Myrtle Breach Of Contract–I’m Back!

WOW! It has been a while in between columns for me after spending forty days and forty nights in the Low Country of Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. There was no directive to build an ark in seeking shelter from rains of biblical proportion but I may as well have been, in a sense, “a sea” being away from the sports world since I swore off ESPN a long time ago and was lacking a computer and smart phone and all. Today, are South Carolina observations related to all things sports.

Religion Egads! There are, from my eyes, at least a three to one ratio of churches to bars. 3:1! If you prefer a steady baptism performed by a bartender named John at a local watering hole to watch sports, this ain’t the place to be. Having watched most of the Little League World Series tournament, what’s with these kids making the sign of the cross and pointing to heaven when touching the plate after a home run just like the pros? Did a higher being have something to do with the baseball clearing an outfield wall? Isn’t wearing eye-black, even during night games, enough imitation of their baseball heroes?

Out of gas
Out of gas

Gas One dollar eighty-five a gallon is what you’ll pay to fill up your hooptie down here. 185 is almost identical to Alex Rodriguez’s .184 batting average over the last thirty games and proves you ultimately run out of gas late in the season as an aging designated hitter unleaded of steroids.


Sharks Not Greg Norman, although there is no shortage of golf courses down in the Grand Strand as courses bear legendary names like Nicklas, Snead, and Palmer but the kind that will turn human beings into chum. Swimming is more an activity than a sport to me, so unless you’re Michael Phelps or intellectually challenged, pay attention to the damn “aquatic hazard” caution flags rather than frolicking in the water, dumb ass.

Ragin' Cajun
Ragin’ Cajun

Driving  Relegated to the sports ticker during the LLWS telecasts, I noticed that Justin Wilson (the Indy car driver opposed to the old Cajun Chef) tragically died as a result of flying debris from a track crash.  Dumb luck is how it can be described as the car was the twelfth in passing the crash point.  In the Myrtle Beach area, you may as well need a helmet when behind the wheel cause if you don’t witness a wreck there are enough remnants littering the road from the assortment of accidents.  I garontee, it!

Competitive Eating I gotta tell ya, I felt like Joey Chestnut at a hot dog eating contest on a daily basis.  My sister is a retired chef and her talents were not wasted during my stay.  Everything from prime rib to pork pernil to ox tail soup to Italian specialties, my own talent (eating) was on an almost embarrassing display.

ccuFootball College and High School football reign supreme down here as opposed to the NFL since there is no real home team.  What I did notice about the High School games is that early season games must be hand-picked the same way colleges dress their schedule against creampuff opponents.  Some of the halftime scores looked like this: 43-7, 56-3, and 45-0.  And it’s only a matter of time before the Coastal Carolina University Chanticleers enter the Division I ranks of NCAA football.

Coming next week…the long awaited Sunday NFL picks!




Share Button
About Cheesy Bruin 491 Articles
A man amongst men. Cheesy Bruin kicked cancer to the curb - twice. The Cheese Man's a big, tough teddy-bear who survived the Bronx despite being an unabashed Boston Bruins fan and Sargent-At-Arms for Angry Ward's Urban Spur Posse. Nuff said. Doctors have taken most of this throat and had to make him a new tongue from thigh-meat (his own) and still he won't shut up about the Bruins, Cowboys, Pirates and Cleveland Cavaliers. And yes, his kids do love him.