Spurious thoughts and idle musings from the world of sports …

And 1 … Ouch.  Man, I can’t even begin to get my head wrapped around going 18-1 and not winning The Vince.  That is pain and we’re not talking French bread here.  But pain is what’s for dinner and the once-beaten Patriots have no one to blame but themselves.  Well, maybe the Super Bowl champeen New York Jints had a little something to do with it.  That nasty pass rush made the league’s best offensive line look silly and gave the Jints just enough time and space to seal it with two late sixes.  Thanks for playing, Pats, and Mercury Morris has some lovely parting gifts for you.
 
Hello ???  Hello, Mr Manning, this is Tony Romo, did I catch you at a bad time ???  No, certainly not, Tony, and please call me Archie.  Now what I can do for you ???  Well, Archie, this wasn’t my idea but Jerry Jones told me to call you and ask if you and Mrs Manning could adopt me as your son in time for next season.  He really wants to win the Super Bowl and seeing as your sons have won the last two … Well, I’m not sure about that, Tony … Say, can I put you on hold for a second, I have another call coming in.  Hello, who is this ???  Carson Palmer ???  I, uh, wait, hold on, there’s another call … Honey, could you tell Philip Rivers I’ll call him right back.

Okay, we get it … Janet Jackson’s naughty bit four years ago completely frazzled the grand poobahs at the NFL league office.  But can we please end the geezer tour that the halftime show has become in the wake of Miss J’s all-too-brief wardrobe malfunction ???  We had Paul McCartney in Jacksonville, the Stones two years ago, Prince last year and now Tom Petty and the Heart Bypass Surgeries this year.  What’s next, a Doors reunion ???  C’mon, baby, light my bifocals.

Golf season is back and so is some guy named Tiger.  I can’t be positive but I think he means business.  I don’t usually make bold predictions but Tiger looks like he just might win a few tournaments this year.
 
Supe ads were either bizarre or tame.  The one with the chick whose beating heart jumped out of her chest to tell her boss she was quitting her job didn’t exactly go well with the nachos and 7-layer dip I was trying to keep down.  The Dalmation training the Clydesdale was cute but sappy … And I’m still trying to figure out just how many different companies are out there selling magic water with some kind of fruit flavor in it.

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Spurious thoughts and idle musings from the world of sports …
 
Dear Tiki, the weather here in Phoenix is wonderful.  Too bad you retired last year.  Don’t know if you heard or not but we made it to the Super Bowl this year without you.  And without Shockey too.  I know, crazy, isn’t it ???  Anyway, if you get a chance, say hi to Katie Couric or whoever it is you’re working with now.  Hey, gotta go, man, team meeting in 5 minutes.  Take care.  Your pal, Eli.  P.S.  Coach Coughlin says wazzup too.
 
Bob Malcolm is a midfielder for Queens Park Rangers, an English Premiership football club.  Bob Malcolm played a match for QPR against Plymouth in London one night about a month ago.  Bob Malcolm’s team lost.  At 6:30am the next morning, Bob Malcolm was found fast asleep in his car in the middle lane of the M1 highway in Tibshelf, a small Derbyshire County town.  Upon awakening, Bob Malcolm confessed he thought he had pulled over to the side of the road.  Bob Malcolm also failed a breath test and will now have to pay a fine and attend alcohol rehab.  Bob Malcolm apologized for his poor judgment but made sure we all knew who was really at fault here … “I must say that I was very upset and frustrated with the poor performance of the referee in our match at Plymouth the evening before.”  Bob Malcolm should now get used to seeing yellow cards being waved in his face.  Lots of ‘em.
 
Whadda you say we stay in the UK … Liverpool and Manchester United, two of the most famous, most successful and most valuable English football teams, are owned by … gasp … some seriously rich American gents, Tom Hicks and the Glazer brothers.  As you can guess, Lord Pip-Pip and Milady Cheerio are just a little brassed off having Yanks own their precious clubs.  And so both teams’ fans are trying to raise the pounds to buy them back and toss the bloody Yanks back across the pond where they belong.  Here’s what I think we should do though … First, let’s tax their stamps.  And if that doesn’t work, we’ll tax their tea.  And if they don’t want to pay the tax, they can just toss the tea in the harbor for all we care.  That’ll teach ‘em not to mess with us owning them.

