Post Game Live is the Eagles post game show on Comcast SportsNet. You would think this is something I would enjoy. You would be very wrong.
The four assholes that are on this show absolutely ruin it. They are horrible as individuals, but as a group they are the worst thing on TV since Rosie O'Donnell's variety show.
I have never met anyone who likes Michael Barkann. He is absolutely useless. He is a douchebag of the highest order. He thinks its impressive that he talked to Jimmy Rollins the night before the Eagles played the Giants. I think its impressive that his assface has been on TV for ten fucking years without and original thought.
Ray Didinger apparently is in some sort of Hall of Fame. R Diddy, as Barkann calls him (have I mentioned how much I despise Barkann), is the most negative negadelphian that ever did negate. After the 44-6 win over Dallas, he complained that they didn't run enough. THEY JUST WON BY 38 POINTS YOU GERIATRIC FUCKTARD. After yesterday's win over the Giants, "R Diddy" finally confessed that maybe Andy has figured his team out. Thanks, douche.
Next on the panel is the Governor of Pennsylvania. That isn't a nickname for Ed Rendell, he actually is the Governor of Pennsylvania. He also ran the DNC a few years ago. No wonder the Republicans were in power for so damned long. Rendell is the epitome of the reactionary Philadelphia fan. I think he checks 610 before going on TV to give his "analysis". He is most famous for taking credit for starting the snowball fight during the Eagles/Dallas game in '89.
Rounding out this god awful group is two time Super Bowl champion Vaughn Hebron. Vaughn brings an ex-player's view. I guess he is also supposed to bring street cred with his shoutouts to the tailor of his fucking eyesores of suits and flashy fucking jewelry. Its like CSN couldn't afford Deion Sanders so they got his much, much less talented contemporary. He also refers to the Eagles as "we" while wearing his Broncos Super Bowl ring. Vaughn Hebron should die in a grease fire.
PGL also send Derrick Gunn (D Gunn as Barkann, the Guv, and R Diddy call him. Fucking christ I hate this show) to do interviews with players as they leave the locker room. Gunn is a professed Packer fan, and at times in the past has clearly rooted against the Eagles. Derrick Gunn, in a word, blows. He asks dumb questions and tried to act like he is the player's friend. Hey Derrick: I am pretty sure they hate you.
In all, I feel about PGL like the Mets feel like winning divisions. I try to avoid it at all costs.
1/12/09
The Meadowlands
The 2008/2009 Magical Playoff Mystery Tour led us to the Meadowlands led in North Jersey. Lovely trash pile you see on the Turnpike a few miles short of the stadium, by the way.
At around 11:30, we were 2 miles from exit 16W. Despite having a parking pass, we missed the opening kickoff. What a fucking shitshow. It took nearly two hours to move two miles, park, and get through security.
After the expected "Fuck you"s and "Fuck the Eagles" walking up to section 309, we were more or left alone despite wearing Eagles jerseys. It wasn't that cold. It was rather damn enjoyable for the most part.
The best exchange of the afternoon came after the game was, for the most part, decided. A Giants fan was passively aggressively complaining about the situation the row behind us, saying things like "Weren't these the people booing McNabb a few weeks ago?" (Apparently he forgot how he felt about Eli and Coughlin midway through last year). As the SuperFan was leaving with 4 minutes left, he kept saying "Go Cardinals". Ignoring my own advice, I retaliated with "Go home". At which point he breaks out...
"I hope you get in an accident on the turnpike and die. I want to read about it in the paper tomorrow."
The whole section was overtaken with an awkward silence. It was fantastic.
Leaving was jubilant, as it was probably 50/50 in terms of fans remaining. We chilled in the parking lot awhile waiting for the crowd to thin out before discovering the car battery died. After asking a few people for a jump, a Giants fan finally helped. We offered him cash for his services, but he declined saying "We're all Americans". Quite the heartwarming story.
At around 11:30, we were 2 miles from exit 16W. Despite having a parking pass, we missed the opening kickoff. What a fucking shitshow. It took nearly two hours to move two miles, park, and get through security.
