If Sports Commentators Had No Filter – Key & Peele


And we are at capacity
tonight here at the Opulent Tostito Center. 50,000 fans are ready to binge
drink for a couple of hours. I’ll tell you what,
I can’t wait. Hi, I’m grown man Chick Sarica. And I’m grown man Bob DiSanzio. That’s right, Bob.
And we have both made careers watching adult men play
a simple child’s game, all while being paid
more than the President. Okay, Chick, and it seems
as though the millionaires are ready
to play their game, so we can stop stalling
with the mindless chatter. And the Rhinos bring
the ball into play. And the alleged rapist
passes the big orange ball to the sweaty legal giant.
Hey. Slamming. The legal giant easily
puts the ball into the basket, making it look easy, which if
you’re seven feet tall, it is. He made about $8,000
while he was doing that. Now the power Falcons are
bringing the ball into play. The high school dropout inbounds
to the convicted spousal abuser. He slashes through
all of the drug addicts, drops to the ball
to the genetic freak. And. Boom-crack-a-lacka.
Two points downtown. Skurplackiss. Bingo time. Stermskams.
Muh-less-a-blatta-blatta. I’m just saying words
that start with “s”. I’m going pure nonsense. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. Are you okay? I’m great, Bob.

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