My impersonation game is very specific. The one I’m really good at is former NPR host Diane Rehm as a substitute health teacher delivering a frank sexual education lecture to a class of curious junior high students. It goes over well at parties full of immature public radio listeners, but it has limited widespread appeal.
And I can do an OK version of deceased radio personality Paul Harvey becoming increasingly frustrated and profane as he struggles to complete his order at Gates Bar-B-Q because the women behind the counter keep shouting “Hi, May I Help You?” during his dramatic pauses.
I also like to dabble in written impressions of legendary authors carrying out mundane sportswriter assignments. You might remember such gems as T.S. Eliot’s “Johnie Imes Invitational Features Another Stacked Field,” Virginia Woolf’s “What to Expect at SEC Media Days” and Walt Whitman’s “Inside the Numbers: Missouri vs. SEMO.”
In that spirit, I channeled Shakespeare for “Four Storylines Thou Dost Need to Observe During Spring Football.”
1) O Trystan Colon-Castillo, Trystan Colon-Castillo, wherefore art thou Trystan Colon-Castillo? Last seen in Indianapolis alongside Yasir Durant, dear YaYa, dallying in tight garments like a pair of Fallstaffs. Farewell, too, Tre’vour Wallace-Simms, who leaves a hole measuring 26 palms, 24 stone and two punctuation marks. Parting is such sweet sorrow.
2) Brevity is the soul of wit, except during three-and-out possessions, in which case thine own supporters lack mirth. Lest drives be done in the twinkling of an eye, wide receivers’ fingers must no longer glisten with goose fat.
3) Et tu, D-Line-Zou? The fault in thy defense is not in thy stars but in thy ends, who could not get close enough to the opposing quarterback to touch him with a 10-foot pole, much less plunge a dagger into his back. A sack, a sack, my kingdom for a sack.
4) What’s in a name? The man we call Drinkwitz would by any other word lead his troops as well but would not marry so easily to T-shirts encouraging knaves to imbibe. If running the damn ball on third-and-2 be the food of love, scheme on, bespectacled chef with thy laminated menu, and make me dream of fullbacks and double-tight jumbo packages. Once the battles truly begin, though, uneasy lies the head that wears the visor if he elects to punt in enemy territory whilst trailing in the fourth quarter.
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Toeing the Wrong Line
Major League Baseball has the Mendoza Line. The .200 batting average threshold — named after infielder Mario Mendoza — is the line of demarcation between pretty terrible and truly awful hitters. College basketball should observe the Snacks Standard.
Thomas “Snacks” Lee, the portly Jackson State team manager who was inserted late in Monday’s final home game against Arkansas-Pine Bluff, made 1 of 4 attempts from 3-point range to give him a career shooting percentage of .250. If you can’t outshoot Snacks, it’s probably best to get a little closer or pass the ball to someone else.
Among Missouri’s players with at least 10 attempts, Tray Jackson (.231) is looking up at Snacks. Kobe Brown (.257), Mitchell Smith (.273), Torrence Watson (.283) and Xavier Pinson (.287) aren’t much better.
As a team, the Tigers continue to shoot 3-pointers despite overwhelming evidence that they cannot make them. They are great at shooting free throws, which suggests relentlessly driving to the basket is the better move. Missouri collectively has fallen below the Snacks Standard in 12 games, including the last two.
When asked about shot selection after a 6-for-29 performance from beyond the arc in a loss to Mississippi State, Cuonzo Martin quibbled only with Dru Smith’s forced three and Jeremiah Tilmon’s inexplicable attempt during crunch time. Martin’s logic is players who practice 3-pointers need to attempt them if they’re open during games. I don’t agree with that logic if the guys practicing 3-pointers aren’t any better at making them than Jackson State’s team manager.
March Madness vs. Pandemic Pandemonium
The coronavirus has come for our 401Ks and possibly our lives. That’s bad, and it could get worse. The NCAA said Tuesday it has formed a COVID-19 advisory panel that will recommend next steps regarding its championship events depending on the progress of the virus.
I hope the panel declares that the virus is only allowed to be transmitted via Powerade-branded paper cups, but I fear an event that even the NCAA can’t screw up — the Big Dance — could be in jeopardy.
This could go either way. On one hand, you could start coughing in the middle of the week and your boss would encourage you to stay home, no questions asked. There is no better four-day span for a quarantine than the first two rounds of the NCAA Tournament. It would be a blast until the chili ran out or your organs failed.
But if the tournament were to be cancelled, the whole point of a tedious college basketball season — hell, the whole point of the month of March — would be snatched away, leaving us to fashion empty brackets into crude breathing masks as we await our fate, as doomed as a 16 seed from the SWAC.
