The Burrow

In the stories, accepting the gifts of fame and fortune often leads to disaster.  Recently, I've begun to think about an old issue through that lens. How much would I have to pay you for the opportunity to do something you love and you do very well; with the promise of fame and fortune beyond anything you've known; with opportunities available no where else; with the chance to bring joy to others and the power to be heard when you use your voice? Strangers will look up to you, emulate you, admire you.  You'll have generational wealth, enough money to do real good, should you choose, or to live indulgently, if that's your bent. And all it will cost you is somewhere between a 25 and 40 percent certainty of developing CTE , a degenerative brain disease. I read that article and  this article  and I heard about it on NPR and the evening news, and I kept asking myself how much money it would take for me to accept that risk. Just posing the question makes me shudder. 

After ruining my 4th of July, FFOTUS decided to trash my World cup fun, too. Was the red card an overreaction?  Do we like VAR?  They won without him with only 10 players on the field so maybe it doesn't matter? All that was interesting to consider as we waited for tonight's match.  Then the Corruption Hotline fired up and our felon was talking to FIFA's crook and afterwards the red card disappeared. Note: the rules say a red card cannot be overturned. Note: the two guys on the phone have never, will never, can never play by the rules. So now, instead of watching the US men triumph or collapse under adversity, we're faced with a match whose outcome has already been marked with an asterisk. Everything the man touches dies.

I cannot believe that I watched it.  I was enthralled, captivated, drawn in the way a good movie draws you in - slowly, the anticipation growing then the climax and then it starts all over again.  It's usually a dull, boring, repetitive process.   Not this year.  This year I recognized most of the players.  This year I remembered the Iowa State games and the Houston games and how Arizona's Wildcats fared against them.  I had opinions on scoring and defense and attitude. I could take issue with the talking heads about who should go one or two.  Lacking knowledge of the NBA teams' particular needs, I relied on TBG's somewhat greater insight, although he warned me that his information came solely from other talking heads.  Was Burries too short for .... where is Koa Peat..... Veesaar as one of Jay Bilas's prime picks halfway through the first round? Tommy Lloyd's recruiting progeny are strewn over the college landscape, as NIL and the transfer p...

The World Cup was barely on my radar.   Then it started.  Suddenly I'm cheering for Uruguay and searching for the exact location of Cape Verde (which is now Cabo Verde and has always been about 350 miles off the coast of Guinea Bissau).   I can type during hydration breaks and half times.  Otherwise, I'm mesmerized. Almost like I was mesmerized on Friday night, watching the scaffolding, and the rain, and the workers outside The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.   But that's a post for another day. The Iranians and the Kiwis are about to go at it again.   Gotta go.

Big Cuter learned about MJ in preschool.  He was a devoted fan until Jordan's last (championship) game with the Bulls in 1998.  His loyalty never transferred to the team. We were living in Marin by then, and the 1990's Warriors were uninspiring, to say the least.  The 49'ers, on the other hand, were the winningest NFL team of the decade, and his fandom stretched to cover every aspect of his life except, perhaps, his underwear.   He moved to the East Coast and took his 9'ers gear with him.  He was a regular at the neighborhood sports bar which showed their games.  He dragged us to one here in Tucson in what he said was a crucial situation.  Sunday game times were sacrosanct; call only if you wanted to talk football.  We knew that Queen T was the one  when he shared a photo of them hiking while his team was on tv.  Granted, they weren't playing that well and being disappointed had dampened his affections just a bit, but still.... thes...

He did it often.  It was commonplace.  Others of his species appreciated it and were willing to join in his enjoyment.  More than once.  It amazed me that he could find something new to see or feel. There were times I could identify what was on the screen before entering the room.  Not always from the announcers' voices, but from TBG's moans, groans, and cheers of delight.  Watching and re-watching and re-re-re-re-watching certain sporting events made him inordinately happy.   I didn't really understand it until now.  But I spent the better part of last night watching and re-watching the Knicks come from behind, erase a 29 point deficit, and triumph with 30 seconds of exceptional basketball to end the game.  It made me in ordinately happy. This morning I watched rabid Knicks fan Stephen A Smith tear up recounting his experience on his couch with his kids.  I never watch him willingly; today I awaited him anxiously.  Michael Wil...

My hometown team is down and out.   Even though my pool didn't have them going any further than this (cue silver lining music) I'm sad. They made it to the Sweet Sixteen, which is better than they did last year when Princeton showed them the door in the first game of the first round.  They lost that game to a better team.  Tonight, they lost to a team that wanted it more. Occasionally, the Wildcats showed brilliance and power.  At moments, the big man was ferocious.  Mostly, they were cavalier with the basketball.  Errant passes were the norm.  Air balls replaced jump shots.  Three pointers were launched randomly, with no one following the ball for a rebound and a second chance to score.   There was more energy on my couch than there seemed to be on their bench.... and I was barely awake.   We really tried to like this team, strangers who were wearing Arizona's uniform this year, but who were playing for Alabama and North ...

