The Deeg

In one of our shortest CrapTastiCasts ever, we struggle for subject matter after the Sabres' first loss of the season.  While you can't really say we succeeded, we showed up at least so that's something.  During the more lucid moments of this particular installment from the Buffalo expat insane asylum, we talk a little about the Sabres, a little about Manti Te'o, a little about baseball, and a little about man tears. The Scizz was off his rocker for most of the evening so don't expect much by way of focus... which, incidentally you should never really expect from us anyway.

Musical content by way of Deeg house band The Jambrones, Jane's Addiction, Radical Face and Aerosmith. 

Stream below, subscribe with our handy itunes button or download here or here.

The Apostles of Bob (Featuring the Apologist)

The NHL lockout ends, so what does DGWU Sports do? We celebrate by bringing back our seldom listened to NBA only podcast. Nobody can ever say we're whores for page hits (*Cough* Buffalo Wins *Cough* Trending Buffalo *Cough Cough*).

The Yachtsman and Scizz are joined in this ep. by fellow Deeg member the Apologist aka the Cartographer aka the Jazzologist for some sexy-ass basketball takes. We discuss the top 5 teams in the NBA, and where the Knickerbockers rank among them. We sloppily break down the current roster status and predict whether or not it can get the team to the promise land that is the NBA Finals.

We also talk about who the best and worst analysts and announcers in the league are (surprise, we hate almost everyone from ESPN), the Carmelo/KG/Honey Nut Cheerios incident, Andray Blatche's potential sex scandal, and a look back at the crazy players we used to love. LATRELL NEEDS TO FEED HIS KIDS!

Download the cast from our libsyn page, iTunes, or that bad-ass streamer below. You're welcome.

The Barrister


Never has a CrapTastiCast required so much editing. 

Sunday didn't go quite as planned. Our special guest for the afternoon was absent due to the failings of Time Warner's high-speed never really works internet so the rest of the NYC-based crew soldiered on with discussions of the Bills, Sabres, NHL and a silver platter of other topics that I can't be bothered to remember. We finish it off with another installation of our game "Scizz is a Douche," thereby giving us all the opportunity to show how stupid we are when we're a few deep. 

Musical interludes care of Radiohead, Dr. Dog, Kendrick Lamar and 2 Bears. Download and stream below, or hit our libsyn podcast page for access to all of our podcasts. 

The Barrister, featuring the DGWU Sports Crew

Why hello again, friends! If you're like me, you're counting the hours until you get to leave your godforsaken job on one of the slowest days of the year, and you're looking forward/dreading a day with family. And, if you're like me, when you're seated at the table, asked to give thanks for some sappy thing in your life or another, you'll have a litany of other things you might want to say but know would be inappropriate. "I'm thankful Michael Vick is having a terrible season since he's a terrible human being," or "I'm thankful that college football is finally getting a playoff in 2014 so we can stop listening to pundits whine about the lack of fairness in a system that explots free athlete labor for massive profit," or "I'm thankful for my liver for saving me that one night I decided to dance with a bottle of Patron."

The things we can't bring ourselves to say in mixed company for fear that our families' idealized visions of us will shatter as they realize we are simply shallow degenerates who might actually care more about sports and drinking than we do about our parents. Of course, if our families knew us better in the first place, they would have already suspected that was true...

Mind you that this will likely be the week that my entire family chooses to read this mess of a website, so it goes without saying that I've probably said too much. Love you, momma!

In the spirit of giving thanks with the Deeg halves of ourselves - the halves that we unleash upon the interwebs in a rush of cursing and disgusting generalizations - we've all gathered on this post to share what we're thankful for this holiday season. Some of it is sappy, some of it incredibly sophomoric, but I imagine that this is no surprise and that you're all pretty much on board with what we do here.

On to the #HotTakesOfThanks!!

The Yachtsman


As I was marching up the tunnel to MetLife Stadium on Sunday, marveling at how lucky Jet fans were that the Giants built them a new stadium, an asshole in a green jersey started to rail me and the Barrister about losing the Bills. Lost in a haze of hops and kielbasa, I countered with a hoarse, incoherent version of "Buffalo will never lose the Bills!"

Then karmic displacement came and booted me directly in the ass in the form of this article.

Let's not focus on the government coming in and having to help the Bills build a new stadium. That's a foregone conclusion/argument to engage in on some other day. Let's focus on the reality of the situation. The facts are as follows (stipulation that Ralph lives forever): 

- We do not have a remotely competitive stadium in the current NFL climate. 

