If Angelo Cataldi speaks for you as a fan, than I weep for you

If you haven’t heard it by now, Gabe Kapler’s impromptu interview this morning with Angelo Cataldi on the 94 WIP Morning Show was quite good. Angelo, despite his many, MANY detractions, knows what makes good radio and can conduct a hell of an interview.

Our friends over at Crossing Broad have the full audio if you haven’t heard it already.

Kapler and Cataldi go back and forth over a recent Cataldi column in “Philly Voice,” in which Cataldi criticizes the way GM Matt Klentak put together this year’s roster, going as far as to call Klentak “incompetent.”

Is he wrong? Maybe not, but the team was never viewed as contending this year and did outperform a Vegas win prediction several games. They did have a 14-win improvement over the abominable 2017 season and seem to be trending in the right direction.

Kapler of course defends his team and the GM, sparring with Cataldi over a very interesting and professionally conducted 13 minute interview.

But here’s where my skin bristles and the bile rises in the back of my throat.

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Applying to be the next 97.5 the Fanatic…I’m sorry, I can’t even pretend that’s a good idea

The Fanatic had quite a week. Harry Mayes? LET GO. Eytan Shander? LET GO. Anthony Gargano? DEMOTED. Mike Missanelli? STILL AN ASSHOLE.

By my count, the Fanatic is down to about three on-air hosts, a handful of producers, and countless ad reps desperately trying to re-up their accounts with Anthony’s Coal Fired Pizza before they catch wind of the sinking ship that is the Fanatic.

The station obviously need some new hosts, some new talent to SHAKE UP THE STATUS QUO and tweet out some new and exciting poll questions from the station’s twitter handle for fans to shit all over.

And here’s where I’d normally make a wacky and UTTERLY HILARIOUS fake resume and fake job application to throw my name into the mix for the job. It’s been done. And done again it seems. Just great stuff there. Well played Coggin.

But at this point, is it even realistic anymore to even PRETEND to want to work for the Fanatic? It’s like a curse at this point to work for the station, a horror movie come to life. Everything starts off well, but you know something terrible is going to happen to you before everything is over.

Rumor has it if you say Anthony Gargano’s name three times into a mirror he appears and hands you an iron-clad Fanatic contract and uses your toilet for 45 minutes. I don’t need that evil.

What is the Fanatic doing? Is there any actual personnel strategy to these moves, or is it simply a cost-cutting effort by the sports talk station? Has the hull been breached?

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With Jori Lehtera allegedly a cocaine kingpin, Gritty suddenly makes much more sense

If you didn’t see the news this morning, everyone’s favorite under performing fourth line center and Dave Hakstol darling Jori Lehtera is being investigated by Finnish authorities for his alleged role in a massive cocaine ring.

According to the article, Lehtera’s lakeside cottage was raided this summer by Finnish authorities for its possible connection to a cocaine ring. It’s unclear from the article (which is in Finnish) if any cocaine was found in the cottage. I assume cocaine usually isn’t found in Finnish lakeside cottages, unlike the various gnomes, sprites and elves that dot the region.

Lehtera had all of 8 points in 62(!) games for the Flyers last season and he looked slow as shit all year, so he obviously was not getting high off his own supply.

But, with the franchise possibly being awash in some fine Finnish yak, the presence of Gritty suddenly makes so much more sense.

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What will the Flyers mascot be?

So, the Flyers dropped a cryptic video onto their Twitter feed yesterday, strongly hinting at rumors that franchise would be introducing a mascot for the second time in franchise history.

A “hilariously” portrayed private investigator finds the mascot’s room deep in the bowels of the Wells Fargo Center, teasing out the reveal of the mascot to the excitement of literally nobody.

Does anybody actually want a Flyers mascot? Is this a good idea? Probably not. But, in the spirit of things, we’ll take a few guesses as to what the big reveal will presumably be this week.

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Did Don Rickles inadvertently cost the Eagles a Super Bowl victory in 1981?

Yesterday, I found myself struggling to keep my head above water at work and I took a deep, deep dive into a Don Rickles YouTube wormhole. There’s nothing better than watching old talk show clips of Rickles tearing celebrities to shreds as a delighted Johnny Carson or David Letterman look on, unable to stop the hilarious carnage as he barrels over flustered guests and ugly audience members.

I came across a web series produced by the AARP called “Dinner with Don,” released in 2017, featuring a 91-year-old Rickles having dinner with a different celebrity each week. It’s a blatant rip-off of Jerry Seinfeld’s “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee” and Rickles looks like he can barely keep his head up through the entire taping, but he’s still Rickles and the guests are all interesting, so it’s a great time waster if you’re a fan.

In an interview with Rich Eisen, Rickles drops a gem about the only Super Bowl he’s ever attended, the 1981 Super Bowl XV featuring the Eagles and the Raiders.

