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Joey Ballgame

I'd like to take this chance to apologize to absolutely nobody.

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Primarily MMA and pop culture takes from down in the rabbit hole. Sports straight out of left field.

2020 In Review – Part III: We’re All Cam Girls Now

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*Me speaking to my grandchildren in 2060*: You know everybody, there was a time, believe it or not, when it was perfectly acceptable to sit in your living room BY YOURSELF and get hammered, so long as there was a web cam on.

I’m of course already dating/aging myself as I don’t think anyone says “web cam” anymore. The need, for the most part, of an external device that provides you with video capability for a meeting/chat is gone. But my point still stands. From the work place to social lives, 2020 was the year of the virtual meeting.

To start, the introduction of quarantine was a huge test of “how much does your company fucking suck?” If you’re like me and have friends whose job satisfaction ranges from apathetic to “I hope I get t-boned on the ride in,” it was fascinating to watch which companies did what. Most did the right thing and just shut down the offices, which for some was a gigantic 180 from their normal stance on working from home. Some tried to avoid that drastic of an action and went to a reduced office presence with different people in on different days. I had one friend whose company just happened to have a half-filled office lying around an hour away and they sent some folk to work there for awhile. No big deal, just that added gas money and commuting time with no kind of stipend for it. For those of us who got to go full remote however, it was mostly for the first time. Do you put on pants? Do you gel your hair? Can you listen to ESPN in the background? So many questions with so little to guide us. I was in a particularly odd position as I actually started my job the first day of Charlie Baker’s lockdown here in MA. Never met a coworker in person, never got to see the office. To make matters even stranger for folks like me, companies have different policies on whether or not to even turn on the damn webcam. So I ended working with a string of mystery men and women like I’m a Charlie’s fucking Angel or something. Bizarre man.

The social scene was a different monster entirely. What happens when such a well oiled machine completely breaks down? When you want to meet up with your friends you go to their house or a bar, if you just are looking for some companionship for the night, the latter of the two. Those simple mechanisms disappeared, literally overnight on March 22nd. Now what? Our generation is arguably the most social yet and suddenly we were barred from being just that. Then video chatting sprang up to save the day. It was always there, but it received little use outside of long distance relationships hell bent on failing or for that one friend that moved to Boulder because “they liked the energy more.” Now Zoom, Google chat, etc. were the only way to share a beverage and a chat with your pals. It was weird at first. I think everyone can admit that. And then it just kind of became normal. Hell, an entire app, House Party, emerged just to facilitate conversations and games between friends who were locked down. Even if we couldn’t be together, we still gonna have a few brewskis, shit talk each other, maybe gossip a little, and if you’re anything like my friends, have food delivered mid fucking conversation. It added such a bizarre layer of disconnect that has been at once sad and entertaining.

On the social end, the video chats dried up back when things started opening up again, only to reappear over the past month or so amid a surge in cases. Who knows if this will remain a thing moving forward when folks just straight up don’t want to leave their houses or when you gather with friends and want to call that one friend who moved to Oregon to “be more with nature” (they work at a coffee shop). Who knows. All I know is what once would have been viewed as halfway to being a page out of a virtual version of “Eyes Wide Shut” is now the way friends stay in touch. And that aint a bad thing.

-Joey B.

2020 In Review – Part II: Don’t Hate the Player, Hate the Game

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“The Bubble”

Never before has an actual, sort of physical thing become a metaphor for itself and the panic surrounding it.

As sports league were trying their damnedest to return from the hiatus Covid caused, the idea and then implementation of “the bubble” came to fruition. Using the NBA as an example, all players, coaches, staff, and anyone else allowed in were to stay in a designed area (I believe just the hotel and arena) and were only permitted to have contact with their team and whoever they saw on the court that night. That’s it. For as long as the rest of the season lasted, they could not see or interact with another soul.

Now, you see, there’s a problem with that. Because NBA players are used to traveling from one city and arriving at another already having lined up what is probably a laundry list of booty calls. From strip club daliances to hotel room rendezvous, the men in the NBA put in some serious work over the course of a season. I mean, there is a reason Wilt Chamberlain was believed to reach his 20,000th conquest before all was said and done. And that was before the DM. Lord have mercy.

So now you take that group of successful young men, who have so much money and fame, and who to their credit have a lot of stress they need to burn off, and you try and lock them in….”the bubble”. How was that ever going to work?

Nothing short of a litany of players were caught sneaking women into the bubble. A couple more were caught sneaking out of the bubble and going to strip clubs. Here we were, in the midst of a deadly pandemic, the NBA barely able to find a way to finish the season, and these guys were going to be damned if they weren’t going to get their Ds wet anyway. It’s inspiring really.

