SECRETE

To place out of sight. To discharge. To seep out. To eek out.

If you like secrets, you'll love the NFL draft. Whom will they pick with the Number 2 slot in the draft Saturday? The Rams, of course. My St. Louis Rams. Owners of the second worst record in the league last season. They have earned their Number two selection because of futility.

Number 1 has already been selected by the only team worse than the Rams last year, the Dolphins. They shelled out $57.5 million for an offensive lineman from Michigan. I thought all Michigan players were offensive, but this guy proved it by signing this hefty contract. And if he's making that kind of money, what do you think the owners are taking in? I read today that the Rams franchise is valued at over $900 million dollars. For a team that won 3 games last year.

So are they going to select Chris Long, Huey Long's son from Virginia? Or Glenn Dorsey from LSU? How about Vernon Gholston from The Ohio State University (why the The?)? Or are they going to trade the pick?

One has to be good at deception. Drop a name. Drop a position. Outright lie. Finagle. Surprise. It'll keep the beat writers hopping, and the War Rooms buzzing.

It'll keep computers hot. It'll make a household name out of Mel Kiper. It'll increase hype for the NFL season.

In our fantasy football league, we select the top ten to determine our draft order. One owner last season got the first 7 correct and in order. Naturally, he got the first pick in our draft and beat the tar out of me both times I played him last year. So it's of vital importance to see and predict who goes where.

Rams--you're on the clock. Don't mess it up, or you may get to pick there at Number 2 again next season.

THE AMERICAN IDOL: THE RESULTS ARE IN

But are they on the level? Where's Price and Waterhouse? Where's the Florida Attorney General? Where's Mayor Daley?

They don't seem to do much to authenticitize. Are we to believe that Carly and Sayesha were the two lowest vote-getters after their performances this week? While Juan, this year's Sanjaya, and Brooke, who forgot the lyrics of her song were not voted off? Both deserved to go; instead they're on tour with the American Idol and the final five.

Now Brooke may be sweet with some talent, but that doesn't mean America has to love her. She's really not that good. Juan has some ability, too. He just didn't show it this week. And he didn't know anything about Cats? That should disqualify him there. But with a small string instrument and a beach, he could make it. His "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," version, though patterned after the big Hawaiian was great, and placed him ahead of Brooke for me.

But back to the business of tabulation and reports. Why has no one ever questioned or wanted to see the results? Why no squawks when one loses as Michael Johns did two weeks ago? In my opinion, he was second to David Cook. And if Cook doesn't win, it will be a robbery.

But I want some validation. Prove to me that America really let Brooke and Juan slide. Otherwise, I'm really concerned about November.

BEATING THE ROOSTER UP

Our daughter used to call it OPT when she came to visit during her college years. Old People's Time. At about the time she was ready to go out for the evening, we were ready for bed. It's only gotten worse.

Tomorrow morning I have to take good friends to the airport at 5:00 AM. Problem? Not for me. I won't even have to set the alarm. Somehow my brother has it, too. And I think our son. If we have to get up at a certain time, we just wake up then. All I do is look at the clock before falling asleep, which usually takes all of 60 seconds for me, tops. Then I think to myself (isn't that a crazy expression--think to myself? who else am I going to think to, or who else could think for me?) 3:45, for instance, and that's when I awaken. Almost as if I will myself that hour.

This morning was the one day of this week, most weeks in fact, that I could sleep late. No early morning bible study, no early morning bible studies for my wife who needs awakened by me or an alarm, no early morning tee time or early morning church dictated by an early morning prayer ministry we are part of. So, what time did I arise? 5:14. Yep, I beat the rooster up again.

Actually we have no roosters, but they do start fairway mowing quite early and I beat them up. I miss the trains that used to wake me up with their almost Lotus-eater or Siren calling in the distance. But I was early for them, too.

But I've never understood why young people like to stay up late and sleep late and old folks are just the opposite. Maybe I just answered my own question. So we don't get in their way. And vice versa.

Yet I know some people my age that still hold on to the timetable of youth. I envy them at night, but in the morning I think it would be terrible to have to drag myself up, to wake up groggy and to start my day in a rush. But I'm sure they'd say I'd hate to have to close my eyes at a commercial at 8:30 PM and nap for twenty minutes and then still go to bed at 9:15. And I'd agree.

For me, I'm afraid it's the lark and not the nightingale. Fortunately, my wife hears the same bird. Otherwise, I'd never get to see her.

WHERE DOES IT GO WHEN IT GOES AWAY?

Some of my faithful readers have heard most of this story. Hopefully, they won't have to sit and stew about where did I hear that from him? In case you do, it was at Jim and Joyce's house. Saturday morning. Remember?

When we were in MTV we took our three grandchildren to see Nim's Island. The theatre was warm, it was at night, my belly was filled with popcorn, so I dozed off for awhile. I should have added that it was dark and kinda quiet.

After the show, our 7-year old who wasn't even sitting next to me said, "You went to sleep and missed the movie." I protested. He responded, "Ok. How many ships were in the movie?" "One," I surmised. "Three," he informed me. "Oh, yeah, I forgot that."

"Ok," he continued, "What was the name of the lizard?" I couldn't even hazard a guess. "Freddy," they said it several times. It's easy to see that he's learning from his two attorney parents.

So yesterday, I'm trying to think of the name of the lizard. I didn't tell anyone. I wasn't going to share the story. I just couldn't recall the lizard's name. Larry, was all I could come up with.

But the first thing this morning, it was there. "Freddy," I thought to myself.

Now, where the heck was that all day yesterday? And how did, and by the why, why did it come to me today? Somewhere in those recesses. Along with a zillion other things I should be able to recall but can't. Somewhere in that silo storage tank of knowledge and experiences.

But I'm glad I wrote about it. If I forget, all I have to do is call up this blog entry. Now, if I can just remember my password.

THEY SICKEN ME

They are losers, chokers, soft and I can't stand them. They are the Phoenix Suns.

They make me remember so many beautiful autumn days wasted. Staying inside on Sunday afternoons watching my feckless St. Louis Football Cardinals lose. Season after season. Oh, they got close at times, just like the Suns. They entertained, fell short, and could always count on me to be there for them. In front of the tv when I couldn't go to the game itself.

I know what it must feel like to be a Cubs fan. You love to watch your team play. It's a magnet draw. An attraction. A habit. Certainly a vice. Probably an addiction. But you know,back in your mind of minds that it simply ain't gonna happen. The Suns will not win an NBA title anymore than the Cubs will win a World Series. And Cub fans know it, too.

In yesterday's game, a double overtime loss to the much despised Spurs, the Suns blew a 16 point lead, a five point lead in the first overtime, and repeatedly either made mental errors or physical errors to allow the Spurs to go up 1-0. And this is only the first round. And I haven't mentioned coaching blunders that kept Barbosa in the game to play (at) defense and put the game winning shot in his hands, too. And Diaw. What's a Diaw anyway? It's the sound I made when they in-bounded the ball to him. When have either hit big shots for the Suns? Maybe against the Bucks or Bulls, but never against the premier teams. Yet that's who we go to.

Yes, I used the word "we" in the last sentence. For you see, come Tuesday night, I'll be there in front of the tv, proudly sitting in a Suns tee shirt rooting for them. I'll feel good about myself for not yelling at the tv, either players, coaches, or referees. And then it'll happen: a bad call, a bad shot, blown coverage, and I'll rage. And I'll complain. But I'll be there as long as the Suns last. Which I know deep down, won't be too long.