2010 NBA Season Awards Ceremony

As each season draws to a close, we must all look back on the year that was and reflect. Which players wowed us, which players made us hate them? Did you see this play or that play? Since there are 82 games played over the course of the season, we decided to save you some time and break it down into eight simple and amazing categories by which to judge an NBA Season. If you disagree with our picks, we would love to get some feedback, but for the most part; STFU because this is our blog and we doin' business.



The Damon Stoudamire great Rookie on a god awful team Award: Tyreke Evans


When picking rookie of the year, what is the correct criteria on which to judge? Do you pick based on the fact that one option looks like a pre-pubescent alien boy? Do you pick based on the fact that one is a Terminator sent back through time to change the game of basketball? Perhaps none of that matters when picking rookie of the year. The real and only quality worth judging a rookie on, is the Gamer factor. Can that poor young boy step up night after night against the toughest men in the game and still leave you open-mouthed wanting more. There are three very real options this year. All have shown moments of brilliance, and all have a right at the crown. However, just like Highlander, there can only be one. He averaged 20-5-5 during his rookie campaign, and became just the fourth NBA player in history to ever average 20-5-5 in his rookie year, joining Oscar Robertson, Michael Jordan and LeBron James. Not really much else needs to be said, when you're in a class like that. Big ups Tyreke, see in you Sacramento next year. Ouch.........

Honerable Mention:

Brandon Jennings- Milwaukie Bucks , Steph Curry- Golden State Warriors



The Larry Bird Memorial Award for White Guy Black People would most want to play with: David Lee



For anyone who hasn't seen "White Men Can't Jump" you get the idea of the movie by reading the title. White guys just can't dunk with the best of them, just can't swat shots like the rest of them. Most of us look like WNBA rejects (for more information on this, read our section on the WNBA) because of our lack of hops and such. However, every blue moon a white guy is born with the skills to pay some moderately big bills and competes like a champ at the highest level. The Larry Birds and John Stocktons of the world stand out so much because they are the rarest gems: white guys with unstoppable basketball skills. These are the guys picked first in inner city leagues not because they're somebody's friend but because, if you don't pick them, they're going to make you look silly all day long. For the past few years, David Lee has been this man in the NBA. Quietly a double double machine, this man put up 20 and 12 this year for the Knicks and is a sneakily athletic player who won the 2001 McDonald's All-America Dunk contest. The man is only the 11th Knick ever to score ten CONSECUTIVE double doubles and became the only Knick next to Patrick Ewing to put up more than 30 points and 20 rebounds in a single game. The icing on the cake? He's one of the only star whities in the league who isn't a primary placesetter for his teammates. Lee averages less than 2 assists per game which means he cares more about taking it to the hole than picking up dimes. While efficient passers are an important part of any team, stars are scorers in this league and David Lee is just that, a star.

Honerable Mention:

Steve Nash and Luke Ridnour



The Dennis Rodman Psychedelic Afro Best Hair Award: Brandon Jennings


Every now and again a player comes along and not only transforms the game of basketball, but catches the entire nation's attention while doing so. Our winner for this pick is a player who does not shy away from attention or scrutiny. He enjoys when others doubt him, and loves to have the weight of the world on his shoulders alone. So when you're 19 years old and afraid of nothing how do you go one step farther and cement yourself in NBA lore? Aside from getting the miserable Bucks into the playoffs? Well, you reach into your bag of tricks and bust out a hair style older than you are. For this we honor you Brandon Jennings, your flat top fade was not only an inspiration to us, but to all of the other young boys and girls who want to look like they just stepped into or out of a Hot Tub Time Machine. For this we give you the Funky Cold Medina award for best hair.

Honerable Mention:

Robin Lopez-Jerricurl fro, Ron Artest- Wacky lines/colors/shapes



Most Valuable Player: LeBron James


What can we really say here that hasn't already been said about 50 millions times. "LeBron is the Shit", "Oh my god, LeBron just saved a baby from being trampled." " LeBron your penis is huge" Sorry for the last one, we just assume that's the case. The guy has so much damn Swagger, he has to have Jay-Z brush the dirt off for him. Seriously though, what can we say. LeBron James is a freak of nature and we are loving every single minute of it. We may have missed Jordan in his prime, or been too young to appreciate it, but we plan to soak up every last drop of goodness that LeBron gives us. Like a sponge. Like Spongebob Squarepants actually. We may never see another athlete quite like LeBron. He is build like a middle linebacker, with the quickness of a Leopard. He understand the game better then arguably any player past or present ever has. He makes old vets look like rooks, and he makes rooks look like infant girls. If he keeps this shit up, we might just have to reconsider the Greatest of All-Time title. Until then rest easy Bobby Hurley your title is safe. For now......

