The Jock Itch » Trucks and Redneck Things

The Cocks Take It!

The Man No One Came To See — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 12:22:58 +0000

OMAHA, Neb. — They won’t start tearing down the steel rafters and concrete of Rosenblatt Stadium until sometime later this year.

A minor league baseball team still has games scheduled here this summer, and a United Football League franchise is set to begin play here this fall.

But for all intents and purposes, the curtains fell at Johnny Rosenblatt Stadium shortly before 11 p.m. CT on Tuesday night.

After hosting the College World Series every season for the last 61 years, the old ballpark hosted its final college baseball game on Tuesday night. The CWS moves to a new $130 million stadium in downtown Omaha next year, where it will be played for the next two decades.

But before the College World Series moved to its sparkling new home, the baseball gods scripted a fitting end for Rosenblatt Stadium, the place that somehow became the mecca for aluminum bats and the NCAA’s double-elimination tournament.

Needing one victory to win its first national championship in baseball, South Carolina rallied for a run to tie UCLA in the bottom of the eighth inning, and then won 2-1 on right fielder Whit Merrifield’s RBI single in the 11th.

It was the first CWS championship game decided in extra innings since 1970 and seemed to pack as much drama into four hours, 15 minutes as any game played here during the past six decades.

“This game was special,” UCLA coach John Savage said. “This game was as good as it gets at this level. The national championship is supposed to be played like that.”

While it might have been more fitting for blue-blood programs like LSU, Southern California or Texas to close out the last College World Series at Rosenblatt, the upstart Bruins and Gamecocks produced a game that wasn’t decided until the very last at-bat.

“I know the new stadium will be very special and a great facility,” South Carolina coach Ray Tanner said. “But this is history. We’ll be a part of the College World Series and Rosenblatt for a long, long time. It’s an incredible journey and an incredible ending.”

Opportunity Missed

Perhaps, one day, UCLA will look back and appreciate its place in history. For now, though, all the Bruins feel is heartbreak. Blair Angulo

South Carolina fans won’t forget Tuesday night’s victory anytime soon. It’s the school’s first national championship in any men’s sport and the first in baseball after more than 100 years.

“This is the dream of dreams to be able to compete at this level and to be national champions and the best in the country,” South Carolina athletic director Eric Hyman said. “This is a moment we’ll remember for the rest of our lives. This is a defining moment. This shows everyone that we can.”

For a long time on Tuesday night, it seemed like the Gamecocks would have to wait another night to celebrate. After beating the Bruins by a 7-1 score on Monday night, South Carolina couldn’t muster much offense against UCLA starter Rob Rasmussen.

The Gamecocks left the bases loaded in the second and stranded 14 runners in the game. In fact, they went 0-for-6 with runners in scoring position until Merrifield delivered his big hit in the 11th.

“It was very hairy there for a while,” Tanner said. “I didn’t know if we were ever going to scratch and we were able to tie the thing up and push it to extra innings. But it really was who we were this year. And to have an extra-inning, 2-1 game end this way is magnificent.”

Field Of Dreams

Whit Merrifield delivered the most famous hit in South Carolina history, as his RBI clinched the Gamecocks their first national championship.

After taking a 1-0 lead on shortstop Niko Gallego’s RBI single in the fifth inning, the Bruins were only five outs away from forcing a winner-take-all game on Wednesday night.

But then the Gamecocks finally scratched their way onto the scoreboard against Bruins closer Dan Klein in the eighth. Pinch hitter Brady Thomas led off the inning with a single and pinch runner Robert Beary moved to second on a groundout.

With one out, shortstop Bobby Haney slapped a grounder to first, and Dean Espy muffed the ball into right field, allowing Beary to score from second to tie the score at 1-1. When the inning ended, Espy slammed his fist into a dugout bench in disgust, injuring his hand, and he had to leave the game.

“South Carolina just wouldn’t give us anything,” Savage said. “We just couldn’t knock the door down and get a couple of runs early. It might have been the difference in the game. It would have gotten us to Game 3.”

It would only get worse for from there. The Bruins, who also were seeking their first national championship in baseball, loaded the bases with two outs in the top of the ninth. But South Carolina closer Matt Price struck out leadoff man Gallego on three pitches to end the threat.

