Bowling?

Bass Fishing?

Ping Pong?

Billiards?

I say no, no, no, and no.  Sure there is a certain amount of skill in each activity, but there is a certain amount of skill in peeing my name into a snow drift - but I have yet to sign a lucrative contract for my snow peeing skills.  I wonder if there are such organized events in Minnesota ... or maybe Canada?  I should check into that.  I imagine that would be a somewhat male dominated sport, but you never know, there might be some very nimble female competitors.

Bowling is the process of rolling a black ball of about 15 or 16 pounds in weight at some stationary wooden pins, although the ball doesn't necessarily have to be black.  Knock all the pins over and you get a strike, but if you don't knock all those pins down have no fear, we'll send your 16 pound ball back to you and you get another roll at those pins still standing.  You need only be capable of walking from your seat (and alcoholic beverage of your choice) to the place where your ball awaits you.

Just so you're official, we'll make you wear these 50's style wingtip shoes while you're present at the ball rolling place.

That's not a sport, that's Happy Hour.  I enjoy bowling, but I can't in good conscience label my drunken times at the local bowling alley as "sporting events".

Bass Fishing is (as the name fittingly suggests) fishing for bass.  Again, you're required to perform very little movement on your own.  Simply motor your boat to a nice secluded spot on the lake, river, pond, fjord, ocean, or whatever body of water you happen to be inhabiting, and put the little metal hook in the water, and  ....  wait.  At that point it's sort of basically up to the fish to do the rest of the work, although you will be required to turn the little #### on your fishing pole to bring a fish in.  As with bowling, you may partake of your alcoholic beverage of choice while you wait, and it helps to have a radio so you can listen to actual sporting events as they happen.  Be aware that there are Boat Cops lurking out there, so know when to say when, or have a designated boat driver with you.  Just ask Cedric Benson.  A three hour tour?

That's not a sport, that's a prelude to Gilligan's Island or something out of Deliverance.  I also enjoy fishing, but again that's just an excuse to drink too many cold beers, it's not a sporting event.

Ping Pong is an Olympic sport?!  Who decided that?  I bet it can be traced back to the Chinese.  After all, they even name themselves Ping and Pong and Hu.  They possess a cultural advantage to excel at Ping Pong, but I doubt very seriously we can consider smacking that little white wiffleball around a green table as a sporting event.  I understand that there is some hand/eye coordination involved, and I'll admit that's respectable.  But let's be honest there's quite a bit of hand/eye coordination involved with swatting a fly as well, isn't there?  And masquerading Ping Pong as "Table Tennis" isn't fooling anyone.

That's not a sport, that's recess in junior high school during the winter months.  I haven't played Ping Pong in many years, but I suspect that I could pretty much pick up the game right where I left off.

Golf comes dangerously close to a leisure game as well, but I'll let golf slide because there is alot of walking involved - at least there is movement.  On the downside, whatever sporting benefits golf gains from having Tiger Woods as an athlete/competitior, those benefits are canceled out by the exploits of John Daly.  Golf is on the fine line between sport and not-a-sport.

Badminton?  If badminton is a sport then should Lawn Darts or Horseshoes also be considered sports?  It's a conundrum, for sure.  Where do we draw that line?  How about dog racing?  Or horse racing for that matter?  Must the athletes be human for it to be considered a sport?  I'm not sure.

Is hunting a sport?  Once upon a time it was about survival, but not so much anymore.  If we do it just because we can, is that considered a sport?

Professional wrestling?  Hahah, I kinda laughed a little as I typed that.  If pro wrestling is a sport then so is body building and/or teaching a 5th grade class.

Lastly, we come to billiards, or pool as you and I commonly call it.  That's not a sport, that's a Friday Night at the local bar.  Pool is marbles for adults, with sticks, and beers, and loud music.  And it's great.

Have a great Father's Day Weekend everybody.

Yeah, we all hate Illinois Na zis and we all love Wrigley Field.  "We" being Cubs fans of course.  And right now as a Cubs fan, I'm beginning to get downright giggly excited about this version of the North Siders and the hopes and dreams of what might lay ahead for this team.

What has me so giddy is that the temperature has been very cool for springtime, and yet, the team is spraying hits and scoring runs like ... like ... aw hell, I don't know what it's like but I know I'm loving it!  And when the temperature warms up, I can only think that the offense will be even more potent.

Combine that with a respectable starting rotation (led by Big Z) and a bullpen (led by Carlos Marmol) that appears to be settling in nicely, and the future looks very bright.

Now, before any Illinois Na zi preachers can begin their internet sermons about the history of the team, let me say that I understand it is still basically very early in the season.  Besides, this is the Chicago Cubs, my beloved Cubs, we're talking about.  There will be rough seas ahead, it's a Law of Nature, just like when there is a full moon the crazies will come out at night.  Everyone knows this.

Illinois Na zis are out there, and some of them even pretend to be Cubs fans.  To these "fans" that recommend being cautious and curbing my enthusiasm and waiting to see what happens, I say, "Kiss my ####."  I live for these rare times when the team is actually doing well and I actually have something to cheer about.  And I will enjoy every moment of it, just as the dude that survived AA savors every sip of that first cold beer as he falls off the wagon.

I've suffered enough and had my heart broken enough, and that just makes the good times all the more worthy of celebrating.  I'm not saying this is "The Year" nor am I making any predictions of greatness for this team.  I'm simply saying the fans should enjoy the fun, every drunken and misguided minute of it.  The main thing I enjoy about this team is just that, it's a team.  There is great depth and each game it seems as if a different player is stepping up and making a big play at a crucial moment.

Sure, there are tweaks here and there I'd like to see, such as I'd like to see Theriot leading off and Soriano batting second.  Or Reed Johnson leading off.  I don't like Soriano's weak OBP, and getting on-base is what batting in the lead off spot is alll about.  Not swinging for the fence with every at-bat.

But hey, Lou Pa is the manager and Lou Pa likes Soriano hitting lead off.  So Soriano is hitting lead off, and I'm left writing a blog b!tching that Soriano should not be hitting lead off.  I've never managed a Major League team before and most MLB games that I've attended I've gotten so drunk that I've forgotten more than I can remember about those games.  So it's quite possible that Lou might just know what he's doing.

