The World Wide Joke

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

If the Minnesota Vikings were to represent their true identity this season, they would change their uniforms. Instead of the iconic (although recently updated – and not for the better) purple-and-gold outfits with the white horns on their helmets, they would wear black suits, white shirts, black ties, black shoes, white socks, black hats and sunglasses.

In other words, they would look just like Joliet Jake Blues. After the time the team has spent begging this summer, such a change makes perfect sense. You remember how Jake handled things in that wet, muddy tunnel when Carrie Fisher’s character turned a submachine gun on him and Elwood, don’t you? It is a spectacular example of groveling.

“Oh, please don’t kill us! Please, please don’t kill us! You know I love you, baby. I wouldn’t leave you. It wasn’t my fault.”

That entreaty doesn’t work, much like Vikings’ coach Brad Childress’ attempt to lure Brett Favre to training camp in July was unsuccessful. Although while Mystery Girl calls Jake a “contemptible pig,” Favre just told Childress to go back to Minnesota and try to win with Sage Rosenfels and Tavaris Jackson. Childress might have wished Favre had shot at him instead.

But the Vikings, like Jake, weren’t done. They launched an even more impassioned grovel, sending Jared Allen, Ryan Longwell and Steve Hutchinson on the company plane (an offensive lineman on a Lear?) to Mississippi for the Big Beg.

“Honest, I ran out of gas. I, I had a flat tire. I didn’t have enough money for cab fare. My tux didn’t come back from the cleaners. An old friend came in from out of town. Someone stole my car. There was an earthquake. A terrible flood. Locusts. IT WASN’T MY FAULT, I SWEAR TO GOD!!”

That one worked – for both Jake and the Vikings. Mystery Girl dropped the gun, and Favre ended his “retirement.” Everybody wins.

Cowboy Quarterback has returned, and that means Minnesota is heading to the Super Bowl, unless of course he makes a crushing error in a big game again. If Favre wants to play, he plays, even if he is a Drama Queen whose incessant made-for-TV waffling is more annoying than Snooki on the beach. (At least he hasn’t been arrested for it.) And if the Vikings are willing to debase themselves by kissing his posterior so blatantly, then they kiss, even though it makes them look desperate.

But there is one principal in this drama that doesn’t deserve a break, and that’s (no surprise) espn. Fresh off its despicable airing of “The Decision,” which cemented once and for all the network’s step away from responsible journalism and into hack show-biz productions, espn went customarily over the top when news “broke” a few weeks ago that Favre was “retiring.” Instead of waiting for full confirmation from the man himself, who would have gladly stepped in front of cameras to weep and talk about how much the game means to him, espn trusted “sources” and went with it as if the story were locked down tight. Rather than showing the necessary cynicism by believing nothing Favre says until it happens – in other words, he’s not retired until he’s 80 – espn went into full-fledged Hall of Fame Mode. For a disgusting day, the network fished the Favre waters until all that remained were the barnacles that clung to other barnacles. Every possible source was called in to glorify Favre. The station’s anchors and reporters did linguistic gymnastics in order to outdo each other about his greatness. Old footage was dusted off. And dusted off again.

Meanwhile, every other real story was given the same attention the WNBA gets (and deserves). It was all Favre, and espn wasn’t going to stop taking chunks out of his carcass until LeBron James spoke again.

There was only one problem: He wasn’t retired.

We learned that earlier this week, after the Three Amigos got done eating at the Hattiesburg Gulp-n-Blow and threatened to use Favre as chum on the lake until he agreed to play again. Instead of showing some restraint, or even apologizing to viewers still shell-shocked from the onslaught in the wake of the QB’s “retirement”, espn went ballistic again. Every expert had a chance to weigh in. Poor Rachel Nichols was dispatched to Minnesota to continue her stalking, er, coverage of Favre. In other words, espn acted like espn.

And that’s the problem here. This is a story, but it’s not the only NFL story out there. And espn’s beating of the Favre horse shows its continued decay. As it becomes more popular and powerful, it becomes less reliable and committed to producing programming with integrity. “The Decision” proved that. The station’s Favre coverage amplified it. Can you imagine what happens Oct. 11, when the Vikings visit the Jets on Monday Night Football, especially if Favre is playing well? espn might well eschew all programming Monday for pre-game coverage. What was once a marvel for sports fans has become a bloated, self-important caricature of its once-lively self. Worse, it has set the new standard for “synergy” and self-promotion that afflicts regional sports networks and other sports web sites.

Favre’s back. espn is, too.

Way back.

* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: So Brigham Young wants to become the LDS version of Notre Dame, a national football program that travels around the country filling stadiums and raking in the BCS dough, does it? Good luck with that. Not even the Irish do that any more. Life as an independent ain’t easy, especially when you aren’t good. Now that’s something ND knows lately…The rule that torpedoed Dustin Johnson’s PGA Championship hopes is arcane. So is golf. Caveat emptor, Baby, especially when the course’s peculiarities are posted on the inside of the bathroom stall. To all of those crying foul, knock it off. He was warned. He messed up. It’s time for people to applaud responsibility (which Johnson showed in his post-tourney comments) and stop craving special treatment. Why, when El Hombre was a boy...In other golf news, Corey Pavin is trying to decide whether to add Eldrick Woods to the Ryder Cup squad with one of his “captain’s picks.” Rory McElroy sure hopes Woods gets the nod, because he – and apparently every other Eurogolfer – wants to play him. Woods’ sycophants say that’s is exactly what he needs to get going again. Hmmm. If four major tourneys couldn’t get him psyched, why should some trash talk? Face it, the guy’s awful right now…Memo to Tim Tebow: It’s one thing to run over a safety from Kentucky on the goal line and another to ram into a pair of the NFL’s grown men. Learn how to slide, Hoss. Soon.

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YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Last year’s Eagles team finished 11-5 without starting middle linebacker Stewart Bradley, without an NFL-caliber free safety, without a pass rush beyond Trent Cole and with an offensive line that struggled more and more each week. It stands to reason that the return of Bradley, the drafting of backliner Nate Allen, the fortification of the DE spot and the expected good health (eventually) of the line should make the Birds a better team. Add to that the ascension of Kevin Kolb to the starting quarterback spot, and the team should improve even more, since if you listen to most of the people weighing in on the subject around Philadelphia, he’s better than that smiling, inaccurate guy who’s down in D.C. So, let’s not hear any of this talk about “giving the kid a chance to settle in” and how it’s “a rebuilding year.” If Eagles fans want to be true to the identity they have crafted over the past 10 years, it’s Super Bowl victory or bust. If the Eagles have made all of these improvements on defense and upgraded the QB position, the team should be better than 11-5, don’t you think? Oh, and by the way, if the Eagles lose – for whatever reason – Kolb gets just as much of the blame as his predecessor did, even if the defense breaks down, the O-line fails to perform or locusts infest the Linc. No double standards now, folks. If the team doesn’t win the Super Bowl, the season is a failure, and it’s Kolb’s fault.

* * *

AND ANOTHER THING: Roger Clemens probably won’t spend any time in stir, even if he is convicted of lying to Congress during his hilarious testimony several years back. It’s even unlikely he’ll be convicted, despite the Feds’ 90% success rate in cases they bring. He’s going to lawyer up like a crime lord, bob and weave, obfuscate at light speed and do everything he can to discredit his accusers. Eventually, Hall of Fame voters will pass down his sentence, and they will look at the government’s evidence and render their own decision. Clemens can’t rely on “reasonable doubt” with that crew. If voters believe the righthander was indeed using steroids and HGH, he won’t get in. Worse, by behaving arrogantly and defiantly – not to mention stupidly with words like “misremembered” – Clemens may have alienated others who would be prone to give him the benefit of the doubt due to his success before the juice era started. Nope, Clemens is in a tough spot here, and even not guilty verdicts on all counts won’t save him if voters believe testimony they’ll hear from Brian McNamee, Andy Pettitte and others. Clemens chose to fight, rather than admit that he used, and now he’s in the highest-stakes competition of his life. No matter what the legal outcome may be, he’ll probably lose in the one place he tried to win in the first place: Cooperstown.

-EH-

All-Star Disaster

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

Back when Allen Iverson was holding the Philadelphia 76ers hostage with his unique brand of bionic wrist shooting, a clever saying circulated among the wily wags who covered the team. It went like this:

“They say there’s no ‘I’ in team, and there’s no “team” in Iverson.”

Great stuff, no? Anyway, the point was pretty clear. So long as A.I. was getting his, it didn’t matter what else was going on. The Sixers would win some with him, and in 2001, Iverson (with a bit of help from Larry Brown) lifted the team to the NBA Finals. But that was the limit for Iverson, whose selfish game never allowed the franchise to surround him with other top-flight players, because they knew they wouldn’t see the ball.

