Another fantastic finish for the Sons of Pitches, another super start for my hoopin' Eagles

^
Election aside (I'll save my musings on that subject for another time), Tuesday was a wonderful day for a beginning and fantastic evening for an ending.

First, my Scholars Academy Eagles girls basketball team won our season opener. Although we lost a lot of offensive weapons from last season's championship squad, I was thrilled to see that our trademark "outwork-'em-to-death" style is back in full force.

We had trouble scoring early, but we were relentless on defense and just wore down our opponent to pull away in the second half. Our captain, 8th-grader Ritika, has been with me for all four of my years at the school. She controlled the game at point guard and, as is her custom, she nailed a dagger of a 3-pointer to break our opponent's back. She got strong support from Deirdre, our talented 6th-grader who matched Ritika's 8 points, and the rest of her aggressive, hard-working teammates.

It's always nice to start off with a win. You can't go undefeated if you lose your first game!

After my Eagles wrapped up the victory in Rock Hill, S.C., I jumped in my car and drove 35 minutes to Charlotte, where our Sons of Pitches won our second Carolina Senior Softball championship.

We tend to like to do things the hard way, and we outdid ourselves this time. Due to injuries, absences and, yes, a little bit of bad, old-fashioned poor play, we only had a 4-6 record in the Fall season. So we entered the postseason tournament as the No. 9 seed -- meaning that if we were going to win the title, we would have to do win four straight games as the visitors.

We opened the tournament with a 19-3 thrashing of the No. 8 seed. We then took out the No. 1 seed, a team that had only lost once, advancing to Tuesday's Final Four.

In the semifinal, we faced the No. 4 seed, Orange Crush. We proceeded to crush the softball all game long and rolled to a 19-13 victory. I had a couple of hits but most notably got a lot of exercise shifting from right-center field to left-center field and back again.

Our regular LCF, Rick, is one of the best outfielders around. Meanwhile, I'm primarily a catcher who has trouble seeing flyballs at night; I was needed for the outfield because one of our players was out of the country and another was hurt. So when there was a right-handed hitter batting, Rick would play LCF and I would play RCF, as he was more likely to get a ball pulled to him. And when there was a left-handed hitter up (or, in a couple of instances, a righty who liked to go to the opposite field), Rick would shift to RCF and I'd move to LCF.

Our inventive manager Pat devised this strategy and, unlike some of his strategies, this one actually worked - ha! I didn't get a single fly all game, Rick got several, and I think it messed with our opponents' minds to see us shifting constantly.

That win put us in the championship game against the same team that had thrashed us a few months earlier in the Spring title game, the Raiders. Unlike Al Davis' old Oakland Raiders, this time these Raiders didn't "just win, baby." Our bats stayed hot, we jumped on them for 3 in the first and 5 in the second (capped by yours truly's "mini-walkoff hit"), and we led from beginning to end in our 18-11 victory.

The final out set off a nice little celebration that put an exclamation point on an amazing two-year run for the SoPs.

In the CSS, teams are re-drafted every other year, so the nucleus of teams are together for two years. That's four seasons: two Spring and two Fall. In that span, we won two championships (2015 Spring, 2016 Fall) and a runner-up trophy (2016 Spring). The only time we didn't at least reach the title game was Fall 2015, when bad weather canceled the entire postseason. Pretty darn impressive, no?

More important than the championships have been the friendships. We have a great group of guys who pick each other up and cheer each other on. We like to clown around, but we're all business once the games start. (Almost all business. When Pat or Bob shout, "Come on guys, one out at a time," my response usually is, "Screw that, I'm getting 2 outs at a time!")

Peter and Eddie, injury-replacement players who joined us most recently, shored up our infield and brought big bats (and great attitudes) to our team. "Good Mike" (as opposed to me, "Bad Mike") and Doug were the injured guys they replaced, yet both showed up for the final four, coached the bases and rooted us on. Bruce was our resident wise-ass, and also a good hitter and outfielder. Gary, our left fielder and cleanup hitter, has a lethal bat to right-center field. Rick is the ultimate table-setter, a leadoff man who got on base nearly every time and had speed to burn (for an old dude). Jerry, our shortstop, never met a pitch he didn't like; he was especially adept at crushing pitches over his head. Bob was the best first baseman in the league and a perfectionist who, um, "gently reminded" everybody else to do things right. O.K. and Mickey, our two most senior seniors, are still going strong even though 70 has been in their rearview mirrors for quite a few years. Wayne was a good clutch hitter who, importantly, was reliable when it came to going out for a beer. Pat was our No. 3 hitter who pitched superbly in the playoffs after excelling at other positions during the season. And I was the keep-it-loose guy with the big mouth who had a few decent moments at the plate (too few) and tried not to screw up too often in the field.

This was my third season with O.K. and Wayne, and my fourth with Good Mike and Bob, and I've been lucky to be around them for all these years.

And Pat ... we entered the league at the same time, all the way back in 2012, and were thrown together on a team of misfits. We've been together ever since, for five seasons, as he kept trading for me after he became a manager. He loves telling stories about how he traded a blind guy for me -- or was it a double amputee or a dead guy? I'm pretty sure he just kept bringing me along because he wanted to make sure he had a teammate who would be willing to grab a beer after games. As much as I (and many of our teammates) like to kid Pat, he's been a great manager and a true amico.

Lots of teams talk about camaraderie, chemistry and other hard-to-quantify intangibles, but it really, truly has been the case for this group. I've been involved with a lot of teams in a lot of sports, as a player, a coach, a parent, a writer, etc., and this one has been extra special.

