Rex Ryan and Tim Tebow: The Introduction

Be warned the following post is Rated “R” largely because it includes an uncensored Rex Ryan…

The other day, the New York Jets introduced their new media sensation to the New York press. While that press conference was widely covered, the introduction between Tim Tebow and Jets coach Rex Ryan was kept largely under wraps.  Until now.

Lets’ be honest…nobody really knows how this relationship is going to play out in the future, but we do know that you really couldn’t find two more divergent personalities. However, thanks to our vast network of spies, we here at Dubsism did manage to obtain a transcript of the first meeting of the two men who promise to dominate the New York football headlines for the immediate future.

TT: (knocks on office door) Coach Ryan, are you in here?

RR: What the fuck is up, kid? Come on in. (throws Tebow a beer) Have a brewski, kid!

TT: Uh, thanks Coach, but I don’t…

RR: (interrupts) Don’t you shit me now, boy! I ain’t never met a catholic yet who didn’t like to get good an’ fucked up. Now sit your ass down and have a beer with your new coach.

TT: (stares uncomfortably at the beer) But I’m not catholic, Sir. I’m a Christian.

RR: What the fuck ever. So, what can I do for you?

TT: Well, Sir…

RR: (interrupts) First of all, you’re gonna have to knock off that “Sir” bullshit. Call me either “Rex” or “Coach.”

TT: OK…well, Sir…er, I mean Coach Rex, I just thought I would come by, introduce myself, and maybe get a playbook.

RR: Well, don’t worry about the playbook quite yet. We really don’t quite know what the hell we are going to do yet.

TT: Whatever you say, Coach.  I will do whatever the team needs.

RR: (cracks another beer) No, you’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you. You gonna drink that beer or are you waiting until you change your tampon?

TT: But, Coach, I tried to tell you that I don’t drink.

RR: (Leans forward in his chair) I told you to drink that fuckin’ beer.  Now drink it.

TT: (cracks beer, pretends to take a sip) Uhhh, this stuff smells like Kyle Orton.

RR: That’s better. Now let me tell you what I’m thinking here. People like you, kid, and that’s gonna be a big help when they figure out the team isn’t any good.  I can’t figure out why they re-signed that pile of monkey nuts Sanchez. God, he sucks (facepalm).  Anyway, eventually I want you to do here what you did in Denver. I don’t have the first fuckin’ clue how you did that, but I will tell you this. Your relationship with the media and your off-field activities will be as important as what you do on the fuckin’ field.

TT: I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Coach…

RR: Listen here, Opie.  You could get away with selling that “Charlie Church” routine out there in Denver, Punksylvania, but here in New York, the media is always going to be looking for cracks in your story, and somebody is eventually going to get some fuckin’ dirt on you. Nothing will kill you faster than getting caught in bed with a dead girl or a live boy. You don’t like feet by any chance, do you?

TT: Excuse me, Coach?

RR: Never mind. The point is that eventually your little altar boy routine is going to get blown up.

TT: But it’s not a “routine,” Coach.

RR: Yeah. Of course it isn’t, kid. And I can see my own dick without putting a mirror on the floor (chuckles).

TT: Honest, Coach. I’m not pretending for anything. I really believe in…

RR: (interrupts) Yeah, yeah, yeah…what the fuck ever. Look kid, just understand that here there will be tons of skanks who would love to be on the front page for suckin’ your guts out through the end of your dick. All it takes is one to fuck this whole thing up.

TT: That won’t be a problem, Coach.

RR: It better not be, or else this will happen to you  (leans toward the door in his chair). HEY SANCHEZ!!! GET YOUR COCK-LOVING ASS IN HERE!!!  NOW!!! (Sanchez enters the room in a Pulp Fiction-type “Gimp” outfit, complete with shock-collar)

RR: This here’s the deal, boy (pulls a remote control out of his desk). It’s one thing to be a shitty quarterback, hell, this league is full of them. But it’s another to be a shitty quarterback who is a liability off the field.  See what he’s wearing? The outfit is all because this jerk-off got caught porking a 17-year old last year. So now, he gets to wear the “Suit of Shame” (presses button, at which time Sanchez becomes a screaming electro-convulsive pile of uncontrolled bodily functions).  Some people just have to learn the hard way (looks down at Sanchez). Don’t they, Dipshit?