According to Rickles, he was in the Eagles locker room before the game and took offense to the VERY Catholic prayer circle, as you can after the jump:

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Vontae Davis perfects the Irish exit

Vontae Davis told the Bills he was just stepping out for some air, before the screeching of his car tires echoed through the locker room as the former pro-bowl cornerback weighed his options and decided fleeing the premises was the best course for his professional career.

In easily the best highlight of the young NFL season, the Buffalo Bills are so soul crushingly awful that former pro-bowl cornerback Davis told the team he was retiring at halftime. The Bills are so terrible Davis couldn’t even bother to pretend to care about the game anymore, he couldn’t bother to pretend to even be hurt and hang out on the sidelines for the rest of the game before announcing his retirement later on this week.

The very thought of strapping his pads on again and squeezing his head into that Bills helmet made him so sick to his stomach that he just said fuck it, I’m leaving.

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In another “Sliding Doors” reality, the Eagles traded for Mariota and the city is miserable

If you’ve never seen the 1998 Gwyneth Paltrow classic “Sliding Doors” you’re doing yourself quite the disservice. The movie focuses on a woman rushing to catch a train in the London tube (because this movie is so very properly British), and follows separate realities of the woman based on if she had caught or missed the train.

SPOILER: She dies in one of the realities and lives in the other. I don’t remember which one, but despite what you’re all thinking she is not hit by a train in one of the realities. That would have made for a better movie, but who am I criticize the creative choices of Ms. Paltrow?

Either way, it explores an interesting wrinkle I’m sure we’ve all thought about. What if we had taken another career path? What if we had stayed at that party for another 15 minutes and met our soulmate instead of leaving early to go home and drink by ourselves and pass out on our couch at 1 a.m.?

Watching Marcus Mariota bumblefuck his way around the field on Sunday against a piece of garbage Miami Dolphins team and throw bad pass after bad pass made me stop for a moment and consider the path of the Eagles franchise if chubby, no-huddle guru Chip Kelly had actually pulled the trigger on a deal to bring Mariota to the Eagles before the 2015 draft.

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If you booed the Eagles you’re a real dope

Chase Utley put it best, booing Eagles fans.

“Boo? Fuck you.”

This wasn’t Chip Kelly running sweeps with DeMarco Murray out of the shotgun for a 2-yard-loss every first down. This wasn’t Andy Reid blowing another NFC Championship. This wasn’t the Eagles losing 42-0 to the Seahawks.

No. This was the defending Super Bowl champions getting booed by a smattering of morons (just a smattering, but an AUDIBLE smattering on the broadcast) after just one half of regular season football seven months after the franchise finally won us a Super Bowl.

No. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

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The Eagles fan base was so much better when we were all miserable

Have you ever heard a cat puke? It’s truly horrifying. They begin by making a wet, shrieking gagging noise that reverberates through every inch of your home. It’s followed by a tremendously loud and moist “HORK HORK HORK” noise of the puke physically making its way up their gullet, capped off by a delightful “YEHHHHHHHHHSHHHH” as a days worth of cat food, hair, and licked shit from their asshole is spilled all over your throw rug that is NOT 6-INCHES AWAY FROM THE HARDWOOD FLOOR.

I’d much rather listen to my cat puke his brains out than ever hear this piece of shit Eagles music video ever again.

Go ahead. Give a listen to Go Go Gadjet’s newest hit, “No One Likes Us / Fly Eagles Fly.”

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Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. The Phillies are for the wretched

“It is time,” a gravelly voice says from the back of the clubhouse. Alone, Gabe Kapler looks up, startled. The players had long since left the clubhouse, returning to their hotels, hoping to sleep before facing the reality of tomorrow, of another the swinging blade inching closer to their prone bodies. The manager had stayed long after the last player had cleared out, his head in his hand, staring at nothing, at everything, wondering how it had all gone downhill so very, very fast.

But he was no longer alone. The shrouded figure moved closer, almost gliding, its robe unrustled, unmoving as he shortened the gap between himself and the fearful manager. The figure extended a bony, pale white hand to an ashen Kapler, looming over the coach, the sharpened blade of a sickle dangerously dangling over his head.

“It is time,” the figure simply repeated.

“I’m dead?!” Kapler asked.

“No. It is time for this season to end,” the figure said calmly, its face obscured by the tattered hood that hung loosely about the deity. Light, color, everything was seemingly absorbed into the hood, drawn into the nothingness. Nothing escaped from the abyss behind the hood.

“But, we have another month and a half left. There is so much left to be done, so much I wanted to do. I wanted to bat Kingery in the cleanup position at least once,” Kapler said.

“The end waits for no season. I’m afraid this is quite final, and no amount of lineup tinkering is going to turn this around,” the figure said.

“I….I challenge you to a game of chess! One game. One more chance to get this right, to keep our hopes alive,” Kapler stammered.

“Very well,” the figure sighed.

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