The Athlete Speaks

Joe is an athlete, through and through. Here are more of his thoughts about the wide world of sports:

Baseball

—Eric Bruntlett had the greatest, and most certainly luckiest, play in recent memory when he pulled an unassisted triple play. I guess I can't say "that man hasn't done a goddamn thing for the Phils" anymore. Yes, he happened to be in the right place at the right time, and yes, he made two egregious errors (if not officially, then definitely in spirit) that put men on base in the first place, but it's plays like that—lucky or not—that make you marvel at the wonders of baseball.

—Brad Lidge is done. I'm tired of supporting a closer who consistently blows so many saves. I cannot watch another close 9th inning with him again. Your solution is obvious: closer by committee. Tyler Walker was killing those Bucs, why wouldn't you just leave him in? Chan Ho Park has been disgusting lately, and he could have easily handled the lowly Pirates. For the love of Charlie, don't let Lidge turn the lights on again.

above: "OH SHIT I JUST SWALLOWED MY TOBACCO"

Football

—Michael Vick is a criminal, yes. However, he apologized and he did hard time in prison where he probably got it up the butt a few times. Don't you think he deserves another chance? Isn't that the right thing to do, forgive someone who attempts to show he is sorry? Isn't that the whole point of prison, to rehabilitate? Of course, if the Eagles do well on the field with Vick, it will be a hell of a lot easier for Philadelphians to give him a second chance.

—The media needs to calm down sometimes. What's so wrong with Vick having one drink after a long day of practice? It didn't violate parole, it didn't hurt his performance on the field, and he didn't kill any dogs in the process. Stop jumping down his throat because he is not a saint.

above: Vick with a sincere apology

Track and Field

—Usain Bolt is fast as shit. Do you think uses performance-enhancing drugs? And is it sad that whenever an athlete performs extraordinarily, we automatically think about how he or she cheated? I hope that his feat was a legitimate one and not fueled by doping. I hope he is clean. Unless he wants to smoke pot with Michael Phelps. I'm okay with that.

above: he can run, but can he dance like Bronne from The Real World?

Soccer

—Nope, still don't care about soccer.

above: is that you, Kev?

PoYB from the Vault: Team Green

From the Vault is a column copy-and-pasted by Joe when he finds something written in the good ol' days. This is nostalgia at its best. Today's story comes from way back on July 21, 2007, and it chronicles the epic of Team Green (who went a respectable 7-1 last night).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who of you reading this has seen a classic sports movie, such as The Mighty Ducks or Remember the Titans? I'm sure you have, admit it. In both of these movies, as well as every other fucking generic sports movie (you know, the ones where a team that has no hope—an African American basketball team in the '60s! Coached by Samuel Jackson! No chance to win!), you see a team that starts out slow. They fucking blow at everything. then all of a sudden, after one subtle change, they rock. They kick ass. Keenan and Kel do their knuckle puck, and Sunshine throws his 500 yard touchdown pass, and Samuel L. Jackson takes the basketball team out for a run through a Gettysburg graveyard at four in the morning, and suddenly the whole team can do nothing but win.

If some moron was moronic enough to make a documentary about beer pong, and decided, for some dumb-shit reason, to document the rise and fall of Team Green, and for some unknown reason this peculiar movie was sponsored by Disney—who, if you think about it, always funds the generic rise-and-fall type sports movies—then this night, tonight, would be that point in the movie where the lead characters suffer their first real downfall, and all because that dastardly villain fucked it up for our heroes, and furthermore got away with it.

But let me back up, and start from the beginning of our Disney/Burholme story.

Team Green has always sucked. From our humble beginnings, shoving beer in a trash bag, both wearing green shirts, to our lowest lows, when we were three-and-sixteen on the beer pong circuit, Kev and I have stuck with it, together, a likable duo who were always down on their luck when it came to pong tournaments (I'm sure you remember the humble beginnings of the Mighty Ducks at this point; everyone tied together, literally, by the coach—to learn teamwork, naturally—and Goldberg farts and everyone loses faith in their hockey team).

But we—metaphorically—ran through the Gettysburg graveyard, and—figuratively—listened to coach Jackson and all of a sudden, to the astonishment of many (Mike included, who, many of you may know, is not speechless on many occasions), Team Green started to kick ass.

They went an unprecedented FOUR WINS ZERO LOSSES at Brianna's Pajama Party (naturally, no one wore pajamas). Maybe the best they'd ever done on any give night previously was one win and numerous losses. But perhaps due to a new found optimism, perhaps due to the fact that Kev and Joe could hold their beer more efficiently this side of Senior Week, or perhaps due to the simple fact that Joe wasn't fucking bending his knees anymore, Team Green was WINNING! Remarkable!!!

