Those are my dad’s tickets for the Rice v. SMU game last Friday night. Unused. My dad loves Rice football. He lives for it, this season almost literally so. See, my dad has pancreatic cancer. Don’t know if you know much about it, but if you had to pick a cancer to have, you’d pick pancreatic last. It’s a death sentence. The average lifespan from diagnosis is six months.

About six weeks ago my dad developed an esophageal problem on top of that. His surgery to correct it had complications and he ended up doing nine days in ICU and about five weeks total in a hospital bed. Last week he was moved to a skilled nursing facility, but he’s fucked. There’s not much left of him and, even if puts in the work to rehab successfully, he’ll be functional just in time for the cancer to ravage what’s left of him. But throughout this entire summer, my dad has been focused on one thing. I heard him say it explicitly many times: “I just want to be able to make it to the Rice season opener.” (more…)


Dear Kenny Wiliams:

I imagine you worry about who or what your trigger happy manager might go off on next, or maybe that the 38-year-old you just traded for will get hurt (may or may not have already have happened). But you shouldn’t trifle over such trivialities.

Instead you should be worried about me because I can control the fate of the Chicago White Sox.

Don’t laugh. (more…)

So in the aftermath of the Bissinger v. Leitch showdown on Costas Now there was, somewhat predictably, an uproar across the Internet. A little more surprising was that the discussion spilled over to “traditional” media (radio, TV, print), but, hey, when a respected writer starts to look like he’s going Cruise, who doesn’t feel the need to either attack or apologize?

Clearly, me neither.

Anyway, most of the reactions were telegraphed with blogs defending blogging, basically claiming that many old guard writers, like Bissinger, were scared or threatened.


Bissinger is a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist. Friday Night Lights—widely regarded as one of the better sports books ever written—was made into a movie, as was his Vanity Fair account of Stephen Glass’ downfall. Universal Pictures recently optioned the rights to another Vanity Fair piece he did, “Gone With the Wind” about—God help us—Barbaro (appropriate because Bissinger is also a horse fucker). And if his wikipedia page is to be believed, he’s pocketed enough dough to lead a bi-coastal life. (more…)

These two things I know:

1) Nobody cares about your fantasy team. While in this case “your” means “my,” it’s true for everybody. The only person who cares about your team, who you drafted, and what trades you made, is you. Even the people you might be playing in your head-to-head league don’t care, or they only care inasmuch as you suck that week.

2) I realize there has only been one week played in the MLB season.

But that’s not going to stop from proclaiming that my team might be the worst ever. At least offensively. (more…)

losers.jpgI am defying all kinds of statistical probabilities this year. The line is supposed to make it a 50-50 proposition*. So just by randomly picking teams, I should be around .500. It’s not a large sample size, but it’s getting large enough.

I’m not close. I am 3-17, including an 0-fer my last 8. For what it’s worth, I don’t think I’ve gotten laid in the last couple of weeks either, so I’m failing in pretty much every aspect of my sinning life.

Although getting drunk? Still not a problem.

Anyway, my .150 winning percentage is beyond bad. And I watch a lot of college football. It’s not healthy. So you’d think I’d be better at this. Nope.

I’m giving up. I’m not quitting, just switching tactics. I’m going to be a monkey throwing his own poo at a computer screen and see what happens. I brought up a page with all the games and the lines, closed my eyes, put my finger to the screen and picked the team my finger landed on. And I’m just going to justify it after the fact.

And if that doesn’t work, I’m going buy a hooker and hope that turns everything around next week. Picks after the jump.


This was an exchange on Deadspin earlier today….

@preciousroy: That’s why I never read kermittheblog anymore because you are mean. Or it could be you hardly ever post.

The next phone call Favre received was an offer to pitch Fresca.

@Fat-Fat: I am mean. And the blog has gone dormant while I work on a book.
But if you read, say, half of the other comments, they all pretty much say the same thing. Brett looks pretty fabulous in that pic. So, lighten up, Francis.

Scout wasn’t really involved, but I thought I’d post it over here to say, yes, I have been derelict in updating (for any of you still checking in). But I am working on a book. And it’s a pretty amazing story. It’s got a sports tangent in that the subject I’m working with played football at Washington State, but his entire story is pretty unbelievable. It makes me want to be a better person. And I am mean. I even admitted it.

Seriously, even when I’m being serious. I’m never being mean and my tounge is planted in cheek more often than not. If you’re not getting that from my posts, well, sorry. Actuallly, no. I’m not. It’s not my fault there is no ‘snark’ tag for HTML.

But I am not going completely dormant. I will try to put some stuff up during the college football season, particularly picks on Fridays. I’m 5-1 in the last two weeks. Sure, it’s easy to say that now, but Rice has been free money this season. And only Cuse has burned me so far.

Also, bet against the Irish until after the USC game.

So, there will be more posts. More importantly, before too long there will be another book.

[Ed. Note: The pic in question can be found at the original Deadspin link here.]