There’s a noble new blog out there entitled “Kill Barbaro,” that a commentor told us about yesterday. There’s not a ton of content there right now, but it’s a worthwhile subject, and I’m sure there’s plenty of room to grow. I don’t want Barbaro to die nearly as bad as that guy. In fact, I felt a slight twinge of compassion when I wrote that I wanted the horse dead… I sense no such thing here. Anyway, I’d also like to point you in the direction of two opposing viewpoints.
Phil Taylor at SI.com and Bernie Lincicome at the Rocky Mountain News both love Barbaro because he represents all that is good about athletes. He doesn’t have any of the shortcomings that so many other human athletes have. That’s why people gravitate towards Barbaro, they argue. “No spite, no malice, no sass, no head butts, no misquotes in Barbaro’s autobiography,” says Lincicome. Says Taylor, “Barbaro isn’t human, so he exhibits none of the human failings that disappoint us in our athletes and coaches. He never put his hoof in his mouth like Ozzie Guillen, or fell in love with himself like Terrell Owens. He never held out for more money, stiffed us for an autograph, tangled with the authorities or coasted when he should have been playing hard.”
Hoo boy. I just don’t know how you get there. “Yeah, humans aren’t doing it for me anymore, so let’s start rooting for animals.” That’s solid. That’s lucid. In fact, I think I’m going to apply that to all areas of my life. I haven’t talked to a friend of mine on the phone for a while, and I don’t like that, so my new best friend is a goddamn Irish Setter. And you know what, I don’t have a ton of success with the ladies, so yeah, I’m going to start fucking Sea Turtles. It’s a better option for me.
I’m sorry, and I really hate to take shots at columnists like this, but come on, fellas, you’re better than that. You know why Barbaro didn’t complain about anything? Well, to start with, HE’S A GODDAMN HORSE. They can’t talk, alright? Man, Phil Taylor and Bernie Lincicome must have really loved “Mr. Ed.” And you know why Barbaro ran so hard? Because someone was beating him with a whip. It’s not that remarkable. And you know why Barbaro doesn’t have an ego like that of Terrell Owens? Because his brain is the size of one of Tom Brady’s balls. He couldn’t have an ego if he wanted to. His brain of capable of about three different thoughts, “I’m hungry,” “I wish the little guy in silk would stop whipping me,” and “my fucking leg hurts.” That’s about it.
And you know what, I’m not even sure that I’m buying that Barbaro is so noble and courageous. We all just assume he is, because he doesn’t say anything. He’s completely incapable of verbally expressing any sort of thought or emotion, so we don’t know what’s going on in his horse brain. He might be a colossal prick. He’s probably a complete homophobe, and he hates all the gay horses. This whole injury thing may be an elaborate ruse that he’s staging because he’s unhappy with the amount of apples that he’s provided every day. In fact, he might be faking the whole goddamn thing. I don’t trust Barbaro. Not even for a second. He’s suspect.
Team USA began practice yesterday under the expert tutelage of Coach Mike Krzyzewski. The message he tried to impart on his first day in charge was dominance. 56 quarters of international ass-whoopin’. That’s the way The K wants things to go down. ESPN’s 
The British Open gets underway at some ungodly hour this morning. Hell, they might be playing right now. And I think it shapes up as one of the more compelling major tournaments in recent memory, at least in the pre-tournament build up. Storylines abound. You’ve got Tiger, still dealing with the loss of his father, having played poorly at the last major, but well in recent weeks. And there’s Phil Mickelson, fresh off of his debacle at the 72nd hole of the U.S. Open. And I suppose it’s something of a big deal that Tiger Woods and Nick Faldo (
