This horse is turbocharged. Did you see him break in the Belmont?

Do you think he knows he is running for such a noble cause ?

The Fastest Two Minutes In Sports is queued up.

Ain't nothing like a good horse race, and some Burgoo.

Mrs. Brier Patch, being a Kentucky girl and all, takes this outing seriously.

She substitutes Squirrel, and lord knows I've got plenty of them.

Good stuff!

When I first started racing sailboats, I was assigned to the Sewer. The sewer was mine. All I did was clean up the Italian Feast of Sheets, and pack and repack sails…and get people shit. I was the Boy. I finally determined it was more efficient to launch, and takedown, the Spinnaker out of a huge laundry basket, instead of a bag at the bow. It took me awhile to prove my point, but in the end, my method was adapted. I learned all about knots. Ask my wife. I also learned that the chute is usually launched from the bow for a reason. Bloopers, as well. They met me halfway.

Anyway, we’re in the middle of a leg, and there wasn’t much going on for me, my shit was tight, so I popped myself a cold beverage. Bad move. My good friend, who also happened to be number one, said, “drop that fucking beer, the B-B-Q ain’t started yet…we’ve got boats to pass. Jump the fuck back Jack. Damn! I did as I was asked told, but I threw it at him instead of dropping it. I was lucky; he was too busy to beat my ass.

We passed ‘em all, and won that race.

My smart-ass attitude got me promoted. I was now called to foredeck monkey duty. Physically, I’m the right size, so what could I say. I was ready. Maybe?

Now, let me say, before I go any further, know this. These people, my friends, took this shit seriously. Very seriously. There were groupies waiting for us ‘em, back on shore. They wanted to come in first win, if you know what I mean.

Working the foredeck, in a blow, is dangerous business. If you’re doing an “end-over-to-end” jibe of the spinnaker pole, and number one doesn’t turn the boat to coincide with the swap, you have a major problem. I took a spinnaker pole, powered by the force of nature, full force to the chest several times. I’m lucky I wasn’t killed. If it’d hit me in the head, I’d be dead.

I’ve never sailed without bleeding.

After a couple of years I moved to trimmer, and that was a lot of fun, but if you don’t have a capable foredeck man, you are screwed.

Racing a sailboat is all about teamwork.

Bottom Line: I also like to drive.

We got there early, like in the middle of the night the day before the other races started. Dug under the fence, and hid from the security guards until they let the public in.

Hide and seek, it was. We were in there a couple of days.

Actually, walked the track...leaning. More than once.

Anyway, it was free, and at that time in my life, that was a good thing.

I've done a lot of crazy shit in my life, and this was one of 'em. We DID NOT get caught, which is amazing.

This little excursion was much more fun than paying for it.

I didn't give a shit about the race, it was the mission that was important.

Know what I mean?

I'm just saying.

Well, a South African has won the U.S. Open, again. I have no problem with that; I like South Africans, but they can’t all putt like Goosen.

As a matter of fact, I went around the track with some friends over the weekend; one is South African, a family man, and a rambling man. I’ll call him the huge ass Rugby Player. Another friend, I’ll call him the Silver Fox who plays smart. Anyway, both of their left knees are trashed, and a golf swing requires two good knees. They play anyway. FYI, the heat index was about 105.

We’re on the green on number 2, and the Silver Fox has a 63 – 73 foot putt. I looked at the line and I can tell you it wiggled more than my new puppy. Two holes, and two beers, and the huge ass Rugby Player says to the Silver Fox who plays smart – “If you make that putt, I’ll jog behind your cart for the next 16 holes.”

The Silver Fox who plays smart drains it. I’ve played many rounds with the Silver Fox who plays smart, and I can tell you I’ve never seen him hit a putt like that. Was it skill, or was it luck? Well, it was both. It took skill just to be out there, and that damn putt was nothing but luck, maybe.

So, the Silver Fox who plays smart lets the huge ass Rugby Player off the hook, and we play on. The huge ass Rugby Player, after another 12 beers, announces that if the Silver Fox who plays smart makes this shot, “I’ll jog behind the cart while carrying both our bags.”

The Silver Fox who plays smart didn’t convert, but we all had a good time.

The Silver Fox who plays smart, and I, had a great evening with our girls.

The huge ass Drunk Rugby Player tapped out.

I love golf. I love the mental challenge. I love the camaraderie with my buddies. I love to drink cold beverages with my buddies. I love not drinking cold beverages, and concentrating on the hole. I love trying to improve. I love the fact that I have to play at least 3 or 4 times a week to do this. I love the cussing. I love the angles. I love the laughs. I love the bets, and side bets, and more side bets. I love teaming up on one another. I love smoking cigars with my friends. I love the beer girls. I love the girls who like to play. I love a sand save. I love making a nice long putt. I love drivers. I love long irons. I love short irons. I love wedges. I love my putter.

Too bad I can’t put all this shit together at the same time.

.... but, I would really love to have one of these..