If only Iverson had used his powers for good, he could have been one of the greatest point guards ever to pull on an NBA uniform. Just imagine how others would have lined up to play with a ridiculously quick guard who could penetrate at will, was unstoppable in the open court and looked to pass first. It didn’t happen, and last year, age finally caught up with Iverson. No longer able to carry a team on his narrow shoulders, he was asked to take on secondary roles with first Denver and then Detroit. His response in both cases was an upraised middle finger, and after the season he was cast off into the discount bucket, where only Memphis – make that the Grizzlies’ nitwit owner – was interested in claiming him.

You know what happened from there. Iverson was injured during training camp, and when he got healthy, he blanched at coming off the bench. Memphis dumped him, the Sixers picked him up, and his creaky body turned him into the type of complementary player that used to surround him during his prime. In these cases, players generally drift off into obscurity, either as afterthoughts on rotten teams (like the Sixers) or as reserves on winners. They don’t, however, become All-Stars.

Usually.

It’s impossible to blame Iverson for his ascension to the starting lineup of the Eastern Conference All-Stars. He didn’t concoct a computer program to stuff the e-ballot box – as far as we know. Nor did he go door-to-door soliciting votes. He merely forced his way out of Memphis – where “God” told him to go, if you believe AI’s mid-summer revelation – resurfaced in Philadelphia, shed a few tears, kissed some hardwood and then proved that he isn’t the player he once was.

Since joining the Sixers, Iverson has scored a modest 14.9 ppg and dished out 4.4 apg. He’s playing just under 33 minutes a game (a far cry from the 40-plus he used to average) and has missed some time due to arthritis, not exactly a condition that afflicts younger men. Iverson will be 35 this June, and his days of embarrassing rivals with his signature crossover and jet streaming the opposition in the open court are certainly over. The Sixers knew that when they signed him, as did the rest of the NBA, which passed on his services during the off-season. To his credit, Iverson is coping with his creeping mortality, making concessions to his diminishing physical skills by trying to be more of a (gasp!) team player.

Kudos to him for that, but his willingness to junk the me-first approach that made him equal parts thrilling and maddening is not reason for inclusion among the game’s best. It’s especially not worthy of a spot on the starting five. Iverson achieved that status solely due to fan ignorance that spawned a tidal wave of support. Boston’s Ray Allen received flak from all corners when he called for an end – or at least an amendment – to the process of selecting All-Star participants by fan vote. Those who back the system argued that since the game is an exhibition, staged solely for the fans (and to make a fat profit) the NBA’s loyal customers should choose the participants. That makes sense until you realize that making the All-Star team is more than just an opportunity to spend 48 defense-free minutes. Many players have clauses in their contract that give them bonuses for reaching that milestone. Others are judged Hall of Fame-worthy by the number of times they are selected.

As bad as Iverson’s election was, the fact that Tracy McGrady, who has played all of six games this year and averaged 3.2 ppg, almost received enough votes to join the West’s starting lineup was an even greater travesty. Thank goodness a late surge pushed Steve Nash past McGrady. Why couldn’t Me-Mac have done like Yao Ming and removed himself from the ballot? Ming, who won’t play this season, understood that millions of Chinese fans would have pulled his lever, so he bowed out, gracefully. McGrady lacked that kind of class.

The solution should incorporate fan voting, but it should also let players, coaches and/or media have a voice, the better to eliminate future fiascos like the Iverson selection and the McGrady near-miss. That way, perhaps the game will feature the best of the best, not the products of election fraud.

There’s no ‘I’ in team, and there shouldn’t be an Iverson in the All-Star Game.

* * *

EL HOMBRE SEZ: Golfers descended on Torrey Pines this week for a continuation of the “Who Gives A Crap Tour,” and no matter how much officials protest, Phil Mickelson and Scott Piercy can’t generate the same interest as Mr. Hot Sex. There’s no truth to the rumor PGA bigwigs are offering a $1 million bonus to the first rehab therapist who gives Tiger Woods a clean bill of health…Joel Branstrom, the Kansas high school hoops coach who was pranked by students who promised him Final Four tickets if he made a halfcourt shot (he made it, but they had no tickets for him) will be a guest of the NC2A at this year’s Final Four. After hearing about the organization’s generosity, Texas coach Rick Barnes asked for the same treatment – and wanted to know if he could bring his team with him…Wait a second. Cowboy Quarterback threw a stupid pass? Nooooo way! As much fun as it was to watch Brett Favre blow it in the last seconds of regulation last week against New Orleans (check out the radio call; it’s classic: http://www.nowpublic.com/sports/brett-favre-interception-radio-call-minnesota-radio-rips-favre-2563236.html ), you have to be impressed with his toughness. The Saints treated him like a piñata, and he kept coming back, albeit a little too dramatically. Now, we get to wait months to find out whether he’s returning. That ought to be a lot of fun.

* * *

YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? It’s amusing to hear people try to figure out how much responsibility Sixers’ coach Eddie Jordan should take for the team’s awful, 15-30 record. The answer? None. When GM Ed Stefanski hired Jordan, he talked about how great it was going to be watching the Sixers run Jordan’s “Princeton Offense.” Stefanski conveniently forgot that the team had no point guard and that its highest-paid player, power forward Elton Brand, is a pick-and-pop type with few of the intuitive basketball skills needed for the scheme. Worse, by giving Andre Iguodala a huge contract and Jason Kapono nearly $13 mil for two years(!), Stefanski created one of the nastiest salary cap situations around. The Sixers may have to trade Iguodala and others for an ugly expiring contract just to get under the cap next year and avoid paying the luxury tax. And somebody wants to blame Jordan for that. Sure, the coach could have won a few more games if he had decided on a rotation earlier, but the team he has been handed is not prepared to run his offense, lacks a go-to scorer, doesn’t play very good defense and shoots poorly from outside. Brand is a shell of his former self, and the Sixers didn’t realize that a big reason he looked so good a few years back with the Clippers is that Sam Cassell was hurt, and Brand took a lot more shots than he usually did – yielding more impressive numbers. Jordan isn’t the best coach, but he has been given a nightmare of a roster. The best thing for the Sixers would be for a regime change. Sell the team, Mr. Snider, and let someone who cares about basketball take over.

* * *

AND ANOTHER THING: The NFL has been largely bulletproof when it comes to marketing itself over the past couple decades, but the league has made a huge mistake with the Pro Bowl, no matter how much commissioner Roger Goodell tries to convince us otherwise. About 48 of the 76 players initially announced to play in the game will be suited up and ready to go Sunday night in Miami, where upper deck tickets are reportedly selling for $20 bucks below asking price. Okay, so the Pro Bowl is a joke anyway, and no one should really care – other than the players, who loved going to Hawaii – whether the market for tickets is suffering. The real travesty is that the league is forcing Pro Bowlers from the Colts and Saints to make a special trip to Miami ahead of their teams and stand on the sidelines for the first half of the game, instead of preparing for the Super Bowl, which is only the main goal of every player in the league, except for Me-O. It’s asinine to torpedo your championship game so that an exhibition can have a little more tube appeal for espn. The NFL can try to spin this any way it wants, but it loses big. Let’s hope Goodell has the brains and guts to reverse field next season.

-EH-

Time to Win? Time to Defend

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
Because Cowboy Quarterback is slapping backsides and just plain having a great time playing the game again, be prepared to be overwhelmed the next couple days (as if we’re not buried under already) with fawning accounts of how a 40-year old’s success in a young man’s game is a truly remarkable thing and that this weekend’s conference title games revolve around the continuing drama of Brett Favre’s quest to be a champion once more.

Please wait a moment while El Hombre wipes the vomit from his chin.

Favre’s play this year has been excellent, especially after his 2008 late-season meltdown in New York, which conspiracy theorists could hypothesize was a purposeful attempt to be freed from Gotham in order to be courted by the Vikings. Favre is healthy and surrounded by some pretty impressive talent in Minnesota, even if Adrian Peterson’s rushing average is shrinking faster than a banker’s credibility. His ability to rein in that wild hair that has so often caused him to think he can fit the football into microscopic areas has meant a lot to the Vikings. And should he lead Minnesota past New Orleans this Sunday in the NFC title game, the mind boggles at the two weeks of sycophantic love letters the media will toss Favre’s way in the run-up to the Super Bowl. It’s possible espN’s Rachel Nichols will be reduced to reporting on Number Four’s teeth-brushing habits (“Floss first, then circular rotations with the brush, followed by substantial gum stimulation”) as game time approaches.

