Since the dawn of time, society has embraced our winners and champions. Trophies, diamond encrusted rings, parades, and meetings with the president are the rewards for achieving championship status. The New York Yankees, Montreal Canadiens, Boston Celtics, Pittsburgh Steelers, Tiger Woods, and Michael Phelps have been dominant in their respective sports and are emblematic of the phrase: To the victor goes the spoils. We all love a winner.  It makes us feel good to be associated with a winning franchise. When the New York Giants beat the New England Patriots in the Super Bowl two seasons ago, I walked around on cloud nine for weeks as if I actually had a spot of the roster. To this day, I tell stories at parties how I dumped the Gatorade bucket on coach Coughlin. And I admit that I’m still a little pissed that they haven’t yet sent me my ring.

But every yin has its yang and for every exalted winner, on the flipside there is the perennial loser – the sad sack team or athlete who never tastes the bubbly Champagne, but instead gags on the rancid decay of the agony of defeat. What’s truly interesting about our society is it seems that everybody has a soft spot in their heart for the lovable loser. While the winners are getting endorsement contracts for millions and millions of dollars, far exceeding the pay they receive for playing their sport, the losers stay mired in anonymity, hoping that their agents can bag that $500 bonus for appearing at the local Chevy dealer’s weekend barbecue bonanza.

What spurned this topic for today was a wonderful event that took place only yesterday. The entire sports world stood up and cheered for the NFL’s depressed and downtrodden as the lowly Detroit Lions – the team that lost every game last season – defeated the Washington Redskins and removed a monkey off their backs ten times the size of the Mighty Joe Young. It was the second longest losing streak in NFL history as the Tampa Bay Bucs hold that dubious distinction of dropping 26 consecutive stinkers. Ford Field erupted as Lions players and fans alike acted as if they had truly won the Super Bowl, and for just one day, it’s kind of like they really did.

Detroit had not won a game since December 23, 2007 –  that’s 19 straight games going down the Astro-turf dumper. And as fate would have it for the NFL’s doormat, the game was not a sellout, therefore was not televised for the home crowd faithful – a group of loyal and dedicated fans who have sat through decade after decade of the worst of times. The Motor City has its Red Wings, the team with the second most Stanley Cups in NHL history. They also have the Tigers and the Pistons, teams that have won world championships and brought great pride to the home of Henry Ford. But the Lions are another story. They are indeed the loveable losers, but for some reason, some wonderfully unexplainable reason, the fans of this motley crew continue to root, hope, and cheer for victory – and yesterday, the good people Michigan were handsomely rewarded.

Casey Stengel was hired out of retirement to manage the 1962 New York Metropolitans, a new franchise in Major League Baseball. The Dodgers and Giants had left for the Golden State and the “Metsies” as Stengel called them, became New York’s “other” ball club. And did that other team rot like stink on a f@#king monkey. The inaugural Mets achieved the fourth worst record in baseball ball history by losing 120 out of a possible 160 games that season. The team was known for its ineptitude and for some reason, fans and the media embraced this cavalcade of error riddled misfits. Yeah they were awful, an abomination that was sure to be a disgrace for decades to come. NOT. Just seven years later, the New York Mets upset the powerhouse Baltimore Orioles in five games to capture the World Series title and earn the nickname: The Amazin’s.

How about ex-major leaguer, the “not-so-great, Bob Uecker? Johnny Carson called him Mr. Baseball, (making 64 guest appearances on the Tonight Show) a nickname making fun of his lack of talent and less than glamorous career. He played for four major league clubs, hitting for a whopping lifetime average of .200. Yes, Bob Uecker sucked a whole lot, but fans embraced the man who was known for sitting in the cheap seats. “You know, I was once named Minor League Player of the Year…unfortunately, I had been in the majors for two years at the time.” To this day fans across baseball love the Uke, as he’s appeared in movies, TV, and is now the broadcaster for the Milwaukee Brewers.

