What could teammates and Barry Bonds be thinking or saying in this ridiculous drag-queen episode of Barry mocking Paula Abdul?

As the soap opera in NYC continues to turn out a new story every day for us, here's your chance to put some words in their mouths.  What's going on here between Isiah Thomas and Stephon Marbury?

Arguably the funniest movie ever made, and doubly great if you understand the inside jokes of golf, golf courses, club-houses, and country clubs.

10)  "Ahoy polloi...  where did you come from, a scotch ad?" - Spalding Smails to Danny Noonan. 

9)  "Oh, this your wife, huh? A lovely lady. Hey baby, you must've been something before electricity." - Al Czervik to Judge Smails and his wife.

8)  "I've had better food at the ballgame, you know? This steak still has marks from where the jockey was hitting it." - Al Czervik

7)  "License to kill gophers by the government of the United Nations. Man, free to kill gophers at will. To kill, you must know your enemy, and in this case my enemy is a varmint. And a varmint will never quit - ever. They're like the Viet Cong - Varmint Cong. So you have to fall back on superior intelligence and superior firepower. And that's all she wrote." - Carl Spackler

6)  "You're rather attractive for a beautiful girl with a great body." - Ty Webb to Lacey Underall.

5)  "Elihu, will you come loofah my stretch marks? " - Mrs Smails in the shower to her husband.

4)   Lacey Underall: My uncle says you've got a screw loose.

      Ty Webb: Your uncle molests collies.

3)   "I smell varmint ####. And the only good varmint #### is dead varmint ####, I think." - Carl Spackler

2)  "Last time I saw a mouth like that, it had a hook in it." - Al Czervik

1)  "This is a hybrid. This is a cross, ah, of Bluegrass, Kentucky Bluegrass, Featherbed Bent, and Northern California Sensemilia. The amazing stuff about this is, that you can play 36 holes on it in the afternoon, take it home and just get stoned to the bejeezus-belt that night on this stuff." - Carl Spackler to Ty Webb

CARL'S BEST SOLILOQUY:

"So I jump ship in Hong Kong and make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas. A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I'm a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald... striking. So, I'm on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one - big hitter, the Lama - long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga... gunga, gunga-galunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, "Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know." And he says, "Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness." So I got that goin' for me, which is nice." - Carl Spackler

Martina Hingis was accused by Wimbeldon of having tested positive for cocaine in her routine drug test, and has summarily retired once again.

http://msn.foxsports.com/tennis/story/7398912

It's OK, Martina. I believe you. Come retire home to Daddy where I can console you now.

Quickly, comment and show me your Halloween avatars before the day is done!  Mine is going away tomorrow after I get my exorcism done.  (Original credit to LisaH with this idea last week).

 Your prize from me will be free comments and hits to your blog for a week LOL. Ain't that just grand?!?!
 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE! 

Some of the things people will post in order to get some blog hits are just downright shameful sometimes. There is a difference though when people are posting legitimately interesting material, and then those that are just attention #### who want some hits. Anyway, here's some of the more shameful ways to get noticed at FOX Sports Blogs...

5) Pretend you're a real athlete like Brian Urlacher - Even if you aren't trying to pretend to be someone else, but using an athlete's name, it's all shameless. Sell yourself and ideas on your own merit, and not someone else's name. Unless of course you're just a drop-dead die-hard, stalker of a fan, then I suppose some leeway can be given.

4) Add a counter with an initial count of several thousand - I like to use my own blog and LisaH's blog for a good idea on how many hits a relatively interesting blog can take in a day. I'm happy to say that mine took about 1500 hits in a 3 day weekend when I was posting a lot of articles. LisaH posts great articles just about every day, so she has a nice gross over 20000 hits now. However, when I see a site that's not remotely interesting, or has anything to say of importance, and maybe has 4 posts at the most, then I am not believing they already have several thousand hits. Be honest with yourself and start at zero. It's not a popularity contest. Write something decent to get some hits if you're interested counting. I just keep count to see what topics and articles people are reading the most. This helps me decide next time whether to write on that particular article and style. keep it real!

3) Make some really outrageously grandiose statement towards a rabid fan base - I call this the MSROGSTARFB . If you really want to get some hits in, and get put in the Top Comments section, then go tell some Oregon, BC, Nebraska, BoSox fans how you really feel about them, and put it in your topic in big capitalized letters with tons of emphasis. I guarantee you'll get a few hits. You can double your pleasure by responding back to their comments with insulting and ridiculously biased slants against their hometown teams.

