Freaks: Insidious Sixth

There will be times in your life when you cross a rubicon--one of those points where you recognize that life will never be the same afterwards. For me, last night was one of those nights.

Allow me to set the scene a little bit. One of my first posts on Fegonomics detailed my experience with my company's Red Sox season tickets last year--an experience that pretty much bored to tears. Fast forward 365 days: we got a black man doing his thing in the White House, Big Papi has lost at least 25 pounds of muscle, It Was All a Dream exhibits significantly more alcoholic tendencies, and I still hate baseball...well kinda.

I got tickets for the Red Sox/White Sox clash thinking that the White Sox fans were going to look like this. At the very least, I was excited by the prospect of double fisting $8 bood lights and alienating all the old-timers sitting around me and Dream. After a few assaults on the beer stand, and some freebie soft serve, I was starting to really get into the game. Something about the way Tim Wakefield was pulling some okey-doke shit with his knuckleballs really resonated with me. Around the sixth inning, the the score knotted at 1's, I started proclaiming that Wally Ortiz was going to hit a walkoff.

Anyone (read: the one person) who reads this blog realizes that my beisbol knowledge is limited. Patricia Heaton limited. Limited to the point that I think Henry Rowengartner is still the Cubs' middle reliever. So while I recognized that chaman Ortiz had definitely dropped a lot of bulk after getting off the 'roids, I failed to take into account the deletorious effects getting weaned off the cream and the clear would have on his performance. I mean, the fact that I can bench his batting average is not a very good sign. But statistics? Where we're going, we don't need no stinking statistics.



Whatever it was, I had a strong Shick Intuition (Am I the only one who'd smash Jewel from behind?) that Papi was going to come up big. A White Sox solo homer in the 8th set the stage perfectly for Papi to come up in the bottom of the 9th. After Now Watch Me Yoouukkkk struck out swinging, Papi strutted up to the plate to some salsa beats. The first pitch: nothing. The next: Fucking Pandamonium. Ortiz's walkoff electrified the fans and instantly turned Fenway into Zion. Sometimes people have their faith rewarded (Over/Under of the number of you guys that instantly cried upon hearing Chris Connelly's voice: 4). Ahh...that kid's kinda a prick. Here's a good one.

By far the best sporting moment I've ever witnessed. And if there was ever an event to compel me to like baseball, that was it. Look at this laser:



Alright, I got that out of my system. Now let's see some freaks. Seeing as how the college football season is starting up next week, and Coach Collbaugh has made no progress on his preview here's The Official Fegonomics College Football Preview.

Skywalker Freak
Julio Jones - SO WR Alabama Crimson Tide

There's a lot to love about Julio (outside of the fact that people sync up his mixtapes with Asher Roth). A) His real name is Quintorris. How they got Julio out of that, the world will never know. B) He's 6'4", 218 pounds and can run a 4.38 40. C) He has All-Neptune hops. Feast your eyes on this:
Julio's gotta be at least 2 feet above those other jabronis trying to D him. Fears over the departure of Hoover High's own John Parker Wilson and the effects this will have on JJ are simply unfounded. Someone who is that physically superior to his defensive counterparts will always gets his. Cut from the TO/Randy Moss mold, Julio Jones is going to be a matchup nightmare against even the stingiest SEC defense. Really, are you going to doubt someone who does this:

W. O. W. waaaaoooowww

Thumper Freak
Taylor Mays - SR FS USC Trojans

From left to right: Brian Mass Monster Cushing, Random Small Guy, Taylor Mays

Look at those dinner roll abs. Look at that shelf chest. Mays certainly makes my all-lobby team. But surely you don't think he'd make this list because of his chiseled muscles and mochalata skin alone?

No, my friend. You see, I've long been enamored with the safety position. These guys are always physical specimens, blending near cornerback speed with the hitting power of a linebacker. For years I overlooked all of the Real Roy Williams' deficencies because he could lay some hurting bombs. Mays is the embodiment of every Roy Williams wet dream I've ever had. He's been compared to all-timers like Ronnie Lott and Sean Taylor. Every creative writing teacher will tell you that it's better to show than tell....well let me show youa lil something something:



I love the confusion at the beginning of the video. The Penn State receiver is stumbling and bumbling like he's GTA IV drunk, but why? Oh wait, he just got fucking buzzsawed by Taylor Mays. Moreover, Mays stacks up the carcass of his teammate right next to the Penn State dood like it's a drowning pool video. He's a heatseeking missile who don't give a damn about collateral damage. Respect.

I'm always a big fan of guys who play all four years in college. It may seem counter-intuitive, but the guys who pass up millions of dollars to stay in "school" are the ones who know how to live life. I say this because they value being the Big Man on Campus, and smashing any
piece of ass they want (Note: For your viewing pleasure, these are 4 different links) over the $'s. Taylor Mays is one of those guys. Mays passed up being a probable top 10 pick in this year's draft so he could gun for a National Championship and pounding this girl after class. I think we all agree that he made the right decision. Especially if it means that he gives us more moments like these:

Built for Speed Freak(s)
Tie: Terrelle Pryor/Robert Griffin

The Griffin/Pryor debate will rage all year long. Griffin had a prodigal start at Baylor, using his olympic level (3rd place 400 meter hurdles at the NCAA Championships) speed and athleticism to make the long forgotten team relevant. Pryor came to Ohio State with much more fanfare, but hasn't disappointed. Reports came out of Buckeyes camp that Pryor was actually the fastest player on the team, clocking a 4.33 40. Honestly, I don't know which of these guys to pick. Ahhh, whatever. When in doubt, PS: Pick Stokke.

...and now we're all winners. Light. Wayyyytt!