Jason Kelce underwent successful sports hernia surgery today, and now begins the 6-8 week road back to the playing field. In his place, David Molk (who was unemployed at this time last year) will lead the O-line at the center position. It’s hard to look at this depleted offensive line and not think “Hey, isn’t this exactly what Eliot Shorr-Parks said he was worried about on the podcast?” It is, and somehow I think it’s all his fault.
Often times, teams and organizations will unknowingly endorse a life protocol simply through their carefully considered marketing efforts. For example, Apple commercials tell me that I should have exactly three ridiculously photogenic Asian friends, two ridiculously photogenic black friends (one bald male, one female with crazy, teased-out hair), an average looking white male friend named Johnny, and a free-spirited-yet-stable ex-girlfriend named Beth or Jenn whom I for some reason keep allowing to show up in my recent contacts. I’ll never feel whole until I get this ratio just right.
In that same spirit, today the Eagles officially put their stamp of approval on raising your kid like a Kenzo. They posted a comic demonstrating the proper ways to raise an Eagles fan: singing Fly Eagles Fly into a bullhorn over their crib, sending them to school with a pickle juice-complemented lunch, letting Malcolm Jenkins serve your three-year-old daughter tea, encouraging color blindness by forcing them to use crayons comprised only of the many shades of Midnight Green, giving them an RV at 16, and:
Somewhere, Dave Spadaro is yelling at his superior, “I GOT REPRIMANDED FOR MERELY SPITTING ON IT… but I would love to poop in this thing. Can I poop in this thing?”
The Mets, who the Phillies could still beat in the standings if they go on a run right now, thought they’d have a little fun on Twitter with longtime Mets fans by asking them to finish the sentence “I’m a Mets fan because …” and it didn’t go well.
In recent years — and then for what was basically an eternity before 2006 or so — Phillies fans were all too familiair with heartache and disappointment. But Mets fans have been down so long, and for so many reasons, that their suffering is nearly an art form. In the past, when the Phillies would be on a bad run, I’d tell myself “at least they’re not the Mets.” The Mets are likely going to finish this season with a better record than the Phillies, and I’m still saying the same thing to myself, because to be a Mets fan is to experience an emptiness that Bobby Bonilla’s bank account will never see again. So when the Mets asked their fans to explain why they were fans, there were a few “because my father was” or “beacuse it’s tradition” or what have you, but then there was a bunch of this:
#ImaPhilliesFanBecause we didn’t even have to hijack the Mets’ hashtag, their own fans did it.
h/t Sports Illustrated
This compared to the way fans used to watch the Ice Girls– lustfully.
As you may have heard, this season the Flyers will have very-clothed men cleaning the ice during TV timeouts. I’m hesitant to call them Ice Boys, because that sounds like the name Jeff Carter would’ve given to his clique circa 2009, or a derogatory term for the backroom cleanup crew at an LA night club. But gone are the short-shorted Ice Girls, made famous by this guy’s mouth-agape stare and their long, tanned, stretchy, muscular legs.
Last night the new crew made their debut, and not surprisingly, the boos were plentiful:
You will be missed, scantily glad girls.
H/T to (@picklesnshrimp)
On Friday afternoon, while I was on a train ride to New York — during which I witnessed a man in a Jeter jersey proposing to his girlfriend on a train platform in North Jersey while surrounded by about four other dudes in Jeter jerseys — Roger Goodell was standing behind a podium spouting nonsense. No one was especially impressed, soothed, or had their trust in the NFL reinstated. Just kidding, no one ever had trust in the NFL.
In response, in the way that is quickly becoming his signature, John Oliver briefly but sufficiently went at Roger Goodell by letting Roger Goodell’s own words take him down. It’s nice to laugh at Goodell to quell our anger at him, but we really shouldn’t look past that question TMZ asked him.
Where were all the cameras in the locker room when Andy’s teams won in Philly? Is this grand entrance thing just for him in KC? Is there any better song to play along to that gif than “Mr. Roboto”? The answers to those above questions, in order, are: There had to be, I guess so, and maybe “C is for Cookie.”
h/t Deadspin, via Arrowhead Pride
If you need me, I’ll be in the other room chewing on glass and breaking my hand attempting to punch through drywall. I need a timeout right now. Too much excitement today.
Email from reader Mark, one of St. Joe’s finest:
great coverage of the game yesterday. Just figured I’d share this gem from my tailgate yesterday. We were planning on burning our desean jerseys as many did, when the mounted police left us a nice treat… a big ole horse shit! We flipped the dung on top of the desean jerseys and people were driving over the jerseys it was great! one guy in a huge truck ran it over then backed up to run it over again, then spun out on the jerseys, it was awesome until we realized horse shit was flying everywhere! Fuck Desean.
“The Hawk Will Never Die!”
Email from reader Brian, who presumably didn’t know that this was all reader Mark’s doing:
Kyle- a police horse took a dump on a pile of Jaccpot jerseys yesterday. A step up (or down?) from burning them. Enjoy.
And they say it’s always sunny here.