Breaking News About Manny Ramirez

Psyche! You thought there was going to be an analysis on Manny’s contract situation huh? Well fuck you! With every other major and non major media outlet covering “America’s” sport, why should I taint this blog with the wretched stench of the steroid, money whoring giant known as la basebol? It seems that these days, watching the media circus revolving around baseball is actually more entertaining than watching a full game of baseball. There’s plenty of stuff to keep us enthralled so that we don’t have to realize how boring baseball actually is. You have A-rod and his loosy goosy happy times with the needle, the utter obnoxiousness of the Bostonian crowd, and of course this asshole:

And now we have Manny Ramirez’s will he or won’t he tension that he enjoys playing so well with the LA Dodgers. And with the mainstream media. Last time I checked, most people don’t give a shit until the contract has actually signed. Oh, but lest we forget, this is Manny Ramirez we’re talking about, anything he does we just HAVE to report on it. Oh, he walked down his street to pick up the newspaper? Well, this is clearly a sign then that he wants a better contract. You say you saw him at Lucky’s picking up a bottle of orange juice? Did he happen to tell the bagger what his future plans were? Quick somebody find out now, we must know… NOW!!!!

Ugh, give me a break. Worst of all is that we never can get a straight answer

Why can’t it be as simple as football. A normal football off season headline reads as so: “Jacobs signs 5-year deal for 25 million.” A simple baseball off season headline? “The Dodgers made their third offer to Manny Ramirez, this one similar to offer No. 1.” So did he take that offer? Yes? No?! NO?! YES?! Oh, he hasn’t said anything yet? Then why the fuck should I care?!? I ask myself that question a lot concerning anything involving baseball.

Manny and the mainstream media, please just tell me when he does or doesn’t sign back with the Dodgers, I’m tired of all this unwanted suspense. It’s like I’m watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy for Christ sake, and I do not want THAT to happen.

It seems like this is always the case with news reporting on baseball. A lot of speculation for month and months until we finally get a real answer. Speculation about steroids in baseball, speculation about Pete Rose and gambling, and now the three ring circus of the contract signing. Fuck me.

But no, I’m not going to feed into all this hype and speculate on what Manny is going to do while he is Manny being Manny. Instead, I’ll keep to my crude jokes, toilet humor, and fun characters of a pot infested Barry Zito. Take that kind sire and be on your way if you’re looking for a real story! Ha! That flirty contract heathen known as Mr. R will not seduce me into his media bed only to pull the rug from under me when I think I finally have the scoop.

If I want to get cock teased, I’ll just head over to Columbus Street instead. So suck it Manny, suck it baseball, suck it hard. Word life, biatch.

Baron Davis Barks Back

The Los Angeles Clippers suck. Their constant sucking is so bad it's become tautologous. It is just despicable. After being called a dog by T.J. Simers of the Los Angeles Times, Baron Davis is barking back.

"Are you seriously blaming me for how bad the Clips are doing? Just look at the team. I am not dogging anything. My heart and soul is with this team. I'm making $65 million in the next 5 years because I believe in this team. I believed in Golden State. Now I believe in Los Angeles. Excuse me for a moment while I represent LA..."

(Baron Davis turns around to throw the first pitch for the Los Angeles Dodgers.)

"Boom Dizzle can not win a championship on his own. It's not my fault Elton Brand, my former friend, ditched LA. It's not my fault Marcus Camby's a tree stump. It's not my fault Al Thornton plays like shit. It's not my fault Chris Kaman looks like the Geico caveman. It's not my fault the Clippers suck. I'll only take the blame if you believe that I'm worse than the Sam Cassell/Shaun Livingston days. Dahhh, I need a potty break!"

(B-Diddy takes a break from his potty break to enjoy a Lakers game with Adam Sandler to go over a new movie script.)

"I came back home to South Central to lead the Clips to an NBA championship, man. I'm here to show the kids we can dream big. Hollywood's great and all, but it's all about the game of basketball for me. Nothing else. Those Lakers nachos are killing me, potty break #2?"

(Baron calls up old high school buddy Kate Hudson to grab another quick bite.)

"Everyone keeps talking about Baron this, Baron that. Get off my balls! Everyone hangs out with their friends. Don't blame me for hanging out with my friends. Don't blame me if they're celebrities. Don't blame me if they got connections to the film industry. Why am I the bad guy here? Jesus Christ, I need to vent. I'll be right back."

(Baron does a quick interview alongside Jessica Alba and Cash Warren for his new documentary, Crips and Bloods: Made in America.)

"I wasn't traded at the deadline, thank God, but if I was, I would've appreciated any other team out there. Houston, Dallas, Golden State, Los Angeles, it's all the same. Any day, any night, if I'm not bothered by this injury or that injury, I go out there on the court and give my full half focus for the whole half of the game. Now if you would wait a couple hours, Steve Nash is coming in town so I have to show him around, since you know, he's Canadian, and we're in California."

(B-Diddy and Stevie Nash takes a long bike ride from the Santa Monica pier down past Newport Beach to hang out at Kobe's place.)

