Monthly Archives: July 2019
Goodbye July (until next time)
I’ve slept only 9 1/2 hours the previous two nights, yet I feel nowhere near as groggy as I have the previous few nights in Russell. Is it the CPAP mask? Or has it been a better bed in the hotels in Salina and Kansas City? I hope it keeps up the rest of the trip and when I get back to Russell Sunday.
Last night in front of the Hy-Vee on 64th Street near Interstate 29, I saw a woman holding a sign saying she is sleeping in her car. I often wonder if they’re telling the truth or not. If they are telling the truth, I wish I had more money to help them. If they are lying, then I have nothing but scorn.
It rained hard this morning. I had to get out due to an 0900 appointment. The sun is back out now, but more rain is heading to Kansas City. Not that I mind. As long as it’s dry Sunday for the ride west.
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Peggy is in New York City with family (not her children). Her birthday was Monday, and last night, she posted pictures of herself all over social media attending a performance of Hamilton. That’s out of character for her, but I’m glad she’s enjoying herself. She deserves it.
I have no desire to visit New York City. I’m not into Broadway plays, and I am certainly not into places where people are packed in like sardines. The farthest east I’ve been is the Baltimore-Washington airport, and I’m not keen on visiting either city. There is so much history in Washington, but between the crowds and security, I don’t see where it’s worth it. I would love to live in Maine, but southern New England, NYC and New Jersey? Heck no. Philadelphia? Maybe to see Independence Hall, but that’s it.
I have been to Pittsburgh. PNC Park, where the Pirates have played since 2001, is gorgeous. I didn’t go inside Heinz Field, but it’s nice from the outside. I would like to see the Pocono Raceway in northeast Pennsylvania. I’m not a big NASCAR fan, but the track’s triangular shape makes it one of the three most fascinating in stock car racing. The others are the road courses, Sonoma in California and Watkins Glen in upstate New York. Most of the others, not counting the restrictor plate tracks (Daytona and Talladega), don’t have much to differentiate themselves.
Dallas and Houston were more than big enough for me, thank you. At least in the Texas cities, Los Angeles and Chicago, you can drive places. New York doesn’t allow for it, at least in all of Manhattan and The Bronx, and most of Brooklyn and Queens. Staten Island would be the only borough I could stomach. I don’t think I’d make it on the Subway. Besides, it’s dangerous.
I used to get very jealous of Peggy and her family going on vacations, and others posting pictures from their vacations. But I finally asked myself why, because many of the activities are not things I enjoy.
Going to the beach is very, very, very low on my bucket list, if it even makes the bucket list. I can think of thousands of places I would rather be than a beach in the hot sun. I burn easily in the sun, I don’t swim, and I can’t build a sand castle or anything else to save my life. My family took a trip in 1984 to the Mississippi Gulf Coast, but I hardly remember anything about it because there was nothing to remember.
When people post pictures of trips to Walt Disney World, especially in the spring, summer and early fall, I scratch my head. Way too hot and humid. I lived in a sauna for 29 years. I now live in an oven, which is slightly more tolerable. If I HAD to go to a Disney park, it would be the one in Anaheim. I would take the risk of dying in an earthquake.
The day I want to stand in line for two to three hours for a ride or exhibit is the day I need to exit this planet. To do so with screaming children? Those who do so are either brave or foolish. I won’t say which. My brother and sister-in-law took their honeymoon to Orlando at Thanksgiving 2013 without my then 13-year old niece. They were smart. I hope they do not go back with her and my now 3 1/2-year old nephew.
Besides, I hated my trip to Orlando in 1985. Hated it. Bad hotels, a terrible meal in a truck stop in the Florida panhandle, a blown tire on Interstate 75 in Gainesville, plus all the lines, not to mention we’d be back in school the day after getting home. I advise STRONGLY against vacations during the school year unless it’s during the Christmas/New Year’s period.
Going to the lake? I live close to Wilson Lake, and I’ve been once because I was forced to cover a fishing tournament. I loathed it. Again, not interested in lying out in the sun. Also, if I never went to a lake in Louisiana, why would that change?
Peggy’s family goes skiing a lot. I wish I grew up in a colder climate, but it wasn’t to be. I’m too clumsy to ski.
Besides, those things are not meant for a single person with absolutely zero prospects of changing that. I would not want to go on a tour with a bunch of strangers. It would be very hard in many ways; having to follow the group would be worse to me than not knowing anyone.
Like Neil Diamond crooned, I’m a Solitary Man.