Honerable Mention:

Kevin Durant, maybe. This one wasn't close at all.



The Adam Morrison I play like a girl and should be sent down to the WNBA Award: Adam Morrison


Most NBA teams don't sell out their arenas but they still, on average, draw almost 17,000 people a night to watch their games. Playing in those same arenas the WNBA can't average even half of that number, pulling in an average of 8,000 fans a night. Many explanations exist for why the WNBA has never taken off: they don't play good dates and times because of scheduling conflicts with the NBA or the average male sports fan can't appreciate a game played by women or they lack the media buzz surrounding the NBA because no one will give them a good television contract. All of these explanations avoid the giant elephant in the room which is no one watches the WNBA because it is INCREDIBLY BORING. It lacks the excitement of the male game because their players, through no fault of their own, can't play above the rim and settle way too often for jump shots. This version of basketball almost killed the NBA in the 50's until freakishly athletic and supremely better players (aka black people) were allowed to play and made the game exciting. Every year one NBAer plays with the same lack of athletic skill and the same need to shoot the jumper that is killing the WNBA right now and we celebrate him by recommending he move down to the WNBA. This year two players stood out in ours minds as the most capable of playing in a women's league and not having a significant physical advantage. They were Adam Morrison of the Los Angeles Lakers and JJ Reddick of the Orlando Magic. What surprised us was that these two ladylike players were actually the two top college basketball players in 2005-2006! Goes to show how success in college really doesn't translate worth shit into the league. In the end we had to give the award to Morrison who now has less of an effect for his team than Jack Nickleson. While JJ plays like a girl at least he still plays. Adam, enjoy the lack of competition and get your ass fitted for a Chicago Sky jersey. We're sure this will be the first year the WNBA has ever heard a "Draft the Stache" chant!

Honorable Mention:

JJ Reddick, Kyle Korver



Holly Shit, did you see that freak of an Injury Award: Andrew Bogut's Elbow


Best is a very subjective term here because, depending on perspective, it can mean some very different things. For a player, the best injury is one that either doesn't happen at all or one that takes very little time to heal. For a fan, the best injury could be a season ender to your rival's superstar. For us, the morbid fans all of things gruesome and unnatural for the human body to do, the best injury is one that redefines nastyness. Maybe it's the punch that rocketed a guy's eye out of the socket like an Itchy and Scratchy cartoon or maybe it's the knee that articulates 180 degrees the WRONG way. Each year a few choice debilitating injuries are offered up to the alter for Man's insatiable bloodlust (aka Youtube) and watched again and again until the stomach can take no more. Some disappear from memory but the best of the best are stored in a part of the mind that is untouched by the corrosive power of time; still vividly fresh even after years of first glimpse. This year Trailblazer fans were given not one but two monumental knee collapses from big men Greg Oden and Joel Pryzbilla which should have locked one of them into winning this fantastically unfortunate award. Unfortunately for Blazer fans who now have enough experience watching men's knees explode that they could probably tell the difference between an ACL strain and a minscus tear by just watching it happen through a TV, neither of those gentlemen won. This year's best injury has to go to Bucks center Andrew Bogut who had quite possibly the worst joint destruction injury since Shaun Livingston. While watching Oden's GOOD knee buckle cut us to our core, it wasn't so much the injury that hurt but the fact that Oden had just come back from another season ending knee surgery the year before. Bogut's injury grabbed our attention for the sheer nastyness of it and that's why it has won the Angry Guys 2009-2010 Best Injury Award.

Honerable Mention:

Greg Oden's knee, Joel Pryzbillia's knee, Chris Bosh's face



The 1st Annual Player most likely to lose it and go Delonte West Award: Ron Artest

This award here is still fresh in our hearts. For those of you unaware of why we would honor one player with an award named for another player still in the League. Let’s break down exactly what Delonte West was arrested for last year via the Washington Post:

West was riding a 3-wheeled motorcycle!
West was carrying 3 firearms!
West cut off a police officer!
West had a Beretta 9mm in his waistband! (Hello Plax!)
West had a Ruger .357 strapped to his leg!
West had a fucking shotgun in a fucking GUITAR CASE slung over his back!
Did we mention the motorcycle had three fucking wheels!?

