You Gotta Love Julie Banderas, Colt Helmets, 'Dr. No' And Other Hot Threes

Thoughts of threes while idling at the DMV before football’s kickoff.


Top helmets: Colts, Giants, Browns.


Snappiest baseball cap logos: Nats’ W, Bucs’ P, Mets’ NY.


Sharpest uniforms: Braves, Dodgers, Yankees.


DVR magnets: "Dark Blue," “White Collar,” “Justified.”


Screen dudes: Sean Connery, Matt Damon, Logan Marshall-Green, the "Dark Blue" slick draw.


Sexiest TV hosts: Julie Banderas of my namesake network, Elizabeth “The Best View” Hasselbeck, Dina Gusovsky of RT.


Automatic reads: Ann Coulter, Ralph Peters, Mark Steyn.


Leaders with pop: Paul Ryan, Marco Rubio, Dale Peterson.


Best chance to beat obummer: Rick Perry, Tim Pawlenty, Mitt Romney.


Car I’d love to buy right now: Accord CR-Z, Mustang, Nissan GT-R.


On the way to watching 50 times: “Dr. No,” “The Bourne Identity,” “Kill Bill.”


Before I die: Korea unites, we recognize Cuba, we get bin Laden.


Hottest politicians: Sarah Palin, Michele Bachmann, Nikki Haley.


Dem faces: Christina Romer, Janet Reno, Janet Napolitano.


Days I treasure: boating to Corregidor, sailing in Miami, marrying my lovely Filipino wife, Maria, in the Catholic Church.


White lefty cares nothing about: terrorists, deficits, Christianity.


Delish: Lasagna, filet mignon, picadillo.


Turn ’em up: The Beatles, Cream, Zeppelin.


Tune out: Sting, the Who, Creedence Clearwater Revival.


Top TV channels: USA, Travel, Military.


Far-out feats: Michael Phelps’ eight golds, Steffi Graf’s Golden Slam, UCLA’s 88-game winning streak.


Break up: ESPNESPNESPN. Enough with the monopoly.


YouTube bookmarks: “Lawrence of Arabia” theme music, Peter Nero’s “It’s Alright With Me,” “Rule Britannia” at the Proms.


Who watches: MSNBC, NBC, PBS.


Cities calling me: Heidelberg, Barcelona, Paris.


Greatest Americans in my lifetime: Eisenhower, MacArthur, Neil Armstrong.


Tech that works: Cell phone, DVR, radio.


Actresses who have it: Marsha Thomason, the “White Collar” babe who should be Jane Bond; Nicki Aycox, the "Dark Blue" bad-ass blonde; Beth Riesgraf, the “Leverage” pouter.


I could listen for hours: Pat Buchanan, Chris Hitchens, Liz Cheney.


Top structures: Hearst Castle, Heidelberg Castle, Nelson’s Column in Trafalgar Square.


Dialed in: Rush Limbaugh, Fox radio’s Stephen Smith and Vic the Brick.


Studs: Kobe, Manny Pacquiao, Brett Favre.


Electric events: Heavyweight title fight, Olympic track 400-meter relay, Game 7 of the NBA Finals.


Movie villains to vilify: The Joker in “The Dark Knight,” Oddjob in “Goldfinger,” the scum Hans Landa in “Inglourious Basterds.”


Books atop the stack: “The Spy Who Came in From the Cold” by John le Carre, “Before the Fall” by William Safire, “The Silence of the Lambs” by Thomas Harris.


If I had an iPod: Billy Idol’s “White Wedding,” the Doors’ “L.A. Woman,” Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 9 No. 1.


Super screen lines: James Bond: “That's a Smith & Wesson, and you've had your six.” T.E. Lawrence: “No prisoners!” Charlie Harper: “My weirdness bar for chicks is pretty high, but you are clearing it in street shoes.”


My zippiest interviewees: Pete Rose, coach George Allen, Roger Goodell years before he was NFL commish.


Speeches for the ages: Nixon’s 1968 nomination acceptance, W after 9/11 at the National Cathedral, Reagan's Pointe du Hoc classic in 1984.


Radio static: The Angels’ station has a corner on this one. Baseball? Lacking. Too much programming on AM 830 is paid shilling for pills. When sports finds its way on the station, you don’t hear Rex Hudler; he was dumped. You hardly hear Jeff Biggs and sidekick Jason Brennan; their drive-time hours were squeezed into minutes. What’s left? A losing team.


