When we woke this morning, who among us, the members of the Bermuda Triangle chapter of Hoopaholics Anonymous, knew we’d need those special protective glasses we bought off the interweb from Jeff Bezos . . .
. . . to listen to sports talk radio.
Sure, there’s the game tonight, but the Truth: That’s not as important in my neck o’ the woods than the reports that You Know Whom who used to coach up the road at You Know Where is now Winner Winner Chicken Dinner.
Thanks to Mr. Tyson.
In Tiffin, Ohio, where the solar blot is a 100% thing, and so many visitors were expected the police chief was advising locals to fill their tanks with gas over the weekend, they will be talking Buckeye football again before the more natural sundown.
As it is in Bessemer, Alabama. And Steeler Town.
But here in what I once attempted to designate Hoopsylvania — to literally no avail, I seemed to be the only one who found it cute — we talk hoops on the Fourth of July. And the 3d, 5th, 6th and the rest of the time.
In HoosierLand, the Bluegrass and Derbytown, we all got roundball eyes. Continue reading Hoopaholic’s Gazette: The Real Eclipse