Before we get started with another rasher of foolishness, some Coming Attractions.
Later this week — like in a day or two — yours truly’s anxiously anticipated, nationally heralded predictioneering about the upcoming college football campaign shall be revealed.
Seedy K’s Peerless Preseason Pigskin Prognostications are but hours away. So too, hopefully, arrival of my brickbat resistant armor from that Bezos fella. Then, because that’s really nothing more than an appetite whetter, next week come my ever prescient Week 0 game predictions.
Wyoming vs. Illinois. Vanderbilt vs. Hawai’i. Nebraska vs. Northwestern, from that hotbed of American football, Dublin, Ireland. And more, perhaps.
And don’t tell me you won’t be watching. I know better, ready to pounce, should I in the unlikely event prove incorrect.
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Speaking of football across the pond, do you want to hear about yesterday’s West London Derby at Stamford Bridge between my faves, Tottenham Hotspur, and their hated arch-rival Chelsea?
Before we get on to other matters, a moment of silence please for the dearly departed.
In a world that seems to be falling apart before our very eyes, now we have to deal with yet another significant loss.
Flags at half mast please in memoriam of the demise of the Choco Taco.
Of course this frozen treat wasn’t Graeter’s, or a trip to Polly’s Freeze for a shake or Gelato Gilberto.
But at those times, like 10:30 at night and you need something cool and sweet and the freezer is empty, and those places mentioned above are either closed or too far to drive at that hour, and you don’t want to hassle with a full grocery, there’s always Convenient.
(Whatever those places are called these days, they’ll always be Convenient to me.)
The freezer case is by checkout with the array of drumsticks and Klondike Bars and Fudgesicles. I most always went for the Choco Taco.
Not that it really tasted any better than any of those other mundane choices. But, it was a legit mix of ice cream, chocolate, nuts and soggy taco wrap in appropriate proportions for each bite*. It could be consumed before it melted.
If you don’t know which former Cardinal it references, you be in the wrong place. Just sayin’.
If you do, eat your heart out.
I throw it up there, because all signs are pointing to the Cardinal men’s hoops returning to where it once belonged.
It’s going to take awhile. So, be patient.
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My man who is periodically at practice reported in last evening.
FYI, he shall henceforth be known as Gym Eyes. Here anyway. Not sure his bride will find it as cute as I do.
Unfortunately, I was sitting in my car outside the grocery when he rang me up. So I didn’t have paper and pencil in hand to take notes. My memory on the wane, I’ll only be able to talk in generalities.
The big takeaway is that everybody on every drill looked markedly if incrementally improved over GE’s last look see a couple of weeks ago.
The coaching staff is emphasizing conditioning. Drills will be blown dead if players are not going full speed. As happened at least once when Josh Jamieson blew a stop the proceedings of the guys he was working with. I’m advised the team was broken into two groups on Tuesday, the bigs and the perimeters. Continue reading Hump Day Hoedown→
This is the time of year when I should be obsessing about M Cunningham’s durability (while wondering about those $900 kicks he wore the other day), whether Monty Montgomery will be fully back, and will the secondary stabilize?
And beyond those contemplations, how much will really tall Josie Williams add to Jeff Walz’s phalanx of bigs, can KP coach as well as he can win the room, and, of course, will that rising senior from Jersey play for his dad’s coach or his grandpappy’s teammate? Or shake up the hoops universe and take his talents elsewhere?
But . . .. but . . . but instead of thinking Xs and Os and out of bounds plays, instead of focusing on the guys in pads and cleats and sneakers, about that three game obstacle course to open the gridiron campaign, I’m obsessed with the guys in suits, what they’re conjuring up with their cash flow charts and TV stats.
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The other day the Professor and I were lamenting the pickle many/most wags seem to believe U of L and its league seem to be in, given the Cards middle of the road stature and its positioning in regards to the accelerating shift in college sports.
That’s the snarky phrase I’ve used time and time again through the years to denote some gotta-have-sure-to-get-but-didn’t recruit destined for Louisville but not as much as the fanbase hoped for recruit.
It may not be as cute terminology as once upon a time. But, hey, it’s tried and true.
Too late to stop now.
So, yes, that’s one of those guys, Fab Melo, you see at the top.
Which is my circuitous way of hinting that I’ll be addressing the whole D.J. Wagner tug o’ war saga in a bit.*
*No need to scroll down for some late breaking inside info. That ain’t happenin’. Just going to offer some perspective.
But, first, let’s head down to the courthouse to see what’s going on?
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Which is, imagine this, another lawsuit emanating from Louisville Cardinal athletics.
So, I ran into Scotty Davenport the other day by the Water Company Reservoir, where he was taking a break from his jog.
When he noticed it was me who stopped and rolled down the car window, he smiled and waved.
Because it’s what I do, I shouted, “You need to get the Cardinals to come play you at Freedom Hall!”
Have you ever seen how Davenport reacts on the sideline when he doesn’t like a call, how his demeanor changes, how he goes after the ref, and doesn’t give up? Well, that’s what happened when he heard what I said.
His animus wasn’t directed my way, but in the direction of U of L.”
And that, as I write U of L hoops coach Kenny Payne is announcing the long-expected but just confirmed hiring of Milt Wagner. To some sort of hybrid position that the Compliance Office has, one would assume, advised won’t hinder the recruitment of a certain grandson.
But, can we talk football for a moment?
Of course, the fingers on the keys to the Smith Corona belong to me.
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By all accounts during recent seasons the Atlantic Coast Conference has been considered the least powerful of the self-designated Power 5.
Gridironly speaking. (OK, last year also in men’s b-ball, but that was an outlier, and today isn’t about that.)
“Why hasn’t Seedy weighed in on the whole NIL deal?”
For one, I have. Kinda.
Back when railing against those fat cats asking for the return of a former U of L AD, I suggested they put their energy, and significant disposable wealth into forming a collective. So there’s that.
Plus, I have nothing to add to the rampant dialog about the accelerating phenomena. It’s the Wild West out there. Those under the table envelopes of cash are now Bitcoin deposits into off shore bank accounts.
You thought the Oklahoma Land Rush was a clusterfuck on meth? Silly you. Google up Isaiah Wong to see how the culture of college sports has changed, seemingly overnight.
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Speaking of that Miami Hurricane, I tried to go Wong on Glorious Editor and the guy controlling the purse strings in Finance on the 73d floor, a fellow named John Beresford Tipton IV.
“How about a little bump for the kid,” I inquired? “I’m read. I’m nothing if all but about name, a nom de plume affectation, image and likeness. Have you seen those mashup vanity portraits I post with my articles? Some would say that stuff is more important to me than quality of content, but there’s always going to be nabobs of negativitude. I’ve been nothing but NIL for years.” Continue reading Hoopaholic’s Gazette: Back on the Beat→