Love: jogging, tennis, steering clear of the DMV.


But hey, they just called my number. Who said it stands for Don’t Move Velociously?


Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California who runs BuckyFox.com.

Angels Winging It All; Favre Packs A Viewing Punch

Baseball playoffs full of Dodger and Yankee stunners.

College football jammed with Bama and Texas charges.

The NFL packed with Brett Favre.

Is this fall heaven or what? With an apt team riding these clouds: the L.A. Angels.

Yea: The Angel bats, speed and arms broke Boston. Nothing like a sweep to answer the Henderson homer of 1986. And to draw a snappy rallying cry from R.J. in Riverside, as called in to Jeff Biggs' Angel radio show: Create Your Fate.

Boo: Joe Nathan's job title is closer. The only thing he closed Friday was Minnesota's series shot. As soon as he surrendered A Roid's rope, the Twins were done. As was my upset pick.

Yea: Chone Figgins has a funny first name. And he's one fun guy to watch at Angel Stadium. Glove, gun, bullet fast. The third baseman is pure entertainment. Especially on one night this summer. Between innings, the Angels ran their promo with a kid dashing to pick up the third base bag. But he couldn't lift it. So Figgins pulled it up for him, and the little buddy carried it across the finish line in time. Now that's a prize moment.

Boo: NBA teams playing games on consecutive nights. Baseball players chatting with guys on the other team during games. Both are drags, as spelled out by Jeff Biggs on his KLAA radio show.

Yea: Dave Campbell of ESPN radio. No better analyst in baseball.

Boo: Yankee fans. Can they come up with something more original? Their sense of entitlement will take a beating once the Angels whip them on the way to the championship.

Yea: Being an L.A. fan. The Angels and Dodgers could meet in the World Series. The champion Lakers could win 70 games.

Boo: Being a St. Louis fan. The Cardinals didn't exactly have a Holliday in the playoffs. The Rams look worse than their pre-George Allen days. And Mizzou. Playing in the downpour against Nebraska Thursday night, the Tigers looked downright poor. God help us when we go to Texas Oct. 24.

Yea: James Loney’s hustle in that miracle Dodger triumph in Game 2 over St. Louis.

Boo: Juan Rivera’s hustle. It slows in the field and on the base paths too often for the Angels. Mike Scioscia better get Rivera flowing fast in this title run.

Yea: Good to see Manny stiffening up his bat again. Must be back on those pregnant pills.

Boo: The L.A. Times sports section predicted the Cards would sweep the Dodgers in three. What? Bad enough to knife the local lads. Horrible when you're dead wrong.

Yea: Patrick Cain was dead on. He's an office colleague, sports nut to the max. And he predicted the Dodgers' ditching of the Cards when no one else saw it. Nothing new from Cain. He called the Arizona Diamondbacks' division title of 2007 and the Seattle Mariners' rise from the depths this year.

Boo: Someone at Angel Stadium please fix the typo atop of the visitor-side dugout. It reads: ANGELS BASEBALL '09. With the apostrophe turned the wrong way.

Yea: Jim Tracy. He dropped off the map after managing the Dodgers to the playoffs and directing Pittsburgh to nowhere land. The minute he popped up in Colorado at midseason, I sent a text to a pal in amazement. Now everyone's amazed at how the Rocks rolled under him.

Boo: So Obummer wins the Nobel Prize for piece of what? Considering his girly toss ahead of last summer's All-Star Game, the best line came from the guy behind me at work: He was more deserving of the Cy Young trophy.

Yea: Harold Reynolds. He's as smooth on MLB Network as he was as an MLB second baseman. At least as smooth as he was with the ladies at ESPN, which booted him for exactly that trait. Glad he's been back on the screen a couple of years now. He's the main reason to flip to channel 213.

And one more yea: Favre. You knew his stare-down of his old Green Bay gang would bust ESPN Monday night records. And when he chatted during that usually boring postgame press conference, you couldn't change the channel. That's one quarterback who has it. Period. Paragraph.

Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California who runs BuckyFox.com.

Angels Will Take It; Jeter Is MVP; Who's That Man Posing As A Chick?

