Strike One

My plane was hit by lightning today coming into LaGuardia.

I nearly messed my trousers.

The good news is, I think I may have superpowers now.

A Most Unlikely Champion

The other day, I was at brunch (true story) when a friend of mine (we'll call him Angus) decided he would share a piece of his bacon with a passing pigeon. Angus' girlfriend protested immediately that pigeons do not eat bacon.

It turned out she was right.

Pigeons don't eat bacon. They throw it.

It was undoubtedly the greatest feat of athleticism I'd ever seen from a pigeon, and keep in mind that I've seen pigeons fly. This plucky little bird time and again took the small slab of bacon in his beak, jerked it back and forth (as though attempting to rip off a chewable piece), and at the end of that motion, each time, he sent the bacon flying into the air.

The first few times, he threw it about 10 to 12 inches. Then, on what was probably his fifth throw, he unleashed. The bacon went flying a good three feet in the air, nearly sailing all the way over a nearby parked car.

Then it struck me: This pigeon belonged in the Pigeon Olympics. As a Bacon Tosser.

He probably never imagined that his future was to be decided so abruptly when he sidled up to our table hoping to catch a fallen bread scrap, but such is life as a smelly, persistent little flying rat on the streets of the wild jungle we call America.

The U.K. Double-Cross

Sometimes when you go to the gym, there's a guy there playing hoops in pants. Sometimes those pants are jeans. More often than not, the guy in pants is kind of a chump, or at the very least a loose cannon. It's just one of those rules of pickup basketball: Guy in pants = chump/loose cannon.

The man in the above video may have some loose cannon tendencies, but he is in no way, shape or form a chump.

I think my favorite part about this (aside from the complete abuse of Devin Harris on camera) is Harris' P.R. maneuver of posturing like he wasn't really trying that hard and that the whole thing really isn't that big of a deal. Don't believe that act. Clearly, he cares somewhat about what just happened to him, and clearly, he's still trying to wrap his mind around exactly what just transpired.

The bottom line: the next time a man in jeans and a sweater challenges you to a game of one-on-one, be very careful. He may be a stone cold British hustler.

You've Come a Long Way, Baby

Since when did the guy who played Spanish in Old School become a big enough celebrity to have his own MLB Playoffs commercial, without so much as a graphic introducing his name?

What is his name, you ask? I have no idea -- I only know him as Spanish.

(Okay, fine, it's Rick Gonzalez.)

But seriously, did I miss something here? Has this guy suddenly become so recognizable on a national level that we don't even need to be told his name when he's narrating a commercial? Furthermore, is he really important to the point that the American populace should need to know his opinions on baseball? (You'll have to excuse the fact that I don't have the actual commercial here; I can't find the blessed thing on the YouTube machine.)

Maybe you don't think this is such a big deal, but I'm having a somewhat difficult time coming to grips with it. To me, he'll always be that guy who got yelled at for taking off his costume head at Beanie's son's birthday party.

But then again, I'm still attempting to come to terms with Blue's sudden and untimely death, so I might not have the most credibility in terms of evaluating this situation objectively.

I Believe the Correct Term is "Elephantitis"

Generally speaking, in our society, having big nuts is considered a good thing, and having small nuts is considered embarrassing.

Unless, of course, your enormously swollen nuts put you in the hospital, as they have recently done to Browns TE Kellen Winslow.

Dr. Edwards*: Dr. Richards, I came as soon as I saw the call. What are we looking at here?

Dr. Richards (highlighting Winslow's nuts with a laser pointer): It appears as though the patient is suffering from an acute case of blue balls.

Dr. Edwards: My God. Of all the horrible things you see in this line of work, you never quite get used to this.

* No relation to Braylon Edwards.

9 Random Thoughts for Monday (and Beyond)

Because that chicken flavored, MSG-infused Nissin Cup O'Noodles ingested at 1 a.m. has left my cerebellum stumbling around like a parched, semi-delirious desert traveler:


1) Alexei Ramirez, owner of one of the great, almost- politically- incorrect- but- just- okay- enough- to- use nicknames ("The Cuban Missile") is listed at 27 years old. I'm taking the over on that -- the picture doesn't do it justice, but the dude's face is slightly too skeletal and mask-like for him to actually be that youthful. I'm thinking he's more like 31. Or 57. However, on another vital stat (his weight, listed at 185), I'm taking the under. He looks famished.

2) The Falcons paid way too much money to Matt Ryan, but all praise be to Theo Huxtable that it looks like he's gonna develop into a true franchise QB. On a semi-related note, it's a tremendous feeling to be able to wear a Falcons T around Manhattan with something resembling pride.

3) Life as a Fantasy Football Addict, Part I: You're at brunch Sunday morning, when over the left shoulder of one of your companions, on the TV screen that you've been staring at uncontrollably, you see that Matt Hasselbeck has appeared to suffer a season-ending ACL tear on a wrenching hit from a Giants lineman. You are attempting to be a polite brunch participant, but at this juncture, you nearly scream and hurl your omelette at the busboy. You proceed to spend the next 12 minutes of the meal fixated on the TV, hoping on the off chance that Hasselbeck is somehow not seriously injured and will come back into the game. He does. You are enormously relieved. This, however, does not change the fact that Hasselbeck and the Seahawks are terrible -- his line on the day: 11-for-25, 105 yards, 0 TD, 1 INT. You decide to get your omelette to go, and promptly peg it into the face of a hunched-over old woman on the street.









4) Jonny Gomes looks scary with a Mohawk.







5) Life as a Fantasy Football Addict, Part II: You agonize for a week about whether to play Ronnie Brown or Steve Slaton in Week 5. You choose Slaton. When, around 3 p.m. on Sunday, Brown is decisively outscoring him, you decide to chop off one of your fingers. While you're trying to decide which one to lance, Slaton comes back and scores his second TD of the day en route to outscoring Brown by three points. Your team goes on to win by more than 30. You feel extremely vindicated for making the right choice, despite the fact that those three points proved to have absolutely no bearing on anything.

6) After throwing the pass that lead to Anquan Boldin getting his cranium annihilated on that vicious hit in Week 4, Kurt Warner reportedly sent his wife a text message saying that he was considering retirement in the wake of that injury. Then his wife sent back a picture message reminding him that she basically has a flat top, and Kurt decided to keep playing.


7) If you haven't seen Chris Rock's Kill the Messenger, there are some piss- in- your- corduroys funny moments, a couple of which pertain to sports. One of them appeared to be an accident (Rock inadvertently referring to Dikembe Mutombo as Dikembe Mutumbu -- which made an already funny punchline that much more hilarious), and there was a sports commentary moment that really hit home unexpectedly: Rock talking about seeing an image of Sarah Palin standing over a slain moose, which prompted him to wonder exactly what the hell Michael Vick is in prison for. Sure, I get it that dog fighting is illegal and cruel and blah blah blah, but when you think about it on a slightly abstract, existential level, it's kind of absurd that Palin is celebrated (by some) for her love of killing animals while #7 is currently serving time for his animal-related deeds.

8) You might be an NBA fan if... You are unreasonably anxious to watch Rudy Gay and O.J. Mayo running wreckless fast breaks on League Pass en route to a 14-68 record in Memphis.

9) I have a number of not-that-douchey Red Sox fan friends whose happiness I sort of care about, but even so, if Boston wins the World Series, I'm going to throw an omelette at somebody.