Wow… the day that was yesterday. Sure, thousands of people have covered it, but I couldn’t not write about it, could I?

MLB Opening Day, NCAA Championship, McNabb to the Skins, Tiger still talking and, well, what else could you possibly want?

Let’s see if I can’t play a little game of just the tip…

MLB Opening Day… What more could you ask for, really? Albert POO-holes (which would be the name of my fantasy baseball team) hits 2 homeruns, Rangers come back in the 9th with a walk off, Lincecum was amazing, Jason Heyward lived up to expectations with a homerun on his first at bat and Obama pulled out a White Sox hat to throw out the first pitch at the Phillies – Nationals game. All in all, you gotta be pretty excited about this baseball season.

McNabb to the Redskins… Is anyone else excited about this (assuming you also hate the Redskins and Eagles)? I think it’s a terrible decision for everyone. Let’s have a look. There’s no way that Kolb lives up to McNabb, it’s just not going to happen unless he wins the Super Bowl, plus he’ll be on such a tight leash with the tard Eagle fans. On the Skins side of things, it’s a complete shitshow. Aging quarterback, with no offensive line, handing off to aging running backs. Genius. A slow McNabb handing off to a slower Fast Willie Parker. Can football start next week, please?

I really don’t care to talk about Tiger.

And, last, and best, the NCAA Championship game. Sure, Duke won, and that sucks, but so much more happened. The final push by Butler at the end was so good, that I actually believed that shot was going to go in. As a sports pessimist, that just doesn’t happen for me. I always believe the shot will miss, the team I’m rooting for will lose and my heart will be broken. So, it was nice to actually think that shot had a chance to go in.

Of course, it didn’t go in, and my sports pessimism is still in tact.

By the way, we can do something to kill the one shining moment crap. I hate it every year.

And last-last but not least-least at all… WELCOME BACK JEETS!!!

By Toph…

I know I should either be talking about the Cowboys amazing victory over the Eagles or the Longhorns unbelievable letdown against the Tide (seriously, can’t we all agree the Curse of Jon is real, and that because of this he’s not allowed to even mention the Cowboys on this site?), and I will, but that’s not why we’re here today.

No, we’re here today because our beloved hero, Derek Jeter is about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

I was reading the paper on the bus today when I saw the news – Derek Jeter and Minka Kelly will be wed on November 5th 2010 (which, would be 2 days after a potential World Series).

This has the makings of the worst decision Jeets has ever made. Not that I’m against marriage, cause I’m not at all (all things considered, I remain happily married), but I just can’t stand beside a Jeets wedding. Jeets, buddy, look at your friend, Tiger Woods. Just take a solid look at the past 3 months of Tiger-madness. Now, look us in the eyes and tell us that this is a good idea. Can you? Look, Jeets, no one is as big a Minka Kelly as me, it’s true (see here). But, do you actually think this thing has a chance? Hell, Jeets, Tiger wants to have a 4way with you, him, Rachel Uchitel and fucking David Boreanaz.

You’re Derek Fucking Jeter. Banging chicks is second only to your sweet flat-top. There’s no possible way that this is going to end well. You don’t think all the waitresses in Tampa Bay are going to talk? How about the chick in Minnesota? Or the one in Baltimore with the voicemails? Are you seriously telling me that the girls you have in Kansas City aren’t going to go public with your sexting?

Think about this? So long Gatorade. The Turn 2 Foundation will become the Bang 2 Foundation. Gillette? Yeah, it’ll be gone.

Once you make the mistake, Jeets, you will be fucked, and not in the weird Tiger fantasy ways (Speaking of which, I’d watch that 4way. Well, maybe replace Boreanaz with Romo, but… uh… I’m just sayin…).

So, here it is, Jeets. You have 10 months to think about this decision. I know you’re going to make the right call. I believe in you.

Doug, I’d say you were a lucky SOB, but you didn’t actually get to meet Melissa Rycroft, so you’re not.

But… Merry Christmas from Toph, Jon, Christian and the rest of The Sports Bizzo contributors.