If you have one anymore, bet the mortgage. This lock will keep you in your house forever:

Angels over Philly in six.

Yes, L.A.'s other team will win it all for the second time since 2002. And in the process beat baseball's defending champion Phillies.

I've been picking the Halos all season. While friends scoffed. The team had so many weak links to strengthen without using steroids.

First, the Angels lacked power. Then they started jacking them out while trotting out the first all-.300 lineup since the Depression.

Second, the Angels couldn't hold a lead. Then they discovered a juicy righty in Kevin Jepsen to set up slam-the-door lefty Brian Fuentes.

Third, the Angels hurt for starting moundsmen. Then John Lackey and Ervin Santana revived to supplement Jered Weaver and Joe Saunders.

Fourth, the Angels searched all over for a fifth starter. Then along came Scott Kazmir from Tampa Bay. Along with his Boston-strangling resume, which the Halos need to finally beat the Sox in the playoffs.

Shazam! Quicker than you can spell Scioscia, the Angels have managed to emerge as MLB's best.

With Erick Aybar sprinting, Juan Rivera slugging and Torii Hunter snatching every shot near the wall, Anaheim is on course to reach the stratosphere of Disneyland's Space Mountain.

MVP: Give it to Derek Jeter.

He's on target for a .330 season. Playing a solid shortstop for the Yankees. Sparking them to MLB's best record right now.

Jeter is simply the face of baseball. And what an ambassadorial mug that is. He's the coolest dude this side of Kobe Bryant, without Kobe's obvious arrogance.

And what a career. Four World Series titles. On the verge of 3,000 hits.

Jeter should've won the Most Valuable Player trophy in 2006. The man murdered the ball at a .343 clip to lead New York to the American League East title. He was the cog in the league's main machine.

Yet he finished second in MVP voting to a faceless Minnesota first baseman, Justin Morneau.

Now Jeter faces another Minnesota barrier. This time it's Joe Mauer, which is German for wall. The Twin catcher is a brick of a backstop outslugging Jeter in all batting areas.

Can Jeter hurdle that dam and claim his first MVP Award? He has a month to close the numbers. And to rally the voters. He already has me.

Road rut: Talk about hitting a red light. The Angels pack their home park every night to the tune of 40,300. That's the fifth best average in baseball.

Away from home, it's not so sweet. The Halos draw just 26,400, the worst road mark. In all of MLB.

What? More fans around the country want to see the Royals? The Pirates? The Nationals?

Evidently.

An old Angel radio guy who now lives in the East was a guest recently with Jeff Biggs on KLAA. I called in to ask what gives with this Halo road rejection, but gave up while on hold for what seemed extra innings.

The way I see it, the Angels lack pizzazz with the rest of the country.

I mean, who glitters on this team? Maybe Torii Hunter. At least he speaks engagingly. And in English, something sluggers Vlad Guerrero and Kendry Morales shun in public.

Otherwise, the Angels are a team to the nines. No I guys. Not many national fans either.

Stan the man: Kudos to Stan Isaacs for his recent column on how to give sports a kick.

He proposed on this site that soccer drop the goalie.

That's exactly what I've been saying for years. Even when I lived in Germany. You can imagine what that idea did to local faces. Turned them into sneers.

Here's one for baseball: Limit foul balls to five per batter. The fifth would be an out, just as a two-strike bunt foul is a strikeout.

Fouls are doing their darnedest to make baseball boring. Ever since Bill James spelled out how fouling off balls tires the pitcher while drawing better offerings, batters hit 'em backward eternally.

So now every guy faces 10 pitches. Zzzzzzzz.

Keep the fouls to five, and you zip up the game.

Man, is this easy: You hear about the guy posing as a gal in track?

He cast himself as Caster Semenya. I guess that's a chick name.

And captured the 800 meters at the world championships last month in Berlin.

He won gold for one simple reason. He ran against girls.

Look at him up there. Caster is about as much of a woman as Ron Artest, for whom the South African is a dead ringer.

Semenya is South African. If you believe anything he says.

And he might get away with this flimflam. You should hear the track officials squirming about pee, DNA, who know what tests.

Here's the test they should give him quicker than he can run:

Pull his pants down.

Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California who runs BuckyFox.com.

Pound Vick; Pitino's Play; Angels, Matthews Roll

Good timing.

