EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
Michael Vick is scheduled to play quarterback for the Eagles tonight in an exhibition game against Jacksonville. He could take two snaps or 20, perhaps out of the shotgun or under center. He’ll no doubt show some rust, but he’ll probably make some plays, too. When it’s all over, and the protesters have screamed themselves hoarse, and players return to the numbing march of the pre-season, Vick will do what tens of thousands of released felons have done for centuries in this country.
He’ll return to work.
Every person who writes about the Eagles QB feels compelled to include an almost-boilerplate disclaimer in any column regarding the former dog-fighting kingpin and the heinous nature of his crimes. So, here is this missive’s obligatory proviso: Vick’s actions were terrible and unconscionable. They displayed an appalling lack of respect for other living things. When he was caught, he tried to hide behind the “culture” defense, as if any horrific crime can be explained away by the twisted logic that if others are doing it, it’s not so bad. Psychologists say that cruelty to animals (along with an unhealthy obsession with fire and rooting for Ohio State) is an indication of potential disregard for human life down the line. Vick was wrong and deserved to be punished severely.
And he was. He served a stiff, 18-month prison sentence, forfeited millions of dollars in assets and future income and was transformed from the face of the NFL to pariah and had his name attached to the horrible crime.
It’s hard to find someone outside of the dog-fighting arena that believes Vick wasn’t given what he deserved. And, now, he is being given what he also deserves: a chance to put his life back together. There are provisions, of course. He had better stay away from any situation that could bring a sniff of suspicion from the gendarmes. He must show contrition for the rest of his days, no matter how irritating the questions become and how stridently the animal activists protest his inclusion in society. Vick has to be a perpetual spokesman against dog fighting – even after his playing days are through. His rehabilitation will be done in a very public way, and one misstep will bring a firestorm of criticism and invective. This is Vick’s life now and forever. He created it and must live with it.
That’s how it goes in America. You mess up, you do your time, you try to move on. In the vast majority of cases, that process takes place far away from the headlines and TV cameras. Vick’s situation is different, because his high-profile profession made him the poster-boy for dog fighting, despite thousands of other miscreants who partake in the ugly pursuit on a daily basis. But make no mistake, he deserves no less of a second chance than anyone else who has paid a debt to society. No matter how you want to play it, Vick deserves to be playing football tonight.
There seems to be a new approach in America to forgiveness and rehabilitation, and Vick is getting the full effect of it. Maybe it’s the economy. Maybe it’s global warming. Maybe it’s reality television. But for some reason, we really want to see people pay a heavy price for whatever they do. For years, we have said America is about second chances, but it would appear as if the toll for those opportunities has risen at a pace that outstrips inflation. Yeah, we’ll forgive you, but only once you’re destitute and laid completely bare. In Vick’s case, he hit that bottom when he and the rest of the Bad Newz Kennels crowd started copping pleas, and the $130 million man became Inmate Number 7. It’s time for him to move on. And if you think that playing football gives him some kind of magical free pass from what he’s done and what he has had taken from him – rightfully – over the past several years, then you are either naïve or cynical. Keep one thing in mind: If Vick starts reverting to his Ron Mexico days, even a little bit, he is done. He’ll be tossed out of football, hoisted up on the highest yardarm and made to walk the plank. And he’ll deserve it. For now, however, give him the chance to make good (or bad). That begins tonight, when he takes a snap and tries to ply his trade.
Meanwhile, Plaxico Burress meets with his prison consultant about how best to approach his pending two years in stir. He finally copped a plea after realizing the New York authorities were intending to hit him harder than Troy Polamalu for bringing a loaded semiautomatic pistol into a nightclub last November. His sentence may seem excessive to some, because the only person hurt as a result of the stupid move was Burress himself. But since clubs like the Latin Quarter often attract an element for whom bringing roscoe along is de rigueur, the NYC crowd wants to send a message. Pack, and you will be slapped down.
Two years from now, Burress will be out, and no doubt looking for employment to support his family, which will swell by one during his time in stir. And when he does, the NFL should allow him back in. He’ll have to prove himself contrite, of course, and the media will help him do that, just as 60 Minutes did for Vick. Burress will deserve a second chance, just like Vick does. It’s up to him whether he makes the most of it or tosses it away.
That’s how it’s supposed to work in this country. Right?
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: As one of the largest critics of Majoke League Baseball’s steroid abusers and enablers and the inflated performances they have fostered, El Hombre feels like a hypocrite when he celebrates Usain Bolt’s ridiculous exploits. The Jamaican sprinter has been absolutely electric since the ’08 Olympics and watching him run is pure, unadulterated pleasure. But is he clean? Please, oh, please say it’s so…Is there a player in the majors dumber than Billy Wagner? Probably not. Now clear of Tommy John surgery and hoping to become a reliable pitcher again, he seriously considered staying with the sad-sack Mets, rather than joining the Red Sox as a set-up man for Jonathan Papelbon. A key consideration was whether the Sox would pick up his option for next year (Wagner didn’t want that to happen), at a cool $8 million. Chances are Wagner won’t get that on the open market, and if he did, it likely wouldn’t be with a team as good as Boston. Once again, money trumps the chance to win…Kudos to Vandy hoops coach Kevin Stallings, who forfeited a $100,000 pay raise in order to fund a team trip to Australia. The excursion was planned because Commodore center A.J. Ogilvy is an Aussie and went on as scheduled because of Stallings’ largesse in the wake of institutional budget cuts. Well done, coach…Thank goodness the NFL, NCAA and other sports confederations fought so hard to stop gambling on games in Delaware. Now there won’t be any more betting on sports outside of Las Vegas. Right…More Bolt: His handlers are discussing a book deal with some publishers. The guess here is that it will be a fast read…The WNBA season is rocketing toward a scintillating close with playoff berths hanging in the balance andzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? With fewer than 40 games remaining in the season, it is absolutely time for the Phillies to begin investigating other options at closer. Brad “Lights On” Lidge has blown an MLB-high nine saves this season and has shown no consistency or reliability in the spot. That may be okay in a division with no real competition and a league that seems to have few worthy regular-season challengers for the best overall record, but it won’t cut it in the playoffs, where shaky late-inning relief is a huge reason teams blow championship shots. Lidge shouldn’t be thrown onto the Adam Eaton Memorial Ash Heap, but the Phils need to groom someone to share the job with him, so that when Lidge has worked a couple days in a row, he doesn’t have to go out to the mound when he doesn’t “have anything on the ball,” as was the case in Tuesday’s hideous meltdown against the Pirates. Or, when he can’t stop opposing batters from slapping him around, the Phillies will have another option. The sad part of it is that going into the Phillies’ half of the ninth against the Pirates, Lidge and Chan Ho Park were both warming up. Had manager Charlie Manuel made the right choice, Park would have tried to close things out. That would have taken advantage of his great work of late and given Lidge a night off after three straight days of work. Manuel has been vocal in his support for Lidge, but he can’t blow the team’s chance at a repeat by sticking with an unreliable performer. Let Park start closing and see how he does. Or, if Brett Myers is healthy and ready to be effective at the big-league level, let him take a shot. It will most likely be better than what Lidge has given us.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: It would be absolutely wonderful if the Minnesota Vikings were torn apart by in-fighting, factionalism and other divisive circumstances and finished below the Lions in the NFC North. Wednesday’s report of a “schism” (What, did the Vikes sign Martin Luther?) in the Minnesota locker room over Cowboy QB’s recent decision to unretire was welcomed by anyone who celebrates the team, rather than the individual. If indeed there are large groups of players on the squad with significant issues over C-QB’s egomaniacal behavior, kudos to them. And no amount of practical jokes, swashbuckling play or aw-shucks, made-for-TV smiles by Number Four will change that. Coach Brad Childress took a huge risk waiting this long to import an outsider on a team that had already developed an identity and had bonded around two other quarterbacks. In the end, this might become the textbook example of why football is unlike most other sports, due to its need for team harmony, no matter how jaded we may think the millionaire players may be. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt if the new passer was absolutely awful and was given no choice but to return to a quiet life of mowing lawns and shaving every third day back in Mississippi.
-EH-
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
The Right To Work
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
Rick Pitino had a little more on his mind than Jeremy Tyler when he stepped to the podium at Louisville Wednesday and began the public portion of his recovery from self-imposed wounds to his reputation. Seems the Cardinals’ hoops coach had injected himself into the national healthcare discussion with his admission that he had provided $3,000 to a paramour for “health insurance,” when she came to him six years ago with news that she was in the family way with his spawn.
Wearing an open-collared shirt and a grave expression, Pitino followed the blueprint in his remarks, admitting his “indiscretion,” asking forgiveness from Louisville, the fans, his family and any media types who might be screaming for his resignation/removal from the bench. He talked about the need to move forward, how the best way to confront a bad situation is head-on and that “if you have a problem and you tell the truth, it becomes part of your past; if you lie, it becomes part of your future.” That’s profound stuff, to be sure, and it’s part of the reason – along with the Cardinals’ need to compete with a fully-operational University of Kentucky Death Star down the road and need to sell tickets in a rough economy in the new arena they’ll be inhabiting next season – that Pitino will likely survive this sordid affair.
When Pitino does return to the business of coaching college basketball, he’ll have to meet with assistants to come up with some new big-man prospects to pursue, because the 6-11 Tyler, U of L’s top recruit for 2010, has decided to pass on his senior year of high school to play for Maccabi Haifa. Saying that next season would be “extremely boring” if he had to face the triple-teams that rivals used to neutralize his size and skill, Tyler has chosen to become the first American-born player to leave high school early and play professionally overseas.
And he won’t be the last. Say what you want about the magic of the prom and how seniors “rule the school,” but guys like Tyler have different priorities and goals than the typical prep senior. They want to play NBA basketball, and they are exploring new avenues to reach their ultimate destinations. There will no doubt be many people who moralize about Tyler’s family, agent (former NBA player B.J. Armstrong) and adviser (shady former sneaker shill Sonny Vaccaro) and their allegedly exploitative treatment of the young man, but they will be wrong. All around the country and the world, elite athletes are being removed from their cozy schoolyard cocoons and fast-tracked toward professional careers. Tennis players are harvested while still nine and 10 years old for special training. Golfers get the same treatment. Special “academies” have sprung up throughout the country designed to cultivate young talent and distribute it to the proper outlets. And yet Tyler and those around him are going to be excoriated for doing essentially the same thing: playing in an environment that will allow him to grow quickly.
Oh, but he’s being paid for it. And by missing out on his last year of school, he’s missing a chance at an EDUCATION, which is the buzzword used by the college basketball hucksters to stop those promoting the right-to-work in their tracks. It’s a classic tactic, the kind of apple-pie and mother term that can’t be assailed. “What? You want to deprive these youngsters of an EDUCATION? Well, you have some pretty strange ideas, mister.” Forget that the kids who want to play in the NBA, particularly those of the one-and-done variety, couldn’t care less about Intro to Philosophy (Descartes: “To be is to do.” Nietzsche: “To do is to be.” Sinatra: “Do-be-do-be-do.”) and are generally checked out of classes by March of their freshman years. The people pimping their TV product are disingenuous about the game, to be sure. They talk about the awful NBA and its powerful spell while trying to sell ads and attract eyeballs by hyping the latest Duke-Carolina matchup or screaming about this season’s best newcomers.
