Pick one. They are labeled as follows Top=1 Bottom=4. Hopefully you turds can figure out the other 2.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Rock the Vote
Pick one. They are labeled as follows Top=1 Bottom=4. Hopefully you turds can figure out the other 2.
Monday, January 24, 2011
.....And the 2nd Annual Salty Goes To.......
It's that time of the year gentlemen and squires. Time to anoint the most boner move of last year's Draftapalooza. Through much debate amongst The Commish and myself, we landed on these 4 names and their high sodium chloride content. The criteria we came up with are as follows: 1)The most obvious, if the pick is high overall and the player just flat out sucks eggs, 2) The player is injured at the time of the draft, still drafted relatively high, and never performs worth a shit **We decided that players drafted high and got injured during the season is not the fault of the owner and therefor not eligible for the Salty. The question I pose to you, voters of Backstop Boyville, is who is the saltiest?
VOTE TO THE RIGHT!!
Zobrist: 6th overall .238 avg, 10HR, 75RBI, 77R, 24SB Yahoo Rank 202
Sandoval: 11th overall .268 avg, 13HR, 63RBI, 61R, 3 SB Yahoo Rank 294
Sizemore: 36th overall .211avg, 0HR, 13RBI, 15R, 4SB Yahoo Rank 1250
Roberts: 58th overall .278 avg, 4HR, 15RBI, 28R,12SB Yahoo Rank 1062
**For those of you who are awesome and recognized the picture above, my eternal respect is yours. For those of you who are dumb idiotheads, that menacing face belongs to the Iodizer, arch nemesis of the Immature Radioactive Samurai Slugs, the "Tiny Toons" version of TMNT. Throughout all the episodes the Iodizer would try and shoot salt out of his fingers onto the slugs to kill them. In my favorite episode, the Samurai Slugs are tailed by the Iodizer into a bar that is full of deer belly up to the bar crushing beers. Just when you think The Slugs have met their match and are cornered by the Iodizer, one of the deer mentions that the bar is out of saltlick, and at this point The Slugs point out that the Iodizer is full of salt, the deer rape orgy the Iodizer's face and The Slugs live to fight another day. Man that show was before it's time.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Love is in the Air
I think it's no coincedence that MLB spring training kicks off on Valentine's Day this year. Baseball Season, I accept, I will be yours. I'm pretty sure I know what's coming with us, but can't quit daydreaming about our relationship.
They say that relationships conjured up in Spring Break type atmospheres aren't built to last, but that they are also never forgotten. So true. Watching you from afar and thinking of you countless hours a day will do nothing but fuel my flames for when we rekindle our lust on March 26th. I will no doubtedly be drunk and you will no doubtedly take advantage of me. After countless attempts by you, and me constantly reminding you it's a bad idea, you will eventually talk me into letting that beefy 3rd baseman from Chicago join in with us. And you know what Baseball Season, I'll probably wake up the next morning a little hazy on what happened the night before, but confident in our future together and quasi-confident in the fact that I can get cleared up (Aramis-to the waiver wire) of anything you gave me on our reunion night.
I'll drive home from our reunion and this is where our love will be tested. Long distance relationships are always hard to maintain and ours is no different. I'll start out checking up with you multiple times a day on the internet, waking up to catch up with how your night went, then falling asleep dreaming about how your next day will go. This will probably last for months. But it won't last forever. Come late summer I'm sure there will be a few days that I even forget to check with you at all. You will no doubt scorn me by doing something completely awesome on one of the days when you could't be further from my mind. (I'll never forgive the Giants for calling up Buster Posey while I was at the Indy 500). Things will definitely become a little routine by late summer, but being the warrior that I am, I will continue to trudge on. Come early Fall, you will have me again eating out of your hands again(assuming I'm in the playoff hunt). We will know our time together is coming to an end and we will both try and throw ourselves into our relationship for one more good late run. You again will have my interest peaked and I will again be following your every move, but it will be too little too late and we will part ways, hopefully this year on good terms.
But be it good terms or bad, there will always be another Spring Break party in 2012, and I'm always willing to get weird with somebody......
