This is what sports fans are all about. Team is shitty? We’re there, cheering, trying to make anybody in the ballpark care about the most minor bullshit happening on the field. Weak-ass wave attempts aside, it’s these type of fans that make any professional sport team thrive. Thanks for being there, yo. I hate the Indians.
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A little far fetched but awesome nonetheless. If somebody ever kidnapped Kobe Bryant before the finals and let him be tortured by the woman he raped, I’d have no problem with it. In fact, I encourage it.
What if John McClane was at this same game? I think Darren might have had to take a backseat to the master. Or they would have killed each other. Whatever. I constantly watch for shit like this at my kid’s floor hockey games. One time this dude had some suspicious looking coffee and I choked him out in the bathroom. Things have been awkward since but…… fuck him. Terrorist bastard.
Stiles wasn’t just a fan, he was an entrepreneur. Dude made Teen Wolf into a product. Was it everything Teen Wolf didn’t want? Sure, but the little bitch wasn’t complaining while he was van-surfing down the block to a standing ovation. The t-shirt sales alone should have made up for his guilty conscious.
Look, when your favorite player beats the living shit out of you and you still have the balls to cheer for him, you’re a great fan. It’s as if Isiah Thomas spit in my face and raped my wife and then went to the finals. Would I be mad? Yes. Would I cheer for his ass against the Lakers? Hell yes. Pick your battles.
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Paco is a liar. He said Joe Montana. Other than that, these guys are stand-up, dumb as fuck, pig-lovin’ hillbillies that I would be proud to have cheer me on, whatever activity I may be participating in. In fact, they show up every week to my kids floor hockey games. It’s the only reason I go.
Worn out from years of trying to eat James Bond, Jaws took to the links, where he enjoyed talking shit and struggled to maneuver his gigantic awkward frame from green to green. One day he got stuck in a sand trap and died of exposure because nobody wanted to go near his mustache. The end.
You try hitting a three-quarter-court shot with no shirt on. Shit is not easy. Neither is trying to cash in on the fake $10,000 they give you if you do hit it. Dukes reminds me of every one of my brother’s friends when he was in high school. And my brother. They all listened to an unhealthy amount of Iron Maiden.
Passionate. Obsessive. Psychotic. Call it what you want, Gill knows how to get the best out of his favorite players. It’s weird though, I never thought Willie Mays Hayes was even that great.
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The woman knows her numbers. Maybe it’s only to figure out who she’s going give season tickets to for her vagina, but still, there’s some genuine hard work going into her process. You might be too involved with the game when you actually become a stat for the players.