Are you watching March Madness?  Have you completed a bracket to be entered to win zillions of dollars through ESPN and its marketing affiliates or are you in a family pool dating back to the last century?  Do you not care at all, but fraternize with those who do?  I watched so you didn't have to.  If you need some tidbits to make it seem like you're part of the conversation, try these: Oakland beat Kentucky in a close game.  If you agree that that Oakland kid sure could shoot  you'll be fine. Arizona looked flat as a pancake in the first half, then acted as if their half time beverage was Red Bull spiked with amphetamines.  They won  by 20 points. Tom Izzo's Michigan State team looked just fine as they trounced Mississippi State.  He's got a long record of near success in the tournament.  We shall see..... Tommy Lloyd, Arizona's coach (okay, I know a lot about Arizona for some reason.....) got his first basketball coaching job from the ...

There are months at a time where there is no football.  While TBG feels the loss acutely, I only notice that I have fewer opportunities to take out my hearing aids and nestle in my chair with a book, content that my spouse is occupied with something that makes him just as happy. But then August rolls around and there is pre-season nonsense, which I feel quite justified in dismissing.  I try not to schedule events when there are games, but I don't worry when I do.  Once the regular season starts, though, all bets are off.   There are windows of opportunity which suit us both.  There's always the DVR.  We get by, just as we have for 50 plus years.  There was a wonderful interlude when Big Cuter shared our living space and occupied the pillow next to his father on Sundays.  He was a Bears fan, then a 49'ers fan, and, like his dad, he tried not to miss any of their games.   Once he moved away from home, they spent Sunday afternoons and ...

So much time is spent walking.  Tanned below the sleeves of the ubiquitous polo shirts and the brims of multi-logoed caps, they walk.  It's pretty where they walk, but, to quote Mark Twain, golf, to me, is a good walk spoiled. TBG tells me that in his youth, 250 yards was considered a long drive.  With new technologies and designs, he thinks Arnold Palmer could have hit 500 yards.  Consistently. We saw Arnie, up close and personal, at the Kemper Open last century.  We found seats on the bleachers at the 18th tee, and just as we settled in the crowd rose to its feet as one.  Being polite golf fans, they immediately returned their bottoms to the planks and I was able to see what the hullabaloo was all about. There, 10' in front of me, was Arnold Palmer, smiling, waving his cap, mugging for the crowd.  The man had the biggest forearms I've ever seen.   In 2010, I walked   PGA's Accenture Match Play Opening Round at the Ritz Carlton Dove Mou...

A brief synopsis for those who haven't followed the drama: In 2021, the Saudi royal family's sovereign wealth fund (the Public Investment Fund), run by MBS (the guy behind the dismemberment  of Jamal Khashoggi), created the LIV Golf Tour to compete with the PGA.   The PGA responded by banning LIV players from all  PGA events except the four major s.  Those are the ones you recognize - The US Open, The Masters, Open and PGA Championships - the ones with big advertising revenues. The players who stayed with the PGA took the moral high ground. They were not taking Saudi blood money.  911 and human rights and that pesky dead journalist made strong arguments for eschewing the new Tour. The players who had no such scruples were pilloried by some but handsomely rewarded by the Saudi's money.   Brooks Koepka $100 million Bryson Dechambeau: $125 million Dustin Johnson $150 million Phil Mickelson ...

Sometimes the ticker along the bottom is a much fun as the game. I can hear her squeaking, can't you? (BTW, it was a great game with Notre Dame winning the Men's NCAA Lacrosse Championship.  There was no squeaking.)

The madness has turned to sadness. I have no teams left.  Princeton beating Arizona was not something I could have predicted, but it didn't matter because Alabama was out in the early rounds, too. I was doing pretty well in the early rounds, and my picks of Furman and Creighton and Texas took me into the later rounds, but now, I'm toast. ESPN had more than 20 million participants in their March Madness pool. I've been in the upper 90%'s since the beginning: 99.6% of the 20 million plus people who were playing were doing worse than I was.  Big Cuter encouraged me to revel, and I did. A woman at Pilates asked how much I was going to win.  Bragging Rights was my answer, and it feels like enough. At one point I was in the top 122 thousand entrants. I spent some time with that number. I stalked the Leader Board.  The top participants felt like my friends.   And now, I can have a rooting interest in some of the players and some of the coaches, but I'm not investe...

Yes, it's a sports post.  I've tried to be clear;  I've put hints in parentheses.   If you have no clue about any of it, you might take solace from this clip of Anderson Cooper.    His incomprehension is magnificent.  He owns it, completely and totally.  We all have our blind spots.  I can appreciate it if you stop reading here and come back tomorrow. But, I've been having some pithy thoughts that I'm happy to share with the rest of you, so, read on, if you care. ***** My Arizona Wildcats lost in the first (of 6) rounds, on Thursday (the first day of the tournament weekend).  This is notable for many reasons, not the least of which is that I have them winning the whole damn thing. Their performance was lackluster and frustrating.  They wielded those huge bodies like giant marshmallows.  I've never been 13 inches taller than another person my age, but I have to think I could prevent them from scoring at will.  As I said, fr...

