Mocking Mike Mayock

I'm a prick when it comes to fantasy football

I name my teams like no other. Straight Cash Homey, Maurice Jones-Carew.

I purchase t-shirts with my team's name on it.

I predict statistics for players, and often recite them live during a fantasy football draft. I have a history minor but I have a major in the history of fantasy football. I can remember dates, specific plays.

In 2003, my first year playing fantasy football, I owned Jamal Lewis, and he owned the Cleveland Browns on September 14, when he rushed for 295 yards. He gave me mad points, and of course I won.I have loved two women in my life, besides my mother. But I fell in love for second time back in 2003 when I was introduced to this sport.

I make fun of picks during the draft. I don't hold anything back.

Before the draft, I make sure to post a first-round fantasy mock, trying to "Mayock" my way to predict who everyone should select. But really, I'm just trying to mess with everyone in the league.

I'm the fastest manager to make a pick. Sharpie in tact, I strut to the board, write down my pick, and often hear in response to my picks, "nice pick." Then I think to myself, yeah, I know.

I know this is for sure- I'm a fantasy football fucker. And I'm proud of it.

Cause really, it's simple: I think I know the most, therefore, I will always have a shot at winning a championship; I think in my worst season I went 7-9 . Do I win every year? No. But do I position myself for a chance to win? Always. Do I draft strong? You know it. I've taken down two grand the past two years by winning two titles.  And if you took a look at my overall fantasy football career winning percentage, I'd have to say it would be above .600.

I'm hope you hate me by reading this, because fantasy football is all about the 'hate'. You have to bring the hate. There is no love in this game. 

My good friend Dylan, who beat me in the semi-final last season, holds the trophy and he talks mad shit, as he should. He even put his baby in the trophy and took a picture for everyone to see. He holds the rights to talk shit. Problem is that when I won the trophy, being hated by everyone in the league, nobody wanted to hear me talk. I want to talk again.

The message board is a vital component to communicate to the rest of your league. Sometimes peoples girlfriends get brought into the message board. Sometimes people are threatened. It's usually a lot of 'ball busting' and bragging.

But just like poker, in fantasy football you need a little luck. You may lose a player, but you may gain one off injury. I've seen so many different scenarios where people have been 'royally' fucked because of circumstance. It goes both ways.

But this game is played one week at a time, and it always seems to come down to Monday Night Football. You may have to get up at 7 am but unless you the know the score of your game, you won't be able to sleep. Stay up and suffer.

If you come out victorious, you're beaming all week. But if you lose, you're down in the fantasy dumps, second-guessing yourself on roster moves, wondering "what if?"

I live for this sport. I could write about this sport for a living.

This post has two points. First, to bring up the fact fantasy football is almost here. I'm only talking about being a "prick" so you can start feel the fantasy fever. Let's all rejoice, grab our fantasy football magazines, and start paying attention to the preseason. And second, I've all but decided I'm going to teach English in South Korea in September and write a book about my experience this season, playing fantasy football. 

I figure my last draft is on the 27th of August. The NFL season starts on the 9th of September. If I can get to Korea sometime in between then, enough time to set myself up, I can start watching Patriots games Mondays at 2 am; 12 hour time difference. A lot of things to figure out between now and then.

I'd like to think I'm a 'good person' and that 'people like me.' But when it comes to fantasy football, as always, it brings out the best and worst in me.

I went for a jog... and I liked it.

Forgive me for talking about me. I'm just trying to get back to me, and who I want to be.

I'm trying to adjust to life back in Canada... it hasn't been as easy as I'd expected.

You see, living at home, in my parent's basement, brings me back to a dark period of my life, a place where I was a couple years ago.

Lost hope and lots of dope. 

So the past few days, I've been lazing around, eating hot dogs(I ate 6 yesterday- Carewbayashi), chips, and sleeping.

Recipe for a loser. I swear the same jobs I applied for three years ago have not changed, either.

Fed up with my antics, I said to myself, I must go for a run. So I did.

I always tried to make it around Lake Banook in one shot, but was never able to do so. I'm not sure the exact distance but it's at least a couple miles. I first tried to run this lake as a pudgy pre-teen, to no avail.

I was fed up with myself and determined to make it this time. I'm not sure if the credit should partially go towards my I-pod Nano- but I did it.

