EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
When El Abuelo went to his first and only bullfight, he rooted for the bull, not only because the poor animal was clearly a double-digit underdog, but because it was the right thing to do. The rest of the stadium was pulling for the torero, hoping to see a precise kill. But not El Abuelo. He was impressed by el toro’s power and dignity. And of course, he was disappointed. The bull went down like the victim of a mob hit. It was bloody, ruthless and stunningly final.
It may be hard to believe, given his steel-encased 6-foot, 4-inch, 300-pound frame, but Ndamukong Suh is the bull in the Heisman Trophy race, both metaphorically and in a literal sense. Watching him terrorize those old boys from Texas – not to mention anyone else unlucky enough to have lined up across from him the past two seasons – was like seeing Mark Mangino tear though the Sizzler buffet. Oh, the humanity. In a year when no traditional (read: Offensive) candidate stood out in the Heisman sweepstakes, discerning voters had the opportunity to take a good look at the player who best fit the mandate found on every ballot: “We are truly grateful for your support in selecting the most outstanding college football player in the United States (El Hombre’s italics) for 2009.”
That would be Suh, no question about it. The other finalists had great years, to be sure, but “most outstanding” status belongs to those who truly distinguish themselves as performing well above the usual. That’s the trouble with awards these days. They often go to the person who has the best press agent or the loudest TV foof blithering about his greatness. At this point, we have heard so much about the majesty of Tim Tebow that it’s a wonder he hasn’t been beatified, with only a couple miracles – one of them could be a card trick – standing between him and sainthood. (Word is Sixers GM Billy King prays daily to Tebow to get another job, and should an NBA team hire him, that will definitely qualify as the QB’s first miracle.) What is conveniently omitted from the Tebow mythology is that he hasn’t had a dominant season. His numbers (2,413 yards passing, 18 TDs, five ints., 859 yards rushing, 13 TDs) are impressive but not dominant. Tebow didn’t overwhelm people they way he did in ’07, when he won the Heisman by accounting for a knee-buckling 55 touchdowns (23 rushing, 32 passing). He was great and led the Gators to a perfect regular season, but he wasn’t the most outstanding player out there.
Texas QB McCoy had a fine season, too, throwing for 3,512 yards and 27 TDs. But he threw 12 picks and didn’t show so well against the only two stout defenses he faced. In games versus Oklahoma and Nebraska, McCoy was a pedestrian 41-of-75 (54.7%), for 311 yards, a touchdown and four picks. About the only thing Heisman-like about that combined effort was that it appeared as if McCoy was throwing with a stiff arm.
It’s going to be tough for a lot of voters to eliminate those two from contention, since as quarterbacks, the hold the ball longer than anyone else and are clearly visible for the myopic, who conveniently forget there are 21 other players on the field with the QB. They’re the types who believe multi-tasking is eating a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.
The running back crop is pretty impressive this season. In fact, two of them received my second and third-place votes. But as strong as Toby Gerhart and Mark Ingram were this season, neither was the type of player who made you call friends during games to talk in amazement about this play or that move. Gerhart was the closest to that of any ballcarrier, but it’s possible part of his amazement quotient was due to the fact that finding white tailbacks these days is practically impossible, unless you’re haunting the New England Small College Athletic Conference. EH compadre Raging Bill refers to the Caucasian tailback as the “passenger pigeon,” since that species is long extinct. While Gerhart does have some peers, he is a rarity, though he was practically unstoppable in Stanford’s final four games, when he averaged 185.5 yards/contest and scored 13 touchdowns. Pretty impressive, but let’s not get carried away.
Same goes for Ingram, who finished 12th in the nation in rushing. His 1,542 yards and 15 touchdowns are certainly strong performances, and he did come up big in the SEC title game against Florida, rushing for 113 yards and three scores, but let’s be serious here. We’re looking for the “most outstanding” player, not just someone who plays well. Consider some of the other running backs who have won the Heisman. Barry Sanders rushed for 2,628 yards and 37 touchdowns. (Gulp!) Marcus Allen gained 2,342. Ricky Williams picked up 2,327 and scored 29 times. Mike Rozier had 2,148 yards and 29 scores. Bo Jackson: 1,786 yards and 6.4 yards/attempt. And they all did it in 11 games. Gerhart and Ingram are great college players, but they are not Heisman-worthy.
Suh is. His numbers bear it out, which is extremely rare for a defensive tackle. Most of the time, those guys are anonymous, content to – and praised for – earn their side of beef by commanding double and triple-teams and let someone else earn the glory. They are most often found beneath six hundred pounds or so of offensive linemen while linebackers and strong safeties accumulate the stats. Not Suh. Not only did he lead Nebraska in tackles for the second straight year, a remarkable feat, but he also piled up 23 tackles for loss, 12 sacks, three blocked kicks, 24 QB hurries, 10 batted-down passes and an interception. But the numbers are only part of it. Because of Suh’s dominance, the entire Husker defensive unit thrived. Take fellow D-tackle Jared Crick. He had a huge year, all right, with 15 tackles behind the line and 9.5 sacks, and is plenty talented. But as one coach who watched the Huskers devastate the potent Texas attack said, “Crick’s like the guy who rooms with the good-looking guy and gets a bunch of girls because of the roommate.” That may be a little bit of an overstatement, but without Suh’s attracting so much attention, there’s no way Crick produces what he did. And there’s no way Nebraska comes within a second of the Big 12 title. You want outstanding? You want Suh.
This year, the bull wins.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: El Hombre certainly doesn’t condone any kind of anti-Semitic behavior, like the taunting that took place during the Harvard-Dartmouth squash match last week, but you have to admit that it’s rather amusing that when we discuss bad behavior at big schools, it’s usually surrounding football or basketball. In the Ivies, it’s squash. Somebody needs to teach Biff and Chip some manners…If it’s December, then the Cowboys are choking. That’s a darn shame…The early rollout of the stupid Nike LeBron and Kobe puppet ad campaign is bad news for people who prefer to remain sane. This means seven more months of that nonsense. Make it stop, please!...Is there anything more ridiculous than espn’s touting that its sportscenter broadcasts are coming to us from Los Angeles? Who cares if they’re spewing their nauseating brew of synergized highlights, self-promotion and canned crowd noise from a ger in Ulan Bator, just as long as we find out (eventually) the score of the game? Just another reason the network is about as far away from its groundbreaking roots as Michael Jackson was from his Jackson 5 days.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The decision to extend Andy Reid’s
contract hasn’t been too well received among Eagles fans, and that’s not hard to believe, given the brainwashing that has been done about how the city of Philadelphia “deserves” a parade (pronounced locally as “prade”) and how a Super Bowl is the only way to measure success. Of course, many of these people think it’s a good idea to replace Donovan McNabb with Kevin Kolb. Yes, Reid is a borderline boob when it comes to clock management. He also has some serious splotches on his resume, like the ’02 NFC title game loss to Tampa Bay, and his decision not to go with the no-huddle attack during the last seven minutes of the Super Bowl loss to New England. But his successes far outweigh those failures. He’s one of only four (four!) coaches ever to win 100 games in a decade with the same team. He has brought the Eagles to the playoffs seven of the 10 seasons he has coached the Eagles and has won a post-season game every year. His teams almost always get better as the season goes on, and he has even improved as a GM, as his recent moves to upgrade the offense have shown. Reid is imperfect, and he clearly doesn’t like the media (so what?), but he has done an admirable job so far. Now, if he doesn’t get over the hump by the time this deal is done, it’s time to move on. But Reid deserved the extension, and those who want to see him go should be very wary of what might come next.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Let’s get something straight: Anybody who thinks Tim Donaghy didn’t try to influence the outcomes of the games he was betting has never gambled on sports. If you had money on a game, and someone said you could send somebody to the bench with foul trouble, you would do it immediately. In fact, if somebody handed you a gun with a single bullet in it and said you could use it at any point in the game, don’t think for a minute you wouldn’t consider kneecapping a player to guarantee a cover. We didn’t believe Pete Rose, and we shouldn’t believe Donaghy. He deserves a chance to rebuild his life, but we don’t have to buy his story. It just doesn’t add up.
* * *
ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD: It is a testament to the corporate world’s “conscience” that sponsors are not jumping off the Tiger Woods train in bunches. Nike, Accenture and the rest of the logos are sticking by their man for one reason: At some point, this will all burn out, and Woods will return to the links to (one would assume) keep dominating the rest of the field. When that happens, and he issues his mandatory public mea culpa – get ready for a ratings bonanza, Oprah – and undergoes some therapy and/or rehab (that Ambien can be pretty addictive), you can bet the sponsors will be happy to have remained with a man who will have become a sympathetic figure. If Woods plays it right, he will be able to able to regain his former prominent perch, provided he can avoid ordering off the menu at Perkins House of Pancakes.
-EH-
Friday, December 11, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
It Ain't Hatin' If It's True
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
Back in the early 1990s, a movement started among sycophantic media and fans that branded anyone with the temerity to criticize an athlete a “hater,” particularly if said performer was talented and entertaining. A cottage industry of products, publications and videos sprouted, celebrating pure ability and shucking aside inconvenient sporting tenets like team play and fundamentals. If someone could thrill, that was enough. Failure to lionize that was a sin punished by ridicule from fawning supporters, who deemed the critics unable to recognize the new way and branded them hopelessly old school and out of touch.
One of the faces among the vanguard of this new phenomenon was Allen Iverson, whom the Sixers drafted first overall in 1996. The jet-quick guard was a powerful intoxicant for the new fan order. He dazzled with his talent. He scored in bunches. He even looked the part, what with his ever-expanding canvas of body art, myriad hairstyles and ubercasual wardrobe. If there was anybody who was begging to be “hated,” it was Iverson.
There were indeed some people who couldn’t stand him for how he looked. There were plenty of people who couldn’t handle such an out-front manifestation of the hip-hop culture. To them, Iverson’s look – ball cap askew, oversized sweater/sweatshirt, baaaaaggy jeans, Tims – was an insult to society and proof that the rap culture was not only infiltrating everyday society but threatening it. Of course, we heard the same thing in the ‘70s, when Bill Walton was wearing tie-dyed shirts, growing that mangy beard of his and leaving tickets for Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir at Trailblazers games.
Those who protested Iverson’s look weren’t going to debate his basketball worth honestly. To them, he was a nightmare in high-tops and an emblem of the league’s imminent demise. They were every bit as unreasonable as the Other Side, which glorified Iverson’s talent, to whatever end he put it, and labeled anyone who dared to criticize him as a “hater.”
The short story of Iverson’s time in Philadelphia goes like this: Lots of points, lots of excitement, one thrilling playoff run, plenty of acrimony with coaches, the legendary “Practice?!” rant and a departure a year or two too late. Since that time, he has played for Denver, Detroit and (briefly) Memphis, with sketchy, unsatisfying results. Today, he sits at home, ostensibly sorting out “personal matters,” but mostly pouting over his role as a reserve on the dog-ass Grizzlies. Iverson still believes he should be a front-line NBA star. The apologists out there who care little about winning basketball agree.
Anybody who knows the game, and that includes executives from the 29 teams who wouldn’t go near Iverson, think differently. And therein lies the problem with Iverson today and throughout his career. It has always been about him and only him. Never once has he volunteered to sublimate his own numbers for the good of the franchise. Just as he thinks he has never committed a foul in his life (try to find a time when he was called for one and didn’t complain), Iverson is not about to listen to anybody who says he must adapt in order to be attractive to teams. To him, basketball is a game about scoring points, and if Iverson gets 40 minutes and 20 shots a night, he can produce big numbers. Whether that helps a team win or not has nothing to do with it. Nothing.
Back in the fall of 1997, El Hombre was at Big East basketball media day in New York. In a cramped hotel ballroom, coaches from the league’s teams sat at tables and fielded questions from the media huddled around them. The crowd near John Thompson was about three deep and eager to hear everything he said. Thompson began by giving assessments of his players and the coming season, delivering answers in his bottom-of-the-well baritone. Then the topics started to veer a little, offering El Hombre the opportunity to ask about Iverson, then a second-year Sixer, and the speculation that he would eventually become a distribute-first point guard. Thompson, who had gone out of his way to get Iverson to Georgetown, to the point of visiting him in jail while Iverson served a sentence for his part in a bowling alley riot, was one of Iverson’s staunchest defenders. His comments that day reflected two years (Iverson left after his sophomore season for the NBA) of dealing with a me-first player.
“You can’t change a zebra’s stripes,” he said.
The message was clear: Iverson is a shooter first, second and third, and those who dreamed of his becoming a lethal point man were wasting their sleep time. Since that day, Iverson has proven Thompson correct every minute he has been on the floor. And now that he is clearly no longer wanted as a first (or even second) offensive option, Iverson has taken his ball and gone home. What is so amazing about this guy is that only one team wanted him during the off-season, and that was Memphis, which needed someone to put a few posteriors in the seats. Yet Iverson is acting as if he chose the Grizz from a long list of suitors. (Actually, he said at the time that “God” chose Memphis for him.) This is a guy who has become so irrelevant and proven himself to be such a detriment to a winning team that nobody wants his talents. They know he has no commitment to winning basketball, rather only to himself. And they know after this recent tantrum that he has no desire to help a team. So, Iverson sits at home and waits to hear that he’ll get a chance to start and play 40 a night. It won’t happen.
The saddest thing about all of this is that he could be a huge piece on a title team, if only he understood what it took to win. Using him 20-25 minutes a night to penetrate and kick or blast through plodding defenders on the break would be a contender’s dream. Instead of embracing that opportunity, Iverson wants to pump up his own numbers. Worse, he still has a choir of voices behind him extolling his ball-hogging virtues. If a team wanted to build around him, he would be employed. None does. So, he’s a Grizzly, solely to sell a few tickets. What did he expect?
Sorry for hatin’, Allen, but you need to get a bit of reality in your life. If you want to play in the NBA, you had better become a team player.
If you can change your stripes.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: On the surface, LeBron James’ announcement that he is giving up his number 23 in honor of Michael Jordan seems like a magnanimous gesture, but trying to get the NBA to “retire” MJ’s number pales in comparison to Majoke League Baseball’s decision to shelve Jackie Robinson’s number 42. Jordan was great, but he didn’t break barriers. If players want to choose other numbers, fine. It shouldn’t be a league mandate…Jeez, why is Roger Goodell so mean. All Chad Ochocrazy did was mention the word “bribe,” in connection with a referee, and the NFL commissioner slapped him with a $20,000 fine. He was just having some fun, is all. Right. Shut your mouth, Chad, and write the check…How tough must the last 10 years have been for Jim Riggleman? He can’t stop telling people how happy he is to be a manager again after a decade out of the main chair, but he’s leading the Nationals. That’s barely an MLB team. Things must have been pretty tough, Jim…The NASCAR Chase for the Cup is getting wilder and wilder, thanks to Jimmie Johnson’s problems in Texas last week. Why, if things get any more exciting, the other 90% of the country might start paying attention. Might.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Phillies’ decision to let Pedro Feliz go, rather than pay him $5.5 million next season (there was a $500,000 buyout), is risky business. Although we have heard about all the candidates for third base out there, few could be considered an upgrade. Those who are may cost too much. Placido Polanco will be 34 and is coming off a shaky season. Plus, he has played two games at third since leaving Philadelphia. Chone Figgins hit five homers last year and wants about a five-year, $50 million deal. We’re not sure how old Miggy Tejada is. Adrian Beltre has injury questions and a huge price tag. Mark DeRosa is a possible solution, but he might be better as a utility bench guy. Yes, Feliz didn’t hit lefties well, but he’s a strong fielder who knocked in 82 runs from the seven spot last year. Even if the Phils bring him back at a discount, will be he be upset, and perhaps hurt the team’s chemistry? The team gets a huge benefit of the doubt for what it has done the past two years, but this was a curious start to the post-season.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: In his never-ending quest to show how ridiculous the BCS (Big College Swindle) El Hombre submits this week’s polls as exhibits S and T. One week after tearing apart the USC defense for 613 total yards in a 47-20 romp, Oregon lost to Stanford. So, the Mensa candidates who vote in the Harris and USA Today polls decided to drop the Ducks four (Harris) and six (USA) spots behind the Trojans, even though the teams have identical records and Oregon thumped ‘SC. USC’s win over Arizona State last week wasn’t even all that impressive, so it’s impossible to say the Trojans rebounded in style. It’s heinous that the world’s greatest sport is being hijacked by a “system” best suited for chimpanzee skateboard racing.
-EH-
Back in the early 1990s, a movement started among sycophantic media and fans that branded anyone with the temerity to criticize an athlete a “hater,” particularly if said performer was talented and entertaining. A cottage industry of products, publications and videos sprouted, celebrating pure ability and shucking aside inconvenient sporting tenets like team play and fundamentals. If someone could thrill, that was enough. Failure to lionize that was a sin punished by ridicule from fawning supporters, who deemed the critics unable to recognize the new way and branded them hopelessly old school and out of touch.
One of the faces among the vanguard of this new phenomenon was Allen Iverson, whom the Sixers drafted first overall in 1996. The jet-quick guard was a powerful intoxicant for the new fan order. He dazzled with his talent. He scored in bunches. He even looked the part, what with his ever-expanding canvas of body art, myriad hairstyles and ubercasual wardrobe. If there was anybody who was begging to be “hated,” it was Iverson.
There were indeed some people who couldn’t stand him for how he looked. There were plenty of people who couldn’t handle such an out-front manifestation of the hip-hop culture. To them, Iverson’s look – ball cap askew, oversized sweater/sweatshirt, baaaaaggy jeans, Tims – was an insult to society and proof that the rap culture was not only infiltrating everyday society but threatening it. Of course, we heard the same thing in the ‘70s, when Bill Walton was wearing tie-dyed shirts, growing that mangy beard of his and leaving tickets for Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir at Trailblazers games.
Those who protested Iverson’s look weren’t going to debate his basketball worth honestly. To them, he was a nightmare in high-tops and an emblem of the league’s imminent demise. They were every bit as unreasonable as the Other Side, which glorified Iverson’s talent, to whatever end he put it, and labeled anyone who dared to criticize him as a “hater.”
The short story of Iverson’s time in Philadelphia goes like this: Lots of points, lots of excitement, one thrilling playoff run, plenty of acrimony with coaches, the legendary “Practice?!” rant and a departure a year or two too late. Since that time, he has played for Denver, Detroit and (briefly) Memphis, with sketchy, unsatisfying results. Today, he sits at home, ostensibly sorting out “personal matters,” but mostly pouting over his role as a reserve on the dog-ass Grizzlies. Iverson still believes he should be a front-line NBA star. The apologists out there who care little about winning basketball agree.
Anybody who knows the game, and that includes executives from the 29 teams who wouldn’t go near Iverson, think differently. And therein lies the problem with Iverson today and throughout his career. It has always been about him and only him. Never once has he volunteered to sublimate his own numbers for the good of the franchise. Just as he thinks he has never committed a foul in his life (try to find a time when he was called for one and didn’t complain), Iverson is not about to listen to anybody who says he must adapt in order to be attractive to teams. To him, basketball is a game about scoring points, and if Iverson gets 40 minutes and 20 shots a night, he can produce big numbers. Whether that helps a team win or not has nothing to do with it. Nothing.
