Tiger Pumped For Comeback, On Steroids?

February 26, 2009

 

Does This Man Have More In Common With Jack Nicklaus or A- Rod?

Does Tiger Have More In Common With Jack Nicklaus or A-Rod?

In the past three years or so Tiger has gone from a muscular young man in great shape to one of those guys with a strange load of 30 or 40 pounds of extra muscle in his upper body.  Certainly he’s been in the gym a lot, that much is obvious….but has he also been chipping?   Chipping of course has two meanings.  First, to bump and run a golf ball onto the green with a mid-iron, and second, to have steroids injected in small amounts into your body so you can add loads of angry muscle mass and play your sport at a much higher level than mere mortals with ordinary physical bodies.

Some Of Tiger's Chipping May Be Taking Place In The Doctor's Office

All you have to do is look at recent photos of Tiger Woods and you can see why the tour is considering implementing a new steroid policy with testing. Of course Tiger is one of those people who will do anything to win…it’s just a question, raised more and more by his look, his temperament, the strange bulkiness…is he really doing anything to win…including steroids?

Golf has been around even longer than baseball.  Some peole say it started back in the 1500s when Scottish sailors parked their ships and walked across grassy, sandy land that linked the sea to the town.  That’s how the land came to be called links-land and golf courses, eventually called, just links.

To keep themselves busy and amused, the sailors invented a game while hiking this links-land into town, they picked up sticks and as they walked along, tried to see how few hits with the sticks it would take them to get a given rock into a given hole in the ground.

For five or six hundred years now men, women, boys and girls have been using their God-given bodies and minds to enjoy and excel at this beautifully simple yet amazingly complex game. Hopefully, that ancient and royal sportsmanship and all the honor and tradition that goes with it, won’t wind up on display in front of some half-assed politicians wanting to know if Tiger knew what he was doing when he started using steroids to gain an unfair advantage over his opponents.

 


Keith Olbermann Rears His Ugly Head

February 25, 2009

Olbermann Introduces Jindal By Saying "Oh God" And Laughing Out Loud. The NFL Better Not Let Him Go Cover Any Saints Games This Season.

The ugly head of Keith Olbermann rose up and puked disgustingly negative energy and sarcasm all over the five or six people who by some strange chance were watching MSNBC last night….probably because their television was somehow screwed up and that was the only channel they could get.

Following President Obama’s first address to Congress on Tuesday night, Olbermann, the most nauseating broadcast jerk on the far left,  was caught muttering “Oh God” on the  air as Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal walked toward the camera to deliver the GOP response.

Olbermann started, “Chris, stand by, Rachel, stand by, we’re getting that cue from Baton Rouge where Governor Jindal of Louisiana is set to deliver the Republican response to President Obama. It is entitled ‘Americans Can Do Anything.’ Here’s Governor Jindal,” Olbermann said.

As the picture showed Jindal walking toward the camera, in a hushed voice Olbermann said, “Oh God” as others were heard laughing in the background.

All I can say is that I hope the culture shifts even more, and lewd, arrogant and obscene jerks like this are ignored more completely on television than they already are, and subsequently they drop off the face of the earth, or at least out of sight. And if anyone from the NFL is listening…guys, this idiot is NOT POPULAR with 99.99% of the people who watch football. The other announcers sitting next to him can’t even stand him, they lean back when he talks as if his attitude actually has a bad smell to it.  Which it probably does.

And you certainly better keep him away from any New Orleans games this season, I hear Governor Jindal is quite popular there with a lot of the fans and players.


A-Rod Is A-Joke

February 21, 2009

 

A-Rod Is A-Joke.

A-Rod Is A-Joke.

When you look at Alex Rodriguez and his absurd right arm, you automatically wonder who is the Mr. Universe contestant dressed up as a New York Yankee?  Also, why does this particular Mr. Universe contestant have such a tiny, strange looking little head compared to his abnormally enlarged looking torso?  He’s a misshapen steroid creation, that’s why.

Now if you are trying out for the Mr. Universe Pageant, you know how to work out so the bigness and definition don’t look completely stupid, and it doesn’t really matter if you take steroids because having large muscles is the whole point of that show, plus it’s been a show, not a sport, based on steroid abuse since it’s inception, so it’s whole history is on that level…it’s part of the production.  If you’re a baseball player though, you’re in another league.