One strange question mark has been the defense.  The relatively high number of errors and unearned runs have really got me scratching my head, but looking at the fielders the Cubs have I've got to believe that the nagging defensive problems will slowly disappear.  The defense is just too good to struggle like this for an entire season.

On the flip side, a great positive has been Kosuke Fukudome.  The dude just doesn't seem to have any weaknesses in his game, and day after day, he just goes out and gets the job done.  I'm only wondering here, but it has occurred to me that Fukudome's workmanlike attitude has had a tremendous effect on the team.  It's possible that I'm exaggerating for effect, but I certainly feel that he's had a positive influence on overall team discipline.

**Film capture from Blues Brothers Central website

Blogger's Note: This Cubs blog is dedicated to myself only, and no one else.  Not another goddam soul.  That's right, only my own insufferable wit and my own intolerable writing are responsible for this Cubs blog.

And I take full credit.  For myself.

Well, actually, I would like to dedicate this Cubs blog to my parents because without them I could not be here to write this great Cubs blog.  Can't forget the folks.  But that's it.  Just me and my folks and no one else.

Okay, upon further consideration if I'm going to dedicate this Cubs blog to my folks then I've got to also dedicate this Cubs blog to my two older siblings, Lisa and Eric.  And I guess my sister's husband Dan and my niece Sarah and my nephew John.  Them too.  So there you have it, just me, my folks, Lisa, Eric, Dan, Sarah, and John.  And not another person in the world.

Uhm, that's not right either.  I have to give a shout out to my drinking buddies Cheese, Scuba, Pheebs, Lenny, Schmitty, my neighbor Christine, my rec league basketball team, my friend Lisa W, and all of the goobers at work.  Basically all the people that promise to read my blogs, but never do.  So even though none of you will ever read this Cubs blog, I dedicate this Cubs blog to you.

But really, that's it this time.  I mean it.  This Cubs blog shall not be dedicated to another freakin person!

Here's the thing.  I have to at least mention the other bloggers.  All of them, every single blogger out there who has inspired me to write this wonderful and terrific Cubs blog.  This Cubs blog is dedicated to all bloggers everywhere, both big and small, both short and tall.  There are too many to name by name and in fact I don't even know them, but this is dedicated to them anyways.

Seriously, that's all.  No more dedications.  You know, I think maybe all of the Cubs fans everywhere should have this Cubs blog dedicated to them, because I like Cubs fans.  Hell, I am a Cubs fan ...  and  ...  and  ....  oh god I need another beer.

I, Jerry Jones, Great Owner, Owner of Owners, Ruler of Dallas, Fort Worth, and Irving, and of regions across the pan handle, conqueror of Iggles, destroyer of Dedskins, have hired many players and trainers and coaches and assistant coaches and errand peoples to serve in my quest for another Super Bowl triumph.  Great was the craft of those that served with the terrific Coach Tuna, and great was their number, which was in the hundreds maybe thousands (give or take a few job-shoppers and free agents).

They strove mightily too, for they knew employment would be brief if they strove not mightily.  All in the pursuit of my Super Bowl glory.  But many games did pass, and many times dem Cowboys did win victoriously, but my next Super Bowl eluded me.

So I, Jerry Jones, Owner of Owners, and all that, did hire a new Lead Coach for my staff of coaches as it was thought that a kinder and friendlier atmosphere for dem Cowboys would be just the ticket to my Super Bowl.  The name of my new Lead Coach was Wade, but I simply addressed him as "the lil Bum".  Furthermore, as incentive for dem Cowboys and my legions of Big D worshippers I did hire many Designers of Structures and Makers of Buildings to wrought me plans of a house worthy of my Texas sized fanaticism and intelligencia.  All who gazed upon what the Designers of Structures and Makers of Buildings had crafted did marvel at their genius, and I, Jerry Jones, did also look thereon and declare their plans to have much nift.

And the name of my capital development project would become "Texas Stadium Number 2", or as I refer to it, "The Big Building That I Builded."  The Big Building is to be big enough so as to be visible from orbit, and the Big Budget of the Big Building is just as big.  Construction began and the Big Building began to rise in the heart of Texas, and I looked upon my creation with great pride and proudness

So I, Jerry Jones, Great Owner, did hie me to the training complex where dwelt my new Lead Coach and my staff of coaches and assistant coaches to see what progress was being made with my team, and there I found not coaches and assistant coaches but drinkers of coffee and talkers of ####.  I was flabbergasted and flummoxed not to mention angry as an f'ing hellhound.

"Look here, O Fearless Leader," spoke thusly the Lead Coach (aka the lil Bum).  "Some things can't be rushed, for can thou win thy Super Bowl without us?"

Fumes did rise from my ears and blood did boil into my face, but I did remain compositional.  "What more do you require to win me a Super Bowl?  Name what is required and you will have it."

"O Jerry, Great Owner of Owners, etc. pay substantial moneys to keep the employment of my OC and my QB," saith the lil Bum as he refilled his cup of coffee.  "And maybe dining utensils of silver and electrum for our cafeteria, as it is common knowledge that Cowboys with full bellies are Cowboys with full dedication."

"You shall have all of that, just get my Super Bowl team builded."  And I, Jerry Jones, Owner of Owners, Ruler of Dallas, did depart the training complex where dwelt my coaches and assistant coaches with Rogaine lightning crackling from my hair follicles.

And many games did pass, and many times dem Cowboys did win victoriously, yet my team looked not mighty in status nor Super Bowl in quality.  My opponents did not tremble before my team as I had desired.

So I, Jerry Jones, did ask my Lead Coach, "What goeth on here?"

The lil Bum stopped partaking of his cheeseburger and said, "O Great Owner, Owner of Owners, my quarterback has become beguiled by the ways of a vixen by the name of Jessica Simpson.  Verily when she is near, he is a man not of swift feet and clear mind but rather a man of ten thumbs and wood in his britches."

So I, Jerry Jones, Great Owner of Owners, Ruler of Dallas, gave certain orders to keep Miss Simpson away from my prized quarterback so as to keep his mind focused upon my Super Bowl and not on Miss Simpson's Super Breasts.

And many days did pass, and my team seemed ready and able, yet disastrously the demise came suddenly in an ugly playoff skirmish against the G-men from that decadent Apple City.  And many days after that defeat did I rant and rave as does a lunatic, and many times did the moon wax and wane as I sleeplessly lamented my failure.