Now pardon our language, there are a lot of crazy MOFO's in the NBA. Obviously none quite as nutso as Delonte, but in the spirit of all things wacky, we wanted to determine which superstar might be the next to snap and make a Zombie-Apocolypse movie like Mr. West. Sure us selecting Ron Artest isn't much of a stretch as he might actually be crazier than a straw, but you have to admit if it were gonna be anyone, it would be Ron-Ron. Ron Artest has displayed personality traits only seen by the mentally ill or other member of the '04 Indiana Pacers team. During his rookie season in Chicago, he was criticized for applying for a job at Circuit City in order to get an employee discount. He has pissed off coaches, owners, and lord knows how many fellow players. He has calmed down some over the past few seasons, but we still know the real Ron-Ron. This man is so out of his mind that even Charles Manson says: "Damn, that Ninja is Crazy". Growing up in a rough neighborhood Artest claims he witnessed murder on a basketball court. If you want to know just how psycho Ron is, then please listen to this direct quote: "It was so competitive, they broke a leg from a table and they threw it, it went right through his heart and he died right on the court. So I'm accustomed to playing basketball really rough." We the Defense rest.

Honerable Mention:

No other Nominees for this award.



The Lifetime UNachievement Award: Brian Scalabrine


Boston Celtics fans are intensely proud of their teams which probably stems from their storied legacy and generation after generation of winning basketball. It probably also stems from the fact that all Bostonians only have sports to comfort them seeing as all of the good jobs go to rich out-of-towners who go to Harvard and stay in the city. These people, to true Bostonians, are not true real Bostonians because they groom themselves, talk with an accent you can understand and basically have something going for them in life that doesn't revolve around the 4 major Boston sports franchises. This last fact infuriates Bostonians. Unless they have a Good Will Hunting style intellect most Bostonians will live a below average life in a crowded and angry city. Their only real pleasure is watching sports and fantasizing how awesome it would be if they played on one of their favorite teams. Almost always this is the Boston Red Sox but most Bostonians would be equally content to be a Celtic because of their winning legacy and its blatant Irish references (95% of the city is Ginger Irish). Every team has a fan favorite but the Bostonians take it to the next level and designate one bench player as their dreams incarnate who, whenever they play, plays not just for themselves but also for the trampled dreams of the Boston masses. Past players like Bill Walton (crippled but still good) and Tommy Heinsohn (alcoholic chain smoker who also happens to have his number retired in Boston) represented the gutty, win at all costs style scrapper that all good Bostoniers would like to define themselves as. This form of hero worship reached its zenith in 2005 when the Celtics signed Brian Scalabrine. Now, you may be asking yourself why any fan would worship, let alone want, a guy like Scalabrine on your team. This is a very good question. There is no reasonable answer except for the fact that he has orange-red hair like 95% of the city and gets onto the court about as often as any regular Bostonian. When he hits the floor the game is almost always decided by 30+ points and so he represents kind of a Ginger headed singing fat lady for the game. When he plays it's like some lucky Bostonier won a contest and was allowed to play for 1-2 minutes in each blow-out. Factor in that he is statistically the WORST rebounder in the league and has the lowest PER of any player and you understand that he only exists as a professional athlete because of the extremely strong emotional connection Bostoniers have for him. We don't understand it and we won't ask them to change but by keeping such a horrible player on the roster for so long, Bostonians have forced us to give one of their own the 1st annual Lifetime UNachievement award to one Brian Scalabrine. We're sure there will be celebrating in Boston because of this tomorrow night.

Honorable Mentions:

There are none

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How to not suck at Fantasy Sports. A step by step guide to not being Matt Millen.

