Reporter Greg Zeman takes a moment to enjoy the scenery inside the lobby of the Embassy Suites Hotel San Francisco Airport. RAMSEY EL-QARE / THE GUARDSMAN

(Un)natural splendor

In the quest to get your kicks, sometimes you’ve got to wander off the beaten path, or a least find a new one to wander on. I know of such a path that leads to a tranquil oasis, splashed by waterfalls that feed crystal pools filled with colorful fish, shaded by tall trees and gently swept by a cool breeze of air conditioning.

The Tropical Atrium at the Embassy Suites Hotel San Francisco Airport is just the sort of gem I set out to share when I first took the helm of Suite 415. Sure, at $10 a head the all-you-can-eat breakfast is fairly priced and a fairly excellent way to start your day, but the real draw for me is the setting.

If you get tired of simulated =nature, the hotel’s back door opens to Peninsula Beach on the west shore of the bay. There is a paved path that traces the water’s edge, providing unique views of planes coming and going from SFO with the San Mateo Bridge as a backdrop. Like any path, it could lead to adventure. No promises though.

And now, a promise

If you saw the silver lining in my lukewarm Tonga Room review and chanced a visit, you’ve seen first-hand what a failed attempt at an indoor, tropical grotto looks like — a stinky pool with a jazz band floating in it. This is not like that, I promise.

Take that, nature

The ceiling is clear glass and reaches up as high as the top floor, creating an open atmosphere with lots of natural light and air circulation. The soothing gurgle of the waterfall is untainted by unnatural sound. That’s right — no Muzak. It’s basically all the good things about eating outside without any of the less desirable elements like nasty weather, flying insects, crawling insects and insects that crawl and fly — mostly into your food and face.

If you don’t feel like having breakfast, or it isn’t being served when you visit, you can always sit at a waterside table or stand on one of the three wooden bridges spanning the ponds and watch the brilliant spectrum of koi teeming beneath the water’s surface.
Those fish must be incredibly lonely, or just really hungry, because they flocked to wherever I was standing and followed me around like Pac-Man ghosts.

Playing koi

I mentioned in my last article that I’m actually a five-year-old, so for me, the appeal of playing freeze-tag with schools of carp was irresistible. The smell of dense foliage and sizzling eggs and sausage mingled in my nostrils and the babbling waters seemed to giggle with me as I gleefully scampered from bridge to bridge with hordes of colorful fish chasing me. Or was I chasing them?

Either way, management was very understanding about the whole affair.

Verdict 5/5

The Tropical Atrium offers a relaxing atmosphere and a B-plus breakfast buffet at a C-minus price. It boasts fresh waffles and pancakes, eggs cooked-to-order and all the little things, like strong coffee, that make life worth living again after a long night.

There is a small fishing pier a few yards from the hotel, but after playing with the little guys in the pond I didn’t have the heart to do anything but stand on it.

The wonderful month of March is here and flowers seem to be blooming faster than Greg Zeman’s  rough beard.

Two things make this month special — March Madness and the return of Major League Baseball.

I might be more excited for fantasy baseball as opposed to getting psyched about the 2010 San Francisco Giants. Sorry that I’m not feeling gung-ho about the signings of Aubrey Huff and Mark DeRosa to this season’s club.

The pitching remains solid, but what did the Giants do to improve the pitiful offense from last season? Not much, but the good thing to remember is when have the Giants ever looked good on paper?

The answer is not often. Yet in a division that’s so unpredictable, who knows, maybe the Giants will make some noise and sneak into the playoffs.

I have the rest of semester to break down this year’s team, so let’s switch gears and talk about possibly the most exciting sporting event of the year, the NCAA Tournament.

In a event that has the office geeks scrambling for brackets to fill out, there is nothing like the excitement these three weeks provide.

With Kansas, Kentucky, and Syracuse being the favorites coming in, this year’s tournament looks to be as unpredictable as ever. I’ll refrain from any predictions for the time being but I’m leaning towards the Wildcats from the Bluegrass State.

With Giants baseball, March Madness, and the NFL’s start of the free agency period with no salary cap, March is looking like a month that will provide plenty of excitement and sunshine.

Idiot of the Week
I have to go with Jay McGwire, the younger brother of steroid using, home run bashing Mark McGwire. What a punk this guy Jay is.

