Back from Africa and I can confirm that soccer and cricket are still on the tube 24/7.

Great when you've got a wicked bad case of jetlag.

Announcer: "And a pass. And a pass. And another pass. Oh, wait, look at that pass. Oh, my, that was a beautiful pass. Gracious, look at THAT pass. And again. Some more passes. And now someone's writhing around on the ground. Lots of players running over. Because nobody was within 30 yards when the apparent death-blow came."

Me: "Zzzzzzzz...."

Perfect. Better than watching old game film of Dean Smith's coma-inducing four corners.

Although there was some sort of record-breaking cricket moment while I was over there.... Since I have no idea what any of it means, I've decided to just present a little snippet of the article from last Thursday's "Telegraph." "Virender Sehwag has set a new record for the highest individual score in one-day internationals after reaching 219 during India's fourth ODI against West Indies in Indore.

The India opener passed team-mate Sachin Tendulkar's 200 not out against South Africa in February last year as he put West Indies' bowling to the sword.

The 33-year-old, who was dropped on 170, passed the mark with his 23rd four of the match. He had also hammered seven sixes and 25 fours in total during his magnificent 149-ball knock.

He was eventually out caught off the bowling of Kieron Pollard.

Sehwag's previous ODI best was 175 against Bangladesh in Dhaka in February.

The double century took Sehwag past the 8,000-run mark in ODIs."

Did I mention I have no idea what any of this means? This might as well be written in a different language. Which begs the question, why on earth include it? One part perversity. One part shameless sloth.

The one thing I do think I understand (trust me, I'm gonna milk this story for all the words I can) is that this thing was a "one-day international," which, ironically, further allows me to milk another two points.

One: I will no longer accept complaints from professional athletes in the US (I'm thinking baseball, basketball and football, mainly) who complain when one of their commissioners sends them on a transparent moneygrab to play a single game in another country. Hell's bells, the NHL, NBA and MLB all have international franchises.

(Yes, Canada is still not actually a state. Although now, as opposed to just a few years ago, that's probably a better deal for them than it is for us.)

Anyway, no more whining when you get packed off to play in London, or Tokyo, or wherever. Just shush. Zip it. Shhhhh.... These guys better dressed for a Labor Day cocktail party than a professional sport apparently play "internationals" all the time. And, two: by specifically calling this a "one-day" anything, the clear implication is that this is somehow different than the norm. I'd heard rumors that cricketers often played for days, taking breaks for naps and tea. Probably potty-time, too. Big babies. So I looked it up.

Luckily, in this day and age of the internets, time travel, and availability of affordable healthcare for all, I was able to find absolutely nothing that clarified this whatsoever. Even that free research assistant, that god-send to students everywhere, Wikipedia, couldn't help but give me a bunch of flim-flam. The best Jimmy Wales' baby could do was, "In professional cricket the length of a game ranges from 20 overs of six bowling deliveries per side to Test cricket played over five days."

More Sanskrit.

So I asked a friend of mine, someone who actually finds cricket riveting.

Which is a lie.

Not the friend part. I do have a friend. (Though maybe not any longer.) Just the "who actually finds cricket riveting" part. Nobody finds cricket riveting. But this friend claims that cricket is no more boring than baseball. So she's obviously a socialist.

I pointed out maybe she just didn't understand the intricacies and hidden poetry of baseball. She pointed out she didn't understand beans about cricket either, that it just seemed to involve some throwing, some batting and some sticks in the mud (ha ha). Oh, right, and much nicer outfits.

Where was I?

Oh right! Tim Tebow.

You know, I've seen him play. (Not in person. Cripes. But, like a train-wreck, it is hard to tear yourself away when you stumble across a Tebow sighting.) I'm no Tebow hater, mind you, I just don't get it. How does he keep winning?!? He's built like a brick outhouse, which helps, but this is the NFL; brick outhouses are the rule, not the exception. Every time he tries to throw the ball, it's like he's trying to fling something particularly repugnant and disastrously sticky from his fingers. (Where it goes, nobody knows!) Aside from a one-game, freak occurrence, Tebow and his offense treat scoring as something sinful, to be avoided at all costs, only indulged in when no other option presents itself, and apologized for profusely once the crime is committed.

But win he does.

Constantly. And it seems to drive people absolutely batty. Maybe not the winning itself, but the religiosity that accompanies it. I mean, fine. C'mon, it's not like the guy's out stealing hubcaps and kneecapping little old ladies. The beauty is, you know the Broncos are gonna wanna get rid of him in the off-season. But the more he wins, the harder that'll be.

So they're stuck.

With a quarterback who wins.

Boy, poor Denver. Poor John Elway. Poor Fox.

I bet Danny and the Shanahans are sending condolences....

Great googly moogly!

Happy holidays from all of us here at the stretch. Peace and bacon grease! And ho, ho, ho!!

Alex can be reached at cuda24@yahoo.com