I am Michael ... Wilbon

So I go to my neighborhood version of Cheers last night better known as Fridays for a few LITs (better known as Long Island Iced Teas, aka the drink that's four-fifths alcohol if made properly).

I neeedd to kick back after a long day, and before a long weekend of working this Champions Tour event in Kansas City.

So anyways, all of the formalities are now done with so I can continue. There I sat at the bar talking to one of the bartenders, and a gentlman trying to make conversation askes me a question:

"So did you here about George Foreman?" he said.

I shook my head because I hadn't the slightest clue as to what he spoke of.

"He's making a comeback," he said.

"Are you serious? George Foreman? For what? He's got enough money off of that grill that he should be good. What is he going to fight for? He's going to kill himself or be killed."

It stayed on my brain for a while, even while tipsy. Is dude about to start the Champions (Seniors) Boxing Circuit? What's really good?

So anyway, I went home after about three drinks, and turned on ESPN News, which is what I fall asleep to every night. I saw the deal about Lakers' forward Lamar Odom's sixth-month-old baby. How sad.

I woke up this morning to the death of Randy Walker, the Northwestern football coach, scrolling across my screen.

And then on the screen came Evander "The Real Deal" Holyfield. I didn't even need to turned the television volume up to know that the gentleman at the bar had made a grave mistake. He called Evander, George.

But it's ok. We all look alike to them anyway. Speaking of which, I'll be signing autographs as Michael Wilbon next weekend at Friday's. I wonder how many people will confuse me for him.