90 on 95

Sports, rumors, and humor from the Ben Franklin to the George Washington

Tag Archives: sports

B is for Bandwagon


The Fair-Weather Fans of Foul-Weathered Boston

The only Bruins jersey I'd ever seen before last week. Let em' have it Bob.

First off: I’d like to state for the record that both the NHL and NBA play-offs are entirely too long, rendering the regular season into a preposterously bloated waste of time. That said, I’d also like to get this off my chest: Fuck the Bruins.

For some ungodly reason—and to the dismay of all well-intentioned sports fans elsewhere—Boston sports have had an unprecedented string of good luck in the sporting domain over the past decade. While this recent success has served to inflate the average New Englander’s perverted sense of self-worth far beyond levels traditionally accepted by the decent, God-fearing majority, to the well-trained eye it fails to cover up the grimy truth:  Boston fans are about as loyal as a crack-whore at a roller derby.

Trust me.

Since when did the Bruins have an established fan base? Other than a few errant and poorly timed text messages last spring (before the Flyers proceeded to pull out one of the greatest comebacks in NHL play-off history), this spring season was the first I’ve really ever heard of the strange group of hockey playing ruffians known as the B’s.  Nobody so much as breathed their name during my four years of college.  Sure you got your standard alcoholics and unemployed street mongrels that constitute the majority of the NHL target demographic, but outside of that strange and sordid inner circle the Bruins were a non-entity. They were like a poor bastard wounded in battle and left to behind to die at the hands of a savage enemy. Unspoken of. But now that they’ve got the cup there are vendors on the streets selling puke colored jerseys so that woodworked multitudes can look good and stylish for Saturday’s victory parade. Suddenly it seems that everyone’s a fan.

And this should come as no surprise really, though it still justifies a generous degree of bitter derision. It must be pointed out that despite the delusional grandeur attribute to their beloved Celtics, the first Celtics jersey I ever saw during my time in Boston said ‘Garnett’ on the back. This is a city that either rooted tepidly for the Giants or didn’t much care about football until about a decade ago when that expansion team of theirs started winning games. And don’t let them fool you about the Red Sox either.  Though they may bemoan the hard-luck times of their junior league joke-squad, the fans are a bunch of day-gamers who usually bounce by the seventh inning.  Fenway’s more of a business-meeting destination than a ballpark—a boardroom for geriatrics and Jesus freaks. There’s no tailgating, no nitrous, and no Cadillac time.

So if the Boston beat’s got you down this week and you’re thinking about mindless destruction—I’m talking to you Vancouver—just remember sporting success is cyclical. As soon as their teams trend south those Boston fans will drift off once again into obscure oblivion. Until then we can only hope it rains on the gay parade tomorrow just like it did on the gay parade last Saturday.

Oh yeah, and that was a clean hit on Horton…he’s just a bitch.

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LETS PLAY THE FEUD!


First read this which was put together beautifully by Kyle Scott over at CrossingBroad.

 

You gotta love the classic case of colleague’s attacking each other through social media.  It just inspires me.  Phillies beat writer David Murphy and Philadelphia Inquirer columnist John Gonzalez obviously have some sort of beef with each other.  Anytime the term “Shriveled Dick” gets tossed around you know someone means business.  Now obviously it wasn’t very professional how Gonzo called out Murph in his column.  That apparently got Dave’s Irish up to astronomical levels, thus starting a twitter battle for the ages.  Not Since Buzz Bissinger and Mark Cuban have we had a legitimate fight like this on twitter.  Now the rumor is that Murph may have wanted a piece of  a former CSN employee (Not the beautiful and talented Amy Fadool), whom has been linked to Gonzo (yes I feel dirty for typing this bullshit btw).  I have a solution to this problem though.  I have spent the past few hours coming up with a plan on how these two scorned lovers could once and for all find out who knows more words then the other.

The Name Game.

