NFL fans know Jimmy Garappolo. He was Tom Brady's back-up in New England for a few years, and recently has caught on with the San Fran 49ers. Not only caught on, but signed a very lucrative long term contract. And BTW, in the seven games he's started -- two for the Pats and 5 for the Niners -- he's undefeated. A perfect 7-0.
What many don't know is Jimmy G came out of Eastern Illinois, not exactly a "power" school. But EI has the distinction of also churning out one Tony Romo, of former Dallas Cowboys fame. Along the way, JG shattered all of TR's passing records.
Alas, Garappolo made the news a while back in what many people would consider an unflattering way. He was caught -- CAUGHT -- red-handed out on a date with a porn star. The video has been widely shown.
But wait a second. Why should this be a big deal -- or any deal at all? Last time I looked, there were no laws on the books forbidding two adults from having dinner together.
Porn star? Who cares? Would the multitude of puritans out there feel better if JG's date had been a lawyer? Nurse? Teacher? Political operative? A super-sizer working a McJob at a drive-thru window somewhere?
Besides, Garappolo is a young, quite single man. He can go out with anybody he damn well feels like. And it's nobody's business but his. Hey, if he and the actress decided to share the pleasures of the flesh in a variety of position afterwards -- more power to them. Unlike the stick girls that continue to rise in popularity elsewhere -- they're evidently breeding the mammaries right off of them in recent times -- this woman had some serious attention getters for a virile red-blooded male. Trust me -- most men like those. A lot.
If this is such a big deal, where was the outrage when one Irvin "Magic" Johnson was supposedly sleeping with over 1000 women -- while MARRIED? Unbelievably, his wife is still there. Well, OK, there's the money thing. Maybe not so unbelievable.
Eldrick "Tiger" Woods got busted for being a serial wife-cheater a few years back. At least Elin had the self-dignity to dump him. But his faithful lemmings still adore Tiger, even though he hasn't won anything in years.
Wilt Chamberlain and the 20,000 different women claim? Do the math. He'd have had to been doing 5-6 different women a day -- every day -- 365 -- from the time he was old enough to have a driver's license until the day he died. Nope, never did buy that. No way.
Thing is, the video mentioned above was shot by one Johnny Manzeil. This was a horrible mistake on his part.
We all know he bombed out of the NFL, even with the woeful Cleveland Browns. CLEVELAND!! And lately he's been bouncing around the Canadian Football League.
Yep, Johnny got another 15 minutes of fame for posting the video, but at what cost? No professional player on any team wants their private life to be spied on, much less be made public. Even management frowns on that sort of thing. In effect, Manzeil just drove the last nail in his coffin regarding any hopes of returning to the NFL. I mean, who's going to trust him after this debacle?
In closing, here's wishing Jimmy Garappolo the best. By any standards, he's a handsome rascal, and hey -- 7-0 is 7-0. The Niners did well do enlist his services for the next several years.
Idle thought. Why did Bill Belichick of the New England Patriots let him go? Brady's 41 years old. He may think he can play forever, but he can't. And the end is likely to come crashing down on him soon.
Nevertheless, all the hoopla that went along with the Jimmy G video having dinner/drinks with a "porn" star can likely be chalked up to one thing.
Jealousy. Many women would dearly love to take Jimmy G home for a go-round in the sack. And many men wished THEY could be in that position, no pun intended, with whatever happened after that date with an adult film star. Talk about knowing the ropes and every which way but loose.......
Who's kidding who?
I say, if you get the chance -- go for it. It doesn't come around every day for most people.
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Dustin Johnson and Tiger Woods, quite the contrast
Dustin Johnson is currently the #1 ranked golfer in the world. Eldrick (Tiger) Woods used to be.
While watching a bit of the Canadian Open, which DJ would go on to win by three shots, something jumped out at yours truly.
When walking among the fans on both sides, Johnson made it a point to slap all the hands he could.
This is something Woods never did, or does. Eldrick routinely ignores them, even the adoring kids. He walks straight ahead, often mumbling to himself, as if he's in a world of his own.
Now I ask you -- is it really asking too much of a professional athlete to give a little love back to those that have ponied up big bucks just to be on the premises when he plays?
Seems simple enough.
Guys like Dustin Johnson and Mike Trout of Major League Baseball get it. Besides their obvious skills, that's why they're loved by so many.
Guys like Tiger Woods and Barry Bonds just couldn't seem to be bothered with it.
It was/is evidently beneath them to associate with the "peasants" in any way, shape, or form.
Even something so easily done as slapping a few hands along the way. Merely a common courtesy.
It really is shameful.
While watching a bit of the Canadian Open, which DJ would go on to win by three shots, something jumped out at yours truly.
When walking among the fans on both sides, Johnson made it a point to slap all the hands he could.
This is something Woods never did, or does. Eldrick routinely ignores them, even the adoring kids. He walks straight ahead, often mumbling to himself, as if he's in a world of his own.
Now I ask you -- is it really asking too much of a professional athlete to give a little love back to those that have ponied up big bucks just to be on the premises when he plays?
Seems simple enough.
Guys like Dustin Johnson and Mike Trout of Major League Baseball get it. Besides their obvious skills, that's why they're loved by so many.
Guys like Tiger Woods and Barry Bonds just couldn't seem to be bothered with it.
It was/is evidently beneath them to associate with the "peasants" in any way, shape, or form.
Even something so easily done as slapping a few hands along the way. Merely a common courtesy.
It really is shameful.
Wednesday, July 25, 2018
Todd Gurley contract. Righteous or nuts?
NFL fans certainly know that Todd Gurley, running back for the LA Rams, just got a whopper of a new contract. A four year deal worth $60 million, $45 million of which is guaranteed money. Todd's happy. So are others around the league, particularly running backs, but I'll get back to that.
Few would doubt Gurley, merely 24 years old, is of the "premium" variety. He's fast, shifty, can block (a little) on occasion, can shed would-be tacklers, and has great hands when it comes to receiving. A multiple offensive threat to be sure. It can likely safely be said Gurley is among the top 3-4 running backs in the NFL.
And it would appear he's earned a hefty raise from his rookie contract. Over his three years in the league, he's averaged over 1300 rushing yards a season, seems to keep his nose relatively clean off the field, and has only missed one game due to injury (durable). Plus, he added 6 receiving touchdowns last season. All in all, pretty impressive stuff.
So yeah, this contract could be considered righteous.
That's the up-side.
Now for the down.
Though it's difficult to nail down, the average career of an NFL running back is generally assumed to be somewhere between 3 and 5 years. They get banged around -- a lot. So injuries often happen. True, many have gone on to play for 8, 10, even a dozen or more years.
Gurley has already played three years. Signing him on for guaranteed money for an additional four more years is mighty risky business. As they say, every play could be his last. Ya never know.
In that respect, the Rams could be considered nuts for tying up so much money on one player, which will crimp their salary cap regarding signing other quality players to bolster the team elsewhere.
Alas, it appears the price of doing business these days in the NFL if a team wishes to even contend for the ultimate prize -- the Super Bowl.
Now to the "other" players mentioned above. They're mighty happy too, because Gurley's contract almost assures many of them will get a hefty raise as well.
Add it all up and that cha-ching you hear in the background is the price of tickets going up -- again. The players will get wealthier and the fans will be bled for even more dough to pay for it.
So is this righteous or nuts?
Depends on how one looks at it.
Few would doubt Gurley, merely 24 years old, is of the "premium" variety. He's fast, shifty, can block (a little) on occasion, can shed would-be tacklers, and has great hands when it comes to receiving. A multiple offensive threat to be sure. It can likely safely be said Gurley is among the top 3-4 running backs in the NFL.
And it would appear he's earned a hefty raise from his rookie contract. Over his three years in the league, he's averaged over 1300 rushing yards a season, seems to keep his nose relatively clean off the field, and has only missed one game due to injury (durable). Plus, he added 6 receiving touchdowns last season. All in all, pretty impressive stuff.
So yeah, this contract could be considered righteous.
That's the up-side.
Now for the down.
Though it's difficult to nail down, the average career of an NFL running back is generally assumed to be somewhere between 3 and 5 years. They get banged around -- a lot. So injuries often happen. True, many have gone on to play for 8, 10, even a dozen or more years.
Gurley has already played three years. Signing him on for guaranteed money for an additional four more years is mighty risky business. As they say, every play could be his last. Ya never know.
In that respect, the Rams could be considered nuts for tying up so much money on one player, which will crimp their salary cap regarding signing other quality players to bolster the team elsewhere.
Alas, it appears the price of doing business these days in the NFL if a team wishes to even contend for the ultimate prize -- the Super Bowl.
Now to the "other" players mentioned above. They're mighty happy too, because Gurley's contract almost assures many of them will get a hefty raise as well.
Add it all up and that cha-ching you hear in the background is the price of tickets going up -- again. The players will get wealthier and the fans will be bled for even more dough to pay for it.
So is this righteous or nuts?
Depends on how one looks at it.
Monday, July 23, 2018
The case for fan noise in golf
I'd never much thought about it before, but it's been there all along and most of of have just taken it for granted. To wit -- why crowd noise is acceptable in some sports, but not in others.
This was brought to my attention by an on-line article that described the horror -- HORROR!! -- felt when some fan dared to yell during the back swing of one Tiger Woods at this year's (British) Open. Eldrick glowered. The crowd booed the spectator heartily. Of course, had this happened to most any other player, we likely wouldn't have heard about it at all. But Tiger is "special". Right.
Thing is, the whole premise has always been hypocritical. Why should fans that pay big bucks to attend an event in one sport have to be quiet, when those that attend an event in another routinely make maximum noise?
In baseball, even starting out in little league, the players themselves jabber at the opponents. "Pitcher's got a rubber arm". Or "Hey, batter, swing". It's always been accepted as just part of the game.
In football, crowds are encouraged to make noise -- the more the better to support their team and disrupt the concentration of the opponents.
Who hasn't seen basketball fans behind the backboard waving their arms, signs, and anything else they can get their hands on trying to mess up the concentration of an opponent shooting free throws?
It seems only in golf and tennis are fans expected to be mute while certain plays go on. In tennis, it's the serve. After that, they are free to scream away. Are we to believe only THAT stroke can be influenced by sound, and not the ensuing others on any given point? Does that make sense?
Bowling used to be a hush-hush affair. Yet somewhere along the line, the fans, typically right on top of the action, became free to holler and scream all they wanted. The players adapted. It gave none of them an advantage over the other.