But no other defiance of bubble protocol, in any sport, holds a candle to that of Seattle Seahawks rookie cornerback Kehmah Siverand this past training camp. Or should I say, very much former Seattle Seahawks cornerback. Siverand, an undrafted rookie out of Oklahoma State, risked the longshot opportunity that the Seahawks gave him for the almighty P, and lost his chance for it. But it wasn’t just that glaring lack of decision making ability that makes Siverand’s discretion the most notable. It’s the means by which he went about it. You see, rather than simply trying to skirt bubble security, the young lady accompanying Kehmah Siverand tried the old Trojan Horse-cum-guy on another guy’s shoulders approach. She dressed up in full Seahawks warm ups and basically tried to pass herself off as just a teammate of Siverand’s entering the hotel with him. Don’t mind me Mr. Security Officer sir, just about to go to sleep before a long day of training camping tomorrow. The only issue was that this lass was all of 5’2 and I’m guessing not muscular in build, as opposed to a normal NFL player who, no matter their height, are built like brick shit houses. Needless to say security wasn’t fooled and as alluded to earlier, Siverand was cut.

Although the bubbles are just about a thing of the past (the NHL has gone with a sort of macro concept of the bubble where each team is only playing their division) there are still protocols about where players can go and they are still being broken. Especially by James Harden. James Harden just hates rules and following them. So the lesson learned no matter how deadly of a plague we are facing, trying to keep pro athletes from the fairer sex is pointless. And quite frankly they are too large for any of us to protest. Let them live.

-Joey B.

2020 In Review – Part I: The British Invasion

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By now the joke of how much of a shitshow the year of our lord 2020 has been played out fifty times over. So I’m not going to dive into it too much beyond saying that living 3/4 of the year on the business end of a global pandemic was not very fun.

The unique nature of such a year did come with an interesting side effect. Forced to stay inside and isolate ourselves, or at least hopefully more than we normally would, we saw the world unfold through our screens more than any other year in memory. I guess it is a bit sad to say it this way, but as we missed out on actually going out and experiencing life, we watched it happen. Through social media, the world wide web, and if you’re anything like apparently 86 year old friend of the blog Patty B, the news, we ingested second hand the major stories of 2020, from the bizarre to the sad to the tragic to an election. And we all saw it in basically real time.

So to put a stamp on this year I’m going to write a few blogs waxing poetic on some of the more major headlines as well as broader topics that caught our attention. In keeping with the tradition of the shit I normally write about, I’m going to skew boring old mainstream topics in favor of the odder, less obvious corners of pop culture. You are not going to read about the NBA rigging the title for it’s biggest cash cow (again) here. You aren’t going to read about your favorite pop star because I probably don’t know who they are. (Editor’s note: Read Joe’s blog on Taylor Swift’s new album here) You aren’t going to read about baseball because I don’t know if it’s still being played (is it?).

However, sports, TV, movies, music, and the like will all be touched in some capacity. I should note that I in no way intend to stick to a chronological order. I have a few things picked out and a few will probably come to me but whether it happened in May or February or two weeks ago I’m going to write it as fingers hit keys. Some of these will be short. Some of them long. All of them proof read at least .5 times. Let’s go.

The British Invasion

I have been teased for awhile now in my group of friends as the guy who watches British TV. To be more accurate I am teased for watching way too much British TV. But to present to you my argument I usually present to everyone else, it’s just better. Depending on the show it’s either highly realistic and reflective of real life or depicts life as a complete caricature of itself, there is no in between. Comedy-wise, There aren’t really any cheesy laugh tracks or bad one liners or tags. The acting is always sublime. When the characters hurt, they hurt, when they love, they love, when they laugh, they laugh. Whether the show is set in a real place or a fictional one, the universe is fully created, from local establishments to barely seen but fully fleshed fringe characters/townspeople. It’s grade A stuff.

Mid-pandemic, the streaming services (at least Netflix and Hulu) were starving for content. American productions had been shut down. I’m sure Netflix at least was suddenly regretting cancelling a number of fan favorites such as The Punisher and The OA. Hulu you could say was almost doubly fucked because they rely now rely on a mixture of views from a smaller but solid slate of originally programming and then the rights to currently airing network shows. Ya, the network shows that were also shut down. So what were they to do? They made a call across the pond.

It’s hard to really pinpoint when Americans became so enamored with British TV, as a novelty even. I remember my grandmother watching super old British “soaps” on the ancient tv in their kitchen growing up, There has always been, as it is true around the world, an American cult following of Doctor Who. But when did we become fully fledged fans? Again, hard to say. Luther came out in 2010 and made it’s way to Netflix not too long after. Teen shows like Skins and The Inbetweeners also found some popularity stateside around that time. Either way, American streaming services and premium providers needed to fill the gaps in their programming in 2020 and boy howdy, did they find the plug.

