Spring is one of those great seasons (since there are only four, maybe that’s not saying so much)in which sports collide. Since my brain is loose and bounces against my skull with regularity, I often get the sports confused and imagine what our sports world might be like if these sports were to collide even more. Here’s what I came up with.

Octopus On Ice:

Not a delicacy (although it might be in Iceland) they do this as a tradition in Detroit during hockey games. The NHL banned dead octopi this season, although it didn’t harm the Red Wings on their Stanley Cup march. Tiger Woods, you know about this? I know you’re down with hockey, playa. The reason given was not cruelty to animals (hello, PETA), not the threat of the animal itself, but the juices from the beast as the ooze onto the rink, then freeze. Imagine octopus on green? How icky would the ball become as it rolls through the goo? Would you have to play a stymie around the tentacles?

Charging The Mound

If I were the pitcher, I’d drop into a karate stance and nail the SOB as he came after me. After all, I’ve already tried to hit him and he has a bat. You and I get driven into all the time at our local munis, right? What if that happened on tour? We all know that Daly, Lumpy and Phil would fall down, out of breath, on their way back up to the tee deck. Ball players are in shape and they only have to go sixty feet, six inches. Golfers would be hauling ass for 280 yards…how funny would that be? You could plan out the Maginot Line with that much time.

Fake Knee Injuries and Gang Signs

Did Paul Pierce hurt his knee or not? Was there a second knee and grassy knoll? Who cares. What about Tiger being carried off by Steve and Kultida at Southern Hills, then returning to triumph over the field? That would have been tight.

Does Phil know the crip walk? Does Sergio Garcia have the digital dexterity to twist his fingers into the blood spelling? Is Padraig Harrington really a Latin King?

The next time you complain about some pithy bother in golf, consider the above and flagellate yourself (or at least put on a hair shirt.)

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