Tag Archives: Sports

The Playoff Beard: Movember’s bad ass older brother with a motorcycle

Posted on April 12, 2012 | 4 Comments

It’s no secret that I have a slight obsession with men’s facial hair.  In November I wrote a whole post on the moustache and why I think it is ultimate symbol of strength, integrity and courage.  You can see proof here.  I took a Freudian stance and said that it’s because my Dad has always had facial hair.  I still stand by that.

But the beard… the beard is different.  It’s less of a statement and more of a way of life, really.  To some, it says “I’m lazy and too cheap to buy razor blades,” to others: “I am a lumberjack!” and still, to others: “I am one bad ass Mother Fucker.”

You see, I find beards send a different message than the moustache.  The moustache, screaming out for attention, says “I am a real man, I will do real man things and I will never neglect to look like a real man.”  It’s like Old Spice, on your face.  You obviously have to take care of it.  Therefore, it is more of an aesthetically pleasing feature than a sign of any sort of personality.

The beard, however, says something different.  It is not something that constantly needs attention.  It is not something that constantly looks good. And it’s not something that says anything about courage or strength or integrity.  What it does say is I don’t give a fuck.  And as any girl with an unhealthy obsession with bad boys knows… this is freaking hot.

Welcome to playoff season.

It’s not for a good cause.  It’s not going to turn you into a professional fundraiser and it’s not going to make your mom proud of you.  The only thing it does is trap Buffalo sauce, piss your girlfriend off and proove you’re Canadian as fuck.  Bravo.  Bra-freaking-vo.  Slow clap, even.  Way to take a stand.  Way to let your boss know that your love of the game is more important than your client relationships.  Way to save an extra $20 on razors and spend it on cheap pitchers at your local dive bar.  Way to put yourself through that god awful  moment of having to listen to that girl you’re seeing about how it’s irritating her sensitive skin.  Slow clap.  You officially don’t give a rats ass.

Of course, the playoff beard comes with responsibility too.  You’ll be expected to be able to answer any sort of hockey question without delay, whenever, wherever.  You’ll be expected to have the perfect ‘pump-up playlist’ on your iPod and to know what this means without having to clarify.  You’ll have enough money to always have beer in the fridge, enough career freedom to get every single game off (home or away) and enough of a background in all sorts of digital television systems that there is never an issue turning the game on.  Also, you hold the sole responsibility of being ‘that guy’.  And if you don’t know who ‘that guy’ is, just shave already, who are you kidding?

Ah, Playoffs.  You’re a breath of fresh hair.  I mean air.

xo & yw

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The Annual A&F “Ultimate Guide to the Super Bowl” (for him, for her & for anyone who never gave a s**t)

Posted on February 1, 2012 | 4 Comments

I’ll tell you what I know about football:  the girls that want to be on the cheerleading teams (& end up on the cheerleading teams) are actually really sweet.  If not a little squeaky.  I know this, because I was one of them – and I am sweet… and a little squeaky.

Here’s what else I know about football:  Tom Brady landed freaking Gisele, therefore, it’s good enough for me.

& here’s the last thing I know about football: whether you like it or not, the Superbowl is going to affect you, so you might as well figure it out so that come February 5th at 3:30 PST you can sit down with a beer, a plate of chicken wings, and watch a bunch of good looking men bend over and tackle each other while wearing tights.

This time last year, I created the Anchors & Freedom Guide to Superbowl XLV, because I wanted to distract myself from the horrible season that the Vancouver Canucks were having, and it seems that clueless people like my former self are now googling this shit left right and centre, because it’s getting mad hits, every day.  So I was thinking to myself, the cheapest and tackiest way to get more hits on this little thing I call a blog is to stick with what’s working (to date: talk about Ryan Kesler, the Superbowl, Nick Carter & Moustaches prove to be my most popular…) ergo,  update the article and re-post it so that it’s relevant to this years Superbowl.  Superbowl XLVI.

Albeit, with some improvements.

First and foremost, I would like to reiterate my original reasoning for this article: whether you like it or not, the Superbowl is going to affect you.  Read this if you have any doubts.