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Nick Buoniconti, the great middle linebacker on the Dolphins’ Super Bowl championship teams in 1972 and ’73, passed away this morning at 78. He played for seven seasons with the Boston Patriots, who released him after the 1969 season. Don Shula, hired by Miami in February 1970, immediately signed him. Buoniconti became the heart of the “No-Name Defense” which also included standouts like Manny Fernandez, Bill Stanfill, Jake Scott and Dick Anderson.
Buniconti retired after the 1976 season, the year before the Dolphins drafted Bob Baumhower and A.J. Duhe, who became the leaders of the “Killer B’s” who led the Dolphins to Super Bowl XVII, where they lost to John Riggins and the Redskins.
Buoniconti has a connection to Kansas City, both on and off the field.
On the field, Buoniconti had one of his greatest games in the famous double overtime playoff game on Christmas Day 1971, making 20 tackles.
Three weeks later, Buoniconti had a game to forget in Super Bowl VI. The Cowboys confused Buoniconti to no end with misdirection, rushing for 252 yards, a Super Bowl record which still stands. Buoniconti was popped time after time by Dallas guards John Niland and Blaine Nye, and center Dave Manders. The Miami star suffered a concussion and was in a fog in the locker room, one of the many disappointments for the Dolphins that day. The good news was they didn’t lose a game which counted for 20 months thereafter.
Duane Thomas, who rushed for 95 yards and a touchdown in the Cowboys’ 24-3 rout, was originally voted the game’s Most Valuable Player. However, the NFL caught wind of this and demanded the writers vote again. This time, Roger Staubach won. The league did not want the award going to the surly Thomas, who ignored reporters the entire season and clashed incessantly with Tom Landry and Tex Schramm.
Buoniconti redeemed himself the next two Super Bowls.
In Super Bowl VII, his interception on an underthrown Billy Kilmer pass led to the Dolphins’ second touchdown, and it was enough to defeat the Redskins 14-7 and complete Miami’s 17-0 season. Scott was the game’s MVP and Fernandez made 17 tackles.
Buoniconti’s jarring hit on Viking runner Oscar Reed in Super Bowl VIII on fourth and one from the Miami 6-yard line forced a fumble which Scott recovered. Minnesota, trailing 17-0 late in the first half when the play occurred, had very little hope of winning at that point. After Reed’s fumble, all hope evaporated. Miami won 24-7 in maybe the most lopsided Super Bowl, at least as matchups go, since the game began in January 1967.
Buoniconti was not elected to the Hall of Fame by the Professional Football Writers Association, earning enshrinement in 2001 thanks to the seniors committee. He waited 19 years (he was first eligible in 1982) after his playing career ended to get in. Too long, but nowhere near as bad as the 44 endured by legendary Packers guard Jerry Kramer. That Kramer wasn’t inducted in the 1970s is a travesty. Only two of Lombardi’s Packers were elected on the first ballot: Forrest Gregg and Bart Starr, both in 1977,
Following his retirement, Buoniconti and ex-Chiefs quarterback Len Dawson were selected by the five-year old Home Box Office network to host a new weekly NFL highlights show.
Inside the NFL became appointment television for football fans for the next 25 seasons largely due to the banter between Len and Nick, and later Cris Collinsworth. My parents recorded the show when we couldn’t watch it live; from 1982-86, that was a Betamax machine which cost $800 at Christmas 1986. I wish we still had it.
HBO inexplicably fired Len and Nick in early 2002. We watched for a little while longer with Cris and Dan Marino leading thee way, but quit soon thereafter. My parents and I ignore it now. I can’t stand Warren Sapp in particular.
In addition to his playing and broadcasting careers, Buoniconti was an advocate developing a cure for paralysis, a cause which he unfortunately had too much experience with.
Nick’s son, Marc, played football for The Citadel until he was rendered a quadriplegic while making a tackle vs. East Tennessee State in October 1985. For the past 33 years, Nick raised tens of millions dollars for the Mark Buoniconti Project, which funds research for a cure for paralysis.
Nick struggled with dementia in the last years of his life, and it’s likely he had CTE, which has afflicted thousands of football players at all levels. Buoniconti is donating his brain to the CTE project for research.
Sadly, the Dolphins have lost two of their greats from the championship teams in 2019. Guard Bob Kuechenberg, who also started in Super Bowl XVII, passed away in January.
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I’m playing Michael McDonald and the Doobie Brothers at Buffalo Wild Wings. The infamous Michael McDonald look-alike, Bill, who smokes like a chimney and chugs beer like a frat boy, is here. Ugh.