So then I did seek out my team's OC named Jason from my staff of coaches, since he seemed to know what's what about football, and I asked, "How come no Super Bowl?"

And he did answer, "O Great and Wealthy Owner, I be limited of playcalling available for my offense."

"Well, craft more plays to be called!"

"I have, O Great One, but my offense has not the ability to perform my plays."

"So?"

"So add another RB to my roster, O Great Owner, a special RB that possesses a fleetness of foot and a toughness of spirit so as to compliment our QB and our TO."

I, Jerry Jones, Ruler of Dallas, did then demand that a special Running Back be drafted, preferably one that possesses fleetness of foot and allegiances to Arkansas.  My far reaching scouts and network of spies tell me this cat named Felix will be just the ticket to my Super Bowl, and for the sake of my staff of coaches I hope this to be true.

Because I can avouch that if another Super Bowl failure is in my future, my Lead Coach and my staff of coaches will become permanent residents among the concrete foundation of the new Big Building That I Builded.  Thou can take that to the bank.

And God Bless dem Dallas Cowboys.  Can Jerry Jones get an Amen?

Today we play mad scientist, ala Victor Frankenstein.  With the college football teams in spring practice and everybody gearing up for the upcoming intrasquad scrimmages, it is time to construct the perfect college football coach from DNA, scraps, spare body parts, and icons from around the coaching industry.  I will send my faithful henchman Igor out with a shopping list to gather all of the materials we need for this project and then finally after everything has been gathered, we will need a bolt of lightning to animate our coaching creation.

First off, our coach should be a class act, preferably a dude of genuine integrity.  We want to run an honest program here at the medieval University of Ingolstadt (the "Rambling Werewolves"), so we need a coach that is a stand-up kind o####uy, a coach that represents good wholesome values.  For this we will need the sweater vest of Ohio State coach Jim Tressel.

Loyalty and longevity are absolute requirements, since we can't have our perfect coach jumping ship to the NFL at the first sign of success, but rather we want him here at the U of I for many decades to come.  He will not just be our coach, he will be an institution.  We will build many statues of him, name streets in his honor, and he will forever be linked with our Werewolf football program.  For this we will need Igor to retrieve the broken (and healed) leg of Penn State coach Joe Paterno.  It might also be a good idea to get Joe Pa's coke bottle bottom glasses too, just to be safe.

Next, we need a leader that has that certain aura of intimidation.  When our coach walks into the media room for the postgame press conference, we want those reporters trembling in their loafers.  When you sit in a room with our coaching creation, you should feel as if you're in the presence o####reat military general.  For this we will need the houndstooth hat worn by Alabama's Paul "Bear" Bryant.  Nothing says scary like a big dude named Bear wearing a checkered hat.

Igor laughed at that one, but believe me, no one will be laughing once that lightning bolt shocks our perfect scary coaching creation to life.

Okay, where were we?  Ah yes, recruiting, recruiting, recruiting.  Our coach can't win if he doesn't have the athletes, right.  This means that our coach must be able to relate to the modern young adult as both a student/athlete and as a person.  He must be able to provide strict guidance while at the same time connecting with the players on a personal level.  For this we will need the ears and vocal chords of USC coach Pete Carroll.  As a back-up plan Igor will also get the ears and voice box from Illinois coach Ron Zook.

Hey it just makes good sense to have some spares lying around since recruiting can be so fickle.

In today's college football the coach must also be able to think outside the box, so we're gonna need some big doses of creativity and innovation.  With time to prepare a gameplan, our team's playcalling will be next to impossible to defend!  We will be intelligent yet unorthodox, and we will be fun to watch.  So for this we'll need the right brain half of Florida coach Urban Meyer.  Wouldn't hurt if we also convinced QB Tim Tebow to transfer over here to Ingolstadt as well.

Can't forget about Old School football either though, you know the glory days of "win one for the Gipper" and passionate speeches that could make grown men cry.  The days when players wore leather helmets and regularly got their noses busted during the games.  We're talking about an inspirational leader here, and our coach had better be able to belt out an uplifting halftime talk that gets our guys charged up.  For this we will need the left brain half of Notre Dame great Knute Rockne.

Intangibles are very important but also very difficult to capture.  Elusive things like instilling team chemistry and player confidence and strength of character are crucial to building a truly great football program, but then again we're not sure how to gather these intangibles.  I'm not sure how, but somehow we need the spirit of Grambling coach Eddie Robinson, we need a leader that has the respect of the entire football community.

Fists of fury will likely be required since football is a tough sport and being a football coach means you gotta bust some heads every now and then.  Fire and intensity should be good to get the job done, and of course a wicked nasty right hook can be very valuable.  For this we will need the arms of Ohio State legend Woody Hayes, and we will schedule the Clemson Tigers for our first game.

It's gonna be great!

We had better balance out those old school fists of fury with some discipline though.  Can't have our coaching creation running around punching everybody in the mouth, that would be bad public relations and might get us in trouble with the NCAA.  So, our coach must also have an air of quiet and steadfast toughness to him, and he must rule with strict but fair methods.  For this we need the backbone and heart of Nebraska coach Tom Osborne.

Our coach can't just be a humorless stiff though, he's got to have a little wackiness to him and a good sense of comedic relief at just the right moment.  We've got to be very careful here though because too much wackiness and we run the risk of crossing over into fullblown psycho like crazy Les Miles - and that ain't good.  Wackiness is a critical ingredient for life, but we only need a dash or two and that's all or else everything could very easily spin out of control.  For this we'll need the good ol' boy southern attitude of Florida State coach Bobby Bowden.

Last but not least, our coaching creation needs an identity, a name.  A real catchy name, one that people will remember.  We shall call him    .....    Art Vandelay.

And in the off-season he'll be an architect.

Let the madness begin.  Let every "expert" from across the internet fill out a bracket.  We must whittle 65 teams down to one ultimate fighting champion, and I would pick the Florida Gators, but they weren't allowed to play with the big kids this year.  I would pick the Vanderbilt Commodores, but each time I think about that I get a little bit sick to my stomach.  I would pick the Stanford Cardinal, but it is written somewhere that a tree can never be a champion.  I think that's in the New Testament, maybe the book of Revelations.  Maybe Corinthians.  I don't know.

