[Posted from Bucharest, Romania]
NFL Quiz: 1) Name the top three individuals in sacks last year.
2) Name the 12 NFL franchises in 1959, before the advent of the
AFL and the addition of the Dallas Cowboys into the NFL in 1960.
3) Name the 8 original AFL franchises. Answers below.
[So I see there are two big sports stories back home as I write.
The attempted suicide by Terrell Owens and the death of golfing
legend Byron Nelson. One of them an amazing dirtball, the other
one of the classiest people in the history of mankind.]
The Editor’s Balkan Adventure, continued
When I last left you, it was Sunday night and I hinted I might
return to the casino. I didn’t. Aside from the fact it was very late
and I had an early flight Monday morning from Sofia to
Bucharest, I figured I wouldn’t be able to beat the previous
experience so why try. Most of the time in life that’s probably
decent advice.
So on Monday morning, I left my hotel for the short trip to the
airport, 15 minutes, and got there a little before 6:30 for an 8:30
flight. One problem, I didn’t see my Hemus Airlines (Bulgarian)
flight on the board.
Well I asked a girl at the information desk, who thankfully spoke
good English, and she informed me that my flight was at 12:30!
Doh! I looked crestfallen, I’m sure, because folks, you don’t
want to spend 6 hours in the waiting room at Sofia Airport. The
girl then advised me not to lose sight of my luggage at any time.
Ah, but I still had a decent amount of local currency so I hopped
in a cab and went back to my hotel. Needless to say the
reception desk was rather startled to see me but I took my key
back and went right to sleep for a few hours; even got some work
done. And at about 10:00 I headed back to the airport. No harm,
no foul.
I had asked my driver Tony from Saturday’s trip to the
monastery about Hemus and he said it’s a good airline. He also
told me the stewardesses were rather sharp. I sometimes
wondered about some of the things Tony was telling me that day,
but everything was coming true and I can now announce that in
the “1 and 2 stewardess category for short-haul commuter
flights,” Hemus is handily on top. [I’d say more, guys, but the
International Web Site Association could fine me.]
And my ATR42-300 turboprop, with a capacity of about 70 but
with only 14 of us on board, went off without a hitch. Of course
seated across from the propeller, I stared at it the whole time,
hoping I wouldn’t see it start to sputter.
The weather being great also allowed me to see the sites, like
crossing the Danube, the border between Romania and Bulgaria,
and I was reminded of the horrific flooding they’ve had in that
region the past few years. This part of Romania is super flat and
when the Danube floods, your village and fields are in deep
trouble.
Clearing customs in Bucharest was a snap, the bag arrived, and I
wasn’t hounded by gypsy cab drivers. Nope, just found a regular
one and off we went to my hotel.
And boy what a drab drive it was. I kept thinking, please don’t
tell me my hotel is here, please don’t tell me my hotel is there.
Alas, my hotel is in a decent enough part, though I’m
overlooking Soviet era housing blocks. Actually, that’s not
totally fair. In the distance are the classic apartments of yore; the
ones around me are slightly better.
Being rather tired I just ate in the hotel on Monday night, a
delicious meal of local food….tripe soup and a bunch of tasty
meats. Plus sambuca, of course.
Oh, the local beer of choice for me while in Romania? Ursus.
And after dinner I hit the bar and this being a business hotel the
clientele was as you’d expect it. Great sixties music, though.
Tuesday morning I had to do some work on StocksandNews and
then went to cash some travelers checks. One problem. My
hotel, a new one that is part of a chain, wouldn’t take them. Yes,
I was slightly miffed, but they said go across the street. One of
those banks will cash them. OK, I thought. How do I get across
the street?
You see, the traffic is kind of crazy but rather than risking life
and limb, I walked a quarter mile to the official crosswalk with a
light.
Bank one…No!…Bank two…No!…Bank three…No!
OK, now I ask where anyone might cash the checks. A woman
customer at Bank three said “Try BRC, or the American
Embassy.” Where’s BRC? Over there, she pointed.
