Monday, 6-Jan-2003
Spurious
thoughts and idle musings from the sports week just past ...
There's
no way the Atlanta Vicks are going into Lambeau and beating the storied Green
Bay Packers. No way. It's January. It's Favre. It's 65,000
pickled cheeseheads. And the Falcs are
a Southern dome team and dome teams just do not win frozen road playoff
games. Not no way, not no how. Plus they backed into the last NFC wildcard
slot with an ugly Week 17 honk to the Browns.
And that's Colonel Zocor over there on the sidelines. No way does a Dan Reeves team win in this
sitch. No way. Way.
Buh-bye, Pack. Ice this.
Dude,
You're Getting A Tuna ... And so ends the Dave Campo era in Big Dee as Bill
Parcells officially grabbed the Poke reins last week. Parcells' record as a turnaround specialist is legendary but even
he never faced a choice between Chad Hutchinson or Quincy Carter taking
snaps. Not to mention that he's never
had an owner quite like Jerry Jones signing his paychecks. Plus he'll have to carefully navigate the
inevitable Emmitt Smith phaseout minefield.
And don't forget the obvious ... His old NFC East pals will be only too
happy to kick his ass until further notice.
Have fun, Bill.
How To
Keep Rowdy Soccer Fans From Storming Your Pitch, Chapter 1, Installing A Moat
... Yep, a Romanian fourth division club named Steaua Nicolae Balcescu is
thinking about digging a big ditch around their pitch. You see, the club has had problems with
angry fans storming the playing field so they're seriously considering filling
the moat with ... drum roll, please ... full-grown adult crocodiles. And one would presume said crocs would be
kept fairly hungry. I mean, it kinda
defeats the whole purpose if you feed them beforehand, doesn't it ??? Said club chairman Alexandra Cringus ...
"I think that the problem of fans running onto the pitch will be solved
once and for all." Works for me,
Al.
There's
no way the Stillers are coming back against the Browns. No way.
Heinz Field is a muddy mess.
Kelly Holcomb is tearing holes in the Nylon Curtain defense. And nobody gets quieter than a Pittsburgh
crowd when their beloveds are in mid-gag.
It's over. Cue Drew Carey. Start the dog woofing. It's done.
No way are the Stillers winning this thing. No way. Way. See ya, Browns. Fuamatu-Ma'afala this.
Note to Tim Couch. Coach wants
to see you and bring your playbook.
And so
the inaugural Continental Tire Bowl is in the books with my beloved Virginia
Cavaliers laying a 48-22 smacketh down on the overconfident West By God
Virginia Mountaineers. But that ain't
the end of this feud ... not by a long black powder musket shot ... as the
Virginia Pep Band infuriated the entire Mountain State with a halftime skit
showing a WVU coed in pigtails and overalls on her way to Beverly Hills. Of course, the only real surprise to this
dustup is why anyone's surprised that the Pep Band acted up. It's not like they didn't run the exact same
skit the last time the two teams met back in 1985. And it got their petticoats all in a twist then too. Go figure.
There's
no way the Niners are coming back against the Jints. No way. Amani "It's
Not A" Toomer is running wild.
Jeremy Shockey is redefining the word "obnoxious" in real time
and Tiki Barber is blowing kisses to a stunned Stick end zone crowd. Meanwhile, Coach Mooch is putting up For
Sale signs on his house and San Fran's merlot is rancid and their cheddar is
moldy. It's over. No way the Jints are coughing this one up. No way.
Way. Later, Jints. Have a nice flight home.
Michael
Vick. Michael. Vick.
Man, that dude can play a little pig.
Of
course, the real reason why all of West Virginia boiled over at this Pep Band
nonsense ... but nobody will admit it ... is the embarrassing thumpjob their
homeboys got from my underdogging and overachieving Wahoos. I mean, really, ask yourself this question
... If their No. 13 ranked Neers, a six-point favorite coming off impressive
Big East wins over Hokie High and the Pitt Panthers, had, you know, like actually
won the damn Tire game, do you really think they'd be all that torqued over a
sophomoric band skit ??? No further
questions, your honor.
There's
no way the Ohio State Poisonous Nuts are gonna beat the Canes in the Fried
Pieces Of Salted Cornmeal Bowl. No
way. Miami is the defending champeen
and unbeaten in 34 straight. Ken Dorsey
and Willis McGahee are megastuds and the Canes have got more speed going than
Air Force fighter pilots juiced up for desert bombing runs. Not to mention that Buckeye freshman phenom
"Some People Call Me" Maurice Clarett is all pissed off cause he
couldn't go home for a close friend's funeral.
Not to mention the Nuts haven't won the mythical since LBJ was still
pulling on beagle ears. No way. Way.
So long, Canes. Fiesta this.
Man, that
was some game. I think it's safe to say
that was the best BCS'er of them all.
Doesn't get much better than double OT for all the marbles, does it
??? Toss in a shaky end zone pass
interference call that's sure to fuel sports talk radio for the next decade or
so and you've got one for the ages.
Nuts rule, Canes drool. Get well
soon, Willis McGahee. Next time someone
chides a college jock for skipping school early for the Show Me The Money, just
remember Willis and his shredded knee.
Shaq got
married in a big secret ceremony last week to his longtime squeeze. Too bad the sorry-ass Lakers aren't playing
in secret too. In other Association
news, Pacers psychoguard Ron Artest destroyed a $100,000 digital video
television camera in a post-game temper tantrum. With luck, Artest's three-game suspension should give him plenty
of time to shop Circuit City for a new one.
Speaking of shopping, the Raps are looking to trade Vince Carter, The
Player Formerly Known As Franchise, while my Mavs are still humming right along
at 27-5. Oh, and Be Like autographed
his Airs and gave them to Tracy McGrady after TMac ate him up in last Monday's
Wiz-Magic game ... "Enjoyed the challenge. Good luck and stay healthy." It's time to go, Mike.
More
college gridiron ... You know, I can't think of any other date on the entire
year's sports calendar that's had its huevos chopped off quite like New Year's
Day. Seriously, think about it ... If
you're old school, then you remember when January 1 was four games of pure pig
heaven. Cotton and Sugar got going
around lunchtime. Rose kicked off late
afternoon and went through dinner and then we had Orange for dessert. And very often, nothing was decided until
midnight. Twelve hours of college
football bliss.
But now
New Year's Day means nothing.
Nada. Zip. Zilch.
Nothing. It all started to go
sour when they moved a couple of the big bowls to the next day or so but now
that the BCS title tilt is the only game that matters, I doubt I watch much
more than about 10 minutes of January 1 football and I can't even remember who
or what games I do see. Not to mention
that they're all corporate-sponsored <Picture Your Ad Here> Bowl games
anyway. Sigh, it's sad really. I miss those days. You just knew if you saw the Big Ten getting pounded in Pasadena,
it was time to put up your new calendar.
Rest in
peace, Sid Gilman. And don't worry
about your legacy. The real West Coast
Offense is alive and well, good sir.
See ya
nexted week ...
Robert E Hunt Jr
Copyright ã 2003 by Robert E Hunt Jr. All rights reserved.