Last year, in the wake, or perhaps midst of the Lance Armstrong scandal, Brit Bradley Wiggins won the Tour de France. This year, his fellow countryman and teammate Christopher Froome is poised to do it yet again. And all this without even a whisper about PEDs, blood transfusions, or any other such shenanigans. Cheerio.
Recently Andy Murray became the first Brit to win the men's single's title at Wimbledon since 1936.
A couple months ago, Justin Rose won golf's US Open. Pip pip.
Currently, going into the final round of the British Open, Lee Westwood has a 2-shot lead.
I say, old chaps (and chapesses), by jove things appear to be bloody-well looking up in Great Britain these days.
On top of that, the whole kingdom is eagerly anticipating yet another blessed event. That would be Kate the Great (Prince Willie's main squeeze) breaking her royal water and giving birth to Queen Lizzie the Deuce's first great-grandchild.
They probably hope it's a boy. Blue-bloods are like that. Something about carrying on the royal name. Either that, or 17-18 years from now, it would be a lot easier to explain away a prince being a bit wayward as opposed to a princess getting knocked up. You never know about those things.
Idle thought. Don't they have ultrasounds and the like in Great Britain to determine the sex of the unborn child? Then again, maybe that would take away from the fascination of it all.
If indeed it's a boy, I hope they name it James. After all, he'll be in line for the throne and might well become King someday. Great Britain's had a lot of King James' over the course of their history.
America has one too, but he plays basketball for the Miami Heat. Still, I think Lebron would approve of such a possible namesake.
Following up on the above idle thought: If they want suspense, you know what would really be a shocker? If the kid pops out looking a lot like Dennis Rodman. SURPRISE!! What a jolly good show that would be. Yet somehow Prince Worm just wouldn't sound exactly regal -- ya know?
At any rate I don't think Lizzie, Willy, or even Lebron would find it the least bit humorous (we are not amused). Well, maybe Lebron.
And I dare say Kate would have some serious 'splainin to do.
Right now I have to get in touch with a certain DR. Yes, it's unusual for one to be making house calls at this time of the night, but who am I to question their ways when I'm obviously in need of being seriously medicated?
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Friday, July 19, 2013
Over the top at the British Open
After two rounds of play at Muirfield, it's become obvious this is a very tough golf course. Yet some of the commentary is almost laughable.
Some suggested there was absolute carnage going on. Gee, I must have missed that part. I watched a great deal of it and didn't see Freddie Krueger, Jason, or homicidal maniacs with chain saws running around cutting golfers into little pieces, though such scenarios certainly would have spiced it up a tad, to say the least. Did Dick Cheney pop up from one his bunkers and -- SURPRISE -- unleash one of those mythical weapons of mass destruction? If so, I missed that part too.
Sometimes those guys get carried away with their descriptions. In my opinion, Paul Azinger summed it up best. Muirfield was hard, and difficult. Hard, as in the fairways and greens being very firm, and difficult, as in very tricky to play.
During the second round, very few of the best golfers in the world could even shoot par. Throw in knee-high rough, undulating greens as fast as your average putt-putt course, and a couple hundred seriously deep bunkers -- and yeah -- this course presents quite a test to even the elite players.
Yet somehow there seems to be an underlying theme that because the players aren't racking up birdies and eagles galore -- this is brutal.
No. It's not. It's still the same players with 14 clubs in their bag being toted around by a caddy, consulting their handy-dandy "black books" for the exact yardage on any particular shot from anywhere on the course. This sort of thing is possible because just prior to any PGA tournament, volunteers comb the entire course with lasers, and plot out every conceivable shot on every hole. This is duly recorded, fed into a computer, printed copies made, and presto -- the players and their caddies know within a yard exactly how far the ball lies from the hole in any given situation. And normally they only play 18 holes of golf a day. Maybe 4 hours of "work". This is not exactly an iron-man contest or a collective cage match. It's golf. And who cares whether the average score is 65, 75, or even 105?
Ah, but there's the ego thing. World-class golfers that have become accustomed to adulation for their remarkable shot-making ability don't want to suffer the indignity of being "humbled" by a golf course. Those 3 putts from inside 6 feet must drive them crazy.
All of this is nonsense, of course. A golf course doesn't humble anybody any more than a player shooting a superb round humbles the course itself.
Ben Hogan was famous for once saying, "I'm glad I brought this course, this monster, to it's knees", when referring to Oakland Hills Country Club during the 1951 US Open. Like the current Muirfield layout, Oakland Hills had been particularly difficult to play. Did Hogan shoot a 59? Hardly. He carded a 67 that day. A good score, given the course, but hardly Ripley's believe it or not stuff. Besides, Hogan permanently tapped out in 1997 and, last time I looked, Oakland Hills was still there taking on all comers.