It was Vince Lombardi who said, “Show me a good loser, and I’ll show you a loser” which is almost like Yogi Berra’s, “When you come to a fork in the road, take it ” – but not quite. The Chicago Cubs have not won a World Series since 1908. That’s 101 years for the mathematically challenged. The Chicago Black Hawks have the longest losing streak in hockey, as 1961 was their last Stanley Cup. Much pain for the windy city. Some athletes have had pro careers of 15 to 20 years and never came close to winning a title of any kind.

Being a loser in the world of sports may not be a happy thing, but as the old saying goes, it’s not what happens in life, it’s what you do – how you react – that makes the difference…
Bill Buckner’s entire excellent baseball career is summed up by one lousy, stinking, Mookie Wilson ground ball dribbler. In 1951, Bobby Thompson hit the “shot heard round the world” when the Giants won the pennant, the Giants won the pennant, the Giants won the pennant… and pitcher Ralph Branca was forever remembered as the man who tossed the ill-fated pitch. Wild Thing Mitch Williams served up the infamous “grand slam” by Joe Carter, as the Toronto Blue Jays took the World Series on a Game 6 walk-off Dinger. California Angels pitcher, Donnie Moore shot and killed himself three years after giving up Dave Henderson’s tying home run in Game 5 of the 1986 American League Championship Series, when the Angels were one strike away from their first World Series title. Jim Marshall, the All-Pro defensive lineman for the Minnesota Vikings picked up a fumble and ran the entire length of the field – in the wrong direction – for what he thought was a sure touchdown. His fabulous all-star career is defined by the nickname “Wrong-Way Marshall.” In game 7 of the 1994 NBA Finals, New Yor Knicks ultra-reliable point guard and three-point specialist, John Starks had one of the most horrendous games of anyone’s career, shooting 2-for-18 from the field, including 0-for-11 in the fourth quarter, as the Houston Rockets went on to win the game and the NBA title. Human nature is so peculiar as each of the above players named were terrific and successful athletes – yet one moment of adversity put a monster-sized blemish on their entire professional careers. Damn… that’s just not fair.

So today we hail the loveable losers in sports and of life. May the Detroit Lions remind us all that there really is a light at the end of the tunnel and a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Okay, Lions fans, party’s over – next week you face the World Champion Pittsburgh Steelers.

And may say that the fans of this blog are all winners!

Rock on ‘til next week,
Tommy Z.
JR Cigars Blog With the Zman

Some might label us die-hard sports fans as passionate. We bleed our team’s colors. If you dare make fun of our teams, or one of our star players, we become ornery and engage in flame wars at our favorite internet chat site. We gloat with glee when victory is ours, making it difficult to sleep as we can’t contain our smiles, rolling back and forth in bed. We seethe with anger when we suffer defeat making it difficult to sleep as we can’t contain our displeasure, rolling back and forth in bed.

Yes some might label us as passionate, but I believe we’re really friggin idiots who act like dumb-ass children, while our happiness and will to live depends solely on how a bunch of multimillionaires in colorful uniforms perform in a game that truly has no bearing on our everyday lives. Come on, admit it people, the truth will set you free.

Yes, admittedly, I am one of those dumb-ass children. And there wasn’t a bigger moron child in the world last night after the New York Football Giants defeated the Dallas Cowboys, 33 – 30 on a last second, Lawrence Tynes field goal. I watched nervously as Eli Manning put on a masterful drive to bring the G-men the length of the field in the final minute. You’d have sworn I had a spot on the bench. As the kick went through the uprights, I screamed and jumped for joy, only to see that Dallas coach (and man with an obvious healthy appetite) Wade Phillips called a timeout at the last possible second, nullifying the kick. I was furious, swearing at the tv while throwing an empty bag of beef jerky around in a hissy-fit of rage. My kids thought I should calm down, but since they don’t speak ‘cement’, I didn’t hear a word they were saying. But, as the story goes, Tynes succeeded on his second attempt to bury the ball between the neon yellow posts, as justice was served and the universe was righted once more. And yes, I danced like a giddy fool, the dance of self-righteous victory, the dance of a jackass with little redeeming value. Praise Jesus.

