Like the shirt says.

"Benjamin Todd "Ben" Roethlisberger (born March 2, 1982), nicknamed Big Ben, is an American football quarterback for the Pittsburgh Steelers of the National Football League. He was drafted by the Steelers 11th overall in the 2004 NFL Draft. He played college football at Miami University (Oxford, Ohio). Roethlisberger earned the AP NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year in 2004. He became the youngest Super Bowl–winning quarterback in NFL history in his second professional season at the age of 23. He currently ranks 9th all-time in NFL passer rating (91.7), 5th in yards per attempt (8.01), and 8th in completion percentage (63.29%) among quarterbacks with a minimum of 1500 career attempts. He has the 5th highest winning percentage (.698) as a starter in the regular season among quarterbacks with a minimum of 80 starts. "

Thank you for that Wikipedia. The world is now a much wiser and better place because of you. However we feel you don't always tell the whole story. For example nowhere in that paragraph did you mention that Ben Roethlisberger is huge flaming douchebag. For Gods sake how is that not your intro for the guy? He looks like a what would happen if One-Eyed Willy from The Goonies and Roseanne Barr got together and did the horizontal hustle. Talk about needing the morning after pill..... too soon? Not soon enough? Well, we only speak the truth around here. So deal. This isn't going to be our most PG article, so if your are easily offended go learn How to Train your Dragon. Let's get Ugly.

First off, how can you not be a douchebag when you get a sexual assault charge brought against you while your sexual assault from LAST YEAR is still in court? Seriously, at least Kobe had some class when he held off on raping women until his case had been finished! Rothelisdouche always has a little smirk on his face like he just got away with something and that makes us want to slap him with our swizzle stick. Everyone who meets him wants to do exactly what god did to him in 2006; put him on a motorcycle without a helmet and throw him through the windshield of an oncoming car. Why, oh why Satan did you have to save his life? On the flipside, God why did you trade his death away for some twizzlers and a six pack of yoohoos? The movie rights alone would have been worth letting him die. Look how good The Blindside just did. We're just saying. Usually when someone goes through a life changing near death experience they come out of wiser and less of a douchebag. Not Big Ben.

Poor life choices aside, lets breakdown exactly what he has accomplished on the gridiron. Multiple Pro Bowls, Multiple Super Bowl Wins. As we stated earlier, he ranks top 10 in nearly every major statistical category for his position. However when you start to dig a little deeper, the ball of yarn begins to unravel. His two super bowl wins come against arguably two of the worst franchises from the past 40 years; the Seattle Seahawks and the Arizona Cardinals. Should we be impressed? Because we are not. The Seahawks are about as good as an XFL team, and the Cardinals are the Clippers of the NFL. Ahhh Burn. Secondly he is about as ugly as a wart on a mexican hairless. But we digress...

Rothelisburger could have been known as a great quarterback, something we sadly admit with the taste of vomit in our mouths. He plays for a stacked team, with one of the most smashmouth, dominating defenses of the early millennium and the good fortune to be in one of the most well managed and storied franchises of the NFL. Instead, we know him now for his epic fuckups; be it throwing women down flights of stairs, molesting Harrah's casino employees, or taking a plate glass windshield to the mouth without a helmet. This guy either can't or won't accept the destiny that awaits him if he just plays the game and stops doing retarded things. To us, all the better. Because the sooner he's suspended or cut, the sooner begins the Dennis Dixon era and the sooner Ducks fans can move on from Joey Harrington (We don't care how good Matthew Stafford is or what he can do; the Detroit Lions are a black hole for quarterbacks... and we aren't just saying that because we're still bitter about Joey Harrington... fuck it, what are we saying. YOU RUINED HIS CAREER DETROIT!!!! FUCK YOU!!!!)

Yamabethur America and good night.

Home Alone Part 97-Bracket Busters

Well we had a whole March Madness article all typed up and ready to hit the presses until we caught a little snag. You see we are granted certain amenities as such highly regarded sports writers. Front row seats, luxury suites, anything fancy and/or free you better believe we have indulged beyond our wildest dreams. So when ESPN contacted us and requested that we cover the entire tournament on their dime, how could we say no? We could use some free love, and not the type you get from a $5 Asian masseuse, after the month we have had. The University of Oregon has put us through so much heartbreak recently that Taylor Swift is currently working on a song for her new album called "I choked out my bitch and stole her laptops". Kinda catchy right? However, as they say hindsight is 20-20. If we had known what kind of bermuda-triangle type bad luck would be coming our way, we would have just stayed in our matching snuggies drinking some PBR’s while watching the madness unfold at home.