- The economy of New York State is depressed. 

- The franchise cannot afford to build a stadium because the owner's wealth comes solely from the team. 

- The state, county, and even league will have to help renovate the stadium to keep the Bills viable.

All of this adds up to one giant pile of suck the week before the home opener.

The Yachtsman

Goddammit I love it so hard when people take themselves so fucking seriously on the internet. Case in point this week, inveterate contrarian taint Mattew Stewart of (wait for it) MATTHEW'S WORKSHOP. (God that title is too much for a website. And here I thought we had a dipshit name). 

_Here's a little background: yesterday, highest of high horsemen Matthew Stewart (twitter here) got on the internets and decided to buck the blog writing recap trend. Cool man, have at it. Here's the article, entitled The Losing Disease. 

In it, he decides to basically deride Bills fans for cheering a shitty team. Normally I wouldn't get worked up enough to turn on my laptop to do this, but Stewart and the Deeg have history. In short, he's a baiting dickbag. If he graces you with the ability to follow him on the Twattage, you'll understand. I would provide examples of his unending condescension/shittalk/baiting/sanctimony directed towards Joe Pinzone and our very own Barrister, but he's protected his tweets because only those he deems worthy may listen to him (I hold the distinction of being blocked by him. Mike Harrington and this derp are the two people who've blocked me on Twitter. Sick company, bros). After reading his shitpile of a word dump, I decided to return to/blatantly steal the old Fire Joe Morgan treatment.

Without any further ado, here it goes after the jump:

The Yachtsman


SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT IN ALL THE HATS. Well, pack it in guys, wait until hockey....no can't do that.....well the Knicks start in October.....ugh, fuck James Dolan......well there's always Liverpool....they can't score......well, the Mets start again next March!......OH WELL SHIT I'LL JUST QUIT THIS SPORTS CRAP ALTOGETHER THEN, A HOLES.

Say a quarterback has a stellar career at a shitty FCS school like Harvard. Then, instead of going into I-Banking and destroying our financial future, he takes his 7th Round NFL Draft selection and decides to make a go of it. He struggles for a few years, getting spot-starts in shitholes like Cincinatti & St. Louis, all via guts, determination, and guile. Throwing the ball the way he's always known how; a self-taught gunslinger. After a few years, this highly educated journeyman lands in the backwater-est of NFL backwaters, Buffalo. He fights through coaching changes, managerial changes, shitty QBs in front and back, finally proving himself to be a competent QB for a team replete with QB failure. In his first year as the bona-fide-honest-to-god-nobody-breathing-down-his-back starter, he rockets out to a 5-1 start and everyone wants to have a million of his babies. He gets injured in a blowout to the Redskins, and everything falls to shit. Weaknesses reveal themselves, games are lost, and hopes are shattered. BUT ALAS EVERYTHING IS MADE ANEW COME THE OFFSEASON, FRIENDS. This journeyman-cum-starter-sum-ostensible savior shows up to camp ready to go and meets a new QB coach. WHO THEN CHANGES EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS SELF-TAUGHT GUNSLINGER BECAUSE APPARENTLY HE BROUGHT HIMSELF OUT OF THE DEPTHS OF THE FCS AND INTO A STARTING JOB IN THE NFL ALL TOTALLY WRONG. Mechanics, footwork, vision, reps, progressions....EVERYTHING IS DIFFERENT NOW. Oh, but wait, you might ask....who is this brilliant man who felt the need to fundamentally change The Bearded One? Why, he must be a genius who has helped Hall of Famer and First Overall Picks alike! RIGHT YACHTSMAN?!?!!?

The Yachtsman

Ah yes, July. The time when I can't sleep because it's taint hot and I actually post. In the spirit of the Buffalo News, I'm going to mail this one in hardcore. As a matter of fact I'm writing this whilst sitting in my undies, just like Bucky Gleason (minus the frequent bachelor trips to Prague).

BASEBALL:

- What the fuck is with the All-Star game? At one time, it was the world's most unassailably awesome time. Even as most recently as the late 90s. Then came Bud "The Drooling Speech Impediment soon-to-be Dementia'd Colostomy Bag" Selig. Obviously, the idea that the All-Star game decides home field advantage in the playoffs is as Ho-Tarded as Jeff Wilpon, but that's not even the worst part. The fact that every team must be represented is abhorrent. THE ENTIRE GAME OF BASEBALL IS BASED ON PEOPLE BEING BETTER THAN OTHERS FOR THE SAKE OF WINNING. Who the shit does anyone want to see play baseball from the Kansas City Royals? I view this as similar to participation trophies in sports.....one day the Chinese will mow us down with bootleg M16s because we were all taught that it's okay as long as we tried our best. LOSERS CRY ABOUT THEIR BEST. NOBODY GETS ORANGE SLICES AFTER A LOSS.

