NBA Finals Now a Best of Three

(BOD - Kim Kardashian's Breasts)

I can’t sit here and lie and pretend that I watched Game 4 of the NBA Finals in its entirety. While I lie about many things (my sexual prowess and intelligence), sport is one area where I am completely truthful.

Blame the NBA for starting games past 9pm on the East Coast. How stupid is that? All playoff games for all sports should end by 10pm so the leagues can acquire new, young fans. It’s really too smart of an idea for these corporate morons to accept.

That being said, I was able to watch the first half and then catch up on the second half game story by watching highlights and reading recaps of last night’s tightly contested battle.

Here’s my big takeaway from the Celtic’s single digit victory: I hate everyone on the Boston roster. I swear I’m not letting my man love for Kobe Bryant cloud my judgement, but I found myself openly rooting for rolled ankles to strike everyone in a white and green uniform.

The Celtics have been afflicted with what I call “Chris Bosh Syndrome.” CBS strikes immediately after making a basket. Said player preens and prances around with a sneer on his face trying to look like a tough guy. Alternatively, CBS can cause a player to let fly with a guttural wail reminiscent of Gerard Butler in 300. Once again, this action is supposed to make the player seem tough and an unstoppable offensive force.

Newsflash: it makes you look like a pathetic douchebag. You know what else it does? Proves that you’re not actually that good in the first place if you need to do that after every basket. What does Kobe do after he scores? Nothing, he just gets back on defence. Why? BECAUSE HE SCORES ALL THE TIME!!!

Big Baby Davis was the biggest perpetrator last night. He just looked ridiculous, so much so that he resembled a cartoon character by the end of the game. Big deal, you had one good game. The Lakers will shove it down your throat on Sunday and you’ll fade back into obscurity. Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce do the same shit. You two aren’t tough. They can just talk a big game, but have never shown the cojones to back it up.

Rasheed Wallace drew my ire last night as well. After EVERY foul called against he’d run around in a circle like clucking chicken with his eyes bugged to express his disappointment over the call. Way to be a big boy, Sheed.

However, I do like one Boston player: Rajon Rondo. He has made several spectacular plays throughout the postseason and he just acts like it’s a part of his job. The rest of the team should take notice and cool it with the amateurish histrionics.

It’s disappointing that a Boston team has denigrated themselves like this when the originator of ‘Act like you’ve scored before’ celebrations is the immortal Bobby Orr.

I’m not worried about the Lakers losing last night. Tied 2-2, the series is still on serve in terms of home court advantage. The Lakers have to win two more games and they have two more chances at home with Jack, Sly and Denzel in attendance.

Kobe will be raising his fifth Larry O’Brien trophy in the air next week and cement his status as one of the top 5 players in the history of the game (that’s for CSzem. Watch him do his best Big Baby impression in the comments section).

What a Terrible Night

(BOD - Megan Fox)

Where do I begin to discuss the desultory results from the sports world last night?

Luckily, I wasn’t forced to witness these travesties firsthand as I was otherwise engaged for the majority of the night. I supposed to attend a practice with the minor baseball team I am helping coach, but it was cancelled due to rain.

Instead, it was deemed we would have a ‘coaches meeting’ to discuss the season so far and plan out the rest of summer schedule. This pretty much involved immature behaviour and the consumption of adult beverages at the house of a coach whose wife is away for the week. Needless to say, it was a good time.

However, throughout the meeting, we received periodic updates on both the Jays game and Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

It was a matchup of aces as Shaun Marcum squared off against David Price in the second game of their series at Tropicana Field. Price dominated Toronto, with less than stellar stuff, and the Rays hitters lit Marcum up.

In the last two games, the Blue Jays have been outscored 19-1. Apparently, I may have been off on my prediction of a Toronto collapse by a series. I assumed they would get destroyed by the Yankees, but instead they waited until they were outside of the comfy confines of the Rogers Centre to start their late spring swoon.

The Jays are D-U-N. Done. The vaunted offence has gone silent thus far in June and more games against the AL East and the National League will only exacerbate the discrepancy between the Haves in MLB and the Toronto Have-nots.

The Chicago Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup last night. I’m happy for the city of Chicago as they won their first Cup since 1961 breaking the NHL’s longest drought (which now belongs to the Toronto Maple Leafs, which brings me great joy).

But that happiness is jaded considerably with the sickening news that Patrick Kane scored the winning goal in overtime. Are you kidding me?

I’m a big believer in karma, so I don’t understand how that little twerp can make such reprehensible decisions last summer and be a Stanley Cup champion a year later. It makes me sick to my stomach.

I’m not going to let Kane enjoy this moment so let’s take a journey down memory lane to see what I’ve said about one of the biggest pussies in professional sports:

Here are my initial thoughts on his cab driver skirmish where he punched an elderly cab driver because the cabbie wouldn’t give him a dollar and twenty cents change. You all really need to read it in its entirety. I’m at my acerbic best. Here’s a quick excerpt (it was so hard to choose one):

But Patrick Kane couldn’t try to start something with someone his own age. First, that would require him to not be a huge pussy, which, evidently, is asking a lot. No, he had to pick on an elderly cab driver. Did he start something with this cab driver one on one?

Of course not. He needed the help of his cousin to choke and punch the poor guy because of a fare dispute. Fighting mano a mano, even against a senior citizen, necessitates at least an ounce of testosterone flowing through one’s veins. Obviously little Patty doesn’t have any of that in his system; if he did, then he would probably be able to grow facial hair and weigh more than 150lbs.

Here’s more Kane bashing (scroll down) and some more (scroll down). Lastly, there’s this (scroll to the end).

And an anecdote to really make this column pop. At the Ontario Senior baseball championships in London last year, I saw Patrick Kane and some of his loser friends try to skip the line at a bar (Kane played junior hockey in London). The bouncers wouldn’t let him in for two reasons. He was way too drunk and he had cocaine residue all over his suit jacket.

There have been rumours of similar behaviour from Kane for months. Patrick Kane – bully, punk, and scrawny, cocaine-fuelled jackass.

A real class act.

Strasburg is the Real Deal

(BOD - Marla Hooch. What a hitter!)

Some general housekeeping:

At some point yesterday afternoon, Talkin’ with Tewks received its 10,000th visitor. This is a monumental occasion and a testament to this blog’s popularity (or it’s a testament to how much I can refresh a webpage in a day).

Nevertheless, I feel like I should be standing on an aircraft carrier, in a flight suit, with a giant “Mission Accomplished” banner hanging behind me. Of course, I’m not one to rest on my laurels (that would mean I have laurels in the first place), so I will continue to keep banging out columns at my usual pace.

See you at 20,000.

There were some terrific comments and opinions posted to yesterday’s Bachelorette recap. I agreed with the majority of them, vehemently disagreed with one (Rambo, I’m looking in your direction) and, based on some suggestions, have managed to coerce Mama Tewks to watch the rest of the season with me and make more inappropriate comments.

How about that Stephen Strasburg?