They say that relationships conjured up in Spring Break type atmospheres aren't built to last, but that they are also never forgotten. So true. Watching you from afar and thinking of you countless hours a day will do nothing but fuel my flames for when we rekindle our lust on March 26th. I will no doubtedly be drunk and you will no doubtedly take advantage of me. After countless attempts by you, and me constantly reminding you it's a bad idea, you will eventually talk me into letting that beefy 3rd baseman from Chicago join in with us. And you know what Baseball Season, I'll probably wake up the next morning a little hazy on what happened the night before, but confident in our future together and quasi-confident in the fact that I can get cleared up (Aramis-to the waiver wire) of anything you gave me on our reunion night.
I'll drive home from our reunion and this is where our love will be tested. Long distance relationships are always hard to maintain and ours is no different. I'll start out checking up with you multiple times a day on the internet, waking up to catch up with how your night went, then falling asleep dreaming about how your next day will go. This will probably last for months. But it won't last forever. Come late summer I'm sure there will be a few days that I even forget to check with you at all. You will no doubt scorn me by doing something completely awesome on one of the days when you could't be further from my mind. (I'll never forgive the Giants for calling up Buster Posey while I was at the Indy 500). Things will definitely become a little routine by late summer, but being the warrior that I am, I will continue to trudge on. Come early Fall, you will have me again eating out of your hands again(assuming I'm in the playoff hunt). We will know our time together is coming to an end and we will both try and throw ourselves into our relationship for one more good late run. You again will have my interest peaked and I will again be following your every move, but it will be too little too late and we will part ways, hopefully this year on good terms.
But be it good terms or bad, there will always be another Spring Break party in 2012, and I'm always willing to get weird with somebody......
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Greatest Game No One Knew Took Place
In a surprise clash of the Titans where one team was 1 game over .500, one of the greatest fantasy playoff battles this league has ever known went down. It was a first-round square off between the Magical Unicorns and JohnClaytonsPonytail. The soiree ended 95.98 to 94.72 with the Magical Unicorns getting the right to advance in the bracket. But this would be one of those proverbial "much closer than the score indicates" games.
It all started last Thursday night. JCPT's Pierre Garcon has an amazing night catching 2 TD passes and jumps his master out to a 18.15 lead. Somewhere between this point and Sunday the white hefty bag that sat atop the Metrodome, you know, the one that Minnesottans thought could support a Northern winter, collapes and drops too much snow for the Sunday slated game between the Vikings and Giants, forcing it to be moved to Monday night. This rare circumstance only ratchets up the drama that would happen the very next night to immeasurable levels.
Heading into Monday night, the score was Maigical horny horses 61.73- JCPT 64.03. Here is the kicker, along with JCPT's 2 point lead, he also has 4 players going against the Magical Horny Horses 2. Baltimore defense, Mario Manningham, Arian Foster, and Ryan Longwell vs. Andre Johnson and Ahmad Bradshaw. This lead and those remaining players makes this lead seem insurmountable. Not so fast my friend.
Cue batshit crazy happening number one. After 297 straight career starts, Favre quits leaving Ryan Longwell's kicking possibilities in the inept hands of knee-knocker Tavaris Jackson. T-Jack manages to take out their starting RB and sitting out a few plays limiting Longwell's production to an abysmal 3 points. Kicker Neutralized.
Also in this game is Ahmad Bradshaw representing the MU. In the second quarter Bradsaw has a run that appears to have him go into the endzone only to have the guys in Foot Locker uniforms rule him down just short of the goal line. Next play, Big Black Behemoth Brandon pounds in the remaining 1 yard for the score. This apparent touchdown stolen from Bradshaw's owner costs him 6 points. Surely he would need all the help he could get to overcome the adversity he was faced with heading into the Monday night double-header.
Now over to the game where the real drama unfolded. Simple breakdown of why this game was so important. One team has the Texans biggest offensive threat, the other has the Raven's defense. Ravens start out crushing the red clad Texans and jump out to a 21-0 lead. Shutout intact, Andre Johnson rendered meaningless. 42 seconds to go in the half and the lifeless Texans manage to somehow get Andre Johnson behind the Raven's homeless safety and he scores a 46 yard touchdown. A huge lift going into the break, double whammy, big points for Johnson, negative points for Ravens' D. Could the gap be closing?