Mike Vick leaps from the doghouse to the Eagle nest.

The Democrats' blue dogs growl at obummer's sick plan.

Which begs the question: Is Vick a blue dog?

If so, he'd want to electrocute himself. Such is what he thinks of canines.

You might recall Vick was the quarterback sacked for treating the animals like dog meat. About the only perversion he didn't pull was eat them.

Otherwise, the hanging and drowning kept him busy. Until the cops caught him. And he waddled into prison.

Two years later Vick rolled out from behind bars. And Philly signed him.

While many expected dog lovers to howl over Vick's comeback, two reactions are reality:

1. When the Eagles say they consulted with the Humane Society, that means they paid for silence. You can bet the NFL contributed millions to keep the HS, PETA and whoever else from barking too loudly.

2. Sports fans don't care about mangled dogs. Listen to talk radio, and all you hear is Vick should play. Period.

I'm not one of those callers. My take: Vick is sick. His moral fiber is wretched. Yes, he served his time. No, I won't watch Eagle games. Can't stomach it.

Lousville Lover. And how about Rick Pitino? He's lucky the Vick story drowned him out.

Otherwise the hoops coach and his roll on a restaurant table with a floozy would've taken center court.

Now it's so what. Pitino the disciple of discipline screws around on his wife. And pays the woman for an abortion. A Cardinal sin in the old days. Now he's a Kentucky king of midlife sex.

I say this: At least he's not dunking dogs.

On a brighter note: The L.A. Angels keep winning with the best of them. And they're doing it despite injuries in all corners of the clubhouse.

How do the Angels do what the Mets can't? Two words: Gary Matthews.

His bad-ass bat has held the fort while Torii Hunter recovers.

From the sound of fans, you'd think the Son of Sarge had deserted. One guy bitched on the radio right after Matthews mashed a three-run homer in L.A.'s 10-5 triumph over Tampa Bay.

The caller: "How can fans cheer him? Did they forget his error from the inning before?"

Amazing. Matthews produces. And delivers adult analysis in post-game interviews. And still draws fan jeers.

His response: win.

Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California who runs BuckyFox.com.

Corner on the Angels; calling on Dave Smith

An acquaintance in the East commented on the Angels recently with this: “They’re the worst of the contending teams.”

My response: “Really? Worse than the Twins, Tigers, Chisox, Yankees, Rays, Cards, Cubs, Astros, Brewers?”

No answer has landed. Not while the Angels win every bloody day.

If the answer ever comes back yes, I say: Good.

Let the masses miss the Halo heat. The fewer the fans who catch on, the better. By the time they do, Anaheim will own a second championship.

Take 2002. That summer while the Angels played in Boston, I wrote a pal in D.C. about Troy Glaus’ greatness. My friend’s take: Who him?

After Glaus finished with 111 RBIs and the Angels their title, I didn’t bother asking my friend again. Didn’t matter.

Kinda like the stock market. When hardly anyone has heard of a company, that’s the one that rockets. If you check out STEC and FUQI, it’ll probably be the first time. Yet they’re scorching. By the time Main Street invests in them, Wall Street will have seriously cashed in.

So let most of baseball’s gazers wallow in all things Boston and Philly. I’m keeping my eye on the best ball.

Come in, Dave Smith. Two years ago he resurfaced on L.A. radio as the drive-time voice of KLAA. He gave the Angels’ station the edge it needed.

Now he’s gone. Smith turned into dead air this summer, and that’s a drag for these parts. He’s the self-professed Sports God for a reason. He’s been here all his life and shares a sharp passion for our teams that no other broadcaster matches.

I asked a few people connected to the Angels what happened. Was Dave fired? Where is he? No one is clear. Not even Smith, who has nothing on TheSportsGod.com about his whereabouts.

Come back, Dave. You were wrong about Mitch Kupcake. And wrong about running pitchers’ arms ragged. But you had a point about Sissy Vujacic. And it was tough to change the channel.

I have the perfect spot for Smith. 570 KLAC in the afternoon. Replace the screamers who turn their points into turbulence. Many Angel fans would stick with Jeff Biggs at KLAA. Aside from that, Smith would crush ESPN’s Mason and Ireland.

Speaking of dead air. What’s with Los Angeles pulling the plug on its top radio talent?

