Well, let's see. A few weeks back, I picked the New Jersey Devils to win the Stanley Cup. Now they're down 3-zip to the LA Kings, who have been on an unbelievable roll, with Game 4 coming up in LA. New Jersey storming back to win 4 in a row is theoretically possible, but so's winning the lotto. The fat lady's warming up. A #8 seed is going to win it? Where did these guys come from? Regardless, looks like I was wrong.
In my previous post, I predicted the Boston Celtics could never win a game in Miami. They just did. I was wrong. Can Miami go into Beantown, win Game 6, then come back home again to win Game 7 as well? The last 4 games those teams have played against each other have been "coin-flips", so who knows? Then again, I predicted all along that Miami would win the NBA championship this year, because Lebron would not be denied. I'll probably turn out to be wrong about that too.
I think I inherited it from my late father. It seemed like whoever he rooted for was going down. The man was somehow jinxed in that way. Back in the day, before remote controls were conceived, I WAS the remote control. Put it on Channel 4 boy. Switch it to 7 boy. Get me a beer boy.
Dad loved to watch boxing. Though I'm not positive, I think way back then it was called Gillette's Friday Night at the Fights. This was almost sacred in our house. A hallowed time frame. As a comparison -- you could combine the enthusiam of the most ardent Tiger Woods' fan with the adrenaline of a pumped-up NASCAR maniac on the last lap of the Daytona 500, pump him chock full of steroids, throw in a little fire and brimstone from a Baptist preacher on speed, and that's pretty much how my dad felt about boxing night. This was not a good time for a young boy to get out of line.
But it never failed. Faster than you could say left, right, left, whoever he rooted for always seemed to wind up getting knocked out. That was REALLY a good time to be quiet.
So, God rest his soul, me getting all my picks wrong is simply a matter of heredity. It's HIS fault. Just kidding. But you know what? Unlike most others that try to predict games, only to be proven wrong later -- I'll own it. No excuses. I was wrong.
Given my heritage and personal track record of always getting it bass-ackwards, there's only one thing to do.
I hereby predict the Detroit Tigers will NOT make the playoffs, let alone win the World Series.
So there. I've done my part.
Hey Deb. Many thanks for the Pat Summitt Harley shirt. Pretty cool. Catch up with ya down the road....