Back in the fall of 1997, El Hombre was at Big East basketball media day in New York. In a cramped hotel ballroom, coaches from the league’s teams sat at tables and fielded questions from the media huddled around them. The crowd near John Thompson was about three deep and eager to hear everything he said. Thompson began by giving assessments of his players and the coming season, delivering answers in his bottom-of-the-well baritone. Then the topics started to veer a little, offering El Hombre the opportunity to ask about Iverson, then a second-year Sixer, and the speculation that he would eventually become a distribute-first point guard. Thompson, who had gone out of his way to get Iverson to Georgetown, to the point of visiting him in jail while Iverson served a sentence for his part in a bowling alley riot, was one of Iverson’s staunchest defenders. His comments that day reflected two years (Iverson left after his sophomore season for the NBA) of dealing with a me-first player.
“You can’t change a zebra’s stripes,” he said.
The message was clear: Iverson is a shooter first, second and third, and those who dreamed of his becoming a lethal point man were wasting their sleep time. Since that day, Iverson has proven Thompson correct every minute he has been on the floor. And now that he is clearly no longer wanted as a first (or even second) offensive option, Iverson has taken his ball and gone home. What is so amazing about this guy is that only one team wanted him during the off-season, and that was Memphis, which needed someone to put a few posteriors in the seats. Yet Iverson is acting as if he chose the Grizz from a long list of suitors. (Actually, he said at the time that “God” chose Memphis for him.) This is a guy who has become so irrelevant and proven himself to be such a detriment to a winning team that nobody wants his talents. They know he has no commitment to winning basketball, rather only to himself. And they know after this recent tantrum that he has no desire to help a team. So, Iverson sits at home and waits to hear that he’ll get a chance to start and play 40 a night. It won’t happen.
The saddest thing about all of this is that he could be a huge piece on a title team, if only he understood what it took to win. Using him 20-25 minutes a night to penetrate and kick or blast through plodding defenders on the break would be a contender’s dream. Instead of embracing that opportunity, Iverson wants to pump up his own numbers. Worse, he still has a choir of voices behind him extolling his ball-hogging virtues. If a team wanted to build around him, he would be employed. None does. So, he’s a Grizzly, solely to sell a few tickets. What did he expect?
Sorry for hatin’, Allen, but you need to get a bit of reality in your life. If you want to play in the NBA, you had better become a team player.
If you can change your stripes.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: On the surface, LeBron James’ announcement that he is giving up his number 23 in honor of Michael Jordan seems like a magnanimous gesture, but trying to get the NBA to “retire” MJ’s number pales in comparison to Majoke League Baseball’s decision to shelve Jackie Robinson’s number 42. Jordan was great, but he didn’t break barriers. If players want to choose other numbers, fine. It shouldn’t be a league mandate…Jeez, why is Roger Goodell so mean. All Chad Ochocrazy did was mention the word “bribe,” in connection with a referee, and the NFL commissioner slapped him with a $20,000 fine. He was just having some fun, is all. Right. Shut your mouth, Chad, and write the check…How tough must the last 10 years have been for Jim Riggleman? He can’t stop telling people how happy he is to be a manager again after a decade out of the main chair, but he’s leading the Nationals. That’s barely an MLB team. Things must have been pretty tough, Jim…The NASCAR Chase for the Cup is getting wilder and wilder, thanks to Jimmie Johnson’s problems in Texas last week. Why, if things get any more exciting, the other 90% of the country might start paying attention. Might.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Phillies’ decision to let Pedro Feliz go, rather than pay him $5.5 million next season (there was a $500,000 buyout), is risky business. Although we have heard about all the candidates for third base out there, few could be considered an upgrade. Those who are may cost too much. Placido Polanco will be 34 and is coming off a shaky season. Plus, he has played two games at third since leaving Philadelphia. Chone Figgins hit five homers last year and wants about a five-year, $50 million deal. We’re not sure how old Miggy Tejada is. Adrian Beltre has injury questions and a huge price tag. Mark DeRosa is a possible solution, but he might be better as a utility bench guy. Yes, Feliz didn’t hit lefties well, but he’s a strong fielder who knocked in 82 runs from the seven spot last year. Even if the Phils bring him back at a discount, will be he be upset, and perhaps hurt the team’s chemistry? The team gets a huge benefit of the doubt for what it has done the past two years, but this was a curious start to the post-season.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: In his never-ending quest to show how ridiculous the BCS (Big College Swindle) El Hombre submits this week’s polls as exhibits S and T. One week after tearing apart the USC defense for 613 total yards in a 47-20 romp, Oregon lost to Stanford. So, the Mensa candidates who vote in the Harris and USA Today polls decided to drop the Ducks four (Harris) and six (USA) spots behind the Trojans, even though the teams have identical records and Oregon thumped ‘SC. USC’s win over Arizona State last week wasn’t even all that impressive, so it’s impossible to say the Trojans rebounded in style. It’s heinous that the world’s greatest sport is being hijacked by a “system” best suited for chimpanzee skateboard racing.
-EH-
Friday, November 6, 2009
What A Season It Was
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
There is always a temptation to focus on the outcome of a long journey, rather than the process of reaching the destination. If you drive for hours to watch a game, reveling in the company and discussion along the way, little of that is remembered if the contest’s outcome is dissatisfying. Over the river and through the woods is no fun – in retrospect – if the turkey is overcooked, and the eggnog is sour. No matter how much enjoyment can be found along the way, if the end doesn’t measure up, the whole production suffers.
That’s particularly true in sports. No matter how much enjoyment a team provides throughout a long, arduous season, if the odyssey doesn’t end in a championship, fans find it hard to deem the campaign a success. Think Patriots supporters remember the warm glow of 18-0, or the misery of their Super Bowl loss? Ask the folks from Oklahoma whether they think about last year’s 13-0 start or suffer nightmares of the “national title game” loss to Florida. It’s almost universal.
Winning it all is important, but sports can’t be a zero-sum game, unless you are a Pirates fan, in which case every season
is a disaster. There is one champion per sport per year. If you apply the win-it-all-or-bust theory to a 30-team league, there will be 29 sets of miserable people scattered throughout the country, with their dreams crushed week-by-week as the schedule unfolds. Or, in the case of the Browns, the minute training camp begins. For those fans fortunate enough to enjoy regular-season success, followed by playoff intensity, a win-or-bust mentality will erase any happiness created by months of relative prosperity should the trophy end up somewhere else.
It shouldn’t be that way, especially when it comes to the Phillies’ World Series loss to the Yanks. It’s right to be sad and
even a little bit angry (okay, when it comes to Brad Lidge’s meltdown in game four, mad as hell; more on that later) about the defeat, but to judge the season anything less than terrific is ridiculous. Are Philadelphia fans’ memories so short that they cannot remember the euphoria that took hold of the city after the NLCS triumph over the milquetoast Dodgers? Is it that hard to recall the sense of pride that prevailed when Cliff Lee mastered the Yankees in the first game of the World Series, in the Bronx? It remains remarkable that people who accept – and often cultivate – mediocrity in their own lives, refuse to appreciate excellence in their sports teams, even if the ultimate outcome isn’t perfectly palatable. It would have been historic and remarkable had the Phillies won a second straight Series, but they ran into a better team and couldn’t scale the final peak. For that we’re supposed to deem the season anything less than great? Come on.
Thursday night, El Hombre had a wide-ranging conversation with compadre and financial whiz Roger Ramjet. During the discourse about the Phillies and their off-season mandates, RR said something that should be remembered as fans try to put the 2009 season into perspective. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without a game to watch,” he said. There it was, crystallized in its purest form. From April until early November, the Phillies had given the city seven months of nightly enjoyment and excitement. As other Majoke League Baseball teams were rendered irrelevant one-by-one (the Nationals became meaningless in early May), the Phillies marched along, through the regular season and its highs and lows, through the playoffs and their high drama and onto baseball’s biggest stage. No matter how heartbreaking the outcome, fans cannot forget the remarkable ride. They can’t do anything but adore their heroes, even if the New York triumph ceases all ridiculous talk about “dynasties” and “greatest teams ever.” For the record, the Celtics’ 11 titles in 13 years from 1957-69 constitute a dynasty. The Yankees’ seven World Series championships from 1936-47 were dynastic. The Canadiens’ nine Stanley Cup wins from 1956-69 equaled a dynasty. The 806-year (1027-221 B.C.) Zhou rule in China, now that was a dynasty.
Anyway, the 2009 Phillies season goes into the books as giant W, despite the final shortfall. Let’s face it; as much as we wanted the Phils to knock off New York, it was rather hard to compete with the all-star laden lineup the Yanks put forth, especially with some of the small showings by previous Philadelphia stalwarts (see Hamels, Cole; Lidge, Brad; Howard, Ryan). Watching the Yankees win the World Series is like watching a rich guy buy his way out of legal trouble. There’s something antiseptic about seeing Standard Oil celebrating a stacked deck. Worse is hearing network apologists saluting the “great group of guys” and “tremendous camaraderie” the Yankees showed, when the real reason for the title was a team payroll obscene enough to generate protests from the Moral Majority.
While the Yankees plot their next move and continue to print money, the Phillies must address some questions during the off-season. In no particular order, they must find a new backup catcher (so long Paul “Master Builder” Bako), a utility infielder who doesn’t look like a Civil War re-enactor and play like a Daughter of the American Revolution, a pinch-hitter who can do more than hit one homer every Halley’s Comet sighting and a reliable middle reliever (Chad Durbin) who doesn’t find his way onto the field courtesy of some compromising photographs of the team manager and Lainie Kazan.
More important are the futures of Cole “Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow” Hamels and Brad Lidge, who needs to 86 the Amish beard and find his mojo. Forget about Hamels’ comments after game three of the Series. He needs to focus on developing an effective third pitch, or he’ll never be an ace again. And Lidge needs to understand that pitchers with ERAs hovering near 8.00 don’t get to pitch for contenders. That’s why the Orioles are still in business.
Answers (we hope) to all of these questions will emerge in the coming weeks and months. For now, fans should relish the memories of a tremendous season, despite the disappointing dénouement. Things may not have ended perfectly for the Phillies, but they provided the city with one helluva ride. Think about that for a while, and you might just get something more important than a championship.
Perspective.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: People who railed about the ridiculous length of the World Series games focused on mound conversations, batters’ stepping out and various other time-wasting tactics. The real culprits were the four-minute commercial marathons that Fox unfurled between each half-inning. Add those up, and you have enough time to play five innings…U.S. skier Bode Miller has announced he will return to the slopes and take part in a “full schedule.” Of course, that means something different for him than most people in his sport. Included on the itinerary are beer pong, nightclubbing, late-night hot tub liaisons in Gstaad and maybe even some skiing…How about that Andre Agassi autobiography? There’s some strong stuff in there. Love the part about the wig. And revealing that he wore lifts to marry Brooke Shields is priceless. Could do without the information about playing while not wearing underwear, though. Now, if Gabriela Sabatini wants to write a tell-all and reveal that information, she should have at it. Now…Fox is bringing its NFL pre-game show to Afghanistan to support the troops and perhaps use Terry Bradshaw as a weapon against the enemy, but the biggest reason for the road show is that Minnesota has a bye this week, so there will be time to fill in lieu of the usual weekly posterior-polishing of Brett Favre. Undaunted by the schedule gap, espn is planning a 15-minute segment detailing Favre’s leisure-week activities, including in-depth interviews with his couch and lawnmower.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Now that the main sports season in Philadelphia has concluded, the Eagles have a chance to take the stage and capture the city’s fans – at least until pitchers and catchers report next February. A win over Dallas Sunday night would go a long way toward accomplishing that. If there is one thing that has characterized the Birds this year it has been their inconsistency. They certainly looked great trampling the overrated Giants last week, but the Cowboys are hot, and another desultory effort (Raiders, Redskins) will put the Eagles in a tough spot in the NFC East. Injuries have been a concern this year for Andy Reid’s team. So has continuity. The good news for Sunday night? Reid vs. Dallas coach Wade Phillips is a mismatch. And though it isn’t January yet, you can usually count on Tony Romo to choke it up in big games. Win this one, and the Birds’ bandwagon will be filled. Lose it, and the spring training countdown might get cranked up a couple months early.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: If NFL commissioner Roger Goodell is smart, he has begun the process of investigating the allegations that Raiders coach Tom Cable physically abused his former wife and girlfriend. And should Goodell find compelling evidence that Cable did indeed hit them, he should be fired. Goodell has been hard on players who have broken the law and acted inappropriately, and he cannot back down on Cable, if the coach indeed struck the women. There is no room for that kind of behavior in society, and there should be no tolerance for it in the NFL. We heard all about the need to preserve the league’s image when Michael Vick, Plaxico Burress, Tank Johnson and Pac-man Jones were being disciplined, and rightly so. The league’s image is at stake in this situation, also. If Cable did it, he must go. That’s all there is to it. Goodell needs to find out what has happened and act quickly, or his credibility as a law-and-order commissioner will take a hit, and the NFL will look like an organization that condones physical abuse of women.
-EH-
There is always a temptation to focus on the outcome of a long journey, rather than the process of reaching the destination. If you drive for hours to watch a game, reveling in the company and discussion along the way, little of that is remembered if the contest’s outcome is dissatisfying. Over the river and through the woods is no fun – in retrospect – if the turkey is overcooked, and the eggnog is sour. No matter how much enjoyment can be found along the way, if the end doesn’t measure up, the whole production suffers.
That’s particularly true in sports. No matter how much enjoyment a team provides throughout a long, arduous season, if the odyssey doesn’t end in a championship, fans find it hard to deem the campaign a success. Think Patriots supporters remember the warm glow of 18-0, or the misery of their Super Bowl loss? Ask the folks from Oklahoma whether they think about last year’s 13-0 start or suffer nightmares of the “national title game” loss to Florida. It’s almost universal.
Winning it all is important, but sports can’t be a zero-sum game, unless you are a Pirates fan, in which case every season
is a disaster. There is one champion per sport per year. If you apply the win-it-all-or-bust theory to a 30-team league, there will be 29 sets of miserable people scattered throughout the country, with their dreams crushed week-by-week as the schedule unfolds. Or, in the case of the Browns, the minute training camp begins. For those fans fortunate enough to enjoy regular-season success, followed by playoff intensity, a win-or-bust mentality will erase any happiness created by months of relative prosperity should the trophy end up somewhere else.
It shouldn’t be that way, especially when it comes to the Phillies’ World Series loss to the Yanks. It’s right to be sad and
even a little bit angry (okay, when it comes to Brad Lidge’s meltdown in game four, mad as hell; more on that later) about the defeat, but to judge the season anything less than terrific is ridiculous. Are Philadelphia fans’ memories so short that they cannot remember the euphoria that took hold of the city after the NLCS triumph over the milquetoast Dodgers? Is it that hard to recall the sense of pride that prevailed when Cliff Lee mastered the Yankees in the first game of the World Series, in the Bronx? It remains remarkable that people who accept – and often cultivate – mediocrity in their own lives, refuse to appreciate excellence in their sports teams, even if the ultimate outcome isn’t perfectly palatable. It would have been historic and remarkable had the Phillies won a second straight Series, but they ran into a better team and couldn’t scale the final peak. For that we’re supposed to deem the season anything less than great? Come on.
Thursday night, El Hombre had a wide-ranging conversation with compadre and financial whiz Roger Ramjet. During the discourse about the Phillies and their off-season mandates, RR said something that should be remembered as fans try to put the 2009 season into perspective. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without a game to watch,” he said. There it was, crystallized in its purest form. From April until early November, the Phillies had given the city seven months of nightly enjoyment and excitement. As other Majoke League Baseball teams were rendered irrelevant one-by-one (the Nationals became meaningless in early May), the Phillies marched along, through the regular season and its highs and lows, through the playoffs and their high drama and onto baseball’s biggest stage. No matter how heartbreaking the outcome, fans cannot forget the remarkable ride. They can’t do anything but adore their heroes, even if the New York triumph ceases all ridiculous talk about “dynasties” and “greatest teams ever.” For the record, the Celtics’ 11 titles in 13 years from 1957-69 constitute a dynasty. The Yankees’ seven World Series championships from 1936-47 were dynastic. The Canadiens’ nine Stanley Cup wins from 1956-69 equaled a dynasty. The 806-year (1027-221 B.C.) Zhou rule in China, now that was a dynasty.
Anyway, the 2009 Phillies season goes into the books as giant W, despite the final shortfall. Let’s face it; as much as we wanted the Phils to knock off New York, it was rather hard to compete with the all-star laden lineup the Yanks put forth, especially with some of the small showings by previous Philadelphia stalwarts (see Hamels, Cole; Lidge, Brad; Howard, Ryan). Watching the Yankees win the World Series is like watching a rich guy buy his way out of legal trouble. There’s something antiseptic about seeing Standard Oil celebrating a stacked deck. Worse is hearing network apologists saluting the “great group of guys” and “tremendous camaraderie” the Yankees showed, when the real reason for the title was a team payroll obscene enough to generate protests from the Moral Majority.
While the Yankees plot their next move and continue to print money, the Phillies must address some questions during the off-season. In no particular order, they must find a new backup catcher (so long Paul “Master Builder” Bako), a utility infielder who doesn’t look like a Civil War re-enactor and play like a Daughter of the American Revolution, a pinch-hitter who can do more than hit one homer every Halley’s Comet sighting and a reliable middle reliever (Chad Durbin) who doesn’t find his way onto the field courtesy of some compromising photographs of the team manager and Lainie Kazan.
More important are the futures of Cole “Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow” Hamels and Brad Lidge, who needs to 86 the Amish beard and find his mojo. Forget about Hamels’ comments after game three of the Series. He needs to focus on developing an effective third pitch, or he’ll never be an ace again. And Lidge needs to understand that pitchers with ERAs hovering near 8.00 don’t get to pitch for contenders. That’s why the Orioles are still in business.
Answers (we hope) to all of these questions will emerge in the coming weeks and months. For now, fans should relish the memories of a tremendous season, despite the disappointing dénouement. Things may not have ended perfectly for the Phillies, but they provided the city with one helluva ride. Think about that for a while, and you might just get something more important than a championship.
Perspective.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: People who railed about the ridiculous length of the World Series games focused on mound conversations, batters’ stepping out and various other time-wasting tactics. The real culprits were the four-minute commercial marathons that Fox unfurled between each half-inning. Add those up, and you have enough time to play five innings…U.S. skier Bode Miller has announced he will return to the slopes and take part in a “full schedule.” Of course, that means something different for him than most people in his sport. Included on the itinerary are beer pong, nightclubbing, late-night hot tub liaisons in Gstaad and maybe even some skiing…How about that Andre Agassi autobiography? There’s some strong stuff in there. Love the part about the wig. And revealing that he wore lifts to marry Brooke Shields is priceless. Could do without the information about playing while not wearing underwear, though. Now, if Gabriela Sabatini wants to write a tell-all and reveal that information, she should have at it. Now…Fox is bringing its NFL pre-game show to Afghanistan to support the troops and perhaps use Terry Bradshaw as a weapon against the enemy, but the biggest reason for the road show is that Minnesota has a bye this week, so there will be time to fill in lieu of the usual weekly posterior-polishing of Brett Favre. Undaunted by the schedule gap, espn is planning a 15-minute segment detailing Favre’s leisure-week activities, including in-depth interviews with his couch and lawnmower.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Now that the main sports season in Philadelphia has concluded, the Eagles have a chance to take the stage and capture the city’s fans – at least until pitchers and catchers report next February. A win over Dallas Sunday night would go a long way toward accomplishing that. If there is one thing that has characterized the Birds this year it has been their inconsistency. They certainly looked great trampling the overrated Giants last week, but the Cowboys are hot, and another desultory effort (Raiders, Redskins) will put the Eagles in a tough spot in the NFC East. Injuries have been a concern this year for Andy Reid’s team. So has continuity. The good news for Sunday night? Reid vs. Dallas coach Wade Phillips is a mismatch. And though it isn’t January yet, you can usually count on Tony Romo to choke it up in big games. Win this one, and the Birds’ bandwagon will be filled. Lose it, and the spring training countdown might get cranked up a couple months early.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: If NFL commissioner Roger Goodell is smart, he has begun the process of investigating the allegations that Raiders coach Tom Cable physically abused his former wife and girlfriend. And should Goodell find compelling evidence that Cable did indeed hit them, he should be fired. Goodell has been hard on players who have broken the law and acted inappropriately, and he cannot back down on Cable, if the coach indeed struck the women. There is no room for that kind of behavior in society, and there should be no tolerance for it in the NFL. We heard all about the need to preserve the league’s image when Michael Vick, Plaxico Burress, Tank Johnson and Pac-man Jones were being disciplined, and rightly so. The league’s image is at stake in this situation, also. If Cable did it, he must go. That’s all there is to it. Goodell needs to find out what has happened and act quickly, or his credibility as a law-and-order commissioner will take a hit, and the NFL will look like an organization that condones physical abuse of women.