As the elder McGwire admitted to using in his playing days, the newly appointed hitting coach of the St. Louis Cardinals must’ve been shocked when he got word his bro was writing a book about him.

Jay’s book, “Mark and Me: Mark McGwire and the Truth Behind Baseball’s Worst-Kept Secret,” is out on bookshelves and chronicles when he introduced his older brother to steroids.
Family and blood is obviously not thicker than money when it comes to the McGwire’s. Welcome Jay to the I.D.H.O.F., you gutless human being.

Miscellaneous
The Winter Olympics are over and I failed to mention anything about them. Sorry, but I did watch the U.S. and Canada gold medal hockey game.

Great drama and excitement, but it ended in heartbreak for the red, white and blue. If you don’t know, Canada won in overtime 3-2 as star Sidney Crosby (who I thought was American with the way this country hypes him) scored the game winner to further enhance his legend status in Canada.

Also, I want to end this column by giving a shot out to men’s basketball team manager Mario Gomez. Reason being, he came into this season with a goal of dropping his weight down to 205 pounds and dropped over 30 pounds to reach it.
To one of the loyal Ram supporters, big ups to Mario for working hard and getting the job done.

I have tried to stay away from the Tiger Woods mess, but after seeing how this has put the sports world on pause, it’s time for my thoughts on the ordeal.

Woods cheated on his wife and has stepped away from golf to try to repair his marriage. As Woods spoke out to the public this past Friday, golfers like Ernie Els felt the timing was selfish because of the WGC-Accenture Match Play Championship that often features the worlds best golfers.

Here is a memo to all of the golfers out there: Your tournament would not be crap without Tiger. The purses that have inflated at PGA Tour events would not be what they are without Woods and the game of golf would not be where it is today without him either.

What happened in Woods’ personal life is really none of our business. Did he do something wrong on the golf course? No. He did something in private that he will have to live with for the rest of his life.

Not that I am condoning it at all, but Woods has earned the right in his profession to speak when he wants to. If he wanted to do a press conference at the Masters during the final round, so be it. Golf would never have this type of attention without him.

I’m sure a lot of people will disagree with this assessment, but how do you feel when everybody is in your personal business? Do we like it when people talk about us behind our backs?

Nobody does and with paparazzi or the media following you around and commenting on your every move, we would snap and have a mental breakdown.

So please, if we forgave Kobe Bryant and his cheesy act to buy his love after cheating on his wife, we can accept Woods’ sincerity and let him ease back into what he does best — dominating the world of golf.

Idiot of the Week
The Idiot Hall of Fame Committee had to cancel this week’s ceremonies due to snow, rain and plane delays, but there are still a couple of athletes who deserve mention.

Floyd Landis is on the ballot and will get his due consideration in the next issue (yes, The Water Cooler dives into the grueling sport of cycling.) Hopefully, in the next two weeks we’ll get enough candidates to make this the best ceremony yet.

There is also a rumor that the Wizards’ Josh Howard was hungover and unable to play in a game while he was a member of the Dallas Mavericks.

This is the same guy who dissed the national anthem on camera, participated in street racing during the offseason and admitted to dating “Mary Jane” during his time-off from basketball.
The I.H.O.F. will be in for some great festivities two weeks from now.

Miscellaneous
I had the pleasure of watching the replay of the Denver Nuggets and Cleveland Cavaliers game on Feb. 19. It’s probably the best professional basketball game I’ve seen for some time. So sorry for you if you missed it, because the Nuggets Carmelo Anthony and the Cavaliers LeBron James put on one hell of a show.

Carmelo hit a long jumper over the outstretched arms of James to give the Nuggets the 118-116 overtime victory and snapped the Cavs 13-game winning streak.

Anthony finished with 40 points, 6 rebounds and 7 assists, while James finished with a ridiculous 43 points, 13 rebounds and 15 assists. This duel between the two gave me memories of the old showdowns between legends like Bird and Magic.

Anthony and James, who are good friends, went after each other so viciously, you would think that one of ‘em slept with the others wife.

However, showdowns like this are what make the NBA fantastic. Sporting events like this are what make me the fanatic I am today.