In a role reversal from the two previous world wars, the Brits were here to save the day. On the Netflix end, they leaned on, for the most part, promoting what they already had. Stalwarts like Marcella and new comers like Sex Education and The End of the Fucking World had put out new seasons within six months of the beginning of quarantine. They, along with less viewed series like Afterlife were given a huge push at the top of the Netflix dashboard/on the “you might like” banners. It was the freshest or fresh-ish content Netflix could provide and they leaned right into it.

On the Hulu side, things were a little more drastic. This summer they promoted and executed a massive upload of new British content to go along with offerings like Four Weddings and a Funeral and Killing Eve. Shows like Brassic and Boyhood were fairly well received and if nothing else, provided a binge worthy arc or two for a rainy, quarantined afternoon.

The premium networks also got into the British game. Debutante network AMC+ bought the rights to Gangs of London, which is now on most best of 2020 lists. They also have the US rights to Baptiste, a spinoff of The Missing featuring the eponymous French detective. HBO came on even stronger, releasing The Third Day while also utilizing the broadcasting rights to the rave reviewed and award winning I May Destroy You as well as investment banking world newcomer The Industry. All of this I find interesting as it is a tangible proof that the premiums are not just going to lie down in their battle with streaming services.

This past month(ish) Netflix put out The Queen’s Gambit, a show about chess of all things, to rave reviews, cementing British TV’s place in American culture. Whether it was always going to be this way or was a byproduct of being stuck inside and having to watch more TV, we’ll never know. I do know, however, in what is a sort of US-centric world pop culture -ise it has been nice to get a glimpse into how other entertainment industries view the every day lives of their countrymen. Hats off to the streaming services and premium channels for finally taking us along for the ride.

-Joey B.

Everybody Loves Cam Newton, and That’s the Hardest Part

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Yesterday the Patriots fell into a 10-0 hole almost immediately after the ball was kicked. Or at least it felt like it. The defense was getting the ball ran down its throat and making Rams’ ball catchers like Tyler Higbee look immortal in the passing game. The offense had had a possession or two and we watched Josh McDaniels again INEXPLICABLY abandon his power running offense to try and revert back to a passing first attack. It was 10-0 and it was already feeling hopeless.

And then Cam Newton threw the softest pick six you might ever see.

To a few different text threads I had the same reaction. I just laughed. Because of course that’s what happened. Our QB1 who just hasn’t been able to figure it the fuck out all year wasn’t able to collect himself when the entire 53 man roster was on its heels and put some points on the board. He couldn’t, even for a moment, look like the Cam of old. National champion, Heisman Trophy winner. First overall pick. Former league MVP. A guy who once threw for over 4,000 yards. And he couldn’t put together an even half decent drive when we really needed it.

But that might not be the worst part. The worst part is I still go into every week wondering if the old Cam, the real Cam, the one teams really didn’t want to play on Sundays, would reappear. The worst part is he, at least outwardly, still has the confidence. Not quite boastful swagger, but the confidence of a QB who just knows he is either gonna sling it or run around you or blast through you but one way or another you’re in for a long day. The worst part is I don’t want to give up on that guy.

Circumstance plays a part in all this optimism, in this hope. I know that. It’s not like we have an exciting option on the bench behind Cam Newton. When he caught the ‘rona earlier this year we started Brian Hoyer. Now sitting at #2 on the depth chart is Jarrett Stidham, which is to say, the Year 2 of Brian Hoyer. So we sort of, whether subconsciously or not, have known all along we NEED Cam to become that guy again. We need him to be the most dynamic QB in the league, maybe ever. There really isn’t another option.

But really the highest contributing part of this is Cam is just so easy to root for. He’s always smiling, he’s always having fun. He’s said to be an immensely hard worker and a football junkie. He ALWAYS owns up for his own play when it, often as of late, isn’t so great. He’s quick to talk up his teammates both to the media and on the sidelines. The entire coaching staff loves him and has called him the leader of this team almost since the minute he was signed. And all of this after overcoming years of debilitating injuries that sought to derail a once singularly promising career. He is literally everything you want in your starting QB, except that little part about getting it done on the field.