As well as Favre has played, and as impressive as the other QBs – Drew Brees, Peyton Manning, Mark Sanchez – have been in leading their teams to the Final Four, each squad has achieved its success primarily because of defense and (with the exception of Indianapolis) the ground game. The NFL is a passing league, and this year more QBs have attempted at least 500 passes than ever before. More have thrown for at least 4,000 yards. And a record amount completed 65% of their passes. And yet, when the winning must be accomplished, the big, nasty people get it done.

In their win over Arizona, the Saints rushed for 171 yards and forced two turnovers. They held the mighty Cardinal attack to just 14 points and just about knocked Kurt Warner into retirement. For a minute, it appeared as if the game was going feature more scoring than a Tiger Woods golf weekend, but after Bobby McCray pole-axed Warner, it turned into a one-sided affair. Later that night, the Colts held Baltimore to 270 total yards, pounced on four Raven gaffes and limited them to a mere 12 first downs. Indy didn’t run it, but then again, with Manning under center you don’t worry about that. One interesting thing about the game was that there has been precious little national outcry about the final seconds of the first half, when the clock operator ran off just two seconds on a Manning pass, allowing the Colts to run another play, instead of going for a field goal before intermission. The resulting TD made it 17-3 and effectively ended the game. Baltimore coach John Harbaugh went bats about the slow clock, but nobody did anything about it, and CBS did not show a replay with a real-time clock on the screen. Hmmm. It couldn’t be that the network didn’t want to expose a crucial gaffe – if a more reasonable four seconds had run off the clock, Indy probably would have tried a field goal with 0:05 to go, instead of going for the TD with 0:07 left – and embarrass the NFL, could it? That might not help things during the next TV contract negotiations.

The next afternoon, Minnesota rushed for 109 yards, held Dallas to a total of 248 and sacked besieged Tony Romo six times, to gain a measure of revenge from the 1975 Drew Pearson push-off game at venerable Metropolitan Stadium. Capping off the Cowgirls’ pathetic performance was Keith Brookings’ crybaby performance. The veteran linebacker screamed at the Viking bench after Minnesota’s final touchdown, a three-yard Favre pass, with less than 2:00 remaining. Were the game played between two junior-high teams, Brookings would have had a gripe about the Vikes’ running it up. Since it was contested between highly paid professionals, Brookings needed to keep his mouth shut and lick his wounds. Capping off the weekend, New York rushed for 169 yards, forced two turnovers and limited San Diego to 4-of-13 success on third down in its upset win. Afterward, Chargers coach Norv Turner reminded everybody of how many games his team has won in December – and nobody cared.

Notice a pattern here? All four of the teams were stingy. They suffocated the opposition and made it easier for the offense to do its job. That’s how you win in the post-season, not with fun and fancy aerial attacks and visionary offensive coordinators. Hunker down and smash some heads. That’s playoff football.

Favre may get all the glory if Minnesota gets to Miami, but he would be smart to direct the flattery toward the angry, oversized men on the other side of the ball. After all, he has to practice against them.

Now a few words about last week: It didn’t happen.

You may not have much faith in El Hombre’s predicting abilities about now, but that’s when you’ll find him to be the most dangerous – in a good way.

Indianapolis (minus 7 ½) over New York. EH was wrong about the Jets. Real wrong. Coach Rex Ryan’s team has been outstanding in the playoffs, displaying a tremendous ground attack and rugged D. Well, you can’t be one-dimensional at this level, and Sanchez isn’t ready to make big plays against the quick Colts defense. Meanwhile, nobody is better at sniffing out crazy blitz schemes than Manning. Colts 23, Jets 13.

Minnesota (plus 3 ½) over New Orleans. When Romo drops back to pass in the Cowboys’ first mini-camp of the coming spring, he’s going to expect a purple-clad defender to be charging at him. The Viking pass rush is relentless, and that’s going to force Brees to keep some extra people in for protection. That’s not good. Meanwhile, Favre, Adrian Peterson and wideout Sidney Rice will find plenty of holes in the Saints defense. Minnesota 27, New Orleans 23.

* * *

EL HOMBRE SEZ: By now, many of you have heard about the knuckle-dragger down in Georgia who wants to start a whites-only professional basketball league down South. (Surprise!) Can’t wait to see the wide-wail corduroy warm-up pants. And nothing says basketball excitement than an “alley” without the “oop.” How about those cheerleaders in turtlenecks, monogrammed sweaters and tartan-print skirts? Sexy! The WBL (Whitey Basketball League) – it’s Bland-tastic!...Let’s hear it for Boston College linebacker Mark Herzlich, who is back practicing with his teammates after a bout with Ewing’s Sarcoma, a rare cancer that usually hits young adults. Herzlich is cancer-free and ready to play in 2010. Let’s hope the only obstacles he faces from here on out are angry blockers…You have to love NASCAR. Ratings sag and attendance drops, and how does the left-turn set react? By loosening safety restrictions and encouraging drivers to bump and bang each other around the oval. Genius. What’s next, rules that allow drivers to pack heat? Forget El Hombre suggested that. It’s just the kind of idea that might catch on with that group…The ejection of 11 disorderly Croats from an Australian Open match this week has shined the light on tennis hooligans. Could there be a crazier juxtaposition? What’s next, riots at curling matches? Unruly patrons at dressage competitions? And they say Philadelphia fans are tough.

* * *

YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? On the surface, the Phillies’ decision to lock up Joe Blanton for three years is a good one, because it gives them four starters – Blanton, Roy Halladay, Cole Hamels, J.A. Happ – on the books through the 2012 season. And since Blanton has thrown more than 1,000 innings over the past five seasons, his presence in the lineup almost guarantees 200 IP each season, not bad for a third or fourth starter. But the question we need to ask is whether three seasons of Heavy B trump one year of Cliff Lee. In essence, that’s the deal the Phils have struck by telling us they couldn’t afford $9 to Lee this year but they could pay Blanton $24 mil (7, 8.5, 8.5) over the next three. This appears to be the hallmark of a team that is trying to maintain its perch as a contender without going for the brass ring. If Hamels does not rebound to ’08 levels this year, and Blanton’s arm betrays him from overuse, 2010 could be a mess for the Phils, particularly if the expected troubles at the number five spot in the rotation – neither Pop-Pop Moyer nor Kyle Kendrick inspires – arise. Pairing Lee with Halladay in the rotation this year, even if it meant cutting loose Blanton, would create a dynamic pairing atop the rotation that no other team could match. Instead of doing that, the Phillies are trying to protect their backsides with Blanton’s solid but hardly spectacular work, a sophomore (Happ) who could fall apart easily now that hitters know him, and the mystery that is Hamels. If the staff doesn’t come around as the Phils hope, that lineup had better be ready to score seven a night – and then some.

* * *

AND ANOTHER THING: Tiger Woods’ arrival at a sex-addiction clinic was as predictable as ridiculously low scores at this weekend’s Bob Hope Classic. If you follow the textbook definition of an addiction – risk-taking, willingness to give up your family, career and reputation to feed it – Woods definitely has a problem, as his smaller checkbook, fleeing sponsors and disappearing wife and kids prove. But it’s hard not to see his checking in (allegedly) to the treatment center as the first step in a calculated move back to playing again. One would imagine a sniffling appearance on Oprah will follow, with interviews by handpicked espn and 60 Minutes correspondents on the menu as well. A tightly regulated press conference comes next and finally a return to the links. If Woods has a problem, let’s hope he can be helped. But if he’s just going through some P.R. plan to generate sympathy from the media and fans, then shame on him. Again.

-EH-

There's No Crying In Baseball, Mark

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

The big winner in Mark McGwire’s recent media tour in support of his new contrition over a decade of steroid use is Kleenex, because every time he speaks these days, the tears tend to flow. If we didn’t know Big Mac had hired former Bush press secretary Ari Fleisher to be his Big Flak, one would think he had stolen a page from the Dick Vermeil Drama Handbook. McGwire has produced so much saline solution in the past couple days, officials in Kazakhstan have proposed using him to help replenish the shrinking Aral Sea.

Give McGwire credit for one thing: Unlike other members of baseball’s Shameless Generation, he at least admitted to using the stuff more than once or twice (Andy Pettitte) or accidentally (Balco Bonds). There was no talk of flaxseed oil or B-12 shots. No irresponsible dentists or “personal health issues.” McGwire juiced, and he admits it. For that, he deserves a gold star.

But like his fellow drug cheats, McGwire qualifies his apology, and that’s where all the goodwill begins to stagnate like spilled can of Blatz souring in the searing summer sun. He claims his 10 years of abuse were not designed to improve his play, even though the label on the box he got at Steroids R Us clearly stated that the product was a “performance enhancing drug.” Nope, McGwire was merely using the stuff (for some reason, he can’t remember the name of the substance, despite a decade of use) to stay healthy and remain in the lineup. Everything else came straight off the shelves at God, Inc.

