Tim Tebow's Jets Set To Take Off

New York Jet fans should be on Cloud 15.

Tim Tebow has flown into town with that number on his jersey and another digit in his sights: 1.

By the time he parks his left, bulging arm behind center, he'll be quarterbacking the Jets to heights they haven't seen since January 1969.

That would be on top of the Super Bowl.

Guaranteed.

He might even do it in white cleats to go with the white duds and green trim of the Jets' greatest pilot, Joe Namath.

Did someone mention Mark Sanchez? Sure, he passed the Jets to AFC finals in his first two seasons. But that's as far as he's going.

You knew he reached his limit in that Steeler curtain call of January 2011. When Pittsburgh's pass blockers were done grounding Sanchez, the old Trojan made USC stand for under size child.

So he has the style that scouts, hence the talk-radio pack, hence brain-dead fans think is so crucial. Wow, he has the footwork that Tebow doesn't! As my word whiz sister Debbie says, if they want footwork, hire Fred Astaire.

No, I want a champion. So bring it on, Tebow. Back up Sanchez for a while and win at once, the way you did as a freshman at national champion Florida in 2006.

Then grip the team with the vigor of 2008 when you inspired the Gators to another national title.

What was that about the Steelers? Ah yes, the team Tebow trashed in this past season's NFL playoffs. This was no child facing Pittsburgh. This was a Denver Dude who rode the Broncos to victory.

And what of the Broncos? They gave up on 24-year-young Tebow to make way for 36-year-old Peyton Manning.

He of the four neck surgeries and multiple playoff chokes.

Looks like Denver landed the wrong Manning. Eli's two titles double his brother's.

As it is, Eli is the Giant of New York. But look out.

Tebow Time is coming.

Extra points:

Give it up: Republicans should back gay marriage. There. Said it. Tired of fighting this issue, even if I make total sense in saying government has no role in marriage and that if lez wants to get hitched, do it and quit waiting for a mommy gov pat on the head.

Meanwhile, gays are relentless on this matter. And as states vote to legalize guy-guy and gal-gal matrimony, the bandwagon is rolling. Better jump aboard.

If righty says I do, think of the positives.

1. A gang of gays could vote straight-ticket GOP. Makes sense. This is one rich constituency, thanks to no kids to shell out for. Gotta to be tired of tax-and-waste lefty and ready to rush to the Republican altar.

2. Trade the cost of more gov marriage certificates with the killing of two rat-role departments, Energy and Education. Win-win.

3. Finally we'd see an end to this boring marriage belligerence.

4. I could become a divorce lawyer and make a fortune.

Beatle mania:

Top 5 songs from the Fab Four that the "Yesterday"-brainwashed masses know nothing about:

"Hey Bulldog"

"I Don't Want to Spoil the Party"

"And Your Bird can Sing"

"Baby, You're a Rich Man"

"Mother Nature's Son"


Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California.

Super Bowl Recall: A Giant Of A Dad

My dad would be turning 100 on Feb. 4.

The name of my all-time hero was Charles Dickens Fox.

Terrific timing. Three days later, on Feb. 7, 2012, the author he was named after celebrates his 200th birthday.

Charles Dickens and Charles Dickens Fox. So the former wrote "A Christmas Carol" among his library of brilliance. But on the pedestal of my life, Charles D. Fox stands tallest. He was a fearless World War II and Korean War Army officer. He shone as a husband and father. And so what if he didn't produce "Great Expectations"; Dad wielded the cleverest fountain pen I ever saw in action.

Typical missives (his word) included:

Alas alack, anon and enow felicity from Shakespearean English.

Inconsistencies of opinion, due to a change of circumstance, are often justifiable, a variation of Daniel Webster's line.

Sydney, please draw my bath, from his WWII trans-Atlantic crossing.

Then there were Dad's names for me:

Buster, from Buster Brown.

Lefty, from Lefty Grove, joined the vernacular after finishing in the running for greatest righty pitcher in the Stars & Stripes baseball centennial poll in 1969.