So what gives with the iron clad rule that thou shalt remain silent when any pro golfer is in the process of his/her swing?
To be sure, oftentimes there are roars from elsewhere on the course due to great shots at exactly the same time said pampered players are in the middle of their back swing. It would be mighty difficult to silence everybody on the course, all the time, during a tournament, which is what it would take. No, forget difficult. Undoable and a preposterous notion.
Let's not forget another aspect peculiar to golf. The players only have to do one thing. Hit a golf ball. In all other sports, many skills are required. Hitting, running, fielding, throwing, playing defense, even skating and kicking, to name but a few.
Good grief, golfers even have caddies to lug their bags and clubs around. They're fed the exact yardage on any given shot, but still sometimes take a ridiculous amount of time to hit....the.... damn... ball. While we're young, or at least alive, please. Is that asking too much? How often have you seen a golfer line up his shot, take a few practice swings (as if the hundreds they did on the range warming up weren't enough), throw grass in the air to check the wind, line up their shot yet again, a few more practice swings, and then hit it into a sand trap, water, or the woods? You and I can do that in far less time. Did I mention hit the damn ball already?
This is all the more reason people should be free to make noise whenever they feel like it at a golf tournament. Waiting on some of these prima donnas is just about enough to make anybody want to scream.
So I say to hell with the gag rule. Turn em loose. They paid to get in, just like fans in the other sports mentioned above.
They players will get used to it.
And if they don't -- tough. Go get a real job.
This was brought to my attention by an on-line article that described the horror -- HORROR!! -- felt when some fan dared to yell during the back swing of one Tiger Woods at this year's (British) Open. Eldrick glowered. The crowd booed the spectator heartily. Of course, had this happened to most any other player, we likely wouldn't have heard about it at all. But Tiger is "special". Right.
Thing is, the whole premise has always been hypocritical. Why should fans that pay big bucks to attend an event in one sport have to be quiet, when those that attend an event in another routinely make maximum noise?
In baseball, even starting out in little league, the players themselves jabber at the opponents. "Pitcher's got a rubber arm". Or "Hey, batter, swing". It's always been accepted as just part of the game.
In football, crowds are encouraged to make noise -- the more the better to support their team and disrupt the concentration of the opponents.
Who hasn't seen basketball fans behind the backboard waving their arms, signs, and anything else they can get their hands on trying to mess up the concentration of an opponent shooting free throws?
It seems only in golf and tennis are fans expected to be mute while certain plays go on. In tennis, it's the serve. After that, they are free to scream away. Are we to believe only THAT stroke can be influenced by sound, and not the ensuing others on any given point? Does that make sense?
Bowling used to be a hush-hush affair. Yet somewhere along the line, the fans, typically right on top of the action, became free to holler and scream all they wanted. The players adapted. It gave none of them an advantage over the other.
So what gives with the iron clad rule that thou shalt remain silent when any pro golfer is in the process of his/her swing?
To be sure, oftentimes there are roars from elsewhere on the course due to great shots at exactly the same time said pampered players are in the middle of their back swing. It would be mighty difficult to silence everybody on the course, all the time, during a tournament, which is what it would take. No, forget difficult. Undoable and a preposterous notion.
Let's not forget another aspect peculiar to golf. The players only have to do one thing. Hit a golf ball. In all other sports, many skills are required. Hitting, running, fielding, throwing, playing defense, even skating and kicking, to name but a few.
Good grief, golfers even have caddies to lug their bags and clubs around. They're fed the exact yardage on any given shot, but still sometimes take a ridiculous amount of time to hit....the.... damn... ball. While we're young, or at least alive, please. Is that asking too much? How often have you seen a golfer line up his shot, take a few practice swings (as if the hundreds they did on the range warming up weren't enough), throw grass in the air to check the wind, line up their shot yet again, a few more practice swings, and then hit it into a sand trap, water, or the woods? You and I can do that in far less time. Did I mention hit the damn ball already?
This is all the more reason people should be free to make noise whenever they feel like it at a golf tournament. Waiting on some of these prima donnas is just about enough to make anybody want to scream.
So I say to hell with the gag rule. Turn em loose. They paid to get in, just like fans in the other sports mentioned above.
They players will get used to it.
And if they don't -- tough. Go get a real job.
Saturday, July 21, 2018
The Tiger Woods respect/fear issue
It was a remark easy to overlook and let pass. Though I'm not sure if I caught the original or one of the many replays, it's certainly been repeated often enough.
One of the talking heads commenting on this year's (British) Open said the many players still ahead of Tiger Woods on the leaderboard "respected but did not fear him".
An interesting take, but wait a second. How did he know that for sure? Did he poll those players and ask them outright? If so, no mention came of it, so can likely assume not. In other words, he was trying to put a positive spin on things, though speaking from a position of ignorance.
First -- the fear factor. Though Eldrick Tont Woods no doubt possessed it back in his heyday, it would be ludicrous so suggest any of the top players currently on tour shake in their boots when Tiger shows up for a tournament. His history over the last several years is hardly a cause for alarm among the young guns. They KNOW they can beat him. And have, repeatedly. Nowadays the question isn't whether Woods will a tournament, but rather if he'll make the cut.
Far more relevant is the respect factor yon announcer took for granted. Do the other players, most all of which are ranked higher than Eldrick, truly respect him?
Let's remember most of these guys didn't even have their PGA cards when Tiger was tearing it up during the Clinton and Bush Jr. administrations. But they no doubt heard about some things and saw yet others on TV.
Are we to believe all these guys harbor respect for, to date, the only serial wife-cheater ever on the PGA tour?
The same guy that has uttered countless obscenities while on the course, thrown and pounded clubs, and otherwise displayed boorish behavior in what is supposed to be a gentlemen's game?
The very same that thinks gently slapping the outstretched hands of fans is somehow beneath him as he walks by?
The same dude that has always routinely ignored children that idolized him before and after his rounds of golf by refusing to autograph various paraphernalia? Or even acknowledge them?
Years back, yours truly (and several friends) had the occasion to cross paths with Woods and his then caddy Steve Williams at the Buick Open. We had anted up to be there and were behind the ropes in the gallery where be belonged. Yet as golfer and caddy approached, Williams barked at us to get out of the way. Make a hole, so to speak. Evidently, he thought the President, the Pope, the Queen of England, or maybe God himself was coming through. It was just Eldrick, a mere golfer. I never forgot that. Who do these people think they are? But this is the sort of arrogant stuff viewers at home never got to see.
Don't think for a second this has gone unnoticed by his competitors over the years.
So do/did they truly respect Eldrick Tont Woods, or is/was that just politically correct hype?
We'll likely never know. The other players are too "gentlemanly" to ever say anything bad about another, regardless of how egregious his behavior might have been.
But I have my doubts as to whether they hold/held Tiger in high esteem indeed.
True, he's always been able to turn on the charm when he's doing a pre or post round interview for the media and the masses in TV land.
But a lot of history's great villains possessed that attribute as well.
It didn't make them nice guys in the end. Far from it.
Another thing no current PGA player will say is what a nightmare it must be to play in the same group as Tiger. The epitome of a travelling circus. It's gotta be tough to keep one's composure and concentration when throngs of mindless rowdy groupies are following your playing partner, hence you, all around the course. And that's just the media. The Tiger lemming fans are even worse.
So in the end, we can certainly conclude fear is not a factor whatsoever.
But the same can likely be said for respect as well.
One of the talking heads commenting on this year's (British) Open said the many players still ahead of Tiger Woods on the leaderboard "respected but did not fear him".
An interesting take, but wait a second. How did he know that for sure? Did he poll those players and ask them outright? If so, no mention came of it, so can likely assume not. In other words, he was trying to put a positive spin on things, though speaking from a position of ignorance.
First -- the fear factor. Though Eldrick Tont Woods no doubt possessed it back in his heyday, it would be ludicrous so suggest any of the top players currently on tour shake in their boots when Tiger shows up for a tournament. His history over the last several years is hardly a cause for alarm among the young guns. They KNOW they can beat him. And have, repeatedly. Nowadays the question isn't whether Woods will a tournament, but rather if he'll make the cut.
Far more relevant is the respect factor yon announcer took for granted. Do the other players, most all of which are ranked higher than Eldrick, truly respect him?
Let's remember most of these guys didn't even have their PGA cards when Tiger was tearing it up during the Clinton and Bush Jr. administrations. But they no doubt heard about some things and saw yet others on TV.
Are we to believe all these guys harbor respect for, to date, the only serial wife-cheater ever on the PGA tour?
The same guy that has uttered countless obscenities while on the course, thrown and pounded clubs, and otherwise displayed boorish behavior in what is supposed to be a gentlemen's game?
The very same that thinks gently slapping the outstretched hands of fans is somehow beneath him as he walks by?
The same dude that has always routinely ignored children that idolized him before and after his rounds of golf by refusing to autograph various paraphernalia? Or even acknowledge them?
Years back, yours truly (and several friends) had the occasion to cross paths with Woods and his then caddy Steve Williams at the Buick Open. We had anted up to be there and were behind the ropes in the gallery where be belonged. Yet as golfer and caddy approached, Williams barked at us to get out of the way. Make a hole, so to speak. Evidently, he thought the President, the Pope, the Queen of England, or maybe God himself was coming through. It was just Eldrick, a mere golfer. I never forgot that. Who do these people think they are? But this is the sort of arrogant stuff viewers at home never got to see.
Don't think for a second this has gone unnoticed by his competitors over the years.
So do/did they truly respect Eldrick Tont Woods, or is/was that just politically correct hype?
We'll likely never know. The other players are too "gentlemanly" to ever say anything bad about another, regardless of how egregious his behavior might have been.
But I have my doubts as to whether they hold/held Tiger in high esteem indeed.
True, he's always been able to turn on the charm when he's doing a pre or post round interview for the media and the masses in TV land.
But a lot of history's great villains possessed that attribute as well.
It didn't make them nice guys in the end. Far from it.
Another thing no current PGA player will say is what a nightmare it must be to play in the same group as Tiger. The epitome of a travelling circus. It's gotta be tough to keep one's composure and concentration when throngs of mindless rowdy groupies are following your playing partner, hence you, all around the course. And that's just the media. The Tiger lemming fans are even worse.
So in the end, we can certainly conclude fear is not a factor whatsoever.
