I gotta tell you, I’m shocked that no one – to my knowledge – has done a comparative study of Tiger Woods and Charlie Sheen. Seriously. We’re talking about two men at the top of their respective professions who redefined the term “fall from grace”.

Sheen of course was recently fired from his insanely high paying gig on “Two and a Half Men” for drug issues, a dismissal that led to a blitzkrieg of media interviews in which we also learned about the actors “Goddesses” (I.E. Porn Stars) and his new gig as a ”Vatican Assassin Warlock” (How does one become a “Vatican Assassin Warlock” I wonder? Is it – like a Jedi - hereditary? Or can I perhaps learn these skills with the help of an online degree from Phoenix University? Or even Lock Haven University? What does it pay? Is it an entry level position? How is the Health care plan? And most importantly, would I have to cut my hair like Tom Hanks in the Da Vinci Code? #dealbreaker) 

The former (and future?) Ricky Vaughn has also introduced several other (now trademarked) phrases into the lexicon, including “Tiger Blood”, “Adonis DNA”, and the incomparable “Winning”. http://charlieswinning.com/quotes/

Tiger Woods on the other hand also lost a bundle of cash (several multi-year, 7 figure National sponsorships) after his dalliances with a few “goddesses” of his own (I.E. Porn Stars. And that one waitress at Denny’s, which is where most goddesses are found. After 11 beers. On a Saturday night. At 2:52am) which led to a media blitzkrieg. And if there is anyone who has “Tiger Blood” and “Adonis DNA”, and knows a bit about “Winning”, it’s the artist formerly known as Eldrick.

And while Sheen has embarked on a much maligned 22 city “Torpedo of Truth” tour, Woods is also experiencing less than stellar reviews as he gamely plugs away on yet another swing change, in hopes of once again “torpedo-ing” (Is that a word? Probably not. But I’m not big on things like “spelling” or “facts” or “paying taxes.” #Winning!) not only the competition, but the perception that he’s about as dangerous as a 12 year old neutered house cat.

But you know what? I’m not betting against either man returning to his former glory. Anyone remember Robert Downey Jr. breaking into a house and passing out in a spare bedroom? The man is now a National treasure, perhaps our most beloved actor (and a guy who needs to be the next Oscar host btw….but I digress) And wasn’t it just a few years ago that Britney shaved her head and beat on a Papparazo’s car with an umbrella? And now she’s umm…she’s…well… she got custody of her kids back, and just released another album and no longer appears to be crazier than a pile of Lohan’s!

Most people however seem to think Woods is a few bad rounds away from morphing into Ian Baker-Finch (Kids, Google!) but I’m…not…buying…it. The only thing wrong with Tiger Woods…is that he forgot that he’s Tiger Woods. The former #1 lost his aura of invincibility when news of his scandal broke, and like the playground bully who finally takes a punch in the face (Go rent “Three O’Clock High. Please. I beg you) he’s lost his swagger. And his mojo. And his unique ability to make world class golfers drop Hershey Bars in their shorts at the prospect of teeing it up with the 14 time Major winner.

Harvard sports psychologist Sharon Chirban recently said of Woods ”He’s got experience coming back from technical problems, but he doesn’t have experience coming back from shame. Until the shame is managed, he will never come back to the level of play he had before”

So when will the shame fade, and the results begin to trend upwards? At this point, I have no idea. But I do know this. Tiger Woods is 35, not 45. Swing change or no swing change, the cat didn’t forget how to golf. And he hasn’t lost his unquenchable desire to erase Jack’s name from the record books. I’m not a big fan of the man, but I’m still all in on the golfer. As long as Woods doesn’t blow out his knee for good, there’s no way he doesn’t get to 19 Majors. And if there’s one venue that can jump start Woods return to dominance, it’s Augusta National.

Not only has the Woods won 4 Green jackets, but it would be foolish to underestimate the healing powers of Augusta. For most golfers, driving down Magnolia Lane and stepping onto the 1st tee is akin to a religious experience. Augusta is a cathedral. It’s Yankee Stadium meets Lambeau Field meets the old Boston Garden. It’s history and timelessness offers a sense of renewal and optimism that no other course this side of the Atlantic can provide.

