25 Lies About Sports Blogging

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a post with 25 lies about sports blogging that you’ve made at one time or another. You do not have to specify when, how, or why you made those lies but you may do so if you so desire. At the end, spam 25 sports blogs with your list. You have to spam the person who spammed you. If I spammed you, it's because I want you to tell me 25 lies you’ve made at one time or another.

1. I never get ideas from Bill Simmons

2. Checking my site's visits and page view statistics on a near-hourly basis is beneath me

3. If there were no money in this, I'd still work as hard at it as I do now

4. My homerism is transparent and entertaining

5. I don't have a smoldering resentment for people with more popular blogs than mine who get there via The Titty

6. I don't include family members in posts just to see if they are paying attention

7. I never, ever entertain thoughts of quitting just to see how many "Please Don't Go!" e-mails and comments I'd get, like some fake suicidal angst teen girl

8. Commenters who flame me never make me want to exact a hopelessly juvenile and escalating revenge

9. Being energized by someone making a big ad buy is completely beneath me

10. I don't write just enough content to make sure that the elements on the right hand side match up

11. I pay for every image I use

12. There are no dreams of having this somehow become my full-time job

13. I have no shame about writing viral list content

14. I don't resent the world for always linking to the viral list content, rather than the thoughtful long form pieces

15. I wouldn't gladly take the press box access for fear of selling out my outsider perspective

16. There is no political agenda to the blog

17. If the World Wide Lemur gave me a shot, I wouldn't take it, despite the fact that I think they ruin just about everything they touch, and that I'm sure I'd get edited/neutered to death

18. I'm not secretly thrilled when some prominent athlete does something really regrettable in public

19. I respect other people's opinions when it comes to things like Brett Favre's leadership ability, Stephon Marbury's desire to play for another team, and the mystical importance and overall specialness of MLB+ teams

20. I can enjoy an MLB/NFL/NBA season just fine when my favorite team and fantasy team both suck

21. When it comes to a game between guys on my fantasy team(s) and my real-life team, I always and cheerfully root for my real team

22. I never think about, write or post things to the blog during Day Job hours

23. I never neglect my family to fill the bloghole

24. It's never a grind to get the last few entries in a list

25. I don't care if this post gets linked, generates traffic, or becomes a meme

Let's Begin The Trent Dilfer Speculation

Noted today, the retirement of the one-time Super Bowl winner, who has decided to call it quits after injury issues, at the age of 36.

I have to say, I'm disappointed, Trent. Where's the back and forth debate, the will he or won't he moments, the text messages, the surreptitious mumblings to selected media members to undermine the current starter? Don't you realize how these things are done?

Your NBA Report... is a link

Don over at the very strong With Malice asked me to throw him some words, and I did. It's the only place you're going to read a sentence that has the words MVP and Stephen Jackson in close proximity.

Also, he's paying me in yen, which I assume is worth more than US dollars by now. (Finally, it should be noted that expanding our presence in the Pacific Rim is a key point to our dreams of world domination, and if I can just get Japanese schoolgirls wearing FTT shirts, I'll die happy -- and so will you. Admit it.)

It's Very Epic: Top 10 Fantasy Football Intimidation Tactics

Nation -- The Super Blog has launched, and so have we. Check check check it out.

Concession

Well, Nation, the dream is over. Dan Shanoff moves on in the Hot Blogger Contest, despite his crippling good looks, throbbing site traffic, and Deadspin/World Wide Lemur bigamy. He squeaked out a win by a scant 50+ percentage points. At least we made him sweat.

We'd like to thank the 300 or so people who voted for us. We'd also like to thank Dan himself, who linked to our mudslinging and gave his readers the chance to vote for him despite his many, many failings. For this, we've added a permanent link to Dan's blog in the FTT Approved Blog Links. With this now in his arsenal, we're sure he'll sweep to the championship -- because, clearly, we could only be beaten by the eventual winner. Right?

For those of us who are still in the early stages of loss, we've provided a soundtrack clip for an evening of eating ice cream and crying. (It won't be the first time.)



(Oh, and as a final aside, I blame my kids for not being cute enough to turn around the voting. No ice cream for either of you -- this is *Daddy's* ice cream.)

The Greatest Comeback in Hot Sports Blogger Voting, Like, Ever

Yesterday in the Ladies... Hot Blogger Challenge, our opponent, the pictured Dan Shanoff, was up by 58 percentage points, threatening to make this matchup the most lopsided in the entire contest.