By Toph…

I got a text from Christian the other night that asked if I was even watching the ALCS.

It’s well chronicled that have I loved the Yankees since I was a kid, despite growing up in Mesquite, Texas. I’ve always rooted for them, though it has mostly been a silent rooting, since it’s definitely not cool to be a Yankees fan.

I even came out of the Yankees closet to a few friends, and I slightly enjoyed the ribbing I received for it. I was ok with the Yankees spending ridic money on guys, and basically buying World Series victories in the late 90s. And, like a true Yankees fan, I was also very critical when other teams did the same thing, saying things like, “Ugh, the Marlins paid for that Series, then completely dismantled the team a year later.”

It wasn’t till this year that I truly got mad about Yankees buying their team. I was pretty hurt to see Giambi and Moose go in Free Agency. I was not pleased when they traded for Swisher, because I hated him in Oakland. I was pleased, however, in a wow-I-can’t-believe-that-just-happened kind of way when they brought in C.C. and A.J. Granted, it bothered me a little that the top of rotation was going to be these guys instead of Joba and Phil Hughes (the “future” of the Yankees).

But, it wasn’t till they signed Mark Fucking Teixiera that I had just had it with this team.

Mark Fucking Teixiera.

Hate.

Him.

Mark Teixiera. Ugh. I still hate him despite how well he’s doing this postseason. And, I’m not going to lie, even though I should be rooting against A-Rod, too, I’m happy for him. Maybe I’ll change my tune about Teix (I refuse to call him Tex, that assmonger) in a few years. God, I hope I don’t. I fucking hate him.

So, yes, Christian, I am watching the Yankees beat the Angels into submission, and I’m smiling while doing it. If they win the World Series this year, again, I’ll be watching. I’ll even be happy. But, I won’t tell anyone how happy I am. And that I have an erection for Jeets.

By Toph…

So, I don’t really have just one thing to talk about, so I thought I’d throw it in all one post.

Is that cool?

Have I mentioned that I’m going to run a half-marathon? Yeah, because I am. 13.something miles. I’m trying to update my runs regularly on Twitter.

Is anyone else hoping for a Magic – Nuggets series? This is purely because I want to punch a hole in Nike’s ad campaigns. Granted, I’m a strong supporter of Nike, but come on, these Kobe – LeBron ads are going a little out of control. What would the NBA do with a Magic – Nuggets series? Is there any way this is going to be possible? God, I just want Dwight Howard to reject the shit out of the effin’ Birdman.

Seriously, if Rachel Alexandra was in the Derby, we’d be seeing the first Triple Crown winner in years. Big Brown is shit compared Rachel Alexandra. How much does that suck?

Is it sad that we’re already gearing up for Bizzo Fantasy Football? I couldn’t be more excited and it’s May. I’ve also got the #2 pick and Romo as my keeper. Romo and Micheal Turner… Dangerous. Thank God the Falcons added Tony Gonzalez.

Speaking of, am I the only one hoping Michael Vick makes an amazing comeback? Jon thinks he should play on the Browns. I agree.

We never did really get into the Mavs, and the Dirk… umm… situation. I don’t really know what else to say… except… YOU CAN GET ALL THE VAG IN DALLAS YOU DUMB SON OF A BITCH.

Hey how badly do the Cowboys need a wide receiver? I read a report the other day talking about Roy Williams, Patrick Crayton and Sam Hurd. I almost started crying. Can they trade Greg Ellis for a receicer? Will TO come back, please? It has basically made me rethink my keeper.

The Rangers are in first place? I can’t help but to think this is because of me. While I’ve always (and secretly) rooted for the Yankees, we broke up this year. Why? Well, Mark Teixeira is the main reason. Followed by Nick Swisher, letting Giambi go and CC Sabathia. Ugh… So, I went back to my roots. It’s working out well for both of us, despite the Rangers getting swept in Detroit.

And, some quick bulletpoints because it’s Friday.

-Stay home, Farve.

-Really, Raiders? You didn’t pick Crabtree?

-Mike Tyson looks incredible in The Hangover.

