Feel the heat burning you up, ready or not.  Some like it hot and some sweat when the heat is on.  Some feel the heat and decide that they can’t go on.  -Power Station

Public Service Announcement:  OK, here we go, Daddy-O!  Shaq Daddy-O.  All right.  I’ll ask the obligatory, “How you doin’ in your brackets?”  Truth is, I don’t care.  Truth is, there’s something else going on out there.  Something else, mon fraire.  Something’s got me amazed.  Don’t know what to do.  My head’s in a haze.  It’s like a heatwave.  A Miami Heatwave.  A Shaquille O’Neal Heatwave.  While you were watching your Dookies get wooped up on by their VCU Rams.  While you were watching the Gigantic-O get more colossal with every touch.  While you were watching all that, the Miami Heat were doing a little dancing of their own.  I could dance with you ’til the cows come home.  On second thought, I’d rather dance with the cows ’til you came home.  Rufus T. Firefly style.          Read More »

Disconnect the telephone line.  Relax baby and draw that blind.  Kick off your shoes and sit right down.  Loosen up that frilly French gown.  Tonight’s the night.  It’s gonna be all right.  -Rod Stewart

Public Service Announcement:  OK, here we go, Daddy-O!  Let’s get ready for the show.  You know I like O-hi-o.  I like the Gigantic-O.  Like him more than Adrian Barbeau.  March Madness is here.  This is it.  Make no mistake where you are.  This is it.  Your backs to the corner.  This is it.  The waiting is over.  No room to run.  No way to hide.  No time for wondering why.  It’s here.  Kenny Loggins style.  Yup this is it.  It’s here.  Whodoyagot?  Whosdoyagot?        Read More »

 I wish I was little bit taller, I wish I was a baller.  I wish I had a girl who looked good, I would call her.  -Skee-Lo

Public Service Announcement:  OK, here we go!  I know, I know, the Purple Eagles just played their way in.  How can I be writing this?  What about the brackets?  Are you insane?  Insane in the membrane.  Plenty insane, got no brain?  Blame March Madness.  Yup, they started it.  Blame Dickie V.  Blame Andy Katz.  Blame Selection Sunday.  Blame Bill Raftery.  Blame Mike Patrick.  Blame Jay Bilas.  Blame ESPN.  Blame CBS.  Blame all those guys.  Yo, I don’t hang out with those guys, man I ain’t got nothing to do with those dudes.  Man, I saw your female with them too, what’s up with her?  I hear that she’s been giving that stuff out to all them graffiti guys.  If it weren’t for those guys, I never would have heard of Tajuan Porter.  The Oregon Ducks’ Tajuan Porter.  I wouldn’t know about his colossal game against Portland State.  I wouldn’t know he scored thirty-eight points, including ten for twelve from three-point range against the Vikings.   I wouldn’t know  his ten three-point field goals shattered the Oregon record.  But most importantly, I wouldn’t know he was five foot six.  And you know that five foot six shizznit just set off all sorts of red flags.  Red balloons.  Ninety-nine red balloons.  Panic bells, it’s red alert.  There’s something here from somewhere else.  It got my one, two, three, four, five senses working overtime.  XTC style.  I got to thinking.  Got to drinking.  Got to thinking, got drinking and came up with this.  Little giants.  Little big men.  My favorite little guys in sports.       Read More »

I keep working my way back to you babe, with a burning love inside.  I’m working my way back to you babe, with a happiness that died.  I let it get away.  Payin’ every day.  -Frankie Vali

Public Service Announcement:  OK, here we go!  What’s crack-a-lacking sports fans?  The 1951 Giants did it.  They came back.  They came back from thirteen games down.  Thirteen games down to cross town rivals, Dem Bums.  The hated Brooklyn Dodgers.  Came back, and won the National League Pennant.  The Shot Heard Round the World.  The Giants win the pennant and they’re going crazy. They’re going crazy, I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it, I will not believe it!     

Read More »

It’s a town full of losers, and I’m pulling out of here to win.  -Bruce Springsteen

Public Service Announcement:  OK, here we go!  Bracketology, huh?  If that’s the case, then I’m dropping science like Newton dropped the apple.  Flying high like my main man Ben Franklin’s kite.  I got a theorem that makes Pythagoras‘ look silly.  Wanna hear it?  Want to endear it?  Getting ready to stand up and cheer it?  Ok then, here we go, put your good ear up to it.  The Ohio State University Buckeyes.  That’s it.  That’s right.  It’s Buckeye time.  Why bother with the other brackets?  This is the only one that matters.  Goodness gracious me-oh-my-oh!  Can you smell what they cookin’ in Ohio?  Meatloaf always says:  “Now don’t be sad, ’cause two out of three ain’t bad.”  I say, sad?  Are you out of your cotton pickin’ minds?            Read More »

Will you recognize me?  Call my name, or walk on by…Don’t you forget about me.  Don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t you, forget about me.  -Simple Minds

Public Service Announcement:  OK, here we go.  I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle, as I go ridin’ merrily along.  Don’t look now, here come the Spurs.  Did you forget?  You did, right?  You’ve been all caught up with your streaking Mavs.  You’ve been been all caught up with your sizzling Suns.  You’ve been all caught up with return of the King.  You’ve been all caught up, and you didn’t notice.  You didn’t see it coming.  The Big Fundamental just snuck right up on you.  The San Antonio Spurs just snuck right up on you.  The  Spurs are a jinglin’.  The Spurs are a janglin’.  They’re a jinglin’ and a janglin’ two the tune of twelve in a row.  Playing bigger than the ears on Ross Perot.   San Antonio Spurs, now you know.           Read More »

