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.1
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?”
Who knew the Pacers were sandbagging through the first two rounds of the NBA playoffs?
My hand is certainly raised. Isn’t that Larry Bird’s arm also in the air?
Indiana whupped up on the Miami LeBrons in the conference final opener. Which they “should” have done, given the home court advantage. But, which nobody with any sense figured would actually happen, given the Hoosiers lackluster post-season play to that point.
Pacers’ mentor Frank Vogel, who just days ago was said to be coaching for his job security, looks the genius, heading into tonight’s “pivotal” Game 2. His team, dissed far and wide for balling without a “true point guard,” crossed up the Heat with a deft strategic move. Vogel played two ball handlers at the same time.
The usual guy, the local kid, George Hill from IUPUI. And, C.J. Watson, the well-traveled guard from Tennessee. That, along with focused, stellar, intense play, confounded the favored Heat.
Round One: Indiana.
Holding serve again tonight would be huge for Indiana. Duh!
Meanwhile, in the Left Coast Conference championship duel, I think I might have gotten it right. Though I’m far from alone, since most observers said the same thing, more or less.
My words: “OKC’s loss of Serge Ibaka certainly changes the dynamic. To San Antonio’s significant benefit.”
This is this ideation of the Spurs last hurrah. Or, so I would opine. Duncan’s older and slower. Ginobili also. Both are in their late 30s. Parker too is way past his twentysomething, halcyon, Eva Longoria days. The trio is still good, really good, but, you know, less so.
These proud ballers are still burning from their meltdown in last year’s Finals, when Game 6 and the title was just about assured. As we know “just about” never came about. San Antonio is hell bent to return to the championship round.2
Which it should do, since OKC is playing a significant man short, and is not quite yet ready for prime time.
Savor it all, ye fellow hoopaholics, the true and final end of 2014 b-ball is just a few days and Sir Charles’ barbs away.
* * * * *
The New York racing stewards acted swiftly and as every ad agency in the Mad Men World knew they would, by taking less than 24 hours to approve the use of nasal strips in the Belmont, as well as all other races in the Empire State.
Assuming Derby and Preakness winner, California Chrome, the latest Triple Crown contenda, doesn’t start spitting up blood, crack a leg or eat some bad straw, he’ll now attempt to join Affirmed and all those other three-time winners who came before.
Which means co-owner Steve Coburn can Bambi Walk his way up and down Manhattan. Then be carried into the clubhouse on a throne of his choosing.
While the authorities helicopter fellow owner Perry Martin’s mother onto her own specially built viewing stand.
Those not so subtle brickbats aside, I do like the suggestions to spread the Triple Crown out a bit. That a tired, two-time winner has to confront a phalanx of rested rivals over a mile and half does seem unfair.
I’d like to see the horse do the deal, his owners’ petulance notwithstanding.
* * * * *
Even Maple Leaf, Eskimo, Canuck and Ottawa fans are rooting for Montreal’s Habs to capture the crown, and bring it back north of the border, where hosers Bob and Doug McKenzie know it ought to be.
Even Margaret Trudeau3 is even on board for this one.
Sadly, Montreal has lost the first two games of the conference finals . . . at home. It’s going to take a mighty comeback to overcome the NY Hockey Rangers advantage.
Either way, given how the Chicago Blackhawks are skating, it looks like an Original Six championship round. A good thing for traditionalists.
* * * * *
You know I could care less about golf.
But I gotta ask?
How can Tiger Woods, who hasn’t won a tourney of significance since, well, seemingly since the aforementioned Ms. First Lady Trudeau was hangin’ with Jagger and Warhol, still be ranked #2 in the World Golf Rankings?
I believe it to be the case that Tiger was just supplanted by Adam Scott.
I don’t understand.
* * * * *
Yes, I know you crave, as I certainly do, some news about college hoops.
Just a snippet of sorts, some tiny morsel to be savored, a fix for our addiction.
But, sigh, like you, I’m jonesin’, going cold turkey.
Which is to say, I got nuttin’, honey.
Which means I’m outta here.
— Seedy K