Tag Archives: mike francesa

Baseball, Media Morons

Mike Francesa’s Mike’d Up Ghost Hunters

fran1.jpgDis is Mike Francesa, and welcome to Mike Francesa’s Mike’d Up Ghost Hunters. Dis is da show where we hunt for the ghosts of Yankees past. I’m here with fellow ghost hunter Filip Bondy.
bondy.jpgThis is exciting, Mike! Almost as exciting as each time I hang out with the Bleacher Creatures and they don’t hurl homophobic insults at me! It’s like Bald Vinny told me one time…
fran1.jpgGive it a rest, Filip, it’s over. As you all know, da Yanks were shut down by Cliff Lee last night in an uttahly embarrassing perfawmance. Some might say dat’s because Lee is one of da best pitchers in baseball. But da truth is, da Yanks lost because da Yankee Stadium ghosts have not made da trip to da new bawlpawk. So I’m goin to da site of the old stadium across da street to see if we can get em back where dey belong. I come well prepahed for dis historic mission. I’m awmed with some EKB metahs, a bowl of snacks the size of K2, and 72 two-litah bottles of Diet Coke.
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fran1.jpgDis is da site of the old stadium. Lotta ghosts here. Lotta spirits. Lotta spectahs, okay? Eddie, you got dat list of all da ghosts that haunt this place? No? Eddie, I toldja to bring the list of all da souls still inhabiting the hoary nether-regions between dis world and da next. So dat’s how we’re runnin a ghost huntin shows dese days, huh? Okay, dat’s fine.

Obviously, it would be yuge if we could get a big time ghost to come ovah to da new Stadium. A Mantle. A DiMaggio. A Gehrig. A Ruth. Dat is da goal. But we gotta be open to what da night brings us. Ghosts are fickle. Dey don’t obey da same rules as da living, and we have to respect dat. We might just come back with a Joe Pepitone, or a Kevin Maas. Dat’s fine. We can live with dat.

* unearthly noises *

fran1.jpgWhoah, did you hear dat? Dat is the sound of a soul in torment. Oh spirit, come with us! Dere is a home for you just across 161st Street! Da Yankees need you! Plus da new place has got a Hawd Rock Cafe and stands dat sell gawlic fries!
maddog.pngHey Mikey, how bout dem Giants, huh? Tied 1-1 with da Pherlies goin back to da Bay! Good spot ta be in! Betcha didn’t see dat comin, with Burwell and Kung Flu Pander Sindovail and Tom Lincercwum in da mix!
fran1.jpgOh gawd, dat’s not a Yankee ghost, dat’s da ghost of Mad Dog Russo’s career! Don’t look at it, Filip!
bondy.jpgBut it’s satellite radio! So beautiful!….OH GOD! DIVINE WRATH IS SEARING MY FLESH!

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fran1.jpgDat’s gotta be da first ever head-melting on Mike Francesa’s Mike’d Up Ghost Hunters. Good job, Eddie. Alright, we got Jon Heyman up next, and he’s gonna help us hunt down the ghosts of his journalistic objectivity, with da help of Scott Boras. Back aftah dis.

Football, Media Morons

Mike Francesa on How to Properly Disgrace Yourself

francesa.jpgI know I’ve said this many times, but it bears repeatin. The Jets are a uttah disgrace. I’m gonna say it an additional time, because I feel so strongly about it: The Jets are a uttah disgrace. And I’m gonna say this yet another additional time, just in case you forgot what I said while I was saying this sentence: The Jets are an uttah disgrace.

First of all, they did nothin but tawk all offseason. Tawk and tawk and tawk about how great they are. I’ve never heard anyone tawk for so long about so little. Sounded like a broken record. They gotta take a cue from me. I talk five hours a day, and I never repeat myself. Ever. Never, ever repeat myself. Ever.

First they got themselves on this Hard Knocks thing, and Rex Ryan’s cursing like a longshoreman. You don’t hafta work blue to motivate men, Rex. Just look at me. I don’t say a single cuss word on this show, and millions of people hang on my every word. These idiots could just go comment on a blog or the Tweetah or whatevah, and yet they wait on hold for three hours just to hear me yell at em. That’s called powah. Take a tip from the mastah, okay?