“I’ve seen [Price] do that before,” Tanner said. “When you’ve got the stuff that Matt does, he’s going to make some pitches. And it’s not easy to lay off, especially in that situation.”

In the bottom of the 11th, South Carolina second baseman Scott Wingo faced a full count against Klein, one of the best closers in the country this season. Tanner was so impressed by Klein’s repertoire of four pitches that he gave Wingo a sign to push a bunt up the third-base line. Instead, Wingo drew a walk and moved to second on a passed ball.

“I have never done that in my career,” Tanner said. “I just felt they had moved back to third. In that situation, with Klein out there pitching as well as he was, I kept thinking it might be easier to push the ball toward third base than it would be to get a hit. Wingo gave me a double take, a triple take, and he got a pitch low.”

After left fielder Evan Marzilli moved Wingo to third with a perfect sacrifice bunt, Merrifield drove Klein’s 2-0 pitch into right field to bring home the winning run.

Merrifield said he was surprised the Bruins didn’t elect to walk him and center fielder Jackie Bradley Jr. to load the bases for a potential double play to end the threat.

“When I saw the catcher squat down, I knew I had something to prove,” Merrifield said. “In that situation, you’re trying to get a pitch elevated. You’re trying to drive it deep into the outfield. I worked the count in my favor and got a fastball. Even though it was kind of down, I got the barrel on it and it finally went the other way and shot it into the gap.”

With one swing of the bat, Merrifield closed the chapter on South Carolina’s frustrating near misses in Omaha (the Gamecocks had finished second here three times since 1975).

And then college baseball said goodbye to the place where every program in the country yearned to go every season since 1950.

Shortly after the Gamecocks were handed their national championship trophy, and after fireworks were launched from behind the green wall in center field, a lone trumpeter sat at home plate, playing a slower version of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”

Beginning next year, the College World Series will be played only a few miles down the road.

But it might never feel the same outside of the Blatt.

“Without question, it’s very, very special,” Tanner said. “To be able to survive and win the last game is really incredible.”

12 Reasons You Were Never Meant to Dunk

Serge Zwikker on the Break — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 22:23:58 +0000

1. You can dunk the ball . . . but you’re considered clinically obese:

2. You have absolutely ZERO depth perception:

3. You think the trampoline is a great place to dunk from:

4. You had to enlist in the military instead of the NBA . . . and still can’t dunk:

5. If you think Sir Isaac Newton’s laws do not apply to chairs and dunking off of them:

6. The high school asked you to be the mascot instead of the center:

7. They ask you to put on a Scream mask before attempting a dunk:

8. You’re fat, dunking depends on your life, and there’s only a bucket:

9. See (5) and apply to shopping carts:

10. You’re a nerd and you have a dunk called “the Spidey” involving wall climbing:

11. If your friends convince you to jump off their backs . . . from 10 ft out:

12. You don’t believe in the slippery powers of freaking ICE:

The WWE Raw Drinking Game

The Man No One Came To See — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 16:00:51 +0000

With the Rawleigh tonight, i decided that posting the Monday Night Raw drinking game would be good to spread the good word of WWE. These are only a handful in total there are about 100 with new ones added every week. These rules are also followed rather loosely because if you were to strict adhere you would get alcohol poisoning.

Drink every time…

there is entrance music
a wrestler uses his/her special move
there is unnecessary backstage drama
there is a 2 count on an attempted pin
drink double for a one count
you laugh (this one gets brutal)
the ref does unnecessary and ridiculous hand motions
there is an attempted joke that is terrible
a diva muff dives another diva
they hype their next pay-per-view
you see a terrible sign in the crowd
an outside object, a chair, ladder, sledgehammer, etc., is introduced to the match
Raw cuts to commercial mid-match only to return to the other guy winning now (called a “Commercial Reversal”)
a tag team partner begs to be tagged in
someone is knocked out by something that shouldn’t have hurt
they mess up a move

This game is to be played with 40’s of Malt Liquor or Beer.

Pic of the Day – 04.23

Serge Zwikker on the Break — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 14:37:10 +0000

Why hunting is not a sport . . .

The Sport with One Rule : No (Intentional) Murder

Serge Zwikker on the Break — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 14:45:54 +0000

In the small English town of Ashbourne during 2 days a year the people divide to play a sport with the purpose of scoring the “toughest goal”. Sure kicking a ball into the net takes some skill, but even these people would say scoring in a sport such as rugby is only for the weak. Imagine thousands of people, divided by a river, with 2 days to get a ball across town with one simple rule: no murder. That is only the beginning in Royal Shrovetide Football.

