The Barry Bonds' trial recently concluded and nobody seemed to win. BB wasn't totally vindicated, but after spending millions of tax-payer dollars, the prosecution only has a conviction on obstruction of justice -- which will likely result in probation. It seems the jury couldn't decide on the perjury counts. That could mean the feds might come back yet again for another trial, only to spend more of our money to prove a point.
My question is -- exactly what is that point? That he lied? Everybody has lied. Priests, pastors, rabbis, judges, prosecutors, defense attorneys, politicians (oh boy), business people, parents, kids, grandmas, your best friend -- you name it -- they've told some lies somewhere along the line. And so have you and I. Anyone that says they haven't just made themself a liar -- again. Does that make it right? No, but it happens. The trick is to distinguish between those that cause harm to others, and those that don't. The former might rightfully be taken up in a court of law, while the latter -- well -- something about people who live in glass houses.....
In the Bonds' case, even if he lied about taking steroids, I have yet to understand how that caused harm to others, besides ruffling the feathers of the feds. They ruffle ours enough, so who cares? The only damage I've seen done was to Bonds' wallet for his legal fees, and Greg Anderson, his former "trainer", who's spent months in jail because he won't talk. Something seems very perverse about a person, not currently accused of a crime, by the way, going to jail for being silent, while prosecutors and defense attorneys rack up millions of dollars and, in the end, pretty much accomplish nothing. How can that be right? Problem is -- there's no definitive set of rules.
Take the OJ case, for instance. Think what you will, and I'd probably agree, but the jury said he didn't commit murder. They supposedly heard all the evidence, and what we got to see and hear was filtered through the media. What we may think doesn't matter. The jury said "not guilty". It should have been over. But no, there was another trial, where he was found guilty of "wrongful death", and another jury said he owed 30-some million bucks to the families of the deceased. If the original jury said he didn't do it in the first place, then how can he be held accountable for "wrongful death"? I don't want to hear about the differences between "beyond reasonable doubt", and a "preponderance of the evidence". Either a defendant did it or didn't. Like it or not, the original jury said he didn't.
Speaking of which, what ever happened to "innocent"? If everyone's "innocent until proven guilty" going in, but they're not convicted, then why are they either "not guilty" or "acquitted" coming out? Shouldn't they go back to being "innocent"? Thing is, once one is accused, they are no longer "innocent", regardless of the verdict..They could have been 1000 miles away when the crime happened, and proved it, but they will never be innocent again. They now have a rap sheet. Think that's nuts? It gets worse.
Even after that verdict, OJ moved to Florida. So first he was not guilty, then he was guilty, after which he went to a place where the judgment didn't seem to apply anyway -- all in the same country. Now THAT'S nuts. Evidently, something came over him and he got caught up in some mischief in Las Vegas, so he's now in jail, probably for whatever the maximum sentence is, because for some reason, staying in Florida playing golf and living the high life wasn't good enough. That was REALLY nuts.
Somehow I don't think we've heard the last of Barry and OJ.
Roger Clemens is on deck. He should know how to handle this. They'll give him a couple "high hard ones" to rattle him. Then one down the middle to make him think they have control. After that, he'll see nothing but junk pitches. If he keeps his head, and is patient, chances are, after he coughs up a pile of money for his defense team, and the feds blow a few more million of our tax dollars, they'll issue him a "walk" too.
Again, what's the point?
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Dirty little secrets about the Oakland Press sports dept.
There's a few rumors that need to be cleared up, once and for all. A reliable source that wished to remain anonymous (how many times have you heard that?) has provided the following information.
Some people wonder whether Paul Kampe, of the Oakland Press, and a graduate of Oakland University, is related to Greg Kampe, the basketball coach. After all, Paul covers the Grizzlies for the paper, and this might be seen as a conflict of interest. Here's what you don't know. Paul wears several hats for the paper. Besides covering that basketball team, he does a lot of editing cleaning up grammatical errors and misspellings people like me make, writes a couple blogs himself, and is highly involved with the OP morphing into the on-line age.
Paul's into page design, graphics, and a lot of other things.
Back to the original question. Paul's last name has a silent "e". It's "camp". Greg's last name is pronounced "campy". So are they related? Of course. Paul is Greg's grandfather. When you're done reading this nonsense, scroll up a couple blogs and check out Paul's pic. Can you believe that dude's almost 90 years old? But he's in charge of the photos and is a computer wizard. I wish while he was shaving 60 years off his own age, he'd get rid of that puffiness around the eyes in my own pic.
Actually, Paul and Greg are no relation whatsoever, but it was a fun story to tell, and Paul's probably not quite THAT old. Yeah, that's the ticket.
Paula Pasche covers the Detroit Lions. Is it pronounced Pash, or Pashee? My source says it rhymes with "crash", but like her age, weight, true hair color, and how she really feels about going into the Lions' locker room to interview male athletes in various stages of undress, nobody knows for sure. There's classified, there's top secret, there's eyes only, and then there's that woman thing. Good luck with that.
Then there's the boss, sports editor Jeff Kuehn. First, it's not "keen", or "koon", it's "kyoo-in", and there's a lot of things you don't know about him. He ran track and cross-country in high school. Even finished a couple marathons along the way. Impressive stuff. Says he once dunked on Pat Caputo in a basketball game, but never did say how high the rim was. Maybe not so impressive. Jeff once drank beer for 16 straight years while playing a little hockey on the side. Or maybe it was the other way around. Details remain unclear.