And for that matter, how exactly does one presume to bring a golf course to it's knees? It's only a piece of fancy land. It's not like it can fight back, sprouting up a Terminator every couple hours or so.
The only person I ever saw truly abuse a golf course was Bill Murray in his portrayal of Carl Spackler in the movie Caddyshack. He blew up the whole course in his quest to conquer those pesky ground hogs. Now THAT'S bringing a course to it's knees. Eat your heart out Ben, wherever you are.
Perhaps the same thing could happen at Muirfield over the weekend. Give a lunatic familiar with the course enough C4, send him on a mission, and this British Open might get a whole lot more interesting. Just kidding.
Uh oh. Tiger Woods is lurking once again. He's only one shot back headed into the weekend. Will he play like the Tiger of old and storm his way to his 15th major title? Or will he fold on the weekend as he has so often in recent major championships? Hard to say.
Interesting stat. In the last 5 years at major championships, Woods is a collective 11 under par during the first two rounds. On the weekends, he's a collective 19 OVER par.
We'll see. But keep an eye out for a guy in a goofy hat running around with spools of wire. Can't be too careful these days.
Some suggested there was absolute carnage going on. Gee, I must have missed that part. I watched a great deal of it and didn't see Freddie Krueger, Jason, or homicidal maniacs with chain saws running around cutting golfers into little pieces, though such scenarios certainly would have spiced it up a tad, to say the least. Did Dick Cheney pop up from one his bunkers and -- SURPRISE -- unleash one of those mythical weapons of mass destruction? If so, I missed that part too.
Sometimes those guys get carried away with their descriptions. In my opinion, Paul Azinger summed it up best. Muirfield was hard, and difficult. Hard, as in the fairways and greens being very firm, and difficult, as in very tricky to play.
During the second round, very few of the best golfers in the world could even shoot par. Throw in knee-high rough, undulating greens as fast as your average putt-putt course, and a couple hundred seriously deep bunkers -- and yeah -- this course presents quite a test to even the elite players.
Yet somehow there seems to be an underlying theme that because the players aren't racking up birdies and eagles galore -- this is brutal.
No. It's not. It's still the same players with 14 clubs in their bag being toted around by a caddy, consulting their handy-dandy "black books" for the exact yardage on any particular shot from anywhere on the course. This sort of thing is possible because just prior to any PGA tournament, volunteers comb the entire course with lasers, and plot out every conceivable shot on every hole. This is duly recorded, fed into a computer, printed copies made, and presto -- the players and their caddies know within a yard exactly how far the ball lies from the hole in any given situation. And normally they only play 18 holes of golf a day. Maybe 4 hours of "work". This is not exactly an iron-man contest or a collective cage match. It's golf. And who cares whether the average score is 65, 75, or even 105?
Ah, but there's the ego thing. World-class golfers that have become accustomed to adulation for their remarkable shot-making ability don't want to suffer the indignity of being "humbled" by a golf course. Those 3 putts from inside 6 feet must drive them crazy.
All of this is nonsense, of course. A golf course doesn't humble anybody any more than a player shooting a superb round humbles the course itself.
Ben Hogan was famous for once saying, "I'm glad I brought this course, this monster, to it's knees", when referring to Oakland Hills Country Club during the 1951 US Open. Like the current Muirfield layout, Oakland Hills had been particularly difficult to play. Did Hogan shoot a 59? Hardly. He carded a 67 that day. A good score, given the course, but hardly Ripley's believe it or not stuff. Besides, Hogan permanently tapped out in 1997 and, last time I looked, Oakland Hills was still there taking on all comers.
And for that matter, how exactly does one presume to bring a golf course to it's knees? It's only a piece of fancy land. It's not like it can fight back, sprouting up a Terminator every couple hours or so.
The only person I ever saw truly abuse a golf course was Bill Murray in his portrayal of Carl Spackler in the movie Caddyshack. He blew up the whole course in his quest to conquer those pesky ground hogs. Now THAT'S bringing a course to it's knees. Eat your heart out Ben, wherever you are.
Perhaps the same thing could happen at Muirfield over the weekend. Give a lunatic familiar with the course enough C4, send him on a mission, and this British Open might get a whole lot more interesting. Just kidding.
Uh oh. Tiger Woods is lurking once again. He's only one shot back headed into the weekend. Will he play like the Tiger of old and storm his way to his 15th major title? Or will he fold on the weekend as he has so often in recent major championships? Hard to say.
Interesting stat. In the last 5 years at major championships, Woods is a collective 11 under par during the first two rounds. On the weekends, he's a collective 19 OVER par.
We'll see. But keep an eye out for a guy in a goofy hat running around with spools of wire. Can't be too careful these days.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Johnny Manziel and the media farce
Evidently the media, bless their prying little hearts, wanted Texas A&M quarterback Johnny Manziel to clear the air regarding a few issues in Johnny Football's life of late. It appears they thought he had some 'splainin to do. So Manziel agreed to "meet the press" and hopefully get everything ironed out.
