When we last left sports radio Grand Poobah/noted ice cream enthusiast/famed sweepyhead Mike Francesa, he was ranting (righteously, we might add) against the possibility of a post-Sandy marathon through the storm-ravaged streets of New York.
Luckily for Francesa, and Francesa’s blood pressure, Mayor Bloomberg came to his senses and canceled the thing. And although we think the Mayor’s decision had little to do with Francesa’s minute-plus of Sports Tawk Freakout, the episode served as a pleasant reminder that, for as crusty and belligerent as he can be, Mike Francesa is still, at heart, the Jets-hating uncle from Nassau County you always
loved tolerated. That Mike — the one who makes salient and impassioned points about important sports-but-not-really-sports issues — is good. Maybe even great.
But he’s not the best Mike. No, the best Mike is the Mike who doesn’t know what a blumpkin is and gets really, really angry at prank callers. That’s the Mike whose porch you want to leave a flaming bag of poo on. Then, after you’ve rang the door bell and jumped behind the bushes, you can observe a robed and disheveled Francesa emerge groggily from his Long Island bear cave, suddenly becoming aware of the flaming bag before him. And as you watch him yell “WHATINGAWD’SNAMETHEPAWCHISONFIYUH” and stomp out the fire-poo with his morning slippers, you and your friends can just laugh right along. Because you love that Mike. That grumpy Mike.
And wouldn’t you know it, grumpy Mike was out in full force this morning. The 2012 Major Market Personality of the Year complained about the woeful state of his WFAN sports yak command center, which had apparently been soiled by the grubbily mortal hands of Joe Benigno and Evan Roberts. Benigno and Roberts are now sharing a workspace with grumpy Mike, and they left coffee stains. And garbage.