-EH-
Friday, October 30, 2009
King Cole's Crossroads
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
Last year this time, Cole Hamels could have walked into the office of Mayor Michael Nutter and demanded to be made dictator of Philadelphia, and Nutter would have had to comply. Hamels could have insisted city residents wear Cowboys jerseys, sing “Meet the Mets” as the recessional hymn at any church service in the area and replace the statue of William Penn atop City Hall with a bust of Terrell Owens, and no one would have argued. Such is the power of a World Series MVP.
What a difference a year makes.
Hamels may be the reigning World Series MVP, but his star has faded considerably in the eyes of Phillies fans, who approach his start in Game Three of the series against Big Brother with more than a mild sense of trepidation. In the interval between his outstanding performance last October against the Mephistopheles Rays and Saturday night at 7:57, Hamels has resembled only sporadically the dominant ace who propelled a team to its first world championship in 28 years. In fact, Hamels goes to the mound as the fourth or fifth-best starter, in many minds, on the Phillies, given his travails this season, which have included a lack of control, the inability to finish off good hitters, a drop in velocity, a propensity for reacting to small bursts of misfortune by throwing tantrums and losing focus and generally resembling a struggling young pitcher, rather than an established ace.
Instead of using last year’s prosperity to vault him among the game’s elite pitchers, Hamels has instead regressed. Some believe he is injured, and if that is the case, he deserves a huge benefit of the doubt for putting up more than 205 innings in a compromised state. But Hamels and the Phillies insist he is healthy, and given his history, that’s easy to believe, because Hamels has never been known for his high threshold of pain. No, this is likely something different – and more troubling. Hamels’ season has been characterized by bursts of strong pitching, interspersed with nightmarish sequences in which the runs pile up, sometimes both occurring in the same game. Worse, Hamels often reacts to these worrisome stretches by melting, rather than rallying. His most noteworthy bit of distemper came during the NLCS, when he stalked about the mound area after Chase Utley threw a ball past Ryan Howard that would have completed a double play. Hamels then punctuated the outburst by throwing his mitt in the dugout after the inning was completed.
Beyond the obvious inability to control his emotions, Hamels’ eruption demonstrates something more disturbing. Talented, confident athletes usually respond to misfortune by hunkering down and taking control. By acting out, Hamels betrayed a lack of self-assurance, as if he were acknowledging that he is working on a thin margin and anything unexpected could derail whatever progress he had accumulated. He wasn’t just petulant; he was insecure. That self-doubt is what has to concern Phillies fans more than anything else, and one must believe it’s why skipper Charlie Manuel chose to pitch Hamels against Microsoft at home, rather than in The House That Avarice Built. Hamels has thrown better in front of the Philadelphia crowd than he has on the road this season, and Manuel is doing everything he can to create an atmosphere conducive to a strong start.
It’s not like he hasn’t had some success this year. In five starts from Aug. 26 to Sept. 17, Hamels went 3-1 with a 1.45 ERA, struck out 38 and walked just seven. It was right out of the October, 2008 catalog, when Hamels went 4-0 in five starts, with an ERA of 1.80, 35 Ks and nine walks. And it reinforced that Hamels is likely not hurt. More than anything, he is lacking a guaranteed out pitch, and that is allowing hitters to wait him out on his strong, but not nightmarish, fastball.
Compounding the concern about Saturday’s game is Hamels’ mound opponent, Andrew EuHGHene Pettitte, who has pitched in more post-season games than any other hurler and who loves the big stage more than Elton John and Chad Ocholoco combined. You know Pettitte won’t care if the entire Citizens Bank Park crowd dresses up like giant syringes or Roger Clemens or giant syringes sticking out of Clemens’ calloused hindquarters. He will throw his six strong innings and move on.
Hamels, on the other hand, must match Pettitte or risk putting the Phillies in a hole. He certainly has the track record, but his post-season performance this season (1-1, 6.97 ERA) is hardly reason to believe he’ll rise to the occasion. Should Hamels unfurl a gem, he will regain his status as post-season stud, erase much of the stench of his previous work and perhaps earn the right to start Game Seven in the Bronx, should things advance that far. Struggle, or worse, fall apart, and he’ll enter the ’10 season required to answer questions about which was more indicative of his future: 2008’s dominance, or 2009’s uncertainty. In effect, his pitching Saturday night will re-establish him as the King of Philadelphia or just another pitcher with one shiny item on an otherwise mundane resume. No pressure, Cole. None at all.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Cleveland Browns fans have planned a “late arrival” protest for their team’s Nov. 16 Monday night game with the Ravens. They’re hoping a TV shot of a nearly-empty stadium will put pressure on ownership to fix some problems. Organizers can count on one group to support the cause: the players. They haven’t shown up all year…In his new autobiography, Andre Agassi details his dislike of tennis, his crystal meth use, his agonizing hair loss and his marriages to Brooke Shields and Steffi Graf. In a related story, Pete Sampras is planning a book that will discuss life without a personality…The NC2A’s decision to suspend Oklahoma State wideout Dez Bryant for a year was another example of the organization’s continued war against student-athletes. Yes, Bryant lied about his meeting with Deion Sanders, but the NC2A’s discipline proved why he did it. Bryant was afraid he’d get smacked down for telling the truth. While schools spend money like crazy and prostitute themselves to corporations for a buck, the NC2A looks away. Meanwhile, a college kid works out with a former pro, and he is banished. Disgusting…Great news for all of you who believed syrup of ipecac was a little too powerful as a vomit-inducing agent. Fox is putting a camera on Cowboy Quarterback for Sunday’s entire Packers-Vikings game. Watching just a few minutes of that should inspire nausea sufficient to expel any toxin or poison that has invaded a person’s body.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Eagles’ uninspiring 27-17 win over the lousy Redskins last Monday showed just how far the team has to go before it can be considered anything more than a wild-card contender. The Birds’ offense is a mess, especially if Brian Westbrook’s concussion keeps him out of this week’s game (it should), not that coach Andy Reid uses him all that much. Injuries along the offensive front have been a problem, and that much is out of Reid’s control. But the play-calling, the incessant use of the “Wildcat” formation to no productive end and an unwillingness to commit to the run have conspired to strip the offense of a personality. Right now, it seems as if Reid is trying to make every play a big play, rather than creating a rhythm that allows for consistent movement and production. Some of the blame has to be directed at QB Donovan McNabb, whose completion percentage (57.3%) would be the second-lowest of his career, not counting his rookie season. But for the most part, the blame lies with Reid, who looks like someone trying to show everybody how smart he is, rather than putting together a solid gameplan every week.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: You have to love the NFL. No matter how much evidence gets thrown in its face about the absolutely devastating effects of pro football’s collisions on players down the road, they continue to stonewall. The most recent example of the denial came Wednesday, when commissioner Roger Goodell testified before a House Judiciary Committee and refused to acknowledge that repeated blows to the head cause long-term damage and contribute to emotional instability. Of course, Goodell said that more research was needed and that the league was committed to that. Good for you, Rog! He even had players’ union chief DeMaurice Smith along for the ride. Smith actually echoed Goodell’s nonsense, even though he represents the players whose brains are being damaged. If you have the time, check out Malcolm Gladwell’s excellent article on the topic in last week’s New Yorker. In it, Gladwell sees the actual brain damage that multiple high-speed collisions spawn and checks out a University of North Carolina program that registers the g-force severity and frequency of hits sustained by players during practices. It’s eye-opening stuff and enough to make you understand how the NFL is in no way interested in rectifying the situation, particularly if it takes away from the violence. How many more suicides and sad, demented former players will it take to change the stance? Unfortunately, it looks like too many.
* * *
ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD: Great job by Majoke League Baseball commissioner Bud Sellout on Mark McGwire’s return to the game. Sellout offered an enthusiastic endorsement of the former slugger and suspected steroid cheat’s joining the Cardinals as a hitting instructor. Anybody who saw McGwire’s pathetic performance in front of Congress or took note of his invisibility knows the guy has something to hide. By letting him come back to baseball with no admission of guilt, pledge to help educate youth or any remorse whatsoever amounts to efforts to sanitize his image in pursuit of Hall of Fame votes. Sellout has tried to convince people (and anyone who believes him is a complete sap) that he cared about erasing steroids from the baseball landscape, but this is another example of his desire to evade the topic. McGwire should not be coaching, not without addressing a long list of mandates regarding his past. Don’t expect Sellout to enforce that. He’s too busy piling up the salary increases.
-EH-
Last year this time, Cole Hamels could have walked into the office of Mayor Michael Nutter and demanded to be made dictator of Philadelphia, and Nutter would have had to comply. Hamels could have insisted city residents wear Cowboys jerseys, sing “Meet the Mets” as the recessional hymn at any church service in the area and replace the statue of William Penn atop City Hall with a bust of Terrell Owens, and no one would have argued. Such is the power of a World Series MVP.
What a difference a year makes.
Hamels may be the reigning World Series MVP, but his star has faded considerably in the eyes of Phillies fans, who approach his start in Game Three of the series against Big Brother with more than a mild sense of trepidation. In the interval between his outstanding performance last October against the Mephistopheles Rays and Saturday night at 7:57, Hamels has resembled only sporadically the dominant ace who propelled a team to its first world championship in 28 years. In fact, Hamels goes to the mound as the fourth or fifth-best starter, in many minds, on the Phillies, given his travails this season, which have included a lack of control, the inability to finish off good hitters, a drop in velocity, a propensity for reacting to small bursts of misfortune by throwing tantrums and losing focus and generally resembling a struggling young pitcher, rather than an established ace.
Instead of using last year’s prosperity to vault him among the game’s elite pitchers, Hamels has instead regressed. Some believe he is injured, and if that is the case, he deserves a huge benefit of the doubt for putting up more than 205 innings in a compromised state. But Hamels and the Phillies insist he is healthy, and given his history, that’s easy to believe, because Hamels has never been known for his high threshold of pain. No, this is likely something different – and more troubling. Hamels’ season has been characterized by bursts of strong pitching, interspersed with nightmarish sequences in which the runs pile up, sometimes both occurring in the same game. Worse, Hamels often reacts to these worrisome stretches by melting, rather than rallying. His most noteworthy bit of distemper came during the NLCS, when he stalked about the mound area after Chase Utley threw a ball past Ryan Howard that would have completed a double play. Hamels then punctuated the outburst by throwing his mitt in the dugout after the inning was completed.
Beyond the obvious inability to control his emotions, Hamels’ eruption demonstrates something more disturbing. Talented, confident athletes usually respond to misfortune by hunkering down and taking control. By acting out, Hamels betrayed a lack of self-assurance, as if he were acknowledging that he is working on a thin margin and anything unexpected could derail whatever progress he had accumulated. He wasn’t just petulant; he was insecure. That self-doubt is what has to concern Phillies fans more than anything else, and one must believe it’s why skipper Charlie Manuel chose to pitch Hamels against Microsoft at home, rather than in The House That Avarice Built. Hamels has thrown better in front of the Philadelphia crowd than he has on the road this season, and Manuel is doing everything he can to create an atmosphere conducive to a strong start.
It’s not like he hasn’t had some success this year. In five starts from Aug. 26 to Sept. 17, Hamels went 3-1 with a 1.45 ERA, struck out 38 and walked just seven. It was right out of the October, 2008 catalog, when Hamels went 4-0 in five starts, with an ERA of 1.80, 35 Ks and nine walks. And it reinforced that Hamels is likely not hurt. More than anything, he is lacking a guaranteed out pitch, and that is allowing hitters to wait him out on his strong, but not nightmarish, fastball.
Compounding the concern about Saturday’s game is Hamels’ mound opponent, Andrew EuHGHene Pettitte, who has pitched in more post-season games than any other hurler and who loves the big stage more than Elton John and Chad Ocholoco combined. You know Pettitte won’t care if the entire Citizens Bank Park crowd dresses up like giant syringes or Roger Clemens or giant syringes sticking out of Clemens’ calloused hindquarters. He will throw his six strong innings and move on.
Hamels, on the other hand, must match Pettitte or risk putting the Phillies in a hole. He certainly has the track record, but his post-season performance this season (1-1, 6.97 ERA) is hardly reason to believe he’ll rise to the occasion. Should Hamels unfurl a gem, he will regain his status as post-season stud, erase much of the stench of his previous work and perhaps earn the right to start Game Seven in the Bronx, should things advance that far. Struggle, or worse, fall apart, and he’ll enter the ’10 season required to answer questions about which was more indicative of his future: 2008’s dominance, or 2009’s uncertainty. In effect, his pitching Saturday night will re-establish him as the King of Philadelphia or just another pitcher with one shiny item on an otherwise mundane resume. No pressure, Cole. None at all.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Cleveland Browns fans have planned a “late arrival” protest for their team’s Nov. 16 Monday night game with the Ravens. They’re hoping a TV shot of a nearly-empty stadium will put pressure on ownership to fix some problems. Organizers can count on one group to support the cause: the players. They haven’t shown up all year…In his new autobiography, Andre Agassi details his dislike of tennis, his crystal meth use, his agonizing hair loss and his marriages to Brooke Shields and Steffi Graf. In a related story, Pete Sampras is planning a book that will discuss life without a personality…The NC2A’s decision to suspend Oklahoma State wideout Dez Bryant for a year was another example of the organization’s continued war against student-athletes. Yes, Bryant lied about his meeting with Deion Sanders, but the NC2A’s discipline proved why he did it. Bryant was afraid he’d get smacked down for telling the truth. While schools spend money like crazy and prostitute themselves to corporations for a buck, the NC2A looks away. Meanwhile, a college kid works out with a former pro, and he is banished. Disgusting…Great news for all of you who believed syrup of ipecac was a little too powerful as a vomit-inducing agent. Fox is putting a camera on Cowboy Quarterback for Sunday’s entire Packers-Vikings game. Watching just a few minutes of that should inspire nausea sufficient to expel any toxin or poison that has invaded a person’s body.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Eagles’ uninspiring 27-17 win over the lousy Redskins last Monday showed just how far the team has to go before it can be considered anything more than a wild-card contender. The Birds’ offense is a mess, especially if Brian Westbrook’s concussion keeps him out of this week’s game (it should), not that coach Andy Reid uses him all that much. Injuries along the offensive front have been a problem, and that much is out of Reid’s control. But the play-calling, the incessant use of the “Wildcat” formation to no productive end and an unwillingness to commit to the run have conspired to strip the offense of a personality. Right now, it seems as if Reid is trying to make every play a big play, rather than creating a rhythm that allows for consistent movement and production. Some of the blame has to be directed at QB Donovan McNabb, whose completion percentage (57.3%) would be the second-lowest of his career, not counting his rookie season. But for the most part, the blame lies with Reid, who looks like someone trying to show everybody how smart he is, rather than putting together a solid gameplan every week.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: You have to love the NFL. No matter how much evidence gets thrown in its face about the absolutely devastating effects of pro football’s collisions on players down the road, they continue to stonewall. The most recent example of the denial came Wednesday, when commissioner Roger Goodell testified before a House Judiciary Committee and refused to acknowledge that repeated blows to the head cause long-term damage and contribute to emotional instability. Of course, Goodell said that more research was needed and that the league was committed to that. Good for you, Rog! He even had players’ union chief DeMaurice Smith along for the ride. Smith actually echoed Goodell’s nonsense, even though he represents the players whose brains are being damaged. If you have the time, check out Malcolm Gladwell’s excellent article on the topic in last week’s New Yorker. In it, Gladwell sees the actual brain damage that multiple high-speed collisions spawn and checks out a University of North Carolina program that registers the g-force severity and frequency of hits sustained by players during practices. It’s eye-opening stuff and enough to make you understand how the NFL is in no way interested in rectifying the situation, particularly if it takes away from the violence. How many more suicides and sad, demented former players will it take to change the stance? Unfortunately, it looks like too many.
* * *
ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD: Great job by Majoke League Baseball commissioner Bud Sellout on Mark McGwire’s return to the game. Sellout offered an enthusiastic endorsement of the former slugger and suspected steroid cheat’s joining the Cardinals as a hitting instructor. Anybody who saw McGwire’s pathetic performance in front of Congress or took note of his invisibility knows the guy has something to hide. By letting him come back to baseball with no admission of guilt, pledge to help educate youth or any remorse whatsoever amounts to efforts to sanitize his image in pursuit of Hall of Fame votes. Sellout has tried to convince people (and anyone who believes him is a complete sap) that he cared about erasing steroids from the baseball landscape, but this is another example of his desire to evade the topic. McGwire should not be coaching, not without addressing a long list of mandates regarding his past. Don’t expect Sellout to enforce that. He’s too busy piling up the salary increases.
-EH-
Friday, October 23, 2009
NBA Action is Fantastic
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
Back in the ‘90s when Tom Odjakjian was playing roundball matchmaker while with espn, he laid out for El Hombre the perfect recipe for a successful conference hierarchy – at least from the TV perspective:
Take three or four top-shelf teams, a couple hopefuls with the potential to pull upsets now and then and a bunch of catfish living at the bottom of the sea, incapable of doing anything but pumping up the big boys’ records. Mix together for maximum drama and excitement.
In other words, screw parity. That socialist concept may be nice for the NFL and Sweden, but real interest gets generated when there are some true heavyweights roaming the land, stumbling into each other every now and then and staging some memorable battles, preferably near the end of the season.
Odjakjian has since moved on to the Big East, where he has to – among other things – figure out a way to get South Florida and DePaul’s hoop teams on TV every season, no easy task. But his idea remains vital today when it comes to fan interest. Parity may lead to the most equitable level of hope for fans and fill coffers in a similarly identical manner, but no matter how much a matchup between a pair of mediocre teams might make league officials happy, real excitement comes when showdowns between the big boys take place.
It would seem as if Odjakjian was orchestrating the NBA’s off-season moves, because the league enters a watershed season with its most impressive collection of heavy hitters in a long while. It doesn’t quite match the 1980s for star power, but the moves made over the summer have turned the top part of the league into a five-way battle royal, while at the same time pushing the league’s Dalits even further from contention. It’s amazing to look at how the upper echelon fortified itself, while perpetually awful teams cut salary (New Jersey), added incongruous parts (Memphis) or simply gave up (Milwaukee).
