The Trade Deadline/Archer Award Show

            The pageantry of baseball’s 4:00 P.M. trading deadline rests on the battery life of General Managers’ cell phones

Since GMs make their paychecks in the last week of July, moves to improve the team are frequently made, and graded. Also, just like every year, some players have new teammates for the rest of the season at least.  

With the non waiver deadline done, let us award the teams that did the best, and heckle the ones who did the worst. Heck, let’s make this a themed award.

Ladies, gentlemen, readers of all ages, welcome to the first ever Archer trade deadline award post.

We start with the “THAT WAS TOTALLY NINJA!” award for the best deal made with five minutes before 4:00 P.M.

 This year, the Texas Rangers spearhead the top of the trade deadline ninja class. The Rangers needed a starting pitcher like a businessman needed Dunkin Donuts in the morning. With the L.A. Angels snatching up Zach Greinke, the Rangers had to respond by landing a quality starting pitcher. When Cliff Lee and Felix Hernandez got taken off the market they did the next best thing, they landed Ryan Dempster.

The Rangers gave up Class A third baseman Christian Villaneuva and pitcher Kyle Hendricks to the Cubs in exchange for Dempster. In addition to his killer impersonation skills, Dempster brings the second lowest earned run average in the majors to the lone star state.

By landing Dempster, the Rangers reminded the American League that teams still have to go through Texas to get to the World Series.

The Rangers get the ninja award for their move five minutes before the clock struck 4:00.

Honorable Mention: The New York Yankees getting Pirates third baseman Corey McGehee. Even with a six and a half game lead in the AL East, the Yankees lineup is currently being held together with Duct tape. McGehee provides a body to plug the hole until Alex Rodriguez recovers from his broken hand. Getting McGehee was a smart deadline deal.

Next we have the “Yeah, I know it's sexy Woodhouse, that's why I bought ten. Now arrange those by color.” award for the team that made the highest number of big name, low productivity trades. Come on down and claim your prize Los Angles Dodgers.

The Dodgers managed to snare shortstop Hanley Ramirez and outfielder Shane Victorino before the end of July.

            

            Ramirez and Victorino are both upper level names in the game, yet both have struggled this season. Ramirez was hitting a whopping 2.43 with 66 strikeouts this year before heading west. Yet Ramirez’s ten home runs and 45 runs batted in this year were somehow enough to convince the Dodgers to trade for him. The low production coupled with Ramirez’s history of back issues at age 28 makes the move more flash than substance.

            Speaking of substance, there hasn’t been much of that from former all-star Victorino. The flying Hawaiian managed only a .261 average to be paired with nine homers and 40 runs batted in this year. Also, the Dodgers are planning on giving up cash to the Phillies to take on the 31 year old outfielder.

            Between Victorino and Ramirez, the Dodgers will increase their jersey sales. Too bad L.A. will be disappointed by the production they get from their two big names.

           

             Honorable Mention:  Chicago White Sox get Francisco Liriano. This lefty has not won a game since July 6^th. Liriano also has an ERA of 5.31 with a horrid win loss record of 3-10. The White Sox may be in first place still, yet this is a big name-bad move situation.

            Up next is the “I’m sorry Cyril’s off what, with whom?” award for the most surprising deal made. This trophy goes to the Cincinnati Reds for their acquisition of Jonathan Broxton.

            The Reds have won ten out of their last eleven games and managed to get better on deadline day. Broxton is 1-2 this year with a 2.27 ERA, 23 saves, 14 walks and 25 strikeouts for the Kansas City Royals. Between Broxton and human cannon Aroldis Chapman, the Reds have the last two innings covered. Oh and their best player, Joey Votto, is rehabbing as we speak. With this move, the Reds are now the scariest team in the National League right now.

            

             Honorable mention: Yankees land Ichiro. Sure Ichiro is hitting .260 and yes he is 38, yet this move works for the Bronx bombers. He provides a dependable replacement for Brett Gardner at a reasonable price. This move doesn’t guarantee the Yankees a championship, yet it helps.

            Our fourth award is the “You know I bet there's a lesson to be learned from all this, but I - oh s*&^ my rug!” award for the biggest trade deadline blunder. This award goes to the Saint Louis Cardinals for trading for Marlins reliever Edward Mujica. This award goes to the team that made a terrible deal, not one who did nothing.

            It is one thing to have a fire sale at the deadline; it is another to make a horrid move for the sake of improvement. The defending champs traded for bullpen help, yet it is possible someone forgot to tell them Mujica has a career ERA of 4.42. Mujica has been more of the same this year with a 4.38 ERA this season. With the Reds and Pirates improving, the playoffs may not be in the Cards this year.

