Poor Len Mattiace. Talk about a bad day at the office. First, unlucky Len blows the Masters by capping off his 65 on Sunday with his only bogey of the day, and then he has to get in front of every golf reporter in America and explain it. Instead of explaining, Mattiace simply stood at the podium and wept. Kudos to the man for showing his emotions, but the other players now know that to throw him off his game, you’ve just got to threaten him for his lunch money.
Poor David Cone. Talk about a bad day at the nursing home. Cone slipped on a puddle of urine left by fellow home resident Rickey Henderson and broke his hip. What? Cone strained his hip pitching? Henderson’s playing in the Independent League? Someone please show them the white courtesy phone.
Poor Carson Palmer. You don’t deserve sympathy because you’re going to make millions, but try not to blow it all on bling bling cars and jewelry. You’ll need that dough come November when you’re laid up with a torn ACL, the SARS of Cincinnati Bengals draft picks.
Poor Kansas City, even though you’re in Missouri. First the Jayhawks got you excited about winning something, and now the Royals have brought you to a fever pitch. Have no fear though, soon you’ll be back to your losing ways where the only sport is waiting for the White Sox to come to town so you can kick the crap out of their first-base coach.
And last, but not least, poor Georgetown. After three years, Mike Sweetney is most likely off to the NBA, and Georgetown is off the radar of any pre-season expectations. Hoya faithful, rest assured, Coach Esherick was reported to say, “Nothing will change around here. We’ll run the fist play a few more times a game and hopefully Drew will start hitting from half court.”
