Sweet mother of sanity …

Shit, I’ll admit to being a big Larry Johnson fan. Thanks to his time with the Knicks, I became quite fond of Grandmama and “The Big L” he dropped on teams after drilling a big 3-pointer. I’d bust that move out in college during beer pong, and from time to time I’d rock my LJ jersey that I bought in 8th grade.

But this guy … wow. Where do I even start?

LJ’s self-proclaimed “Biggest Fan” first slithered into the public consciousness with a post on a Knicks forum I frequent. As you’ll notice, he gave us a glimpse into the mind of a madman with all kinds of disturbing Larry Johnson-related information in his posts and pictures. And, if you are a curious soul like I am, you followed the link he provided to his photobucket account. That’s where things got really freaky:

Exhibit A:

Nothing too nutty there. I mean, that’s a lot of game-worn sneakers to own of one player, but whatever floats your boat man. I bet nothing is better than that first whiff of LJ’s foot in the morning. Mmmm … that LJ 1997 vintage really gets the day started right.

Ok, the hour of wearing LJ’s game-worn skivvies on our head is better, but we keep that one a secret …

Exhibits B and C:

Something you’d expect to see in a comic book store or at a convention, but we’ll still give you the benefit of the doubt …

Shit man, another card display? Sweet Jesus. How much room does that take up?

Exhibit D:

Hmmm … a used french fry wrapper. That’s kind of gross. I wonder how many times it has been licked.

Exhibit E:

Was this ad even really worth keeping? LJ’s pictures seems to be chosen just in passing. Does Brother Johnson keep every newspaper clipping that mentions Larry? I bet he points out the name”Larry” or “Johnson” every time it’s used anywhere. “Hey wifey, check it out … Larry ‘The Cable Guy’ is on TV.” “Did you pick up the Johnson and Johnson baby powder?” “I’m inquiring about the position at your company, but I am curious … how many Larrys work there? I need at least three.”

If he doesn’t call his grandmother “Grandmama,” I’d be throroughly shocked.

Exhibit F (The Clincher):

Not sure what that is? Need a closer look? Be prepared …

OK, guy, now you’ve crossed the line. How the fuck did you even obtain this thing? The black market? Why would you even want it? Do you pour it on your balls when you are feeling especially blue?

Exhibit G:

Good god, I think I’m going to be sick …

Exhibit H:

I’m speechless …

I think you’ve seen enough. But, if you want to see more of the — literally — thousands of Larry Johnson trinkets, memorabilia and pubic hair this man has collected over the years, just check out the photobucket link.

And Larry … beware.

Too much of this …

… could lead to this:

PS - I wasn’t going to bag on this guy at first, but the wine thing put me over the edge. Also, he’s not a real Knicks fan, he’s just a Larry Johnson fan and those people plain piss me the fuck off. Who wants to make a bet that this guy has already requested “Larry Johnson’s Biggest Fan” to be enscribed on his tombstone? Kind of sad, no?

NASCAR was forced to postpone the 3M Performance 400, as heavy rains drenched the inauspicious ghetto of Brooklyn, Michigan, leaving a host of RVs and trailers fossilized in the wake.

For those NASCAR fans with slaves 401k plans, the starchiest of white collars and a HEMI, there wasn’t much of a problem, as they escaped the muck, high tailing it back to the plantation.

However, for those select few, the fleeting soul of NASCAR, there was no escape …

What remained in the Turns 1 and 2 RV lot Monday afternoon was a motley collection of old school buses with names like “Fishmobile” and “Plum Crazy,” travel trailers surrounded by foot-deep puddles and the flotsam and jetsam left by those already long gone.

The smell? A potent combination of muddy grass, empty beer cans, plastic garbage bags piled up at empty campsites and the smoke from campfires long extinguished, either by the rain or by the last of the beer.

One bumpersticker said it all: “My drinking team has a racing problem.”

A group of four men from Benton Harbor huddled under a tarp while their wives tried to stay comfortable inside the trailer. A pile of beer cans completely surrounded their fire pit.

“We’re staying until the beer runs out,” one man said. “And we’re just about out of beer.”

I can’t knock a statement like that. What makes it even better is the reality that the editor probably cut out the part of the quote where the guy continued with “… and then we are moving on to nitrous tanks and kicking some Pablo Montoya loving ass.”

Regardless of the situation, the beer was bought for a fucking purpose — to be drank in the allotted time given. These guys are simply going into overtime, letting their gasoline emblazoned souls emit outward, diminishing the opaque frowns of the cut and run wine cooler bastards with new Dodge Rams. Ram, fuck a ram, these guys are probably ramming their wives in their trailers right now — because that’s fucking comfort.

Are you waxing nostalgic that this breed of American NASCAR fan might be an afterthought in the corporate driven environment it has seemingly adopted?

Think again …

While most people tried to find higher ground — or at least, drier clothes — a couple of young kids waded in a puddle of mud, splashing each other with the brown water.

The future resides in a murky puddle.