Here's to you, Sons of Pitches: great champions, great guys, great friends.
^

Kasich was reasonable and Fiorina was fiery, but only one GOP name seems to matter (Spoiler alert: It isn't Marco Rubio)

^
The debate opened with CNN's Jake Tapper asking Donald Trump to comment on a negative comment Bobby Jindal had made about him. So, naturally, Trump responded by blasting Rand Paul.

So you knew it was going to be a fun night.

Before it was over, John Kasich -- the closest the Republicans have to an actual adult male in this whole shebang -- was admonishing his colleagues for their childishness, Paul was calling Trump sophomoric and Jeb Bush was loudly demanding that Trump to apologize to his wife for some perceived slight.

Mike Huckabee's explanation for his defense of the thrice-divorced, homophobe, whack-job Kentucky clerk was ridiculous, but then again he's just trying to land a better TV gig because he knows he has slightly less chance at the presidency than my dog Simmie. Chris Christie, who knows he will never live down hugging President Blackie McBlackerson during the aftermath of Superstorm Sandy, failed to impress. Marco Rubio made a cute little joke about his hydration situation but was stiff and overly intense whenever he talked about policy. Scott Walker, my fellow Marquette alum (although he's the one who didn't graduate), is such a lightweight.

Bush, Walker and Paul tried to go back at Trump, but he swatted them away as if they were insects and he was an orange-haired beast.

Carly Fiorina emerged as the star of the debate. She zinged Trump good once, had all of her talking points lined up neatly in a row, drew raucous applause for her takedown of Planned Parenthood, showed some emotion when talking about her stepdaughter who died of drug addiction and had the best answer on the throw-away "woman on $10 bill" question. (The latter wasn't really fair, as she was the only one who could correctly label it a token gesture without getting in trouble for disparaging women.)

She also was one of the many loud voices in the Obama Is Wrong About Iran Tour.

I actually like Fiorina, but she has a pretty big problem: As the CEO of Hewlett-Packard, she oversaw a financial trainwreck. Years after the company sent her hewlett packing, it is STILL laying off tens of thousands employees. And she's supposed to be the one with the business acumen?

Trump was Trump. After getting called out for his offensive remarks about Fiorina's looks, he was at his patronizing best by saying she has a beautiful face. Big "ick" factor there. He tried to bully Bush, Paul, Scott Walker and even those who weren't there. He offered nothing of substance, as usual, and came across as an arrogant jerk, as usual.

So you know what will happen, right? He'll shoot up another 5% in the polls.

The Trumpster could call the Pope's robe "a stooopid gown" and could follow that up by urinating on little Scotty Walker's head, and he'd probably move up 10% more! It's the damnedest thing, no?

Ben Carson continued to play the role of the anti-Trump: soft-spoken, understated, calm. But he does share one thing with the Trumpster: He has no realistic plan on any issue. Of course, in this Year of the Outsider, he's running second in the polls.

As a pacifist who really hates getting involved in every other country's wars, I happen to agree with most of Paul's stances on that subject. But Republicans love a good war or two or 10 or 100, so he has no freakin' chance. (He actually has no chance for many reasons, but that's a biggie.)

Kasich remains the one Republican I'd consider voting for. He actually answered questions he was asked, talked about his many accomplishments, displayed great restraint on the Iran situation and discussed some of his goals and ideas.

The Ohio governor, who almost surely would win a state the GOP will need to recapture the presidency, again sounded intelligent, reasonable, confident and competent.

All of which probably will work against him in this crazy race.

---

I had an interesting softball game Tuesday.

First, I thought it started at 7:45 and got there at 7:15. I went to the schedule to see which field we were on, only to see that our game actually was at 8:45. So I had a LOT of time to warm up.

One of the things I did while warming up was take the bat out of our manager's bag, swing it a dozen or so times and then put it back. I later found out that I put it in the wrong bag, and so far it still hasn't been returned to Pat. Slick move, Mike.

Also before the game, I told Pat that this would be my last appearance for awhile because I am undergoing hernia surgery next week. He did a nice job of telling me how much I'll be missed, even if he had to make it up!

Once the game started, things went well. We went up 3-0 and, even after we messed up some in letting our opponents go ahead 5-3 in the bottom of the inning, we came right back to tie it at 5 in the second. I had a line-drive hit up the middle and scored in that inning.

As the game went on, though, we played quite poorly and ended up losing 18-10. Playing second base, I made a diving stop of a grounder and a decent scoop of a low throw by the pitcher, but I also didn't pursue a pop-up behind first base aggressively enough and it fell for a hit. I got an RBI single to right and drew a walk, but I ended the game by taking Strike 3.

Yep, I started the game by losing my manager's bat and ended it by not swinging the bat I was using. Ugh.

Here's hoping that Pat gets his bat back and that the Sons of Pitches get back to our championship form before I come back in 4-6 weeks.
^

Nadel is back, Nadal is out

^
Softball players ... baseball players ... cricket players ... whoever:

One thing you most definitely do NOT want to do is copy this batting stance!!

But I do have the legs for those shorts, no?!?!

It took me 6 1/2 weeks and two tries, but I finally made my triumphant return from shoulder surgery a few days ago as our defending champion Sons of Pitches cruised to an 18-6 victory. I had a couple of hits, including a two-run single as we broke open the game.

I actually had returned one week earlier but we lost in extra innings, and I even struck out ... which isn't easy to do in slow-pitch softball. But hey, I had an excuse!

It's great to be back with the best teammates in the world, and we are now 4-1 in Fall League play.

-----

In totally unrelated news, the U.S. Open just got a little less fun for me, as Rafael Nadal -- a.k.a. My Rich Son -- was eliminated by some Italian dude named Fabio Fognini in a stirring third-round match that kept me up until nearly 2 a.m. Friday.

