So OK, another day. I'd ran my usual errands, pulled a few weeds out of and watered the garden, cooked and ate something to eat, the dishes washed and dried, dogs fed, and showered up. (Me -- not my beloved yorkies.) Good to go for some serious TV sports watching.
Click.
It's the Detroit Tigers taking on the Tampa Bay Rays. To no great surprise the Motown puddy-tats are behind by a few runs.
But here was the situation. The Rays were at bat with runners on first and second base and one out.
Crack. The batter lofted a fly ball to deep right field. Back, back, back went Detroit right-fielder Nicholas Castellanos. He leaped -- but he didn't have to. The ball was easily catchable at about head high level. But at the last second, dear Nick took his eyes off it and completely missed it. A little league mistake. So it bounded off the wall as Nick flailed away in futility.
It should be noted that Castellanos was once the third baseman for the Tigers. Bad as they are, even the Tigers realized Nick had Roberto Duran-ish hands of stone at that position. But because he could hit some, they had to find a place for him. Again, like little league, when in doubt, stick such a player in right field and hope for the best.
Turns out his best at the 9-position can be embarrassing at times. This was one of them. An average college player, maybe even a high-schooler, makes the catch on that particular routine fly ball.
But it didn't end there. While Nick was picking himself up off the ground, the center fielder came over to finally field the ball. Somebody had to do it.
And what did the 8-position player do? Heaved it in the general direction of the infield. Nowhere near the cut-off man.
Meanwhile, the Tampa runner on second was easily scoring. But the one on first had evidently gone as brain dead as Castellanos. As the ball sailed back into the infield, he hadn't even reach third base yet, but he ran through a stop sign by the third base coach and barreled towards home.
The result? Out by about 40 feet. Embarrassing. Did I mention little-league stuff?
So OK, that was all worth a yuk, but the best was yet to come.
The Tigers' TV announcers had the utter nerve/naivete/lunacy to suggest the original lead runner for the Rays could have been cut down if the Tigers had fielded the ball correctly.
Really? Hey, if an opposing runner is on second base and a batted ball goes off the outfield wall, he'd have to be slower than the Tigers' Victor Martinez NOT to score. I mean, a handicapped person in a wheel chair with one wobbly tire could score given that scenario.
Just when you think the "homers" can't come up with something even more ludicrous than they have in the past -- they strike again with another "you've gotta be kidding me" remark. Where do they GET these guys?
In total, this all took maybe 2-3 minutes, considering the replays. And that was just about enough.
Yep, Nick is still a defensive liability. The Tigers are still awful. And the announcers are still shameless -- completely detached from reality.
Click. Over to the World Series of Poker.
Yeah, I know. It's already been played, a champion decided, and it's basically just a rerun on a second class network.
But it's gotta be better than continuing to watch the Tigers. On THEIR second class network.
Though I appreciate a good belly laugh as much as the next guy, one can only stomach so much of Keystone Koppish play, at supposedly the Major League level.
Monday, July 9, 2018
Saturday, July 7, 2018
Thai boys in the cave
OK, maybe it's a stretch to call spelunking, also known as exploring caves, a sport. But hey, if cornhole, throwing bean bags, and a poker tournament can be broadcast by ESPN -- a network devoted exclusively to sports -- than surely spelunking qualifies.
As the world has known for a while, about a dozen young boys and their coach became trapped in a cave a couple weeks ago. Most, including myself, thought they were the proverbial goners. Maybe their remains would be discovered somewhere in the future, but things weren't exactly looking good.
And then -- surprise!!. A Thai team of SEALS -- no, America doesn't have a monopoly on such elite military personnel -- found them. Not only that, but alive and quite well. What's left of the compassionate people in the world breathed a sigh of relief. The ordeal was over.
But it really wasn't. Not by a long shot.
Turns out, those cave refugees were two and half miles from the entrance to said cave. By any standards, that's a long ways. Worse, the tunnel they had originally traversed was an up and down route, any many of the "downs" had filled up with water due to the rains that somehow find their way into such eco-systems. So there was no easy way to get out. Worse yet, their location was a half mile underground. Could potential rescuers tunnel that deep? Maybe. But only if they could be sure they wouldn't collapse the earth into where the survivors remained. Trying to rescue them -- only to bury them alive -- wouldn't seem like the optimum plan.