So, as I embark on my exacting science of bracketology, I must admit to myself that I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing.  Of course, ignorance has never stopped me from blogging before, and it won't burden me now.  (see: Kiss of Death)

SWEET SIXTEEN  (whatever happened to Molly Ringwald?)

East Region = North Carolina, Notre Dame, Louisville, Tennessee.  The Tar Heels will have little trouble making it to Charlotte, while Notre Dame upsets Wazzou to punch a ticket to the sweetness that is sixteen.  Louisville survives the surprising Oklahoma Sooners, and the Vols are erratic but talented enough to get past American University and Butler.

Midwest Region = Kansas, Clemson, USC, Georgetown.  UNLV is very capable of putting a scare into the Jayhawks, but the Rock Chalkers still advance to Detroit.  Clemson is quietly lurking as a dangerous team, while USC runs past the plodding Wisconsin Badgers.  Georgetown could fall victim to a feisty Davidson team, but I'm going with the Hoyas in a close one.  (Upset watch: Siena over Vandy)

South Region = Memphis, Pittsburgh, Stanford, Texas.  Oregon should make Memphis fans nervous, and a close game begs the question, will free throw shooting doom the Tigers?  Nah, Memphis will make it to Houston unscathed, but stay tuned.  Pitt is a very resilient team, and I like the way they compete at the defensive end.  My upset pick for this bracket is Temple over Michigan State, but the Owls then fall to Pitt.  Marquette is a streaky team, and given the right circumstances could chop down the Stanford Tree, but I'll go with the Cardinal.  The Texas Longhorns quietly go about their business.

West Region = UCLA, Connecticut, Purdue, Arizona.  The UCLA Bruins seem to be the trendy pick to win it all, and they will hold serve for the first two rounds.  UConn is too athletic for Drake, while Georgia shocks Xavier but then falls to Purdue.  In a complete and utter disregard for logic and reasoning, I'm picking my Arizona Wildcats to upset West Virginia and then the Blue Devils of Duke for the chance to play in Phoenix.  You were expecting me to pick Duke?  Not gonna happen.

ELITE EIGHT  (orange whip?  orange whip?  three orange whips)

East Region = Notre Dame vs Louisville.  Upsets, upsets, as the Fighting Irish knock out the UNC Tar Heels and the Cardinals eliminate the Tenn Volunteers.  How can this be?  I don't know, but it be.  For the honor of traveling to San Antonio, the Irish go cold and the Louisville Cardinals get hot.  Rick Pitino returns to the Final Four, and the Big East is recognized.

Midwest Region = Kansas vs USC.  The Clemson Tigers scare the beejeebies out of Kansas, and yet the Jayhawks won't die.  The Trojans return to the Elite Eight by upsetting the half court minded Hoyas.  Hoya Paranoia and Roy Hibbert get a real bad case of the yips at a real bad time.  USC is just too quick, and that OJ Mayo is for real.  But the Men From Troy just don't have an answer for the Jayhawks as Kansas advances to San Antonio and Bill Self guides them to the Final Four.

South Region = Pittsburgh vs Texas.  The bubble will burst for the Memphis Tigers.  The Pitt Panthers are battle tested, they are gritty, and they are not intimidated.  Free throw shooting has nothing to do with the Memphis defeat, the Panthers are the tougher team.  Texas dispatches Stanford in what promises to be a very slow and boring game, and then the Longhorns squeak past the emotionally spent Panthers from Pitt in a real meatgrinder o####ame.  Burnt Orange returns to the LoneStar state, and the Big XII spots two teams in the Final Fearsome Foursome.

West Region = UCLA vs Purdue.  The UCLA Bruins emerged as champs of the toughest conference (kids, that would be the Pac-10 for those that have been paying attention), and while injuries may yet spoil things, they're a relatively deep team.  UCLA vs UConn promises to be very entertaining, while Purdue vs Arizona promises to be very messy.  The Boilermakers end the joyride for my beloved 'Cats, but then get steamrolled by the juggernaut that is Bruin Basketball.

FINAL FOUR  (you can't handle the truth!)

Louisville vs Kansas.  All we are is dust in the wind, and yet somehow the Jayhawks keep surviving.  Is Bill Self really a good coach?  Maybe, maybe not.  What is it about these Jayhawks then?  It's gotta be the shoes!  (Carry on wayward son ~ if I claim to be a wise man, it surely means that I don't know)  Whatever it is, Kansas finds a way to take the air out of Pitino-ball and advance to the title game.  Is there a Danny Manning in the house?

Texas vs UCLA.  You know, if you look at burnt orange long enough, you start to get dizzy, even a little hallucinatory.  I'm not sure why.  The eyes of Texas are upon the Longhorns and  .... and the Longhorns proceed to choke.  UCLA shows no mercy, and the Bruins are on a mission from God.

THE GAME  (we represent the Lollipop Guild .. the Lollipop Guild .. the Lollipop Guild)

Kansas vs UCLA.  It all comes down to this.  The Bruins face their second consecutive Big Dozen opponent, and the result is the same as before.  The Wizard of Westwood himself, Coach Wooden, couldn't have drawn it up any better, and all is joyful throughout La-La Land.  Bruins have better coaching, better tournament experience, and better guard play.

UCLA cuts down the nets.

....  or not.

This entry is basically just a picture blog more than anything.  For whatever reasons, I usually save my ticket stubs when I attend various sporting events.  I'm not really sure why.  Trying desperately to preserve the past?  Possibly.  Trying desperately to remember the good times?  Absolutely.

I'll confess too that I'm a photo album junkie.  Although I'm not a particularly good photographer, I've always loved still photos that capture a moment in time.

Anyways, I've got all of those saved old (and new) ticket stubs in a desk drawer, and the other night I shuffled thru them and was really surprised at all the memories that came flooding back.  For the most part I could remember quite a bit about each event that the various tickets represented.  Who I went with.  Some of the highs and lows.  Who won and who lost.

Here's a sampling of some of the ticket stubs that I've got rat-holed away in that desk drawer:

I've got alot more racing tickets than anything, but I tried to scan in a sampling of the different sporting events that I've been to over the years.  There's some pretty cool moments in sports buried in there.

Such as the Bulls vs Pacers pre-season game at the Peoria Civic Center.  That game was among the first that Michael Jordan played with the Bulls during his rookie season.  He had a short contract holdout, and joined the team a few games into the pre-season.  I remember that he didn't even start in that game against the Pacers!