Once again, cue the Corso catch phrase. After halftime, the Ravens receive the kickoff and after 29 missed tackles, the ball is matriculated 103 yards down the field for a special team touchdown. In your face Andre Johnson, your score has now been washed. The game continues to progress with no big happenings taking place. Keep in mind that JCPT has Arian Foster, the league's leading rusher, sad part is that after all the smoke clears he turns out to be a non-factor.
Fast forward to 21 seconds left in the game. MU is now down by 1 point and needing a miracle from his only remaining player, Andre Johnson. After a pass that may have been intended for Jacoby Jones is caught in the back of the endzone by Mr. Johnson, 6 points and change are added to the herd of mythical equine and 3 points are taken from JCPT after his defense goes from the 21-27 point range to the 28-34 point range. This one play resulted in a 9 point swing. For those of you who don't feel like doing the math. The Corns are up about 8 points now. Since I knew what was at stake and my team had secured a 1st round bye because I'm awesome, I immediately started contemplating what it would take for this lead to be erased. The only two options left were Arain Foster and the Baltimore defense. Texan's get the ball back around their own 10 in overtime. Play one, incomplete pass. Play 2, Shaub drops back and throws a pick 6. 7 points for the owner of the Raven's defense!!! Could it be, after letting the MU back into the game the most improbable of all comebacks had happened. Nope, wait for it, it wasn't enough. JCPT comes up 1point short with all the lead changes coming in the final minutes of the fantasy week.
Epic.
It all started last Thursday night. JCPT's Pierre Garcon has an amazing night catching 2 TD passes and jumps his master out to a 18.15 lead. Somewhere between this point and Sunday the white hefty bag that sat atop the Metrodome, you know, the one that Minnesottans thought could support a Northern winter, collapes and drops too much snow for the Sunday slated game between the Vikings and Giants, forcing it to be moved to Monday night. This rare circumstance only ratchets up the drama that would happen the very next night to immeasurable levels.
Heading into Monday night, the score was Maigical horny horses 61.73- JCPT 64.03. Here is the kicker, along with JCPT's 2 point lead, he also has 4 players going against the Magical Horny Horses 2. Baltimore defense, Mario Manningham, Arian Foster, and Ryan Longwell vs. Andre Johnson and Ahmad Bradshaw. This lead and those remaining players makes this lead seem insurmountable. Not so fast my friend.
Cue batshit crazy happening number one. After 297 straight career starts, Favre quits leaving Ryan Longwell's kicking possibilities in the inept hands of knee-knocker Tavaris Jackson. T-Jack manages to take out their starting RB and sitting out a few plays limiting Longwell's production to an abysmal 3 points. Kicker Neutralized.
Also in this game is Ahmad Bradshaw representing the MU. In the second quarter Bradsaw has a run that appears to have him go into the endzone only to have the guys in Foot Locker uniforms rule him down just short of the goal line. Next play, Big Black Behemoth Brandon pounds in the remaining 1 yard for the score. This apparent touchdown stolen from Bradshaw's owner costs him 6 points. Surely he would need all the help he could get to overcome the adversity he was faced with heading into the Monday night double-header.
Now over to the game where the real drama unfolded. Simple breakdown of why this game was so important. One team has the Texans biggest offensive threat, the other has the Raven's defense. Ravens start out crushing the red clad Texans and jump out to a 21-0 lead. Shutout intact, Andre Johnson rendered meaningless. 42 seconds to go in the half and the lifeless Texans manage to somehow get Andre Johnson behind the Raven's homeless safety and he scores a 46 yard touchdown. A huge lift going into the break, double whammy, big points for Johnson, negative points for Ravens' D. Could the gap be closing?
Once again, cue the Corso catch phrase. After halftime, the Ravens receive the kickoff and after 29 missed tackles, the ball is matriculated 103 yards down the field for a special team touchdown. In your face Andre Johnson, your score has now been washed. The game continues to progress with no big happenings taking place. Keep in mind that JCPT has Arian Foster, the league's leading rusher, sad part is that after all the smoke clears he turns out to be a non-factor.
