"We're Not Detroit!"

Good to see that even the most downtrodden cities can claim a leg up on their nearby rust-belt neighbors. Whoever conceived, shot, scripted, and sang these videos deserves whatever award is the highest award you can get on the internet for first-rate snarkery.

Here's the original "un-official" city of Cleveland tourism video.



And then the sequel, which might be even better.



In related Detroit news, it appears that GM and Chrysler are getting more and more skittish about what "O Motors" has in mind for their future.

"Chrysler wanted to spend $134 million in advertising over the nine weeks it's expected to be in bankruptcy -- the U.S. Treasury's auto-industry task force gave it half that.

So if GM, which is wrestling with the possibility of a Chapter 11 filing itself, is wondering how much influence the task force will have over marketing, the answer is: plenty."

REACT: Ha, freaking, ha. But remember, as Barry said: "I have no intention of running GM." Sure you don't. Unless you count telling GM how many dealers to close, how much to spend on advertising, and how many cupholders are allowed in every truck.

They are from the government. They are here to help. Uhhhh huh.

Little Miss Sunshine

It’s always nice to be invited. It’s even nicer when people thank you, for just showing up.

Monday in Charlottesville, VA I was a very happy, yet minor, accessory to a great charity event run by former radio voice of UVA sports Mac MacDonald. Proceeds benefit the children’s cancer wing at UVA hospital.

It was no small treat to meet one of my favorite LPGA stars, the impossibly mature for her age (20) Morgan Pressel. It was also cool to meet noted sports psychologist and mental guru to the PGA stars Dr. Bob Rotella.

We played at the incredible Keswick Hall resort, tucked just 5 miles outside of Charlottesville. I had never seen, heard, or been there, but WHOA! Fantastic. The course is a somewhat short-ish Arnold Palmer re-design, that blends an old-school feel, with modern architecture.

We were due for a 9-hole exhibition, but persistent rain cut it short to just 5 holes. The match ended All Square, no thanks to me. I went bogey-bogey-par-bogey-X. Morgan went par-par-birdie-par-par. The good Doc was on fire, making birdie on 1, par, then a 35 footer for a slam dunk birdie on #3. Then he came back to earth a bit. Must not have stayed “in the moment.” (Elbow jab).

Here's a few pics from the day....


The fabulous 10th hole looking back at Keswick Hall.


Me counting how many clubs Morgan brought for this shindig. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…. Ooohhhkay then. Good. Keep it fair.


What a hacker I am. Horrible reverse pivot. Plus, I’m fat. Long sleeve rain gear, not slimming enough.


Morgan was a one-woman ray of sunshine on a rainy day. Great player, great personality. Impossible not to be a fan.


This was maybe one of about 1,000 photos she took all day. Never once flinched, groaned, or looked annoyed. Don’t know how she does it. Plus, she does about 150 of these things a year.


My trusted caddy and long time degenerate golfer-in-kind Mike McGowan was steady on the bag. Broke out the big ol’ Nike Tour bag with my name on it, ‘natch. He’ll live. Suck it up, tough guy!


Okay, Morgan. Here’s what I like on this putt - whatever you like. Now give it a good roll!


My pards.


Ultimate thanks to Mac McDonald who put many thousands of man-hours into making this happen. Well done, sir, thanks for having me along for the ride!

See No Evil, Call No Foul

Imagine that: Mark Cuban getting screwed by a non-foul call on his own player! Ha, sweet justice! The gaffe that cost the Mavericks the game on Saturday was just another incident in these NBA playoffs that make you wonder if the referees are blind! Bad enough they used to bet on games, now it’s like they are as observant as Sgt. Shultz. “I know NUTHING!” How on earth does this non-call happen two feet in front of a zebra, after these clowns missed entirely Rafer Alston head-slapping Eddie House after a jumper? How come no referees have been suspended in the wake of these mistakes? Wake up, people.

Playoff overtimes are where my Capitals go to die. After Saturday night’s dagger, that makes it now 7 straight OT losses in the post-season. The Penguins are 6-1 vs. the Caps in the playoffs from 1991-2000. And three times the Caps have lost a two-game lead in the series.

Had Tom Poti not deflected the puck into our own net, Crosby was going to bury it. Don’t know if that makes anybody feel better or not. Just sayin’.

I always liked Chuck Daly, even though I (like most of the country outside of Michigan) loathed the “Bad Boys” Pistons of his era. Despite impeccable designer suits, he never came off as elitist as Pat Riley. And he was never as insufferably smug as Phil Jackson. Daly knew how the league worked: “It’s a players’ league. They allow you to coach them, or they don’t. Once they stop allowing you to coach, you’re on your way out.” Amen.

Amazing Fact: Despite Daly being given a lifetime achievement award, and inducted to the Hall of Fame, guess what he never won? “Coach of the Year.”

I need a good name/moniker/slogan for an index I plan to track this year: The difference between Zach Greinke’s ERA (currently 0.51) and Chien-Ming Wang’s ERA (currently 34.50). Do you think we’re going to see this “index” drop below “20.0” this year? And for you math geeks, how many consecutive shutouts must Wang record before catching Grienke at 0.51?

Big ups to Momma Czaban on this post Mother’s Day Monday. My mom was the ultimate sports mom. She got me signed up for every sport I wanted, always on time. My uniform was always washed and ready. She drove me all the way out to golf courses a full hour away from home to play when I was 14 and 15 years old and couldn’t drive. Then she came back to pick me and my buddy up. She tolerated me a) cutting down trees b) digging up huge holes c) cutting the grass in weird patterns d) smashing holes in basement drywall and e) marking up the front door with bowling pins in my pursuit of playing sports 24/7/365 around the house growing up. Thanks mom, a day late. I love you.

If you don’t love the NHL for its completely FUBAR names and spellings, then you are missing out. I have become aware of the Chicago Blackhawks automatic spelling bee shutdown name: Dustin Bufflin. Oh, wait a minute. That’s just how it SOUNDS. It’s spelled B-Y-F-U-G-L-I-E-N. What the Byfuglien!? Dude is a beast too. Scored 2 goals in Saturday’s win at Vancouver to put Chicago up 3-2 in their series. Byfuglien! Take that Krzyzewski!!!