All the trials and tribulations and journeys through the wilds of Ohio? Down 3-1 in enemy territory, and facing elimination with just one loss standing between us and the end of our season? The rally towels snapping against our ears and the constant pounding of the drum in the Jake outfield and the rest of the horrors of the three-game stand in Cleveland? It was all worth it. Because this happened.
And then this happened.
I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a better utilization of Bud Light, because hot damn, that’s beautiful.
BOSTON RED SOX
AMERICAN LEAGUE CHAMPIONS 2007
Speaking of hot damn- HOT DAMN, that’s awfully sweet sounding.
And as for the hotties? Just kick back, put on the appropriate soundtrack (which I have helpfully provided for you), and peruse through some lovely photos of our boys celebrating amid the champagne and Bud Light and cigars and all the love Fenway could provide.
I look forward to the day when no Saturday Morning Hate Sex post will be necessary. When every Lady’s team finds themselves on the shiny happy end of the scoreboard, and no one’s star quarterback weeps. On ESPN. In primetime. In HD. (Attention, Mister Tebow: I, too, hit the waterworks when the battle goes ill for my boys. I am, however, A Girl, and not a Division I blue-chipper. Take it like a man: Bottle up your emotions until you snap years down the road in a series of unrelated incidents.)
Where was I? Right. In an orderly, usual season, we might have seen that day already. A day when the Ladies can kick back with a cocktail, bask in the glow of victory, and never once have to hiss, “Catch the GODDAMN BALL” at their television screens. But this is no kind of normal season, and it’s not even halfway over, and already we’re all carrying scars.
But no matter who prevails, we’re still coming out on top. Let’s get our healing on, after the jump.
Step right up and strap on your fighting shoes. The other half of the Ladies will now argue for the men of the diamond who’ve captured their collective American League-loving hearts. The incomparable SA pleads for the Indians, with J-Money and Texas Gal wrapping things up with the case for the Red Sox. [Note: Trusty editor Holly, a near lifelong loather of all things base-ball, has been recently converted to the Red Sox; however, not knowing what a walk-off homer is and frankly being a little skittish in this big new pond she's splashing around in, she has recused herself from the discussion.]
Batter up! Take it away, SA.
I feel a little bad for the Cleveland Indians. Despite having tied for the best record in the American League, people (*Ahem ESPN*) still treats them as the second cousin once removed. Many picked the Yankees over them in the ALDS and I would venture a guess in those same people picking the Red Sox over them in the ALCS. Which means they need all the people on their bandwagon they can get. Here are 10 reasons why you should root for the Indians.
NBA preseason has started and I have suddenly found myself a New Orleans Hornets fan. How is that, you ask? Because one of My Iowa Hotties, Adam Haluska, was a second-round draft pick for the Hornets. In their first preseason game on Tuesday night, Adam came in for 24 minutes, went 5 for 9 for 12 points, 1 rebound, 1 steal and 1 block. Yahoo! had this to say:
Chandler’s two free throws capped a run of nine straight points to get New Orleans within 54-49, and the comeback was completed when second-round pick Adam Haluska hit back-to-back jumpers to start the fourth quarter to tie it at 70.
Way to go Adam! The following pics were the only ones of him so far as a Hornet, so I have included a third one that shows his cutie face. Yay! [Hawkeye to Hornet, Woot!]
He may, on occasion, have butterfingers. He may, on occasion, throw five interceptions in a game. He may, on occasion, tag along behind American Idol contestants. He may, in fact, be the second coming of Sexy Rexy. But he is also downright beautiful. So in the wake of the shocking- SHOCKING, I tell you- victory by the Cowboys over the Bills on Monday night, and the upcoming Cowboys-Patriots clash, it seemed like the perfect time to give Tony Romo the Hump Day Hottie treatment.
