Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Quests For, and Away From, Zero

Here's a pressing question for you , one that has been on my mind for
several days, as I watch a supposedly wretched baseball team put forth
solid effort after solid effort, and a supposedly imminently dynastic,
hype-prophecy-fulfilling hockey team completely flame out during its
birthrighted time of glory: will the Nats' Jason Bergmann be scored
upon before the Penguins score? It's a tough one, given the recent rarity
of both occurances. Bergmann is up to 19+ scoreless innings after his
brief motivational jaunt in the minors, while the Pens have scored as
many goals during the Finals as they would score runs batting against

Bergmann's efforts have thus far earned him but a single post-minors
win, given some untimely bullpen pitching and some still-struggling-but-showing-signs-of-rising hitting. Elijah Dukes comforably over .100 at last, Ryan Zimmermanb toying with .300 for the month, Lastings Milledge with an actual key RBI double, Dmitri re-familiarizing himself with the clutch hit (a home run, at that), Aaron Boone continuing to intimately know the home run, Jesus Flores helping to bury Paul Lo Duca on the depth chart: all good signs. All good signs that will translate to wins for Bergmann and the Nats as he continues his quality play.

Can the same be said for Pittsburgh? Are there positive signs they can
look to in their Quest From Zero? Perhaps, if the ever-poutful mug of
Sidney Crosby (brought to you by Versus after every Red Wings' goal),
the cheapshot-doling of Gary Roberts, and the complete disappearance
of Evgeni "better than Ovechkin" Malkin are seen as positives, and not
signs of a frustrated team shocked by the audasity of someone standing
in the way of their critically ordained prize. We look forward to more
frustration en route to a sweep, followed by off-season and next-season speculation by Canadian media that pending RFA Malkin will sign with Montreal, Toronto, etc.

The Pens are up next in their thus-far vain attempt to escape zero.
Whether they can do so before Bergmann has the chance to extend his
string of zeroes is an even-money bet at this point.

Friday, May 23, 2008

DCO Pardons, Endorses Red Wings

It’s understandable if some Caps’ fans hesitate a tad in fully getting behind the Red Wings to win the Stanley Cup, even with their opponent being so foul a team as the Penguins. After all, the Red Wings methodically swept away the Capitals’ only trip to the Finals ten years ago. Those who followed each game of the series of course know it was one of the most competitive sweeps of all time, with its three one-goal games (including that really, really almost-had-it OT Game 2 in Detroit) featuring lots of non-rolling-over by the supposedly overmatched Caps (remember sneers of “Detroit in three”?).

Still, despite this cruel dispatching, I personally never felt the animosity towards the Red Wings I did towards the other Washington playoff opponents that year. The volcanic Pat Burns was enough to grate on the nerves of any non-Bruins fan in the first round. The Sabres will always hold a sour place in my heart for the highly contentious Conference Finals. The memories: Matthew Barnaby and his water-bottle-throwing tantrums; Lindy Ruff’s non-stop whining regarding every perceived injustice heaped on his poor put-upon team by those mean Capitals and meaner officials; the constant darling-ism heaped upon Dominik Hasek by Darren Pang. Remember how crestfallen Pang sounded with his sighing “Congratulations to the Capitals” after Joe Juneau beat Pang’s deity in OT of Game 6?

I’m sure there was some (now forgotten) aspect of the Senators that caused me to dislike them in their brief five-game appearance in Round 2 as well. But, as I mentioned, it was the Red Wings that never really irritated me like the rest. It was kind of like: nothing personal, we just have to professionally do our job and win the Cup, even if this is Dale Hunter’s last real chance ever. So they weren’t that bad. Besides, it’s hard to stay mad at a city that has blessed us for so many years with the Lions.

However, for those fans still understandably holding a bit of a grudge, DCO hereby extends a full pardon to the Detroit Red Wings for their actions in the spring of 1998. We do this to enable a guilt-free supporting of Detroit as they look to vanquish the hype-encrusted blight that is the Penguins. The latest incarnation of such hype: the predictable-yet-still-offensive call for Sidney’s coronation as Conn Smythe king before a single second of the Finals has been played. It’s inevitable, of course, that he wins this award if the Pens win the Cup (perhaps even if they don’t), even if his meager goal-scoring rate continues. It’s as pre-scripted into NHL “legend” as the Manning boys winning Super Bowl MVPs was for the NFL. The making of a good “story” (in this case, the heralded “Next One” leading his team to a championship, fulfilling the prophecy) overshadows other (more) deserving candidates, even perhaps those on a winning (Detroit) team. Storyline over merit.