Boy, because I was one.

Right this minute I'm watching highlights of the January 1972 Super Bowl, the one in which Dallas won its first title by manhandling Miami. And man, does that rewind our joy watching it together.

In those black-and-white days living in Germany, Americans had to find an Air Force base to catch big games on TV. So we traipsed (another Dad word) an hour north from Heidelberg to Frankfurt's Rhein-Main Air Base to see Tom Landry finally win the big one.

How we could've cheered together now. ESPN. NFL Network. MLB Network. The NBA all over the tube and Internet. Email. Texting. FaceTime.

Charlie Fox and I would be having a ball discoursing, especially now in the thick of Super Bowl week. Forty years after that Cowboy-Dolphin clash comes Giants-Pats. Dad was a New Yorker. He relished recalling the 1958 Greatest Game Ever Played, the one Johnny Unitas pulled out for the Baltimore Colts at Yankee Stadium.

Eleven years after that, Dad and I huddled near the radio as the Jets' Joe Namath returned football's crown to New York by stunning Unitas and the Colts.

Gotta believe that now Charlie Fox would be pulling for the Giants. He and I would be tackling the Eli-Brady rivalry, the parallels with the 2007 season, whether New York's D could pressure Brady the way it did in the Giants' upset four years ago.

I visualize us pulling for New York and wondering how the oddsmakers could make New England a three-point favorite.

Wish he'd be watching with me Sunday. Wish he were alive and not at Arlington National Cemetery, where we buried him in 1989.

As it is, old Heidelberg buddies Derrick and Warren Jones will be here for kickoff. We'll roar for the Giants and laugh up our growing-up days.

You can bet that a couple of times one name will bounce around the Bowl: Charles Dickens Fox.


Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California: BuckyFox@yahoo.com.

Albert Pujols Joins Shaq, Kobe, Tebow In Scoring For The Ages

Suddenly 2012 screams Angel scarlet. After 2011's Cardinal red.


Who maintains the color for the new year?


Albert Pujols.


The superstud turned from Redbird to Halo at the drop of a $25 million annual check.


So now Sir Albert plays first base for Los Angeles. Baseball mania is back in the Land of Disney. Ten years after the Angels won their only world title, they're ready to ride Pujols to the peak again.


So watch Angel Stadium sell out nightly in 2012. That's the one downside. No more easy tickets.


The upside? Homers into the rocks. Winning. Hysteria. Locked in to the key to it all: Albert Pujols.

So here we are in December 2011, celebrating a dandy dozen of years for TheColumnists.com. And counting.

So many games. Athletes. Championships.

What was the site’s first full year of 2000 like again?

Shaq and Kobe’s Lakers won the first of three straight NBA titles.

Derek Jeter and Mo Rivera’ Yankees captured their third straight World Series.

Three horses — Fusaichi Pegasus, Red Bullet, Commendable — won each of the Triple Crown races.

Really doesn’t seem that long ago. Who's been keeping us mesmerized all this time?

2000. Shaq. This was really his one megayear. MVP of the regular season and NBA Finals. And a Blazer-banishing dunk for highlight heaven.


2001. Andre Agassi. He was perpetual youth. Won the Aussie Open again. Simply the biggest reason to watch tennis at this point.


2002. Troy Glaus. Classic power in a classic World Series. When the seven games and Frisco were done, Glaus and the Angels were giants of baseball.


2003. Eric Gagne. He was on the greatest relief-pitcher run in baseball history. When he came on, the Dodger scoreboard flashed his goggled face and Game Over. Because it was.


2004. Roger Federer. The Swiss Swatter couldn't miss. Certainly not in the U.S. Open, his ultimate display of tennis brilliance.


2005. Kim Clijsters. The Belgian Belter had shown grand tennis for years, but never at a Slam. Until now. In the U.S. Open she bounced back against Maria Sharapova in the semis and polished off Mary Pierce in the title match.


