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Blue-Blockers
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By
Ron
Richards
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Most of you
probably remember
the advertisements
for the miracle
sunglasses,
I think they
were called
'Blue-Ray',
or 'Blue-Blockers',
long before
the new process
for viewing
movies was announced.
They were supposed
to block the
harmful part
of the light
spectrum, and
enhance your
viewing pleasure
of the world.
They looked
real cool when
you first put
them on, as
the world took
on a different
flavor. Like
most gimmicks,
they were of
dubious value.
Most of you
know I'm a golf-nut,
and nut is the
operative word,
and last year
I sprung for
the ultimate
pair of sunglasses,
the kind if
you have to
ask how much
they are, a
healthy heart
and calm disposition
come in real
handy. They
have three lenses,
one specially
designed to
read the undulations
in putting greens,
and they seem
to really work.
They other two
lenses consist
of amber lenses
that resemble
the 'blue-blockers',
and a polarized
set I ordered
to help while
fly fishing.
They also have
an insert that
clicks in for
my prescription
while not wearing
contacts. They're
the cat's meow,
and two years
later I view
them as almost
as valuable
as my favorite
putter. I feel
lost without
them.
Where am I going
with this diatribe?
What unnamed
and obscure
tributary are
we traversing
without a paddle,
a hope, and
a prayer?
–
full article |
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Don't get No
Respect |
By
Ron Richards
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No, we’re not
talking about
me, or my golf
game. That’s
another story.
I’m talking
about the Utah
Jazz.
I know, that’s
a cliché, an
old sob story,
a browbeaten
hack and yesterdays’
news. No, it’s
not. It’s true.
It’s a fact,
a certainty,
bank on it.
The Jazz are
seemingly stuck
out here in
never-never
land, lost somewhere
between New
York and Los
Angeles. Is
there anything
between Los
Angeles and
New York? Besides
Chicago? It
makes a lifelong
Utahn wonder.
–
full article |
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Phoenix Suns vs
Utah Jazz
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Andrei
Kirilenko
rejects
Shaq
twice
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Paul Millsap rejects Shaq!
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It ended with a spectacular
if meaningless slam
by Ky Fesenko that illuminated
and personified the
whole Revue in a nutshell.
Like a giant cat, Fess
covered half the court
in two graceful bounds
and nearly ripped the
rim off the backboard.
So much talent, so little
to show for it. Like
all learning experiences,
it means nothing if
the lesson is forgotten,
if the pain and embarrassment
is measured and doled
out, gradually leaking
away as the healing
balm of time heals.
This was a wake up call
of huge proportions
for a young man with
immense talent and natural
gifts on the basketball
court that boggle the
mind. The good thing
is that Kyrylo Fesenko
plays for the Jazz,
and the bad thing is
that Ky Fesenko doesn’t
quite seem to know what
that means.–
full article |
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