Jack Kukoda

Unless this rain washes out the Long Island Railroad, or all of Nassau County, I’ll be at the Sabres-Islanders game tonight with some friends. I’m slightly embarrassed to say I only slept about 3 hours last night. I’m like a dorky, Buffalo-obsessed kid on Christmas. Or a deer in a candy store. Or pig in headlights. Whatever, you know what I mean. I should have a whole bunch of pictures from the game and the tailgate(drinking tall boys on the LIRR) to post later this week. Look for it.

Hurrah.

The Stanley Cup playoffs “officially” kicked off last night, but tonight is when they really start as Buffalo plays its first game against the Gorton’s Fishermen of Long Island. Why do they really start tonight, you ask? Because Buffalo, NY is the center of the sports and media universe. You’re goddamn right it is.

Ho boy, I cannot remember being this anxious, excited, worried, and simultaneously optimistic and paranoid about a sporting event in my entire life. And I’m not easily rattled. Maybe that’s why I sank two free throws on a one-and-one with 3 seconds left to win the Buffalo Catholic Diocesan Basketball Championship in 8th grade. By the way, if you guys want video of that game, just send me an email. And be sure to clarify if you want the VHS version or the Commemorative DVD with my audio commentary and a behind-the-scenes look at St. Marks’ basketball. You should get that one. It’s only 25 dollars more and comes with my replica signature. That is a deal.

Seriously, I’ve spent the entire week reading every article about the Sabres I can find, listening the sports radio about the Sabres, and basically telling everyone I know how excited I am for the Sabres. And you know what I’ve learned in that time? People in New York don’t give two shits about the NHL in general, let alone the Buffalo Sabres. And they really get sick of hearing me talk about how the Sabres have 4 lines that can score so they’re really tough to match up against. Also, how about Vanek’s improvement?! Hello? Where are you going? Ahhh, there I go again.

Anyway, I think once this first game is out of the way I’ll be able to relax slightly and be able get through the day without horrible stomach aches and trembling hands. Then this site will get back to what it does best. Doling out stupid bullshit. Just you wait!

By the way, I made my Stanley Cup picks for my friend Ritch’s hockey site. You can find them here. I’ll probably be doing some more writing for that site as the playoffs progress, so I’ll try to keep the hockey stuff over there and use this personal site to post more pictures of my abs. I know that’s why you’re coming here, anyway!!!!

If you’re like me, you’re pretty excited for the NHL playoffs. But you’re even more excited for Amy Grant’s official NHL blog. Oh man, Gary Bettman, you are a fucking prince among boys when it comes to marketing the NHL. Sweet Lord have mercy, during the meeting when you guys were coming up with ideas to promote the playoffs, whoever said, “Let’s see if Amy Grant is available!” should be taken out behind the wood shed and raped by a deer.

On the bright side, the guy whose ass you see in the movie GO! is apparently a Sabres fan. That’s pretty cool. I like William Fichtner. He’s a good character actor and seems like a good guy to watch a game with. Angel, on the other hand, well, I guess he’s okay. The rest of the “celebrity” blogs, and I’m using that word liberally AND putting it in quotes, can be found here.

By the way, Amy Grant, I still haven’t forgiven you.

The NCAA tournament is only 45 minutes old and somehow I’m already down 22,000 dollars. Why do I always bet on the coin toss? There is no coin toss in basketball! Goddamn it, that one gets me every time.

Maybe I should just stick to those office pools where everyone just puts in 5 bucks. No, no then I wouldn’t feel the rush I get every time I bet the over/under on how many dunks there will be in a game. For the U Penn-Texas A&M game, I took the over with 74 dunks. I think that’s a good bet. I haven’t seen either team play all year, but from the sound of their mascot names, I think that game will see a minimum of 79 dunks.

I have a new betting strategy for this year: I’ve parlayed every game in the tournament. So if I guess every single game correctly, I win something like 8 trillion dollars. Nice! I could start my own version of NASA with that sort of money. And then I would take rocketship vacations to the moon! Or maybe I’d just buy some quality linemen for the goddamn Buffalo Bills. Or I would just buy a lot of fur coats. One thing I wouldn’t do with that money is give it to the poor. Because then the poor would get all cocky and start wearing fur coats-fur coats that should have been mine!-and stinking up fancy department stores. No way are the poor going to get like that on my watch.