Rafa had been 151-0 in majors when holding a two-set lead. He also had won at least one major title in 10 straight years. Both of those distinctions are now history.

Obviously, age has done more than creep up on my man. It has ambushed him and left him in the gutter.

Yep, it's no fun turning 29!
^

THE JOY OF SIX: The Masters, the presidential race and the return of the Sons of Pitches

^
6. How 'bout that Jordan Spieth, huh? Every time Phil Mickelson or Justin Rose or anybody else drew within a few strokes of him at the Masters, the 21-year-old Texan would birdie the next couple of holes and re-open a commanding lead. He ended up breaking a bunch of records and tying Tiger Woods' mark for best Masters score ever. Pretty impressive.

I know that I'm looking forward to many years of him dueling with Rory McIlroy, the reigning king who is only 25 himself. Then again, I remember Tiger and Sergio Garcia going toe-to-toe as youngsters in the 1999 PGA Championship at Medinah and thinking, "Wow, it's gonna be fun watching these guys go at each other for the next decade or two."

How has that worked out?

^^^

5. At one point, CBS showed a list of the last 10 Masters champions -- reminding me that the one and only Masters I ever covered (or ever will cover) was won by the "least good" (to borrow a phrase from former Bears coach Dick Jauron) champion in decades. Maybe ever.

Despite shooting a 75 in the final round, Trevor Immelman beat a field that never really showed up. Woods tried to rally but got no closer than 3 strokes. Immelman hasn't won since and, since 2012, he has missed the cut more than he has made it. In 10 starts so far this year, he has made the cut twice.

Trevor Freakin' Immelman won "my" Masters. But hey, at least the weather was perfect and I got to see a golf course that actually exceeded my very lofty expectations.

^^^

4. It seems almost impossible that the race for the GOP presidential nomination could top 2012 for sheer craziness, but the candidates are off to a running start.

Ted Cruz is an absolute loony, which is fitting because he was born in Canada (unlike our current Kenya-born president). Rand Paul is supposed to be a Libertarian but he already is sucking up to the far right. Chris Christie just came out with Social Security reform that looks suspiciously like a liberal re-distribution plan. Marco Rubio is backtracking from his compassionate immigration policy because to the party base, there is no room for compassion in an immigration policy.

I already miss Herman "9-9-9" Cain, Rick "Oops" Perry, Mitt "47 Percent" Romney and Newt "I Guarantee $2.50 Gas" Gingrich.

And isn't there anything anybody can do to get Michele Bachmann to run again? She just predicted that Barack Obama's Iran policy would result in the End Times and usher in Jesus' return to earth, saying: "I believe the Bible is true. And believe what the Bible says is  that our nation and the people of our nation will reap a whirlwind, and we could see economic disasters, natural disasters."

I don't remember any mention of the U.S. of A. in either testament, but I admit I'm no biblical scholar.

^^^

3. Meanwhile, Hillary Clinton finally stopped delaying the inevitable and announced online that she would be running for the Democratic nomination.

She's a piece of work, too. She actually might be a bigger liar storyteller than her hubby.

It's gonna be a fun 17 months until November 2016.

^^^

2. The Cubs paid $155 million to a left-hander who gets the yips every time he thinks about throwing to first to hold the runner. In Jon Lester's last start, he threw one so far over the first baseman's head it almost landed in the stands. It's the damnedest thing. So Cubbie.

Fortunately for the Cubs, the right fielder chased down the baseball and gunned the runner out at third base.

Obviously, it was a set play orchestrated by Joe Maddon, the latest Savior Skipper who for sure will take the Cubbies to the pennant.

^^^

1. My over-50 softball league's season has begun and I'm thrilled to be back with the Sons of Pitches. Our manager/pitcher, Pat, traded for me because he knows I'm the ultimate softball stud. Either that or he just wanted to be sure he had somebody to drink with after games. (OK, I guarantee it's not the "stud" thing.)

Pat and I entered the league as teammates in 2012 and played one season with the Blue Thunder. He decided to become a manager the following year and traded for me. The Sons of Pitches capped a very nice two-year run by winning the '14 fall championship, but then in accordance with league rules, we (and all other teams) were broken up for the league-wide re-draft.

For the SoP's latest incarnation, Pat did a nice job of getting 5 of us back together, as Pat and I are joined by Bob, Spike (the other Mike) and Wayne. Our 8 teammates seem like great guys and fine players. Definitely a fun group. I'd list 'em all here by name but I'm still getting to know them.

Our season started Tuesday and we promptly gave up the maximum 5 runs in the top of the first inning. It was a delightful combination of booted grounders, errant throws, walks and other assorted miscues. We only managed one run ourselves and gave up a couple more runs over the next 3 innings to fall behind 7-1 going into the bottom of the 4th.

Pat, who fancies himself as quite the motivator, yelled, "Do you guys wanna win or what?" Duly inspired, we scratched out 3 runs to make it a 7-4 game. We held our opponent scoreless in the fifth and I led off the bottom of the inning.

While coaching third base earlier in the game, I had a brief conversation with the opposing third baseman. He had a great glove and a gun for an arm, but he told me he was having knee problems and wouldn't be able to move very well. I joked that I was going to lay down a bunt.

Now, bunting isn't allowed in slow-pitch softball ... but swinging bunts are another story. I took a mighty cut and the ball traveled all of about 15 feet down the third-base line. Using my cheetah-like speed -- I mean, there's nothing faster than a bald, slightly chunky, 50-something Jewboy -- I beat out the infield hit.

"Real" hits -- the kind that actually leave the infield -- followed, one after the other, and by the time the 5th inning was over, we had an 8-7 lead. The umpire's timer went off during the inning, meaning the 6th would be the last. Pat retired the first two batters before giving up a hit, but he stranded the tying run by inducing a come-backer. After he threw to first, it was time to head to the bar.

