Derek Jeter has never done anything during his professional career to bring shame upon himself or the New York Yankees.
But twice, what he hasn’t done has shown that Jeter, as admirable a sports star as almost any of his generation, is not perfect. Twice now he has shown he is not in touch with the rest of us.
The first was his failure to show up last year at Bob Sheppard’s funeral. The second, actually, hasn’t happened yet, but it will happen tonight, when Jeter will fail to appear at the All-Star Game in Arizona.
Jeter’s sterling reputation has been built upon his incredible baseball accomplishments, especially in those moments when the spotlight shone most brightly, and upon his reverence for the traditions of the Yankees and of baseball. Jeter – and every other Yankee player and coach – showed a complete disconnect with Yankee tradition a year ago by not appearing at Bob Sheppard’s funeral. Sheppard’s voice was Yankee tradition. Jeter has to know this. He is the captain and the face of the team. His absence at Sheppard’s funeral showed a disregard for the tradition he has always claimed to revere.
His absence tonight will do the same thing. Jeter accomplished something Saturday only 27 other players have accomplished when he collected his 3,000th hit. Twenty-eight men. That’s two players for every decade of Major League Baseball’s existence. When you do something only two people every 10 years can do, the rest of baseball would like to celebrate it.
Jeter will not give baseball that opportunity. That’s not right. All the dog-and-pony shows in sports have gotten so nauseating; these scripted stage performances when a team wins a championship or someone breaks a record. But since there’s already one going on tonight – which is pretty much all that is left of the All-Star Game – the show should honor one of its own taking his place in baseball history only 72 hours ago.
But Jeter won’t let it happen. His reason – that he is physically and emotionally worn out from the chase for 3,000 hits – is completely legitimate. It also is not good enough. Jeter has given so much to the game, but the game has given as much to him, if not more. He owes baseball this opportunity to celebrate his place in its history. He doesn’t have to play. He is coming off an injury.
But he has to make the trip. It’s the least he can do.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Lee spurning gives Yankee fans a taste of what it's really like to be a sports fan
Yankee fans finally have a faint reminder of what it is like to root for a real baseball team.
There seem to be very few Yankee fans left who still remember and appreciate how special 1996 was, when the Yankees won a world championship they had to wait for; that was the product of patience with young players, shrewd acquisitions made with baseball skill rather than financial might, togetherness and good decision-making in the dugout.
I never stopped appreciating how magical that run was, because by the time it happened, it was happening to a franchise that felt snake-bitten, even if not to the same degree as other recent first-time-in-eons champions such as the 2004 Red Sox or this season’s Giants.
By the time we got to 2009, the Yankees had morphed into something that could never produce a moment that sweet again. You could feel happy for the individuals for their special moments: Johnny Damon for his sweet double-steal in Game Four, Hideki Matsui’s MVP slugging, or even Alex Rodriguez’s long-awaited star post-season. Fine – he’s a cheater. He’d be a cheater without that performance. Might as well get a little glory while you’re at it. He can deal with its diminished meaning.
You could not, however, tell me that 2009 was “magical.” There is nothing magical about blowing every team away with money every single off-season, guaranteeing yourself a spot near the top of the standings every year and just waiting to see in which year the stars aligned to produce a championship.
I’ve been a Yankee fan for 32 years, so when the last out of the 27th championship was recorded last fall, I let out a loud, hearty “YEAH!” And instantly I knew one thing: I didn’t mean it. It was forced. You’re supposed to scream like that when your team wins the World Series. Then again, that’s supposed to be a moment of ecstasy.
It wasn’t. 1996 was. It was, for the same reason that this fall’s title was ecstasy for Giants fans: not just because they hadn’t felt that feeling before, but because they had no idea if they’d get another shot at it anytime soon.
That’s how it was for Yankee fans in 1996. Like Sisyphus, sports teams are forever rolling boulders up hills. When the season ends with no championship, as it does for all but one team per sport every year, it rolls all the way to the bottom, and you don’t know if you’ll ever get it even near the top. When the Yankees lost in the ALDS in 1997, we had no idea what was coming the next six years. We knew we’d better savor our precious 1996 title, because we might not get another shot soon.