Jeremy Tyler has made a calculated move designed to further his pursuit of a career. He may well graduate with his class at San Diego HS after taking classes on the net or completing coursework with a tutor in Israel. Or, he might just take the G.E.D. Not that either option matters to the NBA executives who will be assessing his potential. They don’t care about chem lab. They want to see his drop step. Tyler’s time with Maccabi Haifa will improve his game, and the years he spends abroad will help him grow more than any history lecture could. You want to study the Middle East conflict? He’s going to live it, baby.
As for those who scream about the deterioration of America’s youth and the evil attraction of professional basketball at the expense of the “pure” college game, wake up. Tyler is an 18-year old man who can go to war, be charged with capital murder (and, in some states, fry) and get married. (It’s unclear which is more risky business.) He wants to go to work, and that’s not a bad thing. And anyway, El Hombre hears that this year’s prom theme at San Diego High is “All-a-Twitter.” Who wants to be part of that?
As for Pitino, he’ll be just fine. The Cardinals need a heavyweight on their bench for the coming wars with John Calipari and UK. Louisville can’t afford to take a step back, not with so much at stake. And as the coach looks for someone to replace Tyler in the 2010 recruiting class, he’s advised to be careful on the home visits and steer conversation away from his moral obligation to prepare mothers’ sons for life. Stick to basketball. That’s what this is all about, anyway. Jeremy Tyler knows that, perhaps better than everybody else.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Reason number 932 professional golf is a joke: Tiger Woods broke the rules. Tiger Woods wasn’t fined. Think the PGA is scared of him? Nahhhh. Everybody knows a showdown between Hunter Mahan and Steve Stricker at this week’s PGA Championship would make for compelling TV…If the U.S. soccer team wants us to believe that it is becoming a world power, as its crowing after a second-place finish at the Confederations Cup indicated, it must stop playing for a tie on the road in World Cup qualifying matches. Once Mexico evened the count Wednesday at the Azteca Stadium beehive, the U.S. lined up at the 18 and assumed a defensive shell. Disaster was inevitable, and it struck in the form of a 2-1 loss in front of the typically classless tricolores throng…If there is a bigger jerk in professional sports these days than Chicago Blackhawks forward Patrick Kane, then stay away from him. Kane became abusive with a cab driver over 20 cents and allegedly hit the man who didn’t have sufficient change from $15 for a $13.80 fare. (He had the buck.) Kane will most likely avoid jail time for his alleged assault, but this wimp on the ice who delivered all of 18 hits last year sure looks like a classless dolt, especially after pulling out the “Do you know who I am” line. We sure do now, Patty…If you watch just one thing on TV this weekend, make sure it’s the 100 meter final at the World Track and Field Championships in Berlin. Usain Bolt and Tyson Gay are likely to square off in what could be one of the most compelling sprints in history...David Mamet is taking on The Diary of Anne Frank, for Disney of all places. Didn’t know there was so much profanity in the story. Wonder what part Alec Baldwin will play.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Phillies absolutely made the right decision in moving Satchel Moyer to the bullpen to make room for Pedro Martinez in the starting rotation. The Old Man was losing his precision, and when your fastball tops out at a school zone speed limit, you had better hit your spots. Moyer’s whiny reaction belied his 51 years in the major leagues and was surprising from someone who should know more than just about everybody that baseball is a business. Now, this whole thing comes with a codicil. Martinez may have picked up the victory Wednesday night against the Cubs, but his performance was hardly overwhelming: 5.0 IP, 7 H, 3 ER 99 pitches. If he’s going to need 100 pitches to get through five innings, even with a 12-1 lead, Martinez will be better suited in relief work, because at least Moyer could get into (and most of the time through) the sixth. Martinez deserves a couple more starts, but let’s not get carried away with his debut, because he looked very much like a guy at the end of his road.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The entire Michael Vick situation is getting more ridiculous by the minute. As the disgraced QB approaches inclusion on an NFL team’s roster, his spin cycle is in danger of careening out of control. Vick will be on “60 Minutes” Sunday for the obligatory public mea culpa. He has had “adviser” Tony Dungy doing advance work for him. The TV folk are laying the groundwork for his return. Is there anybody else out there who smells dead, rotting fish? For the record, “60 Minutes” is aired by CBS, an NFL TV partner. Dungy works for NBC, another league outlet. (And wouldn’t you be a little mad, as a sports director, that one of your employees is withholding information from you?) And, of course, espn is a full-fledged propaganda cohort. Vick’s coming back, and the NFL is creating the perfect environment for his return and a great storyline for the upcoming season. If you think any of this is happening organically, you probably are betting on the Lions to make the playoffs this season.
-EH-
Rick Pitino had a little more on his mind than Jeremy Tyler when he stepped to the podium at Louisville Wednesday and began the public portion of his recovery from self-imposed wounds to his reputation. Seems the Cardinals’ hoops coach had injected himself into the national healthcare discussion with his admission that he had provided $3,000 to a paramour for “health insurance,” when she came to him six years ago with news that she was in the family way with his spawn.
Wearing an open-collared shirt and a grave expression, Pitino followed the blueprint in his remarks, admitting his “indiscretion,” asking forgiveness from Louisville, the fans, his family and any media types who might be screaming for his resignation/removal from the bench. He talked about the need to move forward, how the best way to confront a bad situation is head-on and that “if you have a problem and you tell the truth, it becomes part of your past; if you lie, it becomes part of your future.” That’s profound stuff, to be sure, and it’s part of the reason – along with the Cardinals’ need to compete with a fully-operational University of Kentucky Death Star down the road and need to sell tickets in a rough economy in the new arena they’ll be inhabiting next season – that Pitino will likely survive this sordid affair.
When Pitino does return to the business of coaching college basketball, he’ll have to meet with assistants to come up with some new big-man prospects to pursue, because the 6-11 Tyler, U of L’s top recruit for 2010, has decided to pass on his senior year of high school to play for Maccabi Haifa. Saying that next season would be “extremely boring” if he had to face the triple-teams that rivals used to neutralize his size and skill, Tyler has chosen to become the first American-born player to leave high school early and play professionally overseas.
And he won’t be the last. Say what you want about the magic of the prom and how seniors “rule the school,” but guys like Tyler have different priorities and goals than the typical prep senior. They want to play NBA basketball, and they are exploring new avenues to reach their ultimate destinations. There will no doubt be many people who moralize about Tyler’s family, agent (former NBA player B.J. Armstrong) and adviser (shady former sneaker shill Sonny Vaccaro) and their allegedly exploitative treatment of the young man, but they will be wrong. All around the country and the world, elite athletes are being removed from their cozy schoolyard cocoons and fast-tracked toward professional careers. Tennis players are harvested while still nine and 10 years old for special training. Golfers get the same treatment. Special “academies” have sprung up throughout the country designed to cultivate young talent and distribute it to the proper outlets. And yet Tyler and those around him are going to be excoriated for doing essentially the same thing: playing in an environment that will allow him to grow quickly.
Oh, but he’s being paid for it. And by missing out on his last year of school, he’s missing a chance at an EDUCATION, which is the buzzword used by the college basketball hucksters to stop those promoting the right-to-work in their tracks. It’s a classic tactic, the kind of apple-pie and mother term that can’t be assailed. “What? You want to deprive these youngsters of an EDUCATION? Well, you have some pretty strange ideas, mister.” Forget that the kids who want to play in the NBA, particularly those of the one-and-done variety, couldn’t care less about Intro to Philosophy (Descartes: “To be is to do.” Nietzsche: “To do is to be.” Sinatra: “Do-be-do-be-do.”) and are generally checked out of classes by March of their freshman years. The people pimping their TV product are disingenuous about the game, to be sure. They talk about the awful NBA and its powerful spell while trying to sell ads and attract eyeballs by hyping the latest Duke-Carolina matchup or screaming about this season’s best newcomers.
Jeremy Tyler has made a calculated move designed to further his pursuit of a career. He may well graduate with his class at San Diego HS after taking classes on the net or completing coursework with a tutor in Israel. Or, he might just take the G.E.D. Not that either option matters to the NBA executives who will be assessing his potential. They don’t care about chem lab. They want to see his drop step. Tyler’s time with Maccabi Haifa will improve his game, and the years he spends abroad will help him grow more than any history lecture could. You want to study the Middle East conflict? He’s going to live it, baby.
As for those who scream about the deterioration of America’s youth and the evil attraction of professional basketball at the expense of the “pure” college game, wake up. Tyler is an 18-year old man who can go to war, be charged with capital murder (and, in some states, fry) and get married. (It’s unclear which is more risky business.) He wants to go to work, and that’s not a bad thing. And anyway, El Hombre hears that this year’s prom theme at San Diego High is “All-a-Twitter.” Who wants to be part of that?
As for Pitino, he’ll be just fine. The Cardinals need a heavyweight on their bench for the coming wars with John Calipari and UK. Louisville can’t afford to take a step back, not with so much at stake. And as the coach looks for someone to replace Tyler in the 2010 recruiting class, he’s advised to be careful on the home visits and steer conversation away from his moral obligation to prepare mothers’ sons for life. Stick to basketball. That’s what this is all about, anyway. Jeremy Tyler knows that, perhaps better than everybody else.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Reason number 932 professional golf is a joke: Tiger Woods broke the rules. Tiger Woods wasn’t fined. Think the PGA is scared of him? Nahhhh. Everybody knows a showdown between Hunter Mahan and Steve Stricker at this week’s PGA Championship would make for compelling TV…If the U.S. soccer team wants us to believe that it is becoming a world power, as its crowing after a second-place finish at the Confederations Cup indicated, it must stop playing for a tie on the road in World Cup qualifying matches. Once Mexico evened the count Wednesday at the Azteca Stadium beehive, the U.S. lined up at the 18 and assumed a defensive shell. Disaster was inevitable, and it struck in the form of a 2-1 loss in front of the typically classless tricolores throng…If there is a bigger jerk in professional sports these days than Chicago Blackhawks forward Patrick Kane, then stay away from him. Kane became abusive with a cab driver over 20 cents and allegedly hit the man who didn’t have sufficient change from $15 for a $13.80 fare. (He had the buck.) Kane will most likely avoid jail time for his alleged assault, but this wimp on the ice who delivered all of 18 hits last year sure looks like a classless dolt, especially after pulling out the “Do you know who I am” line. We sure do now, Patty…If you watch just one thing on TV this weekend, make sure it’s the 100 meter final at the World Track and Field Championships in Berlin. Usain Bolt and Tyson Gay are likely to square off in what could be one of the most compelling sprints in history...David Mamet is taking on The Diary of Anne Frank, for Disney of all places. Didn’t know there was so much profanity in the story. Wonder what part Alec Baldwin will play.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Phillies absolutely made the right decision in moving Satchel Moyer to the bullpen to make room for Pedro Martinez in the starting rotation. The Old Man was losing his precision, and when your fastball tops out at a school zone speed limit, you had better hit your spots. Moyer’s whiny reaction belied his 51 years in the major leagues and was surprising from someone who should know more than just about everybody that baseball is a business. Now, this whole thing comes with a codicil. Martinez may have picked up the victory Wednesday night against the Cubs, but his performance was hardly overwhelming: 5.0 IP, 7 H, 3 ER 99 pitches. If he’s going to need 100 pitches to get through five innings, even with a 12-1 lead, Martinez will be better suited in relief work, because at least Moyer could get into (and most of the time through) the sixth. Martinez deserves a couple more starts, but let’s not get carried away with his debut, because he looked very much like a guy at the end of his road.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: The entire Michael Vick situation is getting more ridiculous by the minute. As the disgraced QB approaches inclusion on an NFL team’s roster, his spin cycle is in danger of careening out of control. Vick will be on “60 Minutes” Sunday for the obligatory public mea culpa. He has had “adviser” Tony Dungy doing advance work for him. The TV folk are laying the groundwork for his return. Is there anybody else out there who smells dead, rotting fish? For the record, “60 Minutes” is aired by CBS, an NFL TV partner. Dungy works for NBC, another league outlet. (And wouldn’t you be a little mad, as a sports director, that one of your employees is withholding information from you?) And, of course, espn is a full-fledged propaganda cohort. Vick’s coming back, and the NFL is creating the perfect environment for his return and a great storyline for the upcoming season. If you think any of this is happening organically, you probably are betting on the Lions to make the playoffs this season.
