Two years of fun with Simmie; hours of frustration with golf

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Big day in the Nadel household.

It was two years ago today that we brought our beautiful pup Simmie home from the Humane Society.

That was Simmie then as a cute little girl. Here she is now as a mature young lady!

Simcha (her given name, which is Hebrew for "happiness") is smart and funny and crazy and adorable and curious and sweet. She'll chase a ball or a stick until we get tired of throwing it. She's got a real bark, not some kind of yippy sound, and she lets us know when something's going on in the neighborhood.

We love her so much, even more than we thought we would!

Of course, she can't completely replace Katie and Ben in our empty-nest home ... but then again, she never talks back or rolls her eyes at us!!

*****

In unrelated news ...

I played golf the other day and, after an unremarkable bogey-par-bogey start, I went par ... birdie ... par ... par. I was keeping the ball in play off the tees, hitting my irons better than I had all season and striking my 3-wood superbly. I dropped tricky putts on 5, 6 and 7 to go birdie-par-par on arguably the most difficult three-hole stretch at Ballantyne Country Club.

I was 1-over through 7, on my way toward the best round of golf in my life ...

Until reality reared its ugly head.

Triple-bogey on 8. Quad on 9. Doubles on 10 and 11.

Oh well ... it was fun while it lasted.

Stupid game. And stupid me. I went back out and played the next day, too.

How did I do? Well, I wasn't 1-over through 7, that's for sure!
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Today's High Five: Harper's face-plant, Arnie's return, NBA doings, softball drama

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5. Hey Bryce, they call it a "warning track" for a reason!

I can't get enough of the video of young Nationals stud Bryce Harper running face-first into the right-field scoreboard at Dodger Stadium. After the play, he looked like he had encountered the Texas Chainsaw Massacre man.

Still, Harper vows to "play like that the rest of my career."

That's admirable ... but if he doesn't start paying attention to the warning track, the rest of his career might be about an hour long.

4. Iced tea/lemonade pitchman Arnie Palmer and his grandson Sam Saunders are going to be playing partners Saturday in the pro-am of a Web.com tour event in South Carolina.

That's pretty cool. Palmer is 83 years old.

What's not cool: Arnie would still beat me by about a dozen strokes. Maybe two dozen on one of my bad days.

3. Even great athletes run out of gas eventually.

The Bulls have nothing left in their tanks. Nothing. They have competed valiantly against the Heat, but without Derrick Rose, Luol Deng and Kirk Hinrich, they are thinner than Calista Flockhart on an all-celery diet.

Jimmy Butler, my guy from Marquette, has played so many minutes in these playoffs that it's easy to forget that, going into this season, the Bulls weren't counting on him to be more than a mop-up player. He has played all 48 minutes in four of the last six games (and played 46 minutes in one of the others).

Nate Robinson, the gnat-sized ballhog who was signed to be the third-string point guard, is averaging 37 minutes a game.

The Bulls are so desperate that there was even a Rip Hamilton sighting in the last game. It was nice of him to show up in uniform on his 62nd birthday.

Too bad. As great as Miami is, a hard-working, well-coached Bulls team that included Rose, Deng and Hinrich would have had a real chance to win the series.

2. Speaking of ex-Marquetters ... whither Steve Novak?

The Knicks, who have shot atrociously all series in falling behind the Pacers 3-1, were 36% overall and 29% from 3-point range in Tuesday's loss.

Novak is one of the best pure shooters in basketball history and was the recipient of a huge contract from the Knicks last offseason.

Tuesday, he played one minute. He took one 3-pointer. He swished it. He sat back down.

Whatever.

1. Here come the Sons of Pitches!

After losing four of our first five games, with each defeat due to a late-game meltdown, my old-dude softball team has used late-game heroics to win two straight.

Tuesday night, we scored three in the last inning to take a lead and held on for a 12-10 victory.