- Remember the movie Mr. Baseball? There was a creepy scene where Tom Selleck and some smokeshow Japanese chick take a bath together. I saw that in the theater with my next door neighbor (lay off we were the same age, Sanduskies) when I was in very early middle school. That seemed wildly inappropriate at the time and that hasn't changed. You know what else is wildly inappropriate? Shitty segues into off color R.A. Dickey jokes. I'll digress and say that he's pitching wonderfully. So much so that I'm taking email bets on how many times the Bookshelf gets solo-loaded in his office writing briefs and decides to soliloquy about the magic of Dickey's knuckler. We're at 1 and counting, I'm taking the over on 5.

* sidenote: whenever Barrister says he's "up late watching the Mets" I always wonder if that's just code for he's in his underwear with a belt tied around his neck and the Met game happens to be on. These are things I wonder at 3:46 AM.

FOOTBALL

- I'll tell you what, I'm shit your pants excited for the Football season to start. Crisp fall days, horrifyingly unhealthy fried foods, blacking out before Football Night in America even starts.....AMERICA IN ITS FINEST MOMENT, KINFOLK. There is nothing quite like those first few weeks of Pro Football. College football has you primed because Conference Play is just starting, then you hit the ground running with the big week 1 marquee matchups.....all of a sudden it's 8 PM on Week 1 Sunday and you've spent $147.32 on a four hour bar tab, you're out $200 to the shady Italian kid at work who's Uncle takes bets, and you've done the entire "sober - drunk - sober - hung over" spectrum twice because you started drinking at 10 AM....GOD I LOVE FOOTBALL.

- The Bills are clearly the most compelling team in the 716 these days (cue some A-hole "yeah but the Bandits.." SHUT YOUR FACE AND TAKE YOUR TRAITOROUS FRENCH AND INDIAN SPORT BACK TO QUEBEC). Not only am I excited to bring back my freshman year of college self back for 16 Sunday afternoons this fall ("GIMME A PIECE OF FRIED CHICKEN I'LL THROW IT AT THE NEXT CAB"), but I'm also genuinely excited to see what kind of product Channel Changer's gonna put on the field. 

Obviously our D-line is going to be phenomenal in Madden, but we'll have to wait and see if they're really the answer everyone hopes they are. 

KIDDING I'M DONE WITH THE APOLOGIST-ESQUE ANALYSES THEY'LL BREAK THE CURRENT NFL SINGLE SEASON RECORD FOR SACKS. I'VE ALREADY PUT THE $67.25 I OWE SCIZZ DOWN ON IT AT BWIN.COM.

The offense, however.....well just know that Stevie Johnson will probably go down with a clavicle fracture or an ACL tear in camp because Bookshelf went and bought himself a #13 jersey on E-bay. If that happens we can all get in my car on our way to break his arms.

Also, the sheer ferocity of Ryan Fitzpatrick's unkempt Movember Beard.

HOCKEY

- I'm not gonna lie, Hockey Heaven sort of blows, dudes and dudettes. When the only reason we've had to cheer since Frackmeister Pegs took over is the attrition of the likes of Connolly and Roy, well.......that makes us a steaming pile of dissatisfied hate manure. Here's hoping that Lindy Ruff, Darcy Regier, and all their unfunny fake twitter doppelgangers figure out a way to disappear over the next 4-6 months. That way we can ACTUALLY build this team in the image of a winner instead of forcing Ted Black to come out and announce a new coat of paint in the bathrooms every four weeks because we can't win a meaningful game. (For real though the empty suit putting lipstick on a pig routine is old, Teddy......make the fucking playoffs if you're going to come out like Caesar returning from Gaul every six months.....then I'll eat my words) /faints and hits head on laptop due to run-on sentences.

- Also, HAHAHAHAHA DEREK ROY IS GONE. To use a well established barb premise because I'm over tired, when one looks up a picture of a dillhole in the dictionary, a picture of Derek Roy comes up. HA! FINALLY! HE'S GONE! NO MORE MAN-SANDALS! NO MORE RUNNING TRAIN ON POOR UNSUSPECTING UB COEDS IN THE BATHROOM AT SOHO! NO MORE WRISTBAND AND TEQUILA SUNRISES IN A PLASTIC CUP PICTURES POPPING UP ALL OVER THE INTERNET IN LATE APRIL EVERY YEAR! ENJOY DALLAS, YOU PUCK HOG!

