Paging Angelo Pizzo ... paging Angelo Pizzo ...
Your next movie script is ready to be written.
Surely the man who collaborated with fellow Hoosier David Anspaugh on "Hoosiers" and "Rudy" will not be able to resist "Caped Crusaders," the heartwarming tale of a humble high school football team on Cape Cod, and the big-time coach who comes to lead them to glory. Or, you know, something like that.
This upon the news that former Green Bay Packers coach Mike Sherman has decided to come out of retirement to coach ... a humble high school football team on Cape Cod. Yes, that's right. Sherman, who hails from just down the road and lives in West Dennis, the next burg down the Cape, will become the new football coach for Nauset High School. He's doing this, he says, because, well, he misses coaching. And the game is never more purely about coaching than it is on the high school level.
He is, of course, not the first former NFL coach who's done this. But he might be the first coach who could still get an NFL job if he wanted it who's done this. And he's surely the first guy who not only coached in the NFL but coached one of its iconic franchises.
So he goes from Aaron Rodgers to, I don't know, whoever the quarterback is at Nauset High School. That's some sea change for you, and not just because said high school is surrounded by the sea. Think of the dramatic possibilities!
COACH SHERMAN: You can do this, (Insert Quarterback Name Here)! I know you can!
INSERT QUARTERBACK NAME HERE: But, Coach, I'm not Aaron Rodgers! And I'm not ever gonna be! I'm just a kid who's trying to score some chicks and get a scholly to Southern New Hampshire!
COACH SHERMAN (sits down, throws a fatherly arm around his shoulders): You're better than that, Insert Quarterback Name Here. I see great things in you. I believe in you. And you know else believes in you? This guy.
(Cut to Aaron Rodgers walking into the room).
INSERT QUARTERBACK NAME HERE: Aaron Rodgers!!
AARON RODGERS: Hi, kid.
INSERT QUARTERBACK NAME HERE: Can you do that Discount Double Check thing?
There you go, Angelo Pizzo. You take it from here.
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Hooray for corruption
You know how people say we get the government we deserve?
Apparently that works for soccer, too.
Apparently the people who run international soccer want more corruption and palm-greasing and out-and-out theft, because that's what they voted for yesterday. Faced with a choice between a guy (Prince Ali) who ran on a platform of reform and another guy (sitting president Sepp Blatter) presiding over the worst scandal in FIFA's 111-year history, international soccer chose Scandal Boy.
Under Blatter, FIFA has been the most corrupt ruling body in sports, a steaming pile in which the U.S. just set off a nuclear device by indicting 14 people on charges of bribery, racketeering, fraud and money-laundering that go back 20 years. Yet the voters cheered Blatter's re-election, indicating that they enjoy being a criminal enterprise, not to say the laughing stock of everyone outside their own cloistered world.
And how did their guy address all of that?
By pronouncing himself "the president of everybody." By flicking away the widespread corruption as "some organizational problems." Oh, and by saying they need more women on the committee.
Yepper. That'll fix everything.
Apparently that works for soccer, too.
Apparently the people who run international soccer want more corruption and palm-greasing and out-and-out theft, because that's what they voted for yesterday. Faced with a choice between a guy (Prince Ali) who ran on a platform of reform and another guy (sitting president Sepp Blatter) presiding over the worst scandal in FIFA's 111-year history, international soccer chose Scandal Boy.
Under Blatter, FIFA has been the most corrupt ruling body in sports, a steaming pile in which the U.S. just set off a nuclear device by indicting 14 people on charges of bribery, racketeering, fraud and money-laundering that go back 20 years. Yet the voters cheered Blatter's re-election, indicating that they enjoy being a criminal enterprise, not to say the laughing stock of everyone outside their own cloistered world.
And how did their guy address all of that?
By pronouncing himself "the president of everybody." By flicking away the widespread corruption as "some organizational problems." Oh, and by saying they need more women on the committee.
Yepper. That'll fix everything.
Friday, May 29, 2015
An outbreak of acute silliness
And now for a Blob favorite I just made up, What Were They Thinking, in which we actually get to hear what they were thinking:
1. "We've got us a coach who's won 65 percent of his games and has gotten us to the playoffs every year even though every year we've been missing key pieces. But he's kind of a pain in the ass. So we're gonna swallow the $9 million left on his contract, shove him out the door -- Ooh, look, a bus! Bonus! -- and bring in some college guy."