So here’s the storyline DCO is behind: Detroit in 4, or 5, or 6, or 7. Whatever it takes.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Positives Amid a 12-2 Loss

From my post in Connecticut, I can only discern vague, Internet-aided "play-by-play" goings on at Nationals Park, and wherever else our future division-winning team plays. Last night, Yahoo! told me those goings on did not go well, with the Nats losing to the team from the city with 100 losing seasons by ten runs.

Even with the undesirable outcome of this game, let’s not give into (Philly-like) despair and, most of all, let’s not allow any random Philadelphia fan (if any have ceased filling message boards with fire-the-Flyers comments and left their homes) gloat over us and ruin recent positive developments.

Those developments, of course, revolve around the Nationals evolving dominating starting pitching rotation. Jason Bergmann: yet to give up a run since returning, more motivated than ever apparently, from the minors. John Lannan, he of the prescient DCO HOF induction last summer, has been similarly spectacular the last month (looking past that unpleasant business vs. the Pirates on May 2). Tim Redding: also finishing off a fine month (also excluding one dud of a start, his vs. Florida on May 9). Put those three together, get Shawn Hill back healthy, add in the wondrously adequate Odalis Perez, and you’ve got a fine starting rotation, one destined to not turn over a hundred times like last season, and one to hold the fort until the eventual busting out of the batting order.

That batting order did have some, um, issues last night knocking in runs (23 lonely baserunners left stranded), but simply getting hits isn’t the issue anymore. Lastings Milledge: another two-hit game! Jesus Flores: 3-for-4 and making the case that a full year playing in the majors is more beneficial to his development than a full year playing in Harrisonburg. Elijah Dukes: the former Most Dangerous One-Hit Player in the majors is now the Most Dangerous Two-Hit Player in the majors. Ryan Zimmerman: sniffing .260, to go up from there.

So step 1, hitting and reaching base, is complete. Getting those runners home will surely soon follow. Let us, then, focus on these positive developments, and not wallow in what could otherwise be a soul-and-city-crushing loss.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Celebrating 25 Years of Futility

Ah, tis the season of the post-playoff-failure sojourn of the Philadelphia sports fan. No longer are they the "intimidating" lout of boorish battery-throwers, so passionate about their teams that they boo them at the drop of a 2-0 lead. No, now they are the poor, suffering, championship-less city of dreary almosts. Now, after they have lost again, the country should feel sorry for those denizens who pollute their stadiums with puke-colored jerseys and terribly backward pronunciations of "grass (grayeesz)" and "water (wooder)." They should accept the annoying banter that is a "Phaithful" discussing the "iggles" and their guaranteed championship-winning ability despite never having the ability to come closer than just close. That guy with the lame face-paint and the shoulder pads who feels the need to travel down 95 so he can chant spellings of the Eagles in Landover just needs a hug from someone who has actually celebrated a championship win in the past 25 years, right?

Well, we here at the DC Optimist want to remind you that feeling sorry for the Philadelphia sports fan is NEVER proper. No, during these wondrous times when the "remember how close we were"s and the "We were the best team in the regular season"s and the "we were robbed by the refs/commissioner/god, etc"s start to flow out in that ragged accent, it is time to administer the proper amount of cajolement. The unruly nature of the Philadelphia sports fanbase is nothing more than the reflection of an insecurity that lying in between two superior metropolises bears. Thus the fervent backing of second-rate sports teams occurs complete with the sanctimonious boos that only the most abusive daddy could lavish upon their son or daughter's minor failures. Those that aren't 100% behind this insufferable gamut of "aeeeyyezholes" bear the verbal brunt of abuse typically leveled during Klan rallies. Propose a trade from this unglorious town, become public enemy number one (see Rolen; Scott, Lindros, Eric) earning lush hatred while representing the fanbase's best interests. It soon becomes no wonder that the stars that leave the brotherly lovers often have such great things to say about their new home.

These same "Phanatics" who pelt J.D. Drew with batteries upon his playing for another team just can't stand the fact that some pissy caps fans chucked bottles at their players, after they were booing said player this night before. And as is often the refrain regarding the bandwagon nature of the DC fan heard from the "Phaithful" regarding how no one was watching the caps before they started winning, please hip me to the Phillies' attendance figures during those last-place days at the vet. I can remember not a more cavernous ark of desolate blue nothingness. In that space, no one can hear you boo.

