YOU GOLF LIKE A GIRL ... HOPEFULLY
Posted: Tuesday, April 1

Why Matty Is Lovin' The Ladies' Lately ...

I was watching the LPGA this weekend on the Golf Channel.  That's right I said it.  I was watching the LPGA and I loved it.  In fact, it was better than the Katrina Open (Zurich Classic).  By the by ... how much longer to I have to be made to feel like a war criminal every time an athletic event is held in Louisiana?

I know it's not exactly prat-spit-inducing to say that I didn't enjoy the Zurich Classic given it's no-name leaderboard, rain delays and poor treatment of chefs. Boy ... Emeril better be careful next time he yells, "BAM!" And no, I didn't enjoy watching the ladies because they're "hot."

I enjoyed the ladies at Superstition Mountain more than the men at the Big Easy for all the right reasons, that is, golf reasons.

I know the ladies putt about as well as my 3-year-old, Max, but boy do they swing nice.  I saw more consistently perfect swings in Arizona than in New Orleans.  It's long been maintained that watching the ladies swing is good for your swing because they swing "easy."  But from what I could see, that is not true.  I watched their swings very carefully this weekend.  Those gals are making real aggressive turns on the ball. But their swings are ON PLANE and the TEMPO is perfect.

I couldn't help but wonder if what women generally lack compared to their male counterparts (strength and power) is exactly that which makes their swings better.  I hope I'm not opening a can of feminist e-mail whup-ass on myself to say that because I mean it as a compliment.  Instead of "powering through" mistakes, the women are more precise.  The swing tempo of the gals I saw this weekend amounted to a giant metronome, their timing perfect.  You should set your swing to it.  Guys, watch the gals to get better.  They were like a bunch of female Ernie Elseses ... which is a horrific image I wish I never typed.

Another reason to watch the ladies:  There are some great storylines this year in the LPGA.  Will Annika's fade continue?  Or can she re-establish herself against Ochoa? Her top-10 finish this weekend makes that a viable question again.

Also, I just enjoyed watching how they conduct themselves in general terms.  Contrast the image of Lorena Ochoa fist-bumping her playing partner after she made a tough little par save, with the image of Bubba Watson fighting with Steve Elkington for "moving" during his swing prep.  Or contrast the adorably nice and respectful Minea Blomqvist of Finland with say ... Rory Sabbatini.

Now, I'm not some progressive metrosexual who thinks everything has to be roses out there, I love good nasty competition between the big boys ... in fact I probably prefer it.  But I must admit it was refreshing to see the way those ladies compete. It was moving actually.

After dominating yet again, Ochoa was asked about her supporters in the gallery, waving Mexican flags and cheering for her.  She said: "They know that I play not only for me but for all of them."

It was great. But I can't remember the last time I heard one of our American PGA men say something so humble and classy.

I guess us hackers aren't the only ones who should be watching the ladies ...

RUMORS OF D WADE'S DEMISE ARE PREMATURE
POSTED: Wednesday, March 12

You gotta know when to hold 'em
Know when to fold 'em
Know when to walk away
Know when to (give your body a rest when your team sucks) run
-Kenny Rogers

OK, so I took some poetic license with "The Gambler." I'm sorry Kenny. I promise I won't make anymore Kenny quotes ... unless the Islanders do something and I get to make a clever "Islands In The Stream" metaphor. Or if Brady retires and I do my "Through The Years" retrospective.

So Dwyane Wade is done for the season. If I was in Miami I'd literally celebrate. Good for him. I say "Shut 'er Down." The guy has earned it hasn't he? Let Riles go get some players and you just worry about ramping it up for the Olympics. You'll come back like ... well ... like Kenny Rogers post-"SWAN" face lift sugery: Tight, refreshed and ready to rock.

This is a preemptive strike on Wade's part and a good call. He's taking control of his career. Not by whining. Not by demanding. But by taking care of himself. He's still with you Miami.

He's with you, through the years ... sorry.

I don't think Wade is done. This is a Beckett "I-don't-wanna-go-to-Japan" injury, but even more justified. I don't think he's as hurt as many are claiming. Iverson has played that way forever and Wade is thicker and stronger. Besides, if Wade IS hurt, he can reinvent himself a bit: Work on that pull-up jumper and see what the defense gives him as opposed to creating it or forcing it. Even a beat up Wade is still a guy you can build around and still the guy whose hands I'd like the ball in, in a crucial sitch.

