Late Saturday afternoon as the sun was tucking itself into bed beyond the crashing waves of the Monterrey Peninsula, golf insiders were having a quiet giggle to themselves over a 19th Hole double Balvenie and social media was lighting up like the Rockefeller “Don’t Call It Christmas” Tree with news that golf’s pre-eminent rivalry – Tiger and Lefty – would be teeing it up in the penultimate group on Sunday at the AT & T Pebble Beach National Pro-Am. Sure, they were comfortably trailing leader Charlie Wi by four and six strokes respectively but as Torrey Pines and Phoenix have illustrated in the last 2 weeks on the PGA Tour, no lead is apparently safe regardless of how many holes are left – ask Kyle Stanley and Spencer Levine if you require expert opinion in this matter! Let’s be honest, Golf Fans don’t much care that Mickelson has pretty much been an observer the last couple of tournaments or that Tiger felt that opening his season in the Middle East would be the best way to test the stinging waters on a season devoted to exorcising his demons. What Golf Fans do care about is this rivalry – the two giants of the game for the last 15 years throwing it down together for only the 10th time ever on a Sunday – no having to look to the back pages of the program to work out who the latest leader was, no Bill Murray mid-round costume changes, no more focus on Tony Romo oddly hitting his targets – no, just Tiger, Lefty, Pebble Beach and us.

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By mid-afternoon on Sunday, it had become blatantly apparent to all fans that only one of the participants in this so-called rivalry had received the memo. Mickelson crafted a superb 64 around the Mecca of American Public Golf having seemingly found a driver able to keep the ball in the correct time zone and afterwards claiming; “I just feel like I’m putting like I did when I was a kid, without the mind clutter and so forth.” The same unfortunately cannot be said for He Who Was Once Eldrick. It seems as though Sean Foley has created an incarnation of the Woods swing with a half-life of only 72 hours before it melts down quicker than the Wicked Witch of the West, whereby Woods returns to the knee-dip, head-bob swing which he may have originally picked up from too many loops with the “Round Mound of Rebound” known as Charles Barkley. Safe bet is Woods will likely blame Hank Haney for that too but hard to blame anyone for his slap-happy putting performance on Sunday… I think I would have given Judge Smails and Billy Baroo a better chance of making some of those par efforts!

At 40, with his 40th PGA Tour win secured – complete with trophy picture with Clint Eastwood (how cool is that!) - it appears as though Phil Mickelson has golf in the perfect perspective. The brash youngster who exploded onto the PGA Tour and earned the nickname FIGJAM (F*** I’m Good Just Ask Me) from many of his peers is a devoted family man whose wife Amy is his biggest fan judging by her “Oh my God, what a round! Are you kidding me?” as Phil came off the 18th green. His friendship with long-time caddy Jim “Bones” McKay – long considered an ‘enabler’ to some of Lefty’s more questionable on-course decisions – has evolved into enviable 1,2 punch that was able to make the most unlikely and barely believable decision to hit 4-iron off the 18th tee. There is Butch Harmon too, the one-time Tiger team member and there are rumours of a sports psychologist who may or may not be answering texts from Phil.

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There is now an evident sense that the Mickelson golf game has come full circle. While the trials and tribulations of modern life take the form of libel litigation and cancer battles, the game of golf is the joy, the free release of his ridiculous talent unencumbered by once-unrealized expectation. While the US Open has remained tantalizingly out of his grasp and he will always be remembered head in hands on the 18th at Winged Foot in 2006, Mickelson’s enshrinement in the World Golf Hall of Fame has ensured his place in the game. While Tiger’s dominance through the first decade of the century may have inspired many of the younger generation on Tour to take up the game, it has been the swashbuckling joie de vivre treatment of golf on-course by Mickelson which has left the greater mark on the Dustin Johnsons, Rickie Fowlers and Rory McIlroys, who weekly pull some of the Tour’s larger galleries.

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Do not think by any means that I am discounting Mr. Woods from active participation on Sundays for the remainder of this year and beyond because I’m not. However, what is glaringly obvious to all concerned is that, while Tiger may be rededicating himself in the post-Elin, post-Stevie Williams, post-Hank Haney era to the pursuit of Jack Nicklaus 18 Majors Holy Grail, there is a sense that he is very much the lone wolf out there… Tiger vs. The World. While press conferences and one on one interviews with Peter Kostis and the like are full of the expected huff and puff, there has been very little in the way of weekend ‘blow the house down’ as yet. The Joe LaCava relationship hasn’t looked completely comfortable just yet and although my years as a teaching professional are long passed, I still recommend holding on to the club throughout the swing as a valuable tool for solid scoring. Expect Tiger to continue to build on these near misses as we close in on Augusta because those whose Nostradamus barometer is pointing at No More Majors are going to be sadly disappointed - if not this year then sometime soon.