At that, the sports thing evidently runs in the family. A son that played hockey for Team USA at two World University Games, a daughter that captained the swim team at Northern Michigan, and another son that was a starting offensive lineman for Birmingham Seaholm for 2 years. That all sounds great, but Jeff has his secrets too, that he doesn't want anybody else to know about, and it's time they were exposed.
That pic you see of him in the Sunday OP sports section? He hasn't looked like that for quite a while. "The Portrait of Dorian Gray" comes to mind. Jeff's kind of a backwards version of that. The pic stays the same, while the real guy -- well, let's just say he's not getting any younger. Beats me why he doesn't update it. Even if the pic was current, Kampe works for him, and he could probably nip-tuck it.
Yet there's a deeper secret about him. Perhaps it's left over from his days of running marathons. People that do that typically carbo-load before the race for lasting nourishment to get them through 26.2 miles of running. Put another way, they scarf down a bunch of food in a short period of time. I suspect Jeff has never quite got past that mentality. Ever hear of Joey Chestnut? He's the guy at the annual 4th of July Nathan's Coney Island hot dog eating contest that can put away about 60 hot dogs, with buns, in 12 minutes. The first 6 or 8 or them last merely seconds, until they're "down the hatch". Jeff's a lot like that with omelets. Put one in front of him, glance at something else, then turn your eyes back, and -- poof -- it's gone. Incredible. Further, it's been rumored that Jeff has been banned from every all-you-can-eat establishment in the tri-county area, because of this reputation, though that's never been substantiated.
For now, hopefully that clears up a few mysteries for you involving the sports staff at the OP, and this is your trusty correspondent signing off.
I have to go find Dick Cheney and see if he'll let me borrow one of his bunkers for a while.
Some people wonder whether Paul Kampe, of the Oakland Press, and a graduate of Oakland University, is related to Greg Kampe, the basketball coach. After all, Paul covers the Grizzlies for the paper, and this might be seen as a conflict of interest. Here's what you don't know. Paul wears several hats for the paper. Besides covering that basketball team, he does a lot of editing cleaning up grammatical errors and misspellings people like me make, writes a couple blogs himself, and is highly involved with the OP morphing into the on-line age.
Paul's into page design, graphics, and a lot of other things.
Back to the original question. Paul's last name has a silent "e". It's "camp". Greg's last name is pronounced "campy". So are they related? Of course. Paul is Greg's grandfather. When you're done reading this nonsense, scroll up a couple blogs and check out Paul's pic. Can you believe that dude's almost 90 years old? But he's in charge of the photos and is a computer wizard. I wish while he was shaving 60 years off his own age, he'd get rid of that puffiness around the eyes in my own pic.
Actually, Paul and Greg are no relation whatsoever, but it was a fun story to tell, and Paul's probably not quite THAT old. Yeah, that's the ticket.
Paula Pasche covers the Detroit Lions. Is it pronounced Pash, or Pashee? My source says it rhymes with "crash", but like her age, weight, true hair color, and how she really feels about going into the Lions' locker room to interview male athletes in various stages of undress, nobody knows for sure. There's classified, there's top secret, there's eyes only, and then there's that woman thing. Good luck with that.
Then there's the boss, sports editor Jeff Kuehn. First, it's not "keen", or "koon", it's "kyoo-in", and there's a lot of things you don't know about him. He ran track and cross-country in high school. Even finished a couple marathons along the way. Impressive stuff. Says he once dunked on Pat Caputo in a basketball game, but never did say how high the rim was. Maybe not so impressive. Jeff once drank beer for 16 straight years while playing a little hockey on the side. Or maybe it was the other way around. Details remain unclear.
At that, the sports thing evidently runs in the family. A son that played hockey for Team USA at two World University Games, a daughter that captained the swim team at Northern Michigan, and another son that was a starting offensive lineman for Birmingham Seaholm for 2 years. That all sounds great, but Jeff has his secrets too, that he doesn't want anybody else to know about, and it's time they were exposed.
That pic you see of him in the Sunday OP sports section? He hasn't looked like that for quite a while. "The Portrait of Dorian Gray" comes to mind. Jeff's kind of a backwards version of that. The pic stays the same, while the real guy -- well, let's just say he's not getting any younger. Beats me why he doesn't update it. Even if the pic was current, Kampe works for him, and he could probably nip-tuck it.
Yet there's a deeper secret about him. Perhaps it's left over from his days of running marathons. People that do that typically carbo-load before the race for lasting nourishment to get them through 26.2 miles of running. Put another way, they scarf down a bunch of food in a short period of time. I suspect Jeff has never quite got past that mentality. Ever hear of Joey Chestnut? He's the guy at the annual 4th of July Nathan's Coney Island hot dog eating contest that can put away about 60 hot dogs, with buns, in 12 minutes. The first 6 or 8 or them last merely seconds, until they're "down the hatch". Jeff's a lot like that with omelets. Put one in front of him, glance at something else, then turn your eyes back, and -- poof -- it's gone. Incredible. Further, it's been rumored that Jeff has been banned from every all-you-can-eat establishment in the tri-county area, because of this reputation, though that's never been substantiated.
For now, hopefully that clears up a few mysteries for you involving the sports staff at the OP, and this is your trusty correspondent signing off.
I have to go find Dick Cheney and see if he'll let me borrow one of his bunkers for a while.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
What Tom Gores can do that matters
Tom Gores, a billionaire, bought the Pistons, the Palace, DTE Theatre, and Meadowbrook. So who is this guy anyway?
