SAY "CHEESE!" - TUESDAY

Orlando Fan Hooman Hamzehloui Denies He's Racist, Wonders Why "Those Coloreds Are So Damn Sensitive"

THE MOST FUN WAY TO DIE ON HALLOWEEN (Other Than Being Kidnapped and Murdered by Someone in a Funny Costume!)

Until today I didn't know that Kiteboarding existed. Not only does it exist, but is has a website just like we do! (www.bestkiteboarding.com). This looks about as safe as taking Spring Break in Fallujah and leaving your Blue Blockers at home.

MAKE SURE THERE'S NOT A RAZOR BLADE IN THAT APPLE!

Or just go see a movie and avoid risk like you're Jason from Laguna Beach when he mind fucks those girls into submission. I'm not going to stop doing this until everyone around me that I ask, including children and blind folk and Republicans who haven't been caught yet, has seen Jackass: Number 2. This is my favorite preview; doesn't give too much, does the film some justice. Enjoy. Happy Halloween!

SAY "CHEESE!" - MONDAY

Tomlinson Rushes For 183, LT Rushes to ATM Before Dealer Leaves Town For Vacation

I DIDN'T MEAN FOR IT TO HURT! SORRY BUEHRLES

by Tello Real, mraspatello@rivalfish.com

Jamie Buehrle, if we're going to make a mess in public, I'm going to clean it up in public. But I'm not about to retract my story. My For those of you not from the Chicagoland area, our little picture of Marky Mark in a Cardinals hat at Game 3 of the series was run on the front page of the Chicago Tribune Sports Page on Saturday. And it made Mrs. Buehrle mad at me. See, we reported that the pictures was taken in "Private Club Level" of Busch Stadium. The Tribune then reported the whereabouts of the photo-op as the "Redbird Club." Sure enough, the picture was actually taken in the measly "Club Level" of Busch Stadium. My bad on the "private," Jamie. I haven't seen worse attention to detail since the Nazi's accidentally took an Italian dude in Life is Beautiful. Italians aren't Jewish, you silly gooses.

Oh yeah, and Jamie says John overheard no such conversation. Well, I don't know what to say about that, as Rivalfish contributor John Conniff remains a trusted and reliable source who wouldn't lie to me unless it inolved him trying to deny that Terri Schiavo was hot when she was young. However, I offer this advice coupled with my actually-sincere apology for causing you any headache. I hope that I didn't cause a tiff between Mark and you, unless it results in him being fired up enough to break .500 this season. JK!! :) ;) SMOOCHES XOXOX. I know last year was a fluke. And I know I stand by my writers and their stories, because without them, I'd be so out of material the site would be full of "dead baby" jokes and photos of me in college that are only funny to me and maybe one of the other people in the picture. So here's that advice I was hyping like I did that pic of your husband within ten minutes of receiving it in my e-mail:

If you are ever trying to hunt down the bastards that report rumors about your husband, as well as analysis, game stats, quotes, and highlights, I'd take a look over at either ESPN or Comcast SportsNet. On the other hand, if you want to know which athlete your single girlfriends should try to f*ck this week, check out my Out of His League column on Rivalfish.com. It might even give you guys something different to talk about when you're in front of fans who just happen to know a guy with a sports website in Chicago. Plus, John would surely like those seedy stories a lot more anyway.

I'll even give you some names: Peter Gammons, Buster Olney, Anthony Guerreso, Jayson Stark. They've all talked about how Mark wants to someday play for the Cardinals, and how that "someday" could be 2007. (I, for one, hope it is not. #56 leaving town would lead to 56 attention-getting gashes upon my Sox-bracelet adorned wrists.) However, if you want to know about a guy who "Crop-Dusts" celebrities, talk to contributor Andy Kissko, or check out his tale of celebrity mingling below. So, on that note, I hope you see what I'm getting at. I’m sorry Jamie, and welcome to Rivalfish. That'll be a dolla-twenty-five!


TIM THE SILENT TUBA: Crop-Duster of the Rich and Famous

On the same day I received the story about the Buerhle's, I received the following message from contributor Andy Kissko. Until then, I was unaware of the thrilling practice of "crop-dusting." I will never be so naïve again. Unless she tells me she's had like "only two serious boyfriends," and "never usually does this."

"Firstly, I am not sure if you're familiar with the phrase and act I know as "Crop Dusting," where you walk by someone, fart silently, and walk away, leaving them to fester in your green cloud. So whenever my friends or I see a celebrity we always try to crop dust them. So instead of getting a phone call saying "Dude, I just saw Al Davis at a bar in Indianapolis" I get "Dude, I just (crop) dusted Al Davis at a bar in Indianapolis.

My friend Tim works at the Ralph Lauren store in the Georgetown neighborhood of D.C. and sells to all kinds of athletes, politicians and international dignitaries. He says Leftwich is as nice he can possibly be and A-Rod and Mark Brunell totally suck out loud. Tim also likes the Red Sox more than anyone I know likes any other team. Total fanatic. So, by definition, he hates the "Yank-offs". He also, really, really, really is irked by that famous fatass Tenor, Ronan Tynan singing "God Bless America" during the seventh inning stretch. The Yankees draw it out to ice the opposing pitcher and make his arm cool off, while passing it off as patriotism. He fucking hates him.

You see where this is going. I got a call from him last night- I could hear him beaming over the phone and hear how his smile was affecting the tonal quality of his voice. I got "Dude.....Guess who just crop dusted Ronan Tynan 3 minutes ago?" I guess he dropped it between some double doors on the way out and said it was positively putrid.

