Due to circumstances beyond our control (read: uncontrollable brain rot), the following blog post will most likely be random and meandering, could come across as wildly disjointed and may be mildly incoherent. Let us begin:
First of all, recent reports from injured Astros pitcher Brad Lidge have the rehabbing reliever throwing 50 pitches at “90 to 95 percent.” This struck us as pretty ridiculous. It’s one thing to say that you’re throwing at 50 percent, even 75 percent, but how the hell do you throw at 95 percent?
Answer: You don’t. It’s bollocks. No one has the body control to shave five percentage points of energy off their throwing motion. And if they do, they should be teaching the people of the world how to better improve their lives through a radically complex combination of yoga, pilates and capoeira that will forever change the way the human race functions on the planet.
And speaking of reliever-related tomfoolery, Yankees setup man Scott Proctor recently burned his glove, uniform, cleats and “other items” following a rotten outing on the mound.
A few questions:
1) What happens when you burn a baseball glove? We’ve never been in a privileged enough situation to find it fiscally valid to lay a blowtorch to any of our mitts (and furthermore, the glove we currently have is approximately 12 years old and, aside from shoving it into the dirt to dig out an errant throw, we would never think of attempting to hurt it). In any case, it’s hard to think that the glove actually goes away when you burn it; more likely, it turns into some kind of bubbling pile of leathery mush that just makes you more unhappy than you already were before you burned it.
2) In the same vein, burning cleats is probably not the most brilliant idea ever either. Wouldn’t the metal spikes become insanely hot, thereby turning into a multi-pronged cattle brand? For speculation’s sake, do you think that was why Proctor set his cleats ablaze in the first place – to brand his own ass as punishment? And if so, who do you think administered the branding? (If we had to guess, we’d say Miguel Cairo.)
3) Lastly on this topic, what do you think was included in the “other items” that Proctor burned? For some reason we’re picturing the smoldering head of Jobu lying atop the heap as his incendiary yellow hair goes up in a flash of bright smoke.
Hey, have you seen any footage of Warriors recent first round pick Marco Belinelli? We weren’t exactly fond of the Warriors choice to trade away Jason Richardson on draft night, but the guy they took at #18 looks like a pure baller. Check out this video on the popular new internet blog “Youtube.org.” Gotta love his willingness to hoist (and hit) wild jumpers with opposing defenders’ fingers shoved up his nose. And he seems to have a penchant for the medium-strength flush, which is always enjoyable to watch as well.
The latest of Isiah Thomas’ brilliant plots to take over planet basketball has recently been unveiled in the proceedings of a sexual harassment suit being filed against Isiah by a former Knicks executive. The plantiff in the suit alleges that Isiah encouraged her to “go into the referees' locker room and make them happy.”
What the hell sort of tactics are these? If Isiah really did this – and we’re going to assume here that he did, because unfortunately this seems like the kind of thing he might think up – did he really think it would work? Are referees known as such a lascivious sort that the moment a woman walks into their locker room they completely forget all of their officiating responsibilities and decide that they’re going to have a predisposed preference towards the home team because that’s where they had the good fortune to actually see a woman – in person – in their locker room?
Hard to picture a bribe like this really having any effect on the Dick Bavettas of the world. And furthermore, why would Isiah choose to ask a team executive to do this? Wouldn’t he have been better off getting Lt. Frank Drebbin to go into the bowels of the stadium, bludgeon the lead official unconscious and then dress up in his uniform?
For Isiah's sake, we hope that this is just a ridiculous and unfounded allegation. Because otherwise, this is just sort of pathetic.
And one more thought while we’re on the subject of the Knicks:
While recently reading a Newsday blog entry about Zach Randolph’s upcoming relocation to New York, we came across this info about the goings-on at his current offseason residence in Indianapolis:
“The neighbors, for one, hope [the trade] means the departure of Randolph's notorious circle of friends, known as the ‘Hoop Family.’ Yes, it wasn't too difficult to dig up a lot of dirt about Randolph and his boys. Lewd tales of sexual conduct (one police interview I obtained revealed that Randolph and his friend "share" at least one particular girlfriend) and a lot of wilding and partying. DUI. Marijuana use. Shooting guns in the air.”
If you’ve read this blog many times before, you won’t be surprised that we have no intention of calling out Zach here for some of his admittedly questionable behavior. We already have plenty of evidence from years past to think that the guy’s not a candidate for early sainthood. So let’s not talk about things that aren’t going to be that interesting to discuss.
What we really want to briefly touch on is the use of the verb “wilding.”
And what we’d like to say about this verb is that it may very well be one of the greatest verbs in the English language.
Seriously, is this not just a tremendous word to describe activities that are simultaneously outrageously fun, fairly ambiguous and slightly edgy all at the same time?
And aren’t activities such as these the ones that people fondly recall for the rest of their born days?
In sum, when you get right down to it, is there anything better than wilding?
Thank you, that is all.