EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
When Edgar Allen Poe wrote the famous short story, “The Imp of the Perverse,” in 1850, there was no football, not even the European version of the animal. The Chinese had been playing a kicking game as early as the second century BC, and there was the Central and South American “Tlatchi” game that was invented hundreds of years before. But, for Poe’s purposes, there was no prolate spheroid, no tailgate parties and not even any old-fashioned European hooliganism.
But Poe might as well have been writing for the modern-day football fan when he described the Imp and its characteristics. For those of you not familiar with the little bastard, understand that it’s the thing inside you that makes you do what you’re not supposed to do. Ever wonder why you’re dying to see just how hot that iron gets? It’s the Imp. When you decide to drive through the giant puddle, even if it means soaking the breaks or bottoming out, blame the Imp. And in those moments of weakness when you actually tune in to a WNBA game, kill the Imp.
The Imp’s role in our football viewing is clearly defined. No matter how wrong we realize it is to see one man being obliterated by another on the field, no matter how much we have heard about the trauma that comes from head-to-hits and no matter how savage the entire process may be, we still love it. God help us, but we love it. The brutality of the game is on display every Sunday in the NFL and on college gridirons, but sometimes it takes big-time, high-profile collisions to make it all resonate a little more.
By now, most of you have seen Taylor Wyndham’s blasting of Tim Tebow last Saturday in Lexington. In fact, you have probably seen it 10 times, thanks to the repeated showings by espn and the magic of YouTube. El Hombre correspondent and fratello-da-un-altro-madre Raging Bill saw it and immediately referenced Chicago linebacker Wilber Marshall’s leveling Joe Ferguson back in ’85, a hit that led former Bears coach Mike Ditka to say, “I thought he killed him.” Wyndham had a clean, high-speed shot on the helpless Tebow, who unlike his “Superman” descriptions, looked quite vulnerable in that moment of isolated violence. He sustained a concussion, remained prone on the field for a long while and vomited while being carted off the field. (No word yet on how Gator fans can buy pieces of the Tebow chum, but you can bet it’s coming.)
Football America, of course, recoiled in horror at the hit. Then, it watched again and again. Turns out the Imp is quite a fan of the game. Florida boosters couldn’t care less about Poe, his theories or much of anything that doesn’t wear orange-and-blue. They want to know whether Tebow will be available next Saturday night in Death Valley against LSU. Despite assurances by UF coach Urban Meyer that Tebow is “terrific,” let’s hope it’s a neurosurgeon (or two) who’s making the ultimate decision on the quarterback’s availability, and not someone charged solely with winning games.
That wish is even more fervent in light of results released Wednesday of a study commissioned by the NFL that looked into the dementia rates of former players, versus those of the general public. The research, which was conducted by the University of Michigan Institute for Social Research, found that 6.1 percent of 1,063 former NFL players aged 50 and older had received a dementia-related diagnosis. That’s five times higher than the national average of 1.2 percent. Players ages 30 through 49 were given those diagnoses at a rate of 1.9 percent, 19 times the national average.
This is pretty compelling stuff, especially since it was the NFL that ordered the study. In the past, the league has scoffed at results like this, so these numbers, from its own request, have to make an impact. Then again, this is the NFL, which is selling the controlled violence in stadiums every Sunday and through ancillary outlets like its propaganda partners and video product line. Instead of using the study as a clarion call for change, the ostriches in New York jammed their heads deeper into the artificial turf. “There are thousands of retired players who do not have memory problems,” NFL spokesman Greg Aiello said.
Yes, and there are thousands of people in American Samoa who didn’t die in the horrible tsunami earlier this week. Does that mean everything is fine for those who did perish and their families? “Memory disorders affect many people who never played football or other sports,” he said. “We are trying to understand it as it relates to our retired players.” Uh, Greg, this study provides a pretty good understanding: Play professional football, have a significantly larger chance of getting brain damage than the average person. That ought to save the league a little dough. Now, Aiello is merely providing the league take on the situation, so bashing him does no good. Going after the NFL, however, is absolutely necessary. Although last March it instituted a rule protecting “defenseless” receivers against shots to the melon, the league has to go further and ban every hit to the head – and by the head. Players who use their head or deliver blows to the head will be penalized and suspended. To some, that is Draconian. To those like Hall of Fame tight end John Mackey, who fights dementia every day, it would make perfect sense. A culture must be changed here, and there are going to be some unhappy people at first.