-EH-
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Hooray! Training Camp Has Begun
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
One of the reasons people remain so devoted to soap operas is that there are never reruns. Viewers don’t have to suffer through an encore of this affair or that miraculous recovery from a rogue strain of beriberi. The story moves inexorably forward, as if a day without some new drama from Erica Kane would cause a national emergency. And just try to interrupt the cycle with something as mundane as a ballgame or coverage of a papal assassination threat, and you would find out just how devoted Erica’s fans could be.
The soaps move inexorably forward, as expected. Professional sports, however, are supposed to have quiet times. Or at least that’s the way it used to be. These days, about the only major league that adheres to the old model of off-season hibernation is hockey, and given its television ratings, one can’t decide whether to consider the icy pursuit “major” anymore. Even it tries to stay relevant during the warm-weather months with its own free agency and mildly amusing story lines like the league’s death struggle to keep a franchise in Phoenix, which loves hockey as much as TV networks love quality programming.
The NFL is another story. By treating its free agency period like a Sweeps Week version of “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?” (back when it was good), the league keeps fans enticed through February. March and April are consumed by the Draft. May is all about the mini-camps and OTAs. But the real genius comes in June and July, when without fail, storylines emerge that keep the NFL news cycle churning, even if the items in question are suited for “All My Children” than the sports page. During the past six weeks, fans have been bombarded by stories about Britney Favre’s waffling, Michael Vick’s freedom and Plaxico Burress’ apparently futile attempts to stay out of the joint. So, during the long stretch of summer heat, when players and coaches hit vacation spots, “spend time with their families” and prepare for the hell of training camp, fans aren’t allowed to forget about football. For some, the daily stories of Favre’s will-he/won’t-he nonsense and the national debate over when Vick should play again were worse than a WNBA doubleheader. Others delighted in the coverage, if only because it kept them close to the game they love.
The good news is that training camps are finally open, and we can now concentrate on the battle for Jacksonville’s backup linebacker spot and the inevitable pre-season body count. The Hall of Fame Game (in retro AFL unis, no less) is a mere 10 days away, and that means it’s appropriate to consider some of the buzz throughout the league.
Enough, Already: In order: 1. Favre is a selfish diva who benefitted from Minnesota coach Brad Childress’ unwillingness to set a deadline that would have preserved some dignity for his franchise. If Favre decides to play in two, four or nine weeks, his offensive line should give him the same treatment the cons gave Paul “Wrecking” Crewe when he returned to action after deliberately throwing those interceptions. 2. Kudos to Roger Goodell for his treatment of Vick. His “conditional reinstatement” puts the onus on Vick to behave. Now, the question is whether a team wants to disrupt its offense by signing a QB who can’t work in the pocket. 3. Burress is going to jail and should have copped a plea. New York mayor Michael Bloomberg wants to make an example of him, and every Burress protestation will add time to his sentence.
QB Shuffle: The Favre Debacle notwithstanding, there are some interesting quarterbacking plot lines to be developed the next couple months. It looks like the Jets have already committed to Mark Sanchez, who should ask his coach to stop taunting linebackers in the AFC East so that Sanchez isn’t torn apart as revenge. The Lions are trying to decide whether it makes sense to let Matthew Stafford take over a circus that will consider three wins reason for a parade. Hey, if he’s the top overall pick, he should be mentally tough enough to handle that. Peyton Manning did. In San Francisco, it’s either Shaun Hill or Alex Smith. Ugh. Maybe John Brodie will come out of retirement. The Raiders have 61 million reasons why charismatic Jeff Garcia won’t take the starting job from JaMarcus Russell, even if Russell looks like a colossal mistake. Tom Brady is back in New England. Tony Romo is looking for love in Dallas. Ben Roethlisberger is trying to clear his name in Pittsburgh. And Jay Cutler wants to win something – anything – of consequence in Chicago.
Rising Stars: Last year, the Cardinals astonished everyone by shuffling off decades of futility and mismanagement by reaching the Super Bowl and actually giving the Steelers a scare. El Hombre will give a better idea of this season’s surprises in his gala 2009 NFL Preview, but it would be instructive to pay close attention to some teams during the exhibition games. For the past couple years, Houston has been a trendy pick for the playoffs, but this year, it might really happen. The Texans have slowly accumulated weapons on both sides of the ball and could be ready for 10 wins. With the Vikings’ relying on the Tavaris Jackson/Sage Rosenfels QB nightmare, the NFC North door could be wide open for the Packers, who may just have the division’s most stable situation under center. And it may just happen that the Saints take a step forward, although it’s going to take an examination of their shaky defense during the pre-season to see whether that’s possible.
New Faces, New Places: Matt Cassel is in Kansas City. Cutler is in Chi-town. The Jets have Bart Scott, and the Seahawks have T.J. Houshmandzadeh. But let’s face it; the only newcomer anybody cares about is up in northwest New York helping popcorn sales. The T.O. Celebrity Nuthouse has checked into Buffalo for what it hopes is an extended run, but what will most likely end in early departure, just as T.O.’s last two residencies have. Say a novena for Trent Edwards, the Bills’ quarterback, and get ready for the craziness.
Games to Watch: Ha! Fooled you. There isn’t a single exhibition matchup worth watching, except for the fact that it has been six months since football has been on and that at this point a Lions intra-squad scrimmage would be appealing. Watch the first half of every game you can and hope for a quick August.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: It’s a good thing FINA, the world’s swimming governing body, has decided to ban the full-body swimming suits that are allowing journeymen to set world records. If this continues, it won’t be long until a swimmer crams himself into a dolphin’s mouth and does the 200 freestyle in 15 seconds…Since the Pirates have traded away just about every real ballplayer they have, fans should punish them by staying away completely. Why pay big-time prices for AAA (or worse) baseball? The Steelers have been successful in the market. So have the Penguins. But the Pirates are a joke. This franchise should either be disbanded or forced to find ownership that cares. Until then, any fan who goes to a Pirates game is a sap…The non-stop Tweeting. The unannounced trip to the White House. The reality show. The WWE appearance. One of three things is happening with Shaq: A) He needs money because of his ugly divorce B) He is masking a drop in skills and trying to use style over substance for his pending trip to Cleveland C) He’s just a big knucklehead who should be enjoyed. El Hombre will go with C for now, but don’t be surprised if the others turn out to be correct, too…The X Games start soon (who really cares when?) and that means espn will jam even more faux-hip people down our gullets in its ever-growing attempt to cultivate young viewers and bother the rest of us…Go away, David Beckham. Go away.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Phillies’ decision to go for a discounted Cliff Lee over Roy Halladay might seem to make sense in these recessionary times, but it has put GM Ruben Tomorrow and ace pitching prospect Kyle Drabek in tough positions. If the Phillies don’t win the World Series this year, and Lee doesn’t have a dynamite post-season, fans will scream that the team should have traded for Halladay, whom they have been told – right or wrong – would almost guarantee them a championship. Worse, if the Phils don’t win it all, and Drabek isn’t the next Grover Cleveland Alexander, fans will howl since the young hurler was seen as the impediment to acquiring Halladay. By conducting such a public courtship of the Blue Jays hurler and even going so far as to have headlines like “Phils still front-runners for Halladay” on the team’s web site, the Phillies led fans to believe that Halladay was the prime target, and Lee was a backup plan, even if he is the 2008 AL Cy Young Award winner. And just imagine what would happen if the Phillies meet the Red Sox in the World Series, and Boston just happened to trade for Halladay. Should Halladay dominate, Tomorrow will be an even bigger pariah, and even more pressure will land on Drabek. There is no shame in getting Lee, but the yearning for Halladay has created something of a public relations problem for the Phillies.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: It shouldn’t matter whether Hank Aaron, Reggie Jackson and the ghost of Cy Young believe that Pete Rose belongs in the Hall of Fame, he shouldn’t get in. So far, MLB commissioner Bud Sellout has remained firm on the issue, but with that jellyfish, it’s hard to be sure he’ll stand strong for the duration. Rose bet on baseball, and that’s not allowed. Every clubhouse door has a huge sign on it warning about the lifetime ban those who violate the edict will receive. Rose violated it. Then he lied about it. Lied about it some more. Only when he stood to profit from his admission, did he come clean. There is no question he had the on-field resume for induction, but if the steroid cheats and Joe Jackson belong on the outside (and there is no certainty Jackson should be there), then Rose absolutely must remain out. If Sellout – or any future commissioner – relents, then that sign must come down and MLB’s efforts to stop gambling in places like Delaware must cease. There can be no middle ground on this.
-EH-
One of the reasons people remain so devoted to soap operas is that there are never reruns. Viewers don’t have to suffer through an encore of this affair or that miraculous recovery from a rogue strain of beriberi. The story moves inexorably forward, as if a day without some new drama from Erica Kane would cause a national emergency. And just try to interrupt the cycle with something as mundane as a ballgame or coverage of a papal assassination threat, and you would find out just how devoted Erica’s fans could be.
The soaps move inexorably forward, as expected. Professional sports, however, are supposed to have quiet times. Or at least that’s the way it used to be. These days, about the only major league that adheres to the old model of off-season hibernation is hockey, and given its television ratings, one can’t decide whether to consider the icy pursuit “major” anymore. Even it tries to stay relevant during the warm-weather months with its own free agency and mildly amusing story lines like the league’s death struggle to keep a franchise in Phoenix, which loves hockey as much as TV networks love quality programming.
The NFL is another story. By treating its free agency period like a Sweeps Week version of “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?” (back when it was good), the league keeps fans enticed through February. March and April are consumed by the Draft. May is all about the mini-camps and OTAs. But the real genius comes in June and July, when without fail, storylines emerge that keep the NFL news cycle churning, even if the items in question are suited for “All My Children” than the sports page. During the past six weeks, fans have been bombarded by stories about Britney Favre’s waffling, Michael Vick’s freedom and Plaxico Burress’ apparently futile attempts to stay out of the joint. So, during the long stretch of summer heat, when players and coaches hit vacation spots, “spend time with their families” and prepare for the hell of training camp, fans aren’t allowed to forget about football. For some, the daily stories of Favre’s will-he/won’t-he nonsense and the national debate over when Vick should play again were worse than a WNBA doubleheader. Others delighted in the coverage, if only because it kept them close to the game they love.