I suggest we rent out McFadden’s set up two podiums and GET IT ON.  Of course we would need a fully wasted lubricated Michael Barkann to mediate and announce.  We would have a best of seven series with different categories for each.  Now since this is a battle of manhood, drinking will most certainly be an essential part of the equation.  The loser of each round must drink two shots of alcohol which is chosen by the winner of each round.  Strategy will play a major part in this part of the competition.  I don’t know anyone that could drink a shot of Jameson followed by a shot of Jose Cuervo and not want to kill themselves.  Of course in between each round we would have the beautiful McFadden’s girls serve as corner women for each of our contestants.  The winner would be awarded a spot on this website (a guy can dream right?) to write full time (lets face it we could use the page views).  The loser would have to get down on their knees and kiss Matt Gelb’s bare ass.  Why Matt Gelb? IM MAKING THE RULES HERE!  I am fully prepared to present my idea to both of the parties of interest if they would be acceptable of my terms.  They know where to find me.  Oh they don’t know where to find me? Damn, well my twitter handle is @Captain_Dan95 (Follow me!).

Let Us Pray


It’s almost spring and with all the excitement of college hoops, the start of a wildly anticipated 2011 baseball season, and the opening of Phishin’ season slated for Memorial Day weekend in upstate NY, it’s easy to share in the groove and lose sight of the potential apocalypse looming just around the bend. And no, I’m not talking about the deficit, socialism, Islam, Middle East riots, or Japanese catastrophe. I’m talking about soggy nachos, flat beer, and a general sense of despair surrounding the fact that this year my best option for Sunday afternoons may be to sit around getting high watching figure skating on ABC.

Fuck.

With over $9 billion in annual revenue at stake (not to mention the mortgages of the thousands of everyday Americans who have their careers and financial well-being inextricably tangled in NFL gameday – stadium employees, restaurant owners, bookies, shylocks, etc…) you’d think the owners and the NFLPA would be logically induced to come to some sort of agreement for the common good of mankind, right? Wrong. The owners have taken a hard-lined position reminiscent of Mussolini, forcing the players union to decertify and take it to the octagon.

Who needs cheerleaders with this sexy crew prowling the sidelines?

Since the bargaining relationship with the NFLPA has ended, the NFL is no longer immune to antitrust scrutiny, and players are now able to bring lawsuits against the NFL. The courtroom battle is set to begin with the Preliminary Injunction hearing to end the lockout on April 6th, as the players have filed a class action anti-trust lawsuit against the NFL entitled—get this—Tom Brady v. NFL. Looks like Brady finally got that reality T.V. show he’s always wanted. Additional named plaintiffs include Peyton Manning, Drew Brees, Vincent Jackson, Osi Umenyiora, and incoming rookie Von Miller among others.

While litigation ensues it is important to keep a positive approach and focus on the upsides of a squandered 2011 NFL season.  As an avid G-Men supporter I, for one, will be happy not having to tolerate that utterly confused look on Coughlin’s face when something – literally, anything – happens on the field of play due to his poor understanding of the rules of football. If there was no season, Eli Manning might finally put up a touchdown to interception ratio worthy of his contract. And most importantly, failure to play a 2011 NFL season might deter good old Tiki Barber from trying to make some sort of pathetic comeback.

But, as much as I’d like to deny it, I would certainly find myself in dire straits if the season were actually canceled. Sure we can still get drunk, have backyard barbeques, or even watch college ball—ugly as it seams—but Fall without the NFL would be like, well, Phish without the Phunk.  In short…it would be a bummer. As fans we must call on both parties to resolve their differences and get their shit in order. We must remind them that the success of the NFL is derived entirely from fan satisfaction, and without us it’s just a warped piece of pigskin. And, if all else fails, at least we’ll have Brady in the courtroom to throw his hands up like a pussy lookin’ for that roughing-the-passer flag. If anyone can get the call, it’s definitely him.

Welcome to 90 on 95


No Santa is safe in Philly

Finally it’s here; the moment you’ve all been waiting for!  The Captain and I have wasted countless hours bickering over the broadway/broad street rivalry for years to no avail.  Finally we have created a forum to shamelessly assault those scumbags from our most hated cities.  Whether you spend your lunch break scarfing cheese steaks on South Street or endlessly searching for the best slice in the city, we bring you a fan friendly account of brotherly love from the Ben Franklin to the George Washington.  From the city that booed Santa Claus to the city that will stoop small enough to beat down a lowly kicker, comes the site that will bring together fans from Philadelphia and New York.  Even those annoying hybrids who root for the Phillies in the summer and the Giants in the winter have a place here.  Because just 90 short miles on i95 separate Philly and New York, we bring you 90on95.com: a report on sports, rumors, and humor from city hall to city hall.

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