I didn't stop. From here on out I won't stop. While jogging I thought of myself as Little Mac from Mike Tyson's Punch-out, minus the pink suit. I'm training for something.

I'm going to go for a jog tomorrow. Hopefully, while on this jog, I will think of something better to write than about how I went on a jog.

Jog is a job. I need both.

Mayock is back on a Canadian map

My name is Danny Carew and this is what I do.

"What do you think about Lebron going to Miami?" I am asked by a friend, who also happens to be big into sports and big into me- blog wise that is. When I am asked such a thing, it's time for me to deliver the goods- stats and facts.

I try and think of something clever to say, but all I can think to myself is 'I'm back in fucking Canada.' Fact. I give a bs answer, continue to sip on my Oland, and for once in my life, decide I would rather not talk about sports. Fact.

Chris Bosh got out of Canada, now I'm back in. He went to Miami. I went to Dartmouth. I have to relate this to sports somehow.

Being back is what it is. Nothing has changed except I realize that I older I get, the less chance I have to do what I was meant to do. In the words of Red from Shawshank Redemption, "You can get busy living or you can get busy dying."

I want to be busy living and writing. I never want to cry over a bottle for lack of trying.

This is it. I get sad when I scour the job bank, seeing nothing but $10 an hour bullshit jobs. I've rocked that shit for far too long. I have two degrees. Too many bills. Too much on my mind.

I need to forget all of that.

I spent the first five months in Boston on a futon, and my last week in America in the same place, staring at an eerie poster directly in front of the wall facing where I slept- entitled- Forever 27. On this poster- Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain. and that dude from the Stones. Sometimes I even saw my own face.

They died in their prime at 27. I haven't seen my prime yet. I just see myself as 27, like they were. 

I make it back Friday afternoon. I sleep until 2:30 pm on Saturday. Same time today. The last time I slept like that was back in 2001 after dropping out of university- me and my sad self sleeping next to a wood pile.

Nine years later- the basement has walls. I have a door with a lock. I've never felt so good in my life, but I've been having weird dreams.

I've been dreaming that my ex and I are still in love. When you're in a dream state, it feels so real. I never want to wake up. I even dreamed that my ex roommate and I are laughing and sharing some moment. The only thing we shared was a bathroom and a kitchen. Then I wake up. What the fuck was I dreaming? I feel sad and shallow for dreaming such things considering I've had two consecutive nights of this. 

I tell my sister-in-law to be about this tonight. "You're just closing off a chapter in your life, Danny," shes informs me.

"You're right," I respond. A new chapter starts today. A new post from me.

Mocking Mike Mayock is not here to stay. Danny Carew is.

He belongs to the USA and NFL Network. I belong to me. I am the master of my own domain. Danny Carew will have his own domain.

Think of this post as just a simple post. It's my way of saying, "Hey, I'm back. Sorry for not posting the past couple of weeks."

I have a lot of ideas and things to get through.

I'm going to do it. It's 2 am. If I have a great dream, I can thank you.

I write for my readers. It feels good. That's not a dream, that's reality.

NBA Draft commentary with Carew

John Wall, y'all.

Draft night. One of my favorite nights. But this night was almost ruined.

You see, my roommate and her girlfriend never leave the house. I prayed to God they would not be home. But a text message informed me they would be there all night- living it up in the living room- probably watching an L Word marathon.

I lived on a futon in a living room for 5 months. I moved out so I could have my own room with a door. I didn't think I'd end up being a prisoner in my own room. But thanks to brother Paul, he let me watch it at his place while he worked.

I can clearly remember draft nights when I was a kid, swinging on the swing set. Most kids had to be home at 8:30 but on this night I had to be home before 8. I'd tell my friends how I had to be home before the draft. They just shook their heads. They still do to this day.

Things I'm hearing/thinking before the draft starts

• Raptors are in talks with the Blazers about acquiring Rudy Fernandez. Just what the Raptors need- another European.
• Lock this in: John Wall goes #1, Evan Turner #2, Derrick Favors #3, Wesley Johnson #4.
• Kirk Hinrich and the #17 pick to Washington for nothing, Yes, the Bulls are "Straight Cap Homey," meaning they're freeing up so much money in hopes of getting 2 of these 3 guys: Lebron, Wade, or Bosh.
• I hope Gordon Hayward makes it to the Pacers at 10. Hometown hero plays for hometown Legend (L. Bird).
• Every year there is a "questionable character" in the draft. DeMarcus Cousins is that man this year. If he drops, some team is going to be lucky. Miami only has two players under contract. They could afford Lebron, Wade, and Bosh. Fill the rest of the team with bums. If Cleveland loses Lebron, they will go from being one of the best teams in the league to the worst. It would be so Shakespearean.

