With a whimper

 Maybe you missed it with everything else going on over the weekend -- Hey, look, the Cubs scored 19 runs! Caitlin Clark dropped 37 and 10 assists! Wyndham Clark won the BMW Championship! -- but LIV Golf petered out yesterday down in Westfield, In.

I say "petered out" because the starving entity cancelled its tour championship, which made Westfield its last stop. Probably forever, although the LIV honchos say nuh-uh, we'll be back, just you wait and see.

Of course, the World Football League said that, too, back in the day.

Now, I'm not saying this makes Jon Rahm the Chicago Fire of LIV Golf, or Bryson DeChambeau its Shreveport Steamers. I'm just saying they might be, say, the Detroit Wheels or Philadelphia Bell instead.

Rahm and DeChambeau finished second and tied for third yesterday in the LIV Golf Indianapolis event, where someone named Michael La Sasso won with a minus-18 score. La Sasso is 22 years old and hails from Raleigh, N.C. Last year he played in five PGA events and missed the cut in four of them. In the other one he finished tied for 44th.

So, you know, he's a name. Or at least has one.

So, too, are Richard T. Lee, Scott Vincent and Laurie Canter, who tied for fifth at 15-under. Lee's a 35-year-old Canadian who tied for 35th in his country's Open last year. Vincent, 34, is from Zimbabwe and was last seen missing the cut in The (British) Open. And Canter is a 36-year-old from Bath, England who played in the U.S. Open, the Scottish Open and The Open this summer.

He tied for 43rd in the first, 50th in the second and 71st in the third.

So you see the problem here. Not enough names, and too many, well, just names.

This was exactly the problem with the WFL, which made a big splash by signing a few "names" (Hello, Larry Csonka! Howdy, Paul Warfield!), and then made a bigger splash when its franchises almost immediately began sinking financially. LIV Golf didn't do that, but it hurt itself almost immediately with its initial 54-hole, everyone-gets-a-chunky-paycheck format. That tagged it as merely a series of exhibitions in the minds of a lot of potential viewers.

And so it's limped along ever since, a way-under-the-radar entity playing second-tier venues and watched mostly by hardcore golf junkies. And now it seems to be going out with a whimper in what may or may not be the last of its days.

But, hey. At least it made Michael La Sasso $2.02 million richer yesterday. And Sergio Garcia scooped $631,250 by tying DeChambeau for third. 

Sergio is 46, which makes him a senior citizen in golf years. And you know how every dollar matters to us seniors.

Advantage, LIV Golf. If perhaps the only one.

A Capitol affair

 "FREEEE-DOMMMMM!"

-- William Wallace

(Or Mel Gibson)

(Or someone)

There. Got that out of my system.

Now I can move on to discuss IndyCar on the streets of Washington D.C., aka the Freedom 250, which a goldang AMERICAN ran away with, goldang it. I know this because the Fox broadcast team -- led by that obnoxiously cheerful Brit, Will Buxton -- kept reminding me. Like, over and over and over.

More on that later.

For now, let's just say the Freedom 250, in the historic capital of America, in celebration of America's historic 250th birthday (you couldn't wear out the word "historic" on this day), was won by an American, Kyle Kirkwood. Led 128 of the 147 laps, Kirkwood did. Won for a race team bearing the name of an American motorsport icon, Mario Andretti -- who came to America from Italy before You Know Who got his shorts in a twist about immigration, so it was OK.

Team Andretti finished 1-3-4, in fact. An American, and the most quintessentially American racing team, dominating America's IndyCar race? Someone should get an A+ for that script.

So it was a heck of a show, all-in-all. The weather, which in D.C. often gets stuck on the Dryer Vent setting in August, turned out just fine. The fans mobbed the Mall and adjutant surroundings. And the course ... well, how much better does it get than the Capitol building in the background of every lap? 

Shoot. You Know Who didn't even try to elbow Kirkwood aside on the podium -- although Himself did take a ceremonial pre-race turn around the course in the presidential limo, and got to drop the green to start the race.