After the expected "Fuck you"s and "Fuck the Eagles" walking up to section 309, we were more or left alone despite wearing Eagles jerseys. It wasn't that cold. It was rather damn enjoyable for the most part.
The best exchange of the afternoon came after the game was, for the most part, decided. A Giants fan was passively aggressively complaining about the situation the row behind us, saying things like "Weren't these the people booing McNabb a few weeks ago?" (Apparently he forgot how he felt about Eli and Coughlin midway through last year). As the SuperFan was leaving with 4 minutes left, he kept saying "Go Cardinals". Ignoring my own advice, I retaliated with "Go home". At which point he breaks out...
"I hope you get in an accident on the turnpike and die. I want to read about it in the paper tomorrow."
The whole section was overtaken with an awkward silence. It was fantastic.
Leaving was jubilant, as it was probably 50/50 in terms of fans remaining. We chilled in the parking lot awhile waiting for the crowd to thin out before discovering the car battery died. After asking a few people for a jump, a Giants fan finally helped. We offered him cash for his services, but he declined saying "We're all Americans". Quite the heartwarming story.
1/6/09
Minnysotah
Ed. Note: This entry is less angry than usual. If you have an issue with that, go fuck yourself.
When the Eagles qualified for the playoffs last Sunday, Grebe, Hewitt and myself decided to go to Minnesota for the game. What else are three unemployed people going to do? Save money? HA. Our friend of color was also supposed to come, but he pussied out. Asshole.
After originally deciding while drunk that driving out to the great north was the way to go, we realized while sober that was not the case. Unfortunately, flying from Philly to Minneapolis is appallingly expensive. This led to the fantastic itinerary of flying to Philly to Cincy to Madison, then driving to Minneapolis.
I woke up Saturday at 430 AM, which is about when I usually go to sleep. At the Philly airport, the security people examined Grebe's metal knee like he had a turban over it. That was funny to me. We were taking "Delta Connection" flights, meaning no Boeings for us. Shockingly, there was only about 10 people trying to fly to Cincinnati at 730 in the morning.
All you need to know about the Cincinnati airport is that it is in Northern Kentucky, and dangerously close to Southeastern Indiana. Excitement abounded, obviously, during our layover there. I drank, Grebe was excited about the "smoking lounge" and we went to Madison, WI. Home of the Badgers!
The Madison airport was particularly charming with all its 1977ish decor. And the five other people who were there. On an aside, Madison is about as unimpressive as a town can be. We left promptly.
About an hour into the drive through Wisconsin, a few things became abundantly clear. People in Wisconsin love cheese. It is also the indoor waterpark capital of the world. They are fucking everywhere. The whole way up 94 There was farms and water slides as far as the eye can see. This is also when the ice storm began.
Here on the East Coast, ice and snow means plowing and salting of major roadway. Not so in Wisconsin/Minnesota. Apparently a few inches of ice and snow isn't worth salting the road. Or driving below 60, despite the graveyard of cars off to the side of the road. This made a four hour drive a seven hour drive.
When arriving in Minneapolis, we ate at Applebee's because it was connected to the hotel. Here, we learned our first lesson of Minneapolis. They all talk like they do in Fargo. Minneysotah is the best way I can it in type. These people are also absurdly friendly. More on that later. Further, there is an abundance of skinny blondes running around. It was disorienting.
Later we went to the bar where the bartender asked "What can I get ya boys?" in as thick of a South Canada accent as possible. Beer was cheap, and these people were jacked up because the Gopher hockey team won. And Sidney Crosby got into a fight. They love hockey.
When Tim and I went to get breakfast Sunday morning, the temperature was -1 and the wind chill was -19. It got COLDER throughout the day. What the fuck kind of weather is this?
The Metrodome is very loud. Louder than the Linc or Giants Stadium. The meanest thing said me however was "You people booed Michael Irvin, eh? That isn't very friendly. Go back east, eh". The people sitting behind us welcomed us to Minnesota. They readily admitted that we were the better team. The people were uncomfortably nice. While leaving, some guy behind us complained that he came to the game instead of ice fishing for walleye. He was joking. I think.
