Best. Sign. Ever.

Hope everyone out there had a very Merry Christmas yesterday! (and Happy Hanukkah for two more nights!)  As I’m sure you noticed, the NFL treated Saturday – Christmas Eve – as if it were a regular Sunday filled with regular season football games, and we were treated to an extra Christmas present of Aaron Rogers and his Packers getting back on track with a Bears beatdown last night. (I believe my favorite Facebook comment from a friend last night was “I can’t believe McCarthy is making the Packers practice on Christmas.”) However, something was brought to my attention this morning that made the Packers-Bears game just a little better, and that is sweet vindication from this lady Green Bay fan:

Bet he wishes he didn’t cheat now! You go, girl!

Five Words.

Dick. Move. Hall. Of. Fame.

Okay, look. I’ve devoted a lot of time and energy into hating the ever-loving hell out of Brett Favre for the monumental screw-job he handed Green Bay fans by first doing the ‘I MAY RETIRE OR I MAY NOT WOULDN’T YOU LIKE TO KNOW’ dance and then the ‘LOLOLOLOL I AM SIGNING WITH YOUR RIVAL’ swan song. I really, really thought there couldn’t possibly be a bigger dick in organized sports than Brett Favre. I mean, the man singlehandedly held up football in Green Bay for a solid three years, and I’m pretty sure Aaron Rodgers still has Favre voodoo dolls in every room of his house.

That said? I’ve never seen an athlete so tone-deaf as to think that a nationally televised hour-long special to announce his free-agency decision smacked of anything beyond rampant egotism. That was horrifying in and of itself.

But a nationally televised hour-long special to break up with his hometown team in the most public manner possible? That’s an unprecedented level of douchebag.

Congratulations, LeBron James. You’re 2010’s entry into the Dick Move Hall of Fame. Good thing I don’t care about basketball.

Sports Fan Conundrum: Am I Really That Biased?

How can you hate when he loves the game so much?

A lot of controversy has surrounded a couple of my favorite athletes recently.  First, it was the Tiger Woods’ accident and, most recently, his “transgressions”.  Then it was the 2-game suspension handed to Alex Ovechkin for a knee-on-knee hit on Carolina’s Tim Gleason.  Many folks have had harsh words for both of these guys, but I’ve been trying to avoid the frenzy surrounding both incidents.

The whole thing has made me wonder whether I am blinded by sports-related bias.

So that happened.

One sentence. That’s all it took. Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz, the sluggers who propelled the Boston Red Sox to end an 86-year World Series championship drought and to capture another title three years later, were among the roughly 100 Major League Baseball players to test positive for performance-enhancing drugs in 2003, according to lawyers with knowledge of the results.

Who cares about Manny Ramirez? Everybody already knows he’s a cheater and a prima donna manchild who will dog it on his own teammates to get his way. But David Ortiz? Big Papi? Say it ain’t so.

Oh, sure, the evidence was there. Anyone who watched him hit in Minnesota and then watched his complete turnaround as a hitter in Boston had to wonder. Was it enough to point to how much he’d drastically altered his swing once starting for Boston? Was it enough to chuckle when he told us that the only drugs he ever took were beans and rice? Was it worth it to ignore just how massive he was in Boston, how he became the ‘Big’ part of ‘Big Papi’? Could we just pretend all that wasn’t there because he seemed like everything that was right about a player- that he was a guy who’d put the whole city on his back with a twinkle in his eye, a gleaming smile and a swing like thunder? Well, yes. Yes, it was. Papi couldn’t be that kind of guy. He’s Papi, for God’s sake.

Well. We were wrong. And whether you believe his story that he had no idea he’d ever tested positive and doesn’t know how he could (even if you buy his cover that he may have bought some energy products from the Dominican in his youth) have tested positive for anything, or whether you so desperately want to believe this couldn’t be true, it is. Sure, nobody knows what he tested positive for yet. Sure, it was six years ago and there wasn’t a policy and accidents happen (just ask JC Romero) and blah blah blah excuses excuses. You know who else tested positive in 2003? Barry Bonds. Alex Rodriguez. Sammy Sosa. Manny Ramirez. Jason Grimsley. Not exactly innocent company.

Hit and Run: With a Perfect Buehrle

So it was a busy week as baseball got back into the groove of things after the All Star break. There was a whole lot going on. Brand new division leaders, a naked Tony Bernazard, and to top it all off, a PERFECT GAME! More on all of this week’s happenings after the jump.

Ben Roethlisberger…fix your TV? That’s the best you’ve got?

The charges* filed against Steelers QB Ben Roethlisberger this weekend are serious, and in no way do the Ladies… condone such acts. Sexual violence is disgusting and pathetic, and should not be committed by anyone at any time. We doubt many of you would disagree.

One could also file a lawsuit against that shirt.

*If you haven’t heard, Big Ben faces counts of assault, sexual assault and batter, false imprisonment, false pretenses, fraud, and intentional infliction of emotional distress. Story here. If true…not cool, Ben.

HOWEVER, I couldn’t help but smirk at the line he allegedly laid down on the Harrah’s employee who filed the suit.

All-Star Posts, All-Star Posts, Come And Get Yer All-Star Posts

Good morning. How can you just walk on by without one tear in your eye?

(Incidentally, that song reminds me of this, which I swear only makes me cry because I’m listening to that damn song. Insert “unhealthy obsession” comment here.)

(Yes, I know that you’re getting this post after the afternoon post. It’s still morning in California.)

The current All-MLB RAR leader.

The rest of the All-Star awesomesauce is after the jump, but first: SPOILER ALERT! NO RED SOX OR YANKEES! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!.

In Which I Have Something To Say About Stephen Strasburg

Good morning. Stephen Strasburg’s mechanics suck and he’s going to get hurt.

Definitely hyperabducts, and definitely has a timing problem. Hey, at least he wears his socks the right way. Seriously, though, observe the difference between that photo, and a photo of someone with good mechanics:

Straight line from elbow to elbow, leading foot positioned to land much more square to the place, and the ball held above the shoulder right before footstrike. Yeah, that’s what I call flawless.

So hey, Strasburg? You have a lot to learn, buddy. I mean a lot. Good luck.

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

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.

Choose Your Own Adventure

From the insane amount of “Riley Skinner” searches over the past couple of days, it’s obvious what you want: uncensored naked pictures of the Skinner flute. Unfortunately, we can’t find them, despite spending approximately seven hours googling him (not a euphemism).

But because we love you the mostestest, we’re offering you the next best thing: the chance to make your own with our official Ladies… Build-A-Skinner.

Print out the template after the jump and draw your own, um, little Deacon. Or big Deacon. Or an “I promise, this hasn’t ever happened before. I guess he’s just shy.” Deacon. Your call.

That Escalated Quickly

So maybe you’ve seen the nekkid pics of Wake Forest QB Riley Skinner that have been racing around the internets. If not, you can probably find it…oh…maybe…here.

Now that you’ve seen them, I would like to apologize. I didn’t mean to for this to happen. See, I was at Riley’s playing Scattergories and watching The Dog Whisperer when he asked if I’d like to see his collection of camouflage hats. We went to his bedroom, one thing led to another, and we ended up checking each other for ticks. Innocent enough, right? But before he could say “does this rash look like a bullseye?”, I’d accidentally taken a picture. And then, like, my Sidekick was hacked or something. But, since that one shot is already out there, I guess you should see the other ones I took too.