May 11, 2011

Batting Practice, Bitches: The One with Roger McDowell, Celtics-Heat, Fictional Boyfriends, and Tiffany Burress

This is like CDTF's version of Hot Topics, minus Baba Wawa, Tracy Jordan's wife, that cranky conservative bitch, the menopausal liberal, and that Mel Gibson-loving reggae lady. An awkward setting, fueled by mutual animosity/adoration, where we tee up against softball topics and discuss things that do not matter in any way, shape, or form.
It is a crazy week here at CDTF, but thankfully, Amber, Carrie, Robin, and Jill are back to banter about sports and their somewhat ridiculous lives. In the past, guest moderators have included La La Vasquez, Christina Aguilera, Brittney Griner, Jessica Biel, Laura Vikmanis, Pia Toscano, and Samantha Posey.  This week, however, they are joined by lawyer, mother, and prison wife, Tiffany Burress. 
Girls, it is so great to be here this morning.  We should just get it out of the way: my husband shot himself in the thigh.  Yes, I am married to the one and only Plaxico.  We met in Pittsburgh when I was in law school.  Our first date? To Red Lobster. Seriously, that is where he took me.  But a lot has changed since then.  We were married in June 2005, then he won the Super Bowl, then he shot himself in the thigh, and now he is inmate No. 09R3260. You may wonder why a strong, powerhouse attorney like myself would wait for him while he vacays at the Oneida Correctional Facility, but the truth is, I love him to death.  He sends me poems and Bible verses from prison.  And he is such a great dad to our two kids, Elijah (who is four) and Giovanna (who is 18 months).  It breaks my heart to see our little girl run up to him in jail, screaming “Da-da.” So June 6th can’t come soon enough.  For now, I am just kicking ass at Dario & Yacker, LLC and planning my own maternity clothing line, called Joiful. Please do not comment about how awful it is when people purposely misspell things.  I talk to my husband every day, and I can’t explain how excited I am for him to come home.  That said, the thing that I am most excited about? He finally shaved that god-awful goatee.  Let’s do this, ladies!
Tiffany: Listen, I know my husband screwed up. He knows it, too.  But is he really a douchebag compared to some other athletes?  For example:

Should Roger McDowell still have a job?

Amber: Roger, Roger, Roger. I was JUST talking to someone about Kobe screaming homophobic slurs at a referee, and how, had it been a white player, shouting n-words, there would a whole hell of hurt. I feel like these really hateful, nasty words get thrown about, and we act like it's "testosterone.” Bullshit. Anyway, should Mr. McDowell have gotten fired? Part of me wants to be like, abso-fucking-lutely. The other, more merciful, part is like, no, he needs to volunteer for a teen suicide hotline, and the AIDS Action Network, and hang out with Ellen. While it totally sends a clear message that talking like that is unacceptable, I feel like firing him makes the issue about getting caught, and less about the hate, which for ME, is the bigger issue. HOWEVER, if you're talking about fans feeling safe at baseball games, Mr. McDowell fucked that aaallll up.

Jill: Yeah, I absolutely think his ass should be fired or demoted. Forget for a moment that he is John Rocker 2.0 or that he threatened fans with a baseball bat in the middle of a game. He had the audacity and arrogance to suggest that kids don't belong at a ballpark.  Which is simply ridiculous.  When you are so full of self-importance that you forget why you are there, who you are inspiring, and what baseball is all about, then you don't deserve the honor of coaching a major league club. Demote him to Triple A, make him do community service with GLAAD, I don't know. But to slap him on the wrist and sweep this under the rug is an insult to the fans and the game itself. Huh, apparently I feel strongly about this. 

Carrie: You guys, this makes me incredibly sad. Roger McDowell played a very important part of my incredibly fond MTV Rock 'n' Jock Softball memories. Which is to say, I vaguely recalled who Roger McDowell was before reading about this last week and my memories were stored in the Decade-Plus-Ago folder in my brain (which, incidentally, is a complete mess) and no such current fond memories exist. But, yeah, MLB and professional sports in general need to crack down on the homophobia that has long been de rigueur in that culture. I like to think that we're making strides as a country in terms of accepting all people, and it's time that our highly vaunted sports figures (even those that we didn't remember existed) reflect that instead of old – and hopefully out-of-fashion – homophobia.

