Sports serve as entertainment. Fast action, physical dominance, intriguing storylines, fierce rivalries, relentless determination, and amazing outcomes can all cloud the fact that sports are games, broadcasted on the same television that shows your favorite sitcom. They may be fun to watch and track, but they are not life. I must especially tell this to myself on a Saturday when I just basically lost two sports for the rest of their respective seasons.

Why I lost college football: The Gators lost to one of the few teams they had a chance of dominating, Ole Miss, by a score of 17-14. The loss is our school's second, a rarity to experience by early Octobr, and the rest of the season looks bleak.

Why I lost baseball: When I say baseball, I only refer to the Yankees. If the Yankees aren't playing, I don't care. The Yankees won't play anymore this season. I won't watch anymore this season.

So, with college football done, baseball over, and no good boxing this month, I can do one of two things: (1) get excited about the NFL or (2) get a life.

...

I'll get back to you.

Scores from the Putt Putt Open at the final major ever to be played at the closing Putt Putt Entertainment Center:

Anthony (Phil Mickelson): 51 (+15)
Jamey (Tigger): 58 (+22)
Nathan (The Shark): 55 (+19)

Though almost choking in Mickleson fashion, Phil Mickelson wins his first major! Sadly, Gainesville no longer has room for miniature golf. I'm sure this town needs something more in the college mold. Maybe we can get another restaurant that serves buffalo wings and chicken fingers or a place that serves beer rather than slurpees. After all, we don't have enough places in that atmosphere. There's little room in a college town to be a carefree youth, even for one night.

I can't wait until the toad comes back!

Three guys.
Spotted outside apartment door.
Reunited.
The Toad.
Many names.
Toad Seefus, Toad Diddley, Jack Toad.
Feedings from Friday.
Gobbled moths, beetles, dragonflies.
Delight to the guys.
Toad fulfilled.
Leaves.
Guys in dismay.
Until now.
Toad back.
Videocamera.
Frozen memories.
Quest for insects.
New grub.
Toad hungry no longer.
Gargantuan bug.
Size of Toad Diddley.
Ultimate test.
Minutes of struggle.
In mouth, then regurgitated, then back in mouth.
Swelling body.
Bug inside Jack Toad.
Permanent.
Willful toad.
Accomplished toad.
High-fives around.
Celebratory guys.
Farewell, Toad Seefus.
Back into apartment.
Tape of action tonight.
Forever secured.
Toad.

This was the night I said I would get to sleep early. I told my friend that after work I would go home, read my Criminal Law casebook, and get some good sleep, in bed by 11. Instead, the night featured Tweet Sampras (the bird we found dead on our patio), games of Oh Hell, a meat cleaver, underwear time, Simpsons watching, and a mini torch.

(The author now allows you to ponder the various manners in which the mentioned elements could co-exist in one flowing Monday night.)

Well, this is earlier than normal bed time. That amounts for something, yes?