Miami, look out

With Peyton Manning advancing to his first Super Bowl, and the Bears making their way back, South Beach is in for a surprise.

Over the next two weeks, instead of the bronzed, oily bodies that glisten in the white sand, Floridians will be introduced to what a Midwest Bowl means.

Not sure what that means?

Well, Indiana is No. 3 and Illinois is tied for No. 23 for the fattest states in the U.S. Indiana has 26 percent of its adults classified as obese.

So, South Beach, you've been forewarned. Take a drive Naples or Fort Meyers for Super Bowl weekend, unless you want to see an overabundance of cottage cheese and enough double chins to make a throat jealous.

This group will probably be the nicest group of folks you've been around in a while. They'll buy you plenty of rounds, keep the fried mozzerella sticks coming and always have a funny comeback line.

Just remember, all that stuff happens with clothes on. By the third day, Midwesterners will want to check out this thing called an ocean, since they only get three months of summer a year.

And you can just see the husband and wife trudging off to the beach, complete with towels, oil, radio and a cooler. The moment the husband takes off his shirt, things will take a dreadful turn. His back will look like it was taken off a Wooly Mammoth, and his Speedo won't be seen at his hips. The wife isn't much better, with a skirt bathing suit that tries to hide her Redwood thighs.

Miami, this is the hand that you've been dealt. My advice is to treat this like a natural disaster -- stay indoors until this abhorrence passes.

It's about time

My eyes perked up as soon as I heard it. It seems as if everyone's prayers have finally been answered.

The Green Bay Press Gazette's main sports columnist, Chris Havel, was recently canned.

The P-G had enough of Havel whimpering about his bum shoulder and his inability to write thoughtful and insightful columns.

Probably the only reason the P-G kept on the Adams-Friendship native was because he wrote himself into the Favre will, which of course has clouded any ounce of objectivity that was in his body. He has written a pair of books on the future hall of famer, and Havel knows when he burps or farts.

There's no way this hack is going to be able to land another gig in the state. Legions of writers despise him because getting a simple hello out of the guy is like performing root canal surgery.

He clumsily goes through the motions on his radio show, but that's only because he needs something to help pay off the creditors that seek his every dime. Just type in his name: http://wcca.wicourts.gov/simpleCaseSearch.xsl;jsessionid=0F92BE9E02B822F1440264F825C870B1.render5?

The vertically challenged snob was always under the impression that he was above the paper.

But you don't call the desk the night one of your "masterpiece columns" is going to run and tell them it isn't. You don't ask for four weeks off because of shoulder surgery that wouldn't have kept a normal person on the shelf.

The reason I'm so frustrated is because he gives sports writers a bad name. After people see him parade around Lambeau Field's media conclave, they come to the understanding that all writers are cold and mean.

But that isn't the case, and I'm glad the P-G figured that out.

She never learns

The Sony Open is back and that can only signal one thing: the most overrated golfer to grace the PGA Open is swinging away.

Welcome back Michelle Wie.

Michelle, if you haven't figured it out yet, you haven't earned the right to be playing with the boys. You haven't even shown that you truly belong with the ladies, let alone shagging balls on a ball retriever.

You did miss the cut in last year's Sony by a stroke, but even Barry Bonds is awarded an asterisk.

The only reason the entire country is enamored with her is because she can practically outhit John Daly. Unfortunately, she's got the accuracy of a gambling Phil Mickelson, which is always a dreadful combination.

Take the first nine holes on Thursday for example. She didn't hit a green in regulation or hit a fairway off the tee.

In nine holes a supposed PGA professional was outplayed by the everyday hack on the local municipal course. Even with the kinks in his swing the muni hack is able to magically locate the vast amount of short-cut grass, all while swilling a light beer and laughing with friends.

But even though she keeps plopping balls into the drink and doinking shots off palm trees, she's going to keep playing with the men. Last year, the 17-year-old made $730,000 in prize money and $19.5 million in sponsorships.

With cameras constantly oggling the Hawaiian star, it's no wonder she would want to go where the money is at its apex, instead of the LPGA which usually pays 30 percent lower than the PGA.

She played in six PGA events last year, and didn't make a cut in any of them. And that includes a last place finish in the 84 Lumber Classic with scores of 77-81.

It's obvious the Polynesian Princess is gifted. But it's a shame we'll never see the degree of her greatness if she keeps playing with people that are far superior.

Baseball players that just get drafted aren't placed in a big league lineup the next day. They have to endure rookie ball, minor leagues and bad bus travel before getting a glimpse of their dream.

Wie is only 17. I can understand if she has something to prove, but she has plenty of time.

Favre is finished

The 37-year-old said, "This is my last game," before breaking down into stream of tears as photographers caught every moment.

Favre is more like an enigma these days. Many people loathe the Southern Boy that possibly only came back because he had Dan Marino's all-time passing records in his sights. On the other hand, there are those that feel the youngest-acting old quarterback is the reason the Packers finished 8-8 this season.

Even with new coach Mike McCarthy -- whose zero tolerance edict of impromptu play was curbed -- Favre oftentimes resembled last year's interception menace who threw 29 picks. True, many of this year's 18 interceptions were by virtue of a route gone wrong, or a receiver tipping a Favre fastball directly into an unsuspecting defensive back's hands.

But the quarterback that led the Packers to back-to-back Super Bowls in 1997 and '98 still has the wherewithal to be a competent leader in a league so desperately in need of one. If you don't believe me, the Patriots brough back 43-year-old Vinny Testaverde from sipping umbrella drinks to be the clipboard holder in case things go bad for the dinged up Tom Brady.

Favre can still accomplish a lot, but this time around he is going to have to understand he is going to need some help. He won't be able to roll to his left and magically find an open Robert Brooks, Antonio Freeman or Donald Driver streaking down the sideline. The Packers have to get a better answer at running back and be able to stop the scoring purge which was mainly the fault of the safeties.

The Packers will need an answer, and they won't allow the NFL's most adored passer to waffle in the wind. Favre played a perfect poker face by not revealing what his intentions were until the 11th hour, leaving Aaron Rodgers planted on the bench again. If Favre comes back again, does Rodgers ask for a trade? Because I highly douft the 24th-selected player from the 2005 NFL Draft expected to grease Favre's wheelchair.

He may not have left on top, but what a better way to exit than to dismantle a hated rival on their field.

He may not say a lot in the next few months, but Sunday night his tears said it all.