There are a handful of teams in this world where if you are not there fan, then you hate them more than Satan, Osama, Bin Laden, and a three hour Back Street Boys tv special all in one. The New York Yankees have to be the number one hated team in the world, without question. Like I said, if you’re not a fan of the Bronx Bombers, then it’s a good bet that the disdain you have for them is rampant. The person who was single-handedly responsible for that hate was the Boss of the Evil Empire, himself, General George Steinbrenner – a man with an ego ten times the size of Rosie O’donnell’s lunch box, with grotesque temper tantrums to match. He owned shipyards and who knows what else (thanks to his daddy), and he had money to burn, spending ridiculous amounts on star players, turning the Yankees into a venerable all-star line up. Smaller markets could never compete as the team in pinstripes hoisted one championship after another, infuriating baseball fans around the world. Btw… nice move on Randy Johnson, Georgie…NOT.

But a close second on the list is without question, the mucho hated and despised Dallas Cowboys. When I grew up in north Jersey in the early to mid-seventies, more kids wore Cowboys hats and jackets than Giants gear. New York was a crap team for a number of years and listening to all the little braggarts talk of Roger Staubach made me insane. And to this day, attend a Giants or Jets home game and you won’t believe the number of brazen slugs decked out in their silver and blue Cow-garb. Very disturbing.

And the city of Dallas certainly has the NFL’s very own version of Mr. Steinbrenner, who goes by the name of Jerry Jones. Jones is disgustingly, filthy rich and much like George, has no patience for being on the losing end of the final score. Money is no object, and neither is attitude and conduct, apparently as JJ brought in the likes of Terrell Owens and Pacman Jones, a couple of highly talented athletes with the all the endearing qualities head lice on a man with no arms. Jones is often seen parading the sidelines during a game, yuking it up with the players, and taking credit for a Sunday afternoon victory.

The biggest testament to Mr. Jerry Jones herculean ego is the newly built, Cowboys Stadium. It is the modern marvel of the sporting world and no expense was spared in creating the palace in Dallas. Some facts… It is the largest domed stadium in the world, with a retractable roof and can seat up to 111,000 people. It also has the world’s largest video screen, hanging from 20 yard line to 20 yard line, weighing one million, two-hundred thousand pounds. And if you watched last night, he even has painted hotties called ‘cage dancers’ to entertain the pigskin loving throng. As they say, everything really is bigger in Texas. Oh… and the construction price of Jerry World, you ask?… One point three billion dollars. And Mr. Jones was there last night, celebrating the stadium’s inaugural match-up of his beloved Cowboys against MY beloved New York Giants. And just wouldn’t you know it, that the junior Manning and his boys in blue spoiled the grand opening party for jolly Jerry – jiggling tarts in cages and all – by beating his boys in the final seconds. Oh… and may I please add how bad Tony Romo really did suck with his 29.6 passing rating. Boo f’n hoo, Jerry. (God, I am such an ass, and it is uncontrollable.)

And I must say, hats off to the New York Jets, who took down the New England Patriots, yesterday. The Pats have become the NFL’s scourge over the past few seasons as  they were caught illegally filming opposing team’s signals. Coach Bill Belechick scoffed at the NFL’s fines and penalties by running up the score in games against lesser opponents and not really giving a damn what anyone thought. And when they faced the NY Giants in the Super Bowl two seasons ago, the hate grew high for New England and it truly seemed that if you weren’t a Patriots fan, you became a Giants fan in that game. And gosh… we all remember how that one turned out…don’t we?

So today I bask, and in my head, I am a happy soul. I have already littered the web forums with my childish bragging and taunting of Cowgirl fans everywhere. (Oops, silly me, I just did it again.) And if you are a Dallas fan, you hate my guts with an evil fervor, and perhaps wish to smack my Polak punk-ass around at the very moment. But I’m okay with that. It’s all a part of our wacky world of being a die-hard sports fan. I have been on the receiving end of this bragging torture many, many times and I can honestly say it is so much better when your team kicks some ass.

I might just decide to grow up one day… but just not today.