Tony’s a San Diego boy by birth, but was raised in Wisconsin- so, naturally, Brett Favre was a huge influence on his playing style. This makes him exponentially hotter. He played college ball for the mighty Eastern Illinois University (Go Panthers!), where he won the Walter Payton Award… but he was undrafted coming out of school in 2003. He hung on, though, and signed as an undrafted rookie free agent by the ‘Boys. He has some Texas blood- his grandparents live in San Antonio- and he golfs up a storm, so he’s a perfect fit for Dallas. His boyish good looks and mischievously devasting smile (not to mention that gorgeous bod) are also a perfect fit for the uni of my beloved Cowboys.
Take a gander at the man who leads America’s Team, after the jump…
Dear Football Jesus (there’s a separate one for football),
Kind of a rough week. Do you read the Indy Star?
“Strong-side linebacker Rob Morris underwent surgery on Tuesday to repair a torn tendon in his left knee and will miss the remainder of the season. Among players held out of this afternoon’s practice were wide receiver Marvin Harrison (bruised left knee), safety Bob Sanders (bruised ribs), running back Joseph Addai (bruised shoulder) and tight end Ben Utecht (concussion).”
I know you’re busy, Football Jesus. It is Sunday, after all. But if you could find a minute to see my boys in blue safely back on the field? That’d be swell. And if not, well, I have a couple things I can try on my own. Morris is done for the season, but the other four? They still have a shot. They’re the good guys, every one, and they play the game with a joy you have to see to believe.
Oh. Oh, last week sucked. (Hush your filthy mind; that’s after the jump.) Fifty percent of the Ladies saw their beloved college teams fall. Of course, we were in good company…everyone who’s anyone was on the losing end of the scoreboard. The top 25 is full of pretenders and upstarts. Chaos reigns, and I’m not just talking about my twisted sheets. I’ve been battling the nervous giggles of survivor’s guilt since Saturday night–my Vols had their usual bye date bumped up two weeks this year and I’m ridiculously grateful.
But it’s a new day. A new week. And if the college football gods are off their bender, a return to some semblance of order and right. Let’s take this morning to wipe the slate clean, and get down and dirty with our vanquishers. Join us, won’t you?
Today ain’t any normal Monday, and this ain’t gonna be your normal Hit & Run- because we have some serious celebratin’ to do. Perhaps you haven’t heard- but the Boston Red Sox, Chicago Cubs and Philadelphia Phillies all clinched their division titles over the weekend… and as you might expect, GordonShumway, Clare and I are a tad bit excited about that.
OK, we’re freakin’ ecstatic. We’re bouncing off the walls, rally towel waving, champagne swigging, hugging random strangers, put an empty Bud Light case on our head and dance around in our underwear ECSTATIC. And we’re triple tag-teaming this H&R to share a little bit of our excitement with you.
And, of course, I’ve gathered together plenty of pictures of celebratory ballplayers covered in champagne after the jump…
This post isn’t going to feature any cute guys, or furry anipals or anything else. It’s just a Mets fan trying to understand what happened. Actually no – I know exactly what happened. The Mets choked. It’s as simple as that. The bullpen just flat out imploded in the last 3 weeks. The offense tried to save them in some games, but it wasn’t enough. You can also blame Tom Glavine, if you’re so inclined. But you know what? This shouldn’t have even come down to the last game. It should’ve been wrapped up, and the team simply couldn’t get it done. Continue reading →
Can it be we’re a month into the season already? That’s a lot of ticks on the scoreboard. A lot of swigs from smuggled flasks. A lot of stolen kisses in the quad, and a lot of notches on our bedposts from our Saturday morning purge romps.
Most of the Ladies’ teams had good outings, but Andrea’s Iowa Hawkeyes fell in a tooth-and-nail slugfest to Wisconsin…and two weeks later, it’s time to move past Florida and the throttling they handed down to my Tennessee Vols. Get comfy, boys, I’ll want to be on top for this.
Lovable Losers. Curse of the Billy Goat. 99 years and counting. Cubs fans have had to endure it all.
But this year is a little different. Not only did the Cubbies field a talented team this season that produced on the diamond (exactly how well they produced won’t be known until Sunday)… they also managed to put together a roster full of cuties (and that’s even without uber-hottie Todd Walker).