As we arrived at the airport last week, we couldn't have been more ready to spend time with Digger and the crew while we made bold predictions that had a snow balls chance in hell of happening. (So pretty much what Mel Kiper Jr has been doing for the past 30 years.) As we entered the airport and headed toward the closest bar, we got settled in for what was sure to be an unforgettable couple of weekends. Ten to twelve Jager Bombs later we were ready to board the plane and head to our first set of opening round games. We just had to use the restroom and board the plan. It all seems so simple now. Why oh why did Sean have to change the batteries in his TalkBoy? To make a long story short, Sean hasn't been seen or heard from in two weeks and Kyle is stuck inside a closed terminal at the Spokane airport too scared to venture outside. We have not seen any live or televised games, and as far as we both know our brackets are in great shape. Go Kansas Go!

Jellyball? Jaleel White? No, its Jai-alai...

Back in our Miami days, we used to spend our time drinking Mimosas on South Beach and jaberjawing with local celebs like Don Johnson and Merlin Olsen. Those were easy days, full of sunshine and beautiful women, days when arguing about sports was the last thing on our mind. It seemed like the sprawling South Florida sun had conquered our anger and our competitiveness was shifting towards laziness. Little did we know that all would change when we stumbled upon a dusty old gym that held a prize more valuable than a giant gold statue of Joe Montana; our destiny. Inside that ramshackle old warehouse a supremely beautiful game was being played, an activity that some call the game of Kings. That game was none other than the legendary sport of Jai-alai, or Murderball as it is called in Bangkok or Jakarta. It was so beautiful that it stole the air right from our lungs. True love, ladies and gents, only happens but once in a blue moon, and for us, it happened when we laid our eyes on the most majestic of all athletic endeavors.

A salty one-eyed Cuban fellow named Juanitaz noticed our interest in the game and took us under his wing. He was the Mick to our Rocky and taught us all of the ins and outs of the game. For those who haven't ever seen or heard of Jai-alai, we'll teach you the basics and try to enlighten you on the single greatest ball slinging event to hit the world since Monica Lewinski. Now we're sure you're saying to yourselves isn't this Jellyball sport just some weird foreign take on racket ball? The answer is no. Sure the components are similar, but you need something a little tougher than little blue rubber balls to play Jai alai. You need the balls of a man, or at least a ball covered with goatskin that can withstand the speeds of 188 MPH. 188 MPH?!?! That's faster than Lindsey Lohan was going when she slammed her Mercedes into a wall, and she was high on coke! Mmmmm, Mean Girls...... Sorry, we got lost in thought...... Pants back on, and back to Jai alai. The rules are simple. It's a mans game, and the sport requires you to either put up or shut up. A Jai-alai game is played in round robin format, usually between eight teams of two players each or eight single players. The first team to score 7 or 9 points wins the game. Simple rules for the simple man. For God's sake, the most interesting man in the world plays as as witnessed in his Dos Equis commercial. "His beard alone has experienced more than a lesser man’s entire body."

"Think of it as handball on steroids AND crack" Juanitaz told us as we took the court for the first time, Kyle in the frontcourt and Sean in the back. Naturally we dominated our opponents in the regular Angry Guys fashion you great people have come to expect from us. For 30 minutes that Cancha (Court) was ours and we flew around it like two bee stung badgers on a mission. Kyle served up some lightening fast goodness for our opponents who were barely quick enough to dive out of their way. Sean continually climbed the left wall to dig out hard to reach balls with his Cesta (Fancy looking wicker glove) only to fire them back with the passion of a South Miami sunset. The game ended when Kyle dropped a wicked difficult "chula" shot on the opposition (the Jai-alai version of baby bounces) which sent them diving to the floor. Bloodied and bruised, the losers stayed down on the floor as the Angry Guys were crowned the best new thing in Jai-alai since the Pelota. For the next year, with Juanitaz at our side as manager, we barnstormed around the world challenging the greatest supposed Jai-alai champions to games with everything on the line. We beat Kevin Pacquiao (Manny's little brother and one of the Philippines greatest Jai-alai players) in double OT with a thriller of a battle. We won the prestigious Francisco Churruca Cup, named after the greatest Jai-alai baller ever and even had our Cestas retired in the homeland of the game, Basque. Yes, it goes without saying that at the end of the year, our competitive batteries had been recharged and we were ready to once again roam the Earth arguing about sports and sports related topics.