            Honorable Mention: Liriano to the White Sox. See above.

            Finally we hand out the “That is my foot in your face, Smell the embarrassment” award for the team that made the worst mistake by not making a trade.

This award goes to the Atlanta Braves for not getting a bat.

            The Braves .256 batting average is 16th in the league. Atlanta did exactly nothing at the deadline to patch up their lineup. With the Washington Nationals slowly gaining distance between themselves and the Braves, Atlanta will have to hope there is still an opening for that second wild card spot in October.

            Honorable Mention: Boston Red Sox not doing anything substantial. The Sox didn’t get rid of Josh Beckett or unload Carl Crawford for talent in return. Sure they got Craig Breslow, a good relief pitcher for nothing. To put it simply, not only did the Sox not appease their fans, they also failed to make a move that put them in the playoff picture.

Thank you for coming to the award show everyone. Be sure to e-mail your GM with a congratulations or strongly worded F-you letter.

If the Flame Could Talk

            If the Stanley Cup could talk, fans would know the X-rated antics of their favorite champions. If the Olympic Flame could talk, countless questions throughout history could be answered.

            Fortunately, thanks to the internet, that opportunity is finally among us. The Olympic Flame has taken time out of its trip across the United Kingdom to do an exclusive Facebook chat interview. To keep the interview from turning into an ancient history lecture, we only tackled the time line from 1928 until today.        

Now without further delay, here is my exclusive interview with the Olympic Flame.

Sports on the Side: Mr. Flame, thank you very much for agreeing to this interview. I know that you have a packed schedule, and I appreciate the time.

Olympic Flame: Thanks for having me.

            SOTS: So, let us get right to it. Every one of your journeys has begun inOlympia, Greece where the Temple of Hera used to stand…..

            OF: Wait, you mean I didn’t get sparked outside of the local Chipolte outside of her majesty’s castle?  I think my whole life has just been turned upside-down.

            SOTS: My apologies. You obviously know that you make a journey throughGreece before every Olympics. What is that trip like?

             OF: Long for one thing. I get passed around from random person to random person like your freaking stocks.

 I don’t know any of these people. These runners always take the most obscure routes to get from Olympia to Athens. I always tell them when they are going from Gastouni to Lechaina; you want to go south towards Anapafseos first. But no, these guys have to make sure that everybody and their grandmother sees them running through town with me.

Eight days in Greece alone is too freaking long. Your NBA trophy flies first class and gets its own seat for Hera’s sake. I want that kind of treatment. I’ve been around for 49 years longer modern time here. Yet that hunk of metal gets an in flight movie every time it moves.

SOTS: Well, at least with the runners you don’t have to worry about being stuck on a plane watching Battleship for hours on end.

OF: What is that?

SOTS: It’s this disgrace of a movie with Rihanna as a….

OF: Say no more. I concede that point. I just wish that I got better treatment.

Sure it’s nice to see Greece. But I’m fire, I don’t need the exercise.

SOTS: The first time that the modern day relay system was utilized was during the 1936 games in Berlin.

OF: Yeah. Those b*&^%$#s really knew how to keep things moving. It only took 12 days and 11 nights to get me from Greece to Berlin. I traveled 3,187 kilometers and was carried by over 3,000 people. I didn’t mind the pace of the travel, what I got mad at was that that Hitler tool reduced me to part of his propaganda machine.

SOTS: I take it that you were not a big fan of the film Olympia?

OF: No I was not a fan of the film. I think Hitler used the games toillustrate his belief that classical Greece was an Aryan forerunner of his twisted Reich.  There are so many freaking pictures of me with the pictures of swastikas in the background. I mean, the rest of the world was there with those stickers in the background. HELLOOO, YOU SEE THESE FLAGS HERE!? Did people just miss that or did they just not give two schizers? It made me look like I supported what they did. I’m the symbol of global unity for Poseidon’s sake. But the rest of the world just freaking let those guys just bro-out until it was too late. I don’t know how you humans have survived for this long.

SOTS: Okay, so next question. What is the single weirdest thing that happened to you since 1928? Torch run or ceremony wise?

OF: That’s an easy one. This one gets me every time. The guy who completely duped everyone in 1956. The Melbourne Games, I think, yeah, inAustralia.

SOTS: Barry Larkin?

OF: Yeah, him! Oh my Hermes. I still don’t have any idea how that happened. That was like waking up in a dumpster after a drunken night in Prague. You guys are really stupid for that one.