Dave Smith was only the latest talent to vanish into the ether.

In the past year we lost Larry Elder. He went the way of the dial when KABC traded him in for syndicated Mark Levin.

Now Levin is brilliant. He hits the mark with his darts, such as: Hillary Rotten Clinton, Little Dick Durbin and the New York Slimes.

But he tosses them from a basement in Virginia. He’s not Los Angeles.

Elder is. To the core, as he underscores with his Sage from South Central moniker.

And he was one radio voice who nailed it on economics: Downshift on government, and the American machine will rocket.

The good news is Elder might run for the Senate next year. If he decks Barbara Boxer, the radio rotation will be worth it.

I can hear Levin already: “Down goes Boxer! Down goes Boxer!”


Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California and runs BuckyFox.com.

Lakers Show The Magic In Disney Duel; Radio Rides To Hero's Aid

Two factors leapt from the NBA Finals' Game 1, a 100-75 Laker landslide.

That is, aside from Kobe soaring like a Disney ride in Los Angeles and Orlando.

1. Andrew Bynum stood his ground. With him hustling to his spot in the paint — just as the radio's No. 1 hoop analyst, Dean Merrill (a regular guest of Jeff Biggs on KLAA's "The Drive"), told us to watch for — the Laker center handled Orlando’s Dwight Howard.

And how. Bynum muscled like the he-man we saw before his injuries the past two winters, and Howard slunk away with one lousy basket. So much for the phony who stole Shaq’s Superman gig.


2. Jameer Nelson wasn’t worth the gamble. Magic coach Stan Van Gundy rolled Nelson onto the court, and fortune wasn't with them.

This is the Nelson who hurt his shoulder in a weird game accident that didn’t look damaging at all. That was back in February. He missed the next four months.

By Thursday, Gundy tried to make it look like he was making a game-time decision. What a crock. Obviously the coach saw on tape weeks ago that Orlando had no chance with Rafer Alston at the point against the Lakers. Better to go with Nelson and hope he improves enough by Sunday’s Game 2.

Nelson did kill the Lakers in the regular season. But now you can see the Lakers licking their chops against him. Why? His defense is as ugly as that black mouthpiece he keeps spitting out.

By the time this series ends, Nelson won't seem like victorious Horatio at Trafalgar. He'll have met his Waterloo.

He sees after all. Enough with the darts at Roger Lodge (on right in above photo with sidekick Dave Smith).

Last week I targeted the sports radio host for having the foresight of his old TV show, “Blind Date.” In other words, not much.

Lodge’s sin? Tossing Phil Jackson to the dustbin of NBA history for losing a playoff game. Meanwhile, the Jackson Five are making 1-2-3-4 work of Orlando in the Finals.

Now I have a new perspective. Lodge might miss on his rips of the greatest coach in basketball history. But he knows history. While noting Ichiro’s hitting streak this week, he didn’t miss a beat recalling Gene Garber’s stoppage of Pete Rose’s 44-gamer in 1978.

And Lodge is dead-on with his latest campaign: helping an injured soldier.

Army Sgt. Daniel Thornhill was in Afghanistan when a bomb blew off his legs. Now he’s at Fort Sam Houston, Texas, recovering from burn wounds.

Lodge knows a hero when he hears about one. And he's tuned in to Thornhill. The radio man made a big deal on a recent edition of “The Sports Lodge” on the Angels’ KLAA station about the sergeant’s condition.

And Lodge’s message was clear: Help our hero out, even if it’s with just a birthday card.

Send it to:

Sgt. Daniel Thornhill
Fort Sam Houston Fisher House
3623 George C. Beach Rd.
Fort Sam Houston, Texas 78234

Listen and learn: Another plus about Lodge. He and Smith don't interrupt each other. When Smith goes off on his leave-the-pitcher-in-forever tirade, Lodge lets him loose.

How refreshing after hearing KLAC's afternoon drive gang. Five guys scream at each other. And we're expected to get the point?

I sure don't.

Bucky Fox is an author in Southern California and editor of BuckyFox.com.

On A Roll On The Radio

I’m floating on airwaves these days.

* Made the right Laker call on the radio.

* Heard the sharpest hoop voice on the dial in Dean Merrill.