Also caught a Bulls vs Hawks game at Chicago Stadium during Jordan's rookie season.

Of course there's an Arizona vs ASU football game in there too.

A Blackhawks playoff game.  And a Blackhawks game during a strike-shortened season.

Notice the Hawaii vs UCF game.  That's a true sign of a sports addict when while vacationing in Honolulu, you look up a football game to go to.

Cubs vs White Sox at Comiskey.

Bears vs Packers MNF game (at the Univ of Illinois).

I have friends that live in Seattle, so whenever I trek out to see them, we always catch a Mariners game and then the Washougal MX National.

There's even a College Baseball regional in there.  I went with some buddies to watch one of their younger brothers play (for the Nebraska Cornhuskers).  I'm not a big fan of aluminum bats, but the games were alot of fun to watch.

Sad part of this whole walk down memory lane was ... I could not find a single ticket stub from Wrigley.  I've been to a few Cubs games at the Friendly Confines over the years, and somehow I didn't manage to save a single ticket stub!

Whew, too much Old Style at those games I guess.  That's alright, this is the year that the Cubs win it all, and so I'll just have to save a ticket stub from this championship season!

Welcome foosball fans to another loud and boisterous tavern in Smalltown, Illinois, located just up I-39 from the greater Bloomington Area.  Tonight's competition thus far has been a very sloppy but entertaining match pitting Team Red (denoted by the bloodred jerseys) against Team Blue (denoted by the shaded ominous blue jerseys).

Eternal adversaries to one another in the Foosball Arena here at this Smalltown tavern.

As we prepare to rejoin the action once again, the rather annoying uniformity of the players should be documented.  To a man, both teams in the arena are comprised entirely of identical caucasian players, all with identical light brown hair, all sporting identical haircuts, and all of identical height and build.  Almost like they are all caucasian clones.  Which is a bit strange because our foosball game tonight is set in a tavern with the latino name of "La Villa Tequila".

Just one of life's ironies I guess.

At any rate, the players of Team Red and Team Blue continue to impressively display the rigid discipline of their trade as they remain at military-like attention and in tight formation.  All lines and creases, completely squared away.  There are no numbers on the jerseys, no individuality whatsoever, both squads are completely committed to the team concept.

And away we go as the pockmarked white ball flies into the arena from a hole in the west sidewall!

There is mass confusion amongst both teams, as the white ball ricochets wildly through the regimental lines and careens loudly from wall to wall in the arena.  But as always, even thru the most chaotic sequences of action, the team lines remain in strict formation, moving and spinning together!

Control of the white ball is a calamity of errors punctuated by profanity and laughter from the respective Coaches.  But the players never break rank, never utter a word of malcontent, never even change their facial expression.  Impressive indeed.

Finally after a cascading series of whiffs and violent spins by various lines, the goaltender of Team Blue gets control of the white ball by tightly pinning it to the shiny green playing surface.  And then in a somewhat gentle motion he passes it forward to his next line of defensive backs.

It should be noted that during the melee, Team Blue very nearly scored an own goal.

Twice.

With newfound tenderness Team Blue deftly creeps the white ball forward to its massive front row of attackers.  They are quite an imposing sight, moving slowly in perfect synchronization from side to side.  Looking for the slightest opening to exploit.  Like a coiled cat ready to spring into action.  Their uniform hair is still perfect, not at all disheveled from the wild antics performed just moments ago.

Team Red's front line mirrors the Blue dance at midfield  ....

....  And we pause for station identification, as the hot girl in tight pants is bending over the nearby pool table to line up her shot.  All the foosball officials and fans agree, Miss Tight Pants is a complete hottie.  That's it sweetie, just take your time, there's no rush.  She shoots.  And yay, she makes it.  That's great, she has very nice form, and she certainly has good skill with a stick and balls  ....

The front line of Team Red defenders return to stalking the front line of Team Blue attackers.

Suddenly in an eruption of superb execution, the entire front line of Team Blue spins and fires as a single entity.  The white ball clacks loudly off the north wall of the arena just missing the goal hole!  Team Red's goaltender is frantic.

But the white ball rebounds so violently off the wall that it banks off a backline Red player and into the goal hole!

GOOOOooooOOooooOooooAaaaaaLLL!!

What a sight!  I swear, the Team Red defender never even reacted!  He just stood there!  Or, well, to be more accurate he just hovered there.  It seems that the players are so light on their feet that they never even touch the playing surface.  Amazing.

Uh-oh, there seems to be some confusion here at Foosball Arena.  We may have a controversy brewing here, as it now appears as if no one has been keeping score with the little beads at either end of the arena.  We have no idea who is winning!  This is a complete outrage!

....  And we now pause as the lovely hot girl is bending over the pool table again.  She has the undivided attention of Foosball Arena, but unfortunately Foosball Arena has the rather intense attention of a muscular dude shooting pool with Miss Hot Pants.  Dude is wearing what appears to be a mechanic's shirt with the name "Tiny" stitched in script over the shirt pocket.

A large dude named Tiny?  Just another one of life's ironies I guess.  And at this moment Tiny does not look happy with Foosball Arena  ....

[[end transmission]]

The trio of Jerryd Bayless, Chase Budinger, and Jordan Hill are an incredible nucleus for the 07-08 Wildcats, but beyond that ....  well, things get a little bit cloudy when you look beyond those dudes.

Senior Jawann McClellan is just not having the type of senior season that many of us thought (and hoped) that he would.  On Saturday against Stanford, he really struggled to find any type of a role in the offense, and quite honestly, he almost completely disappeared.  Thankfully, late in the game he came up with a very big three pointer that was part of a run that allowed the UofA to take the game down to the wire.  Ultimately, things didn't work out, and Stanford squeaked out a 67-66 victory at the McKale Center.

Sophomore Nic Wise has shown alot of improvement this season, and he's been valuable at the point guard position.  With the UA lineup so thin (they practically have no bench to speak of), his recent injury has put even more pressure on Jerryd Bayless.  Based on what I've read, Wise may be back in time for the NCAA tourney or possibly even the Pac-10 tourney.  He dropped alot of weight during the offseason, which I've got to believe will help him get back to the court relatively quickly.