I have no major analysis for the first 4 picks because we knew what the picks would be. Quick Hits:

With John Wall as the new face of the Wizards, say "peace" to Arenas.

I really like Evan Turner. He's my candidate for R.O.Y. I wonder if he could be better than Brandon Roy.

Favors is a safe pick for New Jersey. I guess it sucks New Jersey lost out on winning the lottery and getting Wall, but if they did that they'd have to get rid of Devin Harris. I see these three teams winning at least 10 more games than they won last season.

Quick side-note:I'm laying on the couch with no shirt on. The Fan is on high. I'm feeling wonderful. I wouldn't have this luxury with the lesbians in the living room. After all- they "live" in the living room.

When Wesley Johnson gets picked by Minny he's reunited with college teammate Jonny Flynn. Don't you just love a good story?

DeMarcus Cousins does not make it past the Kings. What a great pick. The Kings rid themselves of Spencer Hawes, now they get one of the best players in the draft. Most of his criticism was based on him arguing with Kentucky coach John Calipari. Calipari says the criticism is "unfounded." Two Kentucky guys are off the board. Three more to go.

With the 6th pick, Golden State drafts Ekpe Udoh. I saw him in the tourney; I like his game. His name stands for "lion." My new nickname for him is "Simba."

With the 7th pick, Detroit selects Greg Monroe. MotorCity Monroe.

With the 8th pick, the Clippers select Al-Farouq Aminu. Again, best guy available. He is a direct descendant from Nigerian Kings. Too bad the Kings didn't take him- I would have had more ammo. Lebron is the King. Simba is the King. Cousins is a King. Al-Faroug is a King. 

With the 9th pick, the Utah Jazz select Gordon Hayward. Utah snaked Indiana. When Hayward was in the 8th grade he was 5'4'. Now 6'8". I never had a growth spurt like that.

With the 10th pick, the Indiana Pacers select Paul George. I hope nobody calls him "Boy George."

I'm texting back and forth with my brother Steve. I call this pick- Aldrich to the Hornets.

At this point, I only care about who the Celtics draft. I'm hoping they get one of the two remaining Kentucky guys(Bledsoe, Orton). Besides that I could care less. Whomever the C's draft will probably be playing in the D-league. But of course, with 18th pick, Oklahoma plucks Bledsoe. I really wanted another Bledsoe in Boston.

So with the 19th pick, the Boston Celtics select Avery Bradley. Supposedly, Avery was the top high school prospect last year. He was rated higher than #1 John Wall? I have no problem with this pick. Stick him in the D-League and let him develop. Worst case, Celtics have another Grade Pruitt or Gerald Green on their hands. Best case- a solid backup for Rondo or a combo-guard off the bench. The Celtics drafted Rondo with the 21st pick in 2006.

Just like when I was a little kid, after the Celtics pick, as my mom used to say, " It's bedtime for Bonzo."

Good night.

Dan's plan to rule the sports world

Someday I will be sitting in a much nicer chair on top of my throne.

Everyone has a dream. But does everyone have a plan to make the dream happen?

I remember in elementary school when I was encouraged to make an outline, or a "brainstorm" as it was referred to.

Teachers also taught me what was wrong with me- "Danny, you should think before you act. That was my problem- I was usually put on "timeout" or given a detention because I failed to think before I acted. Like Nike, I would "just do it."

There are so many scenarios in the past I'd like to alter, and if I could go back in time, stop and think about the situation, write it out before I acted on it, my life would be much better because of it. 

So, I want to write the blueprint, or the "carewprint" on how I'm going to take over the sports world.

I'm not an evil man and I'm far from being greedy. I just know the sports world needs me.

I'm going back to Hali in a couple weeks. I want to write down some ideas of not only how to make this blog better but how I'm going to raise my profile based on my sweet style.