Have a great week, peeps,
Tommy Z
JR Cigars Blog With the Zman

Ode to the Low-Rent POS

Actors, musicians, and athletes have been put on a pedestal since the beginning of time. Some are modest, humble, gracious, and so very thankful and polite to everyone that they meet. But those aren’t the ones who make the headlines. The headlines are for the Ass-Hats – the haughty low-rent turds who believe that they are better than the rest – the one’s who believe that it’s ALL about them, ALL of the time. Their egos are mammoth, their heads are swelled, yet the world continues to embrace their most egregious stupidity.

The beautiful people have been making jerks out of themselves for eons, and in recent days, they did not disappoint.

“If I could, I would take this (expletive) ball and shove it down your (expletive) throat. You better be (expletive) right! You don’t (expletive) know me!”

Ah…the sweet and loving words of tennis star Ms. Serena Williams, as she verbally abused and threatened an official during a match in this week’s US Open. Williams was called for a foot fault at a most crucial point in the match and launched a verbal tirade against a timid woman line judge who looked as if she thought Serena was about to get medieval on her ass. The official quickly ran to the dude in the lifeguard chair and the next thing you know, Williams is sent to the showers.

Australian tennis veteran Renae Stubbs said, “I don’t think people realize the amount of stress players are under.” What a bullshit comment, one that I personally took offense to. Can we imagine the stress the likes of Michael Jordan, Wayne Gretzky, Derek Jeter, and Eli Manning, have been under? All have acted like class acts and perfect gentlemen while performing on the biggest stage, at the highest levels humanly possibly. And of course US Open announcer John McEnroe, the biggest spoiled brat of them all, defended Williams, claiming that you can’t make a call of that nature in that situation. Johnny Mac may have been the biggest ass-hat of them all as he threw little-rich-boy temper tantrums during his hey day, and abused officials beyond reproach. The guy couldn’t stand losing and it turned my stomach to watch his infantile rants during high profile matches.

And now we turn to last night’s MTV Video Music awards where the ass-hattery was in high gear.

“Yo, Taylor, I’m really happy for you, I’ll let you finish, but Beyoncé has one of the best videos of all time. One of the best videos of all time!”

Those were the poignant words of one Kanye West who grabbed the mic from Taylor Swift’s hands while she was about to give her heartfelt thanks to the audience, as she won the award for Best Female Performance. The young star looked in shock as West acted like what Sanford and Son’s Aunt Esther used to refer to as a “Fool’s idea of a fool.” I personally wish Esther was there to bitch-slap that ingrate upside the head as he so rudely made a bigger jackass of himself than Johnny Knoxville ever could.

“I was excited to be onstage because I just won the award. And then I was excited that Kanye West was onstage. Then, I wasn’t excited anymore,” Swift said, afterwards. Thankfully, Radio City Music Hall security escorted the boisterous West out of the building where he walked 7th Ave looking for a place that served some “fishsticks.” (South Park reference for those in the know.)

Low-rent multi-millionaires have forever been making a mockery of themselves for as long as I remember, yet we still attend their movies, listen to their music, and watch their ball games. Kid Rock likes to mix it up whenever he frequents his favorite Waffle House. Tommy Lee has been known to assault a person or two. Denis Rodman has performed his freak show antics. Melissa Rivers showed her obnoxious, spoiled little rich-bitch side on the Apprentice. Rosie O’donnell has waved her man-hands in irate disgust. Terrell Owns, is well, he’s Terrell Owens, dammit. And Britney Spears has so eloquently proven that you can take the hillbilly trash from the trailer, but…

They are world famous, have zillions of dollars, and they are better than all of us. Yes they are, so they think. In reality, they are low-rent personalities who live in a high-rent economic client. They think their shit don’t stink, they travel in posses, they love their bling, and they truly believe that they are ‘all that.’

Ass-hats, every last one of ‘em.

Peace, out.

Word.

Later my smokey friends of the blogosphere,
Tommy Z,
JR Cigars Blog With the Zman

Ahhhhh yes, it’s the great American, yearly block party – an institution that has had neighbors gathering, even though some of them are f@#cking annoying beyond reproach.