"Like I said before, the Clippers need a team effort, I can't do everything alone. I feel like I'm contributing my $65 million every night. Others, I can not say, but I definitely don't tolerate a bunch of big name, big contract players who's out wandering the wonderful streets of Hollywood investing their time and money on their movie producing career. When I'm not dishing assists on the court, I'm out helping the community. Look, I even took a part-time gig at the local McDonald's."

At that point, Mr. Baron Davis was exhausted from the interview and the mini errands he had to run in between, so he called it quits. He ended the night at the local five star hotel to "relax" a bit, where he showed his true self, as described by what is left of the Delinda Lombardo story.

No wonder this is how Los Angeles fans think of Baron Davis:

Don't you wish you were still a Golden State Warrior, Boom Dizzle?

Have You Ever Written An Offseason Update.........On Weed?!

What up internet. This is Barry Z broadcasting to you live from the most chill place in the world, Planet Zito. The Play in CA has kindly offered me a guest spot on this blog, so I said sure why the hell not. But first, I had to figure out what a blog was. Was it video? Was it a new animal? Was it the name of my new gardener? And more importantly, did you know that if you replaced the L and the O, with an O and an N, you’d spell bong? Fuckin’ gnarly man. With that kind of mind power behind me, I knew it would only be a matter of time until I knew what this blog thing.

Two hours of weed and 10 minutes of wikipedia later… I finally did it… I finally passed “Six” on Expert in Guitar Hero. I even go the nerd from the IT department to post it on Youtube for me. Look at that shit:



Man that solo is so sick. It makes you THINK man.

Then four hours of weed and 20 minutes of CNN later… I took a nap. But then! Oh then I finally figured out what this blogging thing was all about! So from my guess, a blog is where people write their thoughts and feeling about stuff online so that other people online (aka dorks) can read their emotions or whatever. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, man this sounds pretty complicated. That’s what I thought too! It gave me such a headache. You know what cures a headache… mushroom pizza! Man, all that internet researching really gave me the food wantin.’ And Sublime listening. And guitar shredding!

BUT NO! Planet Zito made a promise to his citizens to finish this blog post, and Planet Zito delivers. Like Sketchy Mike out on the corner of Telegraph. He has the best stuff. Like me. Man, that comparison totally came full circle. It’s like I’m the chariot son of the Hindu avatar Matsya getting ready to deliver Nirvana to the lower plane. You, my friend, are the lower plane. So get ready to feel some heaven.

Before writing this blog post, I had to think of a topic, so I smoked a bowl to get the creative juices flowing. You say you saw that coming, that it’s too predictable? Well fuck you man. If that’s the case, maybe the creative juices aren’t flowing enough. Maybe I should just smoke another one.

Five minutes later (I typed that action comment too, trippy huh?)

Oh man, oh man, it’s like I’m writing my off-season update right now, but at the same time, you’re reading it, not right now! And you ever notice how much right sounds like write? That is crazy, padre!

So what did I do during the off-season? Well I’ll tell you what I didn’t do, kids. Steroids. There’s been a lot of talk about the big S word these days. Seems like people can’t get enough of steroids this. Everywhere in the paper, it’s A-Rod this, or Barry that. Man, I was teammates with Barry Bonds, for like two years, I think, and let me tell you something, he’s not THAT interesting. I should know, I spent the last 2 years with the guy. Or not. The last 5 years of MY life have been kind of hazy.

But yeah, back to steroids. I just don’t understand the concept. What does it do for you? I mean sure, it helps you get big muscles super fast, helps with recovering from injury, helps you perform at your physical peak, but seriously , what does it REALLY do for you? Does it help you get to the moon or invent a rocket powered pony? No. Does it help you write a Ken Kesey novel, or better yet, read a Ken Kesey novel? No. Does it help you get into Alyssa Milano’s pants? Hell no. Steroids is lamesville.

Remember kids, stay away from steroids. Drugs are bad for you. Well except the reefer, that’s not a real drug anyway. And shrooms, but they never hurt. Oh, and LSD, we all know that’s not a hard drug. But yeah, stay away from cocaine, because that stuff is dangerous. And for football players.

Nostalgia Friday: Ken Griffey Jr. Seattle Mariner

Welcome back to 1989!

Box office hits are Lethal Weapon 2, Back to the Future Part II, Ghostbusters II, The Little Mermaid, License to Kill, Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, and When Harry Met Sally.

Prince, Madonna, Duran Duran, New Kids On The Block, Erasure, R.E.M, Paula Abdul, The Bangles, Cher, Elvis Costello, and Depeche Mode are topping the music charts.

George H.W. Bush is the US president, gas is under $1.00, stamps are only $0.25, Nintendo just introduced Gameboy, The Simpsons aired its first episode, the Berlin Wall came down, student protests occurred in Tiananmen Square, and Ken Griffey Jr. made his major league debut, hitting a double in his first at-bat and hitting a homer in his first at-bat in the Kingdome.

Fast forward 20 years; Junior is back to where it all began. Carrying the prettiest swing in baseball, The Kid can still hit the long ball without the steroids, unlike a certain other someone. He's 38 and may not fly to chase down balls in the outfield like he's 18 again, but he's Ken Griffey Jr.

Seattle may have had the worst year in sports history, and that trend will most likely continue, but Junior will give the city something to cheer and reminisce about.