Much was made of Mike Wise's column and the subsequent printing and passing out of said column before the first-round playoff series between the Caps and the Flyers and how it marked how wonderfully belligerent the "Phaithful" are and how great that is. Now, we are treated with the pathetic prose of the teary typers from the Philadelphia Inquirer who are bemoaning yet another year of ineptitude. A typical piece comes courtesy of Peter Mucha, whose "Loserville: 25 years, 0 championships" has an epic title to go along with the typical recounts of failures therein. A nice little addition to Mucha's piece is the interactive "Loserville: 25 years of futility" map that allows the user to visually recount other cities with major league teams and their ability to not lose championships. Be sure to drag your mouse over the Washington, DC dot, where the last two Redskins titles are proudly displayed. Also, be sure to drag your mouse over other the only more terrible sports town of Cleveland, and note their continued lack of championship, which stretches even further than Philadelphia's, which was aided by those homebodies in Boston, who turned the crybaby into the dead baby last night.

Another scribe, Rich Hoffman, has his take on the titleless-ness too, recounting what is now 100 consecutive combined season of all four franchises minus cup/ring/trophy. Take the time to breathe in these pleasure-inducing paeans to patheticism, visualizing a glorious morning in Bucks County where audible booing can be heard amongst the breakfast-and-paper partakers. Methinks that a hard copy of the Philadelphia Inquirer would make good exagerratedly read material for this week's Nats vs. Philllies series. In a Terrapin-game-esque manner, be sure to ruffle the pages of Mucha and Hoffman's pieces into the faces of the "Phaithful," maybe even reciting some of the more pleasure-inducing lines like, "We're No. 1 - at falling short!"

Friday, May 16, 2008

Return of the Meaty Legend

It’s been nearly a year since His MeatHook-ness began his occasional-batting-title-chasing romp to Comeback Player of the Year honors, doing it in a fashion that brought well-deserved and accurate accolades from DCO. With Dmitri Young now set to return against the Orioles, the stage is set for defense of that Comeback award. And yes, we will call for Dmitri to be the first back-to-back winner of this award if he performs at the same high level. After all, it will be another comeback, right? It’s his award to lose.

Dmitri’s comeback is sure to be as successful as Jason Bergmann’s slightly unexpected return yesterday. After all, didn’t GM Bowden practically tell Bergmann he wasn’t coming back after that >10.00 ERA he posted early this season? Seems Bowden’s faith in Bergmann is as unflappable as Manny’s faith in Luis Ayala (what’s that Manny said? “I’m never going to give up on him.” Some might call it blind, stubborn, ill-conceived management. We call it ‘tism in action, and it is why ChairManny is so lauded in these pages). Both are currently being handsomely rewarded. Bergmann shut down the Mets while his teammates took 6+ innings to warm up and get their batting/baserunning down, and Ayala, for the second game in a row, earned a hold.

Given the constantly right decision-making going on since the seemingly traditional slow start to the season, it’s hard to see Dmitri hitting anything less than .325 from here on out. And even if he struggles, hitting, say .300, there is capable backup and derided-but-now-brilliant offseason pickup Aaron Boone, catalyst of two game-saving double plays yesterday, to pick up the slack.

Thus the Nationals leave New York after a wildly successful four game series. Looking past the loss of a starting first basemen, we saw three wins, one pitcher rattled then demoted, at least two gameday crowds loudly decrying their soon-to-be-described-as-“embattled” manager, and one non-playing closer profanely calling out his absent teammates in the losing locker room:

Consider the Mets knocked down a peg. The same must now be done to these on-the-verge-of-cockiness Orioles. Boz, you’re not helping.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Nelson Figueroa Is Who He Is

“[The Nationals] were cheering in the dugout like a bunch of softball girls. I am a professional, I take great offense to that. … They won tonight, but in the long run, they’re still who they are, a last-place team.”

Poor put-upon Nelson Figueroa, who had to endure some clapping from the Nationals’ dugout last night as he gave up six runs in five innings (two unearned, thanks to some fine erroneous-baseball-slinging by himself and Carlos Delgado).

