Buck is Back!

Buck Martinez has been hired to replace Jamie Campbell as the Toronto Blue Jays play-by-play announcer for the 2010 MLB season. Christmas has come two weeks early this year.

At long last, Blue Jays fans will be saved from the unfunny and generally nonsensical ramblings that Jamie Campbell has forced upon Sportsnet viewers for the past five years.

I don’t want to turn this into an attack on Jamie Campbell the person, as he seems like a genuinely nice guy, but he has no business as a national level baseball announcer for Major League Baseball.

I know most television networks leave the heavy lifting in terms of baseball knowledge to the colour commentators, but viewers at least deserve a play-by-play announcer who has an ounce of familiarity with the game. Some nights, I seriously questioned whether or not Campbell had ever witnessed a game of baseball before. He has zero comprehension of baseball slang and terminology.

And if your play-by-play isn’t a baseball expert, fine, but give us someone with an edgy sense of humour. Tell me some funny stories, anecdotes or interesting quotes. Campbell’s sense of humour can best be described as “nursing home compatible.” The dorkiness and blandness of his “jokes” are something only a grandmother could love.

Baseball fans aren’t getting any younger. Why would you have a guy calling games whose talents are best appreciated by people named Muriel, Ethel, Blanche and Maureen?

However, I am impressed with Campbell’s knowledge of baseball statistics. He knows way more useless statistical information about the game than I could ever dream of remembering. He constantly spouts off a never-ending supply of stats from Blue Jays lore. Unfortunately, does anyone really give a shit how many home runs Doug Ault hit in 1977?

Campbell supporters will claim that it’s not entirely his fault for the lacklustre Jays broadcasts. They’ll point fingers at his rotating band of colour men: Pat Tabler, Darren Fletcher and Rance Mulliniks.

You can be the funniest, most engaging colour man in the world, but if you are asked the following question by your play-by-play guy, “The count’s 0-2; he doesn’t want to take another strike here, does he?” your chance at being witty of insightful just sailed out the window.

(By the way, that actually happened in a game last year)

Don’t get me started on the third man on Blue Jays broadcasts, Sam Cosentino. Hopefully, he’ll be next to follow Jamie Campbell out the door. Everything I said about Jamie Campbell can be repeated verbatim for Sam Cosentino.

True story: I was at a media party last year and Sam Cosentino was in attendance. We both took a liking to the same woman. It was mano a mano for this young lady’s affections.

It was a massacre. Poor Sammy didn’t last five minutes with her before she started looking for a way out of that riveting conversation. I stepped up and did my best Julius Caesar impression: I came, I saw, I saw conquered.

Do you think I could have done the same against a silver fox like Buck Martinez? Absolutely not. This is a guy who made a putout at home plate with a broken leg. He would have slept with her at the party right in front of me.

And that’s why I’m ecstatic for Blue Jays Baseball on Rogers Sportsnet this year. The broadcasts are now in the hands of a true professional.

Tavares Sticking It to His Critics

He Who Hits Bombs is at it again. Check out his comment on yesterday’s Biggest Loser column. Interesting stuff to say the least, although I am impressed he used references to back up his claims—something that is generally frowned upon here at Talkin’ with Tewks.

Also, thanks to HWHB for providing the lady of the day (I’ll bet she does a lot of squats).

The Toronto Maple Leafs defeated the New York Islanders 3-2 last night, despite the best efforts of local boy, John Tavares (Yes, the Leafs are playing well but it’s only been ten games; try not to sprain anything jumping on the bandwagon just yet).

Tavares scored the Islander goals, both with the man advantage, giving him an NHL rookie leading fifteen on the season. His 26 total points lead all first year players and he has New York on the brink of a playoff spot, which is quite a feat for such a moribund franchise.

Of all the accolades Tavares has garnered throughout his junior hockey career, he has surprisingly taken a lot of abuse from critics saying that he doesn’t have what it takes to play at the next level.

The impetus for this outlandish criticism is that Tavares, while supremely gifted offensively, lacks the skating ability to play at a high calibre in the National Hockey League. Correct me if I’m wrong, but do the following accomplishments sound like they belong to a guy who can’t skate very well:

Granted exceptional player status and entered the Ontario Hockey League at 14 years old. A Canadian Hockey League record of 72 goals scored in one season by a 16 year old. A total of 215 goals scored over four seasons to set a CHL all time record (the guy in second place scored 213 and it took him five years). An incredible 15 points in 6 games at the 2009 World Junior Hockey Championships, a tournament in which he was named an All Star, Top Forward and MVP.

I may not be a hockey genius, but I’m pretty sure the point of the game is to put pucks in the back of the net. Therefore, I think it would be prudent to have a guy like Tavares on my team, who seems to have a knack for doing just that.

Is he the fastest player in the league? Of course not. Is he the fastest player on his line? Doubtful. Do I want him on the ice late in the game and my team down by a goal? Absolutely.

