Bill's Sports Binge: Bucs staff completed & currently undefeated, fightin' Lightnin' and Danica does Daytona

After right-winger Steve Downie (you thought I was going to say Limbaugh, didn't you) became the latest to be dealt for draft picks in the Lightning fire sale for the future (not to mention captain Vinny Lecavalier out with a fractured hand), it appears ownership has capitulated the 2011-2012 season to the history books and is looking ahead.
Somebody forgot to tell the team. Probably that kiss-ass intern with the gold chain worn outside the collar.
The Boltz, backs against the wall, tired and understaffed, fought their way through to beat a red hot Ducks team (really, Anaheim? Ducks?) 3-2 for their third straight victory and are five points shy of the last playoff spot with a brutal road trip at Winnipeg, Pittsburgh and Jersey on the horizon. Three places you'll never see on anyone's bucket list. But it ain't over yet. Anything's possible. Nobody thought Rocky would beat that cheating commie bastard, Ivan Drago, either. What? That wasn't real? Oh...never mind.

The Great American Race is days away and, not surprisingly, most NASCAR fans are focused on one thing.
Yep, this Sunday's Daytona 500 will begin with "Ladies and Gentlemen, start your engines!" as Danica Patrick makes her Sprint Cup debut. Whoopity-shit.
Sorry, boys and girls. I've always hated the dichotomy of being told to treat everyone equally and then have to put up with the hype and attention given to an individual who's all too willing to accept it specifically based on the differences she demanded we looked past.
Want to be treated equally in professional sports? Win first, then we care who you are.
And still, Danica complains.
"I think the only thing that makes me a little curious...if there's a pretty girl, it's as if they don't know how to describe a pretty girl other than being 'sexy.' And that has such a negative connotation."
I know, what a drag, eh Dani? Being all pretty and stuff and all the guys keep calling you sexy? I mean, ugh! Right? By the way, have you seen Tony Stewart half-naked on a GoDaddy ad? No? Hmmm...

Quicker Hits: After watching the 2011 season, new Buccaneers defensive coordinator Bill Sheridan was shocked and disturbed by what he perceived to be lack of hustle and technique (Read: Suck), but thankfully sees it as "one thing that can and will be corrected" (On a way-off-to-the-side-note, if you're about my age, and demented, every time you hear Bill Sheridan, you think of Lil' Sheridan from Johnny Eh, screw you); Brady Quinn gave Tim Tebow another headline by taking jabs at him in an interview with GQ, blaming fans for being leap-frogged for the starting position, categorizing the season as "luck" and labeling Tebow, get this, as one who "doesn't seem very humble to me" (Both Quinn and Tebow have a lot in common as they were both picked in the first round...of course Quinn had no Heisman, no championships, no All-Americans, no playoff wins, and couldn't keep a job in Cleveland, but damn. He sure is dreamy, so we have to listen to him); Felicia Moon, the ex-wife of former Houston Oiler great Warren Moon, was caught engaging in a sex act at a rodeo trail-ride camp (I don't know what that is either) and was arrested for public lewdness (Wait! Park your boners and don't start clicking around, boys. She's 55...and looks older); finally, ESPN's Max Bretos was suspended for innocently using a common phrase, "chink in the armor," when referring to Asian NBA flavor-of-the-month Jeremy Lin on improving his game. "...I don't think that was even intentional," said Lin. And, it's official. This full...of pussies.

Dead horse alert! I miss football. So, with the season just seven short months away, we begin with our beloved can't-go-anywhere-but-up Bucs. Don't worry, PETA. Mr. Ed can't feel a thing (kick, kick, kick). Wait, why the hell are you reading a sports article? Are you lost? Shouldn't you be at an anti-Raid rally with a sign that says "Roaches should be smoked, not choked" or something? Beat it, your B.O. is seeping through the computer (kick, kick, kick...).

Unless you're independently wealthy or just a rabid anti-gambling twerp, you've purchased a lottery ticket or two in your lifetime. For me, the days leading up to the drawing are one of life's little pleasures. A brief time of endless possibilities. Sure, you know you won't win...but you might. Rationally, you know deep down that the odds are slightly higher than banging a Victoria's Secret model in a champagne bath on New Year's Eve watching your favorite team on an 80-inch plasma screen...on the moon, but not as high as TWO models at once. I mean, that's just ridiculous. You hold the ticket in your hand, actually hear yourself say, "Them some good-looking numbers...evenly spaced...yep, looks like a winner," then fall helplessly into the subsequent fantasy week.
"First thing I'm gonna do is pay off the house, no wait. Kick my boss in the coin purse, and then pay off the house. Then I'm gonna get my car washed... deluxe. Not just that rinsing shit. Then spend my free time watching my DVR. It's like, stacked with stuff." (What, what'd I say? Too big?)

Now replace the freshly printed numbers on your quick-pick with the newly completed Buccaneers coaching staff. Here's your ticket. Good luck.
Let's see here, okay high number, Greg Schiano. Strong, disciplined, leader....not bad.
Number from the Giants (OC- Mike Sullivan, Eli's former QB coach), that there looks like a winning number.
Six coaches from Rutgers? Ooh, those numbers look a little too close together.
Another high number (Assistant head/defensive/adviser but certainly not officially defensive coordinator Butch Davis).
Couple wild cards (LB coach Bryan Cox and RB coach Earnest Byner).
Then there's...oh dear God, even I'm getting bored with this metaphor now. You get the idea. You stare at the numbers and you pretend you know whether or not the combination is a winning combination, yet you just...don't...know. But until September? Every ticket is a potential winner. But to be safe, you better go to work tomorrow.

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