There was also a bald eagle in there somewhere, and military jets (including a way-cool and spooky B-1 bomber) and other pageantry. You Know Who's grift airplane even did a flyover.

A special day, in other words. So why did Cheerful Will and Co. have to keep reminding us how special it was?

An editor of mine once spoke a universal truth to me: Don't tell me, show me. In other words, the best way to tell a story is not to tell it, but to let it tell itself.

Cheerful Will and Co. apparently never heard that one.

Because by far the most annoying part of a perhaps one-of-a-kind day (the Freedom 250 being a one-off event, at least for now) was the Fox team continually telling us how one-of-a-kind it was. How it was a celebration of America and its history and Look there's the National Archives and Look here's a shot from the WASHINGTON MONUMENT and Isn't Kyle Kirkwood's story the story of America itself?

"We told these truths to be self-evident ..." Cheerful Will actually said as Kirkwood took the white flag for his final lap.

Please. No. Just stop. 

Listen. I get that over-the-top boosterism is Cheerful Will's schtick. But this was not only over the top; it was over the top of whatever's on top. If it were any cornier, you could have added melted butter and salt and cued up a movie.

Besides, if this Truth were that Self-Evident, why did anyone in the Fox booth have to say anything?

One of the best calls of a sporting event I ever heard was from the legendary Jim McKay, and it happened at the Mexico City Olympics in 1968. In the final paces of the last event of the decathlon that year, an American named Bill Toomey churned toward the finish of the 1500 meters and the gold medal, and McKay said this:

"Here is Bill Toomey ... running in the footsteps of Jim Thorpe, Rafer Johnson and Bob Mathias ... running in the cold and the rain ... in the breathless air ... winning the decathlon!"

And then, as Toomey broke the tape, utterly spent: "This picture needs no words."

Jim McKay, you see, knew when to let the moment speak for itself.

The Freedom 250 -- a Capitol affair with its own moment -- could have used some of that.

A pearl of wisdom

 The Little League World Series is happening in Williamsport, Pa., right now, and yesterday the Atlanta Braves and Cleveland Guardians were there to sign autographs and interact with their surrogate younger selves prior to playing a game there this weekend. 

This is always one of my favorite parts of the LLWS, because the big leaguers get to reminisce like they're 70-year-olds instead of 20-or-30-somethings, and also because of the advice they pass on to the Little Leaguers. Mostly it's just mundane stuff like "have fun" and "try your hardest", but occasionally there's a gem that's truly inspired.

(And, no, not "Avoid the clap," which is what Tom Hanks' drunken manager Jimmy Dugan wrote on a kid's baseball in "A League Of Their Own.")

In this case it was Guardians' pitcher Foster Griffin who came up with the pearl of wisdom. When asked what advice he'd give the Little Leaguers, he replied "Don't dig holes in the outfield and have fun."

Don't dig holes in the outfield! Well, who among us can't relate to THAT?

I certainly can because I spent a lot of time in the outfield in my tragic youth baseball days. More accurately, I spent a lot of time in left field, where I was least likely to turn routine fly balls into triples. That's because most of the kids I played with were right-handed, and at that age none of them could pull the ball to save their lives.

So left field was where I went to contemplate life and look for four-leaf clovers. I suppose if I'd gotten bored enough, I might have dug a hole or two out there, but frankly it never occurred to me. This makes me wonder if Foster Griffin ever dug a hole or two in the outfield, because that piece of advice seemed oddly specific.

I also wish there'd been at least one wisenheimer Little Leaguer who would have replied to Griffin's advice thusly: "But if I can't dig holes in the outfield, how am I supposed to have FUN?"

Beauty.

Not takin' it

 I don't know this Matt Calkins out there in the state o' Washington, but even sports columnists have their principles. And so I stand with Brother Calkins as a fellow ink-stained wretch who knows all about the indignities that come with the job.

And I'm not just talking about the hot dogs at Michigan Stadium.

I'm talking about getting a column spiked because the bosses didn't agree with it, which is what happened to sports columnist Calkins recently at the Seattle Times. It's why he's no longer a sports columnist with the Seattle Times after 11 years, because he resigned over it. Decided he wasn't takin' it, and good on him.

