The Sports Hernia

ESPN analysts say, "there has to be a Super Bowl here sometime soon."

Despite not having a Super Bowl representative from the AFC or NFC determined, ESPN’s Chris Berman and the network’s countless courageous football analysts trudged through Day 4 of their 2,201-hour Super Bowl pregame special in Miami, Florida.

Each stooge has been super glued to their stadium outpost guaranteeing that they cover almost every single thing that happens in and around the stadium until the yet to be announced kick-off time, set to take place a little less than two months from this coming Sunday. Given the show’s unusual length, the network has stopped at nothing to ensure talent remains fresh throughout the dread-cast.

Chris "I make Patrick Ewing look dry" Berman has been supplied with an endless array of tacky bright suits that, at his request, have been deep-fried instead of dry-cleaned. Also, since he can only be seen from the waist up, his feet have been soaking in a giant bucket of blue cheese to provide extra comfort. Countdown cohort Tom Jackson has been successfully aided by a large spit-bowl said to be 9 times the size of the standard spit-bowl used by former Heavyweight boxer, George Forman. The other notable and most dramatic wardrobe change so far has been for Steve Young, who has galloped onto the set atop a giant white horse to give his hourly quarterback analysis. Michael Irvin, the bouncy, high-spirited, peppy analyst has surprisingly been the least needy of the crew, with his only request being that his on-set barber tidy up the nearly flawless lines on the side of his head every 16 hours.

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DETROIT, MI – NBA announcer and ultimate hairdo visionary Hubie Brown delved into excruciating detail Sunday during a reply in the second quarter of ABC’s broadcast of the Chicago Bulls-Detroit Pistons matchup.

It was a familiar scenario for many NBA viewers: In discussing a play that viewers had just seen mere seconds ago, Brown discussed every detail of that same play, as if he were describing the scene to a bunch of blind, retarded head trauma victims in a loony bin.

The play in question involved a pretty routine drive to the lane by Pistons guard Chauncey Billups, who then passed it to Tayshaun Prince for a three pointer.

“You see what he does right here, is he goes by his guy and drives to the paint, which he can do. He’s very underrated as a player,” Brown said of Billups, a former NBA Finals MVP. “And then what he does, just watch right here, he passes the basketball out to his teammate, Tayshaun Prince, who you know can hit that three point shot.”

Brown could have easily cut his losses there and stopped talking, but something underneath his albino rat’s nest hair made him believe that he had to “educate” the dumb viewer on other matters. (truncated version) Read more »

Messier clearly overwhelmed by the recognition for what he called his "greatest achievement in life."

NHL legend and longtime ass-crushing coochie connoisseur, Mark Messier, was inducted into the Bone Zone Hall of Fame Saturday in an emotional 3-hour ceremony in which “The Captain” broke down on several occasions, profusely thanking all the ladies he porked along the way that made the historic day possible.

The former Oilers, Canucks and Rangers pussy-splitting forward has led an almost mythical journey through the bone zone, banging the likes of Madonna, a young Tyra Banks and supermodel Frederique, all while maintaining his mind-boggling run of 6,037 straight days in the zone as well. Visibly humbled by the overwhelming induction ceremony into the BZHOF, which recognizes the greatest ass antennas on Earth, Messier could barely get the words out.

“You know, growing up a small town boy in Alberta, Canada, never in a million years did I imagine I would be drowning in exotic supermodel ass” said the tractor-beam pants wearing Messier, “But now, years later, standing behind this bronzed penis microphone, I truly feel at peace with myself, with everything. Man, I’ve plowed some Grade A poon,” he said, shaking his head and pausing for a moment. “Man.”

The legendary taco-pulveriser harkened back to his days in Alberta when he first entered the bone zone as a scrappy 10-year old with a group of Molson Ice Party Girls in the back of their tour bus, to his red-light ringing swordsman days in Edmonton, to his years in New York with the Rangers, where he seemingly juggled supermodel pussy like a barrel chested, stick wielding Houdini.

A teary-eyed, reflective Messier.