1995 was pretty much their best year when they made it to the ALCS, but that's about it. 2001 was a season to remember when Ichiro stole the show winning the Rookie of the Year and AL MVP awards, while the Mariners won 116 games, but they couldn't even get out of the first round of the playoffs.

The past nor the future doesn't look good for the M's, but we can all think back and enjoy the days when Junior was patrolling the outfield, Omar Vizquel dancing around the infield, Jamie Moyer looking much younger and Randy Johnson throwing 100 mph. Now add in Ichiro in right field, Edgar Martinez at DH, John Olerud, Raul Ibanez, Alex Rodriguez, Bret Boone, and Felix Hernandez. That's a true All-Star team. Don't you wish the M's and Safeco Field could turn back the clock and compete with all those players together?

Too bad dreams never come true, and the reality is that the Seattle Mariners are still with the bottom feeders of the American League. Don't get me wrong, Seattle's an awesome city and I love it, but if I could ask Ken Griffey Jr. to do one thing, please bring back your Nike Air Griffey Max and rock it when I see you this spring.

Chopped and Screwed by Tracy McGrady

Don't chop me, shawty don't screw me. Shawty don't chop me, Shawty don't screw me...why you acting all like that, like that? Like all you ever really want to do is just doubt me?

The story of T-Mac's life. Once a premier NBA basketball player, now only a good role player...on a good day. His name carries more credibility than his game.

When he was traded from the Orlando Magic to the Houston Rockets, he was supposed to be that one guy, the guy Stevie Franchise used to be. Seeing him now, his Magic days was probably the peak of his career. The Houston Rockets is Yao Ming's team now. Using up $20 million a year, not worth it for this guy. You'd be lucky if you see him play even half a season. Vince Carter, welcome aboard.

Onto the real topic. How many of you out there have been chopped and screwed by Tracy McGrady in your fantasy basketball league? I'm not talking about just this year, but the past, maybe, 4 years. At least with Gilbert Arenas, you know he's going to be out the whole year before the draft, and he entertains you with his blog.

I drafted T-Mac in the 7th round this year thinking he would be a good sleeper pick for me. I guess I was the stupid one in my league, or had too high of a hope for the man. With Al Jefferson and Michael Redd both gone for the year, I needed T-Mac to step up. If you're thinking how stupid I was to draft the injury prone players like Michael Redd and Tracy McGrady, you're absolutely right. That's why I drafted Monta Ellis to have him on my bench for half a season.

Luckily, I slowly climbed my way up the league rankings, picking up good players and currently holding the #3 spot steadily, just a mere half a game behind #2, but a lengthy 15 games behind first place.

I dropped Tracy McGrady and picked up Ryan Gomes. Help me people! Who else is worthy of replacing him? Shane Battier? Hakim Warrick? Von Wafer? I guess I'm not in that bad a situation, but I'm sure there are many of you out there who are suffering more. Share the pain. We, like Tracy McGrady, have A LOT of time to sit and listen, since

we've officially been chopped and screwed, screwed-screwed chopped-chopped and screwed...

Billy Sadler, Manny Ramirez, Best Friends Forever

While we were all waiting for the Manny Ramirez sweepstakes, Manny and San Francisco Giants relief pitcher Billy Sadler became BFFs.

Not only did Manny paid for Billy's gym membership, because apparently making only $390,000 as a professional athlete means you're starving to death, Manny also teased Billy about playing for the San Francisco Giants together for years to come.

Even though Manny loves Hollywood, and the Dodgers did save a locker spot for Manny, wouldn't that be the cutest thing, seeing two BFFs frolick down the lovely streets of San Francisco holding hands and wearing friendship bracelets?

Think of all the great things they can do together in the city by the bay. If Brody Jenner can have a Bromance, so can Manny and Billy--Mannilly.

They can check out a cruise to Alcatraz on a sunny afternoon, or even ride a two-seater bike across the Golden Gate Bridge. Ghiradelli Square has awesome ice creams. Golden Gate Park is beautiful during the day, with multiple ponds and small lakes to feed the ducks and seagulls. There are TONS of restaurants and bars around the area for a nice, best friends dinner, like the Stinking Rose and the Fluid Bar.

Man, San Francisco is actually pretty awesome. I'm glad I'm in the city. What's the best part about Mannilly's San Francisco Giant experience?

It's all Manny's treat!! In fact, Manny can even pay for Billy's salary, turning that $390,000 sucker into a $1.39 million stud!! Oh, the fun times one could have with Manny Ramirez.

Now, jokes aside, where the heck is Manny Ramirez going to be this season?

I'm tired of the Giants saying they're interested with a mile-long shot at actually signing the man, and like Damon Bruce from KNBR said, all the players are trained to answer any Manny questions by saying something like: "he would be a great addition to our team, but we sincerely believe that we could win without him."

That is a bag full of crap and as a true San Francisco Giants fan, I demand a definite yes or no answer. Quit teasing us all until finally something doesn't happen. Manny Ramirez would be a great addition to the Giants organization, even better by stealing him from the Dodgers, but he's too expensive, and I want to believe that we don't need him.

What do you think?

Shaq Retires to Dance

It was a long boring weekend, take this dummy post and eat it.

