Good news for people who are sick of global warming, unemployment, health care gaps, war, flu and politics. I’d rather drown in a mushy ice cap than being constantly battered by the bickering, lame-brained politicians in Washington, who remain basically clueless. In Afghanistan, General McChrystal wants 40,000 more troops in addition to the 68,000 he now has. It costs $250,000 to keep a soldier there for a year. Do the math. The United Kingdom couldn’t conquer Afghanistan, nor could the Soviet Union. When a country has been ruled for centuries by “warlords,” can 40,000 more troops change them?

No wonder President Obama feels like pulling his hair out, but maybe that’s why he keeps it short. And no wonder he frequently issues executive orders to guys around Washington, who can hit a three pointer. Some people maintain their sanity by shopping, others by making gobs of money. If the president can bring America back by releasing his stress on the basketball court, then let him put on the sneaks. Divide the teams up with conservatives banging heads with liberals. No, it’s better to keep our shooting wars in the Middle East.

Oh, the good news. Mark this date down somewhere in your Blackberry. Nov. 1, 2009, was a day of historical proportions, a day when nothing like it had ever happened. Of course, every day is historical like when Christopher Columbus said, “Men, we’ve landed in India.” How wrong he was. People in India play cricket, not basketball.

On Nov. 1, the professional football, hockey, baseball and basketball teams all played games on that glorious day. It was a dream come true for sport’s nuts. A sports guy now needs four televisions, or two with a remote for each hand. Add the college, high school, little, bitty and nursery league games, and it’s a sport’s fan paradise. The Bible tells us to build churches on rock-solid foundations, but makes no mention to attach a gym for church leagues. Spread the gospel with whatever it takes.

Those of us fortunate to be living in the environs of the Axis of Basketball, a curved line extending from Bloomington through Louisville to Lexington, understand something about living life with intensity, loyalty and frequent spells of madness.

The Hoosiers are re-building after several years of wandering in the wilderness, because a previous coach motivated his players by choking them. The Wildcats have a new coach, considered by some to possibly be a Final Four Messiah. He’s trying to install a complicated “dribble-drive” offense with players who had trouble with the SAT. Give him time, but if he loses a game or two, it’s crucifixion. The Cardinal coach was untouchable after leading the Cards back to glory. But then he went out to eat one night and rather than drawing plays on paper napkins, he succumbed to the evils of the flesh. Ardent fans will not tolerate a basketball coach being sexually distracted. If the Cats drub the Cards this year, look for the Card’s coach to be charged with immorality.

It’s OK to dress newborn babes in “I’m a Little Hoosier Fan” sweatshirt. But you take a risk when waving Cardinal flags in Big Blue Land. It’s all in fun unless carried to extreme like wearing a “We’re No. 1” sweatshirt to funerals, or asking expectant Wildcat moms to sleep with a basketball during their pregnancy.

A long, cold, icy, windy, dreary winter is on the way. What will we do, sit and watch the health care reform debate? You can get all worked up over the proposed health insurance public option, or watch the options a point guard has as he dribble-drives to the basket

Sports are nothing but games, and so is life. Whatever the game, we should play to win. Perhaps sports serve as diversions from the reality of life’s hard knocks. When growing up, I dreamed of making it to the big time, and shot hoops on the barn until my fingers bled. It was a mistake; they should have put a book on investment banking in my crib. A banker can miss all his three-pointers but still get a bonus.

John Paulson, a mediocre hedge-fund manager, played a game and struggled until 2007. He then began betting that the housing market would collapse. You know what happened. John only made $4 billion, $10 million per day, that year.

My wife gets bored watching slam-dunks on television. What does she want me to watch, financial symposiums?



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