Jai-alai is truly the sport of kings and should be practiced all over the US rather than just in South Florida and some shady gambling establishments in the Northeast.Yamabethur!

BOOMSHAKALAKA!

Natural talent isn't something that can be measured. Certain athletes are just blessed with that "IT" factor. There isn't one thing that makes them great, it’s a multitude of different factors coming together to make them multi-talented superstar. These skills are easy to recognize in real life. Throughout history, there have been a handful of players just give off that vibe of " I'm 10 times better then you and there is nothing you can do about it". Obviously, the first few that come to mind are LeBron and MJ. No matter what they do, they are just simply better than everyone else. (With the obvious exception of MJ's failed baseball career. The Birmingham Barons. Really? ) Which brings us to our main point. In our 21st century hi-tech, iPhone world, how do those skills translate to video games? How do you make a player be as unstoppable in a game as they are out on the battlefield? Lucky for all of you, we don't have the chops to cut it in the big leagues, but we have been ballin' since the 16-bit era, and over the years we have encountered a few of these juggernauts. We have been through Bo Jackson in Techmo, to Mike Vick's pre-dog killing days in Madden '04. We've been part of a group of drunken freshman playing NFL Blitz on the N64 in a cramped dorm room trying to decide who has to shave their head with a bic razor. (True story) The world of sports video games spans every generation and even brings cultures together. Heck, with the help of XBOX Live we can make nearly any 12 year old Russian kid cry from the comfort of our own living-room. So without further ado we offer to you a brief tour around the Sports Video Game Universe.

As children, we never really received the "proper" amount of adult supervision. We relied more on the TV and whichever game system we could afford back then. We may not be able to recite the Pledge of Allegiance, but damn it we can name every playable duo available in the Original NBA Jam. NBA Jam changed everything in the video game world. It allowed you to take a two-man crew from your favorite team into a cutting edge virtual world; a world in which you could jump 50 feet in the air, push people to the ground without getting a foul and literally catch on fire. No game consumed more of our young childhood than the Jam and no game outside of red rover caused more of our broken bones. What ten-year-old kid didn't almost kill themselves by jumping off a ladder towards a Nerf hoop while flipping in the air??? Anyone? Anyone? Because our hospital floor was full of other kids in full body casts when we broke ourselves trying to Boomshakalaka. We're pretty sure sure NBA Jam crippled more kids than the lead based paint on cheap toys from China... Too soon? Not soon enough! We will forever thank NBA Jam for its equal opportunity dunking skills, allowing the likes of John Stockton and Detlef Schrempf to get equally high as the preeminent skywalkers of the early 90's like Shawn Kemp and Dominique. And we will always worship the Jam for giving us the on fire rule which, in any sport, gives an individual some kind of reward for sinking three consecutive shots. From beer pong to Jai Lai, Jam's power is felt worldwide.

