Thank God For The Jack-Ass

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Thank God For The Jack-Ass
(Photo by Jed Jacobsohn/Getty Images)

Thank God for Manny Ramirez.  If that jack-ass hadn’t been suspended for 50 games for taking steroids…What?  It wasn’t steroids?  It was a female fertility drug which included a banned substance?

Holy crap, he’s an even bigger idiot than I thought.  But I’m not sure if I think he’s an idiot because he took a female fertility drug, or because as a Major Leaguer with tens of millions of dollars on the line he didn’t bother to verify if the drug included a banned substance.

Anyway, I’m glad, because now I can write about what a tool he is instead of the travashamockery that went down at Stamford Bridge in the Champions League semi-final between Chelsea and Barcelona today.

Same for Brett Favre.  Thanks to his jack-ass coming-back-from-retirement-shenanigans, I don’t have to write about the blatant handball in the box that Norwegian referee Tom Ovrebo ignored.

I know, Norwegians have long been good at looking the other way in the face of confrontation, but really. 

The rule is clear.  You stick your arm out and away from your body and it touches the ball, deliberate or not, it’s a penalty.

Just like the rule that says if you take an elbow to the chest under the hoop when fighting for a board, you should take it like a man. 

Actually, there is no such rule.  But pah-freakin-leeze, Artest!  The jack-ass who ran up into the stands at the Palace to punch women and children in the face whined like a bitch when he took an elbow in the paint.

Still, you gotta love his tirade:  “Don’t you know you’re hitting the wrong guy?  Don’t you know you’re hitting Ron Artest?”

And thank God for NHL referee Brad Watson, the jack-ass who robbed the Red Wings of a goal against the Ducks because he forgot to watch the puck.  Hey, at least the Stanley Cup champions finally got to play a game on TV.  Thanks, Gary.

Anyway, thanks to Watson’s dumb-ass premature whistle I don’t have to write about the insanity of advancing on away goal differential.

I realize a lot of people don’t understand the Champions League format and soccer in general, including everyone on "Around The Horn" and "Pardon The Interruption."  So let me explain.

The real tragedy at Stamford Bridge today wasn’t the handball that wasn’t called.  It wasn’t the other three or four penalties that Ovrebo missed.

The biggest story at Stamford Bridge today wasn’t the last-second goal by Iniesta in the third minute of injury time.  Nor was it the fact that Barcelona advanced without Thierry Henry on the field.

The biggest lesson from Stamford Bridge wasn’t that soccer needs to institute an instant replay on close calls.  The fact that soccer doesn’t stop for time outs, first downs, TV commercials, change of possession or any other reason is one of its best attributes.

The game is beautiful and perfect as is, except of course for the pussies who dive like bigger bitches than Ron Artest.

No, the real lesson from Stamford Bridge today, not to mention from the second leg of the Chelsea–Liverpool quarterfinal last month, and countless Champions League games in the past, is this: advancing on goal differential is…hmmm, how can I put this…Stupid.  Dumb.  Lame.  Retarded.  Ass backwards (see West Virginia).

The most fundamental object of any game is to win.  If it weren’t we wouldn’t keep score.  But we do.  As soon as you take away that basic tenet, you know, the one about winning, what are you left with?

Short answer: Champions League.

Long answer: A different game.  I know every European disagrees with me, but it changes the game.  The pace changes, the strategy changes.  When you’re not playing to win, you’re not really playing.

And that’s fucked up.  But not as bad as Manny.

For more, visit http://www.dailyballbreakers.com/ (Real Guys Holding Sports Accountable), or if you think Man-Ram is innocent, visit www.dbbsports.com <http://www.dbbsports.com> .

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