Sports Fans – My apologies for missing last week and a good Super Bowl rant but on early February 6th GMT, my grandfather George Olsen passed away quietly in his sleep at the age of 95 in Glasgow. My greatest memories of him will be endless hours wandering the rooms of the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and challenge matches at the Knightswood Pitch and Putt. This one’s for you, we will miss you.

This week is best described as a whirlwind of sports emotionality, the veritable highs and lows and shifting sands of public opinion displayed daily like a U.S. Republican race, which despite Stephen Colbert’s best efforts is sadly still missing the Pizza Godfather, politico-Casanova, snake oil salesman with no cure for foot-in-mouth that is Herman Cain. Writers of all description miss him but our loss will no doubt be FOX’s gain allowing him to form the Holy Trinity of TV Super Villains along with Glenn Beck and American Idol. My deepest apologies to Charles Adler who for once I didn’t feel was enough of a right wing crackpot to qualify for a home-grown analogy – maybe next time Charles keep working at it! But onward, to Sports we march and let’s talk about the week that was, what you may have seen, what you probably missed and events which would have been best left to the imagination and because it’s been a while – it’s List Time!

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5. Those too exhausted from staying up late to catch the superb Men’s Semi-Finals from Australia on Wednesday and Thursday nights/next morning, that chose to skip the Women’s Final between Maria Sharapova and Victoria Azarenka – well done. Not only did one have to suffer through more grunting that a Tim Allan concert in the ‘80’s but after losing the first 2 games of the match, Viki or Aza or whatever cute nickname Brad Gilbert was coining at the moment went on to destroy Shazza 6-3, 6-0 leaving the commentators with barely enough time to document all the reasons Serena Williams really should have been in the Final. On the Up-Side though I really hope you had a chance to catch not only the Nadal/Federer, Djokovic/Murray Semi-Finals but also…ugh… I have to say it… the Epic Instant Classic Final which went 5 sets and almost 6 hours and deserves a same breath mention with the Nadal/Federer 2008 Wimbledon Final amongst the greatest matches ever played. It now sets the stage for the Joker Slam at the French Open – stay tuned.

4. Golf Fans everywhere were cringing watching Kyle Stanley trying to coax a 3-shot lead down the 18th Hole at Torrey Pines yesterday and failing miserably by taking an 8 and handing his $1M+ winners cheque to Brandt Snedeker on the 2nd Hole of the Playoff. So sure was everyone that the tourney was done that announcer Gary McCord actually had to be called back from what was presumably his drive to the airport! Yes, Stanley may now become a better player and person for this mishap but I think of Robert Garrigus who last year posted the dreaded Triple on the 18th at the St. Jude Classic to lose in a playoff and, although he later won in Orlando, the TV cameras have yet to pick him out of a crowd in this young season. In true Colbert fashion, allow me to give a rather large foam #1 “Wag of the (Middle) Finger” to the PGA Tour and The Farmer’s Insurance Open for not inviting 2004 Champion John Daly to be in the field this week because trust me when I tell you Nation – there is an entire legion of JD Fans out there who realize that that if anyone should be making 8 on the last… And there was a Tiger sighting in the Middle East for the briefest of moments but let’s wait until he starts his North American Tour before we mention his Masters odds dropping to 4-1!

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3. Would it be safe to say that you were not expecting Women’s Soccer to make the list? Well a little bit of nationalistic pride has come to the fore! Amidst great attendance in Vancouver and surprisingly solid TV numbers, the Canadian Women’s National Team, led by the dominant Christine Sinclair (#12) started down the road to redemption after last year’s debacle at the World Cup by qualifying for the London Olympics with a 3-1 Semi-Final victory over Mexico on Friday night in the CONCACAF qualifier. The Down-Side here was perhaps the letdown that came on Sunday with a 4-0 loss in the Final vs. USA when new Team Coach John Herdman was able to see that although his side ranks #7 in the world there is a distinct separation in class, especially on the defensive side of the ball, between a #1 ranked USA side and us. There is still much to be done but there is time.