Well I didn’t exactly know where there was, but I was still
thinking of the embassy comment; yeah, right. [Plus it wasn’t
anywhere close to where I was.]
On my way to BRC I stopped in Bank four…No!…Bank five…
No!….Bank six….No!
Finally, I found BRC and, friends, I have to save this for that
other column I do. This whole episode was an incredible
nightmare and speaks volumes of this country, which is more of
a big picture, “Week in Review,” type topic as well.
I did finally get some money, enough to pay my driver to
Transylvania on Wednesday in his requested euros, which started
this whole ordeal. But the bank, and I’m assuming the security
services, now had every page of my passport, which BRC insisted
on copying. And understand this whole ordeal took 1 ½ hours
from start to finish!
Ya think I was happy? But whaddya gonna do, being an
American in a strange place. I’ll tell you one thing. Tuesday
was the day the European Commission approved the applications
of both Bulgaria and Romania for full EU membership in 2007
(with strict conditions). The EU is nuts.
Nicolae Ceausescu
I now turn to my vast library and Misha Glenny’s “The Balkans”
for a little background on the downfall of the Romanian dictator
responsible for so much misery.
But before we get to the bad stuff, in 1978 he was feted in a state
visit to Britain when Ceausescu was allowed to ride in the royal
carriage with Queen Elizabeth II. “The Royal Institute for
Chemistry held a lunch in honor of Elena (his wife), who had
constructed the fiction that she was a world-class chemist. In
fact, she was barely literate. The Ceausescus were received
around the world as though they were enlightened royalty, the
realization of their wildest dreams. [The Reagan administration
sought most-favored-nation trade status ‘in the event of war, we
think we can turn him,’ one official told Misha Glenny at the
time.] This cynicism on the part of NATO members had a
deeply demoralizing effect on Romania’s opposition.”
By 1982, however, Romania’s debt had climbed to $13.2 billion
and the IMF demanded further austerity measures. “Ceausescu
deeply resented having to concede to external pressure, and
resolved not only to meet the interest payments but to pay off the
principal by the end of the decade. [He succeeded in doing so by
March 1989, six months before his demise.] This meant an even
more concerted assault on living standards. With chronic food
shortages plaguing the country, Ceausescu introduced the
‘Rational Eating Program,’ which he justified by claiming that
Romanians were eating too much. He ‘set limits on per capita
consumption for the period 1982-85. The program reduced
calorie intake limits by 9-15 percent…Following these
guidelines, the dietary program in 1984…set allowances even
lower than the ‘scientific plan.’
“In the winter of 1987, gas consumption in Bucharest was set at
two hours a day. It was often not distributed at all. I recall
visiting apartments where families were wrapped from morning
till night in coats and blankets, teeth chattering in dark rooms. In
the bleak city center, the markets offered a few rotten potatoes
and carrots while the largest showcase supermarket could supply
only Portuguese anchovies and a processed cheese from France
called ‘La vache qui rit.’ As the population scavenged for
essentials, an architectural monstrosity, the House of the
Republic, was emerging from the ruins of three historic districts
in the center. Some 40,000 people were evicted from their
homes to construct this hideous folly, sired by Stalin out of
Metropolis. With disarming honesty, Bucharest’s chief architect
explained to me in 1987 that ‘people just get in your way when
you are building – it is so much easier without them.’ Fourteen
old Orthodox churches and a synagogue were among the
structures razed to make way for the largest public building in
the world after the Pentagon.”
From “A History of Modern Europe” by John Merriman
[As opposed to the bloodless change of power in Bulgaria as the
wall came tumbling down across Eastern Europe, the fall of the
Ceausescu clan was far from bloodless.]
“Ceausescu, who had enriched his family (at least 30 of whom
held high office), vowed that reform would come to Romania
‘when pears grow on poplar trees.’ He awarded himself titles
such as ‘Genius of the Carpathians’ and the ‘Danube of
Thought.’ His wife, Elena, fraudulently claimed to be a brilliant
chemist, giving papers prepared by scientists at conferences, and
then refusing to answer questions about them. On the occasion
of a state visit to Britain, Ceausescu and his wife virtually
pillaged a suite at London’s Buckingham Palace, carting away
everything of value they could….
