HEY, WILLIE!
I enjoyed your description of Ross Chastain’s “detour” at Indianapolis. I especially loved the comparisons to Burt Reynolds and his Trans-Am.
It made me want to go back and watch “Smokey and the Bandit” again. In fact, I think I will.
RUSS
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HEY, RUSS!
Quick review: On a restart with two laps remaining in Sunday’s road-course race at Indy, Chastain decided to skip Turn 1 and instead kept straight, along Indy’s front-stretch asphalt, then made a hard right on a piece of access road, then blended to the left and came back on the course alongside the leader.
Brilliant!
Except for those pesky rules of the road. Ross the Boss was penalized and saddled with an official finish of 27th.
Maybe because I’d recently re-watched the 1977 classic, I felt compelled to compare it to something Burt Reynolds (the Bandit) would’ve done to evade Jackie Gleason (Smokey).
And while watching the movie, I heard the great Jerry Reed (the Snowman) utter the line, “Boogity, boogity, boogity,” which reminded me of Darrell Waltrip borrowing that phrase all those years in the Fox booth.
Except, dang it, DW says he got the idea from the old Ray Stevens song, “The Streak.”
Here he comes — boogity, boogity. There he goes — boogity, boogity.
Or something like that.
HEY, WILLIE!
My interest in NASCAR is further dwindling due to silly infractions like the tape on Denny Hamlin’s car. So, what’s next, no duct tape to repair race damage? Maybe they’ll just use Gorilla Glue.
PETE
HEY, PETE!
How old were you when you realized it’s not actually called duck tape?
HEY, WILLIE!
Thanks for clearing up the new boundaries for redfish in the river. It sounds really clear. South of the big bridge (in New Smyrna Beach), toss it back.
But I have two questions.
First, the state says the Indian River Lagoon ends at Ponce Inlet, but I saw an article (in the News-Journal) a while back saying it now extends to the Flagler line. Which is it?
Secondly, how do you catch a redfish?
MICHAEL
HEY, MIKE!
The things you learn when you take ownership of the critically acclaimed weekly fishing report at the hometown newspaper. If the late and great Colin Johnson were here to see it, he’d choke on his 10 a.m. roast-beef sandwich.
Anyway, not just newcomers, but even longtime locals might be unaware that the Indian River in Southeast Volusia is actually part of the Indian River Lagoon, which also includes the Mosquito Lagoon and Banana River, and runs from Jupiter Inlet to Ponce Inlet.
Questions asked, questions answered:
1. Yes, the state stretched the northern boundary of the Lagoon beyond Ponce Inlet, some 25 miles to Highbridge Road north of Ormond Beach. But only for what they deemed “planning purposes,” allowing the state to include that stretch of the Intracoastal in any Lagoon projects. Geographically, however, Ponce Inlet is still the boundary.
2. I’m beginning to consider reverse psychology. If fishing for reds (or any other prized catch) and instead luring every damn catfish in the Western Hemisphere, why not fish for cats and see if the reverse is true? Can’t hurt.
HEY, WILLIE!
So I tried watching some of the Saudi golf tour (last weekend) and came away thinking it just wasn’t for me. It was hard to tell what I was missing. It just didn’t feel like I was watching a normal golf tournament.
EDDIE
HEY, ED!
You’re tempted to credit the LIV Tour or any tour willing to shake up the status quo — shotgun starts, team formats, etc. — but only on a here-and-there basis.
Even if you manage to separate all the political ramifications, and just focus on the golfing aspect of it, for me it boils down to one fact: I’ve always had a fairly enjoyable relationship with the way professional golf is conducted worldwide.
There’s an annual upper-tier tour on this continent and a few others, where professional golfers can become rich and famous.
Then there are the four major championships, where golfers can become historic.
Pretty neat and tidy, with plenty of shelf life. Some issues around the edges, of course (pace of play, the distance issue, etc.), but hardly anything that calls for shaking up the old world order.
And guess what. That’s right, talk has again turned to golf here, so you know how we’re ending things . . .
HEY, WILLIE!
A golfer hurries into his dentist’s office and says, “I’ve got two buddies out in the car, we have a tee time in 20 minutes, so we have to make this fast.”
“There’s no time for Novocaine, just pull the tooth so we can get going.”
The dentist reluctantly agrees to the request and asks, “OK, which tooth is it?”
The man turns to his wife and says, “Open your mouth, honey, and show the dentist.”
BOB
HEY, BOB!
Gotta admit, didn’t see it coming.
Good one.
— Reach Ken Willis at ken.willis@news-jrnl.com
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