Rickey Williams world-travelling experience landed him right back in Miami.

Pat Riley mentioned that he wanted to take a more active role in the day-to-day operations of the Heat (before the season).

 

Ron Artest had a name shaved into his head, but doesn't know how to spell.

 

If Jerry Rice had played this year, he would have been on a team barging into the playoffs in the suddenly wide-open AFC.

 

#4 Ohio State accepted an invitation to play lowly #6 Notre Dame in the Fiesta Bowl when they should have settled for nothing less than a re-match with #3 Penn State. 

(Author's Note:  I'll go with the coaches and BCS polls on that one.  Let's just say that at best, Notre Lame is a #5 team while Ohio State is slumming it at #4).

 

In the middle of the historic season when steroid use blew up in the face of Major League Baseball, Barry Bonds was nowhere to be found.

 

Bill Belichick and James Dungy both lost a father this year.

 

Kansas City was better off without Priest Holmes.

 

All female sideline reporters are hot.

 

No one cares about the Winter Olympics.

 

Michelle Wie could drive 300 yards before she could drive a car.

 

Andre Agassi is still going.

 

Kobe Bryant is still greedy.

 

A Mike Tyson fight would still hold our interest.

 

The NBA is represented by more countries than the United Nations.

 

The NBA has small forwards who are seven feet tall.

 

300 lbs. is small for an NFL offensive lineman.

 

The legless Alex Zanardi won a race this summer.

 

Johnny Damon.

 

Terrell Owens.

 

 

Irony, dear readers, is a vine, winding its' way through the lives that we live through our athletes and celebs (ironic, is it not?).

 

Why must the personal trainer eating junk food in public always be spotted by a client?

 

Why must a woman's annual gynecological checkup be both expensive AND uncomfortable?

 

Why does the pervert in a trench coat meet with a different response than the UPS employee when he presents his "package"?

 

Perhaps we'll never know, but we can certainly say this of Lady Irony: She does not discriminate.

 

So when life removes your plate of cookies and replaces it with a plate of spinach, know that you are not alone.

Copyright 2005, Aidan Acuff, "The Sports Intellectual"

Ever the artist, my struggle to expand boundaries knows no limits.  Thus, with the impetus of creativity behind me, I forge onward into newer and more exciting realms.

 

Recently, I have grown quite fond thespianism.  In fact, there is little I enjoy more than seeing two thespians going at it, devoid of inhibition.  As they perform their dance, I find myself captivated, and hence, unable to look away.  Ah, yes, thespians are wonderful indeed. 

 

My curiosity could only be satisfied by getting involved, and I can say it has been nothing short of artistically fulfilling.  Nevertheless, who among us can say that he or she had the opportunity to play the role of a lifetime? 

 

Well, my friends, I am elated to share with you that I have such an opportunity this very day.  It's the role I was born to play.

 

Ladies and Gentlemen:  Today, I, The Sports Intellectual, will be auditioning for the lead (or titular) role in Blood, Sweat and Chicken Wings:  The John Madden Story. 

 

Please allow me to give you a preview as I practice one last time before meeting my destiny.  We'll call it a dress rehearsal.

 

(Author's note:  If you're trying this impersonation at home, make sure you let your mouth fill up with air every time you make a "B" sound.  Try it:  Blah, Bleh, Blah.  And that's how you do a good John Madden.)

 

"Yeah, you know, I'm a big, fat guy.  I'm the kinda guy your big, fat average Joes like to watch 'cuz when I make a point, I make it so the average guy can understand it.  You know, like those big, fat, lineman kinda guys- the big sweaty, smelly, stinky guys that don't wash their gym socks 'cuz they're superstitious.  You know, the ones that sit around watchin' the game, drinkin' beer, eating pretzels- and you know, a guy like that, he doesn't care what kind of pretzel he gets.  You know, he'll eat those pretzel rods or the traditional pretzels, or those pretzel rods that are kinda twisted around each other like braids, or those pretzel nuggets, you know, the ones they can fill with peanut butter, or those square ones with the little pieces of pretzel connectin' 'em in the middle, you know, and they criss-cross, and they're kinda like crackers or wafers.  That's the kinda guy that identifies with me.

 

"And I'll tell you why those big, fat guys like me.  It's because I repeat myself.  I mean, if I say something, I repeat it probably six, seven times.  I mean, the very next sentence, I'm already repeating what I just said.  I don't know, there's a gene or something inside me and it makes me repeat myself a couple, few times.  And then after that, I repeat myself again.