For now, the kids and coach seem relatively safe. The SEAL folks have provided them with food and all report they are in good health.
Let's also not forget that, after a couple weeks, any flashlights they may have originally had were long since useless. Batteries won't last that long, so they were completely -- can't see your hand in front of your face -- in the dark. A scary proposition for even the bravest of hearts. At least they had an ample supply of oxygen. Until the SEALS arrived with their own artificial lighting.
The problem is getting them out. It's one thing for highly trained elite divers to swim and otherwise traverse a two and half mile obstacle course, but quite another to expect teenagers totally untrained in such things to do the same.
Worse yet, the monsoon season is just beginning. There will be more rain, MUCH more rain, for the next four months or so. No way of pumping out the passage.
Perhaps they will figure out a way to have the kids -- one at a time -- be outfitted with a SCUBA apparatus and merely hang on to a SEAL diver taking them back out.
Then again, Thailand is a warm country, but caves are always on the cool side, so temperature extremes wouldn't seem to pose much of a problem.
Could they stay down their for four months, until the monsoon season ended? Most likely so.
And here's the kicker. When all this is over, they'll have likely figured out a way to bring the kids and coach back to the friendly confines of the rest of the world. Maybe sooner, maybe later, but you just know it's going to happen.
And then those boys and their coach should have a number one priority.
Hire an agent.
Because you also know somebody in Hollywood is going to want to make a movie out of all this, which will likely be a smashing success at the box office. Who wouldn't pony up a few bucks to see the heroic ordeal these folks went through?
OK, maybe they're stuck in a cave for another four months.
Might as well strike it rich when they finally get out.
Sounds like a plan to me.....
No wonder those kids are all smiles.
Perhaps they already have that part figured out.
As the world has known for a while, about a dozen young boys and their coach became trapped in a cave a couple weeks ago. Most, including myself, thought they were the proverbial goners. Maybe their remains would be discovered somewhere in the future, but things weren't exactly looking good.
And then -- surprise!!. A Thai team of SEALS -- no, America doesn't have a monopoly on such elite military personnel -- found them. Not only that, but alive and quite well. What's left of the compassionate people in the world breathed a sigh of relief. The ordeal was over.
But it really wasn't. Not by a long shot.
Turns out, those cave refugees were two and half miles from the entrance to said cave. By any standards, that's a long ways. Worse, the tunnel they had originally traversed was an up and down route, any many of the "downs" had filled up with water due to the rains that somehow find their way into such eco-systems. So there was no easy way to get out. Worse yet, their location was a half mile underground. Could potential rescuers tunnel that deep? Maybe. But only if they could be sure they wouldn't collapse the earth into where the survivors remained. Trying to rescue them -- only to bury them alive -- wouldn't seem like the optimum plan.
For now, the kids and coach seem relatively safe. The SEAL folks have provided them with food and all report they are in good health.
Let's also not forget that, after a couple weeks, any flashlights they may have originally had were long since useless. Batteries won't last that long, so they were completely -- can't see your hand in front of your face -- in the dark. A scary proposition for even the bravest of hearts. At least they had an ample supply of oxygen. Until the SEALS arrived with their own artificial lighting.
The problem is getting them out. It's one thing for highly trained elite divers to swim and otherwise traverse a two and half mile obstacle course, but quite another to expect teenagers totally untrained in such things to do the same.
Worse yet, the monsoon season is just beginning. There will be more rain, MUCH more rain, for the next four months or so. No way of pumping out the passage.
Perhaps they will figure out a way to have the kids -- one at a time -- be outfitted with a SCUBA apparatus and merely hang on to a SEAL diver taking them back out.
Then again, Thailand is a warm country, but caves are always on the cool side, so temperature extremes wouldn't seem to pose much of a problem.
Could they stay down their for four months, until the monsoon season ended? Most likely so.
And here's the kicker. When all this is over, they'll have likely figured out a way to bring the kids and coach back to the friendly confines of the rest of the world. Maybe sooner, maybe later, but you just know it's going to happen.
And then those boys and their coach should have a number one priority.
Hire an agent.
Because you also know somebody in Hollywood is going to want to make a movie out of all this, which will likely be a smashing success at the box office. Who wouldn't pony up a few bucks to see the heroic ordeal these folks went through?
