Fifty-nine, 52 and 49. Nope, those aren't scores shot today by different golfers struggling with the wind, that is the age of Tom Watson, Mark O'Meara and Mark Calcavecchia, three past Open Champion winners, all in contention in 2009 after opening rounds that made you think it was 1998 again.

Watson was the story of the day early, shooting a first round 65 to take the early lead at the Open on a course he made famous in 1977 when he out-dueled Jack Nicklaus for his second of five Claret Jugs. O'Meara, who made it two majors in the same year back in '98 with an arm-raised win at Royal Birkdale, opened with a 3-under 67 that included seven birdies at Turnberry. Calc, who hasn't been a factor on the PGA Tour since 2007, when he won the PODS Championship, tied O'Meara at 3-under par, currently just two shots back of Watson.

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If his name was Kobe Bryant we'd say he was little more than a ball hog.

If his name was Manny Ramirez we'd dismiss him as being all about him.

If he went by the initials T.O. we'd criticize him as a narcissist.

His name is Lance Armstrong, however, and because of all he's been through, what he's accomplished and how many people he continues to inspire, we aren't going to call him what he's unquestionably become: selfish.

DELAND, Fla. – Three hours before game time and the rain outside has sent manager Davey Johnson back to his combination office/locker room/shower stall, where he gets swallowed up by one of those itchy, polyester-covered couches that is so broken down it makes you feel like you're sitting in a big bean bag.

Half the bleachers outside have been closed for repair, but that's no problem because fewer than 100 people will come to watch later that night, mostly parents, girlfriends, and a handful of retirees with nowhere else to be.

Johnson grins because he knows what you're thinking, as he sinks deeper into the piece of furniture that could be as old as he is.

This is a long way – a long, long way – from Dodger Stadium.

Jeremy Mayfield tested positive again for methamphetamine, NASCAR said, igniting another round of denials from the driver, who angrily accused the sanctioning body of paying his stepmother to lie about his alleged past drug use.

The positive result from a July 6 random test was included in a U.S. District Court filing Wednesday that asked the federal judge who lifted Mayfield's drug suspension to reinstate the ban. The filing included an affidavit from Mayfield's stepmother, Lisa, who said she witnessed the driver using methamphetamine at least 30 times over seven years.

WASHINGTON -- No matter what you think of Manny Acta as a manager – and the thinking here is that like most other managers in baseball, he can be very successful with the right talent – it's clear that the Washington Nationals desperately need a fresh start.

Why choose Jim Riggleman to replace Acta?

Certainly it can't be his resumé. Riggleman was Acta's bench coach, so he doesn't represent fresh blood, in fact he was directly complicit in getting the Nationals to this point, to this 26-61 record. Before that, he was an interim manager in Seattle in 2008 and had two managerial stints in the '90s, first with the Padres, second with Cubs. Even counting partial seasons, he's only been a winner once (with Chicago in 1998).

So why? Roughly the same reason any other team fires its manager in the middle of the season – to shake things up.

Over the course of the 2008 football season, TV announcers and other media members fell all over themselves to anoint Florida quarterback Tim Tebow as not just a great football player, but a great human being who should make the rest of us bow down in humble adoration. That attitude reached a nauseating crescendo at the BCS National Championship Game, when Fox's Thom Brennaman informed us that Tebow was the world's greatest man -- even as Tebow was flagged for unsportsmanlike conduct.

If you were hoping we had put the media sucking up to Tebow behind us after the 2008 season, I have some bad news for you: It's going to continue in 2009.

Last week, we learned that the BCS doesn't exist as a legal entity. Most of us found that shocking. At least those of us who can define the word "entity." (Sorry, Ohio State fans. As much as we all might wish the word involves the female breast, sigh, it doesn't. If it did the drafting of legal documents would be an awfully lot more interesting.)

What we're left with is a void, an eternal gaping chasm in our existence. We know the BCS exists, otherwise how can we hate it so? But, for legal purposes it doesn't. That's why we're renaming the BCS. Now.

The rules are simple. You have to make me aware of your suggestion. Via e-mail, via FaceBook, via Twitter @NCAAFanHouse, via posting at the bottom of the page, via African swallow ... basically you have to get your idea to me. And then with a team of brilliant marketing experts (such as the people who came up with Stanford's We Work slogan), we'll select a group of six finalists to combine with my four suggestions below. Those six finalists will be given a paragraph to make their argument in the column. And then y'all vote for your favorite. There will be prizes, world renown, and the satisfaction of a job well done.

To give you a sense of the different approaches the NFL and its players' union are taking to the coming collective bargaining negotiations, ponder these two facts: On Wednesday, union chief DeMaurice Smith took 20 players -- 17 active, three retired -- with him to Capitol Hill for a full day of meetings in an effort to rally congressional leaders to their side. The day before, when the players and owners met in Washington for their second negotiating session, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell wasn't even there.

"I can't speak for anybody else, but you can draw your own conclusions," Baltimore Ravens cornerback and union executive committee member Domonique Foxworth told FanHouse in a Wednesday evening phone interview. "Obviously, we would prefer that the man who's in charge be there if it's a meeting where decisions could be made."

TURNBERRY, Scotland -- "Try the black pudding,'' Ian the 50-ish ball-spotter said in a quiet moment on the 17th fairway.

Black ... pudding? "I won't tell you what's in it. But it's very good. It hasn't killed me yet. You won't eat again the rest of the day.''

The rest of the trip?

"Probably not. Try it.''

One of the first things you learn when you reach Turnberry, Scotland is that food here is more of a challenge than anything. A dare. Haggis?

Don't worry, Matt Grothe doesn't need to be be coddled. He doesn't have a fragile ego. Quite frankly, Grothe is his own harshest critic.

After rising to No. 2 nationally in the middle of the 2007 college football season, the South Florida Bulls have failed to fulfill inflated expectations. Grothe, one of the most experienced returning quarterbacks in the country and a multi-dimensional playmaker, admits he put too much pressure on himself to make sure USF remained in the national spotlight.

Of course, that spotlight has flickered. There have been no Big East titles and mediocre 14-11 record once the schedule rolled into October and beyond the past three years. Determined to change that trend and help the Bulls play up to their talent level, Grothe is approaching his final season with a different mantra.