& there you go.  Five reasons why you need to suck it up already and attempt to be into this sport for one day.  For those of you like me who don’t actually care, football is a terrifying sport.  Not only are large men charging at each other constantly like bulls with sore balls, but you have to deal with the taunting smell of chemically enhanced nacho-cheese and the sight of horrifyingly sexy women shaking it all around a la Bring it On and after every play lines and numbers show up on the screen and they start talking about yards and fractions!  It’s daunting.  I don’t blame you.  So let’s nip this little bugger in the bud and get ourselves sorted.

Anchors & Freedom’s Annual Guide to the Superbowl (2012 ed.)

What it is, how it started, why it’s called the Super Bowl & why they use Roman Numerals in the title anyways…

For those of you, like me, who are not fluent in Roman Numerals & yet were too uninterested to Google “what number XLVI is”, this years Super Bowl is followed by a big, fat 46.  It is the 46th year that the Vince Lombardi trophy will be awarded to the team who rises to the top of the league and yep, you betcha, it’s gonna be a rip-roarin’ good time.

The first Super Bowl, played in 1967 between the National Football League’s Green Bay Packers and the American Football League’s Kansas City Chiefs, marked the start of a yearly tradition that is now considered to be an official American Holiday & the second most gluttonous day of the American year (next to Thanksgiving).  It started as a ‘play-off’ between the two competing leagues in the states (the AFL & the NFL) however in 1970 the two leagues merged and adopted the National Football League name to represent two conferences: the American Football Conference and the National Football Conference. Since then, every year the top team from both the AFC and the NFC come together to duke it out for a hunk of $25k Tiffany’s sterling silver, or more manly referred to as “a trophy”.

Once upon a time the creator of the AFL, Lamar Hunt, found his daughter’s super ball rolling around the house & supposedly took it as inspiration to name this big battle the Super Bowl (in reference to both A: the toy and B: the fact that College football games had forever been known as “bowl games”).

The Roman Numerals are actually used with the intention of making the sport less confusing, as the champion of the Super Bowl receives the title as Champion of the previous season (this game, held Feb. 5 , 2012, will determine the champion of the regular 2011 season).  Ah, yes, thank you for that consideration, NFL.  I was so concerned.

Where it’s being played this year and what’s good/bad about this location?

The Super Bowl bids for its locations the same way that the Olympics does.  I don’t know the logistics and I don’t care, but the point is, unlike the Stanley Cup Playoffs, the game isn’t necessarily in a city that is home to one of the competing teams.  This year, for example, the Super Bowl is taking place at the Lucas Oil Stadium in the city of Indianapolis, Indiana.

This stadium is home to the Indianapolis Colts during regular reason and seats about 63,000 fans (about 15,000 people less than last years Super Bowl Stadium in Arlington, Texas).  The stadium is only 4 years old (it’s first active season was 2008) and hence, has a fancy retractable roof (one of three in the entire NFL).  This means I don’t have to feel bad for the players when I learn it’s 29F outside (which, for us Canadian folk, means 2).  Brr.  As a side note, however, you’ll remember that last year I told you the coldest Super Bowl EVER was Super Bowl VI, played at 39F or 3 Canadian degrees… so there’s a chance this years retractable roof might come in handy if the forecast lows are correct…

This retractable roof takes nine minutes to open or close and unlike any other retractable roof in the NFL, it retracts sideline to sideline (as opposed to endzone to endzone).  Whatever that means.

Who’s playing, who’s doing the half-time show & how much are last minute tickets?

The two teams facing off in this years big game are the New England Patriots and the New York Giants.  The New York Giants play football in East Rutherford, New Jersey and the New England Patriots play football in  Foxborough, Massachusetts so… that’s kind of misleading…

Both teams have been around since the get-go, with the Pats being members of the AFL and the Giants belonging to the NFL.  The Patriots merged into the NFL in the 1970s.  They have also already battled each other in the Super Bowl (2008) but we’ll talk about this later.

Madonna is doing the half-time show so… yeah.  Now your girlfriend really doesn’t have any excuses.

& of course, for Daddy’s little trust fund pumpkins, I have all the deets about last minute tickets.  Your flight (from Vancouver International Airport, leaving on Friday, Feb. 3rd and returning Monday the 6th) will cost you $1700.  And that’s Economy.  With 2 layovers in LA and Philly.  Apparently Indianapolis isn’t a number one travel destination…

Factor in your $400 a night stay at the Airport Quality inn (the only hotel available on those dates) and you’re up to approximately $3000.00

Finally, add in your moderately priced Super Bowl ticket at another $3000.00 and I’d say for about $10,000 (because what would the Super Bowl be without excess liquor and over-priced hot dogs?) you could have yourself a grand ol’ little weekend in Indianapolis.  Saweet.