Another novella completed.
No love for the Hawkeyes. Sorry (not) sorry.
I haven’t posted for eight days. Sorry. Last week was pretty bad–well, one night was pretty bad.
It was Thursday. My favorite trivia game comes on at 1930 on Wednesday and Thursday evenings. Wednesday was typical for Golden Q, as I was the only person playing trivia.
Thursday came hell for me. Some know it all from the Quad Cities (Davenport to be exact) who loves traveling across the country and playing at different locations happened to be in Hays.
This person had my blood pressure through the roof. I felt like I was going to have a stroke.
I lost the game in the last round after leading most of the way. I lost it. I was so angry at myself. I also asked the person why he had to come into Hays to piss me off.
It was horrible. I don’t know why I was triggered but I was. Severely triggered. I exploded so bad I was asked to leave, and they should have asked me to leave. Cassie came out and tried to calm me down; she asked if I had a ride, then wondered if I were emotionally stable enough to drive back to Russell. Fortunately I was.
I went back there Friday and Sunday. I kept to myself. Cassie wasn’t there.
I don’t like pressure. Had it been Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Friday or Saturday, I would have sped back to Russell as soon as I saw the person. If I could have found another place in Hays to play, I would have. Sadly, there is no other place to play in Hays unless you’re a student or employee at Fort Hays State, where you can play in the student union. Also, the Buzztime trivia app does not support SIX, so you have to physically be somewhere with a tablet or blue box to play.
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The invading trivia force wore an Iowa Hawkeyes hat. He reminded me of how much there is to hate about the school in Iowa City.
The Hawkeyes’ football coach since 1999, Kirk Ferentz, is a huge douchebag. Hateful of the media, always scowling, always answering in coach-speak, always changing the subject. Ferentz makes Nick Saban look downright warm and fuzzy. Ironic, since Ferentz and Saban were assistants under Bill Belichick with the Cleveland Browns.
Saban is known as a world-class screamer and is not afraid to mix it up with the press, but he also knows the publicity is good for the Crimson Tide, his players and the University of Alabama as a whole, so he willingly rolls out the welcome mat to ESPN.
Dabo Swinney? Never met a camera he didn’t like. Clemson is in the spotlight so much some are probably sick of seeing his face. But Dabo knows the media can make Clemson a destination school despite its somewhat remote location.
The next time you see ESPN, the Big Ten Network or another national outlet do in-depth features from Iowa City, it will be the first time since Ferentz succeeded Hayden Fry. Urban Meyer may have been totally clueless about assistant coaches beating their wives and his players doing who knows what, but he too knew the media could be a program’s ally, and Ohio State was the favorite stop of the BTN during his years in Columbus.
Ferentz gives Bill Snyder a run for his money as the least media-friendly coach of the last 30 years. Another irony, since Snyder was Hayden Fry’s offensive coordinator from 1982-88 before undertaking the Herculean rebuilding project in the Little Apple.
Iowa’s administration must think he walks on water. Ferentz’ buyout is ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous, actually. It makes it impossible for him to be fired short of a player or staff member being charged with rape or murder. If he had the track record of Saban, Meyer, Swinney or Steve Spurrier, then fine. But outside of 2015, when Iowa plowed through a weak regular season schedule and came within a couple of minutes of reaching the playoff, the Hawkeyes have been nothing special.
Even worse than the monetary amount of Ferentz’ buyout is the clause in the contract which names his son, Brian, as his designated successor. Bill Snyder, why didn’t you think of that? You hung Sean out to dry by not demanding it in your contract. Now Chris Klieman has your baby.
(I was being VERY sarcastic about the Snyders. K-State made the absolute right decision not giving Sean his father’s old job. Now will Iowa do the same, or will it knuckle under to their douchebag coach?)
The Hawkeyes also deserve scorn for blocking Iowa State from potential Big Ten membership. It would make a lot of sense for the Cyclones to leave the Big 12, now with Nebraska in the Big Ten and Missouri in the SEC, but that won’t happen, because Iowa will never let it happen. The other 13 schools in the Big Ten could say yes, but Iowa would go to court to block it.
Frankly, Iowa’s academic reputation is dwarfed by every other school in the Big Ten except Nebraska. Iowa’s academics are third in the state behind Iowa State and Drake. Other than wrestling, what does Iowa offer to the Big Ten? At least Northwestern is an elite academic institution. Then again, the Big Ten added Maryland and Rutgers…
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LSU and Iowa have only played twice in football. Each school has one once. Both games were bowls in Florida.
