|Study hall open|
By Brian Murphy
Special to Page 2
Did you hear what Danielle said to Michelle?
Oh. my God. I heard Michelle's Dad is, like, really mad. I also heard Christina told Michelle that Danielle was totally a b---- and that she was, like, totally jealous of Michelle. But Danielle is totally mad at Michelle for acting like she's the big girl on campus and all, and she said her Dad could totally beat up Michelle's Dad.
Oh, shoot. There's the bell. I'll talk to you at lunchtime. Meet near the tree by the bench and I'll tell you more!
I never thought the day would come when The Cooler would be propped up on the playground at recess, but after a weeklong stint at Catfight Central -- oops, I mean the U.S. Women's Open -- that day has come.
Michelle Wie, Danielle Ammaccapane. She said, she said. Read all about it in a flower-covered diary near you.
As a personal note, the career hit a low point when I, along with 24 of my eye-rolling brethren, stood vigil outside a trailer for 30 minutes at Pumpkin Ridge, waiting for a 13-year-old girl to emerge and talk about what another woman might have said about her and her Dad.
Wait! Michelle! Did Danielle say mean things to you? Do you want to, totally, steal her boyfriend? Will you hang out at a different part of the playground, er, I mean, driving range, now?
Woodward and Bernstein have nothing on the nation's golf media.
At The Cooler, the take is this: The whole Michelle Wie phenomenon is, strangely, incredibly cool. Yeah, the Old Man isn't up for Caddie of the Year, and yeah, the Old Man doesn't seem to mind the sight of a notepad or microphone, but cut him a bit of a break. He's got the women's golf equivalent of Roy Hobbs on his hands, and he's a little overwhelmed. Wouldn't you be if your daughter alternated between reading a book about Harry Potter, then making a swing better than Harry Vardon?
But in non-golf situations? Holy mother of Hillary Duff ... she's a little girl. That is, if a 6-footer can be a little girl. Her voice is helium-high, she just got her braces off, and she uses the words "like" and "you know" as if she's auditioning for a cover of Frank Zappa's "Valley Girl." We're going to have to just take Michelle Wie for her golf brilliance, and leave the probing Mike Wallace-style interviews for a few years down the road. Seriously, dweller. We had media chumps asking Michelle Wie, "Do you fully understand what you can do for golf?" and "Michelle, can you relate your golf swing to peace in the Middle East?" Her general reaction: "Ummmm, like, no."
And as for Danielle Ammaccapane? Triple bogey, sweetie. Even if B.J. Wie is the bull in the proverbial pro shop, don't take it out on the kid. You're bad news, Danielle. This Wie girl is your ticket to big purses, TV ratings and general all-around prosperity. Ripping her in the scorer's tent? Hell, Danielle, you should be driving this girl to the golf course every day and replacing her divots every chance you get.
There. End of recess playground gossip.
On, then, to the Weekend List of Five:
1. Serena and Venus: How long to sing this song?
What ... you wanted Hank (755) and Tommy (13) Aaron?
Nay, dweller. Sisters, meeting in six Grand Slam finals? And to think -- my sister and I peaked as athletic rivals in our ping-pong matches for the right to sit in the comfy green chair downstairs for ABC's power-packed "Happy Days"/"LaVerne and Shirley" lineup, a clash I believe I have alluded to before at The Cooler.
(Note to self: Stop repeating old family stories.)
I really think we're not appreciating the miracle that is the gene combination of Richard and Oracene Williams. Is Richard a nutjob? Probably. Are his daughters beyond making good on all his outlandish claims? Absolutely.
Plus, the Williams girls do it with style, too. No absurd theatre. No temper tantrums. And bonus points for Venus' obviously protective and proud feelings for her little sis, even when Little Sis hands Venus her lunch on cat guts in a Wimbledon final.
Yeah, that's close to Serena and Venus.
Other than that, I'm coming up empty, dwellers.
2. More Wimbledon thoughts
Martina, at Wimbledon? What in the name of Ponce de Leon is going on here?
I can't decide if it's incredibly inspirational that Martina is still winning silver plates at Wimbledon, or if it's incredibly sad that she's now panhandling for mixed doubles partners just so she can buy herself a little lawn time at the All-England club.
Will Play Mixed Doubles for Food.
I will say this: She's made enormous improvements in her style. She's settled into this current look for a good long run now. The straw-colored hair, the Tony Mandarich-style biceps. It's her look. But ESPN did a split-screen of her early Wimbledon look, and I nearly did a spit-take with my lager. The dark fluffy hair, the prescription shades ... man. She looked like a male porn star from the '70s.
Game, set, match to Martina's 2003 look.
3. Tiger's slump
Attention all sports media: As regards Tiger Woods' four wins this season already, and talk of his slump ... there is some bad acid going around. Stay away from the brown acid. Repeat: Stay away from the brown acid.
There. That should clear it up.
Now, enjoy Country Joe and the Fish.
4. All-Stars: I'm so confused
The old system, granted, was brutal. As a teenager, I'd grab huge stacks of Gillette ballots at Candlestick and stack as many as possible on top of each other while I jammed a pen through the slots of all the San Francisco Giants.
Presto: Bob Brenly, Chili Davis and Jack Clark had 50 votes, just like that.
Yeah, it sucked. But it was our system.
Now, I don't get it. Maybe it's another if-it's-too-loud, you're-too-old moment in my life, but I sorta like the idea of fans voting for the starters and players voting for the reserves. No manager's vote (they always make the "homer" move), and no Internet vote.
Oh, and no Bud Selig. Since we're on the topic.
5. Sweet Lou: Looking sweet!
And I gotta say ... Sweet Lou looked fab. Ten years younger. Of course, it doesn't take much to improve Piniella's look. The Cooler loves Sweet Lou, but we've seen him up close and personal sporting the four-day gray stubble and salt-and-pepper BedHead hairstyle in big-league dugouts. He looks, frankly, like a hobo. Only thing missing is the makeshift bed on the caboose of a train and the constant sound of somebody whistling "King of the Road" around him.
Still, we wonder: What did he talk about at the hair salon?
Well, of course. We know!
Psssst. Lou! Did you hear what Danielle said to Michelle?
Brian Murphy of the San Francisco Chronicle writes the "Weekend Water Cooler" every Monday for Page 2.