The Teams

New York Giants

What are their colours?  What is their Mascot? 

While the Giants have worn red before, their current colour is blue.  Earning them the name “Big Blue” (football fans are original).  This means you can pretty much wear anything you want to the bar… even that blue eye shadow you’ve had in your make up case since 1996.

If you do choose to go all-out, be forewarned you’re competing with this guy.  The Giants don’t seem to have a mascot (though, I only spent ten minutes google-ing this before giving up and moving on…) so I vote for Robot Man.

Who is their quarterback and when did they last win the Super Bowl?

This years New York Giants Super Bowl quarterback is Eli Manning.  Manning is a cute young southern boy from Louisiana who has Quarterback in his blood.  His older brother, Peyton and his Dad, Archie are/were both NFL Quarterbacks.  Manning led the Giants to their Super Bowl Victory in 2008 against the New England Patriots (yep, this years rival) in what is considered to be one of the “greatest upsets in sports history.”

Why should I want them to win?

You shouldn’t.  At least, no one else does.  I blame this on Tom Brady, but that’s why I’m not a sports caster.  Basically, in 2008 the Giants came to the Super Bowl as underdogs and blew the UNDEFEATED Pats out of their Glory-Boy water.  They could have been undefeated for the ENTIRE SEASON (Which was only like… 19 games, but still) buuuut they weren’t.  So you should cheer for the Giants because Manning can prove it wasn’t a fluke, they deserve it and the Pats are a bunch of pretty boys.

Speaking of pretty boys…

Eli Manning, # 10

Steve Weatherford, # 5

Ramses Barden, # 13

New England Patriots

What are their colours?  What is their Mascot? 

Well, here’s the thing.  These guys wear blue too.  Except, technically their jersey’s are “nautical blue” where as the Giants are more of a “cobalt” but… they’re men so… blue and… blue.  Rumour has it the Pats will wear their away jerseys (white) but who knows.  Tom Brady looks like the kinda guy who gets his way, so whatever jersey they show up in, I’ll bet he chose it cause Giselle said so it matches his eyes.

The Patriots’ mascot is named Pat Patriot.  According to Wikipedia (?) he’s  ”a revolutionary minuteman wearing a Patriots home jersey.”  Minute man?  No one likes those… especially when he throws snowballs afterwards…

Who is their quarterback and when did they last win the Super Bowl?

Their QB is Tom Brady.  If you don’t know who Tom Brady is, he’s like… the David Beckham of football.  Smoking hot.  But before you get your panties in a knot, you need to know that he’s married.  To the skinniest, sexiest, most smoking hot bitch woman in the Universe, Gisele Bundchen.  So you don’t have a chance.  But let it be known, he’s got something Leonardo DiCaprio doesn’t have… and it’s worth watching him run around in tights to figure it out…

Anyways.  The Patriots (Pats) are pretty good.  They’ve played in the Super Bowl 7 times, won 3 of them in 4 years and last won the Super Bowl in 2004.  Brady has led the team on their most-wins-in-a-season streak and kind of resembles a God of sorts.  In the football sense.  If you’re a Pats fan.  So… actually he’s nothing like a God.  Except in the face.  And probably the body…

Why should I want them to win?

Because the last time the played the Giants in the Super Bowl shit didn’t go their way.  Which could mean that they didn’t deserve it, or it could have been a fluke (the fluke that led to one of the “biggest upsets of sports history.”)  Also, you should want them to win because Gisele will drop her pouty sexy perfect model act for 5 seconds as she screams and jumps up and down with her super cute perfect blonde 3 year old son.  (GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR)

Speaking of super cute and perfect:

Tom Brady, #12

Your competition

& there you have it.  That’s who’s playing.