With the exception of "The Jam", there are only two other relevant sports related video games that come to mind. The first is a game that has not only stood the test of time but one that has actually affected the way its sport is played. We are of course talking about the granddaddy of them all, John Madden Football. There have been many heated arguments settled on the Madden gridiron, especially between these two angry fellows. Without this release valve for our aggression we are certain that we would have hit sticked ourselves into oblivion in real life. This is a video game franchise that over the years has faced many hurdles, from licensing agreements to a rumored cover curse but has always remained on top. It continues to push the edge in realistic graphics in a video game, so much so that we can see a time in the not so distant future where our smell-o-visions will be able to pick up the stinky sweat smell of some 300 plus pound offensive lineman's jockstraps. A great feature of Madden is the franchise mode where you are given the reigns of your favorite team and allowed to build it into a Super Bowl producing machine. Many fans of terrible teams have played their pain away by turning their shitty squads into contenders. If we could just import our fantasy 49ers into real life the universe would be a much better place... god we miss the 80's and 90's! (Steve Young will you marry us? It's San Francisco for God’s sake.) Madden's cover boys, cursed as they are, are always given a special place in that year's version of the game. When Michael Vick graced the cover of the 2004 edition, he was able to run faster than the time it takes for Panda Express to run through your body. He was like Elliot Ness, an Untouchable a god among mere mortals. There was an unspoken rule between all Madden users that nobody could play as the Falcons. He was so unfair to play with that he was banned from regular competition. It was like bringing a machine gun to a knife fight, just not fair. Of course the stardom that comes with being on the cover does not always work out for the featured athlete. Many athletes follow it up by either sucking hard the next season or having their body explode. How do you explain a former MVP (Shaun Alexander) going from 27 TD's to 7 in a year? Curse! Or a massive freak of a QB coming off 3 massive knee surgeries a few years after being the cover stud? Curse! For God's sake, within a season of being on the cover both of them were jockeying for position at the unemployment office rather than drinking Crystal on Diddy's yacht during Super Bowl week! It's gotten to the point where so many players have refused to be on the cover of Madden that they opened it up to the public in a contest sponsored by Doritos. So keep your eyes peeled for this year's version with America's pretty boy Tony Romo on the cover. (We’re just kidding. We all know Dallas fans aren't smart enough to figure out how to vote.)

Our love for Madden goes hand in hand with another great game. We are of course talking about the 64-bit smack fest known as NFL Blitz. There are many reasons this game is no longer in existence, first off the fact that the NFL won't let them make it anymore so there is that. But mostly, it knew it's limits and never reached beyond them. This wasn't a lifelike simulation; this was a shit talker's paradise. A game in which you could late hit your opponents and crush their bodies and souls in one fluid butt smash. The final score usually ended up looking like an NBA game from the 80's instead of a standard NFL game but that's why we loved it. As well it was a perfect drinking game, allowing you to chug beer after beer as the turnovers racked up and touchdown drives took 30 seconds. God bless you Blitz and God bless you college; we miss you both.

Sports video games are a way of life and have changed us for the better by giving us a virtual first person perspective of a pro athlete's life on the hardwood and the gridiron. For every guy and girl out there who has not experienced the greatness of sports video games, shame on you! Don't be afraid of the sticks! Go out, grab a copy of madden and devote about 2 weeks of you life to getting your skills up to par. Trust us it will change your life, just make sure you have plenty of practice under belt if you want to challenge either of these sports giants to a virtual duel. Yamabethur!

Faces not even a mother could love...

Since the dawn of time there have been less then attractive people roaming the earth. Living amongst all of us, yet never truly accepted. We exist in a society where beauty is valued higher then all other qualities but only until the most recent of times have these horrible looking human beings been able to revel in glory. For centuries we have cast stones at these creatures, now we understand that ugliness and skill are not synonymous. People like Ben Roethlisberger and Peyton Manning are featured in television commercials for beauty products broadcast on HD TV sets the world wide. No longer do we shove flaming torches in their faces, instead we allow them all to compete on an even playing field and sometimes we even allow them to win championships. By the time you have finished reading this article, we hope to leave you saying one thing and one thing only..."Damn those are some ugly mofo's". Thats right folks, in the style of the Sport's Illustrated Swim Suit Edition, we The Angry Guys offer you OUR starting line-up for the ugliest NBA athletes of All-Time. Far warning, this could get ugly........ Now that's punny....... and on that note......


NBA's Ugliest of All-Time


PG: Sam Cassell

Standing 6 ft 3 out of Florida State University, the one, the only, the original Space Jam
Martian playing for
our hearts.
Sam Cassell.

Never has there been an athlete quite like Sam Cassell, a man so ugly that he could be compared to multiple Hollywood creatures. Does he look like should be climbing Mt. Mordor with Sam and Frodo? Yes. Does he look like he should be wrapped in a blanket and flying in front of the moon while Eliot peddles towards freedom? Very much so. So we have here a man who looks like a horrible combination of a space alien and a creepy hobbit man. At this point you are probably wondering how this guy isn't locked in a cage in some adventures collection, and the answer is simple. Ball don't know ugly, and thats how a man like this can go on to be a three time NBA Champion and two time NBA All-Star. Bless the USA, where an Illegal hobbit alien can earn millions of dollars and live the dream.