Messier, who was originally scouted to be a goalie because of his natural lack of a five-hole, ended the event on a high note. “In closing, I just have to say this is an awesome honor. It’s like at some point in my life, God came down and enveloped me in a cloak of primo tail and I’ve never looked back” said Messier, tears streaming down his face “For I am, King shit…of Fuck Mountain”

The crowd burst into a thunderous ovation as the visibly fatigued Mess was helped off-stage by a couple of swimsuit models. Right before disappearing into the darkness though, he turned and winked to the crowd, which immediately erupted into a giant orgy.

Canadian officials have confirmed that they are in fact erecting the “Le Coc Tower” in Montreal to honor Messier’s entry into the Hall.

Hey, OJ Mayo. I barely know who you are. I’ve never even seen you play. I couldn’t point you out in a freaking 2 on 2 game. But let me just give you this:

A preemptive “Fuck You” before you start pissing me off on a daily basis.

So it’s been said you want to go to USC for future marketing opportunities and that Los Angeles is the best place to start. Awesome. The NBA needs another self-promoting Prima Donna douchebag like strip clubs need a wildly contagious form of genital warts to break out. Announcing this was also a brilliant idea, now the NCAA will be investigating USC as soon as you and your porn-stache set foot on campus. This is great for the college game, well done. What a fuck nut, I hope you become Jayson Williams’ new limo driver. You are the poster boy for an amateur athlete.

This is an actual quote from one of Mayo’s entourage (which all high school basketball players need) when Tim Floyd asked for his cell phone number: “OJ doesn’t give out his cell,” he said. “He’ll call you.” What? This spoiled fucking jackass needs a reality check. If Floyd were a self-respecting coach, he would have told Mayo to get fucked, play somewhere else. They are hiring at McDonald’s. These spoiled high school kids control college coaches, which just speaks volumes about how spineless some of them are. Mayo also said that he wants to go to a program where he can make a mark, maybe he isn’t wanted at other respectable programs because of his fucking thug past.

During Mayo’s first visit to USC he brought along a documentary camera crew, what a savvy move. Another thing all great high school players need, because it worked out well for Sebastion Telfair and his “Through the Fire” documentary. Can someone let me know how Telfair is doing? Last I heard he was tearing it up with the Beasts of the East, the Boston Celtics. Well played.

Which reminds me, Dildo Mayo, how many arrests do you have and how many high schools have you attended? Just about more than you have fingers on your hands. It is always a good sign when a player bounces around high schools, a great sign of stability. He sounds really coachable, just what every college needs. I don’t see any problems with him moving to LA, so much less trouble to get into than in West Virginia. Surely there will be a plethora of refs that he can literally push during games like he
did in high school. I hope Dick Bavetta gives him a scissor kick straight to his nuts during his first NBA game, if he makes it that far.

By the way, nice fucking performance in the McDonald’s All-American game: 4-17 shooting, very impressive. That definitely warrants being a total fucking jackass and pushing people around. How about this, score a point in college before you get all Lebron James on us. Better yet, stop being such a fucking dildo and just play basketball and let that do the talking for you. Also, why don’t you do some research on Kevin Durant, you can’t hold his jock, but you talk like you are a fucking Michael Jordan.

So, in summation, before you get more out of hand, get fucked, and get fucked hard, you insanely pompous fucknut.

Below is real news about this shitbag, enjoy.

In January 2007, Mayo allegedly assaulted referee, Mike Lazo, after being ejected from a Huntington High game vs. Capital High School at theCharleston Civic Center [6] According to West Virginia Secondary School Activities Commission rules, Mayo was suspended for two games. However due to allegations supported by video evidence that Lazo had overreacted and faked the incident, a temporary restraining order was signed byCabell County Circuit Court Judge Dan O’Hanlan, temporarily lifting the suspensions on Mayo and five other players suspended due to incidents at that game. [7] However, shortly after, the restraining order was nullified and Mayo was suspended for three games, a punishment that Mayo described as “fair.” [8]

