The UFC had a monster year. Pay-per-view dollars are up, Snoop Dog smoked up their Christmas party, the promoter had its first network TV broadcast, and they’re finishing the year with some giant-on-giant action.
UFC 141 will air tonight and the main card pits Brock Lesnar against Alistair Overeem. This is that back alley, bare-knuckle meeting that you’ve been waiting to see, except it will be drenched in Sin City decadence. Two giants enter, one giant leaves. Lesnar will pit his South Dakota man charm (chopping wood, wrestling, chugging syrup) against Overeem and his Dutch old-world charisma (smoking joints, kickboxing, building windmills).
Excitement is heightened and the fight should prove to be a test for both fighters. Overeem, the heavyweight Strikeforce champion, is making his first appearance for the UFC, and Lesnar is coming off surgery and a long 14-month hiatus from the octagon. This will be a battle of contrasting styles, and Lesnar will look to take the fight to the ground while Overeem will look for the knockout.
At the weigh in yesterday Overeem promised a knockout in the first or second round and Lesnar just snarled and did a few yells with his tongue out.
The winner of this bout will have the right to face the heavyweight champion, Junior Dos Santos. And although I think Lesnar might best Overeem tonight, I’d much rather see Overeem win and matchup against Dos Santos.
There’s no way this fight will go five rounds, and I don’t even see it going past three rounds. Both fighters look set to bring it tonight, but I think Lesnar will be able to take the fight to the ground and ultimately win. Vegas has Overeem as a slight favorite, and current odds put him at -150 to Lesnar’s +120.
Either way, it should be a great way for the UFC to end its year.
Work erections are the worst. They don’t look good in khakis, they cause more questions than intercourse and they’re slightly unprofessional.
So after (finally) viewing the Fenway threesome I was relieved to see it was a lot tamer then the garbage (a byproduct of growing up with the internet) I assumed it would be.
Despite its lack of arousal, it’s still a threesome in the beer-soaked cathedral of Boston, all decked out in ’90s glory. It may be vaguely inappropriate for work, but the girl to guy ratio is right, the upper deck seems sufficiently trashed, and you gotta love that the cameraman actually thought about going back to the game for a second. I also love that this went viral only a few months ago, and some spouse or relative got to see the “younger” side of a loved one. Check it out here:
Another disco ball is poised to smash into the New Year, and winter will soon stand alone as the holidays melt away. It’s equally depressing and exciting, but there’s still time to get drunk and reflect on everything that’s swirled around the sports world this year.
And so, drunk, I reflect: Where was I when the NBA tipped off the playoffs with Osama’s head? How did I feel when Quentin Tarantino’s foot fetish was confirmed? Do I remember watching Shrek make that flawless bicycle kick against Manchester City? Did Derek Jeter’s 3,000th hit really kill Amy Winehouse? Was the NBA lockout responsible for lowering America’s credit rating from AAA to AA+? Was Einstein tebowing in the afterlife after scientists found out that things can actually move faster than the speed of light? Did Rahm Emanuel really celebrate his inauguration by pranking Carlos Zambrano into thinking that the Snuggie had replaced the Cubs usual uniforms?
The year was littered with loads of crap like that (and way too many stories of abuse), but that doesn’t mean there weren’t a few gems out there too.
My favorite moment of the year was one that I didn’t even see live, but I still remember it more clearly than any epic tennis match, Bears loss, or ESPN embarrassment.
I was in a foreign country dealing with poor satellite signals, spotty electricity, and supposedly toxic beer. I was living off chai tea and cheap dumplings, and playing basketball on a worn court that was slick with sand and surrounded by monkeys and dirty, feral dogs. I was alone, and I quickly found that the best way to meet people was through hoops and pick-up games.
Although English was more random than consistent, hoops was still a way to make a connection, and I spent the summer meeting players and hoops fans from different parts of the globe.
It was on the court that I learned that the Mavericks and Heat series was being broadcast live in the predawn hours of the morning.
So early one morning, when the parrots where still migrating and the rainy season was still a few weeks off, a collection of drunks, ballers and NBA lovers found their way to my hotel.
Although my room was large, its sparse decorations made it seem more like a painted cave. A frayed tapestry was one of the few fineries in the place, and a cardboard box held the small television that all of us crowded around. The room might have been somewhat dank, but that morning it was alive with cheers, bottles and playoff basketball.
It was around halftime when the room went quiet though. It was a noticeable and sudden change, but it wasn’t the game that muzzled the noise, or even an upset neighbor, but Derrick Rose’s MVP speech. The clip of his speech held everyone’s attention, and it even seemed to sober a few people up.
The speech was everything you’d want to hear from a superstar player. He was humble, courteous, and evocative. It was a simple and beautiful speech, and it capped a great season from Rose.
So despite nationalities and varying proficiencies in English, Rose’s achievement was something that everyone stopped to appreciate. That, and a Heat loss.
Germany has slyly decided to infiltrate our country through implanted robotic blood cells. The new “therapy” replaces janky, worn-out pieces of cartilage with “modified” robotic cells that march in high step and communicate only through screams, intellectual musings, and krautrock. The experimental procedure is called Othokine, and it’s being used on America’s prominent, aging athletes. Kobe Bryant has had the procedure done twice and now Alex Rodriguez has been seen sneaking around Midtown wearing a bear-skinned cloak and preaching about governmental health care.