The NFL must admit that its players are at risk for brain injury and long-term trouble and change the game so that the dementia diagnoses drop in the future. It’s bad enough many of these guys will need new hips and knees. They make those in titanium these days. But there isn’t an artificial brain out there, so protecting the ones inside players’ heads is vital. The recent study can be tossed on the growing pile of evidence that shows the dangers of playing a game where the collisions get more violent each season. It’s up to the league to lessen the risk, rather than playing to the Imp in all of us.
Even Poe would have to admit that the league can’t keep embracing the damaging violence.
After he got done burying one of his victims.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: The NHL season started last night, and that calls for some fearless predictions: Two franchise folds, one team move and a Stanley Cup Finals with ratings lower than the Greater Greensboro Open. The champ? Spartak…It was a wild week in Majoke League baseball. Twins catcher Joe Mauer was accused of stealing signs. The Cards said Cincinnati pitcher Bronson Arroyo was rubbing pine tar on the ball. And the Nationals were charged with felony identity theft for posing as an MLB ballclub. That was good news for the Orioles, who had been under investigation of the same charge but seem to have dodged an indictment…President Obama has drawn flak for heading to Copenhagen on behalf of Chicago’s bid to host the 2016 Olympics. His biggest problem isn’t the partisan doggerel, though. Rather, it’s that his Chi-town roots and the city’s reputation for shaky politics can’t be put to good use in the bribing of the IOC committee members charged with making the choice. If this were 10-15 years ago, Chicago would be a shoo-in…Cowboy Quarterback takes on former employer Green Bay Monday night and says he has no revenge notions. It’s hard to believe him, since CQ has given up all dairy products for the week…A new book claims that employees at a cryonics facility in Arizona charged with deep-freezing Ted Williams’ head used crude tools to decapitate the (dead) slugger and even engaged in some batting practice with the body part. Doesn’t look good for Williams’ ability to be on a roster for the start of the 2054 season.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Now that the Phillies have clinched the NL East title, fans can relax a little and dispense with the 1964 redux nightmares. But a good night’s sleep shouldn’t come so easily, since the very real possibility of a 2007 encore still looms. The smoking hot Rockies are 73-40 under Jim Tracy, who took over after a dreadful, 18-28 break from the gate. Barring a weekend collapse, the Phils will likely meet Colorado in the dangerous best-of-five NLDS and would enter with some serious problems. Take starting pitching. To some, it’s a no-brainer to start Cole Hamels and Cliff Lee in the first two games, especially since the Rockies hit just .254 against lefties. But neither hurler has looked all that good of late, and the Phils might be better served going with Joe Blanton and J.A. Happ. Think that will happen? No way. The bullpen continues to be a mess, with J.C. Romero’s arm hurting, Brett Myers not back to full strength and major closer issues remaining. The bats have come alive of late, but the same old problems of getting runners in from third base and manufacturing scores remain. The Phils are experienced and talented, but they are also highly flawed and can hardly give fans peace of mind heading into the post-season.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: When El Hombre read the item about Cleveland Cavaliers’ guard Delonte West’s arrest on gun charges a couple weeks ago, he almost couldn’t contain himself. Talk about some fertile ground. West was stopped on his three-wheel motorcycle in Maryland and was found to have two loaded pistols and a loaded shotgun on his person. And get this: the shotgun was in a guitar case strapped to his back. Great Caesar’s Ghost! This was the mother lode. Fortunately, time provides perspective, and the reality of the situation is that West is a very troubled young man who can find some sanctuary on the basketball court, but for whom everyday life is a staggering challenge. He has battled emotional issues from the time he was a teenager, and this latest episode shows he has plenty of ground still to cover. So, while it’s tempting (really tempting) to take this latest incident and dash, let’s show some compassion and hope West gets it together and moves forward in a stable condition.
-EH-
Showing posts with label ted williams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ted williams. Show all posts
Friday, October 2, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The Good, Old Days
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
This was supposed to be a sparkling missive about the pending commencement of NFL training camp, which ends our long months of wandering through the barren landscape of sports that Don’t Quite Measure Up. At least that’s what it said on the Big Editorial Calendar on the wall. But that was before Ken Keltner Day. And before the 95th anniversary of Babe Ruth’s Major League debut. And before El Hombre watched HBO’s amazing 90-minute paean to Ted Williams. And before what would have been Pater Familias’ 89th birthday.