“Ceausescu’s downfall began in 1989 in the Transylvanian town
of Timisoara, where opposition by ethnic Hungarians was strong.
Ceausescu had ordered the razing of 8,000 largely Hungarian
villages and the relocation of their residents. [Thousands of
Hungarians had recently left the region for Hungary.] A popular
Hungarian pastor loudly denounced the regime and called for
democracy. After the Romanian security police broke into the
pastor’s home and beat him up, people formed a human chain
around his home. Crowds rioted, smashing store windows and
burning Ceausescu’s books and portraits. Romanians joined
Hungarians in the protests. Army units refused to fire on
demonstrators. The feared security forces [the Securitate,
180,000 strong] stepped in, shooting three army officers for
disobeying orders and firing on crowds, killing a number of
children.
“Discontent spread rapidly. As another cold winter approached
Romania amid the usual severe food and fuel shortages,
Hungarian and Yugoslav television showed events rapidly
transpiring in other Eastern European countries. Demonstrations
now spread to various Romanian towns. Ceausescu returned
from a trip to Iran in December and called for a massive
demonstration of support in Bucharest. Orchestrated cheers from
the crowd soon became jeers, drowning out the dictator’s
pathetic speech blaming riots on Hungarian nationalists. From
the safety of his palace, Ceausescu ordered troops to fire on the
crowds below. But most units refused to obey and, as a result,
the minister of defense was executed on Ceausescu’s orders. The
hated secret police eagerly fired on the assembled crowds; tanks
crushed protesters in a scene hauntingly reminiscent of Beijing
earlier that year. After soldiers battled the security forces outside
the presidential palace, hundreds of bodies lay in the streets.
“Several of the dictator’s top officials now decided that
Ceausescu’s days of iron rule were numbered. Ceausescu and
his wife left their stately residence on December 22, 1989,
through secret tunnels, and then commandeered a helicopter.
They were captured and immediately charged with murder and
embezzlement of government funds. On Christmas Day, they
were tried by a hastily convoked tribunal (which, in fact, had no
legal authority) and condemned to death. They were then taken
behind the building and shot, their bloody bodies left lying stiffly
in the snow for a worldwide television audience to see while
members of the security forces continued their resistance. More
than 1,000 Romanians died during the revolution that overthrew
Ceausescu.”
Well, hope you enjoyed that delightful Christmas story. Make it
part of your own family tradition…just don’t act it out.
And with that as background, I hopped in a cab Tuesday
afternoon, after the bank fiasco, and said “The People’s Palace!”
“What?” I think the driver said. I then pointed to it on a
map…even there it’s gigantic. “Oh,” he nodded. “It’s very big,
isn’t it?” I said, perhaps a bit too eagerly considering that to most
Romanians this is a huge embarrassment.
In a little bit we headed down the Bulevardul Uniril and there,
miles away up on a hill, was this absolutely amazing
monstrosity. There is simply no way to describe it, and I’m sorry
I can’t do it justice, but I will never again see anything like this
in my life.
The driver left me off in a bad spot, across the street, and soon a
policeman was shooing me off what I thought was a sidewalk. I
was shunted aside, into the parking lot of the Interior Ministry
(though I think it had more to do with finance than secret police,
at least from the looks of the people hanging around).
I eventually made it across the street (the boulevards here are
enormous…great for tanks, of course) and walked up to what I
thought was the main driveway to this colossus on the hill.
“Where is the museum entrance?” I asked a policeman.
“Muzhee is closed this week. Opens again Oct. 1.” There was a
summit going on.
“Drat!” [Actually, I didn’t say drat because he might have
thought I said “Drac,” and then if he thought I was a closet
vampire, no telling what would have happened to me. It being
daylight and all.]
