Let’s handle our business.
› Rushmore of TV sports broadcasters you’d like to have a Coca-Cola with — Chuck Barkley, Al Michaels — if for no other reason than hearing “Do You Believe in Miracles” stories — Troy Aikman for stories about his 1990s Cowboys and Pat McAfee.
› Rushmore of ‘Smoke’ — “Smokey and the Bandit,” Tony “Smoke” Stewart, “Smoke ’em if you got ’em” and “Oklahoma Smokeshow” by the tremendous and dynamic Zach Bryan, who has a gravel-like Cash voice and a pain-filled pen like Merle.
› Best current actors without an Oscar (and since I did not specify, folks like Clint Eastwood, Matt Damon or even Kevin Costner who have Academy Awards for things other than acting, do not qualify; also Alan Rickman is not here because being dead means you are not currently an actor) — Glenn Close, Harrison Ford, Bradley Cooper and Ed Harris. (Seriously name one single movie that Ed Harris did not make better)
› Rushmore of Newton — Sir Isaac, Fig, Cameron Jerrell Newton and Olivia Newton John.
As for other business on this fine Friday morning, well, it appears Brian Joyce was fired by WGOW 102.3 last month.
Also, rules being rules, Paschall has a story on how Florida in the Swamp could pose the biggest hurdle for the 2025 UT football playoff chances.
From Jay
Jay, wow, you are handsome and smart.
So, what did you think of the Canada-U.S. hockey game? Awesome, right?
Jay,
You, too, are wise and good-looking. Must be the name.
Anywell, I was enthralled with the hockey. From the national anthem posturing to the very dramatic end with the best player on the planet sending the raucous American crowd in Boston home disappointed, it was tremendous TV.
Here are some of my biggest takeaways:
> I am super curious to see what the TV numbers bring;
> As we said Thursday, this U.S. vs the world format should be emulated in hoops and MLB events whenever possible. It will not work for tournaments like it does in hockey, but the NBA U.S. stars vs. the World stars would be excellent. And the U.S. may even be underdogs;
> I know we use the term “sudden death” in sports more than a little, but there is nothing — NOTHING — like the sudden death that is a winner-takes-all overtime hockey goal. The eight-plus minutes of OT before Connor McDavid delivered the biggest highlight for Canada since either Joe Carter’s homer or John Candy’s turn as Uncle Buck were totally captivating;
> I have always said that the two sports that are infinitely better in person than on TV are NASCAR and hockey. Still last night was great;
> Finally, we will only have to wait about a year for another one of these in the 2026 Winter Olympics. That’s the good news.
Not sure if it translates to more interest in the NHL moving forward — these passionate patriotic power plays rarely do — but wow, that was fun.
From Bicycle Bob
Jay, the sun came out this afternoon, and that reminded me that baseball season is just around the corner. So here’s this from the WSJ: “The Dodgers’ payroll is $70 million higher than Steve Cohen’s New York Mets’ and a whopping six times larger than the budget for sport’s stingiest organization, the Miami Marlins. Only 14 of the 30 major-league teams currently have a payroll that is even half the size of what the Dodgers are spending, according to data compiled by Spotrac.”
OK, I know you are a big Dodgers fan. But doesn’t something need to be done …something along the lines of a salary cap?
BB
Great question, and one that has been bouncing around in my oversized melon most of the week.
First, this answer comes with a major caveat. This is pie-in-the-sky logic, because there is 100% ZERO chance Tony Clark and the MLB players association will ever, Ever, EVER agree to salary caps, limitations or free agent spending ceilings.
And why would they or should they?
Second, as Rob Manfred said at one point this week, the Dodgers do not deserve the blame here. They are embracing a business maxim as old as time — “Spend money to make money.” And the front office boys in Blue are doing nothing a) against the rules or b) any other franchise could do if it had the means and the motivation.
Third, the competitive imbalance of broken-bank salaries is hard to deny. The Dodgers are loaded and deep, and on paper should be the overwhelming favorites to win a second-straight World Series.
But an overwhelming favorite (i.e. Evil Empire) also gives everyone a rooting interest.