His performance last night in his major league debut was nothing short of incredible. It’s not the stats that impressed me the most, it’s the fact Strasburg was able to surpass the tremendous hype surrounding his debut and completely shatter everyone’s expectations.

How big was his start? I found myself lamenting the fact I couldn’t watch the game live. Has such a sentence ever been written about a game involving the Washington Nationals and the Pittsburgh Pirates?

I am not new to the Strasburg train. Last April, I wrote a column on the kid before he exploded into the public consciousness when he was taken first overall in the 2009 MLB Entry Draft.

Back then, my adoration for the flamethrower was already burgeoning. After last night, it has reached a fever pitch. Strasburg’s stuff is FILTHY. Its one thing to dominate college kids and minor leaguers, but to make major league hitters flinch on curveballs and look plain silly on high fastballs is something maybe a handful of guys can do in the entire league.

Strasburg did this in his first start!

Let’s take a closer look at his line: 7IP, 14Ks, 0BB, 94 pitches.

At first glance, most people are going to be blown away by the gaudy strikeout total, as well they should. Fourteen strikeouts, especially in only seven innings, are extraordinary in any outing, nevermind that it was his big league debut.

Allow me to flex some insider baseball knowledge: I’m much more impressed by the walk total and the pitch count. Most pure strikeout pitchers also walk a lot of batters; the two stats go hand in hand. Nolan Ryan holds both the career strikeout record and the career walk record.

Strasburg was able to strike out a ton of batters, but also possessed pinpoint accuracy. That is a very scary proposition to the rest of the National League.

To strikeout a lot of hitters, a pitcher is going to throw a lot of pitches. It’s virtually impossible to do so otherwise. For example, I have a lot of strikeouts so far this year and I guarantee I’ve thrown over 100 pitches in each outing. It’s hard not to throw a lot of pitches when ringing up Ks.

Strasburg only threw 94 pitches in seven innings. With 14 strikeouts. That type of pitch count with that performance is absolutely unheard of.

He also struck out the last seven batters he faced and threw his last pitch of the night at 98 miles an hour. That means he got stronger as the game went on. He was only pulled from the game because he was on a strict pitch count.

Can you imagine if he has a similar performance a year from now, not shackled by a pitch count? Next June, the Nationals will probably let him stretch out to 120, 125 pitches if the outing doesn’t have any high stress innings (i.e. runners in scoring position).

You’re looking at possibly 19 or 20 strikeouts. Strasburg officially has no ceiling. He once struck out 23 in a college game. Could he do that in the Show?

After what I saw last night, I’m not betting against him.

I am Writing this Recap for the Right Reasons

(BOD - Katy Perry)

Before we begin today’s recap, let’s all have a moment of silence for Craig M’s hair.

There we go. It will be missed.

8:02 – Roberto would have my first choice for a one on one date as well. If, you know, I was a woman.

8:04 – Ali has mentioned on more than one occasion that she’s terrified of flying. Why do the producers keep forcing her into the air?

8:05 – The helicopter scene reminds me so much of Anchorman. Roberto’s voice is so smooth it could make a wolverine purr.

8:06 – “I’m at a deficit” - Justin talking about his cast and how it affects his gameplay. I’m fairly certain the word he was looking for is “disadvantage.” I swear all Canadians aren’t that stupid.

8:08 – Great move by Roberto going for the first kiss on the high wire. The guy is on a different playing field compared to these other stiffs. He has tremendous game. My mancrush is approaching dangerously high levels.

8:13 – Did Kasey just say he wanted Ali to hear his singing voice? Really? That’s what you want to emphasize there, big guy? The less talking you do, the better.

8:14 – Roberto speaks different languages and he’s travelled the world? He’s too perfect. CSzem’s right, he has a girlfriend.

8:15 – “I don’t like being stiff at a table.” Neither do I, Ali. I prefer being stiff on my back.

8:17 – “Skank!” Mama Tewks first contribution of the night, while Ali and Roberto were making out on the blanket. Good to have her here.

8:24 – Craig R’s friends are going to be jealous of him for being in a music video? Does he have any friends who aren’t teenagers?

8:25 – Why is no one asking Ali to slow dance to this Barenaked Ladies “hit” song? That would be an automatic move for me and Roberto. Why am I not on this show again?

8:27 – The Weatherman is nervous to kiss Ali? What is wrong with this guy? I’m getting a real strong virgin vibe from him.

8:30 – I just said Ali looked great in that yellow bikini. Mama Tewks reply: “Oh, she’s sucking it in.” She’s in rare form tonight.

8:33 – The Weatherman IS PATHETIC!! Why is he still here? Bring Craig M back.

8:34 – “It was all wrong.” Ali just summed up the Weatherman’s entire sorry sexual career here in one second.

8:34 – He’s crying? Oh my dear Christ. I’m sorry, there is no way any woman on Earth would be attracted to the Weatherman. What a joke.

8:36 – If I was in Kirk’s scene, Little Tewks would have gotten some screen time, that’s for damn sure.

8:43 – After Chris L mentioned that his mom passed away, Mama Tewks remarked, “Oh, no mother-in-law issues.” Now you all know where I get it from.

8:44 – The following verdict has been reached in the Tewks household: The Weatherman is a homosexual. The evidence is piling up.

8:46 – Mama Tewks on Hunter: “Big ears, funny mouth.” I may just get her to write the recap next week.

8:56 – I like this move by Justin to go visit Ali at her house. She has to appreciate the Bataan Death March he’s willing to embark on for her. That is an impressive feat; I have to give the guy credit.

8:59 – Nice move on bringing the baby photos out too. Justin is rapidly climbing the charts and he’s wooing Ali big time with all of this family talk. He’s really redeeming himself for the Great White North with this performance.

9:07 – Ali’s putting on the apron and cooking for her date with Hunter? Now we’re talking. Enough with the modern approach, let’s get back to traditional gender roles.

9:10 – Hunter is legitimately ugly. And stop calling Ali baby and darling, you creepy little pervert.

9:11 – Ali has zero physical attraction to this chump. My only question is how has he made it this far?

9:17 – Justin is a fantastic actor. I call bullshit on his quitting professional wrestling to be with Ali. He would leave her in a heartbeat if Vince McMahon offered him a tag team partnership with Doink the Clown.

9:28 – “What a bunch of women.” I think Mama Tewks perfectly encapsulated the bachelors on this season.

9:31 – Yeah, Steve, nice move. Make Ali sit on hard concrete in a dress. I’m sure she’ll love that.

9:32 – Watching Steve struggle with the champagne bottle is like watching a 17 year old kid unhook a bra.

9:38 – Ok, Ali is just trying to cause shit by telling Roberto that Justin went to her house. Why would Justin tell the other guys? That’s a stupid move on her part.

9:42 – These guys are just jealous they weren’t clever enough to think to go to Ali’s house to see her. I’m somewhat surprised that Justin actually has some real human emotion. He’s a little more layered than I initially thought.

9:48 – “If she picks four-eyes, I’m done.” Mama Tewks on Frank.

9:50 – I would love to tell you all what Mama Tewks said when Frank and the Weatherman got a rose, but if I clean it up, its not really a sentence.

