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Monday, 10-Jun-2002

 

Spurious thoughts and idle musings from the sports week just past ...

 

Well, if Portugal is ranked No. 5 in the world in something, then you know it's gotta be soccer.  Excuse me, football.  And Week 1 of the World Cup is in the books with several rather large storylines ... The Damn Yankees stunned the Portuguese, defending champ Les Francais are playing like Les Crappe while Brazil and Spain have both advanced to Round 2.  But the biggest game was Rule Britannia's 1-nil win over long-time nemesis Argentina on Capt Posh Spice's penalty kick.  I say, good show, laddies.  Warm beer for everyone.

 

Boy, you gotta figure the New York "1994" Rangers must be getting pretty desperate when they start hiring coaches like ex-Islander Brian Trottier.  Trots was Mr Islander back in their potato salad days when he and his Cup-toting pals endlessly tortured the Broadway Blewshirts ... Now he's their new bench boss hoping to make chicken salad out of the Rangers enormous payroll.  Hey, maybe this'll work out just fine and the Cup will get a ride down 5th Avenue once again. And maybe Bucky Dent will someday manage the Red Sox.

 

By the way, there is a reason why US soccer is all jiggy after last week's upset win.  Let's put it this way ... If an opening game 3-2 win over Portugal is The Ohmigod Greatest Win In <Fill In Your Nation> World Cup History, then <Fill In Your Nation> musta sipped pretty badly for a really long time, don'tcha think ???  I mean, be honest ... This game woulda been a yawner for top shelf clubs like Brazil or Italy.  Hell, Columbia would've shot Jeff Agoos for kicking one into his own goal.  Baby steps, folks.  Baby. Steps.

 

Nick and Sarah Arena, from Toledo, Ohio, are huge Red Wings fans and proud parents of a brand new bouncing baby boy named ... Yep, you got it ... Joe Louis Arena.  I kid you not.  Boy, it's a good thing The Joe was built and named long before the current age of multi-million dollar corporate naming rights.  Otherwise, the young lad might've had to answer to something like Your Local Ford Lincoln Mercury Dealer Arena.

 

Nothing humbles a prize fighter quite like a good old fashioned ass whupping.  And that's exactly what Rusty Mike Tyson got from Lennox Lewis in Memphis late Saturday night.  Eight rounds of pain and a face only a gourmet butcher shop could love.  Funny what 13 inches of reach disadvantage can do to you, eh, Mike ???  Not to worry though.  Tyson has a long career ahead of him as a novelty act working his way through the Bum of the Month Club.  Anybody know if Clubber Lang is available ???

 

"Jose Canseco Admits Steroid Use" ... And in other headlines of the obvious ... "Study Shows Average NASCAR Fan Enjoys Direct Sunlight On Neck", "Some Spanish Speaking Dude Wins Men's French Open Title" and "Jason Giambi Loves Yankee Stadium Right Field Fence".

 

Dear Diary ... Well, I finally did it.  I finally beat my big sister Venus in a Grand Slam tennis match.  Oh, Diary, it was so much fun.  And I looked so hot too in my black outfit with the gold pinstripe.  Tell me, Diary, do you think the French boys liked it ???  Oh, I hope so.  Well, now it's on to Wimbledon next month.  Maybe I can kick her ass again.  Hee-hee, just kidding, Diary.  In the meantime, I still have the tape of my MTV Diary episode to watch and maybe I can get back to Cleveland soon so I can watch my boyfriend CC Sabathia pitch again.  Life is good, Diary.  Life is good.

 

Once more on Soccermania ... I'm not sure but I think I know why the sport falls flat here in God Bless America.  Way too many chick flick words.  They're always babbling about things like creativity, flair, artistry, panache, spirit, élan, flavor, zest, dash and so on.  Hell, I heard one tuber slobber all over Brazil as they played what he called "very romantic football".  But American sports fans are different ... We like results and could care less about form.  It's like Billy Hoyle told Sidney Deane in "White Men Can't Jump" ... "You'd rather look good and lose than look bad and win."  So just kick the damn ball in that big onion bag back there.  Lather, rinse, repeat. 

 

Lord Stanley stands at Detwah 2, Goobers 1 after the Central Red Army Wings won a tense Game 3 in triple OT on Igor "Not Eyegore" Larionov's sweet backhander.  Thankfully, the Canes are giving the Wings all they can handle unlike a certain hoops team from Sopranoland.  But these multiple overtime games are killers.  I know it's crazy but here's an idea to shorten them ... Start the first OT with five-on-five.  If you need a second one, go four-on-four.  A third one, go three-on-three.  If that doesn't work, go to Best Decorated Backup Goalie Mask or something.  Anything to get some sleep.

 

Sorry, pony fans, no Triple Crown this year either.  War Emblem stumbled outta the Belmont gate and never recovered his panache after that.  Which left 70-1 long shot Sarava to pull off the upset and litter the stands with torn betting tickets.  So it's wait til next year all over again.  You know, I remember back when horse fans complained that the Trip was too easy after Affirmed followed Seattle Slew and Secretariat back in the 70's.  But it was anything but easy then and it's probably even harder now.  Greatness is never easy.  Nor should it be.

 

Broom City awaits the poor Nets who are all but helpless against Shaq Daddy, a force of nature unseen in The Association since Wilt Chamberlain was scoring triple doubles on and off the court.  After Sunday night's 106-103 win, Hell Ay is now up 3-zip and ready to crack open some fine Northern Jersey bubbly.  Man, at this point, not even Dr J in his megafro prime would make a difference.  I sure hope the LAPD riot squads are ready.

 

Sorry for the broken record but here we go again.  Saturday was as good as it gets for sports fans.  We had a full buffet table ... The French Open, World Cup, Belmont Stakes, NBA Finals, Tyson-Lewis, Stanley Cup Finals and ... drum roll please ... Major League Baseball.  Interleague play no less.  And even though it's still a gimmick, at least we had several fresh new novelty series this time around.  Like the champeen Zona Snakes in Bahston to play Ye Olde Red Sox.  With a dream game of Curt Schilling against Pedro Martinez too.  And what national tube network was that gem on ???  Anyone ???  Bueller ???  Anyone ???

 

More hockey pucklets ...Prior to Game 1, the mayor of Detroit called up the mayor of Charlotte looking to place one of those cheesy politician's wagers.  Which would've been fine except that the Carolina Hurricanes play in Raleigh, a good three-plus hours away.  Please hold, Mr Mayor, and we'll transfer your call to the right city.  Of course, not to be outdone, Raleigh's hizzoner got all jiggy after the Canes made the finals and issued a statement saying where the Prince of "Whales" Trophy would be displayed.  But when his staff corrected the faux pas, the new statement simply mentioned where the Prince of Wales was.  Which was news to Charlie of course.  Third time was the charm thankfully.

 

Rest in peace, "All The Way" Faye Dancer.  Casting Madonna to play you in "A League Of Their Own" was just perfect.  And tell Jimmy Dugan there's still no crying in baseball.  Wade Boggs excepted, of course.

 

See ya nexted week ...

 

Robert E Hunt Jr

 

Copyright ã 2002 by Robert E Hunt Jr.  All rights reserved.