-Follow The Bizzo on Twitter, because both Jon and I are writing now (and, can I mention that we were one of the first sports peeps on Twitter?)

-One of our writers, Christian, is actually writing for a national magazine, so we’re sort of legit now.

-9 times out of 10 when you see an Asian chick playing pool, good things will happen. But, there’s always that one time…

-I love you Jeets.

Late.

By Jeets…

Dearest Bizzoteers-

I know I’ve been M-I-A for a while.  But let me explain.  It can be done in two words:  Mark Dickbag Teixeira.

Okay, that’s three words, and they’re not really words, they’re names.  So what do I look like?  A grammarian?  A physicist?

No.  I look like a sex god wrapped up in an irresistibly tight, pin-striped uniform that accentuates my delts.

The truth is, Bizzolitos (that’s Spanish for “Little Jeets Disciples”), Tex is a pain in my well-toned, sought-after ass.  Who would have thought this big, clutch-sucking goon would be making more money than the most sexually active player in the majors, yours truly?

Tough to imagine, I know.  But, it’s true.  I guess S-Bomb (Steinbrenner and I are tight) felt like he needed to compensate Big Tex somehow to get him to come here, since he’s already got an inferiority complex bigger than the state he’s lamely named after and sharing infield space with a guy that tags more skin than a scientist on a whaling vessel was bound to screw him up further if he wasn’t getting paid.

Anyway, it probably comes as no secret to hear that Tex is a punk.  And kind of a sissy.

You guys should have seen him tear up and run screaming to the shower when he got some Bengay on his scrote the other day.  Man.  He does this weird, flamboyant skipping thing when he gets overexcited and it really queers out the clubhouse.  Jorge was even trying to convince Mo Rivera to throw at Tex to toughen him up the other day.  You know, like when no one’s on first and Tex is over there in lala land, Mo would just turn and throw a 95 mph cutter/pickoff attempt at him and pelt Texy in his bulbous ass.  But Mo’s getting old and has lost his spunk, so he bailed.

Tex is hitting .203.  203?  What, are we counting my sexual conquests from this past weekend (I didn’t even go out Friday night, that’s why the number’s low)?

Dude should be named Mark Texpopup.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Jeets, you’re only hitting .270.  And why do you think that is, smart ass?  It’s a recession.  And I’m a man of the people.  Fans’ 401(k)s are down, so I figured I’d bring my inhumanely high batting average down a little, too, so they don’t feel bad.  It’s kinda like inflation, only in reverse.  Or, what do they call that?  Trickle down economics?  In my case, it’s more like pleasure eruption economics, but whatevs.

Point being: Tex better cut this “slow start” crap out.  I’m tired of hearing everyone talk about how he heats up in June.  You want heating up in June?  Put your hands down my pants on the summer solstice.  They’ll melt.  That’s heating up in June.

Honestly, I don’t even know where I’m going with this.  I haven’t written in a while so my flow’s all interrupted and whatnot.  Maybe I just wanted to point out that if Tex doesn’t get another hit all year (which seems likely), we will have paid that rubber $860,000 per hit.  That’s more than even I charge to hit it, you dig?

So, here’s the solution.  I’m gonna have sex with Tex’s wife.

The way I figure, with his wife reaching levels of carnal satisfaction she never even dreamed possible, she’ll start floating around the house, all whimsically, humming happily to herself, making things pretty, cooking Tex lavish dinners cuz she’s gotta keep herself busy so she doesn’t just spend all day in bed waiting for me to get done going 6 for 6 with 12 RBIs and a pimp OPS every night.

And with his wife acting all girly and feminine, with that lusty female glow about her, Tex won’t feel so weird being the only one in the house that walks around daintily with a flushed face.

That means dude starts producing on the field, I can stop trying to turn all the players and fans against him by yelling “Let’s go skirt!” every time he goes up to bat, and we’ll all be a lot happier.

If it doesn’t work out and Tex continues to suck?

Well, let’s just say we’ll all be right where we are now.  Except for me.  I’ll continue to elevate my awesomeness to painfully high new levels AND I’ll be tagging his wife harder than I tag Brian Roberts out at 2nd.

