Damien Nash

Damien Nash, 1982-2007

After 46 years without a single active player on the roster dying, the Broncos get hammered with the ultimate tragedy twice in six weeks. Obviously it's been a pretty shitty off-season around here.

By all accounts, Damien was a good guy, a good husband and father, etc. He had a really good chance at competing for the starting tailback job in July.

RIP, D.

Trouble in no-title town

The Nuggets are in trouble...big trouble.

They jumped out to a 13-4 lead against the Spurs on Tuesday, but couldn't hold on, losing 95-80. The Nugs are 0-17 when scoring less than 100 pts. Read that again....0-17. That's a horrifying number. Hell, as little as three years ago only one TEAM averaged 100+ pts per game. If you're an idiot, what this means is that if the Nugs don't score...they don't win. There's no middle ground with these guys. Score a ton of points or go home a loser.

They cant play D, especially with Camby riding the pine for massive chunks of the game. He's an overrated defender anyway. He blocks a shot every 12 - 15 possessions...wow. He's a liability on offense. I've never seen a "center" play so goddamn far away from the basket. Hey Marcus, how about posting up occasionally? He's brittle, fragile and massively overhyped.

They no half-court offense. None. They score on fast-breaks, lob passes, clear outs for Melo and Iverson, etc. Rarely do you see a pick and roll, rarely do you see anyone cutting or any passes zipping around the perimeter to the open guy.

Iverson is still hurt (badly), JR Smith (as streaky a shooter as I've ever seen - usually on a down streak. He's a gunner when the last thing this team needs is another gunner) is gone for a minimum of 3 weeks and Camby is still hobbled. Not to mention Kenyon Martin being out for the season.

The only bright spot as of now (excluding Carmelo - he's fuckin' sick, and he's getting sicker by the day) is the play of Steve Blake and Nene. Nene's starting to (somewhat) earn his crazy-ass $80M contract. If he can keep it together (read: avoid snapping his ACL) he's got a shot a being a very good PF/C in the Karl Malone mold.

Anyone, my mid season prediction is an 8th seed and yet another one-and-done playoff series. This time though, it'll be the Mavs that sweep us out.

Dunk City

Fuck the all-star game. The West rolled...big fuckin' deal. The West set an assist record...big fuckin' deal. Carmelo's line was pretty solid (20pts on 10-15 shooting, w/ 9 rebounds), but again...big fuckin' deal. The NBA all-star game hasn't been relevant since '92, when Magic played and won the MVP after retiring at the start of the season due to his alleged HIV positive status. All-star games suck, no matter the sport. With the game in Vegas though, there was potential for disaster. Unfortunately, nobody got arrested or was seen falling-down annihilated in public. But, you have to wonder how many posses were out diggin' holes in the desert.

Everyone knows that the real event of all-star weekend is Saturday night. And lately, even that has become somewhat of a joke. With the inclusion of the pointless skills challenge that the biggest of NBA stars jogs through, the stupid "shooting stars" thing, the mid show concert, the lack of creativity w/ dunks and mid-level players winning the 3 point shootout

apparently skills challenges are bourgeois too, eh LeBron?

Seriously, it's been awful for the last few years. This year's dunk contest, however, was a thing of beauty. There were some very creative entries (except Tyrus Thomas. You can pick up your check now, asshole). This one by Dwight Howard was a fave:



I've never seen anyone do anything even remotely close to this. Just a fantastic dunk. He got screwed by the judges (a collection of the best dunkers in NBA history) and received the lowest score for the second round. An absolute hose job. Complete nonsense. Howard's 7ft+, so he's not going to win, especially when an overrated idiot 5'8" midget is the defending champ.

Anyway, by far and away, the winner of the night was Gerald Green of the Celtics. The kid has insane hops and had some very creative dunks. By far the most creative dunks I've seen for quite a while.

Anyway, here are the best one's from the night

Jay Walking

The Broncos picked up the option on Javon Walker yesterday. Potentially securing him for the next 5 years. A no-brainer move, but you have to wonder about the guy's psyche. I hope the fact that he was not only in a limo that got blasted by gunfire, but was allegedly sitting next to Darrent when he died didn't irrepairably damage him (even though he was seen partying in Vegas a few days after it went down - there's no better way to grieve than getting tanked, doubling down on a $10K bet and plowing through coked-out hooker after coked-out hooker).


With Rod really starting to show his age and most likely taking a step down to No. 3 next season and a young, somewhat inconsistent player in Brandon Marshall moving up to No. 2, the Donks really, REALLY need Javon to have a huge year.


Here's to your mental health, buddy.