They say he's from Flint, and now operating out of California. That makes sense. You don't get to be a billionaire in Flint. Hell, for a billion bucks, you could probably buy that whole city, houses, businesses, dogs, cats, and all, and still have some serious change left over. So he didn't get the money there. Gores runs some outfit named Platinum Equity. Usually companies with names like that swap money around, and buy and sell things for a tidy profit. (Note to Tom -- they do that in Flint too these days. They're called pawn shops, but I don't think there's a whole lot of platinum involved.)
Nevertheless, he's the new sheriff in town in charge of Bill Davidson's old empire. Now that he's the boss, he can pretty much do whatever he wants. That likely means bringing his own people in to run things. This is what new owners do. In which case, Joe Dumars will probably be out a job when the Pistons' season mercifully ends. Joe's a good dude, and he's got enough dough for life, so he'll be alright. The head coach and his staff? They can kiss their Kuesters good-bye too. Chances are they'll land somewhere else as assistants on the never-ending merry-go-round of pro sports.
Everybody wants to talk about the impact Gores will have on the Pistons, but there are more important issues for him to address.
Despite his Flint roots, he'll be perceived as a California pretty boy. He has to change his image. I saw his picture on the front page of the Oakland Press. Nobody around here dresses like that. This is blue-collar territory, not blazerland. We're working stiffs. Well, we used to be before the jobs disappeared, but the attitude's still there. And that hankie in the pocket? Uh-uh. Hankies are only good for one thing, and I'm fairly certain if he uses it for that purpose, he won't want to put it back in his pocket. The dry cleaner would not be amused, and we're not either, so that's gotta go.
If Gores wants to be welcomed with open arms, he might consider issuing executive orders that have nothing to do with the Pistons.
First, considering spring is upon us and outdoor music venues will be starting up soon, lose the DTE Energy bit. Their job is to keep the lights on, not run a theater. So what if they're paying a few bucks for naming rights? Gores's a billionaire and can afford it. Get rid of them and change it back to Pine Knob. He'd be a hero.
Second, go back to the old ways and let the people that either can't afford or get pavillion seats, or maybe just prefer the lawn, bring their own coolers in again. These are the true fans. They'll sit out there on their blankets, even in the rain, so let them bring in their own munchies and beverages. Lost revenue in concessions? Maybe, but not that much. I've been there a lot, and not too many people on the "hill" will walk all the way down just to stand in line for $6 hot dogs, or $8 beers. They have their own ways -- trust me.
Let the coolers come back and the PR would be priceless.
Without getting into detail, the people on the hill, that can barely even see the stage, have occasional "needs". If they're not going to navigate down the mountain for overpriced concessions, should it come as any surprise that they won't make the same trek only to stand in long lines for restrooms? Things happen up there. Trust me on that too.
Throw in a few port-a-johns here and there and he'd be on his way to being a legend before he even hit town.
(Another note to Tom. I wish you good luck. There's a couple other billionaire team owners around. One guy sells a lot of pizza, and he's won a few championships. The other guy? He inherited. Ever hear of the Edsel? It was a car a long time ago. It was ugly, nobody wanted to buy it and, roughly a half-century later, it's considered the epitome of failure. His team is sort of like that.)
Mr. Gores doesn't need platinum around here, but if he wants to build some equity in this community, then he needs to start off on the right foot. Can I load up my cooler and go to Pine Knob again?
They say he's from Flint, and now operating out of California. That makes sense. You don't get to be a billionaire in Flint. Hell, for a billion bucks, you could probably buy that whole city, houses, businesses, dogs, cats, and all, and still have some serious change left over. So he didn't get the money there. Gores runs some outfit named Platinum Equity. Usually companies with names like that swap money around, and buy and sell things for a tidy profit. (Note to Tom -- they do that in Flint too these days. They're called pawn shops, but I don't think there's a whole lot of platinum involved.)
Nevertheless, he's the new sheriff in town in charge of Bill Davidson's old empire. Now that he's the boss, he can pretty much do whatever he wants. That likely means bringing his own people in to run things. This is what new owners do. In which case, Joe Dumars will probably be out a job when the Pistons' season mercifully ends. Joe's a good dude, and he's got enough dough for life, so he'll be alright. The head coach and his staff? They can kiss their Kuesters good-bye too. Chances are they'll land somewhere else as assistants on the never-ending merry-go-round of pro sports.
Everybody wants to talk about the impact Gores will have on the Pistons, but there are more important issues for him to address.
Despite his Flint roots, he'll be perceived as a California pretty boy. He has to change his image. I saw his picture on the front page of the Oakland Press. Nobody around here dresses like that. This is blue-collar territory, not blazerland. We're working stiffs. Well, we used to be before the jobs disappeared, but the attitude's still there. And that hankie in the pocket? Uh-uh. Hankies are only good for one thing, and I'm fairly certain if he uses it for that purpose, he won't want to put it back in his pocket. The dry cleaner would not be amused, and we're not either, so that's gotta go.
If Gores wants to be welcomed with open arms, he might consider issuing executive orders that have nothing to do with the Pistons.
First, considering spring is upon us and outdoor music venues will be starting up soon, lose the DTE Energy bit. Their job is to keep the lights on, not run a theater. So what if they're paying a few bucks for naming rights? Gores's a billionaire and can afford it. Get rid of them and change it back to Pine Knob. He'd be a hero.
Second, go back to the old ways and let the people that either can't afford or get pavillion seats, or maybe just prefer the lawn, bring their own coolers in again. These are the true fans. They'll sit out there on their blankets, even in the rain, so let them bring in their own munchies and beverages. Lost revenue in concessions? Maybe, but not that much. I've been there a lot, and not too many people on the "hill" will walk all the way down just to stand in line for $6 hot dogs, or $8 beers. They have their own ways -- trust me.
