Friday, June 29, 2007

Generals force one game playoff - Fenton pulls hamstring

I have to say that for as many softball teams as I've played on starting back in college, I have never had what I would call the privilege that I have had to play on this team for the past year or so. Does winning the games we play make a big difference? Naturally. But it's more than that. The team is a brotherhood. I love that. I know it's only softball, and I don't care if it sounds corny, but things are a lot more fun, and you're a lot more successful, if you look at the guy to your left, or at the guy to your right, and you know him, and you trust him, and he's one of your boys. That's why the past two seasons of Hillsborough Generals softball have been so much fun.

The Gens won their 6th straight last night, 7-3 over the T-Bags, to finish up the regular season at 7-3 after a 1-3 start. Going back to spring's undefeated season, the Gens are 17-3 in their last 20. The win leaves the Generals and T-Bags tied atop the divison and forces...cue the goosebumps...a one game playoff for the division title.

Other than Game 7's, there really aren't too many things in sports cooler than the one game playoff. I mean, what else needs to be said? It's one game for the whole barrel of ale. What could be better than that?

The player of the game was Fish, whose running catch that brought him careening into the chain-link fence in left center field was one of the best you'll ever see, at any level, period. Anybody can make a diving catch. It's hard to do, but there's no level of fear involved. Fish's catch, though, and his refusal to slow up near the fence, took hard core balls. Scotty B also deserves mention for taking a shutout, in a softball game, into the final inning.

I also pulled my hamstring in that final inning running in on a shallow pop up. The hammy is receiving daily treatment, including me sleeping in tight spandex leggings to help with compression. Yes, I said tight spandex leggings. I didn't have an ace bandage, so to keep the hammy tight overnight I pulled out a pair of shiny blue spandex leggings that I wore for cold games as a football player at Jesuit ten years ago. I had never actually worn them alone until last night. I pretty much look like the late, great WWF legend Ravishing Rick Rude in them, minus an airbrushed image of my own face on the ass, like Rude used to have. That guy was the best.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

My loyalty to Bright House yields little

Ever since the advent of digital cable, I have been talking about how great it is. I have been a loyal subscriber. Hell, I have given Bright House tons of free advertising. I've talked about them on the air a million times. Not only that, but I have berated their competition, just lashed them with the figurative wet noodle that is my tongue. Satellite television is an absolute abomination. The channels are weird, the signal sucks, there is a ridiculous programming delay, which is awful for live sporting events when you're trying to watch it and talk on the phone to a buddy who is also watching it, because when you scream because a Buccaneer pass has just been batted into the air, your buddy on the other end has already watched said pass get picked off by an opposing linebacker and taken back 57 yards for a touchdown. He's already over it, and you're still there screaming like an idiot.

People who constantly defend satellite television remind me of the people who live out in the middle of nowhere, places like Riverview or Northdale or wherever, and always talk about how "it's really not that far" and how "they have everything they need". They've talked themsleves into this myth, and now they're trying to convert you. Well, I'll take my shitbox apartment in South Tampa that's close to everything over a much nicer place in Bumblefuck Bay Area every single time. The same is true for satellite. It's just indefensible.

Oh, and the satellite signal gets dicey when it rains, which usually isn't a problem in West Central Florida anyway I suppose. John Kasay is lining up a 47-yard field goal that would beat the Bucs, and here's the snap, AND......buffering.....buffering......buffering....that's pretty much the satellite experince. Fuck the dish.

Anyway, after all of my loyalty to Bright House, what happens? Random channels on my cable simply don't work. They're just black. Naturally, one of these channels is the one the Devil Rays play on over half the time. After calling Bright House and attempting to fix it, I was told I would have to swap out cable boxes, meaning that I will lose everything saved on my DVR. That's right, all three of the Gator National Title wins that I recorded, all six Triple Crown races from this and last year, and even a little bit of soft porn I had saved on there for a rainy day (or a day with sunshine) - all gone. I have to borrow my Mom's DVD/VCR recorder and download the stuff off the box just to save it before I can switch out to a new cable box and be able to watch the fucking Devil Rays blow more 8-2 leads in the final three innings.