What a great guy to crop dust. I thought there was a chance you could appreciate that story (no offense), so I figured I'd pass it along, much like my friend Tim passed something along to Ronan." - Andy Kissko, Rivalfish contributor

No offense taken, Andy, and thank you for helping me show Jamie Buehrle why we are not a bigger waste of cyberspace than http://www.dhs.gov/index.shtm!

SAY "CHEESE!" - FRIDAY

Disillusioned by Game 4 Heartbreak, Leyland Finally Swaps Smokes for Spliffs

DAN RASPATELLO's TOP FIVE: Top Five Things I Want To Tell Lou Piniella

by Dan Raspatello, draspatello@rivalfish.com

"Here at The Rival Room, we have been brainstorming for some new ideas. I decided to come up with a weekly Top 5. Every Friday I will pick a random topic that has something to do with sports (and sometimes it might not), and rank, in my opinion, The Top 5. So for those of us in the working world, casual Friday just got a little more casual, because this article is not going to be founded in facts or comprised of a pool of experts." -Dan Raspatello

With the future Hall of Famer ready to tackle the biggest challenge of his managerial career (yes, that includes the Devil Rays) I decided that I would let Lou in a couple things.

5. Relax:

Lou, I know you are hearing a lot about the pressure to win right now. Well, Lou, as a lifetime Cubs fan I will let you in on a secret; you don’t really have to win now. The Cubs have sucked for a really long time, and we still turn out sold out crowds everyday. The new front office is talking a big game about how you have to win immediately, but look at the front office as you would look at the teacher in high school who always threatened detention but, in reality, you could walk all over her. The Cubs front office was as tough as they said they were wouldn’t they have fired Jim Hendry, or not let Dusty Baker finish out the year (Dusty had the worst team in the NL with the 7th highest payroll in baseball).


4. Flip-out:

As the baseball season turns into September, hopefully you will be in the middle of a Pennant race, but if not, don’t sweat it. All you have to do is have a couple of your token meltdowns, and all will be forgiven for another crapper season. Every September in Wrigleyville the season winds down and gets boring. But if you start going nuts (i.e. kick dirt on the plate, let spit fly out of your mouth when you yell, or take a base out of the ground and leave with it) the fans will love you despite your record. We are used to sucking, but we usually suck with a shitty manager who gnaws at toothpicks worse than an A.D.D. kid gnaws on his fingernails. Thus, if we get to see a lunatic in the dugout it will top 95% of most seasons.


3. Aramis Rameriz is Lazy:

Yes, he is going to hit 30 homeruns and drive in 100 RBIs, but he is not going to sprint to first base. Lou, you like hustle, so this is probably going to drive you nuts. You need to know this going in, and to divert your mind from A-Ram, pay attention to Zambrano. He is the Latin version of you. You guys probably shouldn’t go out drinking together. Just like you, Zambrano has no control over his emotions and all he cares about is winning. I foresee a vicious high-five breaking somebody's hand by early May. Let's just hope it is yours because we both know that Prior and Wood will be on the 30 day DL by then.


2. Do Not Fight a Fan:

Most Cubs fans really suck. They know nothing about baseball and are mainly there for the atmosphere. You know everything about baseball, and some drunk moron with a Sosa jersey is going to piss you off. Lou, this isn’t Tampa Bay. If you beat a fan up it will make the national media. So get used to a bunch of 20-something yuppies and guys acting like they are 20-something yuppies being obnoxious at every single game. When you are about to lose your cool and kill a fan, divert your attention to one of the over-abundance of hot girls, or Matt Murton's hair.


1. Prior Is A Pussy:

I know you think that you can get him to play with passion, and when he does he will be the best pitcher in the NL. Sorry, Lou, you are wrong. He is softer than a Pac 10 defense and silk sheets. He is going to tell you he strained his shoulder and has to go on the DL. In reality he really just wants to cuddle up on his couch at home and have a Hugh Grant movie marathon.... and maybe be bad and have some ice cream. Lou, when he asks you if you think English accents are cute, just say yes. I know you will want to kill him, but he will cry and just go on the DL for longer. Also, he is the kind of puss who would tell on you, not to the sports media, but to his mom or the E! Channel. He may also gossip behind your back and get other players on the team to hate you. If Kerry Wood wants to know if you called him fat it is because Prior told him you said his butt looks bad in baseball pants.

RIVALFISH BREAKS FIRST REAL NEWS STORY: Buehrle to Cardinals?

by Tella Real, mraspatello@rivalfish.com, Editor-in-Chief

I don't want to act too excited and crack bad jokes and ruin this very melancholy moment for myself, because Rivalfish is about to break it's first real news story. The minute I post this, I'll be on the phone with every radio station and sports TV outfit I know, trying to get some face times for yours truly and the brave Rivalfish correspondent who landed this story.

Above is John Conniff, longtime Rivalfish correspondent and contributor, and trusted source due to his access to some of the biggest names in sports. John was a guest in the Private Club Level at Game 3 of the World Series on Tuesday night. Chicago White Sox Pitcher Mark Buehrle and his wife were also present in the Private Club Level, guests of either the St. Louis Cardinals or someone associated with them.

John mingled with the Buehrles throughout the game, and at one point was part of a conversation between Jamie Buehrle (Mark's wife) and one of her girlfriends. Jamie expressed that Mark hopes that Kenny Williams will opt-out of his $9.5 million Club Option in the coming week, allowing Buehrle to seek a new team. Buehrle (above in Cardinals hat), a native of St. Charles, MO, is a long time fan of the Redbirds. Jamie confirmed that he has already spoken to the Cardinals, and is hoping to start next season in St. Louis. Ultimately, where he ends up is up to Kenny Williams. Mark Buerhle himself agreed that it was "out of his control" on Tuesday night. The deadline for this decision is Nov. 1.