Playing second base, I tried my darnedest to give the game away in the bottom of the last. For one thing, I failed to cover second base on a comebacker to our pitcher/coach Pat, so we recorded no outs on what probably should have been a game-ending double play. Our great shortstop, Tom, had been spectacular all night and I thought he was going to take the throw, but he was playing deep and in the hole; even though we uncharacteristically didn't communicate on the play, it was totally my screw-up. Also in the inning, I stumbled around like a drunken congressman chasing a pop-up slightly over the infield dirt. I somehow ended up with my back to the infield and the ball hit me on the shoulder.

Thankfully, my teammates picked me up big-time, as Pat snared a line drive and doubled off a runner on a fine, instinctive play by our first baseman Bob. Amazingly, it was our fifth double play of the game -- in slow-pitch softball, a team can go weeks without turning a single one -- and a stunning end to a satisfying victory.

With only two regular-season games left and the playoffs just around the corner, we're finding our stride at just the right time. There isn't a team in the league with fewer than two losses; nor is there a team with fewer than two wins. Pete Rozelle would love this parity.

It really will be a wide-open race for the championship and I can honestly say I haven't seen any team the Sons of Pitches can't beat ... especially if our second baseman remembers to remove his bald head from his rectum when the ump shouts "Play ball!"
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Bulls hammer Heat; also, rockin' with Roger Clyne

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Call 'em the Thug-A-Bulls.

That's not a criticism at all. If I were coach Tom Thibodeau -- and with my rugged chubbiness and bulging bank account, we are often mistaken for each other -- I would do the exact same thing against the Heat.

Playing without Derrick Rose, Luol Deng and Kirk Hinrich (and, for all intents and purposes, without Carlos Boozer, who appears ready to do his annual postseason disappearing act), the Bulls pushed and shoved and hammered and stomped and hip-checked and elbowed their way to victory in Game 1.

It's not cheating. It's not even dirty. There are three refs on the floor, and it is their job to make the calls. It's the job of Thibodeau and his players to win the game.

The Bulls also outhustled their more-heralded opponents. And down the stretch, the Bulls -- not the Jordan/Pippen/Grant Bulls, mind you, but the Robinson/Belinelli/Gibson Bulls -- made all the clutch plays.

Playing all 48 minutes for the third straight playoff game, my Marquette homie, Jimmy Butler, had 21 points and 14 rebounds and, more importantly, made LeBron James work hard for every inch of space on the court. Sometimes that involved Butler fouling LeBron. Hard. That's why the MVP gets the big bucks.

Yes, the Bulls did more than beat the Heat -- and even did more than beat up the Heat. They flustered and demoralized LeBron, Dwyane Wade & Co., got them to do things they normally don't.

A few examples:

-- After taking a 76-69 lead that seemingly put the Heat in command with 6:22 left, the next two minutes go like this: Norris Cole fouls Nate Robinson, who makes both FTs ... 24-second violation on Heat ... Wade fouls Butler, who makes both FTs ... Ray Allen badly misses 3-pointer ... Marco Belinelli makes 3-pointer ...  Mario Chalmers misses 1 of 2 FTs for Miami ... Taj Gibson makes jumper to put Chicago ahead. Neither James nor Wade even attempt a shot during this stretch.

-- With 2:21 left, James hits a FT to give Heat an 86-83 lead. Miami doesn't score again. LeBron misses his second FT ... Joakim Noah rebounds Chicago miss, leading to Belinelli's tying 3-pointer ... Chris Bosh misses jumper ... Robinson scores to put Bulls ahead to stay.

-- With Miami down 2 and the clock ticking close to the minute mark, a defensive switch leaves Belinelli on James, who immediately goes to the post for a pass that never comes. Instead, Wade, a career 29% shooter from 3-point range, launches a brick from way outside. Noah grabs the rebound, Robinson scores again and Miami players look like they've lost their best friends. Fans start heading for the exit even though their team is only down 4 and plenty of time remains.

-- James then misses a short jumper from the baseline with 29 seconds left and doesn't bother going back on defense. Again, the Heat is only down 4. Instead of trying to do something -- anything! -- to get his team back in the game, the MVP is sulking. It's one of several times either he or Wade react that way, usually because they're whining about fouls not being called.

