Quiet Waters Park

Here's the first brutal truth about Florida's coastal inhabitants: We don't all own boats. So logically, we've adapted by befriending people who own boats. But here's the second brutal truth: It's not always easy to stay on the good side of our boat-owning friends. Fortunately, there's a wet sanctuary between this rock and a hard place: Ski Rixen. Welcome to the world of cable skiing, where there are no boats, no boat maintenance, and, most important, no friend maintenance — because a cable is there to pull you over the water. You can wake-board, knee-board, water-ski, slalom-ski, trick-ski, or surf. The water-ski resort requires you to be at least 12 years old. Rental prices vary, from an $18 one-hour ski pass to an exclusive two-hour session for you and 14 friends for $375.

Mardi Gras Casino

The setting isn't elegant. The players aren't particularly warm. The pots aren't huge. But if you want to play uninterrupted poker 24 hours at a time and you don't feel like gambling with the Seminoles, Mardi Gras is your only choice. The poker room has two 12-hour licenses with the state. So while poker players are getting the boot in Pompano, Dania, and Hollywood, the red-eyed men and women in Hallandale are still stacking chips through the night. Oh, and the best part: Several nights a week, a local greyhound adoption service sets up a booth not far from the poker room. It always has a few of the adorable, regal, future pets on hand, ready to get scratched behind the ears — or better yet, get adopted. So even if you go broke at the table, you can leave a winner.

All that we can tell you, definitively, about the Huizenga pool is what government satellites and property records tell us: that it occupies a space 86 feet long and 40 feet wide, that it's nestled on the northernmost tip of an exclusive finger of land called Ponce de Leon Drive off Las Olas, and that it's just one luxurious feature of the trash-hauling and movie-rental mogul's $13 million manse. For the rest of the details, we must rely upon reports that have come second-, third-, and fourth-hand, which collectively paint a dazzling picture of a mythical, Shangri-la-style setting. It is said that water in the Huizenga pool is collected drip by drip from the melting glaciers at the polar icecap, in the moment before their purity would be lost to the salty sea. It's then heated within the fuselage of the supersonic jet that conveys it to the Huizenga home. In the Jacuzzi, what looks like water is actually the urine of unicorns, capable of healing cavities, cold sores, and hemorrhoids. While one lies on a chaise longue, virgins who are Bond-girl hot conjure a breeze by waving palm fronds. If one isn't too exhausted, Gary Kasparov will let you trounce him in a poolside chess match. The single flaw? No diving board, meaning the pool sucks for cannonballs.

Ultimate Frisbee (like soccer, with a Frisbee instead of a ball) is exhilarating enough on its own, but try playing with the coed team Pompeii's Children. This squad has struck a perfect balance between being highly athletic and yet awfully silly. Players have been known to make bets among themselves in which the loser is forced to play wearing a muumuu. They've also devised a whole fantasy league based upon the team's real-life lineup. Pompeii hosts practice on Tuesdays and pickup games on Fridays in Hollywood (everyone, including beginners and females, welcome) and travels to other cities for the occasional tournament. There, the team usually lands third place but almost always takes home the trophy for "Spirit of the Game." Pompeii's dominance in the spirit category might have something to do with its post-game ritual of pouring vodka and orange juice straight from containers into the mouths of opponents. Or it could be because of the Slip N' Slide they tote around, greasing it up with soap and water for layout contests (feats of athleticism that involve players leaping horizontally in midair for the disc). What we know for sure is that for ten long years now, team captain Kristin Deffler has created tons of good, clean, healthy fun — all around a simple piece of plastic.

Mario Chalmers is an old soul. He has an almost preternatural calm on the court, as if he's been there not only his entire lifetime but also a few others. That's a very good thing for a point guard and team general. His rookie mistakes are more like sophomore mistakes. The offenses he leads have a tendency to take on his smoothness, but his best trait may be his defensive tenacity. Sometimes he has a little too much of it and gets into unnecessary foul trouble, but that's a problem any coach will take. As good as Chalmers is, the choice is certainly arguable. Michael Beasley is another special rookie with the skills and confidence to be a star in the NBA. He just happens to be a young soul (his favorite show is SpongeBob SquarePants, for crying out loud). Look for Beasley to be the best sophomore.

