Quarantine Update - Marble Racing

The following is a public service message for directionless sports junkies suffering through quarantine or self-isolation without a favourite team or athlete to root for.

With virtually every major sports league or sporting event cancelled for the foreseeable future, sports fans have been desperately looking for any form of spectate-able competition. Beyond watching, many are looking to scratch their gambling itch with something they can place a bet on.

I am here to tell you that the answer is MARBLE RACING.

Marble racing has been featured on YouTube for quite some time now. I am not trying to blow my own horn, but I have been watching Jelle's Marble Runs for years. I was a huge fan of "Red Number 5" in the Sand Marble Rallies and cheered loudly for Team Orangers during the last three MarbleLympics.

But the latest source of entertainment from Jelle and Dion Bakker - the two Dutch brothers whose imaginations are responsible for the channel (Greg Woods provides the English commentary) - is their impression of Formula One racing. 

Every week a new race of the Marbula One season is featured. In addition to the race itself, Jelle and Dion film the qualification stages. As an Orangers' fan, I am pulling for Orangin to win the championship.

Last week's event, seventh of the season, was the Razzway Grand Prix. It was a great race and I highly recommend you check it out...

The good news is that, if you like Marbula One, Jelle's Marble Runs has hundreds of hours of racing to kill your quarantine time.

Another great source of marble racing entertainment is Fubeca's Marble Runs. Not quite as polished as Jelle, Fubeca is also doing their version Formula One with their Marble Circuits series. There have been eight races so far, with a qualifier, race and highlights video for each. You can do a deep dive with Fubeca Marble Runs too. Check it out here...




There are a few other marble racing channels on YouTube, but I can't really recommend any of them. The rest are mostly too gimmicky and lack the originality and real creativity of Jelle's.

Let me know how you're satisfying your need for sports.

Oh, and if you want to make any bets on the next race...

Quarantine Update - Long Road Home

Where were we?

Last we spoke, the Champ and I were holed up in her parents' Myrtle Beach condominium waiting to return home. Despite my hacking chest cough, I was still pretty sure I didn't have the virus - no fever, no chills, no headache...

Sandi's parents dropped us off at the deserted Myrtle Beach airport around 1 PM for our 3 PM flight to Atlanta. There were no other passengers in the check-in line so it looked like smooth sailing.

It wasn't.

We handed the agent our passports and, as he started tapping away on his keyboard, I thought I glimpsed a nearly imperceptible change in his expression. He continued to type away and attempt a poker face. Finally, he looked up and gave us the bad news. The second leg of our return trip, the flight from Atlanta to Toronto, was cancelled. In fact, we were told that WestJet had decided to call off all of its flights out of Atlanta.

Allow me to vent for a moment...

I usually like WestJet. When given the option, I will choose WestJet over Air Canada every single time. But, on this occasion, two things pissed me off about WestJet. First, they cancelled our flight without any notification of any kind. Even Air Canada sends you an email before they kick you in the nuts. Second, while they were pumping their own tires on every imaginable media source by proclaiming their commitment to get every Canadian home safely, they were cancelling flights because they were undersold. CEO Ed Sims released a statement claiming that: 

WestJetters are known for our level of care and this situation is no different.  While this is a difficult time, we now have the responsibility as a Canadian airline to bring our citizens home.

Well, you dropped the ball on that one, Ed. Not only did you cancel our flight without giving us an option to get home, WestJet's customer service was virtually non-existent. Despite offering flights to and from Myrtle Beach, they didn't have a single representative at the airport. And their telephone line suggested contacting a WestJet agent at the airport (there wasn't one) or our travel agent.

Anyways, did I mention that our flight was cancelled. And then the panic set in. How were we going to get home? The Canadian border was scheduled to be closed and the airlines were ceasing operations in less than a week. I honestly thought we were going to be holed up in a Myrtle Beach retirement community for six months.