Go sports!!!!

Sweet Lord have mercy, that was one of the greatest hockey games I’ve ever seen. My face hurts too much to explain the whole thing, but here’s video from last night’s game/brawl between the Sabres and the Senators. It’s pretty rare to see goalies fight, it’s even rarer to see another player fight the goalie. That’s just insane. Enjoy.

Thanks to Deadspin for finding the video. Lots more roundup over at the indispensable Blfoblog. And here’s the AP’s story.

This picture has everything: pretty girls from Buffalo, the Sabres, pretty girls soliciting hockey players for sex inside the arena. Also, if you squint, I think you can see someone eating nachos in the background. Makes me homesick.

Sabres Make It Seem Like 1975 Again [Rochester Democrat & Chronicle]

I know, I know. Super Bowl tickets are pretty hard to come by. Why should you take a complete stranger like me? Well, first off, after the plane ride down together we won’t be strangers anymore because I’ll talk your fucking ear off. Want to hear all about how my 8th grade basketball team won the Diocesan championship? Then you’re in luck, because I like to tell that story. Same goes for that time in high school when I saw that horse. You’ll hear all about that one. Not interested in all the pets my family’s had since I was a kid, as well as their names? Tough luck, because you’re going to hear about them.

Bam. There you go. We aren’t strangers anymore. Problem number one solved. What else might keep you from taking me to the Super Bowl? What’s that? You say you already promised the tickets to a friend/loved one/business associate? Well, that’s a good plan if you want to be unoriginal. Everyone takes those people to the Super Bowl. Why not take the lead singer of a mariachi band or a kid in a wheelchair? Because those are both costumes I own and would be happy to dress in if you take me to the Super Bowl. Think you’ll have to stand in line at a Super Bowl party? Not if you’re with a mariachi band or a wheelchair-bound kid. Tell the bouncer I’ve got cancer and my last wish is to hang out with Chris Berman and listen to him tell stories about the maverick days of ESPN and that one time he farted. Or that other time that he farted. It’s a rich tapestry with that man, you really can’t go wrong. The point I’m trying to make is Me plus Wheelchair equals You breezing through the line at a Super Bowl party. Let’s make that math happen.

Okay, so we’ve gotten those concerns out of the way. What else could be preventing you from taking me to the Super Bowl? The fact that you don’t like me? Well, life isn’t fair. Maybe I don’t like you. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to. But I’m willing to look past all that and put petty differences aside if it will mean a trip to the Super Bowl. So send me an email and let me know where your seats are. I’ll pick the winner based on who’s got the best seats. And if you think I’m sitting anywhere past the 40 yard line you are out of your freaking mind.

In honor of the New York Jets totally unsurprising first round exit from the playoffs yesterday, I present the following video. These picks make trading up to take J.P. Losman look like a work of genius in comparison. Enjoy, James.

Thanks for the tip, Terry. I’ll try to post some sexy photos of myself later on today for all you ladies out there not interested in sports. Although I know of one sporting event you might be interested in. The Jack Kukoda Chest Hair 5K run. That’s a charity race I organize and compete in. It raises money so I can buy hair products to keep my chest hairs looking their glossiest. Am I a saint? You’re goddamn right I am.

Oh man, sorry I haven’t blogged at you jerks in a while, but I’ve got a pretty good excuse this time. Damn, that sentence just took me 5 minutes to write. But that’s what happens when you’ve got to type with your nose. Why am I typing with my nose? Let me back up and tell you all about it.

Sunday afternoon I went to the Bills-Jets game out at that shithole of a swamp of a stadium that is known as The Meadowlands. It’s a great place…for jerks! Anyway, I was in the parking lot, getting wasted on blackberry schnapps and blackberry wine(what can I say, I love blackberries!) having a great time. Everytime a Jets fan walked by I would yell that line about the Meadowlands being a great place (pause) for jerks. A lot of parents didn’t appreciate it, but I don’t go out and get obscenely drunk at NFL games for other people’s parents. I do it for my own. Because it makes them proud.