The good news is that training camps are finally open, and we can now concentrate on the battle for Jacksonville’s backup linebacker spot and the inevitable pre-season body count. The Hall of Fame Game (in retro AFL unis, no less) is a mere 10 days away, and that means it’s appropriate to consider some of the buzz throughout the league.
Enough, Already: In order: 1. Favre is a selfish diva who benefitted from Minnesota coach Brad Childress’ unwillingness to set a deadline that would have preserved some dignity for his franchise. If Favre decides to play in two, four or nine weeks, his offensive line should give him the same treatment the cons gave Paul “Wrecking” Crewe when he returned to action after deliberately throwing those interceptions. 2. Kudos to Roger Goodell for his treatment of Vick. His “conditional reinstatement” puts the onus on Vick to behave. Now, the question is whether a team wants to disrupt its offense by signing a QB who can’t work in the pocket. 3. Burress is going to jail and should have copped a plea. New York mayor Michael Bloomberg wants to make an example of him, and every Burress protestation will add time to his sentence.
QB Shuffle: The Favre Debacle notwithstanding, there are some interesting quarterbacking plot lines to be developed the next couple months. It looks like the Jets have already committed to Mark Sanchez, who should ask his coach to stop taunting linebackers in the AFC East so that Sanchez isn’t torn apart as revenge. The Lions are trying to decide whether it makes sense to let Matthew Stafford take over a circus that will consider three wins reason for a parade. Hey, if he’s the top overall pick, he should be mentally tough enough to handle that. Peyton Manning did. In San Francisco, it’s either Shaun Hill or Alex Smith. Ugh. Maybe John Brodie will come out of retirement. The Raiders have 61 million reasons why charismatic Jeff Garcia won’t take the starting job from JaMarcus Russell, even if Russell looks like a colossal mistake. Tom Brady is back in New England. Tony Romo is looking for love in Dallas. Ben Roethlisberger is trying to clear his name in Pittsburgh. And Jay Cutler wants to win something – anything – of consequence in Chicago.
Rising Stars: Last year, the Cardinals astonished everyone by shuffling off decades of futility and mismanagement by reaching the Super Bowl and actually giving the Steelers a scare. El Hombre will give a better idea of this season’s surprises in his gala 2009 NFL Preview, but it would be instructive to pay close attention to some teams during the exhibition games. For the past couple years, Houston has been a trendy pick for the playoffs, but this year, it might really happen. The Texans have slowly accumulated weapons on both sides of the ball and could be ready for 10 wins. With the Vikings’ relying on the Tavaris Jackson/Sage Rosenfels QB nightmare, the NFC North door could be wide open for the Packers, who may just have the division’s most stable situation under center. And it may just happen that the Saints take a step forward, although it’s going to take an examination of their shaky defense during the pre-season to see whether that’s possible.
New Faces, New Places: Matt Cassel is in Kansas City. Cutler is in Chi-town. The Jets have Bart Scott, and the Seahawks have T.J. Houshmandzadeh. But let’s face it; the only newcomer anybody cares about is up in northwest New York helping popcorn sales. The T.O. Celebrity Nuthouse has checked into Buffalo for what it hopes is an extended run, but what will most likely end in early departure, just as T.O.’s last two residencies have. Say a novena for Trent Edwards, the Bills’ quarterback, and get ready for the craziness.
Games to Watch: Ha! Fooled you. There isn’t a single exhibition matchup worth watching, except for the fact that it has been six months since football has been on and that at this point a Lions intra-squad scrimmage would be appealing. Watch the first half of every game you can and hope for a quick August.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: It’s a good thing FINA, the world’s swimming governing body, has decided to ban the full-body swimming suits that are allowing journeymen to set world records. If this continues, it won’t be long until a swimmer crams himself into a dolphin’s mouth and does the 200 freestyle in 15 seconds…Since the Pirates have traded away just about every real ballplayer they have, fans should punish them by staying away completely. Why pay big-time prices for AAA (or worse) baseball? The Steelers have been successful in the market. So have the Penguins. But the Pirates are a joke. This franchise should either be disbanded or forced to find ownership that cares. Until then, any fan who goes to a Pirates game is a sap…The non-stop Tweeting. The unannounced trip to the White House. The reality show. The WWE appearance. One of three things is happening with Shaq: A) He needs money because of his ugly divorce B) He is masking a drop in skills and trying to use style over substance for his pending trip to Cleveland C) He’s just a big knucklehead who should be enjoyed. El Hombre will go with C for now, but don’t be surprised if the others turn out to be correct, too…The X Games start soon (who really cares when?) and that means espn will jam even more faux-hip people down our gullets in its ever-growing attempt to cultivate young viewers and bother the rest of us…Go away, David Beckham. Go away.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The Phillies’ decision to go for a discounted Cliff Lee over Roy Halladay might seem to make sense in these recessionary times, but it has put GM Ruben Tomorrow and ace pitching prospect Kyle Drabek in tough positions. If the Phillies don’t win the World Series this year, and Lee doesn’t have a dynamite post-season, fans will scream that the team should have traded for Halladay, whom they have been told – right or wrong – would almost guarantee them a championship. Worse, if the Phils don’t win it all, and Drabek isn’t the next Grover Cleveland Alexander, fans will howl since the young hurler was seen as the impediment to acquiring Halladay. By conducting such a public courtship of the Blue Jays hurler and even going so far as to have headlines like “Phils still front-runners for Halladay” on the team’s web site, the Phillies led fans to believe that Halladay was the prime target, and Lee was a backup plan, even if he is the 2008 AL Cy Young Award winner. And just imagine what would happen if the Phillies meet the Red Sox in the World Series, and Boston just happened to trade for Halladay. Should Halladay dominate, Tomorrow will be an even bigger pariah, and even more pressure will land on Drabek. There is no shame in getting Lee, but the yearning for Halladay has created something of a public relations problem for the Phillies.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: It shouldn’t matter whether Hank Aaron, Reggie Jackson and the ghost of Cy Young believe that Pete Rose belongs in the Hall of Fame, he shouldn’t get in. So far, MLB commissioner Bud Sellout has remained firm on the issue, but with that jellyfish, it’s hard to be sure he’ll stand strong for the duration. Rose bet on baseball, and that’s not allowed. Every clubhouse door has a huge sign on it warning about the lifetime ban those who violate the edict will receive. Rose violated it. Then he lied about it. Lied about it some more. Only when he stood to profit from his admission, did he come clean. There is no question he had the on-field resume for induction, but if the steroid cheats and Joe Jackson belong on the outside (and there is no certainty Jackson should be there), then Rose absolutely must remain out. If Sellout – or any future commissioner – relents, then that sign must come down and MLB’s efforts to stop gambling in places like Delaware must cease. There can be no middle ground on this.
-EH-
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-
Thursday, July 16, 2009
"The Second Half"
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
While myriad theories emerge about the low ratings for Tuesday’s All-Star Game, and clueless Majoke League Baseball burgermeister Bud Sellout protests (ever so gently) the Manny Ramirez Minor League Victory Tour, baseball resumes its pennant races today with a “second half” that should provide fans with plenty of interest while angering mathematical purists who argue that 88 is NOT half of 162.
Sellout’s declaration that he wasn’t happy with Ramirez’s playing tune-up games in garden spots like San Bernardino and Albuquerque is hilarious. It affords him another way to blame all of the steroid problems in the game on the players’ union, which while certainly highly culpable, has hardly acted alone. Sellout is right (stop the presses!) to say that a 50-game suspension should be a 50-game suspension and that if Ramirez wants to loosen up before returning to the big time ball, he should do so at an American Legion post or a local semi-pro outfit. Since the Dodgers own the 66ers and (it was) the Dukes, Ramirez shouldn’t get an early furlough to get back into shape with those clubs. But for Sellout to make it seem as if the evil players are solely responsible for the loophole is like Terrell Owens’ saying his troubles with every team for which he’s played have been his teammates’ fault.
As for the All-Star Game, it was refreshing to see a 4-3, close contest that had some drama. If TV ratings went down because of that, then MLB should just hold a second Home Run Derby (even though the first one is getting ollllllldddd) and realize that fans don’t like baseball; they like highlights and asinine commentary. Look for baseballs to start flying during the Midsummer Classic next year, as their composition changes to include some of the same material that allows American Idol to keep bouncing back, despite dispensing ever-growing doses of inanity. If you weren’t interested in Carl Crawford’s catch, Joe Nathan’s eighth-inning showdown with Ryan Howard and yet another perfect ninth from Mariano Rivera, then you should be sentenced to a season of Nationals games.
With those issues out of the way, it’s time to look at the storylines that will dominate the remaining 45.679% of the season.
Yanks-Sawx: Get you tickets now! The teams only play 43 more times this season, giving espn the chance to show at least 25 special reports on how great the rivalry is. The fact that New York hasn’t beaten Boston since Bloody Sock Schilling single-handedly ended Communism doesn’t dilute the drama at all. Or at least that’s what the propaganda ministers tell us. Look for devoted TV minions to get the Yanks a wild-card berth and then fix the first round to allow for a Yanks-Sawx ALCS. Hello, Mr. Nielsen.
The Great Chase: Although Washington is on pace to lose “only” 114 games, there is still hope that the Nats can surpass the ’62 Mets’ epic, 40-120 futility. All it takes are a couple months of continued lackadaisical and uninspired play – think Adam Dunn in the outfield – and the Nats could pull it off. But there is some danger out there, since new manager Jim Riggleman could turn things around. Then again, Riggleman describes himself as a “softy,” so the malaise could well continue. The hope here is for 119 losses, so the Mets and their odious fans can continue to wallow in ignominy.
Fire Sales: While most eyes will be on the Blue Jays to see if they dish ace Roy Halladay (more on that below), there will be plenty of other teams trying to get rid of big salaries in the name of rebuilding. The Pirates could let just about anybody go, including Manny Sanguillen, Dave Parker and Dock Ellis’ acid peddler. The Nationals will be holding a tag sale, and all prices are negotiable. San Diego will still try to deal Jake Peavy (with little success), and the Indians are heading to the trading post. As usual, just about any Oriole can be had in return for some mannequins to put in the seats.
Friendly Confounds: After choking last post-season, the Cubs were supposed to mount a strong charge to the pennant and perhaps even win the World Series. Instead, they find themselves mired in a gooey NL Central race, struggling to keep pace with the Happiest Place on Earth Cardinals, whose errors even receive standing ovations from the country’s softest fans. Lou Piniella is calling his players names. The big guns can’t hit. The best pitchers don’t win. But at least the beer’s cold. Look for a rally, but in the end, more disappointment defines the Cubbies.
Wild West: Since most fans can’t name a combined 10 players on the Mariners, Rangers and Angels, the AL West race is getting no attention. But things could get pretty interesting, particularly if Ichiro and Seattle keep winning. The Angels have the best all-around talent, but Texas sure can mash. And Rangers’ ace Kevin Millwood doesn’t look so out of shape anymore. L.A. will probably win, but things could be interesting here in September. Too bad fans will need a satellite dish or premium cable package to see it all.