2. "To heck with sudden death. We're out of air time, so we're just gonna declare two champions and go home. Half a Popsicle for everyone!"
The world is a strange place. But sometimes it's not strange enough. Sometimes the world has to take strange out, get it drunk and leave it stranded somewhere, sans pants.
That's kind of what happened yesterday, when the Chicago Bulls fired one of the NBA's best coaches, Tom Thibodeau, and the National Spelling Bee ended in a tie because they ran out of words in the final round. As the immortal gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson used to say, "Bad craziness."
Let's take Thibodeau first.
Yes, he was hard to get along with. But he also won 255 games in Chicago and made the Bulls an Eastern Conference power again. And how did the Bulls thank him for that?
Not only did they fire him, they, yes, threw him under the bus. And not only did they throw him under the bus, they put the bus in reverse and backed over him, then put the bus in drive and drove over him again. Their release announcing Thibodeau's firing was remarkable for its spite -- it essentially said he couldn't be trusted and couldn't abide disagreement -- and remarkably wooden-headed as well. What NBA coach of any merit is going to want to work for the Bulls, if it's an organization not only willing to fire you for winning 51 games a year but to be so stunningly ungrateful as to trash you on your way out the door?
The skinny to all this is, NBA teams will now be lining up to hire Thibs, because the Bulls' attempt to make him unemployable will fall on deaf ears. Do you really think any NBA team believes anything another NBA team says about anything? Silly you.
And as for the Bulls ...
Well. They'll be lining up to sign, according to reports, Iowa State coach Fred Hoiberg.
Thibs wins.
Speaking of winning, there was a massive outbreak of winning in the National Spelling Bee. For the second year in a row, the national championship of speling (oops, make that "spelling") ended in a tie. Sharing the title were Gokul Venkatachalam and Vanya Shivashankar, whose names could have been contest words themselves.
Instead, Gokul and Vanya both breezed through the 25-word finals list, which included bouquetière, caudillismo, thamakau, scytale, pyrrhuloxia and several other completely made-up words. So they shared the title, the second year in a row that's happened.
And which is completely ridiculous.
Look. No event that functions as a national championship should ever end in a tie. Ev-er. Does the Super Bowl end in a tie? The World Series? The U.S. Grand Prix?
(OK, bad example. The U.S. Grand Prix actually did end in a tie one year, or at least the next thing to it: an orchestrated finish that allowed one teammate, Rubens Barrichello, to cross the finish line side-by-side with another, Michael Schumacher. But it's Formula One, and Formula One is silly, too.)
Anyway, this will not stand. Hockey teams play 10 gazillion overtimes sometimes to decide who gets to lug the Stanley Cup around and do weird things with it. Golfers will play 11 gazillion extra holes for the honor of donning an ugly green jacket. And when was the last time the Super Bowl ended this way?
HEAD OFFICIAL: Sorry, boys, it's getting dark. Time to go home.
JOE MONTANA: But we're not finished yet! The game is still tied!
JOE MONTANA'S MOM: Joe Montana! You get in here this instant! Dinner's getting cold!
That never happened in a Super Bowl, nor any other legitimate competition. But it's happened in the spelling bee two years in a row, mainly because (the Blob suspects) it's now an ESPN property, and ESPN had only so much air time allotted to it.
Too bad. There should have been a sudden-death shoot-out free-throw-shooting field-goal-kicking contest spell-off. You make them spell until someone misses, or drops. You make them correctly pronounce "Yvan Cournoyer." Something.
Because you know what they say about a tie. It's like kissing your bouquetière.*
(* -- An assortment of fresh vegetables. Allegedly.)
1. "We've got us a coach who's won 65 percent of his games and has gotten us to the playoffs every year even though every year we've been missing key pieces. But he's kind of a pain in the ass. So we're gonna swallow the $9 million left on his contract, shove him out the door -- Ooh, look, a bus! Bonus! -- and bring in some college guy."
2. "To heck with sudden death. We're out of air time, so we're just gonna declare two champions and go home. Half a Popsicle for everyone!"
The world is a strange place. But sometimes it's not strange enough. Sometimes the world has to take strange out, get it drunk and leave it stranded somewhere, sans pants.
That's kind of what happened yesterday, when the Chicago Bulls fired one of the NBA's best coaches, Tom Thibodeau, and the National Spelling Bee ended in a tie because they ran out of words in the final round. As the immortal gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson used to say, "Bad craziness."