Let the coolers come back and the PR would be priceless.
Without getting into detail, the people on the hill, that can barely even see the stage, have occasional "needs". If they're not going to navigate down the mountain for overpriced concessions, should it come as any surprise that they won't make the same trek only to stand in long lines for restrooms? Things happen up there. Trust me on that too.
Throw in a few port-a-johns here and there and he'd be on his way to being a legend before he even hit town.
(Another note to Tom. I wish you good luck. There's a couple other billionaire team owners around. One guy sells a lot of pizza, and he's won a few championships. The other guy? He inherited. Ever hear of the Edsel? It was a car a long time ago. It was ugly, nobody wanted to buy it and, roughly a half-century later, it's considered the epitome of failure. His team is sort of like that.)
Mr. Gores doesn't need platinum around here, but if he wants to build some equity in this community, then he needs to start off on the right foot. Can I load up my cooler and go to Pine Knob again?
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Barry Bonds, the feds, and a bunch of lies
Barry Bonds is on trial right now for allegedly lying to a grand jury about his possible steroid use. Did he use them? It doesn't matter. Did he know what they were at the time? Maybe. Was it legal then? Absolutely. The only crime in question is whether he lied about it.
In case you lost track of time, like I often do, this happened in 2003, eight years ago. To put that in perspective, that was the same year we invaded Iraq. Seems like a long time ago, doesn't it? Our troops are still there, the feds are still after Bonds, and you, as a taxpayer, are still paying for all of it. Some things never seem to go away.
Bonds will be eligible for the Hall of Fame soon, as will Roger Clemens, another guy the feds are trying to nail on similar charges. Alex Rodriguez, now of the Yankees, and also somewhat implicated in the steroids snafu, might have a shot at passing Bonds' all-time home run record if he plays for a few more years. But you will never again see a pitcher amass 354 wins like Clemens did. So should they be voted in?
The purists would say not because they "cheated". Maybe, but Gaylord Perry was famous for his "spitball", and he's in. Want to talk about bad guys? Without getting into the injuries he caused with his sharpened spikes, and being a major league racist, Ty Cobb allegedly killed a man -- but he's there. Alcoholics and adulterers? They abound in Cooperstown. Pete Rose is the all-time hit leader in the game -- a record likely never to be surpassed, but he gambled, so he's out -- for now. Throw in corked bats and juiced balls, and how are we supposed to know where to draw the line?
Yours truly says the first step is for the government to butt out. Given wars, the economy, poverty, immigration issues, foreign policy, and cleaning up their own act, I find it somewhere between comical and insulting that our elected representatives at the highest level have nothing better to do than convene Congressional hearings on these matters, much less turn their prosecutors loose with an unlimited budget that, again, we are paying for.
Secret grand juries nowadays are a draconian abuse of government power anyway. These were started back when people had a legitimate fear of retaliation from certain defendants, should their identities become known. Those days are long gone. Watch all the old Godfather movies or episodes of the Sopranos you want, but nobody gets "whacked" anymore. Yet they still go behind closed doors where the prosecutor, but not the defense attorney is allowed. The judge is typically a former prosecutor him/herself, and the jurors are selectively culled to make sure the case moves on. A defendant has no chance in that room.
Even if Bonds, Clemens, and others are lying, I find it difficult to blame them too much. After all, the feds lie a lot, even at the highest level. "Read my lips, no new taxes", or "I did not have sexual relations with that woman", come to mind. They didn't get prosecuted, and that's not even counting the thousands of lies told by other feds in various entrapments, interrogations, other shenanigans, and even political promises. If you're questioned by a federal agent, they can lie to you to get what they want, and that's OK. If you lie to them back, it's a crime. Something is very wrong with that picture. At that, the Mafioso of the old days confined their whacking to rival gangsters. With the exception of Jimmy Hoffa (36 years ago!), that was done brazenly. Nowadays, if some faceless federal bureaucrat deems you an "enemy combatant", presto, you get "disappeared", and nobody knows anything. So who do we need protection from, indeed?
Personally, I think it's highly likely Bonds took steroids back in the day. But again, it's not about that. It's about whether he lied to an outdated secretive panel in an inquiry led by people that have been known to lie themselves -- 8 years ago. Further, Bonds may be a lot of things but he's certainly no menace to society that should warrant this much prosecutorial attention. How much is enough, already?
Barring an all-out revolution, such as those going on elsewhere in the world, change has to come from the top in this country, and until the people that make and enforce the rules start abiding by them themselves, why should they expect the average citizen to act any differently?
They wouldn't want me on that jury. Anymore, it's getting very difficult for me to tell the difference between the good guys and the bad guys. While there's no love lost here for Bonds, perhaps it would be only fitting that, if he's convicted, the prosecutors had to serve the same sentence handed down.
Oh, that's right. They can lie, cheat, and manipulate all they want, because they have immunity.
To everything except your tax dollars. No wonder they want to keep it secret.
In case you lost track of time, like I often do, this happened in 2003, eight years ago. To put that in perspective, that was the same year we invaded Iraq. Seems like a long time ago, doesn't it? Our troops are still there, the feds are still after Bonds, and you, as a taxpayer, are still paying for all of it. Some things never seem to go away.
Bonds will be eligible for the Hall of Fame soon, as will Roger Clemens, another guy the feds are trying to nail on similar charges. Alex Rodriguez, now of the Yankees, and also somewhat implicated in the steroids snafu, might have a shot at passing Bonds' all-time home run record if he plays for a few more years. But you will never again see a pitcher amass 354 wins like Clemens did. So should they be voted in?
