I am standing atop Lookout Mountain.

Allegorically speaking of course.

Though I have not Seen Rock City, I observe how Rocky Top checkerboarded the Wolfpack.

So what I says to myself, despite my unparalleled preeminence in the prediction universe, is, “Seedy, stop it already with the upset picks. You have enough trouble picking them for real.”

Full of myself after going with Tech in Week 0, I’ve now missed a couple upset specials in a row. Enough as we say is enough. No more picking big dogs.

Unless, of course, I change my mind.

So, yes, Tennessee ravaged the Wolfpack.

And, Kentucky, well, the Cats have now fallen to the Gamecocks (South Carolina version) three times in a row. Who figured? Not me.

While the Cardinals held serve against the Gamecocks (Jax State edition), triumphant Texas left the Big House in serious disarray, and Nebraska proved that Sanders (the coach) is more Wizard of Oz than the next Saban or Spurrier. (More on them just ahead.)

Three right. Two wrong. 11-5 for the season.

This week’s winners: Continue reading Seedy K’s Peerless Pigskin Prognostications: Week III →

Football is in the air.

Don’t believe me, check with Jude Redfield, who said as much this a.m. when I did what old men do: Check in on the weather forecast first thing.

So, yeah, I know many loyal readers are chomping at the bit.

Some might have even sneaked a peak at this past weekend’s comeback by the defending Grey Cup champion Montreal at Saskatchewan in a battle of CFL division leaders. Alouettes 27, Roughriders 24.

A bronconagurskian does what a bronconagurskian’s gotta to do.

And, don’t I know some of you are more than ready for the reveal whether Georgia Tech will wreck the Seminoles in the only real battle of consequence in Week 0? Continue reading Diss & Dat(a): Pigskin Upon Us →

OK, my pal and loyal reader JR wondered at the gym when I was going to come through with some real prognostications?

Gently. But a legit admonishment nonetheless.

My advisement to him, I shall be weighing in next Week 0 and those thereafter with actual game predictions.

Today, to provide some wheat to my usual chaff, some substantive stuff. Of sorts.

Appetizers if you will to whet your gluttony.

 * * * * *

Two new aspects of the game you might have missed.

QBs will can now get signals from the sidelines through speakers in their helmets. Take that, Connor Stalions.

Now like the pros, there’s a two minute warning.

 * * * * *

Moving on, there are some coaches finding the seat warmers in their SUVs on despite the August Heat. A group I’ve always called the Dead Man Walking Club, admittedly a not so delicate description. Anyhow if their secretary happens to overhear the AD’s assistant ordering a guillotine, they should be prepared. Continue reading Seedy K’s Preseason Pigskin Diss & Dat(a) →

There’s a not so delicate term (especially in this day and age) some coaches use to describe getting three defensive stops in a row.

A Kill.

Well, during the Elam, which opened with La Familia up 9, 62-53 (Target: 70), the former Cards fashioned three in a row. Nine stops, maybe even a tenth.

To no effect whatsoever. The Ville missed their first eight shots and gave it away twice.

Eventually the deserving if less than gracious victors steadied.

La Familia 70, The Ville 61.

The most heated rivalry in the sport has another chapter writ.

More coals have been tossed into the rivalry’s already raging fire. Continue reading Seedy K GameCap: The Ville Eliminated, 61-70 →

. . . actually nothing.

And I apologize to my loyal readers and subscribers if the headline seems a tease because, well, it is in a way.

If you’ve been paying attention, you will note that my post yesterday looked very weird. No paragraph spacing. Odd.

Have no idea why.

I only look so far under the hood before sending out a Mayday to my web guru Cody Wheeler.

But being the obsessive type, before he’s been able to get to it, I’m back seeing if I can post something that looks like it is supposed to?

So, if you have actually read this far, thank you for your much appreciated indulgence.

 * * * * *

Coming Soon:

Complete coverage of The Ville’s venture for a million heads of cabbage.

The definitive projection CFP’s Dozen. +1.

And, the proverbial much more.

Have I wasted enough of your time?

I believe so.

Out.

— c d kaplan

This is nothing other than what I posted yesterday, but in a more readable format.

I/We have genuflected before the Greek God of Hoops Naismithius.

 I have tapped into a love of inner fandom of the Philadelphia SPHAS. (OK that’s pushin’ it for some dramatic creativity. But I have read about the history of that early pro barnstorming outfit.)