Luckily, two check-in clerks saved the day. After a some tears (the Champ's), and more than a few curse words (mine), and about thirty minutes of frantic typing, we had a plan to get home. It involved a 5:20 AM flight to Charlotte. Then another flight to Newark before returning home. It was risky because we only had about an hour between flights and, not only is Newark the shittiest airport in North America where anything can go wrong, the Big Apple was the epicentre of the COVID-19 outbreak in the United States. Being stranded in New York/New Jersey would be about as bad as it could get.

The next morning we were at the airport at 4:00 AM, before the check-in clerks and TSA officers. We checked our bags and, when it opened, passed through security. When we finally boarded our first flight, the plane was pretty much empty. An Airbus319 has the capacity to carry over 100 passengers and there might have been a dozen of us in total. We took our seats and prepared for takeoff.

Did I mention that I had an alarmingly loud chest cough by this time? I did my best to hold it in, but every once in a while I had no choice but to release an earth shattering bark in an effort to clear the phlegm from my lungs. The other passengers noticed. I knew that my temperature was steady at 36.5C (97.7F) degrees, but they didn't. I drank as much water, and gobbled up as many Altoids, as I could to keep my cough at bay.  

We made it to Charlotte and quickly connected to our Newark flight. The second plane was even more deserted than the first - five people on a plane made for 150. They offered us First Class seats but we sat in the back to keep my cough away from everyone else. Other than the stress of waiting for something to go wrong, the flight was pretty uneventful.

The airport in Newark was busy compared Charlotte and Myrtle Beach, but not nearly the zoo it normally is. We had to take a shuttle from Terminal C to Terminal A (you know, the one that they froze in time somewhere around the time of the moon landing). The waiting area was full of people trying to get back to Canada - from God knows where. There were rubber gloves and masks everywhere. This was not the place to be in the middle of a global pandemic.

After about 45 minutes (it took longer because every passenger had to answer a series of questions about COVID19), we finally boarded the airplane. It was a tiny plane and we were jammed in like sardines. The plane was old and dirty too - I could feel the germs crawling all over me. If I could just make it home to my apartment without the virus, I would happily accept my 14-day isolation sentence.

Just get me home.

Quarantine Update - South Carolina

Just when you thought the world couldn't get any weirder...it does.

The Coronavirus, or COVID-19, or SARS-CoV-2, or whatever you want to call it, has turned the world on its head. What started out as a weird sickness on the other side of the world has all of a sudden landed on our own doorstep. Now, most of the world is on lockdown as we wait to see just how bad things are going to get and when this will all be over.

Last Saturday, the Champ and I left home for a week long March Break vacation to Myrtle Beach. The trip had been planned for nearly two years and the plan was to visit with our parents - who spend their winters in South Carolina.

I am able to admit now that we probably shouldn't have gone. But, before we left, the Canadian government had not yet closed the border and had only recommended against non-essential travel. We knew things would get worse, but we naïvely thought we could fit our trip in before it did. We also thought that, because we would be staying with family instead of at a hotel or resort, the risk of infection was minimal. Besides, there were only six confirmed cases in South Carolina at the time.

We were wrong.

The first layover of our trip was in Toronto. After landing at Pearson Airport, we decided to grab a bite to eat. The first thing we noticed was how deserted the terminal was. Despite being a Saturday morning and the first day of March break, the place was next to empty. It was during our layover in Toronto that a friend made us aware of a text from the Canadian Minister of Foreign Affairs.

In addition to pissing me off, the tweet scared the shit out of us. We immediately visited the Government of Canada Travel Advisory website and found no mention of the Minister's advice. Further, we had registered as "Canadians Abroad" before leaving home and had not received any of the promised email notifications. We considered calling an end to our trip.  

We didn't.

Our next stop was in Atlanta. The scene at the airport there could not have been more different than in Toronto. The terminal was packed and there were no indications of a global pandemic. We found a nice quiet bar at the very end of the terminal and had a couple of drinks. I didn't know whether to be comforted or terrified by the Americans' lack of concern. We just wanted to get to Myrtle Beach.

