The Mariners’ pitchers and catchers reported last weekend (I guess they need lots of extra practice), almost everyone else reports this weekend — baseball is almost back but we’re still a few weeks from even exhibition game play. Never fear, I have the perfect book for those of you who need a real-game-action-fix now: The Baseball Codes by Jason Turbow with Michael Duca. (The book was released in 2010 so I’m a bit behind. Blame my brother who “meant” to get me this as a present last year, then never got around to sending it to me. He did get me two books this year, of which this was one.) Most baseball fans know of the existence of most of these rules, but few realize how far some players go to enforce them — nor how saturated the day-to-day business of the major leagues is with the business of teaching, following, enforcing, and (as sometimes proves necessary) breaking these unwritten codes.
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.
Holly: NOW IS THE SEASON OF MANNING.
TSW: Short of the Steelers winning SB XLII, this is best outcome. (And I am proud that three out of the four Ladies who made picks, picked the Giants.)
Clare: I cannot believe what I have just seen.
TSW: So glad it wasn’t a blow out. I cannot believe how many people said this game was going to be lame.
Andrea: WOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Best Super Bowl since Rams/Titans! Holy crap! WOOOOOOOO!!!! [falls over, asleep]
Game time! Kegerator primed? Fridge stocked? Ambulance on speed dial? Excellent. Join us after the jump for our weekend plans, favorite gambles, predictions, and pictures of grown men looking goofier than Eli Manning (no, seriously).
Sadly, we cannot claim responsibility for this artistic masterpiece.
Saturday was our last chance to lay eyes on many of our NCAA honeys before the draft. Who sizzled? Who fizzled? Who’ll be fielding calls from scouts, and who’ll be sitting at home crying with their hair in hot rollers (or, as Brady Quinn calls it, “Thursday”)?
HOT: Erik Ainge, QB, Tennessee.
Michael Cera in Superbad. Justin Long in Dodgeball. Seth Rogen in Knocked Up. We pull for these guys to get the girls, because who doesn’t love a little pluck and moxie in a man? After the jump, find out why Holly and J-Money have given their hearts to New York and San Diego for the duration of the playoffs.
Sometimes you watch college football and think, “Gee willikers! This is so exciting! Balls are just a’flying every which way! Anything can happen!”
Sometimes you watch college football and think, “Jesus fucking christ, it is the opening kickoff and they cannot catch the ball. MORE. GIN. NOW.”