Kenny, last year was a fluke. Don't let go of Marquee Mark!

SAY "CHEESE!" - THURSDAY

Sakic Scores 1,500th Point In Front Of 1,436 Fans

WHO'S THE SMART START? Fantasy Football Week 8 Advice

By Adam Briner, fantasy guru, adamcbriner@yahoo.com

I remember the days when fantasy football was fun. You came into work, poured a cup of coffee, and logged on for 7-8 hours. Your team was set for the week within 15 minutes, sure. But what better way to pass the time when you are supposed to be working?

It was meant to be fun then. It was fun.

This season, though, everything changed. The days of going into work and setting a team in a few minutes are gone. The easy decisions and the relaxation they caused are gone.

Take the QB, as an example. In the days of yore, you drafted your QB and didn’t worry about it again until his bye week. That week you picked up the best available waiver wire player and hoped like hell. Now, though, that is simply impossible.

Unless you have the luck of having Donovan McNabb or Peyton Manning, you’ll have a decision to make. Name another truly playable quarterback. Palmer? Maybe. Warner? Bulger? Bledsoe?

Bledsoe’s team has quarterback issues, because every team has quarterback issues. It’s just that the timely one is Dallas. Bledsoe knows what he is doing, but can’t avoid a tackler with his walker slowing him down. So Parcels is going to play Romo. Fine, except that he’s not very good. You can’t play either on a fantasy team.

No problem, right? You can just start a different guy? Wrong. Everyone else is either bad or on a bad team or inconsistent or incontinent. Are you going to start Matt Leinart? He’s seven years old? Are you going to start Brad Johnson? He’s 107 years old. Hasselback? He’s half dead, just like Brad Johnson.

It doesn’t get any better at the other positions, either. I have not once pooped my pants since the 10th grade. That is, until I read that Ladanian Tomlinson would start splitting carries. I thought I had missed the announcement that Jesus Christ had joined the San Diego Chargers. That, it seemed, would be the only possible explanation. It wasn’t Jesus, though, that he was splitting carries with. It was Michael Turner.

If LT is losing carries to a dude that no one, including Jesus, had ever heard of, no fantasy owner is going to make accurate decisions.

Wide receivers are no better. Tight ends are a problem everywhere. The only easy decision is the kicker but that’s only because there is only one on your roster.

So what is a guy supposed to do? What advice can the fantasy guru give? The best I or anyone else could do is to guess. I’d love to give away the answers. There aren’t any. It took two days for Parcells to decide who to start, and he is an actual coach.

I try to play players that are on the teams that I’m betting on that week. That way I don’t have to root against myself. It’s a sad moment in life when you have to decide between rooting to save your toe or your fantasy record.

Quite frankly, if it’s between losing a toe and an FF game, I’ll root for my fantasy team. Sure, I’ll miss the toe, but this is fantasy football. Plus, the toe will grow back.

Oh, and if you are trying to take the stress out of your fantasy decisions, might I suggest not betting all of your money and valuable body parts (i.e. a toe) on the success of your team. Don’t make the same mistake I did.

DON'T SAY WE NEVER DID ANYTHING FOR YA!

Rival Room readers are notoriously unmotivated and illiterate. They need to be mentored, and taught the touches of true satirical elegance. So we begged a legitimate online newspaper, The Beachwood Reporter, to teach us how to present useful information that would better our readership, like a bunch of stand-up guys with no criminal records or orphan pasts. So here’s our first attempt. Check it out. Check out Beachwood. Check out these adult-seeming activities for the next week in Chicago. But please come back. Maturity is for grad students and wine anyway - Tello Real, Rival Room Editor

THURSDAY: To Act Like a Man/ Show You Can Cook - Chili-A-Go-Go: Second Annual TimeOut Chicago Chili Cook-Off Contest. Martyr's. 3855 N. Lincoln. November 11th. 4pm - 7pm. SIGN UP NOW. At this age, knowing how to cook is much more attractive than being great at recreational sports. So be honest with yourself, and admit that while you may no longer be the best flag football player to come out of Joliet Catholic in the last 25 years, you still can be a dominant football tailgater. Here's a chance to show the opposite sex that you can cook as well as out-machismo at least your transvestite Aunt. TimeOut Chicago is a new magazine that thinks it has readership beyond my mom and three of her theatre-obsessed, menopausal friends. Send them 50 words or less about why your Crock-Pot creation kicks ass. They'll select 25 finalists from the best entries to compete side-by-side for prizes (and bragging rights) on November 11 at Martyrs’ (3855 N Lincoln Ave at Berenice Ave). Now find a good recipe online and practice like a champ. E-mail eatoutdrinkup@timeoutchicago.com.


FRIDAY: To See College Drop-Outs on a Dais/ Be a Groupie - 2006-07 Chicago Bulls Tip-off Luncheon. Hyatt Regency. 11:15am. Try telling your boss that you spent $75 dollars, so you need to take a long lunch and go eat banquet food and listen to the entire Bulls roster say things like "it's really going to be an exciting year," and "It's been a pleasure learning from a veteran like Ben Wallace." Do people get out of work cause they really want to go to nonsense events like this, or do they use it as a not-so-terrible way to entertain clients and get out of work? I'd use it as a perfect opportunity to test my assassin skills. You're mine Sweetney, you extra-large target, you!