There's nothing wrong with winning ugly, because there's no such thing as losing pretty.

The Sons of Pitches are back, baby!
^

Draft Day doesn't delight, but Old Man Softball does

^
I recently saw Draft Day, Kevin Costner's ode to The Most Overblown Event In Sports, implausible storylines, ESPN, unpassionate love and, of course, himself.

OK, that sounds like the movie was horrible, and it wasn't. It was easy enough to watch, it maybe offered a little insight into the NFL Draft for those who don't follow football and there was nothing offensive in it.

Roberta said it felt as if she were watching a made-for-HBO movie. That's a pretty apt description, but I'd rather watch any episode of Game of Thrones.

Let's just say it wasn't one of Costner's best.

Costner is the general manager of the Cleveland Browns and he is feeling pressure to produce a winner after some lackluster seasons. The owner (played by Frank Langella, by far the best performance of any actor in the film) mostly wants to make a splash in the draft by trading up for the No. 1 pick to select the hot QB, while Costner -- son of a legendary former Browns coach -- wants to create a legacy for himself. Denis Leary plays a coach at odds with the GM, but comes across mostly as Denis Leary playing himself.

I don't want to give too much away here in case you still want to see it, so I will send out a SPOILER ALERT warning right now ...

Costner's wheeling and dealing as GM is so unrealistic that it borders on the ridiculous.

Actually, let me amend that: The border was crossed into abject ridiculousness.

Costner trades away a boatload of high draft picks (including the Browns' 7th-overall selection) to Seattle for the No. 1 pick -- OK, that kind of thing has happened, albeit rarely. He then uses the pick to select not the QB but the guy he wanted to take at No. 7 anyway. Farfetched? You betcha. And it gets even sillier.

Costner then trades two second-round picks to acquire the No. 6 overall selection (even with the great QB prospect still on the board). As if that isn't a dopey enough plot twist, he trades that pick back to the Seattle GM who fleeced him in the first place. Not only does Costner get back all of the draft picks he gave away but he convinces the Seattle GM to give him a great punt returner, too.

What, he couldn't get Russell Wilson, Richard Sherman and Marshawn Lynch, too?

And then there's this: Jennifer Garner is the Browns' salary-cap expert. She also is Costner's love interest, although there couldn't have been less chemistry between the two.

The kiss they shared at the end of the movie? Put it this way: Mike and Carol Brady had more passionate smooches 30 years ago than the Costner-Garner kiss -- and Mike didn't even like girls!

On my 1-10 ratings scale, I give Draft Day 5 Bald Heads. Which is my way of saying, "Meh."

+++

Here's something that gets a far better rating: The Sons of Pitches are back, baby!

Yep, it's springtime in Charlotte, and that means it's time again for Old Man Softball.

I'm pleased to report that the Sons of Pitches are 3-0. Thanks to timely hitting and some clutch defense, we have won our three games by a total of five runs. Most importantly, none of us has had to be rushed to the Emergency Room.

We play the two other unbeaten teams over the next three weeks, so we'll see how good we really are.

As for yours truly ...

For the second time in three seasons, I'm my team's youngest player. That's right, The Kid. I need to cherish that "honor," because I'm miles from being the most talented player. Still, I did go 3-for-3 yesterday, with two solid singles to right-center and a fortuitous bloop (that looks like any other line drive in the box score). I'm batting .667 so far -- another thing I need to cherish while I can.

We have a great group of guys. We enjoy each other's company, we like to give each other crap and we even play some pretty good softball occasionally. Joining this league, and specifically playing for this team, is one of the most enjoyable things I've done since moving to N.C.
^

Today's High 5: Clutch hitting, NL MVP talk, N.C. political hypocrisy

^
5. It was a big Tuesday night for the Sons of Pitches softballers, proving even old men still have fire in their bellies and a few tricks up their sleeves.

Down 10-5 going into the top of the 7th (and last) inning, we rallied with 5 to tie. I had been 0-for-4 and looking quite awful up to that point, but I delivered a bases-loaded single during the rally. After holding our opponents scoreless in the bottom of the 7th, the game went into extra innings ... and we promptly plated 5 in the top of the 8th. (Yours truly drew a walk.) We retired them without any damage in the bottom of the 8th, sealing a very, very satisfying 15-10 victory.

We've lost a game or two like that, so it felt great to pull one out. Everybody contributed. Even the guys who had really rough times at the plate made plays in the field. And several of us who struggled for 4, 5, 6 innings came through in the clutch.

Let me tell you, after the game -- our third straight win after an 0-2 start to the fall season -- the beer was wetter and the wings were wingier!

Coincidentally (or not?), our tying rally started just as my wife walked up to the field. Robbie had worked OT, so she didn't get there in time to see the bad stuff. I mean, she actually thinks we're good!

Maybe we should make her our official team mascot.

4. MLB suspended Ryan Dempster 5 games for intentionally hitting A-Rod in the elbow with a pitch.

That's ridiculous.

Dempster should have been suspended 10 games for missing A-Rod's head.

3. While the AL MVP race is a two-man event -- I'm thinking Miguel Cabrera has a slight edge over Chris Davis right now, with Mike Trout having little chance because his team has been lousy from Day 1 -- the NL MVP race is most intriguing.

At midseason, I liked Yadier Molina, but he's been hurt and his Cardinals have been struggling. Andrew McCutchen is probably the deserving favorite right now because he does everything for the upstart Pirates, and Clayton Kershaw is getting a lot of attention for being the most dominant pitcher in baseball. BBWAA award voters have enough trouble giving the Cy Young to a guy without a lot of wins, however, so it's not going to be easy for Kershaw to sway MVP voters despite his microscopic ERA. Joey Votto and Paul Goldschmidt also are getting some mention.