CHLOE ASHCRAFT / THE GUARDSMAN

“Colts, 34-20”
Since recently making, and subsequently losing, an ill-advised Super Bowl bet, I’ve developed an interest in free entertainment. And since my bookie recently shattered both of my kneecaps, riding an elevator is pretty much the most physical activity I can handle. Thanks a million Bontã Hill.

Why an elevator?
In the words of famous abolitionist and adulterer Henry Ward Beecher, “It’s easier to go down a hill than up it, but the view is much better at the top.” And pushing a button in an elevator is easier than walking up a hill. If Beecher had known about the view I found, he might have just left out the hill part all together.

Go to Union Square and ask for Francis …
You will be visiting the Westin St. Francis for this decidedly cheap thrill – a sky-high ride in a 32-story, clear-glass elevator.

If you’re excited by the idea of “sneaking” into a crowded hotel with an open front door and “convincing” the uninterested staff that you are a guest, by all means, feel free to do so.
That being said, nobody cares. You can just walk in and follow the signs to the Tower Elevators.

“Going up sir”
I originally ventured to the elevators for the view, but you know, I’m not gonna’ lie − and maybe it’s because I’m a five-year-old boy − I was struck much more by the “whee-I’m-riding-in-an-elevator” part of it than the view.

Remember the scene in the movie “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” with Droopy the dog as the elevator man? The elevator shot up in the air so fast that it flattened Eddie Valiant to the floor like a pancake. If you’ve ever wanted to experience that for yourself, this is as close as you’re likely to get.

Step one: Press the up button
Step two: press the button for the  32nd floor. If you want to get all ticky-tack about it then, technically, step two is “get on the elevator” and step three is “press the button for the 32nd floor,” but whatever, I didn’t want a lot of steps, OK?

What happens next?
My recommendation is that you hold on to the railing and stand facing the glass to maximize what biophysicists refer to as the “oh snap” factor when the elevator launches your body skyward.

When you reach the top floor you will be treated to one of the better vantage points in San Francisco. Nothing makes a city look prettier than getting really far away from the smelly, noisy reality of it and squinting down through the soft fog that acts like Vaseline on the lens of a panoramic glamour shot.

Enough with the cheap and back to the thrills. On the way down, you rush past a spiked fence and then drop into darkness. With your face pressed against the glass it’s pretty exhilarating.
Riding up might be fun for about ten trips, but going down — more like 20.

Verdict
The ride is undeniably fun, but the good times only last for 32 floors. For an added thrill, look down the crack between the elevator and the 32nd floor – whoa.

Brass tacks:
•Where: The Westin St. Francis Hotel, 335 Powell St./Tower Elevators
•When: Anytime you like
•Cost: $0, FREE!

There are plenty of hotels in the Bay Area and I’ve been known to eat, drink and sleep it off in the best and worst of them. I’ve found some hidden gems in a few as well as some rocks to avoid. All this entertainment is available to hotel guests and visitors alike and you don’t have to be an obnoxious out-of-towner to enjoy it.

Top booking
The Sunday’s A Drag brunch and variety show is the costume ruby inside the exquisitely gaudy jewel-box that is Harry Denton’s Starlight Room. The lavishly decorated penthouse-level lounge literally towers above the city at the top of the Sir Francis Drake Hotel, 21 floors above the street below.

What’ll it cost, man?
If you stick to the juice and coffee that comes with the brunch your cost shouldn’t exceed $45, but if you want to have as much fun as I did you’ll need to bring some friends and some extra cash. While you don’t have to be 21 to attend the show, the bar is definitely fully stocked, it is definitely available throughout the show and, no, it is definitely not cheap.

The brunch itself is surprisingly good — I’m always surprised when something is good — and is available for about an hour before the show and 30 minutes into it. Sure, they’ll carve prime rib for you, but I was sold as soon as I saw lox and capers.
But enough about the food, you came to see drag queens; and you will.

“The uniforms are fabulous”
There are two kinds of drag queen: the scary-gym-teacher-in-a-tutu dress/J. Edgar Hoover kind and the kind that looks like something you’d draw in prison to trade for smokes.

At Sunday’s A Drag you’ll see both of these and more including “the oldest female impersonator alive in captivity,” Gina Lotavina; the impossibly proportioned Cassandra Cass, who looks like a transgender Disney princess; and Beyonce was there too.

She told me she really was Beyonce and after watching her do the “Single Ladies” dance, I believe her.

