"Come on, bend over just a little further...that's it..."

With the exhaustive coverage of what is easily the most compelling story in sports this year, we searched for a different approach (pun intended) on this story.  Staff writer Dr. Kevin Creagh was able to meet with someone who’s perspective on this story, and life in general, is at the very least different…

I sat and waited in my worn out leather bar stool in a dark, shady tavern in Inglewood, California.  The nervousness of a possible drive-by shooting or random stabbing took a backseat to the mounting excitement of the arrival of one of NOTESPN’s most loyal fans.  Juan Escalante had agreed to come out of hiding and allow me to interview him regarding his opinion on our latest sports soap opera…..Tiger Woods. As he entered the bar, he seemed to be yelling obscenities at a passing ice cream truck.  His jeans were burro dung stained and he carried with him a brown paper bag containing a half-eaten chalupa and two empty chocodile wrappers.  The following is my journey into the mind of this NOTESPN legend.

CREAGH: Great to meet you, Juan.  I hope your travels were smooth and relaxing.

ESCALANTE:  My neck hurts….and someone threw a shoe at me on Slauson.

CREAGH:  What was your initial reaction to the recent turmoil surrounding Tiger Woods?

ESCALANTE:   At first, I wondered if all the details had been revealed…because it didn’t sound at all like something he would get mixed up in.  My uncle Enrique had his fair share of domestic disputes, but that was mainly because his wife was a no-good whore.  We “took care” of that situation.

CREAGH:  I see.  Have you ever personally been hit in the face with a golf club?

ESCALANTE:  Not in the face.  About ten years ago, I worked as an assistant greens keeper at La Paz Municipal…on my third day, the pro shop manager caught me urinating into a sand trap…he hit me in the lower back with a 9-iron.  I still haven’t gotten my paycheck from those Baja jerkoffs.

The Most Majestic of its Kind

I became uncomfortable and paused for a moment, trying to stay on track.  Escalante had me reeling for a moment, and definitely felt like he would gladly welcome me into his home one second –which legend has it is a chain of huts scattered throughout the Southern Hemisphere in various countries-and would stab me the next. I decided to error on the side of caution, and continue to treat him with a slight respect that bordered on fear.

CREAGH:  So, Juan, what do you think about Woods admittedly committing acts that could be considered adulterous?

ESCALANTE:  I’m guessing there are certain things that Elin just won’t do for him anymore….at the beginning, she most likely gave him free reign sexually.  He would probably just lower his golf pants and she would drop whatever she was doing and start  giving him what he likes to call “the pitching wedge”.

CREAGH:  So, you’re saying it’s possible she might have started neglecting him sexually?

ESCALANTE:  Either that, or the constant nagging finally hit a breaking point….he would get home from making a million dollars from four days of work…and she would immediately start in on him…”Tiger, how come the dishes aren’t done?  Tiger, you haven’t taken the trash out!  Tiger, you care more about that burro than you do our family!”  Maybe I happen to love my burro, you tortilla factory working bitch!

Escalante declared with such a fervor that he leapt out of his bar stool, and I thought he was leaving.  However, he composed himself, sat back down, and continued.

ESCALANTE: I mean, Tiger would just think to himself, “I’m friggen Tiger Woods!  I don’t need this!”

CREAGH:  I’m sure you prepared for this interview by studying the details of this story.  Did you find it at all odd that his wife broke out the back window of his car in a claimed attempt to rescue him, while the logical window to break would have been the driver’s side window?

ESCALANTE:  When I heard this, I knew we hadn’t received the whole story.  If this event was a burrito, at this point, we had only gotten the tortilla….and maybe a few green chilies.  Women usually only break windows for two reasons; Their husband is cheating on them, or…wait, that’s only one reason.

CREAGH:  Well, as it stands now, more than nine women have now come forward claiming they have had relations with Tiger.  Do you think they are telling the truth?  If so, does this make his image any worse in your eyes?