Your sport is safe … for now

Peter King and his coffee addiction landed in Western New York last Friday to attend the Bills-Falcons preseason game. King followed around Atlanta’s owner Arthur Blank, pursuing the Michael Vick Rape Stand angle. (The “Blank wishes that phrase never entered the sports lexicon” angle.)

King reported the following encounter inside the restroom of the Buffalo-Niagara International Airport (Never has God created a more adequate and serviceable airport than it):

Men’s room, Buffalo airport, Saturday morning:

Loud guy: “Hey, what do you think of the Stillers this year?”

Me (knowing Loud Guy meant the “Steelers” in his South Side-ish accent): “Pretty good. I like [Coach Mike] Tomlin. I think he’ll do a good job.”

Loud Guy: “How ’bout Big Ben? He gonna come back and be good?”

Me: “I think so. Got a lot to prove, but he’s got too good an arm and too good a head to play as inconsistently as he did last year.”

By now, we’re at the sink, and he’s not letting me go. A few people are looking on.

Loud Guy: “You like Hines?”

Me: “Love him. How can you like football and not like Hines Ward?”

Loud Guy: “Can we do it again? Win it all?”

Me: “Well, you might be a year away. You got a shot, but that’s a tough conference this year, about as tough as I’ve seen in a while.

Loud Guy: “They’re no year away. This is their year. I don’t know why you guys in the media don’t like the Stillers.”

With that, he was gone. No goodbye, no have a nice day, not nothing. I wasn’t picking the Stillers, so that was all he needed to know about me.

I think I actually spoke to King’s bathroom interrogator once.

(more…)

With Joel Zumaya about to be activated off of the DL by the Tigers, it got us thinking about the injury he suffered late last year, when he missed a portion of the ALDS because of intense “Guitar Hero” playing. An amazing story if there ever was one.

Although that is the only video game-related injury we’ve ever heard reported happening to a professional athlete, we’re pretty damn sure there have been others in the past that went unreported:

One can only imagine the pinching, scratching and slapping that went on in the Manning household over a game of Bubble Bobble. And it’s pretty easy to see Nate Robinson as that spastic kid everyone knew that stood up and moved his entire body while playing Street Fighter 2.

As if flailing around like a fish out of water would make T. Hawk any better of a character. God that guy fucking sucked.

Post your video game injury possibilities in the comments …

Case of the Mondays got you down? Well, we here at ZubazPants.com have just the remedy to help you kick those blahs. As past members of the Champs Sports/Foot Locker family, we dabbled in quite a bit of shenanigans in our college days. Here, every Monday, we’ll share a prank we pulled that you could do right in your cubicle!

Today’s prank was one of our favorites. Simple and effective, all that’s necessary is a telephone and a serious tone of voice. Call up the local Foot Locker or Champs Sports franchise, wait for the employee to go through their “2 for $89.99″ schpeel and then ask if they have any of those “hot Bill Wennington throwbacks” in stock. There just ain’t much better than the befuddled silence or “Uhhhh …” that you’ll hear for the next three seconds. Priceless.

You don’t have to use Bill Wennington, but he’s one of our favorites. You want to be obscure, but not too obscure. Everyday — but not household — names from the 80s or 90s that have faded over the years. You know, the Harold Miners and Rik Smits of the world. Tom Gugliotta is another good one. Goofy white NBAers are always good for some shits and giggles.

According to Maroon 5 front man, Adam Levine, Maria Sharapova didn’t have the same intensity on the court as she did in the bedroom.

“She wouldn’t make any noise during sex,” Levine said. “I can’t tell you how disappointed I was. I really thought, like a lot of guys, that she’d be the loud screaming type. But instead, she just lay there like a dead frog. She even got angry if I started to moan, said it ‘ruined her concentration.’

Interesting.

However, I doubt it was the same disappointment that I felt when Levine made a mockery of Stevie Wonder by teaming up with him on stage at Live 8.

I’m going to take a pro-Sharapova side on the incident, preserving Maria’s place in mankind’s eternal spank bank

Levine, in a sweaty, gasping haste, was shit-out-of-luck in an attempt to make Sharapova climax. He started moaning, attempting to trigger a chain reaction of duel passion. Maria, manning the cowgirl position, backhanded his lips shut.

Unable to tingle Maria’s secret garden, Levine, in desperation, started mumbling the lyrics to one of his forgettable faux sex symbol tunes.

I tried my best to feed her appetite
Keep her coming arid every night
So hard to keep her satisfied

Sharapova, being the Russian — in the mold of Drago — perfectionist that she is, persisted, hips gyrating left-to-right.

Levine — who at this point was close to flaccid — started popping off about Monica Selles and American grunts.

Sharapova, forced to deal with Levine’s antics once again, spiked her left hand down, cupping his noise maker. She then cleared her mind, shifting her thoughts to this man …

… and his not so small member.

Rumor has it that Patrick had to tape his leg to his dick. Fuck Oakley and his return to the game talk, Patrick has a standing invitation to tryout with bang bros.

Unable to conjure up the physical reality of Patrick’s swollen leg, Maria dismounted Levine — who at this point was mumbling about how he had made Serena Williams’ booty swoon — and made a beeline straight for the door.