To defend Cam as much as possible, he doesn’t exactly have the Roman army-equivalent surrounding him. The patchwork offensive line has held up fairly well this season but when it starts to leak, holy damn does the boat go down quick. Yesterday was a perfect example of that as Jermaine Eluemunor was treated like a revolving door by the majority of the Rams defensive line. The irony is that I’ve derided Cam Newton all year for what appeared to be a complete lack of anything resembling pocket presence or feel, and yesterday he had those things in droves. He was stepping up, moving around the pocket, and feeling the rush. But none of that matters when you are the blood in the water and there is an AaronDonald Shark loose in the backfield. Then there are his his targets. I’m not going too far with this because I have another blog coming later on this very topic. But it isn’t like we’ve set up our new QB with a lot of weapons. Or any really. Julian Edelman, our one (1) mainstay at wide out has been hurt. We literally didn’t have a TE yesterday, did that dawn on anybody? Dalton Keene is at this point a rookie mini-offensive tackle and I’m convinced Devin Asiasi is a Greek myth where a potentially talented is football player is drafted by the game’s most storied franchise only to be super glued to the bench for all of eternity to pay for past transgressions of his family, or fucking something along those lines. It’s not great. But with all that said, there are guys open. And that is really all that matters. You can’t blame who the guys are if they are getting open. Byrd, Meyers, Ryan Izzo when he is healthy, and yes, occasionally, when he isn’t blocking from the back, N’Keal Harry all get open. Yet all Cam Newton can due a good percentage of the time is dump the ball in the dirt, miss them by a mile, hit a defensive back in the chest, or completely question his own ability and not attempt the throw, which has happened all too often. None of that even mentions the ABBBSURD amount of passes the 6’5″ and change Newton has had deflected/knocked down this year. There have been games where our passing attack has looked like Mugsy Bogues shooting jump shots on Hakeem Olajuwon and there has been exactly zero explanation for it. This whole season, where his career is, and his own skill-set just have be in his head at this point. I can’t imagine what else it could be.

Through the deflections, the frustrating sacks taken, the overall lapses in judgement (I would have let Damien Harris taken his chances 1-1 in the open field against a linebacker from the five last night, that’s just me) I’m still rooting for Cam Newton. And that’s the thing. I’m still saying “Come on man, you can do this” when if this was any other QB I’d be anonymously reporting that they were exposed to the rona, robbed a bank, pee in the pool, doesn’t tip, or has bad breath. Anything to get them the fuck off my team. With Newton, I want him to do well, and I want him to do well with the Patriots. Still. Despite the asshole outfits. He’s just that easy to root for.

We dropped, in all probability, out of playoff contention last night. So Cam Newton probably will not bring the Pats to the heights that we once hoped, and for a lot of us, kept hoping for. This was most likely a one season thing. It won’t have the same feeling, desperately begging Newton to put it together to win these next few, meaningless games; to dig deep for the moral victories that will let us all sleep easier at night. And that just sucks. Because he is so damn easy to root for.

-Joey B.

So, You’re Freaking Out About a Taylor Swift Album Drop

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Earlier today or last night or whenever Taylor Swift announced she’s dropping another album, her second of quarantine. A lot of people, predictably, lost their minds. Some of them actually meant it and find value in her music. Fine. They stand opposed to those who simply would die to keep up with whatever trend to stay cool, get laid, or whatever other reason they have. We’re talking millions of people doing this. Let’s discuss. (This intro sucks it’s Thursday shut up).

It’s been a long, long time since Taylor Swift actually made good music. “Love Story” through “December”/”Mine” she was writing some of the best guilty pleasures out there. The “Trouble” era was interesting if nothing else. Since then she’s kind of just stuck a stamp on her music, which she used to take pride in, and reaped the financial rewards. And that’s the thing, I’m not really shitting on Taylor Swift here. Her business sense might be second to none. She realized she doesn’t need to actually put out good music. She can simply verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus-outro her way through a dozen songs, write some lyrics about break ups or falling in love, and then blow her fans fucking minds by either teasing a new album at the very last second or dropping it overnight, causing a gigantic panic and free social media advertising either way. It’s such light lift, heavy cash flow shit. She might make the most money per hours worked than any musician on the planet. Props to her. No sarcasm at all.

The “fans”, especially those on social media are a whoooole other story. And need a TON of therapy. But we’ll save that for the professionals.

I don’t honestly think any more than 20%-25% of people that OMG Taylor Swift to death actually like her music. Among those people I can’t go much further in terms of analysis. They’re generally younger or got attached to literally anything she puts out at a younger age and can’t let her go. After that I have no idea, I’m done shitting on people’s taste in music. Let a thousand blossoms bloom. But it’s not those people I care about anyway.

The weirdos are the 75%-80% of Taylor Swift “fans” out there vomiting all over social media about her releases who you just know don’t actually like her stuff. But it’s become a trend. And it might get them friends or laid I guess? And I suppose it makes them feel like part of a group? To pay and then promote, for free, an artist who hasn’t put a second of thought to, and probably hasn’t done a second take of, her music since the early 2010’s.