San Antonio conned the Bucks out of Richard Jefferson for a few postcards of the Alamo. The Celtics added Rasheed Wallace for versatility and crankiness. Cleveland decided that defending the high pick-and-roll wasn’t all that important (even though every NBA team has 439 variations of the ancient set) and brought Shaquille O’Neal aboard for interior heft and comic relief. Vince Carter is now with the Magic, playing the part of Hedo Turkoglu, without the bad hair. And Los Angeles decided the best way to defend its title was to have Ron Artest beat on Kobe Bryant in practice, rather than in games. Each of those extremely high profile moves, along with a few other, less-publicized transactions (Marquis Daniels in Boston, Antonio McDyess in San Antonio) should create a strong upper class that will allow for maximum attention and a fascinating playoff season.
With a possible work stoppage looming in ’11, serious financial problems plaguing many teams (buy one ticket, get 20 free) and a free-agent frenzy on the horizon that could completely change the league’s personality, it’s nice the NBA has a season ahead that could be truly memorable. Here are some of the more interesting storylines:
Rent-a-Net: New Jersey is running an interesting promotion: Buy four courtside seats for 10 games at the low-low price of $25,000, and you get access to the Izod Center’s club, free food and beverage and the chance to have the Net player of your choice show up at an event for an hour. What a deal. Imagine having Jason Kidd or Vince Carter or Richard Jefferson at your kid’s birthday party or enlivening a Bar Mitzvah celebration. Oh, you mean they don’t play in Jersey anymore? Somehow Devin Harris, Brook Lopez and Yi Jianlian don’t have the same cachet. How about this marketing slogan for those crazy enough to buy that package: Sucker Seats.
Dysfunctional Family: The most frustrated man in the NBA has to be Memphis GM Chris Wallace, who is credited with (blamed for?) the team’s acquisitions of Zach Randolph and Allen Iverson, even though he had nothing to do with them. Those choices were made by Grizz owner Michael Heisley, or if you believe A.I., the Lord. Heisley is so cheap he probably charges for catsup and mustard at the concession stands and thought bringing two of the league’s most selfish players to town would help sell tickets. They sure won’t help Memphis youngsters Rudy Gay, O.J. Mayo, Mike Conley and Hasheem Thabeet, unless they want to learn how to hog the ball and stay out late. Expect this team in the playoffs again around 2019.
One More Chance: Don’t be surprised if Cleveland Cavalier fans don’t learn the lyrics to the Jackson Browne classic, “Stay,” and serenade LeBron James every time he takes the floor. James can opt out of his contract after this season, and one would imagine the Knicks will go after him with the same zest Eddy Curry attacks the post-game buffet. James wants to make money, lots of it, and he has a bigger chance to do that in New York, even though the Knicks can’t offer him a contract as lucrative as Cleveland can. We’re talking endorsements. We’re talking Wall Street. We’re talking lunch boxes. To make it harder for James to leave, the Cavs spent all they could during the off-season to make their team better. Shaq’s in town. So are strong role players Anthony Parker and Jamario Moon. Cleveland re-signed Sideshow Bob. This is the team’s best chance for a title, and whether it wins one might just determine James’ address next year.
Reverse the Curse: When top overall draft pick Blake Griffin hurt his knee just before training camp – after hurting his shoulder during summer league play – everybody laughed and credited the Clipper Curse for stalling another promising career. But Griffin is stronger than some superstition, and the team has more talent than previous incarnations, which pretty much always found a way to lose. It all depends on PG Baron Davis, who is said to be svelte and in shape, a big difference from this time last year, when he hit the pasta full throttle in a reality show diet scheme. But Griffin and fellow pups Eric Gordon and Al Thornton have big upsides, and L.A. has a manageable payroll and stalwarts who are tied up for a couple more years. The Clips won all of 19 last year. Expect them to double that and then some, unless of course, you know, they’re cursed.
On the Rise: The Thunder is so young and so new to its OK City digs that it’s tempted to consider it an expansion team, rather than a franchise that has been around since the late 1960s. (How else would it have chosen a name like “Supersonics?” Love that space age wonder.) If things continue on their current path, that kind of thinking should evaporate pretty quickly. Thanks to young standouts like Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook and Jeff Green, the Thunder is heading in the right direction. There’s no way Oklahoma City can make the playoffs this year, but don’t count out a run next season and count them in for sure the year after that. Then, the only problem for the team will be whether all of those players want to leave town.
Fearless Predictions: Eastern Playoff Teams: Cleveland, Boston, Orlando, Atlanta, Chicago, Washington, Miami, Detroit. Western Playoff Teams: Los Angeles Lakers, San Antonio, Utah, Portland, Denver, Dallas, New Orleans, Los Angeles Clippers.
Conference Finals: Cleveland over Boston; San Antonio over Los Angeles.
Finals: San Antonio over Cleveland.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Washington coach Jim Zorn is just the latest victim of owner Daniel Snyder’s stupidity. El Hombre understands that the money is great, but why would anybody want to subject himself to being part of the Redskins’ circus…Shame on Magic Johnson and (and to a lesser extent) Larry Bird. Instead of putting together what would have been a great book about their rivalry, which had so many rich components, they chose to rip on Isiah Thomas. Sure, Thomas deserves a lot of heat for his mismanagement as a coach and commissioner, but to load their book with rumormongering and innuendo was small time stuff…One month after separating with his wife, Dodgers owner Frank McCourt fired her as CEO of the team. Jamie McCourt should have a pretty good case against her estranged husband, because EH hears he was sleeping with one of his employees…Oklahoma QB Sam Bradford’s shoulder injury – and re-injury – will forever more be known as Exhibits A and B why any player with the chance to go in the top five of the NFL Draft should do so without question. Unless there is a rookie salary cap, there is little reason to take the risk Bradford did, all in the name of devotion to dear, old State U. Even if there is a salary cap for newcomers, it’s possible Bradford’s injury could impact his career – and earning power – permanently. That’s a steep price to pay for loyalty.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Every time Cole Hamels has pitched during the post-season, fans and Phillies brass have hoped the lefthander would return to the form that made him so successful last October. Well, it ain’t happening. Unlike Brad Lidge, who has regained some of his mastery after discovering the two-seam fastball, Hamels is a flawed pitcher right now. Teams have solved him somewhat and are sitting on his solid but hardly jaw-dropping fastball, a fact evidenced by the large number of at bats that he requires six, seven and even eight pitches to complete – sometimes with a poor outcome. Hamels can’t get lefties out, is running high pitch counts in early innings and looks like he has lost his confidence. Once the team’s ace, he’s now better suited for the three or four spot in the World Series rotation. Hamels needs to gut out the rest of the year and then discover a way to counter the hitters’ adjustments to him, unless he wants to remain ordinary. With that in mind, here’s how the W.S. pitching order should go – Game One: Clifford The Big Red Ace; Game Two: Heavy B; Game Three: Pedro; Game Four: Hamels, unless Lee wants to go on three days rest like his Yankee pal C.C. Sabathia.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The absolutely horrible umpiring during the post-season has renewed pleas for an instant replay system in Majoke League Baseball. The game simply can’t be determined by incompetent umpires, especially when so much is at stake. Since MLB already has a system in place for home run calls, it wouldn’t be a major step to institute a method of reviewing other plays – but not balls and strikes. Give each team one or two challenges a game and let it stay at that. For those worrying about how much time it would add, like some of those interminable NFL replay stoppages, remember that a big part of that process involves clock and yard-line issues, considerations which don’t have any role in baseball games. Further, allow for no commercial breaks during reviews, the better to prevent a 30-second interruption from mushrooming into two or three minutes. Think the umps would have needed much time to divine that Joe Mauer’s hit in Game Three against the Yankees was fair? Hell, an NBA ref could have seen that. It’s time to take the game out of the hands of incompetents and get it right.
-EH-
Back in the ‘90s when Tom Odjakjian was playing roundball matchmaker while with espn, he laid out for El Hombre the perfect recipe for a successful conference hierarchy – at least from the TV perspective:
Take three or four top-shelf teams, a couple hopefuls with the potential to pull upsets now and then and a bunch of catfish living at the bottom of the sea, incapable of doing anything but pumping up the big boys’ records. Mix together for maximum drama and excitement.
In other words, screw parity. That socialist concept may be nice for the NFL and Sweden, but real interest gets generated when there are some true heavyweights roaming the land, stumbling into each other every now and then and staging some memorable battles, preferably near the end of the season.
Odjakjian has since moved on to the Big East, where he has to – among other things – figure out a way to get South Florida and DePaul’s hoop teams on TV every season, no easy task. But his idea remains vital today when it comes to fan interest. Parity may lead to the most equitable level of hope for fans and fill coffers in a similarly identical manner, but no matter how much a matchup between a pair of mediocre teams might make league officials happy, real excitement comes when showdowns between the big boys take place.
It would seem as if Odjakjian was orchestrating the NBA’s off-season moves, because the league enters a watershed season with its most impressive collection of heavy hitters in a long while. It doesn’t quite match the 1980s for star power, but the moves made over the summer have turned the top part of the league into a five-way battle royal, while at the same time pushing the league’s Dalits even further from contention. It’s amazing to look at how the upper echelon fortified itself, while perpetually awful teams cut salary (New Jersey), added incongruous parts (Memphis) or simply gave up (Milwaukee).
San Antonio conned the Bucks out of Richard Jefferson for a few postcards of the Alamo. The Celtics added Rasheed Wallace for versatility and crankiness. Cleveland decided that defending the high pick-and-roll wasn’t all that important (even though every NBA team has 439 variations of the ancient set) and brought Shaquille O’Neal aboard for interior heft and comic relief. Vince Carter is now with the Magic, playing the part of Hedo Turkoglu, without the bad hair. And Los Angeles decided the best way to defend its title was to have Ron Artest beat on Kobe Bryant in practice, rather than in games. Each of those extremely high profile moves, along with a few other, less-publicized transactions (Marquis Daniels in Boston, Antonio McDyess in San Antonio) should create a strong upper class that will allow for maximum attention and a fascinating playoff season.
With a possible work stoppage looming in ’11, serious financial problems plaguing many teams (buy one ticket, get 20 free) and a free-agent frenzy on the horizon that could completely change the league’s personality, it’s nice the NBA has a season ahead that could be truly memorable. Here are some of the more interesting storylines:
Rent-a-Net: New Jersey is running an interesting promotion: Buy four courtside seats for 10 games at the low-low price of $25,000, and you get access to the Izod Center’s club, free food and beverage and the chance to have the Net player of your choice show up at an event for an hour. What a deal. Imagine having Jason Kidd or Vince Carter or Richard Jefferson at your kid’s birthday party or enlivening a Bar Mitzvah celebration. Oh, you mean they don’t play in Jersey anymore? Somehow Devin Harris, Brook Lopez and Yi Jianlian don’t have the same cachet. How about this marketing slogan for those crazy enough to buy that package: Sucker Seats.
Dysfunctional Family: The most frustrated man in the NBA has to be Memphis GM Chris Wallace, who is credited with (blamed for?) the team’s acquisitions of Zach Randolph and Allen Iverson, even though he had nothing to do with them. Those choices were made by Grizz owner Michael Heisley, or if you believe A.I., the Lord. Heisley is so cheap he probably charges for catsup and mustard at the concession stands and thought bringing two of the league’s most selfish players to town would help sell tickets. They sure won’t help Memphis youngsters Rudy Gay, O.J. Mayo, Mike Conley and Hasheem Thabeet, unless they want to learn how to hog the ball and stay out late. Expect this team in the playoffs again around 2019.
One More Chance: Don’t be surprised if Cleveland Cavalier fans don’t learn the lyrics to the Jackson Browne classic, “Stay,” and serenade LeBron James every time he takes the floor. James can opt out of his contract after this season, and one would imagine the Knicks will go after him with the same zest Eddy Curry attacks the post-game buffet. James wants to make money, lots of it, and he has a bigger chance to do that in New York, even though the Knicks can’t offer him a contract as lucrative as Cleveland can. We’re talking endorsements. We’re talking Wall Street. We’re talking lunch boxes. To make it harder for James to leave, the Cavs spent all they could during the off-season to make their team better. Shaq’s in town. So are strong role players Anthony Parker and Jamario Moon. Cleveland re-signed Sideshow Bob. This is the team’s best chance for a title, and whether it wins one might just determine James’ address next year.
Reverse the Curse: When top overall draft pick Blake Griffin hurt his knee just before training camp – after hurting his shoulder during summer league play – everybody laughed and credited the Clipper Curse for stalling another promising career. But Griffin is stronger than some superstition, and the team has more talent than previous incarnations, which pretty much always found a way to lose. It all depends on PG Baron Davis, who is said to be svelte and in shape, a big difference from this time last year, when he hit the pasta full throttle in a reality show diet scheme. But Griffin and fellow pups Eric Gordon and Al Thornton have big upsides, and L.A. has a manageable payroll and stalwarts who are tied up for a couple more years. The Clips won all of 19 last year. Expect them to double that and then some, unless of course, you know, they’re cursed.
On the Rise: The Thunder is so young and so new to its OK City digs that it’s tempted to consider it an expansion team, rather than a franchise that has been around since the late 1960s. (How else would it have chosen a name like “Supersonics?” Love that space age wonder.) If things continue on their current path, that kind of thinking should evaporate pretty quickly. Thanks to young standouts like Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook and Jeff Green, the Thunder is heading in the right direction. There’s no way Oklahoma City can make the playoffs this year, but don’t count out a run next season and count them in for sure the year after that. Then, the only problem for the team will be whether all of those players want to leave town.
Fearless Predictions: Eastern Playoff Teams: Cleveland, Boston, Orlando, Atlanta, Chicago, Washington, Miami, Detroit. Western Playoff Teams: Los Angeles Lakers, San Antonio, Utah, Portland, Denver, Dallas, New Orleans, Los Angeles Clippers.
Conference Finals: Cleveland over Boston; San Antonio over Los Angeles.
Finals: San Antonio over Cleveland.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Washington coach Jim Zorn is just the latest victim of owner Daniel Snyder’s stupidity. El Hombre understands that the money is great, but why would anybody want to subject himself to being part of the Redskins’ circus…Shame on Magic Johnson and (and to a lesser extent) Larry Bird. Instead of putting together what would have been a great book about their rivalry, which had so many rich components, they chose to rip on Isiah Thomas. Sure, Thomas deserves a lot of heat for his mismanagement as a coach and commissioner, but to load their book with rumormongering and innuendo was small time stuff…One month after separating with his wife, Dodgers owner Frank McCourt fired her as CEO of the team. Jamie McCourt should have a pretty good case against her estranged husband, because EH hears he was sleeping with one of his employees…Oklahoma QB Sam Bradford’s shoulder injury – and re-injury – will forever more be known as Exhibits A and B why any player with the chance to go in the top five of the NFL Draft should do so without question. Unless there is a rookie salary cap, there is little reason to take the risk Bradford did, all in the name of devotion to dear, old State U. Even if there is a salary cap for newcomers, it’s possible Bradford’s injury could impact his career – and earning power – permanently. That’s a steep price to pay for loyalty.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Every time Cole Hamels has pitched during the post-season, fans and Phillies brass have hoped the lefthander would return to the form that made him so successful last October. Well, it ain’t happening. Unlike Brad Lidge, who has regained some of his mastery after discovering the two-seam fastball, Hamels is a flawed pitcher right now. Teams have solved him somewhat and are sitting on his solid but hardly jaw-dropping fastball, a fact evidenced by the large number of at bats that he requires six, seven and even eight pitches to complete – sometimes with a poor outcome. Hamels can’t get lefties out, is running high pitch counts in early innings and looks like he has lost his confidence. Once the team’s ace, he’s now better suited for the three or four spot in the World Series rotation. Hamels needs to gut out the rest of the year and then discover a way to counter the hitters’ adjustments to him, unless he wants to remain ordinary. With that in mind, here’s how the W.S. pitching order should go – Game One: Clifford The Big Red Ace; Game Two: Heavy B; Game Three: Pedro; Game Four: Hamels, unless Lee wants to go on three days rest like his Yankee pal C.C. Sabathia.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The absolutely horrible umpiring during the post-season has renewed pleas for an instant replay system in Majoke League Baseball. The game simply can’t be determined by incompetent umpires, especially when so much is at stake. Since MLB already has a system in place for home run calls, it wouldn’t be a major step to institute a method of reviewing other plays – but not balls and strikes. Give each team one or two challenges a game and let it stay at that. For those worrying about how much time it would add, like some of those interminable NFL replay stoppages, remember that a big part of that process involves clock and yard-line issues, considerations which don’t have any role in baseball games. Further, allow for no commercial breaks during reviews, the better to prevent a 30-second interruption from mushrooming into two or three minutes. Think the umps would have needed much time to divine that Joe Mauer’s hit in Game Three against the Yankees was fair? Hell, an NBA ref could have seen that. It’s time to take the game out of the hands of incompetents and get it right.
-EH-
Friday, October 9, 2009
A Flood of Memories
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
There was no fanfare two days ago to mark the 40th anniversary of one of the truly seminal moments in sports. Maybe because it didn’t involve Cowboy Quarterback or LeBron James or this athlete with that reality-show chippy, no one bothered to notice. But it should have been commemorated with a giant retrospective, instead of falling into history’s abyss. Hell, it didn’t even show up on any “This Day In Sports” lists.
If you know what happened on Oct. 7, 1969, go straight to the head of the class, because you pay attention to the whys and wherefores of sport, rather than the daily blithering of synergy-chasing media outlets. It was on that date the Phillies traded Dick Allen, Cookie Rojas and Jerry Johnson to the St. Louis Cardinals for Tim McCarver, Joe Hoerner and Byron Browne.
And Curt Flood.
At the time, it was a big deal because the Phils were finally breaking ties with the disgruntled – and highly-talented – Allen, who had emerged as one of baseball’s most dynamic sluggers. But because of his treatment in Philadelphia, both by teammates and fans, Allen wanted out. By dealing him to St. Louis, the Phillies were giving up their main bat, but they were hoping that Flood’s speed, average and slick glove would compensate somewhat.
It never happened. Unhappy with the Phillies’ dreadful play, the prospect of what he considered playing in a racist city, the idea that the Cardinals would trade him in the first place, and that he learned of the deal from an assistant GM and not the big boss, Flood refused to report to Philadelphia. Not only that, but he wanted to choose where he played. Imagine that; Flood wanted to be a free agent.
Fans who don’t remember the late 1960s and early ’70s – or the 100 years of baseball before that – can’t fathom a world in which a player who was without a contract wouldn’t be able to cut his own deal. Flood could have made $100,000 (real money back then) to play for the Phillies, but he refused. On Christmas Eve, 1969, he sent a letter to baseball commissioner Bowie Kuhn that outlined his case.
“After twelve years in the major leagues, I do not feel I am a piece of property to be bought and sold irrespective of my wishes. I believe that any system which produces that result violates my basic rights as a citizen and is inconsistent with the laws of the United States and of several States(sic). It is my desire to play baseball in 1970, and I am capable of playing. I have received a contract offer from the Philadelphia club, but I believe I have the right to consider offers from other clubs before making any decision. I, therefore, request that you make known to all Major League clubs my feelings in this matter, and advise them of my availability for the 1970 season.”
Flood had taken on the cherished MLB reserve clause, which had tied players to their teams. Once you signed with a team, you belonged to that team – forever. Satan had a better escape clause than baseball did. Contracts arrived in the mail each winter, and players signed them, no matter how insulting they were. Okay, so maybe somebody like Babe Ruth had some leverage, but Curt Flood did not. He belonged to the Cardinals, and if they wanted to trade him to the Phillies, the Dodgers or Ulan Bator Yakherders, there was nothing he could do about it.