He's earned that respect. This ain't a Glenn Robinson sitting out with a "tweaked" ankle type of situation. This is a guy who brought Miami a title -- let's not forget how single-handedly he carried that Heat team in clutch moments (even with Shaq in the lineup).

So go ahead, pull a Spitzer and shut it down. Unlike Spitzer we'll be glad to see you come back and you'll be better for it. Let Riles clean up that mess in Miami. I know you love that city and they love you. I know that things will get better soon. After all ... love will turn you around, turn you around. Ugh. Kenny, I can't help myself.

I'M BEGGING BRETT... GO FAVRE, FAVRE AWAY
Posted: Thursday, March 6

People are wondering what Brett is going to do in retirement. There is even talk he will play again. Besides seeing him in the occasional pair of Wranglers while shilling said slacks, I can't picture Brett in anything else but his uniform playing. So I have no expectations as to what he'll do as a retiree. I just have one request. It's a plea, actually ...

Brett whatever you do, please DON'T become a broadcaster.

Seeing great football players trying to broadcast just demystifies them. I guess you can color me Howard Cosell here, but with RARE exception the players who sit in front of the camera do nothing but make themselves fallible, tongue-tied and simple.

The Dan Marino of my youth was an intelligent leader full of spit and fire. But after watching him a few hundred Sundays behind the desk, I think of him more as a tongue-tied jock than as the brilliant field general he was. Watching Marino trying to articulate a clear opinion is like watching pre-rehab Amy Winehouse on stage: It's unsettling and there is a good deal of stumbling.

We want to see our sports heroes as they live in our mind doing what we loved them for, which was not fake laughing at "antics" during pre-game broadcasts.

We don't want "warts and all." We want to remember you as the gods you were. Hold you up to an impossibly high standard, a standard only reachable on the field of play.

Mother Teresa and a few others aside, nobody can be as great as you were on the field, in life. So we want you to stay there. The fields and courts of our imagination.

I only see Larry Bird occasionally now, when the camera flashes to the tunnel of a Pacers game. There he stands in the shadows. Every time they show him my heart stills a bit. The sight of his face instantly taking me back to a million different memories and yet none in particular. He's frozen in time. It's bittersweet to see an aged Larry now and when I do, as the late Folgerberg once sang, "I feel that old familiar pain." The saving grace is Larry is not breaking down games and making predictions. He has not been made schtick by some network. He slinks back into the tunnels legend INTACT. That's just how I want it. I'm not saying every player needs to fade off into the sunset. Just the real legends. The bigger-than-life guys.

Brett, take a cue from Elway, who knew he would make Shannon Sharpe look like a Rhodes scholar: Disappear. It will add to your mystique and your legend. Sure sell me some more Wrangler slacks no problem. Coach a high school football team. Maybe even "dance with the stars" in 2009. Or ... just fade off into the bayou.

I don't want you to fade away because I don't love you. I want you to fade away ... because I do.

BRADY BACK AT MY BEDSIDE
Posted: Wednesday, Feb. 27

Her name came up today
To my suprise
My eyes watered up
But I didn't cry

That's a verse from one of my favorite songs by Robert Cray, "Bouncin' Back" ... In this song a broken-hearted lover realizes he is in the early stages of finally getting over the girl who ripped his heart out. You've had this friend and you remember the moment: One of your crew accidently mentions the ex in front of your broken hearted buddy. You all freeze and wait for the meltdown to begin. But nothing happens. He fidgets awkwardly, grabs a beer and sadly smiles. Your friend is Bouncin' Back.

And so it is for us Pats fans ...

I've noticed we're starting to crawl out of our self-imposed exile. We are able to speak now almost rationally about:

The Game (SuperBowl) & Those We Do Not Speak Of (The Giants)

Go ahead, find a Pats fan. Whereas a week ago you would have been met with a profanity laced tirade about Moss not stretching out, Samuel not catching the ball or Eli's lame-duck-pass filled final drive ... now you may be met with a sheepish smile and a "they outplayed us man" or the like.

We are starting to Bounce Back. We are starting to admit defeat with no excuses. No tirades. We get it now.

Nobody was gonna deny that team, that day. There was NOTHING we could have done. In a way that makes it harder. But in a way it brings comfort.