The host of the show was Hollatta Tymes — get it? — a broad-shouldered redhead who, in her own words, is “pretty if you have Vaseline on your contacts and you squint.” She was the only one who didn’t just lip-sync but truly sang, and baritone at that.

“It’s just like any job,” Tymes said after the show, “It has its ups and downs. It’s just a different uniform. Granted, the uniforms are fabulous.”

Tymes delighted the audience with witty, Jager-fueled banter, dozens of lightning-quick costume changes and her spot-on impersonation of Reba McEntire.

Verdict
The appeal of getting sauced and watching grown men play dress-up like little girls is sort of like the appeal of just getting sauced: if it has to be explained, you probably won’t enjoy it.

Notice that the Cooler logo is different. Last issue, I predicted the Colts would win the Super  Bowl, and I was wrong. The picture is a throwback to a famous photo of Harry Truman holding an issue of the Chicago Daily Tribune after they printed that he lost the 1948 presidential election. Truman actually defeated Dewey by 303-189 electoral votes.

If you don’t know by now, the  New Orleans Saints won their first Super Bowl by outlasting the Indianapolis Colts 31-17.
The Saints made me look clueless as I boldly picked the Colts to win by two touchdowns. Saints quarterback Drew Brees won the game’s MVP award by tying a Super Bowl record with 32 completions.

Although I’m wearing egg on my face for picking the loser, I feel good for New Orleans to finally have the Vince Lombardi Trophy.
For the third year in a row, the big game provided some dramatic moments and forced a couple of oohh’s and ahhh’s out of the boys.

The first half was very ho-humish. It put my roommate to sleep — shocker — and every time Saints running back Reggie Bush made a play, there was a question thrown out asking, “Who would marry Kim Kardashian?”

The selection by the NFL to have The Who perform at halftime was sketchy. Having a spread that included spaghetti, fried chicken and lumpia made the intermission pass quickly.

I really didn’t pay attention to the commercials this year since I was busy multi-tasking, typing up this piece with my right hand, a piece of chicken in my left and my eyes glued to the 50 inch screen.

All in all, it was a good finale to an unpredictable and wild season. Hopefully, a vision of red and gold will be spotted at next year’s extravaganza.

Idiot of the Week

It was tough this issue looking for a dumb act, but that may be due to the sports world taking a break and focusing on Super Bowl XLIV. Low and behold, the water man found one.

Cooler drinkers, meet USC head coach Lane Kiffin.

Here’s a quick brief on Mr. Kiffin: Hired as Oakland Raiders head coach before the 2007 season and fired in the middle of the 2008 season over the phone by Raiders owner Uncle Davis (do some research on that, trust me.)

Then, hired by the University of Tennessee before the 2009 season, he abruptly left right before high school players were making decisions on where to go college and became USC head coach when former coach Pete Carroll left for the riches of the NFL.

Now, I’d need a whole other column to explain how dishonest Kiffin has been, how he turned his back on a university that gave him a shot to coach on college football’s highest platform.

All that doesn’t quite make him an idiot, but this does: He’s offered a full-ride scholarship to a seventh-grade quarterback from Delaware named David Sills.
Let’s just pause for a minute and think about that. Still scratching your head? Due to word counts and space limitations (yes, we still do have word counts at The Guardsman, go figure), I can’t even begin to explain the lunacy in this. Check out the NCAA football section on Yahoo sports for the full story.

Kiffin has quickly become a regular at providing blunt statements, and pot shots at his competitors and is a man you cannot trust. However, his resumé is impressive enough to earn enshrinement into the Idiot Hall of Fame.

Misc.
There is a real possibility that the NFL could be in for a work stoppage if they can’t agree on a new collective bargaining agreement. Let’s hope greed and big egos don’t pave the way for this to happen.

Signing bonuses and multi-million dollar contracts for rookies are some things that will be discussed. Way too much money is given out to these high draft choices, and it’s all based on potential.

Rework the rookie scale and save the big money contracts for the players who actually proved something on the field.

Rum Is Magic
In the brazenly tacky magic trick of mixology and interior design that is the American tiki lounge, the rum and fruit juice serve as the rabbit in the hat. There’s nothing magical about a rabbit on its own, but when you make one appear in a two-gallon fishbowl with four crazy-straws and a week’s serving of fruit, it creates the illusion of someplace magical.

