Draft Day Movie Review

Now I get it. Now it all makes sense. Draft Day explains it all. The excitement of Draft Day and the intrigue behind the scenes of one of the biggest days in football; the day the college kids get drafted to play for the NFL big boys. Best of all is that Ali, played in her usual feminine, strong-without-cutting-off-his-balls style by our favorite Girl Next Door, Jennifer Garner, is not sacrificed in any way by

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Lance Armstrong is not Tiger Woods, or Pete Rose.

We are a nation that loves to forgive. We do. You do us wrong, and we can look the other way as long as you make us think that you feel badly for lying, cheating, betraying, or even stealing from us. I like that about my fellow country people. I like that we allow others the opportunity to start over again. Yep, works for me. In Lance Armstrong’s case, however, we are talking about something

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Speed Golf. Seriously?

We are a country that moves faster and faster with each passing day, except of course when we are driving during rush hour. Then we move slower and slower with each passing minute. While I was crawling through Boston on my way to meet a client, I heard some conversation on the radio about Speed Golf. “Wow, that’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one,” I chuckled to myself. I am one of those Midwest

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Olympic Perspective

Gabby’s hair? You can’t be serious. The girl flings herself up off the uneven bars with no fear; she flips backwards on the balance beam with her arms gently limp at her side, muscles bulging in a perfect line. And you want to talk about her hair? Who are you people? Besides, it’s not like it was hanging in dirty clumps or anything. The truth is, I never noticed her hair and neither should you.

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Boys, Sex & Sports. Not in that Order.

I have said for years that modern sporting events were inspired by the sexual yearnings of male folk who were looking for yet another way to score. After talking about it with a co-worker in the car the other day, I decided to step outside my normal “make no waves” approach to Freesia Lane’s musings.

My name is Christine and I think sports is all about sex and men. Or most sports, anyway.

Golf. Take

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Olympic Opening Ceremony

I love the Olympics. Not surprising, considering how much I love my country. I consider my birth here to be one of the greatest gifts the luck of the draw has given me.

I always love the opening ceremonies, and I was totally enthralled with the London Opening Ceremony. My friend Samantha lives on the West Coast and shares my love of the Olympics. She texted me about two hours into the replay on the

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Borg & McEnroe

Did anyone watch the one-hour special on HBO revisiting the Borg/McEnroe rivalry?

The rivalry between McEnroe and Borg was something that most tennis enthusiasts embraced in the early eighties. I was hooked. I saw many of the matches that went to five sets, and it really, really mattered to me who won. Funny, I have never felt that way about any sporting event or team rivalry since. It was about more than rooting for the

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No Place to Hide

So, when I woke up this morning and saw that Syracuse University’s basketball coach and assistant coach seem to have the same issues that we just heard about with Penn State’s Paterno and company, I felt this gnawing feeling in the back of my mind. Then I started to think about the internal workings of the Catholic Church, which allowed (and still allow, in my humble opinion) the institution of a pedophile’s version of Girls

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Movie Review: Moneyball

I love this movie. I’m going to go see it again, and then maybe one more time. It’s a chick flick with no romantic interest. Go figure. That alone makes it unique. It’s the story of David and Goliath, only they are baseball teams. It’s the story of a broken family. It’s a story of dreams unfulfilled. It’s a story about working together. It’s a story about believing you are right when there is no

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Oregon Versus Auburn

I loved football in college. I went to the University of Nebraska; there was no choice. You would be expelled if you didn’t love football. But to be honest, I stopped following it in the early eighties when it came to my attention that domestic violence calls escalate substantially during the games, peaking during the Super Bowl. Some are challenging that notion now, but in the mid-eighties, it was widely believed.

Our company does a

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