SOTS: I don’t know how that happened either. You would think that getting a fake torch to the mayor of Sydney would be a plot sure to fail. But it worked.

OF: Oh I remember that so well. These kids were planning on protesting the relay because the relay was an idea created by Nazis. The plan was pretty much get some kid in a white shirt to carry a fake torch and give it to the mayor of Sydney.

SOTS: How exactly did they manage that?

OF: That’s the best part! They got the moron carrying me at the time…

SOTS: Harry Dillon.

OF: Yeah, that moron. Anyway, Larkin and his buddies come running up with the fake torch. I can hear the people laughing at them. Then all of a sudden, one of the kids is waving his arms around and a pair of underwear flies out of the fake torch. The fake runner dashes off and this Larkin kid picks up the fake torch and starts running the rest of the route PROTECTED BY THE SECURITY WHO THOUGHT THAT HE WAS CARRYING ME. Anyway, Larkin gets to Sydney town hall and presents the torch to the mayor. The mayor, then proceeds to read his big speech and Larkin sneaks off. By the time somebody told the mayor it was a hoax, Larkin was gone!

Everyone was sooooooo pissed when they found out that torch wasn’t me. The crowd started to get unruly and Dillon and I needed an army truck to get to the mayor. I was laughing my embers off the whole time. What ever happened to him anyway?

SOTS: Larkin went on to become a successful veterinary surgeon. Never faced any jail time or anything for it.

OF: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! So you guys are so stupid that you got fooled by a fake torch, and then didn’t even arrest the guy who punked you? Oh that’s rich.

SOTS: I suppose so. Anyway, there have been plenty of ways that you have been transferred into the Olympic Cauldron. What is the most memorable way that you went from torch to cauldron?

OF: I have to go with the 1992 Barcelona Games. There was a guy named Antonio Rebollo. He was a Paralympic archer who lit me on the end of an arrow and shot me into the cauldron. I shot up like a volcano and boasted to the crowd. That was the one moment in which I felt all powerful.

SOTS: Umm, you know that’s not what happened right?

OF: What do you mean? Of course that’s what happened. I got put on an arrow and shot into the…

SOTS: Rebollo deliberately overshot the cauldron. The arrow that you were on did not light the natural gas that was coming rising from the cauldron. A technician from Reyes Abades lit the cauldron via remote….

OF: LA LA LA LA LA LA. I can’t hear you. LA LA LA LA. You’re just jealous because that method was too epic for human understanding. LA LA LA LA.

SOTS: Yes, I suppose you are right. Let us move on. What was the most memorable lighting ceremony you were a part of?

OF: Oddly enough, it was in 1996. Muhammad Ali was the guy who placed me to the cauldron in Atlanta that summer.

SOTS: Why is that?

OF: Even though he was shaking the entire time I barely moved. Even when everyone could see the brutal effects of Parkinson’s disease right before their eyes, he didn’t drop me. Even when Bob Costas was patronizing the ever living crap out of the poor man on NBC in front of millions of people, he held me firm. That is an effort that I will never forget for as long as I burn.

  

SOTS: Last one before you go. And really, thank you very much for the interview. What do you expect out of these Olympics in London tonight?

OF: The same thing that I see every Olympics. You guys all across the world gather around me and compete against each other. Even though it is blatantly obvious you guys pretend to care about most of these games once every four years. This year, South Africa will celebrate a certain runner who has no chance of winning, yet he shall compete anyway.  Enemies put their conflicts on hold, for the most part, and shake hands when I’m lit. I represent the ideal that we all want: that one day, every country in the world can forget about oil, war, and religious tensions and learn to live together in harmony. And that hope will never extinguish no matter what, or who, tries to put me out.

When Nice Guys Finish Second

           Nice guys don’t always finish last, sometimes they finish second. However, Adam Scott’s second place finish at the British Open was far more painful than finishing last.

            Scott gave away the Claret Jug on the final hole of her majesty’s major. His collapse culminated with a seven foot putt that rolled to the left of the hole. Scott then sank to the ground while the ball stayed on the green.

            When Scott crouched down on 18 he knew what happened. The Australian knew that he had lost a great chance for his first major title. Scott knew that he bogeyed the last four holes of the tournament. He knew that he had been crushed like a grape by the pressure of a major tournament.

Also, Scott knew that he had only himself to blame.      

The champion, Ernie Ells, did not run down Scott like a cheetah in the last four holes. Even when Ells did sink his final birdie on 18, Scott still had two holes of golf to play. One more birdie would have made Scott the 18th different player to win a major since 2008. Even if Scott pared 18, he could have redeemed himself in a playoff round.

