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Couch Potato Heaven

I didn't think I'd miss sports. The Great Corona Sports Drought taught me otherwise. See ESPN's NFL draft coverage. I watched damn near every minute. Dallas is on the clock! Talk about a low moment.


Of the sports that were televised, I found myself most attracted to PGA Tour broadcasts. Many new faces dotted the landscape, including my favorite, Collin Morikawa. I first noticed him in July while watching the Workday Charity Open--yes, I followed the WCO like I would four days at Augusta. Given Morikawa's winning performance, I wasn't surprised when he later won the PGA Championship. Credit bulked-up Bryson DeChambeau for providing a nice foil, Ivan Drago of the links. Note: If DeChambeau wins a major, would his title defense take place in Moscow?


Now, I look at the coming weekend's televised sports lineup. NFL and College Football, NBA, NHL and MLB. And to top it off, The U.S. Open from Winged Foot. Pure decadence! Couch potato heaven!


Though I've gradually been building back my remote-control skills, I've got to question whether I've had enough reps to operate at peak efficiency this weekend. I'll give it my best.



So a young couple is sitting next to Patti and me at the bar... Two notes before I continue. First, appropriate social-distance guidelines were observed. Next, "young" is now anyone under age 50. And under 50 is "kid." Back to the story. The man explained that a husband can “either be right, or be happy.” Talk about wisdom. Understanding that philosophy could have saved me years in the penalty box. Pay attention if you have a wife who has, shall we say, leadership skills.

Over the course of the past month, Patti and I have been awakened by gunshots in the vicinity of our Midtown Atlanta residence. The first two times we heard multiple shots. We only heard one shot the last time. I concluded that A) The shooter is gaining proficiency, or B) He or she is running out of ammo.

Farewell to a friend, Harry Smith.


Everybody lifted weights at Smith's Health Studio. Doing so was rite of passage for South Tampa youngsters.


"Harry's" dungeon of a gym had old weights, unique machines, and smelled of sweat. Framed autographed photos of celebrity friends and acquaintances hung on the paneled walls. But Mickey Mantle's never made the wall.


Seems Mantle's back once locked up while playing golf with Harry. The Mick was in a fix, but Harry came to the rescue and managed to help the slugger loosen up. Mantle told Harry, "Thanks for fixing my fucking back." Later, a glossy from Mantle arrived in the mail. The inscription read: "To Harry, Thanks for fixing my fucking back!"


Harry Emerson Smith died September 5, 2020. The Tampa sports icon was 95.

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©2020 by Bill Chastain. Photo credits: Jill Doty Photography