Bill's Sports Binge: Rays win (seriously), World Cup fever (seriously?) and Miami can't take the heat


The best part about spending the night clutching the toilet and barfing your shoes out through your nose is the exhilarating relief you feel when it eventually stops. So goes the 2014 season of the worst team in baseball. After losing 10 in a row, our beloved Rays snapped the shit-streak with a win. And there was much rejoicing (yay). Then, before we could pronounce the "k" sound in comeback, they lost four more. And right before we could get to the last "s" in hopeless, boom: Another win, snapping a 31-inning scoreless streak — a team record. And the vomit subsided ... for now. The highlight of Wednesday night's non-loss to the Cardinals was when rookie outfielder Kevin Kiermaier slipped into a phone booth, popped out faster than a speeding bullet and caught a fly ball in flight with the bases loaded, preserving a 1-run lead. If you don't understand the Superman/phone booth reference, we can no longer hang out. This weekend, the Rays mixed it up with the Astros in a three-game series in Houston ... where they, too, have a problem (BAM!). Sunday, the Rays came out on top for the series by winning the third game 4-3. 

Brazil. Home of Carnival, that big honkin' statue of Jesus and the painful removal of every hair follicle from your undercarriage. Also? There seems to be a buttload of soccer games going on up until around mid-July. Teams from all over the world (literally!) descend upon bizarro America. Seriously, the drains spin in the opposite direction, it's winter down there and in Brazil they like their boobs small and their butts big (true story). Yessir, World Cup craziness has definitely set in ... I think. My advice? if soccer just isn't your thing but you like getting swept up in a cavalcade of batshit insanity, get your ass to a pub and mix it up with the hooligans. You may not know what the hell is going on up on the screen, but it won't matter. The perfect mix of jubilation, patriotism and homicidal emotions is a people watcher's paradise. GOOOOOOOOOAAAAALLLLLL!!!!!!!


Our Tampa Bay Buccaneers wrapped up their 3-day mandatory mini-camp this week. Amazing we still need to use that word for adults. When I hear the word, "mandatory" I just flash back to the assemblies in junior high that had musicals about how smoking was bad or drugs were bad or kissing led to chlamydia. It was the school's way of saying, "Yes, this is lame. But you have to go anyway." I don't see how that word still needs to be used to coax millionaires into coming out to play. Anyway, this is all you really need to know, or would care to know, about camp. (Hell, you may not even care at all.) First rounder Mike Evans was signed and is being gentle on his strained hamstring; guard Carl Nicks is hopeful but still hampered by his cursed perpetual foot injury and subsequent disgusting MRSA infection; and stud defensive tackle Gerald McCoy treated his teammates on the last day of camp to snow cones. Outside of that, confidence is high. But until the pads are strapped on for training camp on July 24th and, more importantly, until they start hitting players with different color uniforms, you may as well shake your Magic 8-Ball.

"Ask again later"

Crap.

Honorable Afterthoughts: The LA Kings win the Stanley Cup over the New York Rangers, confirming to the youth of America who have followed former Lightning captain and current Ranger/traitor, Marty St. Louis' career, that Quitters Never Win; the Spurs bitch-slapped the Heat 107-86 in Game #4 of the pro basketball championship thingie (I don't follow the NBA but, boy howdy, do I get all tingly inside when bad things happen to Miami); and finally, former Florida Gator wide receivers coach Joker Phillips resigned this week after possible NCAA violations regarding a photo taken of Phillips having dinner with a recruit during a mandated dead period. No confirmation as yet to whether Phillips got a good-night kiss. The photo was supposedly turned over to the NCAA by an individual with close ties to the Miami Hurricanes athletics program, which strictly limits recruit dinners to the champagne room at the King of Diamonds gentleman's club, where tonight's forecast, once again, calls for rain.


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