Sunday

Selection Sunday is upon us!  The six-game odyssey begins.  Any final words from The Commish?

Pretty uneventful weekend here.  I did get in a spin class on Friday morning and another one earlier today.  With more daylight in the evenings, I'm thinking that my time at Gold's will diminish a lot within the next couple of weeks.  My pal Pete was at class this morning and he's already talking about outside rides.

No real issues with the time change.  Of course, I don't ever change the clock on my bed stand, so now I just have to remember not to subtract an hour when I check the time on that clock.  It took a couple of shots to change the Ironman's time, but even that has become a non-issue.  (My pal Roy has a wrist watch that requires an engineer to change the time.  Does that make it special?)  We'll see if my body-clock adjusts come Monday morning.

Even though St. Patrick's Day is this coming Wednesday, the local Irish held their much-ballyhooed, two-state parade yesterday, and the Iowa-side's biggest Irish pub had their all-day tent-event yesterday as well.  (I think that I saw that C-town dyed the Chicago River green yesterday too.)  I suppose that municipalities and the retailers figure that they'll get much better attendance on the weekend rather than at mid-week.  I may hit the club in Muskie on Wednesday night for a couple of cold green ones.

With no scheduled plans last night, I elected to check out a writer's event that they had this weekend down at the Isle of Capri exhibition hall in downtown Bettendorf (that I thought ran until 8:00).  I had low expectations anyway, but it turned out that the last workshop had ended at 6:30, so I slid into Farradday's next door for a cocktail and ordered a sandwich to-go.  I was sitting at the bar sipping a glass of their very mediocre house cabernet when a big guy came up and took a seat on the next stool.  "I'll take a glass of whatever he's having", he said to the barkeep, pointing to my drink.  I said, "Try the merlot. This isn't much to write home about."

The big guy offered that his name was Phil, and he had been in town for an afternoon book-signing at Border's.  His evening flight back to Houston had been canceled by a mechanical.  I took another look at him, did the math and figured that I was sharing the bar with Oprah's shrink, the fruity Dr. Phil!  It is truly amazing who you can run into when you just hang around and mind your own business.

LtPC:  OK, Phil.  What the flock are you doing signing books in Davenport, for crying out loud?  Don't they have stores a little closer to where ever you call home?

Dr. Phil:  Actually, yes, but I have this contract that calls for me to make x-number of appearances every quarter, and I'm really short on the count for March 31st.  My agent says that I have 10 more to do after today.  I think there's something about the number of different states as well.

LtPC:  Maybe you need a new agent.

Dr. Phil:  Whatever.  What are you doing out by yourself on a Saturday night?

LtPC:  Livin' la vita loco.

Dr. Phil:  Hmmmm.  Ricky Martin.

LtPC:  Huh?  Who's that?

Dr. Phil:  Just a guy.  Say, PC, did you ever see my show?

LtPC:  Never.  I guess I saw some highlights when they would play clips as teasers.  Are you actually a doctor?

Dr. Phil:  I certainly am.  A  P. H. D.  I even had a private practice for a while.  But the big money is in media and that's where I've spent most of my career.  You ever been to a psychologist?

LtPC:  Nope.  Not by a long shot.  If I get depressed or lost at sea, I either write a story, jump on my bike, or open a good bottle of Tuscan red. Or maybe a combination of these.

Dr. Phil:  OK. Hmmm.  So no date tonight?

LtPC:  You could say that I am available.  But don't get any ideas.  I don't date bald guys.

Dr. Phil:  No problem.  I don't either.  But no girlfriend either?

LtPC:  Well, one could say that I'm in between lady friends.  But I'm not complaining.  Making plans for one ain't all that bad, and I'm certainly not headed to some psycho-babbler to get advice.  Actually, I'm working on a new connection that has some very interesting potential.

Dr. Phil:  Like I haven't heard that one before.  Does this gal have a name or is she still under construction in the lab?

LtPC:  Hey, that's a bit harsh on a guy you just met.  Where's the Oprah-ish bedside manner?  And it's the real deal, for sure.  I met her in Scottsdale in January when I went down there with my buds for our Winter golf trip.

Dr. Phil:  OK, I'll bite, but only because I'm bored.  Give me a couple of details.  But no more than that.  I'm not that interested.  By the way, am I in Iowa or Illinois?

LtPC: You're in Iowa now, the airport is in Illinois.  Her name is none of your business, but let's call her Amber for reference. She was at a hotel-hosted Happy Hour at the Fairmont Princess after one of our rounds at the TPC Stadium course and my pal Roy was chatting her up.  Turned out that she had a daughter Erin whom Amber said was on TV sports shows all the time. That got my attention, and I chimed in, "Andrews?"  And as a totally surprising answer, she said, "Yes".

Dr. Phil:  Ok, my turn.  Who's Erin Andrews?

LtPC:  Doc, do you live under a rock?   She's the "It" girl on ABC/ESPN and does a pretty good job of side-line reporting for all of their college sports programming.  I've been a big fan even though my daughters always give me that "Uh, Dad, she's our age look" all the time.

Dr. Phil:  You're losing me PC.

LtPC:  Whatever.  Since I watched a lot of the sports that Erin broadcast, Amber and I had a lot to talk about.  Amber gave me the low down on Erin's progression at the networks (and on the pigs that she's had to put up within the TV business). She and a girl friend joined us for dinner that night.  We've been cyber friends ever since.

Dr. Phil:  Still bored.

LtPC:  Not a lot more to say.  I'm headed back to Scottsdale for a conference in May. We've got tickets for a Diamondbacks game.

Dr. Phil:  What's a Diamondback?  Oh, scratch that.  I really don't care.

LtPC:  Doc, you need to get out among the people more.  You sound a little elitist.

Dr. Phil:  Don't give me any of that right-wing, tea-party crap.  I bet you weren't even at the Fairmont, let alone met some desert princess.  You may have played golf in Scottsdale, but I bet you actually stayed at the $39-a-night Days Inn in Mesa.  And I'll take the under on on that fairy tale of you and Amber Whatever-Her-Name-Is.

LtPC:  Well, think what you might Doc, but as a famous Jerry often said, "It could've happened."  You really ought to re-read a couple chapters of your book on relationships. I'd like to discuss it further, but my sandwich is ready and it's getting close to my bedtime.  You have a good night .

BCOT