Since the Nats are who they are, let’s look at who Nelson Figueroa is: he’s a career 9-20 pitcher with a stellar 4.71 ERA. Sadly, however, he didn’t have the opportunity to contribute to the Mets’ historic choke/collapse of last September. It was a collapse, incidentally, to which these temporarily last-place Nationals were happy to contribute with a 5-1 record against the Mets in that critical division-lead-whittling-away stretch between 9/14 and 9/30. To put it more succinctly, the Nationals were denying making dreadful history while the Mets were embracing it. The Mets' choke job will live on in memory long after these minorly inconvenient Nats' rebuilding seasons are forgotten.

To be fair, Figueroa does know something about last-place teams, having toiled for the futile Pirates of 2003 and 2004, when he pitched in nicely with a 2-4 record and 4.36 ERA. The Mets themselves, of course, know have knowledge of last place teams, having been one themselves not too many years ago, with records of 66-95 in 2003 and 75-86 in 2002 (before rebounding with that 4th place 71-91 finish of 2004).

So that’s who this whiney tool is. The Nationals, as we optimistic types know, are a turnaround in progress. Perhaps a slow turnaround, but a turnaround. They are, for now, a last place team still gradually pulling themselves out of a franchised-sized hole MLB graciously dug for them during years of neglectful hive ownership and hampering. They are a team making tangible gains, as the Master, Manny Acta said towards the end of T-Boz’s sometimes-painfully punny column from yesterday: "Last year [on May 10] we were 9-25," Acta said. "Now we have 15 wins. Wait." Wait. As in, wait until our brilliantly drafted studs and Manny-molded budding stars develop into the division-threatening squad they can be. It’s not that far off, and it won’t take a prone-to-failure $100 million + roster (hi, Mets) to do it.

We also can’t help but wonder why Figueroa was so angered to hear the dulcet Elijah-Dukes-led tones of ‘tism emmenating from the Nats’ dugout (this smells like a symptom of another Manny-led life turnaround, by the way)? Is his New-York heart so embittered that he only responds to the jeers, taunts, and fair-weatherism of the louty Shea faithful? Is the slightest bit of positivity anathema to his dark and heavy soul? Whatever self-loathing and optimism-hating issues may be there, apparently this little bit of cheering and clapping brought them blazing out. That and years of ineffective pitching. He is who he is.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

We Can Get Through This

If you’re like me, you saw your worst NHL playoff nightmare come to fruition this past weekend with the coming of a Penguins-Flyers Eastern Conference Finals, and you’ll be downright tortured by the implications of Friday’s Game 1. One of these two reviled franchises will be playing for their opportunity to soil the Stanley Cup. It’s a conundrum. Who to root for? Better put: who to root against?

Traditionally, my ire is directed at the Penguins above all others, with the Flyers coming in a close second. A nasty little playoff series, however, can shift (dis)loyalties. Thus the question is further muddled: do I now hate the Flyers more given a contentious Conference Quarterfinals round that included a goalie-interferring Game 7 goal followed by a disputed-power-play Game 7 OT goal? Does such a thing override my years-long hate affair with the Penguins and cause me to hope they knock out the deserving-of-a-knockout Flyers? Or do I dare hope (even indirectly) that the Penguins go down and Lord of the Spear Danny Briere gets the chance to put his elfin cheap-shotting hands on the Cup?

It might appear a no-win situation. On the one hand we would have to hear from louty Philly fans for likely decades should they even make it to the Finals, and the team that brought their booing, coach-firing-calling fans a ten-game losing streak in the regular season would be waved in our faces as evidence of Philadelphia’s superiority in everything. On the other, possibly larger, hand, we have the prospect of goal-less-in-Round-2 Sidney Crosby and his slew-legging sidekick Evgeni Malkin playing for Stanley.

Here is where the daunting rooting situation receives a cold dose of clarifying. The Penguins must not be allowed to advance. The gaggingly awful vision of Briere being within spitting distance of the Cup pales with the downright daunting spectre of darlings Crosby, Malkin, et al being similarly so. You think Sid apologists are spinning crazily now in telling us how his zero goals in Round 2 and two playoff goals overall (one in an empty net) are practically heroic? Wait until he “leads” the Penguins into the Finals with a few more of his secondary assists specialties (throwing the puck blindly into the crease, often backhanded to further show his superior “vision”). The only thing worse could be rising darling Malkin scoring a few more points and avoiding a few more suspensions, a la conference semi-final disappointment LeBron James, thereby catapulting himself into ill-begotten Gretzky comparisons.

