YEAH THAT HAPPENED - By: Kyle Devitte
I sat next to a transsexual for four hours on a flight from Oakland to Denver on Sunday. (A Tranny-Spotting tip – it’s always the hands. The large, large mannish hands – holy sh*t, did I just get away with a tranny joke? God, I love this website.) I don’t have anything against the transgender population, but a certain level of…discomfort was felt. I mention it only as a measuring point to how comfortable I have been told the crowd was at various points of the All-star game.
I was given updates on the game via text, as I was out in Sonoma, California attempting to shoot a video blog and recruit lacrosse players to my less than stellar lacrosse team in Boston. (It’s named after a fruity poet. We wear purple. It’s embarrassing). After viewing the footage I did gather, I have determined that the average storm trooper clad comic-con attendee has more charisma than any division one, two or three assistant coach in lacrosse. Trying to the coaches to open up was like stirring an eggplant in a pot of water and hoping it would turn into soup. Yeah, I’m going to steal your kid and make him hold a boom mike for three years instead of waking him up at 5am for hill runs. Get a personality, fellas.
Regardless, The text messages I received were (in order):
“Kids are broing it hard”
“Words…Phrases…Actions..Even hopes have all lost meaning in the world of lacrosse for me after that horrid display of an allstar game tonight, If I nvr“
“if I nvr pick up a stick after 2nite the 2008 mll all star game will b the reason.”
“Walters bombed.”
“Wait until you see how bad Walters bombed”
“Chazz leap froged some kids and won. Anger”
“PAAUUULLLL RABIIILLLL!!!”
“Dude Martin has three goals. This is gross”
“The West won 31-15…”
“Glorified Summer league.”
“I hate you for making me watch that”
These are just texts, people. I won’t even transcribe the to voicemails I received because A. I deleted them and B. They were both Dan Freshman yelling “PAAUUULLLL RRRAAABBBIIILLLLLLLLL!!!!” into the phone, peppered with expletives.
I hate you Dan.
Enough procrastination, I’m going to go sit down and watch this game.
This 360 thing is awesome, too bad Comcast is too busy bending over it’s customers to buy into the service so I have to sit in the MLL office with giant head phones on to watch the game. It’s not too bad; they have a cooler full of Gatorade. So, I’m just going to jot down some random thoughts as I watch this. For added effect, pull up the game and follow along. It will be like syncing up Dark Side of the Moon with the Wizard of Oz. Gross will be the Wizard, I’ll be the tin man, Dan basically is the cowardly Lion anyway, Quint can be the Scarecrow, Beninati will be Toto and Chandler can be Dorothy. I had someone penciled in for the wicked witch, but I fear that they would take it to heart and probably hit me with a car if I actually named them in an article. The flying monkeys can be MLL interns, but ONLY if the monkeys wear upside down visors and say “Bro” a lot.
Some gems from the announcing team as an appetizer:
First of all – IT’S FRACK-ASS Beninati, not Fray-Cass. Battlestar Galactica fans, note the irony. Joe is probably the 13th Cylon. The walking toaster then goes on to exclaim that Kevin Leveille makes passes from his wallet. No, no. Allow ME to ask: How do you make a pass from your wallet? Is that strip club lingo? Would you say that Brian Langtry “makes it rain” from outside the two-point arc?
It’s Quint’s turn now and what a turn he takes. At 9:14 in the first quarter Quint tells kids all over the world to not shot with their off hand and to work for their strong hand shot. My HS coach just had an aneurism.
Also, despite assertions to the contrary, Passavia does not play center field. He plays defense. Damn it, I’m drugging Beninati’s coffee and taking his place in Boston for the championships. Either that or I’m going to put Nair in Quint's shampoo and bacon fat in Joe’s bronzer. Or both.
That’s why I wasn’t allowed at the All Star game. It’s not because the league won’t fly me anywhere. It’s my attitude. It needs work, I know.