Wait… what? You don’t understand the game?  Ohhhhh.  That’s OK, here’s the jist of it.

purpose:

Football has a goal.  It’s to rack up as many points as you possibly can and hopefully get more than the other team.  You can get points 3 ways.  Scoring a touchdown which is worth 6 points, getting a field goal which is worth 3 points and getting a safety which is worth 2 points.  The scoreboard will add these up for you so, yay, no numbers.  There, seems easy so far right?

how the game starts:

For some reason, they flip a coin at the start of the game.  This is to determine who kicks and who receives first.  It’s like a face off.  Except not really at all. The kicker on team A will kick the ball, while the receiving team (B) lines up on the opposite end of the field and waits to see where the ball goes. Team B can do one of 3 things: either catch the ball and start running towards Team A’s side of the field, signal a “fair catch” and freeze play at the location the ball was caught, or they can order a “touchback”.  This means that Team A’s kicker got the ball all the way to the end, got the black checker to the other side of the board, got the ball in the hole, etc.  So then the ball gets brought out to team B’s 20 yard line and the game begins.

the positions:

Each team has equal defense and offense players.  Defense players defend the offense players who are really rather offensive while brutally trying to get the ball to the other end of the field.  The quarterback is your Sidney Crosby, your Burrows, your Gretzky, your Tiger Woods if you played Golf on a team: love him, give him space, protect him and let him do his job: Score.  Big Mike (in the Blindside) is the quarterbacks main bodyguard.  & hopefully he does a decent job.  There’s a whole bunch of positions, but we’re going to ignore them.  Some go for it, and the others protect the ones who are going for it so they can go further.  Get it?  Good greif.

The game:

Each team gets four attempts to move the ball 10 yards (this “yard” business is written right onto the field, so you don’t have to get out your polly pocket measuring tape) once the ball has been moved 10 yards the team gets a first down. If it’s New York’s turn to move the ball down the field they are considered the offense team.  From the start:

The Center hucks the ball through his legs to cutie-pie Manning who then runs like the dickens.  Manning gets tackled (INSERT SCREAM) and the ball has only made it 2 yards out of the allotted ten.  So they start again and the TV will now show a sign that says “2nd & 8″  meaning it’s the second try of the first down and they still have 8 yards to go.The ball is turned over to the defensive team if Manning can’t get the ball the full ten yards in the given 4 downs.  Get it?  Good greif.

This is the jist of it, folks.  This is how the ball moves and this is pretty much why football games go on forever.  Keep in mind, Sandra Bullock explains this better in the Blindside and the commentators during the game will keep you in the loop.

Still don’t get it?  Me neither.  Drink your Budweiser.  Or… if you’ve been staring at the flashes of Gisele this whole time PUT THE BUDWEISER DOWN!!!!!!!!!!   Have a carrot.   There.  Saved you.

xo & yw & good luck with that...

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Jesus Saves…but he’s no Luongo (aka: why the Canucks have to win, secrets of my sporting mentality and why I believe in VooDoo)

Posted on April 26, 2011 | 2 Comments

One could tell if they read my Superbowl post or if they looked at my shoe collection or if they saw me attempting to do the Grouse Grind or if they knew the sequence of “unfortunate events” I spent all of grade nine planning so that I could escape physical education class for my grade ten year of high school that I am not athletically inclined.  At all.  One bit.  Don’t get it.  Not my thing.  Couldn’t care less, would rather be a blimp, don’t see why both sides can’t win, not into the whole mouth guard thing, can’t stand “team work”.  Blech.

But here’s the thing: ever since I fell in love with Devon Sawa as that football player in “Little Giants” and he seemed to fall in love with that chick who pretended to be a boy so that she could play the game… I’ve done a pretty good job at pretending.  I like boys that play sports.  It’s the whole “I’m passionate enough about something to sweat for it ever single day and cry when I lose” thing.  It’s endearing.  It’s manly.  It’s hot.  So I cheer (at least for the cute ones).

No one needs to know that the only part of the hockey game I enjoy watching is the part where the camera goes inside the dressing room.  Or when it catches a player with his head in his hands behind the bench.  Or even better, catches one yelling “FUCK” as he enters the penalty box.  That’s my little secret.  As far as anyone needs to know: I THINK SPORTS ARE AWESOME. 

So when the Vancouver Canucks won the Presidents trophy this year, I smiled and cheered (after learning what the Presidents trophy was).  yayyy.  Cute boys making their dreams come true.  How adorable!  I jumped on the bandwagon, because that’s what all of Vancouver does come this time of year.  We believe, for whatever reason (be it the men, the lost dreams of our childhood, the history, our patriotism, the game itself), that we can fucking win it.  This is our team.  This is our time.  This is exactly what Vancouver needs to bring its people together.  HOCKEY.  CANADA. YEAH!