 

"Here's my impression of me broadcasting a game from the 1980's featuring the Washington Redskins- hey, bet you never thought you'd see this today, huh?  John Madden doing John Madden? 

 

"Well, here goes...

 

"'Yeah, you know, that formation they're lined up in, that's called Heavy Jumbo.  You know Richie Pettibone, he's the guy who designed it.  Richie Pettibone, he's their coordinator, you know, and he designs all those formations, and they call that one Heavy Jumbo.  You see?  Right there (drawing on telestrator).  That's Heavy Jumbo.  You know, and Richie Pettibone, he knows this is a good formation, Heavy Jumbo.  Ohp, there they go again.  They're in Heavy Jumbo again.' 

 

"Or how about this one? 

 

"'Now that's a de-cleater!  You know, when you hit another guy so hard he gets knocked right off his feet?  You see right there (drawing on telestrator)?  That's a de-cleater  ...  he comes up right there and BOOM!  He gets de-cleated.  See, right...here.  De-cleater! Look, you can see here he's he's not ready for the play.  See him looking the other way?  BOOM!   De-cleater.  And right there (still using telestrator),  that's his butt.  Right...there.  You can see the stain marks on his butt from where it hit the turf.  That's a de-cleater.'"

 

 

And...Scene!

Copyright 2005, Aidan Acuff, "The Sports Intellectual"

 

2005 was great because

(And surely you'll all agree)

It's best re-told as what is was:

A piece of of poetry...

 

 

The Year in Sports began the way

It did the year before.

Those Men of Troy did seize the day,

With flash and points galore.

 

The BCS was quite the scene.

It left some feelings hurt.

Tiger wore a coat of green,

And Fred Funk wore a skirt

 

And history went down,

 As MNF left ABC.

The Spurs, they won the crown,

And Quiet Tim, the MVP

 

The Patriots, they won it all.

The Colts, they couldn't lose.

Some Panther girls played in a stall,

While Vikings took a cruise.

 

And March begat the Madness dream,

The "N-C-Double-A".

Roy Williams coached the winning team,

Then watched them walk away.

 

And Wimbledon and Tennis both

Were owned by Roger Federer.

At 81 and 4, his oath

Was "No one else is betterer!"

 

Giacomo tore the Derby up

When he never should have led it.

And the winner of the Stanley cup?

Somehow I just forget it

 

That NHL's a rowdy bunch

Whose future lies with Sidney

-And Bertuzzi's back from that kidney punch

Placed high above the kidney

 

And "Blind" Bud Selig went to trial

-He paid his sport no mind.

But the needle of denial

Soon injected his behind.

 

And when Rafael Palmeiro

Tried to mimic his commish,

Jose became the hero

Of the water cooler dish.

 

The White Sox helped a sport in pain,

And won for every fan.

 As Kenny Rogers went insane,

And mauled a cameraman

 

Tony Stewart won the prize

That once was known as Winston

And when Ms. Patrick flashed her eyes,

We drooled within an instant.

 

Lance went out with grace and pride,

Unlike one Packer cripple.

Tyson lost to Kev' McBride,

But first, he bit his nipple.

 

And as it nears the end,

Our year resembles its beginning.

With a title to defend,

Those Men of Troy, they keep on winning.

 

A year so fine as yours and mine

Was such a lovely fix.

I pray a poem this divine

Might be 2006.

Copyright 2005, Aidan Acuff, "The Sports Intellectual"

 

Each morn, our sun makes its' skyward ascension from the east to bestow precious light and heat upon another day in the following will happen:

* Donald Trump's awful hairdo will remain the same

*Ashlee Simpson will mouth the words to another lame song

and

*Richard Simmons will shed tears with another unsuccessful dieter.  

     The common theme here is that life abounds with undeniable certainties.  As we know, sport imitates life, and so does its' propensity for the predictable.  As we also know, gamblers thrive on these tendencies.  

 The following column is a list of 20 "Sure Things" in the world of sports.  If you are a patron of the wagering arts, this is for you.

