The McBournie Minute: Don’t let Tiger Woods drive the golf cart

Welcome back, everyone. Hope both of you had a great Thanksgiving. I can’t speak for the rest of The Guys, but as much as I enjoyed a little time to relax, I missed being able to write–so much so that my fingers are rusty. I mean that metaphorically, of course.

No one’s really talking about it at the moment, but I hear tell that Tiger Woods, who you may know is a professional golfer, and pretty good, at that, got in a car accident outside his home while we were gone. What we do know is that it happened in the wee hours of the night, when nothing but arrests and pregnancies happen. We know that Woods was leaving his house when he hit a fire hydrant, which probably made an awesome geyser like you see in movie car chases. We know he hit a tree head on. We know that at some point the driver’s side window was broken.

We know that this isn’t the first time Tiger’s drive has gone off course and gotten him in a pickle. What? No more golf jokes? Fine. Continue reading The McBournie Minute: Don’t let Tiger Woods drive the golf cart

The McBournie Minute: History That Happened in the Past (1970-1979)

We have reached the third part in our ongoing series Better Know a Decade History That Happened in the Past. This time, we’re covering the 1970s. While technically The Sixties didn’t end until about 1973, it is still important to acknowledge that the 1970s were in fact a decade, a hairy, oversexed decade.

The good news was that all the assassinations and angry mobs were more or less over by the time the 1970s rolled around, thus, it was time for America to let other countries have a chance at scaring it senseless. All the while the U.S. rejoiced in the feeling that the Vietnam War was over, because allegedly it was.

Grab your polyester and hit the jump. Continue reading The McBournie Minute: History That Happened in the Past (1970-1979)

The McBournie Minute: Quiet on the tee, please

When I was a kid–wait, where are you going? Stop it. I promise this isn’t some sort of “I remember when” story, despite how the lead sentence sounds. Can we start over again?

When I was a kid, I knew on weekends I could always find my dad watching golf on television. He would eat his lunch, a bologna and cheese sandwich with potato chips mixed in, and sit for hours watching. I tried in earnest several times to watch it with my dad, but my interest always wained.

You see, golf on TV is really, really boring, and this is coming from someone who sits through entire baseball games.

Sure, you can follow along if you know where everyone is and who is leading in the tournament, but the coverage is forced to skip around from one hole to the next after a single shot. This is because nearly every hole has action going on (that’s what she said) and it takes so long for golfers to walk to their next shot. The result is something along the lines of picking up a book, reading page 1, then skipping to page 56, then going to 32, then to page 2 and so on. There’s not much of a story told unless you unscramble it yourself. Continue reading The McBournie Minute: Quiet on the tee, please

Eat My Sports: Tiger beat

Golf. It’s boring, and they wear stupid clothes. These guys, for some asinine reason, find relaxation in the frustration of hitting something the size of an eye into a Dixie cup 300 yards away. Every single one of these geniuses make this sport unwatchable, save for one. Tiger Woods. And no, Bryan, not even your love for flannel pants can make me agree that this game is enjoyable.

I never liked golf until I saw an electrifying young man with a Nike swoosh for a smile win The Master’s when I was 14. But as much as I can’t stand being bored, I can’t turn a blind eye to greatness. Continue reading Eat My Sports: Tiger beat

Eat My Sports: Wherever I may Romo

Forget college basketball. Forget Roger “I didn’t take no freaking steroids” Clemens, forget the NBA, forget it all. This week we’re tackling romance, but not in that kind of awkward “son, we need to talk” type of way, no, I’m sick of celebrity sports dating. This needs to end.

Honestly, since when has a sports icon’s career been defined by People Magazine or Tiger Beat (is that still around?) covers as opposed to their on field performance. Important figures like completion percentage and assist-to-turnover ratio are being replaced by daily taglines of “what they did on their magical week in Mexico.”

The madness needs to stop. The sports world needs to keep from becoming a mock version of E! Continue reading Eat My Sports: Wherever I may Romo