EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
For nearly four decades after Michigan hired a former Ohio State assistant and handed him its cherished football program, the month of October meant the beginning of Big Ten play in earnest and the inexorable march toward the annual season-ending collision with the Buckeyes. Leaves changed. Temperatures dropped. And the colorful spectacle that is Big Ten football proceeded on schedule, with the Wolverines tearing through the opposition on the way to that November showdown. There were disappointments along the way, but the triumphs far outpaced the losses.
That changed in 2008, when Rich Rodriguez took over for Lloyd Carr, the last of the dynastic line that began with Bo Schembechler and also included Grand Marnier Moeller. October, once a wonderful month of conquest, became a time of failure and a symbol of the program’s fading glory. Instead of setting up the OSU clash, the Wolverines fell into the abyss, posting a 1-8 record in October play, eliminating themselves from conference play and rendering college football’s greatest rivalry meaningless before the Great Pumpkin rose from the most sincere patch around.
The first two years of Rodriguez’s tenure have been loaded with enough sins to require a standing reservation for him at the college football confessional. He has refused at times to honor Michigan’s traditions, tried to excuse his team’s shortcomings with barbs directed at the previous administration, lost to Toledo, junked Michigan’s long-standing offensive and defensive schemes and their variations, dragged the school through the ugly buyout imbroglio with West Virginia, his former employer, caused several players to leave the program, brought unwanted publicity to Michigan with his role in shady business dealings and directed a spectacularly inept 2009 season that included a 1-7 conference record and a last-place Big Ten finish. Oh, and don’t forget the NC2A investigation that hangs over the program like a chemical cloud. Michigan doesn’t do probation – at least not in football.
Last Saturday, the first of football’s magical month, Michigan overcame a statistical nightmare against Indiana to subdue the Hoosiers, 42-35, and push its record to a pristine 5-0. Some might say a last-minute win over IU is no reason for celebration, and they would be right, if the triumph didn’t spike the anticipation levels for Saturday’s mid-season family feud with Sparty to levels generally reserved for balmy March weather forecasts.
The win even gave Rodriguez a brief respite from the personal mayhem that has surrounded him over the past nine months. He smiled and seemed genuinely happy during early-week press conferences. His critics have silenced themselves, and attention on the program has focused on magical quarterback Denard Robinson, who has made opposing defenders appear sloth-like and turned otherwise respected defensive coordinators into Barney Fifes with his Hermes-like speed and Mk 13-style arm. A victory over Michigan State Saturday at a packed Big House that has ticket scalpers drooling would remove Rodriguez further from speculation about his future and make those appalled by pending probationary penalties a little less sick. They say winning is a deodorant, and should Michigan get past MSU and Iowa in the next two weeks (both games are at home), they will have generated enough of the stuff to make the primate house smell like the Tri-Delt drawing room.
It’s a wonderful situation, and it comes with enough potential trouble to make even the most optimistic Wolverine fan pause. Let’s face it, Michigan’s first five opponents haven’t exactly been world-beaters. Most of them haven’t been anybody-beaters. In the opener, the Wolverines dumped a disinterested Connecticut team that holds as its signature win so far a triumph over SEC doormat Vanderbilt. Beating Notre Dame used to mean something, but watching the Irish get stomped by Stanford ended that myth. A near miss against I-AA Massachusetts had U-M fans chugging Maalox like frat boys turned loose on an open bar. Stomping Bowling Green was almost embarrassing, and the triumph over Indiana came despite surrendering 568 total yards and a time-of-possession deficit that was a mind-boggling 41:47-18:13.
Michigan’s defense is awful. It’s 102nd overall (out of 120) and dead last against the pass. The offense, while dynamic and highly dangerous, depends almost exclusively on Robinson, who has accounted for 67.7% of the Wolverines’ production. If you don’t think MSU, Iowa and the rest of the Big Ten powers remaining on the U-M schedule won’t be able to concoct strategies to limit Robinson, you’re a bit naïve.
Saturday’s game represents a fabulous opportunity for Rodriguez, who can secure further his hold on the head-coaching job and accumulate more political capital to spend should the NC2A’s verdict be particularly embarrassing for a program that prides itself on never having been punished. It also begins the heart of Big Ten play and a three-game stretch (Sparty, Herky, Penn State) that will likely define the team’s season. Should Michigan go 2-1 and get bowl eligible before Halloween, the drumbeat for Jim Harbaugh will quiet somewhat – but not go away completely. But 1-2 or 0-3 will bring up the same Rodriguez criticisms and give the Harbaugh crowd further ammunition. Richie Rod may be smiling now, but he has some deep, dark waters to navigate in the coming weeks.