And for the men who have triumphed previously at Augusta, the venue also offers a feeling of confidence that simply can’t be quantified or overlooked. A confidence that is often the perfect balm for a shaky putter, a wayward driver, or the simple toll of time.

Jack Nicklaus was 46 when he won his final Masters (and last of his 18 majors). Jack’s game was in such a state of disrepair that one Atlanta journalist wrote before the event “Nicklaus is gone, done. He just doesn’t have the game anymore. He’s 46, and no one that old wins The Masters”. We all know how that story ends.

Ben Crenshaw was 43 years old in 1995 – and like Nicklaus – his days of contending in a Major were long thought to be over. Until he won his 2nd Green Jacket. 11 years after winning his first.

Phil Mickelson was a relative youngster of 39 last April, but hadn’t played well in nearly a year before returning to Augusta. Lefty was not only battling – we would later learn – psoriatic arthritis, but dealing with the devastating emotional effect of having both his wife and mother diagnosed with Breast cancer. The end result? A Third Masters title.

Tiger Woods is 35 years old. This time last year Woods was making his first post scandal appearance of 2010. And with the eyes of the world fixed firmly upon him, a rusty Woods finished T-4.

Based on his early season results, I would not be remotely surprised if Woods misses the cut this year.

 I would also not be remotely surprised if Phil Mickelson slips a Green jacket onto his shoulders Sunday evening. Because much like Sheen’s “Torpedo of Truth” tour, defeat is not an option.

So I was at the gym this morning, studiously trying to lose weight yet totally ignoring the fact I was working at a pace that would only tax an arthritic 71 year old man, when I noticed that 4 of the 5 TV’s were featuring stories on Lebron’s highly anticipated return to Cleveland.

Now…you know me, I hate to brag, but the fact is I bailed on Lebron long before “The Decision” (Handy link provided below

http://peptalk.freedomblogging.com/2009/06/04/to-shake-or-not-to-shake/

I did not like his ridiculous refusal to shake hands after getting ousted by the Magic two years ago, I flat out hated his refusal to apologize for it (even after being given plenty of time to cool off) the next day. I didn’t like his little orchestrated pre-game skits, and I absolutely despised his ridiculous “Hey, everyone LOOK AT ME” pre-game routine of throwing Talcum powder high into the air. I also do not like Green eggs and Ham.

And yet, Lebron was seemingly bulletproof – the Teflon Superstar - because no one seemed to see Lebron the way I did. I didn’t hate the dude. I just thought he was childish and incredibly narcissistic (Maybe it’s true. It does take one to know one) I mean…his two nicknames were “King James” and “The Chosen One”. Let me repeat that last one again…”The Chosen One”.

I point that out because there was a famous banner in Cleveland the size of Kim Kardashian’s rump, with a picture (above) depicting #23 looking to the sky with outstretched arms. And underneath that photo was the caption “Witness”. Was I the only person who thought that ad campaign purposely reeked of religious and/or rapturous overtones? I mean, how full of himself was this dude? And taking that one step further, who were the sycophantic “yes” men that surrounded him? The Emperor was clearly wearing no clothes, but no one had the stones to tell him.

And yet Cleveland fans didn’t pick up on any of these glaringly obvious clues - and would have denied them vociferously –  in the same way that a dude never sees it if he starts dating a lying, cheating, no good, word that rhymes with witch. Our buddies can see that she’s bad news, but we never can. Why? Because the heart always overrules the head, and the heart is dumber than a pile of Cheetos (Ooh, she petted a dog before kicking it, she’s so loving! Oooh…she said she’s sorry for going home with that Biker gang! That was so big of her! Ooooh…she bought me a sweater with my stolen Credit Card! How thoughtful!)  