As you can imagine, Flood’s letter was received with the same enthusiasm in the Majoke League Offices as news about the debut of “Cougar Town” was at the National Organization for Women’s headquarters. Kuhn and MLB fought Flood to the death in court, and vanquished him. The reserve clause won, because the Supreme Court upheld a 1922 ruling that favored the outdated model. Flood sat out the 1970 season, played 13 games with the Washington Senators in 1971 and retired. He had a career .293 average, won seven gold gloves, registered 200 hits twice and played on a pair of World Series champions.
That’s a pretty impressive resume, but it’s nothing compared to what his reserve-clause challenge meant to baseball players – and, ultimately, all professional athletes. Though the 1975 arbitrator’s decision to make pitchers Andy Messersmith and Dave McNally free agents was based on the reserve clause’s ambiguous language and not Flood’s lawsuit, all professional athletes should applaud the courage he displayed in challenging an entrenched, parsimonious hierarchy. It’s no coincidence that the reserve clause endured for decades before Flood’s challenge and only five years after it. The clause would have been overcome eventually, even without Flood’s actions, but his willingness to fight for his beliefs and demand to be treated with dignity by MLB owners required a rare fortitude.
Sadly, few professional athletes know of Flood and his stand. They sign their gigantic contracts, but they don’t know what went into paving the dusty road that leads to their sporting penthouses. Curt Flood gave up his career for his principles. He sacrificed a lot of money. But he never let go of his beliefs. Forty years later, MLB players ought to rename their union in his honor. It’s the least they can do for the man who had the guts to stand up to the baseball barons and demand something better.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Golf and rugby have been added to the Olympic roster for the 2016 and ’20 Games, while baseball and softball remain on the sidelines. Geez, wonder if a certain billionaire golfer’s worldwide popularity had anything to do with it, not that the IOC cares about money…After beating the Packers last Monday night, Cowboy Quarterback cured the common cold and rescued a toddler who fell down a well. espn plans a four-hour special on the big day during the Vikings’ bye week…Danica Patrick is considering a limited NASCAR arrangement for 2010. It would be an interesting move for the Indy racer, who would no doubt be asked to drive in a bikini, the better to appeal to stock car racing’s effete clientele…So Lamar Odom married a Kardashian sister last week after knowing her for something like two months. He’s convinced it’s true love. El Hombre believes it’s even money the thing doesn’t last six months.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT: It is hardly stretching things to declare Saturday’s third game of the Phillies NLDS against Colorado a must win. Thursday’s loss to the Rockies was a disastrous brew of poor starting pitching (grow up and pitch well while the sun is shining, Cole), shaky managerial decisions (what, Bunning and Short weren’t available, Charlie?) and a lack of offense (remember when Chase Utley was reliable?) that resulted in a 1-1 tie in the best-of-five minefield. Now, all the Phils have to contend with in Denver is weather straight from Joe Stalin’s gulags, a starting rotation so jumbled it’s a wonder Joe Roa doesn’t come trotting out onto the mound for the first inning Saturday and a sinking feeling that the team’s offensive shortcomings during the regular season are being exposed further during the playoffs. This team has won a title, so dismissing it is dangerous, but the Rockies are a strong adversary, and it’s time for the big guns on the roster to step up over the weekend to prevent a disaster. That means some long balls from the middle of the order and a starting pitcher not named Lee with the huevos to deliver seven or eight strong innings.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Florida State board chairman Jim Smith wants Bobby Bowden out of the head football coaching position, preferably yesterday. Shame on him. First of all, his comments create instability that hurts the team on the field and the recruiting trail, where rival coaches can tell prospects that no one knows what’s going to happen in Tallahassee. Second, Bowden is more responsible than any 100 people for helping FSU develop a national reputation. Before he got there, the school was a regional concern, not too far removed from being a women’s college. Now, it is known all over America, and Bowden has brought hundreds of millions of dollars into the university’s coffers. For that, his contract – which runs through next season – should be honored, and Bowden should be allowed to close his career with dignity. Smith’s upset the Seminoles are 2-3, but he shouldn’t be sacrificing the man who has done more for the university than anybody else. Let Bowden have his victory lap next season and then move on.
-EH-
There was no fanfare two days ago to mark the 40th anniversary of one of the truly seminal moments in sports. Maybe because it didn’t involve Cowboy Quarterback or LeBron James or this athlete with that reality-show chippy, no one bothered to notice. But it should have been commemorated with a giant retrospective, instead of falling into history’s abyss. Hell, it didn’t even show up on any “This Day In Sports” lists.
If you know what happened on Oct. 7, 1969, go straight to the head of the class, because you pay attention to the whys and wherefores of sport, rather than the daily blithering of synergy-chasing media outlets. It was on that date the Phillies traded Dick Allen, Cookie Rojas and Jerry Johnson to the St. Louis Cardinals for Tim McCarver, Joe Hoerner and Byron Browne.
And Curt Flood.
At the time, it was a big deal because the Phils were finally breaking ties with the disgruntled – and highly-talented – Allen, who had emerged as one of baseball’s most dynamic sluggers. But because of his treatment in Philadelphia, both by teammates and fans, Allen wanted out. By dealing him to St. Louis, the Phillies were giving up their main bat, but they were hoping that Flood’s speed, average and slick glove would compensate somewhat.
It never happened. Unhappy with the Phillies’ dreadful play, the prospect of what he considered playing in a racist city, the idea that the Cardinals would trade him in the first place, and that he learned of the deal from an assistant GM and not the big boss, Flood refused to report to Philadelphia. Not only that, but he wanted to choose where he played. Imagine that; Flood wanted to be a free agent.
Fans who don’t remember the late 1960s and early ’70s – or the 100 years of baseball before that – can’t fathom a world in which a player who was without a contract wouldn’t be able to cut his own deal. Flood could have made $100,000 (real money back then) to play for the Phillies, but he refused. On Christmas Eve, 1969, he sent a letter to baseball commissioner Bowie Kuhn that outlined his case.
“After twelve years in the major leagues, I do not feel I am a piece of property to be bought and sold irrespective of my wishes. I believe that any system which produces that result violates my basic rights as a citizen and is inconsistent with the laws of the United States and of several States(sic). It is my desire to play baseball in 1970, and I am capable of playing. I have received a contract offer from the Philadelphia club, but I believe I have the right to consider offers from other clubs before making any decision. I, therefore, request that you make known to all Major League clubs my feelings in this matter, and advise them of my availability for the 1970 season.”
Flood had taken on the cherished MLB reserve clause, which had tied players to their teams. Once you signed with a team, you belonged to that team – forever. Satan had a better escape clause than baseball did. Contracts arrived in the mail each winter, and players signed them, no matter how insulting they were. Okay, so maybe somebody like Babe Ruth had some leverage, but Curt Flood did not. He belonged to the Cardinals, and if they wanted to trade him to the Phillies, the Dodgers or Ulan Bator Yakherders, there was nothing he could do about it.
As you can imagine, Flood’s letter was received with the same enthusiasm in the Majoke League Offices as news about the debut of “Cougar Town” was at the National Organization for Women’s headquarters. Kuhn and MLB fought Flood to the death in court, and vanquished him. The reserve clause won, because the Supreme Court upheld a 1922 ruling that favored the outdated model. Flood sat out the 1970 season, played 13 games with the Washington Senators in 1971 and retired. He had a career .293 average, won seven gold gloves, registered 200 hits twice and played on a pair of World Series champions.
That’s a pretty impressive resume, but it’s nothing compared to what his reserve-clause challenge meant to baseball players – and, ultimately, all professional athletes. Though the 1975 arbitrator’s decision to make pitchers Andy Messersmith and Dave McNally free agents was based on the reserve clause’s ambiguous language and not Flood’s lawsuit, all professional athletes should applaud the courage he displayed in challenging an entrenched, parsimonious hierarchy. It’s no coincidence that the reserve clause endured for decades before Flood’s challenge and only five years after it. The clause would have been overcome eventually, even without Flood’s actions, but his willingness to fight for his beliefs and demand to be treated with dignity by MLB owners required a rare fortitude.
Sadly, few professional athletes know of Flood and his stand. They sign their gigantic contracts, but they don’t know what went into paving the dusty road that leads to their sporting penthouses. Curt Flood gave up his career for his principles. He sacrificed a lot of money. But he never let go of his beliefs. Forty years later, MLB players ought to rename their union in his honor. It’s the least they can do for the man who had the guts to stand up to the baseball barons and demand something better.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Golf and rugby have been added to the Olympic roster for the 2016 and ’20 Games, while baseball and softball remain on the sidelines. Geez, wonder if a certain billionaire golfer’s worldwide popularity had anything to do with it, not that the IOC cares about money…After beating the Packers last Monday night, Cowboy Quarterback cured the common cold and rescued a toddler who fell down a well. espn plans a four-hour special on the big day during the Vikings’ bye week…Danica Patrick is considering a limited NASCAR arrangement for 2010. It would be an interesting move for the Indy racer, who would no doubt be asked to drive in a bikini, the better to appeal to stock car racing’s effete clientele…So Lamar Odom married a Kardashian sister last week after knowing her for something like two months. He’s convinced it’s true love. El Hombre believes it’s even money the thing doesn’t last six months.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT: It is hardly stretching things to declare Saturday’s third game of the Phillies NLDS against Colorado a must win. Thursday’s loss to the Rockies was a disastrous brew of poor starting pitching (grow up and pitch well while the sun is shining, Cole), shaky managerial decisions (what, Bunning and Short weren’t available, Charlie?) and a lack of offense (remember when Chase Utley was reliable?) that resulted in a 1-1 tie in the best-of-five minefield. Now, all the Phils have to contend with in Denver is weather straight from Joe Stalin’s gulags, a starting rotation so jumbled it’s a wonder Joe Roa doesn’t come trotting out onto the mound for the first inning Saturday and a sinking feeling that the team’s offensive shortcomings during the regular season are being exposed further during the playoffs. This team has won a title, so dismissing it is dangerous, but the Rockies are a strong adversary, and it’s time for the big guns on the roster to step up over the weekend to prevent a disaster. That means some long balls from the middle of the order and a starting pitcher not named Lee with the huevos to deliver seven or eight strong innings.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Florida State board chairman Jim Smith wants Bobby Bowden out of the head football coaching position, preferably yesterday. Shame on him. First of all, his comments create instability that hurts the team on the field and the recruiting trail, where rival coaches can tell prospects that no one knows what’s going to happen in Tallahassee. Second, Bowden is more responsible than any 100 people for helping FSU develop a national reputation. Before he got there, the school was a regional concern, not too far removed from being a women’s college. Now, it is known all over America, and Bowden has brought hundreds of millions of dollars into the university’s coffers. For that, his contract – which runs through next season – should be honored, and Bowden should be allowed to close his career with dignity. Smith’s upset the Seminoles are 2-3, but he shouldn’t be sacrificing the man who has done more for the university than anybody else. Let Bowden have his victory lap next season and then move on.
-EH-
Friday, October 2, 2009
Stop the Madness
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
When Edgar Allen Poe wrote the famous short story, “The Imp of the Perverse,” in 1850, there was no football, not even the European version of the animal. The Chinese had been playing a kicking game as early as the second century BC, and there was the Central and South American “Tlatchi” game that was invented hundreds of years before. But, for Poe’s purposes, there was no prolate spheroid, no tailgate parties and not even any old-fashioned European hooliganism.
But Poe might as well have been writing for the modern-day football fan when he described the Imp and its characteristics. For those of you not familiar with the little bastard, understand that it’s the thing inside you that makes you do what you’re not supposed to do. Ever wonder why you’re dying to see just how hot that iron gets? It’s the Imp. When you decide to drive through the giant puddle, even if it means soaking the breaks or bottoming out, blame the Imp. And in those moments of weakness when you actually tune in to a WNBA game, kill the Imp.
The Imp’s role in our football viewing is clearly defined. No matter how wrong we realize it is to see one man being obliterated by another on the field, no matter how much we have heard about the trauma that comes from head-to-hits and no matter how savage the entire process may be, we still love it. God help us, but we love it. The brutality of the game is on display every Sunday in the NFL and on college gridirons, but sometimes it takes big-time, high-profile collisions to make it all resonate a little more.
By now, most of you have seen Taylor Wyndham’s blasting of Tim Tebow last Saturday in Lexington. In fact, you have probably seen it 10 times, thanks to the repeated showings by espn and the magic of YouTube. El Hombre correspondent and fratello-da-un-altro-madre Raging Bill saw it and immediately referenced Chicago linebacker Wilber Marshall’s leveling Joe Ferguson back in ’85, a hit that led former Bears coach Mike Ditka to say, “I thought he killed him.” Wyndham had a clean, high-speed shot on the helpless Tebow, who unlike his “Superman” descriptions, looked quite vulnerable in that moment of isolated violence. He sustained a concussion, remained prone on the field for a long while and vomited while being carted off the field. (No word yet on how Gator fans can buy pieces of the Tebow chum, but you can bet it’s coming.)
Football America, of course, recoiled in horror at the hit. Then, it watched again and again. Turns out the Imp is quite a fan of the game. Florida boosters couldn’t care less about Poe, his theories or much of anything that doesn’t wear orange-and-blue. They want to know whether Tebow will be available next Saturday night in Death Valley against LSU. Despite assurances by UF coach Urban Meyer that Tebow is “terrific,” let’s hope it’s a neurosurgeon (or two) who’s making the ultimate decision on the quarterback’s availability, and not someone charged solely with winning games.
That wish is even more fervent in light of results released Wednesday of a study commissioned by the NFL that looked into the dementia rates of former players, versus those of the general public. The research, which was conducted by the University of Michigan Institute for Social Research, found that 6.1 percent of 1,063 former NFL players aged 50 and older had received a dementia-related diagnosis. That’s five times higher than the national average of 1.2 percent. Players ages 30 through 49 were given those diagnoses at a rate of 1.9 percent, 19 times the national average.
This is pretty compelling stuff, especially since it was the NFL that ordered the study. In the past, the league has scoffed at results like this, so these numbers, from its own request, have to make an impact. Then again, this is the NFL, which is selling the controlled violence in stadiums every Sunday and through ancillary outlets like its propaganda partners and video product line. Instead of using the study as a clarion call for change, the ostriches in New York jammed their heads deeper into the artificial turf. “There are thousands of retired players who do not have memory problems,” NFL spokesman Greg Aiello said.
Yes, and there are thousands of people in American Samoa who didn’t die in the horrible tsunami earlier this week. Does that mean everything is fine for those who did perish and their families? “Memory disorders affect many people who never played football or other sports,” he said. “We are trying to understand it as it relates to our retired players.” Uh, Greg, this study provides a pretty good understanding: Play professional football, have a significantly larger chance of getting brain damage than the average person. That ought to save the league a little dough. Now, Aiello is merely providing the league take on the situation, so bashing him does no good. Going after the NFL, however, is absolutely necessary. Although last March it instituted a rule protecting “defenseless” receivers against shots to the melon, the league has to go further and ban every hit to the head – and by the head. Players who use their head or deliver blows to the head will be penalized and suspended. To some, that is Draconian. To those like Hall of Fame tight end John Mackey, who fights dementia every day, it would make perfect sense. A culture must be changed here, and there are going to be some unhappy people at first.
The NFL must admit that its players are at risk for brain injury and long-term trouble and change the game so that the dementia diagnoses drop in the future. It’s bad enough many of these guys will need new hips and knees. They make those in titanium these days. But there isn’t an artificial brain out there, so protecting the ones inside players’ heads is vital. The recent study can be tossed on the growing pile of evidence that shows the dangers of playing a game where the collisions get more violent each season. It’s up to the league to lessen the risk, rather than playing to the Imp in all of us.
Even Poe would have to admit that the league can’t keep embracing the damaging violence.
After he got done burying one of his victims.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: The NHL season started last night, and that calls for some fearless predictions: Two franchise folds, one team move and a Stanley Cup Finals with ratings lower than the Greater Greensboro Open. The champ? Spartak…It was a wild week in Majoke League baseball. Twins catcher Joe Mauer was accused of stealing signs. The Cards said Cincinnati pitcher Bronson Arroyo was rubbing pine tar on the ball. And the Nationals were charged with felony identity theft for posing as an MLB ballclub. That was good news for the Orioles, who had been under investigation of the same charge but seem to have dodged an indictment…President Obama has drawn flak for heading to Copenhagen on behalf of Chicago’s bid to host the 2016 Olympics. His biggest problem isn’t the partisan doggerel, though. Rather, it’s that his Chi-town roots and the city’s reputation for shaky politics can’t be put to good use in the bribing of the IOC committee members charged with making the choice. If this were 10-15 years ago, Chicago would be a shoo-in…Cowboy Quarterback takes on former employer Green Bay Monday night and says he has no revenge notions. It’s hard to believe him, since CQ has given up all dairy products for the week…A new book claims that employees at a cryonics facility in Arizona charged with deep-freezing Ted Williams’ head used crude tools to decapitate the (dead) slugger and even engaged in some batting practice with the body part. Doesn’t look good for Williams’ ability to be on a roster for the start of the 2054 season.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Now that the Phillies have clinched the NL East title, fans can relax a little and dispense with the 1964 redux nightmares. But a good night’s sleep shouldn’t come so easily, since the very real possibility of a 2007 encore still looms. The smoking hot Rockies are 73-40 under Jim Tracy, who took over after a dreadful, 18-28 break from the gate. Barring a weekend collapse, the Phils will likely meet Colorado in the dangerous best-of-five NLDS and would enter with some serious problems. Take starting pitching. To some, it’s a no-brainer to start Cole Hamels and Cliff Lee in the first two games, especially since the Rockies hit just .254 against lefties. But neither hurler has looked all that good of late, and the Phils might be better served going with Joe Blanton and J.A. Happ. Think that will happen? No way. The bullpen continues to be a mess, with J.C. Romero’s arm hurting, Brett Myers not back to full strength and major closer issues remaining. The bats have come alive of late, but the same old problems of getting runners in from third base and manufacturing scores remain. The Phils are experienced and talented, but they are also highly flawed and can hardly give fans peace of mind heading into the post-season.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: When El Hombre read the item about Cleveland Cavaliers’ guard Delonte West’s arrest on gun charges a couple weeks ago, he almost couldn’t contain himself. Talk about some fertile ground. West was stopped on his three-wheel motorcycle in Maryland and was found to have two loaded pistols and a loaded shotgun on his person. And get this: the shotgun was in a guitar case strapped to his back. Great Caesar’s Ghost! This was the mother lode. Fortunately, time provides perspective, and the reality of the situation is that West is a very troubled young man who can find some sanctuary on the basketball court, but for whom everyday life is a staggering challenge. He has battled emotional issues from the time he was a teenager, and this latest episode shows he has plenty of ground still to cover. So, while it’s tempting (really tempting) to take this latest incident and dash, let’s show some compassion and hope West gets it together and moves forward in a stable condition.
-EH-
When Edgar Allen Poe wrote the famous short story, “The Imp of the Perverse,” in 1850, there was no football, not even the European version of the animal. The Chinese had been playing a kicking game as early as the second century BC, and there was the Central and South American “Tlatchi” game that was invented hundreds of years before. But, for Poe’s purposes, there was no prolate spheroid, no tailgate parties and not even any old-fashioned European hooliganism.
But Poe might as well have been writing for the modern-day football fan when he described the Imp and its characteristics. For those of you not familiar with the little bastard, understand that it’s the thing inside you that makes you do what you’re not supposed to do. Ever wonder why you’re dying to see just how hot that iron gets? It’s the Imp. When you decide to drive through the giant puddle, even if it means soaking the breaks or bottoming out, blame the Imp. And in those moments of weakness when you actually tune in to a WNBA game, kill the Imp.