Iowa defeated LSU 30-25 in the Citrus Bowl on New Year’s Day 2005 on a 56-yard touchdown pass on the game’s final play from Drew Tate to Brian Holloway. The Bayou Bengals would have easily won had it not been for Saban announcing his departure for the Miami Dolphins one week prior to the game. The players wouldn’t say it was a distraction, but how could it NOT be? The man who led you to a national championship only one year earlier, the man who recruited you to play for LSU, was leaving. Too bad for LSU and the rest of college football outside of Tuscaloosa, Saban didn’t last too long in the NFL.
Nine years later, the Bayou Bengals bested the Hawkeyes 20-13 in a completely forgettable Outback Bowl. I slept through most of it. Of course, Les Miles still had a grudge against Iowa from all those years as a player and assistant coach at Michigan, so that felt good.
There is a much more memorable skirmish between the LSU and Iowa programs. It did not take place on the field, and it was 46 years before they met in Orlando. More on that in a later post.
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Middle of an unforced trivia timeout. Old Chicago’s servers are down. Oh well. I’ll get back to my hotel room in Salina and play deep into the night, thanks to the close proximity of Buffalo Wild Wings.
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Happy birthday Peggy! You look fabulous. Don’t ask me her age. I will not tell.
(Slight) Sunday cooldown
The heat wave which gripped Kansas from Wednesday through Saturday has abated, thank God.
The high temperatures the previous four days soared to 40 degrees Celsius (104 Fahrenheit), with the heat index hovering between 42 and 44 (105-110) each day as well. It was enough to keep me sheltered in the cool confines of my basement for three full days. I hated having to miss my favorite trivia game at 1930 Thursday evening, but I felt I could skip one playing in this case.
It’s cloudy in Russell and Hays, with the thermometer now hovering between 25-27 Celsius (77-81 F). Tomorrow is going to be nice with temps around 27 Celsius, so it will be a very good day to go to Salina and Wichita to get the car washed and play some trivia at either Buffalo Wild Wings or Old Chicago.
I had to get away to Hays today after lunch at home. Playing ‘semi-blind’ at Starbucks. The only problem you don’t see clues, so you only have a 20% chance of getting the answer right. Then again, if you’re certain of the correct answer, you don’t need clues. Through 21 questions, I’ve only struck out on one.
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I watched exactly ZERO holes of The Open Championship.
Why bother? The tournament sucked. Big time sucked. So much for the hoopla surrounding the first Open Championship in Northern Ireland since 1951.
Rory McIlroy missing the cut in his home country took the air out of it. Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson were gone after Friday as well. The big names who got to play the weekend–Jordan Spieth, Rickie Fowler, Dustin Johnson, Justin Thomas, Sergio Garcia–were way down the board.
Shane Lowry of the Republic of Ireland won.
I cannot stand him.
I’m sure many in Kansas were thrilled to see Lowry win it.
I’m betting because Lowry has a thick, bushy beard, he is the second favorite golfer of many Kansans behind Gary Woodland, the Topeka native who won the U.S. Open last month at Pebble Beach.
I won’t grow a beard. Got it? Don’t ask. I won’t do it. If a woman thinks a beard is necessary for her to be attracted to a man, she needs serious psychiatric evaluation.
I will never, ever comprehend why beards are so “manly”. Those who need facial hair to feel more “manly” are not real men. They are insecure little boys.
That makes you an insecure little boy, Ted Cruz. The U.S. Senator from Texas is now sporting a beard. Although it isn’t as gross and unruly as many beards worn by rednecks in Kansas, it looks terrible nonetheless.
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The sun is out and it’s up to 30 C (86 F) right now. Good thing I put the sunshade up in my Buick.
A lady was in Starbucks FaceTiming with the volume all the way up. Didn’t need to hear that conversation.
I’ll probably change locations after the next game. I’ll have about seven minutes to get to a new place. Besides, I bet the employees at Starbucks are suspicious as to why I’ve been here for almost three hours. Then again, I did buy food and a beverage and I’m not exactly bothering anyone just sitting here. Oh well.
Trivia and tacos
Today’s trivia adventure comes from the Taco Bell at 1730 Vine Street in Hays, Kansas USA.