* Met the No. 1 radio personality, Tammy Bruce (the nonbaldy above).

My call. I had enough of the Laker bashing. Especially the piling on Phil Jackson.

L.A.’s favorite team loses one playoff game, and this city loses it. The screaming comes in loud and clear on sports talk radio.

Take KLAA, the Angels’ station. When not dissecting every Halo pitch, the voices hang on every Laker shot and miss. I love it, but last week reached my limit. The morning show, “The Sports Lodge,” kept hammering Jackson, with Roger Lodge and sidekick Dave Smith yelling fire in a crowded radio booth.

So after the Lakers’ Game 4 loss at Denver, I entered the fray. Called in, heard Lodge say “Bucky from Buena Park” and took off.

After lauding the show for reaching our military heroes via Armed Forces Radio, I said: “I’m tired of your myopia when it comes to Phil Jackson. He’s the greatest coach in history. And he’s going to turn Lamar Odom into our J.R. Smith.”

That would be Odom, L.A.’s towering talent, and Smith, the cocky gun on the Nuggets. Or Thuggets, full of other tattooed snots.

The Thugs’ low came amid Smith’s 24-point blitz in Game 4. Flapped his elbows in Jackson’s face. The coach with nine NBA titles looked down to avoid giving J.R. — Just Rank— the eagle eye.

So there was Lodge’s Hollywood and Whine belittling Jackson. Saying Phil won all his titles only because of great players.

I responded: “He has great players now and will win it all.” For a record 10th NBA championship.

Lodge kept trying to make like a sports expert. Only he sounded like he was still hosting “Blind Date.”

The next two games, Odom produced in-your-face games, and L.A. is back in the NBA Finals. What was that about Jackson losing his touch, Lodge?

Dean Merrill. Remember that name. He’s the best on-air hoop analyst you’ve never heard of. That’s because he’s been a ref of high school and college games in the L.A. area, not a slickster on ESPN. Yet he dribbles circles around the network guys, notably Magic Johnson, who has two serious flaws: 1. He’s part owner of the Lakers, making his ESPN work unethical; 2. he’s terrible, with syntax to match.

Merrill scores big time. Strong voice. Stronger paragraph construction. Strongest points.

He comes on Jeff Biggs’ afternoon KLAA show and breaks down the playoffs like the point guard Magic used to be.

Why all the fouls against the Lakers? Don’t blame the refs, says Merrill. Denver was playing Crash Basketball, with all five players hitting the boards, vacuuming rebounds and drawing hacks.

Why Denver’s guard strength? Coach George Karl was playing muscular Chauncey Billups 43 minutes, keeping Jax from countering with skinny Jordan Farmar.

Merrill paints inside basketball like no one. Only Jon Barry on ESPN comes close.

The Dean of Hoops is so compelling, the message is obvious. He should have his own show.

Tammy Bruce. She has her own show, but you don’t hear it. Why? She’s buried on Saturday afternoons on KABC in Los Angeles.

The only folks listening are crazies like me. And I’m crazy about Tammy. She’s the best. Period.

She takes tough political stands. And sells them with her brilliant overture.

Last year she nailed it. Debated a London lefty who wailed about Bush the butcher. Tammy could’ve sunk in this anti-W muck. Instead she threw it in the Brit’s face, saluting the president’s liberation of 53 million people.

Tammy has guts and a cool delivery. Then she visited my paper’s office last week, and wow. Is she hot. And lesbian, so there went that idea.

Still, I want to turn her on. On the radio, that is. And if she makes the right move and leaves tone-deaf KABC, which should have her on drive time, I’ll click on her Internet show.

By then, she’ll have plenty to cheer. Starting with the Lakers’ championship.

Bucky Fox is an author in Southern California and the editor of BuckyFox.com.

Former Angel star second baseman Bobby Grich with fan and author Bucky Fox

From Pacquiao to Teixeira, I Want Answers Now

Questions after a weekend of boxing bashes, Derby dashes and general sports clashes:

How can I land Teddy Atlas' job? Dude picked Ricky Hatton to beat Manny Pacquiao. No wonder Atlas sports a mashed nose. The bone must've jammed back in his brain.

The only thing the Hitman hit was the canvas in Round 2. That was after Pac-Man planted his feet for the longest period in boxing history and hooked Hatton silly.