Driving back to the Madison airport, we bought cheese and Cranberry wine, since these items seemed to be what you need to buy when in Central Wisconsin. That is if you aren't going to ride the waterslides, of course.
Madison is where I found about Pat Burrell. Go to hell Ruben Amaro.
When we landed in Philly around 10:30 PM Monday, the wind chill was more than sixty degrees higher than it was in Minneapolis on Sunday. Again, what the hell is the deal with that weather.
In closing:
1. We win!
2. I have attended a playoff victory by all four professional Philly sports teams since April
3. Minnesota is cold. And they talk funny.
When the Eagles qualified for the playoffs last Sunday, Grebe, Hewitt and myself decided to go to Minnesota for the game. What else are three unemployed people going to do? Save money? HA. Our friend of color was also supposed to come, but he pussied out. Asshole.
After originally deciding while drunk that driving out to the great north was the way to go, we realized while sober that was not the case. Unfortunately, flying from Philly to Minneapolis is appallingly expensive. This led to the fantastic itinerary of flying to Philly to Cincy to Madison, then driving to Minneapolis.
I woke up Saturday at 430 AM, which is about when I usually go to sleep. At the Philly airport, the security people examined Grebe's metal knee like he had a turban over it. That was funny to me. We were taking "Delta Connection" flights, meaning no Boeings for us. Shockingly, there was only about 10 people trying to fly to Cincinnati at 730 in the morning.
All you need to know about the Cincinnati airport is that it is in Northern Kentucky, and dangerously close to Southeastern Indiana. Excitement abounded, obviously, during our layover there. I drank, Grebe was excited about the "smoking lounge" and we went to Madison, WI. Home of the Badgers!
The Madison airport was particularly charming with all its 1977ish decor. And the five other people who were there. On an aside, Madison is about as unimpressive as a town can be. We left promptly.
About an hour into the drive through Wisconsin, a few things became abundantly clear. People in Wisconsin love cheese. It is also the indoor waterpark capital of the world. They are fucking everywhere. The whole way up 94 There was farms and water slides as far as the eye can see. This is also when the ice storm began.
Here on the East Coast, ice and snow means plowing and salting of major roadway. Not so in Wisconsin/Minnesota. Apparently a few inches of ice and snow isn't worth salting the road. Or driving below 60, despite the graveyard of cars off to the side of the road. This made a four hour drive a seven hour drive.
When arriving in Minneapolis, we ate at Applebee's because it was connected to the hotel. Here, we learned our first lesson of Minneapolis. They all talk like they do in Fargo. Minneysotah is the best way I can it in type. These people are also absurdly friendly. More on that later. Further, there is an abundance of skinny blondes running around. It was disorienting.
Later we went to the bar where the bartender asked "What can I get ya boys?" in as thick of a South Canada accent as possible. Beer was cheap, and these people were jacked up because the Gopher hockey team won. And Sidney Crosby got into a fight. They love hockey.
When Tim and I went to get breakfast Sunday morning, the temperature was -1 and the wind chill was -19. It got COLDER throughout the day. What the fuck kind of weather is this?
The Metrodome is very loud. Louder than the Linc or Giants Stadium. The meanest thing said me however was "You people booed Michael Irvin, eh? That isn't very friendly. Go back east, eh". The people sitting behind us welcomed us to Minnesota. They readily admitted that we were the better team. The people were uncomfortably nice. While leaving, some guy behind us complained that he came to the game instead of ice fishing for walleye. He was joking. I think.
Driving back to the Madison airport, we bought cheese and Cranberry wine, since these items seemed to be what you need to buy when in Central Wisconsin. That is if you aren't going to ride the waterslides, of course.
Madison is where I found about Pat Burrell. Go to hell Ruben Amaro.
When we landed in Philly around 10:30 PM Monday, the wind chill was more than sixty degrees higher than it was in Minneapolis on Sunday. Again, what the hell is the deal with that weather.
In closing:
1. We win!
2. I have attended a playoff victory by all four professional Philly sports teams since April
3. Minnesota is cold. And they talk funny.
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