Little did he know that over 1200 vultures would show up and attempt to pick his bones clean. 1200? Really? For a mere soon-to-be sophomore college QB? Wow, he must have done something outrageous. Here's a point-by-point look at his so-called crimes against humanity and what yours truly thinks of each.
They wanted to know why Manziel had recently departed early from the Manning football camp. He'd missed meetings and, in the end, basically not lived up to his commitment.
(First of all, there was no commitment. It's not like Manziel deserted from the Marines during a tour of duty, or was otherwise contractually bound to remain there. He can come and go as he damn well pleases. BTW, it didn't seem to bother the Mannings that much. They said they'd invite him back again next year.)
The lead talking head asked Manziel if he might have been partying/drinking/ the night before. He might as well have asked if Johnny "got lucky". Wisely, Manziel didn't take that bait and merely replied that he had overslept.
(True or not, short of showing up on the police blotter, what Manziel did the night before is nobody's business. Not mine. Not yours. Not anybody's. For all we know, that same reporter asking the questions might have been stewed to the gills and stuffing dollar bills into G-strings the night before.)
Months ago, Manziel sent out a negative tweet about A&M.
(So what? He's got a right to do so. Though our rights seem to be falling like dominoes these days, it is hoped that "freedom of speech" hasn't been totally thrown under the bus just yet. And I don't want to hear about loyalty to the university that's providing him with a free education. A&M has garnered publicity beyond their wildest dreams and likely raked in countless millions they never would have had if Manziel hadn't chosen THEM. Besides, it was only a silly tweet. In my opinion, anybody that places too much faith in the whimsical, spur-of-the-moment, cyber thoughts of others -- is in serious need of a life.)
Johnny was seen in a courtside seat at an NBA Finals game. This looked bad.
(Well, good gawd a-mighty, a navy SEAL team should have swooped in, thrown him in the back of an unmarked chopper, and flown him to Gitmo to be water-boarded for such an atrocity. Nevermind his parents had the means to purchase their son such a great seat. Even the zealots of the NCAA "infraction committee" would be hard-pressed to find a violation in mom and dad giving their kid a ticket to a game.)
Ah, but Manziel pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge involving a bar fight back in 2012. The way it was presented by the media would lead many to believe Johnny must have "gooned it up" at a pub in a drunken rage. Do you smell "plea bargain" and preferential treatment?
(Turns out, Manziel's only apparent crime was not telling a cop what his name was when they arrived to break up the alleged altercation. They didn't suggest that Manziel was even involved in whatever may have occurred. He was just there, and refused to talk to a cop. So since when did this become illegal? Don't we still have the right to remain silent, or has that gone out the window too?)
In the end, the media (all 1200+ of them) huffed and puffed, asked leading questions, threw out innuendos, and any other trick they could think of while desperately -- DESPERATELY -- looking for something --ANYTHING-- they could get their meathooks in and run with.
But you know what? Johnny Football wouldn't give it to them, perhaps there was nothing much to give in the first place. Imagine that. True to form, the vultures were in spin mode trying to save face after their press debacle -- still looking for an edible crumb here or there. But they'll likely move on soon to the next target they see as vulnerable. Such is the nature of the beasts.
As for Johnny Manziel? He's the reigning Heisman trophy winner. He showed superb running and passing skills last season to garner that award.
But most impressive of all was the way he handled all those reporters. And he's only 20 years old.
Give him a few years in the NFL to rack up further name recognition and, if he keeps his nose semi-clean while limiting where his junk wanders -- this guy could have unlimited possibilities as a politician.
President Manziel. It sort of has a nice ring to it -- ya know? And hey, having ears that make him look like a VW beetle with the doors open certainly didn't hold back the guy that currently occupies the Oval Office. Just a different paint job.
Little did he know that over 1200 vultures would show up and attempt to pick his bones clean. 1200? Really? For a mere soon-to-be sophomore college QB? Wow, he must have done something outrageous. Here's a point-by-point look at his so-called crimes against humanity and what yours truly thinks of each.
They wanted to know why Manziel had recently departed early from the Manning football camp. He'd missed meetings and, in the end, basically not lived up to his commitment.
(First of all, there was no commitment. It's not like Manziel deserted from the Marines during a tour of duty, or was otherwise contractually bound to remain there. He can come and go as he damn well pleases. BTW, it didn't seem to bother the Mannings that much. They said they'd invite him back again next year.)
The lead talking head asked Manziel if he might have been partying/drinking/ the night before. He might as well have asked if Johnny "got lucky". Wisely, Manziel didn't take that bait and merely replied that he had overslept.
