One year ago, a group of female Deadspinners got together and built a website that would forever alter the sportswriting landscape. Some delusions of grandeur, but whatevs.
Artwork, as always, by the one, the only, the incomparable Lady J-Money, who credits our success to the quality of our ingredients.
When we last saw our heroines, we were raising glasses to six months of this contraption. Since then….where to start? We got out of the house a little, and brought a few friends along for the ride. We stirred up a couple hornets’ nests and got our knees dirty. We launched a blatant homerism lovefest and let lust rule our fantasy drafts. We went undercover with the Mets and the Mitchell Report and got inside with the Tigers. We turned back time and had ourselves a total eclipse of the heart. We pledged our hearts to the World Series, and just about killed ourselves trying to get there, and just about GOT ourselves killed once we were…but that all worked out just fine, didn’t it? We got down and dirty with the history of Rock and championed the little guys. We came heroically close to covering every single bowl game. We said fond farewells to a fine crop of college boys, and found new targets for next year.
And the snacks. Oh, TSW’s snacky goodness. The legendary Buffalo Chicken Dip. The homemade corn dogs. The 9-Layer Ranchero Dip, K2 of snack foods. Pork with more pork. The genesis of our quiche obsession. The other Ladies got into the act, to the tune of Pudding Shots, Beer Bread, Cheese Straws, and a variety of meats and cheeses.
We celebrated (properly) the apex of football season (and then some), and marked the turning of the sports season. We got our gamble on. We gave thanks, wished on our stockings, spread holiday cheer and strove to be better fans. We found humor in the worst of times and stood up for boobs everywhere. We rassled and clawed and even screwed each other.
After the jump, some poetic and prosaic reflections on our year together.
Many thanks Ladies
Where are our satin jackets?
Time for the clubhouse.
12 months in the Men of the Mitchell Report calendar
11 (or more) insane liveblogs
10 prospects scouted in advance
9 new ways to look at Riley Skinner
8 Ladies… at-bat songs and screwed over
7 (or more) anipals at Metsy’s
6 KSK writers over whom we reigned victorious
5 fanbases better informed on lovemaking
4 regions in the disastrous Hot Blogger Bracket
3 genius All-Star Game BINGO cards
2 horrendous days in Cleveland
1 fantastic year
After one year, I can make a confession.
Until last night, I had never seen Demetri Martin’s “Ladies…” bit.
There! I said it! I’ve come clean! I knew what the joke was via internet memes, but had never actually watched the video. So for everyone who has never known where the name “Ladies…” comes from, check out around the 1:50 mark. No shame in finally catching up now.
So much has happened in this past year, the stories that I think define Ladies the most are the ones that we worked on as a team or were email conversations that we posted. CHEEZE DOODLE BACON PANTS still makes me laugh. Love, Sports, and Dating should be stapled to the foreheads of the
bitches editors at Jezebel and Radar. Our fantasy quarterback draft saw Tom Brady picked eighth. This got us in trouble (especially me) but I still think it was funny. We praised our mothers and fathers.
I was lucky enough to interview Curtis Granderson because of this site. Ladies allowed me to call out the NFL’s breast cancer awareness month. Seven kind women indulged my Sidney Crosby obsession. And they tolerated the monster that the Friday Football Foodie devolved into.
Sadly, my time at Ladies has come to a close. (To everyone who has asked, no I am not going to Defamer, although from what I hear I am pretty much the only person not applying for the job.) While I loved every minute I worked on Ladies, (okay, maybe not every minute), I’ve also pushed too many other things (career, friends who do not like sports, houseplants, pregnancy) to he side while working on this site. My use of the 2am/3am/4am/5am blogging tags needed to stop. (QUITE FRANKLY, my writing here suffered due to time constraints, and I felt shitty for putting up more dreck than droll.)
Thanks to everyone for reading for this past year. I look forward to playing in the comments and enjoying the brilliance of six fine Ladies for the next year!
Programming note: This will also be my final post for Ladiesdotdotdot. I’ve been invited to join the crew at EDSBS, and I’m packing up my bag of tricks and taking my game home to the Ess-Eee-Cee. I’m happy to be going but sad to be leaving, if that makes any sense, and hope you’ll all keep in touch.
Our pink corner of the internets has been a fantastic playground this past year. We’ve had some big stories—the Bracket and the KSK takeover come immediately to mind, of course—and I’ve used it to broadcast my love for football and flex my dramatic chops /poetry wings, but it’s the little stories I’ve treasured the most. And after everything we’ve been through, my all-time favorite moment is being accosted by that Dodgers fan. The one who read a blog titled “Ladies…” and a post titled “What Not To Wear” and thought I was a dude. A real life laff riot, twelve months of it, and epic in every sense of the word. Tears, bloodshed (internet blood), strong men, and the realest bitches alive—seven beautiful women I’ll miss terribly.
And no, my bed’s still not made. Be seein’ you.
The Ladies… made me care about baseball before October and the NFL before the playoffs. They shared in my utmost love of college football and college basketball. They don’t deride me (too much) on my football boyfriend Tom Brady (Michigan y’all), my love for Michigan football (screw you Appalachian State), and they (at least not to my face) don’t show their hate for Duke. They actually made me think about hockey for a minute. And that was a minute longer than I have ever thought about hockey before. They know that a last second buzzer beater in the first round of the tournament or a walkoff homerun or game winning touchdown is more than a great moment in a game, it’s an almost religious experience. The seven women that let me tag along are the sweetest, funniest, down to earth, passionate, straight up coolest people I know. And they taught me how to cook. In other words, they’re da realest bitches alive. Fo sho, yo.
Thanks to all our readers, and here’s to another unforgettable year.