And though a Cheltenham ("Sheltenham," more like it) party seemed intimidating, Team Green stood up to the plate, just like Team Duck did to those fucking black-jersey'd Russians, and they gave it their all. Brianna's party proved to be not a fluke at all, but rather a sign that Team Green could reign supreme. And Team Green thus smited their first opponents.

The next team proved to be a tougher match. Nevertheless, Team Green whittled it down to four cups against one. And Joe shots his ball, and it sailed through the air.

And landed squarely and fairly in the single, opaque, brightly-colored cup.

At this point I'll back up and tell a quick little anecdote about a douchebag at this party. As many of you have surely experienced, usually when there is a keg or a house party, all the assholes come out of hiding and show up at said keg or party. I fondly (ha) remember the infamous keg in which the Supreme King Douche punched me in the face for putting a log in the fire. It was snowing, for fuck's sake!

So naturally, it was expected that there be assholes at this particular party Burholme and Co. attended this evening. And sure enough, within 20 minutes, Andrew and I crowned a kid "King Asshole," for he not only bumped into me, but the bump caused a minimal amount of beer to spill on him, and he flipped out. As I am a drinker and not a fighter, I avoided confrontation; nevertheless, he continued the dirty looks. I just laughed him off.

Well, as fate would have it, this dastardly villain would ultimately usurp Team Green's reign on the pong table.

Back to the main story—Joe sinks the cup. BUT!!! OH UNGLORIOUS BUT!!! Our King of Assholes calls a penalty, and naturally all the Sheltenham kids back him up—Joe's elbow was "across the table."

May I say it once.... ladies, cover your ears..... WHAT THE FUCK?!?

Okay, like I said, I wanted to avoid confrontation, so not only did I accept this blatant attempt to fuck the Team Green over, but also I said nothing when The King of Assholes whispers in the opposing team's ear. I should've seen it coming...

Opposing teams pulls out a trick, a damn fucking cheap motherfucking trick, a trick that surely would not be acceptable in national beer pong tournaments, and would sure as hell get their asses beat at a fraternity house, but nevertheless a trick I could do nothing to overturn, as house rule stated nothing against it. He throws the ball as hard as he can and knocks over a cup. He spills beer. AND IT'S RULED OUR LOSS!?

Ladies, earmuffs again.... WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK!!!!

And the worse part of the story is, after all this, they win.

They win.

Maybe this story isn't sponsored by Disney after all. The Mighty Ducks won three times. The Titans won their big match, even with the star quarterback in the hospital with a snapped cock. Hell, even the Americans beat the Soviets while Aerosmith weakly crooned DREAM ON, and for god's sake, no one should've care because that wasn't even the championship!

And Team Green lost.

I'll tell you one thing though: I don't make excuses—Team Green was 3-16 before Brianna's and I accepted that without delay—but this loss was a fucking outrage and you know it.

And thus, we retreated to Jim's Steaks in defeat (perhaps not coincidentally, the King of Assholes, on this night, had donned a "Jim's Steaks" t-shirt; what an unworthy asshole). And thus, we rebuild, we pick ourselves up from the cuffs of our shirts and start anew. And thus, Joe's shitlist grows to two; god help the King of Assholes if Burholme and Co. ever rolls on his crowned ass.

Goodnight.

Funny Names for Pornos

The Da Vinci Chode

The Da Vinci Chode 2: Anal and Demons

Summer 2009, in Music and Memory

above: Bruce doing the same shit that I did this summer

Usually around this time of year I'll write up the long narrative of my summer. Ya know, the great nights that went down, the low points that made me curse my school for sending me home, the shit that happened that made me feel like I was in a Bruce Springsteen album, et cetera, et cetera. But, I've made a blood pact with my therapist that I'm done with the "Joe Emo Posts" forever—all they ever did was get read by the wrong people—so this summer I'm going to try to tiptoe my way around it.

Here are my Songs of Summer 2009, and what memories from summer they will remind me of (even though mostly every song has absolutely nothing to do with the memory it evokes).

1. "Summer" by Modest Mouse

I officially fell in love with this song approximately seven hours before summer 2009 even began, when I was working on my final paper of the semester. So this song became my song of victory, since I loved and listened at the moment school was OVER, FINALLY.