The purists would say not because they "cheated". Maybe, but Gaylord Perry was famous for his "spitball", and he's in. Want to talk about bad guys? Without getting into the injuries he caused with his sharpened spikes, and being a major league racist, Ty Cobb allegedly killed a man -- but he's there. Alcoholics and adulterers? They abound in Cooperstown. Pete Rose is the all-time hit leader in the game -- a record likely never to be surpassed, but he gambled, so he's out -- for now. Throw in corked bats and juiced balls, and how are we supposed to know where to draw the line?
Yours truly says the first step is for the government to butt out. Given wars, the economy, poverty, immigration issues, foreign policy, and cleaning up their own act, I find it somewhere between comical and insulting that our elected representatives at the highest level have nothing better to do than convene Congressional hearings on these matters, much less turn their prosecutors loose with an unlimited budget that, again, we are paying for.
Secret grand juries nowadays are a draconian abuse of government power anyway. These were started back when people had a legitimate fear of retaliation from certain defendants, should their identities become known. Those days are long gone. Watch all the old Godfather movies or episodes of the Sopranos you want, but nobody gets "whacked" anymore. Yet they still go behind closed doors where the prosecutor, but not the defense attorney is allowed. The judge is typically a former prosecutor him/herself, and the jurors are selectively culled to make sure the case moves on. A defendant has no chance in that room.
Even if Bonds, Clemens, and others are lying, I find it difficult to blame them too much. After all, the feds lie a lot, even at the highest level. "Read my lips, no new taxes", or "I did not have sexual relations with that woman", come to mind. They didn't get prosecuted, and that's not even counting the thousands of lies told by other feds in various entrapments, interrogations, other shenanigans, and even political promises. If you're questioned by a federal agent, they can lie to you to get what they want, and that's OK. If you lie to them back, it's a crime. Something is very wrong with that picture. At that, the Mafioso of the old days confined their whacking to rival gangsters. With the exception of Jimmy Hoffa (36 years ago!), that was done brazenly. Nowadays, if some faceless federal bureaucrat deems you an "enemy combatant", presto, you get "disappeared", and nobody knows anything. So who do we need protection from, indeed?
Personally, I think it's highly likely Bonds took steroids back in the day. But again, it's not about that. It's about whether he lied to an outdated secretive panel in an inquiry led by people that have been known to lie themselves -- 8 years ago. Further, Bonds may be a lot of things but he's certainly no menace to society that should warrant this much prosecutorial attention. How much is enough, already?
Barring an all-out revolution, such as those going on elsewhere in the world, change has to come from the top in this country, and until the people that make and enforce the rules start abiding by them themselves, why should they expect the average citizen to act any differently?
They wouldn't want me on that jury. Anymore, it's getting very difficult for me to tell the difference between the good guys and the bad guys. While there's no love lost here for Bonds, perhaps it would be only fitting that, if he's convicted, the prosecutors had to serve the same sentence handed down.
Oh, that's right. They can lie, cheat, and manipulate all they want, because they have immunity.
To everything except your tax dollars. No wonder they want to keep it secret.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
NCAA hoops. Thoroughbreds, also rans, and KK
AND DOWN THE STRETCH THEY COME!!!! Well, maybe not the favorites in the men's bracket. The #1 and 2 seeds all seem to have thrown a shoe somewhere along the line. Those hi-falootin colts always were a temperamenal sort and you never know what they'll do next (and no, I'm not talking about Peyton Manning calling audibles). So who's left? Kentucky's a 4 seed but they have a blue-blooded heritage. They even wear the color. UConn's a 3. They have men's basketball too? Geno allows that? Really. There's that pesky Butler, an 8 seed, that everybody thinks will go away, but like another famous butler, they keep lurching around. And VCU as an 11? Plow horses, yet they've tilled the field all the way to the Final Four.
The basketball fillies are usually more predictable. This is when the cream rises to the top, and this year, like most others, the cream was in short supply. UConn, UTenn, Baylor, Stanford, and a couple wannabes. But wait. Baylor and their 6' 8" dominatrix got knocked off by Tex A&M. Good. One trick ponies get exposed eventually. See ya. Idle thought: If her and Yao Ming got married and had kids -- would they be capable of dunking before they learned their ABC's?
Pat Summitt and her Lady Vols pulled a Humpty Dumpty half way up rocky top. All the queen's horses.....
Stanford, highly respected in the academic community, calls their teams the "Cardinal". Shouldn't there be an "s" on the end of that? They may churn out brilliant scientists and have good teams but this is no place for english majors.
Notre Dame's still there, but they missed the memo a long time ago. They're the Fighting Irish, but the university is named after a cathedral in Paris. Then again, the name Fighting French might draw a few yuks, but I still wouldn't recommend aspiring geography teachers go there. And somebody please inform the boys that, despite what they've been told, Notre Dame translates to "Our Lady", not "The Gipper".
So who's going to win?
On the men's side, methinks the bluegrass boys are for real, but that would go against the mysterious Kathy K's pick, which is Butler. Though I've never met her, I get this very strong feeling it might not be a bad idea to stay on her good side -- in more ways than one -- so the Bulldogs it is. (But if you read this, KK, I'll bet you a Franklin..... oh nevermind. And seeing as how you once blew through New Orleans, I hope your middle name isn't Katrina. Armani, Gucci, or whatever, if you personalize your stuff, those initials might draw a little attention, ya know?)