            Yet it was never supposed to even get to that point.

By the time he had reached 15 on Sunday, Scott could practically feel the jug on his lips. He was at -9 on Thursday, took the lead on Friday, cradled the lead Saturday, and had a four stroke lead with four holes to play on Sunday.

Then Scott slowly, painfully slowly, began to come undone.

The bogey on 15 was one of few mistakes that Scott had made all weekend. Then Scott missed an unforgivable four foot putt on 16 to bogey again. After his second shot on 17, Scott had to will his ball to the green to try and save par. When Scott missed par for the third hole in a row, he was tied with one last hole to play. On 18, Scott’s first shot hit the sand. The co-leader somehow got the ball seven feet from the green in two shots and had a chance to save himself.

Yet the shot Scott needed to hit listed lazily to the left.

Now, Scott joins the group of infamy made up of men who gave away majors.  

Scott’s collapse was, unfortunately, Greg Norman-esque and Jean Van de Veldelike. While Scott’s lead (four strokes) at this Open was not as big as Norman’s (six strokes) in the 1996 Masters, it was Scott who fell harder and faster. Van de Velde, the man with the infamous triple bogey at the 1999 British Open, at least got a chance to win via playoff hole. Scott missed his chance at a playoff when his last shot failed to find the hole.

          The expression of anguish on Scott's face post final bogey summed up his last four holes. Scott had the Claret Jug in his hands, until the pressure of the moment turned the jug into liquid, and the trophy slipped thorough his fingers.  

Your on Sunday-Going-Into-Monday Motivational: Make Every Day Your Bitch

Corpses Don't Take Questions

Columnists, commentators, and the masses have spent the last few days yelling at a bronze man who doesn’t hear their rage.

Instead the statue of Joe Paterno everyone is so mad at still walks towards Beaver Stadium with its finger raised. The metallic embodiment of the deceased coach stands against the cloud of darkness that has engulfed Penn State.

Trustees have demanded that the bronze man remains standing. They want the statue to symbolize the good Paterno did for Penn State, as opposed to what the Freeh report said about him.

The masses want this statue to meet the same fate as the one that commemorated the dictator of the desert. Pundits and journalists alike have demanded that the bronze man should collapse and shatter into a million pieces: just like the credibility of the school Paterno coached for eons.

If we are talking about the symbolism of Paterno then the statue fits the aftermath perfectly. The metallic Paterno walks towards the football stadium and the bronze eyes see no evil. Even when that evil occurred in the locker room Paterno walked out of for over a decade.

Still, the supporters flock to their metallic deity in the wake of the scandal. At the feet of the bronze man a sign reads “Remember: He was a man, not a god!!!”

But Paterno was a man who knew everything.

Penn State’s own investigator proved that Paterno knew about his friendly neighborhood pedophile. The Freeh report stated that on May 13, 1998, an e-mail was sent by athletic director Tim Curley to Penn State president Gary Schultz. The e-mail came ten days after Sandusky assaulted Victim 6. The message was short, yet the words spoke volumes.

“Anything new in this department? Coach is anxious to know where it stands."

Well, for starters the life of Victim 6 was ruined forever. That person will never be able to take a shower again without the water being accompanied by horrific flashbacks of that day.  

Except Paterno’s anxiousness came from if anyone was going to get caught, not from the young life his subordinate ruined.

Part of the outrage towards the bronze man is the fact that the public can’t yell at the real Paterno. As much as we would like answers from the coach, corpses don’t take questions. In place of mass marches on Paterno’s grave, the national focus has shifted towards the symbol of the man that is still standing.

Since it takes longer for metal to decay, there is time for trustees to decide if the bronze man should remain standing. However, the more time passes the more that Paterno will be known for what he failed to stop as opposed to his football accomplishments.

Instead of tearing the statue down, relocate it. Put the bronze man right outside of the front gates of Penn State, with his back turned on the school. Let the symbol be how Paterno neglected his responsibilities as a man, and how he got out right before the cataclysm.

It is not like the statue is going to say anything to stop it.

The Quintessential Guide to Being Newly 21: The parts they don't tell you about

Friends, countrymen, lend me your laptops and take heed of your Quintessential Commandments.

I see that a select few of you have crossed the threshold from adolescence to adulthood. So happy birthday to the newest slew of 21 year olds. Come, join Sir Smoot and myself in the oasis between the grunt work of college and maddening real world responsibilities.

How does it feel?