Kind of like if that evil ex-girlfriend actually left you for another chick. On one hand it's DEVASTATINGLY EMASCULATING and painful.

But after a few weeks of reflection you start to realize

"There was really nothing I could have done. She just likes chicks."

Then you start trying to cut a deal, if you know what I'm saying.

We are now accepting that there was nothing the Pats could have done. It was the Giants game from the time their plane set down.

And so it is that us Pats fans are left with only one choice: LET GO. Speak no more of Moss diving for the ball. No more of Samuel putting some frigging stick 'em on his gloves. Just let-it-go. And if you see a fan of Those We Do Not Speak Of, congratulate them on their team outplaying one of the greatest teams ever.

Cuz that's exactly what happened. Sure watching Strahan stomp is the equivalent of bumping into your ex and her new weightlifter boyfriend outside the Cineplex in 1994 where you are fresh off a crying jag from seeing "Forrest Gump" for the first time (yup !) .... but you have to get over it!

You know what ... just say it with me: The Giants are World Champions. One more time with feeling.

See? Your eyes watered up..but you didn't cry did you?

Robert Cray concludes:

Last week I took her name off my mailbox
Threw out some shoes and clothes she left behind
I even took her picture off of my dresser
I believe these are very good signs

Well last night I put Brady's picture back ON my dresser. And I have started wearing my retro Pat-Patriot hat in public again.

I believe these are very good signs ...

TOMMY, TIGER AND ME
Posted: Monday, Feb. 25

Did you see "No Country For Old Men?"  I did.  Twice.  Everyone keeps talking about Javier Bardem and no doubt, he was great. But was there a better, more heart breaking performance this year than Tommy Lee Jones as the sheriff in that same film?

(*spoiler alert) When Tommy Lee Jones delivers the last line of that monologue on death well, I've rarely been so moved by a moment in film.  When it cut to black I audibly gasped like a chick in a Hugh Grant movie. It was THAT good.  It was William Munney-lecturing-
the-kid-Unforgiven good.  I  know its hard to believe acting is hard when Eminem gets his own movie ... but a performance like Tommy Lee's is pure perfection (JONES, not the drummer ... although his performance was fairly perfect was it not?)

It's the right actor, right role, right time. It's the perfect storm of preparation, background work and execution. How do you know when you see it?  Well after the movie, you audibly
gasp and then think "NOBODY else could have played that role." It's Stallone in "Rocky."  It's Murray in "Rushmore."  It's Berkley in "Showgirls."

While watching the Oscars last night I could not help thinking of Tiger.  Preparation, background work, execution.  I watch Tiger and I think "NOBODY else could play this role." Right player, right role, right time.

So another day of imaginary six-foot-putts-to-win-fist-pumping in my basement.  (Shut up ... you do it, too). Another year of me bitterly watching the Oscars, imaginary best-
supporting-actor-speeches into my bathroom mirror.  (You probably don't do that ...). By the way, I'm always gracious & humble & I always remember to thank my wife.

Tommy Lee Jones & Tiger.  Two really, really, really, high bars. Tiger said in last month's Golf Digest that he wakes up every day and thinks "I can be better today."

CRAP!  Now I'm gonna have to work extra hard on my show.  Damn bar-raisers!

FORTNIGHT
Posted: Friday, Feb. 22:

Just came back from All-Star Weekend. By "just came back" I mean I was watching it on TV at home. It got me a thinkin' ... does the NBA All-Star Game really necessitate its own weekend? Couldn't we knock it out in a day? It took the good Lord six days to invent the entire universe I'd like to think we could suss out Laimbeer's half-court heave in a fortnight. (I was just informed that a "fortnight" is actually two weeks ... but it sounded funnier than "one day" so I'm sticking with it). How about a good ol' fashioned triple feature: Rookie Game / Skills / All Stars ... good night and good luck. By the by, isn't the "Skills Challenge" a bit hack? Do we really need to watch guys bounce balls through hoops and run around imaginary defenders? This is the NBA equivalent of Battle of the Network Stars. I kept expecting J Kidd to run through tires and climb up the rope wall againt Gil Gerard. Watching skilled NBA guards run around dummy defenders is insulting to them ... it's like asking Stephen Hawking to finish my Sudoku. And by the by ... if I want to watch pretend basketball, I'll watch tapes of games called by Tim Donaghy. - Matty