Dear TO, hope you’re enjoying your stay with the Cowboys.  We’re sorry the arbitrator said you have to pay back the rest of your 2005 signing bonus.  For your convenience, we accept Visa, MasterCard, Discover, American Express, cash, check or money order.   If you decide to pay by check, please write on the memo line … “TO cost himself $2.49 million dollars by holding out against us.”  Thank you and have a nice day.  Sincerely, the Philadelphia Eagles.

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Spurious thoughts and idle musings from the world of sports …
 
Jints and Pack at Lambeau for the NFC crown … Man, talk about the old school.  For this one, we need square-toed, head-on kickers, single bar face masks and big “H” goalposts.  Not to mention buzz cuts … Or better yet, linemen with bloody short sleeves and steaming bald heads sitting on the bench while coaches roam the sidelines in cashmere coats wearing felt fedoras.  Snow and ice would be nice but at the very least, Bart Starr and Y.A. Tittle should be there for the coin toss.  Oh and let’s not forget … Highlights by NFL Films only.  Nothing says old school quite like a frozen football spinning in slow-motion spiral backed by a 40-piece horn section.
 
Rest in peace, Bobby Fischer.  He certainly was a strange one but the dude played lights out chess.  I remember Fischer’s epic 1972 match in Iceland when he whipped the big bad Russian champ, Boris Spassky.  The match was on PBS and it was seriously low tech.  All they showed was a studio with some guys wearing headphones who kept staring at a big chessboard on the wall.  And every so often, they’d get up and go move a flimsy cardboard piece on the board.  And then they’d talk about that move until the next one came in.  And this went on for days … Okay, so it wasn’t like Rocky Balboa and Ivan Drago but it was still strangely compelling.  I mean, this was the Cold War.  We had to beat this Russian guy.  Even if we never saw him.
 
What part of “Stay out of strip clubs” doesn’t Pacman Jones understand???  It’s real simple, man.  If it’s after midnight and you’re in a dark place with no windows and the girls there are wearing not much or nothing at all and ”Sweet Child O’ Mine” or “Pour Some Sugar On Me” is playing at jet airplane decibels and there’s a shiny silver pole on a stage and strobe lights are flashing and a fog machine is, um, well, fogging and there are huge grim guys wearing sunglasses and flexing cannonball biceps standing close to the girls, then get out.  In fact, Pacman, if you’re anyplace after dark and guys there are still wearing sunglasses, go home.  Nothing good is going to happen, trust me.  Or at least that’s what I’ve heard, you know, like stories and such.

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Spurious thoughts and idle musings from the world of sports …

Romo to TO is a no go no mo’ … Not after the Pokes laid a Giant-sized cow chip on the field and became the first NFC No. 1 seed to honk a Division Round game since the Enn Eff Ell expanded to 12 playoff teams. Now Tony Romo and Yoko … I mean, Jessica Simpson can take all the Cabo vacation trips they want. And Terrell “It’s My Quarterback” Owens now has all the time he needs to snag an endorsement deal with Orville Redenbacher. Just don’t get any tears in the popcorn, TO. But best of all was seeing Double-J on the sideline near the end screaming at the zebras with his best bitter beer face. Sorry, Jerry, but Week 1 is just 34 weeks away.

Please say it ain’t so … Apparently, the NCAA is investigating the storied UCLA hoops program over an alleged illegal recruiting contact. Looks like current freshman Kevin Love met with a school representative during a recruiting trip last year … Which would indeed be illegal if that representative was not officially affiliated with UCLA. Fortunately, the rep is a paid consultant to the school so he can meet with recruits. Which is a good thing considering it’s 97-year-old John Wooden, the legendary Wizard of Westwood, who won 10 titles and pretty much sired March Madness, the massive cash cow which pays just about every bill at the NCAA. Listen, suits, let the man talk to the kids. Women’s soccer and men’s golf are not paying your salaries.

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