SG: Rick Barry

Not only was Rick Barry an ugly individual but he also had the ugliest free throw shot ever; the granny shot. Yes, an actual NBA player used to use the granny shot to shoot from the charity stripe. With small squinty eyes, translucent skin and a bald head covering that looked like he skinned a shitzu, Rick Barry can be considered the grandfather of ugly NBA players. He is, quite literally, father to four OTHER ugly NBA players. Jon and Brent are probably the most recognizable but let's not forget Drew and Scooter. Together this five-some of Ugly Barrys could have a very lucrative career opening up a freakshow. Personally we would pay them just to remove themselves from the public eye so we don't have to see them anymore. That recurring dream where Rick Barry's toupee is chasing us is just happening too often for comfort, Rick just make it stop! So Rick, while you were a stud basketball player in your own time you make our list because you've passed your hideous and disfigured genes on too many times. If you ever see a Barry kick them in the nuts to prevent them from breeding. Trust us, you're doing the world a huge favor.






SF: Larry Bird

One of the greatest if not the greatest basketball player of the 1980's, Larry Legend is quite possibly the ugliest person ever to come out of the Ugliest named town ever (French Lick... seriously, WTF?). So ugly he was the only guy in the 80's who couldn't pull off the mustache. So ugly he was originally cast as the face of Darth Vader in Return of the Jedi but had to pullout because of scheduling conflicts. We love you Larry because you are one of the greatest to ever play the game but, goddamn, your face makes us cry when we look at it.








PF: Shelden Williams


It almost seems mean for us to pick on this guy. But then you look at how life has turned out for him. He has faced a lot of obstacles in his life, yet time and time again he has overcome. He got kicked in the face by a mule at the tender age of 8, got hit with an ugly stick every day throughout high school, but he overcame. He went to Duke and nearly led them to multiple championships. As we all know good things come to those who wait, and boy oh boy did Sheldon hit the jackpot. He managed to land the only relatively good looking WNBA player in league history, when he knocked up and married Candace Parker. So he might be uglier then one of the Ah! Real Monsters, but he is going to be laying on a bed made of money in his 70's from all the skrilla their freaky 7ft basketball babies are going to make. God Bless you Shelden Williams, you ugly SOB.






C: Chris Kaman

It's never a good sign when your nickname is "The Caveman". It's an even worse sign when anthropologists use pictures of your face to get a better understanding of what Neanderthals looked like in the flesh. Such is the life of Chris Kaman, the white giant currently starting for the LA Clippers at center. Naturally an ugly man, Chris of course made it worse for himself by growing his wispy balding blond hair long and not shaving. Maybe he did it so that people would say, "well, if he just cleaned himself up maybe he would look better." Didn't happen. Welcome to the ugly Hall of Fame Chris, you were a shoe-in.







6th Man: Luis Scola

GOW: "Scola has to be one of the top 5 ugliest people I have ever seen do anything. And that includes watching aging hippies attempt to hoola hoop to bluegrass music in rural Oregon. It looks like he’s not even trying. With a face like that, one would think that he would at least get a haircut and maybe a shave, but not Scola! God bless him. He looks like somebody took one of those really manly WNBA stars and hit her in the face with a snow shovel full of grease, facial hair and awkward teeth. Even Chris Kaman eventually figured out that the long hair is not the way to go, and I’m not sure that guy owns a mirror."


NOTE: This is not a pick we condone, but our editor threatened to destroy us and everything we hold dear by using any of the three unforgivable curses from Harry Potter if we didn't include this guy.





Coach: Jeff Van Gundy

Most people who watch basketball on TV will often hear commentary that helps them better understand the game. Broadcast teams are usually made up of ex-coaches who know the game very well and are able to break down the ins and outs of basketball so that average people can understand. This does not happen with Jeff Van Gundy. Instead you get insight that would shame Charles Barkley. It's not that what he says doesn't make sense, its the fact that it has nothing to do with basketball. Formerly the coach of the Houston Rockets, Van Gundy has the sunken eyes of a sardine, the bald head shimmer of a newly waxed bowling ball and the voice a asmatic 13 year old nerd who puts his underwear on too tight. He's so ugly that Steve Buschemi is his doppleganger, wasn't the only way the hookers in Fargo could describe him was "He was funny lookin' eh?". It's never good when your brother who looks like Ron Jeremy is described as the "Hot Brother". So in conclusion, too ugly to coach, too ugly to commentate, but just right for this glorious list of ugo's.