I love watching LeBron do his thing and believe he is the best player in the world since Jordan's heyday. But Michael never would have reacted the way LeBron repeatedly did. And I've always liked Wade, another fellow Marquetter, but these days he spends almost as much time complaining as he does playing.

So there you have it ... the best player on the planet and another in the top 10 let the battered, beleaguered Bulls get into their heads and steal home-court advantage.

I still think the Heat will win the series, but only if they stop feeling sorry for themselves and stop thinking the NBA owes them another title.

I'm sure they spent the better part of a week hoping and praying that the Nets would beat the Bulls because the Heat wanted no part of this scrappy, hard-working, physical team.

Sorry, BronBron, you've got the Bulls. Deal with it.

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Robbie and I had our most fun weekend of the spring.

We took in two concerts by Roger Clyne & The Peacemakers -- one in suburban Washington, the other in Philly; yeah, I guess that officially makes us freakin' groupies!

The scene in Falls Church, Va. If you click on the photo to expand it and look very, very carefully, you can see me and Robbie in the very center of the picture, about three rows back.

Robbie, Roger & Me after Philly show

In Philadelphia, we introduced my brother Al and his girlfriend Sandy to our favorite band, and like all others we've indoctrinated, they had a blast. We also played bad golf, ate good food, drank a few Yuenglings (America's oldest brewery, by the way), and enjoyed the company of another brother, Lee.

Grub, grog, great tunes and family. As Roger sings (with gusto):

HERE'S TO LIFE!

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Profile in courage: NBA's Jason Collins says: "I'm gay"

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The word "courage" is thrown around often in sports.

A hockey player who competes when injured is displaying courage.

A point guard who speaks out to demand excellence from his teammates is showing courage.

A wide receiver who blocks a defensive lineman is being courageous.

A batter who "takes one for the team" is showing courage.

Why, there are some who actually call golfers "courageous" for attempting difficult shots.

You want courageous? Jason Collins is courageous.

Collins, a 34-year-old, 12-year NBA veteran who was a backup center for the Wizards and Celtics last season, became the first male athlete in one of the four major North American sports to come out of the closet.

He told Sports Illustrated: "I'm glad I'm coming out in 2013 rather than 2003. The climate has shifted; public opinion has shifted. And yet we still have so much farther to go."

I have said for years that one of the last bastions of permissible discrimination takes place in the locker rooms of major sports teams. There is so much homophobic behavior, so much ignorance and intolerance on this issue, it would take tremendous courage to tell the world you no longer want to pretend to be something you're not.

Congratulations to Jason Collins.

He is a free agent and wants to keep playing. He's never been the most talented offensive player but he used to be considered a tough defender who was at his best against stars such as Dwight Howard and Shaquille O'Neal. He was good enough last season to start nine games.

It will be interesting to see if an NBA owner has the courage to sign him.
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The Bulls: LeBron & Company's worst nightmare

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The last team the Miami Heat want to see in the second round of the playoffs:

The Chicago Bulls.

LeBron James, the best basketball player on the planet since Michael Jordan was in his prime, is as good as any two Bulls not named Derrick Rose. Maybe any three. Throw in Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh and a nice supporting cast that includes Ray Allen and Shane Battier, and the series shouldn't even be close.

But if the Bulls get past the Nets - and it certainly seems they will after Saturday's incredible triple-OT win - they will battle the Heat to their last breaths. The Bulls will not concede. They will grab and fight and claw and frustrate and demand that you hustle as much as they do or else.

The Heat would roll over the Nets. Is it possible to win a best-of-7 series in 2? That's how lopsided that series would be. But the Bulls?

Even if the Heat were to find a way to sweep the Bulls (and I sincerely doubt they would), LeBron & Co. will have known they were in a basketball war.

It will be the kind of basketball war that could make the Heat more beatable later in the playoffs.