But the same can likely be said for respect as well.
Wednesday, July 18, 2018
Tiger Woods and the (British) Open.
The never-say-diers, sometimes known as Tiger Woods' groupies, are at it again. This time fueled by Eldrick himself. Both claim this is the best chance dear Tiger has had to win a major tournament in some time.
True enough, seeing as how he hasn't played in many if them over the last several years. And after all, as Eldrick himself said, this is the NEXT one. Brilliant. A regular genius, that Tiger. Who else would have thought of that pearl of wisdom?
But something appears horribly wrong. Namely, the pre-tournament odds handed out by the wizards of wagering -- also sometimes known as Vegas wise guys.
They have Dustin Johnson as the favorite to win the tournament, and well they should, given he's far and away the #1 player in the world these days. Still, even DJ checks in a 12:1 odds. Hardly a lock.
Going down the list after that gets interesting. Here are the names and the odds they supposedly have at winning the Open.
Rory McIlroy. 16:1. That seems odd seeing as how Rory hasn't been faring so well of late.
Rickey Fowler: 16:1. Also odd, given he's never won a major before. And never been particularly good on links courses over his career to boot.
Justin Rose: 16:1. Well, the Brit is playing in his own back yard so to speak.
Jordan Spieth: 20:1. Like Rory, Jordy has been in a slump lately. Why is he ranked so high here?
Justin Thomas: 20:1. Given he's the #2 golfer in the world, shouldn't he be ranked even higher?
Tommy Fleetwood: 20:1. A quiet sort of guy that doesn't attract much attention, but he's definitely got game. But ranking him on the same level as Justin Thomas is quite a stretch.
Brooks Koepka: 20:1. Another low profile guy, but he IS the back-to-back US Open winner. How will this translate to Carnoustie? Probably not very well.
Jon Rahm: 20:1. A solid choice, given the Spaniard's only 23 years old and already ranked #3 in the world. Look out for him in the future.
Jason Day, Tiger Woods, and Henrik Stenson: 25:1.
This is where it gets ridiculous. Both Aussie Day and Swede Stenson have been much more accomplished in recent years than Woods -- which isn't saying much.
Patrick Reed: 30:1. Want truly ridiculous? The reigning Masters champion supposedly has a lesser shot at this major than Eldrick? The same guy that hasn't won a major in over a decade? Say WHAT?
Well OK. Time for some personal wagering. Normally, I'm not much of a betting man anymore, though I used to be. And I hung with some folks, guys and gals both, that were quite astute in such matters. No fools, they. We used to wager internally all the time. Ya win some, ya lose some, and though I never added it all up over the years, I'm pretty sure they collectively (no pun intended) got the best of me.
I sought a few of them out earlier today and made them an offer. I had a C-note that said Eldrick Tont Woods wouldn't even make the cut at this year's Open.
Figured I'd get a few takers.
But quite to my surprise -- not a one of them bit. They all think Tiger's washed up as well. According to them, only his legions of hard-core lemmings, and of course the ever-fawning media, still think he's a force, or ever will be one in golfing again.
So either I missed out on a windfall, or avoided getting taken to the cleaners one more time.
They'll be teeing it up in Scotland just a few hours from now.
We shall see indeed.
I'll be paying particular attention to the cut on Friday.
Eldrick actually winning the thing? Not a chance. Get outta here.
I'm still trying to figure out how the oddsmakers have a guy not ranked in the top 100 in the world as a better shot to win this tournament than all those that actually are?
Even Phil Mickelson. He comes in at 50:1 odds.
They're trying to tell us Tiger is twice as likely to win this Open as Lefty?
Not buying that either.
So here's the deal. Dear Tiger has definitely been "cherry-picking" his tournaments of late. And he's taken the last month off just to prepare for the year's Open.
Now's his big chance to shine again.
And I think he's going to crash and burn. The young guns are going to eat this dude alive, if the course itself doesn't.
True enough, seeing as how he hasn't played in many if them over the last several years. And after all, as Eldrick himself said, this is the NEXT one. Brilliant. A regular genius, that Tiger. Who else would have thought of that pearl of wisdom?
But something appears horribly wrong. Namely, the pre-tournament odds handed out by the wizards of wagering -- also sometimes known as Vegas wise guys.
They have Dustin Johnson as the favorite to win the tournament, and well they should, given he's far and away the #1 player in the world these days. Still, even DJ checks in a 12:1 odds. Hardly a lock.
Going down the list after that gets interesting. Here are the names and the odds they supposedly have at winning the Open.
Rory McIlroy. 16:1. That seems odd seeing as how Rory hasn't been faring so well of late.
Rickey Fowler: 16:1. Also odd, given he's never won a major before. And never been particularly good on links courses over his career to boot.
Justin Rose: 16:1. Well, the Brit is playing in his own back yard so to speak.
Jordan Spieth: 20:1. Like Rory, Jordy has been in a slump lately. Why is he ranked so high here?
Justin Thomas: 20:1. Given he's the #2 golfer in the world, shouldn't he be ranked even higher?
Tommy Fleetwood: 20:1. A quiet sort of guy that doesn't attract much attention, but he's definitely got game. But ranking him on the same level as Justin Thomas is quite a stretch.
Brooks Koepka: 20:1. Another low profile guy, but he IS the back-to-back US Open winner. How will this translate to Carnoustie? Probably not very well.
Jon Rahm: 20:1. A solid choice, given the Spaniard's only 23 years old and already ranked #3 in the world. Look out for him in the future.
Jason Day, Tiger Woods, and Henrik Stenson: 25:1.
This is where it gets ridiculous. Both Aussie Day and Swede Stenson have been much more accomplished in recent years than Woods -- which isn't saying much.
Patrick Reed: 30:1. Want truly ridiculous? The reigning Masters champion supposedly has a lesser shot at this major than Eldrick? The same guy that hasn't won a major in over a decade? Say WHAT?
Well OK. Time for some personal wagering. Normally, I'm not much of a betting man anymore, though I used to be. And I hung with some folks, guys and gals both, that were quite astute in such matters. No fools, they. We used to wager internally all the time. Ya win some, ya lose some, and though I never added it all up over the years, I'm pretty sure they collectively (no pun intended) got the best of me.
I sought a few of them out earlier today and made them an offer. I had a C-note that said Eldrick Tont Woods wouldn't even make the cut at this year's Open.
Figured I'd get a few takers.
But quite to my surprise -- not a one of them bit. They all think Tiger's washed up as well. According to them, only his legions of hard-core lemmings, and of course the ever-fawning media, still think he's a force, or ever will be one in golfing again.
So either I missed out on a windfall, or avoided getting taken to the cleaners one more time.
They'll be teeing it up in Scotland just a few hours from now.
We shall see indeed.
I'll be paying particular attention to the cut on Friday.
Eldrick actually winning the thing? Not a chance. Get outta here.
I'm still trying to figure out how the oddsmakers have a guy not ranked in the top 100 in the world as a better shot to win this tournament than all those that actually are?
Even Phil Mickelson. He comes in at 50:1 odds.
They're trying to tell us Tiger is twice as likely to win this Open as Lefty?
Not buying that either.
So here's the deal. Dear Tiger has definitely been "cherry-picking" his tournaments of late. And he's taken the last month off just to prepare for the year's Open.
Now's his big chance to shine again.
And I think he's going to crash and burn. The young guns are going to eat this dude alive, if the course itself doesn't.
Monday, July 16, 2018
The great home run deception
If you've just about had your fill of politicians lying to you on various fronts, it probably won't come as good news that Major League Baseball has been pulling the wool over your eyes for decades as well. In other words, you been conned.
Right now the annual Home Run Derby is taking place on the eve of the All-Star Game. That's great. See the sluggers hitting ball after ball of batting practice pitches into the seats. Quite the show for those so inclined.
But also see the deception that continues to be perpetrated upon you.
These days, the announcers will come up with all sorts of superlatives. "Moon" or "monster" shot for any ball traveling over 400 feet. Over 440 will get them hyperventilating. What comes after moon or monster? It simply isn't so. Never has been.
In days of old, Tiger stadium's center field wall was 440 feet from home plate. A fly ball hit, say, 420, wasn't a moon shot. Not even a home run. Just a long out.
The old Yankee Stadium featured a whopping distance of 465 feet from home plate. The longest home run hit to date this year wouldn't been a home run if hit in that direction back in the day. Maybe an out, or maybe a double, if the left or center fielder couldn't catch up to it. But definitely not a home run.
Here's a question. How come no Major League player in recent years seems capable of hitting a ball 500 feet or more? What would the announcers call that? A deep space probe?
After all, back in the 1960s, a chubby little first baseman named Norm Cash of the Detroit Tigers supposedly hit several balls well over 500 feet. Clean out of Tiger Stadium over the right field wall. And he wasn't the only one. Several other players around the league did the same in those times.
Nowadays, players have custom made bats, the balls themselves are supposedly "juiced", the pitchers are throwing as hard as ever, maybe harder, and still no 500 foot home runs. How can that be?
Back in 1971, Reggie Jackson hit a ball high into the light tower in right center field of the same Tiger Stadium. If Cash's homers were somewhere around 500-525 feet, as advertised at the time, surely that one had to be at least 550, or more.
Legend has it that the longer homer ever hit belonged to one Mickey Mantle. Some 585 feet. If that were done today, the same announcers would faint dead away. But that's not going to happen.
Why? Because nowadays sophisticated technology exists to determine, within a foot or so, exactly how long any home run actually is. Much like the yardage on any PGA golf hole is lasered and computed from all angles and distances.
Bottom line? Either the pudgy, partying players of old -- with their comparatively primitive equipment (bats) -- were a whole lot stronger than the modern day players, or we were fed a bunch of grossly exaggerated hogwash back in the day -- and bought it.
Chubby little Norm Cash hit balls more further than Bryce Harper, Aaron Judge, Giancarlo Stanton, even Barry Bonds?
It made for great fairy tales once upon a time, and was fun to believe. So was Sleeping Beauty, Jack and his beanstalk, and why do you think Don Quixote is the best-selling novel of all time? The masses ate up the idea of tilting at windmills.
Yet it can safely be said they were just that -- fairy tales -- as in pure fiction.
And so were the "monster" home run lengths in days of old.
They were nothing but grabbing an arbitrary (outrageous) number out of the air and declaring it to be true.
Nice stories, but in the end, lies.
