Category Archives: Golf

Tuesday Throwdeeps: Pigskin Recruiting, Linkster +++

That the US Open was still underway, and I hadn’t had an opportunity to write about it yet, did not deter The Professor from scolding me.

“So when are you going to give a shout out to former Cardinal golfer Adam Hadwin?

“He’s leading the US Open for heaven’s sake.”

He had me. I suppose.

Transparency here. As much as I love U of L sports, the golf team has never been on my radar. I had seen somebody mention somewhere that Hadwin was a former Cardinal, and thought, “That”s cool.”

My next thought, and how I responded to Prof, “Well, isn’t there always some guy we’ve never heard of atop the leaderboard after the first day, only to fade into his own parade?”

Which to Hadwin’s credit and doggedness, he did not, finishing T7 at -1.

Under par for an entire US Open. World class. Continue reading Tuesday Throwdeeps: Pigskin Recruiting, Linkster +++

Beating those Sportin’ Summertime Blues

Sometimes I wonder what I’m a gonna do/ But there ain’t no cure for the summertime blues.

Actually the whole point of this late July sports catch up — just to let you know that Seedy K hasn’t retired — is that there are cures for sports fans in the heat of summer.

Buuuuut, I love me some Eddie Cochran (And The Who’s “Live at Leeds” version of the tune if that’s your reference point), so I had to throw in some rock & roll, don’t ya know.

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Anyway, as I accelerate ever more swiftly into my dotage with the attendant cognitive life changes attendant, it’s nice to report that I’ve discovered a situation where my memory loss is actually an advantage.

Though I loved Wimbledon, cherish the coverage of the Tour, must admit to having caught a moment or two watching the Coming of Lonzo in Vegas, and have the final round of what I am required by the specter of Old Tom Morris as well as Royal & Ancient British Golf Authority to call The Open (Not British Open), I remain first and foremost a college sports fan. Gimme a pigskin Saturday, or Friday or Thursday or Tuesday; or a hardwood Sunday afternoon from the Carrier Dome or Cameron Indoor, and I’m a happy camper.

Not to mention that such status places me firmly in the majority of sports fans in my neck of the woods, who love the college games.

So, I lingered longer than I should last night as The World Wide Leader replayed one battle on its list of last season’s Top 25 college football tussles. Continue reading Beating those Sportin’ Summertime Blues

Monday Afternoon PG: Another Game 7, Pucks, Russ’s Misdirection, Where’s J.B. & More

Speaking of point guards, Duke just got a commitment for next season from the highest rated ball handler left. Actually the highest rated PG committed or not.

Meaning Coach K and Coach Cal have once again corralled enough Golden Arches superüberduperstars with enough free burger coupons to sate every fan that will be in the Alamodome for next season’s Final Four.

The question of course is, will the Blue Devils and Wildcats actually be there to participate themselves?

I know stuff happens, kids don’t pan out like they’re supposed to, extraneous diversions affect team performances, etc, etc, but, given how they’ve harvested talent in the last decade, shouldn’t UK and Duke make it to the last weekend of the season every season? And win the dang thing more than they do?

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There’s a NBA Game 7 tonight. Boston and Washington shall battle to see which gets whipped by the Cleveland LeBrons in the Eastern Division finals.

It ought to be an exciting tilt. The squads are pretty even, if flawed.

My sense is the Wizards shall prevail, even though the game’s in Beantown. But that’s not why I bring it up.

Which is that I’m as mesmerized as the next hoopaholic about Celtic Isaiah Thomas’s offense. The guy can score. The guy can score at crunch time. From inside, despite his diminutive stature. From outside, even when closely checked by leaping bigs with a huge reach.

(We shan’t mention Thomas’s D. Because I could guard guys better than he does. And there are analytics to prove that. At least to provide evidence how bad he is. I haven’t seen any statisticians checking out my footwork recently.)

Now my point. When I see Isaiah Thomas play, I see Russ Smith.

(Except Smith knows how to play D.) Continue reading Monday Afternoon PG: Another Game 7, Pucks, Russ’s Misdirection, Where’s J.B. & More

MMQB: Spieth, Story, Steph & The Real Big Story

stephindexThere are some monster stories this springtime.

Jordan Spieth’s meltdown at the 12th.

Steph Curry’s emergence as the best baller in hoops. Along with his Dubs emanation as one of the best pro outfits ever.

Trevor Story’s 25 or so homers for the Rockies in his first handful of games in the Bigs.

There are a couple of other trends, but they’re probably of interest only to me, a child of Motown. Those would be the Pistons making the NBA playoffs. And the Red Wings backing into the post season like Nicklas Lidstrom, covering a short-handed breakaway counterattack at the Joe.

And then there’s the story that really trumps them all, a fascinating bit of sporting history unfolding as never before. But I’ll save that one for last. Otherwise, you might click away for lack of interest.

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It has been argued by many that hitting a baseball off of major league pitching is the most difficult single task in sports.