It’s a league that’s been around for a century or more, and which has been touted as the national pass time, it’s a major league sport where records have been meticulously kept and preserved for years, and where ninety percent of those records are a measure of the heart, soul, guts and determination of the record setters, and not a measurement of their biceps.

So now along come these poppers and either because they want to look really great when they bend some unsuspecting hotel clerk over a chair, or for whatever other stupidly selfish reason, they have practically destroyed the game and who really wants to watch it anymore, not knowing if the particular gorillas on the field with their overly enlarged bodies, odd looking heads, sweaty faces and bulging foreheads…not to mention shrinking dicks..are for real or not….and you might as well just assume that they are not.

The NFL is a class act and that kind of crap doesn’t fly there anymore….but baseball…who’s running that show anyway?


Mr. October Not Making Excuses

February 21, 2009

Just remembering a few pre-disaster parts of the American culture here, the disaster achieved epic proportions in our culture, not sure exactly when, a few years back it really started to cave when the whole sentiment became, just do whatever the **** you please…grace, dignity and honor are for fools…it may have coincided with the emergence of the skateboard as a national disgrace…or maybe when Big Mac started putting a spike in his vein and hitting way too many balls out of the park.

Mr. October

Mr. October

In any event, there was a time, not that long ago when kids rode bikes and had brains, and the home runs were in some parts, being provided by a certain Mr. October.  Now you look at Reggie Jackson and you can tell right away, mostly from the fact that he looks normally, not abnormally strong, but also from the fact that he has a certain intelligence about him, that this particular gunslinger was old school. He hit home runs the old fashioned way.  He earned them. No Juice.

His formula was simple, he combined tremendous physical gifts with an attitude destined for greatness…and sure enough, when the stage was the biggest, when the game was on the line, when it was nighttime at Yankee stadium, when the world series was being played, when it was October and everything mattered most…when the pressure was such that the ungreat would fold, that was when Reggie provided his calmest, best approach to the game…and subsequently hit the most home runs…in the month of October.

Including one world series game in New York when he only swung the bat three times in the whole game and the result of each swing was a home run….a record that will never be equalled.  And contrary to popular opinion at the time, humility was also a huge part of Reggie’s game….here’s what he himself said about that feat on an October night in New York, “There’s the ballplayer in me who responds to all that pressure. I’m not sure I hit three home runs, but the ballplayer in me did.”


Reggie White And Vince Lombardi

February 21, 2009

 

 

Why Did They Call It The Lombardi Trophy?

Why Do They Call It The Lombardi Trophy?

 

 

Vince Lomardi was a person who wound up with quite a few Claims To Fame. Most people don’t do a whole lot consistent with achieving even one Claim To Fame.  Others are able to get a glimpse of a Claim To Fame with tremendous effort, determination and strenght of will. But it’s a rare few indeed that wind up through the force of their astonishingly stellar efforts, with a whole bunch of Claims To Fame.

Everyone knows, of course, that Lombardi brought 5 titles to Green Bay including the victories in the fisrt two superbowls and that was how Green Bay wound up being America’s Team and got the nickname Titletown USA.  For any person, having that much success in the exceedingly demanding NFL, is definetly a Claim To Fame….but with Lombardi of course it doesn’t stop there.

The list of accomplishments are a mile long and documented well beyond any description I could provide you here, and if you’re really interested in all that the guy did, you can check a few things out.

But why is his name on the Super Bowl trophy?  Just a week after his death, the NFL’s Super Bowl trophy was renamed the Vince Lombardi Trophy in his honor, first awarded after Super Bowl V. Lombardi was enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame at its next induction ceremony in 1971.  So why did they put his name on it, apart from the fact that they did it to honor his stellar career?  In my humble opinion they put his name on it to honor his attitude.  Which, put simply, was that pretty much anyone can do one hell of a lot more than they think they can if they start believing in themselves.

He demonstrated this principal by taking a bunch of not-that-huge, not-that-talented and not-that-gifted physically football players and turned them into a team of world beaters no one will ever forget…how? By getting them to believe in themselves at a much higher level than they had before they met The Coach.  That’s another Claim To Fame of his right there by the way….in certain circles….especially inside the arctic one surrounding Wisconsin, and again also in the inner halls of the inner game of football, where only those who have played convene, everyone knows if you simply say the words, The Coach…it means Vince Lombardi.

