Right off the bat, let’s be honest: You missed me.
When Brett Favre turned his little Packer into a private photo session, you missed me. When George Steinbrenner finally headed to his own meeting with The Boss, you missed me. Tiger Woods? Ben Roethlisberger? A-Rod? LeBron James? Yeah, you missed me.
But I’ve missed you too. My mailman started wearing noise-cancelling headphones. The SRP guy takes my word for it on our meter reading. I would already be into my third one-liner about Mike Singletary when the voice on the other end of the phone shouted “Sir, I just wanted to know if the hailstorm damaged your roof!”
It’s not like my life was so empty I could qualify to play sports at BYU. Since my former days as a regular columnist for the East Valley Tribune, my days are full. But I’ve missed that outlet where I can mine into that rich vein of silliness that always seems to surround the sports world. And if you’re not careful, the mind starts to wander and, boom, you’re Rex Ryan.
So while my full-time position at the Tribune isn’t coming back anytime soon – think Charlie Sheen – I’ve agreed to hook Brownie Points up to jumper cables and revive our old meeting spot once a week. You know, like when you had to meet dad at the park for those supervised visitations when you were a kid.
For those of you who were totally baffled by the first five paragraphs, let’s digress. In this weekly column, we’ll offer observations and good, clean opinions on the issues and incidents surrounding the sports world. They are not to be taken as gospel or, in many cases, as altogether accurate. It’s just about poking fun at the men and women who are paid to play child’s games — and all the people who get a little too close to the fire in the process.
When I started this column in the ’90s, there was no Deadspin, no Bleacher Report, no Huffington Post. Keith Olbermann was at ESPN. No one was looking through keyholes at network sideline reporters and we all thought Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa were just guys who really worked out a lot and the Suns were an old, past-their-prime basketball team resisting an inevitable rebuilding project.
OK, some things never change.
We’ll check out the weird news of the week, like Donald Sterling and the Los Angeles Clippers’ decision to celebrate Black History Month on Wednesday, March 2 at Staples Center. The only problem? February is Black History Month. Hard to believe the Clips have never quite put it together on the court. Why isn’t there a Wunderlic test for sports owners?
We’ll follow the trials and tribulations of the local sports teams. Will the Suns make the playoffs, and will Steve Nash and Grant Hill continue to cover for Robert Sarver’s blunders? Does anyone believe the Cardinals will find a decent quarterback? Do you really believe in the Diamondbacks’ starting rotation?
What exactly is the NHL going to do with the Phoenix Coyotes. And if they win the Stanley Cup, will Gary Bettman waltz out to center ice and hand the thing to himself? (By the way, since making a trade at Monday’s deadline, Scottie Upshall has as many goals for Columbus in two games as the Coyotes do — two). And the player Phoenix acquired, defenseman Rostislav Klesla, was caught out of position on the goal that cost Phoenix one game and sitting in the penalty box for the goal that cost them the other.
We’ll even talk about ASU sports — provided they ever give us anything to talk about. No bowl game for football. No tournament(s) for basketball. Probation for baseball. OK, moving forward …
We like to have fun here. Why spend time delving into the major issues of the day when a quick one-liner will fit the bill? A little song, a little dance, a cellphone camera down your pants.
Did I mention I’m really going to miss Brett Favre?
Brownie Points appears every Sunday in the Tribune.