NOV
DEC
AUG
SEPT
OCT
MAY
JUNE
JULY
SPORTS ARCHIVES
SPORTS COMMENT    BY    S. LYLE OCONNOR
I'M BACK!  No doubt, you are aware that my wildly popular "Unsportsmanlike Comment" has been in hiatus for the last four months.  It wasn't a voluntary thing; I was unable to write because

I WAS ABDUCTED!

The ordeal started back in October, on Halloween night.  I was at home greeting
trick-or-treaters when a couple of cute little aliens came to my door.  I gave them two packs of sweetarts.  They immediately devoured them, package and all!  I was very impressed with the quality of their masks.  Somebody's mum and dad spent some time and money!   The dialect they spoke was incompressible to me, however they seemed to understand each other quite well.  Pretty clever kids!

After ingesting the sweetarts, they became quite agitated.  I'm talking major sugar buzz. They stood there, with their hands out for more.  Hell, costumes this good deserve something extra, so I gave em each an extra hand full, which they promptly devoured,  -- again, packages and all.  OHHH-KAAAY!  Anyway, I wished em a happy Halloween, and went to close the door.

Then it got weird.  I was unable to close the door; I was unable to move at all.  I couldn't even hold the bowl of sweetarts, -- it fell from my hand.  But it didn't fall far; it hung in mid air a few inches below my hands.  Then suddenly, I was hanging in mid air.  -- Paralyzed. The next thing I know, the candy bowl and I are floating down the sidewalk.  I was yelling profusely, crying out for help, but no sound came out of my voice box!  We rounded the corner and headed into a wooded area.  I was beginning to get this feeling that maybe these weren't just kids in costumes after all. Then, I blacked out.

When I awoken, I found myself spread eagle on an examining table, with about a dozen of the little trick-or-treaters gathered round me.  The tallest one had a strange looking apparatus in his hands, a long tubular apparatus that made a familiar 'buzzing' sound.  The alien turned the knob at the bottom on the apparatus.  The buzz became louder and higher pitched.  Then he pushed a large red button.  Inexplicably, my pants and underwear flew off.  I definitely do NOT like the look of this, not one bit, no sir. 
No sir-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Well, this was day #1 of my 4-month ordeal, and it was my first experience with
"sha-la-bunging", as my alien friends referred to it.

It was a living hell, but as the weeks past, I learned to relax my  you know, my "muscles ah, downstairs."   After I learned to relax a bit, my twice daily anal probing, began to be a little less unpleasant.  I swear there was times when I was so God-awful bored, that I would almost look forward it.

The food on the spaceship was okay, nothing to brag about, but okay.  For each meal I would order off a Country Kitchen menu.  I know  CK mostly sucks.  But let's face it, when it's 4 in the morning and you have the munchies, it tastes pretty damn good, right?  Well it's about the same thing when you're cruising at warp-factor 4 in an alien space ship.  It tastes pretty dam good. 

And talk about fast service, the food would arrive in seconds!  And have you ever noticed how good the food photos look on the menu?  Like man, if my omelet actually looked like that, -- it would damn near be edible.  Well, at this Country Kitchen in the sky, everything came out exactly like the menu!  -- Right down to the smallest detail.  I mean right down the 3 water droplets on the pickle slice.  Exact.  Every time.  I found out that they have this high tech copy machine with a 3D molecular output.  It was unfortunate that Country Kitchen was the only menu they managed to procure.  Why couldn't it have been a menu from a four-star restaurant?

A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR: Recently S. Lyle O'Connor has taken a sabbatical, about 4 mo. Worth. You have no idea how hard it is to keep these arrogant, egotistical snobs noses to the grindstone. Sports writers are especially susceptible to slow downs and inactivity, you see they can't comment well on any type of sports spectacle unless they have a belly full of Malt Liquor, or so they say. This causes a continuous cycle of drinking, short burst of writing, followed by long periods of sleep and memory loss. S. Lyle O'Connor claims to have a good excuse for his absence, I will let you decide please enjoy part one of "I'M BACK" by S. Lyle O'Connor
I'M BACK
Catch part two of "I'M BACK" next month right here in UNSPORTSMANLIKE COMMENT