You’re not going to find any pretty boys on this team, guys who overindulge on hair products (cough*PatBurrell*cough) or spend hours in front of the mirror (cough*ARod*cough). But you are going to find a handsome group of guys who are so hardworking and scrappy and cute you just want to take them home and bake them a nice batch of oatmeal cookies.
Everyone loves the Cubs- even Andie!- so just give in and sing along with me:
They got the power, they got the speed
To be the best in the National League
Well this is the year and Cubs are real
So come on down to Wrigley Field
Go, Cubs, go!
Go, Cubs, go!
Hey, Chicago, what do you say?
The Cubs are gonna win today!
Check out all the lovely Cubby goodness after the jump…
You have only to look at my PEYTON MANNING IS A GOD THAT WALKS ON EARTH posts to know where my NFL loyalties lie, but on Sundays when it’s time to suit up, the royal blue jersey I’m rocking isn’t his. Or Marvin Harrison’s. Or Reggie Wayne’s, or Vinatiereireiri’s. It’s number 83, and the guy who used to wear it is a quiet, unassuming slot receiver named Brandon Stokley.
The Mets’ recent losing streak is taking a toll on D-Wright. Can no one think of D-Wright?!
Enough is enough! My sources tell me that Willie Randolph called a team meeting after that dreadful game last night and really gave it to the Mets. My sources also provided photographs of what went down. They’re after the jump. Continue reading →
Last week Holly’s Vawls, SA’s Wolverines, and J-Money’s Demon Deacons were dealt body blows by Cal, Appalachian State, and Boston College. But that’s yesterday’s news. Let us move on, brothers and sisters. Let us celebrate week two of the season, beginning in just a few hours. Let us heal. And what heals like a little morning hate sex? Nothing, that’s what.
Join us after the jump for a little “Hail to the Victors”, if you know what I mean.
Blood season begins in earnest tonight. Last weekend was glorious, but without a lazy NFL Sunday of lolling and snacking to follow Saturday’s CFB whirlwind, it’s just not the same. In a few hours, the WORLD CHAMPION Indianapolis Colts welcome the New Orleans Saints to the RCA.
For me, this means four hours of screaming my lungs to shreds and basking in the reflected glory of one Mister Peyton Manning (time to reference that disclaimer again, I suppose). For the rest of you, well, this is Ladies, and I know why you’re here. It’s a marquee night; let’s have a look at some marquee manflesh:
I was thrilled to my orange-painted toes to learn my beloved Vawls were playing Cal for their season opener. Since they had come all the way to the west coast (like they were coming just to see me!), I thought the least I could do was make the trip up to Berkeley to meet them. Continue reading →
I’m hopped up on Ny-Quil, and slightly delirious after the Mets’ sweep of the Braves, so bear with me.
The Mets division lead is back up to 5 games, thanks to said weekend sweep of the Braves, and yesterday’s 10-4 win over the Reds. Well, I guess I also have to thank the Marlins for taking 2 of 3 from the Phillies, and the Braves for beating the Phillies today (whew!). Pedro pitched 5 good innings, giving up 3 runs, 2 of them earned. The Mets’ offense woke up: Moises Alou, David Wright and Carlos Delgado all homered for the Mets. Let’s see if the bats can stay awake during this final stretch run. Continue reading →
Last night, Tom Glavine became only the 23rd pitcher to win 300 career games, and the first to do it as a Met. He pitched very well in 6 1/3 innings, and even helped his own cause by singling in the first run of the game.
It was hard at first for me to accept Mr. Glavine as one of the boys, as one of us. It’s not that I ever hated him as a Brave, because I really didn’t (as opposed to one John Rocker and one Chipper Jones). For me, it was just the hatred of the uniform. Once I realized that no, Glavine wasn’t with the Mets to sabotage them on behalf of the Braves (which, trust me, was no small feat, considering the way he pitched against the Braves the first two seasons he was with the Mets), I embraced him as whole-heartedly as I do the other Mets. (This video is also a big reason of why I could never really hate Tom Glavine.)