2. While Tim Thomas was busy being a Free Citizen in his own little post-Apocalyptic Tea Party Brave New World (if you have any doubts how I feel about his White House absence as a Bruins Fan then check out www.freethesportsman.com), Logan Couture was wondering what kind of Fast and Furious upgrades were available for his Kessel car courtesy of the Draft and hockey Fans everywhere were wondering why, every year we think there might be a somewhat intelligent reason to watch the All-Star Game. There really isn’t one – even Alex Ovechkin knows that and headed to South Beach making sure enough cell-phone pictures got taken to let the Commish know; “I’m in Miami trick,” and not really interested who wins Fastest Skater or Silliest Prop in a Shoot-Out. Saving graces on the Up-side, Big Z might one day break the 110 mph on Hardest Shot and comparably the NHL All-Star Game is still head and shoulders above the other 3 Major Sports when it comes to their corporate showcase, jersey signing and palm greaser.

1. There is very little not to like about the Hawaiian Islands and I tell you this as someone who lived there. Sure, the squashing of native culture beneath wave upon wave of tourism and an endless stream of trinket stores specializing in plastic pineapple sake sets and surfboard Christmas lights is enough to make you bury yourself head-down on Waikiki Beach but there is no worse spectacle on the Islands of Aloha than the NFL Pro Bowl. Watching professional players avoid all contact while jogging through practice squad trick-play drills and Tweeting on NFL regulated sideline computers in a half-empty stadium is as uninteresting and antiseptic an endeavour as there is in sports. NBC commentators did everything but laugh out loud at the thought that they get to pass the torch to NFL Network for the New Orleans version next year. Two Up-Sides here – Fans finally get to see that Brandon Marshall can live up to his potential as a WR if only people would stop preventing him from catching the ball and thankfully there is no ridiculous Major League Baseball rule in place stating that due to their 59-41 win over the NFC, the AFC gets home field advantage in next year’s Super Bowl! On that note friends, “Mahalo” for listening as always.

It seems as though I have once more forgotten to check the settings on the DeLorean because unbeknownst to me yesterday’s Conference Championship games have landed me smack dab back in 2007/2008, forced as I will be in two weeks time, to watch “Eli/Brady 2 – The Revenge.” But, unlike most sequels this actually has my interest in a sort of Godfather 2 or Rocky 2 screen classic way as opposed to the more recent and somewhat less riveting “Ghost Rider 2 –Sorry But We’re Broke” or “Underworld 4 – What In The Realm Of All That Is Unholy Are They Thinking, Stop Already We’ve Had Enough” incarnations that are keeping Netflix and that weird looking Orville Redenbacher guy out of the poorhouse. All that having been said - and I recognize that it was a mouthful – the next two weeks are about to become the longest fortnight for the NFL fan as the bobble-heads attempt to break down every angle to this script that has been four years in the making. Due largely, but not solely, to the hands of Kyle Williams and the feet of Billy Cundiff, we have been spared the Harbaugh Bowl and the endless journalistic Deep Throat meetings in cold parking lots at midnight as cub-scout reporters attempt to unveil which jersey the proud parents would be wearing in Indianapolis – Niners or Ravens or gasp… one of each! Instead, the ESPN/TSN versions of Woodward and Bernstein (I’m liking Kenny Mayne and Bob Ley in these roles) will be forced to don the floor length raincoat, tuck the Outside The Lines press pass into the hatband and spend 14 long days digging up dirty laundry on The Hoodie, examining the many shades of colour in Tom Coughlin’s face and searching in vain to discover “Where in the World is David Tyree?”

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It is probably a fairly safe bet that not many people who enjoy a small wager had the Giants and Patriots stenciled in as their pre-season Super Bowl picks and even if they did, by mid-season most would have found a new band-wagon to hop on, namely the Packers or Saints in the NFC or a ‘defense wins Championships’ sneer that generally accompanies a “Go Steelers” rant or a “You’re So Raven Ray Lewis Dirty Bird Dance.” But, still here we are. Somehow, the Patriots on the strength of their Vince Wilfork led defense and not the arm of He Who Would Be Beiber did just enough to book their ticket to Indy although, when Billy Cundiff hack-hooked that chip-shot FG for OT like a 24-handicapper on the first day of golf season, you had to know that even Dan Marino was sitting back in the CBS studio thinking – even Ray Finkle could have made that – “Laces Out.” Fact of the matter is Cundiff never should have been put in the situation. If Lee Evans, the Ravens WR who seems to be taking career advice from former Browns/Jets/Niners WR Braylon Edwards, could hold on to a perfect ball from Joe Flacco in the endzone, that cute-little-Billy-Cundiff-boy-next-door would have been about 13 yards closer, tacking on an extra point and we’d be spending today talking about how the’ nicer’ and ‘not-so-crazy’ Harbaugh gets to go to the Big Dance.