Robin: So I am sorta divided on this (surprising, right?) cause so many other sports nitwits still have jobs (a.k.a. Kobe Bryant, dipshit), but like we are in a BAD economy so I don't want to fuck with Obama's statistics and unemployment rate during an election year (imagine Donald Trump as President?). But I mean, maybe we should have some real sensitivity training and, like I said for Kobe, let's have'em work with the kids being bullied at the Trevor Project and do something meaningful. And while it is lovely that this guy who called out McDowell for being a douche gets tickets for he and his family, the poor male duo (who knows if they were actually a couple? Hello Douchebag McDowell, this is SAN FRICKINFRANCISCO, get your act together) got nothing. So yeah keep your job, keep Obama's unemployment numbers down, and do a PSA apology to that specific couple (wow, I am sorta angry this week, sorry).

Tiffany: Speaking of unemployment, Plaxico is going to be a free-agent soon.  It got me thinking about my own career:

What would be your dream job in sports (i.e., would you rather be a player, coach, owner, or some other random position like team masseuse or sideline reporter)? And why?

Carrie: Um, duh, commentator. I can promise that I would bring the overall level of sports knowledge and understanding in the booth approximately tenfold. I can also assure all hopeful listeners/viewers out there that I would increase the amount of time discussing the pros and cons of certain lengthed baseball pants and players' facial hair situations inverse proportionately. I mention baseball specifically, but I'm sure you all recognize how much more I could add to sports that I understand even less. Vote Carrie for Fox Sports! (ß clearly no more-legitimate crew of sports commentators would have me.)

 
Amber: Can I be a team sensitivity trainer? Obviously that’s needed, and I would be SUPER good at it.  It could make use of the skills gained from my VERY EXPENSIVE double major in English and African American Studies. I picture all these come to Jesus (or Allah, Buddha, Krishna, Yaweh, or? No one, whatever...) moments where we cry and hug each other. 

Tiffany: Sure, if you can help people be sensitive to the fact that my husband wears sweatpants to nightclubs and occasionally shoots himself in the thigh.   

Robin: I sorta would want to be team schmoozer, like the person that gets the fans hyped up when someone is about to take a half-court shot for a cool $1M, or like getting to chat with the kids before they sing the national anthem, or making sure the Color Guard is there to "present the colors" (PS. WTF does that even mean and why do they do that at Nets games?). This is just too damn much. But I really love making small talk and someone has got to get these peeps hyped up, so yeah, start a sports team and hire me as your team schmoozer. I am the gal for yo' job.

Jill: I used to play little league year-round as if I would one day break the gender barrier and become the starting centerfielder for the Yankees, following in the hallowed footsteps of Mickey Mantle. It would be so much fun to get paid millions of dollars to play a game. Is there anything better than a baseball field and the smell of fresh-cut grass on a gorgeous, sunny spring day? I would totally be into locker-room pranks, plane trip card games, and jumping over a railing to celebrate a walk-off. Then again, being a player comes with constant pressure. Some guys spend their lives riding buses and making peanuts and never make it to The Show. I would also never want to experience what David Ortiz and Derek Jeter have gone through the past few years. So then I decided that I'd want to be a GM. As I've explained before, I am obsessed with fantasy baseball and seemingly pretty good at it so far. Wheeling and dealing, finding potential treasures like Ryan Roberts or tomorrow’s superstars in Michael Pineda or Eric Hosmer is addicting. [Editor’s Note: For the record, Carrie and I are leading our 10-team league right now. The other eight people may or may not be dudes].  Finally, if neither of those options work, I'd simply like to be Kim Jones. All she has to do is look pretty, banter about the Yankees, and execute dumb things like eating a foot-long hotdog without getting ketchup on her shirt. Sign me up.

Tiffany: Sigh, you were only supposed to pick one.  So I will make this question easy for you, only two choices:

NBA Playoffs, Boston vs. Miami: Who comes out on top and in how many games?