That’s right. I am a little under 1.6 kilometers (1 mile) from The Golden Q, where I normally play trivia in Hays. If you read my blog post from last Wednesday, you know The Q is undergoing a massive renovation which has closed its kitchen until next Tuesday, and the air conditioning and televisions are not functioning.
Buzztime updated its app last week. The questions now appear on the screen with the answers. The only drawback is clues are not given for Lunchtime and Countdown, meaning it’s all or nothing, unless lightning strikes and you figure it out in the middle of the question. For Late Shift, the game which runs from 2200 to closing, and others like it, the wrong answers wipe out. The app still cannot handle the hour-long games Tuesday through Saturday meaning if I want to play SIX Wednesday and Thursday at 1930, I have to be somewhere, which means Salina this week.
I had to come to Hays today to get my eyeglasses adjusted. Dr. Jones did it herself. I also had to get the correct case, which wasn’t a big deal.
Nickole Byers in Ellis called me while I was driving to Hays. I called her back and she wanted information on tournaments for the upcoming school year in case we wanted to print programs for them. Therefore, I stopped at Taco Bell to work.
I decided I would see how far away Buzztime could pick up the signal from The Q so I could play.
It worked. I’m about ready to leave to go home because I am dead tired. I didn’t get a lick of sleep last night, and it wasn’t because anything was wrong; for some reason, I couldn’t fall asleep even after taking Seroquel. I think I’ll be in bed very early tonight, because I would like to wake up early tomorrow, go to Wichita to get my car cleaned, then come back to Salina for trivia and a haircut with Amber.
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I understand why Wimbledon instituted a tiebreak in the deciding set of matches when the score reaches 12-12. The All-England Lawn Tennis Club does not want marathon matches such as 2010, when John Isner and Nicholas Mahut needed 138 games to decide the fifth set, with Isner prevailing 70-68.
That’s right. ONE HUNDRED THIRTY EIGHT games. It took 11 plus hours over three days to complete.
Back to yesterday, when Novak Djokovic and Roger Federer battled for the gentelmen’s singles championship.
Federer choked away two match points in the fifth set. Lo and behold, it got to 12-12.
Djokovic won seven of the 10 points in the tiebreak and won his fifth Wimbledon title and 16th Grand Slam.
Djokovic also won the first and third sets by tiebreak after it was tied 6-6.
The 12-point tiebreak was introduced to Wimbledon in 1972. From 1972-78, the tiebreak was played in all sets EXCEPT the decisive set (third for ladies, fifth for gentlemen) when the score reached 8-8. It was pared down to 6-6 in 1979 and remained that way through 2018.
Through 1970, all sets had to be played out until one player had a two-game advantage. In 1971, an ill-conceived tiebreak was used; it was a maximum of nine points, period, meaning if it were 4-4, it was a sudden death set point.
I’m not a tennis fan. I haven’t followed the sport much since the heyday of Jimmy Connors, John McEnroe, Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova, and later, Steffi Graf and Boris Becker.
If it were up to me, I would say no way to tiebreaks in all Grand Slam tournaments, at least in the decisive set. And for the championship match, it would be no tiebreaks, period.
This is akin to the four major golf tournaments eliminating the 18-hole playoff when two or more players were tied after 72 holes.
- The U.S. Open was the last to eliminate the fifth round, going to a two-hole playoff starting in 2017; the last 18-hole playoff was at Torrey Pines in 2008, when Eldrick Woods defeated Roccco Mediate in 19 holes.
- The last 18-hole playoff at The Masters was 1970 when Billy Casper defeated Gene Littler; Augusta National adopted sudden death in 1976, and it was first used in 1979. The Masters uses sudden death for one reason and one reason only: to make sure 60 Minutes is not delayed too long on CBS should the tournament run past 1900 ET (1800 CT). It’s the same reason why NFL games which kick off at 1505 or 1525 CT on CBS have fewer commercials than the 1200 CT kickoffs on CBS or all games on Fox and NBC.
- The Open Championship last held an 18-hole playoff in 1975, when Tom Watson bested Jack Nicklaus at Carnoustie. The 18-hole playoff remained the tiebreak format for the Royal & Ancient through 1985; in 1986, it changed to a three-hole playoff, and later, four holes.
- The PGA Championship eliminated the 18-hole playoff in the 1970s, first using sudden death, then changing to a three-hole playoff in the late 1990s.
Winning a major tournament in tennis and golf is supposed to be among the most difficult tasks in sports. Not to to detract from Djokovic’s thrilling victory on Centre Court, but if there weren’t tiebreaks, would the Serb win? Who knows?