The Heat needs the Bulls like I need a bigger nose.
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I won't be feeling a draft

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Once upon a time, it was the worst day in sports.

Then it became the worst two days in sports.

And now it's the worst three days in sports.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the NFL draft.

Of course, maybe it's your thing. Maybe you like endless speculation about offensive guards, long discussions about the merits of the Wonderlic test and Mel Kiper Jr. screaming that the defensive back some team took in the second round was "a reach."

If so, enjoy!

I'll be doing something less painful, like jabbing an ice pick into my eyes.

No close loss this time for SOPs

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The Sons of Pitches were peppier, the beer was quenchier and the wings were zingier.

Ah, victory.

Yes, softball is fun. The camaraderie, the physical activity, the competition, the challenge. All of it is fun, win or lose.

But as long as they keep score, "win" is always the better alternative. Even for old farts like us, winning still matters.

After losing our first two games of the season, each by one run in our opponents' final at-bat, the SOPs emerged victorious last night. We fell behind 10-3, rallied to make it a seesaw affair, led by one run going into the last inning and then made sure we wouldn't suffer another close loss. We scored seven times to blow open the game and finally give ourselves some breathing room. The big cushion seemed to relax us, as we held our opponents scoreless in their final at-bat to win 25-17.

It was fitting that our sensational shortstop Tom, who took a bad-hop grounder to the face a week earlier, finished this one by turning his second double play of the night.

Yours truly snapped out of a mini-slump with a single and two walks, but I was a footnote in this one. My teammates spent the night bashing the ball all over the park, proving true the adage:

Even SOPs have trouble losing when they score 25 runs!
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Today's High 5: Masters Edition

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1. ADAM SCOTT ... After his come-from-ahead loss at last year's British Open, I'm glad he won the Masters. I rarely feel sorry for professional athletes, and I didn't for Scott last year. Still, I don't think anybody should have to go through life mumbling forever about what might have been. So I guess what I'm saying is this: It's your turn next, Jean van de Velde!

2. ANGEL CABRERA ... He's kind of modern golf's Robert Horry, ordinary in regular tournaments but clutch in the majors, especially the Masters. He also looks like he must be a great drinking buddy. Hard not to root for Angel.

3. JASON DAY ... I didn't mention him in my previous post about Best Never to Have Won a Major, but I probably should have because this Aussie has been dancing near the top of the major leaderboards for a few years now. He's only 25, he's immensely talented and it's only a matter of time before he wins one of these things, right? Of course, I was saying the same about Sergio Garcia, Lee Westwood and Ian Poulter in the not-too-distant past.

4 (tie). MARC LEISHMAN ... The third of the three Aussies in the tournament's top 4, and the biggest hitter of them all. I had never heard of him before the Masters started. The question now is if we'll ever hear from him again.

4 (tie). TIGER WOODS ... I spent much of Sunday afternoon talking to my TV, as the announcers kept speculating about what Tiger needed to do "on the back 9" or "on the last 7 holes" or "on 13, 14 and 15" or "over the last three holes" or "at 17 and 18" to have a chance to win. I kept saying, "Stop it! He's not winning!" But they didn't stop it. It was as if they were Eldrick addicts and couldn't help themselves.

Look, I get it. Tiger is golf's meal ticket. Any tournament, especially any major, is more interesting when he's legitimately in contention. This was more than that, though. The announcers practically were begging him to make birdies and eagles. "Pretty, pretty please!" Enough!!

Tiger was victimized over the weekend by one horrible break and then by his own breaking of the rules. Mostly, however, he was victimized by poor shotmaking on the Sunday of a major -- a familiar theme during what is now an almost five-year stretch of zero victories in golf's biggest events. Since July 2008, you've won as many majors as Tiger has.

While it's true that lots of other golfers also haven't won any of golf's last 19 majors, Tiger Woods isn't supposed to be "lots of other golfers." And lots of other golfers don't measure their success by major victories and only major victories.

I'll believe Tiger is back as soon as he does on the Sunday of a major what he used to do with regularity on the Sunday of a major.
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This time, Tiger finds that luck rhymes with ...