Rodriguez, who batted only .111 in the Yankees postseason loss to the Tigers, says that he feels “Very proud,” post surgery. And that his new “Hasselhoff” mindset has increased his appetite for shirtless nights of drinking, disco dancing, and penis pumps.
The procedure is banned in America, but reports say that the key to the new therapy is using isolated proteins that are drawn from a patient’s blood. Those proteins are then forced to watch Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will repeatedly while the sounds of blonde sex-making blasts through a series of sliver-plated speakers.
Athletes swear by the results, and report quicker reflexes, stronger and more flexible joints and bluer eyes. Rumors are even surfacing that the Michael Jordan has undergone the transfusion as well, but those are rumors centered on fashion preferences and not fact.
I, for one, welcome our new German scientist overlords, and can’t wait for the Dirkification of American sports.
Our excitement for cornflakes is only slightly higher than our excitement for dirt and Kardashian romances, but Flutie has something in his flakes.
In light of Jared Diamond’s piece on the dreaded cheerleader jinx, where he links the absence of pom poms and tight shorts to team success and Super Bowl appearances; we went looking for a cheerleader that might help to debunk that myth.
Enter: Flutie Flakes. Or more specially, Alexa Flutie.
The 23-year-old daughter of Heisman Trophy winner Doug Flutie seems like the anti-jinx to Diamond’s piece. Why? She shakes it for a perennial contender, her father is a scrambling sensation and probably a Canadian national treasure, and she almost certainly ate Flutie Flakes in the womb.
If the four most overrated things in life are champagne, lobster, anal sex, and picnics, then the four most underrated things in life are Irish coffee, Gregg Popovich, South America and Flutie Flakes.
The proof is in the pudding:
If anyone can smash this vexing curse, then it’s got to be someone who grew up on Hail Marys and Flutie flakes.
The turducken has been eaten, your “fun” uncle drank all the whiskey, and somebody’s kid threw up in the closet and left it for the dogs to find. The holidays are winding down, but the world of sports is still creating memorable moments: NBA ball found its way back onto the court, the Lions, Niners, and Texans all had long playoff droughts end, and Drew Brees found a way to overshadow everyone by breaking Dan Marino’s seemingly untouchable passing record.
Marino’s record, 5,084 passing yards in the regular season, stood for 27-years before it was broken last night in a lopsided Saints victory over the Falcons.
During that game Brees threw for over 300-yards, he had four touchdown passes, and his final pass of the game inked his name into the record books.
Brees now has 5,087 passing yards for the season, and his performance under center this year will go down as one of the all time greats at the position.
But despite the record, Brees will still have hard time winning the MVP against Aaron Rodgers. (In all fairness, Tom Brady is also having a hell of a season, but the MVP is still a two-horse race.)
Measured against the rest of the league those two quarterbacks are almost playing a different sport, and attempting to measure their combined greatness is almost as overwhelming as trying to determine which of their respective teams will win the Super Bowl.
Both quarterbacks have already gotten their teams into the playoffs, both have been dominant throughout the season, and both have put up numbers that can already rank alongside some of the legends of the game.
There’s still a game left, but it seems like both will probably be watching them from the sideline. Here’s their stats for the season:
Their numbers are close. Brees has a slightly better completion percentage (70.7), more passing yards, and almost a hundred more completions, but Rodgers has more touchdowns, less turnovers, and a much higher quarterback ranking (122.5). His team also has more victories, which is ultimately why he’ll probably win the award.
A playoff meeting between the Saints and Packers in the NFC Championship game would be epic and a great match-up, but I’d still like to see Brees win the MVP.
His numbers might be a decimal or two below Rodgers, but he’s still the first quarterback in NFL history to pass for more than 5,000 yards twice — he had 5,069 in 2008. And at the end of the day, I still hate the Packers. Regardless of who wins the MVP, I have to give a big tip of the cap to Brees and his historic season. Cheers brother.
Well we might have binged a little too hard on the eggnog and sugar cookies, cause Vegas put out their over/under bets under our noses. So in a mock celebration of the NBA season, here’s some condensed picks. Merry Christmas y’all! Oh, shout out to Detroit for making the playoffs this year!!
Will Dwight Howard be traded during the 2011-2012 Regular Season?
*So Howard is going stay with the Orlando Mediocre? Bawhahaha.
How Many Technical Fouls will Dwight Howard have during the 2011-2012 Regular Season?
*Over, Sheed don’t lie..
Will Paul Pierce, Ray Allen and Kevin Garnett be members of the Boston Celtics at the start of the 2012-2013 Season?
What will be the largest margin of victory for the Miami Heat during the 2011-2012 Regular Season?
*Over, c’mon. They play the Cavs at home.
What will the Miami Heat’s Longest Losing Streak for the Miami Heat during the 2011-2012 Regular Season?
*Over, they’ll rest those guys toward the end of the season
Most Assists in a game for Ricky Rubio during the 2011-2012 Regular Season?
*Over. The kid is a cooler Harry Potter.
Most Points in a game for Jimmer Fredette during the 2011-2012 Regular Season?
*Under. Had to go under for someone.