We finally landed in Myrtle Beach around midnight and it was great to see the Champ's parents. Again, the locals seemed unfazed by the spread of the Coronavirus. There had been no confirmed cases in the city up to that point. Maybe we could get our trip in before things got out of control.

Wrong.

On our first day we went to the local open-air outlet mall. Things were "business as usual". A couple of the international chain stores were closed or on modified hours, but every other store was open. The mall was busy, but not packed, with families Sunday shopping. We returned the Champ's parents' condo to get ready for dinner with my father and step-mother - it would be the first time they would meet.

Dinner went off without a hitch and, again, you would have never have known that the world was about to shut down. Our parents got along just fine and we had a great meal (a beautiful New York strip steak and a giant Long Island Iced Tea for me).

The next day, the Champ and I went golfing with my father and step-mother in North Carolina. We felt pretty comfortable about the situation at this point and being outside on a relatively quiet golf course seemed to be a pretty safe place to be. Besides playing terrible golf, it was a good afternoon.

But when we got back to the condo things started to go sideways. Our parents had decided that they were going to cut their vacations short and head back to Canada early. They had been told that they would have no insurance coverage ten days after Donald Trump declared a state of emergency and there was even talk that Justin Trudeau was going to close the border. Confirmed Coronavirus cases in South Carolina had doubled since we arrived and there were two confirmed cases right in Myrtle Beach. Around this time, the Americans' indifference to the world falling apart around them started to get scary.

I emailed my travel agent and asked her to look into early flights home. We bought tickets to fly home  two days later, on Wednesday, three days before we were scheduled to leave.

Right around this time I also started coughing up my lungs. The tickle in the back of my throat moved into my sinuses and chest. Now I was scared. Online information about the symptoms of COVID-19 was anything but clear and consistent. The one thing that seemed pretty straightforward was the fact that Coronavirus comes with a fever. I didn't have a fever - and I checked my temperature just about every hour for two days. I was nearly convinced that I just had a chest cold.

Nearly.

We stayed inside and avoided any unnecessary human contact for the next two days...

It's time for the New England Patriots to move on from Tom Brady

Does any league do a better job of creating off-season discussion than the NFL? 

The NHL and NBA seasons are into their playoff runs, and pitchers and catchers have reported to Spring Training, but we're still talking about Tom Brady. The NFL season doesn't kickoff for another seven months and the infernal Patriots and their fans are dominating the sports pages.

But the fans, analysts and pundits (real and wannabe) are asking the wrong question. While everyone with a keyboard or microphone is arguing about whether Tom Terrific 🙄 will return to Foxboro for the 2020 season, they should really be asking whether the Patriots want him back.

The answer is clearly no. 

If Brady won't retire, New England should move on without him. They don't need him and, when you consider all of the circumstances, they shouldn't want him.

OK. OK. Before you send Patriots Nation or the Masshole Army to burn down my house, let's look at the facts.

TB12 will be 43-years old when the regular season kicks off in September. His on field contributions have steadily declined in recent years to the point where his passer rating in 2019 ranked 22nd in the NFL in a tie with Jacoby Brissett. 

You can argue that Brady is the greatest quarterback in NFL history (you'd be wrong), but statistics reveal that, at best, he is currently average. I am talking about advanced metrics, and not just the traditional numbers like touchdowns, interceptions and completion percentage (which also show his steady decline).

Combine Brady's decreased on-field contributions with the fact that he stands to be paid upwards of $US30 million in 2020. Under the contract extension the Patriots' quarterback signed with the team last season would see him paid a salary of $US30 million, but that contract is void for reasons you need a PhD to understand. That contract also precludes the Patriots from using the "franchise tag" on Brady but, if they could, they would have pay him around $US27 million. Either would be a gross overpayment.