SATURDAY: To Read/ See Marketing At Its Worst - Eric Bischoff: Controversy Creates Cash. By Eric Bischoff with Jeremy Roberts. WWE Series. $26.00. Who on Earth would sit down in front of a room full of accomplished executives and say, "I think the sports-reading populace needs an Eric Bischoff book to be reinvigorated with athlete biographies?" Why would anyone justify a book about the loser that managed to make WCW "the shit" for about a year-and-a-half out of Pro Wrestling's 25-year-run through our culture, only to drive it down to its knees faster than Kirsten Dunst at her Marie Antoinette audition? Oh, I know, I know: the company that bought the WCW when it was on it's knees, stole all of its characters and fans, and took over the TV Wrestling landscape forever. Ladies and Gentleman, I present you to the New York Yankees of Sports Entertainment, World Wrestling Entertainment. Spend your Saturday taking down this easy read, or expect an unexpected Suplex.


SUNDAY: To Exercise/ Ride Chicago's Latest Bandwagon of Choice –Trick or Treat Trot '06. Lincoln Park @ Montrose Harbor. 9am Start. Oh Lord, the Runners are at it again. Do you run? If you don't I don't want to date you, nor does anyone else in Chicago right now. Well, good for the Lincoln Park Pacers, because everyone knows they have the social skills of Jeffrey Dahmer's really rude cousin. The Pacers are the rightminded organization that puts on this event and donates the proceeds to LaRabida Children's Hospital. Hey Pacers, do you really donate that money to the hospital, or are you more like the famed Lincoln Park Pirates, and pocket all the money. Which is it, ya hear? Is there even a "LaRabida Children's Hospital." Sounds like it's full of Witch Doctors, if you ask me.


MONDAY: To Start the Week With Some Exercise/ Help a Guy Stay Employed - Billy Blanks: Tae Bo - Billy's Favorite Movers. $14.98 on DVD. Pick up this DVD and try a workout that surely works, but is as popular and legit these days as the Atkins Diet. And I bet I know what one of Billy's "favorite moves" is: Having a career! He's not going to have one much longer if people don't learn to drop 15 bones into the coffers of this sad and pathetic, charitable cause. I'd still pay to see someone win a fight using Tae Bo, though.


TUESDAY: To Be a Jackass/ Find Outlet for Crack-Addiction. The Chiditarod. Start in Wicker Park. 12:30 pm. 4 to 5 teams, all in GORY, HORRIFIC HALLOWEEN THEMES, will line up at the END of the parade route, facing the BEGINNING of the parade, 3 or 4 blocks away. The gun/whistle/flamethrower goes off, and teams of five riding shopping carts rather than dogsleds sprint the length of the course - right down the middle of the abandoned street, racing towards where the parade actually starts, in front of 17,000 spectators who are lining the sidewalks on Halstead. The winning team is greeted by a flamethrower blast, music, etc, and some sort of EVIL prize. When the Sprint is over, the parade begins, and the participants then march with carts in the parade. So, stoners plan parades these days, or is that just a Wicker Park thing?


WEDNESDAY: To Be Inspired/ To Be Demoralized: Ed Viesturs @ Borders Books and Music. 830 N. Michigan Ave. 7:30 pm. Thought you had a tough day cause the elevator was broken in your building and you had to run the same set of papers down a floor cause your boss is an asshbag? I bet Ed Viesturs also had a lot of "tough" days throughout is Endeavor 8000, at the completion of which he became only the sixth person to ever summit all 14 8000-ft peaks in the world. And I guess he did it without oxygen? That's impressive. I can't even kiss my girlfriend when I have a cold without feeling like I'm suffocating. I think I'll see you all at Borders. I need to sack up.

SAY "CHEESE!" - WEDNESDAY

Encouraged by the NFL and Coors, NASCAR Teams With Krispy Kremes for Own Calendar Aimed at Fans

BOBBY BOWDEN… A Pioneer in the Struggle to Prove That Old People Are Useful-------The Angry Thought of the Day

"Back like a kid in Compton after to you shot his cousin, The Angry T returns with spit, vigor, vinegar, and Hepatitis. I don't even edit this kid's articles cause I'm scared the words are going to pop up and give me a hickey before biting off my nose like a Jewish hooker the night after Yom Kippur. So here he is, the most sought-after free agent in the sports blogger community, The Angry T, from www.theangryt.com. Hopefully this will cheer him up. If not, we suggest a warm bath and a lilac facial mask." - Tello Real, Editor-in-Chief

By The Angry T, anthony.guerreso@gmail.com, www.theangryt.com

Every great athlete, coach, politician, painter, porn star, or professional wrestler knows they have a shelf life. Just ask Ric Flair or Hulk Hogan. They have a window of opportunity in which they can be successful until it is their turn to step out of the spotlight and retire. Bobby Bowden is the proverbial 13-year-old can of peas in the back of your pantry. He has been around for a long, long time. He became the head coach of Florida State in 1976 following a stint with the West Virginia Mountaineers. Thirty years of coaching the same school is an accomplishment in this day and age. Bear Bryant’s tenure at Alabama surpassed Bowden’s at Florida State but you have to wonder if even Bear could have handled the constant media scrutiny in the ESPN-era that guys like Bowden and Joe Paterno must go through. I probably would have died after heart-attack #14 if I had to deal with the clowns that these men have had to deal with day after day for so long.

Reporter: Coach Bowden, I know you have a winning percentage of nearly .800 but don’t you think these three losses this year mean that you are a terrible, decrepit old coach?

Coach Bowden: Well, NO, to answer your question Mr. Douchebag. I think I am a great coach and no one seemed to mind last year when I brought in 12 million dollars for the University for getting us to the Orange Bowl.