1.  Shaquille O'Neal will forever treat Kobe Bryant like toilet paper.

2.  Kobe Bryant will continue play the role of the bigger man and pretend the Big Snubber doesn't bother him.

3.  Brett Favre will throw at least one rookie interception per game.

4.  The BCS will never be fully accepted in America.

5.  Lance Armstrong will never be fully accepted in France.

6.  Dennis Rodman will never be fully accepted on Earth.

7.  Someone will always take a pot shot at Donovan McNabb.

8.  The largest gap a running back will find in any defensive line is the one between Michael Strahan's teeth.

9.  There will never be a greater upset than USA Hockey's defeat of the Soviets in 1980.

10.  No one will ever be "the next Michael Jordan".

11.  No one will ever replace Morganna "the Kissing Bandit".

12.  The Yankees will always have the upper hand over the Red Sox.

13.  After Janet Jackson's "boob tube" incident, we will never again see an entertaining Super Bowl halftime show.

14.  Even with a Super Bowl victory, Shaun Alexander and the Seahawks will always be underrated.

15.  Las Vegas will soon have a major pro sports franchise.

16.  Florence, Kentucky will never have a major pro sports franchise.

17.  Performance-enhancing drugs will always be a part of sports.

18.  Reggie Bush has only begun to show his potential.

19.  Pat Riley will eventually pass Colonel Sanders on the all-time list for grease usage.

...and last, but not least...

20.  Cheerleaders, though unnecessary, will always be welcome J

 

And you can take that to the bank.

Copyright 2005, Aidan Acuff, "The Sports Intellectual"

 

 

 

 

Naughty or nice, everyone loves receiving presents.  My theme for this column was to create a list of presents to give to the people who deserve them.  However, I anticipate this will be a popular blogging subject, so I am going one step further. 

I have enlisted the help of psychic medium John Edward to summon the spirit of St. Nicholas into my body. 

And here we go...(long silence, a few seizures, then success)...

        "Ho, Ho, Ho!  Merry Christmas, children!   Who wants to be Santa's special helper and bring him some more peppermint schnapps?  Now where did I put that list?  Ah, here it is!  

"Where are you, Danica Patrick?  Come over here and sit on Santa's lap!  Ooh yeah, that's the spot...(awkward pause)...You've been a very, very, very good girl this year, but only people who live at the North Pole like me should be bundled up all the time.  I'm giving you the wardrobe and inhibition level of Anna Kournikova so that I- I mean you- can come to fully appreciate your booty- I mean beauty.

"Rafael Palmeiro, come here, my boy.  My stars!  You're looking a bit stringy- as if your system is lacking something it once had.  Well don't you fret, because Santa has something special for you:  a syringe full of Vitamin B-12; and not that fake stuff you claimed Miguel Tejada gave you, either!

            "And whom do we have here?  Why it's Ron Artest!  Look at me, Ronald.  Santa is very disappointed in you.  You know, demanding a trade and all after your team stood up for you.  The best gift I can think of is the one Larry Bird already gave you- loyalty.

            "And while I'm doling out helpful personality traits, Larry Brown and Roy Williams, come on down so Santa can give you both some patience.  Considering the rosters you're working with, it will come in handy.

            "Kurt Busch, so nice to see you!  How's that temper coming along?  Methinks not so good.  To complement last year's anger management classes, this year Santa has enrolled you in a defensive driver course.  Here's to your upcoming days with Roger Penske being brighter than your days with Jack Roush.  May your education serve you well.

"Now, it's not often that Santa gives a gift to an entire city, but for Detroit, I'll make an exception.  This year, I'm giving you the Super Bowl to host.  I figured it was the only way you would ever see one.

"Well, thank you for stopping by, Johnny Damon.  Rumor has it you're shedding you caveman image.  Here is a personal grooming kit, complete with scissors, clippers, razors, and shaving cream.  You'll have no trouble keeping that clean-cut look now!

"Oh my, Shaquille O'Neal, look how big you've gotten!  Somebody loves his Christmas cookies!  Unfortunately, you still have to play basketball.  That's why Santa is giving you the complete collection of Jane Fonda workout videos for your Betamax.  Use them before you end up with a body like Kevin Duckworth.

"Speaking of bad bodies, Charlie Weis, that flabby, pear-shaped garbage disposal of yours is beyond repair.  Santa thought long and hard, but eventually came up with the perfect gift for you- a gigantic girdle!

"And for you, Terrell Owens, here's a muzzle.  Now get lost!"

 

HO!!! HO!!! HO!!!

Copyright 2005, Aidan Acuff, "The Sports Intellectual"