That was one fine Super Bowl. Best game I've seen in a long time, for a SB that is.

As for the halftime boob deal, you can't tell me that wasn’t planned. How many people wear whatever the hell she was wearing underneath her top?

Anyway, Donnie has volunteered to help her resurrect her career.

Spinnaker flying is one of the most lifting flights I've ever taken.

All you need is some decent air (wind), one medium to large sailboat, preferably a masthead rig, a boson's chair, and (preferably) a tri-radial spinnaker.

1. Anchor off the stern.
2. Attach boson's chair to the clews of the sail. No guy, no pole for this.
3. Enter the water off the bow, sit in the boson's chair (with the sail collapsed), and release the sheets.

You will be launched from water level, to the height of the mast in about 1 second.

Then, you can control horizontal and vertical movement by manipulating the sheets.

What's funny is this: the force of the launch usually leaves whatever you're wearing around your ankles, so boys, and girls (if you're wearing a bikini); you just might be flying naked.

The only way to pull 'em up is to bail, and most of the time, when you bail you're bottoms are lost forever.

We've thrown many a towel overboard.

Anyway, it just takes a couple of times before you get the feel of it.

It's too much fun and too many laughs. Everyone always has a good time.

The sport involves riding the airwaves and performing gymnastics on a snowboard-like board after freefalling out of a plane at about 13,000ft.

This is Radical.

Today is a beautiful day in North Carolina - cool and crisp - you can see for miles.

It reminds me of the first time I rode in a hot air balloon. My friend Julian has one, and Louie and I met him on a day like today - and took off (launched). We ascended to a couple thousand feet, and just drifted with the wind. Beautiful, is all I can say...Peaceful...Quiet...until...

we started floating over populated neighborhoods - and the damn dogs were barking like crazy. From one neighborhood to the next - bark..bark..bark.

Hot Air Balloons drive the dogs F_____g crazy. It was strange.

Anyway, we'd been aloft for about 5 hours and Julian decides it's time to set 'er down. We'd covered, as the crow flies, boo coo miles - and dusk was approaching fast.

We were crossing the river when we spied a field that looked promising for a "landing". Problem was: there were TVA power lines between Earth and us, and it was almost dark.

Let me say - we had a radio, and had been directing the chase vehicle (full of some other friends) all day long. They were toe (lift leg) up - I'm willing to bet. Right.. Right.. no no I meant left.. OK OK good...we see you loud and clear. See not hear - whatever.

The Balloon Driver says - "I see a place where I think we can set 'er down, but everybody get down in the basket - I'm going to go through the top of those trees to bleed off some speed." WTF. Man - he did exactly what he said - we hit those trees and wood was flying everywhere.

We hit Earth, and bounced upside down for about 100 yards.

It was GREAT!!!

I must say the Smokey Mountains are beautiful this time of year. Snow at higher elevations, ice and fog everywhere else - breathtaking. But, it's too damn cold to play golf! Yeap - played 18 yesterday and I froze my balls off.

I'll never learn – frozen balls just don’t fly as far.

Also, playing a round of golf when there are snowmen in the fairways is crazy.

Anyway, all had a good time.

And I thought my Golf game was Snakebit.

Do you know the difference between watching Professional Golf live as opposed to viewing on television? It is the Jail Shots. You can feel em' You can feel the tension and the pressure. You can see , up close and personal, the want for the cash, the want for the win, the need to keep the "card", or make the exemption. You can see a Pro - stressed out. You can see a Caddy - stressed out. You can also hear the leader board. Leader boards are loud - they are not digital - they click loudly all the time. When you see the players looking at the boards - it is not because they want to see where they are - it is because they are annoying and just might make them lose their concentration long enough to blow it. That's a fact.

I went to the PGA in Greensboro last Saturday and Sunday, and I've got to say, it was a well managed affair. Beer huts and facilities every three holes with no lines. Sweet. The weather was perfect.

Anyway, back to the "Jail Shots".

I like to watch the players in trouble. They always seem to have a bad lie, behind the worst possible obstructions, between clubs, no clear line to the pin, and too much pressure.

Yet, 9 times out of 10, they make the shot. Why is this? It's called practice and intuition. What I mean is - after you practice enough, the shot becomes intuitive. This is where the pro's differ from you and I. They have the "qua" (Jerry McGuire). They know the real meaning of “show me the money”.

Now the following is not really an example of "Jail Shots", but of the good ole "Up and Down".

We're "dug in" on the back of the green (just off the the fringe) on the 226 yard par 3, 8th hole. Pin is front - way right - no room to work with it. I mean --- no room at all. We watched 8 groups play. Stats are: ONE greenie, 15 OFF. The results: ONE birdie, 15 Pars. This is amazing - One guy got on in regulation and ended up with a par. One guy was short left, and he chipped in for birdie. The rest, from off the green, got up and down for par. I mean, they ALL saved par.

This is what it is all about. Can you handle the pressure?

These guys are incredible!

We had a good time.