In closing, I bid you all a wonderful Fourth of July. I hope most of you don't have mishaps with fireworks so I can read your tweets/blogs as we approach the sinking ship that is the Buffalo Sports 2012-2013 season. Others (you know who you are you milquetoast nincompoops) can go REDACTED in a fire.

ALSO, I'll be having a Bloggers Summit at my apartment.....however only my ego is invited.

I started writing this a month ago. I haven't had the heart to finish until now. I can see Scizz having a screaming fit over content placement right now but fuck it we started this website so we could write about what we want when we want. You understand.

The Yachtsman

"Strictly Hand Held Is The Style I Go
Never Rock The Mic With The Panty Hose
I Strap On My Ear Goggles And I'm Ready To Go
'Cause At The Boards Is The Man They Call The Mario"- MCA 

FUCK.

That's all I could think when the news that Adam Yauch passed started streaming through my various interweb machines last month. FUCK FUCK FUCK. 

Rewind to 1994: I'm a weird, gawky 6th grader having a shitty time at the meanest middle school in the history of the planet, Elmwood Franklin. I was in the middle of the grunge explosion, trying to look older wearing flannel, caught between my Dad's old school rock and roll, my older cousin's Metal influence, hip hop on MTV, and the weird punk the kids used to play in Upton Hall at Buffalo State where my mother taught.....trying to forge some sort of an identity on the brink of adolescence with whatever underdeveloped musical sensibilities I had. (I wonder if kids today identify as deeply with music as we did back then....are there the "Bieber Kids" and "Katy Perry Kids" like there were metal heads, grunge kids, and goths etc. like when I was growing up? I fucking hope not. /modern music rage). I remember flipping on MTV one night and having my ears/eyes/mind absolutely fucking blown away by some dudes named The Beastie Boys' video for the song "Sabotage". That devastating opening riff, the siren on the roof of the car cruising through the streets of LA, and three dudes rolling around wearing hilarious outfits and shitty wigs? I turned the volume bar on the TV up to the end of the word VOLUME (serious Dad rule violation but I didn't give a fuck) and started involuntarily thrashing around my TV room like an animal. From that moment, I was hooked. I bought Paul's Boutique, Check Your Head, & License to Ill within two weeks (thanks to generous monetary contributions from my Uncle Frank and advances on my allowance). When Ill Communication FINALLY dropped, I played the CD until it broke. 

The Beastie Boys represented an incredible amalgamation of every style of music I had ever liked or even heard up to that point: Hip Hop, Punk, Metal, Rock, Jazz, Soul, Reggae.....fucking everything you could ever think of, topped off with some weird Buddhist chants and intense activism. They were the one band that I always felt was really one of my own....it was intense, raw, fun, and not everyone liked them. I remember playing "Sabotage" on the 8th grade class stereo and getting dirty looks from half of my classmates. I relished it and hit repeat. Nobody fucked with the Beasties. 

I know this is incredibly late and probably irrelevant in today's WHATCANYOUDOFORMENOWNEWTOPIC culture, but after waiting a month and change to write this, I finally have the heart to sit down and mourn on the page (which is what we do oh-so-well here at the Deeg). Adam Yauch was the centerpiece of a band that made me feel as close to music as I've ever felt. I know so many people who were touched by his/their music, it's so sad that stupid fucking cancer robbed us again of someone so daring, talented, and inspiring. So I know it's been a while since the tastemakers in popular culture stopped their MCA-hand wringing, but take another moment to sit back and reflect on what a gift it was to grow up (if you're our age) in the same time/space continuum as the Beastie Boys. They made our lives better. And here's hoping some 11 year old disenfranchised kid is stumbling upon Check Your Head right now and is having his or her mind blown.

Also, motherfucker played a tight bass.



"Good Times Gone And You Missed Them
What's Gone Wrong In Your System
Things They Bounce Just Like A Spalding
What'd You Think Did You Miss Your Calling
It's So Free This Kind Of Feeling
It's Like Life It's So Appealing
When You've Got So Much To Say
It's Called Gratitude, And Rhat's Right

Good Times Gone But You Feed It
Hate's Grown Strong You Feel You Need It
Just One Thing Do You Know
What You Think That The World Owes You
What's Gonna Set You Free
Look Inside And You'll See
When You've Got So Much To Say
It's Called Gratitude, And That's Right"- Beastie Boys