ESPN.com - A Barry big weekend

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Monday, September 10, 2001
A Barry big weekend

By Brian Murphy
Special to Page 2

Confession, sports fans: I blew off the Opening Weekend of the NFL season.


	The Murph opted to hit the links instead of watching Jimmy Smith and the Jags light up the Steelers.

That's right. I'm here at The Cooler, hoping the Sparkletts will wash away my guilt. The sights and sounds of an NFL opener? Decapitating hits over the middle, George W. Bush flipping the coin with the naked chick (front side nude, heads; back side nude, tails), the hypnotizing scroll of out-of-town scores ... that's right. I missed it all.

Well, not all. I saw Bush flip the coin, tall boy of Beck's in my hand, the clock not yet showing 10 a.m., Cali-time. See, I was down at Kelly's, the favored watering hole, and it was Kelly's Annual Golf Tournament, and there was lots of beer, and a chartered bus showing videos of women slap-fighting, and multidinous illegal activities going down and plenty of opportunities to cheat in a four-man scramble, and I figured: Hey, so I'm missing Opening Weekend.

What the hell is "NFL Prime Time" for, anyway?

Besides, what a scene down at Kelly's before we loaded the beer bus. There was a cycling Grand Prix event through the streets of San Francisco, and Uber-Stud Lance Armstrong was cycling through the hills, sort of like Karl Malden and Michael Douglas, only Malden and Douglas never won any Tour de Frances or anything. So there they were, a load of PC cycling fans, applauding Armstrong (the same crew that slams fists on the hood of my car when I tap their Team Cinzano bikes at a stoplight). And there we were, a load of Kelly's Golf Tournament attendees right nearby, spilling out of the tavern, cans in hand, watching the Jags-Steelers kickoff, loading the bus.

The tension was palpable, man. The cycling fans vs. The beer-swilling louts. I was thinking brawl, something along the lines of the Greasers vs. the Socs in "The Outsiders." Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed and somebody popped in that video of women slap-fighting.

Besides, by the time our foursome -- excuse me, I misspoke -- our winning foursome tapped in on 18, I had heard the news that would bump the NFL away from The Cooler on this weekend.


	Barry Bonds' three blasts at Coors Field marked the weekend's greatest achievement.

It was Barry, Barry good news. Actually, Barry, Barry, Barry good.

When my boy T.C. slipped on his Walkman on No. 14 to get the Giants score, he reported that Barry Bonds had hit three bombs to get to 63. I knew then that we needed to cut him off. His eyes were already the color of a Fresno State jersey, and his speech patterns were sounding more and more like Foster Brooks.

No way did Bonds hang a hat trick on us. Not in a pennant race. Not when he gets just three pitches to hit each game. Not when the pressure is all over him, and everyone thinks he's a choker.

Except that Bonds did hit three bombs, which is, like, so ridiculous as to be -- I don't know -- absurdly ridiculous. (Sometimes, the well runs dry.) And Bonds did overshadow the NFL. And Bonds would have been delighted to be at the Kelly's Golf Tournament, except that his foursome wouldn't have won.

I did mention that our foursome won, didn't I?

So it's Barry Bonds Tribute Day at The Cooler. I saw No. 60 in person last week, and I'd highly recommend it to anyone who's thinking about such things. Hey, there are 16 more weeks of the NFL, people. Besides, the Cardinals didn't even play, and I have this thing: If a Dave McGinnis-coached team doesn't play, then it's not really an Official Day in the NFL.

With that, a look to our Weekend List of Five:

1. I hate the Vikings already


	Dennis Green and the Vikings didn't show up for their season opener.

Would someone explain to me two things? 1.) Why did I place a hilariously ill-advised bet on Minnesota to win the NFC when I was in Tahoe back in June? And 2.) Why did I lay one of my two World's Simplest Pool picks -- just pick a winner, that's all! -- on the Vikings over Carolina?