The game was fun.  Lots of scoring, some special moments, and because I didn't care about the outcome I was happy at the end.  Not-Kathy and Dr K watched withh us.  Little Cuter's Chicken Chili was a big hit.  I got to use the some of the serving platters that rarely see the top of a coffee table any more.  My apple pie was a big hit.  I had fun preparing, listening to another episode of Rachel Maddow's Bag Man  podcast.   TBG and I made quick work of the clean up and put-away.    In all, a successful Super Bowl Sunday. ***** The fans made me nuts with their booing Dak Prescott as he won the Walter Payton Man of the Year award and their chop-chop tomahawk chant.  The Fox production staff made some egregious errors, like giving the sign language performer 5 seconds of screen time while focusing the camera on whoever was singing whatever the song was.  We could hear her voice; we couldn't see the young performer's version at all....

Up until he hurt his elbow, early in the 1st quarter, San Francisco quarterback phenom Brock Purdy was passing successfully 100% of the time.  He ended the game the same way he started it, stats wise.  3 for 3 for 22 yards.   For those who haven't been following the made-for-tv-movie that has been the 49'ers' season.  Brock Purdy was the very last player chosen in last year's NFL draft.  That earned him the title of Mr. Irrelevant. He sat on the bench, watching 2021's third round pick, Trey Lance start..... for exactly two games..... when an ankle injury sent him to the hospital. Jimmy Garoppolo, the handsome, merely-adequate, former 49er's starter, came back to the lead the team,  and did a stellar job ...... until he injured his foot in week 13.... in the middle of a game.... in which the 9'ers were behind.   Enter Mr. Irrelevant, a 4-year starter at Iowa State.  He led the team to victory after victory after victory - seven in a row -...

While Giblet's T-ball For Three Year Olds is barely controlled chaos, team sports have begun in earnest for his big sister.  She's got white baseball pants and cleats with pink laces . She's got two braids, placed strategically low to accommodate her bright pink batting helmet.  She's got orange socks and a green tee shirt from their sponsor - Beef O'Brady's.  She pulled up the socks, tucked in the shirt, looked at herself in the mirror and said I'm Beautiful!. SIR is the assistant coach, who's been called up as interim coach for every game thus far.  The ball field is his happy place, and sharing it with his little girl takes it to another level.  These are the fields he played on in his youth.  His parents and his cousins come to watch.  His wife takes pictures. He's teaching and helping and taking it seriously.  Just look at those game faces. FlapJillly's season is starting off strong.  She is hitting well and making intelligent defen...

We arrived early, because that's part of the fun. No rushing, no crowds, no hurrying to get seated before tip off, no anxiety at all. Since this was our first trip to a public event since Pandemica reared its ugly head, lessening anxiety was a paramount consideration.  The Chase Center is beautiful and easy to navigate. The escalators and elevators are conveniently located. Every surface was sparkling clean. There were worker bees strategically placed; they each had maps to help us locate our section.   We were in the 1st row of the 2nd tier, in line with the Arkansas basket. We could see the players' facial expressions and hear their feet pounding the floor.  There were a lot of Duke alums all around us, though we noted a UofA hat and some Gonzaga tee shirts, too. Deliriously happy fans screaming encouragement was the background noise all night. It was wonderful.  Being there in person let us feel the explosiveness of the game more viscerally than watching on T...

My bracket was busted immediately; I had Kentucky going all the way to the Final Four.  When they lost in the first round, I took it as the second sign that this was not going to be my year.  The first was when Big Cuter texted me that neither of his parental units had visible entries in our annual family pool, even though we certainly submitted them on time.   It's the dybbuk doing the dirty work. ***** Once I decided not to care, I began it enjoy it a lot more.  I had minor rooting interests in the teams remaining in my brackets, but mostly I could continue to watch the athleticism without living and dying at every play. Indiana lost early, but Notre Dame kept on winning.  That was unlikely and delightful for the starters, but I enjoyed the shirts on the boys on the sidelines, all of whom were wearing this:  ***** Big Cuter has a long standing pool with friends throughout the years.  Knowledge of basketball is not a requirement for participation...

Doping reared its ugly head at the Olympics.  Once again, the Russians are drugging little girls, in this case ice skater Kamila Valieva.   I included her as one of the things that made me smile in yesterday's post, then watched the night time coverage and found out about the positive for a banned substance drug test she took before the Olympic games.  The potion took helped her heart work more efficiently, effectively making her more productive, less exhausted, able to practice longer and harder and perform feats of derring-do well into her routine, when other, less medicated skaters, might be tiring. She's 15 years old.  I have a hard time blaming her for anything. The Olympic Committee refused to let Russia participate under its own flag. That doesn't seem to hve made much of a difference - the doping is the same no matter what shade of lipstick you put on that pig. I'm surprised that I'm as surprised as I am.