2006. Manny Pacquiao. I'm married to a Filipina, so when the Filipino Fist fights, Saturday turns into PacMan Partytime, decked with serious grub from the Philippines. And at middecade, Manny was in the thick of his title bulge.


2007. Tom Brady. He beat 'em all. Even the Giants, who would avenge that game and turn his Pats' perfection into 18-1 by the end of the Super Bowl. Still, when Brady passed this season, you had to catches his act.


2008. Brett Favre. Finally my Jets had a Dude at quarterback. He was the talk of the country after his marathon exit from Green Bay. And staying with that color, he had New York soaring into contention — until a dud landing.


2009. Kobe. Now he had his own championship with the Lakers. Shed of Shaq and sharing the ball with Pau Gasol, Bryant blew by Orlando in the NBA Finals.


2010. Aaron Rodgers. His wizardry with Green Bay sent every other NFL team Packing. And let every radio host forget Favre.


2011. Tim Tebow. Name one other Bronco. Thank you. Denver is so close to a Mile High because of the Florida lefty. Every week he runs and guns the orange and blue to nut-cuttin triumphs. Like on Dec. 4 in Minnesota. As I sat at the sports book in Primm Valley, between L.A. and Vegas, multiple screens offered NFL games. I felt myself glued to one quarterback: Tebow. His direction past the Vikings was worth the hypnotism.




Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California.

Mike Napoli, David Freese, Tim Tebow, Cam Newton, the unbeaten Green Bay Packers

Boo!

That's exactly what Los Angeles Angel loyalists were screaming while watching the World Series.

And they didn't need Halloween to scare them into that rage.

All they had to see was Mike Napoli in his Texas Ranger costume. The same Napoli who slugged and squatted as a rock of an L.A. catcher for five stout seasons starting in 2006.

Why the Angels let the Italian Ignition go after three straight years of at least 20 homers is harrowing to Orange Countiers batty over baseball. Then to see him land in hated Texas, carrying the Rangers thisclose to their first title?

It's simply all trick and no treat.

Missouri's party. 'Twas terrific enough that my Tigers hoed A&M on Saturday.

How about Mizzou's David Freese the night before? The frat boy battered another Texas version, those Rangers, in Game 7 of the World Series. He won it for his hometown St. Louis Cardinals and collected the Series MVP trophy.

And did anyone else notice Deep Freese is the spitting' image of Wayne Gretzky?

Star power. Tim Tebow just has it. Which is why he fills TV and radio sports shows.

A winner. Great looking. Cool communicator. Tebow has the package. His latest exclamation point came in Miami, where he quarterbacked the Denver Broncos to that miraculous comeback.

Another Heisman quarterback with a national championship is Cam Newton. Talk about the face of the NFL. Gotta be the handsomest dude in the arena.

When he has the Carolina Panthers on the upswing along with Denver, it'll be Cam-Tim Time something fierce.

Who else has it? Manny Pacquiao for sure. He embodies boxing.

Kobe Bryant. Champion on the basketball court. Plus all style and syntax.

LeBron James. A magnet for cheers and jeers. Hasn't won a thing, but draws interest like no one else in sports.

Sidney Crosby. The only hockey player regular fans can pronounce.

Alex Rodriguez. Won that elusive crown in 2009. Throw in his muscular numbers and sexing dates, and he lives up to his A Rod title.

Derek Jeter. Another Yankee, only this one with five titles and cleats on the ground. Really the biggest hero of the current crop.

Among former athletes? Muhammad Ali, Joe Namath, Mike Tyson, Reggie Jackson, Pete Rose, O.J. Simpson.

They're Packin'. Seven down, 12 to go. That's the map as the Green Bay Packers roll toward a perfect season.

They sweep those last dozen, and they’re the first undefeated champions since the 1972 Miami Dolphins.

Can Green Bay do it? You bet. Look at its schedule. Filled with Bears, Lions, Vikings and other ne’er-do-wells: Chiefs, Raiders, Bucs.