The ladies? Stanford will take that "s" they don't want and turn A&M into the "saggies". Outta here. The fighting whoever they are? They should have been eating Wheaties. Those Lucky Charms aren't going to cut it against Geno's palominos. And if they ever get their countries straightened out, I don't want to know what a French leprechaun looks like. Please.
In the end, Stanford couldn't keep Harbaugh and they won't keep up in the second half either. It's payback time.
UConn take that to the bank.
PS. Hope you made it to the Palace for Dennis Rodman night. It was April fool's day and Chicago was in town. That meant a lot of bulls---.
Read it either way you want.
Both work.
The basketball fillies are usually more predictable. This is when the cream rises to the top, and this year, like most others, the cream was in short supply. UConn, UTenn, Baylor, Stanford, and a couple wannabes. But wait. Baylor and their 6' 8" dominatrix got knocked off by Tex A&M. Good. One trick ponies get exposed eventually. See ya. Idle thought: If her and Yao Ming got married and had kids -- would they be capable of dunking before they learned their ABC's?
Pat Summitt and her Lady Vols pulled a Humpty Dumpty half way up rocky top. All the queen's horses.....
Stanford, highly respected in the academic community, calls their teams the "Cardinal". Shouldn't there be an "s" on the end of that? They may churn out brilliant scientists and have good teams but this is no place for english majors.
Notre Dame's still there, but they missed the memo a long time ago. They're the Fighting Irish, but the university is named after a cathedral in Paris. Then again, the name Fighting French might draw a few yuks, but I still wouldn't recommend aspiring geography teachers go there. And somebody please inform the boys that, despite what they've been told, Notre Dame translates to "Our Lady", not "The Gipper".
So who's going to win?
On the men's side, methinks the bluegrass boys are for real, but that would go against the mysterious Kathy K's pick, which is Butler. Though I've never met her, I get this very strong feeling it might not be a bad idea to stay on her good side -- in more ways than one -- so the Bulldogs it is. (But if you read this, KK, I'll bet you a Franklin..... oh nevermind. And seeing as how you once blew through New Orleans, I hope your middle name isn't Katrina. Armani, Gucci, or whatever, if you personalize your stuff, those initials might draw a little attention, ya know?)
The ladies? Stanford will take that "s" they don't want and turn A&M into the "saggies". Outta here. The fighting whoever they are? They should have been eating Wheaties. Those Lucky Charms aren't going to cut it against Geno's palominos. And if they ever get their countries straightened out, I don't want to know what a French leprechaun looks like. Please.
In the end, Stanford couldn't keep Harbaugh and they won't keep up in the second half either. It's payback time.
UConn take that to the bank.
PS. Hope you made it to the Palace for Dennis Rodman night. It was April fool's day and Chicago was in town. That meant a lot of bulls---.
Read it either way you want.
Both work.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Tiger. Tiger. Tiger. Where did I go wrong?
Dear Tiger
The stuff that you've won.
I hope it was fun.
Because now you're done.
In more ways than one.
Once upon a time you were the Dale Earnhart of golf. The Intimidator. Anybody that was ahead of you on Sunday, and saw you "coming hard" in the rear view mirror rightfully got nervous, because if you got in the lead -- forget about it -- it's over. Nobody could pass you on the last "lap". Like the 3 car, you closed the deal.
Along the way, you racked up the wins, trophies, countless endorsements, bazillions of dollars, and worldwide admiration. You had it all. Then you messed up.
If I told you once, I told you a thousand times not to let this go to your head. Big heads are for politicians, police chiefs, and game show hosts. Even that Bonds guy, and you see what kind of a mess that got him into. But did you listen? No.
These days I can't figure out what kind of screwy rating system still has you ranked as one of the top 10 players in the world. A few of my retired buddies would likely empty your wallet in a skins game, and though a tricky disc in my back made me give up the real deal, even I could beat you on a putt-putt course. Bring on the windmills and I'll spot you a stroke a side.
Remember, I tried to tell you how all that cussing and throwing clubs wasn't cool. Ignoring adoring fans and having an arrogant caddie didn't help either. When I mentioned working on your swing, I was talking about golf clubs -- not the thing with the bimbos. Maybe you misunderstood that. At that, you became a "whale" in Las Vegas. When you walked into a casino, they knew serious money was involved and they would cater to your every whim. There were others, like MJ, or Charles, and it was rumored maybe even a great white whale was in your company occasionally, though to this day it remains unclear whether that was Moby Dick or Rush Limbaugh. Something about feasting on plankton and blowholes. No matter. Guess I forgot to tell you the wise-guys in Vegas have harpoons. Sorry. Ask Chuck about that.
Then somehow, you got this crazy idea to get married. What were you thinking? That was the most bone-headed move since I thought of making millions writing for this newspaper. Sure, she was a pretty girl and all, but you had your choice of the finest cuisine from Dubai to Pebble Beach at your service whenever you hit town. No strings. Vegas ain't too shabby either. There's some seriously good-looking babes that hang out there. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas -- at least until high-priced investigators and divorce attorneys start snooping around. Money has a way of loosening up lips. If you'd have stayed single and stuck to the game plan involving balls, holes, bunk hers, fair ways, flop shots, or even plugged lies, then done a high fade while getting out of Dodge on your Lear, you might have set records that nobody would ever surpass. Maybe even on the PGA tour as well. But no, you just had to "I do" it.
Now look at you. You're lucky to make a cut, let alone win a tournament. Since you've been declawed, I've decided not to call you Tiger anymore. You're Eldrick. That's how you used to sign your checks, remember?