Win win, if you ask me.

Jeets, out.

The Sports Bizzo Podcast 2.08.09

This week Jon and Toph welcome special guest, hardcore steroid user, Ray Hernandez. They discuss steroids, A-Rod, Bonds, Jamal Anderson, the Mavs and the NBA Trade Deadline.

This, by the by, is the last podcast for 2 weeks, as Toph will be on vacation. Yes… again…

And as usual

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By Jon…

I should have written this last night, but I didn’t. It was freezing outside, no one was coming into work, and I had lots of time to think. The crossword puzzle I was working on was done with me, unwilling to budge, thwarting my search for simple answers to abstract ideas. Then the allergies took hold. I felt like ripping my nose off my face. Then my stomach turned on me, and I was done. I wanted nothing to do with anything. I just wanted to go home and curl up in bed. I finally got off work around 5:30 this morning, determined to plow through an article about something sports related to appease my very understanding editor, and then try to sleep off the sickness.

But I didn’t. I didn’t write the article. Instead I ate my breakfast and distracted myself with a brilliant, old game I remember from my formative years. The game’s called The Incredible Machine. The goal is to build Rune Goldberg machines to accomplish a simple task. Think Pee Wee Herman’s alarm clock/breakfast maker contraption from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure. I spent about an hour playing while Sportscenter was on the TV.

The TV was muted. It’s always muted these days. Especially during the early morning Sportscenter. Is it just me or is the new Sportscenter Live show in the morning the worst?

I think insufferable is the word I’m looking for, but I can’t be sure.

Sportscenter Live is counter to everything Sportscenter has been about since I was a kid. Witty dialogue, highlights, and more highlights. The live show has half the highlights, a quarter of the witty dialogue and all of the fluff of Good Morning America. It pains me to listen to Sage Steele plow through highlight segments with the aplomb of the “Boom goes the dynamite” kid on a good day. No jokes, no flashy quips, just bumbling through whatever the teleprompter tells her.

Here’s what I’m getting at ESPN: I like the idea of a live Sportscenter. In fact, I was really into the idea when I first heard about it. I thought it would increase the interplay between the anchors, resulting in informative, and equally hilarious highlight segments. But on the mornings when you trot out Sage Steele, Hannah Storm and Josh Elliot as your starting lineup, well, by God, ESPN, I just wanna shoot myself.

Instead I mute the TV and watch my highlights in silence, which sucks for any number of reasons. I’m still watching it, which contributes to your ratings, which makes you more ad revenue, which makes your people upstairs think they must be doing something right, which means they keep trotting out Steele/Storm/Elliot every morning.

Da da da da da Dumb…

Aloha, my little bizzolitos.

Que pasa?

Your very own number two (but always number one in your hearts) has been out of commish for some time now, huh?

That’s what Jeets does, though, ladies and lesser dudes. When he needs to get shit done, he gets into the zone.

What zone, you ask?

I like to call it the Bone Zone. Ladies call it the first place they’ve ever really experienced pleasure. Scientists would call it my bedroom.

You see, bizzotes, I’ve actually been busy masterminding the(my) Yankees’ free agent acquisitions from my palatial Trump Suite in NYC (for descriptions of the bathroom see my earlier article). CC? Yup, that was me. AJ? Well, that was kind of Cashmoney’s idea and I kind of half-heartedly went along with it because, let’s face it, who’s gonna turn down AJ Burnett as like your fifth starter when your owners don’t give a what about paying him 90 million a year for five years? But, that’s beside the point.

The point really is that while lying on my Zimbabwean goatskin comforter, with five women dressed in nothing but my own jerseys frolicking around the bedroom and stopping occasionally to kiss or tell me how sweet my flattop fade haircut looks, I essentially brought CC and AJ to town myself.

The conversation with CC, for instance, went something like this.

Jeets(Me): CC?

CC: Yeah, who dis?

Jeets(Again, me talking): Hey, man. It’s Derek.

CC: Derek? I don’t know no Derek.

