Big Joe seemed to be the last one to get word he was staying with the big club

Certain things just don't look right. Guys in skin-tight blue jeans. Crown Victoria sedans sitting on 26s. Carlos Beltran's hair.

The same can be said of athletes, particularly those who spent large portions of their career with one team and then put on a new and unfamiliar uniform...

The voice on WFAN praised Mike Mussina for the ability he's demonstrated to keep the 2008 Yankees "in games." Gary Cohen commended Oliver Perez on a "quality start" against Cincinnati (he went six, gave up three runs, three hits and walked four). During that same Sunday game, a graphic scrolled across the screen which revealed that the New York Mets were averaging over three-and-a-half relief appearances per game. The signs are everywhere, and they have been for years. MLB pitching is a disaster.

"I believe it's rule 43, section II, sub-section B that states 'overpaid, whiny bitches shall not charge the mound on balls that are more than six inches from the inside portion of the plate.' It goes on to further stipulate that 'one will be subject to unrelenting ridicule on the InterWebs should said batter also throw his helmet at the opposing pitcher at any time during his charge to the mound.'"

I'd gone to sleep. I wasn't actually asleep, but I'd gone upstairs to my bunk bed in an act of stubborn defiance (at least in my own mind), refusing to give this team one more second of my precious time.

I'm not sure what was more pathetic...that I had already given up on my team, consequently leading to my missing one of the more memorable moments in Mets franchise history. Or that I just wrote that last sentence [technically, a fragment]. Probably the latter. So where were we again...

It's hard to explain. I equate it to watching an NFL football game in the snow. It just ups the entertainment value and makes a regular sporting event all of the sudden fantastic. The mere presence of the white stuff has some strange majestic power to draw you in. You can't take your eyes of the screen and there is no logical reason to explain such a phenonemon. The product on the field is no different than usual, and it's likely more uncomfortable, troublesome and restrictive to the players. The appearance of a great afro on an NBA court has the same effect as the fluffy white stuff on the gridiron (at least for me)...

First things first. I can find no fault in anyone selecting Kobe Bryant, Chris Paul or LeBron James as NBA MVP. Apparently, the Lakers star will have the award bestowed upon him later today (nothing like suspense, eh?)...

Around this time almost twenty years ago, the Green Bay Packers possessed the second pick in the 1989 NFL Draft. The Dallas Cowboys, holding the rights to the #1 selection, chose a quarterback out of UCLA named Troy Aikman...The Pack chose next. They had their eyes locked in on a man who Sports Illustrated had featured on their cover the week prior to the draft and labeled the "Best Offensive Line Prospect Ever."

Freakin' Buzz Bissinger's absurdity has led me to have some strangely introspective moment of blogging sentimentality. Somehow Mr. Bissinger, Reigning Master of the Kingdom of the Old School, has forced (well, maybe forced is the wrong word...perhaps, 'indirectly influenced') me me to re-visit my bloggorial intentions. Am I just another mindless Internet troll whose actions are patently dictated by mob mentality...a wicked enabler of glibness and profanity? Is The Legend of Cecilio Guante dedicated to "cruelty, journalistic dishonesty, speed..." Is our content of "despicable" quality?

Shame on you, America. You were given the chance to vote for something that really matters...something that could finally get us on the right track...something that your grandchildren would reflect on one day with tears of gratitude streaming down their tiny little faces...and you threw it all away. I weep for our nation.

As the Assistant Editor of Equine Sports Journalism here at The Legend, I was the honor of following the blow-by-blow of this year's race for the Kentucky Derby's Infield Chief Party Officer (or simply, the CPO) hath been bestowed upon me...

..but, after watching this team play again and again, I've realized that...at the bottom of my gut...with every inch of me...I plain, straight hate the San Antonio Spurs.

With all the protests going on surrounding the Olympics, including issues of civil rights, labor and the environment, we thought it was time for us all to take a collective chill. And what better way to do that than with what always strangely seems to appeal to the typical reader of this and other sports blogs - hot chicks.

As we "prepare" for the August Olympic games, we thought it our patriotic duty to remind our readers of the very best athletes we have heading to Beijing to compete...

Like a lot of folks out there, I look forward to the NFL Draft each year. I'm a football junkie. I can't get enough, and I love watching day two almost as much as day one. That was...until now. Now, I would prefer to watch all of day two from start-to-finish back-to-back instead of being subjected to more than 10 minutes of day one. It's all for one reason and one reason only. Chris Berman.

Without belaboring the point, Berman has become simply unwatchable...

Kyle Brady...Johnny Mitchell...Blair Thomas...Roger Vick...Ken O'Brien...Dewayne Robertson. The list is long and undistinguished. Rattle off the names to the casual NFL fan, and they likely will not register as anything more than a random listing of mediocre NFL players.

But, to a Jets fan, one need only mention one of these men and a sharp pain begins to reverberate from deep in our souls. With each subsequent name, the agony grows more acute, as if we were a collective voodoo doll getting jabbed each time...

A few of our favorites from 'round-the-blogosphere this week