Let's take Thibodeau first.
Yes, he was hard to get along with. But he also won 255 games in Chicago and made the Bulls an Eastern Conference power again. And how did the Bulls thank him for that?
Not only did they fire him, they, yes, threw him under the bus. And not only did they throw him under the bus, they put the bus in reverse and backed over him, then put the bus in drive and drove over him again. Their release announcing Thibodeau's firing was remarkable for its spite -- it essentially said he couldn't be trusted and couldn't abide disagreement -- and remarkably wooden-headed as well. What NBA coach of any merit is going to want to work for the Bulls, if it's an organization not only willing to fire you for winning 51 games a year but to be so stunningly ungrateful as to trash you on your way out the door?
The skinny to all this is, NBA teams will now be lining up to hire Thibs, because the Bulls' attempt to make him unemployable will fall on deaf ears. Do you really think any NBA team believes anything another NBA team says about anything? Silly you.
And as for the Bulls ...
Well. They'll be lining up to sign, according to reports, Iowa State coach Fred Hoiberg.
Thibs wins.
Speaking of winning, there was a massive outbreak of winning in the National Spelling Bee. For the second year in a row, the national championship of speling (oops, make that "spelling") ended in a tie. Sharing the title were Gokul Venkatachalam and Vanya Shivashankar, whose names could have been contest words themselves.
Instead, Gokul and Vanya both breezed through the 25-word finals list, which included bouquetière, caudillismo, thamakau, scytale, pyrrhuloxia and several other completely made-up words. So they shared the title, the second year in a row that's happened.
And which is completely ridiculous.
Look. No event that functions as a national championship should ever end in a tie. Ev-er. Does the Super Bowl end in a tie? The World Series? The U.S. Grand Prix?
(OK, bad example. The U.S. Grand Prix actually did end in a tie one year, or at least the next thing to it: an orchestrated finish that allowed one teammate, Rubens Barrichello, to cross the finish line side-by-side with another, Michael Schumacher. But it's Formula One, and Formula One is silly, too.)
Anyway, this will not stand. Hockey teams play 10 gazillion overtimes sometimes to decide who gets to lug the Stanley Cup around and do weird things with it. Golfers will play 11 gazillion extra holes for the honor of donning an ugly green jacket. And when was the last time the Super Bowl ended this way?
HEAD OFFICIAL: Sorry, boys, it's getting dark. Time to go home.
JOE MONTANA: But we're not finished yet! The game is still tied!
JOE MONTANA'S MOM: Joe Montana! You get in here this instant! Dinner's getting cold!
That never happened in a Super Bowl, nor any other legitimate competition. But it's happened in the spelling bee two years in a row, mainly because (the Blob suspects) it's now an ESPN property, and ESPN had only so much air time allotted to it.
Too bad. There should have been a sudden-death shoot-out free-throw-shooting field-goal-kicking contest spell-off. You make them spell until someone misses, or drops. You make them correctly pronounce "Yvan Cournoyer." Something.
Because you know what they say about a tie. It's like kissing your bouquetière.*
(* -- An assortment of fresh vegetables. Allegedly.)
Thursday, May 28, 2015
Perp walk
Quiz time, Blobophiles. This one comes courtesy of a former colleague, so I can't do what I usually do, which is claim credit for someone else's juicy wisecrack.
Q: Who is Sepp Blatter?
1. The president of FIFA, the ruling body of international soccer.
2. A particularly annoying Ferengi in an episode of "Star Trek."
3. Both.
The answer is 4, "a fugitive from justice," which is what the attorney general of the United States turned him into yesterday. Her name is Loretta Lynch, and she is Blatter's worst nightmare. She will brook none of his nonsense. Her palm is remarkably averse to grease. And she's coming for his ass.
It was Lynch who brought down all that long-delayed thunder on Blatter's little FIFA-dom yesterday, indicting 14 officials on charges of widespread corruption that goes back 20 years. Two of those indicted were vice-presidents; two were U.S. citizens.
The U.S. had the authority to do this because FIFA operates in the U.S, and is therefore subject to U.S. law. Also some of the money used in its various schemes came from U.S. banks.
This was a breathtaking display of sheer will by Lynch, who went after FIFA mainly because no one else had the cherries to do so. The organization under Blatter's leadership has become a running joke, a cesspool of rampant corruption overseen by a Teflon Don whose very name, outside of the cloistered world of soccer, evokes derision and rampant outbreaks of eye-rolling.