Shaquille O'Neal is the bonafide mega superstar of basketball. Nobody is bigger or funnier than him. Shaq stole the entire weekend last night with his moves on the stage and on the court. Did you see how big is head was behind that tiny little JabbaWockeeZ mask?

While Kobe Bryant looked uncomfortable standing next to Shaq and fellow comedian Dwight Howard got owned by Shaq,


Shaq was contemplating his retirement from the NBA to pursue his career dream to dance. It seems like Dancing with the Stars only took football athletes, so he decided to start his own crew.


For the rest of the NBA season, since the Phoenix Suns are irrelevant now, Shaq is going to showcase his moves on the court and lobby for his dancing career in as many games as he can.

NBA All Stars Go Old (Elementary) School

Nostalgia Friday will have to step aside for some breaking news from the NBA.

NBA All-Star weekend is here. Phoenix, Arizona is popping with celebrities now. What's there to do in Phoenix anyways? It's nothing like Las Vegas, so at least we know nobody is getting arrested this year.

The actual game itself, like always, is going to end in the 120s and 130s. That's a given every year, but the other festivities are worth looking forward to. The Slam Dunk contest, the Three Point Shootout, the Skills Challenge, the Celebrity Game, and even the D-League All-Star Game.

This year, however, David Stern and the NBA is taking the All Stars back to grade school. Kevin Durant, O.J. Mayo, and Joe Johnson are going to compete in a game of H.O.R.S.E.

Look how pathetic ESPN sounds in their efforts to promote this. Tell us your favorite H.O.R.S.E. shot. Send in your best H.O.R.S.E. video. They go on to explain how you play H.O.R.S.E. in the article, with a referee standing by to make sure everything's done properly. Let me tell you something, ESPN. H.O.R.S.E. crap.

I can already see it coming. Kevin Durant calling O.J. Mayo a H.O., and Joe Johnson calling Kevin Durant a H.O.R.

You think that's it? Heeeeeecks no! We all better tune in to the NBA All Star games this year, because our favorite athletes are taking it old school.

Shaq, Kobe, Dwight Howard, and LeBron James are pitted against each other in a deadly match of Four Squares.

The speedy 5'9" Nate Robinson will go against the 7'6" Yao Ming in a history-to-be-made tetherball match after doing the improbable 900 to win the Slam Dunk contest.

Derrick Rose and Michael Beasley will once again settle their #1 and #2 draft picks in the intense game of wall ball, or suicide, however you used to call it.

The rookies and sophomores will cancel their Rookie Challenge and take it to the house in a game of kickball instead. MVP gets the red, bouncy, game ball.

And finally, the Eastern All Stars and the Western All Stars, coaches included, will go up against each other in a moment-of-truth game of dodgeball right before the actual game. First person to cream either Mike Brown or Phil Jackson in the face gets a $25,000 bonus.

Hurry up and make your bets, people! It's going to be a fun one. Enjoy your NBA Valentine All Star weekend!

Alex Rodriguez I Am Stupid Monologue

After his ESPN interview with Peter Gammons, Alex Rodriguez decided to stop by a local cafe in New York City to reflect upon his little, naive mistake. There was a poetry slam going on, so A-Roid decided to juice up his caffeine intake before showcasing his worth to the poetry world.

Stupid is as stupid does.

I am stupid.

I am stupid for taking steroids.

I am stupid for getting caught juicing up my manhood.

I am stupid for following the footsteps of Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Jason Giambi, Mark McGwire, and all those other juicers.

I am stupid for admitting my young, stupid, naive mistake.

I am stupid for letting Peter Gammons drill me, although the make-up artist did a fantastic job in portraying my red, tearish eyes and blushed, apologetic cheeks.

I am stupid for making up lame excuses during the interview.

I am stupid for taking steroids when I was a Texas Ranger. Steroids or no steroids, the Rangers were, and still are, going nowhere.

I am stupid for hooking up with a stripper in front of the New York media.

I am stupid for leaving my hot wife for a one-night stand with the worn out Material Girl.

I am stupid for still believing in the New York Yankees. The Yankees are stupid for standing behind me.

Money doesn't win World Series championships. But steroids win MVP awards.

I am stupid. I make $28 million a year. Sue me.

Even Obama Has To Answer An Obligatory A-Rod Question

Barack Obama’s Presidential address giving his views on his first 100 days covered a variety of extremely important issues that have been plaguing Americans since Dubya left the office exactly 3 weeks ago. Obama made his case for his economic stimulus, then answered some hard hitting questions from journalists. These questions covered some tough issues, ranging from Obama’s plan to move troops to Afghanistan, his goal of an energy efficient America, and plans to kick start the job market, all topics that are very important to Americans at this moment. And then there was this:



Notice that Obama’s first word in reaction to that question was “uh.” He then followed it up about how disappointing it was.

He actually probably wanted to say, “uh, what the hell kind of question is that? How I go from just talking about creating 4 million jobs and sending troops to Afghanistan to being upstage by douchebag of the decade nominee, Alex Rodriguez? Can I please see you’re credentials Mr. Michael Fletcher? Washington Post? Oh, okay, that explains EVERYTHING.”