The technical term for this type of elusive behavior is “steaming pile of crap,” but to a layman, McGwire is simply rationalizing his actions and trying to get us to buy into the sham. Forget that his home runs per at-bat dropped from 14.0 to 8.4 during his peaking juicing – a 40% decrease. Forget that he wouldn’t have come near his final total of 583 dingers without the drugs. And forget that it was ultimately the steroids that ended his career by contributing to classic P.E.D. injuries in his back and knees. (Parents, feel free to use this last one with the kids as a textbook definition of irony. Or, you can stick with the Tiger-Woods-getting-smacked-by-a-golf-club example.)

McGwire juiced to hit more home runs. To hit longer home runs. They may have helped him stay healthy, but their primary result was to allow him to craft a mammoth, sculpted frame with more power, speed and endurance. He sure could hit the ball before the juice, but he hit it further, more frequently and with more jaw-dropping majesty once he started abusing drugs. The resulting 135 taters in 1998-99 were to be his ticket to immortality. Now, they are black marks in a baseball record book that has less and less credibility and the smoking guns in a career that was a product of cheating.

By copping to steroid use, McGwire is hoping to ease his return to the game as a hitting coach for the Cardinals. That will probably work, especially since Cards’ manager Tony LaRussa is leading the cheers for his return – and erasing any last bits of credibility he has by claiming he knew nothing about McGwire’s steroid abuse until the slugger called him earlier this week to confess. That makes LaRussa the only person in America who didn’t act like Captain Renault upon hearing McGwire’s “revelation.” But let’s hope those who vote for the Hall of Fame aren’t snowed by the well-crafted act of contrition, no matter how much the slugger paid for it. McGwire’s success is directly related to continued, deliberate steroid use. He wouldn’t have thrived as he did without the drugs, so his candidacy for immortality should not even be considered. He said he was sorry, and that’s a good step. He also said he wished he had never played in the “Steroid Era.” Maybe he should have thought of that before he started sticking needles in his butt – or having Jose Canseco do it for him.

Speaking of Canseco, is anybody ever going to get tired of seeing the guy proven right? So far, he’s like Rocky Marciano – undefeated and untied. The guy is a bit of a crackpot (okay, he’s a big crackpot), but he has been right on about steroids. It’s a wonder baseball invertebrate Bud Sellout hasn’t put a contract out on the guy yet. The baseball that conked Canseco on the head before flying out of the park may have knocked him a little loopy, but he speaks the truth about the juice, and if he says he and McGwire had a little needle party in the clubhouse shower, then it happened. Period.

Canseco isn’t trying to get a job in Majoke League Baseball. He has no shot at the Hall of Fame, either. McGwire, on the other hand, has one and wants the other. His well-rehearsed apology might keep him in a Cardinals uniform, but in no way should it punch his ticket to Cooperstown. He didn’t tell the complete truth, and even if he did, the fact that he used steroids for a decade should serve as a ringing indictment against his candidacy. Let’s hope the Hall of Fame voters don’t soften up like the audience at a romantic comedy and admit McGwire to baseball’s Valhalla. Be vigilant, folks, and realize a cheat and manipulator when you see one.

Oh, and someone get McGwire a tissue. It looks like he’s crying. Again.

* * *

EL HOMBRE SEZ: Giants Stadium is being sold, piece-by-piece. Fans can buy seats, turf and locker room items. No word on how much Jimmy Hoffa will cost…New England has cut ties with defensive coordinator Dean Pees, bringing his career with the Pats to a close and rendering unemployed the only NFL coach whose name is a full sentence…NBC is planning 835 hours of Olympics coverage, with only 820 of those devoted to figure skating. Talk about a classic case of biathlonism…With the NBA trading deadline looming next month, the rumor mill has started its annual churn. The most interesting name being mentioned is Tracy McGrady, the oft-injured, highly overrated Houston forward who has never won a playoff series. The best part of dealing for Me-Mac is that his bloated contract (about $21 mil) expires after this season, so it will be possible to chase some of the top free agents in this summer’s robust class. Talk about a big fall from grace. Once considered a star, Me-Mac is only coveted for his expiring contract. A cautionary tale? Nahhh. Today’s money-grubbing players don’t care, so long as they get paid.

* * *

YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT: Now that the Eagles’ season is over, the frustrated fans (you mean there are some who aren’t frustrated?) are looking for scapegoats. Instead of realizing the team just wasn’t good enough (crappy O-line, insufficient edge pass rushing, weak LBs, poor safeties) to beat Dallas, the fans’ consensus is that Donovan McNabb is responsible. He did not play well against Dallas either time in January; that’s for sure. Is he the main problem on the team? Not by a long shot. That title goes to GM Andy Reid. (As opposed to coach Andy Reid.) So, let’s get rid of him. Really. Eagles fans are so ready to have Kevin Kolb under center, so deal McNabb. The team will be doing him a favor. Ever since the blowhard from Rhode Island – via Columbia and the beach block in Sea Isle – brought a bunch of sots to New York to boo McNabb, the town has been against him. So, set him free, play Kolb and bask in the glory of 8-8 and 7-9 records. But, hey, at least there will be a change. And that’s what Eagles fans crave. Meanwhile, let’s see what McNabb can do with a legitimate commitment to the run and a good defense. The guess here is that it will be plenty.

* * *

AND ANOTHER THING: Now for a quick word on Pete Carroll and Lane Kiffin. It’s time to stop lionizing these big-time coaches as builders of character and great molders of men. They are self-absorbed competition freaks who care about their careers first. (Second and third, too.) Any player who signs on to play for one of them had better be smart enough to understand that his best interests are nowhere near the top of these coaches’ lists of priorities. Kiffin’s decision to bolt Tennessee after one season reveals his true character. How long until he leaves Troy? If he tried to convince UT conscripts to follow him to SoCal, he should be penalized harshly by the NC2A. As for Carroll, he rebuffed one NFL entreaty after another before finally settling on Seattle. Hmmmm. That couldn’t have anything to do with the pending NC2A investigation into improper benefits received by former Trojan players, could it? Nahhh. Pete just wanted to get some good coffee and experience 275 days of rain every year. Right. One thing is certain: Kiffin certainly learned well during his time under Carroll. If you can root for ‘SC or the Seahawks, you have a strong stomach.

* * *

ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD: Now for the picks. The “good” news is that El Hombre went 2-2 against the spread (thank you, Ravens and Cowboys) last week. The ugliness comes from the 1-3 money-line performance. It’s time to get healthy.
SATURDAY:
Arizona (plus 7) over New Orleans: The Old Man has it cooking like he did back in the Arena Football League days, and the Cards don’t seem to mind how many points the other team scores. The Saints stumbled home during the regular season but should outscore the Cards in a thriller. New Orleans 41, Arizona 38.
Baltimore (plus 6 ½) over Indianapolis. The Ravens looked great pillaging the crippled Pats last week, but Indy is another story. Baltimore QB Joe Flacco isn’t playing well enough to hold up his end on offense, and MVP Peyton Manning is rested and ready to work his magic. It will be close, but Indy breaks its streak of losing playoff openers after bye weeks. Indianapolis 20, Baltimore 16.
SUNDAY:
Dallas (plus 3) over Minnesota. I don’t care if Brett Favre is undefeated in the Big Mall this season, because Dallas is the NFC’s best team. After an afternoon of Cowboy pressure, Favre might just throw a punch at coach Brad Childress. Expect this year’s teary-eyed retirement press conference on Tuesday. Dallas 24, Minnesota 17.
San Diego (minus 7 ½) over New York. Okay, so El Hombre was wrong about the Jets last week, although it would have been nice if Cincinnati had shown just a little guts before lying down. But the Jets won’t make it two straight, not against the NFL’s hottest team. Phillip Rivers takes another step toward elite status with a convincing performance. San Diego 23, New York 10.

-EH-

The Cost of Doing Bidness

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

Back in September 1986, when it seemed as if every Southwest Conference football program was under NC2A investigation or already on probation, earnest Ted Koppel and his “Nightline” team thought it wise to seek the sage counsel of one Daniel Jenkins on the matter. Koppel, like many football fans, was outraged at the wild-west climate that had taken hold in the SWC, which boasted eight teams from Texas and the University of Arkansas as its members. Payments to players, a rather laissez-faire approach to academics, and recruiting shenanigans too widespread to detail fully comprised the case against the programs, and that was just how the Christian schools were doing business. Even darker stuff was going on at the state-run institutions.