Well, I walked down just the main side of the palace and it took
about seven minutes!
So what exactly is this place? Try 3.7 million square feet, with
1,100 rooms. Supposedly, the architect was a 27-year-old
woman, incidentally. The palace is 270 meters long (the
sidewalk is much longer) and 86 meters high. It’s twelve stories
with four underground levels, including a nuclear bunker.
The lobby is 100 meters long and there are three assembly halls
over half that length. Plus there are 4,500 chandeliers (of 11,000
that were planned), the largest of which weighs one and a half
tons. Today, it houses the Senate and Parliament, if I recall
correctly.
So what did I do next? The weather was absolutely gorgeous,
about 74 with a breeze, so I decided to walk home. Now mind
you, it was pretty much a straight shot but there were a few turns
I needed to remember and while I had a map with me, I wasn’t
about to whip it out and show everyone there is a tourist in their
midst whose only money is on his person.
I knew it would be a long walk, but I have to admit it turned out
to be very pleasant as the pathway was very Paris-like my whole
way home…all 75 minutes of it…constantly checking my
pockets for my belongings.
And the reason why I had a sense of being headed in the right
direction is because I remembered some Heineken umbrellas at
sidewalk cafes as I was staring out the taxicab on the way to the
palace. So bless you, Heineken.
Right before I got to back to the hotel, I passed the place where
my money was finally exchanged (chilling) and then found a
nice restaurant. But they didn’t serve Ursus, only imported, so I
chose Carlsberg and ate a delicious lunch/dinner of veal
cordon/bleu and, for dessert, Coupe Jacques.
Now I had no idea what Coupe Jacques was, didn’t ask, I just
thought I’d go with the flow. Turns out it was a pile of whipped
cream, ice cream, and then lots of delicious fruit. Very, very
tasty.
So with the whipped cream, ice cream, and fruit, plus the hops,
barley, malt of the beer, I had all the major food groups in one
meal.
I then crashed in my bed for two hours.
Wednesday morning…Transylvania
Through the hotel I hired out “Gabriel” to drive me to
Transylvania, the major part of which is supposed to about a two
hour drive from Bucharest. Gabriel met me before 9:00, on time,
and within two minutes I knew I was in for one interesting day.
A sexy woman was crossing the street and he said “You like
hookers?” “Huh?” “You like hookers?” “Ah, no…I don’t do
that sort of thing.” “Why not? I’m married and I do it all the
time!”
Oh brother. The next hour, all of which was stuck in gridlock
traffic just trying to get out of Bucharest, he told me about 50
jokes, most of which were very crude. I politely smiled. At least
the radio had on some fun music.
[And here’s digression #1. The most popular song on the radio
in Romania these days is by a girl who isn’t even four years of
age. We heard it a few times and it’s really quite good. The girl
is Bulgarian but sings Romanian and the tune is about a little girl
waiting for a 12-year-old boy to walk by her house after school.
I don’t think she’s a hooker. At least Gabriel didn’t say she
was.]
At least Gabriel appeared to be a good driver, the weather was
holding up, and finally two hours outside of Bucharest the hills
and mountains of Transylvania emerged on the horizon. In
another hour (so three total at this point), we got to Ploesti and an
absolutely gorgeous castle. In the midst of these alpine peaks it
was truly a magical site.
From there we snaked our way to Bran Castle, home of Dracula.
Well, it’s not really Drac’s home, per se, but the man on whom
the figure of Dracula is based did pass by here and his relatives
lived in Bran Castle.
So now….the tale of Dracula…Vlad the Impaler.
Vlad the Impaler lived from about 1431 to 1476, by most
accounts. He was the Prince of Wallachia, Vlad IV, or Vlad
Tepes. He earned his reputation by fighting ruthlessly against
the Turks, and, thanks to the advent of the printing press, people
far and wide began to learn of his cruelty. At this time, however,
he was not known as a vampire, though many thought he was in
league with the Devil.
A papal legate once wrote of Vlad.