Do you know who else wasn’t a very good skater? Wayne Gretzky. I think Johnny Tavares will be just fine.

I have a theory why critics have tried to nitpick Tavares’ game and downplay his tremendous talents. The kid has been in the public eye for so long, it’s inevitable that people will try to find chinks in his armour.

If you stare at anything long enough, you are bound to start looking for flaws, whether real or imagined. Try staring at the picture of Carrie Underwood from Tuesday’s column for thirty minutes.

You’ll start asking questions like “Is she really that attractive?”, “Her chest could be a little bigger”, “She could be in a little better shape”, “Is her face slightly asymmetrical?”

Are the questions ridiculous and stupid? Of course they are. Carrie Underwood is a goddess visiting us from Mount Olympus. She’s perfection personified.

It is just as stupid asking questions like “Is John Tavares a terrible skater?” The kid is a great hockey player.

Case dismissed.

Amanda is My Biggest Loser

Please allow me a few sentences to gloat. Back in October, I extolled the physical virtues of Amanda, one of the contestants on this year’s edition of The Biggest Loser. I predicted she would be a stone cold fox by the finale and, judging from the picture above, I was wholeheartedly correct in that assertion. Girl’s a knockout.

My stream-of-consciousness thoughts on the finale:

Host Ali Sweeny was dipping into some of the The Biggest Loser kool-aid methinks. Not that she wasn’t attractive before, but she looked like she dropped 10-15lbs so she wouldn’t be outdone by the now skinny contestants.

She and Amanda looked like sisters (full disclosure: I may or may not have had a dream where I had a workout-related threesome with both of them. I need help).

Rebecca went from a sweet, wholesome cutie to a domineering vixen with just a little too much skank for my liking. I did not like the blond hair. She also looked somewhat gaunt up top—kind of like a coke addicted fashion model.

Was it just me or did she seem to have a cocky, holier-than-thou attitude all night long with her preening and prancing? Also, I feel for bad for her boyfriend, Daniel. The guy is too young and innocent to be able to keep up with her now. And judging from his facial expressions, I think he knows his time with her is limited.

Fifty bucks says Rebecca went “Tiger Woods” on Daniel at the after party.

Tracey had the biggest transformation of all the women. She went from a roly-poly mound of goo to a tank with biceps Madonna would kill for. She also seemed to have less excess skin than everyone else. I guarantee that’s because she hit the weights hard, while everyone else stuck to cardio and lost primarily muscle and water weight.

However, Tracey may have gone too far because her boobs are history and she looks like she just came off a cycle of HGH.

I’m not sure I like Antoine’s decision to propose to Alexandra. Not to be insensitive, but let’s just say he looks a little more committed to keeping the weight off than she does. Her facial reaction when the scale revealed that she weighs more than he does was priceless.

Also, I understand professing your undying love to someone is an emotional experience, but that proposal was an embarrassing display. Getting choked up and teary-eyed is one thing, but Antoine could barely construct coherent sentences due to his blubbering. Man up.

Both Rudy and Danny set show records by losing over 200lbs and more than 50% of their previous bodyweights. They both looked fantastic—I wouldn’t recognize Danny if I wasn’t told it was him.

However, he looked unhappy and overwhelmed by the entire experience. My bet is that he’s just hungry and dehydrated. And that’s the problem with having a cash prize for the winner. These people get to a point where they are at a healthy bodyweight, but continue trying to lose pounds to win the 250 grand.

There have been rumours of diuretics and other unhealthy methods being used by contestants to lose the last few pounds. Most of them appeared to have lost serious muscle mass in order to get as skinny as possible, which is just moronic.

The prize should go to the person with the largest percentage of FAT lost, not total weight. Or just have the prize awarded once the contestants leave the ranch and then just have the reunion show three months later as an update. I’m sure the fear of appearing fat on national TV will be more than enough incentive for these people to keep losing weight.

Plus, they’ll be more concerned with looking as healthy and strong as possible. They won’t be worrying about getting rid of any excess water in their bodies so they resemble one of the Body Worlds exhibits.

Carrie Gives Me Underwood

I may have to hand in my man card after my television viewing choice last night. I eschewed both the Leafs game and Monday Night Football to spend two consecutive hours watching Carrie Underwood: an All Star Holiday Special.

And you know what? I am not embarrassed at all with my choice. I mean, sure I’m questioning my status as a straight male, but I was thoroughly entertained throughout the entire program.

I have been creepily infatuated with Carrie Underwood since she first appeared on American Idol in 2005. Obviously, she’s beautiful but, I must admit, I’m a fan of her music as well. I have more than a couple of her songs downloaded on my computer as we speak (Jesus, I need to go to a hardware store or something).