More power to the Ravens, led by the aforementioned 16-year veteran Ray Lewis who rallied around their kicker; “There is no one man who has ever lost a game. Don’t you ever drop your head; we win as a team, we lose as a team.” And that would be why he will be coming back next year for a 17th kick at the can. For my part, Cundiff officially became one of my favorite kickers of all time because he sacked up and greeted the media and owned his miss and didn’t try and slip out of the labyrinth of tunnels under Gillette Stadium built for the occasion when God forbid Tom Brady ever has a bad day or an illegitimate child. “It’s something that will be tough for a while. But I’ve got two kids; there are some lessons I need to teach them. First and foremost is to stand up and face the music and move on.” Amen to that brother.

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Meanwhile, all was not so well in the City by the Bay where it appears many of the Fans of the beloved 49ers do not share the generosity of spirit or giving in the way that punt returner Kyle Williams did on the day. If we could Quantum Leap for the briefest of moments back to a time of Haight Ashbury, a time of somewhat assisted enlightenment, of Scott McKenzian “flowers in your hair,” of poetry and music and free love. Do you see it, can you feel it? Good. Now blow it all to Hell and back because I am here to tell you that it is officially done and gone my friends. That San Francisco is history, reduced to rubble, paved over and replaced by a San Francisco responsible for an endless stream of… wait for it… death threats to Kyle Williams and his family. Don’t get me wrong, there are brain-dead idiot sports fanatics in every city, everywhere – a fact that we are all too aware of even here in BC – but there is no excuse for behaviour like this: “@KyleWilliams_10. I hope you, your wife, kids and family die, you deserve it.” This came from one @javpasquel (Javier Pasquel) and because there are no expectations of privacy with Twitter proves not only the authors grammatical shortcomings but also his remarkable stupidity and failure to grasp the legal significance of his actions. I first got the story from the Huffington Post and unfortunately Tweets like the one from Mr. Pasquel are abundant and one can only hope the resultant outrage at these so-called fans who dare to don the jerseys of Montana, Rice and Young (to name but a few) will lead to a greater understanding of the power and responsibility that comes with access to social media. If left unchecked our kids will only know Facebook as the place where their friends come to air their emotional dirty laundry and Twitter will be the haven of the bigots who enjoy the sport of Cyber-Hating their least favorite celebrity of the moment. Remember Mr.Pasquel, there is no Free Speech when you yell “Fire!” in a crowded theatre, there are only the repercussions of your actions so might I suggest that you think, before you drink, before you ink.

On a somewhat lighter note – David Tyree has been out of football since the end of the 2009 season which he spent with the Baltimore Ravens’ special teams. According to Bob Hohler at the Boston Globe, he is a devout family man who presently works with the Tepidus Group out of Staten Island and promotes nutritional supplements for a company known as Impax World, all the while spreading the Gospel message as he understands it. Of course, that message often involves him preaching a rather hateful anti-same sex marriage/child raising agenda but hey, if it works for Margaret Court then why not David Tyree? Good grief, should have stuck to looking for Carmen Sandiego or Waldo. ‘Til next week Kelowna, I’m outta here.

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Okay, let’s get this out of the way quickly. If you have ever used the phrase “comic genius” when referring to the career of Jimmy Fallon pre, during or post-SNL then I suggest that now would be the best time to stop reading and return to writing script for the new Rob Schneider sit-com (somebody must eventually own up to this vehicle/car crash – is Cheech really that broke?) or join the Adam Sandler movie marathon that is no doubt reel-to-reeling on some lonely channel somewhere. Translation – the Jimmy Fallon parody of the David Bowie classic “Space Oddity” to reflect the Tebowing craze was surprisingly funny – the first time I saw it! Since then it has scarred my eardrums and charred my retinas and so jarred my comedic core that for the briefest of moments this weekend FOX’s pre-game impressionist Frank Caliendo almost seemed worth watching! Wow, he is terrible. Watching Terry Bradshaw and Howie Long go through the motions of pretending to laugh at his nonsense is painful and those two took a lot of head trauma before concussions were all the rage. You know it’s bad when the talking heads at the desk are wondering: “How come we couldn’t get Carrot Top?”

