I’m cranky. Football’s over and the Super Bowl wasn’t particularly exciting. Rex Grossman, the beleaguered Bears quarterback, was brutal but still collected a $500,000 US bonus for appearing in 70 per cent of Chicago’s offensive plays.
But while he prospered from the Super Bowl, I suffered in cruel and unusual fashion. I correctly predicted the outcome of five props on one Ontario Lottery Corporation ticket, but I couldn’t cash it because a sixth prop required a punt return to exceed 18.5 yards. The game’s longest return: 18 yards.
And, to crank up my crankiness a notch, I correctly predicted the outcome of three props on a ticket but couldn’t cash in because a fourth prop required a field goal to exceed 44.5 yards. The longest field goal: 44 yards.
Miserable all night, I figured I’d crawl out of bed in the morning, hit the nearest drive-through named after the hockey legend and rejuvenate myself with a coffee and raisin-bran muffin.
Didn’t happen. FOR THE EIGHTH CONSECUTIVE DAY — and I swear I am not exaggerating — the Tim Hortons at which I waited excessively in a ridiculously long lineup could not provide me with a raisin-bran muffin.
Heck, a couple of days ago, I actually drove to two different Tim Hortons, only to find out that neither had raisin-bran muffins. And lord knows I really need my raisin-bran muffins. As I mentioned, I’m cranky.
And, during my futile drives from Tim Hortons to Tim Hortons, I’ve been getting crankier because the car radio has been on The Fan 590, a Toronto sports station that brags in commercials that its hockey experts have played hockey. Thing is, its basketball expert, a kid named Eric Smith, never played basketball at any significant level and says things that are so pro-Raptors, so boosterish and so irresponsible that, well, you can get cranky.
Like, on Sunday, Smith actually had the audacity to suggest that a Sports Illustrated story last year, in which NBA players voted Toronto’s Sam Mitchell the worst coach in the league, was, according to Smith, “not legit.”
SI not legit? But Smith is?
Eric, why not simply bend forward, pucker up and plant a big one on Mitchell’s kiester? And do it soon, because when the Raptors start slumping again against real opponents, Mitchell’s butt may be gone.
And Tom Brady’s bugging me, too. He goes to a Shaquille O’Neal party last week with supermodel Gisele Bundchen, ignores her and winds up leaving with supermodel Selita Ebanks. Honestly, does anyone need to overindulge this much?
Yeah, I’m cranky.
