Maybe it’s high-definition TV. Maybe I’m getting old. Maybe I just don’t know.
During football season, when I watched a game being played in the snow, I found myself thinking the weather outside was the same as on my TV. I’d walk into the carport, punch the button to raise the door and think, wow, what happened to the snow?
This morning it was snowing when I awakened. The ground was soggy and it didn’t stick, but it snowed with varying degrees of pace and consistency until about 11 a.m., at which point it turned to drizzle. It’s unlikely that it’s going to have any effect on getting around, not that I’m going to do much except park myself in the recliner until late afternoon. Yesterday my alma mater, Furman University, opened its baseball season with a 4-3 upset of Michigan State, and I was thinking about driving up to Greenville to see the Paladins play Northwestern until, well, I got up and saw snow falling outside the kitchen window. (Last I heard, the Paladins were trailing, 3-0.)
Contributing to the general confusion is the fact that it’s been 21 years since I spent half of February anywhere else but the Daytona Beach, Fla., area. It’s also weird to consider being home weird. That may be a sign that I was a NASCAR gypsy for too long.
I check the TV. Top five in “pole testing” have little chance of winning the Daytona 500. Qualifying speeds mean so little at restrictor-plate tracks.
Pole testing. Reads as if they’re making sure they’re fit to fly Old Glory.
I guess if I didn’t miss it at all, I wouldn’t even have practice on TV right now. I don’t think there’s really much use in watching it, though I do get to hear such phrases as “the Honey Nut Cheerios Chevrolet” and Jeff Hammond’s analysis that the new car’s hood flap is “a whole lot of flap on the hood.”
Army and Navy are playing in basketball at 2 p.m. in a game with roughly as much national interest as the Northwestern-Furman baseball game (Twitter informs me it is now 3-1). I’m also passing up Kentucky-Tennessee, Virginia-North Carolina, Florida-Auburn, Villanova-Connecticut, Rutgers-DePaul and Xavier-Dayton, not to mention golf’s Northern Trust Open. Yet still my TV trust is tuned to Speed.
There’s an ARCA race later with John Wes Townley and Milka Duno on the front row, and, coincidentally, a meteor exploded in Russia on Friday. Tonight NASCAR’s most limited race, the Sprint Unlimited, is on Fox.
(It’s now snowing in Greenville. Wildcats lead, 3-2. Twitter informs me that the new Furman pitcher is a righty named Jacques De Gruy, whom I thought explored the St. Lawrence River in the 17th Century.)
Another Daytona observation from afar: The spoilers on the rears of the new cars look more like the 1970s than the 2010s.
(Twitter informs that “White Christmas” is playing on the Fluor Field P.A. Snow delay has lasted quite a while. Not driving to Greenville was definitely the right call.)
Larry McReynolds just noted that Denny Hamlin “can’t seem to find the speed in the car.” I’d take a look at the drive train.
For some reason, race drivers all drink Coke during interviews. None drinks Diet Coke, but Jeff Gordon keeps a Pepsi handy. If I didn’t know better, I’d think some of them were getting a little money for swigging those colas.
Explosions seem to follow Juan Pablo Montoya. Thank goodness this one’s just an engine. My thoughts turn to Humpy Wheeler. “Man vs. Air Titan: One Must Die.” I read that Montoya was growing weary of jet-dryer jokes. Sorry, Juan.
“Djou know, ees just the way racing ees. Eet’ll be fine.”
McReynolds just ridiculed Ryan Newman for saying, “If it changes, it’ll be different.”