Let me guess, you want to blow all that birthday loot on some Captain? Perhaps you have a fancy to go hunting, for Grey Goose. Perhaps even three olives picking. Or maybe you would like to get better acquainted with Sam Adams, or whatever beer they have available to you at your local market. Or maybe you want to try your hand at the local bars without having to remember the information on your license.

THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS!!!!!!

.......Okay has it been a week yet?

Call me Chrissy downer, yet my experience is not to just be paved over like some old dirt road. I've been 21 since last November, and I've made a few trips around the block to get some alcohol. Don't get me wrong, there is a big sense of relief in not having to worry about being carded. In fact, and this still happens to me, you WANT the bouncer, cashier, or whomever to card you. To see them try to find a flaw in your ID and watch the fleeting look of defeat when they hand you your license back and give your your prize is great. That feeling lasts longer than a week.

The rest of it, the wanting to buy out the liquor store and go get shmammered every night just because you can dies down right about the time you see zero dollars in your wallet.

Like every other aspect of life, drinking costs money. Also, as Mr. Smoot mentioned in the first installment of this Guide, going out all the time gets to be crazy expensive. Between the drinks to pregame, potential cover charges at bars, and whatever drink you end up buying for your desired target of the night, your bank account will grow to hate you.


Well, just in case you guys didn't think about those kind of things, don't worry, that is what we at The Grog are for.

Yes turning 21 has a certain rush to it. Yes the ocean of alcohol at your disposal is quite enticing. However, there are some pretty noteworthy parts about turning 21 that you learn the hard way.

So without further ado, here are the 5 biggest things that nobody tells you about turning 21.

NUMBER 5: 


YOU ARE GOING TO LEARN TO LIKE BEER ONE WAY OR ANOTHER

For those of you crazy kids that "only drink liquor" I apologize in advance for not having so much money that I use 2 dollar bills to wipe before I flush.

Don't get me wrong, liquor is great when you want to feel fancy. Yet the only one who will grow to hate liquor more than your liver is your bank account.

Your new found appreciation for beer will grow because of mathematics.

Let us take a 750 Milliliter of Grey Goose. There are about 27 ounces of alcohol, and you are shopping in a fairly populated area. Odds are the final price, plus tax, is going to come out to around 24-25 bucks. All of this is not including the chasers you will end up buying if you either

A: Have people who can't face an entire bottle straight

or

B: Want to actually be able to walk straight after you are done pregaming.

Meanwhile there are 12 ounces to each beer can. So multiply 12 ounces by 30 beers and you get yourself a whopping 360 ounces of alcohol for maybe two extra dollars.

And who said math was a useless subject? They clearly are not yet of age.


Those who are crazy into liquor either learn to like beer because of its affordability or don't drink. Beer drinkers blow 60 bucks on two 30 racks and realize on Wednesday 'Oh, wait, we drank last night and we still have plenty to just chill with, nice.'

All of this is without factoring bar prices of both. Sure beer is 6 bucks a glass, but shots are about four bucks for one shot! By the time you get half way towards where you want to be, you will have blown through your birthday money. Unless of course you have a job that pays so well that you can do this.

The rest of us will learn to like beer because of its affordability and a few other reasons coming up on this list.

NUMBER 4: 


BEING ASKED TO BUY ALCOHOL FOR ACQUAINTANCES UNDER 21 GETS EXTREMELY ANNOYING VERY QUICKLY.

 "Yay, we found another one"

I would like to take a moment to apologize to anyone who I may have pestered for the nectar of the Gods while underage. Now I see why all of those 'sure I'll buy for you' would be accompanied by either a roll of the eyes or a short sigh afterwards.

When Facebook tells everyone of your "friends" that you just crossed into the plateau of exceptional human beings, you will get a great deal of birthday wishes from alcohol leeches. 

You will suddenly get a lot more text messages from people who you don't often hang out with asking if you are doing anything that night. You will learn quite quickly that those invitations from people who you don't normally hang with are purely out of selfish gain.

Let me put it more bluntly: They don't want to hang out with you, they want you to buy them alcohol and nothing more.

It is quite possible that they will catch you in your jubilant just-turned-21 state of mind and you agree to buy for them. Sure they will even let you party with them and praise you for "coming up clutch" or "providing like a bro" or even "being a boss." Hell, they will even give you money to buy alcohol of their choice before drinking most of it and leaving you mostly sober. 

Oh and God forbid that you make a mistake and get the wrong stuff. You may be stunned at how quickly your new "friends" are suddenly nowhere to be found next weekend. YOU doing THEM  a favor suddenly turns into "No bro, you messed up, you got the wrong stuff, now return this one and get the stuff we asked for." 