ESCALANTE:  90 percent of women are lying 40 percent of the time…I’m not so good at math, but that means about 5 or 6 of them are telling the truth.  As far as his image, he hits a little ball with a stick for a living.  Why would I care what he does?  Am I supposed to be shocked that he’s swinging his driver into nine women?  Maybe at least with THIS driver, he might actually be able to put it in the fairway.

Juan chuckled at his own quip, however “lowest common denominator” it may have been.  Constantly on the move, he somehow manages to stay in seclusion throughout his travels, hiding in plain sight.  Part of the deal for him meeting me was that I buy hima bag of chicklets and more than a few drinks, and he didn’t hesitate.  If there is one thing this man is an expert in, it’s tequila.  For whatever hole this place we currently in was, it had some primo agave, and Juan quickly ordered up a shot of Rey Sol Anejo.  The shot was $35, and I had to find out what a $35 shot of tequila tasted like, so I had one with him.  It didn’t disappoint.  Juan savored the flavor before he went back to drinking his Modelo Negro, and picked up the small ramikin of home made salsa and shot it.  I watched him show no sign of remorse for his lack of etiquette, which made me appreciate him that much more.  But I had to get back to the interview.    

CREAGH:  One of Tigers’ voice mails allegedly says, “I’m going to wear you out”.  Have you ever left naughty voice mails for a woman?

ESCALANTE:  In a way, you could say yes.  I used to scratch pornographic stick figures into agave leaves and leave them on the doorstep of this girl named Rosario.  Her father found them and broke my tailbone with a shovel……I don’t regret it.  She was so cute and innocent…I love a girl with braces…….on her legs.

CREAGH:  So, do you think Elan will forgive him?

ESCALANTE:  My friend, she was a nanny in Sweden before she met him…everything in her life right now is because of him.  She would be swinging on a pole right now in Stockholm just to pay for a rat-infested studio apartment if it weren’t for him.  As far I’m concerned, she should be thankful to have shoes on her large Scandinavian feet.  Yes, she should forgive him….I think she will, since he is giving her a rather large amount of money to stay.

CREAGH:  Let’s turn to golf.  How do you think the gallery will treat him in his first few tournaments next year?

ESCALANTE:  Newsflash to the feminized world……nobody cares.  Anybody who boycotts or scoffs at this man is a genuine douche bag.  Everybody loves him because of his ability to get it in the hole….now everybody hates him for his ability to get it in the hole.  Please, my compadres, make up your minds.  Enjoy the great golf and shut your flan holes!

CREAGH:  You certainly do carry around a lot of passion….or anger….or both.  Is there anything you’d like to say to Tiger?  There is no doubt he will be reading this.

ESCALANTE:  Yes.  Tiger!  Cut your losses.  Get rid of her….famous men should never be married.  There are too many temptations out there…..trust me.  I was once quite famous down in Santiago, Chile.  My fame originated from my appearance on “Chile’s Got Talent”.  I was the actual creator of the dance style “pop and lock”….only then, I called it “Juan and lock”.  Long story short, I married, cheated on her with a Bolivian dress maker….lost everything.  Anyway, Tiger, if you need more advice, meet me down in Quito, Ecuador on Christmas Eve….I’ll be the guy selling corn dogs on the boardwalk.

CREAGH:  On a personal note, is there anything else you’d like to get off your chest about this subject….or any subject for that matter?  This is your chance to show the fans a little more about the innards of Juan Escalante.

ESCALANTE:  Why, of course.  Does anybody have any good deals on boat rides to South Africa?  I’m trying to get there for the World Cup….you know, to cheer for Mexico.  Problem is, I only have about twelve dollars right now.

CREAGH:  Alright, thanks for your time, Juan.  You are clearly too drunk to continue.  It was a pleasure meeting you.

ESCALANTE:  Do I get my chicklets now?

I handed the bag of chicklets over to Juan and he stumbled towards the old wooden door and tripped over the doorjam on his way out.  When I left a few minutes later, he was laying in the curb singing the theme to “Greatest American Hero”……”Look at what’s happened to me…..I can’t believe it myself”….and so on.  I have never been around someone so happy to be a worthless piece of garbage.  It made me wonder if perhaps Juan has the secret to life hidden somewhere in one of his dirty pockets. A man with nothing, who thinks he has everything.  Maybe we should all work a lot harder in channeling our “inner-Juan”. Something to consider.

