Saturday, June 21, 2014

Bill's SportsBinge: Rays nation like the mob, US goes for two and the Washington R-words

Posted By on Sat, Jun 21, 2014 at 9:39 AM

click to enlarge Tampa_Bay_Devil_Rays6.jpg


Godfather III ... the best of the Godfather franchise by far. I could watch that steamy hot scene where Andy Garcia made dough balls with Coppola's daughter over and over again. Did I mention they played cousins? Italian hillbilly awesomeness. If you missed it, grab a sibling, push play and enjoy the express elevator to hell. Not because of the incest, but because by the time the movie is over you'll wish you watched Smokey and the Bandit III, Jaws IV and Rocky V in a row with a wasabi colonic. (That's right, there are three Smokey and the Bandit movies.)

Yessir, that movie was a colossal turd, shaming respectable mobsters everywhere into telling people at cocktail parties they sell shoes. But there was one line that folks will always remember whether they've seen t or not.

"Just when I thought I was out... they pull me back in."

Welcome to the Rays famiglia.

Now, just how far in differs from person to person (that's what she said). After finishing the series with the O's with 0's, it seemed our boys of summer couldn't score in a women's correctional center with a fist full of pardons. Then Thursday night, the Rays pummeled the Astros 5-zip, highlighted with back-to-back homers by Kevin "Superman" Kiermaier and Evan "I'm not Eva" Longoria, plus a kick-ass performance by pitcher Chris "I'm not 12" Archer. As Tampa Bay closes in on the halfway point of the season, only one thing is certain: Godfather III sucked ass.

Temporary agencies all over the country have been flooded with U.S. citizens signing up to be part-time soccer fans for the World Cup. Personally, I'm eating it up. A typically soccer-apathetic country that welcomed David Beckham's arrival with fanfare equivalent to a wet fart in a CAT 5 hurricane are now high-fiving strangers and dawning the red, white and blue. After the victory against Ghana, a country most can't find on a map, the U.S. will face Portugal on Sunday. You know where that is, don't ya? I had to ask. According to Leno's man-on-the-street interviews, some folks can't find Florida. I could explain what needs to happen with point differentials and elimination rules and all that crap, but your ears would bleed. Also? I'm totally full of shit. I have no idea. All they can do is win. USA! USA! USA!

The latest chapter in the ongoing saga of the government deciding what's in our best interest without our consent and forcing it down our throats: a federal agency cancelled the Washington Redskins trademark registration because the name is disparaging. At least according to tons of people without a drop of Native American blood in them. Let's just take out the fact that the feds are once again sticking their noses where they don't belong without due process and get to the point. Get over yourself, people. Call them the Washington Whities, the Honkeys, the Crackers, (Ladies and Gentlemen, your Washington Wonder Bread!); I don't care. I really don't. It's a word used by people in a proud and encouraging way on Sundays in the fall. Period. Some people find the American flag offensive. Some people think two dudes making out is offensive. I find Eagles and Red Sox fans offensive. Just because you agree with a particular case of censorship (sorry, political correctness), doesn't mean you're going to agree with the next one. Then where will you be? 

Honorable Afterthoughts: Have you ever shot a 78 in a round of golf? Congratulations, you play like an 11-year old girl. Lucy Li pulled that feat off in the first round of the Women's U.S. Open Thursday (before heading home to read Everybody Poops); Plant High graduate and former Georgia star quarterback Aaron Murray's brother Josh is a contestant on The Bachelorette (If you already knew that, lose my number); and finally, LeBron James isn't sure where he'll be playing basketball next season. Even if I ate a bran muffin, beer-bonged a pot of coffee and chased it with a box of Ex-Lax, I still couldn't give less of a shit.


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