But if Blatter remains untouchable -- he's about to get re-upped as president of FIFA in another in-name-only "election" -- his days finally may be numbered. Lynch made that abundantly clear yesterday when she said the crapstorm she's unleashed isn't over yet. In fact, it's just begun.
You can interpret that any number of ways. But if I'm Blatter, I'm loading up on the lawyers. Clearly he's the big fish in this deal, and the arrests yesterday were just the first salvo in a well-planned effort to force him from power -- and, if all goes well, book him a nice long stay in the Graybar Hilton.
If it happens, every soccer fan in the world should celebrate (within reason, of course; no turning over cars and setting them on fire, you Brits). Because the sooner Blatter's gone, the sooner international soccer can have a ruling body worthy of the game it rules.
The game is great. It's the people who run it who shame it.
Get rid of 'em. Get rid of 'em all.
Q: Who is Sepp Blatter?
1. The president of FIFA, the ruling body of international soccer.
2. A particularly annoying Ferengi in an episode of "Star Trek."
3. Both.
The answer is 4, "a fugitive from justice," which is what the attorney general of the United States turned him into yesterday. Her name is Loretta Lynch, and she is Blatter's worst nightmare. She will brook none of his nonsense. Her palm is remarkably averse to grease. And she's coming for his ass.
It was Lynch who brought down all that long-delayed thunder on Blatter's little FIFA-dom yesterday, indicting 14 officials on charges of widespread corruption that goes back 20 years. Two of those indicted were vice-presidents; two were U.S. citizens.
The U.S. had the authority to do this because FIFA operates in the U.S, and is therefore subject to U.S. law. Also some of the money used in its various schemes came from U.S. banks.
This was a breathtaking display of sheer will by Lynch, who went after FIFA mainly because no one else had the cherries to do so. The organization under Blatter's leadership has become a running joke, a cesspool of rampant corruption overseen by a Teflon Don whose very name, outside of the cloistered world of soccer, evokes derision and rampant outbreaks of eye-rolling.
But if Blatter remains untouchable -- he's about to get re-upped as president of FIFA in another in-name-only "election" -- his days finally may be numbered. Lynch made that abundantly clear yesterday when she said the crapstorm she's unleashed isn't over yet. In fact, it's just begun.
You can interpret that any number of ways. But if I'm Blatter, I'm loading up on the lawyers. Clearly he's the big fish in this deal, and the arrests yesterday were just the first salvo in a well-planned effort to force him from power -- and, if all goes well, book him a nice long stay in the Graybar Hilton.
If it happens, every soccer fan in the world should celebrate (within reason, of course; no turning over cars and setting them on fire, you Brits). Because the sooner Blatter's gone, the sooner international soccer can have a ruling body worthy of the game it rules.
The game is great. It's the people who run it who shame it.
Get rid of 'em. Get rid of 'em all.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Giving LeBron his due
It happened again a couple of weeks ago, and as always it made me shake my head. A TV was on mute in the background, showing Cleveland Cavaliers' highlights. Up there on the screen, LeBron James was taking some poor pilgrim to the tin or dropping a jumper or making a camel-through-the-eye-of-a-needle dish for the deuce.
"Oh, I hope they don't win," someone said. "I really don't like LeBron."
It's amazing how often you hear that.
It's amazing how people cling and cling and cling to ancient history, and won't let it go. Yes, The Decision was stupendously dumb idea, and yada-yada-yada. But it's over. It's been over for years. And what has LeBron James done, before or since, to earn your disfavor?
I'll tell you what: Nothing. Zip. Nada.
Last night he hauled the Cavs back into the NBA Finals again, coming one step closer to the pledge he made when he came back to Cleveland last year. The Cavaliers were 33-49 without him last year. With him -- and with the players his presence attracted -- they're going back to the Finals.
Yes, he left Cleveland to go to Miami. But he came back to his hometown. Nobody does that. Nobody leaves Cleveland to go somewhere else and then comes back. And when he did, and fans and media swarmed his neighorhood in Cleveland, he did something else hardly anyone else does.
He bought cupcakes for all his neighbors to apologize for the inconvenience his presence had caused.
Who does that?
And yet: Oh, I hope they don't win. I really don't like LeBron.
