Yep, they looked pretty much like this

We ready steady Freddie already, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers


A San Antonio man is vying to set an 87-year-old age group record in the pole vault. The previous 87-year-old record in the pole vault was set at: you’re too old to be pole vaulting.


The Octomom has a sign on her lawn imploring us to spay and neuter our pets. That’s like Keith Richards nagging you to work out.


Paula Abdul was on the season finale of “American Idol.” That’s the good news. The bad news? Paula thought she was on the season finale of “Lost.”


In a “Nightline” interview, Jesse James said he was surprised to find out Sandra Bullock was smart. We like Jesse, but being called smart by Jesse James is like Kirsty Alley calling you slim.


A computer algorithm has been developed that is capable of detecting sarcasm in text. Oh, well this should solve all of our problems, hey, let’s use it to stop Gulf oil leak.


In a “Nightline” interview, Jesse James blamed his affairs on Sandra Bullock on his abusive childhood. That’s like BP blaming the Gulf oil spill on their engineering professor.


A two-year-old Sumatran baby smokes 40 cigarettes a day. The father says he is addicted. I’m no Dr. Phil, but I think a good way to stop a baby from smoking is to take away his cigarettes.


A Tampa Bay Ray, Sean Rodriguez, was stung by a sting ray. He’s fine, but, the players on the San Jose Sharks better quit surfing for a while.


A study reveals Viagra can cause hearing loss. Upon being told Viagra can cause hearing loss, Larry King said; “Huh?”


Willy Nelson has cut off his signature pony tails. Well, he didn’t so much cut them off, he smoked them by accident.


A study reveals Viagra can cause hearing loss. This explains the Viagra commercial where the narrator screams: “I said for erections lasting four hours, see your doctor!”



“I like your take on boobies. And I like boobies.” Ronnie Shields in “Role Models.”

Man, what a weekend. Friday night a great dinner at a new restaurant in Encinitas, Barracudas, with great friends celebrating their 17th anniversary.

Next day AC was borrowed by a team in a fun soccer six-on-six tournament and I was volunteered to play goalie for a men’s team. No, I have never played goalie or even a game of soccer. When my friend asked me to play I asked if the name of the team was “Scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

Now I was one of the oldest players on the team that was divided by four 40-50 year old former soccer players and four 13-year-old boy soccer players. The young guys were good, but 13. The older guys were skilled but 40 and 50. I am unskilled and 51. To be honest, I thought this was going to be like a picnic. “Here, hold my beer, I’ll play goalie.”

Then I saw the team we were going to play.

If somebody told you it was the Argentina National team, you’d say “OK, sure, I believe that.” Nobody over the age of 26. All had European accents, long hair in pony tails, and headbands. Slim waists, no grey hair, heavily muscled thighs. They looked like they all had one name, like Bono, Pele or Raul.

It was six-on six so the field was shorter and the goals were smaller, but it was on a turf field. The goals were smaller was the only good news. The shorter turf field made the shooting and scoring very high.

With no gloves, no cleats and no clue, I played with my sunglasses on because they were prescription, otherwise I wouldn’t see the ball. After every blocked shot it was a yard sale, glasses one direction, Cubs hat the other.

But I made saves, one after another. Look, I am the first to admit that I could lose 20 pounds, but thanks to stand up paddle board surfing and working out, my core is in great shape, and I am a strong guy who used to be a pretty good football player, if I do say so.

So when one of their guys has breakaway, I run to cut him off right when he enters the goalie box, dive for the ball and apparently hit him first and knocked him in the air by four feet. Also, apparently you can’t do that. Penalty kick.

These are the type of penalty kicks where the kicker dribbles the ball in and shoots, not a set play. He dribbles towards me. Again, I go to dive on the ball. This time I knocked the poor guy flying back ten yards the opposite direction. Soccer players are fit, but small. It felt like I ran into a little kid.

The ref comes running up flapping his arms blowing his whistle and screaming “You can’t tackle the guy.” On the sideline my team is laughing so hard they are rolling on the ground. Fine, I let one of our other more soccer-skilled players, Chico, play goal for the penalty kick and they frickin scored on him.

“Shoulda tried tackling him, Chico.” Much sideline laughter.

One to nothing at the half. I probably made 15 saves, ten diving on the ground. Both knees and both elbows are bloodied from the turf. Feeling good, proud, but sore.

Second half got ugly fast. Let in an easy goal, and then dived the wrong way on a shot, 3-0 right away. From that point on we are hosed, we have made probably two shots on their goal, both right at their goalie. Their goalie I don’t think hit the ground once. Me? Over twenty times. Hard.

Our older guys were spent and the younger guys were intimidated by the men. Then it turned into a frickin’ shooting gallery. Made some pretty gutsy saves including a dive on a breakaway with a shot that hit my stomach so hard it knocked the wind out of me. At 51, no man should be doing anything that results in getting the wind knocked out of him.

Now my knees are bleeding with a steady stream all the way down my shins to my feet, I got kicked in the head and my neck had locked up. Probably made another ten saves but they scored twice more. We lose, 5-0 which is a lot in soccer but not too bad in six-on-six.

Now it’s time to take inventory. Two orange-sized bloody scrapes on both knees with the little black pellets from the turf wedged into the wounds. Two lime-sized scrapes on the elbows. Pounding headache from getting kicked in the head. Sprained left ring finger. Right shoulder so sore and jammed I couldn’t take my hat off. Deep bruises on both knees and a bruise on the left calf. Ear bloody and scraped from one of my ill-advised tackles.

But it was a great feeling. My daughter was not embarrassed, my teammates said I did a great job, the other team came up and sincerely congratulated me. “Great job, Keep” is one of the coolest things I’ve been told in a long time.

It is a life-affirming feeling to be totally physically spent and more than a little beat up. It has been a long time and it felt exactly like I had just played in a football game. The next morning I felt like I had fallen out of a high speed train.

My admiration for soccer, soccer players and especially goalies has tripled at least. It is a great sport. My style of play may have splattered a little ugly on the beautiful game, but it was fun.

And apparently hilarious.