The only ambush could come at Diego on Nov. 6.

I say they do it. The 19-0 Packers of 2011. Nice ring.

Then again. If the Packers take an 18-0 record into the Super Bowl, they'll try to avoid the crackup of four years ago. You might recall the New England Patriots took that haughty mark into the NFL final, only to cash against the New York Giants.

Who would be waiting to ruin Green Bay's sweep? Maybe the Pittsburgh Steelers. They're the same AFC bunch that gave the Pack a run for the Bowl money last winter.

Will Pittsburgh double up this time — avenging last season's loss and ruining Green Bay's golden day?

One Steeler zealot yells yes. His name is Derrick Jones, the biggest black-and-gold backer in California. He's also my old Boy Scout buddy, and when he says Scout's honor his boys will win it all, I gotta honor that.

Plus, he was planning to have me over for the Steeler-Pat game. Plenty of reason to root for Derrick's home team.

From Newton to Newt. That's Newt Gingrich, who makes up for his nonathletic look with champion discourse. The man can hit points like Kobe at the buzzer.

Because of that brilliance, I'm pulling for Newt this election season. As vice president.

Why not prez? The answer hit me the other night while watching him speak in Iowa. He's too serious. Call him the Pouty Professor. He delivers his message with all the joy of Mudville after Casey's strikeout.

For all the details we want our president to retain, we also demand zest. Think Theodore Roosevelt, Harry Truman, Ronald Reagan. They gave 'em hell. Newt gives us, well, paragraphs without bold and ital. 

Rather Herman Cain for the top spot. He raises Cain like the Herminator he is. With a laugh.

And he's right on the issues. Like fellow Georgian Gingrich.

Cain-Newt. Now that's a championship ticket.
 

Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California: BuckyFox@yahoo.com.

Barack's Blame Game: From Bush To Lincoln To Washington

With Barack blaming Bush for everything — joblessness, hopelessness, Loch Ness — we're here to help.

Word to the Red House: W wasn't the only prez leaving a mess for our saintly Obummer. Let's run down the crises and culprits.

Teen pregnancy? All Zipper Clinton's fault.

High cholesterol? Blame Bush Sr. and his pork rinds.

50% divorce rate? You know, Reagan was the first to split — way before he met Nancy.

We're soft? Carter started it in his cardigan.

We're tripping? Watch Ford clips.

No draft? Nail Nixon for his all-volunteer force.

Pet mistreatment? LBJ should never have yanked his beagle up by the ears.

Can't befriend Cuba? JFK could've talked sweet to Castro.

Highways full of potholes? Ike should've built 'em better.

Foul language in the discourse? Rewind to Give 'Em Hell Harry.

Pinko Cabinet can't right the economy? Hey, just following the FDR model.

Stock market not cooperating? You should've seen Hoover.

Cool approach not working? Simply in step with Coolidge.

Solyndra about to boil over? Nothing like Harding's Teapot Dome.

Taxes too high? Wilson started it.

Americans too fat? Trash Taft.

America a bully? That's all on TR's pulpit and big stick.

Quick wars a pain? Remember McKinley and the Maine.

Campaigning a chronic annoyance? Cleveland won, lost, won. Talk about a broken record.

Zero feats if commiecare and dudd-frank die? So what did Ben Harrison do?

Too many scams? Nothing like Chester Arthur, who wanted to sell you the Brooklyn Bridge.

Waste in civil service? James Garfield paid the highest price in that arena.

Southern states not into lefty? Hayes had to cause that.

Righty expected more experience? U.S. Grant set too high a standard.

Congress a drag? Exactly; look how it nearly booted Andrew Johnson.

Housing teetering? Thank Lincoln and his Homestead Act.

Presidential rating lousy? Can't undercut James Buchanan.

Democrats thinking of nominating someone else? Franklin Pierce set that low standard.

People won't remember this administration? Do you recall Millard Fillmore? Didn't think so.

Mexico still bummed we took its land? All goes back to Zachary Taylor.

