With The 2016 Kentucky Derby near, should we care that Steve Asmussen is training a favorite, a hot pistol, Gun Runner, despite his being fined by the New York State Gaming Commission for violating its horsing drug rules - or should we care more that the fine was a paltry $10,000?

Ah, heck, let’s for a second - revel in the fact that this year, ex-NFL-stars like the likes of Shannon Sharpe, Thurman Thomas, and Warren Moon will attend, while we, during the two plus hours of pre-race TV coverage, can marvel at those wearing ostentatious hats knowing if those footballers sit behind those pretty people – even their views will be blocked.

Back to the big picture. Should we deride Asmussen’s defense? The silvery-grey haired Texan can counter his NY troubles saying that the Kentucky Horse Racing Commission found him scot-free of its rule contraventions, so (maybe his words when no one is around to listen) screw you - the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) - for not only lodging your complaints to both American States, but for your professed desire to nix the Kentucky Derby, the most exciting two minutes in sports along with your ultimate goal to can and ban, the Sport of Kings, the world of horse-racing completely.

So, should the Derby be sent to the glue factory, or should we, if not adore, at least accept Asmussen, the 50 year-old trainer, for his latest equine of excellence, the three-year-old colt, Gun Runner?
We’re talking a horsey, mixed feed bag here. Steve administered, directly or indirectly, medical stimulants to thoroughbreds, but his aforementioned sentence of $10 thou was, and is, nothing compared to his career earnings (2015) of $216,714,081...

PETA and Asmussen – are not easy to like, separate or together – so let’s treat the 2016 Churchill Downs’ horses as innocents, wonderful looking innocents in this speed spectacle.

Gun Runner has amassed the most points on the way to the Derby at 151. He won the Risen Star Stakes and is said to have had good light-workouts at the May 7th track so much so that Asmussen describes him as “...a very nice horse...”

Asmussen and his boy are ready and the UNBEATEN, in seven starts, favorite of favorites, Nyquist (named after Gustav Nyquist, the Detroit Red Wing Right Winger) and polled via the Courier-Journal Derby HQ as number one by voters, is most definitely chomping at the bit. Are we?

First things first. Nobody understands horses.  In the movie, Secretariat, trainer Lucien Laurin admitted he couldn’t get inside their heads. Experts use terms like:
Good work, a well handled work, a promising track maintenance work out, a long shot, short shot, a good break, into the early mix, bearing out or in...

So, phew, given that the pointy heads know no more than me and you, this thereby allows us fence sitters and rail birds to sit back and enjoy the extravaganza, knowing our own ill-informed biases and nonsensical views could very well be proven correct!

But we all understand that, just last year, American Pharaoh won the Triple Crown and this year the general admission stipend(s) starting at $3 per, will admit many, most, OK - all - who will wonder – can Gun Runner, Nyquist, or Mohaymen (another favorite) win this first leg and go on to repeat the Triple Crown Feat in consecutive years?  It was done by Seattle Slew in ’77 and Affirmed in ’78. Remember, too, this could have easily been a triple consecutive year for a Triple Crown winner for in 2014, California Chrome lost the last leg, the third race, the Belmont Stakes.

Second things second. Admittedly, a large portion of us will have never heard of Asmussen, let alone of his specific crimes or the general industry problems of mistreatment of thoroughbreds in the quest to be the best, what with our being up to our eye balls in betting parlays for the Kentucky Derby where we are sure we have cornered the market and squared the circle on “facts and figures” based on a heady brew of hyperbole, mysticism, cynicism, blind faith, or blind luck – or a combination in whole or in part – of these evidenced based handicapping “methods.”

And that’s how it will be for many. This race is supposed to be fun for the casual, once-a-year tune-in viewer.

Yet, for those that wear their hearts on their sleeves, or for those that wear the lampshade over their heads thanks to imbibing Kentucky bourbons while amping up for the 142nd Run for the Roses, the problem of folks such as Asmussen in the handling of their mounts, will grate.