Now, when the boulder rolls back down the hill, it stops on a ledge pretty darned close to the top. The Yankees have so little pushing to do. Which means, as in 2009, there will be far less glory in the accomplishment when it happens again.
But the boulder rolled a little farther down Monday night, when the Yankees lost out on their chance to acquire one of the best pitchers in baseball for the second time in three years. Cliff Lee’s signing with the Phillies is a good example in ways that transcend baseball. Someone demonstrating that there is something other than money that is his greatest priority shouldn’t be a novelty, but it is, and Lee has done us all a favor by reminding us.
He also has put Yankee fans in a position where they might, just might, get a new taste of what it truly means to be a sports fan. It means you take an interest in your team’s young players. It means you watch them grow and mature, and when they show you that they are not yet the stars you want them to be (Phil Hughes?), and they don’t win when you need them to, you don’t just show them the door and buy someone else’s proven players.
Where would the Yankees have been had they cast aside Bernie Williams, Mariano Rivera and Andy Pettitte after the Yankees lost to Seattle in such heartbreaking fashion in 1995? Surely they could have dealt all three for someone else’s stars and tried to win with more established players such as Juan Gonzalez, Ken Caminiti and Pet Hentgen. I mean, after all, why wait? We’re the Yankees. We have a mission statement that says we must win the World Series every year or consider the year a failure.
What a bunch of nonsense. Does any of you even remember 1993? Do you remember how much fun it was to go to the Stadium that summer and see a team that had had four straight losing years (something no Red Sox fan under the age of 45 has ever experienced) finally start to win with a group of young, homegrown players and castoffs shrewdly acquired from other teams? Do you remember the Stadium speakers blasting “We’re Not Gonna Take It” after every win, because the team actually seemed to be fighting back against the odds? What odds are the Yankees fighting now? The odds against their not contending? Please.
Perhaps Ivan Nova, Phil Hughes, Joba Chamberlain, Edwin Nunez, Brett Gardner are Greg Golson are on the cusp of being the core of a future Yankee winner. Maybe Austin Romine, Jesus Montero and Dellin Betances are going to join them in a year or two. I’m willing to wait, and I’m willing to take a chance that they will all fail, and the Yankees will finally experience a real dropoff.
Harold Reynolds put it perfectly this morning on MLB Network. Now the Yankees will have to do things creatively, instead of just spending money, Reynolds said. I hope they’ll do it.
If the Yankees win this year, it will be because Andy Pettitte came back and continued his wonderful career. It will be because Phil Hughes got even better with the training wheels taken off and gave the Yankees a consistent season. It will even be because some pitching guru in the organization helped A.J. Burnett straighten himself out. There is accomplishment in these things.
Where is the accomplishment in spending more money than anyone else can hope to spend to put the two best lefthanders in baseball in your rotation? Where is the glory in winning when there is almost no chance of losing?
But since the Yankees now must operate at so much higher an economic plane, with their absurdly expensive stadium and its absurdly expensive seats, there can, of course, be no chance of losing. There can be no risk of the Yankees having to be patient with young players. They cannot allow one seat to go unsold, which might happen if they operate like any other team.
The Yankees' boulder must always start two feet from the top of the hill.
It wasn’t always this way. Too bad most Yankee fans can’t remember – and will never know again – what it’s like to stand with your team as it stands with that boulder at the top of the hill, drinks champagne and rejoices in pushing it all the way from the bottom of the hill.
There seem to be very few Yankee fans left who still remember and appreciate how special 1996 was, when the Yankees won a world championship they had to wait for; that was the product of patience with young players, shrewd acquisitions made with baseball skill rather than financial might, togetherness and good decision-making in the dugout.