That’s it.

That’s how it went down.

Swear.

Levine’s incompetent and Sharapova is still a dynamo. She is just in need of a lover in the same stratosphere as Patrick.

Shut up, it’s still A.M. in my fish bowl brain.

Yes there have been some huge blunders in the NBA. The most obvious is Sam Bowie being drafted over Michael Jordan, Wilt Chamberlain being dealt, and whoever thought it was a good idea to name their kid Dickey Simpkins.

But what about now? What about the past 15 years? How different would the NBA have be today if the Bulls decided not to trade Elton Brand, Ron Artest, and Brad Miller? And how about Dirk Nowitzki’s locks blowing in the Milwaukee wind. Instead the Bucks sent him to Dallas for Tractor Traylor. True story.

Chris Webber

The Magic thought that scowl would scare the kids

Chris Webber is still around today and pretty much any team can have him. But about 15 years ago the Orlando Magic drafted him and were ready to pair him with Shaquille O’Neal before swapping him with Anfernee “Penny” Hardaway.

Can you for a minute imagine the damage those two would have inflicted on a conference that included skinny Cavaliers, unlucky Celtics, and a Derrick Coleman lead Nets. Shaq and Webber vs. Mark Price and Danny Ferry. WOW! Can you say slaughter house?

Yes at the time of the trade it looked fair, I mean Penny and Shaq did reach the Finals once, but guards are a dime a dozen. Big guys that can score, board, and wear a headband are rare.

Webber was eventually traded from the Warriors to the Bullets who managed to also mess that up. But we won’t get into that since the Bullets no longer exist.

Jason Kidd

I don’t know what’s worse, the trade, or the hair.

Not too long ago Jason Kidd AND Steve Nash were on the same team. Yea I know, ridiculous. The Suns are notorious for finding hidden gems. Dan Majerle, Cedric Ceballos, and Shawn Marion.

What’s even more ridiculous is that they traded Kidd. What’s even more crazier than that, they got Stephon Marbury in return!

Kidd may have had his problems with wife beating, but on the court he was pimp slapping the competition. For a while the Suns had a pretty athletic roster that included Kidd, Marion, Hardaway, and Gugliotta.

Injuries ultimately cost them a chance to have a decent shot at winning any playoff series. But if they kept that core together, never parted with McDyess, and with Amare Stoudemire in the rear view mirror, you have a dam good squad.

It’s hard to argue though because Phoenix is one of the elite teams in the league right now. And more than likely would have beaten the Spurs this year had it not been for the refs having money on the series.

Kobe Bryant

This might be the only card ever of an NBA player wearing sunglasses in it. More reasons to hate Kobe

Kobe and the Lakers. Go together like Tommy Lee and an STD. The real question is though, would Kobe be this famous had he stayed with the Charlotte Hornets, the team that drafted Kobe?

Kobe was spoiled right off the bat when he said he will only play for the L.A. Lakers. The Hornets gave in and traded Kobe before he ever played a game for them. In return the Hornets aquired the fabulous Vlade Divac.

What is it with athletes these days? Demanding to play for a certain team. If i were the Hornets GM I would have kept him and told him to play or sit out. How great would that be if Kobe sat out his first 3 years?

The Hornets already had a pretty decent roster going with Anthony Mason, Glen Rice, and potentially Kobe. And if he stayed with the Hornets that whole thing in Denver never happens.

I mean who knows, maybe Mason would have kept Kobe in line. Maybe Kobe would rock the teal jersey like so many 7th grade girls rocked the Hornets Starter jackets. Maybe we would have actually like Kobe.

Yea right.

Remember that dirty hippie Cubs fan that ran onto the field back on June 25?

Yea, you know the kid, the one that was looking to give Bob Howry a deep tissue massage.

Well, he has pleaded not guilty.

Brent Kowalkoski, 24, pleaded not guilty to two counts of criminal trespass to a public place of amusement, Cook County State’s Attorney’s office spokeswoman Tandra Simonton said.

FF to about 55 seconds. Great angles and even better material for the prosecution.

Jeffery Deskovic is not amused.

Using the current lack of bosses in the office to my advantage, I headed over to the local oil change place about an hour ago to fix my car up good. While there, SportsCenter was concluding and something I’ve never seen before started up at 1 p.m., the 2007 WSSA(R) World Sport Stacking Championships.

For a second, I thought the oil change place had spiked the complimentary coffee with acid, but I was wrong. People had actually gathered together in Malibu to STACK PLASTIC CUPS. Thousands of people. Stacking plastic cups. Crying when they lost. Wearing gold medals when they “won.” One even had the audacity to call himself the “Santana Moss” of Sport Stacking.

I know what you must be thinking. “Jimbuktu, surely you jest.” But, I shit you not. These fucksticks are for real:

Generally, I loathe people that argue over what is and what is not “a sport.” “Who gives a fucking shit?” is generally my comment when someone asks me whether I think cheerleading or poker should be considered a sporting endeavor.

But this … good god. This is the gayest shit I’ve ever seen.