“He was not very tall, but very stocky and strong, with a cold and
terrible appearance, a strong and aquiline nose, swollen nostrils,
a thin reddish face in which very long eyelashes framed large
wide-open green eyes; the bushy black eyebrows made them
appear threatening. His face and chin were shaven, but for a
moustache. The swollen temples increased the bulk of his head.
A bull’s neck connected his head to his body from which black
curly locks hung on his wide-shouldered person.”
Vlad Tepes’s father was Vlad Dracul. Vlad Dracul was killed in
1447 and it wasn’t until 1456 that Vlad Tepes became ruler of
Wallachia. Vlad Tepes, however, was in a weakened position
and had to pay a large tribute to the Turks.
But he began to exert his own power and for practically all
crimes, large and small, he had one form of punishment…he
impaled them. Victims were bound spread-eagled while a stake
was hammered up their, err, rectum…and then were raised aloft
and left to die in agony, for all to see.
On Easter Day in 1459, it was said Vlad called all the boyars
together, with their families, to dine with him at his palace;
guards then entered and seized them, impaling many right there.
He also took all the disabled and burned them so that they would
no longer suffer…at least that was his story.
Vlad’s power spread and now he sought revenge against the
Turks. In one expedition he reputedly bagged 23,883 prisoners
for impaling and it was afterwards that in 1463 there came a
publication in Vienna titled “Geschichte Dracole Wayde” that
gave an account of his deeds and became the source for all
subsequent literature. It’s been said that a Russian version
produced in 1488 was used by Ivan the Terrible. Also, some say
it was the source of inspiration for the Spanish Inquisition.
Well, back to my trip to Bran Castle, which is the best known in
the world for all things Dracula. It is set up on a hill and is
totally cool. You have a long walk up and the tourist bureau has
done an outstanding job in renovating this structure with roots
back to 1377. Yes, it was worth going to and I was lucky that the
weather was still holding out.
Because after I hopped back in Gabriel’s car…he slept while I
was touring…it started to rain and the alpine roads got slick. On
our way to Brasov, the largest city in Transylvania, Gabriel said
“You want some excitement?” I at first thought he said “Do you
find this day exciting?” “Yes, very exciting,” I replied. He then
proceeded to drive like a maniac, up and down these switchback
roads.
Now understand that as opposed to driving in, say, Switzerland,
where you can see ahead a good ways, here in the spectacular
mountains of Transylvania it’s all heavily forested so when
you’re using the wrong lane entering a curve, if a car was coming
the other way it would be splatsville.
Well here I am, so obviously we didn’t go splat, but there’s more
to the tale.
Gabriel took me to a very authentic restaurant for a late lunch
(it’s now about 2:30) and I got to try some palenka (I forget the
spelling…but it’s plum brandy). Goodness gracious…it’s the
strongest stuff I’ve ever tasted. But the soup and meats were
awesome.
We then drove through Brasov, a very cool place in the valley
where I learned a lot of Germans had settled after World War II,
and the architecture was certainly unique. In fact some of the
buildings in Transylvania are as cool as any you’ll find anywhere
… tremendous woodwork.
Now we’re descending the mountains, it’s raining hard, and
suddenly the traffic stops as we’re going through this small town.
We see some flashing lights up ahead and we learned from a
villager that a car hit a train. The train tracks were to our right,
but up an embankment and we were trying to figure out how it
happened.
Bottom line, it took us an hour until we passed the scene, after
many ambulances had whisked by, and it was then we saw, at
least in my mind, the worst accident I can remember. Somehow
there was this head-on collision [cars madly pass slower cars on
this two-lane highway] and the force sent one of the autos up the
embankment and right in the way of an oncoming train!
Gabriel didn’t seem affected by the sight, but I sure was. He told
me the car that came in contact with the train had French
diplomatic plates.
So we’re now about 1 ½ hours outside Bucharest, it’s 4:30, and
I’m thinking home by 6:00.