The funny thing is, nine times out of 10, the people who say that can't even tell you why. Yes, he left Cleveland to play with his buddies Chris Bosh and Dwyane Wade in Miami, as was his right as a free agent. He had leverage and he used it. Odd how that never seems to bother people when it's management and not a player who does that.
Over and above that, though, what's not to like?
As a man, he's by all accounts an attentive father and husband who never shows up on police blotters or on TMZ. And as a player, he's the best of his generation, and one of the best of all time.
All that noise about him not wanting the ball at the end of games is mere twaddle, considering no one other than Michael Jordan has hit more game-winners in playoff games. And it obscures the fact that perhaps his greatest particular skill is as a distributor. He makes his teammates better. Isn't that what the great ones are supposed to do?
This is the fifth straight Finals in which LeBron will play, with two different teams. He took Cleveland there and he took the Heat there four times and now he's taken the Cavs there again.
Root against him if you like. But me?
I'll just go on shaking my head at you.
"Oh, I hope they don't win," someone said. "I really don't like LeBron."
It's amazing how often you hear that.
It's amazing how people cling and cling and cling to ancient history, and won't let it go. Yes, The Decision was stupendously dumb idea, and yada-yada-yada. But it's over. It's been over for years. And what has LeBron James done, before or since, to earn your disfavor?
I'll tell you what: Nothing. Zip. Nada.
Last night he hauled the Cavs back into the NBA Finals again, coming one step closer to the pledge he made when he came back to Cleveland last year. The Cavaliers were 33-49 without him last year. With him -- and with the players his presence attracted -- they're going back to the Finals.
Yes, he left Cleveland to go to Miami. But he came back to his hometown. Nobody does that. Nobody leaves Cleveland to go somewhere else and then comes back. And when he did, and fans and media swarmed his neighorhood in Cleveland, he did something else hardly anyone else does.
He bought cupcakes for all his neighbors to apologize for the inconvenience his presence had caused.
Who does that?
And yet: Oh, I hope they don't win. I really don't like LeBron.
The funny thing is, nine times out of 10, the people who say that can't even tell you why. Yes, he left Cleveland to play with his buddies Chris Bosh and Dwyane Wade in Miami, as was his right as a free agent. He had leverage and he used it. Odd how that never seems to bother people when it's management and not a player who does that.
Over and above that, though, what's not to like?
As a man, he's by all accounts an attentive father and husband who never shows up on police blotters or on TMZ. And as a player, he's the best of his generation, and one of the best of all time.
All that noise about him not wanting the ball at the end of games is mere twaddle, considering no one other than Michael Jordan has hit more game-winners in playoff games. And it obscures the fact that perhaps his greatest particular skill is as a distributor. He makes his teammates better. Isn't that what the great ones are supposed to do?
This is the fifth straight Finals in which LeBron will play, with two different teams. He took Cleveland there and he took the Heat there four times and now he's taken the Cavs there again.
Root against him if you like. But me?
I'll just go on shaking my head at you.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Fool me twice
You can convince yourself of almost anything if you need it enough. That's your Blob homily for this morning.
And so the Chicago Bears were compelled to cut loose serial bad actor Ray McDonald Monday, a course of action they could have saved themselves if they hadn't signed him to begin with. The 49ers knew who McDonald was, which is why they cut him loose. You don't get, nor deserve, the benefit of the doubt anymore when you get collared for pounding on women in the National Football League, not after the Ray Rice debacle left the public thinking the Shield was soft on domestic abuse.
And so McDonald should have been radioactive. He also should have been radioactive because domestic abusers don't often change their spots on their own. If they'll hit a woman once, they'll hit her again.
And so no surprise that McDonald was arrested again in California on domestic violence and child endangerment charges, five months after his December arrest for sexual assault, a case that is still open and that compelled the 49ers to dump him. To his credit, Bears chairman George McCaskey initially refused to sign the guy because of that, but changed his mind.
And why?
Well, because McDonald and McDonald's parents convinced him to. But also because -- mainly because -- McDonald is a still-serviceable 3-4 defensive lineman who could have helped a Bears defense that was in desperate need of it.
And so defensive coordinator Vic Fangio, who worked with McDonald out in San Francisco convinced everyone that McDonald was a basically decent guy who'd gotten a raw deal from (of course) the media. Maybe Fangio actually believed that. Or maybe it was just because McDonald, at 31, could still play a little.
Which would be a huge upgrade over all those Bear down-seven guys who demonstrably can't.