If you get much worse, it will become Ellie. Go down from their and it becomes Ellie Mae.
Maybe it should have been that way all along. It's all about woods. Your name is Woods, she grew up in the woods, you hit your woods in the woods, and another kind of woods got you in this mess to start with. You both had a fondness for critters, some with 2 legs and some with 4, and some cuter, not to mention more manageable, than others.
Here's wishing you well, and be glad you did what you did to a Swede. They're a peaceful sort. Yeah, she cha-chinged you for a few mill, but it was nothing you couldn't afford, and you had that coming. Your kids are in a far-away country where nobody likes you, but maybe you got off easy. Had you pulled that with, say, an Irish girl, you might be talking to Dale right about now. They're not much into Mulligans when it comes to that sort of thing. Of course, everything has it's upside. You could look up Uncle Jed and finally get that looooooong talking to you always needed.
See you at the putt-putt course. You can wear your red shirt, bring your caddie with 14 different putters in the bag, cuss, and throw all the clubs you want, but I'm gonna whomp you like Grannie did Jethro.
The stuff that you've won.
I hope it was fun.
Because now you're done.
In more ways than one.
Once upon a time you were the Dale Earnhart of golf. The Intimidator. Anybody that was ahead of you on Sunday, and saw you "coming hard" in the rear view mirror rightfully got nervous, because if you got in the lead -- forget about it -- it's over. Nobody could pass you on the last "lap". Like the 3 car, you closed the deal.
Along the way, you racked up the wins, trophies, countless endorsements, bazillions of dollars, and worldwide admiration. You had it all. Then you messed up.
If I told you once, I told you a thousand times not to let this go to your head. Big heads are for politicians, police chiefs, and game show hosts. Even that Bonds guy, and you see what kind of a mess that got him into. But did you listen? No.
These days I can't figure out what kind of screwy rating system still has you ranked as one of the top 10 players in the world. A few of my retired buddies would likely empty your wallet in a skins game, and though a tricky disc in my back made me give up the real deal, even I could beat you on a putt-putt course. Bring on the windmills and I'll spot you a stroke a side.
Remember, I tried to tell you how all that cussing and throwing clubs wasn't cool. Ignoring adoring fans and having an arrogant caddie didn't help either. When I mentioned working on your swing, I was talking about golf clubs -- not the thing with the bimbos. Maybe you misunderstood that. At that, you became a "whale" in Las Vegas. When you walked into a casino, they knew serious money was involved and they would cater to your every whim. There were others, like MJ, or Charles, and it was rumored maybe even a great white whale was in your company occasionally, though to this day it remains unclear whether that was Moby Dick or Rush Limbaugh. Something about feasting on plankton and blowholes. No matter. Guess I forgot to tell you the wise-guys in Vegas have harpoons. Sorry. Ask Chuck about that.
Then somehow, you got this crazy idea to get married. What were you thinking? That was the most bone-headed move since I thought of making millions writing for this newspaper. Sure, she was a pretty girl and all, but you had your choice of the finest cuisine from Dubai to Pebble Beach at your service whenever you hit town. No strings. Vegas ain't too shabby either. There's some seriously good-looking babes that hang out there. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas -- at least until high-priced investigators and divorce attorneys start snooping around. Money has a way of loosening up lips. If you'd have stayed single and stuck to the game plan involving balls, holes, bunk hers, fair ways, flop shots, or even plugged lies, then done a high fade while getting out of Dodge on your Lear, you might have set records that nobody would ever surpass. Maybe even on the PGA tour as well. But no, you just had to "I do" it.
Now look at you. You're lucky to make a cut, let alone win a tournament. Since you've been declawed, I've decided not to call you Tiger anymore. You're Eldrick. That's how you used to sign your checks, remember?
If you get much worse, it will become Ellie. Go down from their and it becomes Ellie Mae.
Maybe it should have been that way all along. It's all about woods. Your name is Woods, she grew up in the woods, you hit your woods in the woods, and another kind of woods got you in this mess to start with. You both had a fondness for critters, some with 2 legs and some with 4, and some cuter, not to mention more manageable, than others.
Here's wishing you well, and be glad you did what you did to a Swede. They're a peaceful sort. Yeah, she cha-chinged you for a few mill, but it was nothing you couldn't afford, and you had that coming. Your kids are in a far-away country where nobody likes you, but maybe you got off easy. Had you pulled that with, say, an Irish girl, you might be talking to Dale right about now. They're not much into Mulligans when it comes to that sort of thing. Of course, everything has it's upside. You could look up Uncle Jed and finally get that looooooong talking to you always needed.
See you at the putt-putt course. You can wear your red shirt, bring your caddie with 14 different putters in the bag, cuss, and throw all the clubs you want, but I'm gonna whomp you like Grannie did Jethro.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Top 10 reasons why
Why should the NCAA hoops tournaments be held in India, of all places? Other than taking away any home court/turf advantages, that a pretty weird idea, right? So with apologies to Letterman, or more specifically his writers, here's 10 reasons why.
10) The players would get exposed to a totally different culture, always a good thing. They'd also have to be on their best behavior -- an even better thing. On top of that, the Indians, being an honorable people, might very well not allow any players with criminal records to go there. This would also make coaches straighten up regarding their win-at-all-costs philosophy. If they have to leave those players home come tournament time, that would make them think twice about recruiting, or keeping them on their teams in the first place. Coaches wouldn't be exempt either. If they got caught with their hand in the nookie and/or rules violations jar, maybe the Indians only need deny them visas for one month. Their own version of probation. Forget the NCAA wimps with their 2-bit fines and sanctions that have never solved anything. Make a head coach sit home while his team's half way around the world at tournament time, and it might just be amazing how quickly that program cleans up the next year.