The Imp’s role in our football viewing is clearly defined. No matter how wrong we realize it is to see one man being obliterated by another on the field, no matter how much we have heard about the trauma that comes from head-to-hits and no matter how savage the entire process may be, we still love it. God help us, but we love it. The brutality of the game is on display every Sunday in the NFL and on college gridirons, but sometimes it takes big-time, high-profile collisions to make it all resonate a little more.
By now, most of you have seen Taylor Wyndham’s blasting of Tim Tebow last Saturday in Lexington. In fact, you have probably seen it 10 times, thanks to the repeated showings by espn and the magic of YouTube. El Hombre correspondent and fratello-da-un-altro-madre Raging Bill saw it and immediately referenced Chicago linebacker Wilber Marshall’s leveling Joe Ferguson back in ’85, a hit that led former Bears coach Mike Ditka to say, “I thought he killed him.” Wyndham had a clean, high-speed shot on the helpless Tebow, who unlike his “Superman” descriptions, looked quite vulnerable in that moment of isolated violence. He sustained a concussion, remained prone on the field for a long while and vomited while being carted off the field. (No word yet on how Gator fans can buy pieces of the Tebow chum, but you can bet it’s coming.)
Football America, of course, recoiled in horror at the hit. Then, it watched again and again. Turns out the Imp is quite a fan of the game. Florida boosters couldn’t care less about Poe, his theories or much of anything that doesn’t wear orange-and-blue. They want to know whether Tebow will be available next Saturday night in Death Valley against LSU. Despite assurances by UF coach Urban Meyer that Tebow is “terrific,” let’s hope it’s a neurosurgeon (or two) who’s making the ultimate decision on the quarterback’s availability, and not someone charged solely with winning games.
That wish is even more fervent in light of results released Wednesday of a study commissioned by the NFL that looked into the dementia rates of former players, versus those of the general public. The research, which was conducted by the University of Michigan Institute for Social Research, found that 6.1 percent of 1,063 former NFL players aged 50 and older had received a dementia-related diagnosis. That’s five times higher than the national average of 1.2 percent. Players ages 30 through 49 were given those diagnoses at a rate of 1.9 percent, 19 times the national average.
This is pretty compelling stuff, especially since it was the NFL that ordered the study. In the past, the league has scoffed at results like this, so these numbers, from its own request, have to make an impact. Then again, this is the NFL, which is selling the controlled violence in stadiums every Sunday and through ancillary outlets like its propaganda partners and video product line. Instead of using the study as a clarion call for change, the ostriches in New York jammed their heads deeper into the artificial turf. “There are thousands of retired players who do not have memory problems,” NFL spokesman Greg Aiello said.
Yes, and there are thousands of people in American Samoa who didn’t die in the horrible tsunami earlier this week. Does that mean everything is fine for those who did perish and their families? “Memory disorders affect many people who never played football or other sports,” he said. “We are trying to understand it as it relates to our retired players.” Uh, Greg, this study provides a pretty good understanding: Play professional football, have a significantly larger chance of getting brain damage than the average person. That ought to save the league a little dough. Now, Aiello is merely providing the league take on the situation, so bashing him does no good. Going after the NFL, however, is absolutely necessary. Although last March it instituted a rule protecting “defenseless” receivers against shots to the melon, the league has to go further and ban every hit to the head – and by the head. Players who use their head or deliver blows to the head will be penalized and suspended. To some, that is Draconian. To those like Hall of Fame tight end John Mackey, who fights dementia every day, it would make perfect sense. A culture must be changed here, and there are going to be some unhappy people at first.
The NFL must admit that its players are at risk for brain injury and long-term trouble and change the game so that the dementia diagnoses drop in the future. It’s bad enough many of these guys will need new hips and knees. They make those in titanium these days. But there isn’t an artificial brain out there, so protecting the ones inside players’ heads is vital. The recent study can be tossed on the growing pile of evidence that shows the dangers of playing a game where the collisions get more violent each season. It’s up to the league to lessen the risk, rather than playing to the Imp in all of us.
Even Poe would have to admit that the league can’t keep embracing the damaging violence.
After he got done burying one of his victims.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: The NHL season started last night, and that calls for some fearless predictions: Two franchise folds, one team move and a Stanley Cup Finals with ratings lower than the Greater Greensboro Open. The champ? Spartak…It was a wild week in Majoke League baseball. Twins catcher Joe Mauer was accused of stealing signs. The Cards said Cincinnati pitcher Bronson Arroyo was rubbing pine tar on the ball. And the Nationals were charged with felony identity theft for posing as an MLB ballclub. That was good news for the Orioles, who had been under investigation of the same charge but seem to have dodged an indictment…President Obama has drawn flak for heading to Copenhagen on behalf of Chicago’s bid to host the 2016 Olympics. His biggest problem isn’t the partisan doggerel, though. Rather, it’s that his Chi-town roots and the city’s reputation for shaky politics can’t be put to good use in the bribing of the IOC committee members charged with making the choice. If this were 10-15 years ago, Chicago would be a shoo-in…Cowboy Quarterback takes on former employer Green Bay Monday night and says he has no revenge notions. It’s hard to believe him, since CQ has given up all dairy products for the week…A new book claims that employees at a cryonics facility in Arizona charged with deep-freezing Ted Williams’ head used crude tools to decapitate the (dead) slugger and even engaged in some batting practice with the body part. Doesn’t look good for Williams’ ability to be on a roster for the start of the 2054 season.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Now that the Phillies have clinched the NL East title, fans can relax a little and dispense with the 1964 redux nightmares. But a good night’s sleep shouldn’t come so easily, since the very real possibility of a 2007 encore still looms. The smoking hot Rockies are 73-40 under Jim Tracy, who took over after a dreadful, 18-28 break from the gate. Barring a weekend collapse, the Phils will likely meet Colorado in the dangerous best-of-five NLDS and would enter with some serious problems. Take starting pitching. To some, it’s a no-brainer to start Cole Hamels and Cliff Lee in the first two games, especially since the Rockies hit just .254 against lefties. But neither hurler has looked all that good of late, and the Phils might be better served going with Joe Blanton and J.A. Happ. Think that will happen? No way. The bullpen continues to be a mess, with J.C. Romero’s arm hurting, Brett Myers not back to full strength and major closer issues remaining. The bats have come alive of late, but the same old problems of getting runners in from third base and manufacturing scores remain. The Phils are experienced and talented, but they are also highly flawed and can hardly give fans peace of mind heading into the post-season.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: When El Hombre read the item about Cleveland Cavaliers’ guard Delonte West’s arrest on gun charges a couple weeks ago, he almost couldn’t contain himself. Talk about some fertile ground. West was stopped on his three-wheel motorcycle in Maryland and was found to have two loaded pistols and a loaded shotgun on his person. And get this: the shotgun was in a guitar case strapped to his back. Great Caesar’s Ghost! This was the mother lode. Fortunately, time provides perspective, and the reality of the situation is that West is a very troubled young man who can find some sanctuary on the basketball court, but for whom everyday life is a staggering challenge. He has battled emotional issues from the time he was a teenager, and this latest episode shows he has plenty of ground still to cover. So, while it’s tempting (really tempting) to take this latest incident and dash, let’s show some compassion and hope West gets it together and moves forward in a stable condition.
-EH-
Friday, September 25, 2009
The Bullpen Follies
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
This is the time of year when El Hombre can count on a call from Deep Nose, elated Miami Hurricane alumnus and keeper of all things Phillies for the rogues and misfits who comprise our long-time season-ticket consortium for the World Champions. DN is in full accumulation mode, which means he is trying to gather as many ducats as possible for the post-season, the better to feed the hunger of our group and its ancillary members, not to mention his own speculative efforts on Stub Hub. He’s a busy man, that Deep Nose, but his efforts always result in maximum opportunities for us, and that’s a good thing.
While Hurricane QB Jacory Harris, who is so smooth he should travel with backup singers, has Deep Nose’s mind dancing, so too does the specter of a Phillies-Yankees World Series. Not only would it afford the local nine a chance to erase the stain of the four-game sweep at the hands of the Bombers in 1950, but it would also allow Deep Nose to pull in a pretty penny for some of the preferred seats in our allotment. “I hadn’t even thought of that,” DN said when reminded of the possibility. One imagines his eyes taking on cartoonish dollar-sign shapes at the thought of investment-banking pirates shelling out top dollar to see A-Roid choke in the Fall Classic.
Trouble is, while the Yankees could well find themselves making TV executives smile with a run deep into October – and perhaps, for the first time, November – the Phillies may not hold up their end of the bargain. The team’s travails as it careened toward the NL East title, a designation that sounds better than it really is, have fans’ minds and stomachs in an uncomfortable twist. This is a team with so many flaws, it’s a wonder it will end the season with about 95 wins. That is in large part a testimony to its ability to beat up on the rotten teams in the NL East, most notably the fetid Nationals (15-3) and the odious Mets (11-6). Without those teams to slap around, the Phils could well be scuffling for a wild card spot.
But they will enter the post-season as division champs, provided they take care of the minor business of whittling that magic number of four down to nil, a task the Milwaukee Brewers will no doubt be happy to make easier. And if the Phils can charge down the stretch, they might even find their way to the top spot in the league, or at least the number two position, behind the Dodgers. That will guarantee home-field advantage in the opening, best-of-five crapshoot, never a bad thing.
Once there, however, the Phillies face some big-time obstacles that could well prevent a repeat championship performance. Last year, the Phils were an imperfect team with a perfect bullpen. This year, they are an imperfect team with an imperfect bullpen. That’s not a good condition for a title aspirant. Closer Brad Lidge has blown 11 saves and might have to enter the witness protection program if he fails to do the job in the post-season. It would be nice if fireballing Ryan Madson could take care of the job, but he doesn’t seem to have the, ahem, fortitude to handle the responsibility. For a while, Brett Myers and Chan Ho Park were candidates, but injuries have waylaid each of them, and they will be lucky to be eligible for action in the playoffs, much less handle a job as vital as the closer’s. The most recent germination from manager Charlie Manuel’s fertile mind was Tyler Walker, a journeyman reliever who has looked good at times this year but hardly imbues the populous with too much confidence. The top resume item he can muster is 23 saves for a 2005 Giants team that finished 12 games below .500.
While the bullpen staggers through September, trying to get healthy and appear reliable, the Phillies lineup continues to live for the big inning and the patron saint of Earl Weaver: the three-run homer. A sacrifice fly is as rare as a reasonably priced concession item at Citizens Bank Park. The Phillies’ inability to manufacture runs is almost pathological. It’s almost as if winning a game 4-2 with a bunch of hits, sacrifices, stolen bases and walks is sacrilegious. Playing long-ball is fine when the Nationals are in town, but when the weather turns colder, and the collars become tighter, it’s not so easy to swing freely.
The saving grace for the Phillies might just be its starting rotation, which could be the deepest in team history. When a team’s wins leader is relegated to the bullpen, something good is happening. But it’s dangerous to think that the same guys who throw into the eighth inning in August and September can do that in October. A hundred pitches don’t go as far in the post-season cauldron as they do on a sultry summer evening. The bullpen will have to perform.
So, Deep Nose will continue his hunting and gathering, and the Phillies will continue to madden fans with their nightly bullpen travails. Let’s hope they can figure things out in time for October baseball, if only to see the smile on DN’s face when he can list lower-level Series tickets against the Yankees for obscene amounts of money. The team owes him that much.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: The NC2A is considering taking actions to reduce drastically the burdens on athletes in Division II and might even cut back a little in D-I basketball. Of course, no cutbacks are needed in big-time football, with its 12 (and sometimes 13) game regular season, conference title tilts, bowl games and year-round conditioning. The NC2A really cares about its student-athletes. (Cough, cough.) That’s why it can’t have a playoff…The Pirates drew a robust crowd of 3,000 to Thursday’s game against the Reds, and one of the reasons given for the intimate gathering was the nearby G-20 summit. Yeah, fans couldn’t wait to get a look at Thai Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva. It couldn’t have been that a matinee between the rotten Bucs and floundering Reds was as attractive as the idea of the torrid love affair between Papa John Phillips and his daughter Mackenzie, could it? Nahhhh…The announcement that Russian gazillionaire Mikhail Prokhorov is buying the New Jersey Nets had to strike a little fear into the team’s players. On other NBA teams, poor play or a rotten attitude will result in a trip to the bench. With Prokhorov in charge, the same behavior may earn an exile to Yakutsk…Can’t understand why the NHL is having so much trouble getting its Phoenix franchise stabilized. Hockey has such a great history and tradition the desert. Boneheads…The city of Industry, which sits about 15 miles east of Los Angeles, has cleared a major hurdle in its bid to build a stadium that could lure an NFL back to the nation’s second-largest market. Imagine the excitement as fans cite 62 leisure alternatives to watching the L.A. Jaguars play in person. By the year 2025, the franchise will be looking to move, just as the Rams and Raiders did before it.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Michael Vick makes his triumphant return to the NFL Sunday when the Eagles play Kansas City, and his presence on the active roster should help the team ratchet the drama quotient sky high. There shouldn’t be too much trouble this week, since starter Kevin Kolb has done nothing during his career to warrant any complaining about the deployment of Vick, who could become the greatest option QB in NFL history. In two weeks (the Birds have a bye next Sunday), however, things could get a little dicey. Donovan McNabb isn’t the most secure fellow around, and his return to the offense, coupled with Vick’s insertion, could lead to some friction. Number Five groused about not being able to generate sufficient offensive flow when Vick was used in an exhibition game. Imagine how he’ll handle being moved to the slot while Vick runs veer plays during contests that count. Meanwhile, Vick has said he thought he’d be starting for a team by now, a laughable statement from someone who brings more baggage than an airport porter and was never a pinpoint passer to begin with. Vick should take his 8-10 snaps Sunday, try to outrun a couple linebackers and keep his mouth shut. He certainly deserves a second chance, but he has to prove himself after a two-year layoff and demonstrate that he can thrive in a grown-up offense, not a run-and-gun scheme, before someone will consider him worthy of a starting gig.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Thursday night’s loss to South Carolina proved that the hype surrounding Mississippi was irrational and the by-product of college football’s propaganda partners’ needs to prime the promotional pump in advance of each season. The Rebels were anointed the nation’s hot team, along with Oklahoma State (hello, Houston) on the basis of an upset win over Florida and a triumph over Texas Tech in the Cotton Bowl last year. All of a sudden, the Rebs were top-10 – and Thursday, they were top-five – material. The loss shows just how ridiculous it is to publish polls in August and early September, before teams have shown anything. If the popularity contests didn’t matter in the formula to choose a “national champion,” it wouldn’t matter, but because the USA Today election is part of the BCS scheme, it should have its basis a little more in fact than conjecture, since an early poll establishes an artificial hierarchy that rewards name brands. Take the Houston/OK State situation. The Cougars go to Stillwater and slap around Boone Pickens’ all-stars. That earned them a spot in the polls seven place behind the Cowpokes. That makes sense. At least the Harris Interactive Poll, which is comprised of a motley bunch of ex-coaches, B-list journalists and other assorted characters, doesn’t debut until next Monday. Perhaps its voters will take into account that success is earned on the field, not by a program’s tradition. Then again, given its track record and the asinine nature of the BCS, no one should count on anything of merit coming from the Harris poll. Get ready for another season of nonsense that devalues the world’s greatest sport.
-EH-
This is the time of year when El Hombre can count on a call from Deep Nose, elated Miami Hurricane alumnus and keeper of all things Phillies for the rogues and misfits who comprise our long-time season-ticket consortium for the World Champions. DN is in full accumulation mode, which means he is trying to gather as many ducats as possible for the post-season, the better to feed the hunger of our group and its ancillary members, not to mention his own speculative efforts on Stub Hub. He’s a busy man, that Deep Nose, but his efforts always result in maximum opportunities for us, and that’s a good thing.
While Hurricane QB Jacory Harris, who is so smooth he should travel with backup singers, has Deep Nose’s mind dancing, so too does the specter of a Phillies-Yankees World Series. Not only would it afford the local nine a chance to erase the stain of the four-game sweep at the hands of the Bombers in 1950, but it would also allow Deep Nose to pull in a pretty penny for some of the preferred seats in our allotment. “I hadn’t even thought of that,” DN said when reminded of the possibility. One imagines his eyes taking on cartoonish dollar-sign shapes at the thought of investment-banking pirates shelling out top dollar to see A-Roid choke in the Fall Classic.
Trouble is, while the Yankees could well find themselves making TV executives smile with a run deep into October – and perhaps, for the first time, November – the Phillies may not hold up their end of the bargain. The team’s travails as it careened toward the NL East title, a designation that sounds better than it really is, have fans’ minds and stomachs in an uncomfortable twist. This is a team with so many flaws, it’s a wonder it will end the season with about 95 wins. That is in large part a testimony to its ability to beat up on the rotten teams in the NL East, most notably the fetid Nationals (15-3) and the odious Mets (11-6). Without those teams to slap around, the Phils could well be scuffling for a wild card spot.
But they will enter the post-season as division champs, provided they take care of the minor business of whittling that magic number of four down to nil, a task the Milwaukee Brewers will no doubt be happy to make easier. And if the Phils can charge down the stretch, they might even find their way to the top spot in the league, or at least the number two position, behind the Dodgers. That will guarantee home-field advantage in the opening, best-of-five crapshoot, never a bad thing.
Once there, however, the Phillies face some big-time obstacles that could well prevent a repeat championship performance. Last year, the Phils were an imperfect team with a perfect bullpen. This year, they are an imperfect team with an imperfect bullpen. That’s not a good condition for a title aspirant. Closer Brad Lidge has blown 11 saves and might have to enter the witness protection program if he fails to do the job in the post-season. It would be nice if fireballing Ryan Madson could take care of the job, but he doesn’t seem to have the, ahem, fortitude to handle the responsibility. For a while, Brett Myers and Chan Ho Park were candidates, but injuries have waylaid each of them, and they will be lucky to be eligible for action in the playoffs, much less handle a job as vital as the closer’s. The most recent germination from manager Charlie Manuel’s fertile mind was Tyler Walker, a journeyman reliever who has looked good at times this year but hardly imbues the populous with too much confidence. The top resume item he can muster is 23 saves for a 2005 Giants team that finished 12 games below .500.
While the bullpen staggers through September, trying to get healthy and appear reliable, the Phillies lineup continues to live for the big inning and the patron saint of Earl Weaver: the three-run homer. A sacrifice fly is as rare as a reasonably priced concession item at Citizens Bank Park. The Phillies’ inability to manufacture runs is almost pathological. It’s almost as if winning a game 4-2 with a bunch of hits, sacrifices, stolen bases and walks is sacrilegious. Playing long-ball is fine when the Nationals are in town, but when the weather turns colder, and the collars become tighter, it’s not so easy to swing freely.
The saving grace for the Phillies might just be its starting rotation, which could be the deepest in team history. When a team’s wins leader is relegated to the bullpen, something good is happening. But it’s dangerous to think that the same guys who throw into the eighth inning in August and September can do that in October. A hundred pitches don’t go as far in the post-season cauldron as they do on a sultry summer evening. The bullpen will have to perform.