I knew going into the special that Carrie would be performing a bunch of her biggest hits, which was the impetus for me tuning in, and she did not disappoint. She rocked Cowboy Casanova and Before He Cheats and then slowed it down with the moving Jesus Take the Wheel (she has the right mix of down to earth sweetness, southern charm and badass sexpot to be completely irresistible).

I even found myself enjoying the comedy skits between musical numbers. In the hands of a lesser performer, these scenes would have fallen flat and, truthfully, they were a little corny. However, Carrie’s personality, surprising comedy chops, and willingness to poke fun at herself made the skits cute and endearing.

I really liked the 60s pop medley with Carrie, Christina Applegate and Kristen Chenoweth dressed in pink dresses and beehive hairdos (there’s a sexual fantasy in there somewhere).

Dolly Parton was a special guest and the only thing I have to say about her is: they look great.

Carrie and Dolly sang a magnificent duet of I Will Always Love You which brought tears streaming down my face throughout the performance.

My only problem with the show is that it was referred to as a ‘Holiday’ special and not a Christmas special. Look, we celebrate Christmas here in North America, always have and always will. Let’s stop trying to please everyone by referring to December as the holiday season. Enough of this PC bullcrap. It’s the Christmas season. If you don’t like it, take the train.

Also, I was somewhat disappointed with the dearth of Christmas songs, but Carrie’s rendition of O, Holy Night was terrific. The single spotlight gave Carrie an almost angelic appearance and me a funny feeling downstairs.

For those of you bemoaning the fact this is supposed to be a sports blog, here you go:

Carrie Underwood is dating Mike Fisher of the Ottawa Senators. My jealousy of him knows no bounds. I hope he gets a puck in the face next game.

I love you Carrie.

Roger Goodell Can Suck It

So, I sat down in my favourite recliner yesterday afternoon prepared to watch an ungodly amount of NFL football.

My rage and frustration from the ‘unpleasantness’ stemming from Friday’s post had slowly dissipated after a nice weekend and I was left content and smiling by the time Sunday rolled around.

Better yet, I was able to toggle between two of the day’s early games which featured the two remaining undefeated teams in the National Football League: the Indianapolis Colts and the New Orleans Saints.

I could not think of a better way to spend my Sunday afternoon than to watch Peyton Manning and Drew Brees lead their teams to victory on their respective marches to a perfect season.

The Colts, after a few lucky breaks and improbable comebacks over the past couple of weeks, returned things to business as usual with a cold, calculated dismantling of the Tennessee Titans. Indy jumped out to a 24-10 lead and never allowed the Titans a chance to get back in the game. This was the Colts’ 21st consecutive regular season victory, which ties the mark set by the New England Patriots two years ago.

With that outcome never really in doubt, I focused my attention to the surprisingly competitive contest between the Saints and the Washington Redskins. New Orleans, possibly suffering the effects of an emotional hangover after their beatdown of the Patriots on Monday night, looked listless throughout the game.

The Saints did not hold the lead at any point and found themselves down by ten late in the fourth quarter. A field goal made it a one possession game. The Redskins began their march downfield. Could New Orleans really lose their perfect season to Washington?

What happened next? How the fuck should I know?

The Fox feed carrying the game switched over to the beginning of the 49ers/Seahawks contest.

Are you kidding me?

I spent the majority of my afternoon emotionally invested in this highly entertaining game and Fox had the audacity to switch to the beginning of a game I wouldn’t watch with a gun pressed to my temple.

I hastily began making plans to bomb Rupert Murdoch’s house in protest, when a few minutes of research told me that Fox is forced by the NFL to abandon the early Sunday games at 4:15pm sharp to show the late games in their entirety.

And you know why the NFL does this? To appease their greedy owners with the promise of full network coverage. Nevermind that thousands of football fans got cheated out of one of the most exciting finishes of the season.

The Skins botched a 23 yard field goal attempt. The Saints ran down the field and Brees bombed a 53 yard touchdown strike to Robert Meachem with 90 seconds left. Washington fumbled on their first possession in OT and New Orleans won the game on a field goal of their own.

Why would I have wanted to watch that?

Instead I got to watch Alex Smith complete more passes to guys on the sidelines in dress clothes than his receiving corps on the field.

I blame you, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell, for being at the helm of a league who doesn’t give a shit about the enjoyment of the fans who put money in your overstuffed pockets. You must be a smart guy. Let’s use a little common sense.

How do you expect to create new fans or keep casual ones by abandoning games at their most pivotal juncture? Oh, the game went on too long? Well, then stop having so many fucking commercials.

Maybe spend a little less time jerking off geriatrics like Al Davis and Jerry Jones and spend a little more time improving your product for public consumption. Jackass.

Now I’m in a bad mood again. My left arm hurts and I’m having radiating waves of pain. That’s your fault, Roger.

You are officially the newest entrant into Tewks’ “People I Hate in Sports” pantheon, joining the likes of Chris Bosh, Vince Carter, JP Ricciardi and Patrick Kane.