- I need to go after the local paper- The Herald. If I could get a weekly column of sorts- post my link to it, I would be in business. If they're going to give a column to "Jimmy D," a local douche who refers to himself in the third person and claims Vegas as his second home, why not give me a little something? This guy just talks about fantasy sports and how awesome his teams are. I could do that except make my columns about how funny sports can be. I could just tell stories or something along those lines. Maybe I could save the sports section. Probably not but maybe.

- I need to redesign the blog. New graphics, features, tabs- you name it. It would be rad to have a theme song. My friends are great musicians. I'm sure I could wing something. I need to explain who Mike Mayock is and who I am. A lot of blogs are a great forum for getting a job. I'd throw my resume up there too. Interactive videos, podcasts, artwork- whatever. Make it oh so pretty.

- I need to take a 'rap' mentality to the blog game. That is, I need to start calling out other writers like rappers call out other rappers. Jay-Z and Lil' Wayne claim to be "the greatest." I am the greatest. I am the game. My attacks would be articulate. I would gain respect by chopping down the crap that goes into some sports writing. Instead of "A Tribe Called Quest" maybe I could be known as "A Scribe Called Best"? Ladies like a man with confidence. Readers like a man with a plan who can jam. I want to rip and rhyme all the time.

- I need to read the best writers everyday. I've got my own style; I'm not going to try and emulate someone else. My problem is that I don't like to read. My ex encouraged me to read more fiction so we could talk about it. Didn't happen. The only news I care about is sports. That may sound ignorant but I'm just being honest.

- I need to start a campaign, maybe one through facebook- "If a million people join this group, ESPN will have no choice but to hire Danny Carew." If a pickle can get more fans than Nickelback, there's hope for me.

- I need to get into wicked shape. I weigh 188 pounds. I have a sliver of a double chin and my belly is made up of potato chips and beer. The hair is going but I need more flare in my body. Plus, when you're in shape people take notice. It would be fun to be in great shape and compete against athletes- Pros vs. Dans? It could work.

I need to market this blog. I've been doing this pretty much all on my own. My brother Paul has been a good reference for ideas. I know a couple close friends from home might get involved. I'm the CEO of Mocking Mike Mayock. I could use some VP's. I offer no pay and unlimited vacation. If anyone wants to come with me to the top, they will reap the benefits when we start making Benjamins.

That's about it for now. I just need to keep on taking this blog to the next level. This skills I've learned in journalism school are great. I understand the need to research. I'm full of focus.

Thank you for reading. Fire some ideas at cha boy.

Danny still loves Manny

Who needs Manny? He was there when I needed him the most.

I remember the day they signed him. I was constantly checking up on updates on ESPN and then I heard the news: Red Sox sign Manny Ramirez to an eight-year, $160 million contract. His signing made me think of a great Creed song at the time, "Well I just heard/the news today/ seems my life is gonna change." I welcomed his signing "with arms wide open." Anytime I can reference a Creed song on my blog I give myself a high-five.

Why do I love Manny? Because the Sox wouldn't have won two World Series without him.

Do I care that he failed to hustle to first base on numerous occasions? No.

Do I care that the only thing he can catch is crabs? No.

Do I care that he demanded to be traded numerous times when he was with the Sox? No.

Do I care that he faked injuries and missed games for bullshit reasons? No.

Do I care that he has alienated teammates and fans? No.

Do I care enough about Manny that I made it a point to see him play this past Saturday? Yes.

To me, Manny is one of the greatest hitters to have ever lived. He is one of the hardest working hitters in the game. Don't give me any of this "steroid" crap. They're all guilty.

I knew before Manny returned to Fenway that his reception wouldn't be pleasant. After all, most baseball breakups are harsh, especially when you played in Boston, home of the bi-polar baseball fan.

But I lucked out on tickets. And when he first came to the plate, I gave him a standing ovation. I made sure to see who else was doing this in my section. I was in the minority. And I thought, these fans are bigger assholes than Manny will ever be.

This pissed me off. It also pissed me off that I missed his home run because I was in line to get a beer. Booze is bad. I'd like to think of his home run as a big "f-you" to the Fenway Faithful. 

There was nothing like Pedro Martinez pitching in his prime. There was also nothing like Manny's swing. He can hit any pitch in the zone to any part of the field. 