For fans of baseball whose view of the game goes beyond the highlight, the homer and the needle, names like Ruth, Williams and Keltner (look it up) conjure images of sport as it once was, or at least as we have romanticized it. Don’t knock the power of romance in the world of sports. No matter how many beers Ruth consumed or how much of a distant figure Williams was with his children or how much of a racist S.O.B. Ty Cobb was, their time in the game is considered more magical than what we see in today’s version, if only because it exists in different, less immediate universe. And that’s where Pater Familias comes in.
PF was the perfect resource for a sports-mad youngster, because he had Perspective. Context. When Johnny Bench was emerging as one of the greatest catchers of all time, someone had to be there to remind everybody about Bill Dickey and Mickey Cochrane (not to mention Roy Campanella and Yogi Berra). When Hank Aaron made his assault on Babe Ruth’s home run record, there was a need to inform everybody that not only could the Sultan swat; he could also pitch (94-46 record, 2.28 ERA) and hit for average (.342 career). If you had a question about any of the major sports (that included hockey back then), Pater Familias had an answer. Make that the answer. A defense attorney, he was not one to equivocate. If he said Joe DiMaggio was the greatest centerfielder of all time, you didn’t argue, no matter how much you believed Willie Mays was tops. Wilt Chamberlain was the best ever. Period. And nobody ran the football better – or ever will – than Jim Brown.
Pater Familias checked out back in 2000, after a pretty long (79 years, despite a decades-long devotion to tobacco) run. He accomplished a lot and saw a lot, particularly on the athletic fields. He was at Yankee Stadium in ’46 when Army and Notre Dame waged the best battle of futility – 0-0 – of all time. He sat in the snow at Shibe Park in 1948 when the Eagles and Steve Van Buren knocked off the Cardinals to win their first NFL title. Saw Ruth, Cobb, DiMaggio, Williams, Speaker, Mays, Aaron and just about any other great baseball player before 1970 play – and many of the giants after that, too. Witnessed countless battles between Chamberlain and Russell. Saw both Tom Harmon and Ed Marinaro tear up his beloved Penn Quakers at Franklin Field. And watched the world’s greatest runners scorch the track from his perch as Chief Judge of the Finish at the Penn Relays. He loved the Boston Celtics, because they played together as a team. And because they won. In fact, Pater Familias was something of a frontrunner, a fact reinforced by the identities of his four favorite teams: Celtics, Yankees, Packers and Canadiens. Though he enjoyed the orchestra, ballet, the theater, Shakespeare. fine dining, mathematics and an argument on any subject, his was truly a sporting life. For that El Hombre is grateful.
But there are days, like last Saturday, when that sporting life seems way too short. The commemoration of Ruth’s debut received a small mention in the “This Day in Sports History” section of the newspaper (another of his great loves), but the occasion warranted so much more than just a couple lines of agate type. It called for stories of Ruthian accomplishments. About how this great, big man dashed about on such thin legs – but was still a tremendous baserunner. About how his pop-ups soared so high that Ruth was sometimes between second and third bases when the wounded balls finally collapsed into fielders’ mitts. About how he began his career using a mighty 54-ounce bat, before easing off to a 40-ouncer. About his pitching 29 2/3 consecutive scoreless innings in World Series play. The facts are available to anybody. The legend needs an eyewitness.
HBO’s biography of Williams provides that you-are-there feeling, with outstanding audio and video footage, interviews with writers who covered the Red Sox great and who met him later and the perspective that comes from years of reflection following a the death of a titan. It was a great trip back and a reminder of what the game of baseball was like before it could be boiled into a 90-second package of top plays and canned applause. Pater Familias would have loved it, because it was an even treatment of Williams, but more than that, a generous presentation of the sport he loved. When the show was over, and the goose bumps had subsided (of particular note is a reading, by Robert Redford, at the program’s end of an excerpt from the marvelous “Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu” article by John Updike that appeared in the Oct. 22, 1960 issue of The New Yorker) there was only one thing left to do: Make the call. And, to tell the truth, for a split second, El Hombre considered it, just as he has dozens of times during the past nine-plus years.
Then he remembered. Perspective and Context have to come from other avenues these days. It isn’t the same, but what can you do? The good news is that Pater Familias’ ability to make the past come alive has given his son the desire to do the same thing for his Niños. They may not have the same thirst for history, but they ask questions. And while relating stories of the 1970s doesn’t have the same romantic lure as tales from the Golden Age, perhaps those Niños will have fond memories of stories they’re told when they become adults.
