Channel Your Inner
Gloria Gaynor,
Ole Miss Fans
In-brain soundtrack: “Happy Happy Joy Joy,” Stinky Wizzleteats
Can check: Samuel Adams Winter White Ale
Golf hole living rent-free in my head: 10th hole, The Fields (La Grange, Ga.)
. . .
First, the obvious: Lane Kiffin probably will be coaching the Florida Gators in 2026. Maybe he won’t, but signs lean that way: he’s had every chance to bend the knee to William Faulkner, and Ole Miss has promised to match any offer that he receives elsewhere. But Bob Vila seems to have the upper hand. Kiffin grew up idolizing Steve Spurrier, and Florida has no income tax. If I had the chance to make eight figures, live in a college town, and spend the final decade of my career where an idol earned sports immortality…well, I’m sure Grand Forks summers are lovely.
Naturally, Ole Miss fans are freaking out, as we do when any opportunity presents itself. But the problem here is not Kiffin — it’s with my fellow Rebels. Ever since Tommy Tuberville metastasized to Auburn in 1998, Ole Miss fans’ self-loathing has been exceeded only by their insecurity. Twenty-seven years is long enough to be haunted by white trash from south-central Arkansas.
Ole Miss is a very different program than it was in 1998. Hell, for that matter, it’s a very different program than it was when Kiffin arrived six years ago. To say nothing of its higher profile, Ole Miss has mastered the NIL era, and it’s already paying Kiffin the 10th-highest salary in college football.
The point is: if Kiffin leaves, Ole Miss has the resources to bring in a suitable replacement. And that fact owes much of its existence to Kiffin.
. . .
A week ago, I nearly published a Substack post about how Alex Ovechkin seemed both bound and fit for retirement after the 2025-26 season. Now, I’m not so sure. As your faithful Substacker sits propped up in bed with my beloved Washington Capitals up 7-4 in Montreal, Ovechkin (who just registered his first hat trick of the year) has now scored goals in four straight games and has strung together eight points in his last six games. As long as he’s enjoying himself and performing, what else matters?
Well, for one thing, his contract. Ovechkin’s five-year deal is up this summer, and he has resisted committing to a return. If he retires, then his $9.5 million salary will come off the Capitals’ payroll; throw in the $8 million currently going to John Carlson (who almost certainly won’t be re-signed), and suddenly Washington is looking at some serious cap space to play with.
The problem: the 2026 free agent class sucks, and it would be stupid to blow $18 million in newly available payroll on Nick Schmaltz. Whenever Ovechkin leaves, the Capitals are going to need a star top-line forward who can score 40 goals per season, and there ain’t gonna be one of those on the shelves next summer. The 2027 class is a different story; alternatively, it would be nice to see some of the Capitals’ young players come into their own. Either way, Washington needs to buy itself another year.
My solution: a one-year extension for Ovechkin, at whatever price he wants. It’ll come off the books in time for a big-fish signing in Summer 2027 (Cale Makar, anyone?), and it would give Ovechkin a well deserved farewell tour. Hitting 950 career goals wouldn’t be out of reach, either.
. . .
Further musings…
I caught the Predators-Canucks game when I was in Nashville earlier this month. Predators fans deserve a lot of credit for showing up rowdy to support a very shitty hockey team. Much respect, Smashville.
I didn’t learn until recently that the Atlanta Braves get an extra first-round draft pick in 2026, thanks to Drake Baldwin winning the National League Rookie of the Year award.
A couple of weeks ago, I took my kids to see “Back to the Future” in a limited-release run for its 40th anniversary. They loved it. It really holds up, which I suppose is more than I can say for myself if “Back to the Future” is 40 years old.
A friend recovering from illness recently scoffed at my suggestion to watch “Godzilla Minus One.” Don’t make the same mistake. It’s exceptional — one of the best war movies I’ve ever seen (it wouldn’t be fair to call it a “monster movie”). It’s the only Godzilla film I’ve ever seen in which I was legitimately frightened. Great Holiday movie. (Probably not. But maybe?)
. . .