Many say the sport is cruel what with jockeys whipping the animals, and when one considers the bodies of three-year olds are still developing, the whole premise of performance is built on shaky foundations.

Morphine is used to ameliorate pain. Steroids (PED’s) such as Winstrol are legal in some states, forbidden in others. Not surprisingly, Kentucky has been one of the more permissive states when it comes to drugs and equines. Doping expert Dr. Don Catlin thinks doping has been a problem in horse racing upwards of three decades. Industry stakeholders, represented by the Racing Medication and Testing Consortium, want consistent rules across the USA, believing the racing public, not to mention the horses’, interests are damaged when a quilt of regulations makes the whole industry a mug’s game.

So this year’s Kentucky Derby will be fraught with controversy. Fortunately, however, brilliant demonstrations such as “Thunder Over Louisville” the fireworks and air show nonpareil – and the Pegasus Parade, will have everybody on board knowing that there is so much more to the Kentucky Derby than the running of horses.
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Now let’s get ready, seated as we are in the best-spot, the Turf Club, for the bugle call - antsy about the post positions, wrangy at the slamming starting-gate opening, and slap happy at the mad, final dash to the wire - no matter who wins.
 

Not to encourage crime, but if you have to outrun a police force which forgets to bring bullets that day, try getting in a mad-dash with a member of the Chicago Police Department. Apparently about ¾ of its members pass on taking fitness tests – even if they are offered $350 to do so.

So, why do they refuse to run 1 ½ miles, do bench presses, or live through sit-ups?

Well, for one thing, such extra exertions didn’t sit well with their Fraternal Order. Dean Angelo is the president and he said (basically) the $350 was chickenfeed.

For another thing, union bigwigs, back in 2002, said (basically) thanks, but no thanks, to City Hall’s idea of minimum fitness standards. And, for a third thing, the force may be feeling way too besieged and too beleaguered to worry about backs, biceps, and buttocks, what with half the USA thinking they are trigger happy and the other half thinking they are cover-up cronies.
 
Heck, even email-private-server-under-FBI-investigation, Hillary Clinton, wants the police probed by the feds for its white-cop-black-suspect dynamics. (The U.S. Department of Justice has opened an investigation.)

And a quick glance at the first page of the CPD’s official website, besides having an Online Services tab which features said services IN NO ALPHABETICAL ORDER whatsoever -  has many criminal community alerts and nothing about physical fitness of those men and women paid to serve. And, quite possibly, many members don’t care a whit for their health for reasons god knows why...all of these things contradicting one of their stated core values being “...excellence as our standard.”

It’s not like the force doesn’t believe in fitness for some of its staff. Back in 2013 when the force was hiring, entrants had to do, um, a 1 ½ mile run, some sit-ups and a bench press. So rookies would rock, only to become veterans going soft...

Incentive, that $350, may be lacking. The police are paid well, compared to most Americans. Granted, the job probably has stress levels through the ozone, but after 18 months on the job they take in over $65,000

Moreover, who cares if one gets sick? They get paid sick leave and have healthcare and pension plans. Cushy. Easier to be a couch potato than to be a calisthenics aficionado.  They’d fit right in with British Bobbies, many of whom fail their annual fitness tests and with the Canadian military, of whom some 70% were overweight in 2007-2008.

We must be balanced here. I fairness, the CPD does have a fitness award. Here’s what a member must do to get it.
“Presented to any Department sworn member, in addition to the Department Emblem of Recognition, wherein the member has participated voluntarily, during off-duty hours, in a fitness agility test to determine the (sic) members level of physical fitness and has received a passing score on the exam.”

And in one brief CPD documentary video where members of the force talk about what it takes to become a member, there is a weight room in the background - and while no one is lifting - one guy is jogging on a running machine and another guy is sitting on a bench, looking somewhat ready to do...something.