And while many people feel sorry for Cavs fans, I don’t. Not a bit. In fact I think they should just shut it. Talking heads mistakenly keep comparing Lebron leaving Cleveland to a bad breakup, but LBJ wasn’t their girlfriend, he was a Superstar athlete foolishly put on a pedestal by a city that has been without a Pro Championship of any kind since – according to research provided by my intern – The Middle Ages (Cleveland has long been renowned for it’s Jousters and Gauntlet runners) The signs were there…they just chose not to read them. They should…have…known. Both sides got exactly what they deserved.

Cavaliers fans paid tribute to ”King James”, they worshipped the  “The Chosen One”, but as it turned out…the only thing they were “Witness” to, was “The Decision”.

      I’m not sure about the exact genesis of this column, I just know I wanted something quick and snappy. I wanted to rattle off things I loved about sports: quotes, phrases, notable fans, speeches, foods, trophies, monuments, bridges, stadiums/arenas, traditions, achievements, milestones, nicknames, celebrated numbers, mottos, fan bases, Literary works, and Classic movies.

One game.

If we played ‘em ten times, they might win nine.

But not this game. Not tonight.

Tonight, we skate with ‘em.

Tonight, we are the greatest hockey team in the world.

You were born to be hockey players — every one of ya.

And you were meant to be here tonight.

This is your time.

Their time — is done. It’s over. 

Now go out there and take it!

 188. Take me out to theBallgame

Let’s jump right into the burning topic of the day, the Armando Galarraga Perfect game that oh so sadly wasn’t. We start – for reasons that will be made clear shortly - with a Zapruder film like analysis of the blown call heard round the world.

Alright, first things first…the popular picture sweeping the net (at left) of the missed call in question could not possibly be more deceiving. Before seeing this pic, I froze my Tivo on the exact same image. And to be honest my first thought was this: I don’t think his foot is on the bag (it appears to perhaps – but not definitively - be right on top of the base) and I don’t think the ball is all the way in the glove. 

Now when I advanced my Tivo frame by frame (an awesome feature for sports viewing as some – but not all – DVR’s do this) I realized two things – the first was that I now believe Galarraga’s foot – at the point we see it in the picture - was indeed perhaps hovering just above the base, because as soon as the ball hit his glove, he pushed down on the bag. My second thought was that while he snowconed the ball, it was indeed secured safely.

And when I continued my JFK like examination of the play (Back and to the left, back and to the left) and advanced it just a couple more frames to where AG definitively had the ball and pushed down, I realized that yes…Donald was indeed out,  but that the play was a hell of a lot closer than that highly misleading pic.

So why didn’t I just say he was out? Why did I bury the lead and waste 4 paragraphs breaking the play down frame by frame? Because I wanted to illustrate that that was truly a bang bang play (and much closer than the infamous Don Denkinger call in the ’85 Series) and I never hammer an ump for missing an absolute bangbang play. No matter what the historical significance.

I’m as capable of anyone as putting on the fan glasses and losing all sense of reality when an ump blows a call against my mates (Sorry, I like to pretend I’m English sometimes) and I can only imagine how crazed I would be if a young pitcher on my squad was robbed of accomplishing what I believe is the toughest feat in baseball…27 up, and 27 down (We may have freakishly had two Perfectos in the last month – and should have had a third last night – but there have been just twenty of these things in roughly 125 years of Major League baseball. Twenty! And just 18 since the turn of the century!)

But you know what? After Mommy sends me to the corner for a timeout, I calm down and realize one important thing:  We all make mistakes. That’s why they call it human error.

1st base ump Jim Joyce was beside himself after the game. ”It was the biggest call of my career, and I kicked the [stuff] out of it,” Joyce said, looking and sounding distraught as he paced in the umpires’ locker room. “I just cost that kid a perfect game.” “I thought he beat the throw. I was convinced he beat the throw, until I saw the replay,”

Joyce felt so badly that he went to the Tigers lockerroom and tearfully hugged Galarraga and apologized. And to his everlasting credit…Armando Galarraga forgave him. He understood that to err is human, but to forgive is divine. AG handled the blown call in a manner that 99 percent of us could not have. With grace and dignity, and an understanding that good people sometimes make mistakes. Whatever else he may accomplish in his career, that is what I’ll always remember about Galarraga.