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That said, I am on the other side of the fence as far as overtime in gridiron football and hockey.
There should be no overtime, period, in the regular season in those sports. If a team cannot get the job done in 60 minutes, it doesn’t deserve another chance. Better to have ties factor into a record than some convoluted tiebreaker based upon net points in conference games (NFL) or “regulation and overtime wins” (NHL).
Football and hockey are physically draining sports. Bruises, sprains and other injuries are a way of life. Why expose the players to more risk when it’s not necessary?
College and high school football should do away with their stupid version of overtime, which was foisted upon us in 1971 by Brice Durbin, then the Executive Director of the Kansas State High School Activities Association, and later Executive Director of the National Federation of State High School Associations.
The “Kansas playoff” is ridiculous. Starting from the 10-yard line slants the playing field so heavily in favor of the offense. Any team which can’t make three yards per play for four plays doesn’t deserve to win. Not allowing the defense to score on an interception or fumble is just as asinine. Why should the team which turned the ball over deserve a chance to stop the team forcing the turnover? If the defender runs 95 yards the other way, then that team deserves to win.
The NCAA version of overtime, also adopted by Missouri, Texas and other states, is little better. The 25 is still too close.
In 1972, my future high school, Brother Martin, played Monroe Neville to a scoreless tie in a state semifinal in New Orleans. At that time, the team which advanced was determined by first downs, and if that was tied, penetrations inside the opponents’ 20-yard line.
That didn’t work for the Crusaders and Tigers, who each had nine first downs and one penetration. Louisiana High School Athletic Association director Frank Spruiell suggested the Kansas overtime to break the tie.
The coaches, Martin’s Bobby Conlin and Neville’s Charlie Brown, told Spruiell to jump in the Mississippi River. The Crusaders and Tigers got together four days later in Alexandria and played it over again. Neville won 8-0 and went on to defeat Bossier Airline three days later for the title at Monroe.
To be honest, first downs, penetrations and other statistics such as yardage, third down conversions and time of possessions are more appropriate ways to determine a victor than the Kansas playoff. The Kansas playoff is a crapshoot if there ever was one.
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The last time I was in Kansas City, I watched nine innings of a Rays-Twins game in Minneapolis.
I missed the first nine innings driving from Hays to Kansas City.
Eighteen innings? Are you kidding me?
Major League Baseball should do what the Japanese Leagues do and limit games tied after nine to a maximum of three extra innings. If the game is still tied after 12, the statistics count, but the game is thrown out and doesn’t count.
Teams play 162 games a season. What would a few ties hurt? Not a darn thing.
What is the American aversion to draws in sports? There does not have to be a winner in everything.
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I’m still at Taco Bell. That’s all for now…at least on the blog.
Post of 10 July 2019, 19:37
Sorry I haven’t posted in awhile, but nothing good to post about.
Friday was the worst. The absolute worst. Found out I’m so far in over my head I’ll never recover, then I got into a few shouting matches at Golden Q because some couple thought I was taking pictures of them. Bull.
I went to Salina yesterday just to clear my head a little. I didn’t leave the basement Saturday and Sunday, then only went to Hays Monday long enough to drop a FedEx in the box for Crista.
This morning, I discovered I was so stupid I threw away one of the discs from my Brady Bunch collection. Season 3, Disc 2 is gone. How dumb can I be? Fortunately, season 3 by itself only cost $9 on Amazon, so I’ll have it back Friday afternoon. But man, what am I thinking? I’m not.
I would have spent the afternoon wallowing in my stupidity, but I had an appointment with Dr. Custer. I decided to go back to Golden Q even though I knew the kitchen was close and there would be heavy renovations going on.
The air conditioning has been turned off as part of that renovation, but I’ve experienced much worse. Lucky I had a portable fan in my car. It feels pretty good right now. I’ll get my six and a half hours of Wednesday trivia before going back to Russell.
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The televisions at Golden Q have been disconnected. Thank God.
I don’t have to watch the most nauseating event on the sporting calendar.
The ESPYs.
Other than Jim Valvano’s courageous speech at the first ESPYs in 1993, the one where the beloved North Carolina State basketball coach stood tall in the face of terminal cancer and told the audience in attendance and those watching at home to never give up, I can’t think of one thing the ESPYs have contributed to better the sports world and society in general.
Naming an award after Arthur Ashe, who passed away from AIDS one month before the first ESPYs, is a good idea. However, in 2015, it was awarded to Bruce, I mean Caitlyn Jenner, simply because Bruce decided he wanted to become a woman.