The coming days will be trying, as we see one of these wretched teams and fanbases celebrate a conference title and a trip to the Finals. The days following that will be all the more difficult, as one will be but four victories away from the Cup. In those days the Stars or Red Wings will never have been more precious to me. It will not be easy, seeing all of this. But the day will come when Gary Bettman beckons Chris Clark to get the Stanley Cup, which he will raise before 18,200+ at Verizon Center before handing it off to alternate captains (and co-Conn-Smythe winners) Alexander Ovechkin and Donald Brashear. On that day, the painful realization of a Pennsylvania team playing for the Cup will be but an awful-but-distant memory (like that whole Detroit sweep of the Flyers in 199-whatever; see, I’ve forgotten it).

Already in this not-necessarily-bleak offseason we’re seeing signs of hope, whether it be the stated openness of Cristobal Huet, he of the gaudy playoff-sealing goaltending stats, to remain with the Capitals, or the team’s wise desire to retain the services of sage-like Sergei Fedorov. Not a bad starting goaltender and third-line center to lead a Cup-lifting team. And finally, our long national Jaromir Jagr nightmare will be over, freeing up badly needed Ted Leonsis bucks to further cultivate this contender-in-waiting. Speaking of Jagr, possibly my favorite quote from him, ever (in a positively bafflingly way), when he was talking about his past and his future following the Rangers’ ousting from the playoffs: "Everybody doubted me when I was playing in Washington for whatever reason." Jaromir, Jaromir, Jaromir, where would we begin? We appreciate you yelling at Crosby to “get up” after one of his patented dives, but you’re still deluded.

So yes, these Eastern Conference Finals will suck. But we’ve been through worse. We’ve seen multiple Cowboys’ Super Bowl victories (and the Giants last year). We’ve seen the Eagles come close to getting one of their own (before faltering and keeping intact their 0-for-forever streak). We’ve endured the Rangers and Devils hoisting their own Cups. I suffered very closely first-hand through three Yankees’ championships in four years while at college in New York. So yes, its bad, but we can get through this.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Successful Redskins Season Quickly Approaching...

How about that draft?! How about those minicamps!? How about this Zorn guy!?
Man, the Redskins' (100%-attended) offseason workouts haven't been this tism-riffic since the days of Gibbs 1, or Spurrier 1, or something. This new coach-guy Jim Zorn has the Black and Maroon-clad nation buzzing audibly as if they ingested two vente lates laced with crack based on his whimsical Madden 2008-inspired practice techniques, allowances of fun-havings, and coy nature with Kelli Johnson-types with microphones. Zorn's ball-rolling, footrace-(and subsequent OMG a possible injury!)-ignoring, and oversleeping-rookie coddling early dispatches have the DCO contingent positively brimming with the sort of good thoughts that rarely occur post-Snyder hiring sessions. What a strange time period it has been previous to these bright, sunny, Shermy moments:

- The god Joe Gibbs hangs 'em up after a season where the emotional tolls far outweighed the improbable and ultimately insignificant on-field gains, bewildering the many who thought the genial mastermind would at least give the team one more shot at glory before handing things over to his assistant coach-whatevers.
- Heir Snyder holds the seemingly endless interview process where speculation, promotion, demotion and devotion all were gauged and thoroughly dissected before a head coach kind of just happened at the 11:30th hour. While the DCO contingent was head-on with the rest of the Redskins players, media-coverers, et al in their desire for Gregg Williams to get the promotion he so deserved, we speculate that a rift betwixt the excitable Williams and newly-minted head General Manager Vinny Cerrato on the subject of player personnel decisions ultimately would have proven to be more problematic that necessary. Just about everyone complained of Gibbs's dual duties as coach and GM, and pretty much all instances of this hybrid have failed miserably. Although Vin-Diesel's General Managing record is spotty with bad free agency moves, with this being his first crack at legitimately running the team, why have that rift from the get-go? The 'skins move forward-- or Zorn-ward, if you will (or won't, that was a bit of a stretch).
- J. Z. manages to bungle the decades of tradition and heap loads of tism-hating onto the braintrust in his initial pressers, causing the quick-tempered Redskin-faithful to just about lose hope.
- The Z-Man bounces back and kicks off some of the more underreported and unheralded staff formulations, taking in holdover pieces like the incomparable special teams coach Danny Smith and newly-promoted D-Coordinator Greg Blache, and combining them with newcoming brilliances in the form of Stump, Sherm, and Chris Meindt to form a great transition-ready staff of teachers, motivators and NFL-playing experience doler-outers. He begins months early with Jason Campbell, installing the umpteenth offense Campbell has to memorize, tweaking his throwing motions, and instilling the confidence that this QB-coach relationship is one that will matriculate
- Best hall of fame class ever is finally inducted.
- Jerome Mathis leads an atypical free-agent signee thrust that consisted mainly of re-upping big-time contributors Collins, Yoder, Fabini, and Rock.
- Pinings for Chad Johnson somehow went unheard, and a stable of draft picks were actually available for the first time in like ever.
- That stable is enhanced by clever trade-downs, yet laps were still landed with necessary and unnecessary ball-catchers Thomas, Davis, and Kelly, with the "need" positions of safety, corner, d-line, o-line, wherever else, filled in elsewhere.
- 'skins finally hold their lone minicamp, Zorn holds those wacky QB drills for the reporters to drool over, and minute, will-forget-about-it-in-like-two-weeks happenings like Fred Davis hitting the snooze button one too many times and Antwaan Randle-El getting his knee slurped, occur.