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Between the many Western Opens I saw and the majors I had the privilege of covering, I've probably witnessed 100 rounds by Tiger Woods in person. Add the hundreds more I've seen him play on TV, and I'll make this observation  about one of the three most dominant athletes I've ever covered:

He has been probably the luckiest athlete I've ever seen, too.

He and another golfer could hit the same shot on the same hole; Tiger's would hit a couple of rocks and bounce to within birdie range while the other guy's would go the other way and end up in the drink.

Please don't misunderstand what I'm saying. Tiger obviously has been incredible at his chosen pursuit. Of those I've covered, only Michael Jordan and Wayne Gretzky were as dominant in their fields. Nevertheless, the man also has been incredibly lucky.

In an interview just recently, Tiger was asked to name the one thing that has helped him more than any other throughout his career. "Luck," he said, matter-of-factly. And he wasn't being falsely modest.

So maybe it's fitting that the golf gods stole one back Friday at the Masters.

Tiger was cruising along pretty well, tied for the lead through 32 holes. He had 87 yards to the pin on No. 15 and struck his third shot perfectly. Too perfectly. The ball hit the bottom of the stick and ricocheted into the water. It was an amazingly bad break.

Had his ball missed the stick by an inch or two, it likely would have left him an easy birdie putt. Instead, he had to reload. Tiger being Tiger, he followed with a fantastic shot and saved bogey, but he lost his mojo and had to scramble the rest of the way. He bogeyed 18, also, three-putting the finishing hole at Augusta for the first time ever. He ended Round 2 at 3-under for the championship, three strokes behind Jason Day.

Asked afterward what he was feeling when he saw his ball deflect off the pin, Tiger said: "I was pissed."

As those of us very-un-Tiger-like -- and very unlucky -- weekend warriors will attest, the golf gods have a very wicked sense of humor.

It's not often they get to laugh at Tiger's expense.
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Can Sergio, Westwood or Kuchar finally win the big one?

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Lee Westwood ... Sergio Garcia ... Steve Stricker ... Luke Donald ... Matt Kuchar ... Adam Scott ... Justin Rose ... Ian Poulter.

There. That about covers it.

Colin Montgomerie is gone, but the least-coveted title in golf -- Best Never to Have Won a Major -- didn't retire with him.

Given their bodies of work, those eight players strike me as the top contenders for that title. Now, which of them -- if any -- will make a legitimate run at the title they really want: Masters champion?

Based on what happened in Round 1 on Thursday, it certainly appears Garcia will be a serious challenger. He was wonderful in the first 10 holes, doing whatever he wanted in starting -5. Though Sergio had to do some serious scrambling the rest of the way, he still finished a bogey-free -6 and was tied for the lead with Marc Leishman, who never will be accused of being the Best Never to Have Won a Major.

Kuchar is right there as well, at -4. Scott is another shot back, followed a shot later by a large group that includes Westwood and Rose (as well as some dude named Eldrick). Donald is still within reach at -1.

Two guys at opposite ends of last year's Ryder Cup drama -- Stricker (+1) and Poulter (+4) -- are probably toast.

While others are paying attention to Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson, Rory McIlroy and the ageless Fred Couples, I can't help but focus on the BNHWM contenders ... and think one of them will be masterful enough to remove his name from the list forever.

So, which one?

Well, I have been picking Westwood to break through forever, so I'm done with that. Sergio rarely contends at the Masters and seems to find ways to lose when he has had chances to win other majors. Nothing in the resumes of either Donald or Scott suggests this will be either's time to come through in the clutch. Rose was huge in the Ryder Cup but never makes me feel he's about to win on the biggest stage.

I'm going with Kuchar, the ultra-consistent guy with the cherubic cheeks and the permanent smile. He's great, he's in his prime, and he always seems to be relaxed and enjoying himself.

I'm saying he has the lead at the turn Sunday and then holds off Tiger and another golfer or two to win his first major championship ... and shed the title nobody wants.
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