So, Deep Nose will continue his hunting and gathering, and the Phillies will continue to madden fans with their nightly bullpen travails. Let’s hope they can figure things out in time for October baseball, if only to see the smile on DN’s face when he can list lower-level Series tickets against the Yankees for obscene amounts of money. The team owes him that much.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: The NC2A is considering taking actions to reduce drastically the burdens on athletes in Division II and might even cut back a little in D-I basketball. Of course, no cutbacks are needed in big-time football, with its 12 (and sometimes 13) game regular season, conference title tilts, bowl games and year-round conditioning. The NC2A really cares about its student-athletes. (Cough, cough.) That’s why it can’t have a playoff…The Pirates drew a robust crowd of 3,000 to Thursday’s game against the Reds, and one of the reasons given for the intimate gathering was the nearby G-20 summit. Yeah, fans couldn’t wait to get a look at Thai Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva. It couldn’t have been that a matinee between the rotten Bucs and floundering Reds was as attractive as the idea of the torrid love affair between Papa John Phillips and his daughter Mackenzie, could it? Nahhhh…The announcement that Russian gazillionaire Mikhail Prokhorov is buying the New Jersey Nets had to strike a little fear into the team’s players. On other NBA teams, poor play or a rotten attitude will result in a trip to the bench. With Prokhorov in charge, the same behavior may earn an exile to Yakutsk…Can’t understand why the NHL is having so much trouble getting its Phoenix franchise stabilized. Hockey has such a great history and tradition the desert. Boneheads…The city of Industry, which sits about 15 miles east of Los Angeles, has cleared a major hurdle in its bid to build a stadium that could lure an NFL back to the nation’s second-largest market. Imagine the excitement as fans cite 62 leisure alternatives to watching the L.A. Jaguars play in person. By the year 2025, the franchise will be looking to move, just as the Rams and Raiders did before it.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Michael Vick makes his triumphant return to the NFL Sunday when the Eagles play Kansas City, and his presence on the active roster should help the team ratchet the drama quotient sky high. There shouldn’t be too much trouble this week, since starter Kevin Kolb has done nothing during his career to warrant any complaining about the deployment of Vick, who could become the greatest option QB in NFL history. In two weeks (the Birds have a bye next Sunday), however, things could get a little dicey. Donovan McNabb isn’t the most secure fellow around, and his return to the offense, coupled with Vick’s insertion, could lead to some friction. Number Five groused about not being able to generate sufficient offensive flow when Vick was used in an exhibition game. Imagine how he’ll handle being moved to the slot while Vick runs veer plays during contests that count. Meanwhile, Vick has said he thought he’d be starting for a team by now, a laughable statement from someone who brings more baggage than an airport porter and was never a pinpoint passer to begin with. Vick should take his 8-10 snaps Sunday, try to outrun a couple linebackers and keep his mouth shut. He certainly deserves a second chance, but he has to prove himself after a two-year layoff and demonstrate that he can thrive in a grown-up offense, not a run-and-gun scheme, before someone will consider him worthy of a starting gig.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Thursday night’s loss to South Carolina proved that the hype surrounding Mississippi was irrational and the by-product of college football’s propaganda partners’ needs to prime the promotional pump in advance of each season. The Rebels were anointed the nation’s hot team, along with Oklahoma State (hello, Houston) on the basis of an upset win over Florida and a triumph over Texas Tech in the Cotton Bowl last year. All of a sudden, the Rebs were top-10 – and Thursday, they were top-five – material. The loss shows just how ridiculous it is to publish polls in August and early September, before teams have shown anything. If the popularity contests didn’t matter in the formula to choose a “national champion,” it wouldn’t matter, but because the USA Today election is part of the BCS scheme, it should have its basis a little more in fact than conjecture, since an early poll establishes an artificial hierarchy that rewards name brands. Take the Houston/OK State situation. The Cougars go to Stillwater and slap around Boone Pickens’ all-stars. That earned them a spot in the polls seven place behind the Cowpokes. That makes sense. At least the Harris Interactive Poll, which is comprised of a motley bunch of ex-coaches, B-list journalists and other assorted characters, doesn’t debut until next Monday. Perhaps its voters will take into account that success is earned on the field, not by a program’s tradition. Then again, given its track record and the asinine nature of the BCS, no one should count on anything of merit coming from the Harris poll. Get ready for another season of nonsense that devalues the world’s greatest sport.
-EH-
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Another Big Win for MJ
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
When the reports and accounts of Michael Jordan’s Hall of Fame acceptance speech slipped out, it was tempting – actually, it was irresistible – to tear the guy a new one. How dare he rip the media and Jerry Krause and legends like Isiah Thomas, George Gervin and Magic Johnson? How dare he make it seem as if they and others somehow brought down his universally glorified career?
Some were mystified by his tactics. He called out the “media naysayers.” He fed Krause’s words about the value of organizations over players back to him with a side order of stick-it-up-your-ass. If you only read the accounts, and you didn’t watch the speech, you thought Jordan had completely lost it and had chosen the absolute wrong venue to settle old accounts. The least he could have done was wait to be named godfather to his sister’s child to whack everybody. Was there no honor any more?
Throughout the ensuing days, pundits, columnists, analysts and blowhards weighed in on Jordan’s comments. Most of them, it seems, didn’t watch the speech. If they had, they would have understood that each of those “shots” was taken out of context. Jordan wasn’t being petty. In addition to thanking the many people who helped him reach the heights he did, he also adhered to the theme of his own competitive fire and how many people and things – real and imagined – stoked it. Or, as he said, “put so much more wood on that fire.” It was a funny, gracious, pointed address, and the people he directed his comments toward were all like him. You think Thomas was offended that Jordan wanted to “prove to everybody I deserved to be at this level?” Hell, no.
Pat Riley didn’t care that Jordan teased him, either, because Riley has the same competitive monster inside him as Jordan does. Why do you think he’s still running a team in Miami, instead of lounging around in his Armani sweatsuit by the pool or golf course? Okay, so Bryon Russell got a little angry that Jordan called him out, saying that Russell’s comments while Jordan was training for his disastrous baseball career helped motivate him. But what do you expect when you tell the greatest player ever that you can’t wait for him to come back and play again so you can guard him? When told about Jordan’s remarks, Russell said, “I’ll play his ass right now. This is a call-out for him to come play me.”
What Russell doesn’t understand, and what the media members who sprang to his and Thomas’ and Johnson’s and their own defense is that professional athletes, especially the great ones, aren’t wired like the rest of us. What we saw during Jordan’s speech was a glimpse inside a world we don’t understand, where people compete to near-death levels to win a game and then have the ability to socialize with the players they just sweated blood to defeat. Most athletes take their jobs incredibly seriously. They have a finite time to make as much money, grab as much glory and win as many games as possible, because when it’s over, nothing can replace it. Nothing. Any former player who says competing in the business world gives him the same rush as competing on the field or court or ice is lying. Jordan’s speech was a chance for us to see how players talk to each other. Riley smiled when Jordan chided him for not allowing MJ to have lunch with Knicks players during a Chicago-New York playoff series. He smiled because he was competing against Jordan by imposing that edict. He was doing what he could in that moment.
Okay, so maybe Jordan shouldn’t have said that he didn’t invite former Bulls GM Jerry Krause to the induction ceremony. But even his criticism of Krause’s statement that organizations win titles, not players, was tempered. He recalled Krause’s competitive streak. He admitted that the organization “puts together the team.” He also said, “at the end of the day, the team has to go play.” Again, we saw the pride and drive that made him so great. It’s something few can understand, because so few get to join that fraternity and such a small number within it has the overwhelming, all-consuming desire to win that people like Jordan and Riley and Thomas have.
Even the media shouldn’t be offended. Jordan said the “naysayers” had told him and everybody else “a scoring champion can’t win an NBA title.” And, if you’ll recall at the time, there was huge backlash against Jordan by purists who viewed him only as a shot-pumping endorsement machine concerned solely with his own self-aggrandizement. “I’m not saying they were wrong,” Jordan said about the media. But their words motivated him. Funny how when the media gets called out, its members get so touchy. Whatever happened to the days of the hard-boiled, cynical newsman?
In the final analysis, Jordan’s speech was a perfect summation of his on-court persona. He asked at the beginning, “What don’t you know about me?” And he was right. We know practically every story about him. We know nearly each step along his journey. But we apparently don’t understand what made him great. We don’t get the concept of competition and motivation and how the great ones find their spark any way they can.
“You look for any kind of messages that people may say or do to get you motivated to play the game of basketball at the highest level,” Jordan said.
That says it all. Jordan’s speech wasn’t a giant raised middle finger to the people he mentioned. (Okay, maybe it was a little to Krause.) Instead, it was a look at how greatness continues to be great. If you need to take some trash talk from Bryon Russell and make it a theme for the season, you do it. If Chuck Daly beats you at golf during training camp for the ’92 Olympic Dream Team, and that helps you score 36 on the Nets the next season, so be it. This speech would have been better received had it been delivered solely to the NBA community. They would have understood. And afterward, they would have stood around and traded war stories that only they could truly appreciate.
When El Hombre was researching his book on college football rivalries, he was struck by how few of the former players had an intense dislike for those against whom they competed. Although fans and alumni were almost pathological in their hate for the Other Side, most of the players felt respect for their fellow gladiators. That doesn’t fit the idea of how we want our athletic heroes to behave, but it’s the way it is. Jordan could trade baskets and elbows with Charles Oakley for 48 minutes and then dine with him because the two men understood the nature of competition. Jordan’s speech was a window into that world, and it should be required viewing for those who want to understand professional sports better.
Okay, so maybe Jerry Krause shouldn’t watch it. But everybody else needs to hit YouTube.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Some may view the NFL’s new “Red Zone” channel on Comcast an indication that the 21st century is all about impatience and short attention spans, but El Hombre disagrees. After spending an hour hunkered down in the Red Zone last Sunday, EH declares it one of the greatest inventions of all time. Non-stop action, photo finishes and Gus Johnson’s screaming are enough to get the Big Imprimatur. Be sure to tune in…What a great speech Wednesday night by former Tigers broadcaster Ernie Harwell, who was recently diagnosed with untreatable cancer. Harwell’s distinctive voice carried a gracious message of thanks and love of the game. He’s a true gentleman and treasure of baseball…T.O.’s comments in the wake of the Bills’ loss to New England don’t register anywhere near some of his other outbursts during his career, but the subtle shots he took at QB Trent Edwards and kick returner Leodis McKelvin demonstrate how dangerous he is. If the Bills are struggling by week six, he could be in full team-ruining mode. Buffalo, you have been warned…Notre Dame will honor its great teams of the 1940s during Saturday’s game against Michigan State. It’s a good idea to remind fans why the Irish are such a legendary program, since Heavy C is doing a good job of shattering the myths…From the Mensa File comes this doozy from Houston: Disgruntled Texans D-back Dunta Robinson has been fined $25,000 by the team for wearing shoes with the message “Pay me, Rick” on them in last Sunday’s opener against the Jets, a reference to Houston GM Rick Smith. Robinson signed a one-year contract about 10 days ago but wants a long-term deal. What better way to open negotiations than with a public shot at the man responsible for signing you. You can catch Dunta at next week’s meeting.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Long-time source Deep Nose checked in with an interesting take on the latest Donovan McNabb injury situation. A devoted Eagles fan, to the point of some wondering whether he has a man crush on Andy Reid, Deep Nose said, “I think McNabb is a very good NFL quarterback, and the Eagles will probably be worse off when he leaves, but I’m kind of looking forward to him leaving, just to end all the drama.” That’s an interesting take, but it may just sum up the feelings of many Birds fans. McNabb has been excellent, even if he hasn’t led the team to a Super Bowl title. But his latest injury has created more uncertainty under center for the Eagles and could lead to a variety of scenarios that could be too weird for words. For instance, imagine if Jeff Garcia takes over for Kevin Kolb Sunday (provided McNabb can’t play) and then McNabb is back for the Chiefs on Sept. 26. Do the Eagles cut Kolb, their “franchise” QB of the future and keep Garcia to go with Number Five and Michael Vick? Do they jettison Garcia and hope Kolb improves? And what do they do with Vick? McNabb didn’t ask Damione Lewis to toss his 300-pound self on his rib cage, but the whole thing has created another act in a long drama. Deep Nose is right that things won’t be as wild without McNabb, but the team won’t be as good, either. Because of that, we should all learn to deal with the craziness.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Memphis’ decision to sign Allen Iverson is one of the worst in recent NBA history and shows what happens when owners make decisions, rather than basketball people. The Grizzlies need to sell tickets, and that’s why they added both Iverson and Zach Randolph, both of whom are practically registered with the Poison Control Center when it comes to exposing them to young teams. GM Chris Wallace and his staff have been bound and gagged by owner Michael Heisley, who has decided that building for the future matters little, when a few thousand tickets can be sold today. Giving Iverson the chance to jack up 25 shots a game and negatively influence the team’s youngsters with his late-night antics and carousing is like asking Kanye West to teach manners to grade-school kids. Memphis has derailed its rebuilding efforts by bringing Iverson on board, and pairing him with Randolph, another selfish player, will be disastrous. The recession is forcing people to make some desperate decisions, but this one could be one of the worst on record. Iverson is out to rehab his image by showing he can score again – at all costs. This won’t be pretty.
-EH-
When the reports and accounts of Michael Jordan’s Hall of Fame acceptance speech slipped out, it was tempting – actually, it was irresistible – to tear the guy a new one. How dare he rip the media and Jerry Krause and legends like Isiah Thomas, George Gervin and Magic Johnson? How dare he make it seem as if they and others somehow brought down his universally glorified career?
Some were mystified by his tactics. He called out the “media naysayers.” He fed Krause’s words about the value of organizations over players back to him with a side order of stick-it-up-your-ass. If you only read the accounts, and you didn’t watch the speech, you thought Jordan had completely lost it and had chosen the absolute wrong venue to settle old accounts. The least he could have done was wait to be named godfather to his sister’s child to whack everybody. Was there no honor any more?
Throughout the ensuing days, pundits, columnists, analysts and blowhards weighed in on Jordan’s comments. Most of them, it seems, didn’t watch the speech. If they had, they would have understood that each of those “shots” was taken out of context. Jordan wasn’t being petty. In addition to thanking the many people who helped him reach the heights he did, he also adhered to the theme of his own competitive fire and how many people and things – real and imagined – stoked it. Or, as he said, “put so much more wood on that fire.” It was a funny, gracious, pointed address, and the people he directed his comments toward were all like him. You think Thomas was offended that Jordan wanted to “prove to everybody I deserved to be at this level?” Hell, no.
Pat Riley didn’t care that Jordan teased him, either, because Riley has the same competitive monster inside him as Jordan does. Why do you think he’s still running a team in Miami, instead of lounging around in his Armani sweatsuit by the pool or golf course? Okay, so Bryon Russell got a little angry that Jordan called him out, saying that Russell’s comments while Jordan was training for his disastrous baseball career helped motivate him. But what do you expect when you tell the greatest player ever that you can’t wait for him to come back and play again so you can guard him? When told about Jordan’s remarks, Russell said, “I’ll play his ass right now. This is a call-out for him to come play me.”
What Russell doesn’t understand, and what the media members who sprang to his and Thomas’ and Johnson’s and their own defense is that professional athletes, especially the great ones, aren’t wired like the rest of us. What we saw during Jordan’s speech was a glimpse inside a world we don’t understand, where people compete to near-death levels to win a game and then have the ability to socialize with the players they just sweated blood to defeat. Most athletes take their jobs incredibly seriously. They have a finite time to make as much money, grab as much glory and win as many games as possible, because when it’s over, nothing can replace it. Nothing. Any former player who says competing in the business world gives him the same rush as competing on the field or court or ice is lying. Jordan’s speech was a chance for us to see how players talk to each other. Riley smiled when Jordan chided him for not allowing MJ to have lunch with Knicks players during a Chicago-New York playoff series. He smiled because he was competing against Jordan by imposing that edict. He was doing what he could in that moment.
Okay, so maybe Jordan shouldn’t have said that he didn’t invite former Bulls GM Jerry Krause to the induction ceremony. But even his criticism of Krause’s statement that organizations win titles, not players, was tempered. He recalled Krause’s competitive streak. He admitted that the organization “puts together the team.” He also said, “at the end of the day, the team has to go play.” Again, we saw the pride and drive that made him so great. It’s something few can understand, because so few get to join that fraternity and such a small number within it has the overwhelming, all-consuming desire to win that people like Jordan and Riley and Thomas have.
Even the media shouldn’t be offended. Jordan said the “naysayers” had told him and everybody else “a scoring champion can’t win an NBA title.” And, if you’ll recall at the time, there was huge backlash against Jordan by purists who viewed him only as a shot-pumping endorsement machine concerned solely with his own self-aggrandizement. “I’m not saying they were wrong,” Jordan said about the media. But their words motivated him. Funny how when the media gets called out, its members get so touchy. Whatever happened to the days of the hard-boiled, cynical newsman?
In the final analysis, Jordan’s speech was a perfect summation of his on-court persona. He asked at the beginning, “What don’t you know about me?” And he was right. We know practically every story about him. We know nearly each step along his journey. But we apparently don’t understand what made him great. We don’t get the concept of competition and motivation and how the great ones find their spark any way they can.
“You look for any kind of messages that people may say or do to get you motivated to play the game of basketball at the highest level,” Jordan said.
That says it all. Jordan’s speech wasn’t a giant raised middle finger to the people he mentioned. (Okay, maybe it was a little to Krause.) Instead, it was a look at how greatness continues to be great. If you need to take some trash talk from Bryon Russell and make it a theme for the season, you do it. If Chuck Daly beats you at golf during training camp for the ’92 Olympic Dream Team, and that helps you score 36 on the Nets the next season, so be it. This speech would have been better received had it been delivered solely to the NBA community. They would have understood. And afterward, they would have stood around and traded war stories that only they could truly appreciate.
When El Hombre was researching his book on college football rivalries, he was struck by how few of the former players had an intense dislike for those against whom they competed. Although fans and alumni were almost pathological in their hate for the Other Side, most of the players felt respect for their fellow gladiators. That doesn’t fit the idea of how we want our athletic heroes to behave, but it’s the way it is. Jordan could trade baskets and elbows with Charles Oakley for 48 minutes and then dine with him because the two men understood the nature of competition. Jordan’s speech was a window into that world, and it should be required viewing for those who want to understand professional sports better.
