Introducing the best pitcher in the world - Johan Santana.

The Mets held a press conference today to officially introduce Santana to the press and their fans. That hat sure looks good on him.

Yankee Fans - Feel free to stop by Shea Stadium some time this year to check out an upper echelon pitcher who isn’t under the scrutiny of the United States Congress.

Terrell Owens has always been a little bitch. He has always failed to show up in the big games and he has always found others to blame. But last Sunday set a pathetic new low for the Dallas wide receiver. Owens was brought to tears when asked if quarterback Tony Romo may have been distracted by Jessica Simpson’s enormous rack. Owens lip quivered, his voice shook and the tears all but came drizzling from the edges of his ridiculous oversized shades. “That’s my quarterback,” he choked out several times.
How embarrassing.
This incident could very well go down as the worst crying incident in sports history. Remember Dirk Nowiski’s break down after losing in the 07 playoffs to the Warriors? It was like watching a Werewolf on the Lifetime channel. How about Joe Torre three straight years bawling over getting into the playoffs, only to lose in the AL Division series each year. Tell me Joe, how much sympathy do you expect when your team supplies you with a $200 million payroll? I know, having the AL MVP on your team makes things so damn difficult.
There have been some good sports cries. When Brett Favre lost his father, then went on national television and threw for 399 yards and won the game, he cried and likely half the audience did as well. Michael Jordan’s Dad was murdered the year he led the Bulls to a championship, he shed tears while kissing the trophy. Even Knicks fans felt for him. So if someone dies, I guess it’s understandable, but if it’s because your QB is a pre-Madonna, I think not.
But what is the root of the crying? Well, let’s start with how a sport like baseball used to be played. By men who grew up with nothing but a ball and a stick. How is it played now? By mommas boys who have been given the world by everyone around them because they can toss a ball 90 mph. It’s similar to the way that Randy Moss was allowed to run over a traffic cop or Lebron James can drive 100 mph and not care about the repercussions.
When Lou Gehrig said that he was the, “luckiest man on the face of the earth,” he said it because he felt blessed to have been able to play the game. Not because he wanted to be on Sportscenter and especially not to get sympathy. Like we’re supposed to feel bad for Owens, who could sell his shoes on eBay for more than most of us make in a fiscal year. Sorry Terrell, this isn’t Dr. Phil, keep it to yourself.
The glory days of each of the three major American sports are behind us. I think many of us miss 1980’s basketball, before thug life; 1960’s baseball, before the juice; and the 1990s of the NFL before the instant replay. All we can do is remember the good times. So I suggest turning your numb brains away from the network that ruined sports, ESPN, and maybe go read a book or something.

-Matt

Thanks for the guest post Matt. If you would like to submit content to Angry Romanian click here.

Editor’s note: Before you waste your time commenting on the freshness of this story - We are acutely aware this happened a few weeks back. Publication was delayed due to technical issues with the site.

The National Football League is top dog in American sports these days. It is also the sport most ravaged with greedy assholes.

“The Warden,” Roger Goodell has turned pro football from a good excuse for skipping church into the Wal-Mart of professional sports. He has turned a game that people love to watch into a race to the bottom-line, with no regard for how he gets there, or who he has to screw to do it.

Like Wal-Mart, the NFL mistreats its part time employees, in this case the referees. Football is the only of the four major sports to not have full time refs. They are paid based on a contract instead of as salaried employees. No wonder they can’t see, they probably don’t even have benefits that pay for glasses.

Mistreatment of officials is just the beginning. This season, Goodell decided to ban local news stations from sideline coverage during games and restricted the amount of NFL related internet video that news companies can have on their web pages to 45 seconds. The video also must include a link to the NFL web page.

So they are fucking over refs and local news. But who cares about that? Well, if you are an average NFL fan, (symptoms include beer gut, receding hair line and very little to live for) then you should. Although the word integrity might be a little too fancy for many football fans, its maintenance is essential to the success of the sport. Goodell’s iron fist rule and corporate greed depletes this integrity. This is the same man who allowed DT Tank Johnson to have a reduced suspension after spending time in prison but suspended CB Pacman Jones for a full season due to off field conduct though he was never charged with a crime. Hmm…Seems “The Warden,” is more like Nurse Ratched than a Commissioner, doling out privilege and punishment capriciously.