You forget you’re sitting on a wooden bench, drinking booze in an over-priced hole-in-the-wall where it looks like Adventureland went AWOL from Disneyland and spewed bamboo kitsch and plastic flowers everywhere.

A Lagoon Is Born
Long before it became a crumbling relic of a bygone era, the Fairmont Hotel built a 75-foot indoor pool and christened it “The Fairmont Terrace Plunge,” presumably because it had a diving board.

In 1945 — the year WWII ended — a set designer from MGM Studios had the diving board removed and buried the pristine simplicity of “The Plunge” under mountains of palm frond macrame and westernized “tiki-masks.”

The pool was re-christened as a “lagoon” and the Tonga Room was born.

Like any tiki lounge worth its salt, the Tonga Room looks like it was decorated by a drunk Navy sailor trying to recreate a south Pacific island he saw for only five minutes from the side of a boat. In fact, that’s almost exactly how the post WWII phenomenon of the tiki lounge began. Oddly enough, the concept was wildly popular with returning GIs.

Personally, I can think of at least a dozen better ways to celebrate surviving a tour of the Pacific theatre than giving yourself the worst hangover of your life in a place modeled after the hellish jungle nightmare you barely escaped. Perhaps some things only the “greatest generation” will understand.

Come For The Rum, Stay For The … Um …
The sign for the Tonga Room is half a block past the entrance, so most people walk too far and end up looking at the blank wall under the sign. I guess most people don’t believe the scraggly foul-smelling man who tells them it’s like the door for Hogwarts and all they have to do is hold their breath and believe in order to run through it. But screw you guys: He seemed cool and he looked like Hagrid.

The misplaced sign sets the tone for the disorienting fun house maze within. Some misdirection even seemed deliberate. Upon entering through the door, the sign I saw was not for the Tonga Room but for a gym, which made me question whether I was even in the right place.
I regained confidence when I saw a tiki statue at the end of the hallway and started walking towards it.

A tip: Walk away from that statue if you want to go to the Tonga Room.

If you do find your way to the entrance, someone will ask you if you want to eat or drink. If you must do either of these things at the Tonga Room, I strongly recommend the latter and advise against the former.

Because I went on tourist rip-off night, I was informed there would be a $5 cover charge and all drinks would cost at least $10. I would have left right then, but I was exhausted from the ordeal of getting there and wasn’t even sure I’d be able to find my way out again.

Reluctantly, I paid the $5 and hoped for the best. I must have done it wrong.

From the moment the band floated out to the center of the lagoon on the awesome boat stage — the best part of their act — and started into their first number, a soulfully tone-deaf rendering of “Moondance,” I knew I was in for a real musical treat.

Make It Rain!
If you play someone a recording of thunder and rain it has no noticeable effect. Likewise, if you spray a small amount of water into a larger body of water, again, there is no real effect.

But combine the two and, as one charmingly intoxicated woman dancing precariously close to the lagoon’s inadequate safety railing put it, “Woo hoo!”

Oh, and you know that funky you-forgot-to-clean-the-fish-tank smell? The Tonga Room’s got that too. It’s the water, I hope.

Verdict
Although I mostly keep going back to punish myself, I think it’s fair to say the tacky charm of the place is pretty hypnotizing.

If you like borderline-racist, “It’s a small world”-style parodies of other cultures combined with expensive, high-sugar alcoholic beverages scientifically guaranteed to give you agonizing, memory-searing hangovers that make you want to die, you will love the Tonga Room with a capital “L.”

Any garden-variety drunk can tell you there are better places to get better drinks than the over-priced astringent swill at the Tonga Room. But those places don’t have a lagoon, now do they?

By Bontã Hill
The Guardsman

Ladies and gentleman, I’ve got three words for you — Happy New Year. I hope everybody out there who actually wastes a moment of their life reading this had a great one.

Mine was okay, but the rumors circulating around the Ocean campus about whether the Cooler was coming back caused me to develop a case of insomnia. With a full load of classes, being sleep deprived is not one of my goals.

After having many heated discussions on whether the Water Cooler should return to The Guardsman, I finally bribed newly appointed editor-in-chief Alex Emslie into giving me five more months of fame.