Snorkeling isn't exactly the most expensive seafaring hobby you can take up, but to find most of the best spots requires some cash. Aside from buying the gear (or taping a few bendy straws together and hoping for the best), most of the prime scuba and snorkeling spots require a boat to get you there and back. So if you're looking to do some snorkeling on a budget, head out to Anglin's Pier on Commercial Boulevard. Just a hundred or so yards out from the pier, peer down and you'll swear you're a mile out. The gorgeous, clear water is home to hundreds of brightly colored schools of fish, a few sea turtles, and the occasional nurse shark. There's no fee for this snorkeling spot, but it can get crowded, especially during the dog days of summer, so prepare to get out there early or be ready to swim out a little farther to avoid the crowds.

The Marlins paid a high price for Andrew Miller. In 2007, he was the best prospect the team landed in exchange for two franchise players: Miguel Cabrera and Dontrelle Willis. A former number-six draft pick, the six-foot-six lefty had a 97-mph fastball and a wicked curve — weapons that were supposed to make him a mainstay in the Marlins rotation. But when he went to Marlins camp last year, suddenly Miller's pitches didn't have the same pop. He flashed some of that all-world potential in May only to scuffle through the following months, partly due to a bout with knee tendinitis. Still, hopes were high that the 23-year-old would make good on his promise this spring — until Miller was torched in his first few Grapefruit League outings. Maybe it's the changeup he's experimenting with or the new delivery or that knee barking, but he's running out of excuses. Remember: This is a player who was drafted shortly after Tampa Rays' all-star third-baseman Evan Longoria and just before Tim Linceum, the 2008 Cy Young Winner. The Marlins need a lefty in their rotation, and Miller's the only one within the system with the stuff to stick around.

If a team wins in Sunrise, does anyone care? When it comes to the Florida Panthers, the answer is a resounding "No." It seems that no matter how good or bad the product on the ice, no matter what superstar players come or go, and no matter how cheap the tickets are, the Panthers just can't pull a consistent home crowd into the BankAtlantic Center. That's not to say games don't sell out — practically every time a Canadian or big-market team like the Flyers or Rangers hits the ice, the stadium is packed... with fans decked out in the visiting team's sweaters. Chants of "Go Habs Go!" or "Let's Go Flyers!" drown out the dozen or so loyal fans that the Cats can muster. If an all-star goalie (Tomas Vokoun), a hotshot coach (Peter DeBoer), and some of the brightest young stars in the conference (Booth, Bouwmeester, and Frolik) can't bring in the fans, perhaps South Florida doesn't deserve a hockey team. And that sucks for both of the hardcore fans left down here.

Pompano Beach (Pompano Pier)
The Bahamas are the bane of South Florida surfers. The islands cut off incoming swells from the Atlantic, so short of a hurricane or tropical storm, surfers in South Florida are stuck with Typhoon Lagoon. Couple that with territorial pricks at particular surf spots (cough, Lake Worth, cough) and trying to enjoy a day at the beach becomes more a lesson in Point Break-style boorishness than riding waves. Pompano's Second Street remains a favorite spot among those in Broward and is as consistent as it gets in South Florida. When there's a groundswell, the perfectly situated sandbar pushes the water up, producing steep, fast-riding waves, powerful hollow barrels, and rolling solid lines for really long, rideable waves. And depending on the day, it can break right or left. According to the surf atlas at wannasurf.com, the swell starts working well around three feet and holds up to more than eight feet, making it a good spot for various skill levels. And you have the added bonus that no one will slash your tires (cough, Lake Worth, cough).

Every other sport is just a metaphor for boxing. If Nadal serves an ace against Federer or D-Wade dunks on Yao Ming, they are imposing their will against an opponent — figuratively. Glen Johnson imposes his will against an opponent literally. With his fists. Five years ago, the light heavyweight beat Roy Jones Jr. and Antonio Tarver back to back to become the International Boxing Federation champ and Ring Magazine's Fighter of the Year. But that year was an anomaly. Before and since, he has spent his career taking any fight thrown his way, doing whatever he can to make a living. He was absolutely robbed last year against Chad Dawson, and most of the big names refuse to get in the ring with the bruising Johnson. But at 40 years old, the Jamaican-born, South Florida-trained pugilist has managed to position himself for another title fight. And he did it by brutalizing Aaron Norwood at the end of 2008 and pulverizing Daniel Judah in February. So what should the next man brave (or stupid) enough to get in the ring with Johnson expect? He should expect to be imposed upon.

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