Oh, I wish the day when someone will put dumb questions on the spot. Of course it will never happen, but what a wonderful world it would be. Unfortunately for me, Obama had to give the standard “think of the children” answer, which actually makes a lot of sense. It’s too bad in a world filled with smart men and women, children are often forced into idolizing sports figures at the risk of looking uncool or getting beat up. Is it cool to look up to Harald Zur Hausen? Hell no. He may have discovered HPV leads to cervical cancer, but he can’t hit a ball 400 ft, so screw him. Instead, children look up to the A-Rods, the Mannings, and to a lesser extent the Barkleys of the world (minus the getting a BJ in the corner ordeal).

Obama’s overall view on the situation is that baseball has turned into a sad, depressing state. I could not agree more. I try very hard to hold my disdain for baseball. Sometimes, I just don’t get the sport. It’s boring, it’s slow, and it provides no adrenaline rush. The only thing I really like about baseball is watching pitchers, because I guess I have respect for guys who can throw things with speed and accuracy (thus my admiration for quarterbacks). It also doesn’t help that the sport has been run with issues ever since I was a wee lad. The steroid issue is the first major concern with the money making giant. There are the obvious issues that arise such as the purity of the game, legal issues, and the long term effects (meaning whether or not some baseball player may go Chris Benoit on someone).

Speaking of wrestling, it seems that baseball and the squared ring have more in common than ever before. Both are pretty much hand in hand with steroids at the moment. When I think of pumped up juicers, I think of two guys: Batista and Barry Bonds, figureheads of their industries. Wrestling and baseball also both have their “list of guys who probably use steroids.” For wrestling, their list was in the form of a Sports Illustrated article that outs stars like Randy Orton, Rey Mysterio, and Edge to name a few. For baseball, it’s the Mitchell List.

Well at least there hasn’t been a baseball movie about a wash up picking up the pieces of his life while holding on to his glorious past. If there were, Mickey Rourke would definitely be playing him.

And at least baseball doesn’t have its share of horror stories like wrestling. There aren’t any Eddie Guerrero, Chris Benoit type cases in the MLB. Oh, whoops.

Okay, well at least we know the games aren’t rigged or staged. Right? And surely no one has done anything to dirty up the sport…. right??

Damn, well I guess our President is on to something then, and it sure is a hot topic at the moment. Even if you’re taking all your time reviewing a stimulus to boost alternative energy and create new jobs, people will still want to bother you about baseball and steroids. Freakin’ A.

Even LeBron Can't Stop the Lakers

The Lakers are for real. They are truly unstoppable. Not even LeBron James and his undefeated Cavaliers at home can slow down the Lakers.

While major music superstars filled the Staples Center for the Grammys last night, Kobe Bryant and Co. flashed their super stardom all over the NBA. The results of their past road trip? Perfect 6-0. Boston Celtics and a 12-game winning streak? Like snatching candy from a baby for the Lakers.

Is this the sign of another one of those dominating Laker dynasties? Kobe and Shaq had their three-peat, but is this the new Kobe and Gasol plus Bynum or no Bynum show? From what I've seen in the past two weeks, the Big Three of the Celtics apparently are not possible anymore, and the King of Akron is dethroned.

Part of the Lakers' success? Replacing sore losers like Vladimir Radmanovic with moustache-proven players like Adam Morrison.

I'm sorry but role players do have a role. Derek Fisher, Lamar Odom, and Luke Walton know their roles; they don't need to score every game. They do what they can to help the team. That's why bench points is a statistic. That's why Jordan Farmar, Sasha Vujacic, and Trevor Ariza play well and you don't Vladimir. You're the odd man out; don't hate.

I wouldn't be surprised now to see Adam Morrison come in for a few minutes a game, hit some open threes because Kobe will create the open shot for him, and eventually win a NBA championship, and hopefully make Michael Jordan look less like a basketball operations idiot, a la Kwame Brown.

The season's two-thirds over, and the Lakers have the best record in the league. Enjoy this upcoming NBA All Star weekend, and wait for the Lakers to dominate in the playoffs. I'm sure many people will jump on the Laker bandwagon sooner or later.

Nostalgia Friday: Empty Backyards, The Story of the Luckiest Unlucky Dog, Roxy

When I was a kid, my uncle used to live with us. He occupied the guest room of our house for some time. At the time, I wasn’t sure how long he was staying there for, I don’t think anyone knew, but my parents seemed okay with that. He’s the kind of uncle that’s always joyful under any negative circumstance, the kind of happy go lucky uncle that’s fun to be around. So naturally, when he brought home a puppy without notice, he didn’t think anything of it. My parents on the other hand were none to happy about our new, unexpected roommate. Nonetheless, we were promised that the dog was only temporary and that it would be gone the day he moved out. We named that dog Tito, after Michael Jackson’s brother, even though my sister and I were well aware that our dog was a girl. My uncle tried to sway us away from our naming decision, but we wouldn’t hear of it. There are some arguments you just can’t win against kids.
My family tolerated that dog, and it’s not like we had to tolerate much because that dog was extremely well mannered. She never destroyed anything, never barked too much, and never had fits of rage. Perhaps it was because every time I saw Tito, she had fear in her eyes. She wasn’t exactly the bravest dog around, and she was always too scared to cause any trouble.