Again, I digress. After the game, which the Bills won 31-17, thank you very much, I was heading back to my car when some guy threw one of those plastic bottles at me. I don’t know if it’s because I was singing the Bills Shout song at the top of my lungs or if it was because I had put a Jets jersey on a blow up doll and was pretending to make love to it the whole time I was walking back to my car, but I had somehow angered this gentleman.

I turned around and asked him what his problem was. And he said, “I’m looking at it.” (He was looking at me) The whole crowd oohed and aahed. He was waiting for me to make the next move. So I calmly said, “I’m not looking for trouble. I just came to watch a football game and act like a drunken jackass.” Then I grabbed a handful of sand from the sand I keep in pockets just for occasions like this and I threw the sand right in his face! “Kickboxer style!” I screamed. He dropped to his knees, totally blind and that’s when I made my move. I ran up punched him in the side of the head, then dumped a whole bunch of sand down the back of his shirt(that itches like crazy.) Then I made a pretend fart noise with my mouth and declared myself king of the Meadowlands.

Needless to say, the rest of the Jets fans who witnessed this beat me absolutely senseless, breaking both my arms and legs. So that’s why I didn’t write anything yesterday and why I’m writing this with my nose. True story.

Update: Oh, and I’ll be back at the Meadowlands tonight to watch the Sabres-Devils game. I’ll be the guy in the Schoenfeld jersey calling everyone around me a “fat pig.” Speaking of which, enjoy that Schony classic below. He was even coaching the Devils at the time. If you’re at the game, buy us a beer!

Hey everyone! If any of the Buffalo Bills call for me, take a message because I AM NOT speaking to them. You hear me? Until further notice, the Bills are dead to me. Well, not dead to me. That’s too harsh. Let’s just say they’re very ill in a hospital far away and can’t get in touch with me. That’s better.

Why am I so furious at the Bills you may ask? Oh, maybe because they ruined my entire Sunday afternoon by getting absolutely shellacked by the Chicago Bears yesterday. 40 to 7? What the shit is that, Bills? And 27 to nothing at halftime? I didn’t even have time to get sufficiently drunk by the time the game was out of reach!

I am NOT pleased. You hear me, Bills? Then look at me when I’m talking to you! I’m calling shenanigans on that game yesterday. Hell, I’m calling shenanigans on the entire season up to this point. Stop laughing at me! Shenanigans is a completely legitimate call in this situation! You know, I give and I give to you, Bills. Hell, just last week I bought a new pair of Bills shorts and a Bills shirt at Target. That shit wasn’t free, my friends. It cost my mom like 40 bucks! And what do I have to show for it? A lousy 2-3 record!

Oh, there is no end to my fury! I think I’ve actually gotten angrier since I started writing this post. My fingers are burning with a rage I didn’t even know I possessed. Arrrhgghhghgghghh!!!

Okay, I’ve calmed down. I took a break there and walked around the block. What was I talking about? Oh right, the Bills! Wait, now I’m furious again!!! The walk did nothing!!!! Hold on!!!!!!

Okay, this time I took a nap and a xanax. Ah, yes, the Bills. Seriously, get your shit together. The Sabres are already 3 and 0. You want me to swing my allegiance to them already? Usually I wait until December, but if you don’t get your goddamn act together and stop playing like that team in Little Giants, I’ll put on a Sabres jersey right now.

Wait, that gives me an idea. Maybe the Bills are just playing possum so that their late-season heroics will seem even more amazing. Yes! That’s exactly what they’re doing! They’re taking a page from 80’s sports movies. The Bills are the lovable bunch of ragtag misfits that nobody can coach! And the rest of the league are the rich team that’s sponsored by a country club and has all brand new equipment and their coach is a former big league player! Oh, it’s all coming together! J.P. Losman is the kid from the wrong side of the tracks, like that kid in the Bad News Bears who rode his dirtbike on the field!!!!! And somehow, before the season is over, Dick Jauron will pull it all together and we’ll start winning while learning a lesson or two about friendship! Good gravy, we’re Superbowl-bound!!!! Hurray!!