OK, maybe they're stuck in a cave for another four months.
Might as well strike it rich when they finally get out.
Sounds like a plan to me.....
No wonder those kids are all smiles.
Perhaps they already have that part figured out.
Thursday, July 5, 2018
American League playoffs already set
Talk about anti-climatic. Just over half way through the regular season, the baseball playoffs in the American League would already seem to be a done deal.
In the East, the Bosox and Yanks continue to slug it out for superiority. One will win it, and the other is a shoo-in as a wild card. The nearest team to either are the Tampa Bay Rays, some 15 games back of both.
In the Central, the Cleveland Indians are far and away the class of an otherwise pitiful weak division. They're up by 11 games and that lead will no doubt get much larger as the season wears on. Between the Detroit Tigers, Minnesota Twins, and KC Royals -- forget any wild card. They're collectively terrible.
Out West, the Houston Astros have some serious competition in the Seattle Mariners. Who would have thought the defending world champs would be challenged by the team that has a long history of developing super-stars but can't hang on to them when free agency rears its ugly head? (See small-market, AKA El Cheapo). But the Mariners appear to be for real. Will they fold down the stretch? Maybe. But when a team is 24 games over the .500 mark at a little past mid-season -- they must be doing a whole lot of things right.
One of them will win the division, and the other will be the second wild card.
Poor Mike Trout. The best overall player in the entire Major Leagues will spend yet another futile year with the LA Angels. He's putting up MVP numbers again, but his only participation in this year's post-season will be watching it on TV. Ya gotta feel for the guy.
True, he's making over $30 mill a year, hardly chump change, but the Angels own his butt until the year 2021, when he'll be 30 years old. Such are the up and down sides to signing a long-term contract with an otherwise mediocre team. Lots of dough, but no shot at post-season glory.
At that, barring injury, and Trout seems to one of those hard-playing indestructible guys like Pete Rose, when America welcomes in what is most likely going to be a new President in 2021, it will likely also see the highest bidding free agency battle in the history of sports.
Thirty years old is the peak of most baseball players. Trout will no doubt have suitors with very deep pockets courting him every which way. And one of them will probably be dumb enough to offer him something like a ten-year contract for a bazillion dollars.
How'd that work out with Miguel Cabrera of the Detroit Tigers? Dude can't even stay healthy enough to play, let alone effectively, but he's still making $76,000 a day, EVERY day, for doing nothing. Worse, the Tigers are on the hook for another three years of this lunacy.
Boston, NYY, Cleveland, Houston, and Seattle. A mighty fine playoff field it will be.
Pity we have to slog through another dreary three months of the season to finally get to the games that will matter.
In the East, the Bosox and Yanks continue to slug it out for superiority. One will win it, and the other is a shoo-in as a wild card. The nearest team to either are the Tampa Bay Rays, some 15 games back of both.
In the Central, the Cleveland Indians are far and away the class of an otherwise pitiful weak division. They're up by 11 games and that lead will no doubt get much larger as the season wears on. Between the Detroit Tigers, Minnesota Twins, and KC Royals -- forget any wild card. They're collectively terrible.
Out West, the Houston Astros have some serious competition in the Seattle Mariners. Who would have thought the defending world champs would be challenged by the team that has a long history of developing super-stars but can't hang on to them when free agency rears its ugly head? (See small-market, AKA El Cheapo). But the Mariners appear to be for real. Will they fold down the stretch? Maybe. But when a team is 24 games over the .500 mark at a little past mid-season -- they must be doing a whole lot of things right.
One of them will win the division, and the other will be the second wild card.
Poor Mike Trout. The best overall player in the entire Major Leagues will spend yet another futile year with the LA Angels. He's putting up MVP numbers again, but his only participation in this year's post-season will be watching it on TV. Ya gotta feel for the guy.
True, he's making over $30 mill a year, hardly chump change, but the Angels own his butt until the year 2021, when he'll be 30 years old. Such are the up and down sides to signing a long-term contract with an otherwise mediocre team. Lots of dough, but no shot at post-season glory.
At that, barring injury, and Trout seems to one of those hard-playing indestructible guys like Pete Rose, when America welcomes in what is most likely going to be a new President in 2021, it will likely also see the highest bidding free agency battle in the history of sports.