9:55 – That footage of Kasey singing will haunt my dreams.

What did you think of tonight’s episode? Post thoughts to comments.

Talkin' with Tewks Live: Fractured Podcast

(BOD - Jennifer Lopez)

It's a recurring theme on this blog, but let me mention it again: I hate technology. CSzem and I recorded a great Blue Jays-related podcast this morning and when I went to listen to it back, CSzem's audio was nowhere to be found.

I could hear him perfectly throughout the recording, but it apparently disappeared into cyberspace immediately after we finished talking. It's a real shame too because this might have been the first time when he's actually made worthwhile contributions to this space.

I can't even contact CSzem to try to record our thoughts because there's a very real possibility that Baby CSzem will be entering the world at some point today. If that's the case, best of luck to the Family Szem.

In an effort to give you your first Tewks fix of the week, I managed to cobble together bits of my audio into a stream of consciousness rant about the 2010 Toronto Blue Jays.

Talkin' with Tewks Live - The Jays (One Man's Opinion)

Enjoy.

The Lakers Land the First Punch

(BOD - Julianne Hough)

Before I dive into the Los Angeles Lakers systematic beatdown of the Boston Celtics in Game 1 of the NBA Finals last night, I wanted to make a few more comments on Armando Galarraga’s lost perfect game.

There was a rumour yesterday morning that Bud Selig, having the authority to overturn Jim Joyce’s mistake, would call the 27th batter of the game out and retroactively give Galarraga the 21st perfect game in Major League history.

Not surprisingly, Selig did not make the popular decision (i.e. correct decision). He refused to overturn the call on the field, but did promise to look into expanded replay.

There is a small minority of people who believe Selig made the correct call. Their reasoning is that changing the call on the field would set a dangerous precedent and open the doors for all types of petulant whining about ‘unfair’ decisions made during the heat of the game.

I call supreme bullshit on this logic.

This is a completely extraneous circumstance we are dealing with in this situation. Nothing about Wednesday’s game would have changed if the perfect game remained in tact. The next batter of the inning grounded out. The score would have remained the same, only the box score would have shown one less batter.

It was the last out of the game. There is no precedent set. All Selig had to do is say that this is a one-time decision, a way to make things right for everyone involved. If people started to cry foul because this game was overturned and other instances weren’t, then they are morons to begin with and don’t deserve to espouse an opinion.

Back to the Finals. The Lakers, in front of a silicone-enhanced crowd and the immortal Jack Nicholson, took the Celtics out to the woodshed in a convincing Game 1 victory. Even though I’ve called a Western Conference victory since April, I’m not ready to gloat yet because home court advantage is so big in basketball.

Everyone expected the Lakers to win this game and the next one as well. However, if Los Angeles can waltz into Beantown and steal either Game 3 or 4, then the series will be officially over.

In our last podcast, CSzem and I discussed the historical implications of Kobe winning his fifth title. CSzem mentioned that Bryant lacks a little bit of “Just win, baby!” in favour of chasing his own personal statistics and I think that attitude has defined his career up to last year.

I even wrote the following before the Western Conference Finals:

The juxtaposition between Kobe the teammate and Kobe the lone wolf will be a major story as this series progresses. Will he sacrifice personal stats for the betterment of the team? Last night he scored 40 points, but he only took 23 shots. What happens if his scoring touch is a bit off and he ends up jacking up 30 shots to get his points? The Lakers could be in trouble.

I don’t think he plays like that anymore. Call it trust in his teammates or maturation, but Kobe is playing out of his mind in all facets of the game and at both ends of the floor. He’s making his teammates better. Sure, he still has his diva moments in the regular season, but he goes to another place during the playoffs.

Bryant is acutely aware of his legacy and what a fifth title will mean to his career resume. Not only is Kobe average 30 ho-hum points a night, but he’s doing it within the regular flow of the offence. He’s rebounding and making passes and playing stifling defence when necessary.

LeBron may have won the regular season MVP, but Kobe is running the show in June.

I Feel Sick

(BOD - Tyra Banks)

Sometimes I really hate being a sports fan.

I don’t even know where to begin on the stories from Wednesday night that left me with a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Let’s start with the Jays debacle from last night. It’s very rare that I hate being right, but I think last night’s game is evidence of the Jays impending freefall. There is no way that giving up 10 runs combined in the last inning of two games won’t rattle a team’s mental state.

They outplayed the Tampa Bay Rays for 25 innings out of 27 and only have a single victory to show for it. Now they have to sit and think about those blown leads while waiting for the big, bad Yankees to stroll into town. Who do they have to play after the Yankees? The Rays for three more.

Toronto could lose eight in a row and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash. That is a terrible feeling as a fan of the team.

Ken Griffey Junior retired yesterday, a shell of his former self. He is really the only power hitter of this era who is beyond reproach when it comes to steroid allegations. It’s sad that Griffey is retiring under such disappointing circumstances. He hasn’t been in the lineup for a week, his average is well below the Mendoza line, and he hasn’t hit a home run yet this season.

Not to mention the weird story that he fell asleep in the clubhouse during a game which was reported by two of his young teammates, but vehemently denied by Griffey and Mariners manager, Don Wakamatsu.

This not the way for one of the greatest players in the game to go out. Hopefully, when the dust has settled, Griffey will be remembered as the fourth greatest home run hitter in major league history, behind Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth and Willie Mays. Also, we should reminisce on what could have been. Without the injuries that plagued his career, Griffey could have ended up with 800 big flies.

The worst part of my night began with a text message from He Who Hits Bombs. It read: “Watch the highlights from the Detroit game. I can’t wait to hear the rant.”

Intrigued, I immediately wanted to see what he was talking about. Here is the clip.

Umpire Jim Joyce ruined Armando Galarraga’s perfect game bid with two outs in the ninth on a blown call. This situation doesn’t even deserve a rant. I wasn’t mad or angry when I saw the travesty (and there isn’t a better word), instead I was just sad and disappointed.

You can hear it in the announcers’ voices as well. Pure shock and disbelief, mixed with anguish. You can’t even be upset with the umpire. He just flat out blew the call and spoiled Galarraga’s chance at history. I guarantee Jim Joyce has not slept all night.

Look at the batter’s reaction after he’s called safe; hands on his head, looking to the sky. He knew he was out. No one wants to break up a perfect game that way, especially with two outs in the ninth.

Galarraga handled the situation with great poise. Just a bewildered smile playing across his face, he was able to bear down and retire the next hitter on five pitches. I would have lost my frigging mind. Actually, I think I would have gone numb, realizing that my chance at immortality was destroyed by human error.

CSzem and I were talking about where this game ends up historically and he had a number of good points, which I’m sure he’ll address in the comments section.

The only explanation I have for such a travesty is the following: Had the runner been called out, that would have been the third perfect game in less than a month, when only 18 had been pitched in the history of the game.

I sincerely believe that the baseball Gods would not allow another perfect game. It’s a mythical accomplishment that would seem somewhat commonplace had a third one been thrown this season. Need proof of my theory?