Not a very high bar though, huh?

There is a direct tie between physical health and mental health. If the force worked to improve the former, the latter would benefit and perhaps their motivations, morale, and mores would improve. The police feel they are being made scapegoats, by politicians and media, for all that bedevils that city – not a good framework to base one’s working shift on while reporting for duty.

Now, it would be a reach too far to think that a healthier force could help solve racial animus between community and cops but it sure wouldn’t hurt. We all know that when we feel better about ourselves our relations improve with everyone in our milieu. There is no reason to believe that police members wouldn’t experience the same results.
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The police force may have a “code of silence” according to Mayor Rahm Emmanuel, but their reluctance to engage in their physical well being speaks louder than words.   

What is it about endurance athletes and their apparent predilection to cut corners – cheat? First we had Kendall Schler, who cheated in the St. Louis marathon in 2015. And now, apparently we have triathlete, Julie Miller, of Squamish, Canada who wasn’t the least bit squeamish about cheating her way in Ironman’s.

Briefly, Julie has been accused of flimflamming her way through the Whistler Ironman and the Half Ironman in Vancouver: but other race results are under question as well.

When not embroiled in racing disputations, Miller is a mental-health counselor, focused on body image hang-ups. One might be tempted to recommend she live the proverb “physician heal thyself” for something has to be missing mentally not only in her ethics and conscience to cheat, but to be missing in her perspective and self-awareness  to then, astoundingly, with blinders on, presume she can help others.  (She says her clients should ignore the publicity of her athletic imbroglios.)

And one is definitely tempted to wonder why on earth she’d bother to engage in premeditated, as opposed to spur-of-the-moment, cheating in  a sport only hard-ass competitors and hardcore fans care about – for isn’t finishing one of these grueling ordeals enough of a reward?

Moreover, it wasn’t as if she was going for the whole kit and caboodle in these events. She was running and winning in her age category, 40-44. Even victorious, untainted by accusation and suspicion, no hieroglyphics would be etched into monuments extolling her efforts. So, again, why the rip-offs? Why be a podium impostor?

If she knew her conditioning was not up to snuff to actually win, why not run 10k’s, or sprint along sandy beaches, or take the dog for a brisk walk to keep fit, and feel warm and fuzzy about herself? Why the overweening, somewhat embarrassing, desire to be noticed, recognized, rewarded as a world champion?

If the accusations about her fitness frauds are true (they are difficult to definitively prove) lord knows what she’s going to tell her two young daughters about these controversies when their questions invariably arise.

What’s craziest, however, was the dollars she’d spend, and the places she’d go, to take shortcuts. She has run races in such far-off locales such as Motala, Sweden and in Weihai, China. So not only is she thought to be a cad, locally, but might be thought to be a cad, globally too.
 
Now, it should be emphasized that Ms. Miller has not been found guilty in court. She is believed to have had weird, unreasonably fast bike times in two of the four laps in the Vancouver Subaru Ironman and to have cut portions in the running segment - and her case isn’t helped in somehow losing her timing chips (which allow organizers to chart times for race portions) in the Whistler Ironman in 2013 and 2015. She’s puzzled as to how they were lost. (Timing chips are strapped around the ankle.) And some think losing the chip, but not the strap, is hardly plausible – for some have lost the straps in competition.

No, she’s not legally guilty but in perhaps the arena most important in weighing innocence or otherwise, the court of her peer athletes – well, they’ve weighed in – and they don’t believe her successes. The proofs they offer in doubting her deeds include getting feedback from race volunteers and competitors as to whether they saw Miller at various points in races, plus getting onlooker and official race pictures...

Their findings have definitely caused Ironman to ban her from future races and have apparently caused her coach, Bjoern Ossenbrink, to drop her from his racing stable.

