BRONX, NY – It appears that we have a good old fashioned snow storm bearing down on us here in NYC. After the lamest of winters in the Northeast last year, I welcome it. The day I start hating snow is the day I keep walking east until my hat floats. If you’re a football fan, you know that any game played in the snow is almost always awesome. And now that break dancing has been announced as an upcoming Summer Olympics event (*Note: Tryouts for the Angry Ward & the Malcontinentals breakin’ crew start this Spring), I think they should consider some outside-the-box snow events for future Winter Olympics like Skitching, Iceball Fight Biathlon, Ski Jump Snowball Skeet, and, of course, Chinese Downhill. But, I digress… kinda. Here’s some wintry sports terminology to prepare you for the white stuff.
Snow Bank. Milwaukee can get pretty frosty, but Giannis Antetokounmpo just made some serious cold hard cash by signing a 5-year $228 million extension with the appropriately-named Bucks. Good for him.
Plow. The New York Jets have been getting plowed all season long. Good luck avoiding the same fate in sunny California versus the Rams, Gang Grinch. Adam Gase’s brain is two sizes too small.
Rock Salt. I need to load up my old Daisy air rifle with rock salt for the next time Short Matt starts complaining about Steve Cohen (below in Mets/Santa hat). Chronic dissatisfaction is my milieu, and even I can’t abide trashing the new Mets owner before he’s barely had a chance to make a move. Shaddup already, McCarthy!
Snow Day. I know all of 2020 has seemed like some kind of dystopian Snow Day, but I think we all really need an honest-to-goodness day when it seems like everything SHOULD be shut down, due to weather. Get outside and sled with your kids, throw snowballs at your many enemies, your friends, and de Blasio (of course), and then go back home and eat a whole mess of food. We all need this!
Slush. The exhaust-choked, cold brown stew aftermath of what was once something fairly glorious. In short, the James Dolan of any snow event.
Flakes. Anyone who writes for or visits this site. But, especially those who write.
Whiteout. A blinding condition that occurs when you go to work for Barstool Sports or any other entity populated entirely by annoyingly-entitled white frat bruhs.
Bomb Cyclone. Any New York Mets bust draft pick. Not as rare or cool as the term might imply.
Drift. I’m running out of material here, if you catch my drift.
This MTM “snow event” dissipated to flurries in a hurry. I’m getting out while I still have my boots and before this post melts off and runs into the sewer.
Come back tomorrow for Buddy Diaz, who will shovel your driveway for 20 bucks or “interesting trades.”