By Jeff Moss
April 7, 2012
DetroitSportsRag@gmail.com
Well, I can promise you that this Detroit Tigers Opening Day article will be nothing like most of the pieces you might have read on Friday.
Look, I wasn’t on my cell phone with Cecil Fielder during the game like Free Press columnist, Wyclef Albom. Because, you know, I am not totally obsessed with the fractured relationship between Prince and his deadbeat semen donor the rest of the media in Detroit labels as the $214 Million Man’s “father.”
You see, I remember when this city actually had an investigative reporter working the sports beat, Fred Girard, and based on his Detroit News expose on the shit Cecil put his ex-wife and prodigal son through, I don’t blame Prince for not talking to his derelict old man.
Hell, I am surprised Prince never blasted his pop’s head 450-feet with a maple Louisville Slugger considering he allegedly stole money from his son after Prince signed his first major league contract. Not to mention, Cecil back in the day made Allen Iverson, Warren Sapp and Dennis Rodman look like Warren Buffet which caused a great deal of unnecessary family strife that ended Prince’s parent’s marriage.
And I also am not about to pen a blog based on a straw man argument like Jamie Samuelsen’s wrote on Freep.com which he belittled anyone who thought Justin Verlander should have pitched the ninth inning on Thursday afternoon.
Find me ONE credible Detroit baseball fan who believes that Verlander should have gone out to the mound in the 9th after throwing 105 pitches on OPENING DAY. This isn’t a topic worth discussing and only dilutes the REAL critics of Jim Leyland who are never short on LEGITIMATE ammunition.
And I am sorry, but I am not about to bore you to tears with a dull article about Austin Jackson’s wonderful day or Jhonny Peralta’s clutch hitting or Miguel Cabrera’s buffoonery at the hot corner.
Nope, I am going to give you what you want. A recap of the DSR’s continuing fatwa against 97.1 “The Ticket” and their on-air staff, which came to a boil on Opening Day 2012.
The morning started off innocently enough with a DirtSpurt meeting at the local watering hole, Bookies, which is an appropriate gathering place for a bunch of degenerate gamblers.
In attendance for this assembly of “phreindz” were longtime DSR contributors Justin Spiro and Michael Breakyourneck. I was also joined by the site’s co-creator whose name I have been forbidden to use in this article because he still would like a legal career when my scorched earth tactics have left me six-feet under.
Anyway, after some heavy drinking at the tavern named after “Gregg’s Guy”, the Dirt contingent decided to head towards Comerica Park and more specifically the broadcast location of “Benedict and the Whale.”
(For members of the Detroit Police Department who are reading this column to button up their investigative report, “Benedict and the Whale” is the DSR’s name for “The Ticket’s” morning show featuring Ann Arbor Douglas Karsch the Third and Scott “The Gator” Anderson.)
Anyway, I wasn’t THAT interested in bombing this duo because I never listen to them, but Spiro is an MSU grad who is HIGHLY offended that fellow alumnus, Karsch, roots for the Michigan Wolverines over the college he attended and received a degree from.
And when I write that this offends Spiro, it would be like saying Rich Rodriguez wearing a swastika patch and “Seig Heiling” would upset Michael Rosenberg.
So our diehard Spartans fan proceeded to walk up to 97.1’s broadcast table and spent about 20 minutes berating Karsch for his traitorous behavior. This was supposed to occur with the assistance of his BFF, but That Choco Shake Kid thought it would be more appropriate to discuss world events with a couple of “Ticket” sluts.
Initially I thought that Vanilla Blizzard was hitting on these chicks (one who was pretty hot, the other who looked like a cross between former DSR poster McBerry and the guy who signed Peyton Manning and traded Jesus Tebow), but that was a terrible assumption on my part.
The brilliant mastermind, Master Shake, was actually forging an allegiance with these CBS Radio subcontractors just in case things went south with our planned “bombing” of all 97.1 employees throughout the day.
And this strategy looked particularly brilliant just moments later when Karsch and Anderson’s producer called the cops over to get Spiro away from the 97.1 broadcast spot right in front of Comerica’s main entrance.
After a few minutes quizzing Spiro on what he was doing harassing people in a PUBLIC PLACE and taking down the law student’s name, the officer asked me why I was taping this interrogation with my iPhone.
I responded that it was a free country and I had the right to do whatever the hell I wanted. Totally overwhelmed by my brilliant Alan Dershowitz-like speech, the cop then asked me if I had anything better to do.
