T20 Finals Day: a long days journey into a floodlit evening of fireworks and fanfare.T20 Finals Day: three hefty dollops of disappointment, one massive plateful of joy. The first three are staggered through the day; the joy is celebrated until light seeps under the door of night on a Sunday morning in BirminghamT20 Finals Day 2016: short form, short showers and the beguiling transience of fame. Twelve months ago Gavin Griffiths and George Edwards were in the Lancashire side that won the Blast. Late last month both players were told they were being released. As Northants and Notts warmed up in early morning, it really was not cheesy to hope that a similar fate does not befall any of the players from the four teams competing this year.Losing the first semi-final of the T20 is a bit like arriving at a party, putting your bottle on the table and then being told that its already time to leave. And well before three oclock it was the Outlaws who had been handed their coats. Some of Dan Christians players may have got home by the time the final was due to start.Mick Newell was sitting in that early press conference all four coaches wanted to avoid and bemoaning the failure of his batsmen to chase down 162. One of the many good things about Newell is that he does not wrap truth in euphemism: he had no problem about selecting Dré Russell because the bloke had been playing in ICC competitions; Notts were in a relegation battle at the bottom of Division One because they had not been playing well enough. Already Newell was thinking about Scarborough on Tuesday when Nottinghamshire will play Yorkshire.Most people have long since ceased being surprised by Northants short-form cricket. Alex Wakelys men have always punched above their weight, a particularly fine achievement in their case. All the same, their victory against the Outlaws was a considerable coup, not least because they had lost both Richard Gleeson and Seekkuge Prasanna from their full-strength T20 side. So while it was difficult to work out who Outlaws would leave out, it was also a little tricky to decide who the Steelbacks would call on.Northants had played Notts in seven previous T20 matches and had won none of them. They ended that miserable run partly, as Newell said, because Notts top order performed poorly, but also because Ben Duckett played an innings littered with invention. It would be interesting to work out how many of Ducketts 11 fours and two sixes had a place in any of the coaching manuals written five years ago.Certainly not the inside-edged fours, of course, and it would be a modern cricket book that would include details of the reverse pull, the scoop or the ramp. Yet Duckett played all of these as easefully if they were off-drives, his bat describing exotic curves even as the ball came towards him. DArtagnan.The Northants scorecard looked a little like that you find when a club side imports a couple of county professionals: one bloke made 84, another 53 and no one else more than 8. This was ironic really, since the Northants coach, David Ripley, rightly makes much of the fact that all his players contribute to their successesFor all that it was blessed by good fortune in its early stages, Ducketts innings was touched by genius yet it was not the most spectacular cricket seen in the semi-finals. That honour belonged to Mark Wood, whose four-over spell transcended any context and reminded one that a truly quick bowler in full cry is one of the greatest sights in the game. For many Durham supporters Ballance ct Collingwood b Wood 0 will always be one of the great dismissals, a reminder of a great catch at leg gully and a fast bowler in his pomp.Mediocre? I think not.Still, of course, we were nothing like done. Edgbaston is rarely shown to better advantage than when it hosts the T20 final, even when the occasion is punctuated with showers. But no one seemed to mind about the rain. Keaton Jennings played an innings as orthodox as Ducketts had been unconventional. His booming straight sixes were toasted by one line of dancing men wearing tennis gear from the 1950s and another group who felt an overpowering need to watch the cricket dressed as soldiers from the days of the Raj. Look, stranger on this island, now.Northants needed 154. The crowd waited for Wood. When Collingwood called on him to bowl the second over there was a rippling hush which, in its way, was comparable to that before the first ball of a Test match. Perhaps it is fearful pace which causes such a reaction, maybe its the animal danger as well. For a few balls Wood did not disappoint his new fans. Scott Borthwick clung on to about as sharp a slip catch as he can have taken and then he ran out Richard Levi. Next over Rushworth had Duckett leg before. Again one was reminded of the current Durham Yearbook with its photograph of Paul Collingwood clutching the badge on his shirt and brandishing it in the lens of the camera. A hard man for hard times.Then Josh Cobb won the game for Northants. Usman Arshad bowled a dreadful over, the type that makes opponents believe they are not yet defeated. Rain hammered down and Cobb blasted the ball into the blackness. A six off Borthwick cleared the Hollies Stand and sailed towards the Colts Ground.Cobbs nickname at Wantage Road