Freshman Jamelle Horne has really contributed in his first season, and his immediate future looks very bright as he continues to improve.  Bret Brielmaier has had a nagging injury (shoulder?) that just won't seem to heal for some reason.  Since the 'Cats are so thin along the frontline, his absence has also had a major impact.

I'm an Arizona grad living in the midwest, and so naturally whenever the 'Cats are on tv here and I get to watch the team with my own eyes, I treat it as a blessing.  And last Saturday, the Arizona vs Stanford game was televised nationally, so I got to watch every minute of that one.

Some thoughts about the Stanford game and the season thus far ....

What does Coach O'Neill have against a zone?  Look, I'm a true believer in man-to-man as the base defense so I love that part, but I also like to see the team mix up their defenses.  Don't let an offense get comfortable (i.e. don't let Stanford get comfortable just posting up the Lopez twins!).  Foul trouble is the Achilles Heel of a thin team, and a good way to hide someone in foul trouble is to spend some time in a zone.  To go one step further, if the player in foul trouble is a power forward or a center, a zone press can even protect them further (provided you've got guards that can apply pressure).  With Nic Wise out, I can fully understand not pressing, heck, Bayless pretty much has to play every minute of each game.  But mix up defenses a bit and maybe Jordan Hill's foul trouble might have been avoided or at least played thru - instead, he fouled out and really was never a factor in the game.

I'm just shaking my head why Coach doesn't mix in some 1-3-1 halfcourt traps or even a matchup 2-3 zone every now and then.

Jerryd Bayless can become an outstanding point guard.  If he chooses to.  I've read and heard many people claiming that JB is a SG and not a PG, and I disagree with that.  He's really a point guard that looks for his shot first, and yeah that's not good but it ain't all bad either.  Am I the only one noticing that Jerryd just doesn't seem to look like his listed 6'3" height?  I've never met the kid in person, but he sure as heck looks like 6'0" maybe 6'1".  Against Stanford he ran the point quite well I thought.  But on occasion Arizona's offense became a Mickey-Mouse high pick and roll with the big guys not even understanding how to set a real pick, but that's a blog for another day I think.

I've always played point guard so I was watching JB very closely to see how he handled things as the "quarterback".  He has scoring talent, without a doubt, but he certainly could get his teammates more involved.  Look at Jawann McClellan, JB almost nearly alienated poor Jawann.  Sure, Jawann is struggling, but a good point guard will get a player involved in the offense, and if I'm not mistaken, the big three ball that McClellan nailed was all set up by a dribble drive and dish by Bayless.

No doubt, I'm biased.  I think the most important player on the court for a team is the point guard.  In many ways I believe that a team will take on the personality of its coach, and I think the same can be said that a team will follow the lead of its point guard.

The interesting thing here is that the UofA has another top point guard recruit coming in next season (Brandon Jennings), and if Bayless decides to stay in school (which I hope he does), they could make up a very lethal backcourt.  I've always liked having a lineup in which the two guard could also work as the point guard.  I think that's such a huge advantage (particularly breaking a press or in the transition game).  As an Arizona fan, I certainly hope to see those two in the same backcourt next season, but many of the so-called "experts" project that Bayless will jump to the NBA.

We'll see.

Chase Budinger is tough to figure out.  I really want to write positive stuff about Chase here, but in all honesty I really am just confused.  The dude shows flashes of brilliance, and then mysteriously he just disappears for long stretches of the game.  At times he drives strong and rebounds strong, and then mysteriously he'll play soft for long stretches of the game.  What the heck?  Chase has all the talent in the world (every bit as much talent as Jerryd), but for whatever reason he just doesn't seem to have a killer instinct.  I don't want to bash Chase because I'm always pulling for him to play to his potential, but honestly if I was his teammate I'd probably really get in his face and try to fire him up.  Or strangle him.

Chase should return to school for another year, but again, I've read that he's likely to turn pro.  I think that would be a mistake.  I don't deny that he has the talent and the size to play in the NBA, but he just doesn't seem ready from a mental toughness aspect.  Oh well, I played intramural basketball and pick-up games during my stay at the UofA, so it's not like I can really talk about being ready for the NBA.

This week the 'Cats are up in Seattle for a clash with the surging Huskies, and then an important face-off with the Wash St Cougars.  Every game becomes more and more important as the season winds down, and that magical "20 win" season looms out there.  If the 'Cats win 20, they're a lock for the NCAA tourney  ....  but if they don't finish strong, well, the Pac-10 is not a pleasant place to be this year if you don't bring your "A" game every game.

In the beginning, there was no television or intrawebs.  The sports fan enjoyed seeing sports in person, and the people rejoiced.  But somewhere along the way technology consumed the sports fan, and the scourge known as the "media expert" somehow became the voice of the sports fan's experience.  And the people were sad.

Sure, I'm as guilty as the next sports fan when it comes to being lazy and choosing the couch potato route instead of getting my pasty white butt out to the game, or race, or whatever sporting event.  Look, I live in a house constructed of balsa wood so you won't see me casting stones at other sports fans or fueling the flames of debate.

No, no, my fragile environment cannot withstand that.  My messages are very positive in nature.

Watching a sporting event in person is what being a sports fan is all about.  Let's never forget that.  Sure, watching the Super Bowl at home (or at a party) is a great thing, and quite honestly, getting a cold beer from my fridge is a helluva lot easier than standing in line doing the pee-pee dance whilst I wait for nacho stand Bobby Ricky to draft foamy beer into little plastic cups.

NCAA football and NFL games have a certain affinity for television, I won't deny that.  With high-def tv in my living room, I get to see in great detail the bewildered look on Eli Manning's face just as if he were next to my stereo trying to understand the lyrics to a Jane's Addiction song.  To some extent baseball works on tv too, but not quite as well as football.  The crack of a wooden bat resounding thru the park is still the stuff of great memories, and a trip to Wrigley Field should be a required experience for every sports fan.  You go to Wrigley and you get drunk on Old Style, that's just a law.  I have a buddy that likes to go kung-fu fighting over at the Cubby Bear after a Cubs game, but hey, that's a story for him to tell, not me.

Here are my two favorite sports to witness live and uncensored ....

