Diss & Dat(a): Sponsored by (Your Name Here)

I have attempted to evoke chortles before with this shtick.

That the ACC should rename itself the Great A&P Conference. We got Stanford and Cal now, right?

Which would not only be geographically correct, but pay respects to my mother’s favorite grocery.

So more’s the pity that in an ever changing world of commerce, the Great Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company shuttered its doors a decade ago.

Because an incredible naming rights tie in would now present itself.

That the Big 12 is about to slap a commercial sponsor’s name on the league seems frankly inevitable. Much more than Oh Really? And, pretty danged clever all context considered.

Infusion of moolah. Attempt to keep up with the Sankeys and Petittis. Acceptance of the landscape as it has evolved today.

One has to admire the out of the box, forward thinking Brett Yormark, who leads the Big 12.

At least, I do. Continue reading Diss & Dat(a): Sponsored by (Your Name Here)

Diss & Dat(a): Tuesday’s Riffs

On holiday in the late 80s, I ran into a Memphis State fan.

Who was actually a good dude. True.

When he extolled the virtues of 50s star Win Wilfong, I realized he was a lifer/ acolyte for the Tigers as I was for the Cardinals.

At some point during the good natured back and forth, he said, “You know we always thought the McCrays played for six or seven years.”

“Yeah,” I parried, “we said the same thing about Keith Lee.”

Well, ye followers of collegiate cagers, pigskinners and liberos formerly known as Student Athletes, those snarkisms are now reality.

There’s a tight end on the Miami Hurricane squad whose first collegiate season was 2016. Continue reading Diss & Dat(a): Tuesday’s Riffs

Hoopaholic’s Gazette: We Have Lift Off

(The graphic that accompanies this post should be credited. Except that I haven’t the slightest idea who created it? If anybody reading knows, please let me know so that credit can be given where it’s due.)

Transparency here.

I haven’t a whole lot to talk about this time around.

Snark Alert: Other than, you know, the Cards have a full roster. But other than that . . .

Truth is, some FB friend posted the above graphic. Which immediately entered my Top 3 Cardinal graphics of forever. Along with Dunking Card. Duh. And the cover of the ’74-’75 SI preseason hoops issue.

So I just wanted to post something to use it.

And, minor matter. we got a new COO around here. Some former Aussie footy player named Glock Dementus. Whose management style is, uh, heavy handed. Can’t imagine why similarly inclined Glorious Editor might have hired him. Anyway, he not so subtly advised I had contractual obligations to meet.

 * * * * *

It is a phrase often heard to describe what’s just happened with Cardinal basketball.

“He hit the ground running.” Continue reading Hoopaholic’s Gazette: We Have Lift Off

My Bill Walton Moment

Monday evening on PTI, in closing his appreciation of the now departed Bill Walton, Michael Wilbon said, “Everybody’s got a story.”

To that I can attest.

In ’91 still recovering from major injury having been hit by a car while jogging, I finally made it to Freedom Hall for some Cardinal hoops. On crutches.

I was struggling down the steps to my seat. When Bill Walton, who was doing the game on TV, came walking up the aisle.

He stopped, asked what happened, and how I was doing? Continue reading My Bill Walton Moment

Diss & Dat(a): $$$$ Part Zwei

So after he made reference of the boatload of moolah 502Circle threw at Kasean Pryor to complete his student athleticism at U of L, and not under The Rick or Coach Cal, I inquired of Glorious Editor how much?

He gave me a ballpark reference. Hint: A lot.

At which time, I thought maybe Ol’ Seedy should enter the portal, see what a defection down the road might bring were I to convert to Bluediasm?

GE saw through my ruse. He knew it was but a feign. Offered me not a nanofarthing uptick in the pittance I get for dodging my readers’ barbs.

So, here I sit, tethered to my red & black keyboard, buying my vittles on time at the company store, to which I owe my soul.

But excited for next academic/athletic year. Which can’t come soon enough. Continue reading Diss & Dat(a): $$$$ Part Zwei

NIL “r” Us: Money Talks Nobody Walks

Back in the glory daze of Cardinal hoops — 70s to mid 80s — such was illegal.