 The column in question was about the whole Sophie Cunningham/transgender athletes flap, and Calkins did what any good columnist does: He localized it. Went to an Indiana Fever-Seattle Storm game and sought out a young woman holding a sign in support of Cunningham. Interviewed her. Found out she was a high school athlete who wasn't crazy about the idea of competing against "biological males." Listened to her story and to another female athlete's story. 

Then he wrote about it, taking the position that keeping girls and boys sports separate doesn't automatically make you transphobic. It was a reasonable and consistent viewpoint for the right-leaning Calkins, even if he was addressing a fictitious issue ginned up by folks who do have a bug up their keisters about transgenders.

(In this former sports columnist's opinion)

Nonetheless, Calkins sought out a story and told it. Did his job, in other words.

But then the bosses got involved.

Held the column. Decided to talk it over with the other bosses. Concluded they wouldn't run it because Calkins hadn't told his editors about it beforehand.

Which was lamer than Dennis Weaver in "Gunsmoke."

It is, in fact, total BS in the Blob's informed opinion, and the worst part is the capos at the Times likely knew it when they put it out there. They needed a cover story, and that's the cover story they're stickin' to.

Here's the deal: I don't know how it works out in Seattle, but I rarely if ever told my sports editor beforehand what I was writing about from a live event. This was because it was, well, a live event, and I didn't know what was going to happen. And so never once did my sports editor say, "Well, you didn't tell me yesterday what you were writing about from this live event today, so we're not gonna run your column."

Unlike the dopes in Seattle, see, my sports editor understood how it all works.

 Now, it's true that what Calkins wrote wasn't expressly about the live event in this case. But it did become news when one of the Storm's minority owners berated one of the girls he interviewed. Therefore the column, and the topic, were relevant -- even if the bosses didn't like the opinion Calkins expressed about it.

Which certainly appears to be the case here. And which certainly says nothing good about the chuckleheads atop the masthead at the Times, whose cover story no one buys and who now stand accused of letting their own editorial biases bleed over to the news side.

Dumb and dumber. Because if  the bosses didn't agree with what Calkins wrote, there was an easy out: Run it on the oped page, which is where newspapers print columns that offer a different viewpoint than their own. Why just kill it and make yourselves look like hypocrites or worse?

Now there's a question a good columnist might ask.

Nightmare scenario*

 (*Largely imaginary, but still)

Caught a brief snippet on NPR the other day about this weekend's upcoming Freedom 250 IndyCar event on the streets of D.C., and how curators of the various historic sites Alex Palou 'n' them will be hotrodding past are concerned the vibration might damage some of the nation's most treasured art and museum exhibits.

"There's a reason the speed limit in these areas is 25 mph," the spokesperson unearthed by NPR said, adding that race cars ripping through at seven times that speed therefore are a legitimate concern. It was all very NPR-ish, which is to say it addressed an issue I had never considered or was even aware was an issue.

Frankly, I still don't think it's much of one. But the curators who think it is are far more qualified to determine that than some dopey sports lunkhead, so the question remains: What if race cars tearing around at 180 mph isn't good for our national treasures?

The course, after all, hits a whole pile of highlights. After a long run down Pennsylvania Ave., it makes a hard left past the National Archives, then another hard left past the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, then a hard right past the National Gallery of Art. A few blocks later it makes another hard left past the Air and Space Museum, then angles past the National Museum of the American Indian.

And so a nightmare scenario immediately  blooms in the nightmare-scenario-obssessed brain of the aforementioned dopey sports lunkhead ...

Air and Space Museum Guy (after the vibration sends Freedom 7 and the Spirit of St. Louis crashing to the floor): Welp, there goes John Glenn and Charles Lindbergh! Thanks a lot, Pato!

Museum of Natural History Guy: Four laps and our dinosaur skeleton is a pile of bones! Terrific! Imma make Ericsson and Rosenqvist come in here and put it back together piece by piece! And they'd better get it right!