(True or not, short of showing up on the police blotter, what Manziel did the night before is nobody's business. Not mine. Not yours. Not anybody's. For all we know, that same reporter asking the questions might have been stewed to the gills and stuffing dollar bills into G-strings the night before.)
Months ago, Manziel sent out a negative tweet about A&M.
(So what? He's got a right to do so. Though our rights seem to be falling like dominoes these days, it is hoped that "freedom of speech" hasn't been totally thrown under the bus just yet. And I don't want to hear about loyalty to the university that's providing him with a free education. A&M has garnered publicity beyond their wildest dreams and likely raked in countless millions they never would have had if Manziel hadn't chosen THEM. Besides, it was only a silly tweet. In my opinion, anybody that places too much faith in the whimsical, spur-of-the-moment, cyber thoughts of others -- is in serious need of a life.)
Johnny was seen in a courtside seat at an NBA Finals game. This looked bad.
(Well, good gawd a-mighty, a navy SEAL team should have swooped in, thrown him in the back of an unmarked chopper, and flown him to Gitmo to be water-boarded for such an atrocity. Nevermind his parents had the means to purchase their son such a great seat. Even the zealots of the NCAA "infraction committee" would be hard-pressed to find a violation in mom and dad giving their kid a ticket to a game.)
Ah, but Manziel pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge involving a bar fight back in 2012. The way it was presented by the media would lead many to believe Johnny must have "gooned it up" at a pub in a drunken rage. Do you smell "plea bargain" and preferential treatment?
(Turns out, Manziel's only apparent crime was not telling a cop what his name was when they arrived to break up the alleged altercation. They didn't suggest that Manziel was even involved in whatever may have occurred. He was just there, and refused to talk to a cop. So since when did this become illegal? Don't we still have the right to remain silent, or has that gone out the window too?)
In the end, the media (all 1200+ of them) huffed and puffed, asked leading questions, threw out innuendos, and any other trick they could think of while desperately -- DESPERATELY -- looking for something --ANYTHING-- they could get their meathooks in and run with.
But you know what? Johnny Football wouldn't give it to them, perhaps there was nothing much to give in the first place. Imagine that. True to form, the vultures were in spin mode trying to save face after their press debacle -- still looking for an edible crumb here or there. But they'll likely move on soon to the next target they see as vulnerable. Such is the nature of the beasts.
As for Johnny Manziel? He's the reigning Heisman trophy winner. He showed superb running and passing skills last season to garner that award.
But most impressive of all was the way he handled all those reporters. And he's only 20 years old.
Give him a few years in the NFL to rack up further name recognition and, if he keeps his nose semi-clean while limiting where his junk wanders -- this guy could have unlimited possibilities as a politician.
President Manziel. It sort of has a nice ring to it -- ya know? And hey, having ears that make him look like a VW beetle with the doors open certainly didn't hold back the guy that currently occupies the Oval Office. Just a different paint job.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
The All-Star game
With one notable exception, the 2013 Major League All-Star game could be summed up in one word. Boring. And that exception had nothing to do with anything that happened on the field of play. I'll get back to that.
Yes, there are those that like "pitchers' duels", aka low scoring contests, but c'mon. This was the All-Star game. I dare say most baseball fans would prefer to see a little bit of everything -- especially the hitters showing off their prowess. We want to see balls rocketing all over the park, hit-and run plays, homers, etc. Besides, no pitcher will be in the game for more than two innings anyway. It's not like there's a possibility of a guy racking up a no-hitter. Yeah, sometimes it just is what it is. The pitchers on one or both sides will dominate the opposing batters -- but I still think it's boring when that happens. Give me a 12-11 All-Star game anyday.
Looking beyond the game action itself -- some things seemed strange. When longtime NY Yankees closer Mariano Rivera took the the mound in the eighth inning, both teams stayed off the field for a few moments in a tribute to his accomplishments. Rivera appeared not to know what was going on. True, Rivera has had a long and distinguished career, this season marks his "swan song", farewell tour, whatever, and he'll be a shoo-in to the Hall of Fame in 5 years when he becomes eligible. And good for him. But in an obviously choreographed ploy by the powers that be in MLB, clearing the field for his grand entrance seemed a bit over the top. After all, he's still only a baseball relief pitcher. This was not exactly the second coming of the Messiah.
[Idle thought. Rivera will be the last MLB player to ever wear #42. Due to the King's (see Bud Selig) mandate back in 1997, in honor of Jackie Robinson, who had broken the "color" barrier in MLB fifty years previously, all teams were forced to retire that number. But it wasn't retroactive to the players that were wearing it at the time -- like Rivera. Yes, this is the same bumbling billionaire king who's job has long been to represent 30-some other billionaire owners, but can't seem to figure out how to comb his own hair, let alone make prudent baseball decisions. For that matter, why should other teams that competed against Robinson and his then Brooklyn Dodgers, let alone American League teams whose parks Robinson never even set foot in be forced to retire his number?]