What in the hell did we do with our lives before fantasy sports? Did we all actually sit in the stands during ball games and fill out those dorky little score cards? Nowadays, you can't turn your head and cough without getting an update on which Yankees outfielder tripped on to Jeter's nuts this time. We have hundreds on websites devoted to nothing but crunching fantasy numbers and compiling multiple draft kits. ( Which later turn out to be entirely useless.) We draft players we hate with a passion and then find ourselves rooting them on because we are trailing uncle steve by 3 points in the standings. We have draft parties and pre-draft discussions. The only difference between us and any of the real GM's out there is that most the time our picks actually pay off and our teams make playoffs. Which brings us to one very obvious question, why in the hell haven't we been given a chance to GM a pro-sports team? Could we really do worse then Matt Millen or Bob Whitset? We plan to answer that question and many others. So sit down and strap in, because this ride could get hairier then Cousin It.

Every sports fan has believed, at some time or another, that they could run their team better than the guys in charge. Get past the $5000 suits and the piles of coke and hookers and these front office guys really aren't any different than you or us, except David Kahn who surprisingly looks a lot like this guy we knew who hung out in an alley and drank Elmer's Glue cocktails. What do these under qualified jackholes have on us? Nothing, that's what. But we had no way of showing that we could do any better than them before the creation of fantasy sports. What this beautiful fruit of the internet tree gave us was a way to speak back to those who consistently fucked up our teams. We could now say, "Look at me Matt Millen! My team went undefeated when yours went winless! Listen to me and stop drafting MOTHERFUCKING Wide Recievers!!!!!" It gave us credability not only around the big whigs but our boys as well. A championship in a dynasty league is really bragging rights for a year... and no one wants to be on the recieving end of a Fantasy Champion's gloat... If we Americans know one thing, it's how to gloat at an Olympic level.

The wide world of fantasy sports has existed for many years now. For example, in 1960, Harvard University sociologist William Gamson started the "Baseball Seminar" where colleagues would form rosters that earned points on the players' final standings in batting average, RBI, ERA and wins. Just knowing that old men a half century ago were drafting their favorite players makes us want to put on some black wool socks and sip on a glass of warm milk for our next draft party. It is clear that for decades we have searched for ways to improve how sports are enjoyed. Be it having super bowl parties, or buying sports related video games, we are always looking for a way to get closer to the action without actually having to get slammed to the turf by the likes of Ray Lewis or Shawn "Am I gonna have to choke a bitch" Merriman. Now we have more choices for fantasy outlets then Paris Hilton has sex partners. Wether it's ESPN, Yahoo, CBS, or whichever other service you use, the worlds of sport and fandom have never been closer. We hold the future of sports in our hands and we best not start fucking up now. Just like week the NBA announced that for the first time ever, fans will be responsible for one of the 125 total MVP votes. Think about it people, thats one step closer to being a part of the Big Show.

Fantasy sports has made average fans obsessed with stats in a way that has never been seen before. Hardcore statistics nerds are now being thought of as the new jocks; seriously, John Hollinger is probably days away from getting his own jersey from David Stern. What this stat revolution means is that fans now know their sports so much better than they did, say even 20 years ago, when baseball was pretty much the only stat focused sport in America. The knoweldge gap between us and the guys in charge has narrowed so much that fans generally have the same info as GMs and can useually make better decisions (because, again, all GM's are just Tony Montainia style coked up all the time). Fans of terrible teams need to speak up loud and proud against their organizations and let them know that, ya, if we could be GM for a day we probably WOULD be better than you. With only one day to work there wouldn't be time to sit around and schmooze; you'd be running your ass off like the grandma on speed from There's Something About Mary and getting things done. Trades would happen, execs would be fired and there would be free chalupas everytime the team made 25 points. Sports, like politics, would work a lot better if people only had a short time on the job and that's why we're proposing that GM positions be held by a group of 52 knoweldgable fans; one for each week of the year. Each year all of the weeks would be rated and the bottom 17 would be dropped, the next 34 would stay on and the best week in terms of help to the franchise would be given free season tix for the next year. These fans would love their team and work in it's best interest but would also work their asses off because they only have one week to get it done. For teams like the Clippers, the Niners, the Knicks, the Blue Jays, the Browns, the Marlins, etc... this system could work. For teams like the Grizzlies and the Blue Jays, well finding 52 fans who want to serve as GM could be the hardest part of the job. Folks, this is what fantasy sports has been training us for, it is our destiny. Hopefully we Angry Guys can win the lottery and bribe all of the major sport comissioners with it to make this happen. Only then will we finally be at peace.

Yamabethur, and good night.

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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