Anyone who thinks Florida State’s problems can be attributed to Bowden is a clown. Have you seen him on the field? Does he even have a headset on? What could he be possibly be doing without a headset? He does the same thing Joe Paterno does… and he does it better than JoePa. He brings talent to FSU, year after year. The Seminoles have had to play 17 true freshmen this year. Florida State only had 31 total recruits last year and over half of them have played this year. A similar situation befell Lloyd Carr last year at Michigan and sure enough the boosters and students were out in force. Those same losers are silent this year as Michigan is 8-0. It is very possible that the same success will reach FSU next year when these young players who now have game experience deliver on their potential. Then what will those absolute clowns that host www.retirecoachbowden.com do?

In my America, anyone, and I mean anyone, who hosts a site like www.retirecoachbowden.com, would be incarcerated. The individuals that put together sites like this are despicable. Bowden has 363 wins, more than any other coach in the history of the college game. He continues to recruit top talent and, up until a slight downturn this year, he has coached his teams to championship levels. College football fans may be the dumbest group of people in all of sports. I honestly believe that these losers think that no team but their own is actually trying to win games. “Wow, Michigan lost three games this year, looks like its time to fire Lloyd,” these idiots say. Carr, like Bowden, is still among the most successful coaches and recruiters in the history of the game. Check his winning percentage (.750) against the great coaches off all-time and you will see that he compares favorably. But of course, you have a bunch of losers who see that neither Michigan nor Florida State has won a national championship in five years and all of the sudden the coaches are idiots. Well let me tell you something, you pizza-eating, beer-bonging, 2.0-GPA college student who knows the grandmother’s name and inseam of every player: You are a loser, and maybe the worst kind of loser because you think you are smart. Do yourself a favor. Go run a couple miles, work the beer gut off, and go to class on Monday because your self-perceived intelligence will get you about as far as the kitchen of the burrito joint that you eat at six days a week, you slob.

LOOKING FOR WALDO WHILE DRUNK v. LOOKING FOR WALDO WHILE STONED

By Zach C.

To go along with the theme of me being the Rival Room’s least sports-savvy contributor I have chosen to write about the least athletic Pop Icon that I could possibly think of. There’s really no better person to fill these shoes (or this shoe (singular), he often loses one of them) than the horizontal striped shirt-wearing, thirty-something year old, scrawny, cane-carrying tourist named Waldo. Furthermore, in addition to simply discussing this absolute epitome of un-athleticism I also intend on examining one of the least athletic things a man can do with his time: finding this sneaky little fucker named Waldo.

I have a friend who always wears red and white striped shirts. He also happens to wear glasses and thus looks strikingly similar to Waldo from those old Where’s Waldo? books. Because of this two-part coincidence I think about Waldo much more than the average person; not just because of the visual likenesses between my friend and Waldo but also because the thought of searching for Waldo often makes me laugh when I’m having a hard time finding my aforementioned friend in any given dense crowd. First off, if you don’t care much for Waldo then just stop reading now and save yourself the 3 minutes and 45 seconds that it would take you to digest this article and go punch a clown instead.

Now, for the handful of you that are still reading, I will soon attempt to dissect the key differences between paging through a Where’s Waldo? book drunk vs. paging through a Where’s Waldo? book high. I’ve decided to do this because the honest majority of the world will be at least a little drunk or a little stoned at some point in the not-so-distant future. Besides, we’ve already found Nemo several times and people have been asking where Waldo is since the early 90s.

As a youngster I liked 'reading' Where’s Waldo? mostly because it was the only book without any words. It’s this lack of actual text that is key to drunken Waldo hunting, as we know how hard it can be to compose a sentence when tanked, let alone comprehend one. It is also arguably the lone reason why these books make for fine bathroom literature in college. No sane man wants to sit down wasted on the can after getting cock-blocked by a steak burrito and actually read something.

Finding Waldo while inebriated usually starts off pretty easy; this tends to make readers a little overconfident. You can usually make it to the second or third LSD-inspired cartoon setting before realizing that the crafty little bean pole is damn hard to find sometimes. Even early on in these books Waldo becomes more difficult to find than that girl that will bake you cookies, do your laundry, tickle your taint, and let you hook up with her younger sisters on special occasions.

It really doesn’t take too long to turn this seemingly mindless pastime into absolute drunken chaos. Sadly, I must admit that I’ve seen this tragic scene more than once. It’s actually pretty formulaic. Things always start off calm and collected with an abundance of laughter and eager finger pointing. Then, as the book progresses, it gradually becomes more challenging and before you know it people start to panic; the more they panic, the more they start to lose focus. All of a sudden your craziest meathead friend starts screaming: “Where is this gangly mother fucker? AHHHHH!!” and then the dog starts barking and trying to herd everybody into --what it thinks-- is the safest corner of the room. Then your drunk hippie friend who ate too many mushrooms pulls the fire extinguisher off the wall and starts spraying your barking dog in the face because he thinks the most colorful fire he has ever seen is coming out of its eyes. Needless to say, things get real weird, real fast. So drunken Waldo-hunting is usually a short-lived experience which almost always ends in swearing, pages being torn to shreds, and a generally disastrous wake of destruction.

The search for Waldo while high, on the other hand, is a completely different kind of experience. While browsing each vivid landscape for your very mellow (and very worldly) buddy you notice every intricate detail within the book. You find that you can very easily get lost in Waldo’s miniature world. You begin to notice the finest points about the cartoon characters’ facial expressions and all of the strange social interactions that are going on across each and every page.

In a beach scene you notice two mischievous young boys trying to untie the strings to an oblivious attractive woman’s string bikini. You wonder why the editor let that slide in a kids’ book. As you search on and on for Waldo he seems to become a mere figment of your imagination. You begin to wonder what Waldo’s religious and political affiliations are and why he always travels alone. You then begin to think that Waldo is just an ingenious allegory and that you aren’t looking for Waldo after all… You’re really looking for yourself.