But the greed league doesn’t stop at screwing its refs, local news outlets and players. That’s right; they bend the fans over a table too. (Not just Jeff Garcia) The NFL Network had exclusive rights to four games this season, but nobody saw the first three. All the major cable networks refused to pay the outrageous fee the NFL was asking for broadcast rights to the NFL Network. Cable providers would have had to hike up their rates for all customers so football fans could watch four games. Not exactly the sort of PR cable companies need in the ever crowded media delivery sphere. Anyway, turns out Time Warner and Comcast have bigger dicks than the NFL and won’t reenact scenes from Deliverance with the NFL. However, it is ultimately the fan that loses out once the corporate pissing match is over. A perfect example; earlier this season the Packers vs. Cowboys game was on NFL Network and most of America was unable to see a battle of legendary teams vying for playoff position. And no, I am not impressed with the leagues supposed good-will gesture of allowing nationwide broadcast of the Patriots-Giants game. Only the prodding of Congress, which could make life very difficult for the NFL in future television contract negotiations, managed to convince the Grinch to return the pigskin to Whoville.

The NFL’s greed is not all that’s wrong with the game. Instant replay, lack of parity and ridiculous fines and penalties are all destroying football. Games are taking four hours because it takes 20 minutes to decide whether a play if reviewable or not; the Patriots are killing everyone every year despite a salary cap designed to eliminate dynasties; and the days of Lawrence Taylor laying out a QB or Ronnie Lott blasting a Wide Receiver are gone for fear of penalties and fines. I just can’t imagine why they call it the, “No Fun League.”

And so I still buy my underwear at Wal-Mart, just like I sometimes still watch football on Sunday, but it’s too bad this once great game has turned into an ugly episode of “The Apprentice”, except it’s the boss who should be fired this season.

-Matt

Thanks Matt for the guest submission.

If you would like to submit content for review please click here.

To a four year old, the cookie is a paramount prize. This circular disc of goodness, though placed in a cupboard out of reach, must be had by any means. The child is clever and finds a way to claim his prize, but inevitably he is caught . He has only one explanation for his displeased mother, “No I didn’t.”
Sound familiar?
Just ask any Major League Baseball player who’s been accused of doing steroids and you will get a similar answer. There are a few standard responses going around. So far, the three most popular are:

The cookie jar line - “Nope, didn’t do it, wasn’t me”

The teary eyed cop out - “I only used once”

And my personal favorite - ” “I had no idea it was ‘roids.”

We’ll start with Roger Clemens, who is towing the cookie jar line. He has sternly denied the findings of the Mitchell Report that accuses him of using steroids. I’m sure the baseball world would love to believe The Rocket, but how are fans to ignore his down slope in the mid-90s, followed by shocking Cy Young awards in ‘98 and ‘99. And this is not even taking into account his Bonds like, 40+, surge with the Astros? It is true that Paige, Ryan and Neikro all had 40+ success as pitchers, but none of them gained 50 pounds after their peak. The abundance of players admitting to the truth of the findings is also damning to Clemens. So will this be a Marion Jones repeat? Will Clemens give a crybaby confession five years from now? Don’t be shocked if he does.
The next cheater is teary eyed Brian Roberts who claims that he only used steroids once and was so ashamed he never touched it again. That one shot must have been powerful. Roberts was an all-star in 2005 and achieved career highs in home runs, RBI’s, slugging and batting average. He hit four home runs in ‘04 and a miraculous 18 in 2005. One shot huh?
Last, but certainly not least, is Mr. Barry Bonds and his story about how he didn’t know he was doping. At least you have to respect the creativity of his bullshit rhetoric. “Never knowingly used steroids,” is reminiscent of, “I did not have sexual relations with that woman.” When it comes to the word “knowingly” - I know that if my head grew from a 7 and 3/8 to a 9, I’d be curious as to what substance was being shot into my ass or rubbed on my biceps. I guess Barry didn’t think of that.

I say if we really want to know who’s using the juice and who’s clean, we shouldn’t ask an ancient U.S. senator, we should ask the hat makers.All the players have to order hats and batting helmets, right? The best way to tell if they are juicing is to look at the sizes of each suspected player over the years. If from 1995 to 2003, Bonds’ head grew two inches, then he’s had his hand in the jar.
Despite the guilt of any individual player, if anyone should be indicted for steroids, it should be Bud Selig. The same Selig who stood next to Mark McGwire after his 62nd home run, knowing full well he was shooting up. That was 1998. Nearly a decade later, and a great deal of damage to the game later, in December 2007, Bud finally declares a, “Call to action.”
My call to action would be a no confidence vote by the owners, followed by a resignation by the former Brew Crew owner. Shamefully, that will never happen.

And speaking of shame, it is true sad that the great game of baseball will always have an asterisk over the last 15 years,

Thanks Bud!!

-Matt

Thanks for the guest submission Matt. See you at the gym, and by the way I have that stuff, so bring the cash.

If you would like to submit a guest submission click here.

I’ve never been a big fan of football. I enjoy playing it given that the contact is not so rough that I bleed my own blood. I enjoy the Super Bowl parties because of the food and drink. I even enjoy most of the sophomoric prime time Super Bowl commercials. Other than the Super Bowl, I will rarely watch a single football game.

