In case you were busy mournfully firing off one last bottle rocket, here’s what you missed in sports last weekend:

• Phil Mickelson fired a final-round 66 to surge up a star-studded leaderboard and secure his first British Open championship, winning his fifth career major with a total score of 3-under at Muirfield. “I finally did it,” Mickelson bellowed triumphantly. “I finally won the Open!” As people looked at him askance, Mickelson responded, “I said, I’ve. Finally. Won. The. Open. What about that is unclear? The monkey is off my back.” When asked if he was serious, Mickelson replied, “The Open Championship is mine. Having never been mine before. What more need be said? Nothing. Ever. Now if someone could drive me home to California it would be greatly appreciated. Now.”
• The Boston Red Sox, behind a walk-off home run from Mike Napoli, took a weekend series off the New York Yankees by winning the rubber match, 8-7, in 11 innings. Adding injury to insult, an MRI revealed Alex Rodriguez suffered a Grade 1 quad strain, setting back his rehabilitation. “Oh, you don’t say,” replied Yankees general manager Brian Cashman while sipping a cup of tea alone in his office. “Well isn’t that quite something. Yes indeed. Quite something.” Cashman then let out a strange high-pitched giggle that his assistant GM regarded with some concern. When asked if he was OK, Cashman responded, “Oh quite all right. Never been better! Now if you’ll just leave us to our tea party, you’re offending my guests. Unless of course you’d like to join us? Forever?”
• Serena Williams overcame a slow start to beat Johanna Larsson, 6-4, 6-1, to take home the Swedish Open. Based on a competitive first set the win was a solid bounce back for Williams after her disappointing early exit from Wimbledon, or, based on a dominant second set the win was a clear start of a torrent of destruction that will extend from Sweden to Flushing Meadows and God help anyone who stands in her way for they shall be lifted from this Earth and deposited elsewhere as if God himself had plucked them out of vengeful anger, but I assure you that those who shall be plucked shall be plucked by the hand of Serena, and Serena’s hand alone. One of the two.
• Break up the U.S. men’s national team! The Americans extended their record winning streak and moved into the Gold Cup semifinals with a 5-1 win over El Salvador. The real winner though was “Dilbert” cartoonist Scott Adams, who has already crafted a weeklong arc imagining El Salvador goalkeeper Dagoberto Portillo as Dilbert’s long lost El Salvadoran cousin. Keeping hard or hardly keeping, Adams thought to himself as he turned off the match, overwhelmed by inspiration and a hearty bout of chortling.
• Florida linebacker Antonio Morrison was arrested for the second time this offseason after barking at a police dog. “You know what they say,” said Gainesville Police Chief Tony Jones. “The bark is worse than the bite. Biting a police officer is a felony. So barking is obviously far worse.” Chief Jones then threw a clock out his window to, in his words, “catch the worm.”
• Cowboys owner Jerry Jones has come out in support of head coach Jason Garrett, saying “he’s not on the hot seat” and that this is not an “Armageddon year.” Jones then added, “That said, he is on a very, very cold seat, which I believe is in its own way more uncomfortable. As for the end of the world, well, I don’t want to say too much, but there are signs out there and, fortunately, this whole stadium is spaceworthy. Wink.” Jones paused and spat a wad of chewing tobacco into an assistant’s hand before saying, “I can’t really wink anymore. Also, I’ve said too much.”
• The Los Angeles Clippers secured the frontcourt depth they needed to make a run at a Western Conference title, signing Byron Mullens to a low-cost two-year deal. “Spaceworthy,” Jerry Jones said of the move, before drooling tobacco spit all over the front of his shirt, only to have a pair of assistants wipe it off of him. “I ain’t messing around.”
• British cyclist Chris Froome won the 100th Tour de France, which inexplicably started 116 years ago. The tour, which emerged out of a cyclical period of dynastic turmoil among the French cycling community, has thus been deemed resolved now that it has another British holder of the yellow jacket. Speaking to his team before the final ride into Paris, Froome said, “This day is call’d the feast of Christopher. He that outrides this day, and comes safe home, will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d. And rouse him at the name of Christopher. And Christopher shall ne’er go by from this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembered — we few, we happy few, we band of riders; for he to-day that peddles his feet with me shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, this day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England now-a-bed shall think themselves accurs’d that they didn’t get up and put on Sky Sports, and will hold their manhoods cheap that they did not ride with us on Saint Christopher’s day.” Froome’s speech was met with muted applause, as his team thought it a little far-fetched for him to compare himself so blatantly with King Henry V, but didn’t want to make things too awkward by staying silent.