But it’s not the faux hysteria, performed to fit in, that is really curious, and even troubling, it’s the extent to which it goes. Because we’ve seen these cults of personalities many times over in the music industry, spanning the gamut in terms of quality of product. Kanye, Lil Wayne, Drake. The Beatles, Nirvana, Blink 182. They ask their fans to jump and the fans ask “how high?” But the extent to which Taylor Swift fans feel the need to publicly declare their love of Taylor Swift is nothing short of astounding. I mean if a Senator did not want a bill to go through congress, he or she could simply walk outside, find any out of approx 1/5 insecure and maladjusted 20-35 year olds, bring them to the floor, and ask them about Taylor Swift. They would do their sworn duty to not shut the fuck up until their hearts gave out. It would be like Pheidippides’ run from Marathon to Athens, except instead of a delivery of a critical warning of an invading army, they’d just be announcing their unlimited lack of an actual personality trait and infinite willingness to join the herd to feel loved.

Look, this isn’t a witch hunt. It’s not meant to be slanderous. And I definitely get we all need something to get through these tough, tough days. But it honestly makes me sad that people are literally faking a part of their being in the form of worshiping a pop singer. There’s more to life than to it. If you feel attacked by this blog, do something about it. Feel inspired. Stand up and tell yourself you’re better than this. Take up chess. Read our binge blogs and find a new show. You don’t need to “ME TOO!” you’re way through life like this.

-Joey B.

Dave Chappelle Asks for Chappelle’s Show To Be Taken Down, Netflix Acquiesces

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Earlier today, about four hours ago now, Dave Chappelle posted an 18+ minute IGTV regarding above all else, how business,in this case show business, and basic empathy often live in parallel with one another, failing to intersect or commingle in order to form a world that would just be more enjoyable to live in. The target of Chappelle’s monologue was that Netflix, without his permission and without paying him, had begun streaming Chappelle Show. And he was none too pleased that his now partner in comedy gold was making money hand over fist when he wasn’t seeing a dime.

As most of us know, and maybe some are too young to remember, Comedy Central and its parent Viacom were essentially robber barons when it came to Chappelle and his iconic Chappelle’s Show. They gave him a lowball deal with no back end money and when he decided, feeling artistically strangled, that he no longer wanted to make the show, they reaped the syndication money without giving the show’s legendary creator a dime. No shit he lost it for a bit there (if he even did at all). To make matters worse, Chappelle revealed, was the fact that the show would also be shown on HBOMax, whose parent HBO had told him they “didn’t need” him when pitching the same show 20 years ago. Ouch.

As passionate as Chappelle was, however, in his segment, titled “Unforgiven”, he was also agreeable. The vindictiveness wasn’t quite as striking. He stated there and then that Netflix had understood and sympathized with his position, that it made sense that he was upset about not getting paid his due, and that they’d take the show down. Just like that. He then addressed Comedy Central and Viacom, and whatever faceless suits runs them at this point. He stated he wanted to make things right. He didn’t want the show disappearing forever, necessarily, he just wanted to get paid. He wanted to be acknowledged, at last.

He then addressed the audience. And this is where the last five years or so comes into play. If you follow comedy and any number of podcasts put on by comedians, you know that the podcast/youtube game has permanently changed comedy (and music as well but lets stick to the hahas for now). The gatekeepers, such as Comedy Central, no longer hold the keys. Comedy is, essentially, now free to be direct to consumer. You can ejoy a comedians podcast, watch some of their actual material on youtube, like that too, and then buy their tickets and merch. It’s a la carte comedic entertainment, We get to pick what we like. Needless to say the machine that is the entertainment industry hates it. They’re powerless now. And Chappelle knows it. He pleaded with his “real bosses,” that audience, to not watch Chappelle’s Show until he is paid. Boycott him, he asked them. Until he saw his due.

Dave Chappelle has done his part, as he recalled at the beginning of “Unforgiven”, since he was 14 years old. Netflix has now done its part. They’ll stand united with the greatest comedic talent of his lifetime. Shoulder to shoulder with a master of his craft until he gets his due. And now, for better or for worse, it’s on us. 2020 man. What a fuckin year.

-Joey B.

Is Jakobi Meyers An Elite Quarterback? The 300s Investigates

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This past Sunday’s impressive, unforeseen victory over the vaunted Baltimore Ravens saw the New England Patriots play two different quarterbacks.

The first was starting quarterback Cameron Newton. Newton had a quite solid game, running and throwing the ball well, controlling the pace of the game, and being the emotional leader he has been for the offense the whole year. A fantastic performance.