2. "Lisztomania" by Phoenix

This is my feel-good song of the summer, so it reminds me of all the parties that were brightspots in an otherwise strange summer. Specifically, I'll remember dancing around in the rain at Cindy's party when I hear this tune.

3. "You Don't Know How It Feels" by Tom Petty (sans the Heartbreakers, apparently)

One of the things that made this summer a little less fun was my month-long stint in court-mandated alcohol class. I remember driving to this terrible waste of my time when this song came on the radio, which I figured was at least a little ironic, due to the fact that Tom sings about "roll[ing] another joint" and here I am about to be belittled for two hours by a sober woman I have zero respect for.

4. "Make Your Own Kind of Music" by Mama Cass

God knows why, but I think about my favorite job in the world when this song plays on the airwaves. It was my fifth summer at the retirement community, and after five years I'm still loving every goddamn minute I spend with those old people. Every fucking minute.

5. "I Want You Back" by the Jackson Five

Yes, Michael Jackson's death brought me back to this song, but it's not the King of Pop I remember fondly. Rather, it's a lazy Sunday morning, hanging with my best friends along Pennypack Creek, trying in vain to catch a fish. The most relaxing and fulfilling afternoon this entire season.

6. "Five Years" by David Bowie

My "other job" this summer was at the school library. I'll take it for what it was; no job will ever compare to the retirement home for the rest of my young life, but my gig at ol' the library at the very least put some extra cash in my pocket. Looking for books on a big list was the name of the game, and my iPod accompanied every minute of it—every minute that, as a whole, felt like five years.

7. "Love Game" by Lady Gaga

Once you stop laughing at my appreciation for Lady Gaga, perhaps you can try to understand what I think about when I hear this song. I first heard it at Beechwood Street. God, I can't even type about that yet. I'm not emotionally ready. Suffice it to say, the Beechwood situation was the nadir of my summer, and ultimately altered the remainder of my year, both in bad ways (commuting) and good (getting a car).

8. "I Gotta Feeling" by Black Eyed Peas

Yes, I like a Black Eyed Peas song too. I'm not embarrassed. True, it's a little corny, but it really is a great song to listen to when you are getting excited for a great night, of which there were many this summer. My cousin's wedding is the main memory I have, simply because it was the first time I heard this song. Also, that night truly was a good night (I had a feeling it would be).

9. "My Only Offer" by Mates of State

This summer I got really into baseball in many ways. Firstly, I've been deeply immersed in the Phillies this season. Secondly, a few friends have gotten together every Tuesday night at Fox Chase Rec to play some classic softball scrimmages. It feels great to be out on the field again.

10. "21 Guns" by Green Day

With shit like fishing and playing softball, my friends and I tried to doing lots of different things in the past four months, as opposed to just killing a case for fun. Our "summer of doing different shit" culminated in going to a polo match. Yes, with horses and rich people. Yes, we all dressed formally and drank champagne. Yes, we were the young hooligans hated by all those old rich snobs. Yes, it was definitely something different. And Green Day provided the soundtrack.

11. "Please Mr. Postman" by the Marvelettes

Spontaneous drunken half-naked daytime Motown dance parties down the shore with my best friends will always, ALWAYS be a highlight of any summer.

12. "Letter From an Occupant" by the New Pornographers

A song I once despised, comparing it to a chorus from the Lollipop Guild, turned into one of my favorite songs ever. It's the song that will remind of the wonderful feeling I had when I purchased my first car and all the summer freedom that comes with it.

13. "Silver Moons" by Sunset Rubdown

I listened to this song more times that any other over the past four months, and it took me a while to figure out why. Spencer Krug sings about that melancholy sense that something is over, and this came to represent my summer? Unfortunately, it did. While this vacation was packed with a myriad of wonderful moments, it was also laden with a constant prevailing sense—how should I say it?—that childhood was coming to an official end. Changing my drinking habits and working two jobs and coming to the realization that living at home comes with some challenges... perhaps all these are ultimately good things in the long run, but for now, they all made my summer, to be blunt, pretty fucking beat. Overall, I had terrible luck and was somewhat downtrodden for a while there. But! You know me. The eternal optimist. I will remember 2009's summer for its good times, not its bad. "And I loved it better than anyone else you know."

Facebook Profile Pic Etiquette

Few things are more important on the internet than the choosing of one's "Facebook profile pic." When trying to choose which picture should represent YOU to all your friends, there are a few things you should avoid. I am arrogant and always assume that I am right in these scenarios, so without further ado:

Facebook Pics No One Wants to See

1. The "I Have a Lot of Friends" Pic

My goodness, that is a lot of friends! Perfect profile pic, because you'll garner a lot of friend requests because you are so damn popular!

