Pitched four years for the Philadelphia Athletics, and then played shortstop for seven years for the Montreal Expos. Taught Rickey Henderson to steal a base. Taught Nolan Ryan to throw a punch. Taught Mickey Mantle to drink a beer. Threw one seven-hitter and seven no-hitters. Wonderboy was my creation, and first Jobu shrine was in my locker. Often called "the next Dustin Pedroia". Always wear high socks and eyeblack. Prefer to slide headfirst.
Normally, Frenchys don’t rate very high on the hot scale– they’re just so… French. But I can make an exception for French-Canadians — especially hot, 6’4″ French-Canadian hockey players like Vincent Lecavalier.
Vinny (yep, his nickname is “Vinny”) was born and raised in a suburb outside Montreal, and then went on to attend high school way out in Saskatchewan- where he must have picked up a wicked French-Saskatchewan accent. He was drafted #1 overall out of high school at the age of 18 by the Tampa Bay Lightning, and was labeled as the “Michael Jordan of hockey” by TB’s owner (eat your heart out, LeBron). He was named captain of the team at the ripe age of 19, helped the Bolts score a Stanley Cup at the age of 24, and won the very prestigious Maurice ‘Rocket’ Richard Trophy as the NHL’s top goal scorer last year.
That hockey skills stuff is all well and good, but the coolest thing about Mr. Lecavalier is that he appeared in “Happy Gilmore” at the age of 15 (as a hockey player, of course). Maybe even cooler than that? Just a month ago he donated $3 million to a new children’s hospital in St. Pete, Florida, to help build a cancer pediatrics unit.
So, to recap: he’s hot, tall, talented, speaks French, most likely has a sexy accent, has a championship ring and donates large sums of money to help kids with cancer. I really need to watch more hockey.
I give. Uncle. I’m finally caving in and doing an HDH on Dreamboat, ok? I still haven’t forgotten how our nice happy Tony Romo post turned into some kind of battle royale, with legions of Dreamboatettes turning out to hate on my QB1. But I also recognize this ode to Mr. McScores-a-lot is long overdue, what with him and the Patriots wiping the floor with the rest of the NFL like they’re a dirty old mop.
So Tom Brady gets his HDH. Just don’t expect me to like it. Even if he is awfully dashing. Yeah, I said it – dashing. Debonair, even. It’s that chiseled jaw and perfect scruff, a lethal combination… even on a guy in a Patriots uniform. Even on a Michigan Wolverine.
The baseball offseason is a long, lonely and chilly period. Baseball fans are forced to obsess over the minutiae of Hot Stove baseball: whether the third-best middle reliever on your team will file for free agency, the theoretical pros and cons of a six-man rotation, how many different teams will diss A-Rod before he goes crawling back to the Yankees.
So when the folks over at The Sporting News approached us with the opportunity to participate in a Strat-O-Matic recreation of the 1986 baseball season (1986: Take Two), we naturally grabbed ahold of that opportunity like a drowning man to a liferaft. We didn’t even really care what team we got (there is enough baseball love amongst the Ladies… to go around for just about every team)- so when we were given the Toronto Blue Jays, we were quite tickled. They’re so plucky! And so Canadian! And they have RANCE MULLINIKS- with a guy named that on our roster, we were bound to win.
Now we don’t have to obsess over that Hot Stove stuff, we can obsess over what Dave Stieb’s WHIP was against left-handed batters in June of 1986, or whether we should carry an extra DH or outfielder, or just how many ridiculous trades we can propose to Curt Schilling (who is managing the Red Sox against us in the AL East) before he blocks our email address. And we have a baseball project that will require daily management right up until May- when real-life baseball will be in full swing again (hallelujah). I would disclose how many hours and hours and hours we’ve spent researching stats and tweaking lineups and reviewing recordbooks… but it’s just too frightening. J-Money and I are co-piloting this crazy ship- but never fear, we’re dragging the other baseball-fanatic Ladies… along with us for the ride.
Our season officially kicked off last Tuesday, and we’re off to a rousing 5-3 start (damn you, Kansas City Royals!) — and to celebrate, we’re doing a run-down of the hotties on the 1986 Blue Jays. So get ready- put on your retro ’86 Jays cap (I have one) or jersey (J-Money has that)- because after the jump you’re about to behold Rance Mulliniks and the rest of the mustachioed Blue Jays in all their glory…
I held off as long as I could, but it’s high time I sing the praises of one Brett Lorenzo Favre, giving him his proper due as the feature of an HDH. He’s a Mississippi boy, born and bred, with the lovely Southern drawl to match. In addition to being a tall drink of water to look at, with outrageous skills on the field and that fabled gunslinger attitude, he’s also got a wicked funny sense of humor. With boyish, All-American good looks, a rough-and-tumble demeanor and that determination that’s as tough-as-nails, how can you not love Brett Favre?
But don’t take my word for it- in addition to the normal smorgasbord of lovely Brett photos, I’ve also added a bonus video clip from the NFL Network’s “In Their Own Words” feature on Brett…. all after the jump.
Reggie Bush, running back extraordinaire for the New Orleans Saints, is downright beautiful. And it’s a good thing he’s so outrageously good looking, because he has three huge hurdles to overcome, right from the get-go: (1) he is only 5’10”, and we tend to require 6’0″ minimum around here, except in very special cases (Dustin Pedroia and Adam Vinatieri, I’m looking at the two of you- those listed heights aren’t fooling anyone); (2) he went to USC and stole the Heisman Trophy that belonged to my darling Vince Young, (3) he used to paint numbers on his eyeblack. That number 3 may be the worst of all- if you’d like to shout out your hometown area code, why not just wear a t-shirt?
But none of that other nonsense really matters, because… abs! And also this:
Looking like that? I can forgive him just about anything… even the fact that he’s a Trojan. And that’s really saying something.
As you might have heard, our darling Red Sox won the World Championship, and the city of Boston threw a raucous victory parade for the team yesterday afternoon. All of which gives me the perfect opportunity to make the men of the Red Sox our Hump Day Hottie of the week this week- closing out the baseball season in style.
J-Money already covered the hotness of the Sox; instead I’m going to take you on a tour of the parade of hotties (a.k.a. the “Rolling Rally”) that rolled down through the Back Bay and on to City Hall Plaza. A parade full of ballplayers? Yes, please. A parade of duckboats (!) full of WORLD CHAMPION ballplayers? Sweet lord in heaven, YES. Papelbon dancing an irish jig in a kilt is just icing on the cake.
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.