It's In The ...

It's in the ... hole. Yes Sir! ... Well almost ... Tough finish Rory

While watching yesterday's riveting US Open final round, I noticed that professional golfers perform at such a high level that they nearly expect to make nearly every putt they attempt. On the rare -- but to be expected -- occasions when they do not, the responses are quite similar.

puttrified

[puht-truh-fahyd]

v. intr., to make assorted displays of surprise and mild indignation, especially when narrowly missing after striking a golf ball so as to make it roll along the putting green to its intended target, the hole

Examples of puttrification include, but are not limited to, the following:

• Bending at the knee to lament a putt's narrow miss
• Visually scanning the crowd/caddies/fellow players for sympathetic facial expressions
• Standing in place for several seconds with hands akimbo
• Flipping the putter
• Telekinetic use of body english
• Exaggerated facial expressions (vary, stern and even sometimes sheepish)

After finally conceding that a putt is missed, it is customary for a puttrified golfer to grudgingly accept the gallery's congratulatory applause, tip his cap and resign himself to mere mortality.

Example:

"Bryson walked around the 15th green and stalked the putt from every conceivable direction. With the help of his caddie, he vector analyzed the green's topography, and eyed the bermuda grass with the precision of a land surveyor. Finally, after picking his line, approximating its speed and visualizing the ball's path toward the hole, he approached the ball and struck it firmly. The dimpled spheroid did not oblige, making its final revolution just inches short of the target. On bended knee, Bryson looked puttrified at the unexpected -- and rare -- unsuccessful outcome. His feigned anger, however, was quickly sublimated by the fact that he would go onto win the tournament
a few holes later, putting $4 million large in his coffers."

Putting is golf's great equalizer. Many of us will never stripe 300-yard drives, master the flop shot, shape a high-arcing draw around a live oak or impart "on-a-string" backspin on an approach shot. And while physical limitations and a lack of talent may prevent us from ever experiencing these achievements, we all can putt. Even the most difficult putt could conceivably be made by an amateur, even a beginner.

Football Quixotica

Professional football is filled with arcane words and phrases. Read a sports story, watch an NFL game on tv or just look at the play calls on Madden 2008 and you’re bound to find a lexicon that is as distinctive as any other professional sport.

As fans gear up for an exciting round of playoffs, I propose we christen the NFL’s second season with some fresh words to add to our football vocabulary.

The Dead Zone: Pinning your opponent inside his own five-yard line

XP Calculus: The algorithm used by NFL coaching staffs to decide whether it is an optimal to attempt a two-point conversion or go for an extra point.

Can-pan: a blatant cheerleader cleavage shot done by some randy network cameraman

War Sheet: laminated sheet used by sideline coaches to call plays during the game
Pigskin prayer circle: The impromptu phalanx of players that gather for prayer and reflection after the conclusion of each NFL game

Flag-chucking (-er): The melodramatic, emphatic toss of a red challenge flag by a head coach after a particularly questionable call

Mistrickeration: An extremely poorly designed and executed gadget play

Slipsnap: A snapped ball that inadvertently goes over the head of a punter or kicker, usually resulting in a safety, change of possession or the complete embarrassment for the punter as he tries to recover with the ball

Footernity: The unspoken bond between kickers and punters

Expatriate: a former New England assistant coach who has gone on to a head coaching gig in the college or pro ranks

Prattle tales: The idle, inane anecdotes shared by play-by-play announcers and color commentators during “dead spots’ of a particularly lopsided or boring game

The Gibbs Effect: The religious-like stature HOF Coach Joe Gibbs has among Redskins faithful

Salisbury Stakes: Frequent guarantees or ultra-assertive statements by ESPN studio analyst Sean Salisbury

Fantasy Baseball Quixotica ...

By David K. Gignilliat
as originally published on MockDraftCentral.Com

As the smoke slowly clears from the explosive Mitchell Report and baseball detoxes its game during a turbulent offseason, it will soon be time for preparation for the 2008 fantasy baseball season. After all, everything begins anew each year in baseball. New players will join new teams. New rookies and sleepers will rise into the consciousness of fantasy owners. New trash will be talked and new crow will be eaten. New leagues will be joined and new draft sheets will be reviewed. New fantasy titles will be won and defended. In the spirit of novelty and rebirth, I propose some new words and phrases to be introduced into the fantasy baseball lexicon in 2008.

Subcultural Literacy: The uncanny ability for grown men to initiate intelligent insightful conversations with complete strangers in random places (in a bar, gym, toilet stall, in line at the bank, … or basically anywhere in front of television) about fantasy baseball

WHIP-ping boy: A perpetual fantasy league bottom-dweller

Stathead: The token “fantasy expert” concession the major networks now make on their pre-game and highlight telecasts. He’s usually WHIP-smart, but sitting in the corner, nearly off-studio

Simultracking: Watching a televised game and “tracking” the same game online

Pitch-22: When you opposing starting pitchers in the same game are both on your team

Fantasy flake: An inconsistent, erratic team owner

Scarcasm: Witty, childish banter on league message boards that often devolves into an unprovoked war of words. Not to be confused with smartassery, which is done in good taste and does not involve ad hominem personal attacks.

The X(BH) Factor: The entertainment value that fantasy implications add to an otherwise uninteresting game (televised or as a spectator)

The Great Debates: Obsessive, vehement discussions (usually labeled formally and dorkily as “winter meetings” or “constitutional conventions”) about league rules and by laws

Rotocrat: A dictatorial, heavy-handed league commissioner

Rotisserie Chicken: A player that is afraid to make trades, even ones that would appear to be in his favor

Analyst: The player in your league that makes it a habit to pick up each player that merits a mention by Peter Gammons and/or Tim Kurkjian on ESPN’s Baseball Tonight

Transactionist: The excessive, habitual (and mostly ineffective) adding and dropping of fantasy players

Just darn good ownership: Thinking about potential trades, up-and-coming rookies and must have free agent pickups during socially inappropriate times (church, office meetings, funerals, conversations with your wife, sex)

Glove-oil salesman: The one owner in your league that continually makes ridiculous, lopsided trade offers, … and then seriously defends them

Squeezing lemons: The practice of picking up and dropping pitchers from free agency between their starts in fantasy baseball so as to have the maximum pitchers start for one's team in a given week (Thank you, UrbanDictionary.Com)

Telestat-ting: Using your cell phone/PDA/I-Phone to track fantasy scores

Homer-roto-cism: Making unobjective, emotional acquisitions of your favorite hometown players (usually resulting in an avalanche of ridicule and hazing by your league mates). Not that there’s anything wrong with it … (see also homer-rationality)

(Jack) Cust’s Last Stand: The inopportune claim of a free agent at the end of his “hot streak”

Rotokill: Drafting an injured or (in some cases, retired) player due to inadequate fantasy research

Cobra Kai: The ultimate fantasy team name. I guess I am just partial to this dojo. Sweep the leg. Do you have a problem with that Mr. Lawrence? No, sensei

The Mitchell Report: The worst fantasy team name going into 2008. C’mon, some clever guy in every single league is going to try to come up with a performance-enhanced name next season. You can do better.

Feel free to e-mail me any of your own “fantasy baseball” invented slang. Or if you have better words or phrases to describe the ones I listed above, send ‘em in.

I can be reached by e-mail at uvadavidg@gmail.com, that is, when I am not tele-statting or simultracking.