Sadly, I told him that I didn’t which further confounded the man in blue. I guess this fine civil servant realized that he had more pressing matters to attend to than argue with a couple of obnoxious idiots who reside in the Bloomfields so he told Justin to leave Aldrich Ames and Baby Huey alone. On the advice of legal counsel, Spiro did just that.
(The actual highlight of this encounter was when Karsch asked for our names and I shook the idiot’s hand and told him I was “Jeff Moss.” I have never handed anyone a summons before, but I am pretty sure Ann Arbor Doug’s reaction to my name is the standard response. He looked as disgusted as Yithak Rabin did after the Israel Prime Minister shook Yassir Arafat’s hand. I was a little disappointed that Karsch didn’t immediately go on the air and state, “Coming up after the break, I will tell you what asshole I just mistakenly shook hands with.”)
So we all dispersed and eventually watched the Tigers defeat the Red Sox by a score of 3-2. Although, while the DSR co-creator and I got to see the FULL game, unfortunately Team BFF got stuck waiting for fellow DSR forum member, Jim Pete, who must share a watch with Axl Rose or some shit because he has never been on time in his life.
We are pretty sure if Petro ever arrives somewhere on schedule with a smile on his face that the world will instantly combust.
Between Jum Pete being on JPT and Spiro’s ducats being forged or something, the BFF’s actually missed the first two innings of the game. Which is pretty hard to do when you get downtown for the game at NINE O’CLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING for a 1:09 pm start.
Anyway, after the game the DSR Elite decided to reconvene at Grand Circus Park for a chance to ridicule Terry Foster at 97.1’s new temporary venue outside of Comerica.
Everyone was in attendance except Spiro who had to hop on a plane to Florida because “Richie Rich” hadn’t been on a vacation in at least five days.
So we grabbed a spot about 40 to 50 feet away from the platform where Mike Valenti and his piece of human excrement partner were broadcasting and immediately started with some derisive chants.
Most of our taunts were fairly harmless. Bochenek started serenading Foster with a condescending, “Terrrrrrrrry …….. Terrrrrrrrry” while Petro called the News’ health style writer, “Tubby.”
I tried to coordinate a “Type-2” chant, but was quickly shot down by everyone within earshot of that idea.
(If you are new to the site you might be asking yourself why we were wasting our time mocking Foster in the first place. Well, if this cunt would man-up and take my call on the airwaves instead of dumping me with his cowardly THIRTY SECOND DELAY, I wouldn’t have to chase him down at live remotes. Real Radio my ass.)
Later, Rick Birch’s favorite salesman and I started taking turns yelling out past “Valenti and Foster” show topics. For example, Shake would scream “Light Rail” and I would shriek, “Food Carts.” This went on for about a minute with ice fishing and emergency manager also getting some play.
Most of our barbs were fairly harmless although I think I might have called Foster some unflattering names when he glanced in our direction, but some fucking douche bag employee of CBS Radio had seen enough.
This CAUCASIAN cocksucker in a gray 97.1 hoodie decided he was going to be Mr. Tough Guy and put an end to our hijinks and hilarity.
I watched as this dumbshit walked over to two African-American gentlemen and started pointing at us. (This loser was in his late 40s or early 50s with grayish/black hair and about 5’10. If anyone knows what this fuckstick’s name is, please email it to me at DetroitSportsRag@gmail.com.)
As a joke, because the WHITE jackass was wearing a HOODIE, I said to Mike Shake, “Where is George Zimmerman when you need him?”
Well, I soon found out that you don’t make a joke about the man who shot Trayvon Martin within earshot of two African-Americans on a power trip.
One of the dude’s (who DSR co-creator said looked like the guy from “The Adjustment Bureau) came up to me and whispered in my ear that he wanted to have a word with me a few feet away.
I told this guy that if he had something to say to me he could say it right there. That I was in a PUBLIC PARK and I didn’t have to take his shit. At this point the other black dude got in my face and started calling me out.
I told him that if he wanted to discuss this further with me that he needed to get a cop involved because I wasn’t listening to a word he had to say. Now, keep in mind NEITHER of these guys had any clothing on that would make you think they were security.
In my experience with security people, they usually are wearing black shirts with BRIGHT yellow writing that SCREAMS, “SECURITY.”
These two dipshits were in normal street clothes and were lucky that a brawl didn’t ensue when they eventually started putting their hands on my person.
The one fucker in my face had a headset on which I guess could have either made him a member of a security team, an order taker at a McDonald’s drive-thru or a dancer in Madonna’s troupe.