This past Sunday I sat down and had a bowl of Wheaties while my roommate watched the Jets v. Eagles game. After an incomplete pass, the commentators began to talk about the play. The following was their dialogue:

“Oh! He missed that one Tom”
“Yup, he missed it. That was a good pass, but he just couldn’t keep his hands on it”
“He should have had that one. Great pass by Brady”
“You know, by the way he reached out for it, I thought he had it. Right through his hands there.”
“Yup. Right through his hands.”
“That pass was incomplete. They will make an another attempt for the first down”
“it’s no good, and the Eagles are back at the 42. They will have to try for the first down again”

As I listened to this, I wasn’t sure if either commentator was listening to what the other guy had said, or if one commentator wasn’t really sure what was going on. Either way, each comment was nearly identical to the previous statement of the other commentator. It was downright painful; I left before my brain hemorrhaged.

If you are a non football fan that has ever watched a football game or listened to commentary, you completely understand what I am talking about here. They constantly say stupid shit like “the quarterback throws the ball, the receiver catches it. That’s how you play football” or reiterate the play 6 times. I don’t personally know shit about football, but I understand the concept. One white guy throws the ball, a black guy catches it, and a bunch of fat guys try and crush him. If he catches the ball and crosses that little yellow line, both teams move up to that line. Simple.

I could never understand why they need all these people to talk about the game before, during, and after it. I mean, you don’t see this kind of thing on more complicated sports like pool or martial arts. Those commentators barely say anything. Why football?

Then it struck me. It’s all about the fans. Stupid rednecks love their football. You know why you never see the computer geeks at a football game? They don’t give a shit. Watching a bunch of people throw a ball around it boring to us (yeah. I’m a geek. You don’t like? Too fucking bad. It’s the geeks that run this world, bitch.). Not the rednecks though, dey luv dem sum footbal!! They love their Nascar too…they will watch those cars drive around in a circle all day like a cat watching a ceiling fan.

When I say redneck, I really mean stupid people. Redneck is a term I use loosely to describe much of the stupid blue color working class. Rednecks are the people too stupid to make it into college, or lacked the motivation to get an education. Either way, they are both equally as worthless.

Football was in fact created by rednecks in the early 1800’s. After misunderstanding the point of the saying “when pigs fly”, a group of rednecks began to kick a baby pig into the air. The baby pig could not fly, and died once it hit the ground. Seven baby pigs later, the rednecks realized that the mortality rate was greatly decreased if the pigs were caught. For this reason, modern footballs are referred to as “pigskins” even though they are made of cow leather and rubber. Football is bred into rednecks, and they don’t even know it.

Half way through writing this, I began to think that maybe I was wrong and that the two commentators were just idiots. After a quick search I found a youtube video where Terry Bradshaw, Howie Long, some unknown asshat, and John Madden are talking about a game. No more than 12.35 seconds into the clip I reconfirmed my hatred for football commentators and went and beat the shit out of my roommate for enjoying football. Fellow editor Douche Nozzle is next~

I suffer from a medical condition called Axillary Hyperhidrosis. This simply means that I sweat profusely from the armpits.

ALL. THE. FUCKING. TIME.

In the dead of winter you can rest assured that I am sweating my balls off (if I had balls in my armpit). I sweat while sleeping, I sweat while showering, I sweat non stop. I have tried nearly every anti perspirant on the planet, including prescription strength deodorant with no avail. The next step for me is to have nerves controlling the sweat glands removed, or to surgically cut out the sweat glands in my armpits. While it really sucks sweating through a clean shirt within 4 minutes, it’s definitely not the worst affliction on the planet. I now consider myself lucky after learning about Intractable Pruritis Ani.

Intractable Pruritis Ani is also known as “itchy ass” and has been mentioned in movies such as “Van Wilder” and “Lion King II”. This lovely problem causes a person’s butthole to itch with intensity so great that it often wakes victims from a dead sleep. Itching it only causes more problems, as the fragile skin there deteriorates rapidly. At this point, the wound begins to ooze interstitial fluid. Soon, infection sets in, which can cause anal seepage and uncontrollable bowel syndrome. Bacteria and fungal infection on site can also lead to hemorrhoids and Recursive Horniplostasis. In short, this disease effectively prevents a human from ever having sex again.

The worst part of this whole ordeal however, is the treatment. Intractable Pruritis Ani is treated with a topical solution of 8-Methyl-N-vanillyl-trans-6-nonenamide (Capsaicin). Capsaicin is the irritant produced by pepper plants which causes the burning sensation in your mouth or any other mucus membranes exposed to the chemical. It is the main ingredient in pepper spray and can cause severe pain and cellular death on contact. This means that treatment of Intractable Pruritis Ani entails rubbing pepper sauce on the swollen asshole of the sufferer. To help deal with the pain of treatment, some people repeatedly stab themselves in the eyeballs with a hot soldering iron.