Meanwhile in New England this Saturday, talk of Tebowmnia was crushed beneath the cynical, clinical boot that is Bill Belicheck, Tom Brady and the Patriots as even such love-sick puppy dogs like ESPN’s own Skip Bayless “Whine More” have been forced to admit that Fallon’s prophesy has indeed come to pass and Little Timmy may still be one of the ‘not ready for primetime players.’ While I have long been a Tebow Fan and I really do believe that he has a shot at being a regular fixture under centre for the Broncos, I am at peace with the fact that I no longer have to go to Tebow Horton’s for my daily double double (a very tough bet when they keep getting +13 ½ points) and Boston Not Vancouver Cream Donut.

As of the QB handshake, pundits everywhere have their eyes and ears pinned back for when John Elway blurts out something, in true Gary Busey lookalike fashion, about how the Broncos are looking to move up in the April NHL Draft to get Heisman Trophy winner Robert Griffin III and move Little Timmy to Tight End or Team Chaplain. Love him or hate him Tsquared knows how much hard work is ahead of him both on fundamentals and public perception because 9 of 26 is just not going to get it done on a mid-January visit to Gillette Stadium as long as The Hoodie roams the sidelines and Big Bieber has an endless stream of miniscule WRs and monstrous TEs to play Punt, Pass and Kick with. Heaven knows he doesn’t get to light up the highly over-rated Steelers’ Ike Taylor every week but he has to find a way to add a short ball to his repertoire so that, much like Joe Flacco and Alex Smith, a somewhat dubious skill-set can get one week closer to channeling the inner Trent Dilfer or Rich Gannon. Luckily, all the snaps should be his in 2012/13 because back-up, Brady “Quinn The Eskimo” is so far out in NFL Siberia that he once lost his job to Colt McCoy with the Browns. Lebron James singing the collective hits of Miami Sound Machine and smoking a Cuban while walking through the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame would be more popular in Cleveland these days than native son Quinn so unless Elway does something crazy...

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In other NFL news, Eli Manning continues to confound critics who debate each and every week whether or not he should be considered ‘Elite’. Don’t know, don’t much care – younger brother, Oreo spokesman, Harry Potter wannabe, shutter-upper of the New York press and above all – a helluva football player. If you don’t believe me – ask the Fans in Green Bay, Wisconsin who shoveled all the snow out of their beloved stadium so Eli could dissect a Packers defense which we all knew was suspect with such classic plays as The Flutie Hail Mary. Safe to say Hakeem “Don’t Compare Me To The Other New York” Nicks could make any QB look like a Champ but while he was busy making plays for Eli, Aaron Rodgers was forced to look on as the Giants smothering D placed the Cloak of Invisibility over Jordy Nelson and the rest of the receiving corps dropped balls at an alarming rate – and yet failed to ever wake up. Tom Coughlin continues to coach the old fashioned way – with a face that progresses through an entire range of colours similar to the Threat Level Advisory and with a nod to Smith Barney – he earns it.

Next on the slate for the Giants are the 49ers whose defense, despite giving up 32 points to Drew Brees and the Saints is about as welcoming as the 2000/01 Ravens D was when Ray Lewis was entering his prime. This 49ers team believes in itself thanks in no small part to rookie Head Coach Jim Harbaugh who is more than just a little insane but somehow under a Get Smart Cone of Silence has convinced QB Alex Smith that he really is 23 Draft places better than Aaron Rodgers and has TE Vernon Davis crying like a newborn in his arms. I’m still not sold on the whole experiment but I had the Saints picked all the way to the Super Bowl so maybe it is just a bit of bitterness shining through. What really worries me is the thought of a Harbaugh Reunion Special in Indianapolis on February 5th should the Ravens manage to solve the Rubik’s Cube that is New England and the Niners run D, which is second to none, force Eli to become completely one dimensional. No reunion has had a greater potential for boredom and loss of ratings since the Osmonds announced they might give it one more go around. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that we get to enjoy Volume 2 of the Brady/Eli series and some guy named David Tyree doesn’t cost me $1700 by squeezing the pig-skin to his helmet on 4th down, only to be never heard from again – but that’s for another time!

And yes – the title is my ode to The Clash. London’s Calling, gotta go…