And so, welcome to Chicago, Ray. Please don't get arrested agai--
Ah, crap.
And so the Chicago Bears were compelled to cut loose serial bad actor Ray McDonald Monday, a course of action they could have saved themselves if they hadn't signed him to begin with. The 49ers knew who McDonald was, which is why they cut him loose. You don't get, nor deserve, the benefit of the doubt anymore when you get collared for pounding on women in the National Football League, not after the Ray Rice debacle left the public thinking the Shield was soft on domestic abuse.
And so McDonald should have been radioactive. He also should have been radioactive because domestic abusers don't often change their spots on their own. If they'll hit a woman once, they'll hit her again.
And so no surprise that McDonald was arrested again in California on domestic violence and child endangerment charges, five months after his December arrest for sexual assault, a case that is still open and that compelled the 49ers to dump him. To his credit, Bears chairman George McCaskey initially refused to sign the guy because of that, but changed his mind.
And why?
Well, because McDonald and McDonald's parents convinced him to. But also because -- mainly because -- McDonald is a still-serviceable 3-4 defensive lineman who could have helped a Bears defense that was in desperate need of it.
And so defensive coordinator Vic Fangio, who worked with McDonald out in San Francisco convinced everyone that McDonald was a basically decent guy who'd gotten a raw deal from (of course) the media. Maybe Fangio actually believed that. Or maybe it was just because McDonald, at 31, could still play a little.
Which would be a huge upgrade over all those Bear down-seven guys who demonstrably can't.
And so, welcome to Chicago, Ray. Please don't get arrested agai--
Ah, crap.
Monday, May 25, 2015
A few day-after thoughts
A few thoughts now, a day after Juan Pablo Montoya took a big slug of milk and 250,000 wrung-out people slumped away toward the Greatest Spectacle in Waiting For Hours For Traffic
To Move, and the clock started toward the 100th Indianapolis 500:
1. The 99th 500 was the best show since the 98th 500.
It hardly gets better than that duel for the ages between Helio Castroneves and Ryan Hunter-Reay last year, with all that going down to the grass to pass business and Hunter-Reay winning by the second closest margin in 500 history. But yesterday damn near topped it.
Thirteen laps to run and it was a fistfight again, this time a three-way heavyweight bout among three of the biggest names in the game. There were five lead changes in those last 13 laps, three in the last eight laps, and Montoya made the last one, proving once again that if it comes down to mano-a-mano, you take him every time.
The finish was the fourth closest in history, and if Castroneves/Hunter-Reay evoked the legendary 1960 duel between Jim Rathman and Rodger Ward, Montoya/Power/Dixon evoked Catsroneves/Hunter-Reay. Beautiful stuff.
2. The Wright Brothers were not in evidence.
Which is to say, no one got airborne or did any Mary Lou Retton somersaults, despite a bunch of people shaking hands with the Speedway's greedy wall and spraying carbon fiber kibble all over God's little speedfreak acre.
This was good.
Sure, all that flipping and unguided flight undoubtedly ramped up national interest in the race. It is an unfortunate truism that we are a society programmed to slow down for car wrecks, and so all those spectacular crashes were the best thing that could have happened for the 500, in the sense that, except for James Hinchcliffe, they were entirely bloodless. And so for a week, guilt-free, race organizers could bask in the rare glow of knocking NASCAR onto the back page. NASCAR? What's that?
But the truth is no one wanted to see the 500 itself turn into a horror show, and it didn't. Instead, it was what it bills itself to be and, on this day, could call itself with no hint of irony: The Greatest Spectacle in Racing.
Call it vindication for both the event and the much-maligned new body configurations.
"I thought the racing today was great," said Graham Rahal, who finished fifth. "Frankly, I was worried today on how it would feel. It was a tough day. Maybe I did one lap flat all day. It's definitely tricky, but I think the racing here in recent years has been phenomenal. You saw guys become patient till the last little bit, 16 to go, everybody was going to hang it all out.
"Honestly, there were laps that went by that I don't even remember them. Pushing so hard, having oversteer moments. You just got to go for it."
That's exactly how it should be, Power maintained.
"At the end of the day, I think you should be lifting at every oval because that makes you a better over driver," he said. "It should be about the driver, not just a fast car. I liked the fact today that it was hard. One of the hardest days I've had running the track here. It was rarely flat. Rarely were you wide open. Only at the end when you were leading were you wide open.