Fast forward to 21 seconds left in the game. MU is now down by 1 point and needing a miracle from his only remaining player, Andre Johnson. After a pass that may have been intended for Jacoby Jones is caught in the back of the endzone by Mr. Johnson, 6 points and change are added to the herd of mythical equine and 3 points are taken from JCPT after his defense goes from the 21-27 point range to the 28-34 point range. This one play resulted in a 9 point swing. For those of you who don't feel like doing the math. The Corns are up about 8 points now. Since I knew what was at stake and my team had secured a 1st round bye because I'm awesome, I immediately started contemplating what it would take for this lead to be erased. The only two options left were Arain Foster and the Baltimore defense. Texan's get the ball back around their own 10 in overtime. Play one, incomplete pass. Play 2, Shaub drops back and throws a pick 6. 7 points for the owner of the Raven's defense!!! Could it be, after letting the MU back into the game the most improbable of all comebacks had happened. Nope, wait for it, it wasn't enough. JCPT comes up 1point short with all the lead changes coming in the final minutes of the fantasy week.
Epic.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Keeping the Buzz Alive
In an attempt keep their fans' interest piqued in the winter months, a lot of Major League Baseball clubs have come up with a few ideas to keep their teams in the spotlight year round. From documentaries to game shows and everything in between, fans get a look a little deeper into the lives of their favorite players in a few of these interspective pieces. I personally hope this sort of thing catches on because I enjoy seeing the real side of the people that have become drone-like creatures when a news camera is in front of them. Below are a few of the ideas that some of the more progressive clubs are marketing currently.
White Sox: “Juan and Dunn”. A reality show based on a the comedy that ensues when a fat white man from Texas shares a studio apartment with a skinny black kid from Louisiana. Set against the back drop of racism in the South
Phillies: “Roys will be Roys”. A documentary chronicling the joint venture between Roy Halladay and Roy Oswalt into the cutthroat market of crystal serving containers, the name of their company, Ace Pitchers
Nationals: “A Desmond in the Rough”. After star pitcher Stephen Strasburg couldn’t stay healthy long enough for a simple magazine article to be written about him, hot newcomer Ian Desmond was chosen as the title character in this piece. Catch-phrase from the error prone shortstop, “I play defense with my bat”
Rangers: “Line or Liquid”. Contestants are forced to choose between 2 answers, Line or Liquid, in this fun for all ages game show. In each round contestants are provided with everyday household items and they have to decide if it would be better to inject or snort that item. They write their answer on a tablet to see if they can match the two-man panel of experts consisting of Ron Washington and Josh Hamilton. Winner gets free fore-arm flame tattoos and a Kornheiser afro-puff.
Athletics: “Braden does Dallas: Dirty Sheets edition”. Sexcapade in which pitchers Dallas Braden and staff veteran Ben Sheets travel to the city of Dallas, Texas where the two of them chronicle their efforts to see who can shred the most trim in the offseason. Content not suitable for all viewers.
White Sox: “Juan and Dunn”. A reality show based on a the comedy that ensues when a fat white man from Texas shares a studio apartment with a skinny black kid from Louisiana. Set against the back drop of racism in the South
Phillies: “Roys will be Roys”. A documentary chronicling the joint venture between Roy Halladay and Roy Oswalt into the cutthroat market of crystal serving containers, the name of their company, Ace Pitchers
Nationals: “A Desmond in the Rough”. After star pitcher Stephen Strasburg couldn’t stay healthy long enough for a simple magazine article to be written about him, hot newcomer Ian Desmond was chosen as the title character in this piece. Catch-phrase from the error prone shortstop, “I play defense with my bat”
Rangers: “Line or Liquid”. Contestants are forced to choose between 2 answers, Line or Liquid, in this fun for all ages game show. In each round contestants are provided with everyday household items and they have to decide if it would be better to inject or snort that item. They write their answer on a tablet to see if they can match the two-man panel of experts consisting of Ron Washington and Josh Hamilton. Winner gets free fore-arm flame tattoos and a Kornheiser afro-puff.
