OUT OF HIS LEAGUE: BONE BARBARO BUT DON'T LAY LEHMANN!

by Tello Reál, mraspatello@rivalfish.com

"Each Monday, Rivalfish's Rival Room awards two athletes from the previous week that have performed 'out of their league,' for better or worse. As the Jersey Chasers of the land open their mouths and aim for the midsections of anyone wearing a jersey, we at Rivalfish help them navigate the VIP room waters with precision and class" - Rival Room Editor

jer·sey cha·ser, n, A person who only pursues, or is receptive to, the advances of athletes. Most commonly women, and most commonly found on or around college campuses or professional sporting contests.

The grandstands at Pimlico filled with tears and gasps Saturday, as heavy-favorite Barbaro came down awkwardly on his ankle a mere stone’s-throw into the Triple Crown’s second leg. Some wept at the loss of their 6-3-12 Exacta Box and the subsequent missed payment on their kid’s rapidly-dwindling college fund. Others, mainly aging horseracing junkies and Daily Racing Form writers, pined as they worried that their lives or careers would end without another Triple Crown champion. Hippies bitched about the fact that the horseracing industry causes thousands of horses to be born only to be slaughtered or abandoned to an existence of neglect, starvation, and suffering. Their cousins, PETA, screamed some nonsense about how racehorses suffer life-threatening injuries at an asinine rate due to the reality of being forced into stressful competition long before their musculoskeletal systems are appropriately developed.

Most, however, cried for the inevitable. One second, Barbaro had been the winner of the galaxy’s biggest horse race. The next, he had hobbled his way onto the fast-track to the glue factory with a most-likely-life-ending LEG INJURY. While we don’t have room for the debate, or even a complete explanation regarding exactly why racehorses have to be euthanized (shot with a silencer-equipped gatt trackside while kids at the track ask their parents why the horsey is taking a nap on the turf), I can tell you non-intellectuals that it has something to do with fact that they’re in pain, unable to physiologically endure lengthy periods off their feet, and no longer worth the investment it takes to maintain an 1,100 lb toddler athlete that can’t even give a coherent interview or endorse a sneaker.

But 24 hours, 23 screws, and one surgically installed compression plate later, the tears had become ones of hope and second-chances. Barbaro was back on his feet, given a 50% chance to avoid execution, and buggy-whipped down the road to recovery. However, that half-a-chance will be worthless without the help of his legions of female fans. Chasers, this is where you come in: dress up like a veterinary nurse, sneak into the University of Pennsylvania's New Bolton Center for Large Animals, and f*#k the road apples out of that horse!

Don’t give me that look you two-bit floozy! You look to me for weekly instructions, and the second I tell you to break into an animal hospital, work up the Louisville Slugger-sized stallion staff of a 3-year-old animal, and ride it like one of the many mechanical bulls upon which y’all have spent countless weekend nights, you get all uppity. Give me a f*cking break! Do you have no heart! Have you no compassion or concern for that preciously gentle beast? Do you have any idea how helpful a good rogering can be to the healing process of any living thing?

In one of the most credible studies correlating overall health with sexual frequency, researchers at Queens University in Belfast tracked the mortality of about 1,000 middle-aged men and 3-5 year-old horses over the course of a decade. The study was designed to compare persons and equines of comparable circumstances, age and health. Its findings showed that having regular and enthusiastic sex confers a host of measurable physiological advantages, be you male or female, pony or person. Over the course of the study, thoroughbreds that reported (with crescendoing “neighs�) the highest frequency of orgasm enjoyed a death rate half that of their limp-dicked foal friends.

So, was that PETA donation made just for the sticker now adorning the back window of your Jeep Liberty, or do you really love our four-legged, multi-million dollar friends?

While abstinence may be great for competitive advantage before a big race or competition, we all know Barbaro has worn his last saddle and taken his last post. There goes that excuse you hesitant poser of a jersey chaser. Plus, sex boosts testosterone, leading to stronger bones and muscles. Got a better idea? Not to mention how depressed Barbaro must be. No more spotlight, no more million-dollar purses, no more now-ironic “taken out to pasture� jokes with the buxom fillies at the stable saloon. He probably can’t even get himself out of bed to engage in his physical therapy.

Well, with every thrust into your womanhood stable-stall, Barbaro will be employing contractions from his pelvis, thigh, buttocks, neck, and thorax muscles, maintaining strength that is crucial to his recovery, and rendering his mundane PT exercises wholly obsolete. As he enters you with the forceful grace of Larry Eustachy at a sorority barn dance, his cute little horsey brain will release additional oxytocin hormone, triggering additional endorphins to aid in pain and depression relief.

Or you JCs can just be jerks and make him lay there unfulfilled and void of hope. So hop on and finish him off with the oft-attempted-in-Tijuana “Frontside Furlong� position. Like I said, without it he’s a good as gone. Oh yeah, and have I mentioned the one main, throbbing difference between a horse and your last pin-dicked lay?

But before I go into excruciating detail about the size difference between the axles on the Hummer and the Mini Cooper, I will divert my attention to this week’s on-field foil. It’s really a shame that this story was, as usual, not paid near-enough attention in the Western Hemisphere. In the 18th minute of last Wednesday’s UEFA Champions League “dream final� between Arsenal and Barcelona, Arsenal’s German goaltender, Jens Lehmann, was deked by some other usually-irrelevant international “footballer.� Instead of ceding the goal and buckling down for the remaining 378+ minutes of excruciatingly slow regulation and penalty time, he dove backwards and grabbed the Barcelona forward’s ankle, bringing him down to the pitch. So you girls know the drill: DO NOT LAY GERMAN KEEPER JENS LEHMANN!

Lehmann, considered the best goalie in the world by many kids who play FIFA ’06 and their AYSO dads, was issued a red card and sent juicebox-less to the locker room. Arsenal was then forced to play a man down for the majority of club soccer’s WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP, and eventually fell to Barcelona, 2-1.

Way to keep a level head Gestapo Jens! Man, nothing says “world class gamer� like completely handicapping your entire team and fanbase in the biggest game of many of their lives and careers. Kobe Bryant wouldn’t even do that and he only thinks he’s the best player in his game. That’s like getting kicked out the bar for pissing your pants when playing wingman for a lonely chum on his last night before being shipped to Iraq. Girls, does that sound like a man that deserves an undergrundle tongue massage? I’d say not. So would Jordan, Ali, Lance Armstrong, Secretariat, Walter Payton, Magic Johnson, and this guy I used to play little league with . I’ve been on the horn with every one of those true gamers this evening and they all think (the living one’s at least) that you gals should throttle the joystick of a sportsman like Derek Jeter (again) or Billy Bean (if he’s asleep) instead.

Where there was once anticipation for Germany’s World Cup bid, now there’s controversy, as many doubt the justification of naming Lehmann “starter� ahead of former captain, and non-cheater, Oliver Kahn……….Oh sh*t, what am I saying? This guy has finally brought noteworthy news to the world of International soccer and I’m asking ladies to penalize him? I’m a fool! My awards have been compromised! My website? Now nothing more than a childish hoax and hobby! F*&K. I need a sabbatical. Wait, let’s make it a “paid leave of absence.