2. The "I Do Charity Work with Poor Children" Pic

A selfless act of charity, and proof for all your friends. See, I totally am helping the world! Now, I wonder which person in this picture uses Facebook?

3. The "I Drink SO MUCH" Pic

Good luck with that 2028 political bid.

4. The "Oh God, I'd Rather Not Show My Whole Body" Pic

I see through your clever ruse, ma'am, and I will certainly not respond to your booty call.

5. The "I'm Hilarious Because I Use This Funny Picture Instead of a Picture of Myself" Picture

GODDAMN IT I FUCKING HATE CATS AND POOR GRAMMAR.

6. The "I'll Show My Tits to the World" Pic

Actually, you know, keep that profile picture for a while.

7. The "I Tailgate at Dave!" Pic

I'm so glad I paid $40 for these tickets and don't remember the concert chock full of music I normally wouldn't listen to anyway, because I got hammered in the parking lot and didn't get caught and even have this killer pic to show for it.

8. The "Unattractive Young Male" Pic

As you can see, most people have profile pics that I dislike, including myself. Facebook, I suppose, just makes me bitter in general. And yet I still waste hours a day on the damn site. That, coupled with the fact that I have an hour to edit profile pics for my blog shows that I probably have no life. Oh well, can I has cheezburger?

Thought of the Day

I don't understand why people need reading material while they are taking a shit. When I feel the need, I'm in and out. I have business to take care of, I focus on the task at hand, and I complete. Why anyone needs to sit on a stool above a pool of their own brown feces is beyond me. So, to Michael, with your Rolling Stone magazine aside your bathroom toilet, I say: Get your shit done.

Chicago Throws Snowballs Too

above: Philadelphians enjoy golden showers

Two nights ago, some cowardly scoundrel dumped his beer on Shane Victorino as the Phillies center fielder was lining up to catch a routine fly ball. This raises several questions about Cubs fans, Philadelphia, and integrity in general:

1) This beer had to have been $7 or possibly more at Wrigley Field. Can you really be so stupid as to waste a beer like this? That's enough to earn the Load of the Night Award here in Philly, sir.

2) What could this fan's intentions possibly have been? Either Shane catches the ball, thus getting the batter out, or he misses because of the beer, and the batter is out on fan interference. Either scenario is detrimental to the Cubs. This so-called fan must not have been thinking about his team at all, and is thus not a fan.

3) How much more of a coward can you be? Take the repercussions of your dumbass move like a man! Don't run away and cower while your fellow fans are being kicked out. You pussy!

4) What would have happened if the tables were turned, and a Phillies fan threw a beer onto the Cubs centerfielder?

The last question is most important, because it highlights the perhaps undeserved reputation that Phillies fans have in the sports world.

This was a Cubs fan throwing a beer on a Phillies player, so the story went a little something like this: "There was a dumbass Cubs fan in the stands and he made an isolated, stupid mistake, for which the Cubs are ashamed and apologize for."

Had it been a Phillies fan at Citizens Bank Park, the national media would have responded as follows: "Those damn Philly people are up to it again! The same people that threw snowballs at Santa and cheered when a football player was crippled, are now throwing beers are the Cubs in an act of cowardice and immaturity. They'll never learn! Etc."

You know it's true! That's exactly how the media would portray this city, and it's always quick to do. Anyone else, and it's one stupid fan, but when it's Philadelphia, it's that the entire city somehow collectively agreed that it would be a good idea to pour a beer on Cubbie outfielder Fukudome.

Yes, we threw snowballs at Santa, but it was during a terrible failure of an Eagles season orchestrated by noxious, uncaring management, the same management that paid a skinny, drunken bum to put on a red suit and make a mockery of the holiday season. He deserved to be pegged with snowballs, and any other city would have done it.

But somehow we get the rep of evil, snowball-throwing, classless thieves.

Well who was taking a beer to the face, didn't complain, caught the ball anyway, and won the game? And who was the one slinking in the front row, disgracing themselves and their city, and lost?

I am truly proud of this city, and it angers me when a second-rate journalist resorts to trite references about snowball throwing. Wake up! Every city is the same. Chicago and New York and Los Angeles, they all have their loyal fans and their assholes. It just so happens that Chicago had a bigger asshole that particular night. Good job, ya dick.

P.S. Okay, so we employ criminal dog abusers as second-string quarterbacks. Andy Reid didn't ask us about his decision.