The other man was Jakobi Meyers. Meyer’s efforts drew many an eye, were heaped with praise, and propelled the Pats to victory. Only one question remains: is he elite? Let’s dive in, using the normal standards applied to such lauded quarterback play.

Pure Statistics

On paper, Meyers had an all-time game at quarterback. First of all, his completion percentage was 100%. You know how many quarterbacks have a 100% completion percentage? None (I’m guessing). He was brutally efficient with the football. Implied in this stat, of course, lies also the fact that he threw no interceptions. Say what you want about young Jakobi Meyers but he does not turn the ball over.

But what about points, you ask? Surely I will shy away from whether or not Meyers was able to put points on the board. Alas, I shall not. Jakobi Meyers also has a perfect rate of passes thrown compared to touchdowns thrown. Imagine that? On the one pass he threw, the Patriots also scored. That is literal football alchemy. An uncanny ability to put up 6.

Arm Strength

This, for me, is the easiest non-statistical category to discuss as it is the most purely measurable, all things considered. Meyers threw the ball almost (always; on his one pass) from the near side of the field, He did so almost (completely) exclusively off his back foot, as he was facing tremendous pressure from a rabid Ravens defense. He then heaved the ball almost THIRTY (24 plus a few into the end zone) yards down and ACROSS the field to an awaiting Rex Burkhead. I mean, how many passes in the NFL REALLY travel more than 30 yards in the air? Not too many. Jakobi has a hose.

Accuracy

Despite the above circumstances he was facing, Meyers delivered a ball Burkhead and only Burkhead and absolutely Burkhead could get his hands on. If he put any less loft on it the defender bearing down on him could have possibly leaped up and swatted it down before it ever reached the trenches. A lower trajectory could have also given the linebacker covering Burkhead, Patrick Queen, a chance at breaking the play up. Instead, Meyers dropped a can of corn directly down into Burkhead’s bread basket, allowing him to secure the ball and tumble safely to the turf. Perfect.

Reads

It’s 20/20. All of the talent in the world is not going to get a QB in the NFL anywhere if he can’t read defenses/coverages. That isn’t a problem Jakobi Meyers, just ask the man he may have (probs not) supplanted in Cameron Newton. Meyers was facing extreme pressure. He possibly didn’t have the time to get it to Burkhead. The problem? Well, according to Cam, Meyers read that his checkdown, Newton actually, had been immediately picked up by a defender in coverage and just didn’t have the shake and bake in him to get loose. So not only was the toss to Burkhead an incredible one, but it was the product of an excellent read and a ballsy decision. Can’t just throw it away and ruin that perfect completion percentage.

Intangibles

Here is a list of shit Jakobi Meyers does better than other notable QBs
-Doesn’t catch quasi-STDs at prom at age 20 (Sam Darnold)
-Has all his appendages (Dak Prescott, Alex Smith)
-Does not have a unibrow (Joe Flacco, Anthony Davis**not a QB but Jesus man)
-Pays for seafood (Jameis Winston)
-Intact chest cavity (Drew Brees)
-Not an old (Tampa QB)
-Has not been forced into retirement (Entire Manning family)
-Not given his job “just for his looks” (Jimmy G)
-Flexibility of not having 17 kids (Philip Rivers)
-Career not ended in high school by a combination of systematic sports medicine malpractice and devastating injury (Lance Harbor)

Conclusion

Listen. Listen. When I set out to write this blog (on Monday) I didn’t know how it was going to end up. I was just a man with a keyboard and some game film to watch, albeit in my head. But I broke things down to the sum of their parts. I considered the greats of ours and past generations. I thought of Drew Bledsoe and how he now just owns vineyards, which was wicked off topic but something I pondered about nonetheless. And I have to say it. Between efficiency, arm talent, and the excellence of that thing between his ears, Jakobi Meyers man. He might be…..


-Joey B.

2020 in a Nutshell: Augusta is Besieged By a Hurricane

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So for the last two days both the best looking (me) and hardest working (Red) bloggers here at The 300s have been busting our asses getting out Masters #content. I discussed the field a little bit, Red threw down some gambling lines, and all and all there was enough written word in the metaphorical spoon for you to shoot up with and give you your golf fix until today. The Masters, as you may have (fucking) known was supposed to start today, and start it did.

The first pairings made it through a grand total of one hole. One.

And for those really not indoctrinated into professional golf, this is not your Saturday morning tee time at a local muni. The normal reasons for a stoppage or slowdown in play do not exist. There is not a foursome of pretentious walkers ambling down the first hole, taking 20 minutes to look for their lost ball in a pile of late-fall foliage. Nope, such causation does not exist on the PGA Tour.