Wrong! We reach the outskirts of the city, it’s 6:00, and the
traffic comes to a complete stop again. Traffic here, needless to
say, is absolutely the worst I’ve seen anywhere in the world. It’s
a city of 2.2 million and there is just one main artery into town.
And get this, of the five lanes, three one way, two the other,
two…two…are blocked off for ‘privileged’ government officials.
So you see some official looking car speed by while you’re
stuck. It’s totally absurd.
Gabriel told me he knew a shortcut, we got off, and now we were
on a road with nothing but tractor trailers. We stopped. But
picture each time the traffic started again, it would take a while
for a tractor trailer to pick up speed so Gabriel used these
opportunities to pass a few. That meant eventually he had to cut
over when a truck approached us. [This road was just two lanes.]
So we had a lot of pissed off truckers screaming at Gabriel, who
often screamed back.
Then he decided to pass on the right, by putting half the car in a
ditch…so we drove that way for a spell and by now I was furious
with him.
“Gabriel…” I started saying softly but sternly, “get back in the
lane.”
“GABRIEL…GET BACK IN THE FREAKIN’ LANE! The
police are going to arrest us.”
Police, understand, are everywhere in Bucharest, but for some
reason, as he knew, not on this stretch of road. In the long run,
his insane driving saved us at least another hour.
Now we’re finally in the city proper and he decides to drive on
the trolley tracks, which is totally illegal. People are dodging us
left and right.
“GABRIEL…STOP DRIVING ON THE TROLLEY
TRACKS!”
Then we really had it out. It’s more “Week in Review” type
stuff and in the end I felt a little bad about yelling at him, but I
did want to live a few more years, and not in a Romanian prison.
Remember, I still had the bank episode and the passport
information they took in the back of my mind.
Gabriel spilled his guts out to me, about his family, and trying to
earn a decent living, and how corrupt his government is (no
kidding!). It ended up being a moment I’ll never forget. Here
we were, two totally different people, thrown in this car together,
and we had the most intense political discussion you can
imagine. I didn’t back down, telling him my impressions of
Romania, and he certainly wasn’t slamming Americans and our
way of life. More on this in WIR. It’s important.
Finally, at 7:30 we returned to my hotel. Over 10 ½ hours later.
I was beat, to say the least, and so was he. We embraced
warmly, hot words a thing of the past. Gabriel means well.
Now we’ll find out Thursday if the same bank exchanges my
traveler’s checks again. If not, and I doubt they will, I have one
other option. Find a casino and charge some money!
[I never did meet Count Dracula, by the way. It was daylight!
But I did see his emissary and, Jeff B., your question will be
answered in WIR.]
Stuff
–Ryder Cup tidbits:
Tiger has been making some decent comments, from what I’ve
read. It is truly amazing the U.S. didn’t have one player under
30 on the squad. I know we’ve discussed this before, and Johnny
Miller and Lanny Wadkins covered it this year, but just where
are our young players? These guys come out of college with
such great reputations and then they just seem content to make
some good money.
Dave P. and I exchanged notes on Phil Mickelson. His day in the
sun is over. Why cheer him on? Now I’ll admit if he makes a
great comeback at the Masters next year, that’s a terrific story,
but does anyone see it? I guess he’s taking off a lot of time until
maybe next February. Good.
And look at these career Ryder Cup records for America’s best.
Tiger…10-13-2
Mickelson…9-12-4…1-9-1 last 11 matches
Furyk…6-12-2
I think it was Dave Anderson of the New York Times who
compared these marks to the following.
Arnie…22-8-2
Hale Irwin…13-5-2
Nicklaus…17-8-3
Trevino…17-7-6
Granted, the European squad had nowhere near the depth in the
60s and 70s that it does today, but you still have to do it on the
course and those four above did.
Meanwhile, there is absolutely no reason for that punk, Sergio
Garcia, to get a good reception in the U.S. You don’t boo the
guy, but remember what a jerk he can be. After the Ryder Cup
he was quoted as saying “There is nothing sweeter than beating
the Americans.”