And note where this All-Star game was played. In the Big Apple, arguably the largest and most lucrative sports market in the world. In the NY Mets' relatively shiny new stadium, replete with all the fancy goodies that go along with such architectural wonders that might have made even the ancient Romans, Egyptians, and Greeks sit up and take notice.
Throw in all the media hype for the last few weeks leading up to this game, and yours truly has a question.
Why were there so many empty seats?
Which brings me back to the highlight of the game. During the course of an at-bat, Detroit Tigers' slugger Miguel Cabrera accomplished an astounding feat. No, it wasn't the double he hit into right-center field. That sort of thing is commonplace. What was extraordinary was, during a "mighty Casey at the bat" swing, Cabrera somehow found a way to not only lose his grip on the bat, but somehow managed to sling it 20-some rows deep into the stands.
Luckily, instead of causing great bodily harm to any of the "too many dollars and not enough sense" folks that had ponied up All-Star ticket prices in the first place, it landed amongst the above-mentioned empty seats, and some kid eventually retrieved it.
Now he's got a souvenir he can brag to his buddies about.
At least one person found the game exciting.
Yes, there are those that like "pitchers' duels", aka low scoring contests, but c'mon. This was the All-Star game. I dare say most baseball fans would prefer to see a little bit of everything -- especially the hitters showing off their prowess. We want to see balls rocketing all over the park, hit-and run plays, homers, etc. Besides, no pitcher will be in the game for more than two innings anyway. It's not like there's a possibility of a guy racking up a no-hitter. Yeah, sometimes it just is what it is. The pitchers on one or both sides will dominate the opposing batters -- but I still think it's boring when that happens. Give me a 12-11 All-Star game anyday.
Looking beyond the game action itself -- some things seemed strange. When longtime NY Yankees closer Mariano Rivera took the the mound in the eighth inning, both teams stayed off the field for a few moments in a tribute to his accomplishments. Rivera appeared not to know what was going on. True, Rivera has had a long and distinguished career, this season marks his "swan song", farewell tour, whatever, and he'll be a shoo-in to the Hall of Fame in 5 years when he becomes eligible. And good for him. But in an obviously choreographed ploy by the powers that be in MLB, clearing the field for his grand entrance seemed a bit over the top. After all, he's still only a baseball relief pitcher. This was not exactly the second coming of the Messiah.
[Idle thought. Rivera will be the last MLB player to ever wear #42. Due to the King's (see Bud Selig) mandate back in 1997, in honor of Jackie Robinson, who had broken the "color" barrier in MLB fifty years previously, all teams were forced to retire that number. But it wasn't retroactive to the players that were wearing it at the time -- like Rivera. Yes, this is the same bumbling billionaire king who's job has long been to represent 30-some other billionaire owners, but can't seem to figure out how to comb his own hair, let alone make prudent baseball decisions. For that matter, why should other teams that competed against Robinson and his then Brooklyn Dodgers, let alone American League teams whose parks Robinson never even set foot in be forced to retire his number?]
And note where this All-Star game was played. In the Big Apple, arguably the largest and most lucrative sports market in the world. In the NY Mets' relatively shiny new stadium, replete with all the fancy goodies that go along with such architectural wonders that might have made even the ancient Romans, Egyptians, and Greeks sit up and take notice.
Throw in all the media hype for the last few weeks leading up to this game, and yours truly has a question.
Why were there so many empty seats?
Which brings me back to the highlight of the game. During the course of an at-bat, Detroit Tigers' slugger Miguel Cabrera accomplished an astounding feat. No, it wasn't the double he hit into right-center field. That sort of thing is commonplace. What was extraordinary was, during a "mighty Casey at the bat" swing, Cabrera somehow found a way to not only lose his grip on the bat, but somehow managed to sling it 20-some rows deep into the stands.
Luckily, instead of causing great bodily harm to any of the "too many dollars and not enough sense" folks that had ponied up All-Star ticket prices in the first place, it landed amongst the above-mentioned empty seats, and some kid eventually retrieved it.
Now he's got a souvenir he can brag to his buddies about.
At least one person found the game exciting.
Monday, July 15, 2013
A very foul record
Somebody get hold of the Guinness people. Surely another world record has been set. The validity is beyond doubt, because the TV folks have footage of this historic event. How else would an idiot like me know about such a thing?
That would be a single fan in Wrigley Field, home of the Chicago Cubs, catching/retrieving not one, but four, count em FOUR foul balls during the course of a game. That's one lucky guy, the fact he's a Cubs' fan notwithstanding. Ahem.
To likely no one's great surprise, the stat monsters crunched the numbers on the chances of this happening. According to them.....
The average major league baseball stadium has 30,000 people in attendance at any given game.
