There it is.  I knew  it.  BWSmith is working my side of the street - this week's column looks suspiciously like something "Mo" might write.  Oh  sure, he’s got his couch, but it won’t be long before he’s pulling out his Thursday  Squaretable.  You’re on notice, brother –  I’m watching you.  But yeah, you’re  right, man, nothing’s free at the Tavern…you  can’t just invite people over to sit on your couch, slurp free Woodchucks and  then have them come to the tavern and pay for that beer flavored water I’m serving  up.  Come on, dude, you’re killing me.  Just a free bit of advice, though, man.  Leave the scrapple alone.  YICK.   (For those of us not from Eastern Pennsylvania,  scrapple is the stuff left over that wasn’t high enough quality to become  sausage...)

But on that note, the “GAB BUYS THE PIRATES” collection  jar IS filling up – we’ve got about $4.36, mostly in pennies.  And, actually, mostly from that incident when Harry had a few too many Duffs, fell  over off the stool and after the  Doty one grabbed up the ones, we swept the change into the jar….that made  up the $4.00 part of the contributions.   The Yard Sale sponsored by Bronc, didn’t work out too well.  We got 5-IOU’s, mostly from Edd, and a rubber chicken – the origin  of which I’m not sure.   Of course, the guy we have sitting out  front can’t be helping business either.

In other news, despite some 28 hours over the last couple of  weekends chainsawing, hacking tree limbs with machetes, and splitting logs with  a maul, I do still possess 10-fingers, my knee caps, and the majority of my  face.  For anyone who has read any of my “New and Creative  Ways to Hurt Yourself” series at morrisseyweb, I am sure you will find this  news to be astounding in and of itself.   There are still plenty of trees to go, so there is still plenty of  potential story line left.  Particularly  with the old back ready to flare itself up at any minute.  Getting older sucks, man.

And you may know, I’ve slowly started to become aware of getting  older.  It starts with realizing the “Batman”  you grew up with is now not that campy, and possibly homosexual  Batman of Adam West but is now “THE  DARK KNIGHT,” a bad-ass mo-fo.  Then  you realize that while you were groovin’ on the C&C  Music Factory, you were missing  Notorious  B-I-G.  Last, your childhood baddies were  Sleestaks; and you realize that folks hitting their 30’s had “The Watchmen.”  What the hell is “The Watchmen?”  I remember the first incarnation of Spinal Tap…and now  they’re getting back together?  They broke up? I don’t  know, all I know is that I need a Duffs, and I need it now.

As with most of these progressions toward…you know…the wrong  side of the grass as it were…I’m finding that some of these generational  divides can be quite interesting.  So, I’m  going to pinch a topic that was bandied about on the local sports radio station  today as my first round table topic.  ESPN  has done their Mount  Rushmore of Sports thing, WEEI was chatting up that angle today...so, yeah, why not cop that line and go.  No one really expects an old bastard to be all that creative.  To keep  the conversation interesting, let’s look at a national approach.  Not what your local city’s Mount would look  like, but more along the lines of who are your four (or make the case for 5-or  more…at your peril) most important sports figures of your lifetime.  I’m wondering how many folks over 50 would  pick Michael Jordan over say Bill Russell. Or how many under age 25 would come up with a name like Ted Williams...

As I get older, I find I have far less patience with the  antics of immensely talented men who have no apparent guiding principal or  apparent core values other than their own personal deification.  Terrell Owens – who just last year was  extended for a mountain of money, was shown the door in Dallas.   Essentially fired.  How bad a guy  is he?  The Cowboys are willing to eat $9-Million  on their salary cap to divest themselves of this jackass.  Manny Ramirez, shoots his way out of Boston  because he didn’t want to play for only $20-Million for the next two years,  finds himself signing what is tantamount to a 1-year, $25-Million deal with the  Dodgers ($25-Million this year with an opt-out)…and then blames the Red Sox  management for his inability to get a deal.   Please remember, too, that this is the douche who was looking for a 4-5  year deal.  The worst part for me is that  at the end of the day, these two bungholes – humbled as they may be – are still  cleaning up.  They both walk away with more  money than most of us will ever see in our lifetimes – but in their mind  perhaps they do so with a touch more humility.   Or not.

Then there are those who face the infinite way too  soon.  The search for Marquis Cooper,  Corey Smith, and William Bleakley (age 29 and younger all) went from search and  rescue, to recovery, and on  Wednesday, to being called off.  An  unspeakable tragedy to be sure and my heart goes out to their families and  loved ones at this most difficult of times.   Over the last several years, we have had the sad opportunity to learn from  men of some stature in the sporting world some lessons about the lack of  invincibility – one report has Cooper and Smith removing their life-jackets and  allowing themselves to succumb to the sea – it has been revealed that Cooper  had been urged to buy  a homing device; Josh  Hancock (1978-2007) dying in a 1 car accident with a BAC of 0.157; Corey  Lidle (age 34) dying in a fiery plane crash due to  inexperience.  I wonder have any of  the roundtable faithful have made different choices after having borne witness  to these stories.  I question my own mid-life crisis intention of buying that motorcycle when my boss trots out the "I worked in an E/R and let me tell you about the guy who came in without his ass" line.  I'll probably still do it, but will do so knowing that there's nothing invincible about Old Mo...not when that knee flares up after 20-minutes on the treadmill...

I thank you for your time this week good people of  Gabville.  Now, it’s time for me to turn  up the thermostat and take a nap for a while.   But don't worry about me...I don't want to be a burden on anyone...so just sit down at the bar and enjoy the chatter…oh...this is it!  You hear that, Elizabeth?  I'm coming to join you!