When my uncle finally decided to move out of our house, he broke his promise. The dog was staying with us because his new place didn’t allow pets. Thus, the dog was officially ours. Yet in a sense, it really wasn’t. We fed her, we bathed her, we took her on walks, we played with her, we did things that all good dog owners do. Yet, every time I spent time with that dog, I just did it because I felt sorry for her. She would look at me with her sad eyes when we played, and I never understood why she was so sad. Basically, Tito was kind of a wet blanket, so it was hard to have a connection with that dog.

Tito lived well past her prime, all the way until 17. When I got her, I was only 4. When she passed away, I was 21, and a junior in college. The course of Tito’s life was rather uneventful. She never really liked to play fetch, never chased things, was never really active. She just slept a lot, even when she was healthy. As she got older, she started to break down like all things do. She got a little blinder, a little deafer, and a lot sleepier. By the time she was an old maid, you could tell, she was ready to go.

I remember the night she passed away. I had just come back from a night out at Dave and Busters. The only key to the house I had was through the back yard, so I decided to see how Tito was doing. At first glance it looked like she was sleeping, but when I clapped my hands and she didn’t wake up, I knew. The next day, we took our 17 year old dog that had passed away to the Humane Society to cremate her.

When Tito passed away, I wasn’t really that sad. I mean, we had the dog for a long time, but like I stated earlier, I felt no connection to her. Throughout all the years we had her, Tito wasn’t exactly man’s best friend. She did as she pleased, and what that meant was just a bunch of moping around. Perhaps we never bonded because we weren’t her original owners, our uncle was. The only thing I was sad about was just the sense of normalcy she gave us, because I had her for such a long time in my life that it became a routine thing to see her trot in our backyard. When she died, that feeling was gone, and inside I felt like life at home was out of whack.

I didn’t feel right though that I wasn’t sad. I felt like I should have mourned her loss more, but I didn’t. Thus that day forward, I vowed that if I did have another dog, and it did pass away, that I would mourn, not because it was gone, but because I loved it.

A few months have passed, and home life still seemed out of whack. Every time I would come home from Berkeley, I would expect a furry little friend there scampering in the backyard like Tito would. That was not the case. Thus, around Christmas time, I convinced my parents we should get another dog. My parents were skeptical at first considering I was in college and only came home once every few weeks, but I was graduating soon, meaning I would be home a lot more often in a few months. Thus, they agreed.

We went to the pound during my Christmas break to see what lovable little mutt would be our new family dog. I looked around at the different pens. Some dogs were so excited to see human interaction. Some of the older ones were more withdrawn, probably heartbroken because some cruel owner abandoned them, and now they were stuck wasting their days in the pound. After I looked at few of the cages, I came upon a curious sight. There in front of me was little pup, but she was a bit different. While all the other pups were excited from the get go to see a new potential owner, this one just sat silently in her cage observing me while I was observing her. It was unique, so I decided to tell the worker that this dog was the one.

The worker took the little Rotty-mutt into a play area and I greeted my new pal. At first she was afraid, cautiously moving toward the stranger person in front of her, but then I gave her a friendly pat on the head. In that instant she was won over. Her tail immediately started to wag. We got all the paper work done, and the little Rotty was ours. Her collar originally read Margot, but that was such an old lady name. I decided to name her Roxy, the fun kind of name that this fun kind of dog deserved.

Roxy was by no means a Tito. Roxy was full of energy, sniffing every little crook and nanny in her sight. I remember sometimes her curiosity would get the better of her. In her early years she decided that her new favorite snack would be charcoal. About five minutes later, she learned that wasn’t such a good idea. It was always that curiosity that made me adore the lovable mutt. She was always happy to learn about the world around her, and even when encountering negative consequences, she basked in the joy she found in discovering life’s simplest things.

Eventually, Roxy grew to be quite a big dog. She easily weighed over 70 pounds and on the outside, appeared to be an uncontrollable beast ready to destroy anything in her path. This couldn’t be farther from the truth though. Upon first encounter, one could be understandably shaken when she charged full speed in his or her direction. But, when she applied the breaks, all you could see was a wide smile and a look that screamed “pet me.” Dogs are such endearing friends compared to the friends that we make with each other. When humans meet each other, it’s never a certainty the affection is reciprocated. But when a human sees their dog, they’re usually happy simply because it’s a guarantee that their dog is happy to see them. If only all friendships had such blind loyalty.

Roxy lived like this for a while, without a care in the world. She was a good dog, and most of all she was a good dog when I needed it the most. Getting adjusted to life after graduation can be a tough thing. All of a sudden you realize you’re a responsible adult, and the real world was actually quite real. There was no longer time to slack around or just lay about because of laziness. Your friends were also just as busy as you, and free time was a hard thing to come by. It’s not like in college when hanging out is often your full time job, and school is your hobby.

Instead, it’s just you in your cube, wondering if about so many aspects of your life. What you did wrong, what did you right, and what got you to this point. Life after college is a time of reflection, often too much reflection. Sometimes the only thing that can put things back into your perspective is your dog, and so many times, Roxy did that job so well. Perhaps it’s because when I looked at her, I thought what a simple life this dog has, yet she still couldn’t enjoy it more. Maybe it’s just easier to adopt that carefree life style. In the end, Roxy often helped me maintain my sanity when it seemed like it felt like it was slipping away day by day.