Thirty years old is the peak of most baseball players. Trout will no doubt have suitors with very deep pockets courting him every which way. And one of them will probably be dumb enough to offer him something like a ten-year contract for a bazillion dollars.
How'd that work out with Miguel Cabrera of the Detroit Tigers? Dude can't even stay healthy enough to play, let alone effectively, but he's still making $76,000 a day, EVERY day, for doing nothing. Worse, the Tigers are on the hook for another three years of this lunacy.
Boston, NYY, Cleveland, Houston, and Seattle. A mighty fine playoff field it will be.
Pity we have to slog through another dreary three months of the season to finally get to the games that will matter.
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Joey Chestnut and all those hot dogs
I love hot dogs. Always did and probably always will. But I'm picky these days. Only the Koegel natural casing wieners for me. You know, the good stuff.
True, they probably don't rank up there with the finer cuisines, like lobster, a juicy porterhouse steak, or a Frosty from Wendy's, but hot dogs are pretty good.
Also true is I probably don't want to know what actually goes into the making of them. I've heard horror stories about such things, ingredients etal, so I'd rather continue to be blissfully ignorant. And I've got a really bad feeling about what those "natural casings" actually consist of as well. All I know is I like them.
But not as much as one Joey Chestnut. He just broke his own world record by scarfing down 74 hot dogs -- and buns -- in 10 minutes.
Consider that for a second. Could you eat seven and a half hot dogs and buns in one minute? Maybe. But then could you do it nine more times in a row? No way.
SEVENTY FOUR hot dogs and buns in ten minutes? Unbelievable. A monster great white shark or ravenous 600 pound grizzly bear probably couldn't pull that off.
But Joey Chestnut, a guy that weighs a little north of 200 pounds, did.
You know what would be truly comical to watch?
Chestnut, a San Jose native, is probably really well known in the Bay area. But can you imagine if he disguised himself and traveled the US seeking out all-you-can-eat joints?
I'd gladly cough up a C-note to be present when JC rolled into a food establishment, plopped down his 10 or 20 bucks, and started chowing down on the all-you-can-eat offer of the day -- especially if they were hot dogs.
After he had gone through, say, twenty, they'd probably give him a funny look. When he got to forty, the owner would want to know what the hell was going on.
At sixty, surely the proprietor would be exasperated. WHO AND WHAT IS THIS GUY?
Hilarious stuff.
If he ever tires of the competitive food eating circuit, JC could have his own TV show, preying on the all-you-can-eat joints across the country.
Tell me you wouldn't tune in to see that -- at least a few times -- and I'll tell you I don't believe it.
Nevertheless, all hail Joey Chestnut.
Once again, the hot dog eating king of the planet.
It kind of gets you right --urp -- there.
True, they probably don't rank up there with the finer cuisines, like lobster, a juicy porterhouse steak, or a Frosty from Wendy's, but hot dogs are pretty good.
Also true is I probably don't want to know what actually goes into the making of them. I've heard horror stories about such things, ingredients etal, so I'd rather continue to be blissfully ignorant. And I've got a really bad feeling about what those "natural casings" actually consist of as well. All I know is I like them.
But not as much as one Joey Chestnut. He just broke his own world record by scarfing down 74 hot dogs -- and buns -- in 10 minutes.
Consider that for a second. Could you eat seven and a half hot dogs and buns in one minute? Maybe. But then could you do it nine more times in a row? No way.
SEVENTY FOUR hot dogs and buns in ten minutes? Unbelievable. A monster great white shark or ravenous 600 pound grizzly bear probably couldn't pull that off.
But Joey Chestnut, a guy that weighs a little north of 200 pounds, did.
You know what would be truly comical to watch?
Chestnut, a San Jose native, is probably really well known in the Bay area. But can you imagine if he disguised himself and traveled the US seeking out all-you-can-eat joints?
I'd gladly cough up a C-note to be present when JC rolled into a food establishment, plopped down his 10 or 20 bucks, and started chowing down on the all-you-can-eat offer of the day -- especially if they were hot dogs.
After he had gone through, say, twenty, they'd probably give him a funny look. When he got to forty, the owner would want to know what the hell was going on.
At sixty, surely the proprietor would be exasperated. WHO AND WHAT IS THIS GUY?
Hilarious stuff.