There is a fucking hurricane hitting the southern United States right now. Thunder. Lightning. Rain. All of it. Is it an actual hurricane? I don’t fucking know. I don’t check the weather for the south. I assume it’s always “80 and sunny, chance of loose interpretation of the second amendment” down there. All I know is the brain trust that runs the tour decided to set a tournament for a weekend centered around a Friday the 13th and my superstitious, Irish ass is having NONE OF IT. The Masters, the only glimmer of hope in this wasteland of a year, is getting Perfect Stormed with Tiger and Broosky playing the parts of Clooney and Wahlberg.

::Freeman voice:: I wish I could end this blog with an optimistic request to weather to improve. I wish I could. But 2020 is no fairly tale.

-Joey B.

The 2020 Masters – Who Is Going To Be Wearing The Green Jacket On Sunday

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In this dogshit, miserable, civil unrest-bringing, beloved celebrity killing year of 2020, The Masters still occurring, for golf fans, is a brief reason for ruckus joy.

Long considered possibly the most coveted prize in golf, the Masters not only awards its winner a major championship, but does so under layers of pomp and circumstance that is not widely seen throughout sports.

First there’s Augusta National itself. Augusta may as well be the Vatican City of golf, except instead of cathedrals, statues, and emotive religious relics there are pimento cheese sandwiches and humblebrags about memberships and handicaps. Fuck ya.

Then there’s the jacket. That one. Trophies are cool. Championship rings are just plain baller. But I cannot even begin to imagine what it feels like when that jacket is put onto the winner’s back. You literally get to wear the spoils of your years of hard work and your nearly perfect weekend of precise golf. It’s like the affluent opposite of the scarlet letter.

So here, in the year our Satan 2020, who will wear the jacket? Who will be the king of the pimento cheese sandwiches? Will someone finally (please) punch Jim Nantz in the face? Let’s look at the board.

John Rahm – 26 years old, No Major Championships

While the Rahma Bull has never won a major, he has been constantly sniffing around one since turning pro in 2016. The 26 year old Spaniard, coached at A State by, among others, Phil Mickelson’s brother Tim, currently sits at the #2 spot in the world and has held the #1 spot in the past. For all of his talent, his is also known for having a short temper and throwing tantrums on the course. Overall though Rahm is an extraordinary player who should be in the hunt come Sunday.

Dustin Johnson, 36 years old, 1 Major Championship (2016 US Open)

Dustin Fuckin’ Johnson. DJ. The Great Son-In-Law. Just a king of a man. The current World #1 has won one major and tied for second in the other three. He has 23 wins overall on the PGA Tour and when he is on, motherfucker is he on. Among other things, he absolutely murders the ball and has long been one of the longest drivers on tour. He also loves blow? Whatever the case he has crushed 2020, winning the Travelers, the Northern Trust, T2’ng the PGA, and winning the Tour Championship on his way to becoming the 2020 Player of the year. What pandemic? DJ is my pick in this one.

Bryson DeChambeau, 27 years old, 1 Major Championship (2020 US Open)

Bryson DeChambeau won a major tournament this year after spending the first few years of his career as the weird kid who got followed around by a camera crew on practice rounds for no apparent reason and choosing to wear a scali cap in a misguided attempt at individualism in a populist game. He spent his offseason eating a lot and “naturallywinkwinknudge” putting on muscle so that he now murders the ball, putting him in a position to birdie if not eagle every hole. He still relies a little too much on his little math notebook and fear of hazards such as ants to win championships however so I don’t know how sustainable his success is.

Xander Schauffele, 27 years old, No Major Championships

Xander Schauffele is one of those guys who just oozes talent,. He’s been someone to watch since he came out of San Diego State in 2015, but just hasn’t quite sealed the deal yet. Schauffele, who sounds like either a Madden generated player or a bad guy in a worse Tom Cruise movie, has actually tied for second or third in three of the majors (The PGA seems to give him trouble) and is always in the hunt. A member of the legendary “Class of 2011” that also includes Spieth and JT, Xander Schauffele could finally win his major this weekend. It would be a huge payoff for a player who shows remarkable consistency in all phases of the game.

Ricky Fowler

Poor fuckin Ricky man. At least there’s always Stokke.

Colin Morikawa, 23 years old, 1 Major Championship (2020 US Open)

After gaining notice on the tour last year, the young Angelino now has people asking themselves where his ceiling is, if there even is one. He won the US Open, which is obviously a gigantic accomplishment at 23, but he also won the Workday tourney and has played well throughout the season. An early sign of solid play this weekend from Morikawa could spell bad news for the rest of the field.