Athletics: “Braden does Dallas: Dirty Sheets edition”. Sexcapade in which pitchers Dallas Braden and staff veteran Ben Sheets travel to the city of Dallas, Texas where the two of them chronicle their efforts to see who can shred the most trim in the offseason. Content not suitable for all viewers.
Monday, November 29, 2010
It just aint right
Enough of this Nicorette bullshit, I want a real smoke! -Any random A-hole that has tried to fill the void of getting off of the cigarettes
In this case, for me atleast, the Nicorette in that great allusion that I made above is fantasy fooseball and the sweet sweet tar that my lungs so badly need is that savory sensation produced by fantasy baseball. I swear I check the baseball message board as often as I do the football bored (see what I did there) just to remember the good ol' days. Maybe it's the new layout of the crappy football league board, maybe its the fact that we are one week away from playoff time and I've made a whopping 8 moves this year (I made 2 free agent moves the morning after our baseball draft, and boy did Milton Bradley make me feel smart), but I'm really not that interested. Tonight I sat down to watch a god awful Monday night game and after trying to figure out if Mike Singletary wears that cross because he is a devout Christian or if he is deathly afraid of a vampire attack, yes the game was that exciting (I decided I use a lot of parentheses so please appreciate that awesome comma separation I just threw at you and then explained inside these magical word hammocks that I love so much)-Now scan back to see how this sentence started....I decided it was a good time to type up a little motivational piece for my team and their great start. Here's the problem, I have no connection to my team. I actually had to look at my team to see if there was any sort of trend I could pick up on. It actually made me feel a little bit lonesome for....gulp...Chone Figgins. I remember reading an article where my friend first, employee second, was reunited with his old hitting coach when the Mariners played a weekend set at Anaheim. This was it! This was how Mr. Duct Tape (I'm trying this name out for him because he can do anything ***extremely scared handing out nicknames because I feel that the simple fact that I've been exposed to the name BamBam Braun for 3 years may have completely distorted my judgement for nicknames)would turn it around. Spoiler alert, he didnt, I kept him anyway and anxiously checked his box scores everyday with the same hope then sadness I have everytime Cam Newton lays on the ground that extra half second then hops up only to show off those giant white things he calls his teefs. My football team is named after Visanthe Shiancoe's gigantor love log, and the owner of that tram isn't even on my team. What the hell? I should be ashamed, truth is, gold jacket green jacket.
All I can say is, get here spring, I'm ready to start making extremely involved spreadsheets and reading everything I can, only to get shit-housed and drafting players that have cool names that can make great team names (Hoping for a rare double namer next year--Hawpe on Pap--Dr. Seuss reference, bit of a reach, I know, but it won't be the only one I make next draft-I'm talking to you Madison Square Bumgarner)
In this case, for me atleast, the Nicorette in that great allusion that I made above is fantasy fooseball and the sweet sweet tar that my lungs so badly need is that savory sensation produced by fantasy baseball. I swear I check the baseball message board as often as I do the football bored (see what I did there) just to remember the good ol' days. Maybe it's the new layout of the crappy football league board, maybe its the fact that we are one week away from playoff time and I've made a whopping 8 moves this year (I made 2 free agent moves the morning after our baseball draft, and boy did Milton Bradley make me feel smart), but I'm really not that interested. Tonight I sat down to watch a god awful Monday night game and after trying to figure out if Mike Singletary wears that cross because he is a devout Christian or if he is deathly afraid of a vampire attack, yes the game was that exciting (I decided I use a lot of parentheses so please appreciate that awesome comma separation I just threw at you and then explained inside these magical word hammocks that I love so much)-Now scan back to see how this sentence started....I decided it was a good time to type up a little motivational piece for my team and their great start. Here's the problem, I have no connection to my team. I actually had to look at my team to see if there was any sort of trend I could pick up on. It actually made me feel a little bit lonesome for....gulp...Chone Figgins. I remember reading an article where my friend first, employee second, was reunited with his old hitting coach when the Mariners played a weekend set at Anaheim. This was it! This was how Mr. Duct Tape (I'm trying this name out for him because he can do anything ***extremely scared handing out nicknames because I feel that the simple fact that I've been exposed to the name BamBam Braun for 3 years may have completely distorted my judgement for nicknames)would turn it around. Spoiler alert, he didnt, I kept him anyway and anxiously checked his box scores everyday with the same hope then sadness I have everytime Cam Newton lays on the ground that extra half second then hops up only to show off those giant white things he calls his teefs. My football team is named after Visanthe Shiancoe's gigantor love log, and the owner of that tram isn't even on my team. What the hell? I should be ashamed, truth is, gold jacket green jacket.