And that’s a valuable commodity in sports.
Think MJ’s Bulls, where everyone either loved them or loathed them, but either way had a rooting interest.
Think Dale Sr. or Tiger or Tyson or the Yankees or the Patriots.
Those dynastic stars and teams galvanized their supporters and their detractors, all the while raising interest level — and the profitability that comes with that — to all-time highs.
Finally, with the talk of the Dodgers and their payroll against the backdrop of the other 29 MLB clubs, Brewers owner Mark Attanasio posed an intriguing question this week.
“Is my job to win a World Series or is my job to provide a summer of entertainment and passion and a way for families to come together?” Attanasio said, via USA Today on Tuesday.
The two do not have to be mutually exclusive, but if the small market crews break their piggy banks for Vlad Jr. or Juan Soto (man, at least he didn’t join up with L.A., you know?) and then jack ticket prices to help pay for the additions, that’s not going to suit either.
Which brings us to the biggest story that got lost in the shuffle this week. ESPN and MLB have agreed to part ways after the 2026 season. The TV contracts — both regionally with smaller partners and nationally — are the lifeblood of pro sports and not being in cahoots with cohorts in Bristol is a scary proposition moving forward.
From Pat
So how are you going to fill the time you spent coaching? What are you going to miss/not miss?
Good refs are in short supply. Refs in general are in short supply.
Of course, you could always do what every newspaper writer thinks they can do.
Write a book.
Pat
Doubt I’ll endeavor a book.
Also doubt I’ll give ref-ing much of a thought.
Going to continue my exploration in the kitchen, especially with my carb-free diet.
Who knows, maybe the book is not forever closed on coaching. I am helping out on the Lil’ Miss 5-at-10’s 14-u travel softball team.
As for miss, well, that list is long.
I will miss practice the most, especially those memories of the really young ones who “got it” and loved to learn about the games.
I will miss the laughs with my assistant coach Justin.
I will miss feeling gratitude from the kids and parents who realized how much we put into it and how much they got out of that.
I will miss that these 8th graders will be the last crew in our small community who still call me “Coach.”
I will not miss how much I hated to lose. And I will not miss the ugly emotions that were displayed for whatever reason.
But it was a true joy of my life, the last decade-plus of coaching.
It’s getting a little dusty in here. Shut up, Spy.
From Chas
Margaritas make you want to dance, make you want to party, the guy on TV said. Saturday is National Margarita Day.
Tequila doesn’t give you a headache, he said.
Jay, for Margarita Day Eve Friday’s bag, you got any tequila stories?
Searching for my lost shaker of salt …
Chas
Buckle up.
I have not had a drink of tequila since late June 1989.
We returned from our senior cruise, and some of our older friends had a shindig celebrating our return and graduating from high school.
Two of my older friends challenged me to a tequila shots contest. I found later they were kicking back H2O. I was doing clear Cuervo.
I got plastered. Got sick multiple times in some unfortunate places — like my buddy’s bed where I passed out — and on some unimpressed folks.
Got up on Saturday and remembered that I had an 18-under travel baseball game that day.
Picked up breakfast on my way to the park. Tossed that back up before the game.
I was pitching that day at Cobb Park, and needless to say, I was worthless.
After eight batters in the first, there were no outs, six runs in and two guys on when the No. 9 hitter hit one 400 feet foul.
So out comes the coach — my father — for a chat. He stops about midway to the mound because he can clearly smell my tequila cologne oozing through my pores.
He sticks his hand out and offers a much-more-gentle-than-I-expected, “Guess you didn’t have your best stuff today” as he takes the ball.
“No sir,” I whispered, desperately looking at the bench and the water cooler on a 92-degree morning.
When the relief pitcher arrived, I took one step toward the dugout and Pop put his hand on my chest and said, “Why don’t you give Matt a break in center for a few innings?” and sent me to the outfield.
I got sick on the grass at least twice more — let’s just the relief pitcher was not exactly fooling this team, either — and have not tasted that poison since.
Simply the smell gives me the heebie-jeebies.
But you guys enjoy National Margarita Day this weekend.