Reboot: With “half” the season gone, it’s appropriate to re-think the division races and make some predictions. American League division winners: Boston, Chicago, L.A. Wild Card: Yankees. National League division winners: Philadelphia, St. Louis, L.A. Wild Card: Cubs. ALDS: Boston over Chicago; L.A. over New York. ALCS: Boston over L.A. NLDS: Philadelphia over Chicago; L.A. over St. Louis. NLCS: L.A. over Philadelphia. World Series: Boston over L.A.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Great line from a Western Conference executive about why the Clippers will sign Allen Iverson: “Because it makes absolutely no sense.” Anybody who thinks one of the most selfish players in NBA history will accept a team role is crazy…Cowboy QB has finally decided to end this chapter of the drama surrounding his return. He’ll let everyone know by July 30. Of course, that doesn’t exactly satisfy the Vikings, who would like an earlier decision, but why should Brett Favre care about them? This is a personal matter between him and his ego…You can root for Tiger or Paddy or any of the others at Turnberry this weekend. El Hombre is pulling for the course, which should claim plenty of self-esteem and reduce normally reasonable men to near tears. At least they can weep into some top-flight Scotch…The NHL announced Wednesday that Boston and Philadelphia will play Jan. 1, 2010 at Fenway Park in the only hockey game to which anybody will pay attention. No word on whether new Flyers goon, er defenseman, Chris Pronger will try to grind anybody into the Green Monster. In other hockey news, NBC has agreed to keep televising NHL games through the 2010-11 season. The league did have to make one major concession in order to keep its flagging product on network TV: the best-of-seven Stanley Cup Finals series will be played over four consecutive days in the morning. Game On!...NASCAR’s Jeremy Mayfield tested positive again for methamphetamine and promptly denied the charge, even though his stepmother reported that she had seen him take meth 30 times over a seven-year period. That didn’t sit well with the high-strung driver, who said, “that [nasty term for a woman] is trash and has got nothing on me but lies.” Mayfield then excused himself and went for a practice lap – the wrong way around the track. Ah, wholesome family entertainment…The savior of American soccer, David Beckham, is back in action Thursday night for the Galaxy, amidst rumors that he was a bad captain and didn’t care about his team. Beckham denied he dissed his mates, although he was overheard asking a Galaxy official, “When do Number Four and Whatsisname get in the game?”
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? If the Phillies think they have solved their starting pitching problems by signing a 37-year old (or so he says) who has trouble getting past the sixth inning, strained his shoulder during tryouts and hasn’t pitched a complete season since 2005, then GM Ruben Amaro has been possessed by the ghost of Ed Wade. Unless the Phils are trying to overload their bullpen and think sterling J.A. Happ will continue to be their ace, then asking Pedro Martinez to go every fifth day is a mistake. Let’s hope this is a relatively inexpensive stopgap solution to a problem that needs a real answer: Roy Halladay. While the Phils wring their hands about what to offer the Blue Jays in return for the big-time ace, consider that the franchise hasn’t produced one homegrown standout pitcher who sustained excellence over five years or more in decades. Halladay, meanwhile, has won 20 games twice and 19 once during the past seven years, has maintained an ERA of below 3.00 in the run-happy American League, and sounds like he’s looking for a new address. The worst-case scenario is that he pitches this season and the next for the Phillies, giving them a true righthanded stopper on a team that leans more left than Julius and Ethel Rosenberg. In a perfect world, he signs a three-year extension and becomes a true bulwark of the future. If that means giving up Kyle Drabek and Joe Savery, Lou Marson and Jason Donald, Carlos Carasco and anybody else but Michael Taylor, DO IT!!! Professional sports are about winning now, and if Amaro wants to worry about what happens in five years, he should go work for the Pirates. Pedro makes for good copy, but Halladay will help the Phillies win another pennant.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Since Nike and LeBron James decided to deprive the world of Xavier player Jordan Crawford’s dunk over the Cavalier star, we must rely on the reports of those who were there to learn what really happened. (El Hombre isn’t sure this is what Nike had in mind when it unveiled the “Witness” ad campaign for James.) One camper present was Michigan guard Manny Harris, who provides this exclusive account. “It was pretty good. [Crawford] actually drove past his guy, and he was already in the air. LeBron saw that he was in the air, and he tried to block [the dunk]. At that point, it’s tough to block a guy, because [Raymond] was already in the air. But [James] got dunked on. Afterward, [Michael] Jordan made some noise, and so did the high school kids. LeBron kept his composure and acted like nothing happened.” Thank you, Manny, for letting us in on what happened, since James and Nike chickened out. On the one hand, it’s understandable how the player and sponsor want to protect his image, especially in this YouTube world. But don’t you think this would have gone away faster had James and Nike released the video, congratulated the kid and moved on? What are they afraid of? Guess humility and the ability to laugh at one’s self aren’t part of the LBJ package. One thing’s for certain: Had that happened to Jordan in his prime, he wouldn’t have squelched the video. He would have just abused Crawford for the rest of the game and then showed up for every Xavier practice this season looking to play one-on-one. That’s how a competitor does it.
-EH-
While myriad theories emerge about the low ratings for Tuesday’s All-Star Game, and clueless Majoke League Baseball burgermeister Bud Sellout protests (ever so gently) the Manny Ramirez Minor League Victory Tour, baseball resumes its pennant races today with a “second half” that should provide fans with plenty of interest while angering mathematical purists who argue that 88 is NOT half of 162.
Sellout’s declaration that he wasn’t happy with Ramirez’s playing tune-up games in garden spots like San Bernardino and Albuquerque is hilarious. It affords him another way to blame all of the steroid problems in the game on the players’ union, which while certainly highly culpable, has hardly acted alone. Sellout is right (stop the presses!) to say that a 50-game suspension should be a 50-game suspension and that if Ramirez wants to loosen up before returning to the big time ball, he should do so at an American Legion post or a local semi-pro outfit. Since the Dodgers own the 66ers and (it was) the Dukes, Ramirez shouldn’t get an early furlough to get back into shape with those clubs. But for Sellout to make it seem as if the evil players are solely responsible for the loophole is like Terrell Owens’ saying his troubles with every team for which he’s played have been his teammates’ fault.
As for the All-Star Game, it was refreshing to see a 4-3, close contest that had some drama. If TV ratings went down because of that, then MLB should just hold a second Home Run Derby (even though the first one is getting ollllllldddd) and realize that fans don’t like baseball; they like highlights and asinine commentary. Look for baseballs to start flying during the Midsummer Classic next year, as their composition changes to include some of the same material that allows American Idol to keep bouncing back, despite dispensing ever-growing doses of inanity. If you weren’t interested in Carl Crawford’s catch, Joe Nathan’s eighth-inning showdown with Ryan Howard and yet another perfect ninth from Mariano Rivera, then you should be sentenced to a season of Nationals games.
With those issues out of the way, it’s time to look at the storylines that will dominate the remaining 45.679% of the season.
Yanks-Sawx: Get you tickets now! The teams only play 43 more times this season, giving espn the chance to show at least 25 special reports on how great the rivalry is. The fact that New York hasn’t beaten Boston since Bloody Sock Schilling single-handedly ended Communism doesn’t dilute the drama at all. Or at least that’s what the propaganda ministers tell us. Look for devoted TV minions to get the Yanks a wild-card berth and then fix the first round to allow for a Yanks-Sawx ALCS. Hello, Mr. Nielsen.
The Great Chase: Although Washington is on pace to lose “only” 114 games, there is still hope that the Nats can surpass the ’62 Mets’ epic, 40-120 futility. All it takes are a couple months of continued lackadaisical and uninspired play – think Adam Dunn in the outfield – and the Nats could pull it off. But there is some danger out there, since new manager Jim Riggleman could turn things around. Then again, Riggleman describes himself as a “softy,” so the malaise could well continue. The hope here is for 119 losses, so the Mets and their odious fans can continue to wallow in ignominy.
Fire Sales: While most eyes will be on the Blue Jays to see if they dish ace Roy Halladay (more on that below), there will be plenty of other teams trying to get rid of big salaries in the name of rebuilding. The Pirates could let just about anybody go, including Manny Sanguillen, Dave Parker and Dock Ellis’ acid peddler. The Nationals will be holding a tag sale, and all prices are negotiable. San Diego will still try to deal Jake Peavy (with little success), and the Indians are heading to the trading post. As usual, just about any Oriole can be had in return for some mannequins to put in the seats.
Friendly Confounds: After choking last post-season, the Cubs were supposed to mount a strong charge to the pennant and perhaps even win the World Series. Instead, they find themselves mired in a gooey NL Central race, struggling to keep pace with the Happiest Place on Earth Cardinals, whose errors even receive standing ovations from the country’s softest fans. Lou Piniella is calling his players names. The big guns can’t hit. The best pitchers don’t win. But at least the beer’s cold. Look for a rally, but in the end, more disappointment defines the Cubbies.
Wild West: Since most fans can’t name a combined 10 players on the Mariners, Rangers and Angels, the AL West race is getting no attention. But things could get pretty interesting, particularly if Ichiro and Seattle keep winning. The Angels have the best all-around talent, but Texas sure can mash. And Rangers’ ace Kevin Millwood doesn’t look so out of shape anymore. L.A. will probably win, but things could be interesting here in September. Too bad fans will need a satellite dish or premium cable package to see it all.
Reboot: With “half” the season gone, it’s appropriate to re-think the division races and make some predictions. American League division winners: Boston, Chicago, L.A. Wild Card: Yankees. National League division winners: Philadelphia, St. Louis, L.A. Wild Card: Cubs. ALDS: Boston over Chicago; L.A. over New York. ALCS: Boston over L.A. NLDS: Philadelphia over Chicago; L.A. over St. Louis. NLCS: L.A. over Philadelphia. World Series: Boston over L.A.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Great line from a Western Conference executive about why the Clippers will sign Allen Iverson: “Because it makes absolutely no sense.” Anybody who thinks one of the most selfish players in NBA history will accept a team role is crazy…Cowboy QB has finally decided to end this chapter of the drama surrounding his return. He’ll let everyone know by July 30. Of course, that doesn’t exactly satisfy the Vikings, who would like an earlier decision, but why should Brett Favre care about them? This is a personal matter between him and his ego…You can root for Tiger or Paddy or any of the others at Turnberry this weekend. El Hombre is pulling for the course, which should claim plenty of self-esteem and reduce normally reasonable men to near tears. At least they can weep into some top-flight Scotch…The NHL announced Wednesday that Boston and Philadelphia will play Jan. 1, 2010 at Fenway Park in the only hockey game to which anybody will pay attention. No word on whether new Flyers goon, er defenseman, Chris Pronger will try to grind anybody into the Green Monster. In other hockey news, NBC has agreed to keep televising NHL games through the 2010-11 season. The league did have to make one major concession in order to keep its flagging product on network TV: the best-of-seven Stanley Cup Finals series will be played over four consecutive days in the morning. Game On!...NASCAR’s Jeremy Mayfield tested positive again for methamphetamine and promptly denied the charge, even though his stepmother reported that she had seen him take meth 30 times over a seven-year period. That didn’t sit well with the high-strung driver, who said, “that [nasty term for a woman] is trash and has got nothing on me but lies.” Mayfield then excused himself and went for a practice lap – the wrong way around the track. Ah, wholesome family entertainment…The savior of American soccer, David Beckham, is back in action Thursday night for the Galaxy, amidst rumors that he was a bad captain and didn’t care about his team. Beckham denied he dissed his mates, although he was overheard asking a Galaxy official, “When do Number Four and Whatsisname get in the game?”
