One weekend and my NCAA brackets are in the trash. Ohio State lost a tight one and Duke dominated. But Duke lost, you say, and the Buckeyes won. Not according to my brackets. The Buckeyes were upset by Marist while the Lady Devils took the team from Holy Cross out behind the woodshed. C’mon, I’m the only one that filled out brackets for the NCAA Women’s tournament?
(Seriously, how many of you even knew there was a women’s tournament?)
And we’re down to sixteen on the men’s side. They’re still alive, but I’m not going to root for the lone Big Ten (11) representative, Ohio State. The news is going to drop any day now that Greg Oden is really thirty years old and has been hiding in the CBA. When are reporters going to catch on and ask for a birth certificate? What, only Hispanic baseball players need to prove their age?
Spring officially begins tomorrow but it’s only eleven days until the boys of summer are playing on the diamonds for real.
I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again; don’t mess with Pacman Jones. Or Tank Johnson. Does anyone remember when Ray Lewis was scary on the field and accused of being a bad guy off the field? It’s as if Jones and Johnson are trying to raise the loose cannon bar to new levels.
The NFL draft is looming and the Detroit Lions are effectively sending up a smoke screen about their intended selection. Nobody has a clue exactly how they are going to screw it up again this year.
I’m consistently amazed with the amount of time and effort people put into their golf game. Videos. Weird equipment. Buckets of balls and countless hours at the range just to find their “swingâ€.
Of course, I’m into Day Six of my baseball league’s fantasy draft and having trouble choosing between a LOOGY and a backup utility infielder. Not only do I lack the credibility to criticize anyone about pathetic obsessions, I’m fairly certain the level of stress this decision is causing me is unhealthy.
NASCAR’s Kobalt 500 fell under a yellow flag late in the race. Rumors are beginning to circulate that NASCAR is intentionally implementing caution flags to keep races tight and allow for more exciting finishes. The most cynical of critics are comparing NASCAR to professional wrestling. I see this as knowing your audience.
Speaking of shaved buff men stuffed into ridiculously revealing costumes, I saw 300 last week. Good film. Great cinematography. My only complaint was how the characters were a little too comfortable with their physiques. Only the fashion runways of Paris have more peacock strutting than this film.
I’m going to refrain from making a soccer joke this week. Think of it as my gift to the hooligans.
The big news in tennis this week is Kim Clijsters’ plan to ease into retirement so she can honeymoon and start a family. She’s twenty-three. What’s the hurry? I’m thirty-three with a sixteen month old daughter. This girl has years before a child ruins her life. Someone should tell Kim to relax and enjoy being one of the top-ranked tennis players in the world for a while. Try and pick up a racket when kids have sucked the will to live from you. See what you think about that early retirement then.
Ken Griffey Jr. is moving to right field. For how many games? Forty? Sixty? We all know another injury is just around the corner. When Griffey sold his soul to the devil for baseball greatness, did he not see it was only for twelve years before the “chronic injury†clause kicked in? I’ll bet Lucifer gets a chuckle every time Jr. laces them up for a game.
We’re currently muddling through the hockey dead zone – that time near the end of the painfully long regular season when there’s little to do but play out the string before the agonizingly drawn out playoff season. There are some playoff races in the East worth watching, but the West is on hiatus for another three weeks.
The Geico cavemen might be getting a series. Has television fallen so far as to rip-off commercials for new sitcom content? When do I get to write a series?
We were quick and dirty today. Keep passing on the website to friends. We’re moving up the Google rankings slowly but surely.
If you’ve got a question or comment, send them to me at jeff@canon-fodder.com.
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