This Labor Day weekend (or Labour Day for our friends to the north) was a perfect time for my street’s annual happy fest as the weather was amazing, the food was outstanding, and the cigars were consumed with great pleasure by yours truly and a few of my neighborly pals. Actually, we’re not too bad on annoying people, here. There’s one guy who brags about his kids so much that you’d really wish someone other than yourself would tell him to STF up once in a while. If I dare mention something about one of my kids, the dude will burst in with the many great things his darlings are accomplishing in life. I mentioned about my daughter starting college and he cuts in letting us all know that his son in high school is being recruited by 17,000 major universities, including those in other countries and even one on Saturn. It’s nauseating to listen to and I so badly want to tell him to zip his pie hole, but I just smile, nod, and picture him with an axe buried half way into his skull.

There’s such a great array of different types of food to devour and I am never bashful when it comes to filling the plate with as much as it can hold. The drinks flow, the kiddies run around like yard apes are supposed to do, and I glare at the hot mommies, pretending that I’m even remotely interested in what these broads have to say. It’s the weekend and I wanna talk football and the upcoming NFL season, so please don’t bother me with your Labor Day Sales at Penny’s and how much you loathe Jon who has cheated on that bitch, Kate.

Now I always bring a cigar box filled with quality smokes for the stogiphiles, and yard gars for the wannabees. Half way thru the night, I noticed that five of six of my high-end sticks were gone and I knew exactly what every guy was smoking. Found out that this prick who was invited by a friend pocketed them when I wasn’t looking. You know, I bring them for everyone to enjoy and if you ask, I always say yes, but you don’t smoke one then take four or five for the road, fer crissakes. Would you grab six-pack and stick it in your car? Would you bring tin foil and wrap some ribs and meatballs and stash them in your trunk? What a total dick. Unfortunately next time they’ll be under my watchful eye and I’ll have to make sure I personally offer them up.

Started the day with a wonderful Sancho Panza Extra Furte, Click Here to View and let me say that this may truly be one of the best cigars out there for the money. A very tasty medium bodied smoke at a ridiculously low price. A real nice go-to cigar.

Next was a tasty little La Gloria Cubana Wavell maduro Click Here to View I haven’t had one of these little bad-ass smokes in quite some time and it was so flavorful and packed a lot of smoke for a little dude. I kind of forgot how good they were.

After the home style ribs and kielbasa and kraut I charred up, something with deep rich flavor was in order and the Partagas Spanish Rosado Click Here to View was a great choice. This cigar is so highly underrated and when on my trip to General Cigar in the Dominican, even then CEO Daniel Nunez told me he didn’t understand why more guys didn’t love this smoke. I concur. The Honduran wrapper is a gorgeous reddish-brown color that just looks so damned nice and literally begs you to smoke it. For some reason it’s a cigar that not a lot of guys talk about and I think it’s got some real oomph (I was going to say “balls” but I figured most here wouldn’t like the thought of Honduran balls in their mouth. Just call it an educated guess on my part.)

Finally when dessert and coffee hi the table, I picked out a treat of my own. The amazing Camacho Tenth Anniversary Click Here to View is one of the finest, most flavorful cigars on the market, today. The construction is flawless on this box-pressed Honduran puro, and one tends to drool uncontrollably when cracking open the box. I had the torpedo, whose draw and burn were sheer perfection and the flavor went so well with my java and port wine. Damn, ain’t life grand? When you’re gorging on great food and smoking fine cigars, it sure as hell is.

The night ended at around 1:30am as I came in third in the eight-person Texas Hold ‘Em tournament. The highlight of the game was knocking out the a-hole who pilfered my smokes, with trip Kings, as I drew both cowboys on the turn and the river. He swore like a little ass-wipe and pouted like somebody just took a crap in his Tonka truck. F-him, I’m sure you’ll agree.

So… what did you guys do to enjoy the great American holiday? I’m all ears so lemme hear!

Have a great shortened work week,
Tommy Z.
JR Cigrs Blog With the ZMan