Tighten up, Bright House.

Enough Pussies

You were taken aback for a second there, weren't you? You thought that I was asserting that I had gotten my fill of the female form and just didn't want any part of it anymore. Good try.

I'm talking about a real American issue, and that is people who act like total pussies. I got an e-mail from a friend yesterday, and attached to it was a picture of a kid on one of those Hot Wheels three-wheelers you have when you're like 4. The ones with the tassles coming out of the handlebars, right? And this kid in the picture is on this thing, no more than maybe three inches off the ground, and he is decked out in a bicycle helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads. On a fucking three wheeler. (I will post the picture as soon as I find it.)

Now, I hardly want to blame the kid. It's not his fault his parents are treating him like a total pussy. But that's just it. It's his parents. DOESN'T ANYBODY SEE WE ARE RAISING A GENERATION OF TOTAL PUSSIES?

Where along the way did America go wrong? Growing up, I can honestly say that I never once donned a single piece of protective equipment outside of things within the confines of organized sports like PONY League baseball. Never wore anything protective to ride my bike, play street hockey, or tackle football in the yard. Most people my age probably have the same recollection. And I'm telling you right now, not only will I not make my kids wear anyhting of the sort, but I will prohibit them from doing so. You fall off the bike, you suck it up, and you ride.

No equipment for my kids on the bike, much less a FUCKING THREE WHEELER. America is raising a generation of total pussies. And not just in the physical sense either. We are raising emotional pussies too, with all of this political correctness and other things of that ilk. It's the pussification of America. I used to talk about it all the time on the afternoon show when things like the Imus deal would come up. That story disgusted me. Who gives a shit if some guy calls you a ho, Rutgers women? Instead of saying that they hadn't noticed or didn't care or maybe actually letting something bounce off you and moving forward, they held a press conference and had meetings and played the role of "victim". They were victims - of being pussies.

When I think of the Rutgers women's basketball thing and of all of the people who acted so "outraged", I am compelled to quote Col. Nathan R. Jessup - "All you did was weaken a country today. That's ALL YOU DID."

Do you realize they are banning tag and other so called "chase games" at some schools now because of the "agression" involved and the potential for injury? Unfuckingbelieveable. These people in charge are total pussies, and I'll be damned if it's going to rub off on my kids, boy or girl. Our only way to fight back is to raise our own kids stronger. That's what Jeanette and Robby Fenton did with their only son, and look how that turned out. In fact, if you Google my name, "Bobby Fenton", and click on "Images", one of the resulting hits is this picture:


Go ahead. Try it if you don't believe me. I already know it's there because I Google Imaged myself. That's Malibu from American Gladiators, and it's not a coincidence. Thanks, Mom and Dad.







Bobby Gameday humbly gives himself back to Fentonia

1:32 am - New address. New look. Same heart. I'm not going to waste your time, because you've heard it before. But this time, it's for real. Fentonia is back, and it's time to get your happy little ass back in here, too.

Back when I first started this up, using a Yahoo! Geocities template, blogs were not as common as they are these days. It is no longer rare, unique, or catchy to have one. But if you know me, and you know this site, you know the point never has been to be catchy. And in contrast to most of the people with a blog, the purpose of Fentonia is not to "grow an audience" or "get noticed" or to "become culturally relevant" or any bullshit like that. This website exists and has always existed for one reason only, and that is to serve as a central meeting point for all of my friends, family, pets, and acquaintances...that is to say - Fentonians. I don't care about anything else.

With that in mind, you'll notice that while the physical look of the site is a bit sleeker and easier to read, the basis of the site is unchanged. The signature feature, and my favorite part of this website, is the Fentonian Meeting House Bulletin Board, and the link to it is right here as always. We are approaching our 500th post, and eventually 1000th post. Between the resurgence of Fentonia and college football season's imminent kickoff, we look to hit those milestones soon.

In short, Fentonia is back. I'll update it as it happens. Somtimes several posts in a few days, sometimes only once a week. Get used to making it a part of your day.