So, “Nightline” visited chez Jenkins and trained a camera on the white-haired veteran journalist, who just happened to be an alumnus of TCU, an esteemed conference member. Jenkins had made a living chronicling – often in hilarious fashion – the excesses and vanities of the football world, and seemed to understand that people under pressure to succeed will often do just about anything to achieve that goal. Being a Texan, he had a little different view of football than did the England-born, Stanford-educated Koppel. For Jenkins, everything was fine once the ball was in the air, and the chicken-fried steak gravy was suitably thick.

Had Koppel and his research staff done their due diligence, they would have known that the last thing Jenkins was going to do that September night was pillory the SWC. They expected a bobblehead that would validate their fury. What they got was a well-traveled cynic who had created characters like Big Ed Bookman and T.J. Lambert in order to lampoon those who insisted that college athletics be 99 44/100 percent pure. Anyone who knew Jenkins understood that things weren’t going to go Koppel’s way from the moment the writer appeared on the TV screen, wearing his trademark black blazer, with a Winston cooking in the ashtray next to his easy chair. And was that a glass of young scotch iced up next to him?

By the time the interview was over, Jenkins had turned Koppel inside-out, ripping the NC2A for its “stupid rules” and basically letting the folks screaming for SWC blood know that a little bit – or in the case of SMU, a lot – of cheating was merely the cost of doing football business in Texas. Koppel was outraged. Jenkins was amused. And anyone with a sense of humor was entertained.

It may be time for “Nightline” to pay another visit to Jenkins, if they can get him off the golf course, that is. Since Koppel is no longer in the anchor chair, the show can use any of the three anchors it currently employs, since each looks earnest and priggish enough to express the necessary indignation were Jenkins to take a long swig of the youngster and provide some insight into today’s college sports world. It certainly isn’t a scenic vista, but it’s not much different than it was 20-plus (and more) years ago. Still, Tuesday’s news that USC basketball coach Tim Floyd quit doesn’t improve the view. The official reason for Floyd’s resignation was that he “no longer had full enthusiasm for the job.” No, Floyd’s level of interest in coaching the Trojans remains pretty high. It’s his threshold of dealing with the allegations that he had paid a “representative” of O.J. Mayo $1,000 in hundies on a SoCal street corner that had dropped. Of course, at ‘SC these days, unless you’re under investigation for something, you’re not really doing your job. Just ask Pete Carroll about that.

Or, you can check in with Tennessee’s Lane Kiffin, who is piling up “minor” violations in Knoxville the way the Vols have hoarded losses – early and often – of late. Hey, Kiffin’s just being aggressive, like spending 800 large since taking over the program on recruiting, at a time when the school is cutting $11 mil from the books. Why not ask the folks at Memphis about how they can still consider themselves a legitimate institution of higher learning when they granted admission to a basketball player whose second round of SAT scores were more than 500 points lower than his first? Worse, Georgia dropped the kid after the discrepancy, and when you’re taking kids that SEC schools won’t touch, you have problems.

It goes on and on. As college athletics continues its descent into the world of professionalism, Jenkins’ observations more than 20 years ago still stand. Many of the NC2A’s rules are still stupid, and coaches and administrators will do just about anything to win ballgames. Lest you think this is something new, keep in mind that football in the first couple decades of the 20th century featured eligibility tomfoolery that made today’s academic and transfer transgressions seem minor by comparison. And remember Bud Wilkinson, whose Oklahoma teams tore off 47 in a row without a loss during the ‘50s? Well, if you believe Jim Dent’s book, “The Undefeated,” the Great White Father had a predilection for acquiring talent in creative – and sometimes expensive – ways and for stewardesses.

The NC2A has recently created an “ethics panel” in men’s college hoops, the better to provide guidance and structure to coaches who live in the gray area of recruiting rules. Its goal is to clean up the image of coaches, who are generally cast as masters in the art of deception when it comes to selling their programs to talented high school players. Good luck with that, fellas, because for every 50 guys who do it right, there is a Tim Floyd, and everybody wants to know about him. Worse, the cesspool of “grass-roots” basketball is filled with conniving, greedy sleazebags who care little about the players they pimp and only about what finds its way into their pockets. In that sewer, rules mean nothing. If you want some kid who has been flown to AAU games since he was 11 and has more gear than most college equipment rooms, you had better be ready to get some dirt under your fingernails. Otherwise, it’s the NIT for you, buddy.

The Floyd imbroglio is the latest headline torn from a long list of ugly stories about college athletics dating back more than a century. As long as there is money to be made and victories to be chased, there will be rules “violations” and unethical behavior. Those who express outrage should ask whether they are ready for the only true solution: an end to the big-time sports model and a nationwide embrace of the Ivy League mentality. If they’re not, then stop worrying about who’s paying whom and enjoy the game.

That’s how Jenkins does it.

* * *

EL HOMBRE SEZ: America continues to be held hostage by the ridiculous Brett Favre saga. The latest bit of hilarity is the report that members of Cowboy Quarterback’s gang booked 30 hotel rooms in Green Bay the weekend of the Vikings-Packers game. Let’s hope we find out what they order from room service. All of this over a washed-up QB who played like a rookie free agent during the last month of the ’08 season. Stunning, even by espn’s standards…Here’s hoping Phil Mickelson’s return to the links is successful. But Lefty would probably choose to miss the cut in every tournament for the rest of the year if his wife will conquer cancer…The United States is considering visiting Iran for a soccer “friendly” this fall. Winner gets a trophy and a metric ton of yellowcake uranium. Negotiations are expected to be tough, since Iranian supreme leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei wants the game played in Great Satan Stadium. That could be a problem…Joe Montana’s son, Nick, has committed to play football in 2010 at the University of Washington. The good news is that the quarterback has no pressure on him, since it’s not like his father accomplished anything on the football field.

* * *

YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? On the one hand, it’s easy to feel sorry for Phillies’ leftfielder Raul Ibanez, who this week was accused by a blogger of fueling his fantastic start with products from the BALCO Bonds line. Ibanez has never failed a drug test and has volunteered to provide any type of bodily fluid or output (no, thank you) to defend his honor. On the other hand, Ibanez is part of a union that has fought drug testing at every turn and continues to refuse to provide blood samples so that Majoke League Baseball can test for HGH. Like it or not, every player whose numbers inflate beyond previous performance levels is liable to be suspected of cheating, simply because the past 10-plus years have featured so much chicanery, obfuscation and outright lying. Ibanez may be completely innocent, but the company he keeps – MLB ballplayers – makes him vulnerable to speculation and accusation. It may not be “fair” to him, but after everything that baseball and its union have allowed since the mid-1990s, it’s a fact of life. If Ibanez and others want to eliminate the finger-pointing, they should agitate for an iron-clad drug-testing program that conforms to the World Anti-Doping Agency’s highest standards. Otherwise, great accomplishments will continue to trigger speculation.

* * *

AND ANOTHER THING: If the ipecacuanha plant ever disappears from the earth, and its dried rhizome and roots are no longer available to create the well-known emetic, parents will still be able to induce vomiting among children who swallow household cleaning products by letting them watch tapes of coverage of the ’09 NBA Finals. The absolute obsession with Kobe Bryant’s quest for a fourth title has set new standards for overdramatizing athletics. Bryant has been no help and has gone so far as to create a new sneer for the occasion, a ridiculous reverse-overbite that emerges at crucial times, as if on cue by espn/abc directors looking for a symbol of his intensity. In the world of television sports, it matters little whether a team wins, or a game is great. There must be a compelling storyline, and this year’s is Bryant and his “obsession” with winning another title. We are reminded repeatedly about how much “he wants it,” what it means for “his legacy” and how “it will cement his greatness.” If this isn’t enough to make you root for the Magic, then consider yourself gone from the ranks of sports fans who care about the competition and get ready for NBA on Broadway.

* * *

ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD: El Hombre y la familia will spend a week at the Nygard Cay Beach Resort in the Bahamas, so the next dose of truth and justice will be administered June 25. Have a happy Father’s Day.

-EH-

Cowboy Quarterback to the Rescue!

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

You have to hand it to the NFL. No other league in the history of sports is so adept at manufacturing interest and enthusiasm for its product as is America’s top sporting religion. You get the impression the Catholic Church could learn a few things from Roger Goodell and his droogs, the better to keep momentum going through that dry “Ordinary Time” stretch leading up to Advent. The confetti is still scattered on the turf at the Super Bowl site when free agency begins, and the signings conclude just as the Draft hysteria ramps up. Mini-camps and OTAs then keep the fun rolling through May. It’s a brilliant way to keep the NFL’s heavily-addicted fan base sated, a sort of athletic Methadone that prevents fans from rioting in the streets during the off-season.