You may not take offense at that, but if I’m Sergio’s PR guy, I
tell him he could tone it down a little. Try something like:
“It’s always great to win for Europe and at the same time defeat
some of the best in the sport. That’s what the Cup is all about;
that’s what we play for. The Americans are not only a great
group of guys, they’re still tremendous competitors and I have a
feeling we better have our ‘A’ game in two years at Valhalla.”
Free PR advice (yes, even if the above is a bit disingenuous, it’s
PR, after all)…another exclusive feature of Bar Chat.
–By way of follow-up to my comment last time that Barry
Bonds should be ‘waterboarded,’ I see that Sen. John McCain
said waterboarding would not be allowed under the agreement he
and some other senators reached with the White House the other
day.
Well here at Bar Chat, we abide by the law, so I’m assuming this
means we could still place Bonds on the rack and stretch him just
enough to finally make him sing.
–Nice job Cincinnati Bengals organization….six players have
been arrested this year.
–San Diego’s Trevor Hoffman became baseball’s all-time saves
leader with 479, surpassing Lee Smith, and there isn’t one fan of
the sport, after the immediate Hoffman family, who gives a
damn. This stat has been so screwed around with it’s
meaningless, except, I’ll admit, inside each particular season.
–Huge game in college football this week, 1-3 Virginia vs. 0-3
Duke.
–Not for nothing but Wake Forest has given up only 39 points in
four games. And we’re receiving some votes in the polls. But I
have to thank Phil W. for passing along statistics I couldn’t find.
Wake’s defensive effort thus far, while great, is generally in the
top 15 in most categories, but not nearly #1 as I had hoped.
AP Top Ten
1. Ohio State
2. Auburn
3. USC
4. West Virginia
5. Florida
6. Michigan
7. Texas
8. Louisville
9. LSU
10. Georgia
23. Rutgers
36. Wake…if you counted down that far.
–Boy, it isn’t easy finding college football betting lines that are
understandable on the Net when you’re used to just reading it in
your local sports pages.
So…understanding these may be off from the major lines by a ½
point or so…here are this week’s PICKS TO CLICK, kids!
Florida, giving 13 to Alabama
USC, giving 17 to Washington State
Army, giving 11 to Rice
And kids, if you’re looking to cash out one of your parents’
annuities to pay for your gambling habit, just understand they
could be incurring a surrender charge and if they find out, they’ll
be mighty upset.
Top 3 songs for the week of 9/27/69: #1 “Sugar, Sugar” (The
Archies…hey, they had a #1 and you didn’t so stop snickering)
#2 “Green River” (Creedence Clearwater Revival) #3 “Honky
Tonk Women” (The Rolling Stones)…and…#4 “Easy To Be
Hard” (Three Dog Night…great one) #5 “Little Woman”
(Bobby Sherman…hey, this hit #5 and you didn’t have a #5 so
stop snickering) #6 “I Can’t Get Next To You” (The
Temptations) #7 “Jean” (Oliver) #8 “I’ll Never Fall In Love
Again” (Tom Jones) #9 “Hot Fun In The Summertime” (Sly &
The Family Stone) #10 “Oh, What A Night” (The Dells)
NFL Quiz Answers: 1) Top three in sacks in 2005. Derrick
Burgess / Oakland, 16; Osi Umenyiora / Giants, 14.5; Simeon
Rice / Tampa Bay, 14.
2) 12 NFL franchises in 1959
East: NY Giants, Cleveland, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh,
Washington, Chicago Cardinals
West: Baltimore, Chicago Bears, Green Bay, San Francisco,
Detroit, Los Angeles
3) 8 original AFL franchises
Houston, NY Titans, Buffalo, Boston Patriots, L.A. Chargers,
Dallas Texans (became K.C. in 1963), Oakland, Denver
Next Bar Chat, Tuesday. [Probably posted late Monday.] More
on Romania, that’s for sure! Does the editor arrive back in
Prague, because without cab fare to the airport in Bucharest, I’m
doing dishes here for a while.