Sanchez: (screams muffled by leather zipper mask)

TT: (horrified, drops beer) Oh, my…I mean, I understand, Coach.

RR: You goddamn well better, kid. You’re here because Electro-Nuts down there doesn’t seem to get the message . I’d really hate to have to pump 50,000 volts through your Holy Trinity (hits button again).

Sanchez: (screams muffled by leather zipper mask)

Signs We Are Near The End Of Civilization: Horrible 80′s Music Goes “Tebow”

There’s really nothing quite like the special level of hell reserved for when a current phenomenon inspires the return of one with a “retro” feel. Take the current Tim Tebow-mania which as we speak has a death-grip on the throat of the sports world. How would you feel about marrying that to the soundtrack from one of those god-awful 1980′s “Brat Pack” movies?

Well wonder no more…to the horror of eardrums around the world, it’s happened.

Remember “St. Elmo’s Fire?”  Apparently John Parr, the author of that bit of ear-rape, happens to be a serious fan of the Denver Broncos, and therefore a dedicated Tebow-phile. To honor his quarterback phenomenon, he’s rewritten the song to honor him.

Just because you don’t want to experience the feeling of a rabid weasel clawing your eardrums is no reason to miss out on this gold-medal level lyrical nut-kicking.

Growin’ up
Gotta keep your eye on the ball
Make it fly,
Give it everything, give your all
But maybe sometimes if you feel the pain
You’ll find you’re all alone
Everything has changed

Play the game
You know you can’t quit until it’s won
Soldier on
Only you can do what must be done

You know I’m out there
Down on one knee
A prisoner
And I’m tryin’ to break free

CHORUS:

I can see a new horizon
Underneath the blazin’ sky
I’ll be where the eagle’s
Flyin’ higher and higher

Gonna be a man in motion
All I needs my Broncos team
Take me where my future’s lyin’
Tim Tebows Fire

Oooh…

Burnin’ up
Don’t know just how far that I can go
(Just how far I go)
Soon be home
Only just 4 downs to go
I can make it
I know I can
You broke the boy in me
But you won’t break the man

(CHORUS)

I can see a new horizon
blazin on the Mile High
I’ll be where the eagle’s
Flyin’ higher and higher

Gonna be your man in motion

All I needs my Broncos team
Take me where my future’s lyin’
Tim Tebows Fire

I can climb the highest mountain
These Broncos cant be beat
I can feel St Elmo’s Fire burnin’ in me
Burnin’ in me

Just once in his life
A man has his time
And my time is now
And I’m comin’ alive

I can hear the music playin’
I can see the banners fly
Feel like a man again

I’ll hold my head high
Gonna be a man in motion
These broncos can’t be beat
Take me where my future’s lyin’
Tim Tebow’s fire

(CHORUS)

I can climb the highest mountain
Cross the wildest sea
I can feel St. Elmo’s Fire burnin’ in me

Burnin’
Burnin’ in me
I can feel it burnin’
Oooh, burnin’ inside of me

I don’t know about you, but I will be spending the rest of the afternoon stuffing a bottle brush in my ears.

BREAKING NEWS: Jared Allen’s Early Film Career Discovered

We here at Dubsism, in  our ever-present search for the absurd, have come up with photographic proof that Vikings’ defensive end had a career in movies before he became the most over-rated player in professional football.

Go back to the 1988 college football recruiting classic “Johnny Be Good.” Look for the character “Bad Breath.” The picture above really says it all.

If that weren’t enough, the “Texas Sushi” scene is simply priceless. Maybe his character wouldnt have been named “Bad Breath” if he didn’t eat bait from a vending machine.

Signs We Are Near The End Of Civilization: Star Wars Geekery Must Be Stopped

This may just be the usual rookie hazing, but this represents something that has gone just a bit too far in this country.

This is Anthony Bass of the San Diego Padres, a team that has a tradition of making the  rookies wear “Star Wars” backpacks.

