Fourth and Two...scatter shots..

To all of you who were circling the moon; are from another planet; or a football widow, apologies for this tiny thread...Bill Belichick made me smile Sunday night. Sorry, Big John. I'm the biggest Manning groupie, Peyton and Eli, in the world, and when the Pats did not make the 1st down, I knew my man was going to win that game. It's ego, baby. Gotta check that at the door.

'Eating Animals.' I'd like to first state that my sister is a vegetarian. And I, at one point, had a girlfriend that was a vegetarian too. In other words, guilt by association probably bumped up against my dark side. But, before that when I was a smoking bra-less hippie, I decided that I would not eat anything that I couldn't kill. This cast a semi-wide net. Out were bovine, Wilbur, and rabbit. In were fish (I did catch fish) and chickens. Chickens were on the edge but fell into a murky category of the what if's: if I was lost in the woods and starving and came across a hen house, could I wring a feathered neck?' Fortunately, that never happened. But convinced that I could take care of business, chickens went on the 'what's for dinner' list. Over the years, I've lapsed into both semi veggie and altered veggie state. I've met people who make statements like: 'I don't eat anything with a face.' Or, 'I want to eat lower on the food chain.' Or, 'Eating meat will clog my arteries.' Then along came 'Fast Food Nation.' And if the chapters on the slaughter houses, and the meat packing plants didn't tweak your sensibility then, nothing will now, not even this latest commentary by Jonathan Safran Foer. Graphic. Sensational. Pukingly realistic. Who exactly is Mr Foer's audience? Who is listening to this disturbing, extreme account? Not the inner city families. Not the mid-western conservatives. Not the people on food stamps who dream about pot roast dinners. Watch dogs are the guardians of civilizations. But until the organics and the 'Upton Sinclairs' can further their out-reach and educate beyond the educated, we're all in this swill together. Pass the mashed potatoes and gravy please.

A Tale of Two Cities

Build it and they will come...Bugsy had vision while other guys were wearing bifocals. If you're keeping count, I'm 2 for 2 in pilfering Hollywood script lines. Vegas rose out of the Nevada desert like well, the Phoenix. Flying over the city during the day is so uninviting that you wonder if you're on some intergalactic flight. The landscape is bleak; brown on prefabricated brown. In the desert lawns are a luxury. The color green flourishes and resides indoors on thousands of felt tables. On Saturday, sitting in a Vegas sports book, I saw jaded men, hardcore gamblers, applaud and cheer perhaps one of the greatest feats in modern day thoroughbred racing. Zenyatta, a 5 year old mare, won the Breeder's Cup Classic championship at Santa Anita. A physically spectacular specimen at 17 hands, Zenyatta put the colts, Kentucky Derby, Travers, Belmont, and European grass champions, away in deep stretch with her trade mark rally and made history by becoming the first filly/mare to win the Classic. On site at Santa Anita people were verklempt. The crowd of 55,000 roared as Zenyattta made her winning move. And they kept roaring as she walked back to the winner's circle. Her trainer, John Sherriffs, tossed his cap to the crowd. This was, in the quarter century history of the Breeder's Cup, the greatest equine performance to grace modern day racing. Why? Because a mare won her 14th race in a row, and laid a whipping on the colts. Because, underneath this all, submerged but not forgotten is the issue of gender inequity. Beginning with the tired fable that women are too weak in the upper body to be good jockey's...and that colts should race against colts, and fillies and mares should race in their own division. In 2 minutes on thoroughbred racing's biggest stage Zenyatta shattered the glass ceiling and affirmed that the two best equine athletes in 2009 are the brilliant Rachel Alexandra in the East and the undefeated Zenyatta in the West.