The Monday Morning Noter, Volume 4, Issue 35

Monday, 30-Sep-2002

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

Okay, time for the Big Confession ... I don't get the Ryder Cup. There, I said it. Yes, I know what it is and I understand the rules and I have no doubt those yips are the real thing. But I honestly don't get the whole Europe vs United States death grip competition thing. What does it prove who wins ??? After it's all over, the Euros will still have better restaurants, art galleries, topless beaches and tailor shops. And we'll still have better blues guitarists, research hospitals, convertibles and T-bills. Guess I'm just not a true golf nut. Anyway, well done, Europe. Golf claps all around.

However ... and for the record ... If Colin Montgomerie played that well all the time, there'd be no more Mrs Doubtfire jokes and he'd have a whole wall full of title hardware.

Baseball offs are all set ... In the NL, Snakes and Cards will boil down to beating either Unit or Schilling twice. In other words, good luck. Giants and Tomaflops should be subtitled Will The Barry Flop Again ??? ... And over in the AL, that giant sigh of relief you just heard is the A+'s realizing they've got the Twinks instead of the Damn Yankees while the afore-mentioned Bombers are no doubt thrilled at yet another cross-country five-gamer this time contra los Angels, the other Hell Ay white meat. Not that that'll stop them or anything.

NFL Week 4 ... The main course on St Louis' breakfast menu this morning is toast. Likewise, the J-E-T-S are T-A-P-S while the Browns keep pushing the envelope on creative ways to take the gaspipe. The Houston "Luv Ya Phew" Texans barely covered a whopping 20 point spread against the Iggs while the Fish, Pats, Saints and my Panthers all swallowed their first L's. Meanwhile, I'm pretty sure by now Brian Griese has heard enough "pooch punt" jokes while Shaun Alexander is checking the Seahawks schedule to see when the sorryass Vikes are in town again.

Supposedly, Phineas T is working a deal with the Tokyo Yomiuri Giants to bring heavy duty slugger Hideki "Godzilla" Matsui over here to play in pinstripes for a few seasons. So what, you say. Well, somehow Matsui would still be employed by a big Japanese TV station as some sorta special overseas baseball correspondent. All for a small token salary in the ballpark of about $8,000,000 a year to "report" on besuboru in the States. In exchange, Steinbrenner would agree to show a few Yomiuri games on his new YES network and allow his players to barnstorm over there during the off-season. And since the $8 million is not on his books, he'll also get an intentional walk from the hated new luxury tax. Yep, that didn't take very long, did it ???

Twelve years and a $115,000,000 dollars. One. Hundred. And. Fifteen. Million. Man, that much coin oughta buy a ton of Chunky Soup for Donovan McNabb's mom. And I guess that pretty much answers the question of what the Eagles were gonna do with all that extra salary cap money. And if by chance the incredible Mr McNabb should just so happen one cold January evening to deliver The Vince to a famished City of Brotherly Love, you know what ??? This deal's cheap at twice the price.

Does anyone out in Golden Domeland ever stop to wonder why their beloved Rudys have to keep making these historic "return to glory" comebacks every 10 years or so ??? I mean, how come every time a top shelf coach like Leahy, Parseghian or Holtz moves on, they tap a two left-footer like Kuharich, Faust or Davie who trips all over himself trying to keep the echoes awake. No doubt TWill is off to a helluva start but a little long-term consistency might go a long way toward helping the bandwagon jumpers get some rest.

A little long-term consistency like maybe Nebraska perhaps. Whoops, bad example.

Pop quiz, hotshot ... Name the all-world NFL receiver who once was picked up at a massage parlor during a prostitution sting. The same one who whined about not getting enough catches even after his team had won. The same one whose wife used to call sports talk radio shows to complain about his team's young quarterback. Was it ... a) Randy Moss, b) Keyshawn Johnson, c) Terrell Owens or d) Jerry Rice ??? Take your time. No hurry. Give up ??? Here's a hint ... It ain't Randy, Keyshawn or Tee Oh.

So why am I taking a shot at Fifi ??? Simple, really. There's no doubt Randy Moss is part child, part punk. I mean, pushing a traffic cop with his Lexus is beyond ridiculous. And Keyshawn couldn't keep his yap shut if you put one of those Hannibal Lecter masks on him. Same goes for Owens who could chug decaf for a decade and still go off like a hand grenade at the slightest slight. But none of those guys can work the media quite like ol' Jerry. And you're right, I know they were just doing their job as Randy whistled his way outta the can last week. But you can't deny that Keyboard Nation anoints its favorites. Hell, Jerry Rice could moon the mayor's office at high noon and they'd probably comment on his fine muscle tone.

I sure hope this is just a glitch but ESPN is venturing dangerously close to jumping the shark with their new "Beg, Borrow and Deal" reality game show. Cutting edge is being the first 24-hour all-sports station. Cutting edge is being the first cable network to score NFL games. Cutting edge is producing some of the funniest promo ads in tube history and running a truly addictive web site. But cutting edge is not some sort of Road Rules meets Survivor combo. It's the sports, stupid.

Let's suppose just for a second that you're running a major league baseball team and you're neck deep in a gut-wrenching pennant race. You're chewing Maalox by the fistful as you squint at the scoreboard in agony tracking the other games. And that's when you notice that a last-place team has benched one of its best hitters in a game against your fiercest rival. You howl, you wail, you gnash your teeth but there it is ... They're not at full strength. So you angrily punch up Bud Light's cell phone and demand to know why the kid's not playing. And that's when Bud tells you his Brewers don't want Jose Hernandez to suffer the embarrassment of breaking the single-season whiff record. And that's when you gently remind Bud that all teams, including his, are supposed to play to win at all times ... You know, for like the integrity of the game and all that. And that's when you hear ... Click.

Rest in peace, Mike Webster. And get well soon, Thuggie Bear.

See ya nexted week ...

Robert E Hunt Jr