Right now the annual Home Run Derby is taking place on the eve of the All-Star Game. That's great. See the sluggers hitting ball after ball of batting practice pitches into the seats. Quite the show for those so inclined.
But also see the deception that continues to be perpetrated upon you.
These days, the announcers will come up with all sorts of superlatives. "Moon" or "monster" shot for any ball traveling over 400 feet. Over 440 will get them hyperventilating. What comes after moon or monster? It simply isn't so. Never has been.
In days of old, Tiger stadium's center field wall was 440 feet from home plate. A fly ball hit, say, 420, wasn't a moon shot. Not even a home run. Just a long out.
The old Yankee Stadium featured a whopping distance of 465 feet from home plate. The longest home run hit to date this year wouldn't been a home run if hit in that direction back in the day. Maybe an out, or maybe a double, if the left or center fielder couldn't catch up to it. But definitely not a home run.
Here's a question. How come no Major League player in recent years seems capable of hitting a ball 500 feet or more? What would the announcers call that? A deep space probe?
After all, back in the 1960s, a chubby little first baseman named Norm Cash of the Detroit Tigers supposedly hit several balls well over 500 feet. Clean out of Tiger Stadium over the right field wall. And he wasn't the only one. Several other players around the league did the same in those times.
Nowadays, players have custom made bats, the balls themselves are supposedly "juiced", the pitchers are throwing as hard as ever, maybe harder, and still no 500 foot home runs. How can that be?
Back in 1971, Reggie Jackson hit a ball high into the light tower in right center field of the same Tiger Stadium. If Cash's homers were somewhere around 500-525 feet, as advertised at the time, surely that one had to be at least 550, or more.
Legend has it that the longer homer ever hit belonged to one Mickey Mantle. Some 585 feet. If that were done today, the same announcers would faint dead away. But that's not going to happen.
Why? Because nowadays sophisticated technology exists to determine, within a foot or so, exactly how long any home run actually is. Much like the yardage on any PGA golf hole is lasered and computed from all angles and distances.
Bottom line? Either the pudgy, partying players of old -- with their comparatively primitive equipment (bats) -- were a whole lot stronger than the modern day players, or we were fed a bunch of grossly exaggerated hogwash back in the day -- and bought it.
Chubby little Norm Cash hit balls more further than Bryce Harper, Aaron Judge, Giancarlo Stanton, even Barry Bonds?
It made for great fairy tales once upon a time, and was fun to believe. So was Sleeping Beauty, Jack and his beanstalk, and why do you think Don Quixote is the best-selling novel of all time? The masses ate up the idea of tilting at windmills.
Yet it can safely be said they were just that -- fairy tales -- as in pure fiction.
And so were the "monster" home run lengths in days of old.
They were nothing but grabbing an arbitrary (outrageous) number out of the air and declaring it to be true.
Nice stories, but in the end, lies.
Saturday, July 14, 2018
More idle thoughts
So Serena Williams got beat in the finals of Wimbledon. Not just beat, but thrashed by Germany's Angelique Kerber.
And then I saw a first. She was actually gracious in defeat. No, she didn't, OMG, admit Kerber was the better player that day -- heaven forbid -- but didn't make any of her usual excuses either. You know, her knee, ankle, back, elbow, eyeballs, ovaries, -- SOMETHING -- hurt. But it's early. Give her a day or two and she'll come up with something. Anything but fess up to the fact she got whupped fair and square. Not in her DNA.
The annual main event (no-limit hold-em) of the World Series of Poker is being shown via replay these days. Now it's down to two players, out of a starting field of almost 8000. But something's wrong. Both these guys have about 200,000,000 chips. So why are the "blinds" a measly one and two million? Worse, the antes only an even more paltry 300K? They could play for hours, days, at this rate. I say, let's speed it up. Make the blinds five and ten million. And the antes at least two.
Not that long ago, a friend of mine was crowing about how the Detroit Tigers weren't so bad after all. They were only one game under .500, a couple games back of the Cleveland Indians in the AL Central, and very much in the wild-card hunt for a playoff spot.
It should be noted this friend is a life-long Detroit "homer". As a long-time season ticket holder to the Detroit Lions (misguided devil), he still thinks this might be the year they make the Super Bowl. Poor fellow has obviously consumed WAY too much Honolulu blue and silver Kool-Aid over the years. The Lions and the Super Bowl go together much like Donald Trump and diplomacy. As in mutually exclusive. Where one is present, the other cannot exist. And I'm pretty sure the Super Bowl will be played again next February.
At any rate, we recently bumped into each other again at a local watering hole. I gently reminded him how truly awful the Tigers actually are. They now sit a whopping 17 games under .500, and are dropping like like a stone thrown out of an airplane in their division. The not-so-good Minnesota Twins have blown by them. Instead of being one game behind the Indians, try 12. And that's the good news.
If they were playing in any other American League Division, it would be far worse. In the East, the Tigers would be a colossal 27 games behind the Bosox. In the West, 24 behind the Houston Astros.
Wild card? The Detroit puddy-tats are 23 games behind the Yankees and 19 behind the Seattle Mariners.
Everything about that team is bad. From starting pitching, to relievers, to decent hitters, to defense all over the field, to baserunning, and even the manager. In the current age of super-advanced metrics and analyses, kind of like the Jetsons of cartoon fame, the Tigers went out and hired Fred Flintstone, sometimes known as Ron Gardenhire, as their Skipper.
They've played a fairly weak schedule so far, or things would be even worse. But now they're in Houston.
Over the first two games, both losses, no surprise there, the Tigers have been outscored 12-1. This, while the Astros have been resting some of their A-teamers, and cobbled together a bullpen only pitching line-up for one game. Didn't matter. Tomorrow, the Tigers get a serious dose of one Justin Verlander, a former teammate. Also having one of his finest seasons to date. Look for Kate's hubby to mow them down like a blue whale does plankton. That could get uglier than Judge Judy or Roseanne on a nude beach. At least fifteen strike-outs would seem to be very likely.
But I bought my friend a couple beers. Hard not to feel sorry for him. He still thinks the Pistons and Red Wings will have a shot next season. Did I mention the Detroit Kool-Aid factor gone horribly wrong? As in the mass destruction of brain cells? A couple more brews can't hurt THAT scenario.
Too late, already gone.
Outta here.
And so am I for now.
And then I saw a first. She was actually gracious in defeat. No, she didn't, OMG, admit Kerber was the better player that day -- heaven forbid -- but didn't make any of her usual excuses either. You know, her knee, ankle, back, elbow, eyeballs, ovaries, -- SOMETHING -- hurt. But it's early. Give her a day or two and she'll come up with something. Anything but fess up to the fact she got whupped fair and square. Not in her DNA.
The annual main event (no-limit hold-em) of the World Series of Poker is being shown via replay these days. Now it's down to two players, out of a starting field of almost 8000. But something's wrong. Both these guys have about 200,000,000 chips. So why are the "blinds" a measly one and two million? Worse, the antes only an even more paltry 300K? They could play for hours, days, at this rate. I say, let's speed it up. Make the blinds five and ten million. And the antes at least two.
Not that long ago, a friend of mine was crowing about how the Detroit Tigers weren't so bad after all. They were only one game under .500, a couple games back of the Cleveland Indians in the AL Central, and very much in the wild-card hunt for a playoff spot.
It should be noted this friend is a life-long Detroit "homer". As a long-time season ticket holder to the Detroit Lions (misguided devil), he still thinks this might be the year they make the Super Bowl. Poor fellow has obviously consumed WAY too much Honolulu blue and silver Kool-Aid over the years. The Lions and the Super Bowl go together much like Donald Trump and diplomacy. As in mutually exclusive. Where one is present, the other cannot exist. And I'm pretty sure the Super Bowl will be played again next February.
At any rate, we recently bumped into each other again at a local watering hole. I gently reminded him how truly awful the Tigers actually are. They now sit a whopping 17 games under .500, and are dropping like like a stone thrown out of an airplane in their division. The not-so-good Minnesota Twins have blown by them. Instead of being one game behind the Indians, try 12. And that's the good news.
If they were playing in any other American League Division, it would be far worse. In the East, the Tigers would be a colossal 27 games behind the Bosox. In the West, 24 behind the Houston Astros.
Wild card? The Detroit puddy-tats are 23 games behind the Yankees and 19 behind the Seattle Mariners.
Everything about that team is bad. From starting pitching, to relievers, to decent hitters, to defense all over the field, to baserunning, and even the manager. In the current age of super-advanced metrics and analyses, kind of like the Jetsons of cartoon fame, the Tigers went out and hired Fred Flintstone, sometimes known as Ron Gardenhire, as their Skipper.
They've played a fairly weak schedule so far, or things would be even worse. But now they're in Houston.
Over the first two games, both losses, no surprise there, the Tigers have been outscored 12-1. This, while the Astros have been resting some of their A-teamers, and cobbled together a bullpen only pitching line-up for one game. Didn't matter. Tomorrow, the Tigers get a serious dose of one Justin Verlander, a former teammate. Also having one of his finest seasons to date. Look for Kate's hubby to mow them down like a blue whale does plankton. That could get uglier than Judge Judy or Roseanne on a nude beach. At least fifteen strike-outs would seem to be very likely.
But I bought my friend a couple beers. Hard not to feel sorry for him. He still thinks the Pistons and Red Wings will have a shot next season. Did I mention the Detroit Kool-Aid factor gone horribly wrong? As in the mass destruction of brain cells? A couple more brews can't hurt THAT scenario.
Too late, already gone.
Outta here.
And so am I for now.
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
Laughable sports bytes -- or bites
Can there be anything more pitiful than the NBA summer league? See all the draft choices and wannabes trying to make an impression.
See them all revert back to playing hoops like they were on a concrete court with metal nets in the ghetto somewhere. Who can out Harlem-globe trot the other guys?
Oh my, see them dunk. Hey, even high school kids can dunk these days.
Oh my, see they can't be bothered with playing a lick of defense, or the faintest resemblance of team basketball.
The latest breaking news -----
Stop the presses and gag the talking heads, at least for a couple minutes. It's earth-shaking.
That's right. There are rumors that one Kobe Bean Bryant might come out of retirement to join Lebron James on the LA Lakers.
That would be a hoot.
Two ball hogs on the same team.
Two Trump-sized egos on the court and in the locker room at the same time.
With a pitiful squad of complimentary players around them.