I don’t have anything against anyone who wants to change their gender. There have been many times I wish I were female.
However, Jenner had no good reason to receive that award. Besides, we saw enough of Jenner and his/her family since he married Robert Kardashian’s widow (Kim, Kourntey and Khloe’s mother). I think Bruce made a huge downgrade by dumping his former wife, Linda Thompson, one of the women who caused Priscilla Presley to leave Elvis.
Worse than the ESPYs being nothing more than athletes to get together and congratulate each other on how great they are, FANS decide many of the awards.
I haven’t voted for the MLB All-Star Game since 1991, and I won’t resume anytime soon. I don’t vote in online polls for anything anymore. I don’t believe fans have the right to determine anything. They know very little to nothing.
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The Women’s World Cup is over. THANK GOD.
I have had it up to here with the far left’s favorite athlete, Megan Rapinoe, and Alex Morgan, who doesn’t look as good in a bikini as many think. The media would have you believe they are the only players in the tournament who mattered.
We’ll have to hear non-stop about these two next year at the Summer Olympics. Hopefully, they will exit the international stage and go off to make babies or do whatever with their lives.
Between those two, Hope Solo and Carli Lloyd, I’ve had it up to hear with the U.S. women’s national association football team.
Time to leave the stage, girls. Let the men take over. Nobody outside the U.S. cares anymore about you. It’s time for the Premier League, Bundesliga, La Liga, Ligue 1 and Serie A to take their rightful places in the football spotlight.
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The fake league won the MLB All-Star Game last night. At least it doesn’t count for anything.
Bud Selig, thank you for bringing baseball back to Milwaukee. But your idea to make the All-Star Game count for home field advantage in the World Series was so asinine there isn’t a word for it. At least the Royals choked in 2014 when they had home field advantage vs. the Giants.
At least Selig has revealed he didn’t want Barry Bonds to break Hank Aaron’s career home run record. Anyone who wanted Bonds to do it thinks cheating is just fine and needs psychiatric help.
Fuck you Barry Bonds. You are cheating asshole.
And that unrepentant asshole Pete Rose can go fuck himself. You broke the rules. You lied your ass off for 15 years. And even though you’ve admitted to gambling, you still do it. Fuck you.
Sorry for the coarse language. But I hate Bonds and Rose as much as any athlete. Megan Rapinoe and Alex Morgan are in my top 25 for sure, along with LeBron, Brady, Kawhi, Tyreek Hill and (S)Cam Newton
Kansas City (low) lights
The Kansas City morass is over for now. I got the hell out of dodge yesterday at 1040. It was past time.
Monday was nothing but boredom. Eight hours at Buffalo Wild Wings with not talking to anyone and nobody else playing trivia. Everyone I knew who works there wanted Monday off because two employees had their wedding reception Sunday night–40 days after the ceremony and 1,100 miles from where it took place. . One bartender was bitching he was up until 0400 Monday then had to come into work at 0730.
Well, dumbass, there’s no reason to be up until 0400 unless you have to be. I don’t feel the least bit sorry for you.
I am done with weddings, unless Caitlyn invites me to hers, which I doubt. I’m not getting married, and I don’t want to go to anyone else’s.
Between not seeing anyone I knew, whether it be employees at B-Dubs or fellow trivia players, and the heat, it was a waste. I didn’t make it to Columbia. Then the trunk of my car was splattered by a bird Monday night. I sat in way too much traffic.
Tuesday morning, I woke up and found a message in my Twitter DM box from Peggy. She wondered if I was still in Kansas City, because she wanted to meet me in Russell on her way to Miami County, where she was going to spend the holiday weekend with Courtney and Andy, their kids, and the rest of the Cox and Otto clans.
Thank you Peggy! You saved me a lot of pain.
The room move paid off yesterday. The room I moved to Sunday evening was directly below my other one, and I had easy up and down the east stairwell to my car. Within 45 minutes, I was packed, the car was loaded, and I could get back to Russell.
At 1430, I was back at 1224 North Brooks. Thankfully.
Peggy and I met over Subway at 1730. I wouldn’t go for Subway, but she wanted to try one of the new sandwiches on ciabatta bread. I tried one and it was great. Maybe I’ll go back for more.
I’m not big on Subway because I grew up eating too many great sandwiches in New Orleans. Between oyster po-boys, shrimp po-boys and muffulettas, I couldn’t go wrong.
Back to the Golden Q today. No Cassandra. Par for the course this week.