But even with all the manufactured fun and year-round football craziness, there is one stretch that remains unfilled by official NFL activity. That’s the seemingly interminable six weeks before the opening of training camp, when players and coaches do unthinkable things like take vacations and rest up for the next round of carnage. No amount of baseball, NBA Finals drama or family excursions can make up for the emptiness fans feel as their primary source of sport goes dark, if only for a short time. And when the meaty men and big hitters emerge to smash mouths once again in the summer swelter, life begins anew.

The NFL tried to fill the gap with its Europroduct, but no fan could figure out what a Claymore was (it’s a Scottish great sword) much less why anybody wanted to watch a team bearing its name play bad football on a soccer pitch. It was enough to send fans scurrying to the CFL, if only to celebrate the fact that the confederation no longer had two teams bearing the same nickname: Roughriders and Rough Riders (R.I.P.). No matter how much effort the league’s broadcast partners put into manufacturing enthusiasm during June and early July, it didn’t work. As recently as two weeks ago, football fans were girding for their annual trip to the NFL desert by stockpiling old videos and trying to decide to which pre-season game they will bring their wives and kids. “Sorry, honey, but the real games are for real fans.”

Then, riding out of the humid fields of southern Mississippi came a rescuer. It was Cowboy Quarterback, sending out messages of hope. He requested his release from the Jets. He was only retired “for now.” He wanted to meet with the Vikings. He was texting Peter King. He hadn’t shaved in a month. He was tired of cutting the grass. He missed watching Chris Berman drool every time he said his name. That’s right, Brett Favre, retired man of leisure, was coming back. In typical Favre fashion, he wouldn’t come out and say it. There had to be hints and allegations. “Sources” told breathless reporters that Favre was playing catch with the pizza delivery boy. Meetings were on the books. Airline reservations were revealed. It was all so cloak-and-dagger but all so clear: Fans had a summer oasis, and there was much rejoicing.

Once again, Cowboy Quarterback had saved football.

Nothing is official yet, but it looks like that snowball-tossing, swashbuckling, record-breaking legendary roughneck is unretiring – again. Not content with his late-season meltdown last year with the Jets, the QB who has had one good year in his last four would be returning to lead the Vikings to the Super Bowl. Or at least that’s how his mythologists would be spinning it. After throwing 84 interceptions (versus 88 TDs) from 2005-8, numbers that would get most QBs a ball cap and clipboard, Favre and his torn biceps tendon want back in. Who cares if his 2 TD/9 int. performance in the final five games of ’08 helped cost the Jets a playoff berth and Eric Mangini his job? Favre didn’t get a chance to choose his own landing spot last year and now wants a chance to stick it to Green Bay by buying a house in the Packers’ neighborhood, the NFC North. Oh, nothing is certain yet, and nobody from the Favre camp will cop to anything. The official party line is that there’s no guarantee Favre will even play again. (In related stories, the Easter Bunny is announcing an Arbor Day line, Santa Claus will endorse Dexatrim, and Kim Kardashian is having breast-reduction surgery.)

Favre is coming back, all right, and the mayhem surrounding his decision, subsequent arrival at training camp and every move once he dons the Purple will be breathlessly chronicled by the same media sycophants who detailed his last two retirement proclamations. Those of us who reside in the realm of reason will be chugging Big Pink daily, in an attempt to settle our turbulent stomachs. Once again, Favre has hijacked the news cycle and convinced people that his overwhelming love of the game and devotion to the sport are leading him back to the game he loves. For that, we should all be delighted. Already, commentators are telling us he “deserves” the right to make this decision. And he does. Asking anybody to quit their chosen profession at age 39 is quite a demand to make. Athletes who make comebacks aren’t always selfish. They’re often desperate to stay in a world that they love and unprepared for a life away from it.

That may have been Favre’s motivation for last year’s comeback. This time, it seems as if he’s doing it for revenge. Angry that the Packers wouldn’t let him chart his own course last year, he is hooking up – allegedly – with the Vikings in order to stick it to Green Bay. Since GM Ted Thompson wouldn’t trade him to Minnesota last year, Favre is going to return from his self-imposed exile and make the Pack pay. He is acutely aware of the teams’ Oct. 5 meeting in Minneapolis and probably dreaming of throwing five TD passes Nov. 1 at Lambeau before a teeming throng of Packer Backers all wearing their Number Four jerseys.

Favre may well do that. He might lead the Vikes to the playoffs and beyond, although it’s unlikely he’ll repeat his 2007 performance, when he worked with a trainer from Athletes Performance Institute in preparation for the season. Favre is balking at having the surgery necessary to repair his injury and banking on his experience and attitude to beat out Tarvaris Jackson and Sage Rosenfels under center, hardly heavy lifting. We’ll have to see whether it’s enough to help Minnesota rule the North, or whether Favre’s bid for revenge falters. Either way, it’s going to dominate the headlines.

The NFL is counting on that.

* * *

EL HOMBRE SEZ: The American Football Coaches Association is considering a move that will hide the identities of those who participate in the weekly coaches poll and return the contents of the final regular-season poll to its previous closeted state. Just what college football needs: more cloak-and-dagger garbage. It’s just another argument against the BCS, which seems more and more like a blatant money-grab by the big conferences every day…How about that perfect (13-0) home start by the Dodgers? Fans in soCal are so excited, they’re showing up in time for the home second…It’s hard to believe the feds are taking such a hard line against Detroit-area gamblers Gary Manni and Edward Karam, who are accused of trying to fix Toledo football and basketball games. With the southeastern Michigan economy in such dire straits, it’s good to see a couple entrepreneurs trying to get things rolling again. Not that their business model couldn’t use some help. Do you think betting more than $400,000 on Toledo hoop games in one calendar year might raise a red flag? In the future, fellas, choose a team that other people bet on. You won’t stand out so much…Somebody close to Celtics forward Brian Scalabrine needs to tell him that topping off a pasty-white, freckled complexion and fire-red coif with a headband just isn’t working. Dude, what’s next, a pocket protector?...If the Anaheim Ducks knock off both Detroit and San Jose in the playoffs, and Carolina ends up meeting Pittsburgh in the Eastern finals, the NHL will no longer be able to argue that its regular season means a damn thing…A couple days after proclaiming herself the best player in tennis, despite what the rankings say, Serena Williams was knocked out in the first round of the Italian Open by 20th-rated Patty Schnyder. You’re right, Serena, the rankings were off. You were slotted too high.

* * *

YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The aftermath of the Sixers’ stomach-turning game-six loss to Orlando in the post-season’s opening round is messy and not prone to easy solutions. The coaching situation must be addressed, since the very thing that made Tony DiLeo so popular with media and club officials – his nice-guy personality – was his downfall as a coach. GM Ed Stefanski can’t miss on this one, because bringing in a retread (Collins, Doug) or novice (Wright, Jay) could be catastrophic. He needs someone with experience to steer the ship, and whether that’s Avery Johnson or Jeff Van Gundy is up to him. And after watching the team falter down the stretch and then show no heart against a Dwight Howard-less Magic team, it’s clear the roster needs more heft. Willie Green is not a starting two guard. Samuel Dalembert is awful. Do you pay Andre Miller $60 million over the next four years when he’s never been out of the first round of the playoffs? That’s a tough one. How about finding some people who can shoot the basketball from long range, and no, Donyell Marshall doesn’t count. Stefanski has a lot of decisions to make and without a lot of cap flexibility or free-agent options, it’s unlikely he’ll be able to recast the team. If he doesn’t bring in the right coach, it won’t matter whether Elton Brand is healthy or not. The Sixers won’t be going anywhere.

* * *

AND ANOTHER THING: The hand-wringing over the A-Rod steroid mess is ridiculous, since he should be lumped in with all the others who played during this decade and the last as a probable cheat. Sorry, but that’s the way it is. The more troubling part of the story, if it’s true, is the allegation that he tipped off pitches to opponents during blowouts. This is something that goes to the heart of professional sports these days and feeds the opinions of fans and media that those who play have little or no concern about their teams or the games themselves. The amount of money involved in all areas makes the athletes mini-corporations and forces them to be concerned first and foremost with their health and statistics. A-Rod may be one of only a few who are tipping pitches, but he is certainly not alone in his contempt for the game he plays. As the economy continues to wrack the everyman and force teams to scuffle financially, the sustained behavior of A-Rod and his fellow athletes – along with beauties like $2,500 seats at Yankee Stadium – will help push their product further from the people who buy the tickets and lead us further toward a gladiator-style climate that rewards individual success at the expense of the whole.