Manny brought me something I could only dream of in my lifetime- a World Series Championship. He always showed up during the playoffs.

Back in 2004, all I had was the Red Sox.

I was a 22 year old downer with no ambition in life. But I always believed in Manny. And the Sox offered me solace because they seemed to be the only thing I could make a true connection with.

When he was traded, I thought of many different Manny moments. I smiled and cheered hard when he got off to a great start in L.A.

If you hate Manny and disagree with what I have to say, fine. But if you're a Sox fan, would you rather have had no Manny and no World Series titles, or in retrospect, can you internalize the BS/production Manny gave us, in addition to the rings? 

Believe me, I know it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

With Manny we didn't lose. We won. Are fans that lost?

There's something about Mary and Danny

I'm no Woogie. That's for sure.

I've been single for nearly two months. I have recently been talking to a girl for the past two weeks. I'm an off and on again free agent.

You see, I'm moving back to Canada in a couple of weeks. After being in a wonderful long-term relationship that ended amicably, hooking up with this recent girl has been like signing a 10-day NBA contract: it's good for 10 days but if you play well enough it may be extended to the end of the season.

No matter what happens, my season ends July 8th when I move home.

My season ended abruptly last night.

About this girl- she's crude and carefree. She can belch and bust balls. It was like I was dating a dude except she came in a tight little package, equipped with pretty eyes and a nicer smile. 

Without sounding too derogatory, I enjoyed my playing time.

About last night: we were chilling and out of the blue she says, "I think you're getting too attached."

Say what? I thought I was only getting attached to one thing which is, well, I'll let you fill in the blank.

She threw me a curveball. She knew I was only down here for another month and she had no problem letting me step up to the plate. And when we first hung out she asked, "We don't have to hang out everyday, do we?"

"Of course not," I replied. If I'm not hooking up with her, I want to hook up to the matrix; that is, I want to blog.

She made two great points. First, she said the relationship was "futile." I couldn't agree more. This relationship had as much legs as Adam Morrison's NBA career.

His career was over before it even began.

And then she said, "I'm going to say something that may offend you." I'm thinking- bring it! As much as I like to bust balls, I always brace myself for a bashing of my own. I can't remember her exact wording (I was 8 beers deep at this point) but she explained she had the "There's Something about Mary" factor going for her.

Because she's cute, super cool, and is almost like a man trapped in a woman's body- guys flock to her. She wasn't being conceited when she said this, she was being serious. For guys, she'll never be the one to take home to meet your parents. If you say something sweet to her, she'll call you a "fag." She's not a Femme fatale, she's a Femme "don't fuck with me." I knew this and was cool with it.

With this girl, what you see is what you get. But you can't see past her so don't try and bother.

So that was that. We gave each other a peace sign and I was out the door. Pretty awesome if you ask me.

I can relate anything in life to sports.

I'm a free agent, again.

As a free agent I'm trying to attract three things: females, fans, and employers.

I'm free to sign with anyone. It may be the "Summer of Lebron." For me it's the "Summer of Danny."

Going home to Nova Scotia, for me, is my off-season. Like an athlete in the off-season, I get to spend time with family and friends. I will have time to train and plan for my next move. In the words of Daft Punk, I plan on making myself "Harder Better Faster Stronger."

I want to go pro. The plan is to work for ESPN or Sports Illustrated. Or even TSN in Canada. 

Mary(her name is not "Mary" by the way; it wouldn't be cool to use her real name) came and went, as she should have. Mary was the best thing that could have happened after my big breakup: someone I could chill with, have some laughs and fun, and not worry about having a serious relationship especially in such a short time.It was what it was.

I know there's something about me, too. Anyone who reads me feels me. And that's not being cocky, it's coming correct. Mocking Mike Mayock is all about blood, sweat, and cheers. I pour it all in. I also pour out a little liquor for all my homies, too.

I have a lot to offer women and employers. That will all come in due time. What's most important in life is taking care of myself: constantly improving and taking up new measures of success. I feel great.

I'm ready to sign that contract. In the words of Manny Ramirez- "It's destination."

Big ups to Big Steve: Happy Fathers Day

I became inspired to write this after reading what my cousin Lindsay wrote about her father on facebook. She couldn't have summed up a better dedication to her Dad.