Watch the replay again. It appears Jim Joyce’s arms were to going to call the batter out, when they inexplicably shoot out to his sides indicating a safe call. Something made Joyce make that call. It was the baseball Gods trying to maintain the aura of a major league perfect game.

How did my night end? The last thing I remember is that jerk Patrick Kane scoring a beautiful breakaway goal to give the Blackhawks a third period lead. I wanted to grab Kane by the mullet and pile drive his stupid face into the ice.

(Luckily Philly came back to win in overtime: Did you really think Rocky Balboa’s hometown would lie down and die in four straight? Of course not. The Flyers will not lose on home ice.)

Could the Jays Be For Real?

(BOD - Caroline Wozniacki)

I knew it. I told myself I wasn’t going to fall for it.

I sat down last night ready to watch my first Blue Jays’ game in weeks (their Western road swing, dumb television shows and life have all impeded my baseball viewing).

I have heard nothing but good things about the team in my absence. They are hitting home runs at a record pace (54 in May!) and their young pitching staff has been dealing all season long. Last night was the second game in a big home stand against the Tampa Bay Rays and New York Yankees.

Much last like year, how they fare against their Al East brethren will be indicative of just how good this team actually is. They won the first game against Tampa on Monday night behind a great effort by Brandon Morrow.

Numerous times throughout the year, I have mentioned that I was nonplussed about the hot start of the Jays. They did the same thing last year, getting my hopes high for a meaningful September only to fall apart once they hit the AL East.

As the game progressed through the early innings, I found myself to be cautiously optimistic. The hitters looked fantastic, the much vaunted offence looked to be for real, and Brian Tallet was putting together a sterling effort on the hill.

Once the hometown squad was up 5-0, I made up my mind to write about the Jays this morning and how they look like a team finally ready to compete for a playoff spot. I even came up with the column title around 8:30pm last night: ‘Could the Jays Be For Real?’

I am such an idiot.

I was doing so well, not buying into the ridiculous hype around this club espoused by guys like Gretzpo. I didn’t want to open my heart up to this team again, only to have it ripped out in grandiose fashion.

I’m like a guy whose girlfriend has cheated on him multiple times. I consistently forgive her, buying lame excuses like “I was drunk”, “It didn’t mean anything”, “He made a convincing argument, and I pretty much had to do him.” I’ve let her walk all over me for so long and every time she lets me down I tell myself I am done with her. But I keep letting her back in my life and she keeps shitting all over me.

This is what it’s like to be a Toronto Blue Jays baseball fan in 2010.

It’s not just that the Jays lost last night’s game, its how they lost. Blowing a 5-0 lead to baseball’s best team. Giving up four runs in a horrid ninth.

Do you know what is most terrifying about last night’s game? Last year the beginning of the end for Toronto’s season took place in Boston. The team was riding high, in first place in their division with a 27-14 record.

They walk into Fenway and get shutout by 75 year old Tim Wakefield. No one gets shutout by Tim Wakefield anymore. The loss sent the Jays into a freefall from which they never recovered.

Back to last night. Blowing a two run lead in the ninth against a team you have thoroughly dominated two nights in a row is the same type of catalyst that could lead to such a swoon.

I want to save the majority of my vitriol for Kevin Gregg. Look, everyone has bad games, I understand that. But his actions after being removed from the game by Cito are evidence of his final appearance as the team closer and guarantee shitty performance after shitty performance from Gregg for the rest of the summer.

There was no need for Gregg to go after the home plate umpire last night. Yes, he may have gotten squeezed on two calls. However, he walked FIVE in the inning and at least one of them was four straight balls. Gregg showed zero command of the strike zone. Why the hell should the umpire give him the benefit of the doubt? I saw at least four pitches that were saved from denting the backstop only by the athleticism of John Buck.

Great pitchers don’t whine to the umpires. They make adjustments. Great pitchers don’t walk five in one inning, blowing a great performance by your team. The honeymoon period with Kevin Gregg is now over. He’s done. Finished.

And I hate to say it, but I think the same goes for the 2010 Toronto Blue Jays. Yes, they will be competitive and hit a lot more bombs, but they will definitely be playing out the string in September.

The Bachelorette: Live Recap

(BOD - Anna Paquin)

We are back! Fresh from a months-long trashy reality television hiatus, Talkin’ with Tewks is back with blanketed coverage of The Bachelorette. Once again, I am coming from you from Casa di Tewks. Mama and Sister Tewks decided to not take the plunge and have chosen to avoid this season. That’s probably for the best as I would not be held accountable for my actions when they denigrated Ali.

8:01 – There are at least 7 brutal looking guys on this season. Ali is definitely slumming.

8:03 – I’m fairly certain Frank shot his wad when he heard he was getting a one on one date with Ali. How will he be able to last if she actually touches his arm or something?

8:05 – They let Ali drive on this date? Frank should have his mancard revoked. What a terrible precedent for young girls everywhere. Gentlemen, you never let a girl drive on the first date. Bobby Riggs is spinning in his grave right now.

8:06 – And it stalled. What a surprise. A woman can’t drive. SHOCKING TWIST!!

8:10 – Why were they running in the opposite direction of where they were driving?

8:11 – I would have pushed Ali out of the way and hogged the paparazzi for myself.

8:13 – Craig R is jealous of Rated R because Craig looks like Shrek.

8:15 – If I was Frank, I would be leaving copies of my manuscript all over the mansion. “Oh, what’s this?” “This looks like a fun read.”

8:16 – Frank is the first guy she kisses? That’s like eating street meat for dinner when you have a gift certificate to The Keg (who represents The Keg? There’s no way I can make that comparison sound less gay than writing this recap in the first place).

8:23 – I love Craig M. He’s stirring the pot, creating some drama. You can tell he’s a lot of smarter than the rest of these morons, so he’s playing mind games to get them to lose focus. I might add him to Facebook. Maybe we can go to The Brazen Head together.

8:24 – “You have exceeded every expectation I’ve ever had.” – Ali to Frank. Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve heard of setting the bar low, but this is ridiculous. I know Jake was terrible, but my God, Frank looks like the guy you stuff in a locker after gym class.

8:30 – Ali looks AMAZING in that bikini top. So does Craig M’s hair.

8:32 – Sexy guy calendar! I mean, ew, gross.

8:33 – I would have stuffed my banana hammock with three pounds of sand.

8:34 – Jonathan the Weatherman has a small penis, guaranteed. Why else would he be so scared to wear the bathing suit? Methinks the lady doth protest too much (Wait, he even said he wasn’t big down there. Jesus, he must be hung like a light switch).

8:35 – I literally think Craig M and I were separated at birth. The resemblances are uncanny. Our photo shoots would have mirrored each other.

8:36 – Another fucking guitar player? That game is so cliché. Think of another way to impress a woman. That shit makes my blood boil. “Oh, look at me, I’m a tortured musician. I’m so sensitive. I cry myself to sleep at night and then write a song about it.”

8:43 – Did you see Ali’s eyes bug out when Ty said he was married? He’s toast. She hated hearing that.

