Long Live the King
Here’s an interesting headline from foxnews.com: “28 percent of delivery drivers admit to eating customer’s food, study claims.”
From Phil Mushnick’s sports media column, edited by yours truly: The Orioles, 36–71, are arguably the worst team in MLB — but they’re setting records. They hit at least two home runs in ten consecutive games. They’ve also allowed a record five or more home runs in ten games this season.
Here’s encouraging news for all who hate the one-and-done system of NCAA basketball, from Yahoo Sports, edited by yt: MarJon Beauchamp, a 5-star wing from the state of Washington, has decided to take an unorthodox route to the NBA. He’ll forgo college and international pro leagues, and prepare for the 2021 draft by entering a 12-month NBA prep program. Kudos.
RIP pro wrestling legend Harley Race, 76, who succumbed to lung cancer. He was an old school wrestler whose career continued into the modern era of musclebound performers. Before the NWA and other alliances were swallowed by Vince McMahon’s WWF/WWE, Race was its champion eight times. In 1986 he joined the WWF and eventually “won” the King of the Ring tournament. According to his profile at Wiki, he was kicked out high school after the principal kneed him in the back of the head to break up a fight, and Race went after him. One of his early jobs in the profession was driving for Happy Humphrey who, billed at 800 pounds, couldn’t get behind the wheel of a car. After an accident in the early ‘60’s that killed his pregnant wife of five weeks, he was told he would never walk again, let alone wrestle. He survived another accident in 1995, but it in effect ended his ring career. Of course, the greats of the business never fully retire, making occasional appearances, even allowing themselves to be humiliated by current stars. “Legend Killer” Randy Orton spit in Race’s face at an event. Race worked in promotion for a while, but he will be remembered as one of the all-time greats of the sport of kings. Word is that he was just as tough outside the squared circle, someone who was not to be messed with. Like so many in the profession, he lived hard. He loved beer, cigarettes and driving fast. Hardcore, sir.
Man, it was humid today. Good thing the sun wasn’t out while I was working the floating book shop. My thanks to the woman who overcompensated me for The Reader by Bernhard Schlink, and to the elderly Latina, who bought another thriller, Ashes to Ashes by Tami Hoag; and to Lynn who purchased two Emily March paperback romances; and to the gentlemen who between them went home with four books in Russian; and to the one who did a two-for-two swap of them; and to the man who parked his bike and handed over four of his daughter’s books on pregnancy.
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