The Adventures of Greggy and Kev the Wunderkind

Volume 1, Issue 3... Auf wiedersehen, Rosco

Up Yours, Internet

One aspect of the blogger-led revolution on sports commentary is the highly-trumpeted and touted Democratizing of Sports Commentary. That is to say, for you sports bloggers out there, we've finally wrested control of sports commentary from the Sports Commentary Elite and given a voice to the little guy. There's a problem with this, though, which is the assumption that the little guy always has something worthwhile to say. Middle Foam Finger deals with the issue of not having something worthwhile to say by well, not saying anything. Some may claim that this is laziness on our part, while we prefer to think of it as "Quality Control". However, most of the rest of the Internet doesn't have the wherewithal, foresight or rugged good looks to hold themselves in check like ourselves and instead relies on repetition of textual diarrhea which in its highest form consists of nothing more than summaries of what other crap people have posted elsewhere on the internet today. Which is a roundabout way to getting to the subject of today's bile-infested spittle-fest: is there anything more inane or banal than ESPN.com's Featured Comment? Like clockwork, these comments are always something that if you closed your eyes, you could imagine being uttered, along with scraps of buffalo wings, from some genius with a Red Sox hat even though he's from Indiana, saying after he's had about two beers two many* shortly before the bartender tells everybody that they're far too stupid to not go home. And why is this comment on the ESPN.com front page? Well one, it's free content, and that's nothing to turn your nose up at. Two, it shows that ESPN is "hip with the kids" by allowing user-created content, probably just so that ESPN executives can avoid criticism that they're ruining sports coverage in America (and increasingly, the rest of the world as well) by pointing out that the most utterly brain-stomping piece of crapulence on their home page is straight from the fans, meaning that instead of ruining things, they're just giving people what they want. Nevermind that these are probably the worst possible advertisement for sports fan comments possible (the second-worst possible being the comments on Deadspin, which we are contractually obliged to hate on because Leitch totally bogarted OUR logo for the cover of his brand-spanking new and assuredly financially-successful book, just wait Leitch, our solicitors will be contacting you shortly). Nevermind that the only possible rational reaction to these things is to vow never to view ESPN.com comments unless you are very very drunk, along the same lines of those late-night visits to lisasparxx.com interspersed with visits to chick.com and then back again. Actually wait, you should mind! You go ahead and mind this shit. I may have just had someone stare crosseyed at me while I sit here digging my finger two knuckles deep into my ear while I'm supposed to be working and I'm still three steps higher on the evolutionary ladder than half of the so-called sports bloggage out there. The Democratization of the Blogogogogosphere does not mean the Retardification of the Sports Fan**. Resist the urge of posting just because you can. If you don't have anything smart to say, don't say it at all. * - So, three. ** - Or at least, not any more so.

Wise Fwom Yo Gwave

Okay, we've been sleeping for a while. Rip Van Foam Finger, or something like that. However, something needed to be said after one of the most satisfying results for Haters worldwide. Is there really anything more satisfying than seeing the underdog pull it off? Than seeing Papa Bouba Diop freak after scoring against France for Senegal? Than seeing Doug Flutie jump around like a 4-year-old who actually got the basketball through the hoop? Okay, maybe not the last one because that was a Baaaaaaahston Sports Moment and if nothing else, this year has taught us that there's nothing quite as aggravating as a smug and condescending Boston sports fan, chortling at their World Series win, their best record in the NBA, their perfect Patri... Oh... Oh. Oh! Oh, I can hardly describe the feeling, the glee, of seeing Perfect Tom Brady, Perfect Bill Belichick and the Perfect Patriots taste the sour sour grapes of losing to the Goofy Manning* and the New York Giants, who were probably the fourth-, maybe third-best team in the NFC. Way to go, Greatest Team in the History of the World Ever. Thanks for making my week, my month, my year. Let the Haterade flow. * - That's fucking hard to do people, if you're immediately identifiable as the goofiest member of *that* family.