Mr. Monday: Robbie Rogers

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Sporting his national colours

So a little history took place this Memorial Day Weekend. Robbie Rogers, whom you may recall from the 2011 CONCACAF Gold Cup Team, not only came out of retirement to join the L.A. Galaxy, but became the first openly gay male athlete to actively play in a Major League Soccer game.

There’s been some debate about this in light of many recent “firsts”, namely that some sporty media types may have neglected to point out that Andrew Goldstein was the first openly gay male athlete to play in a professional league when he was active in Major League Lacrosse in 2005 (which I didn’t know because lacrosse.) Regardless, golf claps all around as we celebrate another step towards acceptance and focus on the REAL reason for this post:

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Ladies and Gentlemen, the US Men’s National Team.

I love the smell of nationalism in the morning.

I love the smell of nationalism in the morning.

I want to paint you a little picture, readers. You see, for the last eight years or so, I’ve spent Saturday mornings waking up, rolling downstairs, and flipping on Fox Soccer to watch the day’s matches while my husband made snide comments about soccer being lame and boring.

Tonight? My husband not only voluntarily turned on the Gold Cup SemiFinals, but I’m a little concerned he may actually lose his voice screaming in support of the US Men’s National Team in the CONCACAF Gold Cup Finals on Sunday. My victory is nearly complete. As soon as he picks a Premiere League team to root for (please, Jesus, not Chelsea), I can start openly celebrating his utter conversion.

That’s beside the point, dear readers. The point is that after many, many years and many, many attempts, soccer may just be on the verge of arriving in the US. Oh, sure, it’s because the men’s team is playing incredibly well right now, but I’ll take it.

I think it’s high time the Ladies… met the US Men’s National Team. Join me, after the jump, won’t you?

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Misery Loves Company… In Our Nation’s Capital

There is an understanding in my home state of Maryland, you either root for the Redskins, or you root for everyone else but the Skins. I’m a glutton for punishment, so I became a sad sap of a human, full equipped with Skins Starter jacket and a love of Joe Gibbs.  Follow me this week as we travel through the capital city of this great land, and the teams that almost seem like afterthoughts to professional sports.

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Misery Loves Company

cleveland-browns-lose

With the exception of very few major league teams, more likely than not your season consistently ends in tears.  Sitting in a bar this past Saturday, looking at the faces of those around me wearing Cavs jerseys, I was reminded once again of the ultimate reality of Ohio teams in the post season, and the heart break that lies therein.

The more I thought about it, we are not alone. You know who you are, kings and queens of “there’s always next year,” or preseason shouters of, “this is our year!”  And you can be found across this great nation.

So here begins my little journey across country, to highlight our defeats, but most importantly, the beauty that comes from being a fan, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, this really is our year!

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Another entry in the ‘Dick Move’ Hall of Fame.

Packers Favre Football

So. That happened.

I’ll be up front about this. I’ve been a vocal Favre hater for more than a decade now. I rolled my eyes when Madden waxed rhapsodic about Favre’s status as a gunslinger. I groaned inwardly every time someone told me that he was a ‘man’s man.’ I hated the entire city of Green Bay for unleashing him on the world.

I hated him because he (and the Green Bay Packers) stomped all my beloved New England Patriots in Super Bowl XXXI, leaving college freshman Maggie slumped on her bed wearing an expression that looked…kind of like the expression in that picture, actually. I’m bitter, I have a long memory and I learned how to hold an old-fashioned Irish grudge at my Grandma’s knee.

I tell you this only so I can explain to you, Green Bay fans, that I understand how you’re feeling right now, or how you’re going to feel if he goes through with this and suits up for the Vikings. That white hot, fiery hatred? That urge to punch that picture at the top of this post repeatedly because you can’t get the real thing in your hot little hands? The indignant, righteous and strangely helpless fury? I’m with you. I’ve been there. Hell, I’m upset on your behalf.

See, I’ve long suspected that Favre was going to end up with a plaque in the ‘Dick Move’ Hall of Fame. (The man took a dive for Michael Strahan, for God’s sake. He did the ‘I’m going to maaaaaaaybe retire, maybe not, let’s talk about me some more’ dance so many times I think Peter King performs the steps in his sleep. The writing was on the wall, people.)

The question, though, is just who he’ll be joining in the semi-hallowed, but mostly tarnished ‘Dick Move’ Hall of Fame. Come for the self-indulgence, stay for the money-grubbing.
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Thursday’s Hottie Hit n Run: Injured Hottie Edition

Cardinals Hottie Scott Rolen may be done for the season. I’m trying not to fling myself off a bridge, but it’s very disheartening. We’ve come so far in the past 10 weeks. *Sniffle* He’s had cortisone shots in his shoulder, but it just doesn’t seem to be enough. Call-up Hottie Brendan Ryan will most likely take over at 3rd base for the remainder of the season. Ryan was quoted as saying, “I don’t have a choice. We’ve got guys who are banged up. I’m not banged up enough.” Awwwwwww. Furthermore, if anybody sees fit to bring me the heads of Alex Cintron or Hee-Seop Choi on a platter……that would be looked upon favorably. [Andrea's Most Favoritest Player Out for September Stretch]


Proof positive of LaRussa’s Warlock Skills.

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