Category Archives: Horse Racing

MMPG: Back on the Scene with a Gangsta Lean

allsportsSo, you remember me, right?

Your resident point guard, Seedy K. Well, I’m back after the usual early spring hiatus.

Why the disappearance, you might wonder?

Well, first there was my annual bout of PMMSD (Post March Madness Stress Disorder). Then Jordan Spieth’s meltdown in Augusta, which had me wondering if anything meant anything anymore in the world of sports.

Then eight days in New Orleans for JazzFest, and too much great music and equally delicious eats.

Then the announcement that Dylan, the Stones, McCartney, Neil Young, the half the Who that’s left and whatisname from Pink Floyd will be gigging together in Cali come October for the Mother of All Oldies Shows. They’ll be more than glad to relieve you of the entirety of your IRA as a down payment on tickets, which can be purchased over time at low interest rates.

Then Derby, which is always everywhere in this burg, even when the Julep glasses are inferior, even if one tries to hide out in unusual nooks and crannies of Derbyplace USA. (Though, in honor of the namesake of the winner, I did wear my stylin’ Red Wings sweater to a blissfully laid back post race get together.)

But, the Cavs are on the cusp of dominating the NBA, while the Spurs are showing their age. Little Richie Farmer, who had the governorship by the short and curlies had he any sense and moxie at all, has filed bankruptcy post-prison term, and is getting by with help from his parents. Gulp.

Which is to say, it’s time for my triumphant return. I’m back, with the usually skewed perspective, droppin’ dimes for deuces. Continue reading MMPG: Back on the Scene with a Gangsta Lean

Tuesday’s Tattle: Pharoah, Rousey Rule; Tiger’s Meow

rondaWelcome to a Deflategate Free Zone.

Besides all that Tom vs. Roger way way way too much ado about zilch has been bumped from the sports pages like a Hanson Brothers hipcheck by the big question of the week.

Who’d win a smackdown between this week’s premier badasses?

In one corner, there’s Dez Bryant, who, in his most recent scuffle, drew a no discernable winner practice field push and shove with wannabe Dallas DB Tyler Patmon. Who happens to be a fellow former Okie State Cowboy.

In the other corner, we are smitten with the baddest dudette — perhaps ever — on the 3d Rock from the Sun, Ms. Ronda Rousey.

Not that I’m a betting man, but my money’s on Ms. R. Dez would have about as much chance with Rousey as Entourage’s Turtle did. She’d prevail in the ring. Probably in a minute or less, or so her past performances would indicate. And she’d win the post bout press conference. And on the runway before the awards show. Continue reading Tuesday’s Tattle: Pharoah, Rousey Rule; Tiger’s Meow

Masters, Open in Hand, Spieth Spies Slam

golfOne of the annual traditions of the Masters every April in Augusta is that the defending champ gets to choose the menu for the dinner that precedes the next year’s tourney.

If the U.S.Open were to have such a ritual, it would be only fitting that Jordan Spieth’s repast before next year’s event would feature broccoli.

Since that’s the clever but derogatory descriptor most mentioned by this year’s Open participants, when describing the nature of the bumpy, multi-hued “greens” of Chambers Bay.

It was a lovely but most quirky venue indeed.

In the end though, carping legit or otherwise notwithstanding, the course was not the story.

Neither was Dustin Johnson’s choke job on the 72d. Though he had a makeable eagle putt for the W, and an even easier “gimme” for birdie and a spot in a playoff, neither of which he drained. Continue reading Masters, Open in Hand, Spieth Spies Slam

Friday Final Edition: Pharoah, Pitino & Iggy

ampahBack before they supersized Churchill Downs, making it casino-ready, ripping away much of its timeless charm, turning it into the equivalent of an Oldham County McMansion with too many rooms and roofs and vaulted ceilings, there were nooks and crannies of the facility that were ageless.