On March 9, 2007, Mayo and three other men were cited by the Cabell County Sheriff’s Dept. for misdemeanor simple possession of marijuana. Officers found the cannabis in a car in which Mayo was a passenger and, since no one claimed possession, all occupants were ticketed. [9] Charges against Mayo were dropped on March 12, 2007 after one of the other passengers in the vehicle took responsibility for the marijuana.[10]

The NBA season is upon us, and I am geared up. Who is with me? Another season of thrilling basketball, of high scoring 80 point games and news on the winning personalities of NBA players, but first I would like to say, how should I put this, FUCK YOU to the following:

Atlanta Hawks: Fuck You and your awful franchise, it pains me to think that the greatest in game dunker of all time is linked to your piss poor franchise. Get your fucking shit together and put a team on the floor that is worth a damn, I mean there are like 30 fans in Atlanta that pay to see you dickbags.

Kobe Bryant: Fuck off and go play for the Real Madrid Teka, or Barcelona FC. Every god damn day with news about whether Kobe is going to play for the Lakers, who gives a shit, the Lakers are going to be shitty with or without Kobe, so get fucked and head to Europe. Look on the bright side Kobe, 16 is the legal age over there.

San Antonio Spurs: Jesus, I want them to Fuck Off already, they are the most boring team to watch. I would rather watch two friends play NBA Live on Xbox with the Bobcats and Hawks before watching a Spurs game. It would be way more exciting than seeing Tim Duncan and his fundamentally sound move into the lane, where he tries to get fouled by throwing his arms in the air. Holy fuck they suck to watch. It is embarrassing that they had to knee Nash in the balls to move onto the NBA finals. Speaking of which…

Cleveland Cavaliers: You can Fuck Off as well, thanks for being solid competition to the most boring championship series since the first title in 1947 when Chicago took on Philadelphia. Outside of game two where Cleveland topped 90 points and San Antonio topped 100, the final scores are almost identical to the 1947 title. Back then, they were playing in loafers and business suits and were not allowed to dunk and there was no three point line. Lord, you guys fucking suck, and now I have to sit through an entire year wondering if these two shitbags are going to make it to the finals again?

David Stern: Fuck You, really, just fuck off, you have traded NBA’s once great product for the all mighty dollar, there are so many reasons to hate you I can’t just pick one. A friend of mine (or a person that I know because I don’t have friends, I told them all to Fuck Off) is currently writing a book on how you fucked up the NBA, he is worried his publisher won’t go for his 8,975 page version and will have to be edited severely.

Kirk Hinrich: Fuck You, I am not completely sure why, he just seems like a dick. Oh yeah and he went to Kansas, so he has to be an unlikable dingleberry, so fuck off.

This list in no way protects other possible targets because I am sure once the season starts and idiots like Stephon Marbury and Stephen Jackson get into the full swing of the season, more Fuck You’s will follow, so for now, the above people can just get fucked, real hard.

HERNIA HEADQUARTERS – As the 2007 football season fastly approaches, Hernia sources have again scoured the nation flooding each and every training camp pestering any coach, executive, or hot female intern for the latest juice, gossip, and ridiculous tidbits about your favorite teams. Without further ado, it’s the Hernia’s 2nd Annual NFL Preview.

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Four of the utterly clueless female fans at Wrigley.

CHICAGO – More than 10,000 female fans greeted the Chicago Cubs with misdirected applause and nondescript noise this past Saturday at Wrigley Field, utterly clueless as to what the fuck was going on.

Despite a revamped team, tension in the clubhouse and a new batshit crazy manager, broads everywhere in Wrigleyville remained clueless.

“Woo! Nomar!” yelled Mitzy Reynolds from Iowa City, Iowa, even though the Cubs faced the Cincinnati Reds that day.

Reynolds, standing in the bleachers and clad in a blue Cubs Garciaparra jersey, cutoff jeans shorts and ridiculously large white sunglasses, joined thousands of other Midwestern girls in screaming completely out of sync with each other.

Two rows down from Reynolds sat a steaming drunk Deb Johnson, a 23-year-old Miami of Ohio grad who was stuffed into an old Kyle Farnsworth jersey. Johnson was berating her boyfriend Rick for reasons unknown, as he checked up on how his fantasy team was doing on his Dingleberry two-way.