I’m not getting into the details.  I’m not talking about Vancouver’s hockey history.  Frankly, from what I’ve heard it’s a little depressing and to be honest, I don’t really know anything about it.  What I’m getting into is the fire behind my WOO-ing tonight.  It’s game Seven of the first series and I need the Canucks to win.  Because they have been cursed as my Voo-Doo doll.

This whole season, they’ve been on fire.  Winning games.  Doing other stuff that makes teams ‘on fire’.  They’ve been working hard.  Losing seldom and winning hard.  They have a real fan club this year.  Not just a bandwagon.  They deserve success.

Me too.  This whole season (ahem, school year), I have been busting my not-as-tight-as-it-would-be-if-I-played-sports ass to get good grades, make it through the academic system, pay off my gosh darn awful credit cards, lose that ten pounds, wake up at 6am, apply liquid eyeliner so I don’t look like Courtney Love & be the best girlfriend EVER.  & you know what?  I kind of succeeded.  I pulled off mostly A’s, am graduating in a month, payed off all my debt by working a very uninspiring job, lost ten pounds, woke up at 6am every day for 7 months, watched youtube tutorials until my eyelids burned and I was confident enough to spend $50 on YSL liquid eyeliner, and I told my man friend that I couldn’t do it anymore because I couldn’t give it my all.

The Canucks were up with a 3-0 series lead and you know what?  They shit the bed, because now it’s game 7 and no body knows what’s going to happen.  And as much as I want to put my faith in Kesler’s amazing tight-because-he-does-play-sports ass, we just don’t have a foggy clue who’s coming out on top tonight (and believe me, when Kesler’s involved in the conversation, I’d like to say it’s me).  WOAH, sorry.  Off topic.

I blew threw this season with the greatest of ease on my fucking trapeze and some time within the past couple weeks, things exploded in my face.  Turns out school doesn’t guarantee you a job, and that one I was working?  Still working there.  Turns out studying for all those A’s means getting drunk off of cheap beer (because all my money went to my credit cards) and gaining back ten pounds.  Turns out getting up at 6am every day for seven months means you sleep in until 1pm every day once it’s not an obligation causing you to grow even plumper in your sleep because you can’t get up to go to the gym.  Also, $50 eyeliner doesn’t last when you lose the lid in the toilet of the Cambie (I would not go into that toilet even if I dropped a million dollars in it) and because you now have no lid it shrivels up and you use it anyways and then your eyes explode and you look like Rocky for 3 days and while you look like a swollen, beaten bottle rat you run into your ex-boyfriend, drink waaaay too many PBR’s, cry because you have no money to give a homeless man on the street and end up being the most un-perfect ex-girlfriend ever in HISTORY.

So let me just say: I get it.  The Canucks have ONE NIGHT to redeem themselves with an ex.  ONE NIGHT to lose ten pounds and find the cure for swollen eyelids.  ONE NIGHT to find a career.  ONE NIGHT to get their internal clock back to 6am time.  ONE NIGHT to prove to themselves it was all worth it.  ONE NIGHT to forgive themselves for their past blunders and just…WIN.

This is no time for Charlie Sheen jokes, people.  My future is at stake here.  If we lose the series I can just picture myself going back to macaroni and vodka martini’s alone.  The next time I run into an ex I’ll be wearing sneakers and a mouth gaurd. I’ll start waking up at 4 in the afternoon and applying for jobs at McDonalds.  They’ll tell me I can’t graduate because in my future they predict I’ll be a failure.

People always say: It’s just a game, It’s just a game.  But it’s never just a game, is it?  It’s a chance to get together with friends or family and share in the exact same feeling.  Scream when they scream.  Argue when they argue.  Shake when they shake.  Cry when they cry.  It’s like a simultaneous orgasm.  A rare but spectacular  occurrence when people just… work really fucking well together.

So Canucks, because I can’t go any more downhill from here.  Because I haven’t had a simultaneous orgasm in a long time.  Because Ryan Kesler’s ass is the only thing keeping me from fretting over my own.  Please, for the love of Luongo, just….win it already.

xo & yw


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