Sunday, March 30, 2014

Moon Patrol

PYB jumps in after watching Florida's "star" point guard miss two late free throws and piss away an easy cover for the Gators. It's our third push in the last 24 hours after buying the half point. After a good first week of wagers, this week has been a wash. After 10 days of March Madness, we've accumulated some material:

--We visited San Antonio for Nebraska's first-round debacle against Baylor. The officiating was fucking atrocious. It didn't change the outcome, but it ruined the experience for players, coaches and fans alike. The referees made sure they were the story, which is a damn shame. More of a damn shame than us dropping $800 to watch NU rack up another tournament loss. And we'd do it again tomorrow. Tim Miles knew the game was over once Terran Pettaway got his fourth foul on a bullshit call and was smart not to stick around for the pending carnage.

There was an Erick Strickland sighting, so that was a positive. PYB saw him outside the arena and also five rows from the floor inside, clapping to the Husker fight song, while his mannequin girlfriend sat on her ass and texted the entire time.

We also saw Hank from Breaking Bad. We thought he died last season, but apparently he's alive and well and is a Creighton fan. (See our undercover photo from our shitty $180 seat in the corner.)

--The AT&T Center is a badly outdated facility. The seating configuration of the arena is solid, but the concourses are old, shitty and quite frankly embarrassing for a four-time NBA Champion*. If it weren't for the trophy cases that were missing the four trophies, adorned in faded carpet, the place would be an outright shithole.

The only thing worse than the interior of the arena is the outside. Stuck in no-man's land and bordering the San Antonio 'hood, it is horribly unfriendly to fans. No amenities. No bars. No restaurants. No cabs. When, after begging for a Bloody Mary for 20 minutes at our hotel the morning of the game, we asked if there was anywhere to get a beer before tip, our waitress confidently answered: "Oh yeah, honey, there's a golf course right across the street."

There was no golf course. There was, however, plenty of construction on site to make visitors feel like they were somewhere on the moon -- the shitty part. (See photos courtesy of Juice Diggler.) And, if yo' girl is in need of some stretch pants with the American flag or some Rasta shit on them, you can pick up a pair after the game.

The arena can be plenty loud, especially when filled with 17,000 whining Spurs fans who are cheering at the top of their lungs because they have nothing better to do and know a stray bullet may find them on the trip home after the game. Hence, not all was lost -- we did admittedly enjoy the Riverwalk. We even met the Omaha World Herald's Tom Shatel and shook his hand. We were under the influence of multiple margaritas, and with our untrammeled vision, he appeared to be as well.

--Speaking of home-court advantages and the OWH, Dirk Chatelain has uncovered a secret: home crowds provide an edge to the home team in college basketball! Who knew??!?

--The recent movement for the NCAA to have identical playing floors at every tournament site sucks cock. Idea: let's drain every last fucking ounce of personality out of the tournament and homogenize it into an amorphous piece of shit that cranks out dollars. Yep, let's do it. Kiss my ass. No gaudy paint in Boise? No Knicks logo at MSG? Squint to see the dark blue lettering in the black baseline so you can see where the game is being played. Fuck off.

--PYB channels its inner Chatelain and uncovers previously unknown secrets by telling its readers: Nebraska's women's teams choke every year.

--We can only hope the furor over Philadelphia cutting DeSean Jackson subsides quickly. There's a lot of furor over a one-trick pony receiver, who's scared to go over the middle and whose attitude changes with the wind. Looking at his 2013 stats, they're better than we expected (1300 yards and nine TDs), but the Eagles have always been team over individual and compromising chemistry to keep a baby whose speed will only diminish in upcoming years wouldn't be advisable. Remember, even though Jackson throws Crip signs, he's scared to go over the middle.

--Phil Mickelson has learned to quit -- just like Tiger Woods -- unless one thinks it is coincidence that his withdrawal Saturday at the Valero Texas Open came with Hefty sitting at multiple shots over par, 15 shots off the lead and pondering the joy of playing 27 more holes on a half-brown golf course. Viewers who kept the tournament on (us, because there was not shit else to watch) were instead treated to Andrew Loupe making five to eight practice swings per shot and Matt Kuchar fake smiling and looking 25 years older than his age. Good times.

--Private Pinelli is conducting one-on-one drills for his punt return team? Do we need to comment on this, or is the futility apparent without us doing so?

--FYI: The officials in the Wisconsin vs. Arizona game were horrible. So were the officials at the end of Michigan vs. Tennessee. PYB has seen at least three calls blow this tournament AFTER the referees consulted the video replay -- truly amazing feats.

--Reminder for all you deadbeats: Make sure to sign up for Obamacare if you don't have a fucking job. The deadline is quickly approaching. Or, should we call it Zo-bamacare after the television commercial where Alonzo Mourning goes the playground to tell 10 idiots who are playing pickup basketball that they should probably have insurance if they're going to be playing full-court basketball at the playground?

Of course, the Alpha male tells Zo at the start that he's young and doesn't need that shit, before coming correct when Zo drops a few tidbits of knowledge on his uninformed ass. We couldn't make this stuff up. And, if Zo isn't enough to intimidate you into getting your free shit, Magic Johnson has a spot too -- claiming it's "Magic" to get your health coverage for little to nothing. Is AZT covered for average Joes?

That's all for now. We're going to prematurely eject, as we've got a solo parenting gig going this weekend and need to finish some things prior to a child waking. We just felt the need to publish something for our loyal readers. Hell, if we keep that up, we may turn into John Grisham.

Enjoy your Sunday and the pictorial below. Quick recap....Riverwalk, fan in Satin Husker jacket that we almost gave credit to until seeing a Creighton shirt underneath the jacket (see blue strip protruding from bottom of jacket), the statue of some old-and-likely racist dude at Dallas Love Field appears to have a boner when you look at it from the escalator and the Spurs' trophy-less trophy case with faded carpet. Sorry for the awful formatting -- blogger is not too friendly in this regard....  PYB

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