The leaves are changing. Big Ten football has begun in earnest. It’s a beautiful time.
And it can turn ugly pretty darn fast.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Looks like the MLB umpires are in high form already, and the post-season is only two days old. The missed third-strike call Thursday night in the Minnesota-New York game was borderline criminal, as was the blown check-swing call before Michael Young’s three-run bomb for Texas against Tampa Bay. Replay can only cover up so much incompetence…Conspiracy theorists don’t have to stretch too far to concoct a scenario in which the NFL and espn orchestrated the Randy Moss-to-Minnesota trade. Think about it: the Vikes play the Jets Monday night on espn, Cowboy Quarterback’s team has been floundering and incapable of providing sufficient drama, and Moss has been out of the spotlight in New England. It’s a perfect storm. Don’t laugh; when there are billions of dollars involved, anything is possible…For both you NHL fans out there, here’s a fearless prediction for this season: Saskatoon over Vladivostok in seven. Okay, Detroit over Pittsburgh in six…North Carolina football coach Butch Davis is trying to make us believe he had no idea former assistant John Blake had close ties to player agent Gary Wichard. If he didn’t, shame on him for not vetting his staff better. If he did, double shame for employing somebody capable of damaging him, his program and the school...Let’s hope LeBron James isn’t too worried about Dwyane Wade’s hamstring pull. It’s never easy for a sidekick to see his mentor in a compromised position, so the Heat had better make sure James is properly comforted and assured that he’ll still be able to ride Wade to that NBA title he covets. And playing the race card to defend himself against those who criticized his self-serving “Decision” and desire to gain marketing millions by winning a title on a team filled with stars further amplifies James’ inability to lead. There are a lot of downsides to James’ signing with Miami, but the biggest is that we now have to root for Kobe Bryant, the only man on the planet capable of bringing down the Heat.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Imagine that you are Roy Oswalt or Cole Hamels, the other two-thirds of the Phillies’ celebrated pitching troika, and you are charged over the next three days with finishing off the “happy-to-be-here” Reds. Exactly what do you do to follow what Roy Halladay accomplished Wednesday night? Go ahead, Roy II. Toss a two-hit shutout. Hey, Cole, how about going the route in a taut, 2-1 series-clinching victory? Next to Halladay, both performances would look like CZ beside the Hope Diamond. Had Halladay not walked Jay Bruce in the fifth inning, he would have had his second perfecto of the year and a spot among the sport’s immortals. Halladay’s performance was so impressive because of its stage, the circumstances and the lethal efficiency with which he dispatched the Reds. If Halladay plans on following that effort up with an October of similar dominance, the Phillies may be invincible, particularly if Oswalt and Hamels back him up with solid – if not legendary – outings of their own. In the short period since Halladay’s no-no, he has been called this generation’s Sandy Koufax and compared to Don Larsen, who tossed a World Series perfect game in ’56. The Phillies couldn’t care less about how the rest of the baseball world sees him. They’ll just call him “Ace.”
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Even though most people need no further proof that Brent Musburger is a chowderhead, he continues to provide evidence. His latest submission came Tuesday, when he told a group of students at the University of Montana that he thought professional athletes should be able to use anabolic steroids to improve their performance, provided they were under doctors’ supervision. “I’ve had somebody say that, you know, steroids should be banned because they’re not healthy for you,” Dr. Musburger said. “Let’s go find out. What do the doctors actually think about anabolic steroids and the use by athletes? Don’t have a preconceived notion that this is right or this is wrong.” Preconceived notion? About the only physician we could find who supports the use of steroids by athletes is Dr. Anthony Galea, and he’s not exactly in the best position right now, thanks to a federal investigation. Fortunately for us, Dr. Gary Wardler, who works with the World Anti-Doping Agency, was consulted and firmly refuted Musburger’s misguided comments. “He’s categorically wrong, and if he’d like to spend a day in my office, I can show him voluminous literature going back decades about the adverse effects of steroids,” he said. “They have a legitimate role in medicine that’s clearly defined, but if it’s abused, it can have serious consequences.” Musburger may have fooled espn enough to stay on the air with his irritating style and continuous blather, but when it comes to medicine, he had better shut up. What an idiot.
-EH-
Showing posts with label roy oswalt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label roy oswalt. Show all posts
Friday, October 8, 2010
Thursday, February 12, 2009
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.
* * *
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.
* * *
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.
* * *
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-
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.
* * *
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.
* * *
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.
* * *
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-
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