This goes on for about 10-15 minutes before you forget why you’re even looking at a children’s book in the first place. Then you think of Freud and about how your id and your super-ego are tag teaming your ego inside your brain. There is suddenly an imaginary epic battle between these faceless entities of your mind. As their battle rages on, you again begin to think of how lost Waldo is and how scared he must feel all alone. After feeling ashamed and helpless about not being able to find him you feel like getting in the fetal position and rocking yourself to sleep. Then suddenly one of your five or six friends sitting in the room with you breaks the eerie silence and suggests that you pack another bowl. And so you do. Waldo remains forever unfound.

This just about sums up all of the differences between searching for Waldo drunk vs. searching for Waldo high; as you can see it is a daunting task regardless of your current state of mind. You could be completely blacked out or as high as an Asian’s MCAT score and you’ll put down a Where’s Waldo? book with equally troubling feelings. You readers probably won’t believe me but I am neither drunk nor high as I conclude this article because, like good old Billy Clinton, I did not inhale and I did not have sexual relations with that fat woman.

SAY "CHEESE!" - TUESDAY

2005 World Series MVP, Jermaine Dye, Refuses To Go Unnoticed This Postseason

AND WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH THE MARATHONS?

by Dan Raspatello, draspatello@rivalfish.com

This past Sunday thousands of people poured into the city of Chicago for the annual Chicago Marathon. In total 40,000 runners hit the streets of Chicago representing all 50 states and over 100 countries (but mainly Kenya). More impressively, the Chicago Marathon had 39,000 more participants than the World Series has had viewers outside of St. Louis or Detroit. I heard a rumor that after both New York teams and the L.A. Dodgers were knocked out of the playoffs, FOX tried to sell the rights to the World Series broadcast to the WB for six rerun episodes of The Gilmore Girls. Major League Baseball is secretly hoping that Kenny Rogers is cheating, so people may start paying attention to the World Series.

I spent the entire summer of ’05 training for last years Chicago Marathon before quitting 3 weeks prior to the event. I had completed all the long runs for the training, but after returning to college in September for my senior year I had a lifestyle conflict. It took me less than two weeks to destroy everything I had spent the past 4 months working for. In hindsight, putting my body through marathon training was maybe the worst idea of my life. In fact, there are many things about the marathon that boggle my mind. Thus, I have put together a list of things in regards to the marathon for you to ponder.


Why Do People Pay for the Right to Run 26.2 Miles?

There are two business men in this world that really impress me: 1.) The guy who sold the idea that people would buy bottled water, and 2.) The guy who sold the idea that people would pay to run a marathon. I don’t know who is smarter, the guy who said that you could sell water (the free stuff you get out of your sink) for more than gasoline, or the guy who convinced a city that they could charge $100 per person for the right to run 26.2 miles while promising that corporate sponsors would pour in millions as well. I wish I would have been in the room when this idea was sprung. “I say we charge people to run themselves to a point of near death. They will pay us, we will get the whole city to shut down all their streets, we will get corporate sponsors, thousands of people are guaranteed to run in it, and network television will pay us to cover it.”


Why Do People Actually Watch the Marathon?

The only thing more boring than running for hours straight is watching somebody run for hours straight. Next time you see somebody jogging past your house think about how terrible it would be to watch that for four straight hours. I went to the marathon last year after I quit it, and I can sit here and tell you that on that morning, Michael Jackson had better decision making skills than I did. It isn’t like people are running fast. In fact, everybody outside of the Kenyans is running about as fast as the kid who faked like he had asthma when you had the Mile Run in grade school. I am not knocking the runners. It is an amazing accomplishment to run that far, but when you are running 26 miles, you aren’t exactly cruising.


Fat People Who Critique the Marathon:

I was enjoying my crowded ride on Chicago Public Transportation on Sunday during the marathon when I overheard some 45-year-old fat lady critiquing the marathon. What about one of your relatives running the marathon, working at a shoe store, or participating in community service and passing out water, qualifies you to know what it takes to run 26.2 miles? I would rather have Sean Salisbury tell me how much mental toughness a pro QB needs to win a Super Bowl, or have the homeless crazy guy on the “El” quote the Bible and reassure me that, in fact, Jesus does love me. Seriously, Chubs, walk up and down a staircase without holding your side, and then you can tell me about the strategy behind running a marathon in under 4 hours.


What Your Body Undergoes During Training:

After putting my body through runs up to 20 miles I can tell you first-hand some of the gross shit that happens to you during training. Leaving out the obvious aches and pains your legs go through, there are two extremely gross things that happen to you:

1.) nipple bleeding, and
2.) runner’s shits.

Anytime you are running so far that somehow your nipples start bleeding, it is pretty obvious God is trying to give you a sign. So before long runs you have to put bandages, tape or Vaseline on your nips to prevent them from bleeding through your shirt, and hurting more than a post Taco Bell poop. I personally went with the Vaseline, so I could finally have a logical excuse for why I keep it close to my bed and how I go through a tub of it faster than a kid with cold sores.

The worst part of training for a marathon is if you don’t eat healthy and don’t stop drinking there is a 100% chance that you will experience runner’s shits at some point during a long run. Runner’s shits come out of nowhere and you have less than 60 seconds to find a toilet before you have some very non-solid poop pouring out of you. If you mix any food that a sorority girl won’t eat with running over 10 miles, it will have more of an effect on you than mixing spicy food with Ex-Lax.

Those are the things that boggle my mind about the marathon. If you have anything else to add let me know.

SAY "CHEESE!" - MONDAY

North Korea Dismisses Nuclear Test Site as "Just a Big Clump of Dirt"

OUT OF HIS LEAGUE: BURTON, A BUST or A BUCK?

by Tello Real, 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.