What could go wrong with this? LMAO
Teams like the Golden State Warriors and Houston Rockets must be doubling over in hysterics just thinking about the possibility. If the LA-LA boys weren't already dysfunctional enough -- THAT ought to do it.
I haven't heard any fanfare of trumpets, seen a bazillion replays of years long past, or watched golf announcers hyperventilating lately. That can only mean one thing. Eldrick Tont Woods, sometimes known as Tiger, must still be holed up in Jupiter, Florida and not entering a PGA tournament any time soon. Old Tiger sure does seem to cherry pick his spots any more. But you can bet that when he makes another grand appearance two things will happen. The trumpets, replays, and screaming will be back -- and he'll get waxed by the myriad of young guns when he actually deigns to play a tournament. Nowadays, it isn't about his chances of winning, but much more about his chances of merely making the cut. Regardless, when he finally shows, count on Eldrick getting more air time than all the players in contention combined. This misguided craze, bordering on lunacy, doesn't seem to be going away. How old and how bad does this guy have to get before people realize his days of glory are far in the rear view mirror?
So France defeated Belgium 1-0 in the World Cup soccer finals - eh? Maybe this is revenge over 200 years later. Napoleon's defeat at Waterloo happened in 1815. Guess where Waterloo is/was? Yep, Belgium.
Speaking of futbol, apparently it's a big deal to some that some dude named Ronaldo changed teams.
Personally, I wouldn't know Ronaldo from Ronald McDonald, nor care what soccer team he plays for. They run -- a lot. They kick here and there. They flop over the most incidental contact like they were steam rolled by an NFL linebacker (OMG I'm dying), but are perfectly good to go a couple minutes later. Once every few hours a goal is actually scored. And they get paid ludicrous amount of money.
And while on that subject -- what is it with soccer uniforms anyway? Tune into any game and you can't tell which team is which. Instead of the team or country names on the uniforms, it's one sponsor or another. Whoever put up the biggest bucks. At least the USA squad gets that part right. Pity they weren't even good enough to qualify for the World Cup.
What's that? A recent Sports Illustrated report mentions that the BBC has/had been paying John McEnroe a whopping TEN TIMES as much as Martina Navratilova for their commentary regarding the Wimbledon tourney in jolly old England?
Well dang. Could it possible be that Johnny Mac's take on all things tennis was worth ten times what Marnav had to contribute?
Beats me. Don't have much use for either of them.
See them all revert back to playing hoops like they were on a concrete court with metal nets in the ghetto somewhere. Who can out Harlem-globe trot the other guys?
Oh my, see them dunk. Hey, even high school kids can dunk these days.
Oh my, see they can't be bothered with playing a lick of defense, or the faintest resemblance of team basketball.
The latest breaking news -----
Stop the presses and gag the talking heads, at least for a couple minutes. It's earth-shaking.
That's right. There are rumors that one Kobe Bean Bryant might come out of retirement to join Lebron James on the LA Lakers.
That would be a hoot.
Two ball hogs on the same team.
Two Trump-sized egos on the court and in the locker room at the same time.
With a pitiful squad of complimentary players around them.
What could go wrong with this? LMAO
Teams like the Golden State Warriors and Houston Rockets must be doubling over in hysterics just thinking about the possibility. If the LA-LA boys weren't already dysfunctional enough -- THAT ought to do it.
I haven't heard any fanfare of trumpets, seen a bazillion replays of years long past, or watched golf announcers hyperventilating lately. That can only mean one thing. Eldrick Tont Woods, sometimes known as Tiger, must still be holed up in Jupiter, Florida and not entering a PGA tournament any time soon. Old Tiger sure does seem to cherry pick his spots any more. But you can bet that when he makes another grand appearance two things will happen. The trumpets, replays, and screaming will be back -- and he'll get waxed by the myriad of young guns when he actually deigns to play a tournament. Nowadays, it isn't about his chances of winning, but much more about his chances of merely making the cut. Regardless, when he finally shows, count on Eldrick getting more air time than all the players in contention combined. This misguided craze, bordering on lunacy, doesn't seem to be going away. How old and how bad does this guy have to get before people realize his days of glory are far in the rear view mirror?
So France defeated Belgium 1-0 in the World Cup soccer finals - eh? Maybe this is revenge over 200 years later. Napoleon's defeat at Waterloo happened in 1815. Guess where Waterloo is/was? Yep, Belgium.
Speaking of futbol, apparently it's a big deal to some that some dude named Ronaldo changed teams.
Personally, I wouldn't know Ronaldo from Ronald McDonald, nor care what soccer team he plays for. They run -- a lot. They kick here and there. They flop over the most incidental contact like they were steam rolled by an NFL linebacker (OMG I'm dying), but are perfectly good to go a couple minutes later. Once every few hours a goal is actually scored. And they get paid ludicrous amount of money.
And while on that subject -- what is it with soccer uniforms anyway? Tune into any game and you can't tell which team is which. Instead of the team or country names on the uniforms, it's one sponsor or another. Whoever put up the biggest bucks. At least the USA squad gets that part right. Pity they weren't even good enough to qualify for the World Cup.
What's that? A recent Sports Illustrated report mentions that the BBC has/had been paying John McEnroe a whopping TEN TIMES as much as Martina Navratilova for their commentary regarding the Wimbledon tourney in jolly old England?
Well dang. Could it possible be that Johnny Mac's take on all things tennis was worth ten times what Marnav had to contribute?
Beats me. Don't have much use for either of them.
Monday, July 9, 2018
Detroit Tigers Keystone Kop moment
So OK, another day. I'd ran my usual errands, pulled a few weeds out of and watered the garden, cooked and ate something to eat, the dishes washed and dried, dogs fed, and showered up. (Me -- not my beloved yorkies.) Good to go for some serious TV sports watching.
Click.
It's the Detroit Tigers taking on the Tampa Bay Rays. To no great surprise the Motown puddy-tats are behind by a few runs.
But here was the situation. The Rays were at bat with runners on first and second base and one out.
Crack. The batter lofted a fly ball to deep right field. Back, back, back went Detroit right-fielder Nicholas Castellanos. He leaped -- but he didn't have to. The ball was easily catchable at about head high level. But at the last second, dear Nick took his eyes off it and completely missed it. A little league mistake. So it bounded off the wall as Nick flailed away in futility.
It should be noted that Castellanos was once the third baseman for the Tigers. Bad as they are, even the Tigers realized Nick had Roberto Duran-ish hands of stone at that position. But because he could hit some, they had to find a place for him. Again, like little league, when in doubt, stick such a player in right field and hope for the best.
Turns out his best at the 9-position can be embarrassing at times. This was one of them. An average college player, maybe even a high-schooler, makes the catch on that particular routine fly ball.
But it didn't end there. While Nick was picking himself up off the ground, the center fielder came over to finally field the ball. Somebody had to do it.
And what did the 8-position player do? Heaved it in the general direction of the infield. Nowhere near the cut-off man.
Meanwhile, the Tampa runner on second was easily scoring. But the one on first had evidently gone as brain dead as Castellanos. As the ball sailed back into the infield, he hadn't even reach third base yet, but he ran through a stop sign by the third base coach and barreled towards home.
The result? Out by about 40 feet. Embarrassing. Did I mention little-league stuff?
So OK, that was all worth a yuk, but the best was yet to come.
The Tigers' TV announcers had the utter nerve/naivete/lunacy to suggest the original lead runner for the Rays could have been cut down if the Tigers had fielded the ball correctly.
Really? Hey, if an opposing runner is on second base and a batted ball goes off the outfield wall, he'd have to be slower than the Tigers' Victor Martinez NOT to score. I mean, a handicapped person in a wheel chair with one wobbly tire could score given that scenario.
Just when you think the "homers" can't come up with something even more ludicrous than they have in the past -- they strike again with another "you've gotta be kidding me" remark. Where do they GET these guys?
In total, this all took maybe 2-3 minutes, considering the replays. And that was just about enough.
Yep, Nick is still a defensive liability. The Tigers are still awful. And the announcers are still shameless -- completely detached from reality.
Click. Over to the World Series of Poker.
Yeah, I know. It's already been played, a champion decided, and it's basically just a rerun on a second class network.
But it's gotta be better than continuing to watch the Tigers. On THEIR second class network.
Though I appreciate a good belly laugh as much as the next guy, one can only stomach so much of Keystone Koppish play, at supposedly the Major League level.
Click.
It's the Detroit Tigers taking on the Tampa Bay Rays. To no great surprise the Motown puddy-tats are behind by a few runs.
But here was the situation. The Rays were at bat with runners on first and second base and one out.
Crack. The batter lofted a fly ball to deep right field. Back, back, back went Detroit right-fielder Nicholas Castellanos. He leaped -- but he didn't have to. The ball was easily catchable at about head high level. But at the last second, dear Nick took his eyes off it and completely missed it. A little league mistake. So it bounded off the wall as Nick flailed away in futility.
It should be noted that Castellanos was once the third baseman for the Tigers. Bad as they are, even the Tigers realized Nick had Roberto Duran-ish hands of stone at that position. But because he could hit some, they had to find a place for him. Again, like little league, when in doubt, stick such a player in right field and hope for the best.
Turns out his best at the 9-position can be embarrassing at times. This was one of them. An average college player, maybe even a high-schooler, makes the catch on that particular routine fly ball.
But it didn't end there. While Nick was picking himself up off the ground, the center fielder came over to finally field the ball. Somebody had to do it.
And what did the 8-position player do? Heaved it in the general direction of the infield. Nowhere near the cut-off man.
Meanwhile, the Tampa runner on second was easily scoring. But the one on first had evidently gone as brain dead as Castellanos. As the ball sailed back into the infield, he hadn't even reach third base yet, but he ran through a stop sign by the third base coach and barreled towards home.
The result? Out by about 40 feet. Embarrassing. Did I mention little-league stuff?
So OK, that was all worth a yuk, but the best was yet to come.
The Tigers' TV announcers had the utter nerve/naivete/lunacy to suggest the original lead runner for the Rays could have been cut down if the Tigers had fielded the ball correctly.
Really? Hey, if an opposing runner is on second base and a batted ball goes off the outfield wall, he'd have to be slower than the Tigers' Victor Martinez NOT to score. I mean, a handicapped person in a wheel chair with one wobbly tire could score given that scenario.
Just when you think the "homers" can't come up with something even more ludicrous than they have in the past -- they strike again with another "you've gotta be kidding me" remark. Where do they GET these guys?
