Kat Cornetta

Sports journalist

Author: Kat (Page 77 of 89)

Obviously, Massachusetts Schools Neglect to Teach Geography of Areas outside of New England (or No, Western New Yorkers are not Yankees Fans.)

5 November, 2007 /

MEMORANDUM

TO: The Collective Population of New England (especially the Citizens of Massachusetts)

FROM: A Disgruntled Western New Yorker Turned Bostonian

RE: Geography of New York State and the Sports Fandom it Dictates

DATE: November 2, 2007

 

I feel it prudent at this time to provide you with a refresher geography lesson of New York State (or for those of you who did not pay attention in social studies, a first lesson.) This lesson was spurred on by the absolutely drunk (and I believe underage) Bruins fan and native New Englander who sat in front of me during Thursday evening’s Bruins-Sabres game. This fan proceeded to taunt all the Sabres fans (of which there were many, including myself) by telling us that the “Yankees suck,” and that A-Rod does several unrepeatable acts of a sexual nature. He then decided to mention that “Look, who won the World Series this year – the Red Sox, not your stupid (insert-bad-word-here) Yankees.” Continue reading

Just When I Was Starting to Forget that Jerry Jones May In Fact Be Evil — My Bills versus Cowboys Running Diary

13 October, 2007 /

Seeing that the Bills only make Monday Night Football appearances every thirteen years, I figured I should probably record it for perpetuity. Well, that and I wasn’t able to join the Bills Backers of Boston down at their big Monday night party at The Harp because I had to work super early the next morning, so I had to do something special to mark the occasion. Instead, it became a running diary of how sad and trying it is to be a Bills fan and a Western New York native, especially whenever you face any professional sports team from Dallas.

Continue reading

This is the First Entry of My Version of Now I Can Die In Peace, which I will Compile When the Bills Unexpectedly Win the Super Bowl Sometime in the Next 5 Years

8 October, 2007 /

I don’t like to gamble. I cringe when my father hands me a scratch ticket for a holiday. My toes curl when my boyfriend drags me into a casino. Despite my superb football picking skills, I’ve never been tempted to place monetary bets on a week of picks. Maybe it was my penny pinching childhood. Maybe it’s because I think the existence of Native American run gaming facilities has significantly affected the social and economic status of Native Americans for the worse. When it comes to gambling, I can’t see the reward outweighing any risk.

However, I am going to take a gamble here. I am going to start writing with frenzy regarding this five week old football season. I am going to start writing with this frenzy because if I do, and the Bills, by some grace of G-d win the Super Bowl or at least get to the AFC Championship Game, I will be able to cash in. Continue reading

My Great Social Experiment

2 October, 2007 /

Last Tuesday, Chris (aka the boyfriend) and I took in one of the Red Sox’s last games of the regular season. Earlier that morning, I made the call not to wear one of my Red Sox hats to the game. Now, part of this is because out of the three I own, one is a visor, and this wasn’t visor weather; another is pink, which is no longer “acceptable” to “real” Sox fans (whatever); the third is newer, a bit on the large side for me, and lacks the ponytail opening in the back.

So I decided to wear my Buffalo Bills hat to Fenway Park — two days after the Patriots decided to decimate the Bills 38-7 on their quest to become the NFL’s most annoyingly unbeatable team. Continue reading

I May Finally “Get” the Appeal of the Idea of Owning Something Besides a Fantasy Football Team, Like a House

29 August, 2007 /

Dear Upstairs (well, 4 floors upstairs) Neighbor Who Decided to Venture Onto the Roof Last Evening at Approximately 11:25pm:

I am a largely forgiving, relatively shy, and calm person. In other words, besides the rare occasion when someone makes the oh-so-incorrect claim that Joe Montana was a massively better quarterback than Steve Young to my face, I do not get overly angry.

However, Sir or Madam, I am angry at you. For some reason, you decided to venture onto the rooftop of my apartment building last night. Maybe it was to smoke up. Maybe it was to look at the eclipse event that was going to occur later on. Maybe it was because you were so drunk you opened a door you incorrectly thought was your own. For whatever reason, you opened the roof door, and triggered the fire alarm. Continue reading

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