Maybe they’ll even want to pick up that phone. Here’s hoping EH will be there to answer it.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: As much as the thought of an unclothed Erin Andrews, the ESPN reporter, gets the heart fluttering, the slimeball who shot the peephole video of her deserves to be jailed and sued until he doesn’t have a Roosevelt to his name. And shame on The New York Post for publishing images from the video. We have always known The Post was sleazy, but this makes the Weekly World News look like The Manchester Guardian…Notre Dame and Army have announced a deal to play their 2010 game in new Yankee Stadium, in an attempt to recapture some of the magic of the teams’ previous games in the Bronx. The big differences between, say, the epic ’46 struggle between the two teams and today are that the new Stadium has none of its predecessor’s distinct character and that the only time you’ll see 0-0 on the scoreboard when the teams play again is right before kickoff…Russian “prime minister” Vladimir “Leader for Life” Putin reports that preparations for the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi are right on schedule, despite the fact that he has replaced the project leader twice and is concerned about “prices and bureaucracy” torpedoing future efforts. Fortunately, Putin has a big incentive for those involved in constructing venues and improving infrastructures: They all want to live…If there is any image in the world of games this year sadder than the look on Tom Watson’s face when he stuttered that putt on 18 last Sunday, it’ll be enough to make Richard Simmons glum. Had Watson won the tournament, it would have been a remarkable accomplishment. The fact that a 59-year old was able to come within a stroke of a major title, however, reinforces the fact that golf is not a sport. Feel free to refute that by mentioning any other sport in which someone that old can come that close to winning a big-time competition…The Seahawks and the Washington State Lottery are debuting a scratch ticket with a $50,000 first prize. Emboldened by the announcement, Detroit and the Michigan Lottery have decided to stage a similar game. First prize is two tickets to a Lions game. Second prize is season tickets.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Eagles begin training camp Sunday with rookies and selected veterans’ reporting – and a lot of questions. Chief among the concerns is the health of running back Brian Westbrook and defensive coordinator Jim Johnson. We have been told Westbrook will be ready for the Birds’ opener Sept. 13, and that is reasonable, even if he has little real work before then. Of course if Westbrook doesn’t recover completely from surgery to remove bone spurs in his right ankle, the Eagles are cooked, because rookie LeSean McCoy and colossal ’08 disappointment Lorenzo Booker don’t come close to measuring up. Johnson’s situation is much different. The venerable assistant is fighting melanoma and may not be able to return at all. On the field, that means 35-year old Sean McDermott will be calling defenses for the first time, no small consideration given Johnson’s value to the team over the past decade. Off the field, Johnson’s condition could be quite troubling for defensive players, many of whom have known no other coordinator during their professional careers. Despite those questions, the great news is that football season is starting, and soon all will be right with the world.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? (PART TWO): Get Roy Halladay. Today. Spend whatever it takes. Got that?
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: “Sources” say that Roger Goodell wants to see legitimate remorse from Michael Vick about his dogfighting role and is looking to see how the former Falcons QB conducts himself before deciding whether to reinstate him for NFL action. Goodell’s giving Vick almost a whole week as a free man before issuing his verdict (the two are supposed to meet today or tomorrow) and that’s ludicrous. How can Goodell possibly know whether Vick has changed from one meeting and a couple days out of stir? If Goodell wants to give Vick a conditional ticket back to football, so he can sign with a team and go through training camp, fine. But the return pass must come with a suspension, the better to see how Vick behaves over a longer period. Yes, he has done his time. Yes, he deserves a second chance. But the NFL can’t just let him back without a probationary stretch. Let him work out with a team and get back into the NFL life, but remember that it’s easier to put on a good show for a week than it is for two or three months. Let’s get a track record here before allowing Vick back completely.
* * *
ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD: El Hombre wants to send out his best wishes to loyal reader, American hero and bon vivant Bill “Bitsy” Grant, an avid Phillies fan, loyal Saint Joseph’s Hawk and dedicated Salesianum alumnus, who is in a big-time fight against one helluva foe. Now, Bitsy landed at Normandy back in ’44, so he’s no stranger to struggle. And he raised eight children – six of them girls – so he isn’t frightened easily. The smart money’s on a big recovery, but Bitsy can use all the prayers and positive energy he can get. Continued prosperity for the Phils wouldn’t hurt, either. Get well soon, Bitsy!
-EH-
This was supposed to be a sparkling missive about the pending commencement of NFL training camp, which ends our long months of wandering through the barren landscape of sports that Don’t Quite Measure Up. At least that’s what it said on the Big Editorial Calendar on the wall. But that was before Ken Keltner Day. And before the 95th anniversary of Babe Ruth’s Major League debut. And before El Hombre watched HBO’s amazing 90-minute paean to Ted Williams. And before what would have been Pater Familias’ 89th birthday.