But today, thanks to the airings of certain truths, the relentless pimping of our kids, and the good work of people like McBias, who made the poster above, we've got Pretty Boy Shanoff on the run. His lead is now down to a scant 52 points!

With voting set to end on Saturday, this still leaves us with a little ways -- say, 500 votes -- to go, but we're confident that the sports blogosphere will take our Cinderella story to heart and vote. Because, if you don't, the Harvard guy wins. And no one wants to see that, do we?

10 Little Known Facts About Dan Shanoff

OK, the first day of the Hot Sports Blogger Challenge didn't go too well for us here at FTT -- we're losing by a 4-to-1 margin to a guy who used to write the Daily Quickie column over at the World Wide Lemur.

But we're confident that we can make up the gap once all the facts about our competition are made public. Also, once the Indian subcontinent weighs in (FTT's tech workers are legion), it's all going to turn around. For us and Sanjiyah.

Please note that this is not a case of us going negative. We report, you decide.

10) "Dan Shanoff" is not actually his real name. His real name is Ted Hitler.

9) Shanoff's gleaming skin? Achieved by bathing in the blood of young boys. From New Orleans.

8) Has a black baby from Southeast Asia. The father is John McCain.

7) Enjoys riding in tanks. Over Chinese dissidents.

6) Shanoff's best friend? Willie Horton. He goes and visits him on weekends, and then they go joy-riding.

5) Supports net partisanship, which means that he thinks that his sports blog is the only one you should be able to read. Fight the Shanoff Power!

4) Exfoliates, moisturizes, and uses cosmetics. But not on places you'd normally see.

3) Goes for the full body Brazilian. His name is Rocco. (Not that there is anything wrong with that.)

2) Does not actually write anything on his blog. The content on DanShanoff.com is actually written by sweatshop writers from Cleveland.

1) Does not even have the decency to mention pissant #22 seeds who have clearly been set up by the Ladies sports blog for exceptional humiliation. All because we didn't read their silly instructions asking for just one link, and don't, you know, actually look good.

Well, Ladies, I hope you're happy. You've made these little girls cry, because now they thinks their daddy isn't as pretty as Dan Shanoff.

(Oh, and Shanoff? If FTT doesn't win this contest, my wife and I can't afford the operations these little girls both need. Of course, people who are as beautiful as you don't have consciences, do they?)

Now, FTT Nation -- how do we turn back the Shanoff Horde?

Simple. Get your friends to vote. Spam everyone in your address book. Go on Second Life and MySpace and all of those other things you wacky kids do. Vote early, vote often, vote Quimby! Er, FTT.

Oh, and if anyone knows how to crash Shanoff's site and rig the voting, we can not legally promise that they'll be GIVEN FABULOUS PRIZES. (But it'll so totally happen.)

Don't do it for me. Do it for FTT. Do it for Caretaker. Do it for all of us.

Thank you, and good night now.

Dan Shanoff Is Not Hotter Than Me

Of course, the voters may differ. Go, my minions, click early and click often!

Exposing Myself

As this blog grows in readership (y’all don’t comment so much, but thousands of you show up every week)...

And our enemies list of sports blogs grows (yes, I’m looking at you, With Leather, and you, Deadspin– and you both know what you did)...

Well, it is going to get harder and harder to keep certain unsavory, Greg Lemond-like aspects of our childhood, well, secret.

Some things are bound to come up.

And if we have learned anything from the news (and no, we have not, and neither have you), it is this…

It is not the crime that gets you killed. It is the cover up.

So, in the interest of outing myself before someone like The Truth does, here is the first of many shameful sports secrets about myself:

I was a Junior Putter of America.

Also, following a cash payment of $10 for my membership card, a Professional Putter of America, which meant that I could play in adult tournaments that were, I shit you not, televised in the early days of ESPN.

What in the hell, you might ask, is a Junior Putter? Basically, it was (is?) Little League for miniature golf players, though we would become highly offended and agitated if you called it that.

(Why did I go for this instead of, you know, Little League? One year of failing to catch the ball, mostly because I do not have binocular vision or much in the way of depth perception, was more than enough. It also did not help that I was cowardly, slow, weak, and puny. Moving on.)

You see, we did not play miniature golf, with its clown face animals, unreliable chute holes, and revolving fan blades.

Such things were garish.