So, I’m full of pride for Tommy today, as I congratulate him on winning his 300th game, a crowning achievement in his Hall of Fame career. If you want all the good stuff on the game, head on over to Mets.com. And for much more eloquent fanalysis (fan analysis – what? I can make up words!), go to Faith and Fear in Flushing.
Howevah, if you want to see some pictures of the sweet lefty through the years, come with me… Continue reading →
Huston Street is smoking hot. Let’s get that out of the way right off the bat. Outrageously hot (and don’t forget the award-winning ass). He’s also a lights-out closer for the Oakland A’s, and the proud owner of the 2005 AL Rookie of the Year trophy. He’s charming and hilarious (see: exhibit A or his in-the-booth commentary during the July 5th A’s game). He is a budding wine connoisseur. He plays the guitar. He wrote an interesting blog for ESPN (I know! Interesting content on ESPN? Check out his thoughts on MLB clubhouses). He’s madly in love with his fiance and proposed with 1,500 roses (that is not a typo). His intro music is “Hate Me Now” by Nas. He pitches with his tongue stuck out DWright-like in concentration.
Oh, yeah- and he won my beloved University of Texas the 2002 National Championship in baseball — following in his dad’s footsteps, who won us the 1969 National Championship in football (and was a hottie to boot- Huston looks almost identical to his dad back in the day). Huston’s twin younger brothers (Jordon and Juston) play baseball for Texas as well- and, yes, they’re hot, too. The whole Street clan (including older half-brother Ryan, an architect, and baby brother Hanson, a college student) are huge Longhorn fans, and get as geeked about Texas college football games as any other fan. So… Huston is pretty much perfect.
And on the occasion of his return from the DL, it’s high time he gets the full Hump Day Hottie treatment. Welcome back, Huston.
A whole heckuva lot of Street goodness- including pics of the whole hottie Street clan- after the jump.
Together with their manager Charles Fuqua Manuel
The Philadelphia Phillies
cordially invite you to A Party of Pants
on Saturday, the seventh of July
two thousand and seven
One Citizens Bank Way
Tonight, boxing fans will be gathering in droves to watch Miguel Cotto take on Zab “Super” Judah. Who’s going to win? I don’t know, I can barely remember what time the match is. For all the deets, go to East Side Boxing.
Howevah, if all you want is to see cute boys with nice bodies, follow me…
I will admit it: I was wrong, so very wrong, to call the Ottawa Senators the “Team of Destiny” this year. The Sens team that took out the Penguins, the Devils, and the Sabres in five games apiece was not the same Sens team who went out in five in the Finals.
I was also wrong, so very wrong, to root against the Ducks. (Dirtbag Chris Pronger notwithstanding. His suspension should have lasted as long as the player he injured – Sens center Dean McAmmond – was out.) Anaheim was motivated, strong, and just looked like they belonged in the Finals.
So congratulations to the Anaheim Ducks for proving me wrong, and looking hot enough to more than fill our little blog up with greatness.
Well, what do you know. I have to take back everything I said last week about LeBron not having the drive/obsession/chutzpah it takes to lead his team through the Eastern Conference Finals. 25 points, 7 rebounds, and 11 assists signal that a true captain is waking up on the court, (although it should be noted that King James was scoreless in the usual Cavs’ 3rd quarter collapse), and inspiring his team to make it to the championship.
That being said, I want the old Cleveland back and I want Rasheed Wallace to keep his temper under control. A technical for throwing your headband? You know better Rasheed, especially when the team has a five and half minute (!!!) stretch in the fourth quarter without scoring! So you’re blowing a two-game lead! Be a professional and keep yourself together!
One of the top college football stories at Sports Illustrated right now has the headline, “Size Matters for Wide Receivers in the Class of 2008.” And because I am a 12 year old girl, that made me snicker. Then I clicked on the article and came face-to-face with Alabama boy Julio Jones (pictured below). Holy moly. He’s 6’4, 215 lbs and just completed his junior year of high school. Plastics, Julio. [Uhh, That Kid's In High School?]