General Sports

A Bunch of Stuff By Matt Waters

I got stuff. It’s rattling through this head of mine. Why not write it down? Awesome idea. And post it on Sports Column… Oh yeah, now I’m thinking like a champ! In the words of Billy Madison: LETS GO! Why aren’t more people mentioning how hilarious this whole Maurice Clarett situation is? Lets set the scene:

Fade in: Denver Broncos Training Camp. Pan across a busy practice field, bodies flying into each other, mutual momentums exploding in an instant, hard work being done. Only the strong survive. We settle on the outer edge of the sideline, where a player stands alone, indifferently gazing out into the distance. This is Maurice. He is massively built, but there seems a disturbing emptiness about him. He appears overwhelmed by the situation, blocking the sun with his left hand, holding a bottle shaped brown bag in his right. He’s in full uniform, even though it doesn’t appear he belongs. Violently, he takes a swig of his bagged elixir, relief inhabiting his senses. He wipes his mouth, in utter satisfaction. Maurice’s moment of peace is suddenly interrupted, as two burly veterans invade the scene.

Veteran # 1: Damn Maurice, you aren’t supposed to skip mandatory work outs-

Maurice: It’s cool.

Veteran # 2: A spot on this team has to be earned.

Maurice, bored by the spontaneous lecture, quickly attempts an escape.

Veteran # 1: Man, where the hell you going now?

Maurice turns and smiles. For the first time in perhaps his life, a solid plan is hatched in his mind.

Maurice: I’m going to get my goose on…

And he leaves, a hero to millions of middle class weekend warriors, who always dreamed of getting drunk at an NFL training camp.

Stay On Maurice, walking off into a waiting sunset….

Slowly Fade Out.


Call me crazy, but I don’t think we’ll be reading any more sympathetic articles by Tom Friend regarding my main man Mo.



To the relief of many worried true believers of Media Styled Assassinations, [My personal favorite? The quick, muffled strangulation of Break Dancing, carried out sometime in the Mid- Eighties. This eventually left poor communities with a dearth of positive musical influences, in essence creating Gangsta Rap. Yup, a few articles about uncoordinated white boys wrenching their necks while trying to spin on their heads bought about the demise of everything morally right about Hip Hop. The irony is delicious.] the custom came back strong after a brief, Steroid induced respite, this time taking on a Hockey Legend.

We all know the situation. I’m not here to give a routine game story on some assistant coaches’ wholesome and endearing dream of becoming a big time bookie. It’s the "public outcry" that really gets me. You see, back in the day, the media created this monster called "Public Outcry", P.O. for complexity’s sake, where a story that normally no one could give a damn about could get pumped up just by the writer dropping a few lines suggesting that the offender’s in question are taking a big giant deuce on society’s collective conscience. In this case, the rags are jumping on the "exorbitant" bets of Janet Jones, when in actuality the sums of money in question equate to about ten dollars on a non-filthy rich scale.

This is supposed to piss us off. This is supposed to get us to say stuff like:

" Man, that Gretz should really control his wife more."

" Sure, why not, they got the money to spend. Me? I got nothing!" [Cries]

" This is a scandal. Why, that Gretzky could be throwing games! Good God… he could be the Anti Christ!"

Meanwhile, this is a basic equivalent to you or me putting 25 on the Jets this weekend, because dang gum it, that Bollinger kid really turned a corner last week.

All the while, they stoke the fires by combining threatening, official sounding words to form a monster thought that is pretty damn intimidating.


I hope this isn’t working. Smell the P.O?


Mike Lupica takes someone on… and this time, IT’S PERSONAL!

Mike Lupica astounded long time readers today by taking someone on in print. In his latest column, the longtime Daily News columnist bashed the Knicks, Yankees, Rangers, Devils, Jets, Giants, Bills, Liberty and Holy Cross Knights in a prolonged rant that included phrases such inflammatory phrases such as:

" They got a lot to prove around here."

" That doesn’t mean much around here."

" This is how it’s supposed to sound."

" In days and nights like this…"

" Once."

The article is backed by a boisterous front page, which ran with the headline:


Mike Lupica could not be reached for comment, as he is currently building a time machine to where the phenomenon known as "supposed to sound" originated.

[To all the New Yorkers who might have laughed, God Bless, and the Post isn’t any better.]



The New York Jets, thirsty for some new blood in the organization, hired a new Special Teams coach yesterday, Billy Webster. Webster, a seven year old native of New Jersey, recently got a 98 on his Math Test. Owner Woody Johnson was ecstatic with the move, feverishly answering questions at the introductory press conference, eventually bragging about he beat his newest Coordinator in a spirited game of Connect Four.


Raiders Hire Shell

Al Davis finally found his man yesterday, hiring Art Shell, the first African American head coach in N.F.L. History. Davis, who has been criticized in the past for ruling over the organization with an iron fist, surprised many with his decision. When asked about the move, Davis coyly responded, " I’ve alienated so many people that God decided I had to start over again."


Trader Isiah Strikes Again

His EZ Pass malfunctioning, embattled Knick GM Isiah Thomas cut a deal with an experienced Toll Booth worker, giving up fifty dollars and a round one draft pick for some shiny Beads and two yellow sour patch kids. The worker, identified only as Scott, sold Thomas on the vaule of the beads, claiming that their net worth was enough to buy one hundred EZ Passes.

Thomas was all smiles after the trade, claiming the move only took 45 seconds to consummate, and that the lingering heart condition of Yellow Sour Patch Kid II is way overblown. No word on Sour Patch Kid I, who is besieged with rumors surrounding his apparent decapitation.


Racism confused

Racism, one of America’s oldest citizens, is quite bewildered with regards to his role when analyzing the New York Mets roster. " Some Sports Writers and radio guys called me up and said they needed me for about two weeks," said Racism, who prefers Cism. "And than all of the sudden I started getting mixed messages.  I was involved, than I wasn’t. It was really unsettling. I feel discriminated against, honestly."

Racism is an eligible bachelor currently making a quiet residence near the Suburbs.

By mw2828

Matt Waters is a screenwriter currently living in New York. He has been writing about sports since age seventeen, about the time when it became painfully apparent that his athletic dreams would go unfulfilled, due to terrible luck and an obscene lack of talent. His favorite movie is “The Thin Red Line”. His favorite band is “Modest Mouse”. His favorite sport is baseball! With an exclamation point.

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