Misplaced my muse.
Had an early season slump, to use baseball lingo. (Though nothing like the BoSox sputtering start. Beantowners aren’t jumping off Fanueil Hall’s tower . . . yet . . . reports my on the scene Red Sox source. A couple more Ls like last night’s meltdown against the Yanks and they’ll be lined up around the block for the chance to swan dive into the Big Dig.)
Anyway, here I be. At least for today. Starting next week, you can find me here at my own website, where I’ll be blogging daily starting Thursday on all matters New Orleans and JazzFest.
Until then, here’s what I’m thinking:
How sad that Rick Pitino felt compelled to steal the spotlight from his son Richard and the school, Florida International, where Pitino the Younger was named head coach. Instead of allowing the announcement to play out in due course, The Rick grabbed the spotlight with his premature announcement of the move.
What a bad week it’s been for my two favorite soccer teams. Tottenhem’s Hotspur continue in free fall. They were crushed awhile back by Arsenal then lost to Chelsea in the FA Cup semis. And have fallen to 5th place in the Premier League, after a loss to an also ran in the league, Queens Park Rangers. Which means no Champions League spot next go round. Things have been downhill for the Hotspur since my groovy sweatshirt arrived from their gear shoppe. And my other favorite, Barca, lost twice last week, shut out in the first leg of the Champions League semis to — here they are again — Chelsea. Then were put down 1-2 by arch rival Real Madrid, which L pretty much assured RM the regular season La Liga title.
My favorite hockey team, Detroit’s Red Wings, fared even worse. Their season is officially terminated. They lost to Nashville in the opening round of the Stanley Cup playoffs.
Texas Rangers look mighty fine again this season. They’ve won two of three from my Tigers. Only Justin Verlander was able to hold them at bay in the second game of a doubleheader yesterday.
How is it that Jim Calhoun is still the coach at UConn?
That Joe Paterno’s family is going to carry its resentment toward Penn State for a long, long, long time.
That I shan’t watch a nanosecond of the NFL draft.
I’ve started reading that history of ESPN my sister and brother-in-law gave me for Hanukkah. Pretty interesting.
That next season, UK Wildcat fans are going to realize how special this championship season was. Having a stalwart senior and a couple of steady sophs proved to be the ballast for this season’s champs. Next year’s all new lineup, no matter how talented, will suffer from inexperience.
I don’t really know much about the Derby prospects of the various contenders. (I always defer to my compatriot Bill Doolittle on that.) But I’d sure like to see Hansen wearing the roses after the race. One of the owners and his wife are good friends. Problem is the thoroughbred is built for speed not distance. Or so I understand. (At any rate, I’ll be at JazzFest, listening to Herbie Hancock, Lost Bayou Ramblers or New Birth Brass Band or a little of all three when the race is being run.)
I remain stunned that Bobby Petrino became so embroiled in his affair with young Ms. Dorrell. That they had an affair and did the nasty, I understand. But all those calls and texts and kisses over lunch and candy gifts. That’s not the snarky, football-focused Bobby Petrino I knew at U of L.
Later . . .
– Seedy K