Okay, so maybe Jerry Krause shouldn’t watch it. But everybody else needs to hit YouTube.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Some may view the NFL’s new “Red Zone” channel on Comcast an indication that the 21st century is all about impatience and short attention spans, but El Hombre disagrees. After spending an hour hunkered down in the Red Zone last Sunday, EH declares it one of the greatest inventions of all time. Non-stop action, photo finishes and Gus Johnson’s screaming are enough to get the Big Imprimatur. Be sure to tune in…What a great speech Wednesday night by former Tigers broadcaster Ernie Harwell, who was recently diagnosed with untreatable cancer. Harwell’s distinctive voice carried a gracious message of thanks and love of the game. He’s a true gentleman and treasure of baseball…T.O.’s comments in the wake of the Bills’ loss to New England don’t register anywhere near some of his other outbursts during his career, but the subtle shots he took at QB Trent Edwards and kick returner Leodis McKelvin demonstrate how dangerous he is. If the Bills are struggling by week six, he could be in full team-ruining mode. Buffalo, you have been warned…Notre Dame will honor its great teams of the 1940s during Saturday’s game against Michigan State. It’s a good idea to remind fans why the Irish are such a legendary program, since Heavy C is doing a good job of shattering the myths…From the Mensa File comes this doozy from Houston: Disgruntled Texans D-back Dunta Robinson has been fined $25,000 by the team for wearing shoes with the message “Pay me, Rick” on them in last Sunday’s opener against the Jets, a reference to Houston GM Rick Smith. Robinson signed a one-year contract about 10 days ago but wants a long-term deal. What better way to open negotiations than with a public shot at the man responsible for signing you. You can catch Dunta at next week’s meeting.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Long-time source Deep Nose checked in with an interesting take on the latest Donovan McNabb injury situation. A devoted Eagles fan, to the point of some wondering whether he has a man crush on Andy Reid, Deep Nose said, “I think McNabb is a very good NFL quarterback, and the Eagles will probably be worse off when he leaves, but I’m kind of looking forward to him leaving, just to end all the drama.” That’s an interesting take, but it may just sum up the feelings of many Birds fans. McNabb has been excellent, even if he hasn’t led the team to a Super Bowl title. But his latest injury has created more uncertainty under center for the Eagles and could lead to a variety of scenarios that could be too weird for words. For instance, imagine if Jeff Garcia takes over for Kevin Kolb Sunday (provided McNabb can’t play) and then McNabb is back for the Chiefs on Sept. 26. Do the Eagles cut Kolb, their “franchise” QB of the future and keep Garcia to go with Number Five and Michael Vick? Do they jettison Garcia and hope Kolb improves? And what do they do with Vick? McNabb didn’t ask Damione Lewis to toss his 300-pound self on his rib cage, but the whole thing has created another act in a long drama. Deep Nose is right that things won’t be as wild without McNabb, but the team won’t be as good, either. Because of that, we should all learn to deal with the craziness.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Memphis’ decision to sign Allen Iverson is one of the worst in recent NBA history and shows what happens when owners make decisions, rather than basketball people. The Grizzlies need to sell tickets, and that’s why they added both Iverson and Zach Randolph, both of whom are practically registered with the Poison Control Center when it comes to exposing them to young teams. GM Chris Wallace and his staff have been bound and gagged by owner Michael Heisley, who has decided that building for the future matters little, when a few thousand tickets can be sold today. Giving Iverson the chance to jack up 25 shots a game and negatively influence the team’s youngsters with his late-night antics and carousing is like asking Kanye West to teach manners to grade-school kids. Memphis has derailed its rebuilding efforts by bringing Iverson on board, and pairing him with Randolph, another selfish player, will be disastrous. The recession is forcing people to make some desperate decisions, but this one could be one of the worst on record. Iverson is out to rehab his image by showing he can score again – at all costs. This won’t be pretty.
-EH-
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Let The Craziness Begin
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
This was the perfect off-season for the NFL. Attention focused on whether egomaniacal receivers could send 140-character messages to fans during games, if an egomaniacal owner had turned punts into backyard touch football, whether an egomaniacal quarterback would return from his second retirement to satisfy an adoring media’s need to praise him and whether a country filled with highly-flawed people will offer a second chance to a highly-flawed quarterback.
In other words: Plenty of drama, nothing about football.
Tonight, mercifully, that changes – at least somewhat. We’ll still be subjected to the weekly malarkey involving locker room disputes and various other theatrical episodes (the prediction here is that Chad Ochocinco dictates his Twitter postings to a friend in the stands, thereby circumventing the league’s anti-Tweeting rule and forcing an emergency amendment), simply because networks have decided fans don’t care about why the Bills can’t run the football. Mostly, we’ll be able to focus on the on-field action, which is just fine.
Then again, the craziness is kind of fun. So, here is a look at the season ahead, which no doubt will continue to push the NFL beyond the WWE as the nation’s top sports entertainment concern.
Billsh**: It’s a good thing Dick LeBeau has a shot at the Hall of Fame to think about, because if he spends too much time pondering his team, he might ask the bartender for a Red-Bull-and-arsenic. LeBeau had to suffer through a training camp that included Terrell Owens’ injured toe (just the fact that T.O. was there had to be stressful for a throwback like LeBeau) and an offense that was so impotent that Pfizer refused an entreaty to help it. Things were so bad that LeBeau fired offensive coordinator Turk Schonert, triggering a spate of OC beheadings. A season that had promise in the spring now looks like a disaster movie in pre-production. Buffalo opens Monday night in Foxboro and may close more quickly than a crappy Broadway musical.
Mental Health Issues: Back when Al Davis was stalking the Raiders hallways in his trademark white sweatsuit and delighting contrarians by flipping off NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle, he was a maverick and good for a stodgy league. These days, he’s a cartoon character. Worse, his franchise is so poorly run and inept that the UFL would probably deny it entrance. The problem is Davis, who remains wedded to his antediluvian “vertical passing game” and has established new standards for paranoia. It’s time for commissioner Roger Goodell to round up original AFL “Foolish Club” members Ralph Wilson, Barron Hilton and Bud Adams and stage an intervention to remove Davis from the Raiders or risk irreparable (if things haven’t already gone that far) damage to one of the league’s signature franchises.
Disposable Parts: Rodney Harrison is retired. So is Tedy Bruschi. Richard Seymour has been exiled to Oakland (whom did he anger?), and new faces are all over the roster. If you want a true example of how business is conducted successfully in the NFL, look no further than New England, where Bill Belichick discards players when they can no longer serve him. All three players had big roles on the Patriots’ Super Bowl teams, but all are beyond their primes, or in Seymour’s case nearing that point and in the final year of a contract. It might seem cruel, but Belichick is showing how to win by building through the Draft and with key free-agent acquisitions. The Patriots are favored to win the AFC East this year and might take it all, and they’ll do it with a team that hardly resembles its last championship outfit. Seymour isn’t happy to be property of the Al Davis Traveling Circus (he still hasn’t reported for duty), but he has to respect Belichick’s business model, because if Mr. Bundchen stays healthy, the Pats will be darn good again.
QB Follies: It sure was a wild off-season for the NFL’s most important position. Forget about Cowboy Quarterback’s Narcissus imitation and take a look at what went on around the rest of the league. Chicago discovered offense for the first time in decades by trading for petulant Jay Cutler, who pouted his way out of Denver when new coach Josh McDaniel tried to acquire Matt Cassel. Detroit and the Jets gave their starting jobs to a pair of rookies, hoping Mark Sanchez and Matthew Stafford can replicate the ’08 performances of Matt Ryan and Joe Flacco and lead their teams to the playoffs. Or, in the case of the Lions, win a game. Cleveland coach Eric Mangini staged a months-long, super-secret battle for the starting job between Brady Quinn and Derek Anderson (Quinn won – shhhhh!). San Francisco chose Shaun Hill over Alex Smith and Nuclear Waste, Oakland decided JaMarcus Russell’s tender psyche couldn’t handle having hyperkinetic Jeff Garcia around to provide competition and try to run onto the field every time Russell got hit, and Michael Vick returned from the joint to run the wishbone in Philly.
New Sheriff In Town: There are new coaches in New York, St. Louis, Tampa Bay, Kansas City, Detroit, Cleveland, Monte Carlo, Beverly Hills, London, Paris, Rome and Gstaad. In other words, forget about the thorny-crested whippoorwill. The most endangered species in America is the NFL coach. Some of the new guys are brash, like Buddy Ryan’s spawn, Rex. Others are low-key, like Indy’s Jim Caldwell. No matter what their personalities, each has one thing in common: Either win in three years or start looking for a coordinator’s job somewhere else.
How It Shakes Out: When forecasting the NFL, it’s best to expect the unexpected. In other words, all but the Lions and Raiders are in play when it comes to the playoff picture. So, here goes. NFC East – Giants; NFC North – Packers; NFC South – Falcons; NFC West – Seahawks; NFC Wild Cards – Vikings, Eagles. AFC East – Patriots; AFC North – Steelers; AFC South – Colts; AFC West – Chargers; AFC Wild Cards – Ravens, Titans.
Wild Card Playoffs, NFC: Eagles over Packers; Seahawks over Vikings; AFC: Ravens over Colts; Steelers over Titans. Divisional Playoffs, NFC: Falcons over Eagles; Giants over Seahawks; AFC: Patriots over Titans; Chargers over Ravens. Conference Championship, NFC: Giants over Falcons; AFC: Chargers over Patriots.
Super Bowl: Chargers over Giants.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: It’s one thing to provide support for someone else. It’s another to become a buffoon. Ohio State QB Terrell Pryor’s explanation of why he is on Michael Vick’s side in the QB’s return to the NFL was buffoonery at its lowest. To wit: “Not everyone is the perfect person in the world. Everyone does – kills people, murders people, steals from you, steals from me. I just feel that people need to give him a chance.” Sounds like the Ethics Department at OSU should be trying to get Pryor as a teaching assistant. What a bonehead…Allen Iverson says “God chose Memphis” as the team for him this year. Of course, the Almighty had some help from the other 29 teams, none of whom would touch the aging, ball-hogging gunner with Marcin Gortat (a seven-foot Pole)…Let’s hear it for Kaleb Eulls, who disarmed a girl who was waving a gun on a school bus last week, saving 22 students from a possible tragedy. Eulls, who has committed to play football at Mississippi State next year, deserves the kind of hero-worship usually reserved for on-field success. His tackle of the girl was the most important takedown of the season…Alabama will reportedly pay football coach Nick Saban $4.7 million a year over the next nine years, as part of an agreement reached earlier this week. Funds will be raised for the contract extension by selling common sense to those who think this is a good idea.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Phillies manager Charlie Manuel practically cried after Wednesday night’s win over the Nationals while describing how tough it was for him to remove Brad Lidge from the game when the human kerosene can loaded the bases with one out in the ninth and the Phils holding a 5-3 lead. Perhaps Manuel’s sadness came from the realization that he should have done this a month earlier. Whether Lidge’s problem is physical, psychological or karmic doesn’t matter. What matters is that by continuing to put him on the mound, the manager was hurting the team. It’s bad enough the Phillies have the world’s least disciplined lineup and a horrible bench. (Why is Matt Stairs still allowed to hit?) Do they have to keep trotting out an ineffective closer? It looks like Ryan Madson will get the job for the time being, but he should be a caretaker for the next week while Brett Myers gets comfortable again. Then, Myers pitches the ninth. Madson’s head can’t handle the responsibility, and Myers has proven he can do it. It may not result in playoff success, but there’s no way Lidge can do it anymore.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: El Hombre doesn’t pretend to know all of the facts in the case against former Pleasure Ridge Park HS football coach Jason Stinson, who is accused of wanton endangerment and reckless homicide in the death of Max Gilpin. With the temperature 94 degrees, Stinson had his players run nearly 30 wind sprints after an already grueling practice. Yesterday, Charles Sweat told the court that he and another player lifted Gilpin – who had been vomiting and stumbling as his body temperature rose to 107 degrees – off the ground to help him finish the sprints. Plenty of other coaches have pushed their players beyond reasonable limits in the stifling heat, but Stinson is one of the few to be prosecuted because of it. Even if he is acquitted, let’s hope the case causes other coaches to back off when conditions become unfit for extreme physical activity and that trainers and other medical staff will establish guidelines that have teeth to prevent the deaths of any other youngsters like Gilpin.
-EH-
This was the perfect off-season for the NFL. Attention focused on whether egomaniacal receivers could send 140-character messages to fans during games, if an egomaniacal owner had turned punts into backyard touch football, whether an egomaniacal quarterback would return from his second retirement to satisfy an adoring media’s need to praise him and whether a country filled with highly-flawed people will offer a second chance to a highly-flawed quarterback.
In other words: Plenty of drama, nothing about football.
Tonight, mercifully, that changes – at least somewhat. We’ll still be subjected to the weekly malarkey involving locker room disputes and various other theatrical episodes (the prediction here is that Chad Ochocinco dictates his Twitter postings to a friend in the stands, thereby circumventing the league’s anti-Tweeting rule and forcing an emergency amendment), simply because networks have decided fans don’t care about why the Bills can’t run the football. Mostly, we’ll be able to focus on the on-field action, which is just fine.
Then again, the craziness is kind of fun. So, here is a look at the season ahead, which no doubt will continue to push the NFL beyond the WWE as the nation’s top sports entertainment concern.
Billsh**: It’s a good thing Dick LeBeau has a shot at the Hall of Fame to think about, because if he spends too much time pondering his team, he might ask the bartender for a Red-Bull-and-arsenic. LeBeau had to suffer through a training camp that included Terrell Owens’ injured toe (just the fact that T.O. was there had to be stressful for a throwback like LeBeau) and an offense that was so impotent that Pfizer refused an entreaty to help it. Things were so bad that LeBeau fired offensive coordinator Turk Schonert, triggering a spate of OC beheadings. A season that had promise in the spring now looks like a disaster movie in pre-production. Buffalo opens Monday night in Foxboro and may close more quickly than a crappy Broadway musical.
Mental Health Issues: Back when Al Davis was stalking the Raiders hallways in his trademark white sweatsuit and delighting contrarians by flipping off NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle, he was a maverick and good for a stodgy league. These days, he’s a cartoon character. Worse, his franchise is so poorly run and inept that the UFL would probably deny it entrance. The problem is Davis, who remains wedded to his antediluvian “vertical passing game” and has established new standards for paranoia. It’s time for commissioner Roger Goodell to round up original AFL “Foolish Club” members Ralph Wilson, Barron Hilton and Bud Adams and stage an intervention to remove Davis from the Raiders or risk irreparable (if things haven’t already gone that far) damage to one of the league’s signature franchises.
Disposable Parts: Rodney Harrison is retired. So is Tedy Bruschi. Richard Seymour has been exiled to Oakland (whom did he anger?), and new faces are all over the roster. If you want a true example of how business is conducted successfully in the NFL, look no further than New England, where Bill Belichick discards players when they can no longer serve him. All three players had big roles on the Patriots’ Super Bowl teams, but all are beyond their primes, or in Seymour’s case nearing that point and in the final year of a contract. It might seem cruel, but Belichick is showing how to win by building through the Draft and with key free-agent acquisitions. The Patriots are favored to win the AFC East this year and might take it all, and they’ll do it with a team that hardly resembles its last championship outfit. Seymour isn’t happy to be property of the Al Davis Traveling Circus (he still hasn’t reported for duty), but he has to respect Belichick’s business model, because if Mr. Bundchen stays healthy, the Pats will be darn good again.
QB Follies: It sure was a wild off-season for the NFL’s most important position. Forget about Cowboy Quarterback’s Narcissus imitation and take a look at what went on around the rest of the league. Chicago discovered offense for the first time in decades by trading for petulant Jay Cutler, who pouted his way out of Denver when new coach Josh McDaniel tried to acquire Matt Cassel. Detroit and the Jets gave their starting jobs to a pair of rookies, hoping Mark Sanchez and Matthew Stafford can replicate the ’08 performances of Matt Ryan and Joe Flacco and lead their teams to the playoffs. Or, in the case of the Lions, win a game. Cleveland coach Eric Mangini staged a months-long, super-secret battle for the starting job between Brady Quinn and Derek Anderson (Quinn won – shhhhh!). San Francisco chose Shaun Hill over Alex Smith and Nuclear Waste, Oakland decided JaMarcus Russell’s tender psyche couldn’t handle having hyperkinetic Jeff Garcia around to provide competition and try to run onto the field every time Russell got hit, and Michael Vick returned from the joint to run the wishbone in Philly.
New Sheriff In Town: There are new coaches in New York, St. Louis, Tampa Bay, Kansas City, Detroit, Cleveland, Monte Carlo, Beverly Hills, London, Paris, Rome and Gstaad. In other words, forget about the thorny-crested whippoorwill. The most endangered species in America is the NFL coach. Some of the new guys are brash, like Buddy Ryan’s spawn, Rex. Others are low-key, like Indy’s Jim Caldwell. No matter what their personalities, each has one thing in common: Either win in three years or start looking for a coordinator’s job somewhere else.
How It Shakes Out: When forecasting the NFL, it’s best to expect the unexpected. In other words, all but the Lions and Raiders are in play when it comes to the playoff picture. So, here goes. NFC East – Giants; NFC North – Packers; NFC South – Falcons; NFC West – Seahawks; NFC Wild Cards – Vikings, Eagles. AFC East – Patriots; AFC North – Steelers; AFC South – Colts; AFC West – Chargers; AFC Wild Cards – Ravens, Titans.
Wild Card Playoffs, NFC: Eagles over Packers; Seahawks over Vikings; AFC: Ravens over Colts; Steelers over Titans. Divisional Playoffs, NFC: Falcons over Eagles; Giants over Seahawks; AFC: Patriots over Titans; Chargers over Ravens. Conference Championship, NFC: Giants over Falcons; AFC: Chargers over Patriots.
Super Bowl: Chargers over Giants.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: It’s one thing to provide support for someone else. It’s another to become a buffoon. Ohio State QB Terrell Pryor’s explanation of why he is on Michael Vick’s side in the QB’s return to the NFL was buffoonery at its lowest. To wit: “Not everyone is the perfect person in the world. Everyone does – kills people, murders people, steals from you, steals from me. I just feel that people need to give him a chance.” Sounds like the Ethics Department at OSU should be trying to get Pryor as a teaching assistant. What a bonehead…Allen Iverson says “God chose Memphis” as the team for him this year. Of course, the Almighty had some help from the other 29 teams, none of whom would touch the aging, ball-hogging gunner with Marcin Gortat (a seven-foot Pole)…Let’s hear it for Kaleb Eulls, who disarmed a girl who was waving a gun on a school bus last week, saving 22 students from a possible tragedy. Eulls, who has committed to play football at Mississippi State next year, deserves the kind of hero-worship usually reserved for on-field success. His tackle of the girl was the most important takedown of the season…Alabama will reportedly pay football coach Nick Saban $4.7 million a year over the next nine years, as part of an agreement reached earlier this week. Funds will be raised for the contract extension by selling common sense to those who think this is a good idea.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Phillies manager Charlie Manuel practically cried after Wednesday night’s win over the Nationals while describing how tough it was for him to remove Brad Lidge from the game when the human kerosene can loaded the bases with one out in the ninth and the Phils holding a 5-3 lead. Perhaps Manuel’s sadness came from the realization that he should have done this a month earlier. Whether Lidge’s problem is physical, psychological or karmic doesn’t matter. What matters is that by continuing to put him on the mound, the manager was hurting the team. It’s bad enough the Phillies have the world’s least disciplined lineup and a horrible bench. (Why is Matt Stairs still allowed to hit?) Do they have to keep trotting out an ineffective closer? It looks like Ryan Madson will get the job for the time being, but he should be a caretaker for the next week while Brett Myers gets comfortable again. Then, Myers pitches the ninth. Madson’s head can’t handle the responsibility, and Myers has proven he can do it. It may not result in playoff success, but there’s no way Lidge can do it anymore.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: El Hombre doesn’t pretend to know all of the facts in the case against former Pleasure Ridge Park HS football coach Jason Stinson, who is accused of wanton endangerment and reckless homicide in the death of Max Gilpin. With the temperature 94 degrees, Stinson had his players run nearly 30 wind sprints after an already grueling practice. Yesterday, Charles Sweat told the court that he and another player lifted Gilpin – who had been vomiting and stumbling as his body temperature rose to 107 degrees – off the ground to help him finish the sprints. Plenty of other coaches have pushed their players beyond reasonable limits in the stifling heat, but Stinson is one of the few to be prosecuted because of it. Even if he is acquitted, let’s hope the case causes other coaches to back off when conditions become unfit for extreme physical activity and that trainers and other medical staff will establish guidelines that have teeth to prevent the deaths of any other youngsters like Gilpin.
-EH-
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