So yeah, his name is on that trophy.  And that’s why it’s there.  He took people and showed them how to drive themselves to heights they’d never dreamt of…Reggie White got a hold of that power….and that’s why he’s got that trophy, with The Coach’s name on it, held so proudly and so high.


Float Like A Butterfly Sting Like A Bee

February 21, 2009

 

Float Like A Butterfly.

Float Like A Butterfly.

 

Sting Like A Bee.

Sting Like A Bee.

Muhammad Ali had a secret, but it wasn’t really a secret because he blasted off and blabbed about it to anyone and everyone who would listen…fans, crowds, media, Cosell, it was a part of Ali that never ended…the constant unveiling of his secrets as a form of communicating to people, who did not take the information as secret information to be treasured and learned from, but rather they thought it was funny, part of the entertainment, Ali The Showman they called him.

What Ali told us was a two part secret. The whole thing was about playing with gravity, which Ali and virtually all other gifted athletes have the innate ability to do.  In fact, the ability to play with, or manipulate gravity is virtually synonymous with the words athletically gifted.  Believe me, if you’re going to stand there, for example in golf and in the wink of an eye and the space of a phone booth take a long metal shaft with a knob on the end and propel a hard white object 350 down the middle, and then do that repeatedly and with enormous accuracy with a whole bunch of other-sized sticks and knobs, well you know how to play with gravity…and indeed you would also be a gifted athlete…like Jack Nicklaus, let’s say, a guy so good at manipulating gravity, and so well known for it, all you have to do to find information about him is Google something like Jack’s Record Book…and it comes up.

So the two part secret he was telling us, about his ability to play with gravity, goes kind of like this;  He could levitate, to some small degree, and that was the Float Like A Butterfly part.  Now back when Ali was saying that all the time, Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee…most people thought the Float Like A Butterfly part, if they thought about any of it at all, meant his ability to stay away from an opponent.

It really meant his ability to levitate, which in and of itself would be meaningless, but the whole secret to Ali was that a brief levitation was followed by a straight right hand with incredibly devastating power. Real power in athletics, like Reggie White’s ability to hit home runs….comes not from static energy but from a transference of energy.  This is the playing with gravity part.  Again, in golf, watch the pro swing closely.  All the pros are physically gifted enough to take advantage of a moment of truth, when gravity is briefly suspended, and a blow with double or triple ordinary force can be obtained off the energy transference. 

In other words, if you look closely, all pros make their forward swing just a split second before their back swing is finished. In other words they time it so their shoulders, arms, hands and club are still moving a tad bit back while they’ve already started their hips turning forward. This is what the word torque means, and it’s the place where all gifted athletes get their magical power.

Ali told us that is one quick sentence, “Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee.”  It’s just that no one was really paying that much attention.


GoodBye To Best QB Of All Time

February 21, 2009

 

The Gunslinger Leaves Town For Good.  Adios Man.  Thanks For Blowing Away All Us All Away So Many Times!

The Gunslinger Leaves The NFL For Good. Adios Man. Thanks For Blowing Us All Away So Many Times!

There’s no place to begin with my Favre Farewell, other than at the beginning. I was a Packer fan back when it all started. Growing up in Wisconsin my dad put a helmet on me when I was 3, and started showing me how to explode off the ball.

So when 1992 rolled around, that was something like forty years into my history of awareness with the Pack. I had seen Lombardi on the sidelines in his long tan overcoat and horn-rimmed glasses, I had seen him standing there in person, in Milwaukee back when they still played there….and remember Paul Hornung wowing the crowd with his pre game field goal warm-ups which sailed 50 plus yards through the uprights.

Hornung was the golden boy and those were the golden years when World Champion seemed to be part of the Packer name, as you almost never heard them referred to as anything but The World Championion Green Bay Packers.  But from the old dark frozen tundra Glory Years mess of muck, snow, bitter winds, overcast skies, from that point us Packer fans took a pretty severe beating….up until 1992.

