Random Thoughts

I just watched my first lacrosse game. Granted, the participants were fourth graders, so I shouldn't be one to judge. But it's going to take a lot more than I witnessed today to convince me that this is the sport of the future. Ricky Roma, with Mitch & Murray promising him a Cadillac Eldorado, couldn't do that kind of sell job on me.

Not that lacrosse is a terrible sport; it just will never be a great one. The great sports have a quality about them, like they weren't invented, they were just discovered. You could put the entire international MENSA membership in a room with every living Nobel Prize winner, and they'd never come up with an idea as good as baseball. Football is the game version of warfare: strong guys at the front, smart guys in the back calling the shots, old smart guys making the big decisions.

Watching lacrosse gives you the feeling that someone just invented it. It's like a "Survivor" comfort challenge. If you're team scores five goals first, Jeff Probst will give you a wooden crate filled with fishing tackle and Mountain Dew.

And it looks like something they made up to make use of the unsold stuff from a sporting goods "Goin Out of Business" sale. A bunch of kids in motocross helmets wearing hockey pads trying to throw a raquetball into a golf practice net using pool skimmers.

But hey, if my son loves it and is good at it, I've got his back. Just no way I'm letting him go to Duke.

If you're a lesbian, the women's Final Four is your Spring Break. Veterans of women's Final Fours have told me that it's just one big hook-up. And I can totally understand it- you're in a city where no one knows you, you're surrounded by chicks you want to hook up with and you have a perfect excuse to stay up late, drinking and partying. Trust me, if anyone understands the lesbian mindset at the Final Four, it's a heterosexual male.

We've spent the past century inventing quasi-holidays that allow us to travel to a strange city, get hammered and make new and exciting friends. And then crawl back to the airport and pray that the penicillin in the medicine cabinet hasn't lost its potency. Spring Break. Mardi Gras. St. Patrick's Day. The Final Four. Super Bowl. Bowl Games. Playoff Games. Bachelor Parties. Weekends in Vegas. Golf trips to South Carolina. We've mastered the art form.

And it must be heaven for lesbians in Boston- it's like 25,000 potential hook-ups suddenly arriving on your doorstep. It's like being a straight dude and finding out that the National Collegiate Cheerleading and Dance Championships are being held in your living room.

You wouldn't think Phil Mickelson would be a controversial figure. He's been among the top five golfers on the planet for going on about ten years now. He's an easy going, laid back Arizona guy married to a former Cardinal's cheerleader. He's made a ton of money. He's got so much confidence in his ability to make the impossible shot that he's become the poster boy for the "f-it, I'm not laying up" school of grip-it-and-rip-it golf which has lost him almost as many tournaments as it's won for him. But he's got his detractors, who think he's soft as puppy shit.

Mickelson is giving ammo to both arguments this weekend at the Bellsouth Classic. First by being at the Bellsouth Classic in the first place instead of getting ready for the Masters. With the exception of Ian Poulter and Retief Goosen, there's not a guy on the Bellsouth leaderboard with a snowball's chance of winning at Augusta.

Then Mickelson, who had a chance to tie the all-time PGA record for low 54-hole score, bogeyed 16 and put two balls in the drink at 18. Then he told the world he's glad he did it because he didn't want to be distracted by a record. What kind of mentality is that? If you're a professional athlete, aren't you supposed to be consumed with success? If a double bogey to finish the day is a good thing, shouldn't you aim for the pond? Can you imagine Tiger saying/thinking something like that? For Tiger, every shot is an opportunity to rip your heart out of your chest so you can watch him eat it while you die.That's why Mickelson is a lightning rod for criticism.

Then again, maybe people just hate him for the man boobs.