The ref's immediate stoppage made it a TKO. By technical, that must mean technically Hatton was a boxer.

In reality, this was a knockout a 3-year-old girl could've seen coming. I asked little Bianca at a boxing party when Pac-Man would win, and she put up three fingers. Close enough.

When it came to Pac-Man, what was with the Atlas shrug? The old Mike Tyson trainer must've been too busy pondering his next ESPN dollars to have any sense. Ax the guy and hire me.

How do I get Michael Buffer's job? I mean, how tough is introducing boxers? Promise, I can handle "Let's get ready to stummmmmbllllllle."

What's with HBO averting its gaze from the round girls? You know, the high-heeled, hotly garbed babes trotting in the ring with posters in case you forget what round it is. Instead of feeding us the babage, HBO zeroes in on sweaty faces of boxers and corner men.

One word for this pay-per-view trade-off: ripoff.

How can I replace the Kentucky Derby's voice? There was Tom Durkin on NBC noting every horse down the stretch. Except the one passing them all. When he finally said Mine That Bird, he had long clinched the roses.

One of the truly blown calls. I'm ready to stand in.

Does Barry Melrose have it good or what? Couldn't cut it as Tampa Bay's coach in the shortest tryout in NHL annals. So he's back breaking down hockey for ESPN.

Remember that ESPN broadcasts no hockey games. So Melrose spends, oh, two minutes a night chatting after catching action on the tube. And makes tons. I'm in the wrong business.

Amid the Manny and A-Rod hysteria, what to do about steroids? Legalize them.

Even if the Lakers make the NBA Finals, how do they handle LeBron James? Nail him on a steroid charge.

Why did the Lakers’ bench go from NBA tops to flops by playoff time? They traded Vladimir Radmanovic. With him starting, L.A. sizzled with a second unit starring Trevor Ariza. Now that Ariza fills Rad’s starting spot, no one’s left to spark the reserves. That’s why those 15-point leads vanish faster than you can say Luke Walton.

When will Orlando Hudson see straight? The Dodgers' second baseman recently bitched that baseball doesn't field enough black Americans. Something's coloring his juvenile outlook if hasn't caught on that blacks are filling MLB rosters. Only the talent comes mostly from Latin America.

Maybe Hudson is too pretentious to notice such teams as the San Francisco Giants, whose left side of the infield is as black as their caps. Only the third baseman, Pablo Sandoval, hails from Venezuela, and their shortstop, Edgar Renteria, is a Colombian.

Then there's the obvious shift down the road from Hudson's Dodger Stadium. The Angels won the 2002 World Series with two black regulars, L.A.'s own Garret Anderson and Puerto Rican Bengie Molina. Now they have two white regulars, Floridians Mike Napoli and Jeff Mathis.

When will teams' radio networks get with it? They feed the waves with pabulum whenever callers question talent and strategy.

That's why it was a breath of fresh air when Adam Dodge spoke up as a guest partner with Jeff Biggs on the Angels' KLAA. When a caller rooted for a Reggie Willits return to the Angels' outfield, I was expecting the knee-jerk response: "You're right, buddy. The guy's scrappy. Bring him back."

Dodge was different. He dismissed the idea. Said enemy pitchers had figured Willits out.

Dodge, a writer for Angelswin.com, sounded honest and compelling. That's a double play that radio should embrace. Advice for Biggs: Don't dodge him.

When will teams quit shelling out for losers? Take Mark Teixeira. Puts up huge numbers in Texas. So fantasy baseball types call him the second coming of Lou Gehrig. The Braves buy into it. They get worse. The Angels get sucked in. They go nowhere in the playoffs. The Yankees are sold on him. They're foundering.

The only pundit who blew the whistle was Phil Rogers. He's my old pal who covers baseball for the Chicago Tribune. Right after the Angels landed Teix last summer, Rogers shared his Texas drawl on KLAA and tattled on that down trend. Cut through the Bill James ratings -- Runs Created, Approximate Value -- and you can see Teixeira simply helps his teams lose.

Remind you of other Yankees? Maybe Bobby Bonds and A-Rod?

Bucky Fox is an editor in Southern California who runs BuckyFox.com and is the author of three baseball books, including "The Highflying Angels: Their 50 Greatest Hits, Pitches and Plays"