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STOP BREAKING THE FUCKING LAW!!!!

Dear all Duck athletes,

We Angry Guys have been around for a while and have learned many things. Much of our wisdom comes from living life experiences that would blow the minds of most ordinary people. We taught Dumbo how to fly, taught Eminem how to freestyle, taught William Shakespeare how to write. Through all of these experiences we have learned one golden rule that will lead you to success: DON"T BREAK THE MOTHERFUCKING LAW!!!!!!! While it seems cool at the time, breaking the law never has positive consequences on your career unless you're a mobster or a gangsta rap artist. And while we've been brought in multiple times by our equally rich and aesthetically pleasing Uncle Phil (we're choking on those words as we write them) to teach University of Oregon duck athletes this lesson, they keep showing that they were sleeping through class. From Jerimiah Masoli's five fingered romp through a Eugene Fraternity to the recent allegations that LaMichael FancyFeet James pulled a Latrell Spreewell on his girlfriend, this class of Oregon ducks just doesn't know how to stay on the right side of the law. Boys, let's break it down one last time... When you play well and go to class you have the chance to become an Oregon gridiron legend and make millions of dollars in the NFL. Let's look at recent Duck success stories: Dennis Dixon, Jonathan Stewart, Jarius Byrd, Joey Harrington. Some of those players may not have made it in the NFL (oh Joey...) they still made way more money in a few years than most Duck graduates will make in a lifetime. And, guess what? They're still obsessively worshipped by all Oregon Duck Faithful! If all else fails they could always become a bartender at Taylor's and RAKE IN the tips (Ok, we're dreaming but wouldn't it be awesome to see Joey mixing you a Long island at Taylor's? It would be like an Oregon version of Cheers). Here are the list of talented football players who broke the law, let's see if we can find out what they all have in common: Maurice Clarett, Pacman Jones, Donte Stallworth, Plaxico Burress. Stumped? They're all either in prison, out of the league or making way less money than they should. And you know why??? THEY BROKE THE FUCKING LAW!!!!!!! So as much as you want to steal a laptop which, I'm sure if you asked nice Phil Knight would buy you, or the next time you want to punch out another team's linebacker don't do it. Just pull a George Costanza and do the EXACT OPPOSITE thing that you would normally do in that situation. We're sure it's the right thing to do. And for all you Duck athletes out there doing the right thing we ask you for a favor. Don't let the talented idiots on your team out of your sight for a second... literally. Follow them into the bathroom. Share a room with them bunk bed style. Go to every one of their classes... and bring them with you. Because, you see, you need them to succeed. These guys are first grade morons and when they have millions of dollars you'll be able to con them into giving you money for things like cars, houses and business loans. Think of the time you spend keeping them out of trouble as an investment in your future self. Again, don't break the law and good things will happen to you. Follow that rule and stop destroying our football season before it starts.

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A few tall tales from some large gents.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the sports world, nay the sports universe. We, the two most handsome, ingenious and knowledgeable lads to ever be seen, (also known to you as the Angry Guys) have found a piece never before seen by our reading public. It was locked away in the Angry Guy Vault. You see, when Scrouge McDuck passed on a few years back, he willed his massive vault with all his money to the Angry Guys. He was always a man of great taste and enjoyed the Angry Guys so much when we wrote for the Wilson Statesman that he wanted to make sure that we would have all the money we ever needed so that we could focus all of our energies to writing these fantastic pieces for you, the adoring public.( However after several trips to Vegas, and countless parties with Mike Tyson, we found ourselves in worse financial shape then the NHL. ) We decided to lock ourselves in the vault and get to work, fueled by King Size Double Cheeseburger meals and Jack Daniel's Whiskey (What spinach is to Popeye, JD is to Sean). Things went well for about a year, with the Angry Guys producing masterpiece after masterpiece of fine crafted angry prose when the smell of money began to get to our magnificently large heads. Arguments were had, looks were exchanged and faces were made, culminating in the argument of all arguments in which, after debating for months who was the better Division II football mascot, Kyle spontaneously combusted and destroyed most of the vault. Only being able to reconcile at the beginning of last year, we Angry Guys made a promise never to visit the Vault again, locking up some of our best works ever. We finally got the courage to send Jacob our Stat Wizard to the vault to search the charred remains. Amidst all of the empty whiskey bottles and Burger King wrappers he found these pieces of goodness safely tucked behind a half charred Raef LaFrentz cardboard cut-out.
It's like this boys & girls, as you all know we Angry Guys are highly regarded amongst most pro sports possies. We have our own ringtone on LeBron's phone, we often hit the links with Chuck and D-Wade and there has been more then one occasion when a high out of his mind Michael Phelps has called us needing our opinion on which brand of cereal would best cure the munchies ( because it clearly ain't Wheaties. ) Needless to say folks, we have some pull. When the best of the best have a problem, we are the first call. Without further ado we offer up a few of the lost masterpieces most recently pulled from the ashes.