There was a minor eating venue along the brick walkway underneath the first floor clubhouse, almost to the first turn. You could stroll in there on Derby Day, and it felt like yesteryear, like the ladies should be wearing bustles; the gentlemen, fedoras.

You could almost hear the touts whispering, “It’s gonna be Old Rosebud’s day.”

That spot , gone with reconstruction, comes to mind in the wake of the aftermath of American Pharoah’s Triple Crown triumph. Continue reading Friday Final Edition: Pharoah, Pitino & Iggy

Sports Showdown Saturday: A Damon Runyon Day

reporterSo it’s early Saturday morning, and I’m jogging through Seneca Park and part of Saint Matthews, as I regularly do, given my normal routine that day of the week.

It’s Derby Day. So there are fewer exercisers, doing the loop, and more groups of folks, standing about in their finery, getting ready to be part of the throng at the track.

While I’m huffing and puffing my way down Nanz, out of the corner of my eye, I see a couple of twentysomething fellows on a porch. One of them calls out to me.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you know how to tie a bow tie?”

Never having been a bow tie kind of guy, I can’t help him.

* * * * *

True vignette. The closest I came really to being part of those assembled at Churchill Downs.

Shared in the present tense to honor Damon Runyon, chronicler of the American scene in the mid 20th century. Continue reading Sports Showdown Saturday: A Damon Runyon Day

Monday Musings: Pacers puncture Predictions, DAP is Back & Mo’

b-ballThis digital age is, one guy’s opinion, a marvelous thing.

I sit here at my desk, fashioning my rather lame Jim Murray/ Hunter Thompson/ Charles Pierce imitations, hit “Enter” and my bloviations disseminate instantly into the cybergalaxy to be savored or ignored, your choice.

There are pluses and minuses to this whole internet thing.

Immediate access to “information.” Plus.

Small town gossip now global. Minus.

Also, if I write something, and make a mistake — which I way too often do — I can correct it.

One can also cover oneself, after making really bad forecasts. Simply erase what has been written. At which point, only the writer and that 13 year old hacker in Berzerkistan know the whole truth.

But, in the name of integrity, the Hippocratic Oath, the Marquise of Queensbury Edicts, the Barristers’ Code of Ethics and the Golden Rule, I try not to do. Even if I look the fool to all those with a memory of what I’ve written.

And, sadly, there are a lot of you with elephantine recall out there.

Which is my usual long-winded, self-indulgent way of getting to this point.

Yes, it was me who wrote these words, which I am likely to come to regret: “Besides, given that Miami is a deadbolt lock to win the East, a rematch of last year’s Finals is what we want, right?” Continue reading Monday Musings: Pacers puncture Predictions, DAP is Back & Mo’

Sunday’s Snippets: Triple Crown Edition (Plenty of Hoops Included)

joeyLet’s get the Triple Crown possibility, about which the C-J shall be foisting a dozen articles a day for the next three weeks until the running of the Belmont, so then I can move on.

As I’ve mentioned early and often, I’m not big into the horses. But I am a Kentuckian and would love for California Chrome to close the final mile and a half of the deal.

And I say that, even though lovey dovey feel good story about Dumb Ass Partners lost more than a bit of its luster yesterday. Co-owner Steve Coburn, who was probably in his cups — He seemed to have a libation in hand throughout the pre-race period — chose the Preakness trophy presentation ceremony on national TV to diss Churchill Downs for a lack of hospitality during Derby time.

His post-race “explanation” seemed a bit diffused, and, frankly, overblown.

Trust me, I’m the last guy who is going to apologize for Churchill Downs, which has gone corporata maxima in recent years, in an attempt to suck every last ha’penny from any soul, who would dare venture within a half mile of 4th and Central Derby Week.

But Coburn’s comments, as generalized and pissy as they were, seemed certainly out of place, and mighty ungracious. Continue reading Sunday’s Snippets: Triple Crown Edition (Plenty of Hoops Included)