Now, of course, folks are dropping caustic bombs on her (paraphrasing): She just gets lost often; did dolphins help her in swim parts; her legs don’t look like world-class champion pistons; the actual winners had their moments in the bright lights robbed from them; she’s a dog for being a glory hound...

Julie Miller professes her innocence. Perhaps she’d be amenable to taking a lie detector test...Perhaps she could explain, if she knew her chips went missing in the two races, why she didn’t report this to organizers as required...perhaps she could offer to run a marathon to test how fast she really is...perhaps she could explain why she didn’t use the 15 day period Triathlon Canada granted her, to appeal their decision to ban her for two years.

It’s not like she’s without resources. She’s apparently retained a defamation lawyer. She says she is very organized and gets quality shut-eye. She hasn’t been accused of cheating by drafting on a bike. For the main part, she’s been admired by other Squamish citizens, and her husband, Ryan Letchford, is a bedrock of support.

Academically, her undergraduate degree is in Outdoor Recreation. She has a Masters in Social Work. Sure, these are nebulous disciplines, unquantifiable at best, and a hodge-podge at worst, but so far her employer, Quest University Canada, has not axed her as a counsellor and that institution says “...she is a strong community member...” whatever that means. A student-client seems willing to forgive her. (Although having the support of Quest U, which aims low, being a non-profit, eschewing the standard, institutional global game of excellence tracked by financial successes, and which offers but one degree, a Bachelor of Arts and Sciences - may not be enough to rest one’s tattered laurels on.)
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So, ultimately, how will this all play out? Sadly, but hopefully, if Julie has any decency, if, in her heart of hearts, she knows she is truly guilty, the only running she’ll do now is to run and hide – and maybe get some help along the way for her habit of using her hobby horse as a hobby hoax – or fess up, face the music, and rebuild her reputation - one step at a time.  

We all have our conceptions about croquet. We think it a quaint pastime played by the genteel, The Great Gatsby well heeled, over long summer days, with even longer drinks near to hand. We think it of a bygone era, played in somewhat formal attire, with little in the way of testiness, unless one gets a chance to smash an opponent’s ball into the next county – and when one does gleefully and wickedly - then all bets are off.

These notions will be dealt with, and mostly dashed.

The 2016 World Croquet Championship starts April 16th and we youngins, middlings, and old fogeys can enjoy this sport because – and this conception is true - we can play it, sometimes well, until we, well, pass. Australia, England, and the USA will have the biggest teams, but they and 12 other regions, 80 players in all, will congregate in West Palm Beach, Florida, to hit corner, carom, cannon and stop-shots, to name but four strokes.
  
Croquet – and there are many variations of this game – is confusing. You’ve got association croquet versus golf croquet. You’ve got your “Easy Nine” the “Thrap”, the “Frap” the “Handicap Limiter” or the “Three Hoop Bisques” – you can see the problem in permutation possibilities. Looking at the rule changes adopted in 2007, led the writer to surmise the variation for the 2016 WCC, will be nine-wicket croquet. Or six-wicket croquet.

But no matter the brand of croquet, for those really good at it, they take it seriously, frowning on a flubbed shot, concentrating (usually accompanied by a swing back and forth, between the legs, of the three-pound mallet many, MANY times before contact is made, all in the quest to visualize the target while watching the direct contact point) smiling every once in a while...

Perhaps the players should smile more because, hey, let’s face it; this activity appears to be a stark departure from life’s onerous chores. It seems to be an overture to free time, free of the daily grind, rid of constraints of the clock, showing a proof-of-life of one’s athletic actualities, knowing to partake would seem to risk neither life nor limb to hurt or harm. Moreover, it looks like fun, looks like a kind of bucolic-tonic - of take this, try that, take that...

You think it a slow sport? That’s Ok; it is still something octogenarians can get passionate about. Perhaps they don’t trash talk, but it gives them a reason to get out of the house. And surely the colliding of croquet clubs (our aforementioned mallets) to balls (usually made of plastic nowadays) rocks. And the roquet, where you hit an opponent’s ball you are “alive on” has got to be the cock-of-the-walk.