National Gallery of Art Guy: Son of a BITCH! The Van Gogh and Da Vinci are RUINED! And our van Eyck looks like a second-grader's finger-painting now! Damn you, Scott Dixon!

And last but not least:

National Museum of the American Indian Guy: Figures.

History reverberates. Part Deux.

 (Another detour from Sportsball World, albeit a brief one. Adjust your reading habits accordingly.)

Saw where January 6 rioter/professional provocateur/all-around chum bucket Jake Lang took is self-styled "Christian crusade" into Deaborn, Mich., and achieved what he set out to achieve. Insulted Muslims, got the citizenry stirred up and got himself arrested. All part of the plan, my man.

Anyway, it reminded me of something, as these charades tend to do. I addressed it with a post on Facethingy this morning that I will re-post here.

Goes like this: 

1977: Nazis go to court in attempt to stage a march in Skokie, Ill., a village with a significant Jewish community.

2026: Provocateur and general nuisance Jake Lang leads a self-styled "Christian crusade" into Deaborn, Mich., a city with a significant Muslim community.

Same hate. Same agenda. Different day.

History reverberates. All the time, and forever.

Disrespect, or something

 Look, I know what preseason college football polls are, at least most of the time. Reality is the disease and they're the cure.

I would say they're not worth the paper they're written on, except no one writes them on paper anymore. Still, the essential truth remains: No one's played a game yet; no one, especially in these days of almost yearly roster turnover, knows how the new pieces are going to fit with the old ones; no one knows if the schedule that looked like Cream Cheese City in August will morph into an absolute grind by October.

After all, no one in South Bend saw Northern Illinois coming a couple of years ago. Ditto Appalachian State in Ann Arbor a decade or so before that.

However ...

However, I'm looking at the Associated Press preseason poll this morning, and what I'm seeing is Curt Cignetti crafting another chip for his Indiana football team's shoulders.

This is because Indiana ran the table last year on its way to an astounding national title, becoming the first college football team ever to go 16-0. Along the way, the Hoosiers beat Oregon twice, once by 10 in Eugene and then by 36 in the CFP semis. And they beat Ohio State 13-10 in the Big Ten championship game. 

And now Ohio State is your preseason No. 1, according to the AP. And Oregon is No. 2.

Indiana?

Your undefeated defending national champs came in at No. 6.

Presumably this is because Heisman Trophy winner Fernando Mendoza is gone, along with a few other significant pieces from the national champs. It does not, however, take into account that several other significant pieces return, or that the Hoosiers will have another A-lister at quarterback in Josh Hoover. Or that Indiana loaded up again on transfers and top-shelf recruits.

And yet ...

And yet, the AP judges the Hoosiers the sixth best team in the country, and only the third best in their own conference. Ahead of them are the Buckeyes, the Ducks, Georgia, Notre Dame and Texas.

Now, it's true Ohio State returns just about every key piece from the Buckeyes' 12-2 team from a year ago, and added its usual haul of stud recruits. And Oregon returns quarterback Dante Moore and a pile of other notables from its CFP semifinal team. And Georgia's always gonna be Georgia.

But Notre Dame lost the engine of its offense in premier running backs Jeremiyah Love and Jadarian Price. And, yes, Arch Manning returns for Texas, although the Longhorns finished fifth in the SEC and went 10-3 overall. So you can see how Coach Cig might use that to stoke a few internal fires.

See? They STILL don't respect us. They still think we JUST GOT LUCKY. They still think we're gonna go back to being, you know, Indiana, nothing but the bunch of losers we've always been. 

And so on.

Of course, as always with these matters, a lot of that will be so much stuff and feathers. Indiana's No. 6 preseason ranking is the highest in the program's 139-year history, and most college football gurus predict the Hoosiers will at least reach the CFP quarterfinals. Which perhaps means the disrespect card is not the ace Cignetti will proclaim it to be.

On some level, Cignetti's players no doubt will understand this. But that level will be somewhere in the general vicinity of the sub-basement.

Up top, they'll be wearing that aforementioned chip like a badge of honor. And Coach will quietly be thanking the Associated Press for the woodworking help.