In a year without an obvious frontrunner, here are two interesting candidates: Braves closer Craig Kimbrel and Dodgers rookie Yasiel Puig.

Kimbrel has converted 39 of 42 save attempts and could end up with 50+ saves. He has allowed 6 runs all season, and his WHIP and BAA are incredible. As important as closers have become in baseball, and given Atlanta's fantastic season despite lacking any oh-my-god! hitters or starting pitchers, it's hard to argue that many NL players have been more valuable to a playoff-bound team than Kimbrel.

Puig's stats have come down to earth some, and he actually was held out of the lineup after arriving late for pregame drills Tuesday, but it's impossible to deny the impact he has had on the Dodgers. After losing at Colorado on June 2, the Dodgers were 23-32 and in the NL West cellar, 8 1/2 games behind first-place Arizona. Puig made his debut with two hits on June 3, and since then, the Dodgers are 50-20. They now lead the division, 7 1/2 games ahead of Arizona. Puig is batting .352 with 12 HR, 28 RBI and 48 runs, and his energy has sparked the team while ushering Puig-Mania into L.A. Oh, and even in the game he was benched, he ended up delivering the winning HR in the 8th.

If ever there was a season to vote for a part-year player, this could be it.

2. The Cubs and White Sox are both in last place, a combined 42 1/2 games back.

It's nice to know that, three years after I left Chicago, so little has changed!

1. We can't find money in North Carolina to give our teachers raises, to keep teaching assistants employed or to avoid increasing class sizes. Nevertheless, our Republican governor, Pat McCrory, was able to locate tens of thousands of dollars to give two inexperienced bureaucrats 35+ percent raises -- lifting their salaries to $87,500 and $85,000.

What qualified those young men to work in McCrory's administration for the Department of Health and Human Services? Well, as members of his campaign staff, they helped him get elected.

I guess even 24-year-olds can benefit from the old boy's network.

And I guess it's only important for Republicans to keep government small when dealing with silly "liberal" issues ... such as education.

For the record, this registered Independent voted last November for the Libertarian gubernatorial candidate, Barbara Howe.
^

Today's High 5: Asking politically correct golf fans and Game of Thrones nerds to chill out

5. Those who believe the PGA should have suspended, fined or punished Sergio Garcia in some other way for his racist "fried chicken" remark aimed at Tiger Woods, get a clue.

Garcia already has been punished in the court of public opinion. With his muted reaction, Tiger came off as classy while Sergio merely sounded assy.

And then there's this: Garcia punishes himself every time he plays a major by choking like the dog he is. The U.S. Open figures to be yet another failure for the whining Spaniard -- an "athlete" who is the diametric opposite of countryman Rafa Nadal.

Pro sports leagues shouldn't legislate political correctness. Society does a great job deciding these things.

4. I'm pretty sure the Spurs just made a half-dozen more 3-pointers. Which is incredible because, as I write this, Game 3 has been over for about an hour.

Look, the Spurs made every shot they launched toward the basket and the Heat pretty much stunk. Kind of the exact opposite what happened in Game 2.

LeBron & Co. are in no more trouble than the Spurs were after they were routed two nights earlier.

Now, if the same thing happens in Game 4 ...

3. The Sons of Pitches, the oldie-but-goodie-league softball team for which I play, closed out the regular season Tuesday with our fourth straight victory.

We are hitting the ball, making most of the plays in the field and taking care of business on the mound. We were especially sharp Tuesday, overcoming our few bad plays by playing sound fundamental softball and delivering timely hits. Afterward, nine of us went out for a beverage -- which is about three times as much as the typical turnout last season. That's what I call camaraderie!

The playoffs start next week and we have as good a chance at the title as anybody does. We will be missing our shortstop and best player, Tom, for the first couple of postseason games, but I still feel really good about this team.

We have fun, we like each other and we're playing well. That's what this is supposed to be about.

2. The Cubs and White Sox owe the Blackhawks big-time.

Chicago is ga-ga over its hockey team's second Stanley Cup Finals appearance this decade. The Blackhawks play the Bruins in a series that will last almost until the Bears start training camp. Baseball hasn't mattered this little in the Windy City since Mayor Daley was handing the Sox taxpayer money for Comiskey Park while telling the Cubs they couldn't spend their own to upgrade Wrigley.

On Monday, both the Cubs and Sox played home games in heavy fog.

A perfect metaphor, my friends.

1. Yet another fantastic season of Game of Thrones has concluded, and, speaking on behalf of all of us dummies who are watching the HBO series without having read all gazillion G.O.T. books ...

Hey, book-reading nerds: Stop telling us what is going to happen next!!

From what I understand, the show is quite faithful to the novels, which means every G.O.T. reader already knows all the stunning developments before each episode airs. I guess these folks just want to see how HBO pulls off the best scenes, but as a sports guy who will not watch a sporting event I have taped if I accidentally find out what happened, I like to be surprised.

Game of Thrones has had some of the most shocking scenes in recent TV history. Again, speaking for us television-watching dopes, I want to keep being shocked going forward.

Is that too much to ask for?
^

Today's High Five: Harper's face-plant, Arnie's return, NBA doings, softball drama

^
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!"
^

No close loss this time for SOPs

^
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!
^

Time again for this old hack to play ball

^
There was a point between wanting to be a comedian and wanting to be a veterinarian that I actually wanted to be a basketball player when I grew up.

Then, as now, I wasn't very smart. But even I was smart enough to know a not-quite-6-foot Jewish kid with the speed of a plow horse and the leaping ability of a sumo wrestler probably wasn't going to be able to hang with the likes of Bob McAdoo and Jamaal Wilkes.