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? If the Phillies think they have solved their starting pitching problems by signing a 37-year old (or so he says) who has trouble getting past the sixth inning, strained his shoulder during tryouts and hasn’t pitched a complete season since 2005, then GM Ruben Amaro has been possessed by the ghost of Ed Wade. Unless the Phils are trying to overload their bullpen and think sterling J.A. Happ will continue to be their ace, then asking Pedro Martinez to go every fifth day is a mistake. Let’s hope this is a relatively inexpensive stopgap solution to a problem that needs a real answer: Roy Halladay. While the Phils wring their hands about what to offer the Blue Jays in return for the big-time ace, consider that the franchise hasn’t produced one homegrown standout pitcher who sustained excellence over five years or more in decades. Halladay, meanwhile, has won 20 games twice and 19 once during the past seven years, has maintained an ERA of below 3.00 in the run-happy American League, and sounds like he’s looking for a new address. The worst-case scenario is that he pitches this season and the next for the Phillies, giving them a true righthanded stopper on a team that leans more left than Julius and Ethel Rosenberg. In a perfect world, he signs a three-year extension and becomes a true bulwark of the future. If that means giving up Kyle Drabek and Joe Savery, Lou Marson and Jason Donald, Carlos Carasco and anybody else but Michael Taylor, DO IT!!! Professional sports are about winning now, and if Amaro wants to worry about what happens in five years, he should go work for the Pirates. Pedro makes for good copy, but Halladay will help the Phillies win another pennant.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Since Nike and LeBron James decided to deprive the world of Xavier player Jordan Crawford’s dunk over the Cavalier star, we must rely on the reports of those who were there to learn what really happened. (El Hombre isn’t sure this is what Nike had in mind when it unveiled the “Witness” ad campaign for James.) One camper present was Michigan guard Manny Harris, who provides this exclusive account. “It was pretty good. [Crawford] actually drove past his guy, and he was already in the air. LeBron saw that he was in the air, and he tried to block [the dunk]. At that point, it’s tough to block a guy, because [Raymond] was already in the air. But [James] got dunked on. Afterward, [Michael] Jordan made some noise, and so did the high school kids. LeBron kept his composure and acted like nothing happened.” Thank you, Manny, for letting us in on what happened, since James and Nike chickened out. On the one hand, it’s understandable how the player and sponsor want to protect his image, especially in this YouTube world. But don’t you think this would have gone away faster had James and Nike released the video, congratulated the kid and moved on? What are they afraid of? Guess humility and the ability to laugh at one’s self aren’t part of the LBJ package. One thing’s for certain: Had that happened to Jordan in his prime, he wouldn’t have squelched the video. He would have just abused Crawford for the rest of the game and then showed up for every Xavier practice this season looking to play one-on-one. That’s how a competitor does it.
-EH-
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Justice, NFL Style
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
When NFL commissioner Roger Goodell issued his official mountaintop farewell after the final mini-camp, OTA, and in the case of the Raiders, DTA (Disorganized Team Activity) had ended, he sounded more like a high school principal than the leader of professional sports’ most lucrative concern. As the kids ran out of team complexes like students’ heading into summer break, they could hear the voice booming from loudspeakers across the country, warning them about the evils of drunk driving.
The final sentence of the proclamation was the most telling: “Let’s make sure that the 2009 season does not bring more tragedy or embarrassment to ourselves and our employees.” Goodell even went so far as to mention Donte Stallworth, the Cleveland receiver who is serving 30 days in stir for hitting and killing a man while driving drunk – and thanks to new information made known yesterday – high. Goodell has suspended Stallworth “indefinitely” and has promised to make known the final disposition of that nebulous sentence soon.
As Goodell weighs the merits of relieving Stallworth of his livelihood for a quarter, half or full season, a debate has sprouted about whether Goodell has the right to impose a substantial penalty at all. There is no doubt that Stallworth should have a chance to play in the NFL again, just as Michael Vick deserves another shot, but some league discipline must be imposed, and it must have teeth.
Some say Goodell must make up for the court’s relative leniency. Although there was no intent to kill the man who walked in front of Stallworth’s car early one morning, he still took another life, and 30 days seems like a pretty small price to pay for that. Despite showing what appears to be true remorse and settling with the man’s family for what is no doubt a hefty amount, Stallworth received a pretty light penalty. (IMPORTANT CODICIL: Anyone who has ever seen the HBO classic “Oz” knows that even five minutes in the joint can lead to any number of nightmares, particularly if Schillinger gets a hold of you, so 30 days can seem like forever, or the length of an WNBA game.)
Goodell’s job is not to correct the court’s work. His sole responsibility is the health and economic welfare of the (insert dramatic pause) National Football League. Because of that role, he must consider Stallworth’s crime within the framework of how his return to action will affect the league and its reputation. Back in ’98, Leonard Little killed a woman while driving drunk and spent 90 days behind bars. Then-commissioner Paul Tagliabue slapped Little with an eight-game suspension, but the defensive end returned and eventually became a Pro Bowler. Though MADD picketed Little’s first game back with the Rams after the suspension, there was no furor surrounding his return and only a small percentage of today’s fans would be able to recall the crime.
Now comes Stallworth. While he sits in jail, Goodell must judge the damage the wide receiver has done to the league, not to mention the ramifications of a player’s driving drunk and high, a daily double of NFL conduct violations. Worse than breaking his employer’s rules, Stallworth perpetuated the myth of athletes’ behaving badly. Despite being but a minute portion of the overall NFL personnel universe, people like Stallworth become the image of the highly-paid performers. No amount of charitable work can erase it. Donovan McNabb could eradicate swine flu from the landscape, and he wouldn’t be able to overcome the damage Stallworth has done to players’ or the league’s reputations.
That’s where Goodell comes in. His job as commissioner is to propagate the NFL and make sure that its financial health persists and improves. To do that, he must deal swiftly and sternly with those who are threats to that well being. Stallworth’s crime has hurt Goodell’s league and its business. If he does not come down hard on Stallworth, particularly in an economic climate where people are struggling to pay high ticket prices and to make sure their kids have the GI Joes with the Kung-fu grip, he runs the risk of giving back some of the goodwill and market share the league has accumulated during the past several decades.
Yes, Goodell has to pounce, on both Vick and Stallworth. The question is whether they deserve the same suspensions, and the answer is no. Although Vick did more time for his dog-fighting crimes, there’s no way the killing of any animal – no matter what the quantity – trumps the taking of a human life. PETA can scream from the treetops (just be careful not to disturb the slender-billed grackle) all it wants on that one, but it’s wrong. Vick deserves a half-year away from the NFL, and Stallworth needs to be seated for a full season. That way, he’ll get the opportunity to take care of his community service obligations and remain clear of the spotlight, and the league can show that it takes this kind of behavior very seriously. By giving Stallworth a substantial penalty, Goodell will be looking out for his league by protecting its image. He’ll also be sending a distinct message to other players that will be stronger than any “behave yourselves” letter he could write.
And, come September, when everybody returns to class, they’ll know the principal isn’t going to back down.
Now, about that summer reading.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: A tip of the helmet to SI’s Chris Ballard for his back-page story in the magazine this week. Click on the link and read on. If you don’t choke up, call Keith Richards’ doctor, because you need a transfusion. http://tinyurl.com/lnvs7w Some might consider it sacrilegious to root against an American in anything, but you have to cheer for Andy Murray to become the first British man to win at Wimbledon since Fred Perry in 1936. Maybe he’ll get a shoe named for him if he does triumph…The price tag for a courtside seat at the renovated Pauley Pavilion in ’12-13? Try a one-time 500 large serving of cheddar, followed by annual “contributions” of $17,000/seat – plus the tickets’ cost. Yeah, college sports are a pure, amateur pursuit. Pay the damn players already…Tennessee has received a commitment from a 13-year old grid star whose brother and father played for the Vols. No word on whether coach Lane Kiffin told the kid that if he went to South Carolina, he’d never become any good on Rock Band…Okay, so the U.S. soccer team coughs up a 2-0 lead against Brazil in the Confederations Final, and all of a sudden the red-white-and-blew-it is a world power. Calm down, everybody. Let’s see how the Yanks do Aug. 12 in the World Cup qualifier in Mexico while dodging bags of human excrement…A judge dismissed attempts by Ro(H)g(H)er Clemens to revive some of his defamation claims against former trainer Brian McNamee. Awwww. Now McNamee gets a chance to sue Clemens. Ain’t justice great?
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Those 1-2-3-4-5-Sixers did the right thing by drafting Jrue Holiday last Thursday. NBA personnel sources tell El Hombre that Holiday will be a first-rate point man in a couple years, thanks to his size, athletic ability, competitiveness and defensive skills. He played out of position at UCLA last year and still had more assists per minute played and per possession than did Darren Collison, who dominated the ball. While the Sixers wait for Holiday, they remain an imperfect team, even if they re-sign free agent PG Richard Pryor. They have no real center, no two guard and their two best young players – Andre Iguodala and Thaddeus Young – play the same position. The Sixers have a bunch of ugly contracts and at a time when teams are clearing space for 2010 free agency, their salary cap is clogged worse than the commode at an offensive linemen’s convention. Don’t expect big things next season. Or the one after that.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Manny Ramirez returns to the lineup this weekend after serving his 50-day sentence for taking fertility drugs to spark testosterone growth after steroid use. (Allegedly.) Expect an outpouring of love from Dodgers’ Stepfords and a celebration of the cheater’s talents by the league’s propaganda partners. Let’s hope Hall of Fame voters commemorate the occasion by promising never to vote for the bum and to remind people as needed about his crimes against baseball. It will be easy to view the juiced-up slugger as a sympathetic figure, given the welcome he’ll receive, but don’t ever remove him from the list of drug abusers and don’t give in to the temptation to say it was just “Manny being Manny.” Let the pajama-wearing, traveling-secretary-bullying lab creation get into Cooperstown the same way the rest of us do – with a ticket.
-EH-
When NFL commissioner Roger Goodell issued his official mountaintop farewell after the final mini-camp, OTA, and in the case of the Raiders, DTA (Disorganized Team Activity) had ended, he sounded more like a high school principal than the leader of professional sports’ most lucrative concern. As the kids ran out of team complexes like students’ heading into summer break, they could hear the voice booming from loudspeakers across the country, warning them about the evils of drunk driving.
The final sentence of the proclamation was the most telling: “Let’s make sure that the 2009 season does not bring more tragedy or embarrassment to ourselves and our employees.” Goodell even went so far as to mention Donte Stallworth, the Cleveland receiver who is serving 30 days in stir for hitting and killing a man while driving drunk – and thanks to new information made known yesterday – high. Goodell has suspended Stallworth “indefinitely” and has promised to make known the final disposition of that nebulous sentence soon.
As Goodell weighs the merits of relieving Stallworth of his livelihood for a quarter, half or full season, a debate has sprouted about whether Goodell has the right to impose a substantial penalty at all. There is no doubt that Stallworth should have a chance to play in the NFL again, just as Michael Vick deserves another shot, but some league discipline must be imposed, and it must have teeth.