In the second quarter, Quint actually said prognosticators correctly. I didn’t think that was possible. He also went on to exclaim that he is the ninth Hopkins alum. Coincidentally, it was the ninth time I wanted to gouge my eardrums with toothpicks since I had been watching the game. Weird.
The following exchange was clearly the highlight of the broadcast, though:
Quint: Where does the genesis for a move like that come from?
Chazz: I don’t know…I have no clue…I don’t…I don’t have an answer for that.
Quint: When you pull for a shot like that, earlier in the game, that jump up and twirl around shot – where does that come from?
Chazz: In a game that’s, that’s all improvisation…if I plan to do it, it probably wouldn’t work out. In fact when I think about things sometimes I think about it and then I’m like, no I can’t do that.
Let me ask you something – which one of those guys do you think has an Ivy League degree?
Chazz had an interesting game. At one point I had to rewind the feed and make sure that I was watching Woodson play solid defense behind the cage. WTF? Was this game played on opposite day?
A quick aside on the uniforms, I imagine the pitch for them going something like “Look, there’s dragons on the uniforms! They test really well with kids 12-22 in our latest analysis!” And then some executive getting up and going “RAWR! TROOOOGGDDDOOOOORRRRR!!!” then sitting back down before being escorted out of the office.
Ok, I fast-forwarded to the skills competition. I admit it. I also went right through the accuracy contest, but I did pause long enough to note that Jake Byrne’s hair is seriously underrated. He, however, is not. If I missed something interesting in those five minutes let me know.
Let me get this straight - Rabes shot 110…but it didn’t count because he doesn’t hit the net. What is this a camp competition? Little kids were screaming “RAAABIIIILLL!!!” right next to the camera’s mike. The same kids booed Walters as well. One kid yelled “RABIL!” in the background for a solid ten minutes. Even as Anthony Kelly shot 109, all you could hear was this kid pushing his lungs to the limit. Fiore managed to get his man boobs out of the way to hit 106 and 105, but the result of Brian Langtry’s theatrics to shoot 99 and 101 were snuggly soft. 2008 will go down as the year that a FOGO won the fastest shot contest.
I’ve seen it all.
Oh, right like I was going to end before I got to unload a salvo at Walter’s redefining the term “pandering simp”. These are my notes as I watched the horror/joy of the trick shot competition unfold:
Oh, Chazz, I wish you were a little bit taller, I wish you were a baller, I wish you had a girl who looked good I would call her…
Danowski’s age is listed as 22. Clearly Erroneous, he’s obviously pre-pubescent. Throws his stick up in the air…takes off his jersey and rips a dive shot. Unimpressive.
Joe Walt…yes…they’re booing him before he does something. He’s wearing a Jordan…t-shirt. The New Balance god bristles in his 508's. “Luke warm response.” Yes, Quint I would have gone with tepid, though. Some kid just yelled “Joe you suck!” in the background. This is clearly the greatest microphone placement in the history of sports. This kid is better than ¾ of the announcers out there.
Berger’s shot brings a flashback from when I was 12 and had my face smashed in by a skateboard. I’m fast-forwarding to Chazz.
Da Chazz jumps over two terrified children and sticks a bottom corner. Not bad.
Danowski’s shot is actually very hard to pull off, but since he shows no emotion, there is no reaction. Danowski has the “Peyton Manning” face down to a science. I bet is his arm got ripped off by a hostile alien creature the look on his face would remain vacant and deposed.
Okay, how much did Joe Walt pay Quint to pimp his camps? Walters rips off his shirt again…and it’s another…t-shirt…with – No. He didn’t. He literally drew John Elway’s name on the back of the shirt and tried to pass it off as a jersey. Boo him! LOUDER! Oh, how sweet your failure is, Walters.
Berger’s attempt has angered me, but the drop on his head has inspired me to end this column for good this time. Chazz wins. See above paragraph with Quint and Chazz communicating in some sort of bro-heavy dude tongue for detailed analysis.
Seriously. Stop it, I’m done.
Fine, here:
RAWR!
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