For fans of baseball whose view of the game goes beyond the highlight, the homer and the needle, names like Ruth, Williams and Keltner (look it up) conjure images of sport as it once was, or at least as we have romanticized it. Don’t knock the power of romance in the world of sports. No matter how many beers Ruth consumed or how much of a distant figure Williams was with his children or how much of a racist S.O.B. Ty Cobb was, their time in the game is considered more magical than what we see in today’s version, if only because it exists in different, less immediate universe. And that’s where Pater Familias comes in.
PF was the perfect resource for a sports-mad youngster, because he had Perspective. Context. When Johnny Bench was emerging as one of the greatest catchers of all time, someone had to be there to remind everybody about Bill Dickey and Mickey Cochrane (not to mention Roy Campanella and Yogi Berra). When Hank Aaron made his assault on Babe Ruth’s home run record, there was a need to inform everybody that not only could the Sultan swat; he could also pitch (94-46 record, 2.28 ERA) and hit for average (.342 career). If you had a question about any of the major sports (that included hockey back then), Pater Familias had an answer. Make that the answer. A defense attorney, he was not one to equivocate. If he said Joe DiMaggio was the greatest centerfielder of all time, you didn’t argue, no matter how much you believed Willie Mays was tops. Wilt Chamberlain was the best ever. Period. And nobody ran the football better – or ever will – than Jim Brown.
Pater Familias checked out back in 2000, after a pretty long (79 years, despite a decades-long devotion to tobacco) run. He accomplished a lot and saw a lot, particularly on the athletic fields. He was at Yankee Stadium in ’46 when Army and Notre Dame waged the best battle of futility – 0-0 – of all time. He sat in the snow at Shibe Park in 1948 when the Eagles and Steve Van Buren knocked off the Cardinals to win their first NFL title. Saw Ruth, Cobb, DiMaggio, Williams, Speaker, Mays, Aaron and just about any other great baseball player before 1970 play – and many of the giants after that, too. Witnessed countless battles between Chamberlain and Russell. Saw both Tom Harmon and Ed Marinaro tear up his beloved Penn Quakers at Franklin Field. And watched the world’s greatest runners scorch the track from his perch as Chief Judge of the Finish at the Penn Relays. He loved the Boston Celtics, because they played together as a team. And because they won. In fact, Pater Familias was something of a frontrunner, a fact reinforced by the identities of his four favorite teams: Celtics, Yankees, Packers and Canadiens. Though he enjoyed the orchestra, ballet, the theater, Shakespeare. fine dining, mathematics and an argument on any subject, his was truly a sporting life. For that El Hombre is grateful.
But there are days, like last Saturday, when that sporting life seems way too short. The commemoration of Ruth’s debut received a small mention in the “This Day in Sports History” section of the newspaper (another of his great loves), but the occasion warranted so much more than just a couple lines of agate type. It called for stories of Ruthian accomplishments. About how this great, big man dashed about on such thin legs – but was still a tremendous baserunner. About how his pop-ups soared so high that Ruth was sometimes between second and third bases when the wounded balls finally collapsed into fielders’ mitts. About how he began his career using a mighty 54-ounce bat, before easing off to a 40-ouncer. About his pitching 29 2/3 consecutive scoreless innings in World Series play. The facts are available to anybody. The legend needs an eyewitness.
HBO’s biography of Williams provides that you-are-there feeling, with outstanding audio and video footage, interviews with writers who covered the Red Sox great and who met him later and the perspective that comes from years of reflection following a the death of a titan. It was a great trip back and a reminder of what the game of baseball was like before it could be boiled into a 90-second package of top plays and canned applause. Pater Familias would have loved it, because it was an even treatment of Williams, but more than that, a generous presentation of the sport he loved. When the show was over, and the goose bumps had subsided (of particular note is a reading, by Robert Redford, at the program’s end of an excerpt from the marvelous “Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu” article by John Updike that appeared in the Oct. 22, 1960 issue of The New Yorker) there was only one thing left to do: Make the call. And, to tell the truth, for a split second, El Hombre considered it, just as he has dozens of times during the past nine-plus years.
Then he remembered. Perspective and Context have to come from other avenues these days. It isn’t the same, but what can you do? The good news is that Pater Familias’ ability to make the past come alive has given his son the desire to do the same thing for his Niños. They may not have the same thirst for history, but they ask questions. And while relating stories of the 1970s doesn’t have the same romantic lure as tales from the Golden Age, perhaps those Niños will have fond memories of stories they’re told when they become adults.