Know what I say to those particular individuals: Go buy it yourself. Oh wait, you can't yet. Cheer up, only eight more months until you turn 21: leech.

Plus the only thing that RA's will tear you a new one for more than being blackout drunk is providing for minors. Don't believe me? Good luck trying to keep your housing deposit after they find out you bought a party full of 19 year old residents a handle of Bacardi.

Everything suddenly becomes an issue of money and when philosophy majors try to be accountants, our old friend drama rears its hideous head.

This goes back to knowing your friends from your acquaintances. Just be sure that if you are going to buy for people, make sure that they are your real friends and not some group of leeches that only care that your birthday came before this date in 1991.

Although unlike crazies, they are much, much, easier to spot.

NUMBER 3: YOUR TOLERANCE/DESIRE TO GET SHWASTED SUDDENLY BEGINS TO PLUMMET A FEW WEEKS AFTER YOUR MOST GLORIOUS BIRTHDAY

Turning 21 is like reaching an Oasis in the desert. It is a crisp, refreshing jolt that brings that little extra spice back into your life.

Yet life is like a conveyor belt that you are super-glued to. Then you feel your heart sink into your stomach as you are helplessly dragged out of the oasis; kicking and screaming the entire way out.

The first signs come after a couple weeks pass. You try to drink like you did on your birthday and you just can't match it. You start to become more concerned with having enough energy to get up for work in the morning, or wanting to work out, or even just to chill.

Shortly after you turn 21, drinking to get drunk starts to fall down a few spots on the list of important things in your life. You begin to, wait for it, realize that there is more to life than just getting hammered!

...And when that happens all of the tolerance that you spent the last two or three years in college building up crumbles like a house of cards.

You will come to pass the nectar that once beckoned to you like a siren and just ignore its song. The prospects of casually drinking or chill drinking become far more enticing than spending north of 40 bucks on a Saturday night trying (unsuccessfully most likely) to get tail or smacked at a bar. So liquor/party money becomes beer/chill sesh money. And many of us will grow to accept that transformation, I know I have. 

Now you could try to delay the inevitable for a while longer. You could keep your tolerance up while bringing the amount of money in your wallet down to nothing. Perhaps you can even still drink like a champ, being able to down an entire handle after passing the 21 plateau is going to land you on that road to AA.

The cruelest trick the devil played may have been convincing the world that he wasn't there, but robbing your tolerance and desire to get shmammered right after the law says you can whenever has to be a close second.

NUMBER 2:

YOUR LIFE DOES NOT CHANGE ALL THAT MUCH

Even with an entire ocean of alcohol available at your fingertips, you ultimately will not be able to do as much of it as you might like. 

As much as we would all like it to, turning 21 does not exempt you from the following.....

• School work
• Whatever job you have.
• Mondays 
• Having to deal with people you do not like
• Having to wait for the next episode of a favorite tv show. Or waiting for the next release of a new videogame. 
• ANY OF THE PARTS OF LIFE THAT SUCK

I'm going to stop here. I think everyone gets the point.

AND THE NUMBER 1 THING NOBODY TELLS YOU ABOUT TURNING 21:

JUST BECAUSE YOU TURNED 21 DOES NOT MEAN THAT YOUR UNDERAGE FRIENDS CAN GET INTO BARS AND CLUBS WITH YOU.

The world of over 21 opens up to you once your birthday crosses that magical dividing line. Yet there is only one problem, some of your friends are still on the wrong side of that line.

Crap.

Sadly the real 21 and up world is not as lenient regarding underage drinking as college is. At college the worst that an underage drinker, who doesn't damage property or something, will get is asked to leave the campus. In the real world, the best case scenario is that they take away the 20 year old's fake ID. 

Why is this worse than the life point you ask? Because the obvious division in age creates a fork in the road that has the potential to end friendships.

Once a person turns 21, they may want to get intoxicated in the world of restaurant drinking, certain clubs, bars, and CVS mini kegs; and hanging out with you could take a back seat to this new world of alcohol.

The new 21 will quickly realize that not everyone can enjoy this new world of opportunity and do one of two things....

Either A: Step back from the realm of possibilities in front of them and be perfectly happy drinking in a dorm/house in the good company of their friends. They will wait with you until you join the threshold and welcome you with open bottles.

or B: Leave you behind in order to hit up the clubs, bars, and CVS mini kegs.

A person turning 21 is a good litmus test for how good of a friend they are. If they leave you in the dust to go party it up, then that is the kind of person you don't want to associate with.