Me, Mark and the Champ

February: The sports wasteland. The Super Bowl is over. The Pro Bowl is a bunch of idiotic nonsense. The NBA doesn't really get interesting for me until after the NCAA tourney. The NHL is hockey. The breathless orgasmic anticipation some people feel about MLB's pitchers and catchers reporting to me, is as boring as old people fucking.

If it weren't for the NBA All-Star game (Vegas baby!) and NCAA small conference tourneys, February would be the most pointless month on the sports calendar.

Since there's not a whole lot going on right now, and I hate to even think about how poorly the Nugs play without Iverson (I fear his ankle is more serious than anyone's letting on) I thought I'd share with you two encounters I've had with Broncos players.

Me and Mark Jackson:

Back in '99, I was fresh out of dropping out of college and living in the shit-hole known as Grand Junction. I was fond of frequenting establishments primarily patronized by meth-addled rednecks and trashy bar skanks. There was however, one bar that was usually full of college-aged kids and less dangerous and meth-addled rednecks. They actually played hip-hop in this particular club and the best local radio station showed up on the weekends and did live shows from there. This place was a tremendous improvement over the usual fare. So anyway, one night myself and a couple of buddies get there, sidle up to the bar and order a few beers. There’s a familiar looking dude standing by himself at the bar, checking out the crowd. The following conversation (or something similar) takes place: Me: Who is that guy? Buddy 1: That’s Mark Jackson


Me: No fucking way. Dude's like 5'5"


Buddy 2: Jackson was pretty short, man.


Me: I'm not buying it.


Buddy 1: I'll ask him.


So Buddy1 rolls up to the guy and asks him flat out if he's Mark Jackson. The guy says no. Buddy1 returns to our end of the bar where I proceed to rip on him for being a jackass.


Ten minutes later or so, the guy comes over and tells the bartender that he's buying us a round. As we're thanking him for the booze, he pulls out his NFLPA card and shows it to us. Yep...it's Mark Jackson. One of the Three Amigos. The very same Mark Jackson that caught the bullet from John for the TD after "The Drive." Heady stuff for a guy like me. So we bend his ear for a while and he answers everything we ask about the team, the players, etc. He was a great guy, really polite. He even drew up the play he scored on in the '86 AFC title game and autographed it for me. Mark stuck around for a while, hitting on the ladies and occasionally dancing. He wound up leaving with this hideous hootchie who seemed to be missing a tooth and earlier had been walking around asking dudes if she could feel their cocks (myself included....I let her)

Me and Champ Bailey

This one happened yesterday, but isn’t as exciting. And if you thought the last one was exciting, you should probably go ahead and kill yourself right now.

A few local radio stations broadcast out of the building I work in here in the DTC and apparently Champ was a guest on one of them yesterday. One of the sexateries here came running down the hall to tell me Champ was in the lobby. So I go running down the stairs into the lobby and lo and behold…there’s the All-Pro himself. Here’s the exchange:

Me: “Champ! What;s up man?”
Champ: “What’s up, baby?”
Me: “Good to see you man, have a good off-season”
Champ: “Thanks guy” (sticking out hand for some fist-bump action)
Me: “Whoa Champ….fist bumps are out”

Welcome

Welcome to the Adventures of Hercules Rockefeller! The most handsomest, wittiest, richest, studliest hunk of man candy you're going to run across on these here e-bays.

What is this blog about you ask? Well let me tell you, wise ass. It's another sports related blog focusing primarily on Denver teams. If you're good little boys and girls, I'll toss in some choice tidbits about my job and personal life from time to time.

I'll be talking The Denver Broncos, the Nuggets and I'll hit on stories from other parts of the globe as well. I may touch base with the Rockies occasionally, but only because they play here. I'm a Bay Area baseball guy. That and nobody gives a rat fuck about the Rox anyway.

I'll also be constantly making fun of the Oakland Raiders, even though that's starting to feel like a battle of wits against a guy with down syndrome. Sure, it's kind of fun to kick ass, but you feel dirty afterwards.

I will be ignoring the Scamalanche, the Crush, the Rapids/Arsenal, the Mammoth, etc. Those are fringe sports (yes...even hoc-key) and I wont have any part of them.

I have little patience for fools or incompetence, so don’t come into the AHR talking all that trash. I might just take the elevator down there and get in on that thing. Also, I'm single....ladies.
I'll be updating this blog on firm time, so this will call for some creative billing. Updates may come sparingly, depending on how busy I am saving the world and/or raking in fat stacks of cash.

You'll enjoy it. If you don't, I don’t want any part of you or anything you stand for. I'll sign off for now with a snapshot of the greatest day in the history of sporting events