Maybe they’ll even want to pick up that phone. Here’s hoping EH will be there to answer it.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: As much as the thought of an unclothed Erin Andrews, the ESPN reporter, gets the heart fluttering, the slimeball who shot the peephole video of her deserves to be jailed and sued until he doesn’t have a Roosevelt to his name. And shame on The New York Post for publishing images from the video. We have always known The Post was sleazy, but this makes the Weekly World News look like The Manchester Guardian…Notre Dame and Army have announced a deal to play their 2010 game in new Yankee Stadium, in an attempt to recapture some of the magic of the teams’ previous games in the Bronx. The big differences between, say, the epic ’46 struggle between the two teams and today are that the new Stadium has none of its predecessor’s distinct character and that the only time you’ll see 0-0 on the scoreboard when the teams play again is right before kickoff…Russian “prime minister” Vladimir “Leader for Life” Putin reports that preparations for the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi are right on schedule, despite the fact that he has replaced the project leader twice and is concerned about “prices and bureaucracy” torpedoing future efforts. Fortunately, Putin has a big incentive for those involved in constructing venues and improving infrastructures: They all want to live…If there is any image in the world of games this year sadder than the look on Tom Watson’s face when he stuttered that putt on 18 last Sunday, it’ll be enough to make Richard Simmons glum. Had Watson won the tournament, it would have been a remarkable accomplishment. The fact that a 59-year old was able to come within a stroke of a major title, however, reinforces the fact that golf is not a sport. Feel free to refute that by mentioning any other sport in which someone that old can come that close to winning a big-time competition…The Seahawks and the Washington State Lottery are debuting a scratch ticket with a $50,000 first prize. Emboldened by the announcement, Detroit and the Michigan Lottery have decided to stage a similar game. First prize is two tickets to a Lions game. Second prize is season tickets.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Eagles begin training camp Sunday with rookies and selected veterans’ reporting – and a lot of questions. Chief among the concerns is the health of running back Brian Westbrook and defensive coordinator Jim Johnson. We have been told Westbrook will be ready for the Birds’ opener Sept. 13, and that is reasonable, even if he has little real work before then. Of course if Westbrook doesn’t recover completely from surgery to remove bone spurs in his right ankle, the Eagles are cooked, because rookie LeSean McCoy and colossal ’08 disappointment Lorenzo Booker don’t come close to measuring up. Johnson’s situation is much different. The venerable assistant is fighting melanoma and may not be able to return at all. On the field, that means 35-year old Sean McDermott will be calling defenses for the first time, no small consideration given Johnson’s value to the team over the past decade. Off the field, Johnson’s condition could be quite troubling for defensive players, many of whom have known no other coordinator during their professional careers. Despite those questions, the great news is that football season is starting, and soon all will be right with the world.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? (PART TWO): Get Roy Halladay. Today. Spend whatever it takes. Got that?
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: “Sources” say that Roger Goodell wants to see legitimate remorse from Michael Vick about his dogfighting role and is looking to see how the former Falcons QB conducts himself before deciding whether to reinstate him for NFL action. Goodell’s giving Vick almost a whole week as a free man before issuing his verdict (the two are supposed to meet today or tomorrow) and that’s ludicrous. How can Goodell possibly know whether Vick has changed from one meeting and a couple days out of stir? If Goodell wants to give Vick a conditional ticket back to football, so he can sign with a team and go through training camp, fine. But the return pass must come with a suspension, the better to see how Vick behaves over a longer period. Yes, he has done his time. Yes, he deserves a second chance. But the NFL can’t just let him back without a probationary stretch. Let him work out with a team and get back into the NFL life, but remember that it’s easier to put on a good show for a week than it is for two or three months. Let’s get a track record here before allowing Vick back completely.
* * *
ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD: El Hombre wants to send out his best wishes to loyal reader, American hero and bon vivant Bill “Bitsy” Grant, an avid Phillies fan, loyal Saint Joseph’s Hawk and dedicated Salesianum alumnus, who is in a big-time fight against one helluva foe. Now, Bitsy landed at Normandy back in ’44, so he’s no stranger to struggle. And he raised eight children – six of them girls – so he isn’t frightened easily. The smart money’s on a big recovery, but Bitsy can use all the prayers and positive energy he can get. Continued prosperity for the Phils wouldn’t hurt, either. Get well soon, Bitsy!
-EH-
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