The only argument in favor of keeping Brady in New England is that the team doesn't appear to have anyone to step into his place behind center on a mediocre team. Last year's backup, Jarrett Stidham, could turn into a serviceable play caller one day, but he only attempted four passes as a rookie in 2019. Cody Kessler appears destined to be a career backup after being signed, released and re-signed by New England at the beginning of last season. 

But there are all kinds of free agent QBs out there that could give New England the same on-field production as Brady (albeit without the nostalgia and swooning) for a lot less money. the best option  is probably Teddy Bridgewater. 

They could draft a quarterback too. They don't pick until 23rd, but they definitely have a knack for mining gold with later picks. I'm no scout, but surely one of Justin Herbert, Jordan Love, Jake Fromm, Jake Eason, Jalen Hurts or James Morgan will turn into a decent NFLer. All should be available when the Patriots select. Belichick just needs to figure out which one. 

If they don't want to draft a QB this year, short term free agent solutions include Philip Rivers, Ryan Tannehill and Marcus Mariota.

The point is that New England has better options than Tom Brady at $US30 million. Will they get another Brady in his prime? Never. And that's the problem. Patriots Nation can't accept that their hero is over the hill and that the dynasty is over. They've had it pretty good for the past two decades. Moving on from something like that is undeniably painful. But if they don't the Patriots will find themselves praying for the return of Drew Bledsoe, let alone Tom Brady.

You give sports a bad name!

Bad names are nothing new in the world of sports.

Five minutes with Google will expose you to a long list of crazy and outrageous athlete names from over the years. Any respectable sports fan will have had a giggle at the mention of former Detroit Tiger outfielder Rusty Kuntz or race car driver Dick Trickle. A deeper dive into the internet will introduce you to Olympic swimmer Misty Hyman, baseball minor leaguer Steve Sharts, WHA hockey player Dick Paradise (be careful Googling that one) and even college football player Lucious Pusey.

If you expand your horizons beyond the major North American sports you'll find a French rugby player named Faraj Fartass, a British soccer player (footballer) named Dean Windass, a Slovenian basketball player named Gregor Fučka and a South African FIFA executive named Tokyo Sexwale.

But what about team names? What is the worst sports team name ever?

There are, of course, the intentionally ridiculous Mud Hens, Biscuits, Sand Nats, Ironpigs, Rumble Ponies, Yard Goats, Poodles and Jumbo Shrimp of Minor League Baseball. But these team names are not so much bad as they are weird, funny and cleverly designed to sell merchandise.

You also have low-hanging fruit like the Cleveland Browns, Atlanta Thrashers, Utah Jazz (because Salt Lake City is known for its music scene) and Pittsburgh Pirates (the nearest ocean port to the team's stadium is more than 250 miles away). But these names are the result of relocation and lack of creativity more than anything else.

Which brings us to the recently renamed Major League Rugby (yes, that exists) franchise in Austin, Texas - THE GILGRONIS. Yes, the Austin Gilgronis.

What is a Gilgroni?

Well, believe it or not, according to the team's website, a Gilgroni is a "Texas-sized cocktail, to be released soon." Apparently, one of the big shots with the company that now owns the Austin rugby club is named Adam Gilchrist and he didn't think that naming a drink after himself was douchey enough.

Let's get this straight...

The new owner (also the co-founder of F45 Training) of a struggling rugby club in a fledgling rugby league has decided to name its team after a cocktail. On its own, that might not be too bad. I mean, the Austin Margaritas or the Texas Tequila wouldn't be so bad. The Austin Screwdrivers has a certain ring to it.

But, the Gilgronis?!? The drink doesn't even exist. We don't even know what is in it. More than two months after the name was announced, the cocktail still hasn't been released.

Gilgronis is a TURRIBLE team name.

I am sure there are worse out there, but it's definitely the worst I have ever heard of. Can you imagine walking onto the rugby pitch wearing the name Gilgroni on your chest? Or impressing girls at the bar with the fact that you're a professional rugby player and, when asked what team you play for, having to say "the Gilgronis"?