And then the accident happened. I remember it so fast. One minute I was getting ready for a walk with my dad and the dog, the next minute I just heard my dad call out my name, telling me Roxy had been hit by a car. I quickly ran outside to see the damage that had been done, and boy, was there damage. Right in front of me was Roxy lying in a pool of her own blood, the lower part of her body soaked in red. It was quite a shock to see.

My dad had told me what happened. As he was opening the car door to let her in, she saw something across the street. It was probably a cat or small animal, so she quickly bolted over as fast as she could. She charged out so fast that she didn’t see a car coming straight at her. The car screeched its brakes, but it was late. Roxy was hit, tumbled a little. My dad thought that after the car hit her, it was over, but then Roxy quickly got up and ran to the backyard, as if some kind of miracle had happened. Actually, it was just the adrenaline.

So that’s how she ended up in the backyard where I saw her lying. The odd thing was that even though she sat there in unimaginable pain and blood around her, she still had her patented Roxy smile on her. I wasn’t quite sure what kept that smile going, but I soon figured out when my dad and I went in the house to get some towels. The second we were out of sight, I heard her crying in desperation. I peered back out to see what was the matter, and all I saw was the look of fear in her eye. My dad decided it was a better idea if I stayed with her while he got the things needed to clean her up and bring her to the vet.

Getting her to the vet was no easy task. We were anything but medical experts, so we didn’t know how to properly move her, fearing that one wrong nudge might cause her now fragile body to break. Thus, we had to do things slowly as she struggled in pain, flailing around wildly. After a long, tough task, we finally brought her to see what damage had been done.

After we brought her to the vet and they examined her to see what they could do. After several hours, it was revealed that her lower back had been fractured, but that the damage was not permanent. It was a relief to hear that and I was excited to see my buddy again. Only, when I saw her for the first time since her accident, her smile was gone, and her tail wasn’t wagging. Roxy didn’t look like the dog that I remembered, instead she looked like a different dog from my past: Tito. A dog who had a permanent melancholy about her. I could tell already she looked like a different dog.

For the next few weeks, Roxy wouldn’t be able to walk. Thus, my dad and I had to clean her and take care of her because she was completely helpless in this state. She knew this, and you could tell, she just couldn’t understand it. She couldn’t understand why she got hurt or why she couldn’t walk. She didn’t understand why it happened to her. She was depressed, and even though we gave her as much attention and love as we could during this time, it still wasn’t enough to replace the vulnerability she felt. Just like humans, dogs can self loathe too, and rightfully so.

Eventually, she began to move again, and within a month and a half, she fully recovered her ability to walk. Yet, even though physically, she was back to her old self, mentally, it just wasn’t he same dog. The accident didn’t only injure her legs, but it seemed to injure her head too. Roxy started to bark at things that weren’t there, she started to forget how big she was and began to get more physically aggressive, and she started to whine a lot more. It’s as if the accident had made her an emotional wreck. Before she would be happy with a simple pet and a simple hug, but now, it just wasn’t good enough. She would get sad and have fits of whining at things that were good enough before. It didn’t bother me that much, because I knew in the end, she was still the same lovable dog, but it just felt like it wasn’t the same dog. I still loved her regardless of her mental state.

Yet, after all of this, the saddest part in the aftermath of the accident, were the seizures. The first time I witnessed it, it was such a terrifying sight. One minute, I was getting her breakfast, the next minute, she just flopped on the ground and started to shake. It’s like she just went comatose, eyes open, on the ground, and convulsing. Then, a few seconds later she would get up and stumble about in a daze, slowly recovering her balance until she regained full mental capacity again. This was an entirely new experience for me. I’ve never seen a human have a stroke before, much less a dog, so I was very afraid for her.

The seizures happened periodically, about once every month. During this time, we went to the vet again to see what was wrong with her. The results were inconclusive, but they informed me canine epilepsy was not an uncommon thing. Thus, they gave us some medicine and told us to come back in a few months so they could check to see if there was any improvement. That was a few weeks ago.

In a sense, when the seizures started to happen, in the back of my mind, I knew that Roxy’s lifespan was going to be cut short. Yet, I didn’t know how short it was going to be cut, and I didn’t want to dwell on it. I just wanted to enjoy the time I had left with her. And then, a week ago, I got the call from my Mom. I was planning to go home for my weekly visit to my parents house when she told me, Roxy had passed away.

Normally at night, we keep Roxy in a pen that took up about a fifth of our backyard. This would keep her away from destroying the yard at night and also prevent her from wandering out of the house if she broke through a weak spot in our fence. We couldn’t keep her in the garage and my parents weren’t ready to take the leap to house train her. Roxy never enjoyed the pen, but before the accident, she tolerated it. After the accident though, every time we put her in there, she was desperate to break out. We tried everything we could to keep her in the pen at night, and put extra restraints when she was forceful enough to break out. Yet, it couldn’t be prevented, and it was inevitable she would find some way to be free.

Unfortunately, the night she broke out was also the night she had a seizure, and just like some freak accident, she had one and fell into our pool. Just like that, without any notice, in the middle of the night, Roxy was gone.