If he ever tires of the competitive food eating circuit, JC could have his own TV show, preying on the all-you-can-eat joints across the country.
Tell me you wouldn't tune in to see that -- at least a few times -- and I'll tell you I don't believe it.
Nevertheless, all hail Joey Chestnut.
Once again, the hot dog eating king of the planet.
It kind of gets you right --urp -- there.
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
Boogie Cousins, screamers, and a Ho
It would appear that one DeMarcus "Boogie" Cousins can't win, no matter what he does. NBA fans know he's a big talented dude that has slaved away in obscurity for the Sacramento Kings in recent years.
And now he's signed a contract on the cheap to play for the Golden State Warriors. By cheap, that means an, ahem, paltry $5.3 million bucks for one year. Of course, this is all relative. $5.3 million is far more than most working people, including college grads, will ever make in their lifetimes. The utter absurdity of professional athlete salaries, many of whom likely couldn't pass an eighth grade equivalency test given ten tries, I leave to the reader to contemplate. Let's just say it's gotten out of control -- big time.
Par for the course, the talking heads are dissecting Boogie's move every which way.
The good news is -- they think it admirable that he would accept far less money than he could have got by staying with Sacramento, or going to any number of other teams. Also, who can question his desire to win an NBA championship -- something which he has a very good chance of doing while playing for the Dubs.
[Idle thought. This is quite a pick-up for the Warriors. It gives them a big guy they didn't have before that is multi-talented, while not hurting them at all in the salary cap department. Oh so quietly, they just got a lot better, as if they needed it.]
But the inevitable bad news is -- the same folks that praise him for the above are willing to rip him for "cherry-picking". that is, selling himself short by going to a front runner to quite possibly get a ring.
Poor dude can't seem to win in their eyes. So what was he supposed to do? Stay with the always pitiful Kings? Go to the Detroit Pistons, New Jersey Nets, NY Knicks, or some other clueless and bottom feeding organization?
How about we cut the man some slack?
OK, Wimbledon, that always uppity tennis tournament, is upon us again. So I tried to check it out. Click.
What did I see? A ladies match, featuring one Vitalia Diatchenko going up against Maria Sharapova. A couple Russian girls. Pretty good looking too. What? Sexist? I don't care. Sue me. I appreciate beauty when I see it, and aren't afraid to say so.
But I couldn't stand to watch them for very long, so I don't know who won the match.
It was the screaming. Both of them shrieking at the top of their lungs with every tennis stroke they made.
Besides being totally unladylike, which Wimbledon is supposed to exemplify, one is left to wonder how women of this ilk behave while in the privacy of enjoying their sex lives -- if they have any.
If they scream like that on a tennis court, how much racket to you think they'd make while in the throes of ecstasy the pleasures of the flesh have to offer?
Beats me, but I'm guessing the entire neighborhood knows about it when they're getting it on.
[Idle thought II. Didn't PGA golfer Rory McIlroy have a go-round with Sharapova a while back? And then kicked her to the curb? One can hardly blame the Irish lad. Poor devil was probably in fear of going deafer than a post from such encounters. If he was any good -- that is.]
I've long been a fan of professional poker players at the highest level. Wouldn't miss the annual World Series of Poker for anything. Those guys and gals are truly amazing with their strategies and fearlessness under the ultimate big-money pressure.
But I saw something this year that made me sit up and take notice.
Evidently, there's a female player named Ho. For real.
That's gotta be rough in the real world, especially among the guys she's typically playing with.
I mean, how would one go about getting her attention to speak with her?
Would "Hey Ho" work?
Somehow that doesn't have a very good ring to it.
And now he's signed a contract on the cheap to play for the Golden State Warriors. By cheap, that means an, ahem, paltry $5.3 million bucks for one year. Of course, this is all relative. $5.3 million is far more than most working people, including college grads, will ever make in their lifetimes. The utter absurdity of professional athlete salaries, many of whom likely couldn't pass an eighth grade equivalency test given ten tries, I leave to the reader to contemplate. Let's just say it's gotten out of control -- big time.
Par for the course, the talking heads are dissecting Boogie's move every which way.
The good news is -- they think it admirable that he would accept far less money than he could have got by staying with Sacramento, or going to any number of other teams. Also, who can question his desire to win an NBA championship -- something which he has a very good chance of doing while playing for the Dubs.
