Let's break down who's got what goin' on when it comes to the two cities:
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Stanley Cup Final too close to call? Here's a tale of the tape...
Let's break down who's got what goin' on when it comes to the two cities:
Don't you wish you had paid attention in pole vaulting class?
See, what did your gym teacher tell you about paying more attention to track and field?
Meet Californian Allison Stokke, a, um, pole vaulter – seriously – that has had her pictures splashed all over the internet for a few years now. We here at J&J feel a little more comfortable putting her in the spotlight these days, seeing how Allison has at last blown out 20 candles on the birthday cake. And to think, some of us have underwear older than her.
Allison is now in university, going up and over at the University of California at Berkeley. We can only imagine what the frosh party was like once Ms. Stokke tapped the keg and got a few pints into her.
Think the application rate at UC Berkeley just went up?
See, stay in school. And pay extra attention during pole vaulting lessons.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Peter Zezel class act right to the end
You never heard Peter Zezel complain, even when he knew he was heading into the twilight of his all-too-brief life.
On borrowed time or not, it just wasn’t his style.
The hockey world lost a gem Tuesday when Zezel passed away after his family made the cut-wrenching decision to take him off life support following complications during surgery to remove his spleen. He had been battling haemolytic anaemia, a rare blood disorder, for the past decade.
He was just 44 years old.
Drafted by the Philadelphia Flyers, Zezel, who quickly became a heart throb to legions of young ladies in Philly, set a Flyers’ rookie record for assists in 1984-85 and was a vital cog for the Toronto Maple Leafs in back-to-back runs to the Western Conference final in 1993 and 1994.
Considered one of hockey’ clutch faceoff men, Zezel retired from hockey following the 1998-99 season.
Despite his condition, Zezel remained active in the Toronto community and conducted hockey/soccer/golf camps in Markham, Ont.
In recent years, even as his weight ballooned due to his condition, even as his clock ticked down, Zezel never gave in. He was a regular guest on TSN’s Off The Record, conducted his camps, coached his hockey teams, bettered his community.
A class act until his final hours.
And now Peter Zezel is gone, far too soon.
And if that team north of the clouds is looking for a centreman to shut down those other guys, their guy has just arrived at camp.
Mike Tyson just a daddy burying his little girl right now
Until now.
The shocking, heartbreaking death of Tyson’s four-year-old daughter, Exodus, after the youngster caught her neck in a treadmill cord is just another sad chapter, albeit the most devastating, in the former heavyweight champion’s troubled tale.
It doesn’t matter what you think of Mike Tyson. The untimely death of a child always rips at the heartstrings, but this tragedy hit just as Tyson seemed to have his life turned around. Livin’ in the ‘burbs, finally finding love far away from the leeches that helped him blow over $300 million in his boxing career, the onetime self-proclaimed “baddest man on the planet” at last seemed to have found peace with himself.
Gone, like the ghost of Cus D’Amato, were the demons that seemed to always be riding shotgun with Tyson, those who were more than willing to give a little nudge just as he appeared to be going over the edge. The shocking knockout at the hands of Buster Douglas that cost him his heavyweight strap, a nasty split from Robin Givens, the rape conviction, tearing off a chunk of Evander Holyfield’s ear with his teeth, the failed comeback, the coke bust, the….well, his was a story that never ends. A runaway train just looking for a place to derail.
There will be those who find it hard to sympathize with Tyson in spite of the man himself. Grieving for a baby girl is one thing – feeling sorry for a man who once told the world he wanted to eat Lennox Lewis’ children is quite another. But Tyson, a man who was never pointed in the right direction, was trying to turn his life around before it was too late. Sober for more than a year, he finally realized what was important in life, what it was like to at last grow up.
No one can imagine what must have been going through Tyson’s mind as he stood at the foot of his broken little girl’s hospital bed, holding her tiny hand and whispering in her ear, begging her to hold on as she fought for her last breath. A father is still a father, no matter how bad he once was, how fragile he still is. And when that moment came for Mike Tyson to say farewell to something he has never loved so much, to face that moment every parent dreads, who knows what he was thinking. The memories. The regrets. The anger.
So, yes, as a father, we should be cheering for Mike Tyson to get up from this most devastating roundhouse punch. The man, after all, is still a father, and the death of his daughter may be enough for that final push, the one that finally catapults him over the cliff. And regardless of what you think of Mike Tyson, no matter how much hatred you harbor for what he’s done, who he’s hurt, no good can come from watching that train derail for good.
What Mike Tyson did yesterday shouldn’t matter. Not right now.
Today, he is just a broken daddy getting set to bury his little girl.
NHL line combinations we have to see
Welcome to Jocks & Jugs...speaking of the latter...
Ample racks aside – for a minute anyway – have to admit I doubled over in laughter watching that rat Jose Canseco’s recent flush down to Turdsville courtesy the
hands, feet and elbows of Korean ass-kicker Hong Man Choi. The only thing missing was a well-placed Roger Clemons fastball off Canseco’s inflated dome. Stool pigeons rolling over on their buddies deserve such a fate. Karma, baby.
Canseco got his arms the same way Jenn acquired her rack –artificially. Only Jenn did it legally. Oh, and there’s little doubt who looks better.
So with that, welcome to Jocks & Jugs. Stick around, we’ll have a few laughs, pay homage to thy boobage and maybe, just maybe, learn something along the way. But probably not. Well, the learning part anyway.
In the words of the legendary rock band Trooper – well, legendary for those of us up here north of the 49th – we’ re here for a good time, not a long time. Saddle up, grab a pint and plant your ass on a barstool. The stage is yours.