Last night's studs:
1. RYAN KLESKO -- Travolta did it with Pulp Fiction; Mickey Rourke did it with Sin City; now Klesko, with his grand salami last night, confirmed the theory that aging, bloated pieces of shit can come out of nowhere to revive their careers. Oh, who are we kidding? Klesko will be flipping burgers within a year. And flipping burger remnants out of a dumpster and into his bearded mouth in two years.
2. RICHIE SEXSON -- Walkoff homers are flat out cool. Especially coming from overpaid hackers hitting .210. The jumping/head-patting chaos at home plate thing is cool too. Though it must be hard to reach Sexson's head.
3. MIKE RICCI -- Sure, his NHL career was blander than a biochemist's wardrobe, but he deserves to be honoured after announcing his retirement yesterday. Why? Because he may be the ugliest man ever to strap on skates. Who will be remembered more in 10 years -- Zigmund Palffy, who retired prematurely after many unspectacular all-star seasons, or Ricci, whose greasy locks and bird nose make Gilbert Gottfried seem downright hot by comparison?
AND ONE GUY WHO SOMEHOW GOT REWARDED FOR BEING CRAPPY: MIKE WEIR. Ranking sixth in the world is a distant memory for the 2003 Masters champion, yet he was named to the President's Cup team yesterday ahead of fellow countryman Stephen Ames, who's been better than Weir in every way this year. Why'd Gary Player pick Weir? Was it because Ames melted down in a second straight major, or because Ames' horse face frightens and/or blinds anyone foolish enough to look at it?