With two Monday Night Football games now available for our viewing disposal each week, I am finding yet another example of the abundance of our universe.

However, since I only enjoy a couple of pro football teams, I need more reasons to watch that which is less interesting.

Despite all appearances in some areas, I sincerely believe that the continual supplying of visual and auditory diversion via pro football requires a further justification, particularly for me, a baseball fan.

Baseball is all about information. All teams are good teams to a baseball fan. It is just that some, our favorites, seem better than others do.

Unlike the pounding excitement of football, which still seems as barbaric as boxing, pro basketball’s inside game and the occasional hotheads of ice hockey, the game of baseball is about detail and precision, reflected by the ballplayer’s statistics which represent his individuality and creative self in and out of a dugout.

Last Monday it came to me like a herd of defensive agnostic linemen chasing a Presbyterian running back.

I heard a name.

It was a real name.

The announcer said the name and then the name was revealed on the TV screen.

LaDainian Tomlinson, running back for the San Diego Chargers.

LaDainian. I liked the sound of the letters together. Smooth and swift like a running back.

Tomlinson. I liked the sound of the letters together. Smooth and swift like a law firm.

LaDainian Tomlinson. Together, the words work even better.

Three As, four Ns, eight vowels, 10 consonants.

Eighteen total letters.

It made me want to know more.

So I did a search for LaDainian on the Internet, source of all, whether reliable or not. Actually, NFL.com is a safe bet to be more accurate about an NFL player’s background than a politician’s.

No wonder I like this guy named LaDainian.

We were both born in June, just two days and 32 years apart.

We were both graduated from church schools in humid environments, his in Texas, mine in Missouri.

We were both residents of San Diego and attended Sea World at different times.

Dissimilarity — LaDainian outweighs me by half my body weight and a third of his.

Thanks LaDainian. You’re the man with the name. The perfect balance of vowels and consonants for a baseball fan.

Speaking of receiving, thanks to the many of you who were kind enough to stop while shopping locally to share your feelings and thoughts about the 2006 Island County Fair.

In honor of your anonymity, I submit the following statistics in answer to the many questions, coupled with your sound bites when appropriate.

To paraphrase Dean Emeritus Robert Castetter of California Western School of Law, “Every idea is a good idea, but some ideas are better than others.”

We thank those of you who shared your time.

In answer to the most asked question, “So, how was the fair?” the most frequent answer was “The smoothest running one in years!”

In answer to the question, “So, how was the food?” the most frequent response was, “Really good. The people in the food booths seemed to be happier this year.”

In answer to the question, “So, how many hours of entertainment were there and who was the best?” to me, the only logical answer is, “Depends upon what you find entertaining.”

So, that being said, the entertainment value of today’s Soup Box Derby is off the meter. Hopefully, racer Jack Eskenazi will not be off the pavement when he captains his 30-year-old carrot down the hill.

Ever see a carrot coast 20 miles an hour? Try to attend this Langley tradition if you want some fun in the sun.

As poet/teacher/comedienne Molly Cook often says, “Whoever comes are the right people; Whatever happens is the right thing; Whenever it’s over is the right time.”

This should also be the case Friday, Sept. 22 from 6:30 to 8:30 p.m. at the Island Coffee House in Langley when Molly hosts the first in a series of informal poetry evenings. Bring a favorite poem to share or just come and listen.

Finally, now that we are name dropping, let us close with the joke of the week provided by Gary Gabelein. Remember, this is a joke, so please do not get too twisted if you are not able to sense the humor.

Laura Bush died and went to heaven. As she stood in front of St. Peter at the pearly gates, she saw a huge wall of clocks behind him.

She asked, “What are all those clocks?”

St. Peter answered, “Those are Lie-Clocks. Everyone on Earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you lie, the hands on your clock will move.”

“Oh,” said Laura, “Who’s clock is that?”

“That’s Mother Theresa’s. The hands have never moved, indicating that she never told a lie.”

“Who’s clock is that?”

“That’s Abraham Lincoln’s clock. The hands have only moved twice, telling us that Abe only told two lies in his entire life.”

“Where’s George’s clock?” Laura asked.

“George’s clock is in Jesus’ office. He’s using it as a ceiling fan.”