Heady times indeed, times that have been punctuated lovingly by the newest member of the 'sphere of speed, lewdness, and brilliance, Chris Cooley, whose blog rules to the innumerable power, so much so that professional sporting blogs have taken his postings on as an inside-the-totally-cool-player-with-the-cheerleader-fiance, the-heavy-metal-shorts, and the-pro-bowl credentials look at the NFL. Great move, as was Cooley answering our question during his week-long draft Q&A. Interviewer of the stars Bobtimist asked Captain Chaos, he whose jersey and T-shirt has been adorned in these parts since like before he was a superstar:
8. What is the weirdest thing you have read about yourself in draft

The funniest thing I think about the draft profiles is how much people
actually make stuff up. When I was a rookie people said that I would be a good
blocker and possession type receiver. That my downfall is I could never stretch
the field. My current profile says that I'm a bad blocker, but I can catch the
ball down field. No one knows what type of player someone can really become.

Sweet response, and sweet blog. Like we previously mentioned, Gilbert Arenas revolutionized professional sports on the 'net with his blog. Never before had intimate access been given with the frank and friendly nature, complete with slightly controversial, fan-, sports-writer-, etc-baiting comments, all to help burgeon a personality-based superstardom. Unlike the beige-colored comments that emanate from all non-Clinton-Portis press conferences, these blogs both convey the superstar's thoughts in a frank, fun way, but also reveal the inner-workings of the professional athlete's lifestyle that no fawning profile nor MTV Cribs could ever convey. Cooley's foray has been doubly fastidious as Gilberts, already sharing locker-room horseplay legends, musings of comely wife and singer wresting matches, and reviews of draft coverage in addition to pertinent analysis of NFL workings. The first to scoff at Cooley's remarks were PTI's yappers, who, again found some way to belittle a voice-producing player. Attention stalwarts, these blogs are doubly more important than anything produced by your reams of paper.

While that may be 'nuff said about the navel-gazers, far more could be said about the upcoming successful skins season. Zorn's West Coast Offense, reprised with an easy-learning edition punctuated with Sherm's input, ought to work well for the skins, especially with the new pass catchers on board. The weapons, if (huuuuge if) healthy, can work this system like Nick Johnson works a count, and if proper utilizations occur, huge numbers could be put up. Keeping this as the only minicamp will be much more advantageous for that crucial health factor than the minor adaptation factor. The defense will "largely be the same" as has been re-iterated by Blache, meaning a top-ten style of stoutness is to be expected. The schedule will be laborious, with the (ugh, hating to admit it) champions on the road, and in the decrepit armpit of Philadelphia early, but the DCO sees early typical "DC Hole (explanation forthcoming)" trials as trivial, and will be easily overcome. Zorn and company have already proven that they are a brew that has been strange in its inception, yet likely delightful once ingested, kind of like pruno. Here's to the prison that is life being made more enjoyable through this concoction.

Friday, May 2, 2008

Best Songaila Suspension Outrage Comment

Everyone knows that the place to get the pulse of the Wizards fanbase, in addition to the lame taunts of trolling Clevelanders, is the oft-bizarre, un-modded comments section of the Washington Post's Wizards Insider blog! While they already pay someone to find the super-sweet comments, we found one particular quip that was so brilliant we thought that more props ought to be distributed.

