Sunday Funday: The Belated Week in Review Edition

Get out of my baseball stadium.

Like a week in review, except really late.

While my absentee ways are no longer unprecedented here on this site, I am now becoming the resident spokesman for tardiness as well. I’m just now getting around to providing my legions (read: dozens) of readers with immediate nostalgia while I am also watching Friday’s episode of “Friday Night Lights.” It seems like my life is running about two days behind.

I could list excuses but that doesn’t usually make for very appealing material. Let’s do this.

As I write this, I have just read that the Tampa Bay Rays will be making “an important announcement regarding the future of the Rays’ franchise” at noon on Monday. Plenty of people will speculate up until the announcement is made, but I believe the possibilities boil down to a few options:

  • The team is demanding that a new stadium be built sometime kind of soon.
  • The team is considering a move to another city.
  • Vanilla Ice will not be able to put on a concert after the July 9 game.
  • Disclaimer: By the time you read this, the presser will have likely already happened, and I may or may not look like an idiot.

In case you are wondering, here are a few comments that have been posted on the St. Pete Times’ Web site in response to the upcoming news:

  • Stu, it’s cool if you take your team to Westchester County. We in Tampa Bay give you our blessing.
  • Move the Rays to Anchorage, Alaska for all I care…
  • If the rays build any kind of stadium that I’m going to sweat in I won’t be going to any games.


Art museums: More St. Pete's style.

Like I’ve said… St. Petersburg: A nice spring training town.

Speaking of my Rays, times are tough. Really tough.

As you know, the boys from St. Pete have taken interleague play as an opportunity to get completely defecated on by the National League. Included in this embarrassment was their humiliating series loss to the Atlanta Braves which of course destroyed any of the remaining bragging rights that I held over the SC populace.

After losing a weekend series to the rival Marlins in front of raucous, vuvuzela-littered crowds of possibly hundreds, the Rays have officially fallen out of first place, bringing down my overall quality of life with them. Thanks guys.

But let’s focus on the important part of that last little graf. That’s right, vuvuzelas.

On Saturday night, the Marlins gave out the bumble bee-impersonating horns that have been made famous at this year’s World Cup to the first 15,000 fans. [Insert your joke about the 13,000 left-over vuvuzelas here]. Earlier in the week, a fan was kicked out of Yankee Stadium for bringing a vuvuzela to the park.

Uh, yeah.

I’m all about all things World Cup, except vuvuzelas. Keep them out of my baseball parks and force anyone who brings one in to be locked in a small room with three drunken South Africans vuvuzeling it up for a good five to six hours. Just a thought.

In a world where vuvuzelas are welcome, the World Cup is going strong and pissing off Robbie Hilson in the process.

Today, New Zealand shocked the world by playing Italy and not losing. In America, we are still recovering from the greatest act of sucky officiating that we have ever seen [this week].

Get 'em, boys!

World Cup referee and overall terrible individual, Koman Coulibaly, cost the United States an epic come-from-behind victory when he overturned Maurice Edu’s go-ahead goal late in the game. Coulibaly refused the goal because Edu would not go on a man-date with him after the game. I don’t know if that’s true, but Coulibaly would not say why he overturned the goal, so I therefore have the right to say whatever the hell I want about him.

Speaking of man-dates, Diego Maradona would like to take this opportunity to remind you that he is not gay.

Don't even think about it, girly men.

Lady Gaga was banned from the New York Yankees clubhouse this week after being excessively drunk and indecent during a visit to the stadium. I’m not sure why I chose to write that, but I truly have found one bit of news that I have no further comments about.

The Lakers won the NBA Finals on Thursday. Basketball season is over.

Graeme McDowell became the first ever Irishman to win the U.S. Open on Sunday. One can only assume that a large celebration that followed every Irish stereotype imaginable followed the victory.

David Lee of New York Knicks “fame,” and Snooki of guido “fame” were spotted together at a New York City steakhouse. No one can be quite sure if they’re dating, or if Lee is planning out an elaborate new prop dunk for the 2011 NBA Dunk Contest.

The Tampa Bay Buccaneers will be inducting John McKay into their “Ring of Honor at Raymond James Stadium” this December. So what does this mean for you, the uninterested non-Bucs fan? It means that you get to see the return of the creamsicle uniforms that you ridicule but secretly think are awesome.

Just admit it.

I’m beginning to realize that this post will be published very close to midnight. I refuse to go back and change the title. Deal with it.

Happy Father’s Day. Or maybe not.


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