Sports is an ugly business sometimes. You can be a good man, a good husband, a good father…but none of it matters to us if you throw a late interception, choke in the big game, or blow a big call. We are a results oriented, win at all costs sports society. We build up champions to almost mythical levels, while absolutely killing the men who come up short in the clutch.

So if you want to keep posting your oh so clever, Lenoesque jokes on the internet (Jim Joyce says Louisiana Oil spill not that bad, All Rue McClanahan wanted before she died was to see a Detroit Tiger throw a perfect game. Thanks, Jim Joyce) or your fan fueled diatribes (one local sports talk show idiot started a “Fire Jim Joyce” Facebook page) go right ahead. Because after all, you’ve never made a mistake at your job. Right?

I don’t know if it’s the greatest compliment ever – or an incredible backhanded swipe – but when I think of Ken Griffey Jr. I don’t think about how great he was, I think about how great he should have/could have been. Just how massive would his numbers have been if he had stayed healthy during his prime years? And was his sudden – and somewhat shocking - decline in productivity right about the age of 38 a case of his skills naturally eroding, or did the fact that he reputedly coasted on natural ability (and was allergic to training hard) cost him a handful of twenty five Home Run seasons in the final years of his career? I’m not sure of either answer, but ESPN’s Jayson Stark takes a whack at what Juniors numbers would have added up to had he managed to stay healthy. http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/columns/story?columnist=stark_jayson&id=5247355

Getting ready to watch Game 1 of the NBA Finals, so here now are my final miscellaneous ramblings: Celtics in 6. They’re tougher, deeper, and more talented. Kobe is the best player in the series, but so was D-Wade, Lebron, and Dwight Howard. How did that work out?…I could care less that our top American Tennis players get routinely bounced from The French Open. Last time I checked we don’t play on clay over here. Big whoop…I’m rooting for Marian Hossa to win the Cup. I still do not remotely comprehend how Hossa has become a punch line for others. The man made the bold decision to pass on a long term $48 milion dollar deal, instead choosing to sign a one year deal with Detroit – because he felt the Red Wings offered him the best chance to win the Cup - yet was inexplicably trashed for doing what athletes never do…pass on money for a chance to win a championship. And he only left Detroit this past year because the talent rich/salary capped Wings couldn’t pony up and pay him…Speaking of hockey, how exactly do you bag on Sidney Crosby for being too tired to play in the recent World Championships? Isn’t the Olympics a far bigger prize? So why the hell do you even hold The Worlds in an Olympic Year? (Just 3 months after Vancouver?!) And don’t even play the ”he’s not representing his country” card. I hate when people toss that B.S. into sports discussions. If the Russians invade Canada, and Crosby says “Sorry dude, busy” that’s not representing your country. It’s a second tier (this year at least) sporting event, not World War 2.

I like the looks of the “Karate Kid” trailer, I do. And I think I’ll probably see it because at the end of the day, I’m a child of the 80′s. My only problem? Will Smith’s kid looks like he couldn’t handle a basket of angry kittens. I mean, couldn’t they have waited a couple years until he looked like he could bench press - or at least eat - a 12 inch sub?…So you’re a Cavs fans all excited that Lebron James says Cleveland has “the edge” in resigning him? Suuuuure. What did you expect him to say?!? The truth? He’s gone baby gone. The reason Lebron is talking to Larry King instead of ESPN tells you all you need to know about where he’s not playing next season…Great job NFL! Great job awarding the Super Bowl to NY/NJ in 2014! I mean, it’s not like there was a blizzard that crippled the Northeast on that very same weekend just last year. Let me tell you a few things I’ve learned in life: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, a Tigers fan screwed by a bad call, or an NFL fan who waits 2 weeks for a Super Bowl game where the term “Wind Chill” is used more than the word “touchdown”.