Yet the terminology and tactics are as mind boggling as are the types of croquet. Tony Hall was president of the World Croquet Federation. Now in his eighties he still loves to play. Here’s how he describes playing Association Croquet world champion, Robert Fletcher, in the 2015 Australian Open. Oh, by the way, Robert was 22 at the time.

“The next morning Robert won the toss and put his first ball a yard West and three yards North of hoop 5, a super-shot opening. I went to just South of corner 2. To my surprise he missed my ball, leaving me a juicy double. Again to my surprise, I hit the double, rushed a ball South of his first ball, loaded hoop 2 accurately, rushed his ball to a couple of feet in front of hoop 1 and approached that hoop to just a few inches, dead in front. I had won the opening!
Alas, my senior's moment arrived and I stuck in the hoop. He made nine, I missed the lift shot and he finished that first game 26tp-0, as expected.”

Clearly, the game is quite complicated if one is not familiar with its intricacies.

As for Fletcher, he sheds light on the game’s finer points. He says the game resembles snooker, with its requirement to know angles and shot making. It also, like golf, calls for a reading of undulations as the grass grounds are not flat. And like chess, it requires superior strategic planning to be a better player. He could have added mental stamina too. It takes a lot of brainy endurance to stay focused and in the moment when winning a game can take one to three hours plus.

In the end, naturally, the idea is to win. Losing gracefully, while being a winning trait, can’t be as much fun as vanquishing the enemy, especially if that conquest involves making a jump shot. These are super cool to execute, and look like the kind of shot that can deflate an opponent and balloon one’s own confidence. But no matter what shots you use to amass wicket (hoop) and stake (peg) points, the ultimate object of the game is...
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To give it a try sometime, if you haven’t done so already, or, at least, follow Robert Fletcher’s mallet machinations at the 2016 World Croquet Championship.
 

The 2016 Masters, 80th edition, should sizzle with Bubba Watson, Rickie Fowler, Adam Scott, Phil Mickelson, #1 ranked Jason Day, Rory McIlroy, and Jordan Spieth being favorites. Lefties Bubba and Phil are said to have an advantage playing Augusta, as they’ll being playing fades, not draws. (Fades, traditionally, are easier to hit then draws.)

Bubba admits that fighting “being scared” was a big factor in his Augusta successes – and this after being familiar with the course from his University of Georgia days.

Hopefully Rickie can go into Augusta confident, though it may not be easy as he lost to Jason Dufner in round one of the WGC-Dell Match Play Championship, despite bombing a 410-yarder on the 12th.

Adam is definitely confident, anchoring early 2016 with two consecutive wins while adapting to life without the anchored putter, outlawed this year. And Phil, while not having won this year, nor in 2015 or 2014, has posted some quality finishes and is currently number 1 in scoring average at 69.008 as at March 27th. Some thanks must go to his new swing coach, Andrew Getson, who replaced Butch Harmon and has helped Phil achieve lower scores through more consistent shot making.

Jason figures that Rory, Jordan, and Rickie hold a slight advantage over he and others that have to balance golf with fathering young kids - though Day won the Arnold Palmer Invitational by one stroke with a superb sand shot on the 18th to seal the deal. And Day’s adopted Tiger’s golfing keys: patience and aggression. (His driving, scrambling, and putting - ranked number one overall in the 2014-15 season helped him win this past week, despite a wonky back, the WGC. (He beat Rory in a semi-final by a stroke.)

Rory, for his part, had his best finish ever at the Masters, last year, shooting a 12 under. In fact, his last six rounds at Augusta have been under par. This year he’s decided not to put undue pressure on himself. He’ll be more relaxed, hoping this pays off – and if it does, he’ll have a career Grand Slam – but not if he doesn’t get rid of the double bogeys that killed him in Palmer’s tournament.