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The United States female association football team defeated England yesterday and now plays The Netherlands for the championship Sunday.
Alex Morgan embarrassed herself after scoring the second US goal yesterday, mocking England by mimicking a proper lady sipping tea out of a cup.
Morgan is married to some tattooed association football player from Mexico now playing in the fraud of a league known as Major League Soccer, so she will never be accused of knowing how to properly sip tea.
I am sick and tired of the American jingoistic media fawning over Morgan and Megan Rapinoe, who sat out yesterday with a muscle pull. It’s as if nobody else is on the team, although Julie Ertz gets some coverage simply because her husband is a tight end for the Philadelphia Eagles.
Between the disgusting displays by US players after scoring goals to manager (do not call an association football leader a “coach”) Jill Ellis sending members of her staff to scout a hotel where England was staying in case the Americans won, I have had it up to here with this team. They were just as arrogant in 2015, when Carli Lloyd was being praised as the greatest thing since sliced bread and Hope(less) Solo was still around.
I want the Dutch to win Sunday. It would force the jingoistic Americans to shut the hell up. It’s only going to get worse between now and the opening of the 2020 Summer Olympics in Tokyo.
That was a very good reason to bail out of Kansas City yesterday. There were a bunch of jingoistic American fans at Buffalo Wild Wings Friday who would not shut up. Sadly, my headphones had no battery life and I stupidly forgot the charging cord in my hotel room, so I was screwed.
I know what I will not be watching Sunday. I’m ready for this crap to end.
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Wimbledon began Monday. Boy.
The non-stop Serena worship is on full blast from London. Most ESPN “experts” think Serena will win the ladies’ singles title.
I honestly don’t care who wins, as long as it is not Serena. I quit caring about tennis when Martina Navratilova, Chris Evert, Jimmy Connors and John McEnroe all passed their primes.
Another thing which gets my goat are media who keep using “WIMBLEDON, ENGLAND” in bylines. WIMBLEDON is a section of LONDON. The byline should always be LONDON. They must have forgotten a few things in journalism school.
When the Brooklyn Nets play at home, the byline always reads “NEW YORK” not “BROOKLYN, NEW YORK”. Same with the Yankees, Mets, Rangers and Islanders. It’s always NEW YORK, not the borough. Why can’t the idiots who cover Wimbledon get it?
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Looks like I may have extra trivia tonight. It is pouring in Hays, and the storm is barely moving. Reminds me of Louisiana when storms would dump buckets of rain on one place, yet five miles away, not a drop fell.
Everyone who is coming into The Q over the past hour has been soaked. I made the right choice by not cracking the windows in my Buick.
Tomorrow is INDEPENDENCE DAY. Yes, the date is 4 July, but it is INDEPENDENCE DAY in this country. Everywhere else has a 4 July, too, but it doesn’t hold the significance.
June ends badly
The last day of June was quite lazy, even by the standards of your intrepid blogger.
I dozed off the night before on the couch in my hotel room, finally heading to bed at 0035.
I slept. And slept. And slept. Every time I tried to get up, I went back to sleep. It wasn’t until 1630 I finally had the energy to move around a little bit.
All I had to do now was turn on the lights in the kitchen and living room and figure out what to do from there.
Oops.
The lights in the kitchen and living room wouldn’t come on. The air conditioner, refrigerator, microwave and oven were working, but no lights, no television, no power to the desk, which meant my computer had no juice.
Meawhile, the lights in the bedroom and bathroom were all just fine. However, without the living room and kitchen, I couldn’t very well work or eat without stumbling around in the dark.
Ugh.
An hour after this discovery, I was told I would have to move to another room.
AAARRRRRGGGHH!
It wasn’t moving so much as it was having to pack my considerable belongings and move them down two floors. I hurriedly threw everything into one bag or another for transport, and given the short time I had, I risked losing a lot of things. I think I lost a pair of scissors in the move, but if that’s all I lost, I’m fortunate.
I did not leave the hotel at all, something very rare for me. At least I thought ahead the previous night and got extra Zaxby’s. Otherwise, I would have been in deep.
It would have done no good to go to Buffalo Wild Wings. All the people I know who work there were at a reception for two of their fellow employees who got married last month. Given my history with receptions, you couldn’t pay me enough to go to one. Besides, I played trivia for six consecutive days before that.
This trip to Kansas City has been lonely for me. I’m regretting it. I never thought I would want to hurry back to Russell, but this time, I do.
Foots Prints 