Like many Die hard “Lost” fans, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the out of left field curve ball (“Sideways” world was actually Purgatory, not a deviant timeline) we were given in the Series finale. In fact for about 48 hours I was almost furious at what I believed to be a waste of half a season. But then I learned that the title of the show never referred to the castaways proximity on the Island, but where they were in their respective lives.

And when that fact sunk in, I realized that the producers stayed true to their stated mission. It was always less about the mysteries of the Island, and more about the people and their struggle for redemption. And while there were definitely a few mysteries I personally would have liked explained (Widmore good or bad? Why couldn’t Aaron go back to the Island? Why did Miles want $2.2 million from Ben? What was the Sickness?) I’m not gonna be that spoiled kid at Christmas who got a pony, baseball glove and a race car but also wanted a dirt bike, a fire engine, and an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle! I’m grateful for what I got, and always will be.

Now if only they’d move the friggin 2014 Super Bowl somewhere warm. Like The Island.

I can still vividly remember Bill Clinton giving the State of the Union address, just a few weeks after the Monica Lewinsky scandal had exploded. And as I watched Clinton speak that night I thought to myself “My god…how is this man completely owning the moment” How is he flawlessly commanding this world wide stage under such suffocating pressure? When every single person watching is thinking to themselves “What…a…scumbag”.

Clinton was so relaxed you would have thought he was having a Mai Tai at a Sandals resort. He never stumbled, never showed an ounce of nervousness. Whatever you thought of Clinton and his indiscretions, the fact remains his ability to compartmentalize and give his speech that night was nothing short of sublime.

 I saw the same thing yesterday at Augusta National. Another noted philanderer (Full disclosure. I own a lovely glass house. Feel free to stop by anytime. Just please don’t put your feet on my coffee table because it’s umm…glass) commanding the stage under absolutely suffocating pressure. When every…single…person was thinking to themselves “How could you hook up with that Perkins waitress? Seriously, did you get a good look at her? What was in those pancakes? GHB? Just pay your tab and head home to the Swedish nanny”

 Tiger Woods won the U.S. Open on a broken leg. Given every bit of his immense talent, 999 out of 1000 of us couldn’t have done the same. The difference talent wise between Tiger and Phil Mickelson is not 11 majors. But Woods has a mental strength and a will to win that is simply off the charts. It’s not even remotely quantifiable. And that’s why – whether Tiger triumphs this weekend or not – the golf world is in for a solid 15 more years of bottom whuppin’.

On the flip side, Woods still acts like he was sent back from the future to kill John Connor. For a brief moment during yesterdays press conference he spoke like an actual human being, complete with a pulse and actual emotions. When asked about the warm ovations he received, Tiger lit up and spoke about how fantastic the crowds were, and you could see that he was immensely relieved and grateful for that outpouring of emotion. But two questions later, he was asked what yesterday meant to him, and in typical robotic fashion he quickly responded “That I’m 2 strokes off the lead”. The guy that you wanted to have a burger and a beer with was gone, replaced once again by a tournament winning Cyborg. And then it finally hit me: stop expecting anything else. Tiger is what he is. He’s not a lovable Phil or Freddie. So from now on I’m gonna do what I should have done from the start, and that’s just appreciate the absurd talent of the most dominant athlete we have ever seen.

 2. My exact thoughts as Gordon Hayward let fly with his final second half court heave Monday night in Indianapolis: “Oh my god he got a clean look…it’s going….in”. And you know what? You all thought the exact…same…thing. All week long we heard “Hoosiers, Hoosiers, Hoosiers” and when the moment finally came for the Hollywood ending…we all expected the One Shining Moment to end all One Shining Moments, and in the darkness bind them (What? That was a book? Apologies. I often confuse Frodo with Shelvin Mack)

 But sadly for Duke haters everywhere (our latest data indicate that number is holding steady at 97 percent. Plus or minus 2 percent error) Jimmy Chitwood was nowhere to be found on Monday night. Or even the real Jimmy Chitwood (Bobby Plump) or the 20th Century Jimmy Chitwood (Christian Laettner) Or as Blue Devils haters everywhere refer to Laettner: He who shall not be named (Don’t worry. That’s my last literary reference. Me not read much)

Other thoughts on the National Championship Game. I am apparently the only person in the country who doesn’t think it was an absolute classic, but just a wonderfully played and very tight game between two very well matched opponents. One of whom was the closest thing we may ever get to a Cinderella again in the Big Dance.

