What, you expected a bawling episode the likes of Brett Favre? There was a better chance that sports agent Scott Boras would forfeit his commissions this winter. Greg Maddux retired from baseball and onto the nearest first tee Monday the same way he constructed the finest pitching resume of his generation — with the face of a guy holding pocket aces and you none the wiser.
This is the image of a once-magnificent champion, sitting on a stool drenched with confusion, unable to answer a ninth-round bell. Battered, bruised, beaten so decisively, it’s inconceivable to think of him fighting again.
Making my best case for the little guy in tonight’s big fight at the MGM Grand Garden:
One goal is to keep your toes turned during the entire ride, but something tells me it’s not the same as a ballerina mastering first position. It’s also important to swing your feet over the horse’s shoulders in a split second, and as the animal bucks, to bend those knees and finish your spurring stroke, which sounds a little like the advice Lon Kruger might give on shooting free throws if his players did so from a saddle.
Boyd Gaming, like most casino companies, is not having a good year. But you wouldn’t know it by its $1.5 million sponsorship of the Delta Jackpot card at Delta Downs in Vinton, La., tonight.
We’ve all heard the stories about the guy who shot his deer, elk, bear or (fill in the blank) with a spectacular shot at 600, 700 or even 800 yards. A few of us probably have told such stories. The story usually authenticates how the distance of the shot was determined. Such statements are designed to add credibility to an otherwise eyebrow-raising narrative.
You could argue the closest we have to him is the president-elect, a person who can excite and unify masses while performing on a platform of hope. Barack Obama has promised change. Manny Pacquiao allows others to live it.
I would think if you traced the family tree of Palo Verde High football coach Darwin Rost, you would stumble upon some uncanny connection to that Annapolis shoemaker in 1893, the one who created the first helmet from leather.
The thing to realize is not 45 missed shots. It’s that few of them were even open. It’s that when you defend the basketball in November as well as Cal did Friday, an opponent must play far beyond its own potential to have a chance.
It wasn’t long ago in horse racing that the surname Asmussen referred to Cash, a champion jockey in America and Europe. His younger brother, Steve, tried riding but quickly grew too big. So in 1986, Steve Asmussen turned to training horses.
We are so caught up in political correctness nowadays that I don’t know whether it falls within the guidelines of acceptability to be thankful on Thanksgiving Day, or even to consider the holiday a national day of thanks giving. But since I’ve never been accused of being politically correct, I am going to climb out on the proverbial limb and say thanks.
The national glare on college football is its usual powerful November self, what with more BCS updates than holiday sales and those in South Bend buying out the town’s supply of toilet paper to wrap around Charlie Weis’ house and trees and car and anything else connected with the besieged and yet handsomely compensated Notre Dame coach.
SAN DIEGO — In singing, success doesn’t always translate to talent. Tens of thousands have better vocal cords than your Madonnas and Mariah Careys of pop legend.
The readers’ votes are counted for our Horse of the Year pick. And the winner by a nose is Zenyatta. The champion filly won by a 49-47 percent margin over Curlin, while Big Brown and Zarkava each earned 2 percent.
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