I’m in the difficult position of pulling for the Iggles to beat the Skins so that the Pokes might have a shot at the playoffs with a win agin the St. Louises tonight.

Not that it will make any material difference to me if the Cowboys are in or out, but it makes for some distracting fun talk.

And at least I ain’t this guy.

JUST WAIT TILL NEXT YEAR UPDATE: Not like the Iggles had a damn thing to play for besides the pure meanness of maybe keeping the Redskins out of the playoffs. Sure looked like they had that in mind to start with, though. Now we’ve got a whole offseason of interweb gurus, radio blowhards and newsprint pundits to look forward to, as they cut sign on the inner workings of the minds of the Brobdingnagian Tuna and Jerruh “Pick of the Litter” Jones. The good news? 90 days till pitchers and catchers report, and the Rangers actually did spend some money and got some pitching in here. I like the sounds of this, too:

Maybe the experimental knuckleballer, R.A. Dickey, if Charlie Hough can teach him any tricks over the winter other than how to blow smoke rings.

Marlboro-puffin’ knuckleballers — another reason baseball is The Best.

For the Cowboys, trouble awaits today in a familiar, dark place.

Good Gil Lebroton column on the Pokes-Skins game this afternoon. Yeah, I still hate the Redskins, too, but not nearly what it was. Who can really hate that tiny fool, Danny-boy Snyder? Shoot, I even have some respect and an eensy amount of affection for Joe Theeeeeesman, thanks to a couple of interviews I’ve heard (and no thanks to his florid work on NFL broadcasts.)

For the September game, I was in Phoenix and just walked out of the sports bar where I was having dinner with two minutes to go because I knew in my gut they were going to gag the game up. Today, I’ll be in the air, to the land of the squareheads, and it’ll be over before I land. I’m more troubled by the potential outcome of my fantasy football playoff game than I am about this game, but hell, for old times’ sake —

It’s a good thing I busted out early in last night’s Rounder Club tournament (idiot-ass calls my all-in holding nothing that matches the board, not even a flush draw, and rivers his K to take out my TPTK — eff me if you can win when people call like that), because I was home in plenty of time to watch Bluto knock the ever-loving dogsnot out of Olive Oyl’s hanging slider (the idiot-asses wanted to watch feetsball at the tournament). I can’t believe a baseball was thrown in the same ZIP code as Pujols — the dude is a monster, a cartoon-like hitting machine, and any serious fan of the game knew he was going to launch it. That’s just the way things are in the most heart-breaking of games.

While I do have some sympathy for you Astros fans, as a Rangers fan I do not overrunneth with it — you’ve been to the NLCS two years in a row, so no freaking whining. Yall never fail to use up your Major Leage Moan Allowance with the annual pre-ASB poor-mouth bitchfest. Still, there are two to go, and you only have to win one of them. You will in all likelihood be the first Texas team in the World Serious. And that sucks to high holy hell for this Rangers fan, okay? As a Texan, though, I am and will be rooting for you, even though it galls me to no end.

Gawd, I can’t believe I’m saying that I’m rooting for the Houston baseball team. See what you’ve done to me, Tom Hicks, you cheap GDMFSOB? Spend some money and get some pitching in here, all right?

I’m actually half-way interested in this UT-OSU game. It’s gotta be killing Whited…

It’s nice to get up on Sunday morning and have live sport on the teevee. And have the leaders already on the course. Now I only have to get through four hours of the doofus announcers saying claret jug every 2 minutes.

Looks like, too, that the top golfing dudes are destroying the Old Course. 12 under for a major seems wacky. It would be fun to have a tournament to make these guys play with persimmon woods and blade irons. Preferably do it on one of these Scottish goat ranches, too.

ZZZZZZ UPDATE: Zzzzzzz…. The only thing enjoyable about that was the British Airways commercial that featured cricket. Speaking of the cricky, does anyone know of any package for Dish Network that has a cricket channel? It can’t possibly be that far out in left field. And I mean for a little less than $250 for one bloody series. A FoxSportsNet-Midlands or something like that?

I ain’t the only hayseed bothered by no hockey.

Dear Gary Bettman and Bob Goodenow,

You guys are assholes.

Yep.

And for what it’s worth, I’d happily take the Lone Stars, or any other name, and let MSP have North Stars back. Norm Green screwed up by trying to import a bit of North Star vibe. It’s not like we got asked or anything…I was just happy to have some NHL hockey in town. One day, I’ll scan my ticket stubs and program cover from the first NHL game played at Reunion.