But for the son of Texas, Jordan Spieth? Of late, he missed the cut at the Northern Trust Open and tied for 21st at the AT&T Pebble Beach and tied for 17th at the World Golf Championships. At Valspar his 3rd round putting woes made the highlights/lowlights and in the final round, he lost head-to-head against amateur, Lee McCoy – who finished fourth. In three of four rounds Spieth started slowly, when he started at all. So he’s coming into the Masters seeking better play. Remember, however, he did win, by eight shots, the Hyundai Tournament of Champions this January, it’s not like he needs total redemption. But cold play of late is cold play, no matter how you, ahem, slice it.  (He started slicing his irons in his loss to Louis Oosthuizen in the round of 16 at the WGC. He added, “He felt very uncomfortable over the ball.”) Yesterday, however, at the Shell Houston Open, he shot a 67 in the first round. When asked about his game he replied “...It’s very close.”

Wanna an august dark horse? How about Zack Johnson? He’s the only current player who has won both the Masters and The (British) Open. The others are Tiger Woods, Nick Faldo, Seve Ballesteros, Jack Nicklaus, and slammin’ Sammy Snead...

This course has undergone many changes since Snead’s day, with the latest proposed change to lengthen the 13th hole, if Augusta National Golf Club can, no pun intended, swing a deal to buy land from the adjoining Augusta Country Club. The hole already stands at some 510 yards and one pro, Billy Horschel is horrified at the thought. Jack Nicklaus thinks, on the other hand, that adding a little length there might be a good idea. The reason why folks in the know are looking at the 13th is they want to prevent the long-ball drivers from playing over the trees because, if done perfectly, they have a wedge coming into the green.

But before one gets to the 13th, the 12th must be tackled. This par-3 is called the scariest 155 yards in golf and its swirling winds are so infamous, pointy-headed engineers from Johns Hopkins are studying the situation there, to prevent future golfers from being scared silly.

The Masters is a Major with attention to detail like no other: where else can you find the most beautiful dogwood trees and azalea shrubs – 30+ in type - nestled in with the other estimated 350 varieties of plants? Heck, even off-the-field situations are scrutinized. (This 2016, for example, fans “patrons” in Augusta-speak, will no longer mess with the traffic, trying to cross Berckmans Road. Thanks to the Augusta Traffic Engineer – yes there is such a title and person, Steve Cassell - they’ve now under-road pedestrian tunnels to access the grounds. Which is great, but the hardest work is still to be done, walking, climbing and descending this very hilly golf course. And don’t wander off the 11th to the left – as you’ll end up in a 55 acre wildlife preserve.)

Despite CBS Sports’ primary golf announcer, Jim Nantz, opening the Masters evoking wonderful traditions and amazing competitions, this Major has had an ugly past, where the golfers had to be white, and male, and the caddies had to be black, and male. For the latter, whether this was a make-work-program or a weird reminder of slavery, isn’t quite clear. Lee Elder broke the black-as-player color barrier in the 1975 Masters.

One new truly great tradition is the stipulation that no cell phones be allowed onto the course during the Masters.

Clearly The Masters will be blessed with a top notch youth core, but, nevertheless, golfing spectators will ask: when’s the next Guan Tianlang coming along? Who’s Guan? He was the Chinese player, just 14 years of age, who not only qualified for the 2013 Masters, but made the cut and finished 58th! What a dreamy finish.

But, alas, the man who inspired the golfing dreams of millions, Arnold Palmer, The King, who, as Day puts it “...made golf sexy...” will not hit the first drive in the honorary tee-off at this year’s Masters. At 86, with a sore shoulder, he figures it’s time to take a pass.

Sigh.

Even great, grand, major-master traditions must change with the times...
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But note: Bubba tweeted that son Caleb Watson’s favorite Masters Champion is Arnold Palmer. The King being favorite? That august tradition will never change.