So I gave up on that dream -- and, soon enough, would give up on the idea of being a veterinarian when I discovered to my horror that I'd actually have to take science and math while going to college for something like eleventy-zillion years -- to become a writer.

No regrets ... but that doesn't mean I'm still not a wannabe jock. And these days, that means doing the few active things I can do and hopefully not get maimed in the process.

That was a long introduction to say this:

It's softball time again!

Yes, for the second straight year, I'm playing in the Charlotte Senior Sports softball league. The season just started but already I've seen my share of excitement. Believe it or not, the Sons of Pitches actually traded for me a couple of weeks before the opener. Hey, if Babe Ruth, Nolan Ryan and Jeff Bagwell weren't too good to be traded, neither was I!

Our manager, Pat, and his first-round draft choice, Tom, were major contributors on my championship team from last year and decided they wanted me as a teammate again.

For comic relief, I assume.

In reality, I'm pretty sure Pat acquired me because he and I had been among the only folks who regularly went out for a beer after games last season. I'm an OK ballplayer who is willing to play anywhere the manager wants, and I'm a team-first chatterbox who makes wise cracks to keep everybody loose, but really, all Pat wanted was his drinking buddy back.

So anyway, we played our first game of the season Tuesday. It was a back-and-forth affair that we lost 19-18 in the final inning. I played catcher and batted 10th, both of which were absolutely fine by me. A lot of people don't like catching, but I think it's fun to handle the ball on every play and maybe be on the receiving end of a huge play that can decide a game. As for where I bat in the lineup, I'd be worried about my team if I was placed too high in the order.

I was fine at the plate, with two singles, a walk and three runs. As one might guess looking at the score, we had several players who did as well or better than I did. We struggled some in the field, though, which will happen in a season opener. The other team didn't exactly flash a bunch of Gold Gloves, either.

Aside from the final result, it was a fun night -- even if I had to disappoint Pat and opt out of postgame libations. I've been battling a cold and I decided that NyQuil, not Stella Artois, should provide my alcohol for the evening.

Hopefully, next week will be a different story, both on the scoreboard and afterward.
^

Sandbagging Obama finally scores some birdies

^
In golf, the term is "sandbagging."

That's what Barack Obama must have been doing in the first debate. I mean, there's no way he could have been that bad unless he was trying to be that bad, right?

So yeah, that's the ticket. He sandbagged. He carded double-bogeys, couldn't get out of bunkers, chunked chips and got a terrible case of the shanks. He got Mitt Romney overconfident, gave the Republicans hope and lowered expectations on himself.

Then, just when people were starting to bet on the other guy, though, President Obama showed up for Mitt vs. Barack II and started raining birdies.

Nice strategy, chief!

This time, Obama wouldn't let Romney get away with blatant lies. Obama got the last, best word on oil production, on the auto bailout, on tax policy and on Libya. Not that politicians even seem to care anymore, but the fact-checkers generally confirmed that Romney had less truthiness (how's that for a word?) than Obama.

And the president brilliantly used his closing statement to condemn Romney for his infamous 47 percent of the country is not worthy comments, thereby preventing Romney from defending himself. The challenger didn't have the chance to blame everybody else for the true feelings he had shared with his audience of gazillionaires.

One final birdie in the heart of the cup for the sandbagger.

Had this Jack Nicklaus Obama showed up for the first debate -- instead of Judge Smails Obama -- the election already would be over. But he didn't and it isn't.

The temptation now is to say that the debate score is 1-1. Or maybe that the Obama ticket is even slightly ahead when factoring in Joe Biden's takedown of Paul Ryan in the VP debate. That, however, is not the case.

Obama's victory last night was not nearly as lopsided as Romney's was last time. Plus, by mopping the floor with the president in the first debate, Romney was able to get out from under having called nearly half the country victims, leeches and losers.

Romney completely stole the momentum during No. 1. Obama merely stemmed the tide in No. 2, showing America he was willing to fight.

I'm already looking forward to No. 3. It's been pretty darn good television theater.

---

In much more important news, Blue Thunder, our geezer-league softball team, reached a new high last night. We won 30-5 in a game that was even more decisive than the score might suggest.

In an effort to prevent runaways, the league has a rule that caps scoring in any one inning at 5 runs.  Well, we had six offensive innings last night. And in each of those innings, we scored 5 runs. Our opponent wasn't very good and gave us extra chances, but the fact is that we were smacking line drive after line drive after line drive.

Our leadoff guy, Wheels, went 5-for-5 with four singles and a double -- every time delivering a clean hit, as if he were some kind of line-drive machine. Several players had four hits. I went 3-for-3 with a walk, including my first triple of the season.

All of this happened after one of our core players, our pitcher Pat, got bloodied in the first inning when hit in the face by a hard shot. Pat had to go to the hospital to get a few stitches, but the good news is that he is fine and should be back next week -- when we'll be trying to wrap up a perfect 9-0 regular season!

---

If you are going to ever read one of my personal finance articles at the Seeking Alpha web site, make it  my most recent entry about Roth IRAs. Everybody who can have a Roth should have one, and I give the hows and whys in this article.

Plus, I get paid per page-view. So hey, everybody who clicks can help me fund my own Roth!
^

A-Rod sits, Ibanez hits, and sports remains the best reality TV

^

Impressed with Joe Girardi, who had the guts to pinch-hit for Alex Rodriguez.

Impressed with A-Rod, who at least outwardly cheered on his teammate.

And really, really, really impressed with Raul Ibanez, who took A-Rod's place, delivered the game-tying homer in the ninth and followed with the winning shot in the 12th as the Yankees beat the Orioles to take control of their AL playoff series.

