Not unlike that oddly revolting feeling I tend to get after eating everything within reach at Thanksgiving dinner, my second stomach, my box score belly, has been filled to virtual bursting with everything that's been going on between the lines (and outside the lines in some cases) over the past few weeks.

In short, loyal reader, it's time for a recap….

In the NBA, Commissioner David Stern's worst nightmare came true when two midget-market teams met for the NBA Championship. If you missed it, you're not alone. The final episode of The Sopranos killed the second game of the San Antonio Spurs – Cleveland Cavaliers series. Sadly for the NBA, games three and four didn't fare much better, with game three getting boxed out by reruns of Bob Ross's classic The Joy of Painting and game four getting shellacked by yet another show about some boob finding his way out of "life-threatening peril" on the Discovery Channel as a film crew records his every move. It's too bad nobody watched. Rumors of the next "Next Michael Jordan" were, for at least the eighth or ninth time, put to bed as LeBron James proved the only thing he's ready for is more hard work and practice (can we teach the young man about jump shots, people?); and we got to argue about whether or not San Antonio's fourth title in nine years counts as a dynasty, which, ironically, was actually light years more interesting than watching them actually play.

Over on the PGA Tour, Angel Cabrera of Argentina won the U.S. Open at Oakmont. This marked the fourth year in a row that an American hasn't won the Open, a streak matched only one other time in its history. Representatives in the House and Senate vowed to redouble their efforts to scuttle President Bush's new immigration initiative and immediately demanded that all calls for amnesty be replaced with calls for more and taller fences. Tiger Woods stretched his winless streak at Majors where he doesn't hold at least a share of the lead after 54 holes to 29, and remains six Major victories behind Jack Nicklaus. Some people would say "so what?" I say it's interesting that the greatest golfer on the planet can't pass on the day it matters most at the tournaments he claims to want the most. Tiger's an awesome front-runner, obviously, but he's going to need to blow the doors off of some people on a Major Sunday to be the best ever.

Speaking of doors getting blown off, the way things are shaping up for NASCAR in 2008 if your name isn't Hendrick you might want to think about taking your team and racing the Busch series next year, or maybe starting your own stock-car series, maybe even calling it NASCAR2xtreme if you want to appeal to the kids. Unceremoniously breaking off contract-extension talks with NASCAR's own enfant terrible, Kyle Busch, Hendrick Motorsports, aka Team Deep-Pockets, scooped up the most valuable property ever to be put on the block in the form of Dale Earnhardt, Jr., and his legions of adoring fans, the Red Army. Hendrick's stable now includes last year's series champion, Jimmie Johnson, four-time Cup winner, Jeff Gordon, up-and-comer Casey Mears, and the biggest name in the sport, Junior. Junior said he wanted to go to the team that gave him the best chance to win a championship and I don't think he's lying. The only problem is, and moms and dads everywhere can join in with me if they want, you have to be careful what you wish for. As soon as this season ends, the clock starts ticking for Junior; the way I figure it, he's got three, maybe four, years to win the Cup once he gets behind the wheel of a Hendrick ride. The stars are all now officially lined up; let's see if Junior's as good as we all want him to be.

Over on the diamond, the Nats have clung stubbornly to mediocrity, refusing to fall into the maw of sheer ghastliness. At 30-39, they own better records than the Reds, Rangers, Royals, White Sox, and Orioles; they are just as good, or bad, as the Houston Astros and Pittsburgh Pirates; and they are mere percentage points behind the St. Louis Cardinals, the team that won last year's World Series. Across the river, the Orioles have just shown poor Sam Perlozzo the door. On May 31st, the O's were 27-27 in the AL East and in sole possession of second pace; as of June 18th, they had lost 13 of their last 15, dropping to 29-40 and into sole-possession of the cellar. Over that impressive three-week span, the O's were completely undone by a bullpen that has imploded and is to losing what gasoline is to a housefire. As only a team owned by Peter Angelos could do with a straight face, the Orioles replaced Perlozzo with Dave Trembley as interim manager; prior to his latest promotion, Trembley served as, wait for it, the Orioles' bullpen coach.

On the ice, the Ducks won the Stanley Cup….. Oh, wait, who cares. And lastly, Redskins rookie, big-hitting safety (doesn't that sound familiar?) LaRon Landy, was unable to practice with his new team when their first official minicamp opened last Friday.

Seems he tweaked his groin. At a team-building exercise. Playing paintball. When a teammate shot him. In the groin.

'Nuff said.