Instead of posting rightful outrage against the conspiracy-driving Lebron Official-nados ourselves, we thought we would instead let the anonymous commenter speak for us all (in his/her best Buckhantz voice):
Great job there, guy/girl. RE: Lame Cleveland trolls posting the same lame DeShawn Stevenson statutory rape joke like 12 times in a row, it still isn't funny.

These others however, funny:

"I can't feel my jaw!!!" - DC Man88

"The NBA. Where fixing the playoffs happens." - Ben

"Wanna know the definition of irony?
Cavs fans coming on Wizards site to say we are crybabies.
Calling US crybabies? You need to wake up and smell the crap. Have you seen what your poster boy has been doing all series long?" - Brickjp

etc. etc. etc. for like ever.

Other blogs are gathering the responses, including a rather neutered one from DCO bff Jake the Snake from Bullets Forever. C'Mon Jake, if the NBA governing bodies can't express professionalism, why should you. (still love you though)

Knotts Landing On the Anointed One

While Pro'Verb's hot fiyah spittings have been both awe-inspiring ("Incredibly hot" -- says DeShawn) and timely, the real ether brought to this series was from frequently poetic newspaper scribe Tom Knott. Who better to unleash the furies upon the anointed one and his team of striped cronies than the Moonie-fed slam poet, who can be a bit onery, especially when his nemesis Etan Thomas, ne "the Poet" in Knott-speak, or those pesky Gilbert Arenas attention ploys are involved, but that's what happens when you got an MC that's fed up with the BS and must speak on it. Wednesday's column "Sweet Crybaby James" just about obliterates Mike Wise's previous efforts (although this Tough Juice appreciation piece and this "Win it for Abe!" piece may have drawn two or three tears over here). T-Knott throws those viscious one-sentence dart-'graphs in such a venomous free-prosed manner complete with those Knott-isms you love—the nicknames, the political-incorrectness, every sentence beginning with a preposition likely throwing grammar Nazis into the throws of a fit that no serial comma could ever induce—providing the freestyle cypha that the media's coverage has delved into with its most fortuitous effort. Peep game:

"DeShawn Stevenson knocked off the headband of James in Game 4, and you
could have thought Stevenson was guilty of assault and battery.

Such embellishing is customary in Cleveland, where even the elementary
comes cloaked in superlatives if James is behind it.

His pass to Delonte West in the final seconds of Game 4 — the object of
so much gushing — was hardly awe-inspiring. It was a play that as many as
three-quarters of the players in the NBA could have made. It merely required
James to spot the second defender drifting toward him and dump the ball to the
open teammate on the baseline.

It did not send chills down the back of anyone, excluding the LeBrohava
Witnesses of Cleveland, so psychologically crippled by the John Elway Drive, the
Earnest Byner Fumble and the Jordan Shot over Craig Ehlo that it indulges anyone
it believes could end the championship curse."

DAYUMN SON! The sheriff of Knottingham lands blow after blow upon the headbanded one's coddled dome, and this was all done BEFORE the triumphant triumphs of game five! Could this column have had a reverse Mike Wise effect in Cleveland, where copies were given to the urine-colored shirt clad DeShawn booers and Bog commenters in attendance in order to congratulate them for being "intimidating"? Of course that might require them having reading comprehension skills, most of which they, and their column-writing representers seem to lack.

How about a Pro'Verb-Sin-Knott-tra collabo? It has got Black Republicans trumped, trust.

UPDATE: Knott's column this morning = genius.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

Exclusive Look at DeShawn Stevenson's iTunes Selections

Through some seriously investigative means, the DCO was able to find DeShawn Stevenson's personal computer and instead of checking for and posting incriminating stuff like most blogs do according to Buzz Bissinger, we decided instead to post his iTunes playlist. Interesting choice of songs here, not necessarily because of that whole rap-troversy that follows this series, with the diss song, and the subsequent response song, etc, but because of the lyrical content of this, which is apparently, the only song in DeShawn's playlist:

Say hello
To the bad guy
They say i'm a bad guy
I come from the bottom
But now i'm mad fly
They say i'm a menace
That's the picture they paint
They say a lot about me Let me yell ya what i ain't
They say i'm a bad guy
Say Hi to the bad guy
I come from the bottom But now i'm mad fly
They say i'm a menace That's the picture they paint
They say a lot about me Let me tell ya what i ain't
Say hello
Ay, ay,
They say a lot about me
Let me tell you what i ain't

Pertinent lyrics, no?

Tough Juice Nutritional Information

Intricate Detailed Game 5 Post