I feel like ending my article on a positive note today, so I'm going to start with the bad news. At some point in his life, Jeffrey Brian Burton of South Boston, VA made a decision. He was going to try to win the unwinnable game. He was going to try to become a successful racecar driver, the only sport you can be the best at in the entire world, and still be completely irrelevant to and unrecognized by half the popular majority of the country, and pretty much all of the world.

I know a billion people watch NASCAR and it's gaining rapid popularity and acceptance amongst people in every nook of this country, but it has by no means permeated society in the way any of the thee other major American sports have to date (hockey is no longer included in that equation). I edit a sports magazine in the third largest market in the country, and neither I nor anyone I know can name any of the last five , uh "Champions," as I'm not sure exactly what those Crazy 'Ole Boys call it. Nor can I tell you what people's sponsors are, or what kind of car they drive, or pick them out of a lineup with three contractors, an eye doctor, and your driver's ed teacher. So in my world, being the best race car drive in the entire world will do nothing more than make a girl ask three of her friends if they watch NASCAR and if "the guy with the embroidered t-shirt tucked into his tapered Levi 501s is fucking with her" at the bar. So in my world, being a NASCAR star is like being the best player on the JV team of life, and exists to myself and people living in the same world much in the same way attractive minority woman do. I know these women exist in a plentitude, as I've seen tons of rap videos and bangbus clips and films with Bill Bellamy in a nightclub. But walking around in my everyday life, I never see any, and I'm left squinting enough to make my girlfriend look Puerto Rican when we're cuddling.

Just like with black chicks, my consciousness of NASCAR exists only on the silver screen and in 90 second highlight clips, in which the commentators are usually speaking in an ironically condescending tone. The celluloid representation of NASCAR, which to some degree is surely a channeling of popular society's perception of the NASCAR nation, is currently Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Rickey Bobby. Dear six-pound, eight-ounce Baby Jesus, that was a f*cking hysterical movie. But if you think about it, the NASCAR drivers were given the intelligence and social behavior of the Baby from that old Jim Henson show on ABC, Dinosaurs. We haven't even made gays, women, and the mentally-disabled look that ridiculous in cinema and TV since the early '90s, when Rosanne made out with Mariel Hemingway on Rosanne and I was left lying to girls for the rest of my life about which "cool" drug had left me with ED for that particular evening.

So Jeff Burton chose to try his fate and legacy in that world, where millions try, thousands die in the process, and about five get famous enough so that if their dad dies in a horrific accident at the finish line of the biggest race, they can immediately spring to nationwide recognition. And believe it or not, he's done a really really good job. I don't know what the exact odds are for a career this good, but he started with Rookie of the Year Honors back in the '94, and is currently leading The Chase For The NEXTEL WINTSON CUP. In between he's won 18 races, held six poles (just like my little Phi Delt brother), and has won over 30 million frog pelts throughout his career. Yet he'll never not be a NASCAR driver. Even when he retires, and tries to be a realtor, people will think it's f*cking hysterical, because he was a NASCAR driver. Yet Elgin Baylor is a respected businessman somewhere right now.

But as I said, until Sunday, he was about to fully resurrect and bookend his career with a sweet championship that would make him at least famous enough for a Menards commercial. Then, after some early contact in the Martinsville Subway 500, the hood pins snapped on his Chevy Monte Carlo, and the subsequent attempts to fix his cake car led to an engine overheating that knocked him out of the race and out of the lead. Well, first of all, anyone alive for the last thirty years can tell you he's now in fifth place because he's a driving a Chevy Monte Carlo. He had something to protect in that car: a Championship. And if you are looking to protect something in your car you drive a Volvo. If you're looking to dunk a basketball, do you throw on some Airwalks? No, you lace up your f*cking Air Zoom Lebron IIIs and pray someone in your family tree actually had wanged a Brother. So, for any idiot move like that, I have to say it: DO NOT LAY JEFF BURTON!

But I don’t really feel that way. I'm just trying to seem like a badass. No one wants to listen to the guy that comes to the roast and tells a happy story about the guy, full of compliments and kudos for all his pimp HS hookups and Rec League Hat Tricks. So I had to posture and talk a little shit. But I feel bad for the guy. And you girls, if you have even one sentimental bone in your body (and that does not include the penis of a seemingly sentimental man who may be having sex with you while you read this), you'll feel sorry for Jeff too. Because if you think about it, it's pretty commendable that he was able to push on through his successful NASCAR career knowing that no matter what, he'd still never get to go to the Playboy Mansion, or be Punk'd or git'atta little girl from Laguna Beach. Maybe this whole time he was waiting for someone with a heart (in this case me) to notice him. I'm sure as hell none of you women have. Heck, his wife even fantasizes about being with a celebrity for once, seduced with chocolates and documentaries in George Clooney's suite at The Palms. So to any of you Chasers that want to make a difference and do something valiant for once, give a tickle to Mr. Burton, as he is Rivalfish's Jersey Chaser Target of the Week.

SAY "CHEESE!" - FRIDAY

St. Louis Takes Home MLB Runner-Up Honors!