Josh Q. Public:   I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in and stops my mind from wandering, where it will go.  -Beatles 

Public Service Announcement:  OK, here we go!  What’s crack-a-lacking sports fans?  Tired of Championship Week?  All Dickie V’d out.  Sick of watching Kobe punching mugs in the mouth?  Need something else to think about?  No need to fret.  I have just the thing.  Just the thing, you bet.  Baseball.  It’s a part of our past, Ray.  It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again.  The Mets could be good again.  Last year, they were just a bat on the shoulder shy of the World Series.  This year they should make another run.  They should make things fun.  They could go straight to number one.  They won’t go to number one with Shawn Green.  Shawn Green.  Just three hits this whole spring.  Just three hits and coming off his worst year ever.  Career low fifteen bombs.  Career low .432 slugging.  He’s not just slow with the bat, he’s slow afoot.  With Moises Alou in left, that leaves Carlos Beltran to cover a lot of ground.  Like the Beach Boys, he’s gonna have to get around.  He’s gonna have to make the plays that amaze and astound.  So what to do Mets fans?  What to do?  Lastings Milledge, that’s what.  That’s what I feel in my gut.  That’s who could give this team their kick in the butt.

Lastings Milledge.  Milledge showed up to camp with some extra muscle and a new attitude.  That’s all I need to get me in a good mood.  This kid eats, sleeps, and dreams baseball.  What does he do in his downtime?  “I watch the classic hitters you know, I watch video tapes of their swings.”  Nothing wrong with that.  Nothing at all.  Hopefully, he’s learning patience.  All we need is just a little patience.  Lastings doesn’t draw enough walks.  He could use a little patience in waiting for the right pitch.  But he has something else you cannot teach.  Something for some, that is just out of reach.  Something we all love from here to Port St. Lucie Beach.  Bat speed.  Light has to kick it into high gear just to try and keep up with Lastings Milledge’s bat speed.  He can see and move on a ball better than just about any young player today.  Gary Sheffield fast.  Hank Aaron fast.  The original number forty-four.  Wrist lightning.  Lastings Milledge isn’t a five-tool player.  Lastings Milledge has more than one-hundred tools.  He’s got speed on the base paths.  Tears it up on the old base paths.  Tear it up like Cool Papa Bell.  You know Cool Papa.  A man so fast he could get out of bed, turn out the lights across the room, and be back in bed under the covers before the lights went out.  That’s fast.  Out in the field, his speed can help him get to balls Shawn Green could only dream of tracking down.  He’s got a great arm.  Just this spring, I saw him throw a laser from right, nailing Fernando Martinez at third.  Beautiful throw.  He has that killer instinct and tenacity that makes good players great.  That makes them first rate.  That makes them heroes in the Empire State.  It won’t be long before he’s joining David Wright and Jose Reyes on the NL All-Star team.  Some say he’s a hot dog.  A hot diggety dog.  Throughout his rookie season, Milledge was criticized for being too cocky.  I say Lastings Milledge wasn’t giving high fives with fans after his first big league homerun. I say, he was healing lepers and cripples.  I say Lastings Milledge will be a superstar in this league.

Public Spectacle:

Peace out homies.  Six Two and Even!

And off we go, let the trumpets blow.  Well hold on, because the driver of the mission is a pro.  The Ruler’s back.  -Slick Rick

Public Service Announcement:  OK, here we go!  The King is dead, long live the King.  Like Mark Twain, the reports of his death have been greatly exaggerated.  LeBron James.  King James.  Don’t call it a comeback.  He’s been here for years.  Rockin’ his peers, and puttin’ suckas in fear.       Read More »

I’m goin back to Indiana, back to wear I started from.  Goin’ back to Indiana, Indiana here I come!  -Jackson Five

Public Service Announcement:  OK, here we go!  Just a short one today.  I got stuff to do today.  Important stuff to do today.  To do do do today.  Is there a cooler award?  The aura.  The mystique.  The humanity.  Like my main man Coach Norman Dale always says: ”Welcome to Indiana basketball.”  Mr. Basketball.  Indiana Mr. Basketball.  Since 1939, the Indianapolis Star has picked one.  Since 1939, the Indianapolis star has made it fun.  More fun than a Gil Hodges homerun.  Indiana’s number one.  Today, I give you my all time Indiana Mr. Basketball team.  Five players on the floor functioning as one single unit: team, team, team, no one more important than the other.       Read More »

Down.  The paint is peelin’.  Now.  When the chips are down.  Down.  You gotta lose all feelin’.  Now.  When the chips are down.  Down.  Your head goes round-n-round.  Round.  When the chips are down.  -Terror Squad.

Public Service Announcement:  Ok here we go!  What’s crack-a-lacking sports fans?  Baseball.  Oh doctor!  Like my main man Roy Hobbs always says:  ”God, I love baseball.”  Me too Roy, me too.  I love my Red Sox, and I love Big Papi.  The most feared hitter in all of baseball.  Fantasy, schmantasy.  You can have your Fat Albert Winnie the Pujols.  You can have your Alfonso Fonzie Soriano.  Sit on it.  You can have your A-Broad.  Just ask Jeff Francoeur.  You can have your Vlad the Impaler.  You can have your David Visine Wright.  I’ll take the big fella.  I’ll take David Ortiz.  I’ll take Big Papi.  I’ll take him any day of the week.  I’ll take him cause he hits like a freak.  I’ll take him from here to Martinique.  Putting fear into the hearts of men.  Over and over again.  Putting balls into orbit like his name was John Glenn.  A man so strong, Superman owns a pair of Big Papi pajamas.  A man so tough, when the Boogeyman goes to sleep at night, he checks his closet for Big Papi.           Read More »