2) Create a Top 5 List - People love seeing a short list of someone else's opinion. I guess we need it as confirmation of our belief systems. Luckily, very few of us agree on the same 2 things, much less 5, 10, 20, 25, etc things. This is the beauty of the Top List. It always garners a few opinions and comments with someone else's list. Even if no one responds, if you have a counter (see #4) you see roughly how many hits you get to read your new article.

1) Be a California Girl Blogger!!! - Yes, nothing will garner more visits than a chick speaking her mind. Granted some of the ladies can blog the guys right off of the net. However, there are a few of the shameless guys out there who resort to posting a hot blond avatar to try and convince the blogging sports world that they are a hot chick who knows her sports.

So, if you use these tactics in your blog creations, you will be guaranteed to grab automatic hits regardless of ability to write.

Honorable Mention:

- Make NFL your main category for your post - In order for your post to show at the top of the main page, it has to be in the NFL category. No matter if you're talking pro pigskin or not, the main point is to get yourself noticed immediately. I know that "BC Rules" and "BoSox are Champs!" always gets my attention up when I see it in the NFL category.

EDIT: My blog counter started around 2720 when I posted this. So, we'll put the theories to the test! Now go read a real posting in which I put a lot of work into, but quickly got knocked from the recent posts list :-(

http://community.foxsports.com/blogs/Cygnu
s/2007/10/31/Nightmare_or_Scary_Reality

I love my sports, but every once in a while when looking for a good game on the tube, I come across one of my favorite movies. Now it's very hard for me to give up a game to watch a movie instead, so it must be a pretty good flick for me to give up real violence and action for the fictional kind.

As I write this, I'm watching just such a movie that can stop me in my tracks every time... The Godfather. I love this movie! No matter how much it's edited for TV, I'll still watch it. Yes, I could pull out my DVD and give it the real go, but there's just something about catching it on cable somewhere and watching it with commercials lol.

Anyway, here's my top films that can draw my eyes away for a couple of hours from the ballgame:

1) The Godfather parts 1 and 2

2) Gladiator

3) The Shining

4) A River Runs Through It

5) City of Angels

6) The Exorcist 

What are your cinematic diversions from sports?

This is my favorite time of the year (aside from the kick-off weekend of college football). This is when we get most of our major sports all at the same time. MLB is in the World Series, NBA is getting geared up, NFL is in mid stride, college football is getting most interesting, and the NHL.... well the NHL is the NHL. Anyway, there is no lack of product on TV these days, and there is no lack of material for me to write on. My weekend will be filled with mucho sports, and my social life will be non-existent. It's just me and my TV :-)

Here's my TV schedule for this weekend...

Thursday Night:

MLB: World Series - Rockies @ Red Sox

CFB: Boston College @ Virginia Tech

CFB: Air Force @ New Mexico (hah! I'm a college football freak cuz I stayed up to watch this one!)

Friday Night:

NBA: Pre-season - Cavs @ Celtics

NBA: Pre-season - Kings @ Lakers

CFB: Boise St. @ Fresno St.

Saturday:

CFB: College GameDay

CFB: Every game that's on from 11:30am until after midnight. (Primetime game Ohio St. @ PSU)

CFB: Nebraska @ Texas

Horse Racing: The Breeder's Cup

MLB: World Series - Red Sox @ Rockies

Sunday:

NFL: Texans @ Chargers

NFL: Oakland @ Tenn.

MLB: World Series - Red Sox @ Rockies

Figure Skating - yeah I said it! Figure skating! I like watching the hotties as much as the next guy.

CFB: CFU @ Southern Miss.

So there you have it. My only date for this weekend will be some 18 year old Russian ice princess. I need some rest and relaxation, so watching sports all weekend should cover that. Maybe I'll BBQ before it gets too cold this fall. Enjoy your weekend and TA!

What's up for your big weekends?

I feel mind-numbed this week, and so I'm scratching my head for original blog material.  So, as a general rule of writing, if you can't write about something new and original, then write about something you know well.

So, tell me about your favorite personal sports moments or stories.  This can be anything from being at a professional or college sports event, or just playing in some beer league softball game.  Maybe it's your son in soccer, or your daughter in swimming.  Perhaps some high school glory days.   What makes you happy there are sports in our lives?

