It’s killing me – I hardly know myself. Who is this person I’ve become?
This year, I watched the NFL playoffs for the first time in my life. Not just the Super Bowl – the playoffs. I don’t even like football. And golf? The best thing about golf is how quiet its fans are, so I can have it on TV while I nap and it won’t interrupt my sleep.
But I’ve become a huge fan of the show Feherty (hosted by former pro golfer David Feherty) on the Golf Channel Monday nights. It’s a wacky Irish guy interviewing the top personalities of golf or, occasionally, some other sport.
I’m addicted. I’m not talking about standard interviews, when the athlete opens a can of blather and out comes the same goop that comes from every athlete’s mouth just before or after a game:
We got to play ’em one day at a time. I’m just happy to be here. Hope I can help the ball club. I just wanna give it my best shot and the good Lord willing, things will work out.
I’m talking about a candid interview, when an athlete is willing to share the good times and bad, the eccentricities, a little character.
I found myself having this thought: “It’ll be intriguing to watch the Masters and know a little about the personalities and lives of the athletes.”
Tiger’s drama notwithstanding, golf? Intriguing?
Sure as shootin’, Bubba Watson won the Master’s the same week I saw his interview on Feherty. I’m calling it “Feherty karma” (like Jungle karma).
And then there’s this – what Bubba (and a few golf buddies) does when he isn’t busy at the Masters:
Anyway, if you find the real me wandering the streets in plaid shorts and a visor, please stop and give me a good, hard shake. Remove the visor and point me in the right direction.
SUNSHINE, MARTINIS & FLIP-FLOPS?: Speaking of the more mellow class of sport, I made my annual pilgrimage to Arizona for the last weekend of Spring Training baseball. more info
Friday night, Giambi hit a homer as I savored garlic knots and a PAMA martini at Salt River Fields. Saturday, Pujols hit a homer in a 10-inning game that ended in a tie. Saturday night Kinsler hit a homer at Goodyear Complex as I munched beer-battered fish-n-chips and talked baseball with a couple Canadian snowbirds, and Sunday I watched Ichiro with my belly full of Lo-Lo’s chicken-n-waffles.
Next year I bring running shoes.
ROCKS & FLATS: I mentioned in my last post that Belgian sprinter Tom Boonen might be making a comeback.
He amassed nine wins in the early months of the cycling season, perhaps most notably Paris-Roubaix – the famed, hellish ride over 23 miles of soul-jolting, testicle-tattering cobblestones. He made his move early and dominated to the very end for the fourth Paris-Roubaix victory of his career. For his effort, he took home a giant rock.
On the track, centenarian Robert Marchand set the record for best performance in an hour in the (newly-established) 100-and-over age category, completing 15.1 miles on a velodrome.
He advises us to “keep moving.”
CALORIE CHECK: In case you think I’m exaggerating about the “soul-jolting” bit of Paris-Roubaix, it was mentioned during the broadcast that data revealed Boonen burned 1,000 kcal per hour. It was a nearly 6-hour race.
Bet he was hungry enough to chew his leather saddle at the finish.
sSl BOOK CLUB: It saddens me to report one of the best coaches of all time, Pat Summitt, has retired after 38 years with the University of Tennessee women’s basketball program as head coach. It saddens me more that she’s been diagnosed with early-onset dementia. Summitt has a book deal for her memoir. I can’t wait. Surely it’ll be chock-full of incredible stories and authentic inspiration for realizing potential.
TIMBITS: The first round of the NHL playoffs is decided. Still, you have between now and June to catch a game. Canada is out, but SportsSlant is still tracking the NY Rangers. It took a Game 7 win, but they’ve survived.
The Summer Olympic countdown is so on. Less than 100 days. That means the Tour de France countdown is on as well. I’m gonna need to pre-pay all my July bills.
For those of you out of touch with Sports World gossip, one of the NBA’s more physical players (he was recently suspended for concussing another player with an elbow to the head), Ron Artest, has changed his name to Metta World Peace. Can’t believe he chose that over Metta Whirled Peas.