If Cinderella of course was actually a gorgeous girl next door brunette who was inexplicably overlooked by everyone at school despite her kickin’ body, wholesome good looks, ability to handle a beverage or 4, and mad skilz at deciphering the time travel mysteries of “Lost” (Apologies. I have mistakenly copied and pasted my Craigslist personal ad into my blog. Awkwaaaaaaaard) I mean…I’m honestly not trying to hate here, but outside of the missed Hayward heave, what exactly are your most indelible memories from Monday night? What will you remember about this one 10 years from now? Seriously…think about it. Take your time. Ok…still waiting. Here’s what I came up with: great defense and poor shooting (the former not always causing the latter) and that devastating pick Matt Howard threw on Kyle Singler at the end of the game. Was the game actually one of the best games you’ve ever seen? (Seriously, was it even a fraction as good as the Duke- Kentucky game in ’92? That game alone gave us Laettner stepping on someones chest, a ridiculous Kentucky comeback from a huge 2nd half deficit, a Sean Woods bucket with 2.1 seconds left, and Laettner then capping off his 10 for 10 day with the greatest shot in College basketball history)

Or did the stage, combined with the closeness of the matchup, mixed with the fact that one school represented Cinderella – and the other the dark side of the force – color your perception of the actual contest? Here’s the money question: Exact same game…subsititute Duke for West Virginia and Butler for MSU…still think it was one of the best games ever?

3. I am of the firm opinion that Coach K’s achievements are now just a smidge behind those of the great John Wooden. Yes, he’s 6 titles shy (and doesn’t boast an 88 game winning streak anywhere on his resume) but I think we can all agree that John Wooden doesn’t win 10 titles in this era. The Wizard of Westwood never had to win 4 games just to reach the Final Four, didn’t have to worry about his many mega stars (Alcindor, Walton, Goodrich, Wicks) bolting early for the NBA (or pre-rule change, not coming to college at all) and also coached in an era that didn’t include the now best conference in the game (Does NYC schoolboy legend Lew Alcindor even travel cross country to UCLA if Syracuse is the Big East power it is now, or St. John’s the monster program it was in the mid 80′s? Or maybe Alcindor becomes the first great Georgetown center, instead of Patrick Ewing) nor featured the plethora of mid-major powerhouses that exist today.

This year alone 3rd seeded Georgetown got beat by the 7th seed in the MAC Tournament, and I surely don’t have to mention the names Siena, Cornell, and Northern Iowa, nor their more well known big brothers Gonzaga and Butler. The landscape of college hoops now features exponentially more landmines than it did just 35 years ago. John Wooden is by far the gold standard of college coaching, but if Coach K manages to win another title and reach another championship game or two, I’m just saying we may need to revisit this topic down the road.

4. Final BKB bits…here are the two best tweets I saw Monday night:

 *Anyone with a basic understanding of social hierarchy should not be surprised that a Duke beat a Butler (Author unknown)

*Thank god for the Saints. We almost had Lakers-Yanks-Colts-Duke consecutive titles. Or as it’s also known…the Apocalypse. (Bill Simmons. Sportsguy33)

And here’s a bonus one I saw yesterday from SportsPickle “Now that 5 players have turned pro, Kentucky now has enough cap room to pursue Lebron James”

5. This has long been my favorite week of the year, that wonderful 7 day stretch when Opening Day gets all hopped up on goof balls, hooks up with the Final Four, and makes some bad decisions with The Masters (Editors note: We have allowed Andy’s salacious entendre in exchange for him not using the naughty French term that he really wanted to use there) Throw in my birthday (Thanks! I do look great for 29!) and it’s a heck of a week.