I should have known that Minnesota was a gutless, underachieving, choking pack of dogs. Not that I'm bitter or anything. Really. I'm not. I just hate gagging packs of canine-like losers, especially if they're wearing purple.

Thanks a lot, Denny Green. Why don't you go pound out a solo on your skins, pal? Give me some Buddy Rich, or some Keith Moon. Oh, and a game plan while you're at it, chief?

2. The Terry Allen Experiment: Zero-for-one
Nothing against Terry Allen. Really. In his day, the dude was serious. He was no joke. It's just that, um ... against Chicago on Sunday ... ummm ... he gained 37 yards on 20 carries. I'm not sure, but I think Brian Billick could have gained 37 yards on 20 carries -- especially if the HBO cameras were on him, when he would want to be doing some four-star primpin' and preenin'.

I know Ray Lewis could gain 37 yards on 20 carries, which brings up the interesting possibility of Lewis going two ways. Just think: Last year, in a murder trial, he was on a one-way street to Orange Jumpsuit Land. Now, I'm suggesting he go both ways. Isn't America a kick-butt country?

3. Brett Favre: Still the one


	Brett Favre and the Packers won Super Bowl XXXI over the Patriots.

I guess the trendy thought is that Peyton Manning is the best quarterback in the NFL. But me? I'm a '90s guy. (Well, really, I'm an '80s guy. I'm all about "Fast Times at Ridgemont High," the ska movement that featured the English Beat, the Specials and Madness, and Henry Weinhard's at high school parties -- but I digress.) I mean, I'm a '90s guy in that I'm not ready to cede the crown to Manning, or Kurt Warner or anybody like that yet. Come on.

Give it up for Brett Favre, baby. He's still the Man to me. Best QB I've seen since Montana, I'd say. And that downfield block yesterday? Name me a QB since -- well, ever -- who would do that? Brett, baby, you're still the apple of my eye. I won't tell anybody about this little crush if you don't.

4. Fresno State is coming to your town, and they will win
Boulder, Madison ... hell, name a sheltered, quaint little haven of ivory-tower college idealism and the Red Shirts from the Land of the Mini-Mall will lay waste to your village of bookstores, coffee shops and auditoriums featuring speakers from the Green Party.


	Wisconsin is the latest team to get picked off by Tierre Sams and the Fresno State Bulldogs.

Fresno State, baby! Their academic standards? Minimal. Their fans? Unabashed in their message, which is usually uttered in Armenian and roughly translates to, "How much will it cost to win, baby?" Their athletes? Phenomenal. In short, it's college football, without the hypocrisy. Beautiful, really.

5. The new ESPNEWS: You are getting sleeeeeepy ...
There are folder-toting cats walking around the West Wing in Washington D.C.; minions pacing the halls of 10 Downing Street in London; interns scurrying through the halls of The Hague in Amsterdam and none of them -- none of them! -- has a handle on processing and packaging information like this hilariously outrageous new ESPNEWS.

I swear to God, I was not primed by the bosses in Bristol to write about this. I just happened upon it this weekend, and was dazzled by the array of information they could pack into one TV screen. It was the closest thing I could ever experience to total hypnosis. I had puddles of drool in the corners of my mouth as I studied the screen on the U.S. Open final (and by the way, did Pete Sampras look like Father Time or what? Only thing missing was a gray beard and a sash; Lleyton Hewitt only missed his Baby New Year diaper to complete the picture).

I was willing to sit on my couch for days, studying NFL and MLB box scores on-screen against that serene peach-colored background. Nobody can make a Tiger-free leaderboard from the Canadian Open look like a Matisse painting the way the lads at ESPNEWS can. Why, it's enough to meld into your couch and study the numbers from Bonds' season thus far, provided to the viewer in almost pornographic detail.

Now, if they could just update the winning foursome from the Kelly's Golf Tournament ...

Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes the "Weekend Water Cooler" every week for Page 2.