DAN RASPATELLO's TOP FIVE

"Here at The Rival Room, we have been brainstorming for some new ideas. I decided to come up with a weekly Top 5. Every Friday I will pick a random topic that has something to do with sports (and sometimes it might not), and rank, in my opinion, The Top 5. So for those of us in the working world, casual Friday just got a little more casual, because this article is not going to be founded in facts or comprised of a pool of experts." -Dan Raspatello

Top 5 Black Characters in a Sports Movie

5. Andre Krimm (Sinbad) in Necessary Roughness (1991): For those of you who do not remember this movie, it is about a fictional college (Texas State University Fightin' Alamos) that, due to NCAA sanctions, has to build a team without scholarship players. Therefore, they must comb the campus for non-Blue Chip students and faculty willing to play Division I college football. They recruit their old 34-year-old QB who still has a year left of eligibility, and also one of his old teammates, who happens to be a genius science professor. That science professor is Andre Krim played by First Kid star, Sinbad. Sinbad is a middle-aged dorky professor, but despite age and dweebism is still the best player on the team. This character solidified the age-old fact that white people are not as athletically gifted as black people. Every white science professor in the world is a shade less athletically gifted than a sleeping paraplegic, but a black science professor can still play DI football if he so chooses.


4. Rod Tidwell (Cuba Gooding Jr.) in Jerry Maguire (1996): The good old days, before Tom Cruise started jumping on couches and doing his worst acting performance in playing a straight man. When most men are in love, they lie to their friends about their weekend plans so they can spend time with their newfound chica. But nut-job Tom Cruise jumps on Oprah's white couch, which a plethora of Eastern European Asian toddlers spent all night making for 2 cents an hour.

Jerry Maguire is the one chick-flick that every man in America can watch openly. This is the only chick-flick that a guy can watch with his girlfriend, and not have to lie to his friends about what he is really doing. This movie would probably be #1 on a list for All-Time Greatest Date Movies, but for this countdown in comes in at #4. Rod Tidwell was an undersized and underpaid receiver who didn't dance and made catches across the middle of the field, and Jerry Maguire was a down-on-his-luck agent who dedicated his life to Rod getting paid. Most of you are probably wondering how Cuba Gooding could win an Academy Award for his performance, but not even crack my top 3. What can I say, those f*cking overly regurgitated lines make me want to kill myself. Every time somebody wins any form of money through any means, whether it is on television or in real life, they must yell, "Show me the money!!" It might be the most overused movie line ever. Even more overused then, "you talking to me," "say hello to my little friend," and "you're my boy, Blue." For time's sake I am not going to even get into, "you had me at hello,""you complete me," and "kwan."


3. Willie Mays Hays (Wesley Snipes) in Major League (1989): After showing up to spring training uninvited and getting removed from the facilities while sleeping, he literally ran his way onto his team. This is an epic movie scene that will surely join the shower scene in Psycho and the suicide scene in Thelma & Louise as one of the greatest scenes of all time. Willie woke up outdoors in his bed, and won the race to first base while still in his PJs.

"Willie Mays Hayes, here. Play like Mays, and I run like Hayes" -Willie Mays Hays

"You may run like Mays, but you hit like sh*t." -Lou Brown (Manager)

I remember when I was in Little League and my mom screamed at me for attempting to nail batting gloves into the wall to show off all of my stolen bases. My father wasn"t necessarily mad at me for attempting to destroy his house, but instead for idolizing a fictional character and not Mickey Mantle, Peter Frampton, or Robert DeNiro

On top of all this he is the only baseball player I have ever seen score from second on a bunt and run to win the American League Pennant. "Hayes around third, he's gonna try to score!"


2. The Oreo Line: Terry (Jussie Smollett), Guy, and Jesse (Brandon Quinton Adams) in The Mighty Ducks (1992): This line showed people across this great country that if black people wanted to, they could dominate hockey as well. The greatest line in hockey cinema history featured two African-American boys and one Caucasian (in case you are faking to be too liberal to get the "Oreo" part). The center piece of this line was left-winger Jesse (Brandon Quinton Adams a.k.a. the token black child actor of the early '90s). Jesse was the best player on the Ducks until that "Cake-Eater" Adam Banks got redistricted to the Ducks. Jesse used to call everybody a "Cake-Eater," especially Gordon Bombay and players on the Hawks. Jesse was so cool that I still don't even know what "Cake-Eater" means. All I know is that a child actor has made me feel insecure about enjoying my favorite dessert since I was 9.

The Oreo Line will be most fondly remembered as the first line to ever implement the Flying V. Coach Bombay had a revolutionary move up his sleeve that would involve a high degree of coordination, and knew that only The Oreo Line could pull it off. He knew that the uncoordinated white kids such as Charlie Conway (Joshua Jackson) or Averman were not capable of such charisma. The Flying V is like the And 1 Mix Tape of Pee-Wee hockey. And if all white guys did the And 1 Mix Tape it would turn into an instructional video on chest passes, and set shots. Thank God they stopped after The Professor.


1. Kenny DeNunez (Brandon Quinton Adams) in The Sandlot (1993): B.Q.A. is owning this version of the Top 5. Kenny was the pitcher in one of the greatest Disney children movies ever made. Kenny wasn't even a main character in this movie, but I feel it is about time he gets some recognition for the subtle racism he experiences throughout the movie. Let's face it, this movie takes place in 1962 and these people are yet to live through the Civil Rights movement. Kenny never had a chance to be treated fairly by his racist teammates. Everybody else on the team got to run around and play field positions, and occasionally hit. All Kenny got to do is throw batting practice to Benny "The Jet" Rodriguez. Can Kenny get at least one AB? He comes out everyday and throws batting practice to a group of white kids that treat him like shit. If they would have given Kenny a chance to run the bases, maybe he would have been called "The Jet." But no, those racist little shits never gave him a chance.

How about how Benny is the one that has to get the Babe Ruth signed ball? The racial undertones implying that Kenny is too scared of dogs to go get the ball are painfully obvious. Finally, Kenny leaves the sandlot when he is older, and finally allowed to showcase his skills, goes on to play minor league baseball. Oh, and don't even get me started on the pool scene..... Disney, how do you sleep at night?

SAY "CHEESE!" - THURSDAY