MOTOCROSS

No, I'm not talking about the prissy stadium Supercross version of motocross, which is designed to be marketable and digestable for the masses on their flat screen.  I'm talking about the true outdoor nationals - real motocross.  Middle of the summer, with enough heat and humidity that some of the less vital organs in your body dry up and shut down without you even noticing.  Heat index so high that marathoners from Kenya would say, "That's just ridiculous!"  AMA motocross in the midwest is raced in these conditions.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Being a fan of motocross takes that type of dedication and attending a race is really not for the whiny or the weak.  I'll speak from experience here because over the years I've attended the Red Bud National MX event (near Buchanon, MI) maybe 11 or 12 times.  Forgive me for not remembering an exact count, but there has been alot of alcohol involved and many brain cells have perished taking their precious memories with them.

I only have a slight understanding of what it's like for the pro riders.  Two motos, each 30 minutes plus two laps while pushing the pace to your personal limit.  Not to mention that most of the privateer dudes have to qualify to make those main event motos by running laps in the early part of the day.

For anyone that has attempted to race motocross at any level (like me), you realize how tough this sport is.

HOCKEY

Straight up, I have never competed in this sport and to some extent the true intricacies of the game elude me, but I love watching hockey in person.  Always have, always will.  To put it plainly and simply, television just can't do this sport justice.  Not even close.  The speed of the players, the violence of the hits, and the crash of the boards are all lost on the television audience.  I remember a network trying to highlight the puck and put all sorts of special effects on the screen to liven the game for tv, but of course that just failed miserably.

Trust me, to truly be appreciated, the NHL must be seen in person.

I've seen a handful of Blackhawks games, and each experience has been tremendous to me.  And I even have to qualify that statement ~ all of my experiences have been at the United Center, I never did catch a Blackhawk game at Chicago Stadium.  By those that I've talked with, a Blackhawk game at Chicago Stadium back in the day was comparable to a religious experience, like an epiphany.

Getting drunk with my buddies and screaming "Snap his neck!" at the top of our lungs is certainly pleasant and all, but usually that's when we're in the nosebleed sections.  Let me say though, all joking aside, the top of the arena seats are where the very knowledgeable fans can be found.  Those are the dudes you enjoy listening to during the game, and their comments are things of poetic profane beauty.

But when I've had the great blessing to be in very choice seats for a Blackhawk game, oh man, the sport has really mesmerized me.  The skill of the players is incredible, and the vicious speed at which the game is played just made me truly appreciate the sport.

I'm not going to carry on like I understand some grand strategy in hockey or even that I fully comprehend the sport, because I don't.  Without a doubt I can say that each time I've attended a Blackhawks game it was well worth every penny that I spent at the United Center.

After all, in this day and age of capitalism gone wild that seems to be the really true measure of a sport's value.

Ah yes, the proverbial "morning after".  Time to begin the recovery from another night of living the sports highlife.  The life of a sports fanatic is not for the weak of constitution or the faint of heart, because along with the highest of the highs the highlife is littered with heartbreaks and heartaches like a minefield.  We sports fans must pick ourselves up off the floor more often than a one-legged drunk guy at a discotech.

And falling flat on our face is all a part of living and dying with our team.

Get a group of sports fans together at a local bar and the gathering quickly turns into a roundtable of comparing old scars.  Like back in the day when motocross magazines would have photos of some dude wadding it up real bad under a bold print caption "Crash and Burn", we love to share our pain with others of our kind, and there is some sort of therapy in sharing those past wounds.

Helpful tip: it is sometimes better to have a song like "Moving in Stereo" by The Cars or some other psychedelic tune playing in the background when reading my blog entries.

You see this relatively fresh scar on my ego?  Yeah, that's from the Bears losing to the Colts in Super Bowl XLI.  Rex Grossman's late pick six to seal the game for the Colts cut me real deep.  I'd like to expand further on this scar but it's still a little tender.

This hole in my heart?  I got that from the Cubbies historic collapse in the '03 NLCS.  Oh man, that one darn near killed me.  Forget Bartman, if Alex Gonzalez doesn't boot that grounder, then Mark Prior and the Cubs get out of that disastrous inning.  That entire Game 6 nightmare at Wrigley is gonna haunt me for the rest of my days.

Busted up psyche and broken fortitude?  All happened during the Arizona Wildcats 2000-01 basketball season.  All the emotional drama that the team and the fans went thru with player injuries and Coach Olson losing Bobbi to cancer and then the team fighting and clawing to get to the Final Four and then to the championship game  ....  only to lose to freakin' Duke!  Ugh!  It wasn't supposed to turn out like that.

Cuts on my mental health?  Basketball again.  The '92-'93 Arizona Wildcats easily won the Pac-10 finishing 24-3 overall for the regular season and securing a 2 seed in the West Regional for March Madness.  Then the Wildcats promptly marched out in the first round and lost to 15th seeded Santa Clara.  I would spend the next four days wandering around campus muttering to myself and getting in arguments with pigeons.  I'm really not sure but I think I flunked two exams in that period as well.  Although I can't entirely blame the basketball team for those.

My crushed confidence?  Oh that happened with the '93 UofA football team.  1993 was a tough year.  Arizona has (to this day) never sent a team to the Rose Bowl, but with the stifling Desert Swarm defense of that '93 team everything was smelling like Roses all season long.  Finally, the tipping point came in the next to last regular season game against Cal in Berkeley.  Win that game and a trip to Pasadena was practically secured.  The game began with a gloriously dominant first half in which the UofA built a 20-0 lead.  No way in hell anyone scores 21 unanswered against the vaunted Desert Swarm defense!  Rose Bowl here we come baby!  What followed was something directly out of a Stephen King book.  The Cal Bears did not score 21 unanswered points, they scored 24 unanswered points, and ruined everything by a score of 24-20.  And I crumpled like a squashed beer can.

The burn scars upon my soul?  Those are from the '84 Cubs.  Sad to say but those childhood wounds never completely heal, you know.  I remember my tears after that awful moment when the Padres eliminated my beloved Cubbies in Game 5.  The hurt from that is like it all happened yesterday.

I would guess that all sports fans have similar scars, and we can each relate to those wounds.  It's like a rite of passage every fan must make.

Old saying is "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger."  That's no lie right there.

You've heard the saying, "Winners never quit, and quitters never win."  Generally, it's true.  But not in this case.  I'm quitting, and I'm gonna be a winner  ....  I think.

Here are some belated New Year's resolutions for 2008 that I may or may not keep.