It couldn't have been an easy decision for Girardi, who had stuck by the struggling A-Rod through thin and thinner.

Despite some of the most incredible stats in history, Rodriguez probably isn't going to be a Hall of Famer because the majority of voters simply won't check the box next to the name of any juicer. Already fighting a reputation as a choker, it had to be tough to be lifted for a pinch-hitter in the ninth inning of a playoff game. A-Rod no doubt sees himself as an all-time great, but let me tell you ... nobody ever pinch-hit for DiMaggio, Gehrig, Ruth or Mantle in a postseason game.

Oh well, he'll have to make do with his $275 million consolation prize.

As for Ibanez ... he sure made Girardi look like a genius, didn't he? Those were the most impressive hits for an over-the-hill bald guy since, well, since my last softball game.

Actually, I wasn't much of a hitting stud in Tuesday's game. But I didn't embarrass myself much as the mighty Blue Thunder won again.

We're now 7-0, everybody contributes every game, we like each other and it's great fun.

The only downer: I failed to accomplish my main goal of getting through the entire season without any medical issues. Going from first to third on a teammate's hit, I tweaked my right hamstring. Though I stayed in the game, I was hobbled. 

But don't worry, everybody. Seriously, DO NOT WORRY. I mean it. Stop worrying, will ya?

A few Advil later, I'm doing much better. I even spent about an hour at the driving range today and didn't card a single bogey.

----

For those interested in personal finance or my writing -- in other words, for those who are really bored -- check out my latest article at Seeking Alpha: READ IT.

I get dough for each page view, so help me raise money to aid Jewish nuns.

^

Two new articles and one old winner

^
Are you better off than you were four years ago? Roberta and I are, and I tell why in my latest article for the investing Web site, Seeking Alpha. I guess it struck a nerve with lots of people; as of this moment, it has received more than 200 comments. READ IT!

In a far less provocative piece, here is a feature story I wrote for the American Heart Association site: READ IT!

And in totally unrelated news ...

Another big win for Blue Thunder, our old dude's softball team. We beat one of the better teams in our 45-and-over league and did so with authority: 25-9.

We are 6-0 and just thumping the ball. Even yours truly, who has had a few nice games in a row after snapping out of a month-long slump.

We're playing so well that some of my teammates are worried about overconfidence. In the realm of worries, that's my favorite one to have!
^

Rolling Thunder strikes again!

^
Blue Thunder? We should be called the Rolling Thunder!

It's the Fall League for Charlotte old dude softball (45 and older), and our squad just won again. We're 5-0 with four weeks left in the regular season.

As usual, we pounded the ball and made enough good defensive plays to win, 17-13. What was unique about this latest victory was that we were missing five of our best players but we just kept rolling. (Ed, Wheels, Ronnie, Donnie, Jim ... we really do still need you!!)

There were a few unique things involving yours truly, too. First, I batted fifth. I'm pretty sure I hadn't hit in the middle of the order since I was occasionally smashing the longball for my Madison Newspaper Co. team in 1984. Second, I had my first three-RBI day of the season, with two hits and a sac fly as I continue to battle out of the slump that plagued me in August.

And third? I was intentionally walked.

Yes, that's right. The opponent intentionally walked a slug like me to load the bases and set up the force play. The really cool thing is that the guy who followed me in the order -- our 75-year-old living legend named O.K. -- delivered a line-drive into the gap!

Softball already had been fun because this is a great group of guys, but I must admit it's even more fun when everybody's hitting ... and the Thunder keeps rolling.
^

Heimlich Maneuver, please!

I've witnessed many chokers over the years. Now I know how the Cubs -- and the rest of them -- felt.

My softball team, the Blue Thunder, lost in the playoffs Tuesday night. That's bad enough. We had become a really good team, as good as any in the league, so it sucked to have our season come to an end.

You know what sucks even more? Being the goat. A choker.

We were down 6-5 going in the top of the last inning. I was in right field. There were two outs, bases loaded. The next guy hit a line-drive between me and the right-center fielder. I got a late jump but I was there. Got my glove on the ball. Couldn't make the catch. Three runs scored. 9-5.

We got the final out and came to bat. You know how announcers always say, "It always seems like the guy who made the great play leads off the bottom of the inning"? Well, sometimes, the guy who choked and committed a three-run error also leads off the bottom of the inning. And then that guy gets to choke all over again, grounding out to shortstop.

We ended up scoring one run so we lost by three. The difference was the three-run error by the choking right fielder. 

When he blew Game 7 of the NLCS against the Marlins, Kerry Wood looked a roomful of reporters in the eye and said: "I choked." He was man enough to admit it, and so am I.

I know I'm being awfully hard on myself. As many of my teammates later said as they tried to console me: If you only score six runs in softball, you can't win. I suppose that's true. We had been hitting the hell out of the ball, but just about everybody struggled in this one.

Still, if the right fielder makes that catch ...

OK. I've bloodied myself enough. It's a great group of guys and we'll be teammates again in the Fall League. In a day or three, I'll shake this off ... I think.

Until then, I'll wallow in self-pity a little. That's what chokers do, no?

Thunder, no ... Blue Thunder, yes!

^
Just a little before the Spurs took care of the Thunder to go up 2-0 in the Western Conference finals, the Blue Thunder -- the 45-and-over softball team on which I play -- took care of business to post our second win of the year.

We actually had played pretty darn well our previous couple of games, including a heartbreaking, come-from-ahead loss to an unbeaten squad just last week.

Our team's dynamic changed earlier this month when two of our players were suspended for the rest of the season for fighting ... with each other. Yep, we were kinda like the Charley Finley A's and the Bronx Zoo Yankees -- except we weren't too slick at the winning part of the equation.