Giving money to secure the services of a desired high schooler. Who even thought much about transfers then?

Nonetheless, a pal who was connected with the program asked if I’d contribute to secure the services of a wannaget? I threw in a Benjamin, which was all I could afford at the time. A score of those in the pot, the kid came to the Ville.

A Top 10 All-Timer, it turned out.

Lots of success and smiles ensued.

Best return on an investment I ever made.

A Card baller from the late 60s has told me that once a week during the season, there’d be an envelope in his campus mailbox with a few crumpled twenties.

How quaint. Continue reading NIL “r” Us: Money Talks Nobody Walks

Hoopaholic’s Gazette: A Cardinal to Cheer For

Was Monday’s gray soggy weather a perfect metaphor for the annual post Derby (post JazzFest) malaise?

For the hoopaholics among us, as for basketball played by the male of the species, we must turn our yearning eyes toward the play for pay league.

Oops, silly me, got to say which one now. (Do not worry. I shan’t utter a word further here about you know what. Today’s post is a nil on NIL zone.)

I’m talking about hoops where the teams have a salary cap they must adhere to.

There is however a rooting interest remaining in the playdowns for U of L fans.

One Donovan Mitchell.

Now a Cleveland Cavalier, he was around the Yum! just when the shit hit the fan for Cardinal men’s basketball.

Two and done he was. No surprise. Continue reading Hoopaholic’s Gazette: A Cardinal to Cheer For

Seedy K’s Hoopaholic Hiatus Warning

So, yeah, you loyal readers, especially the ones at the Chron, you won’t have me to kick around for the next couple weeks.

Which one hopes you might have already discerned from the photo up top, an image of you now know where I’ll be if you didn’t already know.

So, say, next Thursday morning at 11:30 when you are at work, or you’re lookin’ for some bloggoid type to vent your spleen toward, I’ll be sipping on a frozen latte, perhaps not being able to wait also savoring a crawfish strudel, and be either at Gentilly Stage listening to the New Orleans Suspects, or in the Blues Tent with Tin Men, or in the Gospel Tent where I often start the Fest, along with more fellow Hebrews than you’d imagine, praying along with Melvin “Maestro” Winfield Jr and The Glory Chorale Community Choir.

Just a way of saying thanks to the Lord for the blessing of JazzFest. This, my 35th.

Maybe at the Lagniappe Stage.

But before I go . . . Continue reading Seedy K’s Hoopaholic Hiatus Warning

Back to the Jim

Saturday dawned like the first true day of printemps.

(I know, too precious. But there are times when invocation of French is simply called for, the language is so resonant and lyrical. I gotta work the word for grapefruit in sometime soon.)

My immediate thought when seeing the sun glowing through my window: It’s time to get back to the ballyard.

I am a child of Willie, Mickey and the Duke. (As NY-centric as that may be. I mean, I recall asking my baseball-loving dad what the deal was when the Giants and Indians were in the ’54 Series. Still very young I thought it was just the Dodgers and Yankees every year.)

There were actual toys in boxes of Cracker Jack.

Baseball’s were the sounds of my youth.

The crack of ball against ash. The thwack of horsehide into leather.

The lingo. Continue reading Back to the Jim

Hoopaholic’s Gazette: Got My Fix

So, as previously reported, your inveterate Cardinal-loving wag awakened Thursday morn jonesing for a college hoops fix.

The withdrawal was severe.

And then, like manna from heaven, like back in the day my man would actually answer the phone when I needed to connect right then, the day unfolded.

It was like that day in ’70 in a field in Byron, Ga when I heard Duane and Dickey for the first time.

Or, more appropriately, let’s jump in the time machine back to January 28, 1956. It was like that blissful evening.

My obsession with U of L hoops was already four years on, though I was only 11.

That night is, to the best of my memory, the first time there was hoops on TV here. Television was still pretty rudimentary, the Milton Berle phase, just getting its sea legs.

A doubleheader no less.

My parents, from whom I am genetically disposed to hoopaholism, allowed me to stay up to the end beyond my bedtime. Continue reading Hoopaholic’s Gazette: Got My Fix