I’m doing the sportswriter-mailing-it-in impression today and writing a post of snippets about unrelated sports things. It has been an exhausting week.
Must read: this graphic essay on The Toast about why sports are awesome. Will be particularly enjoyable for our sizeable hockey fan contingent.
Also must read: our own Nicole’s article about the WWII Girls Baseball Living History League, which she recently joined. I am really, really bad at playing baseball, but if there was a New York branch of this I’d endure the humiliation of being unable to catch or hit (I can throw semi-okay) to participate.
Somewhat related to baseball history: Baseball Nation’s been photoshopping photos of new-ish stadiums to look like retro postcards. They did Busch III today, but I think my favorite so far is Citizens Bank Park.
NYC (along with I think, LA and Dallas?) Time Warner customers are currently enduring a standoff between TW and CBS. CBS is trying to push their luck with ads pointing out that TW customers will be unable to watch the PGA Championship this weekend or their preseason football coverage. Unfortunately for them, it’s hard to threaten “no NFL” coverage when LA has no team and the NYC team in question is the Jets.
Also, I refuse to watch pro football before Labor Day, as it is prime baseball season. The Cards haven’t had an off day in almost three weeks and I have at least checked in on every single game (which of course means they started losing a bunch). My boyfriend is streaming the Saints game right now and I’m pointedly not looking at the TV. Related: this might be why I’m usually not prepared for the fantasy football draft.
Peanuts and The Simpsons: both good at baseball math. I appreciate this, as I love both of these cultural whatevers, and the improbability of the football scenes in Friday Night Lights still distracts me from the overall awesomeness of the show.
Some of you know that I’ve been basically teaching my boyfriend to love baseball during the course of our relationship (for four years as of this weekend – Happy Anniversary, babe!). This week, while watching the Dodgers-Cards series, the instant Jerry Hairston came up to bat, he immediately identified him as “that guy I hate.” While with the Brewers, Jerry’s habit of stepping out of the box after every pitch drew particular ire from my boyfriend (and he saw it a lot, as this occurred during one of the seasons where the Brewers and Cards slugged it out for the division title and then played a playoff series). However, I believe this is the first recorded instance of my boyfriend recognizing a player who was not formerly with St. Louis or New York after he changed teams, without some prompting on my part. Poor Jerry.
Not that we’re shilling for Direct TV, but you have to give the company props for pulling together this hilarious promotion for NFL Sunday Ticket that has already gathered almost two million hits as of this posting.
We’ve witnessed Peyton’s comedic chops on various occasions, but I have to admit I didn’t know Eli had this in him. Case in point, this line: “It’s like the milk is like football, and your blouse is the PHONE.”
Danica Patrick has been around, even in NASCAR driver form, for a while now, and if you are like me you’ve gotten used to rolling your eyes at whatever dumb thing the 13 year old boys who run Go Daddy’s marketing department are making her do now and moving on. So unless you’re a diehard NASCAR fan, you might have missed that this week Danica became the first female driver to ever capture the Daytona 500 pole.
Unless you are a NFL junkie (and I mean a serious, I-am-dvring-the-scouting-combine-footage-on-NFL-Network junkie), you may have also missed that next weekend Lauren Silberman will become the first woman to attend an NFL regional scouting combine as a prospective draftee.
In the context of the wins-oriented sports world, these are not mind-blowing achievements. No one has won Daytona from the pole in over a decade, and anyone meeting the NFL’s general eligibility requirements (and ponying up the registration fee) can attend a regional level combine (it’s the Draft Combine, which is invitation only, that gets all the media coverage, usually).
But tell the little girls suddenly swarming Daytona that Danica’s pole doesn’t really matter. Tell the eleven year old in Philadelphia who still is being forbidden to play football solely because of her gender that the best football league in the world accepting a woman’s application to enter their scouting process as if she was any other player is no big deal. Just think for one minute about SportsCenter Sunday night ending with the traditional celebratory winner and what that looks like if it’s Danica amid the confetti. Think about watching Fox’s Game of the Week on Sunday, and hearing Joe Buck casually announce “Silberman out to attempt the field goal.” We may be a long way from that actually happening (particularly the latter), but the path to both of those endings just got a little bit smoother. And that’s something to celebrate.
It’s with a somewhat heavy heart that I take a moment to reflect on the release of linebacker Bart Scott of the New York Jets. His last few seasons were marred by injury and discontent, but we’ll always remember him for this epic interview following the Jets’ pounding of the Pats in the 2010 divisional playoffs:
And so another step has been taken as the Jets try to distant themselves from that dumpster fire of a 2012 season. But take heart, Bart Scott fans: there’s a chance he may land with Buffalita’s Bills.
There are a number of reasons to start our new (and hopefully, semi-regular) feature on sports themed crafts with today’s project. For one, it is nearly Mardi Gras (and our own CuteSports is in New Orleans as you read this!). For another, the beads in this project belong to my oft-mentioned Saints fan boyfriend, and today is his birthday. (Don’t worry, babe, I got you real presents, not just a blog post.)
As you can see, my boyfriend’s lucky Saints beads, which he wears for every game, are a little worse for wear after several seasons of nervous fingering.
It’s been awhile since one of my favorite teams won it all, and I’ve missed the feeling. I’ve been on a high since the Ravens beat Denver last month thanks to Jacoby Jones’ “Mile High Miracle,” and I’m not about to come down. The momentum from that game carried the Ravens into Foxborough, 9 point underdogs for the second week in a row. The Patriots did not stand a chance.
So in case you didn’t hear, the Baltimore Ravens took the Super Bowl XLVII title, besting the San Francisco 49ers 34-31. Ray Lewis was emotional, Beyonce diva-ed it up, and there was a delightfully surprising break in play when the Super Dome lost power and everyone who cares about seeing the ads AND the game could take a nice breather and have a bathroom run. Since I didn’t have any emotional investment in the game either way (minus my being at a very close friend’s all Niners house), I’ll leave bragging rights to our own Raven. I, however, have been very invested and particular about my Super Bowl advertisements over the years, especially after working at a job that entailed pitching songs to be considered for use in these hilarities. This fine Monday morning, I bring you a round up of what I thought deserved notice in a slew of what was otherwise overwhelmingly dull.