Some say Goodell must make up for the court’s relative leniency. Although there was no intent to kill the man who walked in front of Stallworth’s car early one morning, he still took another life, and 30 days seems like a pretty small price to pay for that. Despite showing what appears to be true remorse and settling with the man’s family for what is no doubt a hefty amount, Stallworth received a pretty light penalty. (IMPORTANT CODICIL: Anyone who has ever seen the HBO classic “Oz” knows that even five minutes in the joint can lead to any number of nightmares, particularly if Schillinger gets a hold of you, so 30 days can seem like forever, or the length of an WNBA game.)
Goodell’s job is not to correct the court’s work. His sole responsibility is the health and economic welfare of the (insert dramatic pause) National Football League. Because of that role, he must consider Stallworth’s crime within the framework of how his return to action will affect the league and its reputation. Back in ’98, Leonard Little killed a woman while driving drunk and spent 90 days behind bars. Then-commissioner Paul Tagliabue slapped Little with an eight-game suspension, but the defensive end returned and eventually became a Pro Bowler. Though MADD picketed Little’s first game back with the Rams after the suspension, there was no furor surrounding his return and only a small percentage of today’s fans would be able to recall the crime.
Now comes Stallworth. While he sits in jail, Goodell must judge the damage the wide receiver has done to the league, not to mention the ramifications of a player’s driving drunk and high, a daily double of NFL conduct violations. Worse than breaking his employer’s rules, Stallworth perpetuated the myth of athletes’ behaving badly. Despite being but a minute portion of the overall NFL personnel universe, people like Stallworth become the image of the highly-paid performers. No amount of charitable work can erase it. Donovan McNabb could eradicate swine flu from the landscape, and he wouldn’t be able to overcome the damage Stallworth has done to players’ or the league’s reputations.
That’s where Goodell comes in. His job as commissioner is to propagate the NFL and make sure that its financial health persists and improves. To do that, he must deal swiftly and sternly with those who are threats to that well being. Stallworth’s crime has hurt Goodell’s league and its business. If he does not come down hard on Stallworth, particularly in an economic climate where people are struggling to pay high ticket prices and to make sure their kids have the GI Joes with the Kung-fu grip, he runs the risk of giving back some of the goodwill and market share the league has accumulated during the past several decades.
Yes, Goodell has to pounce, on both Vick and Stallworth. The question is whether they deserve the same suspensions, and the answer is no. Although Vick did more time for his dog-fighting crimes, there’s no way the killing of any animal – no matter what the quantity – trumps the taking of a human life. PETA can scream from the treetops (just be careful not to disturb the slender-billed grackle) all it wants on that one, but it’s wrong. Vick deserves a half-year away from the NFL, and Stallworth needs to be seated for a full season. That way, he’ll get the opportunity to take care of his community service obligations and remain clear of the spotlight, and the league can show that it takes this kind of behavior very seriously. By giving Stallworth a substantial penalty, Goodell will be looking out for his league by protecting its image. He’ll also be sending a distinct message to other players that will be stronger than any “behave yourselves” letter he could write.
And, come September, when everybody returns to class, they’ll know the principal isn’t going to back down.
Now, about that summer reading.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: A tip of the helmet to SI’s Chris Ballard for his back-page story in the magazine this week. Click on the link and read on. If you don’t choke up, call Keith Richards’ doctor, because you need a transfusion. http://tinyurl.com/lnvs7w Some might consider it sacrilegious to root against an American in anything, but you have to cheer for Andy Murray to become the first British man to win at Wimbledon since Fred Perry in 1936. Maybe he’ll get a shoe named for him if he does triumph…The price tag for a courtside seat at the renovated Pauley Pavilion in ’12-13? Try a one-time 500 large serving of cheddar, followed by annual “contributions” of $17,000/seat – plus the tickets’ cost. Yeah, college sports are a pure, amateur pursuit. Pay the damn players already…Tennessee has received a commitment from a 13-year old grid star whose brother and father played for the Vols. No word on whether coach Lane Kiffin told the kid that if he went to South Carolina, he’d never become any good on Rock Band…Okay, so the U.S. soccer team coughs up a 2-0 lead against Brazil in the Confederations Final, and all of a sudden the red-white-and-blew-it is a world power. Calm down, everybody. Let’s see how the Yanks do Aug. 12 in the World Cup qualifier in Mexico while dodging bags of human excrement…A judge dismissed attempts by Ro(H)g(H)er Clemens to revive some of his defamation claims against former trainer Brian McNamee. Awwww. Now McNamee gets a chance to sue Clemens. Ain’t justice great?
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? Those 1-2-3-4-5-Sixers did the right thing by drafting Jrue Holiday last Thursday. NBA personnel sources tell El Hombre that Holiday will be a first-rate point man in a couple years, thanks to his size, athletic ability, competitiveness and defensive skills. He played out of position at UCLA last year and still had more assists per minute played and per possession than did Darren Collison, who dominated the ball. While the Sixers wait for Holiday, they remain an imperfect team, even if they re-sign free agent PG Richard Pryor. They have no real center, no two guard and their two best young players – Andre Iguodala and Thaddeus Young – play the same position. The Sixers have a bunch of ugly contracts and at a time when teams are clearing space for 2010 free agency, their salary cap is clogged worse than the commode at an offensive linemen’s convention. Don’t expect big things next season. Or the one after that.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Manny Ramirez returns to the lineup this weekend after serving his 50-day sentence for taking fertility drugs to spark testosterone growth after steroid use. (Allegedly.) Expect an outpouring of love from Dodgers’ Stepfords and a celebration of the cheater’s talents by the league’s propaganda partners. Let’s hope Hall of Fame voters commemorate the occasion by promising never to vote for the bum and to remind people as needed about his crimes against baseball. It will be easy to view the juiced-up slugger as a sympathetic figure, given the welcome he’ll receive, but don’t ever remove him from the list of drug abusers and don’t give in to the temptation to say it was just “Manny being Manny.” Let the pajama-wearing, traveling-secretary-bullying lab creation get into Cooperstown the same way the rest of us do – with a ticket.
-EH-
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Caught in the Draft
EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS
The great thing about the NBA Draft is that you never know who’s going to be the bust. Okay, you knew Michael Olowokandi was going to stink, A) Because the Clippers chose him and B) Well, they’re the Clippers. There may be those out there who were sure Darko Milicic was going to be a colossal mistake and who insist they could predict that Sam Bowie’s gimpy feet would make Portland look like idiots. But with few exceptions, each year’s Draft is, as new Sixers coach Eddie Jordan put it Tuesday, like Christmas. Only the nice packages aren’t labeled, so you don’t know which one contains the home colonoscopy kit and which houses the home edition of Megan Fox’s Slap-and-Tickle Workshop.
Tonight, the NBA teams play talent roulette once again with a crop of imperfect, largely undertrained and unpredictable prospects, hoping that weeks of interviewing and auditioning have led them to find someone who can help their team win. With the specter of Benoit Benjamin hanging over the proceedings, it’s possible to imagine the person who has the NBA’s antacid concession getting a beach house out of this year’s Draft.
Every single player available has some big-time questions haunting him. Even Blake Griffin, everybody’s number one pick, has his faults, particularly on defense and when he’s asked to do something with a basketball in his hands from further than a foot away from the rim. Each of the 62 point guards vying for first-round spots has his liabilities. Stephen Curry may never guard anybody. Ty Lawson can’t get it done in the halfcourt. Tyreke Evans doesn’t shoot. All the big guys measured shorter than they thought they were. And all the Europlayers are stained by the failures of many of their brethren who stumbled before them.
But let’s face it; the NBA isn’t built on 19-year olds. The Lakers and Magic had a combined one rookie on in their rotations during the Finals. With few exceptions, newcomers don’t bring playoff prosperity. The Draft is for the great unwashed. It’s a chance for Minnesota to accumulate as many picks as possible, despite not having a coach and with an owner who knows nothing about basketball. Look at what happened in the summer of 2007. The Celtics had stunk like old fish but had been hosed in the Lottery. So, they traded the fifth overall pick and some baggage to Seattle for Ray Allen and then dished former first-rounders to Minnesota for Kevin Garnett. Hello, world championship. Meanwhile, the T-Wolves are a shambles and may be trying to pin their future on a teenage Spaniard who will owe the IRS in his country $8 mil when he signs and NBA deal. (His club has accumulated so much in back taxes that it transferred the kid’s onerous buyout to the Feds.)
So, when the Raptors select DeMar DeRozan, or whatever unlucky soul gets to play with Chris Bosh for a season before watching him walk in free agency, Tronno residents shouldn’t start setting aside dough for playoff tickets. Despite all the hype by the NBA and its propaganda partners, the Draft doesn’t promise prosperity. More than likely, a high pick this year is a harbinger of more misery to come.
Nope, it’s the trades that make champions, and in today’s economic climate, the NBA is turning into league with a caste system that could soon have owners sporting bindis. The two big deals that have been consummated so far have allowed wealthier teams to acquire big-name talents in return for the expiring contracts of B and C-Listers that Kathy Griffin might even scorn. San Antonio was able to add Richard Jefferson, a 20-a-night wing that will rejuvenate its sagging offense and help the team get younger, in return for aging Bruce Bowen, complementary piece Fabricio Oberto and Kurt Thomas, whose value to a team now is more as a stock analyst than interior factor. Two days later, Cleveland acquired the Big Everything from Phoenix, which was once a showpiece franchise but is now on a cost-cutting binge. By acquiring Sasha Pavlovic’s attractive contract and The Ghost of Ben Wallace, the Suns save about $10 million and maybe more, if they can buy out Wallace. Cleveland, meanwhile, gets a Tweeting fool who can play 25 minutes a night, attract double teams and amuse locals with his hilarious comedy routine. And if he actually tries, which wasn’t always the case in Phoenix, Shaq could help the Cavs win a title. Given that this is the last year of his contract, Cleveland might actually expect maximum effort from its new road grader. Most of the time.
The lesson is clear: NFL teams may build through the Draft, but NBA powers load up by fleecing poor teams in the kinds of deals little brothers make with their older siblings before Mom or Dad vetoes the swap. Hey, Johnny, why don’t you give me your iPod for this cool rock? Sure, Ricky. You’re the best. Look at this season’s finalists. The Lakers didn’t quite give Memphis a bag of magic beans for Pau Gasol, but it was close. The cash-strapped Grizzlies single-sourced the trade with L.A., much to the dismay of every other team in the league, who would have surrendered more for the big man. Orlando, meanwhile, convinced Houston that it was a good idea to give the Magic Rafer Alston in a three-way with Memphis. At least the Rockets got Kyle Lowry out of the deal. The Grizz ended up with a whole lot of nothing, which fit in well with the rest of its roster.
Thursday night, you’re going to hear a lot about the great futures of those drafted and how much the league’s untouchables helped themselves by selecting a point guard with many questions about his game. Disregard that and pay attention to two things: Which contenders are conning economically-challenged rivals into surrendering valuable players in return for detritus, albeit cost-effective detritus? And which clubs are trying to dump salary in the hopes of having enough cap room next summer to make runs at the unprecedented bonanza of talent expected to hit free agency? By the time Friday dawns, the cast of Clean House will be able to pick about 10 of next year’s Lottery participants, and the short list of candidates for the Larry O’Brien Trophy will be established. That’s what “happens” in the NBA right now, and it’s not the best news for fans of the league’s cellar denizens.