8:44 – Did the Weatherman really just say he was a brown belt and therefore can kick Craig M’s ass? Wow. Watch out for Bruce Lee.

8:47 – The Weatherman is so scared Craig M is going to beat him up. What a pussy. Grow a sack, dude. “Ali, Craig M was like really mean to me and it hurt my feelings. Can you send him home?”

8:52 – Ty got the rose? I did not see that coming. So, I misread signals and wasn’t able to tell what a woman was thinking: the story of my life.

8:58 – If the date with Jesse was really a fantasy date, as Ali suggested, then it would involve a vat of hot fudge and two deaf, mute Icelandic twins.

9:01 – Why does Ali keep driving on these dates? I understand that it’s 2010, but come on. I mean women are allowed to vote, what else does she want?

9:03 – Just a suggestion, Jesse, but you may not want to suplex the woman you’re trying to sleep with it. In my experience, that does not work. A DDT is much more romantic.

9:10 – Ok, I can’t condone Craig M’s actions with the Weatherman. I would have lost my shit if he took my clothes. Not cool, Craig. You’re lucky you still have great hair.

9:12 – This is where Jesse and I are different. When he and Ali were slow dancing I would have forced her into a Dirty Dancing overhead lift. Then I would have requested Hungry Eyes from the poor man’s Michael Buble.

9:19 – Chris L is my dark horse pick to win. He seems like he’s there for the right reasons. TAKE A SHOT!!

9:21 – Ali LOVES Roberto. She can’t even form coherent sentences when she looks at him.

9:22 – Roberto played college baseball. And he brought his glove? Christ, I would have sex with Roberto at this point.

9:25 – Frank thought Ali was his girlfriend after one date? Why is she not running for the hills? And she’s making out with him again. Frank is terrible. Am I the only one not seeing this? I feel like I’m taking crazy pills.

9:31 – “Looks like the forecast is very rosy.” Everything I hate about the Weatherman can be summed up in that sentence.

9:34 – Craig M has no game. This is incredibly disappointing. I take back everything nice thing I said about him. He’s extremely awkward around Ali. This is excruciating to watch. He’s all talk in front of the guys and just retreats into a shell around a woman. What an unbelievable douche.

9:42 – It was great when the Weatherman told Craig M to “grow up. You’re 34.” Then Craig mumbles “I’m not 34.” Two minutes Craig is being interviewed and the banner at the bottom of the screen said he was 34. Just a fantastic sequence. Craig is a complete joke.

9:50 – Who the hell is Steve?

9:52 – The fucking Weatherman got a rose? Craig M rightfully should have been eliminated, but the Weatherman should have followed him out the door. Although, his rose represents hope for guys with small junk everywhere. Somewhere Gretzpo is smiling.

9:53 – Craig M’s egotistical exit interview was much more pathetic when you realize he’s awful around women. It’s like pulling back the curtain and seeing the Wizard is actually a short, fat bald guy. "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!"

9:55 – Man, they are really giving it to the Canadians this season. I need to be on next year to help restore this great nation’s image.

What did you think? Post thoughts to comments.

Talkin' with Tewks Live: Pitcher Perfect

(BOD - Brooklyn Decker)

No, the column title isn't about me (although I did have an impressive performance last night (6IP, 12Ks, 0 BB), but it's about the masterful perfection that is Roy Halladay.

CSzem and I discuss Doc's perfect game, where he ranks among other 27 up, 27 down performances in Major League history and whether it's gotten 'easy' to throw one in the modern game. Also, our conversation steers towards the NBA Finals and Kobe Bryant and he should end up in the discussion of all time great NBA players.

Talkin' with Tewks Live - Pitcher Perfect

Enjoy.

Fans Go to Games to Watch the Players

(BOD - Jessica Biel)

The impetus for today’s column was provided in Wednesday’s Chicago White Sox where both Mark Buehrle and Ozzie Guillen were ejected for arguing with umpire Joe West. This column topic has been at the back of my mind for some time now, but I needed such an incident to really get my blood going.

First of all, there never should have been an issue in the first place as Buehrle did not balk either time the infraction was called by Joe West. As a left-handed pitcher, I would have rightfully lost my shit if such a call went against me, thereby nullifying my advantage in facing a runner at first base.

What I’m concerned with is that it appeared Joe West went looking for a confrontation and he felt that tossing two players out of the game would make the highlights on Sportscentre. This is part of a larger, disturbing trend I’ve noticed among officials at all levels throughout the past five years.

In the old days, it was said that an umpire did his job correctly if people didn’t notice him in the first place. However, in today’s ‘look at me’ society, that attitude is no longer the norm. Everyone wants to be the centre of attention.

I know of one umpire in my league who wants everyone to know what a great umpire he is and that he’s the absolute authority on the field; correct calls be damned. I literally think he makes shit up just to hear himself speak.

I think Joe West suffers from the same disease. Balks are rarely called, primarily because they are so tough to decipher, unless it’s an egregious offence. I’ve seen a myriad of replays of Buehrle’s supposed ‘balks’ and I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There was no reason for him to make the call in the first place.

Then to toss Buehrle out of the game for a slight toss of the glove? Outrageous and completely uncalled for.

It is not just umpires and referees who are trying to make themselves bigger than the game. Play by play guys and colour commentators do the exact same thing. They all think of themselves as the funniest person to hit the airwaves since Bob Hope and they all resort to lame shticks to get attention.

Here’s a novel idea: how about you just call the game and leave the immature and unfunny histrionics at home?

There’s no way in hell grizzled broadcasting men like Ernie Harwell and Vin Scully would ever resort to such behaviour. That’s why I love Buck Martinez. There are times during Jays broadcasts that he doesn’t speak for 30 seconds. He understands that baseball doesn’t need to be inundated with unnecessary words. It’s important to let the game speak for itself.

Buck knows people aren’t tuning in for him. And that’s why he’s a great broadcaster.

The City of Boston is Terrified

(BOD - Nikki Reed)

Another start precluded me from watching any sports last night (I also missed the finale of American Idol; however, have no fear as my PVR worked overtime to capture Simon Cowell’s last stand).

I had a much better start last night. I got the win over one of the top teams in the province by allowing only one earned run on two hits through six innings and I was what baseball men deem, ‘effectively wild.’ Now I know what I need to do between starts, so it should bode well for a successful summer (or I’ll tear my rotator cuff on my next pitch, either one).

While I was icing my arm, I was able to catch the final minute of Game 5 of the NBA Eastern Conference Finals. The Orlando Magic were just putting the finishing touches on their second consecutive beatdown of the Boston Celtics, narrowing the Celts’ lead in the series to three games to two.

Truthfully, it doesn’t really matter who wins this series as they will be little more than glorified practice opponents against the winner of the Western Final. However, the circumstances surrounding the possible collapse of the Celtics has tremendous ramifications throughout the city of Boston.

Remember, it was a little over two weeks ago that the Bruins had a 3-0 series lead over the Philadelphia Flyers, only to lose the next four games in a row. Not only that, but Boston had 3-0 lead in the first period of Game 7 and still found a way to lose the series. Choke, thy name is Bruin.