Frankly, this is just a glimpse of a much larger problem. That movie was made close to 35 years ago. The last movie in the franchise that was worth a damn was made close to three decades ago. Hell, I like Star Wars as much as the next guy, provided the next guy isn’t one of those dilwads that dresses up in the gear and goes to those conventions.

Somehow, something that is one part King Arthur, one part World War II, and one part sci-fi fantasy has become a colossal waste of time. People, it’s a movie, not a freakin’ lifestyle.

Guest Column: King George VI on the NFL Lockout

Editor’s Note: Thanks to the Movie The King’s Speech, George VI came back into the view of the American populace. If it weren’t for that movie, most Yanks had long since forgotten George VI’s role as a wartime leader and the fact he ruled sovereign over a quarter of the world.

Much as he did through the Second World War, His Majesty George the Sixth, King of Great Britain, Ireland and the British Dominions beyond the Seas, Defender of the Faith, and Last Emperor of India endeavors to lead us through the darkness of the NFL Lockout.

In this grave hour, perhaps the most fateful in history, I send to every household of my peoples, both at home and overseas, this message, spoken with the same depth of feeling for each one of you as if I were able to cross your threshold and speak to you myself.

For the second time in the lives of most of us, we find ourselves as a realm mired in the midst a labor stoppage in the National Football League.

The last time I spoke on this subject, we were still hopeful that cooler heads would prevail; that the knot of war would not be drawn so tight the only means of escape would be to cut it.  However, that hope has evaporated like some much fog over the Thames. We now find ourselves over 100 days into a dispute that now is threatening to effect real events that matter in the lives of all of my loyal subjects. A mere fortnight from now lies the normal opening dates of training camps; a mere fortnight after that the first exhibition matches. Two months from today we shall find ourselves on the precipice of the NFL season, and I fear we then shall be no closer to a resolution than we are now.

Again and again, we have tried to find a peaceful way out of the differences between ourselves and those led by Herr Goodell; those who are now our enemies.  As we all know, that effort has been in vain.  We have been forced into a conflict, for which we are called, with our allies, to meet the challenge of a principle which if it were to prevail, would be fatal to any civilized league in the world.

It is a principle which permits a league in the selfish pursuit of power to disregard its treaties and its solemn pledges, to disregard the health and safety of its players, and to disregard the fair economic cornerstones upon which this realm was founded. These are canons in whose defense many before us have given the ultimate sacrifice, and in whose defense many more shall. So that those sacrifices not be made in vain, and so that those in posterity not suffer the oppression Herr Goodell and his minions would visit upon all of us, we must not and will not stand for any principle which sanctions the use of force or threat of force, be it economic or otherwise,  against the sovereignty and independence of other leagues.

This is why the propaganda now coming from the mouths of our enemy is of a most hateful and vile nature. Herr Goodell and his minions would have you believe that the dark days of the labor stoppage are near an end when nothing could be further from the truth.

Never forget the lessons learned from Neville Chamberlain's "Worthless Piece of Paper."

Our enemies would have you believe the dark days of the lockout are near an end; that both sides are close to an agreement which would end this terrible conflict. Our enemies would have you believe that many of the issues that led to this lockout have been resolved. That is true. But the lies are not in the words they speak; it is in those they do not.

Much like the struggle we as a realm faced against the evils of fascism, the players union has entangles itself in a battle for the protection of generations past, present, and future. While these battles are of the noblest cause, they are also the most difficult from which to extricate one’s self.

First, there is the matter of the generations past. The players union has made the funding of a pension fund mandatory to any collective bargaining agreement. The owners entered into this fray largely over money, and such an expenditure is hateful to them. This matter is further complicated by the fact the retired players have been empowered to have a say in any final agreements.

As for generations present, the owners want a 18-game schedule; a proposal which was a “line in the sand” issue for the players just a few months ago. It is also an issue which has scarcely been mentioned in all of this puffery about an agreement being near.

Then there are the concerns for posterity.  Specifically, the matter of the rookie salary cap structure is yet another matter of contention. The owners and even some of the players would like to see a structured salary cap in place, but other players and many agents are not likely to go willing into an agreement which will cut their income.