Also, seeing as I get zero cell phone reception in my basement apartment, my father has been trying to call me but I'm not able to run outside fast enough to answer; I don't get international long-distance on my phone.

What better way to say I love you than to do so on my blog?

I dedicate this to you, Stephen Lewis Carew.

Stupid faces run in the family.

Before my father became a father, he was a father of God. A priest.

He was a son of God and he gave his life to him. But my father wanted to become a dad, so he left the church, and was persecuted for doing so.For all the staunch Catholics who dissed my pops, go to hell. I wouldn't be here if my father was still Father Carew. 

My father and mother had a late start in life. If you ever meet me, chances are I may tell you about my father being a former priest and my mom being a nun. Always a good concentration starter. I might tell you about my birth.

After Paul was born in 1979, my mother was encouraged to get her tubes tied. Paul was sick as a baby and my mother was approaching 40. My parents wanted more children but my mom's biological clock was running out of time. But three years later, in 1982, I was born. It wasn't revealed to me until later in life but my birth was a medical breakthrough. Maybe I'm a miracle baby, either way, I marvel at the fact this man is my father.

The father/son relationship is a funny one. The father wants to teach you so much, but the son can only absorb so much.

There were fights and hurt feelings all along the way. I remember when I was 5 years old, we were supposed to go see a movie together, but I told my dad I didn't want to go with him.

I remember when he came home to find his house trashed when I was in high school. Some dumb girls broke his parents glasses and the house was a mess. I remember him picking up and sniffing a booze filled rug.

I remember the disappointment in telling him I was dropping out of university. And I remember the time he said, "Danny, go do all the drugs you like." yelling at me for being a 19 year old knob. So I did.

I remember him grilling me on speaking proper, standing up for yourself, and being a good person. How to respect women and how to respect yourself.

And above all, being passionate and doing what you love in life.

You see, my father wanted to be an actor. Writers were frowned upon in the family. But ever since he was a little boy, people said he had a "calling." And that calling was God.

That wasn't his calling. His calling was helping others- and he did so as a priest, a parole officer, a human resources manager, and most important- a father.

When I told him I wanted to be a writer he was all for it. As a matter of fact he's the one who encouraged me.

I remember bringing home articles for him to read from my school's paper. I would receive more criticism than praise. Now I can see where I get the fire and passion to always improve in life- because of him. I'll never give up in the pursuit of perfection in this craft I've chosen.

If I'm a good person, it's because of my father. If I truly love my friends and would do anything for them, it's because of my father. And if I'm out of my mind, it's because of my father.

My father turns 73 in October. I don't know how many years we'll have left together and I don't know if he'll see me become a father someday. But I do know I will be a great father because of him.

As I sit here and shed tears as I write this, I can't thank this man enough. I want to make my papa proud. He is and will forever be the most influential man in my life.

Happy Fathers Day. I love you Dad.

I love World Cup soccer because of Cornelle

He calls me "Dan the Man."  But Cornelle is the "man."

I've always enjoyed watching The World Cup. But I enjoy it even more because of Cornelle.

I've been working with Cornelle since February and he is one of the funniest persons I have ever met. He's the type of guy you'll tell him a joke that he'll laugh so hard that he'll be smiling 20 seconds after the joke. He's known as the "Rastaman," and he likes to drink Heineken beer. Bob Marley is his boy.

The first day of working with him I watched him dribble a soccer ball with such skill. He told me he was good enough to play for Trinidad's National team. I believe him.

He also told me how he and his friends would all throw in 5 bucks to see who could dribble the longest.

With the World Cup going on, we catch parts of all the games on 70 inch plasma TV's where we work at. And when you work at MIT, there are people representing all different countries in the Cup. Cornelle has many different favorite teams.

He likes Ivory Coast the most; but he told me he likes any team who sports Chelsea players. Which isn't true because England has four Chelsea players and he hates England.

But everyday he'll tell people he likes a new team. "Today I'm German," he'll say. Or "today I'm French.' Cornelle is intercontinental.

After South Korea lost a match the other day, Korean fans were all sitting together, to which Cornelle said, "they're in mourning." We're glad he identified them as Korean because he usually refers to all Asian people as "Chinese." There's a ping-pong table at work and Cornelle marvels at how good "them Chinese dudes" are.