Lombardi left the Ice Bowl frozen in our memories, and then a long succession of successors failed to succeed. If the Ice Bowl was the high point to that point, of having been a Packer Fan, the low point was when the fans in Green Bay drove over to head coach Dan Devine’s house in the 70s, and shot his dog, or maybe the low point was when Bart Starr took over the helm and got every one’s hopes up, and then that failed as well…with Lynn Dickey at QB.

But we somehow got to 1992, after thirty odd years of having hopes raised and trashed, with the glorious last four seconds of the Ice Bowl still frozen in our memories, along with the sunny victories at the very first two Super Bowls.  That’s what we’d been living on for so long.

Suddenly, in ’92 though, there was this Holmgren guy, a big burly bearof a non stop motivational persona who had been instrumental in the success of Joe Montana, Steve Young, Jerry Rice and so on, as the offensive co-ordinator in San Fran. He’d picked up a very young QB from the Falcons, a guy with a weird last name, a strange propensity for ‘happy feet’ you know where you stutter step indecisively in the pocket, and before I grew to love Brett I hated him, because at first, aside from the happy feet, he had a tremendous talent for cocking his arm to throw and dropping the ball behind him, getting tackled in his own end zone, or both.

But Holmgren embraced the boy’s wild enthusiasm for the game and became exactly the guru from the intellectual side of quarterbacking that he needed.  Soon, the chemistry of raw talent, wild enthusiasm, an arm that could dislocate the thumbs and fingers of wide receivers with passes that spiralled with smoke, all combined with the best QB mind of all time and exploded again and again into more and more touchdown celebrations.  Which gave way to the Lambeau Leap and then suddenly, a season in ’96 when more great stuff came together on one football team than has ever been assembled or will be assembled again.

Reggie White threw offensive linemen around like rag dolls, Desmond Howard ran punts and kickoffs back like their was no one else on the field with him, The Gravedigger dug a hole in the middle that offenses couldn’t climb out of, Don Bebe ran like the fastest white human that ever lived, Leroy Butler a free safety with deformed legs started blitzing like a man possessed, and of course there was Brett…no more happy feet now, but instead the gunslinging MVP that completed passes from everywhere to everyone…overhanded, side-armed, underhanded…to Sharp, to Bebe, to Chmura, to Brooks…he threw giant long bombs that arced in glorious perfection to land in the hands of fully striding WRs who simply extended arms and sailed into the end zone…short dump off passes, bullets that had to be dug out of the turf, screens, deep posts, corners, square ins….in some odd twist Favre, Holmgren and the team from the frozen tundra had heated up the West Coast offense to defense-incinerating temperatures.

The Super Bowl that year, number 31, was just one more glorious explosion of all that talent, enthusiasm and camaraderie, and the Packers under Holgrem with Favre and all those other guys too numerous to mention…..just kept celebrating touchdowns until, at the end, the sparkling shower from the confetti canons seemed more exciting and appropriate than it ever had been or would be again….carrying as it did a 30 year long held Big Bang of hopes and dreams for Packer Fans everywhere, all summed up in the wild burst of unbridled energy that always overtook Favre when the Packers scored.

Of course the career went on from the incredible number of uninterrupted starts and touchdown passes, records no one will ever touch, to the night he threw six TDs under the bright, hazy smokey lights on Monday Night while still reeling and in shock, and half the time with tears in his eyes, only a day or two after his dad died, the man who gave him his love for the game.

So that’s it for now.  Adios, man.  And thanks….is almost all I can say right now…except for this;

It might not be over yet, at least not in my imagination, because there, in that special football place on a beautiful sunny fall day, on the opening game of the season, you wind up back on the field in Green Bay, not wearing number 4, but dressed however you would as head coach. You won’t be exactly like any head coach anyone has ever seen before, you’ll be unshaven probably, maybe even wearing blue jeans if that doesn’t piss too many front office people off, but then again, if it does, so what, you’re the coach, right? The play calling might be a bit wilder than normal, but one thing the team, fans and everyone around you will have, is enthusiasm…because you bring that in a contagious way everywhere you go.

And then, the thing that will really set you apart as a head coach, will be what happens when the Pack scores…and you rip your headset off and run out onto the field signalling touchdown, like some wild out of control ref, with both hands raised straight up. Touchdown, Man!  Green Bay!  Yeah!