I do wonder what the reception will be if they ever get the game back on the ice. We don’t have a decades-old tradition that’s in our bones for hockey…the Cowboys get that. We were just working on that kind of attachment here in Texas when the fans got the royal screw job.

PS to the Master of Sparks: I vote for scoring greyhounds. There will still be plenty of fights, but hockey grabbed this hayseed because those dudes are doing magical stuff, weaving end-to-end at 100mph.

And what is up with no baseball talk?

Second time the question has been asked. The answer is: I don’t know what’s happening in baseball. I just know the Rangers are 1 game out of first, have fired two of the starters on the Opening Day roster, are bringing up some rooks (one starts today/tonight), and are in general playing OK. Outside of that, me sabe nada. Haven’t even been to a game this year.

Worse, I think I’m over my love affair with sports. I can’t even stay awake during the NBA Finals. It takes a major for me to turn on the teevee for golf. I still “watch” the Rangers but I’m usually reading a book. The Plowboys are just a disaster as the Brobdingnagian Tuna turns into the Bill Parcells Admiration Society. The Ticket, local sports-radio powerhouse, spends more time talking about GD teevee shows and their various bands’ schedules than they do about sport.

This apathetic funk started with the cancellation of the NHL season. Stupid for a native Texan to give a flip about ice hockey, I’m sure, but that’s just the way it is. I couldn’t name five guys on even my home-town team (well, I probably could, but you know what I mean), but for some reason, the fact that I haven’t seen a Zamboni for 377 days has me blue.

We now return to your regularly scheduled crapola.

Is there any doubt over who I’m pulling for today?

Go gittum, biggun…

Since I’ve finally got this dumb bike rolling down here at the ranch, and logging a few miles (my thighs are killing me), I’m starting to get interested in doing some of the Saturday road rallies that take place all over Texas (probably your state, too.) There are certainly plenty to choose from, many of them close enough to get up early on Saturday and make it in time for a 7:30am start.

But — one thing bugs the crap out of me: most of these rides require a helmet. Require, not recommend. Those are rides that I won’t be going on (and charities that won’t be getting my registration fees.)

I’m in league with those idiot motorcyclists who leave the lid at home. Quote all the facts and stats you want, and it don’t matter to me. I don’t want to wear a helmet when I’m riding my stupid bike at 10mph for 10-20 miles on country roads, particularly when they’ve got coppers out managing the high-traffic areas. I’ll take my chances, thanks. The reason I love riding a bike is the illusory feeling of freedom, and a huge part of that is the wind in my hair. It’s a little thing, but it’s the same reason I don’t wear those ridiculous shades — I like the sun in my eyes.

Anticipatory answer: yes, I wear the lycra shorts with the padded butt. My distaste for shredded, bleeding inner thighs is boundless. To preserve my modesty, though, I generally wear regular shorts over them. I need a pocket for my Zippo, after all.

The Texas Rangers blog I read the most is/was Adam’s No-Last-Name-Given txrangers.blogspot.com. That’s no good any more…Adam has joined up with a company called SportsBllogs, founded by the uber-leftoid Daily Kos, and is now blogging at LoneStarBall.com. Here’s a Wired article about the new enterprise.

I hate seeing fan-boy stuff going all corporate, but I’m sure it’s the wave of the future. One of you young bucks with some time on your hands should just copy that model for PokerBlogs Inc or MusicBlogs Inc. Aggregation is a smart thing to do for making money. Distribute the costs, maximize the ad coverage, solidify the linkagery internally, etc.

I personally think Dentonization sucks, but then, I never got into this to make money. The earth rolls on, though, and if you can profit, someone will profit. That’s all to the good, ultimately, since it opens up a new door somewhere else. What’s truly funny is the thought of socialist Democrat pony boy Kos being the head of an Eeeevil Corporation. Maybe some enterprising journalista can dig up the articles of incorporation and see how it’s structured.

Trying to keep to my “plan” of actually doing some exercise (gag! hack! ptooie!), I went out and bought a new bike to keep here at the ranch.

I took it out for a short 2-3 mile spin when I got it home, and it’s pretty dang nice. I definitely need some toe-clips, though. I bought some new-fangled kind from the bike store, but they’re no bueno on these factory pedals. Do I get new pedals or different clips? Need to get some luggage and a rear rack, as well as some end bars so I can change hand position (the BIGGEST drawback to an MTB is the one-way-and-one-way-only of holding on to the durn thing.)