A Moment of Perfection 

“Full many a flower is born to blossom unseen and waste its sweetness on the desert air” - Thomas Gray 

Growing up in the suburbs of Houston, it was almost a rite of every spring to play baseball as a boy.  Starting at the early age of 5, I was initiated into tee ball and coach's pitch leagues.  Despite these nice "training wheels" for the infant player, I was never really good at hitting, throwing, running, or catching for years after that.  I was that kid who typically got put into the outfield and picked grass for several innings before being benched again for the better kids.  I was mainly out there either for Dad who wanted to be proud and see his son physically active, or I was there because all of my friends were there.  It didn't matter to me.  It was something else to do on an otherwise boring Saturday morning other than watching cartoons.

There were plenty of times when I felt like quitting.  The first time I ever got hit by a pitch in a game by another kid, I thought I was dying.  What was worse was that I got hit twice in that same game, plus I had a teammate throw his bat into my face as he was trotting down to first face after a walk.
 How's that for a bad day?  There were other heartbreaks, such as striking out when my team needed me the most.  There was being called out at second base during a steal, when I felt lucky for being on base one time during the month.  There were also times when I could see disappointment on my Dad's face, in the coaches' eyes, and in the cruel verbal abuse of other teammates.  "You suck!" is a terrible thing to hear from boys that are normally your friends at school, but on the diamond it's an early assessment of your young man-hood.  Childhood can be cruel that way.

Despite a few bad times, there were always a lot of positive experiences in and around the ballpark.  The concession stand was a must.  Frito-pies, corndogs, candy, hamburgers, Cokes, and cotton candy were all part of the experience every other day during the spring.  Chasing down foul balls into the parking lot would earn you a free sno-cone for returning the ball to the scorer's booth.  There were even those few awesomely kewl times when a player would foul a ball off and hit the lights.  Shattering them into a giant shower of sparks.  it was The Natural all over again.  I enjoyed watching my older brother succeed on the field, and I was blissfully envious to play like him some day.  I could see the proud look in father's eyes when my brother did well.

I was always encouraged to persevere, or as they say it to kids, "Don't be a quitter.  Besides, your year is already paid for."  As I got older, I still enjoyed playing with my friends in the league.  Whether I was good or bad, it was nice to just be able to do something with Dad.  So, I kept on, and I played a total of 11 years before stopping in high school.

 Every league has that one big kid who seems like he should be playing for the New York Yankees and not the Spring Creek South Little League Yankees.  Our Little League field had a set of convenience stores that abutted against our outfield fence.  I remember one of our "big kids" hitting a homerun so high and far that he hit it over the lights, over the convenience store, and onto the street beyond it.  It was easily a 300ft+ homer, which was gargantuan for a 12 year old kid. This kid was a monster as tall as the adults.  Some wondered at his true age.  Some wondered at his species.  He was a man amongst boys for sure.   One year, I became the "big kid".

Between my 11th and 12th years, something just clicked in me regarding the game of baseball.  My intellectual maturity, as well as my physical maturity, kicked in at once.  Suddenly the game made sense to me.  I understood the little things that needed to be done in order to gain an edge and succeed.  I went into my 12th year (and last at the Little League level) as having grown 6 inches, and was a head taller than everyone else at 5'11".  I remember the first day of practice in some school yard; during batting practice, I was hitting balls off the side of the school some 100 yards+ away.  The other kids were wondering who I was.  This year I was no longer playing with my friends, but was drafted onto a team full of strangers.  I knew some of them, and they were likely wondering who replaced me with this bigger, stronger, and better player.  It wasn't that I had necessarily practiced over the preceding summer and winter, but as I said, I had just connected the dots and my body followed.

I had an awesome year at the plate.  I was easily the best player in the league that year, and I led my team to the playoffs.  It's still hard to believe we ever lost any games that year, because we had a pretty decent team.  I was the star shortstop, which is bigger than pitching in Little League.  The shortstop makes every play all the way from 3rd base to half way across the diamond.  The SS runs halfway out into the outfield to steal plays from the outfielder.  It's not necessarily a nice "team play" attitude, but when you're big and good, you try to make every play possible, not because you're showing off and being selfish, but because you want to win and you want to test the limits of your abilities.  I was flying all over that field that year, whether it was on defense, or speedily around the base pads.  I wanted to try pitching too, but our league didn't allow 12 year olds to pitch in a league that includes 10 and 11 year olds.  I was clearly playing out of my age group, and should have played up into the 13 year olds league.  However, that was not an option in my league, and I so I made the most of my short-lived glory.  What kid wouldn't want to milk his new found gifts for all they're worth?  I was the envy of all the kids, and I was atop all of the stats boards.

Entering the playoffs that year, I felt invincible.  For the first time in my life, I did not feel insecure.  I was the master of my situation.  I was a 12 year old in a teen's body, and I had the immortality that most teens feel when they're on top of their game.  My team was on a high, and we were going to steamroll any contenders.  We were definitely the team to beat, with the best player in the league, myself.