Maybe so.

But anybody who has ever attempted golf knows it might be equally as hard to to swing at a ball with a golf club — off the tee, in a trap, out of the woods, or on the green — and have it end up where the swinger would for it to. Continue reading MMQB: Spieth, Story, Steph & The Real Big Story

Hump Day Harkles: Sports Scene with a Gangsta Lean

sportsnewsGearing up for the fall/ winter sports seasons, and comin’ at ya straight outta Clifton.

Opening Tease. Coming soon, like in the next few days, within a week at the latest, the info you’ve been salivating for as college football kickoff approaches: Seedy K’s Peerless Pigskin Prognostications Preseason Preview.

That’s what I’m talkin’ about. It’ll be pithy, pitch perfect, pleasant to read. And devoid of any silly alliterative prose, since I just bled it all from my system.

QB Race, Part Uno. Louisville Cardinal coach Bobby P is resolutely coy about whom his starting signal caller will be. But we know one thing for sure.

The Tyler Ferguson Era at U of L, such as it was, is over. So we bid adieu to the Penn State transfer, who is now taking his talents to the third institution of higher learning in his career.

My sense — and that of most other observers — is that Reggie Bonnafon will take the field first against Auburn.

What I also hear is that Petrino is smitten with freshman Lamar Jackson, a raw talent. Don’t be surprised if he’s brought in for some special sets in special situations before the other wannabe QBs, Gardner and Bolin.

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Continue reading Hump Day Harkles: Sports 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

Hump Day Eve Harangues: Spieth Slips, Serena’s Soaring & Terry Rozier’s Sandwich

sportsnewsI’m a sandwich kind of guy.

It’s tough when I’m dieting (which is most all the time given my propensity for corpulence) since I don’t eat bread then.

But I did slip over the other day to the recently opened Epic Sammich Co. in a little storefront on Highland between Cherokee Road and Baxter.

Now those dudes know how to make a sandwich, even if they need work on their spelling.

Tasty. Unique. And bountiful. Rarely am I, a husko gordo of the highest order, felled by only a half a sandwich. But, I actually took half of my Cuban home to finish later in the day.

They’re also savvy enough over there to serve “Dirty” Chips, which are, one guy’s opinion, the best.

Which sandwich eating interlude I thought of, when I viewed Terry Rozier’s appearance on some folly of an NBA Network TV show, during which he made his favorite sandwich.

Two slices of white bread, crust removed. Spaghetti with tomato sauce. Upon which is added table sugar and mixed. That combo is places on one slice of bread. Then is doused with a generous portion of ranch dressing. Top with other slice of crustless white bread.

Enjoy.

Or, demur. Continue reading Hump Day Eve Harangues: Spieth Slips, Serena’s Soaring & Terry Rozier’s Sandwich

Monday’s Sports Missive: Serena, Novak, Jordan, Roger & Wayne

sportsnewsNo Louisville Cardinal fan rooted harder for Wayne Blackshear to succeed, and become a major Double Arches AA-quality collegian, than I did.

Some have even used the word apologist.

Truth is he never met fans, coaches, or his expectations. It happens.

I happened upon a couple of his summer league games during the last week or so.

In the first, contested in Utah, he played about half the minutes, but contributed little. In the second, after the Spurs had moved on to the Vegas competition, it was all pine time. He never took off his warmup.

So, it is somewhat sad, how he’s expressed his views of his years on the Belknap Campus.

I agree with him. For most of his career, he did sublimate his game to the offensive sets run by The Rick. But . . . a lot of that had to do with the fact that he never displayed the eye of the tiger, the will to take charge, that it was believed he had in him. He never really showed he deserved to have sets run for him. Continue reading Monday’s Sports Missive: Serena, Novak, Jordan, Roger & Wayne

Hump Day Harangue: Rose vs. Rose, Tiger vs. Lance, ‘Dores vs. ‘Hoos & 3 vs. 3

allsportsWith the majority of my readership located in the heart of Hoopsylvania, and therefore obsessed with and frothing at the mouth over tomorrow night’s NBA draft, I daresay few have noticed the great move by the NHL Board of Governors.

So, yes, I’ll get to other stuff soon enough, but first a high five to hockey.

I’ve oft said, and shall now repeat, that there’s nothing as exhilarating as OT pucks.

It’s harum scarum. End to end. Chaos on ice.

Now the prospect of a more open competition, should the clubs be tied after 60, is a comin’. Three on three, may the swifter on skates, the more adept at avoidance, prevail.

Only after five minutes of such careening into the corners and across the blue lines will regular season games resort to the reasonably exciting, but skewed decider of a winner, those singular skater against goalie shootouts.

Every once in awhile hockey’s muckety mucks get it right. This is one of those times.

Now on to stuff you may care about. Continue reading Hump Day Harangue: Rose vs. Rose, Tiger vs. Lance, ‘Dores vs. ‘Hoos & 3 vs. 3

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