I started to cry just thinking about it. And I am sweating. And happy about it.

I’ve always held the opinion that God hates the Yankees - and by extension their fans. Now I have evidence. On Friday night - with the Yankees desperately hanging on to a 1-0 lead over the Cleveland Indians - God made a statement. A swarm of gnats descended on Yankee reliever Joba Chaimberlain - effectively distracting him enough to allow the Indians to score the tying run. Three innings later the Indians scored again to seal the victory and take a commanding 2-0 lead in the best of five American League Divisional Series. I’m no Biblical scholar but I am aware that at some point God sent locusts, frogs, burning hail, and rivers swollen with blood against the Egyptians for enslaving the Hebrews. So it only makes sense that He would send gnats against the Bronx Bombers. The Yankees have established a reputation of pride and excellence in their nearly 100 years of existence. But those days are over. This isn’t your father’s, grandfather’s, or even great grandfather’s Yankees. These Yankees are a hodge-podge of over-paid and over-the-hill individuals. Their combined skills manage to win them about 90 games a year - enough to get them into the playoffs - but their lack of unity has left them without a World Series title since 2000 - despite outspending every team as well as several small Central American nations. Just like the Hebrews were held captive by the Egyptians - Yankee fans are held captive by the mismanagement of Steinbrenner and Cashmen. Doesn’t it occur to you Yankee fans out there that “The Boss” is making a ton of money, the players are making a ton of money, but you - the loyal fan - you get to pay $8 for a Coors light in a plastic bottle and to watch a bunch of selfish (with the exception of Jeter, Possada, and maybe Rivera) individuals play a team sport. If I were you - and thankfully I am not - I would boycott Yankee Stadium - not only in protest but also as an act of self preservation. Who knows what sort of smiting God has in mind for the Yankees next.

From the bottom of my heart I would like to thank the New York Mets for completely and utterly collapsing. In two weeks time the Mets went from a 7 game lead in the National League East to a mad scramble by Met players to acquire tee times and playoff tickets at Yankee stadium. Never has a Met team shown so little heart or character. Never before have I wanted to pack up all my Mets shit and drop it in a Salvation Army box. But that would be useless - any self respecting homeless guy would rather freeze to death than be seen foraging for bottles in a Tom Glavine jersey. So back to my point - Thank you for being such a worthless bunch of overpaid little league washouts. I must admit I have a rather busy October lined up. What with midterms coming up at school, and business picking up at work I don’t really have any spare time to watch the team I have been following for twenty years try to win the world series. I don’t have the time to strut around campus in my Mets jersey sneering at jerk off Yankee and Red Sox fans. Nope - no time at all. Hell - my wife will be having our second child sometime in November - so I have lots of planning and preparing to do - Which reminds me - I have to stop by the mall and pick up a some Braves gear for the new arrival - lest he/she fall into the same trap I did and become a Met fan. Every generation wants the next generation to rise to higher aspirations - Right?

P.S. I would like to apologize to the Romanian for dragging him into the self-loathing haze that is being a mets fan. Maybe it’s not too late - go buy a Royals hat - those fuckers are usually out of the hunt around the second week of pre-season. No heartaches there.

Hate your job? Do you pump gas? Flip burgers? Sell t-shirts to mall rats? Worry not- while your job might suck- it’s not truly the pits. What could possibly be worse than the smell of gasoline on your flannel shirt, grease splashing in your eyes or two dozen unsolicited requests for your phone number a day? I have a simple and unequivocal answer- try selling fucking minor league baseball tickets to foreign nationals, in January, in the snow belt(upstate New York). So this fucking fuck from the local half-assed, flyball dropping, double play bobbling, bad news bearesque, minor league baseball embarrassment that we call the Red Wings keeps calling my cell phone trying to sell me tickets.

Who the fuck wants to buy baseball tickets when there’s three feet of snow outside and the Superbowl is next week. Where do they recruit these people? Are they from homeless shelters or do they just clone them? Do they have belly buttons? “Millions of Sales Reps, Sales Reps for me, Millions of Sales Reps, Sales Reps for a fee - here we go…” So anyway I’ve found the best way to eliminate such nuisances is to allow my secretary (Rob), who is perpetually intoxicated, to answer the call in an Eastern block accent, in his best outdoor voice. Rob…uhm…my secretary politely informed the sales loser that Mr. Ku-aaah-ku-kun Kunty Tankatrucks was on the shitter and unable to take the call. I doubt I’ll be hearing from him again. But in fairness to this beleaguered hawker of fourth-rate entertainment packages, I would be remiss not to include his contact information. If anyone is interested in watching a set of washed up, ex-community college all stars butcher America’s pastime please contact Mark McGwire at 585-546-7942 ext 3004 or email him at imnotgoingtobeinthehalloffame@becauseimafuckingcheater.com.