During the course of any such game, an average of 27 baseballs are hit into the stands. Yes, there are people that actually keep track of such things, another believe it or not. Are you listening, Ripley?
Therefore, the chances of any one fan nabbing a baseball that flies into the stands are roughly 1100 to one. Not good.
Going a step further (you knew they would), it was calculated that the odds of the same person in the seats nabbing four baseballs in one game were approximately 1,000,000,000,000 to one.
Or, put another way, about the same chances as the Detroit Lions winning the Super Bowl any year soon. Nyuk, nyuk.
Hi Deb. Was good to see you again. And if you're reading this where I think you might be reading it, tell Lynn I said to speed it up. She'll understand. I hope.
That would be a single fan in Wrigley Field, home of the Chicago Cubs, catching/retrieving not one, but four, count em FOUR foul balls during the course of a game. That's one lucky guy, the fact he's a Cubs' fan notwithstanding. Ahem.
To likely no one's great surprise, the stat monsters crunched the numbers on the chances of this happening. According to them.....
The average major league baseball stadium has 30,000 people in attendance at any given game.
During the course of any such game, an average of 27 baseballs are hit into the stands. Yes, there are people that actually keep track of such things, another believe it or not. Are you listening, Ripley?
Therefore, the chances of any one fan nabbing a baseball that flies into the stands are roughly 1100 to one. Not good.
Going a step further (you knew they would), it was calculated that the odds of the same person in the seats nabbing four baseballs in one game were approximately 1,000,000,000,000 to one.
Or, put another way, about the same chances as the Detroit Lions winning the Super Bowl any year soon. Nyuk, nyuk.
Hi Deb. Was good to see you again. And if you're reading this where I think you might be reading it, tell Lynn I said to speed it up. She'll understand. I hope.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
The US Senior Open (and more dumb commercials)
Wow. Turns out, some of those old coots on the geezer tour can still play some serious golf. Seeing as how yours truly is older than several of them, I think I can get away with such a crack.
And what a show they put on during the final round. The eventual champion, Kenny Perry, was 10 shots out of the lead a couple days ago, only to wind up winning the tournament by 5 strokes. A 15 shot swing? Now THAT'S called blistering the field over the weekend. Perry carded a 30 on the front nine. I've shot higher than that at putt-putt courses. And this wasn't your run-of-the-mill municipal or county course either. It was a US Open set-up -- difficult to say the least. Granted, it likely wasn't as tough as "regular" US Open courses, but still -- 500 yard par 4s? A par 5 that was over 600 yards? Golfers hitting their approach shots into greens that at times were 5-6 stories higher (or lower) than where they stood? Not exactly a piece of cake.
[And now a commercial break. An insurance company sang their tag line once again. "We are farmers". Well gee, that's great. I'll give them a call if I'm ever in the market for a few bushels of corn or a truckload of sugar beets. But what, pray tell, does being farmers have to do with insurance?]
At one point, Perry rattled off 4 birdies in a row. Not to be outdone, Corey Pavin reeled off 5 in a row to equal the all-time record of consecutive birdies at a US Open. But Perry wouldn't wilt. He was just too good and wound up posting a final round 65, to follow up his blistering 63 the day before. The dude's almost 53 years old and he's still averaging 300 yards off the tee, finessing his irons, and can putt as true as ever? That's impressive stuff.
[Another insurance commercial I've never understood. If I'm going to cough up a couple grand every year in insurance premiums, then they have to do better than just giving me "a piece of the rock". Merely a PIECE of an unknown rock? That's nowhere near good enough. For what I've shelled out over the years, I ought to have my likeness carved on Mt. Rushmore by now. And who cares about rocks anyway? If something bad happens, I want quick service and a check to cover it. What is it with these people?]
Nevertheless, hats off to Kenny Perry, a worthy 2013 US Senior Open champion, which also marks him capturing his second major of the year. Despite his rather unorthodox swing, somehow he just makes it work, and good for him.
[And now I'm outta here, before I see that duck, lizard, or goofy girl selling insurance policies out of shoeboxes at a sanitarium again.]
Idle parting thought: In a recent Sports Illustrated article, Dennis Rodman said that out of the Top 10 most recognizable people in the world -- he'd check in at #5. According to the Worm, only God, Jesus, Muhammed Ali and Barack Obama would be ahead of him. Yet kudos to the SI scribe (Franz Lidz) for noting that the Top 4 probably wouldn't show up in Times Square wearing a bra and sporting a blond mohawk either. Touche.
The scary part? Rodman just might be right. Is this a great planet or what?