Well, on what I can only imagine were the premeditated directions of the white old man in the gray hoodie, these two members of the Nation of Islam physically picked me up off my feet and carried me out of Grand Circus Park with one holding my legs and the other grabbing me by my head and shoulders.
I WAS PHYSCIALLY ASSAULTED on the orders of the CBS Radio/97.1 “The Ticket” GESTAPO and carried 50 yards to a couple of Detroit policemen on the street outside of Comerica Park.
This picture is a scratch on my face from one of the goons who picked me up by my head.
The whole time these thugs were escorting me out of a PUBLIC PARK (while running over young girls), I was screaming at my worthless DSR co-creator to video the assault. Well, let me tell you, Stevie Wonder could have done a better job of capturing this travesty of justice.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVhB1ySUfNE
The video of me being unceremoniously carried out makes the Zapruder film look like pristine HD quality. ESPN1090 sports director, Rob Otto, joked that he had seen better footage of Bigfoot.
After both sides explained to the cops their side of the story, I demanded DPD take a complaint from me regarding this totally uncalled-for brutality.
The police offers informed me that I would have to go to a nearby precinct to file my report which I was planning on doing until I realized that cops in Detroit don’t even investigate MURDERS so I doubted they were going to follow-up on the shenanigans of a sports blogger being manhandled by radio station Nazis.
So instead of placing the complaint or filing a frivolous lawsuit against CBS Radio, I decided instead to write this article and unleash more dirt that will surely upset “The Ticket’s” afternoon drive program.
So here we go. And lest anyone think I am making this crap up because I am being vindictive due to my treatment at the hands of the SS guards in the employ of CBS Radio, let me say this:
What I am about to divulge is 100 percent accurate. And I plan in the next few weeks to broadcast an ACTUAL polygraph test to verify the truthfulness of what I am about to tell you.
The first piece of information is for Mike Valenti. Hey, pal, remember a few months ago when we had a discussion about all of the shitty things that I said about you when you first came to Detroit?
That the only item I published that REALLY bothered you was the article I wrote accusing you of not going to nighttime sporting events because your girlfriend at the time forbade you from attending?
And that other Detroit media members were mocking you behind your back because you were talking a big game on the radio, but felt you didn’t have the balls to show up on press row or appear in the locker room and face the music?
Take a wild guess who my MAIN SOURCE was on that rumor. The one that you admitted to ME really, really upset you? Think about it, Mike. This complaint originated from someone who advised me that you NEVER would show up for PISTONS games. Hmmmm, Pistons.
Yep, Mike. Your current buddy and Union Woodshop dining companion. It was Matthew Dery who advised me that ya never came to Pistons games because you were a pussy-whipped little bitch.
Search your feelings, Mike. You know it to be true.
Before “The Count” pulled an Ed Harris in “Glengarry Glen Ross” and moved from Mitch and Murray’s office to Jerry Graff’s business he was my main source for all of the DSR’s Anti-Mickey Valentine propaganda.
And if you still don’t believe me, Mike, you can wait for the polygraph. It might be the dumbest lie detector given since Seinfeld fibbed about watching “Melrose Place”, but I am guessing some will find it fascinating.
And the things Diesel has said about you, Terry, over the years could fill a fucking “Game of Thrones” sequel. I wouldn’t even know WHERE to begin.
But remember when I told you a few weeks ago how infuriated certain DFN staffers were on President Obama’s inauguration day when you wrote a Detroit News blog about defeating WDFN when your supposed “FRIENDS”, Michael Stone and Bob Wojnowski lost their jobs?
Well, that certain DFN staffer was your update guy. He thinks you are a duplicitous piece of trash. He thinks you are lazy. He believes the only reason you still have a job at the News is because of their fear of a racial discrimination lawsuit, which you would surely file if you were rightfully dismissed.
And those are the NICE things I can write.
I could go on and on about the true feelings Dery has for Foster, but I should save something for the poly.
You want to rough me up for having a little fun at a live remote? Well, guys, this is war and I might be the Palestinians with the rocks, but you chicken shit fucks are too terrified to respond. Not that your corporate masters would allow you to do so anyway.
And I am writing this article knowing full well that this might end any legitimate shot I have at getting a mainstream job in this town, but I don’t give a flying fuck.
To quote Sid Vicious ripping off Frank Sinatra ……
“For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows –
And did it my way!”
Bring it on motherfuckers.