9) The Indians certainly have the wherewithal to build a complex that would accommodate this tournament. Besides, they'd get their money back in a couple years from the TV folks and other sources anyway.
8) Along those lines, there would be no dopey beer commercials. While we have "dry" counties in some southern states, the Indians have a dry country. Bud and Miller wouldn't be allowed to spend millions on ads for a high-profile sports event, which might even lower their prices here. Well, maybe not, but it's a thought.
7) The American contingent might actually have to go without beef for 3 weeks. The Indians highly frown on such consumption, but this would be a healthy thing.
6) Yes, the teams and coaches fly over there and stay for 3 weeks, until it's done. Players will miss classes, you say? Since when are they going to classes once the tournament starts? Pa-leeze. For that matter, you've heard of "one and dones", expecially on the men's side. How serious do you think they ever took academics?
5) Too expensive to fly there as a fan? It can't get any worse than the domestic airlines have become with stateside flights. My guess would be the Indians would provide discount travel fare through their own airlines if they hosted this event. Besides getting, gasp, something to eat, you might even be able to take an extra bag along without having to ignore your electric bill for the next month. I would suggest it be made of leather, because it probably came from India anyway. How they don't eat beef and consider the cow sacred, yet do so much leather business has always puzzled me, but maybe that's a topic best left for others.
4) Cut costs by leaving the cheerleaders at home. I've never been to India, but I'm pretty sure they're not too much into lip gloss, push-up bras, and pom poms.
3) For that matter, leave the mini-bands at home too. Who cares about hearing their school's fight song every 2 minutes? When there's a break in the action, give me some sitar music so I can contemplate much deeper thoughts. Like, if the Green Bay Packers are "community owned", then who hires and fires the executives anyway? Or maybe how Matt Millen keeps getting high-paying gigs. Perhaps even how Michael Jordan might be the only celebrity in the world capable of growing a Hitler looking mustache and not be questioned about it. Stuff like that.
2) This would also serve as a major stimulus to get Americans to go there in another way. All those 1-800 numbers that we've called over the years for customer service, only to be put on hold, highly frustrated, no satisfaction, and want to vent? Go talk to them in person. You're there.
And the #1 reason why the NCAA hoops tournament should be held in India?
Scalpers would likely be water-boarded in the River Ganges. Like I said, they're an honorable people.
10) The players would get exposed to a totally different culture, always a good thing. They'd also have to be on their best behavior -- an even better thing. On top of that, the Indians, being an honorable people, might very well not allow any players with criminal records to go there. This would also make coaches straighten up regarding their win-at-all-costs philosophy. If they have to leave those players home come tournament time, that would make them think twice about recruiting, or keeping them on their teams in the first place. Coaches wouldn't be exempt either. If they got caught with their hand in the nookie and/or rules violations jar, maybe the Indians only need deny them visas for one month. Their own version of probation. Forget the NCAA wimps with their 2-bit fines and sanctions that have never solved anything. Make a head coach sit home while his team's half way around the world at tournament time, and it might just be amazing how quickly that program cleans up the next year.
9) The Indians certainly have the wherewithal to build a complex that would accommodate this tournament. Besides, they'd get their money back in a couple years from the TV folks and other sources anyway.
8) Along those lines, there would be no dopey beer commercials. While we have "dry" counties in some southern states, the Indians have a dry country. Bud and Miller wouldn't be allowed to spend millions on ads for a high-profile sports event, which might even lower their prices here. Well, maybe not, but it's a thought.
7) The American contingent might actually have to go without beef for 3 weeks. The Indians highly frown on such consumption, but this would be a healthy thing.
6) Yes, the teams and coaches fly over there and stay for 3 weeks, until it's done. Players will miss classes, you say? Since when are they going to classes once the tournament starts? Pa-leeze. For that matter, you've heard of "one and dones", expecially on the men's side. How serious do you think they ever took academics?
5) Too expensive to fly there as a fan? It can't get any worse than the domestic airlines have become with stateside flights. My guess would be the Indians would provide discount travel fare through their own airlines if they hosted this event. Besides getting, gasp, something to eat, you might even be able to take an extra bag along without having to ignore your electric bill for the next month. I would suggest it be made of leather, because it probably came from India anyway. How they don't eat beef and consider the cow sacred, yet do so much leather business has always puzzled me, but maybe that's a topic best left for others.
4) Cut costs by leaving the cheerleaders at home. I've never been to India, but I'm pretty sure they're not too much into lip gloss, push-up bras, and pom poms.
3) For that matter, leave the mini-bands at home too. Who cares about hearing their school's fight song every 2 minutes? When there's a break in the action, give me some sitar music so I can contemplate much deeper thoughts. Like, if the Green Bay Packers are "community owned", then who hires and fires the executives anyway? Or maybe how Matt Millen keeps getting high-paying gigs. Perhaps even how Michael Jordan might be the only celebrity in the world capable of growing a Hitler looking mustache and not be questioned about it. Stuff like that.
2) This would also serve as a major stimulus to get Americans to go there in another way. All those 1-800 numbers that we've called over the years for customer service, only to be put on hold, highly frustrated, no satisfaction, and want to vent? Go talk to them in person. You're there.
And the #1 reason why the NCAA hoops tournament should be held in India?
Scalpers would likely be water-boarded in the River Ganges. Like I said, they're an honorable people.
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