mediocre goalie Rick DiPietro, a deal which set of a series of absurd 8-17 year deals.  The main reasoning be behind these deals is that the salaries of these deals can be dispersed so that the later years carry a lower salary allowing for a cheap buyout, and allowing teams to shed the ridiculous cap hit associated with such deals.  However that still doesn’t factor in that these teams are now obligated to carry a cap hit for these players of 5-7 million dollars for the next 20 fucking years. 

It's ridiculous and a result of the NHL’s terrible salary cap structure which limits rookie contracts to 3 years, after which they immediately become restricted free agents. This allows teams to sign away other teams restricted free agents, sometimes, in the case of good players, at the age of 21 (i.e., Phil Kessel, 5 years - 27 million), and makes GM’s either commit millions of dollars to kids that can’t even drink legally, or trade their best young players or risk losing to them to another team with only draft picks as compensation.  Three years later and they are back in the same spot.  The system promotes zero-fan loyalty of their team’s players; as soon as they start root for their team’s good young players, they are shipped out of town over cap constraints.  The whole thing pisses me off.  Make a maximum contract length, develop an arbitration system like baseballs were drafted players are under control for at least 5 years, and let the arbitrator, not the market decide compensation for young players, or develop “Bird Rights”, like the NBA, were teams are allowed to go over the cap to re-sign their own players.  Either way, the NHL has to do something to control these ridiculous contacts for both superstars and young players, or there might not even be a league in 2027. 

-Artie
 
 
A Special Report By Reece

Growing up in the late 90s and early 2000s, I think my life was defined by two things - Seinfeld and hating the Yankees. The first one brought me much joy - I think I can quote and possibly recite every single episode of the famed Show About Nothing. I still watch countless reruns on the 19 chanells that still air Seinfeld in syndication, and I still put everyday situations in ridiculous context of the greate debates and discussions that George and Jerry would have at the corner booth in Monk's. And for the latter? As a Bostonian that bore witness to Wade Boggs' riding a horse around Yankee Stadium with his title, Clemems' defection, the stacked 2000 team, Aaron Boone, Johnny Damon, A-Rod's courtship - you name it, it enrages me. The sight of 26 World Championships and all those douchebaggy, cocky Yankee fans with crooked fitted caps makes me want to fly into a homicidal rage.  The Yanks were fuckin garbage, they were mercs, millionaires, they ruined baseball and competition, they were a fantasy team to life, they stole all the best players, and worst of all, their owner was the capsulation of all things prick when it came to Yankee fans. The biggest fan of them all was the owner himself, George Steinbrenner - this colossal blowhard asshole who bragged about the superstars he stole from small market teams, the dickhead who constantly needled the Red Sox and the rest of MLB because he had a Scrooge McDuck pile of money to woo any free agent available. He represented all the disgusting things about baseball in the last 15 years.
 
But here is where the worlds mesh. As any Seinfeld fan knows, George Sreinbrenner was a featured member during Seinfeld run. George Constanza became Assistant to the Traveling Secretary and regularly interacted with The Boss, with hilarious results. Never shown but constantly yelling, ranting and talking nonsense, he slowly developed into one of my favorite non-major characters. To this day, I can't help but think of all those ridiculous Steinbrenner plots from Seinfeld when I hear about him or the Yankees. To non-baseball fans, I bet more people know the name Steinbrenner from Seinfeld than as owner of the most successful franchise in sports. Even now, as word broke that he passed away Tuesday at age 80, I can't help but be smiling at the thought of him eating Pizano's calzones, trading away employees to Tyler Chicken for fermented chicken drinks, and blowing up desks. I can't even hate him for what he did to my beloved Red Sox. 

So as a tribute to the late, great George Steinbrenner, here are some of his finest fake moments. Enjoy.... 


-Reece
 
 
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A Special Report By Reece


Well The Decision is over. The one hour ESPN LeBRon James dick-sucking spectacle is over, and The King (of zero titles and failed expectations) is going to South Beach. After the fresh dump he deposited over his fans in Cleveland, who have taken to the streets to drown their sorrows and burn his jersey, LeBron James happily announced to a captivated audience of millions what most of us knew all along - he would flee his hometown fans for a chance to play with D-Wade and Chris Bosh for multiple titles. In the process, the Miami Heat have assembled the greatest villain the NBA has seen in years. Forget the Bad Boy Pistons. Forget the Fakers. Forget even (kills me to say being their fan) the trash talkin underachieveing new Big Three Celtics. The NBA has its Soviet Union. It has it's Legion of Doom (the comic book crime syndicate not these guys.) It has will be most doubtedly the most hated NBA team (outside of Miami) in history.

In the past 24 hours, LeBron has been called everything from a "coward" to a "quitter" to a "sellout". And that's just by his former owner Dan Gilbert. Across the nation, people are full of vigor to hate on LeBron. And truth be told, while he had every right to make his free agent decision, the way he went about it was nothing short than a colossal dick move. He literally robbed the city of Cleveland. He held them hostage for seven years with his egotisical antics, his "I Am The King-Bow Before Me" bravadao, and his sneaky threats that he would flee for another NBA team. He finally making good on that threat. He was the King, all right. Of douches. But again, nobody forced him to play in Cleveland and it's not like he had an eternal contract that stated he was never to leave the state of Ohio for any reason other than taking his kids to Disneyworld. He didn't really do anything wrong. He didn't commit any crimes. Welll, he did commit a robbery. He robbed Cleveland fans of the hopes that finally, FINALLY, they would have their own title that city so desperately needs. He robbed them of the satisfaction that a hometown kid could stay loyal and deliver on a promise for a championship and pull Cleveland for its decades-long title slumber. He could have done an admirable thing - something few atheletes do - and stay in town, get paid boatloads of money, and try to win a title the right way. But alas, it was not meant to be.

So LeBron made his choice and as much as it sucks for the beleaguered Cav fans, they had to know it was coming. LeBron never displayed much public love for Cleveland - Yankees hats, New York ad campaigns, South Beach parties, friendships with Jay Z. It's not he was out handing out at Cleveland Indian games with Bone Thugs N Harmony and Drew Carey. Cavs fans had to know that the LeBron shelf life was short. For every year they didn't win a championship, that window got smaller and smaller. Until yesterday, when the window closed and LeBron jumped ship. But why is LeBron being buried for leaving his hometown?
 
 
 
Glenn Beck
RONALDO!!!
Forget the threat of terrorism, Iran's nuclear weapons and illegal immigrant, there's a new enemy in town: The World Cup. A few days ago on the Glenn Beck radio program, the usually subdued host ranted about his hate for soccer. Here's what he said:

"It doesn't matter how you try to sell it to us," yipped the Prom King of new right, Glenn Beck. "It doesn't matter how many celebrities you get, it doesn't matter how many bars open early, it doesn't matter how many beer commercials they run, we don't want the World Cup, we don't like the World Cup, we don't like soccer, we want nothing to do with it."  



Did you hear that world? We're not buying it, no matter how badly you jam it down our throats by, for shame, broadcasting it on television. Ignore that manufactured excitement of Americans pretending to care about the 1-1 tie against England last week and people piling into bars to watch the game. It's all propaganda of course. Rather, what we want is something more subtle like the NFL, which would never jam football down our throats, despite the Super Bowl commercials costing a trillion dollars for a 15 second ad. And beer commercials. Oh World Cup, how dare you advertise alcohol in connection with a sporting event! All of us know that sobriety is a rule when it comes to catching a Red Sox game. How dare you World Cup! We like our sports like we like our drinks; stiff and watered down.


-Big Sus