Now, the Celtics are on the precipice of doing the same thing to an Orlando Magic team that dominated the first two rounds of the playoffs. They got complacent in the first three games against Boston, but seem to have found the groove. And I think the Celtics may be too old to stop the bleeding.

Before this year, only two NHL teams have ever rebounded from a 3-0 deficit (1942 Toronto Maple Leafs and the 1975 New York Islanders for you trivia buffs) and no NBA team has ever come back. Could the same city be home to two epic collapses in the same postseason? The chances against that are staggering, but the city of Boston is used to defying the odds.

It was six years ago that the Red Sox became the first team in baseball history to come back from a 3-0 hole when they defeated the Yankees in the ALCS. They then went on to extinguish their 86 year curse by defeating the Cardinals in the World Series.

What happened next?

Red Sox Nation became insufferable. They had fair weather fans everywhere and they thought themselves as the centre of the baseball universe. Really, they are only eclipsed by Montreal Canadiens’ fans as the most annoying people in sports.

Therefore, I think it will be karma for the city to receive two crushing defeats in the same spring. Then maybe they will shut their yaps about what a great sports city Beantown is.

On the other hand, the Orlando Magic have Vince Carter and we all know how he plays in Game 7s.

Steve Nash is the Best

(BOD - Nicole Scherzinger)

After yesterday’s estrogen-riddled podcast, today’s entry will focus purely on sports in an attempt to hang on to the remaining shards of my masculinity.

(Sure, I could talk about the final performance night of the ninth season of American Idol, but I usually like to do that only when there is ample opportunity to mock. Truthfully, I thought all of the performances were excellent last night. That would make for a more boring column than usual.

My only regret is, after listening to Lee’s rendition of ‘The Boxer’ by Simon and Garfunkel, that I didn’t pick a copy of Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits last weekend when I had the chance. That’s not a joke, I love their music)

Steve Nash led his Phoenix Suns to their second consecutive victory over the Los Angeles Lakers last night, evening their series at two games a piece. After the Lakers beat the Suns handily in Game 1, basketball pundits across the web said it was evidence of the Lakers’ superiority.

I, rightfully, said the victory didn’t mean much; all it signified was that the Lakers used home court to their advantage. Now, the series is down to a best of 3, with the home team winning all four games thus far.

I have run out of superlatives to describe Steve Nash. There’s no point in discussing just how well he is playing this year. If Nash isn’t the top point guard in the NBA, then he is 1A next to Rajon Rondo’s 1B. What is most fascinating about Steve Nash are the mitigating factors surrounding his play.

Nash is 36 years old. Point guards are not supposed to play at such a high level in their mid-thirties and he has shown no signs of slowing down. The position requires the speed and quickness of a younger man and Nash has been dominating the spot for more than decade.

I would argue it’s the most physically demanding position in the sport; the work capacity needed to succeed at the point is extraordinary. The fact Nash is able to still play so well is a testament to his fitness and work ethic.

Steve Nash is the toughest player in the NBA by a country mile. It’s not even up for debate. The injuries he has played through this postseason are unparalleled in the annals of professional basketball (except for maybe Willis Reed when he played with a broken leg, but everyone was exponentially tougher in the 70s anyway).

The fact Nash played after getting clocked by an inadvertent Tim Duncan elbow wasn’t the most impressive thing about the sequence, although it would have brought lesser players to their knees.

Can you imagine if Vince Carter got hit by the same elbow? He’d be in a coma right now being read his Last Rites.

No, the most impressive thing is that Nash scored ten plus points and five or so assists with one eye (the eye that hit Duncan’s elbow swelled shut). Do you have any idea how tough it is to do anything with one eye? You have zero depth perception. Try to complete normal tasks for five minutes with one eye covered. It’s impossible. Steve Nash played and dominated in an NBA playoff game with one eye.

Now, in the conference final, Nash had his nose broken. He didn’t miss any time and refused to wear bandages or a face mask. He’s a true warrior.

Admittedly, if Nash played hockey, his actions would be considered ordinary because hockey players are tough as nails, but in the lily-white world of professional basketball Steve Nash is the toughest man on Earth.

It’s actually quite surprising since Nash considers himself to be a soccer player first and they are the biggest pansies in sports. I suppose being Canadian trumps soccer playing ninny.

Nash also has a tremendous wit. I mentioned last week that Phil Jackson accused him of carrying the ball up court. Nash’s response: “The best coach in the league, Gregg Popovich, didn’t have a problem with it.”

Hey-ooooo!

If the Suns can get past the Lakers, I have a feeling Captain Canada will be capturing his first Larry O’Brien trophy in a few weeks time.

Talkin' with Tewks Live: Ali is Back in My Life

(BOD - If you don't know, you may as well just stop reading)

My life once again has meaning as The Bachelorette premiered last night in a fantastically entertaining episode.

I didn't write a running diary because there were way too many guys to keep track of and I need to work with a more manageable number. Plus, I didn't want to waste words on losers who got sent home the first night.

The live recaps will return in earnest next week, complete with CSzem's Vegas odds.

To tide you all over, CSzem and I recorded a podcast this morning on our thoughts on the premiere. Luckily, we both lasted way longer than Shooter. What a stupid move that was. The only way that would have been dumber is if someone nicknamed 'Tiny' went on the show.

"Why do they call you Tiny?"
"I have a small penis."
"What?"
"Can I have my rose now?"

Talkin' with Tewks Live - The Bachelorette

Enjoy.

The Habs Ensure the Brooms Stay in the Closet (Unlike Their Fan Base)

(BOD - Gillian Jacobs)

I feel like I’ve been unfairly harsh on the Canadiens franchise during the playoffs. In an attempt to maintain a shard of journalistic integrity, I’m going to dissect last night’s game from an unbiased standpoint (the column title notwithstanding).

I have nothing against the Habs players (for the most part); it’s the fans I can’t stand and I’m allowing that unbridled anger to affect my rational approach to this series.

The first period was reminiscent of the previous two games where Montreal totally carried the pace of play and had all kinds of offensive chances against Michael Leighton. This time they were finally able to break out with Michael Cammaleri potting his 13th goal of the postseason.

Cammaleri has been fantastic throughout the playoffs and he’s the key to Montreal’s offensive attack. He plays much bigger than his size and his propensity to score garbage goals close to the net are evidence of his heart and grit (I guarantee CSzem pleasured himself to that paragraph).

I think I got so caught up in the possibility of a Montreal sweep that I forgot an important nugget of information: the Flyers really aren’t that good. All I hear is how big and tough their defencemen are. Do you know what that is a euphemism for? They are slow, plodding meatheads.

The Habs finally decided to use their speed coming through the neutral zone and are just abusing the Flyer’s back end (Hey-oooo!). Philly’s defence was caught flat-footed at an alarming rate last night and, if Montreal can sustain that pressure, it will be a long series for Chris Pronger.