P.S. I can’t wait to see who the Tatum O’Neal character is! My guess is Kelly Holcomb!

A lot of people will tell you that it’s pathetic to paint your face for a football game you’re going to watch in your living room. Those people are just jealous of me, my masculinity, and my unwavering Buffalo pride. Because I had two charging buffaloes painted on each cheek as I watched the Bills trounce the Dolphins yesterday afternoon. Or should I say “Dolph-outs? Hmm? No, I shouldn’t say that. “Dolph-outs” sounds really stupid and frankly, I have no idea what it means.

Anyhey, yesterday was one of the most satisfying Bills games in a long time. And you know what’s going to be even more satisfying? When I fly home to Buffalo next week for their home opener! Oh, there will be some facepainting going on that day. I might go for a full-body Bills henna tattoo. How do you think that would look? Never mind, I already know the answer. Awesome. The answer is awesome.

Let me know if anyone wants me to bring them anything from Buffalo: chicken wings, roast beef sandwiches, sexy. I’ll bring sexy back from Buffalo if you guys want. Just say the word.

Because I do. I really, really like sports. Really. Fer Realz. I’m not sure why I like sports so much. Maybe it’s the competition, or maybe it’s the athletic feats that draw me to sports. Perhaps it’s because I once intercepted THREE passes in one game my Junior year of high school. Wait, that has nothing to do with why I love sports, but it’s pretty G-D impressive nonetheless.

The Bills lost on Sunday, but I wasn’t that disappointed because they looked pretty good and lost a close game to a good team at home. I don’t have the highest hopes for the Bills this year. They have a coach who frightens me, the quarterback from “The Longest Yard,” and an offensive line made up of teenage runaways. Just kidding about the teenage runaways part, although I don’t have any proof they aren’t. I digress.

Sunday was fun. I went to a bar in my new neighborhood to watch the game and managed to get a table right in front of the Bills game. I really like watching games in the early part of the season, before we turn the clocks back. Because now you can drink 5 or 6 beers during the game and go home while it’s still light out and warm. As opposed to November, when you go outside after a 1pm game and it’s pitch black and you’re drunk. That has a tendency to depress me.

If the Bills continue to play relatively well, I should be able to ward off my inevitable winter depression for a few extra weeks. If they make it all the way to the playoffs, well then, I might just manage to function as a normal human being all the way through January. If, however, they lose all their early games, I’m going to dig a cave in the basement of my apartment building and live there until March. That’s a little something I like to call hibernation.

Perhaps I’ll find some bears and a groundhog or two that would like to hibernate with me. That would be fun. We could gather berries or nuts for the long winter. And the night before we start our hibernation, we could all go out for a big dinner. I would order surf-n-turf. And tacos. I’m guessing the bear would order salmon and some sort of honey-based dessert. As for the groundhog, I bet he would go for a steak. I have no evidence to back this up. Groundhogs just seem like steak-eaters to me.

Oh boy, that would be fun. Camping out for four months with a deadly bear and a friendly groundhog. You can make it happen, Bills. Just keep letting J.P. Losman throw the ball on first down and I’ll be digging a cave in no time.

Oh boy, it’s almost football season, and since I am a heterosexual male, I am legally obligated to join a fantasy football league. Seriously, it’s just like Logan’s Run. I have a chip embedded in my hand that starts glowing around this time of year and if I don’t join a league, the Miller Lite Council of Men, or whatever the hell that thing is called, sends their death squads out after me. Stay away from me, death squads!

My fantasy league is different from the rest, though. Instead of drafting actual NFL players for an imaginary team, we dress up like our favorite players and go to Renaissance fairs. Oh boy, we are cool. Last year, I won a jousting contest dressed as Willis McGahee. It was awesome. I got to ride a little pony and hold a broomstick. And the guy that I beat was dressed as Ray Lewis, so it was extra sweet.