And what a show they put on during the final round. The eventual champion, Kenny Perry, was 10 shots out of the lead a couple days ago, only to wind up winning the tournament by 5 strokes. A 15 shot swing? Now THAT'S called blistering the field over the weekend. Perry carded a 30 on the front nine. I've shot higher than that at putt-putt courses. And this wasn't your run-of-the-mill municipal or county course either. It was a US Open set-up -- difficult to say the least. Granted, it likely wasn't as tough as "regular" US Open courses, but still -- 500 yard par 4s? A par 5 that was over 600 yards? Golfers hitting their approach shots into greens that at times were 5-6 stories higher (or lower) than where they stood? Not exactly a piece of cake.
[And now a commercial break. An insurance company sang their tag line once again. "We are farmers". Well gee, that's great. I'll give them a call if I'm ever in the market for a few bushels of corn or a truckload of sugar beets. But what, pray tell, does being farmers have to do with insurance?]
At one point, Perry rattled off 4 birdies in a row. Not to be outdone, Corey Pavin reeled off 5 in a row to equal the all-time record of consecutive birdies at a US Open. But Perry wouldn't wilt. He was just too good and wound up posting a final round 65, to follow up his blistering 63 the day before. The dude's almost 53 years old and he's still averaging 300 yards off the tee, finessing his irons, and can putt as true as ever? That's impressive stuff.
[Another insurance commercial I've never understood. If I'm going to cough up a couple grand every year in insurance premiums, then they have to do better than just giving me "a piece of the rock". Merely a PIECE of an unknown rock? That's nowhere near good enough. For what I've shelled out over the years, I ought to have my likeness carved on Mt. Rushmore by now. And who cares about rocks anyway? If something bad happens, I want quick service and a check to cover it. What is it with these people?]
Nevertheless, hats off to Kenny Perry, a worthy 2013 US Senior Open champion, which also marks him capturing his second major of the year. Despite his rather unorthodox swing, somehow he just makes it work, and good for him.
[And now I'm outta here, before I see that duck, lizard, or goofy girl selling insurance policies out of shoeboxes at a sanitarium again.]
Idle parting thought: In a recent Sports Illustrated article, Dennis Rodman said that out of the Top 10 most recognizable people in the world -- he'd check in at #5. According to the Worm, only God, Jesus, Muhammed Ali and Barack Obama would be ahead of him. Yet kudos to the SI scribe (Franz Lidz) for noting that the Top 4 probably wouldn't show up in Times Square wearing a bra and sporting a blond mohawk either. Touche.
The scary part? Rodman just might be right. Is this a great planet or what?
Saturday, July 13, 2013
A truly indecent proposal
Warning: The following article contains an offensive attitude. If you're politically correct or otherwise just plain wimpy, the author (me) suggests you stop right here. Read on at your own peril but don't say I didn't warn you.
You know what's wrong with sports these days? They've taken all the fun out of it. By that, I mean there's not enough death and destruction going on like in the old days.
Consider hydroplane racing. In times of yore, the mortality rate was high amongst the boat drivers. It was edge-of-your-seat stuff to watch them speeding around with the driver's head sticking out of the top. Yet it seemed like it was only a matter of time before even the best of them would suffer a high-speed ker-splat on the water and die of various injuries. These days, the cockpits of those boats more closely resemble those of fighter planes. All enclosed, reinforced, 5-point harnesses, emergency air supply, high-tech communications, the works. Nobody gets killed anymore. Well, that's no fun.
After Dale Earnhart Sr. kissed the wall at Daytona and went to meet the real Intimidator in the sky, NASCAR seems to have morphed from the good-ole-boys duking it out, to the limp wrist circuit. How else to explain the shock-absorbing walls at all the tracks, restrictor plates at the super speedways to slow the cars down, the head/neck devices every driver must wear, and various other so-called safety features? The problem? There's still plenty of destruction, but not enough guys are getting killed. When that used to happen, it spiced it up a tad. Ya never know when a guy might be on his last lap -- literally. Gee, that was fun to watch.
Throw Indy cars into the mix and things are just way to safe these days. Race vehicles still get splattered, but the pilots don't. Again, that takes all the fun out of it. And they wonder why attendance has nosedived at all these venues? Maybe it's because they've all became too wimpy. Seeing fiberglass, carbon-fiber, and sheet metal getting obliterated is one thing -- but nothing gets a fan's juices flowing like the possibility of a bodybag.
For that matter -- if the fans in attendance want to truly interact -- then raising and reinforcing the protective fences between the track and the crowd is the WORST thing they can do. Get rid of them entirely. If fans in attendance want to watch a high-speed race close-up and in person -- then why should they be immune from whatever carnage might occur? Hey, if tires or any other parts of wrecked race cars come zooming into the stands at 150-200 MPH and decapitate a few folks -- then so what? Chalk it up to collateral damage and race on.
Look at the NFL. They're trying to eliminate helmet-to-helmet contact. Sure, concussions are a bad thing, but why should we care? After all, the players not only know this going in, but are willing to sacrifice their heads, bodies, and everything else to make an NFL roster. It's not our fault if some of them are crippled up and have the mentality of a green bean by the time they're 50. Nobody makes them do what they do. They want to. High reward, but also high risk. It goes with the territory.