The Time:

The game of Royal Shrovetide is played annually on Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday in Ashbourne, which is located in Derbyshire, England. The pitch begins at 2:00 pm and lasts until 10:00 pm. If a ball is goaled before 5:00, then a new ball is released in the town centre and play continues. Otherwise, play is over for the day.

The Teams:

Through the middle of Ashbourne runs a river called the Hanmore Brook. People born north of the river are on the Up’Ards and people from the south are called Down’Ards. On opposite ends of the town are two goal posts that are located 3 miles apart. The Up’Ards attempt to score at Sturston Mill, and the Down’Ards at the Clifton Mill, each located in a river. In order to score, the team must move the ball from the town centre, to their mill, and then bang the ball on the wall 3 consecutive times.

The Game:

There is no limit to the number of players the Up or Down’Ard teams can possess. The teams (composed of thousands of people) are encouraged to stay within the confinements of Ashbourne. As a precaution all stores and shops board up their windows and all cars are parked miles away. The crowd gathers at a specially designed plinth in the middle of Town Square to begin the game. Prior to the beginning, they sing Auld Lang Syne followed by God Save the Queen. Shortly after, town (or in some cases actual royalty) figures throw the custom painted ball into the crowd. From there, the chaos begins.

The “Rules”:

The only real official rule to the game is no murder or manslaughter. But a good way to find you in a sticky situation during the game is to:

1) Carry the ball by motorized vehicle.

2) Hide the ball under your coat or in a bag.

3) Run into a cemetery, churchyard, or memorial.

Also, unnecessary roughness is heavily frowned upon, although a common occurrence during the 2 day game.

The Roll of Honor:

The roll of honor is an official document, which keeps history of each scorer and the turner-up (the person who threw the ball) during each of the game. If you are a visitor wishing to score on either of the two teams, you are out of luck. Each part of town usually predetermines who will score the goals and thus keep the ball. It is usually respected members or families of the town, for they frown upon visitors getting their names placed in the Roll of Honor.

Here are a few videos of this great brute of a sport unfolding:

Hey That’s a REAL Nice Truck . . . for a WOMAN

Serge Zwikker on the Break — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 15:15:49 +0000

For some reason . . . I read this every Friday to remind me why life is great.

Sayyyyy, nice truck you got there. What is that, a V-8? Oh, only a V-6? Well, I suppose that’s okay. As long as you don’t need your truck to do anything MANLY, like carry heavy shit uphill. Heavy shit made out of metal, because that’s the kind of heavy shit REAL MEN need to haul.

But no, it’s a good truck. You get good gas mileage? Yeah? Well gas mileage is for pussies. My truck here gets about two gallons per mile. You know what else gets mileage that bad? A fucking TANK. That’s how I know my truck kicks ass.

That’s a nice color for it, too. What is that, “red”? It looks good. I seen some real pretty flowers that color. Me, I don’t need to paint my truck. Primer’s good enough for me. If I had paint it would just get in the way of me doing MANLY SHIT, like driving through explosions in the desert and speeding past giant machines swinging other trucks at my truck. But red’s good, too. Probably looks really nice in the parking lot when you pick your son up from ballet practice.

But I like yours. Who made it, Tonka? I’ll bet it plays your Jonas Brothers CDs pretty loud while I’m fucking your wife. Pansy.

Oh hey, I notice you’ve got a little– what is that? A “man ramp” to get up into your truck’s bed? No, no — it looks good. Must come in handy when you want to help a dainty little man into the back there. So you can hold his hand and have sex with him and ask him to stay the night, because you’re a needy little bitch. It works for you.

Whatcha got in the forward cab, huh? Scented Kleenex and Barbies, I bet.

(peers in through window)

Well well well. Looky here. Seatbelts, huh?

(makes wanking motion)

No, don’t take that the wrong way! Seatbelts are great for women and babies in little cars. And trucks for men with tiny little limp dicks.

Listen to me, jabbering on like that. I should let you go. You’re gonna be late to yoga class or book group or your… your Cocksuckers Anonymous meeting. You can park that bad boy next to the hybrids.

Gonna drive with the windows up, huh? Pffft..