The most exciting and unifying moment of the game occurred in the sixth inning with the Cubs down 6-5 and Aramis Ramirez at the plate. Ramirez, on his way to hitting for the cycle that day, smashed an opposite field homerun that plunked an unidentified girl in a Mark Grace jersey. Everyone laughed at once.

The second most exciting and unifying moment of the game was actually a tie between when Reynolds flashed outfielder Matt Murton, or when Johnson yelled out to everybody and nobody: “Who’s getting shots with me at the Cubby Bear after this?”

Cubs win. Cubs win.

Note: Similar reports have come in from New York in regard to slags crammed in David Wright and Jeter jerseys…

By: B. Weiss

The Premiership’s prolifically annoying Christian Ronaldo has been named Footballer of the Year and Best Young Player, a very honorable double achievement.

As with everything Ronaldo does, he accepted the award with the same grace he shows on the football pitch. When called to the stage to accept his award, he mysteriously tripped and fell right before the stage doing a somersault and three rolls until some steps stopped his fall. There was a collective gasp, as Ronaldo grabbed for his shin and rolled around on the floor, writhing in agony. Fellow striker Wayne Rooney jumped to his feet and immediately berated the suspected culprit, a baffled George Best, calling for a yellow card before eventually head butting him unconscious.

Once it was clear no cards were going to be handed out, Ronaldo sprung to his feet and did a backflip onto the stage, once again odd behavior for someone that was so violently tripped. As he approached the podium, ever so close to his award his coach, Sir Alex Ferguson let out a loud cough, which sent Ronaldo flying off the stage and into the first row of reporters. This surely would produce some sort of penalty.

With no FIFA sanctioned officials in the room, Ronaldo and his teammates had to settle for a no call on this hideous foul. Ronaldo, who can sense the right moment to get up and dust himself off, did so with the dignity that only he can display and gingerly walked onto the stage.

Once Ronaldo accepted the award, he pulled a piece of paper from his coat and launched into an unexpected Oscar-style speech. During this long-winded speech, he thanked all the necessary people, his teammates, Coach Ferguson, the wonderful people of Manchester and of course, the completely blind and inept officials that gave him so many calls. Finally, he thanked a laundry list of actors who helped him craft his trade and to become the amazing performer he is today.

"Most importantly I would like to thank method-actor *Daniel Day Lewis for his inspiring job in ‘My Left Foot,’ which after seeing, I knew I would become the greatest actor the Premiership’s ever seen," he said.

*Day-Lewis put his personal version of "method acting" into full use in 1989 with his performance as Christy Brown in Jim Sheridan‘s ‘My Left Foot’ which won him numerous awards, including the Academy Award for Best Actor. During filming, his eccentricities came to the fore, due to his refusal to break character.

Playing a severely paralyzed character onscreen, offscreen Day-Lewis had to be wheeled around the set in his wheelchair, and crew members would curse at having to lift him over camera and lighting wires, all so that he might gain insight into all aspects of Christy Brown’s life, including the embarrassments. [3] He also broke two ribs during filming from assuming a hunched-over position in his wheelchair for so many weeks. [5]

Mike Tice Selling Saabs, Kicking Ass and Taking Names

West Babylon, NY — Mike Tice, former head honcho of the Minnesota Vikings was always known as a cerebral-type of NFL head coach. After being let go by the Vikings last season, the erstwhile coach decided to take a break from the gridiron and try his hand at Swedish automobile sales.   

Mike Tice was just killing time on his boat until calling old teammate and kindred spirit, David Puddy.

“As soon as the season ended, I thought "What would be the next logical choice?"  So I called up my one of my old high school lineman, David Puddy, and asked him if he had any openings on his Saab sales staff,” explained Tice wearing a Big Dog collection golf shirt unbuttoned to show off his glorious flowing chest hair.