What are we most thankful for?  It’s hard to pinpoint one thing.  But surely, one item that’s on the list is the following…

Virtually every country makes it….from the mega-producing corporations like Anheuser-Busch to a guy named Bruce making it in his bathtub, we live in a world in which beer can be found on almost every street corner.  A beverage that was once illegal in this fine country, now finds its way to every home and restaurant from sea to shining sea.  Beer is often used as a tool, even a symbol, to allow us to loosen up and enjoy life for the wonderful blessing it truly is.  We all remember Betty at the company Christmas party having a few glasses and then treating us all to an “R-rated” version of the Macarena. The truth is beer makes us smile a little bigger, laugh a little harder, and pee in your buddy’s bathtub when you just can’t wait any longer.  It makes a cold day warmer, and a hot day cooler.  Not to mention, it makes us all a little more attractive.  It’s gotten you into the pants of girls who would ordinarily look right through you as if you were made of glass.  For some of you, it’s brought a child…or a bonding experience with a sworn enemy…and it never seems to fail in making a manufactured cheeseburger taste like filet mignon.

We've actually had them all

Let’s not forget sports….my first time stepping in Yankee Stadium, what did I do?  Dog and a beer.  Watching Monday Night Football with friends…beer.  Why is that guy in the top row of Staples Center having the time of his life?…beer.  Any way you want to cut it, sports and beer go hand in hand. Whether you’re an import guy who enjoys a nice, thick Guinness…or you just enjoy a frosty Bud for its familiar taste…the enhancing qualities of this sweet sports nectar can make the dullest Super Bowl party seem like a Caribbean Cruise.

It's True

This time of year, every Sunday we are treated to a bombardment of beer commercials…they are all directed to the average American Joe.  They all have subtle implications of sex….and generally paint the American male as an idiotic half-wit. We all feign laughter…and carry on with our day.  Isn’t that cute?  Perhaps it’s time we American males fight back and tell these beer companies we will no longer stand for this inaccurate portrayal!!!  We would….except we don’t care.  We drink the beer for the beer.  In fact, go grab one right now….seriously, tell your wife I said it was alright.  It’s time we had a toast!

“To sports fans…to the Pirates, Mariners, Ducks and Islanders…..to the Saints, Dolphins, Suns and Timberwolves….to Phil Mickelson, Michael Phelps and Manchester United!  Whichever sport or team you love…it’s you, the fan, who prays for victory and screams in disgust….you boo, curse and jump with glee…through the highs and lows, at the end of the day, we’re all the same.  We have beer….raise your glasses.  To beer.”

Now drink up, you losers…..and don’t stop there. Keep drinking and offer up your own toast below in the comment section. I believe I know a few of you faithful readers very well…and I’m looking forward to your toasts.

I happen to do some very in-depth research on this fine female specimen.  The boring bio info includes the following…and then we’ll get to the good stuff.  Her full name is Elizabeth Ann Lambert….born 12-29-88…Lancaster, California…5’8”…and she is a junior defender for UNM.  Wonderful.  She also loves tacos….um….does she?  Apparently, she loves to camp as well…..oh, my lord!  Wouldn’t that be a treat?  Don’t burn the coffee or accidentally put out the fire…you’re liable to get kicked in the shins…or worse!

Click here to view the embedded video.

The stage was set….like many northeast bar fights of the past between two unreasonable and obnoxious fans….Philadelphia vs. New York…..Phillies vs. Yankees.  The wet dream for FOX had materialized. Would the matchup live up to its billing?  I give you a big, giant, veiny “affirmative”.

