Dog days of summer

Man, this has been a tough week.

The NCAA 2007 video game came out Tuesday, and I haven't bought it yet. That fact alone is a big deal. You see, every year, like a moron, I pick the game up the day it comes out and play it nonstop. Well, until a month later when the new Madden video game comes out. That's when I take the college football game out of the trusty old Playstation 2 and never play it again. I guess at some point the idea of spending fifty bucks for one month of entertainment became difficult to justify.

So this year I made a promise to myself. No matter how much I hate it, I'm forcing myself to hold out and then I'll make up for lost time when John Madden returns to my life next month. Saying it was the easy part. Actually making it that long is proving to be anything but.

I thought I'd be able to play Guitar Hero to tide me over, but apparently my body has other ideas. Turns out if you pick up a guitar (plastic or otherwise) for the first time in 29 years and attempt to play it continuously you get all kinds of blisters and calluses. "Nintendo thumb" is one thing, but losing feeling in your strumming hand is another. (Which is completely different than my roommate in Texas who strummed it so often he thought he'd go blind).

So I've taken things a step further and put away my video games entirely. The only problem is, there's not much left to keep me occupied. Sure, I could help around the house or spend time with my wife, but what fun is that? And don't even get me started on how shitty the summer television lineup is.

That's when I turned to my favorite distraction - the world of sports. I know football season isn't here yet, and basketball and hockey players are on vacation, but there has to be something going on to help me until the third week of August. The first place I turned was baseball.

Unfortunately, that didn't last very long. I've heard enough about Barry Bonds, the American League's dominance and human growth hormones to last a lifetime. It doesn't help that the two local teams are awful. The only time anyone talks about the Washington Nationals, it's to bring up the pending firesale of the little remaining talent left on the roster. Let's just say the honeymoon is over.

And then there's the wonderfully inept Baltimore Orioles. Well on their way to a ninth-straight losing season, the O's felt the need to step it up a notch, so they screwed up their biggest giveaway of the year. The team was forced to return the entire shipment of 20,000 Brian Roberts bobblehead dolls because the second baseman's skin color was, in the words of an Orioles spokesman, "very dark and bluish."

The bobblehead was part of a heavily promoted set, along with a Melvin Mora doll scheduled to be given away next month to the first 20,000 fans ages 21 and up. Together, the dolls depict Roberts and third baseman Mora in the middle of their elaborate hand-slapping celebration that follows every Baltimore victory. How pathetic is it that the Orioles can't even win in Toyland?

That's why baseball wasn't the answer, which led me to the rest of the national sports landscape. Unfortunately, things weren't much better there.

Turns out there are only two three topics anyone is talking about – Michelle Wie, Barbaro and Terrell Owens.

I refuse to dedicate any of my time or attention to Wie until she actually accomplishes something. I don't care how old she is, Wie playing golf is roughly akin to 10 clowns climbing out of a Yugo at the fucking circus. She's a novelty act. Because of exemptions, she's been invited five times to compete with the men and all five times she's failed to make the cut.

Last week, the 16-year-old was treated for heat exhaustion at a local hospital after withdrawing from the John Deere Classic with nine holes left. And sadly, even if she would have been able to finish her round she still wouldn't have made the cut. She needs her talent to catch up to the hype, and that's not going to happen until she quits trying to play with the men and focuses on establishing herself as a top player in the LPGA. Until that day, I'm done with her.

And not to sound heartless, but why should I care one way or the other about Barbaro? I mean, at this point I care less about him than I do Wie. I understand that the thoroughbred won the Kentucky Derby with ease, and people truly hoped this horse would be the first triple-crown winner since Affirmed back in 1978. But honestly folks, two weeks before the Kentucky Derby you couldn't pick this horse out of a police lineup. And now you're mailing "get well" cards and gift baskets to the glue factory? You poor bastards need a hobby.

So that leaves me with T.O. and we all know how that's going to end. This guy loves to play the part of the victim so much that he can't even write his own book without claiming to be misquoted. If he's my last option, I'm fucked. Well, looks like I'm off to the video game store ...

Brian Murphy is the 2005 Defense Department's sportswriter of the year. And he still doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. Contact him at murf@the5holes.com.