In total, this all took maybe 2-3 minutes, considering the replays. And that was just about enough.
Yep, Nick is still a defensive liability. The Tigers are still awful. And the announcers are still shameless -- completely detached from reality.
Click. Over to the World Series of Poker.
Yeah, I know. It's already been played, a champion decided, and it's basically just a rerun on a second class network.
But it's gotta be better than continuing to watch the Tigers. On THEIR second class network.
Though I appreciate a good belly laugh as much as the next guy, one can only stomach so much of Keystone Koppish play, at supposedly the Major League level.
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Thai boys in the cave
OK, maybe it's a stretch to call spelunking, also known as exploring caves, a sport. But hey, if cornhole, throwing bean bags, and a poker tournament can be broadcast by ESPN -- a network devoted exclusively to sports -- than surely spelunking qualifies.
As the world has known for a while, about a dozen young boys and their coach became trapped in a cave a couple weeks ago. Most, including myself, thought they were the proverbial goners. Maybe their remains would be discovered somewhere in the future, but things weren't exactly looking good.
And then -- surprise!!. A Thai team of SEALS -- no, America doesn't have a monopoly on such elite military personnel -- found them. Not only that, but alive and quite well. What's left of the compassionate people in the world breathed a sigh of relief. The ordeal was over.
But it really wasn't. Not by a long shot.
Turns out, those cave refugees were two and half miles from the entrance to said cave. By any standards, that's a long ways. Worse, the tunnel they had originally traversed was an up and down route, any many of the "downs" had filled up with water due to the rains that somehow find their way into such eco-systems. So there was no easy way to get out. Worse yet, their location was a half mile underground. Could potential rescuers tunnel that deep? Maybe. But only if they could be sure they wouldn't collapse the earth into where the survivors remained. Trying to rescue them -- only to bury them alive -- wouldn't seem like the optimum plan.
For now, the kids and coach seem relatively safe. The SEAL folks have provided them with food and all report they are in good health.
Let's also not forget that, after a couple weeks, any flashlights they may have originally had were long since useless. Batteries won't last that long, so they were completely -- can't see your hand in front of your face -- in the dark. A scary proposition for even the bravest of hearts. At least they had an ample supply of oxygen. Until the SEALS arrived with their own artificial lighting.
The problem is getting them out. It's one thing for highly trained elite divers to swim and otherwise traverse a two and half mile obstacle course, but quite another to expect teenagers totally untrained in such things to do the same.
Worse yet, the monsoon season is just beginning. There will be more rain, MUCH more rain, for the next four months or so. No way of pumping out the passage.
Perhaps they will figure out a way to have the kids -- one at a time -- be outfitted with a SCUBA apparatus and merely hang on to a SEAL diver taking them back out.
Then again, Thailand is a warm country, but caves are always on the cool side, so temperature extremes wouldn't seem to pose much of a problem.
Could they stay down their for four months, until the monsoon season ended? Most likely so.
And here's the kicker. When all this is over, they'll have likely figured out a way to bring the kids and coach back to the friendly confines of the rest of the world. Maybe sooner, maybe later, but you just know it's going to happen.
And then those boys and their coach should have a number one priority.
Hire an agent.
Because you also know somebody in Hollywood is going to want to make a movie out of all this, which will likely be a smashing success at the box office. Who wouldn't pony up a few bucks to see the heroic ordeal these folks went through?
OK, maybe they're stuck in a cave for another four months.
Might as well strike it rich when they finally get out.
Sounds like a plan to me.....
No wonder those kids are all smiles.
Perhaps they already have that part figured out.
As the world has known for a while, about a dozen young boys and their coach became trapped in a cave a couple weeks ago. Most, including myself, thought they were the proverbial goners. Maybe their remains would be discovered somewhere in the future, but things weren't exactly looking good.
And then -- surprise!!. A Thai team of SEALS -- no, America doesn't have a monopoly on such elite military personnel -- found them. Not only that, but alive and quite well. What's left of the compassionate people in the world breathed a sigh of relief. The ordeal was over.
But it really wasn't. Not by a long shot.
Turns out, those cave refugees were two and half miles from the entrance to said cave. By any standards, that's a long ways. Worse, the tunnel they had originally traversed was an up and down route, any many of the "downs" had filled up with water due to the rains that somehow find their way into such eco-systems. So there was no easy way to get out. Worse yet, their location was a half mile underground. Could potential rescuers tunnel that deep? Maybe. But only if they could be sure they wouldn't collapse the earth into where the survivors remained. Trying to rescue them -- only to bury them alive -- wouldn't seem like the optimum plan.
For now, the kids and coach seem relatively safe. The SEAL folks have provided them with food and all report they are in good health.
Let's also not forget that, after a couple weeks, any flashlights they may have originally had were long since useless. Batteries won't last that long, so they were completely -- can't see your hand in front of your face -- in the dark. A scary proposition for even the bravest of hearts. At least they had an ample supply of oxygen. Until the SEALS arrived with their own artificial lighting.
The problem is getting them out. It's one thing for highly trained elite divers to swim and otherwise traverse a two and half mile obstacle course, but quite another to expect teenagers totally untrained in such things to do the same.
Worse yet, the monsoon season is just beginning. There will be more rain, MUCH more rain, for the next four months or so. No way of pumping out the passage.
Perhaps they will figure out a way to have the kids -- one at a time -- be outfitted with a SCUBA apparatus and merely hang on to a SEAL diver taking them back out.
Then again, Thailand is a warm country, but caves are always on the cool side, so temperature extremes wouldn't seem to pose much of a problem.
Could they stay down their for four months, until the monsoon season ended? Most likely so.
And here's the kicker. When all this is over, they'll have likely figured out a way to bring the kids and coach back to the friendly confines of the rest of the world. Maybe sooner, maybe later, but you just know it's going to happen.
And then those boys and their coach should have a number one priority.
Hire an agent.
Because you also know somebody in Hollywood is going to want to make a movie out of all this, which will likely be a smashing success at the box office. Who wouldn't pony up a few bucks to see the heroic ordeal these folks went through?
OK, maybe they're stuck in a cave for another four months.
Might as well strike it rich when they finally get out.
Sounds like a plan to me.....
No wonder those kids are all smiles.
Perhaps they already have that part figured out.
Thursday, July 5, 2018
American League playoffs already set
Talk about anti-climatic. Just over half way through the regular season, the baseball playoffs in the American League would already seem to be a done deal.
In the East, the Bosox and Yanks continue to slug it out for superiority. One will win it, and the other is a shoo-in as a wild card. The nearest team to either are the Tampa Bay Rays, some 15 games back of both.
In the Central, the Cleveland Indians are far and away the class of an otherwise pitiful weak division. They're up by 11 games and that lead will no doubt get much larger as the season wears on. Between the Detroit Tigers, Minnesota Twins, and KC Royals -- forget any wild card. They're collectively terrible.
Out West, the Houston Astros have some serious competition in the Seattle Mariners. Who would have thought the defending world champs would be challenged by the team that has a long history of developing super-stars but can't hang on to them when free agency rears its ugly head? (See small-market, AKA El Cheapo). But the Mariners appear to be for real. Will they fold down the stretch? Maybe. But when a team is 24 games over the .500 mark at a little past mid-season -- they must be doing a whole lot of things right.
One of them will win the division, and the other will be the second wild card.
Poor Mike Trout. The best overall player in the entire Major Leagues will spend yet another futile year with the LA Angels. He's putting up MVP numbers again, but his only participation in this year's post-season will be watching it on TV. Ya gotta feel for the guy.
True, he's making over $30 mill a year, hardly chump change, but the Angels own his butt until the year 2021, when he'll be 30 years old. Such are the up and down sides to signing a long-term contract with an otherwise mediocre team. Lots of dough, but no shot at post-season glory.
At that, barring injury, and Trout seems to one of those hard-playing indestructible guys like Pete Rose, when America welcomes in what is most likely going to be a new President in 2021, it will likely also see the highest bidding free agency battle in the history of sports.
Thirty years old is the peak of most baseball players. Trout will no doubt have suitors with very deep pockets courting him every which way. And one of them will probably be dumb enough to offer him something like a ten-year contract for a bazillion dollars.
How'd that work out with Miguel Cabrera of the Detroit Tigers? Dude can't even stay healthy enough to play, let alone effectively, but he's still making $76,000 a day, EVERY day, for doing nothing. Worse, the Tigers are on the hook for another three years of this lunacy.
Boston, NYY, Cleveland, Houston, and Seattle. A mighty fine playoff field it will be.
Pity we have to slog through another dreary three months of the season to finally get to the games that will matter.
In the East, the Bosox and Yanks continue to slug it out for superiority. One will win it, and the other is a shoo-in as a wild card. The nearest team to either are the Tampa Bay Rays, some 15 games back of both.
In the Central, the Cleveland Indians are far and away the class of an otherwise pitiful weak division. They're up by 11 games and that lead will no doubt get much larger as the season wears on. Between the Detroit Tigers, Minnesota Twins, and KC Royals -- forget any wild card. They're collectively terrible.
Out West, the Houston Astros have some serious competition in the Seattle Mariners. Who would have thought the defending world champs would be challenged by the team that has a long history of developing super-stars but can't hang on to them when free agency rears its ugly head? (See small-market, AKA El Cheapo). But the Mariners appear to be for real. Will they fold down the stretch? Maybe. But when a team is 24 games over the .500 mark at a little past mid-season -- they must be doing a whole lot of things right.
One of them will win the division, and the other will be the second wild card.
Poor Mike Trout. The best overall player in the entire Major Leagues will spend yet another futile year with the LA Angels. He's putting up MVP numbers again, but his only participation in this year's post-season will be watching it on TV. Ya gotta feel for the guy.
True, he's making over $30 mill a year, hardly chump change, but the Angels own his butt until the year 2021, when he'll be 30 years old. Such are the up and down sides to signing a long-term contract with an otherwise mediocre team. Lots of dough, but no shot at post-season glory.
At that, barring injury, and Trout seems to one of those hard-playing indestructible guys like Pete Rose, when America welcomes in what is most likely going to be a new President in 2021, it will likely also see the highest bidding free agency battle in the history of sports.
Thirty years old is the peak of most baseball players. Trout will no doubt have suitors with very deep pockets courting him every which way. And one of them will probably be dumb enough to offer him something like a ten-year contract for a bazillion dollars.
