Sunday, February 3, 2008

The FBR - Sunday's Red-Headed Step Child

The Patriots lost. Thank god. I would say that all of the New Englander's and the Brady Bunch can now shut the hell up, but we all know thats not what's going to happen. I'm sitting at home quietly enjoying my new spot on the grid, but in the back of my head an unrelenting Boston accent is spouting absolutely horrific excuses for the demise of the Brady Bunch's dream season. After being completely enveloped with Super Bowl events (completely unrelated to football mind expressed in my last real post) I decided to check out the status of the annual Phoenix sporting event that accrues the majority of drinking every other year - the FBR Phoenix Open. So being lazy and allowing the fine blokes at ESPN do most of my research for me, seeing as how I was unable to actually see the open due to fiscal circumstances, I listen, read, and spoke as much FBR as I could. But alas, the main Golf section of reads "HEAR ME ROAR" - a Tiger Woods story about his win in Dubai, with the highlight reel displaying 3 stories of Woods and some stuff about Torrey Pines. A small sliver of the screen is dedicated to the FBR showing the top 10 finishers of the tournament. Poor J.B. - to a certain extent - he wins the damn thing beating out homer Phil Mickelson, and he loses the spot light to Woods...who by my estimation, won the Dubai tournament as the nation slept. The FBR has been like the middle child in a family where the oldest is away at college and the younger is in boarding school. A majority of the time it gets all the attention, but during the holidays, it's just another mouth to feed. All the attention is on the older kid for being more successful and the younger one because it left because regular school isn't good enough for it - a.k.a too rough/noisy. Well I'm here to stand up for you FBR. Even though the Super Bowl brought in record numbers this year in terms of tourism spending as well as celebrities, with all the years combined, you have the SB beat hands down.

P.S. You were adopted.