Butt Darts and Long Knockers

Now that I've let the cat out of the bag (or the darts out of the, well, you know), I'm hoping you're all paying closer attention when sportscasters speak with forked tongue. Did you catch the latest example during Sunday's final round of the Houston Open?

As John Daly waited near the scoring trailer to see if his scintillating 67 would be good enough to get him into a playoff with Vijay Singh, the CBS cameras zoomed in to a tight shot of Daly in his bright orange shirt that prominently featured a Hooters logo on - where else? - his left boob. Anchor Jim Nantz, dubbed "The Prince of Puns" by his CBS cohorts, chose that exact moment to remind us that Singh and Daly are a couple of "long knockers."

Coincidence? Yeah, and guys go to Hooters for hot wings. Less surreptitious but equally funny was Nantz's line about the CBS Sunday night movie, Locusts: "If this movie is a success, you can expect a sequel in another 17 years." He was on fire, and I was absolutely eating his heart out.

I once had a friend encourage me to keep my on-air yuks to a minimum during Golf Channel telecasts. In critiquing some of my particularly comedic commentary, he said, "Jim Nantz would never say that." Well, that was several years ago. Is there any chance that Nantz is the one who changed, that he was inspired by my unique style to add a little extra levity to his play-by-play? Any chance at all?

Whaddya say we discuss it over lunch? I hear that Hooters place is famous for wings...

Mass Hysteria

Two questions about the new pontiff:

1) Does he take immediate ownership of the Popemobile, and, if so, does his newfound infallibility clep him out of waiting in line at the Vatican DMV to sign it over to his name?

and

2) Are we 100% sure this isn't Leslie Nielsen? 'Cause this is exactly the sort of thing he'd do for a gag.



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Equally blasphemous was my failure to include the chorus from Spinal Tap's smash hit "Big Bottom" in my recent post about mudflaps:

Big bottom
Big bottom
Talk about mudflaps
My girl's got 'em

As fans of the cult classic "This Is Spinal Tap" are aware, no discussion of mudflaps should exclude that epic reference. Mea culpa...which, by the way, is also an excellent name for a rock group.

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On the topic of car accessories, I noted a window decal the other day that must've been hatched from the same Casanova that gave us the nude silhouette-encrusted mudflaps. On the back window of a Toyota pickup was the caricature of a grinning, would-be Romeo with both hands extended and cupped above the words, "Free Breast Exam." Again, I'm trying to conjure up images of the kind of woman who would be wooed by such festoonery...

"Grandma, tell me how you met Gramps."

"Well, honey, I was on the 101, trying to find a decent public restroom, when I spied your Grandpa and his truck. He had me at 'Free Breast Exam.'"

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And while we're on the subject, can anyone simply affix to his/her vehicle a random and rectangular piece of cardboard with the words "Temporary Tag" or "Tag Applied For" chicken scratched in magic marker, colored pencil, etc.?

I see this two or three times a day, but I ask, have you ever known anyone to be pulled over and have his/her makeshift tag challenged? This could literally save you thousands of dollars over the course of a lifetime.

And if that works, why stop there? How about, "About to fix dangling muffler." Or "Bilious exhaust fumes probably not hazardous." Maybe walk into a bank vault wearing a sandwich board that reads, "Not really stealing this money. It belongs to my cousin with the dangling muffler."

I encourage everyone to try this and report back to me. If you get in trouble, let me know and I'll have Leslie Nielsen absolve you of any eternal repercussions.

...Save A Few For Lefty, Too...

I'm saying a preemptive prayer for the Mickelson family tonight. The proverbial fan isn't going to know what hit it.

Nanny Nanny Boo Boo: They Still Can't Catch Tiger

With yet another inimitable display of carpe diem and a barely imitable fourth Masters title, Tiger Woods has ended his post-nuptial major championship winless streak at...zero. In his first appearance in a grand slam event since getting hitched, Tiger slipped on the world's only known coveted Green Jacket six months after slipping a wedding ring on the finger of Jesper Parnevik's former nanny, Elin Nordegren.

Cynosure Sunday, Tiger was far from perfect. In fact, it's hard to fathom the Tiger of the early Aughts when he was winning virtually tournament, major and otherwise, closing with back-to-back bogeys to moonwalk into a playoff. But while his swing isn't as foolproof as it was then, his moxie is, well, moxier than ever. The ability to hit shots and seize moments that other players simply can't helped separate Tiger then, and it's beginning to separate him again.

It's not that no one's ever birdied seven straight holes at The Masters...

Or that no one's ever turned a six-shot deficit into a three-shot lead in a span of 18 holes...

Or that no one's ever had the imagination and skill to play a shot from long and left of the 16th green off that signature slope and into the hole for an impossible birdie...

Or that no one's ever stumbled down the stretch but regrouped to win a playoff...

Or that no one's ever birdied 18 to win The Masters...

It's just that no one's ever done all that between breakfast and dinner. One day. Two unforgettable performances. Chris DiMarco's pluck was better than his luck: if Tiger's pitch had stayed perched on the edge of the cup at 16 and DiMarco's chip at 18 had dipped not lipped, Phil Mickelson could've slipped a Green Jacket on the very guy who gave him the read he needed to sink the winning putt in 2004.

Instead, DiMarco's gritty 68 only prolonged his agony, our viewing, and Mickelson's sartorial duty as defending champion. What a difference a year made for Mickelson. Twelve months to the day after one of the most memorable finishes in Masters history, Lefty found himself in the third to last group with Vijay Singh, who two days prior had played behind Mickelson and afterward accused him of excessively aerating Augusta National's greens with his 8-inch spikes. (Their post-round locker room tete-a-tete was later aerated to the press.) Then to top off the week, Phil had to coat his archenemy in what was surely the most uncomfortable public wardrobe exchange since last year's Super Bowl halftime show.

For all the talk of how his rivals have closed the gap, none of the other Big Four - Vijay, Mickelson, or Ernie Els - posed even the remotest challenge on this most major of weekends. All that talk of how his marriage to the former Miss Nordegren was destined to derail him from his quest to better Jack Nicklaus' record of 18 grand slam titles rings hollow today.

Now halfway toward that magical mark, Tiger gets to have his cake and Elin, too.