It’s even worse for Oklahoma forward Blake Griffin. The Clippers are taking him.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Now that Maria Sharapova is out of Wimbledon, does the tournament still go on?...Cowboy Quarterback is down in Mississippi throwing to high schoolers. Sounds like he’s preparing to play for the Raiders, not Minnesota…Say what you want about the NHL and its follies, but the one thing the league does right is its Winter Classic. Pairing the Bruins and Flyers in Fenway Park on New Year’s Day is a genius move and will no doubt result in high ratings and a bonanza for ticket scalpers. Now, if the league could do something about its sagging franchises, stinky TV deal and the perception (mostly among Detroiters) that it favored Pittsburgh and Freddie Mercury in the Stanley Cup finals, everything would be fine…Here’s a shocker: The BCS rejected the Mountain West Conference’s proposal for a college football playoff. That means another five years of choosing college football’s national champion on paper. In a related story, the Red Sox were just named World Series champs because they have the best record in baseball right now…Congratulations to the U.S. soccer team for its landmark win over Spain Wednesday. Seems like the Americans specialize in these uprisings, only to return to hit-and-miss play afterward. The challenge now is for the squad to play well Sunday in the Confederations Cup final, build momentum through World Cup qualifying and then send a team to South Africa next summer that doesn’t lose to Ghana.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? It’s time for Phillies manager Charlie Manuel to move Jimmy Rollins out of the leadoff spot for an extended period of time. Rollins hasn’t been the same player since his 2007 MVP campaign, and his inability to get on base is killing the Phillies’ offense. Rollins continues to swing at bad pitches, still tries to pull the ball, hits way too many fly balls and refuses to work walks and agitate the way a true leadoff man should. When Rollins is going well, he’s a tremendous weapon, but that hasn’t happened for a while. Manuel needs to drop him until Rollins starts hitting again, and more importantly, shows that he’s interested in doing the things to set the table for teammates, rather than trying to be a slugging shortstop. Make the move, Charlie. It’s time.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Is El Hombre the only one who sees the irony in the timing of Donald Fehr’s announcement that he is stepping down as the head of the players’ union? In a couple days, Manny Ramirez will be back with the Dodgers after his 50-day suspension for using a drug related to steroid use. Perhaps Fehr can serve as the emcee at Ramirez’s press conference, since it was in large part due to Fehr’s refusal to allow drug testing in Majoke League Baseball that the steroid era was able to blossom. Marvin Miller will always be remembered as the man who brought free agency to baseball, while Fehr’s legacy is one of aversion, avoidance and acrimony. Fehr, in concert with serial back-turner Bud Sellout, helped create a climate in which players abused performance-enhancing drugs for more than a decade and tainted the game’s reputation. Miller belongs in the Hall of Fame; Fehr shouldn’t get a vote. And to all those Dodgers fans who used to rail against Giants supporters who backed BALCO Bonds all those juicy years: You have become colossal hypocrites because of your undying support for a drug abuser and a lout.
-EH-
The great thing about the NBA Draft is that you never know who’s going to be the bust. Okay, you knew Michael Olowokandi was going to stink, A) Because the Clippers chose him and B) Well, they’re the Clippers. There may be those out there who were sure Darko Milicic was going to be a colossal mistake and who insist they could predict that Sam Bowie’s gimpy feet would make Portland look like idiots. But with few exceptions, each year’s Draft is, as new Sixers coach Eddie Jordan put it Tuesday, like Christmas. Only the nice packages aren’t labeled, so you don’t know which one contains the home colonoscopy kit and which houses the home edition of Megan Fox’s Slap-and-Tickle Workshop.
Tonight, the NBA teams play talent roulette once again with a crop of imperfect, largely undertrained and unpredictable prospects, hoping that weeks of interviewing and auditioning have led them to find someone who can help their team win. With the specter of Benoit Benjamin hanging over the proceedings, it’s possible to imagine the person who has the NBA’s antacid concession getting a beach house out of this year’s Draft.
Every single player available has some big-time questions haunting him. Even Blake Griffin, everybody’s number one pick, has his faults, particularly on defense and when he’s asked to do something with a basketball in his hands from further than a foot away from the rim. Each of the 62 point guards vying for first-round spots has his liabilities. Stephen Curry may never guard anybody. Ty Lawson can’t get it done in the halfcourt. Tyreke Evans doesn’t shoot. All the big guys measured shorter than they thought they were. And all the Europlayers are stained by the failures of many of their brethren who stumbled before them.
But let’s face it; the NBA isn’t built on 19-year olds. The Lakers and Magic had a combined one rookie on in their rotations during the Finals. With few exceptions, newcomers don’t bring playoff prosperity. The Draft is for the great unwashed. It’s a chance for Minnesota to accumulate as many picks as possible, despite not having a coach and with an owner who knows nothing about basketball. Look at what happened in the summer of 2007. The Celtics had stunk like old fish but had been hosed in the Lottery. So, they traded the fifth overall pick and some baggage to Seattle for Ray Allen and then dished former first-rounders to Minnesota for Kevin Garnett. Hello, world championship. Meanwhile, the T-Wolves are a shambles and may be trying to pin their future on a teenage Spaniard who will owe the IRS in his country $8 mil when he signs and NBA deal. (His club has accumulated so much in back taxes that it transferred the kid’s onerous buyout to the Feds.)
So, when the Raptors select DeMar DeRozan, or whatever unlucky soul gets to play with Chris Bosh for a season before watching him walk in free agency, Tronno residents shouldn’t start setting aside dough for playoff tickets. Despite all the hype by the NBA and its propaganda partners, the Draft doesn’t promise prosperity. More than likely, a high pick this year is a harbinger of more misery to come.
Nope, it’s the trades that make champions, and in today’s economic climate, the NBA is turning into league with a caste system that could soon have owners sporting bindis. The two big deals that have been consummated so far have allowed wealthier teams to acquire big-name talents in return for the expiring contracts of B and C-Listers that Kathy Griffin might even scorn. San Antonio was able to add Richard Jefferson, a 20-a-night wing that will rejuvenate its sagging offense and help the team get younger, in return for aging Bruce Bowen, complementary piece Fabricio Oberto and Kurt Thomas, whose value to a team now is more as a stock analyst than interior factor. Two days later, Cleveland acquired the Big Everything from Phoenix, which was once a showpiece franchise but is now on a cost-cutting binge. By acquiring Sasha Pavlovic’s attractive contract and The Ghost of Ben Wallace, the Suns save about $10 million and maybe more, if they can buy out Wallace. Cleveland, meanwhile, gets a Tweeting fool who can play 25 minutes a night, attract double teams and amuse locals with his hilarious comedy routine. And if he actually tries, which wasn’t always the case in Phoenix, Shaq could help the Cavs win a title. Given that this is the last year of his contract, Cleveland might actually expect maximum effort from its new road grader. Most of the time.
The lesson is clear: NFL teams may build through the Draft, but NBA powers load up by fleecing poor teams in the kinds of deals little brothers make with their older siblings before Mom or Dad vetoes the swap. Hey, Johnny, why don’t you give me your iPod for this cool rock? Sure, Ricky. You’re the best. Look at this season’s finalists. The Lakers didn’t quite give Memphis a bag of magic beans for Pau Gasol, but it was close. The cash-strapped Grizzlies single-sourced the trade with L.A., much to the dismay of every other team in the league, who would have surrendered more for the big man. Orlando, meanwhile, convinced Houston that it was a good idea to give the Magic Rafer Alston in a three-way with Memphis. At least the Rockets got Kyle Lowry out of the deal. The Grizz ended up with a whole lot of nothing, which fit in well with the rest of its roster.
Thursday night, you’re going to hear a lot about the great futures of those drafted and how much the league’s untouchables helped themselves by selecting a point guard with many questions about his game. Disregard that and pay attention to two things: Which contenders are conning economically-challenged rivals into surrendering valuable players in return for detritus, albeit cost-effective detritus? And which clubs are trying to dump salary in the hopes of having enough cap room next summer to make runs at the unprecedented bonanza of talent expected to hit free agency? By the time Friday dawns, the cast of Clean House will be able to pick about 10 of next year’s Lottery participants, and the short list of candidates for the Larry O’Brien Trophy will be established. That’s what “happens” in the NBA right now, and it’s not the best news for fans of the league’s cellar denizens.
It’s even worse for Oklahoma forward Blake Griffin. The Clippers are taking him.
* * *
EL HOMBRE SEZ: Now that Maria Sharapova is out of Wimbledon, does the tournament still go on?...Cowboy Quarterback is down in Mississippi throwing to high schoolers. Sounds like he’s preparing to play for the Raiders, not Minnesota…Say what you want about the NHL and its follies, but the one thing the league does right is its Winter Classic. Pairing the Bruins and Flyers in Fenway Park on New Year’s Day is a genius move and will no doubt result in high ratings and a bonanza for ticket scalpers. Now, if the league could do something about its sagging franchises, stinky TV deal and the perception (mostly among Detroiters) that it favored Pittsburgh and Freddie Mercury in the Stanley Cup finals, everything would be fine…Here’s a shocker: The BCS rejected the Mountain West Conference’s proposal for a college football playoff. That means another five years of choosing college football’s national champion on paper. In a related story, the Red Sox were just named World Series champs because they have the best record in baseball right now…Congratulations to the U.S. soccer team for its landmark win over Spain Wednesday. Seems like the Americans specialize in these uprisings, only to return to hit-and-miss play afterward. The challenge now is for the squad to play well Sunday in the Confederations Cup final, build momentum through World Cup qualifying and then send a team to South Africa next summer that doesn’t lose to Ghana.
* * *
YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? It’s time for Phillies manager Charlie Manuel to move Jimmy Rollins out of the leadoff spot for an extended period of time. Rollins hasn’t been the same player since his 2007 MVP campaign, and his inability to get on base is killing the Phillies’ offense. Rollins continues to swing at bad pitches, still tries to pull the ball, hits way too many fly balls and refuses to work walks and agitate the way a true leadoff man should. When Rollins is going well, he’s a tremendous weapon, but that hasn’t happened for a while. Manuel needs to drop him until Rollins starts hitting again, and more importantly, shows that he’s interested in doing the things to set the table for teammates, rather than trying to be a slugging shortstop. Make the move, Charlie. It’s time.
* * *
AND ANOTHER THING: Is El Hombre the only one who sees the irony in the timing of Donald Fehr’s announcement that he is stepping down as the head of the players’ union? In a couple days, Manny Ramirez will be back with the Dodgers after his 50-day suspension for using a drug related to steroid use. Perhaps Fehr can serve as the emcee at Ramirez’s press conference, since it was in large part due to Fehr’s refusal to allow drug testing in Majoke League Baseball that the steroid era was able to blossom. Marvin Miller will always be remembered as the man who brought free agency to baseball, while Fehr’s legacy is one of aversion, avoidance and acrimony. Fehr, in concert with serial back-turner Bud Sellout, helped create a climate in which players abused performance-enhancing drugs for more than a decade and tainted the game’s reputation. Miller belongs in the Hall of Fame; Fehr shouldn’t get a vote. And to all those Dodgers fans who used to rail against Giants supporters who backed BALCO Bonds all those juicy years: You have become colossal hypocrites because of your undying support for a drug abuser and a lout.
-EH-
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