According to #12 on my bucket list, one day I’m gonna win the Powerball (4-7-22-33-44 and for the mega ball my current age. Second set of numbers 4-8-15-16-23-42) and have a heck of a week going from the closest Opening day game, to the NCAA Championship game, and then right down to Augusta, Georgia. Just so you know, you’re invited. Fresca’s are on me, as long as you can crack the reasoning behind my two sets of Powerball numbers.

6. So I watched “Dancing with the Stars” for the very first time the other night – because a “friend” wanted to see Erin Andrews and the Pussy Cat Dolls singer dance for “research purposes” – and I gotta say…it was a train wreck. Seriously, how many people can actually dance on that show? Evan Lysacek (Gold Medal skater) and Nicole Scherzinger (PC Dolls) can really hoof it, but watching the rest of them perform was like watching a slow motion car wreck. I’m not even sure Buzz Aldrin is still alive. I think people just had too much respect for him to tell him he’s been gone a few years now. (Editors note: Andy has great reverence for people who have walked on moon the day he was baptized. He first originated this joke years ago when watching Bob Hope at his PGA Tour event. Don’t send angry e-mails. Just wait for him to be fired)

And how much of a fame wh**e is Kate Gosselin to go on a televised Dancing competition…when she can’t remotely dance?!? (Editors note: Yeaaaaaah, I don’t think Andy is gonna need to submit his summer vacation requests) I mean I would love to be on American Idol, but am well aware that my singing voice falls somewhere between Drunk Janis Joplin and sober Bob Dylan. Even I have my limits, and I love me some me (And I gotta say for the record, it scares me how depressed that woman is. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say her story ain’t gonna end well)

7. Attention Philly fans: It is my fervent hope that Donovan McNabb teams up with Mike Shanahan to stick it right up your bottom for the next 5 years. You never knew what you had with McNabb. He may not have been Brees, Brady or Manning, but outside of that trio – who signal caller would you have rather had the last 10 years as your Quarterback? Tell who was definitively better. McNabb didn’t win the big one, but the Iggles never would have sniffed 5 title games and a Super Bowl without him. All McNabb did was put up Pro Bowl numbers year after year with (Minus the T.O. year, and last seaon with DeSean Jackson) a less than stellar crew of Wide Receivers (Freddy Mitchell anyone? Todd Pinkston?)

8. Things that make me want to hurt myself and others:

A) When fans at The Masters are referred to as “patrons”. Seriously, It’s not 1950 anymore.

B) The Staples commercial where the guy screams “WOW…Now THAT’s a low price” (I’m not kidding, I’m like that woman who claimed she had seizures everytime Mary Hart spoke on “Entertainment Tonight”. That ad sends me scrambling for the remote every single time)

C) The despicable Tiger Woods/Nike ad using the voice of Woods dead father to gain sympathy for Tiger, in the hopes of selling even more golf clubs and swoosh emblazoned paraphernalia. Congrats on selling your soul!

D) People at movie theaters who don’t understand the unofficial rules of seating. In a sparsely crowded movie, don’t sit within 7-8 seats of me in the same row, and don’t sit directly in front of me (or just to the right or left of me) either. Either you just inherently get this, or you don’t. I almost had to throw down with a totally belligerent, 110 pound 14 year old this week while watching “Clash of the Titans”. I am reasonably certain I could have taken him. Unless his friends jumped in and hit me with their skateboards.

9. Speaking of movies, I am totally digging the trailer for the forthcoming movie “The Losers”. I also saw the”Robin Hood” trailer, and it is my sad duty to report that Russell Crowe is still fat, which means – I am guessing – that the long talked about Gladiator prequel won’t be happening anytime soon (“My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next”) 

 10. On a totally unrelated pop cultural note, I am proud to announce that my first wife is gonna be the “Boss’s daughter” in those new Heineken ads. Anyone have her digits? Is she on Facebook? How does one register for gifts? I like gifts. I’ll even take them from patrons.