If they are a real friend, they will wait until their underage friends all cross over. 

I was happy to see Mr. Smoot join the club, yet I will not forget that there are still eight more 21st birthdays that I have to celebrate with my friends. If that means waiting until next year before we can all go bar hopping as an awesome group, so be it.

Turning 21 is quite fun. Alcohol will become as regular to you as breakfast in the morning, and as acceptable to partake in as G rated television. 

Just know that these are the five things that people don't tell you when the clock ticks midnight, and your 21st birthday has arrived. 

These five points, especially the life one, are more guidelines than rules you have to follow. Still, if even one of you looks back and thinks 'good to know this about being 21' than I did my job.

Happy birthday to the newest members of the 21 club, and enjoy the hell out of your celebrations.

The Quintessential Guide for Being Newly 21: Bars

Friendos.

The Smootmeister is back (from what other than procrastination? Use your imagination).

He's also 21.

So....if you remember a time way back when; We did a Quintessential Guide for incoming freshmen.


Well.

This isn't for them.

This is for you winners out there that are part of the awkward summer birthday group.

Chances are you may be 21 way ahead of the crowd of other people in your grade.


This is for you.


Hopefully this makeshift guide will help to keep your wallet intact, your ass out of the grass, and your rectum out of the reach of your Cuban cellmate (Which is an easy fix. Just don't drink and drive).

This is more of a random thought process post than one where I give you the deets on how to make drinks like the "Bin Laden" (although if you wanted to know, its two shots and a splash of seawater).

Instead you'll be learning nuggets of truth like:

• Bars are fun!
• But they destroy your bank account!

Or,

• You can find ridiculous alcohol-items in CVS and buy them!

Like this.

Friendos, if you've just turned 21, you're going to feel the irresistible pull towards the cultural rite of drinking in excess and getting completely blitzed on your birthday night.

Which may result in great group photos like this one.

(And yes....that's an actual photo from my phone. I want to extend a shout out to my right index finger)

You will, however, find out soon after your birthday that this isn't sustainable.  One of the first thoughts that may cross your mind after going to a Bar a week after your birthday may be "Holy shit....I can see how this stuff ruins people's lives" after ordering a single beer that costs $6 or a $4 shot.  

Yeah. Bars are fun guys. But they blow a hole through your wallet faster than a terrorist can utter "Oh Shit" when the 72-virgins Drone Club comes rolling around.

Sure, you could take the college route and buy 4 handles for the weekend; but let's get real, unless you're going to a beach party on the Cape with an attendance of 30+ people besides yourself, chances are you're an alcoholic. 

Besides the fact that Bars can create situations where you wake up wondering where the hell $60 in birthday money went (to later realize that you tipped the bartender $20 for shits and giggles); the possibilities for prankish shenanigans is much higher at a bar and not at a house party if you're a betting man (or woman).

What do I mean here?

Bar-Bets.

This can focus on a wide arrangement of activities, the best being made-up occupations and background stories.  Proving to your friendos that you do, indeed, have the balls to tell the bartender and other bar-goers that you're an Ancient Astronaut Historian or a survivor of unwanted Dolphin penetration can lead to some pretty hilarious scenarios for those in on the joke (granted that you sell your story to the audience).

Some Basic Guidelines

You should know all of these by now, but we'll reiterate them for you in case you're a blithering idiot.

If you drink and drive, you're a douchenozzle and deserve to have your license suspended or to be thrown in jail.

Always, even if it means that you may have to step up and do it yourself, have a designated driver.  You'll find most bars will give you a couple of free sodas if you highlight the fact that you're the DD.  If you pull the short straw and decide to cry and give somebody the sob story "I don't want to drive...I've had a really tough week, I'm going to have just one or two....I'll be fine, I swear..."---You're an asshole.

Secondly, if you're the one drinking---don't stiff your DD.  If the DD says its time to go, but you're too busy entertaining the idea of taking the 28 year old who's hitting on you seriously (thanks to the --insert drink here-- you've been having), you're being "that guy."  The DD is extending a courtesy towards you and "I'll find my way home" or "I'm going to her place" is not an option, especially if your parents know who your DD is and will skin them alive if you don't come home with them.

I'd like to think that the majority of you veterans of the two-decade old living experience would have learned these lessons by now----but life has taught me so far to leave room to get surprised (because some people are morons).

And being a drunk moron while driving a car can result in an unforgiving minute. (Source)

There's nothing wrong with having fun, but be safe, drink in moderation, and don't stiff your DD.