-EH-

The End of the Innocence

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

That Bud Sellout is on quite a roll these days. First, he pressures espn – which acquiesced like Austria to the Anschluss – into suspending a radio host for having the temerity to criticize him using some colorful language. Not long after that, he called a Minneapolis newspaper columnist to harangue him for writing an unflattering column. Now, the $17 million man is actually entertaining the idea of some sort of punishment for Alex Rodriguez after his recent lukewarm mea culpa about going on the Bonds plan to enhance his already-substantial skills. You have to give Sellout credit for nerve. Here’s a guy who, in conjunction with union toughs Don Fehr and Gene Ozra (and a supporting cast of filthy-rich owners) presided over the whole steroid/HGH mess, and now he’s trying to convince us he’s “heartsick” about what’s happening today. He’d have a better chance getting us to believe he isn’t the highest-paid invertebrate on the planet.

What a week for baseball. The Rodriguez mess broke last Saturday. Then came Miggy’s teary confession of lying about his PED use. Coming quickly are federal perjury charges against Roger Clemens, who all but threw a splintered bat at members of a Congressional committee last year – at least those who weren’t asking him for autographs. Throw in Houston hurler Roy Oswalt’s self-indulgent tirade about being “cheated,” and you have a soap opera worthy of prime-time airing on Telemundo.

Only this isn’t fiction. Alas, it is the state of the “American Pastime,” that pastoral athletic ideal that serves as a metaphor for new beginnings and is romanticized as a chief method for fathers to relate to their sons. Baseball will certainly weather all of this, in large part because the general public doesn’t have the stamina – maybe it needs a strenuous off-season conditioning program – to put in the effort necessary to understand what has happened and what it means. The vast majority of fans just wants to root, root, root for the home team and spend $7.50 for 12 ounces of beer. After a while, the talk of steroids, who’s worthy of Hall of Fame induction and federal lawsuits gets tedious. It’s much more fun to obsess over whom you want to make the backup second baseman on your fantasy team (here’s a vote for Bar Refaeli, who has great range) than to ponder the impact of nearly two decades of deception. That’s absolutely natural. What’s important now aren’t jail terms, suspensions, the record book or made-for-TV mea culpas that lack serious follow-up.

Baseball as we knew it and loved it is a memory. Our love affair with the sport has turned into a business relationship. Yes, the “good, old days” were characterized by a willing naiveté that looked past the faults of diamond heroes and focused on the game’s idyllic persona. We didn’t care that Babe Ruth drank or caroused. The blatant racism that persisted into the 1960s (and became latent after that) was largely ignored. Greenies? Bahhh! Spitballs? Thrown by “characters,” not cheaters. We overlooked it all, in the name of preserving the game’s innocence.

No more. Sellout, Fehr and their constituents have fattened their bank accounts with our money, in the pursuit of a business model that preyed on the nation’s thirst for wholesome sports entertainment, sort of an unholy union between “Field of Dreams” and “Wall Street.” We, of course, gobbled it up. And we’ll continue to flock to games (Pittsburgh excepted) with the kids.

The difference now is that baseball’s secrets have been revealed, and we can see the game as it truly is. Fighting helps hockey sell itself. Football depends on snot-bubble hits that could paralyze but absolutely titillate. Pro basketball has embraced narcissism. And college sports perpetuate the student-athlete myth while selling luxury suites to cocktail-swilling alumni. Against that backdrop, why should be expect baseball to be any different? So what if the local pharmacy sponsors the local Little League nine, instead of Chico’s Bail Bonds? Baseball is a business, not a panacea for winter blues or inter-generational family strife.

The last week has driven that home. The sport has been laid bare by a climate fostered by Sellout, whose lack of leadership makes Boris Yeltsin look like Winston Churchill. After years of sidestepping the steroid question and failing to push the union for a testing program with teeth, he now goes on the offensive, challenging those who question him and saying he might just impose some justice on Rodriguez, who by the way, was only exposed because someone in the baseball family broke a confidence. That is the last vestige of a coward. Sellout has been about profit and self-preservation, the hallmarks of business these days. (The New York Times reported Thursday that 696 employees of Merrill Lynch received bonuses of at least a mil last year.) For him to try to preserve his fetid legacy through intimidation smacks of petty tyranny.

The dollars may continue to pour in, but baseball has officially lost its innocence. The magical words, “Pitchers and catchers report in X days” no longer symbolize a fresh beginning and the onset of spring. They signal another convening of the bottom-line owners and the Machiavellian players. So, step up and watch the drama, folks, and don’t forget to come out to urine sample night at the ballpark, when any fan who has a higher level of Winstrol in his system than the star slugger gets a new liver.

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EL HOMBRE SEZ: So, Michael Phelps needs a couple months to decide whether he wants to swim in the 2012 Olympics, does he? No problem. Just as long as he doesn’t let Ricky Williams help him make the decision…Adam Jones is gone; Me-O is next. Sounds like a couple of great first steps toward contention for the Cowboys. The big question is how False Face Jones is going to handle life without a daily soap opera. Anybody else think he is more interested in creating interest through a season-long spectacle than by fielding a winning team? He’s making big money either way…espn’s decision to suspend Scott Van Pelt for his on-air comments about Bud Sellout was the worst example of corporate kneeling seen in a long time. Face it, the “Worldwide Leader” is no more a news-gathering organization than Lawrence Taylor is Fred Astaire. They may masquerade, but neither delivers. Behind every espn story is a carefully-protected corporate relationship. Firing Van Pelt for disparaging Sellout (with no profanity or slanderous comments) was cowardly, even by espn standards...Lance Armstrong’s efforts to have an independent entity test him for performance-enhancing drugs this cycling season fell through. Armstrong wanted to show he was clean, and he probably is. That’s why he won’t win the Tour de France. Here’s a suggestion: Instead of applying transparent testing methods to today’s samples, why doesn’t St. Lance allow his urine from Tour triumphs gone by to go through the rigorous scrutiny?...Check out this collection of merchandise on the NFL’s damaged goods table: Plaxico Burress, Anquan Boldin and Chad Johnson could all be available this off-season. The league should slap an “As is” tag on all of them and find out who’s stupid enough to pay up…NASCAR swings back into action Sunday with the Daytona 500. Even the left-turn crowd isn’t immune to the recent economic downturn. Some sponsors have bailed. Some team owners are cutting staff. And fans have resorted to shaving their favorite drivers’ numbers into their back hair with disposable razors, instead of fancy trimmers.

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YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The argument for the best college player in the city has begun, and despite three worthy candidates, one stands above the rest. Temple’s Dionte Christmas, Villanova’s Dante Cunningham and Saint Joseph’s Ahmad Nivins have all had fine seasons and are integral to their teams’ success this year. But Nivins has been the best of the bunch. Christmas can score, but when he gets crowded on the perimeter, his offensive game suffers. Give him credit for not getting too frustrated by teams that devote extra manpower to keeping him under control, but if he could take people off the dribble more expertly, he wouldn’t have to worry about his long-range game’s suffering. Cunningham is a tremendous story, having matured from a complementary piece to one of the top frontcourt performers in the Big East and is certainly worthy of all-conference consideration. But he has a strong supporting cast, particularly at guard, which forces other teams to focus on the outside and leaves some room for Cunningham to operate. He has taken full advantage of his opportunities but has also had a lot of help. Nivins, on the other hand, goes it almost alone some nights. The Hawks have few reliable options besides him, so Nivins must shoulder the scoring load, while still pulling down double-digit rebounds each game. Granted, the level of competition Saint Joseph’s has faced isn’t Big East-caliber, but Nivins has been outstanding no matter who he has faced. He’s big, athletic and has improved his shooting and handling skills immensely this year. If he had a guard who could feed the post, he’d be averaging 30 a game. It’s a close race, but the nod here goes to Nivins.

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AND ANOTHER THING: Brett Favre has retired. Again. That’s enough about him. No tears. No career retrospective. No maudlin Chris Berman tributes. Nothing. We went through the nonsense last year during the first “retirement.” He doesn’t get another go-round. Good riddance. Go ride the tractor, Brett. See you in five years in Canton.

-EH-

Gene, Gene The Firing Machine

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

When Gene DeFilippo was athletic director at Villanova, he decided the school’s sporting image needed some updating. Granted, ‘Nova’s staid blue-and-white color scheme had been pretty bland, and its wildcat mascot was of the ratty, grade-school-prop-room variety. Within a year, red and “copper” had been added to the team’s uniforms, and the cat looked as if it had been shopping for some J.C. Romero’s special vitamins at GNC.

DeFilippo was well pleased. Standing on the Palestra floor a few minutes before one basketball game, he said, “I love our new mascot.” The consensus opinion of those around him did not echo that sentiment. DeFilippo was undaunted. He had taken a few first steps toward making Villanova athletics more marketable, even if that Barry Bonds-headed mascot did look ridiculous, and the school’s hoops uniforms looked like a Jackson Pollock painting.