is Tuckshop; he tucked in and Durham could not bowl to him. Wood was recalled but was pulled to the boundary and his moment had gone. The night was filled with cracking noises as this big man in a team of big men clubbed fours and sixes. Late wickets added a frisson of doubt but no more. Some people left early, others danced.Soon it was done with and the presentation platform which had lain unoccupied behind the Wyatt Stand since early morning was being wheeled across the outfield. More rain. It billowed vengefully across the ground as if making up for its restraint during most of the day. But the Durham players were deep in the moment of defeat and the Steelbacks may not have noticed a blizzard.There will never be a franchise at Wantage Road but they had earned the right to savour their joy. At the press conference Alex Wakely clutched the trophy, Cobb a bottle of champagne from which he swigged. They joked and took selfies. Nobody minded. 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Two pressure cooker bombs exploded near the finish line of the April 15 race in an area packed with fans cheering the passing runners. Three people were killed and more than 260 injured, including at least 16 who lost limbs.Arnold Palmer considered the question, fighting back a mischievous grin.This was in June 2016, and he was sitting in a golf cart behind his office just across the road from Latrobe Country Club, the Western Pennsylvania course Palmer grew up on as the son of the greens-keeper-club pro and later bought. Like much of the golfing public, he was trying to make sense of the U.S. Golf Association ruling that had nearly cost Dustin Johnson the title at nearby Oakmont Country Club a day earlier.Ill tell you what I think: The USGA screwed it up, Palmer chuckled, using an even saltier term, but good.It was vintage Arnold, just being one of the guys and making you feel that way, too. He was frail at the time, but still feisty and besides, you rarely had to work hard to figure out how Palmer felt about things.That voice was stilled Sunday night, when news of the death of the games King reminded millions why they took up the maddening game in the first place. But it will resonate for as long as golf is played.Palmer acknowledged dozens of time how impossible the game was to master, but quick to add that few accomplishments gave him more satisfaction than taking control of it for a few magical moments. He spoke his mind on topics beyond the game and even late in life, as age and illness hobbled his once-powerful frame stole the timber from his voice, Palmer still radiated so much charm and candor that he still got his point across. Only months earlier, all it took was one of his million-dollar smiles for a photo shoot with Kate Upton to go viral.That grin melted quickly in the heat on that June afternoon, though, as Palmer talked about the rest of his day. Hed just come from the practice range at Latrobe, where trying to hit balls left him frustrated. He crossed his arms in front of him, the opposite palm resting on his shoulders.I dont have any strength left, he said.Not at that moment, but his surroundings spoke volumes about what a powerful man Palmer had been.The walls of his office were covered with pictures of his family and testimonials and thank-you notes fromm U.ddddddddddddS. presidents and local charities. Stacks of requests for his autograph were piled atop a desk, where Palmer plowed through them happily whenever he could squeeze out the time. A reception area twice as big as his office was lined floor to ceiling with the overflow -- trophies, ribbons and plaques; almost too many to count -- that reflected a life well-lived.Across from his office was Palmers original workroom, stuffed with more than 5,000 golf clubs in various stages of being repaired or reworked. He learned to wield tools helping his father, Deacon, keep everything from the tractors at Latrobe to the members clubs in good working order, then began working on his own. As Doc Griffin, Palmers long-time friend and aide wrapped up a tour of the workshop, he pointed toward a few clubs on a nearby bench.Hes still tinkering, Griffin chuckled.Palmer never lost that working-man appeal. If anything, the man once described as having the strong hands of boxer Rocky Marciano and the forearms and shoulders of a blacksmith turned it into a legacy. He wintered in Florida, but spent his summers around Latrobe, never really leaving his hometown. After winning most everything the game offered, he bought the country club where members occasionally clashed with Deacon about his sons temperament and his go-for-broke swing, and Palmer threw the doors open to the public.None of the golfers whod played the course that sunny June afternoon had any idea that golfs King had been out among them. They were too busy taking in the scenery or struggling with their own games. A lucky few may even have been playing well enough to experience a moment of exhilaration that was writ large across Palmers face when he had been in pursuit of major championships.As far as he was concerned, that would have been tribute enough.---Jim Litke is a sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at jlitke(at)ap.org and https://Twitter.com/JimLitke . ' ' '