After mulling over his paltry options for working in the NFL (including one with the New York Jets, who pushed hard to hire him as their head coach, GM, and CFO), Tice began working at Arnold Saab of West Babylon, NY in June.  He was an instant hit explained his sales manager and former left tackle, David Puddy. “My hombre, that’s Spanish, can flat out sell cars,” as he inhaled a doughnut in a single bite, slapped one of the mechanics in the ass, while giving out a myriad of high-fives to 9 passerbyers.

The only bump in the road came in early July during the dealership’s ‘Premium’ sales event (customers were given $20 Starbucks gift cards for taking test drives) when Tice was caught selling Starbucks Gift cards on Craigslists under the screen name, “cullpeppereatsdick”.

"Right now, life is good" Tice explained while questioned about the unfortunate situation. “It was a misunderstanding, these things happen. Bottom line – I won a fishing trip in the Bahamas for record breaking month of September. The NFL, for now can wait. I am all about selling Saabs, kicking ass and taking names.”

For a few fleeting moments each year, the planets align and all the major sports are in action at once in some form or another.  One such time recently passed, when hockey and football were in full effect, NBA was in its preseason, and the World Series was underway. During these times, our great nation is lucky enough to sit back and watch one of the greatest staples in all of sport: the buttslap.

Yes, the buttslap.  When professional athletes from the four major sports – plus college – have their juices flowing in competitive battle, it is a veritable smorgasbord of buttslaps for the American viewer.  Could any time be more glorious for this great nation?  I think not.

 I know that I do not speak for myself when I say that the buttslap makes all our collective aortas go mushy.  But what exactly is the buttslap?  Simply put, it is the physical manifestation of a compliment on the court, field or ice.  It is perfectly acceptable and even encouraged by some coaches.

I certainly can remember the first time I delivered a buttslap.  I was just a young sprite, playing junior varsity basketball as a freshman. I was shy yet able, curious yet underdeveloped.  We were playing the neighboring Catholic school in town before the varsity faced its team, and we were down a slew of buckets.  Lucky for us, our talented cheerleaders executed marvelous chants and really got our squad revving in the fourth quarter. We rallied a momentous comeback, capped off by a brash and highly risky no-look pass I delivered to our hairy sophomore stud, who banked it in to take the lead. The five parents in the stands and Hairy’s girlfriend let out a collective “woot.”  The electricity in the gymnasium that winter evening was palpable.

Our opponents called a timeout.  As my squad ran back to the huddle, Hairy pointed to me in acknowledgement.  I nodded back but he could see there was something more in my eyes.  As we approached the bench, he gave me a look that said, “Yeah, go for it.”  So I did.  I gave his 15-year-old junk trunk a solid buttslap.  All was good.

But enough about my exploits, I am writing to you today for two reasons: to outline the two forms of buttslaps out there and to propose a new one.

The first buttslap is what I call the “buttslap tap.” This is used when a player wants to say, “Nice job out there, buddy,” and taps a cheek of his teammate. Many times this slap occurs when players are substituting for one another, after a nice pass for a jumpshot, a first down, a stolen base, etc.

Then there is the more emphatic “straight-armed buttslap whack.”  These happen during more heated moments of the game like when a teammate gets fouled and still hits the shot, or after a goal to tie the game. The “straight-armed buttslap whack” is just what it sounds like: the deliverer swings his locked arm down and then up to the cheek of the desired teammate.

What I propose today to all those athletes out there is a third and new type of buttslap.  This slap is a hybrid of the other two, combining both force and finesse.  However, this buttslap can only be used in rare, exciting situations, as in a four-point play, a thunderous dunk that sends the game into overtime or a game-winning grand slam.

Here are the directions for the giver of this new buttslap:

1. Approach the desired player from the rear.
2. Tap the side of either cheek twice with the side of your hand.
3. Bring both arms straight back behind you and thrust them forward into your teammate’s cheeks.
4. (a)  Finally, squeeze the cheeks with all your manual might, kneading the rump with joyous affection.
5. (b) (Optional – only proceed if you have strong back): Bend your legs to lift your teammate off his feet and above your head via his backside.

To all those professional athletes out there, next time you are out on the court, on the field or in the dugout, try out this buttslap.  The rise it will evoke in your teammates will pump them up like you have never seen before.