Jeets: Come on, man. It’s Jeets.

CC: JEETS? Oh, wassup man? Why didn’t you say so? What’s with all this Derek shit?

Jeets: My bad, my bad. Listen. I talked to Cashmoney. He’s ready to stroke it for you. The check, I mean. He’s ready to stroke it whenever you want it stroked. Cool?

CC: Jeets, what the hell are you talking about?

Jeets: CC, baby, you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. I’m flattered, actually. I know you’ve always wanted to play with me. I know you’ve always wanted a shortstop like me playing behind you. It’s cool, dog. I don’t blame you. I’m amazing. I’m like a god walking among mortals.

CC: Jeets, seriously. I don’t know what the hell you’re saying.

Jeets: Come on, let’s get down to it. You know and I know you want to sign here cuz of me. It’s cool. Just tell me how much it’s gonna cost. 160 million? Over like, what, eight years? Seven? Somethin’ like that?

CC: Jeets, if you’re offering me $160 million, I’ll play wherever the hell you want me to play. I’ll be the Philly Fanatic, for shit’s sake. But, what’s with all this crap about me liking you? It’s kinda gay, man.

Jeets: Cool, it’s settled then. I’ll have Cashmoney’s guys fax over the paperwork. And I’ll announce it to the media when I’m banging that ESPN reporter chick. You know her name…come on…oh yeah. Rachel Nichols. Love that. You’re gonna love being on my team, CC.

CC: Whatever, man. I just signed a guaranteed contract for $160 million while the rest of the country is struggling to hold onto their jobs. It’s gravy, baby.

So you see, babies, that your old Jeets is the one greasing this team’s axle. That’s why they call it the Bone Zone. Cuz it’s where Cashmoney and I deal out all kinds of record bones to all kinds of pitchers in all kinds of shitty markets.

Jeets is like its own economy, really. If I were traded on the open market, I’d be blue chip as shit. Hell, I’d probably be a market, in and of myself. It’d be like NASDAQ, Dow Jones, and the Jeets Exchange (kinda like Armani Exchange only all financial and whatnot).

Jeets isn’t just an overwhelmingly handsome, record-setting shortstop from the New York Yankees. Jeets isn’t just me. Jeets is everything sexual and amazing in the world. It’s a whole other level of existence. Like, if you were Jeets? I’m not saying you could ever be Jeets-awesome, don’t worry. I’m just saying. If you were Jeets? You’d wake up in the morning and the first thing you’d do is smile at the collage of women’s underwear pinned up on your wall. Try to imagine that for a minute. I’ll hold off for a minute while you slip into that ecstasy.

Okay. Hot, huh?

I know.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah, so I was basically in charge of bringing AJ and CC to town and I’m thinking about getting Tex and a couple other dudes here, too. Maybe D-Lowe cuz he’s always got the hookup on some hot tricks.

And we’re gonna win the crap out of the NL East this year, too. It’s gonna be insane.

In fact, remember that time that the T-Rex escapes from its cage in Jurassic Park and eats the dude on the toilet? That dude on the toilet is gonna be the NL East. And I’m gonna be Jeff Goldblum in the SUV with Dr. Grant’s wife dripping water down her hand and hitting her from behind, and shit.

So, I just wanted to let y’all know that if you want to file any complaints about over-spending or ruining baseball or anything, you can direct them to my inbox. Or what I prefer to call “your own ass.”

Cuz the reason you’re all so upset is that you’re sissies. You’re jealous of my awesomeness and you’re jealous of the awesomeness (aka preposterous monetary wealth) that extends to other players when they’re around me.

Don’t hate the players, kids, hate yourselves for not makin’ the team.

Jeets, out.

The Sports Bizzo Podcast 10.02.08

(Editor’s Note: Toph and Jon strongly support chicks doing handstands… and bikinis.)

This week The Biz discusses the VP debates, Palin Bingo, The 1st Annual Bizzo Summit, Sky Bombing, Cowboys-Redskins, Cowboys-Bengals, MLB Playoffs and other stuff that I’ve forgotten.

Of course…

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