How'd that work out with Miguel Cabrera of the Detroit Tigers? Dude can't even stay healthy enough to play, let alone effectively, but he's still making $76,000 a day, EVERY day, for doing nothing. Worse, the Tigers are on the hook for another three years of this lunacy.
Boston, NYY, Cleveland, Houston, and Seattle. A mighty fine playoff field it will be.
Pity we have to slog through another dreary three months of the season to finally get to the games that will matter.
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Joey Chestnut and all those hot dogs
I love hot dogs. Always did and probably always will. But I'm picky these days. Only the Koegel natural casing wieners for me. You know, the good stuff.
True, they probably don't rank up there with the finer cuisines, like lobster, a juicy porterhouse steak, or a Frosty from Wendy's, but hot dogs are pretty good.
Also true is I probably don't want to know what actually goes into the making of them. I've heard horror stories about such things, ingredients etal, so I'd rather continue to be blissfully ignorant. And I've got a really bad feeling about what those "natural casings" actually consist of as well. All I know is I like them.
But not as much as one Joey Chestnut. He just broke his own world record by scarfing down 74 hot dogs -- and buns -- in 10 minutes.
Consider that for a second. Could you eat seven and a half hot dogs and buns in one minute? Maybe. But then could you do it nine more times in a row? No way.
SEVENTY FOUR hot dogs and buns in ten minutes? Unbelievable. A monster great white shark or ravenous 600 pound grizzly bear probably couldn't pull that off.
But Joey Chestnut, a guy that weighs a little north of 200 pounds, did.
You know what would be truly comical to watch?
Chestnut, a San Jose native, is probably really well known in the Bay area. But can you imagine if he disguised himself and traveled the US seeking out all-you-can-eat joints?
I'd gladly cough up a C-note to be present when JC rolled into a food establishment, plopped down his 10 or 20 bucks, and started chowing down on the all-you-can-eat offer of the day -- especially if they were hot dogs.
After he had gone through, say, twenty, they'd probably give him a funny look. When he got to forty, the owner would want to know what the hell was going on.
At sixty, surely the proprietor would be exasperated. WHO AND WHAT IS THIS GUY?
Hilarious stuff.
If he ever tires of the competitive food eating circuit, JC could have his own TV show, preying on the all-you-can-eat joints across the country.
Tell me you wouldn't tune in to see that -- at least a few times -- and I'll tell you I don't believe it.
Nevertheless, all hail Joey Chestnut.
Once again, the hot dog eating king of the planet.
It kind of gets you right --urp -- there.
True, they probably don't rank up there with the finer cuisines, like lobster, a juicy porterhouse steak, or a Frosty from Wendy's, but hot dogs are pretty good.
Also true is I probably don't want to know what actually goes into the making of them. I've heard horror stories about such things, ingredients etal, so I'd rather continue to be blissfully ignorant. And I've got a really bad feeling about what those "natural casings" actually consist of as well. All I know is I like them.
But not as much as one Joey Chestnut. He just broke his own world record by scarfing down 74 hot dogs -- and buns -- in 10 minutes.
Consider that for a second. Could you eat seven and a half hot dogs and buns in one minute? Maybe. But then could you do it nine more times in a row? No way.
SEVENTY FOUR hot dogs and buns in ten minutes? Unbelievable. A monster great white shark or ravenous 600 pound grizzly bear probably couldn't pull that off.
But Joey Chestnut, a guy that weighs a little north of 200 pounds, did.
You know what would be truly comical to watch?
Chestnut, a San Jose native, is probably really well known in the Bay area. But can you imagine if he disguised himself and traveled the US seeking out all-you-can-eat joints?
I'd gladly cough up a C-note to be present when JC rolled into a food establishment, plopped down his 10 or 20 bucks, and started chowing down on the all-you-can-eat offer of the day -- especially if they were hot dogs.
After he had gone through, say, twenty, they'd probably give him a funny look. When he got to forty, the owner would want to know what the hell was going on.
At sixty, surely the proprietor would be exasperated. WHO AND WHAT IS THIS GUY?
Hilarious stuff.
If he ever tires of the competitive food eating circuit, JC could have his own TV show, preying on the all-you-can-eat joints across the country.
Tell me you wouldn't tune in to see that -- at least a few times -- and I'll tell you I don't believe it.
Nevertheless, all hail Joey Chestnut.
Once again, the hot dog eating king of the planet.
It kind of gets you right --urp -- there.
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
Boogie Cousins, screamers, and a Ho
It would appear that one DeMarcus "Boogie" Cousins can't win, no matter what he does. NBA fans know he's a big talented dude that has slaved away in obscurity for the Sacramento Kings in recent years.
And now he's signed a contract on the cheap to play for the Golden State Warriors. By cheap, that means an, ahem, paltry $5.3 million bucks for one year. Of course, this is all relative. $5.3 million is far more than most working people, including college grads, will ever make in their lifetimes. The utter absurdity of professional athlete salaries, many of whom likely couldn't pass an eighth grade equivalency test given ten tries, I leave to the reader to contemplate. Let's just say it's gotten out of control -- big time.
Par for the course, the talking heads are dissecting Boogie's move every which way.
The good news is -- they think it admirable that he would accept far less money than he could have got by staying with Sacramento, or going to any number of other teams. Also, who can question his desire to win an NBA championship -- something which he has a very good chance of doing while playing for the Dubs.
[Idle thought. This is quite a pick-up for the Warriors. It gives them a big guy they didn't have before that is multi-talented, while not hurting them at all in the salary cap department. Oh so quietly, they just got a lot better, as if they needed it.]
But the inevitable bad news is -- the same folks that praise him for the above are willing to rip him for "cherry-picking". that is, selling himself short by going to a front runner to quite possibly get a ring.
Poor dude can't seem to win in their eyes. So what was he supposed to do? Stay with the always pitiful Kings? Go to the Detroit Pistons, New Jersey Nets, NY Knicks, or some other clueless and bottom feeding organization?
How about we cut the man some slack?
OK, Wimbledon, that always uppity tennis tournament, is upon us again. So I tried to check it out. Click.
What did I see? A ladies match, featuring one Vitalia Diatchenko going up against Maria Sharapova. A couple Russian girls. Pretty good looking too. What? Sexist? I don't care. Sue me. I appreciate beauty when I see it, and aren't afraid to say so.
But I couldn't stand to watch them for very long, so I don't know who won the match.
It was the screaming. Both of them shrieking at the top of their lungs with every tennis stroke they made.
Besides being totally unladylike, which Wimbledon is supposed to exemplify, one is left to wonder how women of this ilk behave while in the privacy of enjoying their sex lives -- if they have any.
If they scream like that on a tennis court, how much racket to you think they'd make while in the throes of ecstasy the pleasures of the flesh have to offer?
Beats me, but I'm guessing the entire neighborhood knows about it when they're getting it on.
[Idle thought II. Didn't PGA golfer Rory McIlroy have a go-round with Sharapova a while back? And then kicked her to the curb? One can hardly blame the Irish lad. Poor devil was probably in fear of going deafer than a post from such encounters. If he was any good -- that is.]
I've long been a fan of professional poker players at the highest level. Wouldn't miss the annual World Series of Poker for anything. Those guys and gals are truly amazing with their strategies and fearlessness under the ultimate big-money pressure.
But I saw something this year that made me sit up and take notice.
Evidently, there's a female player named Ho. For real.
That's gotta be rough in the real world, especially among the guys she's typically playing with.
I mean, how would one go about getting her attention to speak with her?
Would "Hey Ho" work?
Somehow that doesn't have a very good ring to it.
And now he's signed a contract on the cheap to play for the Golden State Warriors. By cheap, that means an, ahem, paltry $5.3 million bucks for one year. Of course, this is all relative. $5.3 million is far more than most working people, including college grads, will ever make in their lifetimes. The utter absurdity of professional athlete salaries, many of whom likely couldn't pass an eighth grade equivalency test given ten tries, I leave to the reader to contemplate. Let's just say it's gotten out of control -- big time.
Par for the course, the talking heads are dissecting Boogie's move every which way.
The good news is -- they think it admirable that he would accept far less money than he could have got by staying with Sacramento, or going to any number of other teams. Also, who can question his desire to win an NBA championship -- something which he has a very good chance of doing while playing for the Dubs.
[Idle thought. This is quite a pick-up for the Warriors. It gives them a big guy they didn't have before that is multi-talented, while not hurting them at all in the salary cap department. Oh so quietly, they just got a lot better, as if they needed it.]
But the inevitable bad news is -- the same folks that praise him for the above are willing to rip him for "cherry-picking". that is, selling himself short by going to a front runner to quite possibly get a ring.
Poor dude can't seem to win in their eyes. So what was he supposed to do? Stay with the always pitiful Kings? Go to the Detroit Pistons, New Jersey Nets, NY Knicks, or some other clueless and bottom feeding organization?
How about we cut the man some slack?
OK, Wimbledon, that always uppity tennis tournament, is upon us again. So I tried to check it out. Click.
What did I see? A ladies match, featuring one Vitalia Diatchenko going up against Maria Sharapova. A couple Russian girls. Pretty good looking too. What? Sexist? I don't care. Sue me. I appreciate beauty when I see it, and aren't afraid to say so.
But I couldn't stand to watch them for very long, so I don't know who won the match.
It was the screaming. Both of them shrieking at the top of their lungs with every tennis stroke they made.
Besides being totally unladylike, which Wimbledon is supposed to exemplify, one is left to wonder how women of this ilk behave while in the privacy of enjoying their sex lives -- if they have any.
If they scream like that on a tennis court, how much racket to you think they'd make while in the throes of ecstasy the pleasures of the flesh have to offer?
Beats me, but I'm guessing the entire neighborhood knows about it when they're getting it on.
[Idle thought II. Didn't PGA golfer Rory McIlroy have a go-round with Sharapova a while back? And then kicked her to the curb? One can hardly blame the Irish lad. Poor devil was probably in fear of going deafer than a post from such encounters. If he was any good -- that is.]
I've long been a fan of professional poker players at the highest level. Wouldn't miss the annual World Series of Poker for anything. Those guys and gals are truly amazing with their strategies and fearlessness under the ultimate big-money pressure.
But I saw something this year that made me sit up and take notice.
Evidently, there's a female player named Ho. For real.
That's gotta be rough in the real world, especially among the guys she's typically playing with.
I mean, how would one go about getting her attention to speak with her?
