Finally Talking Sports

Greetings, sportsfans! Bumpers here. And I hope everybody is doing well on this fine hump day. My assistant informed me this morning over our breakfast of egg sandwiches that my last few articles haven’t been that sports-oriented. I didn’t like his tone, so I smashed his sandwich into his face and jammed some bacon in his ear.

To calm down, I mixed myself a Bloody Mary. Then I started thinking that maybe my assistant was right. So I fixed myself a second Bloody Mary, grabbed a pen and fixed myself a third Bloody Mary.

On the ice, the NHL playoffs are underway. A couple of upsets are brewing in the first round. The Pittsburgh Penguins are up three games to none on the apparently not-so-good Washington Capitals. The Capitals were heavily favored going into this series, but you gotta watch out for underdogs. I once boxed Paul Anka in a charity bout for hemophiliacs, and he came in as a 10-1 favorite. Well, I bashed his face good. Which reminds me, it’s time for another Bloody Mary. Oh, Proud Mary, keep on burnin’.

On the hardwood, the regular season is just about finished. My good friend Chuck Barkley is going to make a one game comeback. I tell you, The Showman knows a thing or two about comebacks. Let me warn you now, Chuck. It tastes great.

Today is Passover, which reminds me. Now that Danny Schayes is retired, Scottie Pippen is the only Jewish player left in the NBA. Scottie, to you and the other people of Moses, I say "Geshundheit!"

Baseball now. John Rocker returned from his suspension last night to a bizarre mix of boos and cheers. For those of you that don’t know, Rocker was suspended for sharing his political worldview with a writer from Sports Illustrated. I tell ya, I can relate to this kid’s problems. One time in the ‘50s, I was doing the old Sullivan show. My assistant forgot to buff my top hat, and I laid in to him something fierce. Unbeknownst to The Showman, I was on camera at the time, and a live national television audience heard me repeatedly calling my assistant a "dumb Mick bastard". Of course, in the 1950s, insulting the Irish was not only acceptable, but was actually encouraged. I guess my point is that you should be free to say whatever you want in the USA, even if it is wrong. I still hate those potato-eating Irish, though.

By the way, if you’re wondering how many golf balls you can fit in your mouth, the answer is five!

I’m winkin’ at ya, and thinkin’ of ya.
The Showman