Some people say that my league doesn’t technically count as a fantasy football league. And they point out how pathetic it is to dress up and go to fairs where everyone speaks in fake Middle English. While I agree it’s not nearly as cool as spending hours drafting players, then feverishly checking the status of your team for the next 17 weeks all for a chance to win fifty bucks, it’s how I like to spend my time. And who are you to judge? Nobody! Unless, of course, you are a judge in some sort of court setting. Then, by all means, judge away.

And I’ll see you guys on the jousting fields!

P.S. Who wants to go to Medieval Times for dinner on Friday?

Hey, gang! I’m sure a lot of you noticed that I wasn’t quite up to the task of writing yesterday. But I have an excellent reason! I’ve been trying out for my hometown Buffalo Bills for the past couple weeks. I know what you’re saying. “Jack, didn’t you once make three interceptions in one game against St. Mary’s of Lancaster your Junior year of high school? Why should you even have to try out? They should just put you on the first defense on the basis of that game alone!”

Look, I agree with you. I was great that day. More than a man, in fact. A superman even, but with the added attributes of some sort of ferocious animal. Perhaps the jaguar. I digress. The point is, I have been trying out for the Bills. NFL teams don’t normally hold open try outs(unless there’s a chance that it might somehow provide the incomparable Mark Wahlberg another vehicle in which to show off how awesome he looks with 1970’s hair!), but the Bills made an exception this year because they are horrible. Good God, I can’t remember another season I was looking forward to less than the current one. If they win more than 6 games I’ll throw a freaking party complete with helmet-shaped cake. Wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Back to the try outs. I showed up last week at Bills training camp. I couldn’t find my old football shoulder pads, so I went to Play-It-Again Sports and bought a pair of hockey shoulder pads. Same thing, right? Wrong! Oh, how I was teased when I got out onto that field! Not just by the players, but by the coaches, too. The coaches asked me what position I was trying out for and I said I would play any position that would help the Bills. The coaches said they needed me to pick a position so they could decide on how to evaluate me. I told them I would like to play quarterback, but only if I could use a slightly smaller ball because, as I’ve mentioned before, my hands are sort of dainty and I find the regular ones difficult to grip.

The coaches let me take a few snaps at quarterback, but not with the special Sugar Bowl Commemorative novelty ball I had brought from home. I had to use the regular ball. Well, needless to say, when I went to throw it the giant ball wobbled out of my hands and it actually went backward! The press sure had a good laugh at that one. I tried to laugh it off like I didn’t care and jogged over to where the ball had landed. But just as I went to pick the ball up, I noticed there was a bee on it. I screeched loudly and kicked the ball before running away, just like my mom taught me to do when encountering a bee. Well, if you thought people were laughing before, you should have seen them now. I told them all to shut up, but they just kept laughing. A 12 year-old girl in the stands even called me a name I don’t feel comfortable repeating.(It was ‘pussy.’)

After the laughing died down, the coaches suggested I just head home and I reluctantly agreed. But just as I was heading to the locker room to pick up my stuff, I thought I heard a bee behind me and I took off running. Unfortunately, I ran straight into a golf cart and banged my shin up pretty bad. So that’s why I wasn’t able to write yesterday. Go Bills.

Previous Bills Coverage

My good friend and Buffalo native Bart just sent me this link to an eBay auction for one of the most bizarre pieces of sports memorabilia I’ve ever come across. It’s a statue commemorating the most disgustingly freak accident in recent sports history; the night Buffalo Sabres goalie Clint Malarchuk had his throat cut by an opposing player’s skate(link includes gruesome photo), and nearly died on the ice. Anybody who grew up in Buffalo has this game seared into their memory, whether they were there or not.

In fact, when I was visiting Buffalo the summer after my freshman year of college, a man tried to sell me a bootlegged copy of the game in the bathroom of a bar. I politely refused. If I want to see a snuff film, I’ll buy one from one of my trusted snuff film dealers, not some yahoo I just met in some bar’s bathroom. You just can’t trust the quality from those people.

The Story of Clint Malarchuk [Ubersite]
CLINT MALARCHUK SABRES CUSTOM MCFARLANE OLD GOALIE MASK [eBay]