All I can say is, get here spring, I'm ready to start making extremely involved spreadsheets and reading everything I can, only to get shit-housed and drafting players that have cool names that can make great team names (Hoping for a rare double namer next year--Hawpe on Pap--Dr. Seuss reference, bit of a reach, I know, but it won't be the only one I make next draft-I'm talking to you Madison Square Bumgarner)
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
A Rose By Any Other Name....
With only 1 week remaining in "The Backstop Boys Fantasy Baseball League", I felt it was a time to do a small re-cap of the first season under the new league name, but also a solid continuation of the magic we had in the Tiger Bait Fantasy Baseball League.
First off, let me just say that it should be a constitutional mandate that every draft day/season kick-off should be held at a league member's house and that all other member's should have an uber valid excuse to not be there. I vote for some sort of penalty for not coming, i.e., league gets to name your team, you have to draft Aramis Ramirez before the 12th, etc. Simply by working my draft in person and protecting my entire lower half from jellyfish stings, I was able to clear my mind and assemble a team that jumped from the basement to the playoff pedestal. That's the Power of Urine (lesser known Huey Lewis diddy). Personal success stories aside, let's look at the jack offs that failed to come. T&B, "too far" he says, not as far as your fall from grace. Frank the Tank, "government runs my life", well maybe they can bail out your pour excuse for a team. Random Cardinal fan in our league, "My gam gam came over for my birthday", hope you enjoyed your time in the league a-hole. I believe my point has been made.
Second off, a huge change in the landscape this year. Pucketteer chieftain steps down as commish to be replaced by a Co-Commish tandem that is showing tremendous upside. Although only one person gets to wear the commissioner sash (should also be added to draft day festivities) he has partnered up with a real force behind the scenes. One meticulous, by the book, letter of the law type person. The other an off the cuff rant-ard that bitches about everything from Cy Young decision making to his favorite team losing a game just so that Rayburn fella doesnt get another AB, all peppered with expletives galore. I wish Paula would have gone with the names Oscar and Felix.
Third off, I want to reiterate how much I hate Yahoo! Fantasy Baseball App for totally fucking me with a herpes infested sandpaper condom. Ofcourse my team catches on fire for a playoff run but my affinity for drinking beer and tailgating and my confidence in today's technology lead only to me being ousted from bonus baseball. To all my players, I'm sorry. You did your part and I failed to do mine. Chone Figgins, I will never ever name my team after you again, but thanks for doubling your season average and hitting a rotund .250 in the postseason for me. Truly a sign the stars aligned when even you got in on the act.
ABOUT THE PHOTO: The above photo was taken to usher in the era of our fantasy league. A new millenium if you will. Taken against the backdrop of the famed boy band that is somewhat of a namesake, 5 key league members were chosen. In true boy band fashion, the new commish steps up to the forefront with a certan pzazz (his actual hair style, not airbrushed). Old commish is pushed aside, possibly looking to the past remembering when he used to be relevant, possibly looking to the future praying that things get better. Tankin Frank creepily occupying the back because thats what his team did all year (cue the Max Weinberg rim shot........now). To the left with a stare of confidence is the Bream Boss. A shroud of arrogance surrounds him leading into this championship match-up after womping through the regular season. But the Bream Boss's stare is no match for the Tourette's Team captain. Pulling on his extensive knowledge on how Jason avoided the stone-cold stare of Medusa, his downward stare yet forward posture shows he is stanced for battle but is not going to be shaken by the soul piercing pupils.
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