Some of you have probably figured out I’m on vacation this week. I’m enjoying a Cocktail Party-less time on Amelia Island.
Anyway, last night I’m at my favorite restaurant here and the staff is regaling my group with tales of The Rolling Stones dining there when they played in Jacksonville this summer (evidently, Jagger ate there twice in a week).
That, of course, led me to ponder a philosophical question that’s nagged at me for years: in the wake of a nuclear holocaust, is there another human being on the planet more likely to survive than Keith Richards? I’ve never been able to come up with anyone else.
And with that, the comments are yours, gang.
So, a couple of weeks ago, Andy Staples delved into a serious philosophical issue.
I’m pretty much with Andy on that, although I grudgingly suppose others mileage may vary.
Then came this wrinkle.
I had to object.
Your chicken chatter is invited in the comments. Dig in!
Another season of pick ’ems coming right up. Invites are going out as you read this. If you don’t get one, click here to sign up.
Same rules, same format as always, so you will be picking against the spread. Hope you’ll sign up; the more, the merrier.
Tommy Tuberville is running to be the great state of Alabama’s United States Senator.
He’s got some baggage, though. He has a hard time with commitment.
Just ask the folks at Ole Miss. Or this kid, “who was in Lubbock for an official visit last weekend, told the recruiting site Wreckem247.com that Tuberville stepped away from a dinner with several recruits and assistant coaches Friday night and never returned” after receiving and accepting an offer to become Cincinnati’s coach. Or Cincinnati, for that matter.
That seems like a target-rich environment for a political competitor. So, if you’re Tubs, and you really don’t want to stick to sports, what’s the winning strategy? Apparently, it’s pandering.
Tuberville returned several times to the theme that a belief in God is essential to fixing what he believes are the nation’s pressing problems. He received applause and an amen or two when he said he believes the Trump presidency was a gift from God.
“I want to help Donald Trump and you get this mess straightened out,” Tuberville said. “And I’m going to do that. But we’ve got to put Jesus and God before everything else. And if we don’t do that we’re going to be brought down to our knees again.”
Maybe that’s why he never won a national title at Auburn.
Hey, kids, it’s Mueller Time!
You can follow his testimony live here, or you can simply wait for Trump’s gripping analysis on Twitter.
Promises to be a real shitshow, either way, I’m afraid.
I’ve thought about making this request before, never have, but what the hell…
Lord knows I’ve gotten a ton of appreciative comments about the blog’s banner, as well as plenty of questions about its origins. All I really know is guesswork, which means not much.
Anyway, I’d really like to know something more definitive about the story. If there’s a reader out there who knows Coach Dooley, or anyone else who was present when the presser occurred (I assume that’s what was going on there) and can get him/her to open up about what went down, I’d love to hear about it.
Not just about the Godfather, either. Somebody’s got to tell me about that shirt Dooley’s wearing. Inquiring minds want to know, and all that.
Last week’s sad news:
Jim Bouton, a once-promising pitcher with the New York Yankees who found greater fame as the author of “Ball Four,” an irreverent, best-selling book that angered baseball’s hierarchy and changed the way journalists and fans viewed the sports world, died July 10 at his home in Great Barrington, Mass. He was 80.
He had a stroke in 2012 and five years later disclosed he had been diagnosed with cerebral amyloid angiopathy, a condition that causes vessels in the brain to burst under pressure. The death was confirmed by his wife, Paula Kurman.
Quite simply, Ball Four is the best sports book I’ve ever read. If I have the time, I pull it out and re-read it every spring. It’s funny, it’s observant and, most of all (not to mention what the people who were offended when it was released missed) it’s an ode to baseball.
The last line of the book says it all. “… you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time.”