Circa 2007:

The landscape of professional sports was changed for ever last week when the New York Post broke a story about alleged gambling in the ranks of NBA officials. While this article mostly berated one specific official named Tim Donaghy, it also spoke of a culture deep seeded in the heart of the NBA. It's one we all saw night in and night out, yet none of us knew just how deep down the rabbit hole it went. Lucky for all of you readers out there in lala land we just had to give ol' Tim a call and he was more then willing to sit down with the two of us and give an exclusive interview. We laughed, he cried, we laughed some more, and now here it is for your pleasure:

AG: "So Tim we have known you for most of your thirteen year NBA officiating career, and while we have talked a lot of shit about you or made jokes regarding your eyesight and its likeness to that of a bat, we never took you for a cheater."

TD: "Errrrrr, thanks?"

AG: " So lets talk facts here Tim. You have spent 25 years of your life officiating basketball in some form or another, and you have always been near the fire or holding the matches. In the past 5 years you have now been involved with two of the biggest and most tragic events to hit the NBA. You were there during the Malice at the Palace and to be honest we aren't quite convinced you didn't throw the diet coke at Ron Artest yourself in hopes of keeping the score around the spread. Then we find out that you placed tens of thousands of dollars in bets on games during the 2005–06 and 2006–07 season, whats up with that?

TD: " Listen I'm not sure who you guys are or how you managed to bypass my security and get into my house, but I don't have anything to say on this matter until after the trial. Also are those homemade press badges you two are wearing?"

AG: You listen here fellow, we are not the ones on trial. We ask the questions round here."

TD: "But this is my house...."

AG: "Tim if you are going to be like this, then we will just have to get a hold of some of those low level mobsters we saw sitting parked in front of the house on our way in."

TD gets up and peeks through the shades: " I don't see anybody out there aside from two pink bikes with tassels. Do those belong to the "mobsters" or you guys?

AG: "Well its starting to look like this interview isn't going anywhere, we just have one last question and we would really appreciate if you could speak very clearly and direct it towards our chests?"

TD: " Wait are you two fuckers wearing wires right now?"

AG " Language not appreciated, but we will let it slide. Is there any chance you could just let us know who is going to win the championship this year? We are headed to Vegas in a few weeks, and could really use a hot tip. Anything?"

At this point Mr. Donaghy pointed us towards the door and asked us to leave. We may never fully know the truth, of course he wont have full control of his legs after The Mob is done with him.


Circa 2008:

We got this letter from the Jenny Craig corporation when we acted as Charles Barkley's agent for about a week and a half two years ago. Charles had sent them a letter asking them about their program and this their response.

Mr. Charles Barkley, Thank you for your interest in joining our company as a spokesperson. Of course we are always delighted to have our celebrity clients share their stories of weight loss with our customers, especially those of your massive girth. While we would love to have you join the team we feel there are a few things we should clear up. First, we're not sure who you spoke with but we do not have an "All Bacon and Grits" diet plan. Sorry that you were misinformed but both of those foods actually help you GAIN weight instead of losing it. We're sure that you can move your passion for those foods to more healthy options like carrots and whole wheat bread! Secondly, those "whores on the T.V" that you talk about in your letter are actually our current spokeswomen. We are positive that Kirsti and Valarie will not be interested in doing the "Sir Charles Sex Shuffle" with you and we're certainly not going to recommend they put on "20 or 30 pounds of cushion for the pushin" that you feel is necessary. Again, the whole point of our program here at Jenny Craig is losing weight and becoming more healthy. Who knows, maybe getting into shape will help that golf swing of yours... sorry, we couldn't help ourselves! We hope that you'll grab the bull by the horns (no, this is not a pun about you never beating the Bulls during your playing days) and lose the weight you gained when you ate Steve Kerr. You'll be helping us as well; a public image firm recently told us to bring on a male spokesperson and, if you pass, we'll have to go with our backup plan and bring on Jason "I'll always be George Costanza" Alexander. No one wants to see that Charles, no one. We look forward to hearing from you!