Uncouth.

Beneath us.

No, we were Sport Putters.

Sport Putting means stroking the ball just so, with back and front spins, or aiming for arcane sight lines or marks, so that you could get just the right kind of bank shot. So you are more or less playing pool, but with a putter.

You also had to "read" the green, which is to say, know when the concrete under the felt or Astroturf (but mostly felt) sagged, buckled, or tilted. The YouTube clip at the top of this entry gives you the gist, complete with intimidating towel snaps.

If you are very good at this, you get holes in one routinely, so that your score is at least in the low ‘30s, and maybe even down to the rare but possible 18. (My low: 25 in practice, 27 in competition.)

Yes, there were teams, and jerseys, and I was a team captain in 4-on-4 match plays where 20 to 30 people would follow two tweener boys around as if we were Palmer and Nicklaus, only, you know, really, really not.

It also meant winning trophies where the figure on the trophy is putting, which is to say, looking like he is grabbing his junk and squeezing it for all he is worth.

I got good enough at this to make All Star teams.

Win tournaments.

Go, on three separate occasions, to the National Championships in Memphis, TN and Richmond, VA.

In my final year, I placed in the top 20 in the nation of all 15-year-olds in stroke play.

It even got me to second base as a 15-year-old, with a real live girl, who was somehow struck by my Tiger-esque death stare of concentration and sport putting honed ass.

Anyway, now that this is out of the bag, we can all go back to the business of this blog, secure in the knowledge that those bastards over at Arrowhead Addict can not wreak any more havoc on me and my family with their blackmail schemes.

Oh, and if you doubt my skills, we will settle this in the only way it can really be settled – for the early ‘80s high stakes wager of a buck a stroke at Philadelphia #1, Course #2.

You just name the time, and I’ll bring my steel centered special putting balls, golden PPA embossed blade (I called him "Excalibur"), 25 year old trick shot memories, extraordinarily dated smack talk, and a great deal of pain – almost all of it self-inflicted.

Bring it.

2007's Promotional Giveaways

Mon. April 9 -- Opening Night - Commemorative Cap Snafflers

Sat. April 28 -- Truth Bobble Wallet

Sat. May 12 -- Adopt a Methadone Addict Day

Tues. May 15 -- Knit Condoms (12 and under)

Sun. June 3 - Smallpox Blankets

Sat. June 16 -- Shot Glasses (12 and under)

Sun. July 8 - Build-A-Baby (Women only)

Sat. Aug 4 - Drunk Guy Fireworks (oh, the drama!)

Tues. Aug 28 -- DMtShooter Beanie Adult

Sun. Sep. 16 -- FTT Belt Hat

Sun. Sep. 30 -- Singular Fan Appreciation Moment

Ask Not What FTT Can Do For You, Ask What You Can Do For FTT

We have heard your cries.

We know what is in your hearts.

In every campaign stop, in every little town, in the expectant eyes of every man, woman, and child.

You are looking for a new way forward.

For a sports blog that dares to hope for a better future. (Oden or Durant in a Sixers uniform, an Eagles parade, Terrell Owens signing with the Raiders, Daric Barton earning the ROY for Oakland…)

About sports, not titty. (Unless the titties, like in the case of Coach Parcells, are integral to the plot.)

One that does not -- nay, refuses! -- to hang out in locker rooms, because they smell really, really bad.

One that knows no celebrities, does not eat press box food, and isn't afraid to watch the games the same way that you do.

Unlike other sports sites, FTT pledges to never do the following:

1) Expose ourselves to co-workers via nude photos on our cell phone, and rationalize our behavior by citing the serious health conditions of our father. (Hi, Sean!)

2) Equate our devotion to the teams in our bias (for the record, mine are the A's, Eagles, and then a long ling way down to the Sixers) to the point where you can predict, with absolute certainty, what we're going to write before we write it.

3) Hire insufferable writers with bizarre eugenical beliefs, fire them for due cause, and then re-hire them several years later, because we just can't find any other insufferable writers. (Not exactly a hard hire, really.)

What do we ask in return? Precious little.

If you like any of the posts here, e-mail them to your friends, enemies, relatives and prison pen pals. Post comments when you feel so moved. If you'd like to join the writing staff and get in on this gravy-free gravy train, get in touch.

Because together -- and by together, I mostly mean me -- we can change the world. Or, at least, mine.

This has been an unpaid and non-political announcement.