[Idle thought. This is quite a pick-up for the Warriors. It gives them a big guy they didn't have before that is multi-talented, while not hurting them at all in the salary cap department. Oh so quietly, they just got a lot better, as if they needed it.]
But the inevitable bad news is -- the same folks that praise him for the above are willing to rip him for "cherry-picking". that is, selling himself short by going to a front runner to quite possibly get a ring.
Poor dude can't seem to win in their eyes. So what was he supposed to do? Stay with the always pitiful Kings? Go to the Detroit Pistons, New Jersey Nets, NY Knicks, or some other clueless and bottom feeding organization?
How about we cut the man some slack?
OK, Wimbledon, that always uppity tennis tournament, is upon us again. So I tried to check it out. Click.
What did I see? A ladies match, featuring one Vitalia Diatchenko going up against Maria Sharapova. A couple Russian girls. Pretty good looking too. What? Sexist? I don't care. Sue me. I appreciate beauty when I see it, and aren't afraid to say so.
But I couldn't stand to watch them for very long, so I don't know who won the match.
It was the screaming. Both of them shrieking at the top of their lungs with every tennis stroke they made.
Besides being totally unladylike, which Wimbledon is supposed to exemplify, one is left to wonder how women of this ilk behave while in the privacy of enjoying their sex lives -- if they have any.
If they scream like that on a tennis court, how much racket to you think they'd make while in the throes of ecstasy the pleasures of the flesh have to offer?
Beats me, but I'm guessing the entire neighborhood knows about it when they're getting it on.
[Idle thought II. Didn't PGA golfer Rory McIlroy have a go-round with Sharapova a while back? And then kicked her to the curb? One can hardly blame the Irish lad. Poor devil was probably in fear of going deafer than a post from such encounters. If he was any good -- that is.]
I've long been a fan of professional poker players at the highest level. Wouldn't miss the annual World Series of Poker for anything. Those guys and gals are truly amazing with their strategies and fearlessness under the ultimate big-money pressure.
But I saw something this year that made me sit up and take notice.
Evidently, there's a female player named Ho. For real.
That's gotta be rough in the real world, especially among the guys she's typically playing with.
I mean, how would one go about getting her attention to speak with her?
Would "Hey Ho" work?
Somehow that doesn't have a very good ring to it.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Quicken Loans and second-class Tiger Woods
I think I'm finally beginning to get my head around the concept of why some peoples in countries far away get so worked up as to flog themselves in the streets.
One need only look at Tiger Woods groupies. Or long-suffering Detroit Lions fans, for that matter. They seem to have taken a very strange/scary mixture of adoration, faith, hope, and never say die to limits most sane people would consider mad dog rabid at best, and perhaps completely insane -- outta here/wacko/nut job at worst. How else to explain how so many still believe Eldrick Tont Woods will return to his former greatness? Or the Lions have a chance of going to the Super Bowl every year? It's utter madness. Lunacy. Like expecting Dems and Reps to stop with the partisanship and childish insults to accomplish something worthwhile for the people of the country. Ain't gonna happen. It just is what it is.
The Lions next season of futility is still a couple months away from starting, but Tiger mania is in full swing.
This time it was the Quicken Loans Open, a second, or even third class tournament as contests go on the PGA tour.
Quick quiz.
What do Dustin Johnson, Justin Thomas, Justin Rose, Jason Day, Jordan Spieth, Rory McIlroy, Henrik Stinson, Bubba Watson, Jon Rahm, Patrick Reed, and yep, even Lefty Phil have in common?
A few things. They're all world class golfers. They, and at least 50-60 others are ranked higher than one Tiger Woods, and none of them showed up for the Quicken Loans tournament.
So this was Eldrick's big chance to finally get that -- sound the trumpets -- elusive win he hasn't been able to pull off for five years or so. A lifetime in the world of sports.
Yep, Tiger was competing against the most watered down field since maybe Donald and Hillary were going through the primaries a while back.
The glass half-fullers -- disciples -- will say he finished in fourth place. They're likely busy bringing themselves to climaxes by flogging themselves in ecstasy right about now. Hey, different strokes. Ahem.
But the sane people would counter with --he finished 10 strokes back -- a ton -- from the eventual winner of the tourney.