When I got home that day to say goodbye, I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Just a few days ago, Roxy was watching TV with me in our garage. I didn’t even think about what if there was no Roxy to watch TV with. I knew that Roxy’s time with us would not last long due to what she had been through, but I didn’t think how soon that would be. I remember later that day, we had dinner with my older sister who was visiting us from the city, and I was still trying to make sense of the days events. I guess I was mainly just feeling confused. I didn’t understand how a dog who probably thought she was so lucky had such an unlucky life.

Sometimes in life, it’s hard to let go. The saying can be old and worn, but it stands true: it just takes time. I guess I fulfilled the promised I made from the start, I was sad (and still am) that my dog had passed away.

Until then all that's left is an empty back yard filled with a rarely used basketball court and some old chew toys strewn about on the pavement. All you can hope for is that maybe one day those same chew toys will start to move again, and that same backyard won’t be empty anymore.

Best Golden State Warrior Team That Could Never Be

Heard this interesting broadcast on KNBR from Tom Tolbert and Ralph Barbieri, wanted to share it with everyone else...

It's safe to say that the Warriors' 2009 season is over. Any hopes of the miracle playoff run from two years ago were down the drain after Monta Ellis broke his ankle. Sorry Stephen Jackson, your first career triple double doesn't magically change the Warriors' record from 16-34 to 34-16. And thanking God for that feat won't bring a NBA championship to Oakland.

Time to look down the current lineup and make some necessary trades. Big names are leaving, but big men are coming back. Without further adieu, here's the new starting five for the Golden State Warriors:

C - 6'11" - Andris Biedrins PF - 6'10" - Chris Bosh SF - 6'9" - Brandan Wright SG - 6'9" - Tayshaun Prince PG - 6'10" - Anthony Randolph

I present to you an entire team of left-handed, tall and lanky players who are at least 6 feet 9 inches tall.

That's my dream team right there. Randolph can handle the ball; Prince can shoot and drive; Wright can drive and defend; Biedrins can rebound and run the pick-and-roll; Chris Bosh does just about everything, including PR for the team.


Like I said, we say goodbye to current stars like Monta "I fell off a moped" Ellis, Corey "I get injured every other week" Maggette, and Stephen "I'm the scariest looking mofo in the NBA" Jackson, but we've gained a definite playoff team every single year. We will set records for rebounds and blocks day in and day out. This team is like the Berlin Wall, unbreakable.

What about the bench? Who needs a bench when you got 5 palm trees standing in front of the little twig pole of a basketball hoop. But if you must, we will add a couple more 6'9" and over lefties to our squad, although they're a little overweight in accordance with our team standards.

Oh, what the heck! Josh Smith (6'9"), Troy Murphy (6'11"), and Lamar Odom (6'10"), go sit on the bench!

F--k! What Did I Do To Deserve This?!?

"Oops, wrong Cable"

February 4, 2009, Tom Cable sits at the breakfast table. He has just picked up the Oakland Tribune from his front door.

Man, what a great morning. It’s so sunny outside, and I can’t remember the last time I got so much sleep. *Yawn* A good day to start the day. Let’s see what’s in the paper… Hmmm…. Looks like the GOP is already starting to complain about this stimulus package… geez can’t we all just agree on something? Oh well, let’s switch over to the sports section… Hmmm, looks like the Celtics won in a close one…. The Sharks are do-……Oh………shit….

Looks at the paper closer.

Oh…..shit……………………

Looks at the paper again.

Holy….. fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Drops paper on the ground. Sports page headline reads “Tom Cable hired as Oakland Raiders head coach.”

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK…………….FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Head coach? Head coach….!?! OF THE FREAKIN’ OAKLAND RAIDERS?!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GOD, WHY!??!? WASN’T THAT JOB ROB RYAN’S FOR THE TAKING?!? I’M JUST AN OFFENSIVE LINE COACH?!!? WHAT THE HELL?!?! WHY, GOD, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?!?!

Cable reaches for a paper bag, starts breathing into it.

How the hell did I get this job anyway? Wasn’t my 11-35 record at Idaho enough to sway them away for me. Or my losing record as interim coach? I mean, I was no Mike Singletary. I thought if I lost enough, it’d be a sure fire way to not get this job. 4-8 doesn’t exactly scream head coach material. Neither does offensive line coach. I thought I had the credentials to not get hired. Damn.

Gets glass of water. Splashes it on his face.

Okay, calm down Tommy Boy. It can’t be that bad. I mean times are hard, I should be grateful I’m getting a promotion. People are looking for jobs now and I’m complaining, c’mon now Tom, that ain’t right. I should be ha-……………………. ah who am I kidding? I’m coaching the Raiders. The Raiders!!! Aggggh! Look at what they did too Lane. They practically destroyed him. What could be worse?

Phone beeps.

Hmm, looks like I have a voice message.

Hey, Tom, it’s me, Al. I just wanted to congratulate you on your new position. I’m very excited about the choice I made and I’m looking forward to a successful future. By the way, I’ll be collecting your soul today at one thirty. I’d get it during lunch, but I have my daily lunch with Satan at that time. See you soon!

FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!