Pronger first began to draw my ire at the Olympics on February when he had no business being on the ice in key situations. He couldn’t keep up to the speed of the international game. To me, he looked like he was over the hill. Not just over the hill, I thought he should be taken out behind the barn and put out of his misery.

Last night, Pronger had a BRUTAL giveaway that directly led to the Habs second goal and catalyzed the Bell Centre crowd into a state of delirium (and more chants which shall not be named). I have a question: Pronger is obviously overmatched in the speed department. Players get slower once they’re tired. So, why the hell is Pronger playing 30 minutes a game?

You’re telling me that, at 36, Pronger isn’t running out of gas? It’s showing in his play. He can’t keep up. Why can’t Peter Laviolette spread some of that ice time around? Because Pronger is only going to get worse. I actually think he may be taking stupid penalties on purpose so he can get a respite in the box.

I said that I don’t hate any players on Montreal, but that is a bit of a lie. I can’t stand Maxim Lapierre. He’s a pest. He’s got a big mouth, but lacks the testicular fortitude to back it up. CBC’s cameras caught him taunting the Philadelphia bench late in the game. Now, I know the Flyers also have Dan Carcillo who is cut from the same cloth as Lapierre. I hate him as well.

Here is what I propose: on the first shift of Saturday night’s game, Lapierre and Carcillo drop the mitts on centre ice. They both land haymakers to each other’s temples, rendering them both unconscious for the rest of the playoffs. That way, we don’t have to see the ‘all talk, no action’ games they both love to play. They bring nothing to the table hockey-wise; they’re glorified carnival attractions.

Last night boils down to this: Montreal was not getting swept in this series and they were buoyed by the rabid home crowd. They’re still going to lose the series.

I hope.

No column on Monday because of the long weekend. Back on Tuesday with the first Bachelorette coverage of the summer.

Floyd Landis is a Moron

(BOD - Katheryn Winnick)

Initially, I had no idea what to write about this morning. I was meandering through a selection of admittedly weak topics; I couldn’t even comment on Game 2 of the Suns/Lakers series because I was in bed before halftime.

I toyed with the idea of writing a lackadaisical review of Robin Hood which I saw last weekend (it was great by the way. I strongly recommend it).

Not convinced, I decided to make a last ditch effort and check out ESPN.com. What headline immediately caught my eye? Floyd Landis Admits to Using PEDs Most of His Career.

Fantastic.

I’m not even going to comment on the fact Floyd Landis used performance-enhancing drugs. He’s a professional cyclist. All of those guys are on something that’s not exactly street legal. More to the point, I would say the majority of professional athletes are involved in PEDs to some degree (maybe not curlers).

The world of professional sports is too lucrative and there is too much money on the table for people to try to get by on hard work and clean living. That seems cynical, but it’s true. I’m not even particularly bothered by it anymore. It’s just a rational response to being a sports fan in the 21st century.

Back to Mr. Landis: again, the story isn’t the fact that he used drugs. It’s the fact that he so vehemently denied using them for so long, to come clean now seems somewhat pointless and arbitrary. Not to mention the fact it makes him seem like an idiot.

Back when he first tested positive, Landis made denials about his positive test, derided the testers for screwing up the results, saying the entire saga was one big conspiracy. Then he waged a lengthy legal battle that carried on for months which involved Landis telling every media outlet in the world that he was, without a doubt, innocent.

In his recent statement, Landis said that he decided to come clean now because he was haunted emotionally by his years of deceit. His life has been ruined and the psychological stress of his lies has taken an unimaginable toll. Boo-hoo, Floyd. I’m playing the world’s smallest violin right now.

The cherry on top of his four-years-too-late mea culpa was that the most difficult phone call he had to make was to his mother to let her know that he is a lying scumbag.

Truthfully, this is where the story should end. A disgraced Floyd Landis rides off into the sunset, never to be heard from again.

But wait, there’s more!!

Along with his admission, Landis has apparently sent emails to cycling and anti-doping officials charging dozens of other athletes and team officials with doping also. Does he have any proof of such claims? Nope. He has zero documentation proving these statements. Way to throw as many people as you can under the bus, Floyd. You’re a real class act.

We’re supposed to believe these accusations from a guy who has so freely lied to the public for four years? My favourite part of the story is this sentence: “He said he knows his credibility is in tatters and that many people will choose not to believe him now.”

No shit.

Lee Dewyze and the Philadelphia Flyers Are in a Class by Themselves

(BOD - Katie Holmes)

Another Tuesday has come and gone and another night of toggling between American Idol and the NHL playoffs, the eternal struggle of my masculinity, took place in the Tewks household.


It was Final 3 performance night on Idol while the Canadiens and the Flyers engaged in the second game of the Eastern Conference Final. Luckily, I was tremendously pleased with the results of both viewing options.

On Idol, each contestant performed two songs: one of their own choosing and one picked by the judges. Let’s look at contestant’s choice first.

Casey James – “Ok, It’s Alright with Me”

I have never heard this song before and I will have no problem never hearing it again. That being said, Casey didn’t sound bad. His performance was perfectly serviceable. And that’s the problem with Casey. He always sings in tune, but lacks any semblance of charisma or star power.

Crystal Bowersox – “Come to My Window”

Crystal gave a terrific rendition of the Melissa Etheridge hit, but the performance lacked the ‘Wow’ factor one might expect from the next American Idol. Of course, Ellen loved the song because girls who like girls like to stick together.

Lee Dewyze – “Simple Man”

Lee crushed it. I could easily imagine hearing that performance on the radio. If I knew how to download music I would definitely put that baby on my Ipod. And that’s the difference between Lee and the previous two. Lee is current, mainstream and has a marketable sound.

The Montreal Canadiens are getting exactly what they deserve in this series. Both the Capitals and the Penguins were flummoxed by Jaroslav Halak, a no-name goalie riding a hot streak of luck and nothing else, in the first two rounds of the series.

Karma has come back to bite Montreal in the ass in the form of Michael Leighton. Who? Exactly.

Leighton has been placed on waivers four times in his career and is suddenly George Vezina incarnate. He has completely stymied the Habs’ offensive attack and he hasn’t let up a goal since the first period of Game 7 against the Bruins.

The parallels between Halak in the first two rounds and Leighton this series are downright eerie. Leighton single-handedly kept the Flyers in the game in the first period, withstanding a barrage of Montreal shots. He gave his team a chance to regroup and then thoroughly dominate Montreal in the last 40 minutes, which is the same game plan the Habs used in the first two rounds,

Casey James – “Daughters”

An improved performance over his first attempt, but this song resides perfectly in Casey’s wheelhouse. It’s the equivalent of a 3-0 fastball down the shoot; all Casey had to do was put a good swing on the ball and it would go out of the park. Plus, thousands of women will be swooning over John Mayer’s insipid ballad, so there is a slight chance Casey could sneak into the final two.

Crystal Bowersox – “Maybe I’m Amazed”

Crystal sounded much better on this song than I thought she would. To use another baseball analogy, this would be a 1-2 curveball down in the zone. She was able to get enough wood on the ball to muscle it into the gap for a surprise double.