Warning: Some of these are not sports related.

I'm quitting alcohol.  That's right, I'm never going to drink again.  (yeah, who am I kidding, this resolution won't make it thru the weekend)

I'm quitting caffeine.  Sure, that withdrawal headache is going to be brutal, but just think how much extra sleep I'll be getting in return!  And my hands will be steadier too.

I'm quitting the living room sofa.  No more sports tv couch potato for me, and some day I will read an entire Tom Clancy novel from beginning to end - just not right now.  While I watch the NFL playoffs and Super Bowl I shall do jumping jacks.  While I watch the Daytona 500 I shall do sit-ups.  While I watch March Madness I shall do burpees.  Then I shall go for a 10 mile run just for the heck of it.

I'm quitting procrastination.  Except for that Tom Clancy book thing of course.

I'm quitting my Green Bay Packer hate.  One morning I just woke up and thought, "Maybe that Brett Favre ain't so evil after all."  (Exception: whenever the Packers play the Bears, my hatred shall return)

I'm quitting every bad habit I've ever had.  It just makes good sense.

I'm quitting my desires to date a supermodel.  Too many restraining orders, it seems like I can't even leave the house without a police escort.  I'm setting my sights on tennis hotties such as Maria Sharapova.  Hot and sweaty tennis babes grunting in short skirts is what 2008 will be all about for me.

I'm quitting my desires to become a Formula 1 driver.  At some point, I just had to face reality.  I am shifting my racing dream to the Craftsman Truck Series, and seeing as I drive a Chevy Silverado I'm already half way there!  And I even have a helmet and black leather driving gloves too!  Oh yeah, this is going to happen.

I'm quitting any and all bad thoughts towards others.  I will love my fellow human beings, even if they attended Arizona State University.  Even the  most offensive and criminally insane among us shall have my respect.  As an addendum to this resolution, I will quit throwing things at people.  Most don't seem to like it when I do that.

I'm quitting sarcasm.  Words can be hurtful, and as my previous resolution clearly stated, I'm not doing that in 2008.  I do reserve the right to irony.  And maybe a little innuendo.  Just a little.

I'm quitting my plan to tryout for QB of the Chicago Bears.  I may be crazy, but I ain't stupid.  Playing QB for the Bears is like breaking a mirror - you get 7 years bad luck!

I'm quitting my fear that the Chicago Cubs will never win the World Series.  I will publicly embrace the many years of futility and proudly wear my Cubs jersey to each and every sporting event that I attend this year.  God Bless Wrigley Field.

Amen.

So there you have it, in 2008 I will be a (somewhat) sober and relaxed Chevy truck racer smiling and waving to everyone while wearing a #4 Green Bay Packer jersey with Maria Sharapova closely by my side.

Oh man, this is gonna be great!!

All is not well in Arizona Basketball at the moment.  Hall of Fame Coach Lute Olson has taken a leave of absence for the entire 2007-2008 season, and Kevin O'Neill has since stepped in as substitute teacher for the young Wildcat hoopsters.  Going one step further, Mr O'Neill has been named as Lute's successor when the living legend decides to retire.

Coach Olson has expressed the desire to return for the 2008-2009 season, but it looks very su####iously like a fairwell tour more than anything - particularly with AD Jim Livengood having already removed the interim tag from O'Neill and slapped him with the "head coach in waiting" title.

That smells of Lute's impending retirement after next season, which in all honesty, most of us UofA fans and alumni realized was in the very near future anyways.  Eventually at some point there will be a transition to a new era of Arizona basketball, and that transition will probably be a bumpy ride.

All of that aside, the current team has fallen on tough times as of late.  Early in the season, the 'Cats handled all of the uncertainty surrounding Coach Olson's sudden departure and the subsequent shift required to adapt to Coach O'Neill's style of game with amazing resolve.  The early season was marked by some gritty wins and a valiant effort against the Kansas Jayhawks at Phogg-Allen Fieldhouse.

Then came the injury to point guard Jerryd Bayless.

It doesn't seem like much when written as a line item like that, but in reality that injury truly changed the dynamic of this team.  Swingman Chase Budinger is a tremendous player with loads of talent, but he just doesn't seem to be a team leader.  We wondered about his toughness last year, and we're still wondering this year.  That's not an accusation, that's just an observation.

Some dudes are comfortable being "the man", while others don't possess that sort of personality.  Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of Chase, and he most definitely comes across as a "team comes first" type of player.  For a team to win consistently and build valuable team chemistry, it's pretty much a requirement that the players are unselfish.

To some extent playing point guard makes Jerryd Bayless a team leader by default, it's just the nature of the position, but there's more to it than that.  Even as a freshman, in critical situations, Jerryd has shown incredible toughness.  Arizona is a different team with JB on the court, and while Nic Wise has filled in admirably at the point, again, he's just not quite on the same level as JB.

And it shows.

The Pac-10 is loaded this season, from top to bottom.  There will be no easy games at all during the conference schedule, and with back to back losses to Oregon and ASU, the 'Cats have stumbled out to a 1-2 start in Pac-10 play.  Now, it's not time to push the panic button just yet, but there's certainly alot of cause for concern.  Washington State, UCLA, USC, Cal, Stanford, and Oregon are all capable of making a Sweet Sixteen run in the NCAA tourney, and ASU, Oregon State, and Washington have also proven that they will make noise if a spot in the Big Dance is in their future.

That's my point.

From what I've seen so far, every team in the Pac-10 is actually capable of getting into the NCAA tournament, although of course that won't happen.  Teams will knock each other off as the season goes along, and only the strong will survive.

But that's a good thing.  The teams that do emerge will definitely be battle tested.

Here's our history lesson for the day: Back in the 1996-97 season, Arizona struggled mightily with inconsistency and key injuries and limped to a fifth place finish in the Pac-10.  Then (at the right time) everything seemed to come together.  A blitzkrieg thru the tail end of the Pac-10 schedule was followed by one of the most impressive marches thru the NCAA tournament as Arizona defeated Kansas, North Carolina, and Kentucky (all No.1 seeds) to claim the National Championship.

There are some similarities between this current team and that '97 squad, such as a tough freshman point guard and an undermanned frontline and the struggles with injuries.  It's early in conference play, and only time will tell if this version of Arizona basketball has what it takes to regroup.