One need not even delve into the details of those issues to see they are not easily resolved, and it is their omission in any talk of settlement which must give us cause as a realm to remain vigilant against, to remain dedicated to the defeat of, and to remain committed to the vision of a world without such a primitive doctrine that might is right. Without the agreement to the aformentioned generational matters matters, there can be no peace, and without peace, their can be no agreement.

May He bless and keep us all.

- King George VI

Why You Shouldn’t Cheer For: The Vancouver Canucks

1) The Canucks are the team of “‘Gleeks.”

For those of you lucky enough to not know what a “Gleek” is…”Gleek” = fans of that caterwauling Fox show “Glee;” the show takes music, lets a bunch of Off-Broadway hacks rape the shit out of it, then wipe their collective dick on your eardrums. If music were left to “Gleeks,” it would all sound like elevator music led by those kids from your high-school drama club who always stunk of clove cigarettes and seems as though they were trying to sing through their noses. They killed music, and I will be damned if I’m going to let them have hockey.

2) Roberto Luongo is Secretly a Movie Star.

If that weren’t bad enough, Luongo is actually the “Borat” guy.

3) A Canuck victory will unleash a torrent of psychopathic serial killers.

It’s no accident that these guys wear hockey masks.  It’s no accident that Jason Voorhees  came from a heavily wooded area like the Pacific Northwest.  It’s no accident Vancouver is in the Pacific Northwest. The logic is clear. The Pacific Northwest is a breeding ground for the Jason Voorhees’ of the world, and they’ve been bottling up their frustration over forty years of Canuck choke-jobs. When the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup and ended decades of futility, fans in Chicago responded by burning squad cars. Can you  imagine what a horde of machete-wielding psychopaths will do?

4) Exactly what the fuck is a “Canuck?”

First, there’s the definition according to Merriam-Webster:

• Ca·nuck – noun \kə-ˈnək sometimes -ˈnu̇k\
• Definition of CANUCK  : a Canadian and especially a French Canadian

But, you would have to comb through the history of Vancouver Canucks logos to understand that. First, there’s the one you will likely see tonight.

Nowhere in that definition does it say anything about killer whales. So, let’s say I’m wrong, and the Canucks wear their alternate logo.

That definition doesn’t say anything about hockey sticks either, but at least this one makes a bit of sense. After all, they are playing hockey. It is like if the Houston Astros wore a baseball bat logo, since nobody really knows what the hell an “Astro” is.

It’s gets a little closer to the dictionary definition when the logo combines what appears to be a French Canadian lumberjack with a hockey motif.

But, it is completely lost when the French Canadian lumberjack gets morphed into what looks like a Spanish conquistadore.

Who can support a team that has no identity?  Certainly not a blogger who is on record on the Kev and Rev Show saying “Bruins in 7…”

The Dubsism March Movie Spectacular…And the Winner Is…

We started with 64, and after four weeks, six rounds, and tons of votes, we are down to one. According to you, the readers of Dubsism, the greatest sports movie in history is:

The Dubsism March Sports Movie Spectacular – The Finals

After all the upsets, the highs, the lows, the whatevers, we have a championship match. The only two #1 seeds to make the Final Four face off for the title of greatest sports movie ever according to the readers of Dubsism, which, lets be honest, is the only audience that matters.

Vote away gang; voting closes on Sunday at midnight.

The Finals:

The Dubsism March Sports Movie Spectacular – The Final Four

Here we are…down the the Final Four. There have been upsets, there have been Cinderellas, but let’s be honest. Any movie that has survived this far must be both pretty good and has a fair amount of fans. Now, it is time to see which will be the last one standing. The voting will close at midnight on Wednesday.

The Final Four:

The Dubsism March Movie Spectacular – The Elite Eight

Regional Finals abound in our sports movie tournament. It is begging the question “does life imitate art or does art imitate life.” Just like real basketball tournaments (perhaps not this year’s) some top seeds perform, and there’s always a Cinderella looking to crash the ball.

Voting in this round will close Friday at midnight.

West Region:

Midwest Region:

South Region:

East Region: