Hey, I got the blog. I got the keyboard. I’ll do what I wanna.

My prognostication: If Indiana wins the NCAA basketball tournament, mentored by the brother-in-law of you know who and you know who, the Harbaugh Clan will be Sports Illustrated’s “Sports(man/men/persons/family) of the Year.”

Their whining and aggressive demeanor nothwithstanding, the success of Jim and John and Tom at the same moment is darn astonishing. The influence of former WKU football coach Jack Harbaugh and his bride is considerable and praise worthy. I’m not sure I can remember a similar situation.

* * * * *

Speaking of brotherhood, that version of the national anthem before the U of L game Saturday still resonates.

The Brotherhood Singers from Northern Kentucky are the deal.

So to honor them, brothers and sisters everywhere, and this truly special day in the history of our republic, a musical interlude.

* * * * *

Yesterday’s NFL games were certainly interesting.

The 49ers W in Atlanta was more exciting. The Ravens W in New England more stunning and exacting.

San Francisco has come back from considerable deficits two weeks in a row. It took a last moment Hail Mary for Baltimore to survive in Denver.

Unlike the BCS “Championship” Game, these teams earned their way to battle for the title.

* * * * *

Speaking of Indiana basketball, did you watch the Butler/ Gonzaga game.

A proverbial barn burner.

In case you haven’t seen the clip, or seen it enough, here’s Roosevelt Jones’ amazing play to win the game for the Hinkles.

Jones says he was eavesdropping on Mark Few’s instructions, and knew where the inbound pass was coming. So he stole it, took a couple of dribbles and floated in the winner.

College hoops. Love it.

* * * * *

One guy’s opinion: This could be the best NCAA tournament in years.

No school has started to separate itself from the pack like last year’s Wildcats. Though Rock Chalk Jayhawk is looking pretty steely.

The difference between #1 seeds, #2 seeds and #3 seeds will be miniscule. The luck of the draw is going to mean as much as it ever has. Matchups shall be very important, as we saw when Louisville couldn’t quite cope Saturday against Syracuse with its big guards.

So you got the Cards. And the Hoosiers. And the Jayhawks. And the Orange. And the Gators. And the Blue Devils. And the Wolverines. And the Wildcats (Arizona, though UK’s could spoil somebody’s dance.). And the Bulldogs (Take your choice.). And the Golden Gophers.

Plus the Spartans. And the Buckeyes. And the Runnin’ Rebels. And the Wolfpack. And the Badgers. And the Quack.

Oh, and those Shaka Smarts. And the Rams. And the Bearcats  . . .

* * * * *

Lance Armstrong is still an asshole.

* * * * *

Did you see the very late extra time goal by Tottenham’s Clint Dempsey at White Hart Lane, which knotted Man U? Didn’t think so. Dempsey, a legit star in the EPL, is an American you know.

* * * * *

If you have trouble keeping your abode warm during this cold spell, tune into the Australian Open. There’s plenty of Celsius down Melbourne way.

* * * * *

As hard as I try — okay, truth, I’m not trying at all — I can’t feel sorry for the travails of the LA LA Lakers.

Nor those of that Manti doofus. Hope Katie Couric does to him what she did to Sarah Palin.

– Seedy K

Tsouris translates as trouble, distress, heartburn from the outcome of a stressful situation.  It’s a feeling to be avoided at all costs.

Well, it’s what those hallowed Tobacco Road superschools are feeling these days. At least that’s what right minded observers of the sports scene and any college hoops or pigskin fan who hates that duo of ACC powers is hoping for. There are times when schadenfreude is legit. This is one.

Duke and North Carolina, come on down. It’s your moment on the hot seat. Let’s pray the register is cranked to 11.

Before we get into the generalities of these rule-breaking situations, a musical interlude to set the scene. Cue the lip-syncing Nashville Teens.

Okay, where were we? Oh yes, breakin’ the rules in Durham and Chapel Hill. I know, it is hard hard hard to believe, but, as Lilly von Shtupp confirmed in “Blazing Saddles,” “It’s twu, it’s twu.”

Seems they made up courses at Carolina. Athletes got grades for classes they never had to attend. Classes that never actually existed. 54 of them. Etc, etc. Need I be more specific? Well, I could, but I won’t. Pretty egregious stuff. Somebody mentioned that the NCAA investigator was a Tar Heel grad. That one of the “advisors” in the school department where these fake classes existed was football star Julius Peppers’ agent.

Yes I know, pretty nasty stuff. Which means that North Carolina Asheville best be aware. Your tennis team is about to be gobsmacked for giving the players a couple extra bucks to eat at McD’s after an away match.

And now it seems that the Holiest of the Holy — Coach K’s always clean as a freshly scrubbed baby’s tush Duke Blue Devils — may not have washed behind the ears. (Where did that Maggette kid go?) Lance Thomas, a member of Duke’s last NCAA title team decided in advance that some baubles, bangles and beads would be appropriate to celebrate. So he put down $30 Large on a a hundred grand’s worth of bling.

Then, he couldn’t come up with the rest, so the jeweler to the stars sued Thomas for the balance on the loan, which might not have been available to normal students at the university. Which means the rest of us now know of his affection for black diamonds. And that he was surely getting some carry around cash from somewhere way in excess of the sanctioned meal and laundry moolah allowed.

So those of us taken to disliking Carolina and Duke because of their inherent sanctimonious ways, and how Dickie V slobbers over them like a new grand baby, are just pleased as punch to see those schools squirming.

Oh yes, a warning to North Carolina Central. The NCAA is going to be put in a box, forced to come down hard because of Duke’s transgressions. Be afraid, NCC. be very afraid.

I love how the article in Sporting News about the UNC situation refers to the man who went on national TV to come down with terrible swift sword on Penn State — NCAA prexy Mark Emmert — as Mr. Big Stick.

So, yeah, Mr. Big Stick, it seems like it’s time to start swingin’ that thang.

Did I mention there’s stuff goin’ down at NC State. Does the name Rodney Purvis sound familiar? Hmm, may be more carcinogens along Tobacco Road than even the Surgeon General suspected.

* * * * *

Tip o’ the ballcap to Andy Murray. He stayed the course despite adversity in the wind-riven US Open final and bested Novak Djokovic in 5 sets over 5 hours for his first Grand Slam W. The first for a tennis player from the British Isles since Fred Perry in ’36.

A month ago, he won the Olympic gold medal at centre court Wimbledon.

So, it seems fair to say he’s had the most wonderful summer of his life. Which phraseology allows me to link in one of my guilty favorite songs. Robin Ward, sing it girl.

* * * * *

The NFL is back. And we football fans love that, right?

But I gotta admit. I’m having a hard time watching these LBs and DBs launching themselves like missiles at guys carrying the ball and receivers who have just caught a pass and, most especially, receivers who didn’t just catch a pass. There was a lot of head to head contact this weekend.

Gratuitous on field violence doesn’t sit well with me.

Then again, these are rollerball gladiators who play with torn spleens.

* * * * *

Finally, kudos to my NASCAR fave, Jeff Gordon. He slipped into The Chase after a second place finish at Richmond.

– Seedy K

How come you keep the roof you built for just such instances open when it’s going to rain on center court? Or, like now when it is, uh, raining as I write with the Men’s Championship tied at a set a piece between Roger Federer and homie Andy Murray?

Brits invented Stiff Upper Lip, or so it would seem. Fortitude in the face of adversity, as Wiki would define it. Self restraint. No display of weakness, a trembling upper lip at times of tension.

Yeah, well it’s real admirable and all that, a generally favorable trait to display. But this is the championship of the premier tournament of an entire sport. The whole world is watching. And anybody with even the least intelligent smartphone can see rain was coming. So why didn’t they take the time with the match tied at a set for each to close the roof?

Well they’re finally doing it as a write late this Breakfast at Wimbledon Sunday. So we’re stuck with listening to Mike Tirico, and watch some hushed tone, television poetic remembrance of a Columbine disaster that occurred in Murray’s Scottish home town. Sweet, poignant, but we turned in for tennis, not “60 Minutes.”

As for the match, well, it shall recommence after they get the roof closed, which takes about as long as it did for British troops at the direction of Margaret Thatcher to ship from the homeland to save the Falkland Islands from usurpation by Argentina.

(Time marches on.) Neither player has taken charge of the match as play has just restarted.

* * * * *

Speaking of Rule Britannia, how about Bradley Wiggins. The Brit, a pre-Tour de France co-favorite holds a ten second lead after the first week over defending champ, Aussie Cadel Evans. Lots of riding ahead and opportunities for both — and others — with time trials and men-from-the-boys defining moment mountain stages ahead. Plus the contenders need to stay out of harm’s way, given all the crashes this Tour.

The French are happy this day. Countryman Thibaut Pinot, in his first Tour at 22 years old, won the stage.

* * * * *

Before I rag on the sad state of the Courier-Journal yet again, let me be clear.

I make a lot of mistakes in this blog. And in the pieces I post at culturemaven.com. Misspelled words. Typos. Even the occasional incorrect fact. I do try. Run spell check. Proof things. But I miss stuff. It happens. I’m a one man operation, just trying to entertain.

You can read me for free.

The Courier-Journal, once one of the great American newspapers, an institution of community pride, now costs $23 a month. The mistakes are mounting by the day.

The last straw for me may be what’s happening to the sports page. No sign of columnists to replace Rick Bozich and Eric Crawford. No sign of copy editing.

In the article about the Calipari-coached Dominican Republic’s 1/4 final W in the Olympic hoops qualifying tourney, there was reference to U of L “senior to be” Edgar Sosa.

Really? I could have sworn his eligibility ran out two seasons ago.

Like I said, I make mistakes. But, even when one of my periodic brain farts and all too familiar senior moments arrive at the same time, I rarely blow it quite that badly.

It is just sooooooooooooo sad.

Let’s see $23 x 12 months is $276 for the year.

Can somebody tell me what I’m getting for that which is unavailable somewhere else?

– Seedy K

Then there are those competitions when none of the above are involved and I pick and choose. Anybody who can fell Tiger will always have my rooting interest.

Usually I go for the underdogs.

Which is why Breakfast at Wimbledon is going to be a tough one.

Normally I’d be pulling for Rule Britannia. Andy Murray is the first Brit to be wearing the all whites in the Wimbledon Final since Bunny Austin in ’38. The last homie to win was two years earlier. That side of the bracket opened up wide when Nadal went down early and Murray hit the hole, barreling through like Barry Sanders.

So, yeah, under normal circumstances, I’d brew the coffee, grab my cereal bowl and give a big hip hip for the guy crying when they play God Save The Queen.

Except that Murray’s foe is the eminently decent, soft spoken, gentleman’s champion, Roger Federer. He’ll be aiming for his seventh title on the fabled grass in a record-tying eight attempts. He earned the spot by catching the world’s current best, Novak Djokovich, early in today’s semi-final and keeping him measured.

I normally loathe cheering for the overdog — unless it’s one of my teams — but Federer plays so quietly and elegantly, and acts the same off the court, it’s impossible to stir up some faux dislike.

I guess in the end I’d like to see Murray win a little more than Roger. Give the country something to root for besides Prince William’s new sister-in-law.

* * * * *

I’m wondering if the latest sport sanctioned by the KHSAA — that would be the Kentucky High School Athletic Association — is the one where my alma mammy, J M Atherton High School, will find its niche.

It’s sure not football where the Rebels have traditionally trolled the crawlspace of the Litratings. Nor hoops where there are but a couple state tourney appearances in the sport that reared future U of L stars Charlie Tyra and Rick Wilson.

But . . . Bass Fishing just might be the niche the Rebels are looking for. The Dundee Road campus is big enough for the school to dig a practice pond on the property. The first season will start next February, running through the middle of April. The state title will be contested at the National Recreation Area of Land Between the Lakes.

Hoping a future Bill Dance is matriculating at JMA, I cheer, “Gimme an R . . . gimme an E . . .

* * * * *

The NFL which sanctions America’s most popular sport, is famous for knowing how to keep things competitive. New contenders seem to crop up every year, despite the periodic dynasties. It’s not like the other teams shiver from fear when facing the New York Football Giants, even though they’ve won a couple Super Bowls in the last few seasons.

Which I mention as a prelude to talking about the lopsided divisional results so far this year in the CFL. That would be the Canadian Football League, eh?

So far the Eastern Division is winless. Hamilton, Montreal, Toronto and Winnipeg have failed to post a W. Whilc B.C., Calgary, Edmonton and Saskatchewan are undefeated.

Yeah, okay, they’ve only played one game each, but still . . .

Which little, totally meaningless shtick is a sure sign of how my thought processes are more than a little fried and crisper than Kettle Chips around the edges.

At least the AC is working, which is more than I could say last weekend when this whole triple digit thing started.

– Seedy K

(Seedy Slog Note, pre-posting: I planned on having this up before noon, this Independence Day. Well, you can tell I didn’t make it. Sooooo, from the get go, I can report that Joey Chestnut repeated at Coney Island and is now six time champ. But I’ll post this as if it didn’t happen . . . yet.)

Have to wonder if my interest in THE sporting event of Independence Day in recent years has waned?

ESPN’s infatuation certainly has lessened. The Worldwide Leader is televising some twee tennis tourney from Wimbledon live instead of Joey Chestnut @ noon defending his Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Championship from Coney Island. You can catch all the wiener action live on ESPN3, but it’s certainly a blow to the prestige of the event that it’s not being televised live on one of the network’s 114 stations, like, say, ESPNFood.

Frankly, the contest lost its luster for me when, a couple years back, Major League Eating — the sanctioning organization for such affairs — banned Takeru Kobayashi, the groundbreaking Babe Ruth of the “sport.”

* * * * *

Speaking of sports that have lost luster, let me broach the topic of horse racing for a moment.

A fan of this blog recently asked my opinion on the debate over the use of lasix for thoroughbreds? At which point, I asked if he had me confused with my compatriot, for whom such matters are a concern, Bill Doolittle?

“You write a sports blog, don’t you?”

“Well, yes,” I responded, “but I really could care less about the ponies. I haven’t been in town for the Derby in years.”

Which disinterest shall not prevent me from commenting on Jennie Rees’s Churchill Downs Spring Meet wrap up in this morning’s C-J.

Essentially she said there were more worthless nags racing on Central Ave this year than in the last three decades she’s been covering the Sport of Kings. (Most excellently covering it, I might add.)

If the purses were higher consistently on a daily basis, there would obviously be more of the better stables and horses on the grounds for the entire meet. Instead, they’ve journied to those tracks where the pots are bigger.

This is obviously an issue for the inveterate horse player. Short fields. Inconsistent talent. Speed ratings that induce yawns. Makes betting less fun. Or, so I’m advised.

I’m wondering though whether it matters to the casual player, to the folks who show up on Tuesday afternoon when the boss says “Let’s take off and go to the track for a couple races.” To the hotties who dress Kardashian on Friday nights, and the fellows who show up to ogle and flirt.

I guess the folks at the Downs have to look at the bottom line and have a business conundrum. Which is that if they raise the purses with the commensurate upgrade of quality of horse flesh that would follow, will it increase attendance and betting enough to make it financially feasible?

So far, they’ve opted out.

I’m reminded of hockey in Louisville. The era of the Louisville Blades and Louisville Rebels and Louisville Shooting Stars ended when JFK took office. The sport returned in ’90 with the Icehawks then Riverfrogs, both of the lowest minors, the East Coast Hockey League. They skated at Broadbent before loyal, enthusiastic, small but apparently financially sustaining crowds. It was fun. The locals, experts in college hoops but relatively ignorant about back checking, didn’t care about such as quality of play.

Then the Florida NHL franchise made a bold but really stupid move, putting their AAA American League team in Freedom Hall, where the same small rowds showed up. For awhile anyway, since it was more expensive. The locals could have cared less that the hockey was significantly of a higher quality.

That, one guy’s opinion, is an analagous situation to the decision Churchill faces. More or less. Except for the presence of that event on May’s first Saturday.

* * * * *

As I write, British favorite son, Andy Murray, is not looking good. The 4th seeded homie is down to #7 seed, David Ferrer. It would be a pity if he lost without making it to Sunday for a shot at winning the championship. A Brit hasn’t won at Wimbledon since just after the Norman Conquest.

His path is relatively clear, meaning he wouldn’t have to beat Raffie Nadal to make it to Breakfast at Wimbledon on Sunday. Of course, all the others on that side of the bracket — Ferrer, Tsonga and Kohlschrieber — are thinking the same thing.

What I find fascinating is how they seeded the players this year. On the other side, #3 Roger Federer is facing #1 Novak Dkjokovic in the semis. Which means they seeded the top players 1 vs. 3 and 2 vs. 4 instead of the more common 1/4 and 2/3.

If there’s some tennis follower more knowledgeable than me out there who can explain that, please feel free to post a comment.

* * * * *

Tiger Woods.

* * * * *

Have I mentioned how much I love watching the Tour de France, even though I know little of the subtleties of big time bicycle road racing. (Nor do I understand why in track racing, the competitors often ride as slowly as possible. But that’s a discussion for my Olympics coverage next month.)

Luxembourg’s Fabian Cancellara still wears the yellow jersey, won on the first day’s time trials.

I’m fascinated by the strategies employed in different stages of the three week competition. There are always three or four or several guys who speed out from the peloton and get a five minutes or more advantage. Early in the race, the field reels them in. Later on, teams and individuals get more defensive. If the break out riders have no chance of gaining on the race leaders, the peloton lets them go. Or, so I would observe.

I trust if I’m wrong I’ll hear from one of my readers who knows a lot more than I do.

I really love watching the stages each morning, especially the sprints and the mountain stages when stamina rules.

– Seedy K

I just turned on the telly and caught the last couple seconds of Notre Dame’s impressive road W at UConn, which started at noon today (Sunday). And whom did I see under the hoop, wearing the traditional zebra stripes?

Jim Burr, that’s whom.

In case you haven’t been keeping track, he also called Saturday night’s U of L/ Seton Hall game in Newark, which ended after 10:00 pm.

Now, I know that it isn’t that arduous to get from Newark to Connecticut . . . but still. Burr is not some twentysomething who can party all night and get up at the crack of dawn for work, slap on some after shave and be fresh for the tasks ahead. There is no way he could have all his faculties for a second game in a half day.

In fact, he made that inexplicable call Saturday night, aiding the Cardinals last night. What should have been a T against U of L for calling a timeout it didn’t have, Burr blew his whistle, stopped play, then gave the ball back to the Cards out of bounds, ignoring that an attempt was made right in front of him to call a timeout the team didn’t have.

Despite that obvious fatigue, he was back at it a half a day later calling an important Big East game.

Exhibit 2: The lead official in yesterday’s West Virginia vs. Syracuse encounter was Karl Hess. This is the game that fell in the Orange’s favor, when the zebras missed as obvious a goal tending call as I can ever recall. Had the correct call been made, the Mountaineers would have tied the game with seconds to play at the Carrier Dome. Instead, they lost.

It was Karl Hess’s 21st game in the last 26 days.

It’s not like he was getting up in the same bed every morning and taking the same route to sit at the same desk. Hotels. Airports. Cabs. Airport food. Fitful sleep. Lots of waiting.

The college game deserves better. Much better. Fatigued refs are changing the course of the season.

* * * * *

I’m now watching the final games of the replay of Novak Djokovic’s win in the Australian Open.

The level of tennis he and Rafa Nadal are playing in the fifth set after almost six hours of play is extraordinary. The World Wide Leader has already dubbed this an “Instant Classic.” It says so right in the corner of the screen.

Who am I to disagree?

At 5:53, it was the longest major final in the open era. By almost an hour. And for the winner, it came with a day’s less rest time than Nadal, after ND’s five set/ five hour semi W over Andy Murray.

I guess at some point, I’m going to have to watch the whole match. I’m sure ESPN will milk it for all its worth.

* * * * *

Tiger Woods was stared down by a never heard of named Robert Rock in the HSBC Championship.

Well, Abu Dhabi doo.

The Messiah finished in a tie for 3d, after being tied for the lead, heading into the last day of play.

All together now . . . Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!

]]> http://score.leoweekly.com/2012/01/29/sunday-sniping-zebras-run-amok-tennis-transcendence-tiger-rocked/feed/ 5 http://score.leoweekly.com/2011/07/08/no-rumors-no-innuendo-just-questions/ http://score.leoweekly.com/2011/07/08/no-rumors-no-innuendo-just-questions/#comments Fri, 08 Jul 2011 22:16:42 +0000 c d kaplan http://score.leoweekly.com/?p=6641 Woof.

It’s the dog days of summer, whatdaya want from me?

Rumors? Innuendo? Recruiting gossip that Jody Demling hasn’t already covered?

Nah. But I got some question?

* * * * *

Why do Gene Smith and Gordon Gee still have jobs at Ohio State?

Who will coach again sooner in college: Bruce Pearl or Jim Tressel?

Can the Indians really hold off my Tigers in the AL Central?

Would Adolph Rupp have recruited a high schooler named Shabazz Muhammad?

Will you watch the NASCAR race tomorrow night just because they’re racing here in Kentucky?

Everybody who will actually miss the NBA next season raise your hand?

Anybody got a new Kragthrope joke I haven’t heard?

I’ve been watching World Cup soccer. You?

Name the next great American male tennis star?

Should I hold a press conference to announce I won’t be playing in the British Open this year?

Anyone else watched a replay of some hoops game on Big Ten Network because you don’t know who wins, so it’s like watching it during the season?

Is it just me, or is all this posturing, arguing and legal wrangling between superrich professional sports franchise owners and superrich players just a might annoying?

Did you hear this one? Steve Kragthorpe and Les Miles walk into a bar . . .

Why doesn’t ESPN feature Aussie Rules football?

Wouldn’t it be great to be able to head down to U of L on a hot summer’s night and watch current and former Cards ball at Crawford Gym?

Is downing one of those Polly’s Freeze supersized milkshakes an athletic accomplishment?

– Seedy K

Jo-Wilfried Tsonga.

The guy rallied from two sets down to beat Roger Federer in Wimbledon’s quarter finals. (It was RF’s first such meltdown ever in a Grand Slam tourney.)

Tsonga appeared ready in the semis against World Numero Uno Novak Djokovic. The Frenchman broke Djokovic in the match’s first game. A love game no less. He stayed in charge and led the set 5-4.

Then weirdness appeared on the grass court. Tsonga started his service game to win the set, 0-40. At which point, he literally and figuratively loosened his collar. And rallied thrice for a deuce game. Then double faulted when he went Phil Mickelson, trying to slam a 2d serve for an ace, finding the net instead.

Essentially he was done. He lost the game. Then the set in a tiebreaker. Then the match.

Justin Verlander. Ready. Way ready.

Is there anybody pitching better now in the bigs? Maybe. Frankly I don’t pay that much attention. Never watch Baseball Tonight. Rarely stay tuned to regular season games on the telly.

You want the full picture? Check with my man Dr. Bo over at the Courier-Journal, a real, diehard baseball fanatic.

But I do follow my Detroit Tigers a bit more closely. Especially when they’re a contenda. And that they are, having caught the Tribe. Cleveland was quick out of the gate, but now finds itself a half game behind Detroit in the AL Central heading into Independence Day weekend.

Verlander won another last night, 5-2 over interleague foe, NY Mets. He’s 11-3 on the season.

Here’s what the ’06 Rookie of Year has done since a woeful outing against Tampa Bay on May 24. He’s given up 5 earned runs in 7 outings, lowering his ERA from 3.42 to 2.32. He went the distance in two of those games.

He leads the AL in wins, innings hurled and strikeouts.

National Basketball Association. Not ready.

In fact, if those really in the know are to be believed, the league might not be ready for Any Time next season.

Apparently a majority of the franchises are legitimately losing money. And, despite previous capitulations to the players and their union, are unwilling to do so this time around.

Unless there are more Antoine Walkers among the players than we expect, they should, for the most part, be able to wither the misfortune of a year without pay. They might have to drop a few homies from the payroll, but, generally speaking, these hoopsters have been making enough moolah to survive a year on the sidelines.

Thanks the b-ball dieties for the amateurism of college hoops, where only the coaches make ridiculously exorbitant salaries.

National Football League. Ready.

There will not be a regular season or post season game lost because of the current lockout. Period.

Canadian Football League. Ready.

The CFL season opened last night.

The Montreal Alouettes held off British Columbia Lions, 30-26, in the season opener.

Takera Kobayashi. Not ready.

The Babe Ruth of competitive eating, as reported here yesterday, has been banned from the Super Bowl of Competitive Eating, Nathan’s Famous July 4 Hot Dog Eating Contest.

– Seedy K

Candy. For both Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal. These guys have arguably the most intense one on one, man to man rivalry in sport. Yet they seem to be genuine friends off the court, respectful in a way that doesn’t seem manufactured. They played some exhibitions last week and Federer actually picked up Nadal at the airport. Publicity stunt? Perhaps. Promo for that red hot gull wing Benz? More than likely. But still they did it. Never hear one of them talking about how the other is disrespecting him, do you?

Coal. For Rick Stansbury. I’ve always thought the Mississippi State b-ball coach to be not quite as good as the respect he seems to get. I remember watching him during a subregional practice session, sitting in the stands while his next day’s foe, Butler, was practicing. He paid zero attention. His heavy favorite squad lost. That he has expended so much energy in obvious troublemaker Renardo Sidney has been most telling to me. When Sidney got in a fight with his teammate/ roomate Elgin Bailey in the stands the other day at a holiday tourney, it just seemed so appropriate.

Curio(sity). As to why Claude Sullivan has been lost in the pantheon of UK lore to the tsunami that is the love for Cawood Ledford? Old time Wildcat fans surely remember with fondness the Voice of the Wildcats. I happened across a video of the UK’s title W over Seattle yesterday on Wazoo. I’d forgotten how much action he could describe in so few words. Candy to Claude Sullivan (And Cawood, who was damn good himself.) Coal to those responsible for diminishing Sullivan’s legacy.

Coal. To NCAA. Sure the organization has a thankless job, trying to enforce its thousands of rules. Which, I might add, most all of its member institutions and “student atheletes” break regularly. But its sense of equal justice is absurd. Bruce Pearl hasn’t been penalized for admitting major violations and admitting that he lied about them. Tom Izzo sits a game for some arcane minor irregularity. Ohio State’s scofflaws get to play in a bowl game, but will have to sit out games against Whatsamatta U. and Nowhere A & M that open next season. Then there’s the Cam Newton justifications.

Candy. To Joker Phillips for sitting down his starting QB Mike Hartline for the latter’s idiotic behavior unbecoming a senior. Were he still a frosh, maybe he walks for getting drunk and acting stupid, but not now.

Candy. To Ken Lolla and the entire U of L soccer team for turning this once nonentity program into a national playa.

Coal. To the Yum! Center for its not so yummy concessions, which are also very, very, very, very, very, absurdly expensive. And I’m not so sure those aisles meet fire codes. Am I the only one who thinks they are very narrow and too few in number?

Candy. For Armando Galarraga. The Detroit Tiger hurler was absolutely robbed of a perfect game by an awful ump’s call on what should have been the last play of the game. Yet he immediately forgave the ump Jim Joyce, who manned up immediately to the mistake. No Coal for Joyce because of his contrition. No Candy either. It was a joke of a call.

Curio(sity). I’m inclined to give a lump of carbon to I Am LeBron, but he’s no different than most other Me First pro atheletes in this age. But, because of that Miami talent heist, and the pub, and their awful start, I find myself watching more pro hoops at this time of year than . . . ever. I bet I’ve watched more regular season minutes than the last decade total. I’m not alone, according to the numbers.

Candy. For Charlie Strong. Because he is his own guy with little of the cult of personality affectation that plague his profession these days. And he seems genuinely grateful for the opportunity here in Louisville and truly loyal.

Coal. For Geno Auriemma, who is as gracious as Scrooge.

– Seedy K

Seems he got an A, which made him barely eligible to play last season at UK. But his average scores indicate he should have only received a C. Which would have made him ineligible.

Hmmmm. Guess that villain Pete Thamel of the NY Times spent all his time before visiting Turkey, hacking into the Birmingham school system’s computers to change Bledsoe’s grades.

Grade: Eric Bledsoe — F.

* * * * *

In a somewhat related matter, I’m advised that Enes Kanter will not be declared eligible to play for UK by the NCAA. And that the decision will come later rather than sooner.

Which means the Cats will be left twisting, twisting slowly in the wind in anticipation.

Wildcat fans are wishing the Turkish government would go “Midnight Express” on that very same Pete Thamel.

Grade: Enes Kanter — F.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, there are reports surfacing here in River City that Gorgui Dieng will not be able to play for U of L this upcoming season because of eligibility snafus.

Grade: Gorgui Deng — Incomplete pending final exam.

* * * * *

Sooooooooooooooo, I’m thinking of my man Arthur Alexander with some sensible words of wisdom for both the Bluegrass and Cardinal Nations: You Better Move On.

* * * * *

I’m not sure exactly how Bruce Pearl kept his job at Tennessee. I know why. He wins. Even though his offense is as loosey goosey as there is in college hoops.

In his tear filled press conference, Pearl prevaricated. Cutting to the chase, he lied to the NCAA about making illegal phone calls.

CBS Sportsline’s excellent b-ball writer Gary Parrish had a great column yesterday. He interviewed ten college coaches and promised anonymity. All 10 admitted they’d made illegal phone calls.

We love this beast that is college basketball, but it’s getting bigger and grizzlier and nastier by the recruiting season.

Seems to me those coaches could take a hint from “The Wire,” the best show in the history of TV, which The Film Babe and I just finished watching in its five season entirety for the 2d time. When drug lord Marlow Stanfield didn’t want his cellphones to be tapped, he used burners, which one of his soldiers would buy at various convenience stores along the interstate.

Grade: Bruce Pearl — F.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, the NCAA showed just how cockamamie all those professionalism rules are when it suspended Georgia Bulldog A.J. Green for four games for selling a game jersey to an agent.

Bulldog fans can take their choice of umpteen different versions of Green’s jersey at the team store and online.

But Green gets smacked.

This whole amateur athlete thing is hypocrisy of the highest order. Something’s gotta give and soon.

Grade: NCAA — F.

* * * * *

Actually watched a good bit of tennis yesterday, before and after the rain break in the US Open Men’s Final.

Have to admit yet again how talented these incredible athletes are. How they can run across court, jump in the air and hit cross court shots within centimeters of the out of bounds lines is simply amazing.

And, if you watched, did you observe how Nadal’s left arm is at least twice as muscular as the one he doesn’t use.

He’s 24. He’s won the Grand Slam, including 3 major titles this season alone. He lives in Majorica. Tough life.

Grade: Rafael Nadal — A+.

* * * * *

Joey the Vig released the Pick Em Pool Standings after the first two weeks of the season. I stand a militantly mediocre 6-6, nestled comfortably in the middle of the pack. (I’m doing somewhat better than that in Seedy K’s Scintillating Selections, but more on that later in the week.)

The problem of course, is that Joey’s the Vig’s gig would theoretically hurt me in my pocket book, were that gaming. My picks here are for entertainment purposes only.

Grade: Seedy K — D.

* * * * *

While, under a different persona, I do film reviews for public radio here in Louisville, I rarely broach the subject in this, a sports blog.

That said, I must assume that anybody who finds my prattle here to be of the slightest amusement would also appreciate the brilliance of “Machete.” It’s my favorite flick of the year.

As you move on, remember Machete’s words of wisdom: “Machete don’t text.”

Grade: “Machete” — A.

– Seedy K