As for your safe bar-shenanigans, remember:

(Source)

--Done--

Our Founding Frankfurters

           Apparently it is Fourth of July tradition to watch men and women devour Hot Dogs at disgusting rates.

            For the ninth straight year, the Nathan’s Hotdog Eating Contest is being shoved down our throats by ESPN. Yet for some reason audiences keep tuning in.

            Last year Coney Island had 40,000 spectators watch professional eaters stuff their faces. An additional 1.9 million people watched the contest live on the worldwide leader’s network. Champion face stuffer Joey Chestnut has over 5,000 people who like him on Facebook.

            The event’s appeal is inconceivable. Even the protocol for the contest are just crazy.

            In standard competition procedure, contestants are weighed-in by the Mayor of New York City. When Independence Day comes, the participants arrive in the "bus of champions.” Still, the bus is just the start of this deranged contest.

The most nonsensical aspect of this charade is the prize money. Contest winners are paid $10,000. Whoever eats the second most hot dogs gets $5,000. Also, third place gets $2,500 for engulfing dead pig.

Somehow, this event is taken seriously by television networks. Since 2004, the contest has featured a play-by-play announcer. In 2010, the contest coverage featured sideline reporters. I am not making this up. Reporting recourses are being spent on watching people eat hotdogs for 15 minutes.

If you think that’s nuts, the history of the “sport” is even more ludicrous.

            The organizers of televised gluttony made up the event’s history. According to legend, four immigrants had the first hot dog eating contest in 1916 to determine who was the most patriotic. However, that claim is false because Nathan’s hot dogs were not invented until 1921.

Also, Edward Bernays admitted to the New York Times that legend was fabricated by the event organizers. The actual first contest was held on Coney Island in 1972.

Even since that fateful day, people have flocked to Coney Island and tuned in to watch people eat hotdogs.

Since the event was first carried live in 2004, the number of viewers went from 926,000 to almost two million in nine years. There have been seven documentaries made about the Nathan’s Hotdog Eating Contest since 1996.

There is no rational explanation for the event’s success. Perhaps it is because 26 out of the 40 winners were from the United States. It could be the nostalgic appeal of older people having eating contests in their younger days. Maybe the appeal lies in the shock of seeing a person eat 68 hot dogs in 12 minutes.

Whatever the appeal is, it is unclear if our founding fathers would have understood it. No matter how patriotic this exasperated display of gluttony claims to be, the post-viewing indigestion just isn’t worth it.

Gray Clouds Overhead

            A commentator born in Glasgow Scotland has shown a fabulous mastery of the English language.

            Andy Gray has been omnipresent in the Premier League since its birth in 1992. He has been the voice of soccer for this generation. Yet thanks to some unflattering off the pitch comments, Gray’s voice could be forever muted.

            The former face of Sky Sports was fired in January for sexist comments made towards colleague Charlotte Jackson. There is a possibility that the Euro 2012 final could be the last we ever hear of Gray.

The announcer’s story began on the pitch. Gray first broke into soccer in 1975 with Dundee United. The striker managed to put up 178 career goals and held a spot on Scotland’s national team from 1975-1985. Gray retired from the game in 1990, and became Sky Sports’ most notable announcer just two years later.

Soccer and Gray have gone together like tea and crumpets. Gray’s voice was a staple for soccer’s premiere video game franchise for over 15 years. The announcer has been a member of ESPN’s soccer coverage since 2008. All the while, Gray has earned around $2.7 million in his career.

Gray built his career on his strong opinions. The announcer called out Portugal forward Cristiano Ronaldo for flopping on the pitch in the 2008 World Cup. Even though his words were harsh, Gray’s criticism held merit.

However, Gray’s illustrious career will flame out in controversy. Earlier in January, Gray suggested that lineswoman Sian Massey did not know the offside rule. In addition to those comments, Gray’s remarks towards Jackson were undoubtedly unacceptable.

Even if Gray’s comments were “lighthearted quips” on-air personalities are held to a higher standard. Announcers and pundits can critique players, decisions, and off air laundry. Still, when it comes to issues of sex, religion, or race, those jokes are on-air taboos.

Even after being fired from Sky Sports, expect Gray to be back with a different network. If Don Imus is still on the air after what he said about Rutgers Women basketball players, then Gray should be able to announce again. It will take some time for the incident to blow over, yet that is fine. The Olympics don’t start until July 25 anyway.

After playing football for 25 years, Gray has given two decades more to announcing the game. His style and knowledge of the game have been applauded for 20 years. However, because of the controversy the voice of soccer may not be able to graciously take a bow.