That winner turned out to be one Francesco Molinari. For some reason that name rings a bell. Does he have a brand of spaghetti sauce he markets on the side? Cheese? Pasta? A combination of the three? Dunno, but it has a certain ring to it.
Meanwhile, dear Eldrick also finished behind one Ryan Armour. Ever heard of him? Not me.
And Song hoon Kang. Does that same name have a number on Chinese food menus? A special of some sort? Does it come with an egg roll and a couple fortune cookies? Beats me, but sounds like it could.
Dear Tiger tied with Abraham Ancer for fourth place. Surely you've heard of Abe.
And a single stroke ahead of Bronson Burgoon. Huh?
Let's just say this wasn't exactly a murderer's row field Eldrick was competing against. More like a minor league contest.
And he still couldn't get anywhere near winning.
How do you think he'll fare when the "big boys" show up for the next tournament that actually matters to them?
So OK. Let the self-floggers have at it again. To each their own. Whatever floats their boats.
But I'll never understand why people would continue to subject themselves to such punishment for a hopeless cause.
One need only look at Tiger Woods groupies. Or long-suffering Detroit Lions fans, for that matter. They seem to have taken a very strange/scary mixture of adoration, faith, hope, and never say die to limits most sane people would consider mad dog rabid at best, and perhaps completely insane -- outta here/wacko/nut job at worst. How else to explain how so many still believe Eldrick Tont Woods will return to his former greatness? Or the Lions have a chance of going to the Super Bowl every year? It's utter madness. Lunacy. Like expecting Dems and Reps to stop with the partisanship and childish insults to accomplish something worthwhile for the people of the country. Ain't gonna happen. It just is what it is.
The Lions next season of futility is still a couple months away from starting, but Tiger mania is in full swing.
This time it was the Quicken Loans Open, a second, or even third class tournament as contests go on the PGA tour.
Quick quiz.
What do Dustin Johnson, Justin Thomas, Justin Rose, Jason Day, Jordan Spieth, Rory McIlroy, Henrik Stinson, Bubba Watson, Jon Rahm, Patrick Reed, and yep, even Lefty Phil have in common?
A few things. They're all world class golfers. They, and at least 50-60 others are ranked higher than one Tiger Woods, and none of them showed up for the Quicken Loans tournament.
So this was Eldrick's big chance to finally get that -- sound the trumpets -- elusive win he hasn't been able to pull off for five years or so. A lifetime in the world of sports.
Yep, Tiger was competing against the most watered down field since maybe Donald and Hillary were going through the primaries a while back.
The glass half-fullers -- disciples -- will say he finished in fourth place. They're likely busy bringing themselves to climaxes by flogging themselves in ecstasy right about now. Hey, different strokes. Ahem.
But the sane people would counter with --he finished 10 strokes back -- a ton -- from the eventual winner of the tourney.
That winner turned out to be one Francesco Molinari. For some reason that name rings a bell. Does he have a brand of spaghetti sauce he markets on the side? Cheese? Pasta? A combination of the three? Dunno, but it has a certain ring to it.
Meanwhile, dear Eldrick also finished behind one Ryan Armour. Ever heard of him? Not me.
And Song hoon Kang. Does that same name have a number on Chinese food menus? A special of some sort? Does it come with an egg roll and a couple fortune cookies? Beats me, but sounds like it could.
Dear Tiger tied with Abraham Ancer for fourth place. Surely you've heard of Abe.
And a single stroke ahead of Bronson Burgoon. Huh?
Let's just say this wasn't exactly a murderer's row field Eldrick was competing against. More like a minor league contest.
And he still couldn't get anywhere near winning.
How do you think he'll fare when the "big boys" show up for the next tournament that actually matters to them?
So OK. Let the self-floggers have at it again. To each their own. Whatever floats their boats.
But I'll never understand why people would continue to subject themselves to such punishment for a hopeless cause.
ESPN's Lebron James insult
As a die hard, and not overly bright sports fan, I probably watch ESPN way too much. But when one wants to catch up on the highlights of the day in the world of sports, there's nothing better than the "trailer" at the bottom of the screen on the 4-letter network.Wait long enough, and it will usually get around to giving you the info you're curious about.
But a short while ago, I felt insulted by those very same 4-letter folks. Anybody with half a brain and a smidgen of self-respect likely felt the same way.