Rory McIlroy, 31 years old, Four Major Championships (2012, 2014 PGA Championship; 2011 US Open; 2014 Open Championship)

This list is just not complete without Rory, for a couple of reasons. First of all he is the best player of his generation, which is now firmly the last one thanks to the likes of JT, Spieth, etc. Secondly the Masters is the only major that has eluded him in his incredible career, something the media, fans, and the man himself are always brutally aware of. For awhile injuries, particularly a bothersome back, threatened to completely derail Rory’s career, but heres’s to hoping he can reutn to form starting Thursday.

Brooks Koepka, 30 years old, Four Major Championships, (2018, 2018 PGA Championship; 2017, 2018 US Open)

Brooksy. Brooks Was Here. My generation’s favorite player both for his dominant play, dry sense of humor, and heroics in the Ryder Cup all those years ago. It’s fair to note that Brooks has had a down year. He has had some injuries, specifically in his hips and knees if I recall correctly (feel you bro), that probably had a ton to do with his struggles. But you can never sleep on the Wizard from West Palm.


So there it is and look, I could go on for days with this list. Patrick Cantlay, Webb Simpson, and Justin Thomas could run the fuck away with this, making me look dumb and sending friend of the blog Patty Blackouts into a spiral as blow out tournaments suck to watch. Throw in the fact that 2020 has been flat out bizarro world and who knows. Maybe Hunter Biden caddies for Patrick Reed and Ol’ Estrangement goes 30 deep for the weekend. I don’t man.

I do know, however, that it is supposed to still be topping out in the mid-50’s and sunny this weekend in the Greater Boston area. So let’s crack a few brews and watch this beautiful dance and sometimes trainwreck unfold.


-President Elect Joey B.

The World Lost a True Inspiration in Travis Roy

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There are so few, true, fleeting opportunities in life when a teachable moment materializes, hidden in plain view, and those wise enough recognize it and are able to use it.

For me, a passionate, lifelong fan, player and student of the game of hockey, one of those moments occurred in the days and weeks proceeding the tragedy that struck on October 20, 1995. That night, Travis Roy, considered at that point to possibly be the greatest player to ever come out of Vermont and maybe New England, tied his skates to play in his first college hockey game for Boston University. He would achieve his dream, but would ultimately see it derailed and become a nightmare. Eleven seconds into his very first shift Roy would miss a check on an opposing player, fall headfirst into the boards, and suffer a catastrophic spine injury. He would be left a quadriplegic, gaining some use of his right arm years later.

The injury, how it occurred, to whom it occurred, and the reality of what could happen in what amounts to a child’s game, shocked and horrified not just hockey but the entire sports world. Here in Boston, home to a number of college powerhouse conference Hockey East’s teams, the effects were tenfold. Every rink, every stick, every puck, every mention of the game was tainted for a little while with the taste of tragedy, or dejection, of almost mourning for a kid who was damned to a life so unlike the one he had earned. Not even old enough to check with, I remember it crystal clearly.

Everyone felt this way. Except for Travis Roy I guess. Roy almost immediately clung to those eleven seconds. Because for those eleven seconds he achieved his ultimate dream of playing major college hockey. For those not quite in the know, in the Northeast, while dreams of playing in the NHL are abundant, college hockey is actually pretty huge given the presence of the Hockey East, which includes BU, BC, UMass etc. For Roy, he had been able to reach that huge peak, if only for just over a sixth of a minute. From just after his injury to his death, yesterday, at the age of 45, he was quick to mention how fortunate he was, how hopeful he was, and how he refused to see himself as anything but a guy who had lived his dream, regardless of the outcome.

To reach the heights of playing for the Boston University hockey team, you have to work extremely hard. So one can assume Travis Roy was no different in that regard. His efforts after his injury were no different if not even greater. Not only did he log arduous hours of PT to regain the aforementioned use of one of his arm, but he started the Travis Roy Foundation and was tireless in his endeavors to raise money for research for and assistant with spinal cord injuries. Millions of dollars have been dispersed since the foundation was founded to not only try and find either cures or to improve treatment for spinal cord injuries, but for the things we don’t think about like modifying family vans to accommodate those who suffer these enigmatic, mysterious, barbarous maladies.

That, I honestly think, will be Travis Roy’s legacy. His enduring legacy. He was a hockey player. He was a hockey player that got terribly hurt. But he was a hockey player that got terribly hurt and used that hurt to make sure people that suffered the same fate were not alone and had people standing by them. He was grateful, he was optimistic, and he always kept going. He never stopped.

Rest in peace Travis Roy. Because of you my Dad got to teach me at age six that you should always be grateful for what you are able to experience, no matter how briefly. And no matter how you get knocked down, there is always a way, some way, to get back up.

-Joey B.