Sincerely, The People at Jenny Craig


Circa 2005:

We got this email from a friend of a friend who was hacking into Jose Conseco's email account. He wants to stay anonoymus so we'll change his name around. Thanks Mrian BcNamee!

Big Mac, Where were you yesterday buddy? We were supposed to be shooting the cover of my new book "Juiced"! Remember, we agreed to take the photo where you were bending over and I was injecting you with that novelty size hypodermic needle I got from the Jersey shore last summer? Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now. This was YOUR plan all along. You came to me and said "Dude, the Bash Bros need a TV show. Let's write a book about when we did steroids and smacked dingers all day and then call out all of the other players who we knew juiced!" You said we'd make millions because whistle blowers are all the rage now and that people would love us again. That's all I want Big Mac, I want people to love me! I'm beginning to believe this is a set up. I'm still waiting for you to finish up your section of the book, don't you think you should have finished that already? I mean, if you don't get it in soon they're just going to publish my part. Don't you think a book with just my side of the story would make me look like an asshole taking advantage of you? Also, I'm starting to think that just having my name on the book might be a bad thing. I can't think of any reason you wouldn't want to be a visible part of this! I was talking to McNamee and he said I was getting paranoid. He said I should probably stop taking the roids, that using them for this long might start making me crazy. Crazy?!? Is it crazy to want to look this good? So what if the last time I saw my balls was when Clinton was president, I've gotta get my swell on! Mac Attack, I hope you're not planning on letting me do this solo. I told you if I don't get a big payday from this I'll have to start fighting celebs for money. That's SO beneath me... Look, I've rescheduled the shoot for next week. Just make sure you're there and bring some of that new Andro gel you've been raving about.

Later. Your Pretty Steroid Princess, Jose


Circa 2009:

Sticking with topics close to our hearts, and about subjects we care deeply about, we were thrilled when our old friend Michael Phelps sent us the rough draft of a letter he was composing in retaliation to being dropped as a sponsor for the Wheaties brand. Ever since that photo was snapped of him taking a massive lap around the bong he has wanted his side heard. Soo:

Dear Wheaties,

Special K is a much better product. It offers all the energy and nutrition I need without forcing me to lie to my fans. If I want to enjoy an occasional bong rip after winning 8 gold medals, then who are you to judge? Sure it suddenly makes sense why I intake 15,000 calories a day, but it doesn't make sense why you would drop me so suddenly. You have to look at what could have been. Today's kids are all about the sugary cereal, nobody wants the health food crap. They want sugar, sugar, and more sugar; sometimes accompanied by a goofy mascot. You already had gold, what's goofier than my face? Right now, you don't even have a mascot for the company. Nothing says champion like a drawing of a grown man in speedo's enjoying a bowl of Wheaties. Imagine the cartoon commercials of me racing past Tony the Tiger, or me out swimming the Cheerio's bee in a pool of honey. Come on, how good would that be? Well, we will never know. Speaking of cereal I have a really bad case of the munchies right now..... I wonder if Taco Bell is open this late...... This screen saver on my mac is so pretty, the colors......... Did I mention that I won 8 gold medals.........I'm getting kinda sleepy now, so I better wrap this up...... In closing your company will live to regret this as I have just signed a mega-deal with with Frankenberry cereal brand. They didn't even have to change the logo, just a picture of me with two bolts glued on now. So suck on that for a while, while I suck down my bowl of sugary milk. MMMMMM, victory.

Sincerely-Michael K. Phelps


As you can see, over the years we have helped out a lot of our friends. Sometimes it requires burying a dead hooker in the desert after Tiger calls you up at 3 AM, sometimes its as simple as giving someone a shoulder to cry on because the roids are really messing with them( It's ok Barry, it happens to everyone.) Except us of course. No problem to big, no friend to small. A friend in need is a friend indeed. So until next time, Yamabethur.

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