Then they harrass this reportah who’s just tryin to do her job. Whethah or not she was an actual reportah or actually felt harassed is not important. The point is, we were all talkin about it for weeks. Therefore, somethin bad happened.

Then you got Braylon Edwards blowin a 2-point-whatevah on the blood alcohol thing. You don’t get behind the wheel when you’re tanked on the sawce, Braylon. You’re lucky you didn’t kill a man like your buddy Donte Stallworth; then you would spent a whole 30 days in jail! You make a lotta money, fella. You can afford to get a drivah. Or to get your car outfitted with an IV drip of Diet Coke, like mine. That sobahs you up real quick.

If the Jets wanna know how to be a disgrace, they should take a page outta the Giants’ book. They were an uttah disastah on Sunday, but at least they had the decency to be quietly undisciplined and sloppy. None of this mouthin off, none of this showboating. They just went out and stunk up the joint. With class.

Eli Manning is a professional. When he throws a dumb interception with his left hand, he just hangs his head and walks off the field. And you don’t see none of this stupid celebrating on defense neither. Nobody was poundin their chest or doin the dougie when they commit an idiotic chop block in the end zone to give Tennessee a safety.

Rex Ryan could learn somethin from Tom Coughlin, too. He don’t curse at his playahs. He just bends at the waist and slowly gets reddah and reddah. A man’s skin tone can convey a lot more than a man’s words. That’s why I paint myself bright orange for Mike’d Up every week.

Folks, there’s a right way and a wrong way to disgrace yourself. The wrong way is the loudmouth, classless, criminal Jets’ way. The right way is the Giants quiet, dignified sucking. Of course, it’s best of all to not suck, but if you do have to suck, the Giants way is the way to do it.

Comin up, I’m gonna go over all the other NFL action this weekend. We’ll talk the Cowboys’ big win, and then I’ll covah all the othah games based on the same two-minute segments on SportsCenter that you saw last night. Then, I’m gonna talk about the Yankees for four hours. Back aftah this.

Football, Media Morons

Mike Francesa Can’t Say Anything About the Jets

francesa.jpgAlright, NFL week two is almost in the books, and I gotta man up here. I gave Rex Ryan and his team a lotta grief last week when they came up small against the Ravens. I was rough on him with my words. I did not treat him kindly with my mouth.

I called Rex classless. I said he was a joke. I said Mawk Sanchez was not an NFL quawtaback. I said some terrible things about Darelle Revis, and LaDainian Tomlinson, and Curtis Martin, just to be safe.

But let’s face it, the Jets had a big game yesterday against the Pats. A hu-yuge game. An enawmous contest. A gargantuan other-word-for-game. A game that they really had to win, if you wanna be honest. But they did, and I gotta give ’em credit.

They shut me up. After trashin em all last week, I cannot say one thing about the Jets, because I was wrong about em. They did their job and then some, and also more. So I can’t talk at all about the Jets. They are a team that I can not uttah a single word about. I gotta just shut my mouth about the Jets. You will not hear anothah syllable from me in regards to the Jets. If there are sounds coming out of my windpipe that resemble the patterns of speech normally associated with language, you can guarantee they will not be about the Jets, for that is a team that I can say nothin about.

Alright, let’s go to the phones. Paulie is callin from Ho-Ho-Kus. Paulie, what’s going on?

Hey Mike, hu-yuge Giants fan here, but I gotta agree, you can’t say nothin about the Jets after Sunday.

You can’t. You just can’t. Listen, the Jets shut me up. I’m done talkin about the Jets.

I was sayin a lotta the same things you was sayin about em…

I’m sure you were. We all were sayin things. You know the things we were sayin. I can’t say em no more, but you know what I was sayin.

Exactly. But now, I gotta just keep my mouth shut about the Jets.

You will not hear a peep outta me about the Jets this week. Not one. Of course, if they stink up the joint in Miami next weekend, I’ll be screamin at em again. But I can’t talk about that, because it hasn’t happened yet. For now, I will not say anything about the Jets. Don’t ask me to talk about the Jets. I’m done!

On last question, Mike. I got this buddy at work, huge Jets fan. He’s been givin me crap all day about how the Giants did against the Colts. Can I beat him savagely with a tire iron?

You not only can, you must. Alright, we got a go to a break, but when we come back, I’ll have Jon Heyman on, and he’ll tell me stuff that other writers tweeted three hours ago. Stay tuned for that.