Robin: Oh my poor baby alien Rajon. He is playing with ONE elbow. ONE. I can't even function with two, and they used to call me "Stove Top" cause I used to "stuff" so many suburban girls in basketball with my 'bows (I love to 'throw me some bows). But my Celts are just not gonna be okay without their one-elbowed whipper snapper Rajy. I cannot believe fuckin' Lebron is gonna win, but like Go Dirk and Go Mavs! (and Go Bruins? They're still in it too, right? Who actually watches hockey?).

 
Amber: After Beyonce and Jay-Z, Dwayne Wade and Gabrielle Union are probably my favorite celebrity couple. I have loved Ray Allen since I was wee, but still, I'll say Miami in 3. Do I need to have better reasoning?

Tiffany: Reasoning is not necessary when you incorporate a rhyme into your response.   


Carrie: Can we discuss how Miami’s whole home crowd wears white? It's not like the fiercest thing in terms of intimidation, but it just looks so effing cool. Like "yeah, we just came off our yacht with J.Lo and Rosie O'Donnell and decided to come catch this game. Whatevs. Care for a mojito?" Um, but okay, yeah, who will win? The Celtics are a proud bunch and I am pretty sure that Rajon Rondo will single-handedly muscle out at least one more win, but I think ultimately, it probably goes to the Heat. Which despite being sort of obnoxious, is sort of neat. With both the Lakers and the Celtics out, this Championship turns a little more thrilling. I mean, as thrilling as the NBA gets. 

Jill: Boston vs. Lebron is like Satan's series. If there was ever a time I wanted both teams to lose, it is now. With the Heat up 3-1, it seems that they will close this out. So the smart pick is Miami. That said, I am going with the underdog (as I always do when I don’t really care). Boston is old and cranky. They have ancient, broken Shaq and Kevin Garnett the thug. But they also have Rondo, who is an unstoppable magician at times, and lights-out shooters in Ray Allen and Paul Pierce. I think they take Game 5, force the series back to Miami, and fight towards a wild game-seven finish. A girl can only hope, right?

Tiffany: Yeah, I just hope that my husband gets home soon.  But without him, I have been watching a lot of television and having strange fantasies. 

In a fictional world of athletes from movies and TV shows, who would you like to be your fake: best friend? boyfriend? secret hook-up partner? worst enemy? (You can go with today, as a seemingly together 20-something-year-old, or you can go with Carrie's high school scenario. Let your imaginations run wild, wild across all of the movies and manwhores out there).

Amber: This is SO SO SO hard, slash, it's not hard at all, because I have actually fantasized about this, too.  My boyfriend, later, husband, will be Scott McKnight, the fictional New Jersey Nets player from the romantic comedy "Just Wright.” It didn't work out with him and Queen Latifah. Common is like, my DREAM man in everyway, and in that movie, he likes a sturdy girl...so that basically makes us destined. After we wed, I would want to be best friends with the Wright-McCalls from “Love and Basketball.” We would go out to dinner with Quincy and Monica, have game nights, and agonize over where to send our ADORABLE children to school. We are literally ballers, so we can afford the chi chi-est of schools, but we also want them to be in a comfortable setting where their heritage is celebrated. My secret hook-up partner, who I finally have to stop sharing my cookies with when Scott and I get married, will be Sunshine, from "Remember the Titans.”  I feel like he would be into real, like, tantric love-making. That might be sort of hot.  My worst enemy would be Karofsky from “Glee” cause he is an asshole and I don't like homophobes.

Tiffany: I basically have a threesome with Monica and Quincy every night in my dreams. 

Jill: Regardless of age, I would probably date A.C. Slater, secretly fuck Puck from Glee (does Jerry McGuire count? I would totally bang him, too), be besties with Brandon Walsh or Doris Murphy, and go to war with Roger Dorn. Slater was so dreamy in his spandex wrestling uniform and/or his M.C. Hammer pants.  He was charming and sweet and that bitch Jessie Spano never truly appreciated him; however, his pet names would certainly drive me insane.  I am watching Glee now, and while mohawks don’t really do it for me, Puck does. He can strum me like his guitar any day.  I think he sort of plays football occasionally, so that should count for this question. Brandon Walsh totally tried out for the West Bev basketball team.  As a brainy dude who loves journalism and met President Clinton and is addicted to sports (literally, he had a gambling problem), it seems like we would easily be BFF.  Between dorky Andrea Zuckerman and batshit-crazy Emily Valentine, Brandon needs a little normal in his life.  And Roger Dorn is just a lazy, pretty-boy asshole.  He would infuriate me as a teammate, fuck buddy, boyfriend, and worst enemy. 