Now I don't want to sound arrogant about my abilities and accomplishments that year.  I am very humble about how I approached them back then, and how I look back upon them.  They were truly fleeting moments of perfection that every child should feel in their lives at least once.  This is my account of the moment of perfection...

Over 6 games of our playoffs that year, I got a base hit or better 19 consecutive times.  There were no walks, no hit by pitches, no errors, nothing but hits.  I was slamming homers, triples, and doubles like they were going out of style.  I don't even know what my final RBI tally was for the playoffs, but I had 3 homers and touched homeplate a lot.  Needless to say, my team won a lot, and we scored a lot.  Years after this I wondered why the opposing coaches didn't just intentionally walk me.  Perhaps it was against league rules, and considered unsportsmanlike to not give a kid an opportunity to hit.  However, my reign of terror on opposing teams should have been considered cruel, unusual, and unsportsmanlike.  For 5 games, my team was unstoppable.  Mercy rules were called after 5 innings in all 5 games.  Why hadn't they just gone ahead and given us the trophies?  As the old saying goes, "that's why they play the games".

In our 6th playoff game, the Championship Game, we were matched against the 2nd best team in the league.  They had decent pitching, and good fielders.  If you've ever played Little League, especially at All-Star levels, you understand that fielding and pitching go a lot farther than hitting at that level.  And as such, my team got stopped in it's tracks for 5 innings.  Our opponents brought excellent pitching to the table that night, and our guys were striking out left and right.  What pieces of the ball we would get, the other team easily sniffed them out for routine plays.  I was the lone exception as I was getting base hits, but I was going no where when on base.  In the 6th inning my team managed a charge.  We entered the inning down 5-1.  I stepped to the plate with a runner on 1st, and I blasted the longest homer I had every hit.  That "big kid" who put the ball in the street would have been proud.  I didn't hit it as high or as far, but I stuck it on the roof of that convenience store.  (OK so I may be stretching this into a fish story now, but it was a long homer at a big time)  So, I had brought my team back to a 5-3 deficit.  We tacked on another run before the end of the inning making it 5-4.  Going into the final and 7th inning, my team needed a rally.  The other team added 2 runs back to gain a 7-4 lead.  As my team came alive the previous inning, we continued our rush into the final inning.  We were getting on base by walks, errors, hit by pitches, and we were scoring.  We batted back around to myself.  Here was my moment.  This was the moment I felt ready for and destined to dominate.  19 straight at-bats, and 19 straight hits.  We were down 7-6, and I had 2 runners on base.  All I needed to do was put the ball in play again to tie the game.  There was one out, and plenty for me to work with....

I was too young at the time to have ever watched The Natural, which was a new movie in the mid-80s.  However, years later, I recognize that scene at the end of the game with all of its suspense.  The "old man" at the plate, living that last moment of glory.  Ready for that one last blast of accomplishment.  The final seconds of perfection.

The first pitch came to me from the Lefty ( I hated lefties; my mind can't adjust fast enough to the ball coming at me differently than from righties).  I took the pitch:  BALL.  The next pitch was heaved; curveball; taken:  STRIKE!   I set my mind on the next pitch.  I had seen the first two pitches well.  I knew no matter where he threw the next pitch, I could jump on it.  I can still see that last pitch coming, in all of its slow-mo, The Natural-type style.  Right down the middle, in my wheel house, and my eyes lit up like roman candles.  WHAM!!!!  I hit it as hard as any ball I've ever hit.  I willed it to come out of its seams.  I wanted it to kill a player if it had to.  Just get a hit.  It was a line drive right at their shortstop who's eyes were filled with fear as a screaming mi-mi was coming at his head.  Just as fate had granted me a wonderful year of being larger and better, fate stepped in and let that boy snag my liner.  He hesitated for a split second, letting it sink in that he had caught the ball.  He waltzed over to second base and doubled-off our base runner to end the game, end the year, end the perfection.  I stood there at the plate still.  Hadn't even moved from the hitter's box.  I just stared in shock as the other team began to celebrate.

Needless to say, my heart was greatly broken.  I had not had a woman(girlfriend) at that point in my life, but I can look back on the situation and feel like I had lost a spouse at that moment.  My perfection was taken away from me.  19 for 20.  No championship.  I made the last out.  I cried for a while.  No one's consolation would bring me back up.  I felt like that little kid before who had struck out and let his team and Dad down.  What good were all of my previous accomplishments if I didn't win the big one?  Perfection is a terrible seductress.  She wants more and more, better and better.  And when she leaves, the good times are over.