Game One brought us shear dominance by Philadelphia’s Cliff Lee in front of a rabid, ruthless and offensive New York mob, coupled with the throbbing wood of Chase Utley, as he bitch-slapped the giant C.C. Sabathia for two long ones.  Utley would get more than used to trotting around the bases on national television…by series’ end, he would have a total a five, tying a mark set by Reggie Jackson in 1977…by the end of the night you could hear the shuffling of baseball analysts from coast to coast backtracking on their predictions.  The Yankees had been strolling through the park throughout the duration of the playoffs….only to have the Phillies run by and steal their purse, feel them up and leave them feeling dirty and ashamed.

If this diamond fist fight were to manifest to its expectations, the Yankee bats would need to awaken….and their bullpen would have to add the phrase “scoreless” to their vocabulary.  In baseball, it’s awfully difficult to play catch up if you’re bullpen can’t subdue the opponent.  By series end, the Phillies would be facing the same dilemma.  Would the Yankees conjure up the strength to climb out of the sweaty, unshaven hole they’d found themselves in?  Luckily for the “Evil Empire”,  the tatted up Burnett was stellar, the bats livened up and the overwhelming chant of “Who’s your daddy” directed at a fluffy-haired Pedro all resulted in a Game Two Bronx victory.  The Yanks had managed to salvage a split in front of their home fans….allowing FOX to take a sigh of relief.  Speaking of FOX, how many advertisements for “The Box” did we have to sit through….we get it.  Cameron Diaz hits the button and then gets killed…..the only pleasure we derived from the eighteen thousand times we had to watch it was the fantasy of it actually happening to her.  Chick made a career out of a giggle….stop giggling!

Click here to view the embedded video.

Even though the Phillies would win Game 5 and send everyone back to New York, I don’t believe the Philadelphia players ever fully recovered from the heart wrenching loss.
With a travel day between games, it gave baseball fans time to realize the historic pitching matchup that would soon take place.  Andy Pettitte vs. Pedro Martinez….two pitchers with outstanding, lengthy careers…..pushing forty years-old….trying to muster up the ability to shut down a lethal opposition…or in reality, just hold them down enough to give their teams a chance to win.  Who would prevail?

Pedro’s velocity was down, allowing Hideki Matsui to drive in four runs, including a towering shot into the second deck of the right field stands.  Hideki would later drive a ball off the right-center field wall for two more RBI’s, giving him a total of six for the game, tying a world series record.  Andy Pettitte, despite an inability to consistently throw strikes, battled his way through five and two-thirds, allowing three runs.  A stellar Yankee bullpen performance followed…holding the Phillies to just two hits and zero runs for the remainder of the game.  A ground ball to second baseman Robinson Cano with Mariano Rivera on the mound ended the game, and the series.   The Yankee players were all smiles as they pretty much made out with each other on the infield grass…..knowing the ultimate goal had come to fruition.  Meanwhile, the all too familiar somber interview of the losing manager was taking place in the visiting clubhouse.  Charlie Manuel, who was obviously up way past his bedtime, spoke softly regarding the loss, while his nose leaked all over Ken Rosenthal.  Hey, can someone get this guy a tissue ????? Manuel was obviously disorientated throughout the entire series…especially this game.  I think at one point, I heard Old Man Manuel barking from the dugout for the neighborhood kids to get off his lawn.  Hey Charlie!  Were you even aware that you were at a baseball game???  This is the first time I’ve ever actually felt bad for a manager…I just want to hug him and feed him Jell-O.

All in all, this was a world series that won’t be forgotten any time soon…..unless you’re Jimmy Rollins (who batted just .217), Ryan Howard (.174) or Cole Hammels, who didn’t even want to be there, according to his quote earlier in the series.  Hideki Matsui was given the MVP after batting .615….Derek Jeter batted .407…..Johnny Damon .364. The Yankees didn’t dominate the Phillies…they just had a bit more timely hitting throughout the entire series.  Almost every time the Phillies hit a home run, no one was on base….that’s Jimmy Rollins’ job…didn’t happen.  So, hey, what did we learn?  I would say absolutely nothing….this series brought us great, dramatic baseball….and some soft core porn, thanks to the Yankee players’ post-clinch celebration.  Now pull your pants up and go watch some football.