Robin:  BFFer: Julie "The Cat" Gaffney from D2: The Mighty Ducks. That bitch did not lie and did not let some dumb country like Iceland beat the U-S-A (insert Osama bin Laden shit, I don't cheer for people dying no matter how dumb they are, but like I sorta think this new patriotism is nothing less than hilarious), so yeah U-S-A, Girl Power, go Jules!  Boyf: Ira Lowenstein from A League of Their Own. He was an advocate for keeping those "girls" still playing ball even when the "boys" came back from war, he had a good head on his shoulders, and I obviously love Jews. And he seems pretty under the radar and I have a big personality. So he would let me keep the spotlight. Secret Hookup: I can't believe I am letting Quincy cheat on Monica, but totes Quincy McCall from Love and Basketball (all is fair). While Monica was all dating Spaulding, I'd totes be doin' my thang with the Q man. And I don't have to marry him after he leaves college early--I have Ira. The guy is hot. And I bet he would be good to a lady (hello "A Woman's Work" played in the background when he and Monica had sex for the first time. What a guy!).  Worst Enemy: Silence the violence. Keep the peace. U-S-A! I can't even go there this week.

Carrie: Assuming that you weren't one of the two people (me and Jill) to make it through the entire 75-page transcript of our Yankee/Sox-watch, I will recap where I’m coming from. I would have Robbie Cano as my middle school boyf. There is just something charming about that smile that I can picture on a slightly more awk frame standing by my locker after class and like trying to cheat off my Algebra homework while we have PG-rated study sessions at my house. Nick Swisher practically screams High School Boyfriend - he's sort of scampy and rascally in a way that would have completely delighted me in high school and then gotten sort of exasperating while I tried to apply to college and he was still talking about joining a circus. We'd have broken up amiably. I think for my secret hook-up buddy now, then, forever, I would choose Brian Wilson. He's like, actually sort of scary to me and I imagine he is super anti-social in a way that would make him an incredibly poor choice for an actual relationship, but? There is something about that beard. I don't really have enemies, but I bet you I'd hate Luke Scott in real life. He seems like a world class d-bag. 

WAIT. Shit. I just re-read this question. MOVIES AND TV SHOWS. Well, damn, I am not going to delete all that, so enjoy. 

Going straight to fictional athletes, all of the listed categories would be filled with characters from Friday Night Lights, duh. Boyfriend? Matt Saracen. Be dreamier. Nope, you can't.  BFF? Lyla Garrity. That choice might surprise people, but I tend to have girlfriends that are exponentially more attractive than I am. It's mostly because I don't get jealous, and I like the cute boys they bring around, but not having to deal with any of the drama that cute boys bring myself. Also, I feel like Lyla could use a "you go girl!" type friend because I think she has some confidence issues. However my secret hook-up partnering with Tim Riggins, who is a character that was basically designed for secret hook-up fantasies, might complicate my relationship with Lyla. In which case... we'd probably become frienemies. Real high school style.

Tiffany: That was sort of epic. And a perfect way to close. I could never be frenemies with you girls.  Thanks again, tune in next week, and write my husband letters in prison – you only have a month left!

2 comments:

  1. Jill, RE The dream job...
    It has to be commissioner of baseball. I would be so Napoleanic about the whole thing, set myself up as emperor, with no ties to the owner and a real chance to do what is BEST for the sport. DUI issues, steroids issues, autographs, stadium music, banning the wave - all dealt with in the first 48 hours. Then onto interleague games, playoff senarios, geographic realinement, the Dodgers and Mets ownership. That will take longer, give me a week on those. Plus you get to go to a game EVERY SINGLE DAY, sitting with the bigwigs, drinking a beer and munching a dog they JUST GIVE YOU! What could be better???

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  2. For a while there, I thought Carrie meant Brian Wilson, Beach Boy. "Drove downtown in the rain, 9:30 on a Tuesday night..."

    - Manahattan Man

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