Would "Hey Ho" work?
Somehow that doesn't have a very good ring to it.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Quicken Loans and second-class Tiger Woods
I think I'm finally beginning to get my head around the concept of why some peoples in countries far away get so worked up as to flog themselves in the streets.
One need only look at Tiger Woods groupies. Or long-suffering Detroit Lions fans, for that matter. They seem to have taken a very strange/scary mixture of adoration, faith, hope, and never say die to limits most sane people would consider mad dog rabid at best, and perhaps completely insane -- outta here/wacko/nut job at worst. How else to explain how so many still believe Eldrick Tont Woods will return to his former greatness? Or the Lions have a chance of going to the Super Bowl every year? It's utter madness. Lunacy. Like expecting Dems and Reps to stop with the partisanship and childish insults to accomplish something worthwhile for the people of the country. Ain't gonna happen. It just is what it is.
The Lions next season of futility is still a couple months away from starting, but Tiger mania is in full swing.
This time it was the Quicken Loans Open, a second, or even third class tournament as contests go on the PGA tour.
Quick quiz.
What do Dustin Johnson, Justin Thomas, Justin Rose, Jason Day, Jordan Spieth, Rory McIlroy, Henrik Stinson, Bubba Watson, Jon Rahm, Patrick Reed, and yep, even Lefty Phil have in common?
A few things. They're all world class golfers. They, and at least 50-60 others are ranked higher than one Tiger Woods, and none of them showed up for the Quicken Loans tournament.
So this was Eldrick's big chance to finally get that -- sound the trumpets -- elusive win he hasn't been able to pull off for five years or so. A lifetime in the world of sports.
Yep, Tiger was competing against the most watered down field since maybe Donald and Hillary were going through the primaries a while back.
The glass half-fullers -- disciples -- will say he finished in fourth place. They're likely busy bringing themselves to climaxes by flogging themselves in ecstasy right about now. Hey, different strokes. Ahem.
But the sane people would counter with --he finished 10 strokes back -- a ton -- from the eventual winner of the tourney.
That winner turned out to be one Francesco Molinari. For some reason that name rings a bell. Does he have a brand of spaghetti sauce he markets on the side? Cheese? Pasta? A combination of the three? Dunno, but it has a certain ring to it.
Meanwhile, dear Eldrick also finished behind one Ryan Armour. Ever heard of him? Not me.
And Song hoon Kang. Does that same name have a number on Chinese food menus? A special of some sort? Does it come with an egg roll and a couple fortune cookies? Beats me, but sounds like it could.
Dear Tiger tied with Abraham Ancer for fourth place. Surely you've heard of Abe.
And a single stroke ahead of Bronson Burgoon. Huh?
Let's just say this wasn't exactly a murderer's row field Eldrick was competing against. More like a minor league contest.
And he still couldn't get anywhere near winning.
How do you think he'll fare when the "big boys" show up for the next tournament that actually matters to them?
So OK. Let the self-floggers have at it again. To each their own. Whatever floats their boats.
But I'll never understand why people would continue to subject themselves to such punishment for a hopeless cause.
One need only look at Tiger Woods groupies. Or long-suffering Detroit Lions fans, for that matter. They seem to have taken a very strange/scary mixture of adoration, faith, hope, and never say die to limits most sane people would consider mad dog rabid at best, and perhaps completely insane -- outta here/wacko/nut job at worst. How else to explain how so many still believe Eldrick Tont Woods will return to his former greatness? Or the Lions have a chance of going to the Super Bowl every year? It's utter madness. Lunacy. Like expecting Dems and Reps to stop with the partisanship and childish insults to accomplish something worthwhile for the people of the country. Ain't gonna happen. It just is what it is.
The Lions next season of futility is still a couple months away from starting, but Tiger mania is in full swing.
This time it was the Quicken Loans Open, a second, or even third class tournament as contests go on the PGA tour.
Quick quiz.
What do Dustin Johnson, Justin Thomas, Justin Rose, Jason Day, Jordan Spieth, Rory McIlroy, Henrik Stinson, Bubba Watson, Jon Rahm, Patrick Reed, and yep, even Lefty Phil have in common?
A few things. They're all world class golfers. They, and at least 50-60 others are ranked higher than one Tiger Woods, and none of them showed up for the Quicken Loans tournament.
So this was Eldrick's big chance to finally get that -- sound the trumpets -- elusive win he hasn't been able to pull off for five years or so. A lifetime in the world of sports.
Yep, Tiger was competing against the most watered down field since maybe Donald and Hillary were going through the primaries a while back.
The glass half-fullers -- disciples -- will say he finished in fourth place. They're likely busy bringing themselves to climaxes by flogging themselves in ecstasy right about now. Hey, different strokes. Ahem.
But the sane people would counter with --he finished 10 strokes back -- a ton -- from the eventual winner of the tourney.
That winner turned out to be one Francesco Molinari. For some reason that name rings a bell. Does he have a brand of spaghetti sauce he markets on the side? Cheese? Pasta? A combination of the three? Dunno, but it has a certain ring to it.
Meanwhile, dear Eldrick also finished behind one Ryan Armour. Ever heard of him? Not me.
And Song hoon Kang. Does that same name have a number on Chinese food menus? A special of some sort? Does it come with an egg roll and a couple fortune cookies? Beats me, but sounds like it could.
Dear Tiger tied with Abraham Ancer for fourth place. Surely you've heard of Abe.
And a single stroke ahead of Bronson Burgoon. Huh?
Let's just say this wasn't exactly a murderer's row field Eldrick was competing against. More like a minor league contest.
And he still couldn't get anywhere near winning.
How do you think he'll fare when the "big boys" show up for the next tournament that actually matters to them?
So OK. Let the self-floggers have at it again. To each their own. Whatever floats their boats.
But I'll never understand why people would continue to subject themselves to such punishment for a hopeless cause.
ESPN's Lebron James insult
As a die hard, and not overly bright sports fan, I probably watch ESPN way too much. But when one wants to catch up on the highlights of the day in the world of sports, there's nothing better than the "trailer" at the bottom of the screen on the 4-letter network.Wait long enough, and it will usually get around to giving you the info you're curious about.
But a short while ago, I felt insulted by those very same 4-letter folks. Anybody with half a brain and a smidgen of self-respect likely felt the same way.
Yeah, we get it. Lebron James was testing the free agent waters and where he wound up was going to be big news in the hoops world. And there was the answer, scrolling across the bottom of the flat screen. Lebron James signs with the LA Lakers for four years for a bazillion dollars. Got it.
But evidently, the ESPN people thought it was such earth-shaking news that they had to repeat it. Immediately the same message was shown again. OK, definitely got it, just in case we missed it the first time. Could happen.
But that wasn't good enough. It was shown a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth time, back-to-back-to-back, etc.
Here's a question. When's the last time you had to tell somebody, even an animal such as a dog, something eight times in a row before you thought they comprehended it? If it doesn't work the first couple times, I would suggest either you're wasting your breath, or the recipient is too stupid to ever have understood it in the first place.
By ESPN doing an eight-peat with the same message, they were basically telling us they thought we were dumber than rocks. Who needs this aggravation? We've already got the politicians to fill our stupid quotas every day.
Problem is, where else can a sports junkie go to get so much quick info across the sports spectrum? On-line? Sure, if you want to look things up one at a time. That could take a while.
Besides, James joining the Lakers isn't really big news at all. With the dearth of talent and abundance of clowns they already have on that team, not to mention Magic Johnson being in charge of assembling the roster, laughable in itself, the LA-LA boys aren't going to be contenders any year soon, with or without LJ. Does anybody seriously think they'll be able to challenge the Golden State Warriors, or Houston Rockets for that matter? All James is getting is glitz, more exposure, if that's even possible, and the sobering fact of being clobbered by the Dubs and Rockets more often every year.
If he thought things were bad in Cleveland, wait until he gets a serious load of reality in the Western Conference of the NBA.
An afterthought. When LJ left the Cavaliers the first time to pursue titles in Miami, the folks back in Buckeyeland burned his jerseys.
True, he brought them a title they wouldn't have got otherwise when he returned.
But now that's he's kicked them to the curb again, will there be Jersey Burning -- the sequel?
Stay tuned.
And BTW, he can kiss his streak of going to the NBA Finals good-bye.
But a short while ago, I felt insulted by those very same 4-letter folks. Anybody with half a brain and a smidgen of self-respect likely felt the same way.
Yeah, we get it. Lebron James was testing the free agent waters and where he wound up was going to be big news in the hoops world. And there was the answer, scrolling across the bottom of the flat screen. Lebron James signs with the LA Lakers for four years for a bazillion dollars. Got it.
But evidently, the ESPN people thought it was such earth-shaking news that they had to repeat it. Immediately the same message was shown again. OK, definitely got it, just in case we missed it the first time. Could happen.
But that wasn't good enough. It was shown a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth time, back-to-back-to-back, etc.
Here's a question. When's the last time you had to tell somebody, even an animal such as a dog, something eight times in a row before you thought they comprehended it? If it doesn't work the first couple times, I would suggest either you're wasting your breath, or the recipient is too stupid to ever have understood it in the first place.
By ESPN doing an eight-peat with the same message, they were basically telling us they thought we were dumber than rocks. Who needs this aggravation? We've already got the politicians to fill our stupid quotas every day.
Problem is, where else can a sports junkie go to get so much quick info across the sports spectrum? On-line? Sure, if you want to look things up one at a time. That could take a while.
Besides, James joining the Lakers isn't really big news at all. With the dearth of talent and abundance of clowns they already have on that team, not to mention Magic Johnson being in charge of assembling the roster, laughable in itself, the LA-LA boys aren't going to be contenders any year soon, with or without LJ. Does anybody seriously think they'll be able to challenge the Golden State Warriors, or Houston Rockets for that matter? All James is getting is glitz, more exposure, if that's even possible, and the sobering fact of being clobbered by the Dubs and Rockets more often every year.
If he thought things were bad in Cleveland, wait until he gets a serious load of reality in the Western Conference of the NBA.
An afterthought. When LJ left the Cavaliers the first time to pursue titles in Miami, the folks back in Buckeyeland burned his jerseys.
True, he brought them a title they wouldn't have got otherwise when he returned.
But now that's he's kicked them to the curb again, will there be Jersey Burning -- the sequel?
Stay tuned.
And BTW, he can kiss his streak of going to the NBA Finals good-bye.
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