I reckon two or three trips down the hill to the river per weekend day, and mix in a couple of longer rides to town or around the country roads every week or two, and my old shorts might fit again. Also, I need to try to mix in some riding in the city when I’m in back in Dullas. I love riding a bike…it’s the only solo sport/exercise I get any pleasure out of. I never lost that feeling of freedom from my first Schwinn ten-speed. Heck, my Schwinn Stingray.

I briefly gave some thought to a recumbent, but I’m going to save that for when I get to the point that I need it. These two guys have nothing but great things to say about them, and I’m pretty much convinced. Let me get at least a year of serious regular riding under my belt first, then we’ll see. I’ll most likely never do a RAGBRAI or another Hotter’n'Hell, but I would enjoy doing some local rides on Saturday mornings.

GOOD GRAVY UPDATE: Riding down to the river is a piece of cake, once you get over the fact that you’re on a sand and gravel road doing about 20mph. After all, it’s a river VALLEY for a reason. Coming back up the hill is a real heart-rate raiser, though. And we’re talking about a fairly dinky gentle hill. I’m so embarassed…first chainring, and biggest gear in back…I’m pretty sure I clocked at least 0.75mph.

Adam at TRB ponders, Whatever happened to Bo Jackson? And nails it.

I don’t think anyone under the age of 25 or so can truly understand the phenomenon that was Bo Jackson. A Heisman Trophy winner, the #1 overall pick in the NFL draft, who decides to forego millions in the NFL because he’d rather play baseball. A guy who becomes one of the most dynamic blends of speed and power that baseball has ever seen, one of those rare players who you’d pay to watch strike out, just because he was such a mesmerizing presence.

Good stuff there.

I miss Bo Jackson. He was a hoss. I don’t know if he really could do anything he wanted to, but he sure made you believe that he could, and that he’d do it with a grin a mile wide, and best of all, that he’d be happy to sit and talk about it over a few cervezas with you.

Compare and contrast to the grim, Bosch-like, existential struggle of one Barry Bonds. More Bos, fewer Barrys, please.

It appears that this year is going to be nothing but lousy faux Ken Burns crap about the stinking Red Sox. It only took six months for me to go from being thrilled about the Yankees’ magnificent & delicious choke job to now detesting the whole thing. Today, I sure wish the Cardinals had kicked their ass.

News and analysis about my hometown 9 can be found here. Not much hope over there, just more about John “Sunglasses & ConCalls” Hart’s attempted rehabilitation as a GM. How did Dallas become the home of former geniuses, re-deploying their faded talents half-heartedly, actively harming their teams’ futures? Oh, wait — we’ve got Avery Johnson coaching the guys in their Underroos. And still no hockey…

I believe I shall focus on business, and to hell with the previously pleasurable diversion of the Great Game…

…if you’re one of the 75 people who paid for an autograph from this clown:

Jose Canseco has faced some pointed questions in the last few weeks, from members of Congress and from former teammates.

Monday night at Hastings Books, however, he received only admiration.

I would really, really like to do an email interview with you.

After leaving the book store, Canseco did an interview with radio station KTCK, with which he has had a long relationship. In that interview, he said he has a plan to submit to a lie detector test in a pay-per-view television show

And I just listened to a part of that interview. It would be difficult to find a more conceited individual. He had the (probably shrunken) balls to say, “I’m the man who brought steroids into baseball, and I’m going to be the man who takes them out.” Nearly ran into the ditch laughing at that one. And he’s got either the worst allergies ever, or he’s (still?) a gigantic coke-head. I was ready to barf from all the nose-sniffling and horks and snorts. Gross…

You holding?

* Gotta say I feel sorry for poor Mike Heika of the Snooze…he should be writing some of his good Stanley Cup stuff, and here he is in Denton and down at the Ticket dicking around with Jose freakin’ Canseco.

This bad: with no hockey on, my sports jones is forcing me to watch NASCAR.

And regarding hockey, I am hurting something fierce. And I think I can safely that when you cancel an entire season, you can no longer be considered a major sport. That’s sad, but it’s completely self-inflicted according to all the experts. Oh, well…is it too late to get a CHL or AHL team? Put ‘em back in the stock barn out at Fair Park? Get that old smoky Zamboni tuned up? Please? For The Children? So the terrorists don’t win?