Thankfully there was still a vast amount of childhood left within me, and like most children, it didn't take me a day to recover.  The spring was over, and time for life to move on.  The summer was starting, and there were bigger and better things to explore and discover in the world from there on.  I went on and played a few more years of baseball, but they were never dominating like this one year had been.  My team the next year actually won the championship, but I was a middle-rung player on a team full of 13 year old "big guys".  I never grew an inch after age 12.  I slowly became the little guy again as the other kids got bigger and taller.  My skills never really developed much beyond my hey-day.  So like most humans, my bloom of youth slowly began to descend into the decay of adulthood.

We may have short moments or seconds of perfection as we get older.  Getting married, having a child, playing with your child.  These are all glimpses of the perfection in life, but they come and go too fast.  I relish the opportunity I had when I was 12 to be blessed for a season with a zone of perfection few see.  In the years since, I've seen moments of perfection on TV from professional athletes, such as Michael Jordan scoring 60+ in the playoffs.  John Elway and his drives.  Tiger Woods being Tiger Woods.  However, nothing appeals as emotionally as something you actually get to participate in and experience.  It doesn't matter to me how many bad years of baseball or any other sport that I played.  It doesn't matter to me how bad Houston sports teams have been historically.  What matters is that for a short time, I was the epitome of the sport within my small sphere of influence.  There was no one better, and I felt purity.  Not personal purity, as in I played the game perfectly, but purity in the sport.  Sports allows us to see what we've got in us, not just physically and intellectually, but also spiritually and emotionally.  Sport embodies the human spirit to not just sit still and wilt, but fight and suck at the water of life as long as our bloom will allow us.

My days of glory in sport are long gone, and so now I live vicariously through my son.  He's no athlete.  He has 2 left feet, but I enjoy his spirit of trying and enjoying it.  He does tae kwon do.  He's working his way up through the belt ranks and loops.  As a mature adult now, I don't look for perfection in my son.  I shouldn't ever have to.  He was born perfect in my eyes, and will always be so.  I don't think my father likely remembers my playoff accomplishment, and I don't expect him to as he gets older.  Whether I struck out every time or got 19 straight hits in the playoffs, I am forever perfect as his son in his eyes, just as my son is forever perfect as my son.  Our glory is not in our short-lived perfections, but in our existence and how we live our lives.  That we don't quit once our perfection is gone.  I like to think about the lost, by-gone glory, but it's nicer seeing the new glory of perfection in the next generation transpire in front of us now.
 

I'm speaking completely hypothetically here, but I have an interesting dating scenario....

Given the choice between these women, who would you advise this guy to date, and why?

Background of guy (hypothetically):

Mid-30's, divorced, U. of Texas grad, great IT job and salary, computer geek, fairly handsome, likes Star Wars, LotR, and Battlestar Gallactica. Is a major sports fan, spending more than an hour every day devoted to watching some game from any sport on TV, and devoting more than an hour perusing sports blogs, box scores, polls, etc. Also, is into a lot of church related activities. Owns own home, and is financially viable.

Girl #1:

Late-20's, dating hypothetical guy's best friend, A&M grad, school teacher, girl-next-door pretty, very funny, laid back and easy going. Likes Grey's Anatomy and any chick flicks. Enjoys Aggie football, and gives a Gig'Em any chance she can.

Girl #2:

Mid-20's, single, A&M grad, medical research assistant, drop-dead gorgeous, quirky humor. Likes old people and community related volunteer activities. Not into sports or sci-fi. Very virginal and prudish in attitude. Resistant to changes.

Girl #3:

Late-30's, divorced/no-kids, Christian University grad, IT sales business, cute & petite, mature humor. Not into sports, but is a Disney freak. Owns big house and big alimony. Is a home-body.

Girl #4:

Late-20's, single, U. of Houston grad, elementary science teacher. Is very down to earth and not pretentious. Enjoys unicorns, fairies, dragons, and vampires. Spends off-time attending Christian activities. Not a sports gal. Likes venturing and doing new things.

Girl #5:

20, involved with a schmuck, H.S. grad, make-up/facial specialist, former cheerleader, cute as a button. Wants a husband and kids as fast as possible. Wants to be a homemaker. Doesn't realize how pretty she really is, and thus suffers self-esteem and confidence issues.

There you have it! Assuming this hypothetical guy has an open shot at all of these hypothetical women, which do you think he should hypothetically go for? ;-)