Spurious thoughts and idle musings from the world of sports ...
Florida, defending mythical national champion Florida, is a 73 point favorite over Charleston Southern, a small Big South school and an afterthought even in Charleston, for their September 5th chompdown in The Swamp. Let's go to the math on this ... CharSou could give up 10 touchdowns and 10 extra points but ... but ... if they block a field goal, the Buccaneers will beat the spread. Go Bucs! Block that kick! Collect that check! {Yeah, I know, you're right, take the Gators.}
After all these years, all those trophies, all those soul-crushing, red shirt, back nine beatdowns, Tiger Woods finally coughed up a 54-hole lead in a major and lost the PGA to ... Yang Yong-eun. Not Phil, not Sergio, not Vijay, not Padraig but Y.E., the 110th ranked golfer in the world. Not only that but Yang was paired with El Tigre on Sunday and that turns most golfer's knees to shrimp and grits. And to top it all off, Y.E. took the lead on 14 with the same sort of ridiculous pitch for eagle that Woods normally destroys his foes with. Nicely done, Mr Yang. Have fun cashing that big check.
In last year's Olympic 100 meter final, Usain Bolt started celebrating early and yet still set a new world record of 9.69 seconds. Almost immediately, some folks wondered what Bolt woulda coulda shoulda run had he not eased up. Some cynics speculated he might've been saving a few 100ths just so he could collect the bonus that comes with each new record. Well, Bolt's bank account is just a little stouter now after his 9.58 at the Worlds in Berlin. The bonus isn't all that much ... just $100,000 ... but that's still $9,090.90 per chopped hundredth. Man, that's fast work.
How fast? Well, considering that NFL scouts and coaches literally drool over 40-yard dash times of 4.25 or so, Bolt's 9.58 would have stopped their watches after 3.5 seconds in the 40. Three point five in the 40. Hell, Bolt is already 6-5 and buffed. All he would need is good hands and a fly pattern and it'd be game over in the Enn Eff Ell.
Okay, here's my impression of sports media coverage over the last few days ... {inhale deep breath} ... Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Yang Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Bolt Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick Vick ... {inhale} ... Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre Favre ... {and exhale}.
A few photos surfaced last week showing Texas OF Josh Hamilton falling off the sobriety wagon back in January in a Tempe, AZ bar. His fall is notable, of course, because Hamilton almost squandered a serious boatload of baseball talent to drugs and swill before finding his way back through his faith and, to be fair, a really sweet left-handed power swing. It's a good story, it really is. Redemption, salvation, devotion, all the -tion's we believe make the difference. There's just one small problem here ... How come Josh looks like he's having so much fun in that bar?
See ya next time.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
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I quit running years ago when I realized that even my .45 ACP throwing 230 grains at 800 feet per second is exponentially faster than living critter on the planet. My .204 Ruger throws 40 grains at over 3,000 feet per second. Why run?
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