Cheetos & Kool-Aid

January17/ 2000

… Among the various unfair advantages I possess in this life is an eclectic group of friends I call on for periodic mini-interventions when I sense that my inner-GPS system is malfunctioning.  Such a session recently took place and we examine the results.  High drama along Washington Road in Augusta displays the all to rare essence of sports.  Oh, and we discuss recent juicy rumors involving Dickie Baddour, Chuck Amato, and Suzanne Somers.

   Don’t ask me why but I had a stronger reaction to Chris DiMarco’s near miss on his first chip to 18 than I did to Tiger’s miracle chip on 16.  I was sitting in a hotel room in Myrtle Beach all by myself and heard myself yell when DeMarco’s potential Masters winner hit the pin.  I’ve met DiMarco a few times in passing and he is in a group of 15-20 sort-of-anonymous “good guys” on Tour who finish in the top ten a lot and win a few “This Is Tuesday It Must Be Milwaukee” tournaments each year.  David Toms and Stewart Cink are in that group.  I tend to pull for the u-dog so I was hoping DiMarco would slay El Tigre.  It was not to be but WHAT CLASSIC SPORTS DRAMA.  The Masters is all the reason anybody needs to buy a High Definition TV.

   I have been to Augusta for The Masters and it is simply a spectacular sporting venue (no better ANYWHERE!).  But seeing it in HD is almost “better than being there” especially if you have your own pimento cheese sandwiches.

    I know some “fans” don’t care much for Masters traditions and frankly I’m not crazy about all of them myself.  I remember when Hootie’s predecessors in The Butler Cabin needed Frank Broyles at their side in case they drooled oatmeal on camera or launched into some pointless diatribe about how Marsh Robert could have won at Gettysburg or asking Seve Ballesteros if he has ever been coon hunting with Marcel Ledbetter.  

   Did you notice nobody took off their jersey after they won.  Nobody announced they were leaving for the league.  Nobody had to pee in a cup before they got their green jacket.  No one got all “postal” about whether Tiger had more “talent” and Retief Goosen was more of a “team”.  If golf message boards exist, were they en fuego as howler monkeys discussed who “HATES” Peter Oosterhuis the most.  Was Tiger’s new coach Hank Haney using sideline F-bombs to intimidate USGA rules officials?


   Well my aforementioned Swagger Starchamber of Super Secret Advisors completed their exhaustive analysis of Ye Olde Website.  Focus group data has been dissected and we even did a mini-“jay walking” man-on-the-street interview.  

    The unanimous consensus (are all consensuses unanimous?) is that it is time to give up our current diet of Cheetos & Kool-Aid and to strive for brassier brass rings.  The Cheetos & Kool-Aid thingie refers to a junk food diet that is addictive but possess little/no nutritional value.  In this case that mean doing “sports columns” 90% of the time.  

   Discoursing on Rashad McCants taking off his jersey (Brandi Chastain still had a bra on. That comparison is bogus) makes my hair hurt.  Discoursing on the reaction of howler monkeys to Rashad McCants taking off his jersey causes my colon to secrete sacrete.  What Richard “Dickie” Baddour had for breakfast no longer interests me.  Mike Krzyzewski “The Profane Polish Prince of West Derm” could be having menage a’trois with Chuck Amato and Billy Packer and I DON’T CARE!

   I am not divorcing The Muse of Sport but we have decided to “see other people” and “remain friends”.  For the foreseeable future Ye Olde Internet Legend will be dating The Muse of Refrigerator Art.  I am moving up the food chain of subjects de commentary.

   For those of you who have been on-board since the original ZiggaZoomba days, you recall PDEWS and Crazy Butch and Hadji and Danny Faulkner The Gonzo King of The Texas FlimFlammers.  Well SURPRISE SURPRISE Ol’ BobLee has got lots more of those street corners yarns up his sleeve.

   This website has increased its readership EVERY MONTH of its existence.  THANK YOU!  But number of views has never been our goal.  If pure “hits” were all we wanted we would write inane crap about “all Wuffies are …” or “all Tar Holes are …” or “Coach K is …” and some howler monkey would link it on his fan board and several thousand of his loonie breathren would try to read it without moving their lips and stumbling over the multi-syllabic words.  Which begs the question:

“If a SwaggerSays column is read in the woods 

by 5,000 goggle-eyed howler monkeys, 

does it make a sound?”  

We have decided it does not.

    There have been incredibly gifted sports columnists … Jim Murray was always my favorite.  .  Shirley Povich was wonderful (“Shirley” was a guy for any howler monkeys still trying to read this.).  Red Smith, Grantland Rice, Dan Jenkins were legends and currently SI’s Rick Reilly who is the Anson Dorrance of modern day sports columnists.  But we need go no further than the recent “team vs talent” Cheetos brand brouhaha to see what sells for “sports writing” today; and what “junk food” sports fans devour.  Yuck, ptui. 

   From now on, twice a week (Monday and Thursday) BL Swagger will be aiming for your refrigerator door with musings on life well beyond the locker room and foul lines.  If, added by the aforementioned Muse, I can pen something worthy of being pinned to your Fridgedaire then I will be a happy little Internet Legend.  I expect to fall short more times than not but when I catch one on the “sweet spot” I’ll know it and most of you will to.  Grab a magnet and e-mail those suckas to every sumbitch in your address book.

   I said that The Sports Muse and I are keeping each other in our respective speed dials so we will get “sporty” when sports merits our attention.  

   Oh, and just in case you are worried, “being Ann Coulter with a beard” never has been nor ever will be our goal here so we are NOT “going political” on you.  We are combining the two websites (SwaggerSays and SimplySwagger) into this one site.  BobLee will still observe life from his personal perspective and that likely will not mirror yours every day in every way.

   Your loyalty to this site for the past 3+ years has far exceeded our modest conceptual goals.  Here’s hoping this new re-direction will further justify your loyalty and increase your enjoyment of the time you spend here. 

   See you Thursday morning when we will either discuss The Middle East Crisis OR whether Rachel Ray is marrying Dog The Bounty Hunter.


 Swagger’s Stumper

How did Mr Cliff Roberts die?


   Bill Belichek’s daddy, Steve, was an Assistant Football Coach (Defensive secondary) at UNC from ’53-’55.

Hey Swagger, what about Suzanne Somers?  

You promised in the teaser.

    I’m still all alone in a Myrtle Beach hotel room.  Suzanne was on a TV interview show Monday night and I got homesick for “my Suzanne Sommers” – The Mizzus … who, by the way, is starting a REALLY cool new job on Wednesday.

   You GOT TO listen to the new audio link over there on the right column.  Tres Neat!

[email protected]

0 0 votes
Article Rating
Notify of
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x