Personally, I fondly remember what former Chicago Bear linebacker and NFL Hall of Famer Dick Butkus once said. The only thing better than hitting a guy hard enough to watch his helmet go rolling down the field would be if his head was still in it. Now THAT would have been interesting.
Recently, Detroit Tiger manager Jim Leyland stormed the field with yet another of his tirades because an opposing pitcher gave one of his hitters a little "chin music". After all the antics and false bravado charades typical of baseball in such a situation died down -- the game went on as usual.
But it could have been so much more exciting. The opposing pitcher still had a baseball -- right? So when the manager of the other team comes out on the field to dispute a call -- why not wind up and give a guy like Leyland a 95 MPH heater in his ribs or backside? Can you imagine what might have happened next? Me neither, but it sure would have been fun to watch.
NHL hockey? Too many guys still have all their front teeth, and not enough stitches are involved these days. Yes, it's faster, but it's also wimpier. Anymore, those guys take dives like soccer players. Jeez, how I long for the good old days when men were men and blood was on the ice.
Of course all the above was written with tongue firmly in cheek.
Maybe.
You know what's wrong with sports these days? They've taken all the fun out of it. By that, I mean there's not enough death and destruction going on like in the old days.
Consider hydroplane racing. In times of yore, the mortality rate was high amongst the boat drivers. It was edge-of-your-seat stuff to watch them speeding around with the driver's head sticking out of the top. Yet it seemed like it was only a matter of time before even the best of them would suffer a high-speed ker-splat on the water and die of various injuries. These days, the cockpits of those boats more closely resemble those of fighter planes. All enclosed, reinforced, 5-point harnesses, emergency air supply, high-tech communications, the works. Nobody gets killed anymore. Well, that's no fun.
After Dale Earnhart Sr. kissed the wall at Daytona and went to meet the real Intimidator in the sky, NASCAR seems to have morphed from the good-ole-boys duking it out, to the limp wrist circuit. How else to explain the shock-absorbing walls at all the tracks, restrictor plates at the super speedways to slow the cars down, the head/neck devices every driver must wear, and various other so-called safety features? The problem? There's still plenty of destruction, but not enough guys are getting killed. When that used to happen, it spiced it up a tad. Ya never know when a guy might be on his last lap -- literally. Gee, that was fun to watch.
Throw Indy cars into the mix and things are just way to safe these days. Race vehicles still get splattered, but the pilots don't. Again, that takes all the fun out of it. And they wonder why attendance has nosedived at all these venues? Maybe it's because they've all became too wimpy. Seeing fiberglass, carbon-fiber, and sheet metal getting obliterated is one thing -- but nothing gets a fan's juices flowing like the possibility of a bodybag.
For that matter -- if the fans in attendance want to truly interact -- then raising and reinforcing the protective fences between the track and the crowd is the WORST thing they can do. Get rid of them entirely. If fans in attendance want to watch a high-speed race close-up and in person -- then why should they be immune from whatever carnage might occur? Hey, if tires or any other parts of wrecked race cars come zooming into the stands at 150-200 MPH and decapitate a few folks -- then so what? Chalk it up to collateral damage and race on.
Look at the NFL. They're trying to eliminate helmet-to-helmet contact. Sure, concussions are a bad thing, but why should we care? After all, the players not only know this going in, but are willing to sacrifice their heads, bodies, and everything else to make an NFL roster. It's not our fault if some of them are crippled up and have the mentality of a green bean by the time they're 50. Nobody makes them do what they do. They want to. High reward, but also high risk. It goes with the territory.
Personally, I fondly remember what former Chicago Bear linebacker and NFL Hall of Famer Dick Butkus once said. The only thing better than hitting a guy hard enough to watch his helmet go rolling down the field would be if his head was still in it. Now THAT would have been interesting.
Recently, Detroit Tiger manager Jim Leyland stormed the field with yet another of his tirades because an opposing pitcher gave one of his hitters a little "chin music". After all the antics and false bravado charades typical of baseball in such a situation died down -- the game went on as usual.
But it could have been so much more exciting. The opposing pitcher still had a baseball -- right? So when the manager of the other team comes out on the field to dispute a call -- why not wind up and give a guy like Leyland a 95 MPH heater in his ribs or backside? Can you imagine what might have happened next? Me neither, but it sure would have been fun to watch.
NHL hockey? Too many guys still have all their front teeth, and not enough stitches are involved these days. Yes, it's faster, but it's also wimpier. Anymore, those guys take dives like soccer players. Jeez, how I long for the good old days when men were men and blood was on the ice.
Of course all the above was written with tongue firmly in cheek.
Maybe.
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