Ready, aim . . .
Name Game. Let’s do Tiger.
Tiger, Tiger bo biger bonana fana fo figer/ Fe fi mo figer, Tiger
The telecast of the US Open’s final round is just hours away. And I’m looking for some help here.
My supposition is that Tiger Wood’s name will be mentioned by the announcers more than any other golfer, regardless of whether he’s in legit contention or goes bogey, bogey, bogey to start the day and shoots himself out of contention immediately.
The only one who has a chance of being talked about more is that Beau Hossler kid. You know, the new fave of parrotheads and, well, everybody else, the rising senior at Santa Margarita (Calf.) High School. He’s tied for 8th at +3. If his post round interview yesterday is a legit indication, the kid is mature beyond his years. Even with braces on his teeth that he did his best to try to hide.
But, should he fade, as is likely despite his preternatural talent, it will be all Tiger TV, all the time, no matter who is atop the leaderboard.
(If anybody wants to help me out, and has one of those little counter thingies that pitching coaches use, please keep track of Tiger mentions and report in. Thanks.)
Ah, celebrity sports. Which means I’m shifting my aim to . . .
Name Game, Part Deux. The LeBron Show returns to Miami tonight for Game 3 of the NBA Finals. I daresay the crowd shall not be quite as color coordinated as those in Okie City. The stylin’ South Beachers will be less inclined to cover their slick threads with made for TV t-shirts, than those folks from Oooooooooooooooooooklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain.
If that Durant fellow’s name were as resonant as He Who Would Be King, he would have gotten the call with :07 left in Game 2, when You Know Who mugged him on that baseline jumper that could have tied the tilt had it gone down.
Ship’s Ahoy. The trending topic on Twitter, at least among hoopaholics, is all those made for gangplank games coming next season in college hoops. Let’s hope the country isn’t engaged in any naval war, or they might have to call off the season. (Or, the war, depending on which Big TV is more willing to give up.)
Every available battleship, aircraft carrier and tugboat shall host a game. Or, so it seems.
So, I’m wondering, where’s Tom Jurich’s creative marketing mind these days? How about the Cards playing a game on the Belle of Louisville? Keep it local: “Ballin’ on the Belle vs. Bellarmine.” Has a nice ring to it.
That inside area where they hold dances and such is plenty big enough for a court. Wouldn’t leave much room for seating after you put the cameras in, but that would allow U of L to charge really really super premium prices for the privilege of courtside attendance.
That’s Why They’re Called Underdogs. Stony Brook and Kent State both took it on the chin in their CWS openers.
Maybe after they’re eliminated by the Big Boys, they could play a rubber match in the Old Rosenblatt Stadium for the old timers.
Give Him The Guillotine. As a former prosecutor, I know I should let the system play out, and allow Jerry Sandusky’s jury of his peers decide his fate. Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut . . .
. . . I think, despite my aversion for watching violence, real of faux, I’d pay to see him drawn and quartered.
House Hunters. Wonder whose lavish abode will sell first, Bobby Petrino’s in Fayetteville, or Rick Pitino’s in Mockingbird Gardens?
The Playoff Payoff. Mr. and Ms. College University Presidents (Not you UVa’s Theresa Sullivan, you’ve been canned), think outside the box on this college football playoff.
16 teams, at least. Mo’ money. Mo’ interest. Mo’ on field action.
And, Mike Slive, only a marginally less chance that one of your SEC schools will about every year.
– Seedy K