Wednesday afternoon, DeFilippo took a big step toward burnishing Boston College’s reputation, or at least that’s how he looked at it. By firing head football coach Jeff Jagodzinski for the sin of interviewing with the New York Jets to replace deposed boss Eric Mangini, DeFilippo was trying to establish BC as a long-term destination, as opposed to a way station en route to Bigger Things. It is an admirable pursuit, no matter how counter it runs to the reality of the school’s athletic history or how much it stands out in today’s climate of broken contracts – on both sides of the ledger.

DeFilippo’s anger was born out of plain deception and the desire for continuity in a program that has been one of the most successful in the nation over the past decade. When he asked Jagodzinski if the coach was entertaining the idea of moving on, Jagodzinski assured DeFilippo that was not the case. Not long after, DeFilippo was floored when a reporter asked for his reaction to news that the coach would be interviewing with the Jets and perhaps watching Cowboy Quarterback toss another series of spirit-breaking interceptions next season.

At first, there were reports Jagodzinski was in violation of his contract, which supposedly included a clause preventing him from looking elsewhere, presumably for the first three years of his five-season term. It soon became clear DeFilippo’s ire was not due to a legal violation but rather a more nebulous spurning of the deal’s spirit and the relationship between coach, AD and school. DeFilippo said Jagodzinski had promised not to attempt a career upgrade until after the ’09 campaign, if at all. He was also fuming over Jagodzinski’s alleged lie about contact with the Jets. Finally, after working so hard to re-cast BC’s image by bringing it into the ACC and establishing it as top shelf across the board – or so he thought – DeFilippo couldn’t stomach a two-year coach using his program as a launching pad. Forget that football coaches (Frank Leahy, Tom Coughlin, Tom O’Brien) have done that for decades in Chestnut Hill; DeFilippo didn’t want it on his watch, especially after O’Brien’s exit to ACC rival NC State after the ’06 campaign.

So, DeFilippo issued the ultimatum: Interview with the Jets and lose your job. Jagodzinski interviewed and lost his job.

As it should be.

While DeFilippo’s view of BC may be a bit grandiose, given the school’s facilities deficit within the ACC and the nation, he is well within his rights as an employer to demand honesty and commitment from the person he hired. Jagodzinski might have received the same take-it-or-leave-it answer from DeFilippo had he been forthright from the start, or he could have been given permission to try for the Jets’ top job, clearly a step forward from his current position. And even though there is no clause in the contract prohibiting Jagodzinski from interviewing, it wouldn’t be at all surprising if he and DeFilippo had spoken of a three-year commitment, with an eye on a much longer relationship. For those two reasons, DeFilippo is completely justified in firing Jagodzinski, who doesn’t seem like he is too unhappy to be leaving Boston College, especially since he’s being rumored for other jobs so quickly after his dismissal. Could he have been speaking to others all along? That seems pretty likely.

As DeFilippo trolls for a replacement (outstanding defensive coordinator Frank Spaziani is the interim boss), he would be wise to remember the value of finding someone who fits the position. Jagodzinski was primarily a pro coach who probably would be looking to get back to the NFL at some point. Reports are also that he wasn’t the best recruiter around, no surprise since pro coaches don’t have to engage in that part of the football business. DeFilippo might not be able to get a big name, but he should be able to find a capable man interested in staying at Boston College for an extended period. That way, he can help the AD establish the school as a destination and perhaps live to see a couple more uniform changes and mascot updates.

While DeFilippo worries about his next football boss, Bob Stoops and Urban Meyer have a game to coach. Each may well be moving on down the road – Stoops to the Broncos, although he denies interest, and Meyer to Notre Dame, whenever Heavy C is deposed – but tonight, each will try to collect his second “national title.” Stoops is at the helm of the most fearsome offense in college football history, even if its recent victims put up less resistance than Germany faced in the Sudetenland. Meyer directs a glorified sprint relay team masquerading as a football outfit and an offense that harkens back to the days of wishbone football and tear-away jerseys. Thanks to their appeal to computer models and clueless voters (see Poll, Harris), they have ascended to the top of the asinine BCS hierarchy and get to take the field in between commercials tonight. While propagandists and Fox hypesters try to convince us of the game’s mammoth importance, even if both schools could well be worse than USC, Texas (which beat Oklahoma) and even Utah, here are some clues to the game’s winner.

* Florida QB Tim Tebow received the most first-place Heisman votes, but because a group of astrophysicists in the southwest chose to leave him off their ballots completely, he lost his bid for a second Mr. Stiff-Arm to OU’s Sam Bradford and his exponential statistics. Forget about that as motivation for Tebow, although he may well be worked into a greater froth than usual. He’s the nation’s best football player and has the capacity to make huge plays that win games.

* The Gators’ special teams are superior to OU’s, a big deal in a game that could be decided by less than a touchdown. Expect to see Florida unearth some of that “hidden yardage” (the latest overused buzzword) with its exceptional coverage and return units.

* The loss of running back DeMarco Murray will hurt the Sooners. Chris Brown can gain a lot of yards, but he lacks Murray’s giddy-up and big-play ability. Bradford passed for nine million yards this year, but it was Oklahoma’s balance that keyed the late-season scoring orgy. Without Murray, the Sooners won’t be able to run the ball as well and should be less eruptive.

* The Oklahoma defense has been used to playing second halves of games in basic schemes, the better to keep things under control as the Sooner offense crackled. Faced with an opponent that likely won’t be down by 40 at halftime, it will be interesting to see if that outfit is capable of hunkering down in a key situation or if it will crumble, as it did late in the loss to Texas.

The Verdict: If you don’t know which way El Hombre is leaning, don’t take the SAT, because you’ll get killed on the reading comprehension section. Florida 30, Oklahoma 24.

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EL HOMBRE SEZ: After all the self-congratulating and chest-thumping was over, espn was left with an interesting story about former Cowboys corner Space Invader Jones. If he indeed ordered an accused murderer to fire at someone with whom he had been in a dispute, he needs to be banned for life from the NFL. That’s life, as in no parole, no second (or 12th) chance, no nothing. He’s a huge distraction that hurts the league’s credibility. Good riddance…The Celtics have lost six of eight and appear old and mortal. What a shame. The good news is that they’re discussing the perfect tonic for their problems: Adding Stephon Me-bury. Let’s get this straight: the Celtics could be losing and fighting among each other at the same time? Sign him now!…It seems Brett Favre is upset some of his Jets teammates felt he was aloof and weren’t too thrilled with his propensity for stinking at key times of games, especially down the stretch of the season. Get used to it, Brett. Few other than fawning media sycophants have the stomach for your will-I/won’t-I retirement act and your save-the-day persona – especially when you don’t deliver. Here’s some advice: Hang ‘em up. And do so with a one-line press release that reads, “I’m done.”…The NHL is considering playing some games on Christmas Day, the better to capitalize on the success of its “Winter Classic” outdoor games. Classic move by commissioner Gary Bettman, who thought it a great idea to expand into hockey hotbeds Nashville, Atlanta and Miami, instead of focusing on core league cities. The New Year’s thing works because it’s unique. No one is going to put down the wassail to catch a Blackhawks-Bruins game, unless Bobby Hull and Bobby Orr are playing.

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YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? On the one hand, you have to love J.C. Romero’s unwillingness to accept a plea bargain in his banned-substance imbroglio, because it would have prohibited him from playing in last fall’s World Series. Way to take one for the team, J.C. But his decision to use the stuff in the first place was silly, because it had already been red-flagged, and several players who had taken the time to call the Players Association hotline had learned that 6-OXO Extreme contained androstenedione, one of Mark McGwire’s favorites. It’s tough to tell what’s right and wrong in the world of supplements, since not all ingredients are listed on the container, but Romero could have been sure in this case. Instead, he chose to forge ahead blindly and will pay a 50-game (and $1.25 million) price. Let’s hope he’s a cautionary tale for others and that new addition Chan Ho Park doesn’t mind a couple months in the bullpen.

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AND ANOTHER THING: Since El Hombre was off for a couple weeks celebrating the holidays in the Maldives, he wasn’t able to give you the gift of his wild-card NFL picks. Had he done it, you would have been thrilled, since EH was 3-1 (who knew the Cardinals could play well?). Well, get your pencils sharpened, because this week’s choices should be equally successful. Take Baltimore and the points against Tennessee, and don’t be surprised if the Ravens win outright. Pittsburgh is more than a touchdown better than the Chargers, who might get tiny Darren Sproles killed if they use him too much against the avaricious Steeler defense. Look for ‘Zona to fold up nicely in Carolina, where the Panthers roll to a comfortable double-digit win. And give the points up in Hoffaland, where the Giants’ pass rush and ground game stops the Philadelphia party and sends Andy Reid (mercifully) in search of a razor.

-EH-