Yeah, we get it. Lebron James was testing the free agent waters and where he wound up was going to be big news in the hoops world. And there was the answer, scrolling across the bottom of the flat screen. Lebron James signs with the LA Lakers for four years for a bazillion dollars. Got it.
But evidently, the ESPN people thought it was such earth-shaking news that they had to repeat it. Immediately the same message was shown again. OK, definitely got it, just in case we missed it the first time. Could happen.
But that wasn't good enough. It was shown a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth time, back-to-back-to-back, etc.
Here's a question. When's the last time you had to tell somebody, even an animal such as a dog, something eight times in a row before you thought they comprehended it? If it doesn't work the first couple times, I would suggest either you're wasting your breath, or the recipient is too stupid to ever have understood it in the first place.
By ESPN doing an eight-peat with the same message, they were basically telling us they thought we were dumber than rocks. Who needs this aggravation? We've already got the politicians to fill our stupid quotas every day.
Problem is, where else can a sports junkie go to get so much quick info across the sports spectrum? On-line? Sure, if you want to look things up one at a time. That could take a while.
Besides, James joining the Lakers isn't really big news at all. With the dearth of talent and abundance of clowns they already have on that team, not to mention Magic Johnson being in charge of assembling the roster, laughable in itself, the LA-LA boys aren't going to be contenders any year soon, with or without LJ. Does anybody seriously think they'll be able to challenge the Golden State Warriors, or Houston Rockets for that matter? All James is getting is glitz, more exposure, if that's even possible, and the sobering fact of being clobbered by the Dubs and Rockets more often every year.
If he thought things were bad in Cleveland, wait until he gets a serious load of reality in the Western Conference of the NBA.
An afterthought. When LJ left the Cavaliers the first time to pursue titles in Miami, the folks back in Buckeyeland burned his jerseys.
True, he brought them a title they wouldn't have got otherwise when he returned.
But now that's he's kicked them to the curb again, will there be Jersey Burning -- the sequel?
Stay tuned.
And BTW, he can kiss his streak of going to the NBA Finals good-bye.
But a short while ago, I felt insulted by those very same 4-letter folks. Anybody with half a brain and a smidgen of self-respect likely felt the same way.
Yeah, we get it. Lebron James was testing the free agent waters and where he wound up was going to be big news in the hoops world. And there was the answer, scrolling across the bottom of the flat screen. Lebron James signs with the LA Lakers for four years for a bazillion dollars. Got it.
But evidently, the ESPN people thought it was such earth-shaking news that they had to repeat it. Immediately the same message was shown again. OK, definitely got it, just in case we missed it the first time. Could happen.
But that wasn't good enough. It was shown a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth time, back-to-back-to-back, etc.
Here's a question. When's the last time you had to tell somebody, even an animal such as a dog, something eight times in a row before you thought they comprehended it? If it doesn't work the first couple times, I would suggest either you're wasting your breath, or the recipient is too stupid to ever have understood it in the first place.
By ESPN doing an eight-peat with the same message, they were basically telling us they thought we were dumber than rocks. Who needs this aggravation? We've already got the politicians to fill our stupid quotas every day.
Problem is, where else can a sports junkie go to get so much quick info across the sports spectrum? On-line? Sure, if you want to look things up one at a time. That could take a while.
Besides, James joining the Lakers isn't really big news at all. With the dearth of talent and abundance of clowns they already have on that team, not to mention Magic Johnson being in charge of assembling the roster, laughable in itself, the LA-LA boys aren't going to be contenders any year soon, with or without LJ. Does anybody seriously think they'll be able to challenge the Golden State Warriors, or Houston Rockets for that matter? All James is getting is glitz, more exposure, if that's even possible, and the sobering fact of being clobbered by the Dubs and Rockets more often every year.
If he thought things were bad in Cleveland, wait until he gets a serious load of reality in the Western Conference of the NBA.
An afterthought. When LJ left the Cavaliers the first time to pursue titles in Miami, the folks back in Buckeyeland burned his jerseys.
True, he brought them a title they wouldn't have got otherwise when he returned.
But now that's he's kicked them to the curb again, will there be Jersey Burning -- the sequel?
Stay tuned.
And BTW, he can kiss his streak of going to the NBA Finals good-bye.
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