Every Friday we pick the winners of the weekend’s anklegrabbingest matchups. We call ‘em WEEKEND PICKS. Home teams in ALL CAPS. img.

Nationals at PIRATES, over 8. I’m jumping on that “8″ like a 14-year-old Thai girl runs into a crowd of married American businessmen.

REDS +1.5 over Rockies The Reds are starting to suck. Everything was chugging along before Dusty Baker started acting like Dusty baker.

TIGER-CATS +2.5 over Lions, under 51. Dear CFL: Your stats page is a joke. Get bent, eh?

Royals at RAYS, under 10. Sidney Ponson (1-6, 6.79 ERA) might be the worst starter in the majors. Still, eleven runs is a lot; I’ll either win or push if they come up short of that.

Lynx at SHOCK, under 157. Did you know that WNBA.com actually has a STATS link? Isn’t that cute? Seriously, they pretty much took the average scores of these two teams and added them up to get this bet.

Tomorrow: Sharapova over Venus Williams. I like the part where they grunt really loudly.

Sunday: TIGER WOODS over Field. There’s no better way to end the last Buick Open.

POWER RANKINGS are just another stupid weekly anti-post that writers use to kill space. Except when we do them. Then they kick ass.

1. JAKE PEAVY TRADED. The Friars picked up five minor league prospects for Peavy, who agreed to waive the no-trade clause in his contract to go to Chicago. His ankle that suffered tendon damage is out of its boot and he’s starting rehab. Meh, see you in 2010, Jake.

2. Detroit Lions rookie quarterback Matthew Stafford. He’s already showing some great game here. He’ll go over great with all of those beefy, jobless women in Michigan.

3. Bacon. It’s a weapon of mass destruction! Unless you’re a woman with poor metabolism, and then it’s a weapon of “ass destruction.” Bam!

4. Victor Mattinez Bobblehead Day. One small detail that probably won’t help the Cleveland Indians’ promotion tomorrow? They just traded Victor Martinez. Whoops.

5. Shiantology. I’m a believer! Wait, no I’m not! No no no no no no no no no no no…

6. MORE MLB TRADES: NICK JOHNSON TO MARLINS. Aaron Thompson, welcome to the Terrordome.

7. White guys named “Blackie.” Wonderfully inappropriate.

8. Kirk Herbstreit’s house. They burned it down to the ground so he could take a tax writeoff. But apparently the IRS ain’t havin’ it. I thought people from Ohio State only burned things when they won.

9. Books about beer pong. Because if there’s another thing people that play beer pong do, it’s read.

10. The Madden 10 Intro video. I’ve seen better.

We’re about two weeks away from Gina Carano fighting Cyborg Santos for the undisputed championship of my weekday blogging lust. Sure Carano may come off like a plain Jane and Santos could probably kill you from 15 feet away, but for me, it’s on par with Fedor-Lesnar, just for the whole girl-on-girl element that will challenge the sensibilities of my loins in an unprecedented way. In the upcoming issue of ESPN The Magazine, Carano shares one of the factors that led to scheduling her August 15th bout with Santos:

I try not to schedule fights the week I’ll be on my period. Making weight is hard enough. … Plus, bruises hurt more, you’re bloated and cramping and emotionally, it’s tougher to battle through the training. Also, some states require us to wear breast padding, since we’re allowed to punch there. One time I didn’t have any, a guy told me to put a rolled-up towel in my bra. I said no. I usually just wear three sports bras during a fight.
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Be proud of yourself if you’re blown away by that remark. Often I forget that Gina’s more than an angry, sweet, vindictive, lovable killing machine. She’s also a real person. A real person that will murder you in your sleep. But in a sweet and pleasant way. Damn, I can’t wait for that fight.

Mia Hamm scored over 250 goals in her storied soccer career, but I can’t remember her ever drilling someone in the face. Certainly not over wonderfully ambient flute music. Seriously, watching the slow-motion replay of this is probable my favorite thing of the day. But to be fair, there wasn’t much competition from llama golf and Joe DiMaggio’s wang. If I could do this to my own kids, I would just have, like 29 of them. That’s a nice, round number. via.

UPDATE: Sexy reader Matt bring us a bonus headshot. “He shouldn’t have his head there…“

A circa 1940 photograph of Joe DiMaggio’s penis is now available for public consumption. This might be the best baseball news I’ve heard all day:

A full-frontal nude of baseball great Joe DiMaggio, showering after a game, is currently on view in the exhibition Hunted and Gathered at the gallery Modernism in San Francisco.

It is part of a collection of quirky, anonymous photographs assembled by Robert Flynn Johnson, curator emeritus of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco. When asked where he got the photo, Johnson joked, “I have friends in low places.”

We’re not linking the image here. Yeah, I know, it’s exactly what you needed to start your weekend. You can check it out over there and evaluate your own manhood accordingly. This reminds me of the batting stance silhouette of Sadaharu Oh that I read about in the Japanese baseball hall of fame once. Only this American counterpart comes off as more dickish. Or less, I guess. Damn, how cold was that water, anyway? via, via.

Sexy reader Michael tells me that this is video from a semipro game in Pecatonica, IL, and we’re so starved for football right now that I’m hard-pressed to turn this away. This is Herculano DaCosta, who’s actually a defensive end for the Roscoe Rush, kicking a 57-yard field goal on one of the worst-looking fields I’ve ever seen. Okay, maybe not worse than Heinz Field on Monday Night Football bad, but it’s up there. I’m sure it was another long bus ride home for the Burlington Blue Devils, but not that I care. The fact that a team named the Blue Devils lost in this clip is really icing on the cake.