Although I didn’t put this on my list of New Year resolutions, the Cooler has been filled with the coldest water yet to be served. I’ll be here with you all for the next five months, going through the stress of exams as well as watching the beautiful flowers blossom this spring.

Oh yeah, and I’ll continue to talk about that thing we call sports. I’ll try my best to quench your thirst this semester.

Idiot of the Week
It’s been about a month since we last spoke, and an awful lot has happened. Tiger Woods has supposedly been admitted to a sex addiction rehab clinic somewhere in Mississippi. There was the crumbling of the proposed mega fight between Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Manny Pacquiao and Mark McGwire’s pitiful admission to using steroids during his 70 home run season in 1998.

Those three stories are all fascinating, but you only get the ink when you really do something absurd.

Did you happen to hear the news about Washington Wizards point guard Gilbert Arenas? If you haven’t you will now.

Arenas, the team’s franchise player who, just before the 2008-2009 season, signed a six-year deal worth $111 million, brought in four unloaded guns into his team’s locker room and has been suspended from NBA action indefinitely without pay.

Arenas and teammate Javaris Crittenton had unloaded guns in the Wizards’ locker room during a Christmas Eve argument regarding gambling debts. Supposedly Crittenton had a gun in the locker room that WAS loaded.

What makes the erroneous act by Arenas mind boggling is the fact that, during the pregame warm-ups to a game against the Philadelphia 76ers, he pretended to shoot his teammates with guns.

That’s smart, especially with the U.S. attorney’s office and D.C. metropolitan police investigating.

Not only is it against NBA rules to bring firearms inside an arena, but it violates D.C. ordinances as well. It also doesn’t help when you don’t have a gun license, which just happens to be another violation.

Now, if their was money owed to somebody, is it really that tough to scrap together some change and pay? I mean, Arenas has a $100 million contract. Is it really worth being stripped of playing the game you love and losing endorsement deals?

Apparently for Arenas it was, and his idiotic actions made him a unanimous choice to become a member in the Idiot Hall of Fame.

Misc…
Watching another football season come to a closure hurts as much as my roommate continuing to believe that JaMarcus Russell will be a star quarterback for the Oakland Raiders.

In saying that, Super Bowl XLIV is here, and it will pit the  Indianapolis Colts against the New Orleans Saints. Nope, that’s not a typo, the Saints are going to the big show for the first time in franchise history.

These aren’t your granddaddy’s Saints. They throw out an offense that can score on any given play. I’m still putting my money on Peyton Manning.

He’ll have two weeks to break down a mediocre Saints defense and thus will hoist his second Lombardi Trophy. Colts 34-20 to win their franchise’s third Super Bowl.

Happy Holidays to all of you who are still hurting your eyes to read my ink. This is the last issue of the semester so please, bear with me for another five minutes before you use this to wash your windows or for emergency toilet paper.

My Thanksgiving was good, but not great. I lost in the 23rd edition of the famed Blue vs. Green flag football “Turkey Bowl” game at Rossi Park. My record in that game dropped to 0-5-1.

What hurts even more is my roommate was on the winning side, leading to another year of harmless banter between us. Here comes another twelve months of me hearing about his two catches for 20 yards.

He also happens to be a die-hard Raiders fan. Watching them get smacked around by the Dallas Cowboys made my day a little better. There’s nothing like a quiet Raiders fan.

Of course, what I was anticipating most was the food. God knows, as college students we live off of pizza, dollar menus and the roach coach. Any opportunity to get a home-cooked meal — with leftovers — will always be a good day in the life of Bonta Hill.

Idiots of the Week
Welcome to the big time, Alan Davis and Benoit Roussel. These two boxing judges are now entering the Idiot Hall of Fame and should feel honored. Their decision to score a draw in the lightweight title bout between Ali Funeka and Joan Guzman was straight up absurd.

During the fight, which was broadcast live on HBO Nov. 28, these judges could only have been doing one of three things: checking their Facebook page on their mobile phones, getting ready to hit the mean streets of Quebec City, or sipping Hennessy, Ron Artest’s drink of choice. Last week Artest admitted to drinking Hennessy during the halftime of NBA games early in his career.

Funeka, the South African trying to claim his first world championship, dominated Guzman. Watching the bout, I was waiting for the referee to stop it — it was that one-sided.

