Monday, 12-Aug-2002
Spurious
thoughts and idle musings from the sports week just past ...
Ain't no
flies on The Barry who jacked Tater No. 600 on Friday night to join Bad Henry,
The Babe and Say Hey in the most elite club in all of horsehidedom. Having hit his historic dinger, Bonds announced
he will now hawk 600 custom-made, autographed maple bats complete with his
name, the words "600 HR" and a numbered certificate of authenticity
all for the low low price of $999.98 on the Shop At Home Web site. Welcome to an even more elite club, Barry
... You and Pete Rose together in the Hall of Fame of Shameless Pitchmen.
Write
this date down ... October 6th, New England at Miami. So what, just another Patriots-Dolphins game, you say. Well, when the Pats got their Supe rings at
a June ceremony at the Boston Harbor Hotel, their five ex-Fish players ...
Larry Izzo, Grey Ruegamer, Damon Huard, Terrance Shaw and Terrell Buckley ...
all got together and posed for a group photo.
Each with his new ring snugly circled around his middle finger extended
in the universal singular salute. After
which Izzo mailed said photo to his old friend and ex-teammate, Fish
psychobacker Zach Thomas. Feel the
power.
When a
player like Tom Glavine or Curt Schilling accuses The Lords Of Baseball of
cooking their books, everybody pretty much assumes that's just labor
pains. But when one of their own,
long-time Mets co-owner Nelson "Not The Abner" Doubleday, insists in
court that Bud Light and a former Arthur Andersen green eyeshader together
conspired to "manufacture phantom operating losses" so they'd look
like poor poor pitiful me's on purpose ... Well, maybe just maybe that's a real
smoking gun. Of course, they could also
just keep writing $32,000,000 checks to jebeeps like Darin Erstad and those
losses will be anything but phantom.
I mean,
seriously, let's go to the math ... Darin Erstad is the quintessential decent
but hardly spectacular baseball player.
He's had one ... count 'em ... one truly USDA Grade A season hitting
.355 with 25 jacks and 100 ribeyes for the Anaheim Angels in 2000. Other than that, bupkiss. And don't forget that Angels owner Disney
hates ... h-a-t-e-s ... hates spending money.
Hey, if you've seen the price of Mouse stock lately, you know they're
not exactly doing backflips there these days. And yet the Magic Kingdom still dumped a four-year, $32 million
dollar stack on him. And you wonder why
the players union wants to keep things just the way they are.
Looks
like the Rudys are gonna pull the linen out from underneath some of their
tailgaters this season. Last Wednesday,
Note-ruh Dame announced a ban on rowdy tailgate parties thrown by ticketless
revelers that last all game long and then some. According to a campus security officer, "Some people have
simply come here for an all-day drinking party in our parking lots completely
oblivious to the game. It's not in the
best interests of our fans to put up with that." Likewise, neither was The Bob Davie Era.
"Let's
Roll" ... Sigh, why do we do these things ??? Bobby Bowden should know better but apparently not. If you missed this dustup, the Criminoles
coach last week announced that his team's rallying cry for the upcoming season
would be the same "Let's Roll" that the heroes of Sept 11's Flight 93
yelled before they stormed the cockpit and took back the doomed plane. Yeah, maybe in the big picture, it's not
that big a deal but a little respect for the dead wouldn't hurt. Fifteen yards for unsportsmanlike conduct,
Bobby.
Got some
major chuckles listening to Steve Spurrier explain why he left college pig for
the chance to coach Danny Boy's Dead$kins.
He said he enjoys the NFL now because all he has to do is coach football
as opposed to stroking Florida boosters on the rubber chicken circuit not to mention
the constant recruiting grind to keep the Gators loaded each year. Which makes you wonder if perhaps he doesn't
realize the NFL isn't the SEC. One has
a salary cap and one doesn't.
Hey,
wouldn't it be cool if gas stations operated like NASCAR pit stops ??? You'd pull into an open slot and a whole pit
crew would scramble over the wall and start working on your car like mad. Squeegees and dipsticks and hoses flying all
around but best of all ... They'd haul those big ol' gas cans that somehow force
like 40 gallons into your tank in about 5 seconds. They could even hand you a cold drink through your window. And after a quick swipe of your credit card,
you're back on the road with the other maniacs. Hell, that'd be worth another 2 or 3 cents per gallon, don'tcha
think ???
And now
for a tune inspired by The Soggy Bottom Boys ...
I knew a
girl named a Tonya Harding.
She used
to skate, a party and drink.
She
thought she was the smartest girl around.
Well, I
found out last Monday that Tonya got locked up Sunday.
They've
got her in the jailhouse way downtown.
(C'mon,
everybody. All together now, sing it
with me.)
She's in
the jailhouse now.
She's in
the jailhouse now.
Well, I
told her once or twice to stop drinkin gin and tonic on ice.
She's in
the jailhouse now.
More on
NASCAR ... Clearly there' s no other sport so closely associated with product
placement and corporate sponsorship.
Fact is top shelf race teams simply don't exist without big time sponsor
coin. And last week we saw rock solid
proof why this sorta bizness relationship ain't necessarily a bad thing as Home
Depot dropped the hammer and a $50,000 box of nails on driver Tony Stewart for
slugging an Indy shutterbug the week before.
Yeah, I know 50 large is chump change but The Point behind the fine is
huge. Big companies do not tolerate
childish behavior. And while I fully
admit that I'm not yet ready to watch a World Series between the IBM Yankees
and the McDonald's Dodgers, one thing is for sure ... Guys like Darryl
Strawberry and Steve Howe would be nowhere in sight.
From our
"We Want To Have Our Cheesecake And Eat It Too" department, the very
same Philadelphia Eagles cheerleaders who are suing the NFL and every visiting
team who have ever peeped on them in their dressing room at The Vet have put
out their official 2002 Eagles Cheerleader Lingerie Calendar for just $11.99
plus shipping and handling. Proving
once again that the only thing worse than having a bunch of disgusting pigs
leering at you while you're half-dressed is having a bunch of disgusting pigs
leering at you without paying for it.
Sis-boom-ching.
Rest in
peace, Darrell Porter.
See ya
nexted week ...
Robert E Hunt Jr
Copyright ã 2002 by Robert E Hunt Jr. All rights reserved.