By David Scott
BSMW Columnist

There is no way a man with this head cold could be thinking this lucidly at this particular moment. This. Particular moment. See? I’m repeating things. I’m the walking asleep.
But lo and behold, these are the things that I now know after one week away from Boston Sports replaced instead, with bits of New York and drabs of Philly. Oy vey:
I know that sports talk radio can be very good when it works. Problem is, it ONLY works in New York. That is so damn hard for a Boston guy to admit, but you know what? It’s blatantly obvious.

Mad Dog and (to be) Daddy Dog at WFAN 660 AM simply know what makes for good audio content. Yesterday in the 2 o’clock hour, they took Bobby Ojeda and made him interesting for a good 15 minutes of Mets/Art Howe talk. (After Lou Piniella, the talk was heavy on Gary Carter and Wally Bachman. I’m throwing Mookie Wilson, because I revel in typing Mookie and getting the spell-check correction option of “mooch” or “mocha.” There was also a hysterical pro-Steinbrenner call where the Mike on the car phone defended George Steinbrenner with reckless abandon. “He fired Yogi 13 games in,” DD offered.
“He was being proactive,” opined Mike on the car phone.
And then, the classic Doggie snort, followed by a high-pitched “You’re drinkin’ the George KoolAid.” And another snort, and a chortle.
Priceless.
I know that a slightly deranged, but wholly likeable man gave an Opening Night Pats Sermon that used each letter of R-E-P-E-A-T in stirring ways that made your spine shiver with each, successive letter. Respect. Effort. Passion. Energy. Attitude. Team. Blood. Vermin. Locusts. . . (whoa, wrong Jewish Holiday - L’Shana, by the way, and a happy and a healthy.)
I know that the LA Times is cutting 14 pages a week (notebooks- gone; national scores - gone; ink on paper - gone) at the very time Internet sites are beginning to steal away prominent writers. I also know that the heretofore “progressive” San Jose Mercury News is dropping dedicated coverage of the A’s and Raiders instead sharing coverage with sister Knight Ridder paper, the Contra Costa Times. Yet sports Internet site leader ESPN.com continues to scrape up every one-hit wonder columnist from Bar Harbor to Berkeley. I swear if Curry Kirkpatrick could find the right young-buck, clueless, editor, he could finagle another expense check out of the Disney Folks. (That was way, way, way too inside if this were ever a “real” column, but for those of you who ‘got it’, it was worth the wasted words. Honest to goodness, he once expensed College Sports magazine for his dry cleaning. A trick I later used in my efforts to single-handedly bring SPORT into the sewer. A move I now regret having been left destitute and beaten ever since the final expense sheet for “Suit Cleaning, $75: Spilled on at Super Bowl in Limo with Dancers” was returned with the stickie note: “Not this time. Sorry.”
I know that it would be cruel and unusual to say something as simple as “How’s it goin’ Joe Sullivan?”
Word is there have been more Globe sports job rejections than the entire Scott’s Shots, I’m Bitter Folder of Rejection Letters (48 dolts and counting. . . )
At least one of the “No Thanks Sully” guys was a Florida-based football writer who knew the future was not on Morrissey Boulevard - or in newsprint anywhere - but in Sunnyvale, California, where Yahoo! is based.
And if all of that got brought up in Joe’s mind, he’d surely start to think of losing Michael Smith to a dot.com. Not to mention his old boss, Don Skwar (which is more fun to read as DonSkwar) being the guy who steals him. Crap. Don’t ask Joe anything for a while. Guy’s had a rough go of it lately, wouldn’t you say?)
I know that Scott’s Shots is sometimes too harsh on the Globe especially. And I like that. It’s the Grande Dame of this city and it should be leading the way into the next incarnation of delivering sports news, information and entertainment. The Herald is what it is. The sports section won’t stoop to New York tabloid journalism, but it is more provocative than the staid Globe. . .in many ways. True, their columnist situation is a joke after the No. 1 guy (Gerry Callahan, who, even as a part-timer, is also probably their Nos. 2-5).
And you know what? The Herald (and Jim Clark’s use of his strong suburban network) owns high school sports and comes out on top in both Sox and Pats overall coverage. It owns the Bruins fan(s) while Basketball Bob gives the Celts edge to the Globe.
Because of all that and because my standards for the Globe will never be lowered, it is incredibly disappointing to watch a clueless, rudderless ship float asea towards the abyss the LA Times now finds itself in.
People - it’s not rocket science: use the paper to pump up the web and the web to pump up the paper. Package ads. Sell “web programming” time. Be, ohmygosh, CREATIVE!
I know that Philly’s Howard Eskin is a serial dunderhead and his act wouldn’t last in Boston for more than 30 seconds.
I know that if Philadelphia were ever to win the Super Bowl this year, there would be Donovan McNabb and Terrell Owens statues added right alongside Rocky’s. On Thursday, the happy couple shared page 1 in the Daily News.
I know that John Sterling’s “back-to-back, belly-to-belly” call during Sunday’s Yankees game was one of the best regular season radio moments we’ve ever heard live. I must’ve re-stated those words about 30 times from Poughkeepsie to Somerville, NJ. You try it. . .
I know that enigmatic Chris Herren is in an ad for the enigmatic sneakshion (sneaker/fashion), apparel seller, K1X. Does Chris Freakin’ Herren, a washed-up, never-was, really move product?
I know that if it’s Red Sox-Yankees, then it must be time for The Lip that Whines, Mike Lupica to chime in with some grating opinion on how worlds will be altered if the Red Sox pull this thing out down the stretch and overtake the Yankees. Whine, whine, whine. Screech, screech, schreech. ANNOY, ANNOY, ANNOY.
I know that my cold medicine is wearing off and young, Percy the Dog is itching to feel the sand between his paws.
And I know that Percy’s Dad is up for the very same thing.

David Scott writes from a seaside shanty on the shores of Hull and can be reached at david@bostonsportsmedia.com

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