New No. 2 NBA fave team: whoever's playing Miami

    It's been nearly a week since "The Decision" broadcast on TSPN - The Stalking Programming Network - and we know this:
    A) Fans tend to be dingbats.
    People celebrating in the streets of Miami like coke was just legalized? Or - OK , that was a cheap shot - like models became approachable and remotely intelligent? Or - OK, that was a deserved shot - something actually happened? And people in Northeast Ohio crying?
    B) LeBron isn't quite who we thought he was. Turns out he's pretty much like every other stereotypical pro athlete. Now, he's very easy to root against, and now, it's easy to pull for failure for Miami rather than just a lack of success, and there's a difference.
    C) ESPN remains embarrassing and often laughable.   
    LeBron and Co. were the program directors for an hour. Who did what interview when, sponsorship, location. And an hour of Stuart Scott. Ouch.
   What a bunch of sellouts.

Let's get this thing over with

Dear Bron, D Dub, Bosh,
    PICK A FRIGGIN TEAM. JUST PICK ONE. ENOUGH WITH THE ASSKISSING MEETINGS, AND PICK ONE.
    Ahem. OK.
    But oh my God. What more do they need to feed the ego?
    A) You're rich, and going to get richer;
    B) Grown men are lying about the plans that'll be in effect for their team as soon as you sign.
    C) You're rich, and going to get richer.
    D) There will be women available wherever, as they are now.
    E) There will be plenty of groupies, male and female, coddling you and loving you.
    F) You're wanted, OK, really wanted. You want a hug.

Sometimes, being No. 1 sucks

    The dingbats have been stirred.
    Forbes Magazine - caters to people with money and other non-Republicans - has its "most hated man in sports" survey out, and Mike Vick is on top again.
    It fits. We've seen him tell Atlanta fans he's No. 1 before.

Talk about Reggie Bush, need a shower

    Reggie Bush feels a sense of loss. Like a death.
    The NCAA's hammer on his old school is "the closest thing to death without dying," he told reporters in Louisiana.
    Yes, Reggie feels the Trojans' pain. That’s nice, coming from a (alleged) cheater and (alleged) liar and part of a cheating, lying family (allegedly). Here's hoping the Saints let him go so they can cleanse themselves a little bit, of the stench and of a fat contract.
    And if his parents have jobs, here's hoping they get fired. Can an employer trust them? Make sure to pat them down on the way out the door.

Hook 'em Horns, Boomer Sooner, and gig 'em Aggies

    Your's truly has written twice about the stupidity of the expansion, and only Sunday hoped Texas would man up.
    The Horns did.
    So here's a link to the first "expansion is bad"   column and to the second "really, expansion is very bad" column.
    Add Texas, Oklahoma and A&M to the teams you can root for, since their administrations proved to not be completel greedy - at least in this situation - dirtbags.

A debut that actually almost lived up to the hype

    I was hoping the Pirates could come through.
    I was hoping Steven Strasburg's fastball would be a little flat.
    I was hoping that after the typical frothing at the mouth about something, our national media folks - hellloooo, ESPN - would be bopped in the head a little bit.
    And then little Stevie goes out and strikes out 14 for Washington in front of - and these next few words aren't uttered much in the Capital - a capacity crowd in D.C.
    Now, we get more frothing, clearing out Cy Young's locker in Cooperstown and printing Washington playoff T-shirts can caps and how in about 12 months, the number of male babies named Steven will have increased exponentially in the Washington area.
    Ug.

Perfection rules

    It's been a quality week.
    Certainly many others were gratified to know that we live among examples of perfection as well as compassion when umpire Jim Joyce blew the call and perfect game Wednesday night.
    It's was as if all the gutless yet perfect posters at the bottom of stories online had a meeting.
    People, the guy made a mistake, in public, recorded for history. And he admitted it. Didn't make it on purpose, didn't hide, didn't take a day off. Came back the next day behind the friggin' plate where his work would be judged on almost every pitch.
    What's your level of perfection under such - ehhh, yeah, all of our screwups tend to come away from that spotlight, nowhere near a collection of drunken fools who throw stuff on the field and whine about everything.
    Get a grip.