 At the gym the other day when a member of the local sports media — a fellow who should have known better despite his relative youth — reminisced that U of L’s first hoops natty was the ‘56 NIT title, I tsked tsked the whippersnapper, reminding him of Peck Hickman’s late 40s NAIB crown, besting John Wooden’s Indiana State.

 (By the by, the heralded one’’s only L in a national title game.)

 I hoped to go to the Bahamas to follow the new look Cardinals. But tight-fisted, Scroogian miser Glorious Editor threw the request in the office shredder. Am of course still anxious to follow the Cards, even if it’s via the radio. (Bought some new C batteries for the transistor radio in case the power goes again.)

 Which is to say I/ We are oh so ready for the way better than Aunt Martha’s rumaki appetizer the Gods have bestowed upon us.

 Hoops this Saturday afternoon in Freedom Hall, the Grand Dame of the Sport.

 YES!!!!!!!!!

 (If only John Tong could be there to do the PA.) Continue reading Hoopaholic’s Gazette: Hoops ‘r’ Here (#2) →

Though it’s still a bit early to head to your meat market of choice for fresh never frozen brats (except for ya know, perhaps the summer cookout with Madge and the kids) football and tailgating are drawing closer by the sunrise.

Such that I finally ventured out to the book store and purchased my go to cheat sheet, Phil Steele’s exhaustive college football yearbook. I was even able to shlep it to my car without throwing out my back.

The 350 page preview is seriously heavy.

So, while CardinalStrong is whetting your appetite daily in his pigskin countdown at the Chron, I’m not quite there yet, but . . .

. . . Coming Soon, or pretty soon, shall be my absolutely positively you can unbuckle with your local bookmaker (or betting parlor) list of 12 teams that shall make it to the first ever dozen school CFB Playdown.

With perhaps an alternative or two as a hedge. Continue reading Diss&Dat(a): Pigskin, Hoops & Mo’ →

I’m a Motowner by birth.

A Little Leaguer in my youth. Playing baseball was what we did.

My dad was such a fan, he was the Commissioner of the my Little League.

Though I have seen but a smattering of big league games through the decades, a mere handful of Tigers’ games, I was at Michigan & Trumball while on a visit back for the home opener of the ’56 season, watching Al Kaline, youngest AL batting champ ever, hit against the Indians’ Mike Garcia.

I also saw former ace Jack Morris shut down the the pin stripes in Yankee Stadium years later.

Anyhow, it had been awhile since I’d been up to Cincy for a game, a good while frankly, so I checked the Reds schedule before the season to discover my team would be playing there this past weekend.

I commandeered my pals SABR Dude and Smarts for the road trip. Continue reading Tres Bobbleheads at the GAB →

Suck on this, Greg Sankey.

There will be sixteen Round of 32 games this weekend.

Exactly half of the competing schools shall be double digit seeds.

Including Oakland — from Michigan Greg, not Cali — who beat your leagues most historical now hysterical program.

And one of them academic schools Yale, who upended Auburn, which I gots to mention, won your league’s tourney. Guess they care more about spring pigskin practice on the Plains.

Plus Grand Canyon, which is some sort of hybrid for profit, religious affiliated institution of higher learning with upper echelon level facilities and a rabid fan base. James Madison, named for Dolly’s hubby don’t ya know, which, by the by, has won more games this season than any team not named UConn.

Along with P4 late season overachievers Colorado, Oregon and surging NC State.

So, that’s a tally, Greg, of a #14, a #13, two #12s, three #11s, and a #10.

Greg, hear me now and believe me later, don’t fuck with the most perfect post season in sports. (Do not pardon my French.) Continue reading Hoopaholic’s Gazette: Instructive First Friday →

Welcome to Clichés ‘r’ Moi.

Because, my fellow hoopaholics, This Is What It’s All About.

Yet again I pledge my absolute allegiance to Naismithius, the Greek God of Hoops.

On Thursday March 21 in the Year of Our Lord 2024, He the Grecian deity above all of Gods and Goddesses, giveth . . .

. . . unless, of course, you’re a Samford fan and know in your heart (as well as that of Gene Steratore) you got screwed on that clean block called a foul late.

OK, I cannot bury the real lede any longer.

I’m sure the crowd reading this shall join me in a hearty and explosive and schadenfreudian Huzzah, because . . .

. . . Oakland 80 . . .

Kentucky 76. Continue reading Hoopaholic’s Gazette: A Blessed Day I →