How Davis and Roussel came up with a tie baffles me. You would be confused too if you’d seen Guzman’s face afterwards. I try to refrain from using cliches, but a blind man could see that Guzman was getting handled rather easily.

When the decision was announced, you could see even Guzman was shocked.

Funeka’s loud-mouthed promoter Gary Shaw and the HBO broadcasting team Bob Papa, Max Kellerman and Lennox Lewis — possibly the worst announcer to touch a microphone — ripped these judges apart and deservedly so.

With boxing having a great year and great promise for big fights in 2010, the sport cannot afford slip-ups like this. Davis and Roussel, these clowns, should be suspended for six months.

Part of the punishment should be watching the fight 100 times and having to explain again and again how the hell they came up with their decision.

Back to Artest for a minute; he should be one of the board members for the Idiot Hall of Fame. He probably has more qualifications than any sports figure out there.
What Davis and Roussel did though, trumps Artest this week. And that’s saying a lot.

Misc.
Staying on the boxing hype, Roy Jones Jr. got knocked out in the first round by some guy named Danny Green. Roy, time to hang the gloves up, please. You have nothing else to prove.

The super bowl of boxing is set for March 13, 2010. I can’t wait to see Manny Pacquiao fight Floyd Mayweather.

To switch gears, any thoughts on Tiger Woods? This column isn’t big enough for me to discuss that situation. I’ll just leave you with one word: WOW!

On a more positive note, a bright spot in the Bay Area sports landscape has been Stanford running back Toby Gerhart. This beast leads the country with 1,736 yards rushing and 26 touchdowns.

He probably won’t win the Heisman Trophy but he should at least get what’s owed to him and be honored as one of the top five players in college football this season.

Celebrating Columbus Day has always been a little weird to me. Now, I’m not bothered about getting a day off from school to recharge my batteries, but I’ve always been curious about how America celebrates Columbus when we don’t even know for sure if he discovered America.

Hey, I’ll even celebrate the one-year anniversary of the Detroit Lions going 0-16 if it means me being able to sleep in and get a day off of school. By the way, since I’m on the subject of getting days off, when is the next one?

St. Louis Cardinals
In a previous column, I predicted a World Series of Yankees versus Cardinals … That prediction was right on point. Ha! The Cardinals were mopped up in three games, but everyone knows that series was over in game two. Poor Matt Holliday, the right fielder, dropped a game-ending line drive in game two against the Los Angeles Dodgers. He pretty much dropped his team right out of the playoffs.

Here’s a quote from Cardinals starting pitcher Adam Wainwright: “That ball got lost in 50,000 white towels shaking in front of Matt’s face. It doesn’t really seem fair that an opposing team should be able to allow their fans to shake white towels when there’s a white baseball flying through the air. How about Dodger Blue towels?”

Really? That’s a good one. You’re a major league baseball player for a reason Mr. Holliday, and when a ball comes right to you, it’s your job to catch it. They say in football when a ball hits your hands, it’s your duty to come up with it. Then again, those little white towels are so distracting.

Miscellaneous
I know boxing is all but dead in the U.S., but the Super Six Tournament coming up in the super middleweight division could spark new interest. You have six of the top super middleweights in a round robin format, and the winner will be a well-deserved champion.

The first two fights got the tournament off to a thrilling start as Arthur Abraham sent Jermain Taylor to the hospital, and Carl Froch got the controversial decision over Andre Dirrell. The Super Six Tournament could be the move that brings boxing back. I’m going with Andre Ward from Oakland to win it all…

Imagine a welterweight tournament between Floyd Mayweather, Shane Mosley, Manny Pacquiao, Miguel Cotto, Andre Berto, and Luis Collazo. One word — explosive….

Idiots of the week
Dré Bly and Donnie Avery. I’m sure everybody has seen Bly’s interception against the Falcons when he started showboating, didn’t tuck the ball away and fumbled it back to the Falcons. This is all with the 49ers down 35-10.

Avery, a receiver for the St. Louis Rams, caught a touchdown and started doing the stankey leg (a ridiculous dance move). This guy was dancing like he just won a new set of pots and pans at Wednesday night’s bingo gathering. Go figure, his team was down 31-10 to the Minnesota Vikings when he scored.

Those two things, my compadres, are what makes a player the idiot of the week…