California a debt-full anchor ? James Polk should never have conquered it.

Overpopulation scary? Check out John Tyler and his 15 children.

One term and done? At least that's more than William Henry Harrison's one month.

Won't drill enough for our oil? What, and Martin Van Buren did?

Down on the Fed? We could always return to Andy Jackson's bank paranoia.

Not into Hussein as a middle name? Sure beats Quincy.

Western Hemisphere centric? Put that one on Monroe.

Oval Office feeling the heat? Nothing like Madison and his burning mansion.

Hurricanes in the Gulf? Slam Jefferson for buying the whole territory.

Too many lawyers around here? John Adams set the trend.

Too much of this America First stuff? Can't live up to George Washington, first in everything.

There you have it. Forty-plus reasons to lay off Prez 44.

If these don't convince you, his beloved White Sux have a managing opening just waiting for Oblamer right now.


Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California: BuckyFox@yahoo.com

Fun Stuff Comes In Threes

Thoughts of trios while waiting to tutor my favorite Kuwaiti student.

Top helmets: Mizzou, Jets, Colts.

Snappiest baseball cap logos: Mets' NY, Nats’ W, Giants' SF.

Sharpest NBA uniforms: Warriors, Knicks, Sixers — all circa 1968.

DVR magnets: "Suits," "Fairly Legal," "White Collar."

Screen dudes: Sean Connery in "Dr. No," Robert De Niro in "Ronin," Gabriel Macht in "Suits."

Sexiest TV hosts: Julie Banderas of Fox News, Andrea Tantaros of Fox News, Kimberly Guilfoyle of Fox News. Think I like my namesake network?

Automatic reads: Ann Coulter, Charles Krauthammer, Lee Child.

Leaders with pop: Sarah Palin, Herman Cain, Newt Gingrich.

Best chance to beat obummer: Palin, Cain, Mitt Romney.

Cars I’d love to buy right now: Aston Martin, Tesla, Maserati.

On the way to watching 50 times: "From Russia With Love," "The Family Man," "The Bourne Supermacy."

Before I die: Iran comes to its senses, Korea unites, we recognize Cuba.

Hottest politicians: Palin, Kristi Noem, Michele Bachmann.

Dem faces: Bev Perdue, Janet Napolitano, Deb Schultz.

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

White lefty cares nothing about: deficits, border security, Christianity.

Delish: lasagna, filet mignon, picadillo.

Turn ’em up: the Beatles, Doors, Zeppelin.

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

Top TV channels: Fox News, USA, HGTV.

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: George Harrison's "What Is Life," Erroll Garner's "The Man I Love," Peter Nero’s "It’s Alright With Me."

Who watches: MSNBC, CBS News, PBS.

Cities calling me: Heidelberg, Paris, London.

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

Tech that works: iPhone, iPad, DVR.

Actresses who have it: Meghan Markle of "Suits," Sarah Shahi of "Fairly Legal,"  Piper Perabo of "Covert Affairs."

I could listen for hours: Gingrich, Pat Buchanan, Jedediah Bila of The Daily Caller.

Top structures: Heidelberg Castle, Heidelberg's Old Bridge, Heidelberg's Red Ox.

Dialed in: Rush Limbaugh, Mark Levin, Laura Ingraham.

Studs: Manny Pacquiao, Aaron Rodgers, Kobe.

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: "Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar" by Simon Montefiore, “The Spy Who Came in From the Cold” by John le Carre, “Before the Fall” by William Safire.

If I had an iPod: Bob Dylan's "Like a Rolling Stone," Tom Petty's "Free Falling," the Doors’ "L.A. Woman."

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.

People I miss on radio: Tammy Bruce, who only podcasts; Lisa Ann Walter, whose weekend gig on KFI in Los Angeles is tough to catch; Larry Elder, who's back on KABC in L.A., but during work hours.

Love: jogging, tennis, the library.

And the library is where I'm heading to tutor that Kuwaiti Kid.



Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California: BuckyFox@yahoo.com.

Mizzou, Chris Christie, Jets, Newt, Palin

You’ve never heard of Henry Josey. If you know that surname at all, it’s from “The Outlaw Josey Wales,” the 1976 Clint Eastwood classic.

Time for a remake: The Tiger Henry Josey. Wearing cleats for spurs, he galloped 263 yards Saturday in Missouri’s mashing of Western Illinois. In one half. No wonder he sat out the last 30 minutes. My Tigers were on the way to a 69-0 rout. And up next is No. 1 Oklahoma. In Norman.

Saddle up again, Josey. Only this time we'll need you for all four quarters. Hope you have another Wales of a game.

Big Jersey Boy. Chris Christie better run. Not for president. For his health. If he keeps gaining weight, he'll gain a new name: Chris Crisco.

Did you see him this summer beside obummer overseeing the New Jersey flooding? The governor looked like an inner tube against the President's Council on Physical Fitness.

Right there, Christie would get punctured in a medical debate. Imagine him taking the wise stand and stressing personal responsibility: "Lose the pounds, America. Quit sowing out and start jogging — right past the hospital." If the Jersey boss made that case, he'd sound like a fat stand-up.

So no, 2012 is out for Christie's presidential ambitions. Get fit first. Then fight in 2016 — if lefty's still in the red house.

Dang Green. The Jets have that winning color: 2-0 and cruising toward what could be their first Super Bowl triumph in 43 seasons. Mark Sanchez does look like the Sanchize. Only here's the problem for us Jet ments. No matter how strong his arm is, he still stands 6-2. That made him a twerp against the towering Steel Curtain in last January's AFC final. As long as defensive linemen resemble Wilt the Stilt, our New York boys are facing a slam dunk at crunch time.

Code Green. Here we go again with darts at Sarah Palin's intellect. Now even Ann Coulter — the coolest columnist on the planet — has to join the lazy crowd laughing at Palin's brain. Yes, too bad the governor doesn't sink to the brilliance of pinkos swindled by weather justice — to the tune of half a billion tax dollars in the Solyndra scandal. Ride above it all, Sarah, right into the White House in January 2013.

MVM. That's Most Valuable Man for Kirk Gibson. He's the only dude in an Arizona Diamondback uniform you recognize. And he's the manager. The players? Faceless. All he's done is lead them to the brink of the National League West title. Everyone figured the San Francisco Giants would ride herd in the West like they did on way to last year's world championship. Only Gibson is whipping his Backs to the playoffs instead. Kirk has that clutch fiber, as he showed something fierce in the 1984 and 1988 World Series.

Wake up. The sharpest presidential candidate in the race right now? Newt Gingrich. The man soars with sagacity. While the other Republicans waste time in the debates grumbling among themselves, Gingrich presses the crucial point — beat Obama — in presidential prose. Newt probably can't overcome Clinton's 1995 demonization of him. But if Palin or Romney deftly puts Gingrich on the ticket, you can only imagine how Newt would handle Joe Biden in the veep debate. As Pat Buchanan put in when pondering a one-on-one against Dan Quayle, it would be child abuse.

Click. The best TV show in 2011? "Suits." The USA lawyer drama rocks with Gabriel Macht, Patrick Adams and the marvy Meghan Markle. Just maddening that it won't return till next summer.

Darn that W. George Bush must be a winning issue for obummer. Hence the 44th prez's stuck needle in W's record. Unemployment is a replay of 1938? Blame Bush. We can't finish off the Taliban? Bush's fault. The White Sox suck? Damn that Ranger fan.

Since that tack works so well, obummer should go back longer. Preteen sex is rampant? Slam Clinton. Highways are rotting? Implicate Ike. Obesity out of hand? Trash Taft. Hurricanes in the Gulf? Hit Jefferson.

See how easy that is? The buck simply bypasses this Oval Office.


Bucky Fox is an author and editor in Southern California: BuckyFox@yahoo.com.