"That's how oval racing should be."
Can't argue with the results.
3. The Chevies are heavy.
If it was a hard day for everyone, and gratifying at the same time, it continued to be a hard year for Honda.
The Chevies are clearly better right now. They just are.
This isn't a few years ago, when Lotus brought a hurriedly thrown-together program that was comically uncompetitive. But the Hondas are obviously lagging right now. The top four finishers Sunday, and nine of the top 11, were Chevies. And Rahal, again the standard-bearer for Honda, didn't sugarcoat the fact that they had nothing for the Bowties.
"We weren't going to outrun a Chevy on horsepower or speed. We needed to be as flat as we could be," he said. "The Chevy was just in a league of its own fortunately on horsepower. I was happy we were as close to Chuck (Charlie Kimball) and (Scott) Dixon at the end as we were. I thought there was no hope.
"I mean, look, I really do have the absolute most confidence in Honda and HPD. Obviously we've got to find some horsepower. On the road course, the street course, we've got to find a little more driveability. But at the end of the day, everybody's working as hard as they can."
4. Simon Pagenaud deserved better.
For much of the day, Roger Penske's fourth guy was No. 1.
He led eight times for 35 laps, second only to Scott Dixon, who led 11 times for 84 laps. But he got into the back of Dixon on a restart with 30 laps to run and dinged a wing, and that dropped him to the back of the field. He managed to climb back up to 10th in the last 15 laps with a car that was the strongest outside of Dixon's most of the day.
"To be honest with you, Simon had the best car today. I couldn't believe how good he was," Montoya said later.
"I thought Simon did a terrific job. I think it would have been something if he was up there because I think he had the car to run up with Will (Power) and certainly Juan (Montoya) there at the end," Penske concurred.
And Penske president Tim Cindric?
"I felt terrible for him after the race," Cindric said. "I went up to him and he said 'That's the best car I ever had in my life.' You could see the fact he went all the way to the back, drove back to 10th with 15 laps to go, you don't do that here very easily."
"I think it shows how strong he was. I think it shows there's a lot more to come from him."
5. The great what-if
Almost as soon as the checkers dipped over the nose of Juan Pablo Montoya's car Sunday afternoon, the parlor game was in session.
Question: How many Indianapolis 500 victories would Montoya have right now if he hadn't been seduced (and then abandoned) by NASCAR?
My guess: He'd be the fourth four-time winner by this time, joining A.J. Foyt, Al Unser Sr. and Rick Mears.
He has, after all, raced in three 500s and won two of them (2000 and 2015). And he finished fifth in the other one (2014). The man is simply one of the best open-wheel racers on the planet, which reduces his bedazzlement by NASCAR's bright lights (and big-money opportunities) to one of those classic what-the-hell-was-he-thinking moments.
Or, if you're one of his competitors, to one of those thank-God-he-went-to-NASCAR moments.
"Any idea what Juan would have done with his resume if he stuck around here?" someone asked the runnersup Sunday afternoon.
"Obviously he would have been pretty successful," Power said.
"Thankfully he didn't," Kimball chimed in.
Biggest compliment Montoya got all day.
To Move, and the clock started toward the 100th Indianapolis 500:
1. The 99th 500 was the best show since the 98th 500.
It hardly gets better than that duel for the ages between Helio Castroneves and Ryan Hunter-Reay last year, with all that going down to the grass to pass business and Hunter-Reay winning by the second closest margin in 500 history. But yesterday damn near topped it.
Thirteen laps to run and it was a fistfight again, this time a three-way heavyweight bout among three of the biggest names in the game. There were five lead changes in those last 13 laps, three in the last eight laps, and Montoya made the last one, proving once again that if it comes down to mano-a-mano, you take him every time.
The finish was the fourth closest in history, and if Castroneves/Hunter-Reay evoked the legendary 1960 duel between Jim Rathman and Rodger Ward, Montoya/Power/Dixon evoked Catsroneves/Hunter-Reay. Beautiful stuff.
2. The Wright Brothers were not in evidence.
Which is to say, no one got airborne or did any Mary Lou Retton somersaults, despite a bunch of people shaking hands with the Speedway's greedy wall and spraying carbon fiber kibble all over God's little speedfreak acre.
This was good.