People love watching the games with him because he not only offers analysis, he makes everyone laugh their asses off. 

I only have another week of work left; it's going to be sad to go. But I look forward to watching soccer with Cornelle.

His girlfriend's family is from Honduras so I know who he'll be representing tomorrow. 

Cornelle- My man.

Could we haved asked for anything more? Friends vs Friends. Celtics vs. Lakers.

A story of two brothers and two friends. Brothers- Celtics fans. Friends- Lakers fans.

Starring

Steve and D-Mac

Jason

And of course

Me

Respect and friendship. Bitter rivals. Better fans because of it.

I guess the story begins somewhere around 1992.

Among all the friends Steve made in high school, two of them happened to be Lakers fans. Jason lived close by, and at the time I was around 8 years old. Whenever Steve would pick up Jason he would unleash me on him so I could tell him what I thought about the Lakers.I was such a psycho when I was little that anything my brothers told me to do I did it. Hey Danny, go fight this kid. Or, Hey Danny, say this to him. Jason loves Byron Scott- his all-time favorite Laker. Whatever I said to him was crude. Maybe Jason can recall in the comment box? Carew's are crude. I even went as far to put a Byron Scott basketball card in the toilet so I could take a dump on it, just so I could tell Jason about it.

And Dave happened to play basketball with Steve.

Whenever we see each other we talk smack. But since I've started this blog and the fact I live in a different country, we've been connecting through facebook. And tonight this message was sent by Jason.

Titled "Could we have asked for anything more?"

Jason- June 16th, 4:50 pm.

...I mean really? The two most storied franchises in the NBA battling in the Finals again and going to a 7th game for the trophy? It doesn't get any better (except a Purple and Gold W!)

DMAC - you know the pact - Lakers for life... can not WAIT till tomorrow night! I LOVE LA!!!! WE LOVE IT!!!

Steve and Danny Boy - Much respect to the Celts and Doc, they've played their way at the right time - playoff time...

Can't wait for game 7....

Cheers,
J

PS - Carews' - I don't forget the Byron Scott taunts! LOL!!! ;-)

Steve. 5:19 pm.

This series definitely deserved 7 games! Two storied franchises. It has been a fun ride...

Danny. 6:25 pm

I got something special for you two fakers. Win or lose.

Enjoy.

And this is what I got

First, let's see what each of us has written on facebook during the series.

D-Mac-  June 8. 11:56 pm. The journey is the reward. Lakers 2 Leprechauns 1.

June 13. 4:17 pm. Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment." (Buddha quote)... must've been referring to the classic clash that is lakers-celtics! enjoyin the journey; mad respect to my brothers carew.

June 15. 8:55 pm. Let's play 7. Be LA

11:27pm. Lakers up 3-3. The journey is the reward.

Jason- Hasn't posted on his wall but he's the one who sent out the message. 

Steve- June 8. 3:29 pm- Beat LA.

June 8. 11:50 pm. DFish is a killer. Good game. Can't wait for 4!

June 10. 11:11 pm- Glen Davis.

 11:40 pm. Yeah Baby! This is our house! Let's go Celtics!Brand new series.

June 12. 11:01 pm. "Let's be the first to win two in a row!"- Doc Rivers

June 13. 7:55pm- Celtic Nation! Let's do this!

9:55 pm. That's why they call him the Truth!

10:51 pm- One more baby! Pierce and Company refused to lose! A great team effort!

As for me, haven't I already said and wrote enough?

Steve loves the Celtics, so much that you should be able to tell by the number of exclamation marks he used.

Another funny thing is the fact both Steve and Dave are general managers at the same automotive group and same brand, except they represent two different locations. I made a joke to Dave: If the Celtics win I'll go sell cars for Steve. If the Lakers win I'll come work for you.

Four of us will watch tomorrow. Two of us will be victorious and will be sure to let the other two know about it.

I respect Kobe and the Lakers. I just hope they don't represent tomorrow with all the stats that say they should win at home in Game 7.

When you respect greatness, you revel in it.

Take me to the next level. I want to beat LA.

If not, I will be a great loser and offer congrats the second after the game is over to Dave and Jason.

Celtics and Lakers bring out the best in each other. We bring the best out in each other.

Respect to the two redheads who love the Lakers.