Lee Dewyze – "Hallelujah"

I wasn’t as blown away by this performance as the judges were. I don’t think Lee has the right sounding voice for such a melancholic song. However, Lee still sounded fantastic and this contest is definitely his to lose, evidenced by the crowd reaction every time his name was mentioned. If the audience is any indication of America’s choice, then Lee will win hands down. The crowd went bonkers for him throughout the telecast.

Philadelphia looks unstoppable right now. This is the first time I’ve watched them all postseason and I’m very impressed. They are outplaying Montreal in every facet of the game. After their third goal, the crowd once again started up an Ole, Ole, Ole chant which brought a tremendous smile to my face.

I immediately sent a text to CSzem echoing those sentiments. His response: ‘Go Fuck Yourself.’

With pleasure.

Honestly, I have no rational explanation for hating Montreal as much as I do. I actually liked them just over a month ago. However, that all changed with the actions of 50 French jerkoffs in Cuba and now I hate the team with every fibre of my being. Plus, it just makes being friends with CSzem that much more fun.

Oh Yeah, Basketball is a Sport

(BOD  - Kendra Wilkinson)

I had my second start last night and, after last week’s otherworldly pitching performance, I was due to come crashing back down to earth. I had what I like to define as a ‘Brandon Morrow’ start. It wasn’t epically bad, but it wasn’t great either. I couldn’t consistently throw strikes and my breaking stuff was non-existent.

I was also caught up in some hubris. I should have come out after six innings, but I had my mind set on throwing seven. This led to my downfall. I was running on fumes at that point and my entire body was just sore. Obviously, I need to rethink my Crossfit plans and taper my workouts more than I thought during the season.

Basically, it all means that I was up later than usual last night, which was a fortuitous stroke of luck for my inner sports fan. The NBA Conference Finals have just begun and, while I’m not a huge fan of the sport, I can appreciate anything played at a supremely high level.

Thus, I was able to watch the second half of the Phoenix Suns/Los Angeles Lakers game with a giant icepack on my arm trying to dull the pain in my throbbing arm and shoulder.

Initial thoughts: I really like playoff basketball. The pace of the game and the athleticism of the players involved makes for very entertaining television. I couldn’t care less about the Eastern Conference Final now that King James is at home waiting for whatever owner to back up the Brinks truck for him.

Truthfully, it doesn’t really matter who wins, the Celtics or the Magic, either team will get pumped by the victor of Suns/Lakers. Plus, there are just a lot more intriguing subplots in the West Final than in the East.

Can Steve Nash make his first NBA Finals appearance? Can Kobe win his fifth ring and catapult himself into the discussion of the top ten players of all time? Can Phil Jackson get his eleventh ring and leave all other coaches in his dust? Can Phoenix actually win a title with their run and gun offence?

The cast of characters just adds to the great basketball that will be played over the next ten days. Phil Jackson fired the opening salvo when, earlier this week, he accused Steve Nash of carrying the ball every time he runs down the court. Of course, Nash won’t let such a comment rattle him because he is a good Canadian boy, but Jackson is a master of the mental game and does whatever he can to gain an edge for his team.

The juxtaposition between Kobe the teammate and Kobe the lone wolf will be a major story as this series progresses. Will he sacrifice personal stats for the betterment of the team? Last night he scored 40 points, but he only took 23 shots. What happens if his scoring touch is a bit off and he ends up jacking up 30 shots to get his points? The Lakers could be in trouble.

Also, there were unsubstantiated rumours that Kobe didn’t practice all week and he had fluid drained from his right knee, although you wouldn’t have known it watching him crave up the Suns porous defence last night.

Kobe didn’t have to be a one man show because his supporting cast was terrific. Lamar Odon played like a man possessed in grabbing 19 rebounds to go along with 19 points.

However, it was just the first game and since it was played in Los Angeles, all it means is that the Lakers held serve. Don’t count Nash and the Suns out. They are much too dangerous and have the ability to score in bunches.

It’s going to be a hell of a series.

Talkin' with Tewks Live: Survivor Finale

(BOD - Kate Beckinsale)

As promised, here is a podcast covering the season finale of Survivor 20. You may notice that someone is conspicuously absent from the recording. That is because he was too busy watching Les Habitants get pumped by Philly last night and is probably still wallowing in self-pity.

Talkin' with Tewks Live - Survivor Finale

Enjoy.

Survivor Recap: Parvarti is Really Showing Me Something

(BOD - Adriana Lima)

After Danielle’s elimination last week, it was great to see Russell finally start to see through Parvarti’s charm and feminine wiles. For the first thirty days, he was blinded by the lustre of a ‘hot’ girl fawning all over him and telling him how smart he is. Now he’s beginning to see Parvarti as a strategic game player who will have no problem stabbing him in the back.

Russell’s thinking with his brain instead of his penis (I wish I could say the same. Little Tewks has been running the show in my body since Grade 8).

The reward challenge promotional tie-in with Sprint’s Palm Pre was excruciating to watch. You would think, after 20 seasons, the Survivor crew could be a little more subtle with these advertisements. I could have done without the ten minute segment that pretty much just extolled the virtues of a shitty-looking phone.

I’ve never understood why contestants cry and blubber so much when their family members come to visit. Maybe it’s because I lack human emotion, but they’ve only been gone for thirty-something days. Plus, it’s not like they are facing undue hardships; they’re on a reality show! Mama and Papa Tewks wouldn’t even show up for that challenge were I there.

How about Russell’s wife? Wow. I really want to dislike the guy, but his babe of a wife forever destroys that possibility.

Colby berating his brother during the reward challenge was beyond hilarious. Why was he so upset? The fact his brother was just laughing off Colby’s craziness made the entire situation that much better. I don’t know what’s wrong with Colby. He seems completely disinterested. He only lasted fifteen seconds in the immunity challenge (we’ve all been there, brother) and wasn’t even paying attention at Tribal Council.

Somehow, he’ll end up winning. He’s got to turn it on and become the Colby of old at some point, right?

Jerri not taking Russell on the reward was a HUGE mistake, evidenced by Russell’s ominous comment, “She’s in trouble now.” Hell hath no fury like a toothless man scorned.

I hoped Rupert was gone as soon as I saw the footage of him stomping around at camp while everyone was trying to sleep. I would have lost my mind. That is one of my biggest pet peeves. I require complete silence when I sleep. I can’t have some jackass sawing wood while I’m trying to get my beauty rest.

I hate to say it, but Parvarti is a force to be reckoned with. She is currently dominating the social and physical aspects of the game. She can’t be stopped, unless the remaining four pull their heads out of their asses and vote her out. However, her biggest competition in the immunity challenges (Rupert) is no longer in the game, so they might not get a chance to get rid of Parvarti.

How Sandra is still in the game and in a position of power is beyond me. She’s played a fantastic mental game, which makes up for her being completely useless in challenges. She’s a dark horse pick to win. She’s really been the only one who has been able to manipulate Russell without the benefit of T and A, which is an impressive feat.

Tune in on Monday for a podcast recap of the finale.