Sure, all that flipping and unguided flight undoubtedly ramped up national interest in the race. It is an unfortunate truism that we are a society programmed to slow down for car wrecks, and so all those spectacular crashes were the best thing that could have happened for the 500, in the sense that, except for James Hinchcliffe, they were entirely bloodless. And so for a week, guilt-free, race organizers could bask in the rare glow of knocking NASCAR onto the back page. NASCAR? What's that?
But the truth is no one wanted to see the 500 itself turn into a horror show, and it didn't. Instead, it was what it bills itself to be and, on this day, could call itself with no hint of irony: The Greatest Spectacle in Racing.
Call it vindication for both the event and the much-maligned new body configurations.
"I thought the racing today was great," said Graham Rahal, who finished fifth. "Frankly, I was worried today on how it would feel. It was a tough day. Maybe I did one lap flat all day. It's definitely tricky, but I think the racing here in recent years has been phenomenal. You saw guys become patient till the last little bit, 16 to go, everybody was going to hang it all out.
"Honestly, there were laps that went by that I don't even remember them. Pushing so hard, having oversteer moments. You just got to go for it."
That's exactly how it should be, Power maintained.
"At the end of the day, I think you should be lifting at every oval because that makes you a better over driver," he said. "It should be about the driver, not just a fast car. I liked the fact today that it was hard. One of the hardest days I've had running the track here. It was rarely flat. Rarely were you wide open. Only at the end when you were leading were you wide open.
"That's how oval racing should be."
Can't argue with the results.
3. The Chevies are heavy.
If it was a hard day for everyone, and gratifying at the same time, it continued to be a hard year for Honda.
The Chevies are clearly better right now. They just are.
This isn't a few years ago, when Lotus brought a hurriedly thrown-together program that was comically uncompetitive. But the Hondas are obviously lagging right now. The top four finishers Sunday, and nine of the top 11, were Chevies. And Rahal, again the standard-bearer for Honda, didn't sugarcoat the fact that they had nothing for the Bowties.
"We weren't going to outrun a Chevy on horsepower or speed. We needed to be as flat as we could be," he said. "The Chevy was just in a league of its own fortunately on horsepower. I was happy we were as close to Chuck (Charlie Kimball) and (Scott) Dixon at the end as we were. I thought there was no hope.
"I mean, look, I really do have the absolute most confidence in Honda and HPD. Obviously we've got to find some horsepower. On the road course, the street course, we've got to find a little more driveability. But at the end of the day, everybody's working as hard as they can."
4. Simon Pagenaud deserved better.
For much of the day, Roger Penske's fourth guy was No. 1.
He led eight times for 35 laps, second only to Scott Dixon, who led 11 times for 84 laps. But he got into the back of Dixon on a restart with 30 laps to run and dinged a wing, and that dropped him to the back of the field. He managed to climb back up to 10th in the last 15 laps with a car that was the strongest outside of Dixon's most of the day.
"To be honest with you, Simon had the best car today. I couldn't believe how good he was," Montoya said later.
"I thought Simon did a terrific job. I think it would have been something if he was up there because I think he had the car to run up with Will (Power) and certainly Juan (Montoya) there at the end," Penske concurred.
And Penske president Tim Cindric?
"I felt terrible for him after the race," Cindric said. "I went up to him and he said 'That's the best car I ever had in my life.' You could see the fact he went all the way to the back, drove back to 10th with 15 laps to go, you don't do that here very easily."
"I think it shows how strong he was. I think it shows there's a lot more to come from him."
5. The great what-if
Almost as soon as the checkers dipped over the nose of Juan Pablo Montoya's car Sunday afternoon, the parlor game was in session.
Question: How many Indianapolis 500 victories would Montoya have right now if he hadn't been seduced (and then abandoned) by NASCAR?
My guess: He'd be the fourth four-time winner by this time, joining A.J. Foyt, Al Unser Sr. and Rick Mears.
He has, after all, raced in three 500s and won two of them (2000 and 2015). And he finished fifth in the other one (2014). The man is simply one of the best open-wheel racers on the planet, which reduces his bedazzlement by NASCAR's bright lights (and big-money opportunities) to one of those classic what-the-hell-was-he-thinking moments.
Or, if you're one of his competitors, to one of those thank-God-he-went-to-NASCAR moments.
"Any idea what Juan would have done with his resume if he stuck around here?" someone asked the runnersup Sunday afternoon.
"Obviously he would have been pretty successful," Power said.
"Thankfully he didn't," Kimball chimed in.
Biggest compliment Montoya got all day.
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