Anyhoo, Joey and Tom, the two gentlemen who replaced the not-so-dearly departed, are very nice guys. Very good players, too. They have formed one heck of a keystone combo, with Tom and his laser arm at short and Joey looking like a natural at second. Both also are fine hitters.

Tuesday night, pretty much everybody in the lineup hit the cover off the ball and played sound defense. We ended up winning by the mercy rule after 5 innings. I even had my season high with 3 hits -- although the lone time I didn't come through happened with the bases loaded, when I reached for a short pitch and barely got my bat on the ball. I guess Joey, who was on third base, didn't get the sign for the suicide squeeze.

We already were missing a few players; a couple more guys tweaked leg injuries during the game. You know things are getting bad when I become the young, speedy pinch-runner!

Every team makes the double-elimination playoffs, and I truly believe our new, improved club will be dangerous.

And by dangerous, I mean to our opponents and not to each other. What a zany concept!
^

Of 1-and-dones ... and softball Win No. 1

^

Those who hate the rule that allows -- even encourages -- young basketball hotshots to go to college for one-plus semester and then turn pro shouldn't hate the kids.

Nor should they be hating on Kentucky, coach John Calipari or NBA commissioner David Stern.

You go to college to better your lot in life. It's hard to argue that Anthony Davis, Michael Kidd-Gilchrist and the other Kentucky starters did anything but that when they decided to go pro. They teamed to win the Wildcats the NCAA title, so it's not as if they owe Kentucky anything else. Even if they hadn't won a title, they played hard and represented the school well for the short time they were there (at least as far as we know). That's all any college athlete owes his or her school.

So the kids are all right.

Calipari? He just recruits the best players in the country and abides by the rules as they stand (as the rules pertain to 1-and-dones, anyway). What? You don't think he'd rather have Davis & Co. for another year or three? He didn't write the rule. Get off his case.

Stern has publicly stated that he'd like the rule revised so athletes would have to stay in school for at least two years before declaring for the draft. But league owners have to collectively bargain that stuff with the players' union, so it's not as if Stern can make some kind of unilateral ruling.

I don't fault the union, either. Coming to an agreement that keeps kids from jumping right from preps to the pros was a major concession a few years ago. Why should they give in more unless the owners make a major concession? The sooner a player enters the league and gets through his first relatively modest contract, the sooner that player is going to get the really big bucks, thereby inflating salaries for everybody. The union is in no hurry to give that up.

So who's to "blame"? There is no blame. This simply going to be the way it is for the foreseeable future. Deal with it.

----

And speaking of Ready for Prime Time Players, our geriatric-ish softball team used a spectacular last-inning comeback to score our first win of the season.

Trailing big early, we eventually rallied to tie it at 17-17. Then we fell behind 19-17 before scoring 9 in the top of the last to go up 26-19. That's the way it ended when our defense put together our only 1-2-3 inning of the game. Clutch! Even more impressive, we had to play without our coach, who arguably is our best player, and two other guys. Don't take this personally, Ed, but you must be overrated!!

Yours truly wasn't exactly the MVP -- a sac fly, a hit, a walk, line-drive out and an embarrassing called third strike (believe me, the ball was 6 inches inside, but I still should have protected the plate). I made a couple of decent plays at second base, scored a couple runs and led the charge to grab a beer after the game. Hey, I'm all about camaraderie.

So now we're 1-2 and gaining a reputation as Komeback Kids (if 50-, 60- and 70-somethings can be called kids). Our previous game, we trailed 9-0, roared back to take a 10-9 lead and then lost in the bottom of the last. This time, we made the comeback stick. Very satisfying.

Look at me, all jacked up about a softball game. Ah, it's grand to be a kid again.

^

Other than slightly bruised ego, this junior-ish Senior Leaguer survives debut

^

I'm still in one piece ... although many of my pieces are sore this morning.

I didn't completely embarrass myself; I only partially embarrassed myself.

And I really like my teammates.

So went my first 12-inch softball game in 18 years.

Since moving to Charlotte in August 2010, I'd been looking for an outlet to suit both my competitive nature and my male-bonding instincts. I finally found one: the city's 45-and-over softball league.

The season opened last night, and I played second base and batted eighth for the Blue Thunder.

The last time I had played softball -- not counting the half-dozen or so games of the 16-inch variety I had played during my Chicago years -- I was living in the Twin Cities suburb of Apple Valley back in the summer of 1994. I was 33, and I was one of the team's older players.

Now I'm 51 -- and I am one of the team's youngsters. Pretty funny.

Despite our 19-12 loss to the Maroon Platoon, I really did enjoy it ... when I wasn't losing a pop-up in the lights and grounding out with two on in the fifth inning with us desperately trying to come back.

Other than the aforementioned pop-up humiliation, I handled my position fine. I took one hard grounder off my chin but kept the ball in front of me and made the play, grabbed a few easier grounders and almost turned a double play.

I also forgot to go out to right field for the cut-off throw once and, on another occasion, didn't cover second base when I should have.

At the plate, I was 1-for-3, with a single up the middle and two groundouts. I would have beaten out the fifth-inning grounder for a hit but we had runners on first and second, so the third baseman was able to scramble to the bag and just barely get the out. I scored a run and had an RBI.

My teammates, guys whom I just met a couple of weeks ago, were extremely supportive when I screwed up ... as was I when they did. I was hardly alone in the mess-up department, which is why we allowed 19 runs.

We hit the ball pretty well, though, scored a dozen runs and made some really nice plays. I definitely see potential for a pretty good team.

As important, several guys promised they'd be willing to grab a drink and/or bite after future games. I mean, if softball isn't a social venture, why bother, right?

^