I never stopped appreciating how magical that run was, because by the time it happened, it was happening to a franchise that felt snake-bitten, even if not to the same degree as other recent first-time-in-eons champions such as the 2004 Red Sox or this season’s Giants.
By the time we got to 2009, the Yankees had morphed into something that could never produce a moment that sweet again. You could feel happy for the individuals for their special moments: Johnny Damon for his sweet double-steal in Game Four, Hideki Matsui’s MVP slugging, or even Alex Rodriguez’s long-awaited star post-season. Fine – he’s a cheater. He’d be a cheater without that performance. Might as well get a little glory while you’re at it. He can deal with its diminished meaning.
You could not, however, tell me that 2009 was “magical.” There is nothing magical about blowing every team away with money every single off-season, guaranteeing yourself a spot near the top of the standings every year and just waiting to see in which year the stars aligned to produce a championship.
I’ve been a Yankee fan for 32 years, so when the last out of the 27th championship was recorded last fall, I let out a loud, hearty “YEAH!” And instantly I knew one thing: I didn’t mean it. It was forced. You’re supposed to scream like that when your team wins the World Series. Then again, that’s supposed to be a moment of ecstasy.
It wasn’t. 1996 was. It was, for the same reason that this fall’s title was ecstasy for Giants fans: not just because they hadn’t felt that feeling before, but because they had no idea if they’d get another shot at it anytime soon.
That’s how it was for Yankee fans in 1996. Like Sisyphus, sports teams are forever rolling boulders up hills. When the season ends with no championship, as it does for all but one team per sport every year, it rolls all the way to the bottom, and you don’t know if you’ll ever get it even near the top. When the Yankees lost in the ALDS in 1997, we had no idea what was coming the next six years. We knew we’d better savor our precious 1996 title, because we might not get another shot soon.
Now, when the boulder rolls back down the hill, it stops on a ledge pretty darned close to the top. The Yankees have so little pushing to do. Which means, as in 2009, there will be far less glory in the accomplishment when it happens again.
But the boulder rolled a little farther down Monday night, when the Yankees lost out on their chance to acquire one of the best pitchers in baseball for the second time in three years. Cliff Lee’s signing with the Phillies is a good example in ways that transcend baseball. Someone demonstrating that there is something other than money that is his greatest priority shouldn’t be a novelty, but it is, and Lee has done us all a favor by reminding us.
He also has put Yankee fans in a position where they might, just might, get a new taste of what it truly means to be a sports fan. It means you take an interest in your team’s young players. It means you watch them grow and mature, and when they show you that they are not yet the stars you want them to be (Phil Hughes?), and they don’t win when you need them to, you don’t just show them the door and buy someone else’s proven players.
Where would the Yankees have been had they cast aside Bernie Williams, Mariano Rivera and Andy Pettitte after the Yankees lost to Seattle in such heartbreaking fashion in 1995? Surely they could have dealt all three for someone else’s stars and tried to win with more established players such as Juan Gonzalez, Ken Caminiti and Pet Hentgen. I mean, after all, why wait? We’re the Yankees. We have a mission statement that says we must win the World Series every year or consider the year a failure.
What a bunch of nonsense. Does any of you even remember 1993? Do you remember how much fun it was to go to the Stadium that summer and see a team that had had four straight losing years (something no Red Sox fan under the age of 45 has ever experienced) finally start to win with a group of young, homegrown players and castoffs shrewdly acquired from other teams? Do you remember the Stadium speakers blasting “We’re Not Gonna Take It” after every win, because the team actually seemed to be fighting back against the odds? What odds are the Yankees fighting now? The odds against their not contending? Please.
Perhaps Ivan Nova, Phil Hughes, Joba Chamberlain, Edwin Nunez, Brett Gardner are Greg Golson are on the cusp of being the core of a future Yankee winner. Maybe Austin Romine, Jesus Montero and Dellin Betances are going to join them in a year or two. I’m willing to wait, and I’m willing to take a chance that they will all fail, and the Yankees will finally experience a real dropoff.
Harold Reynolds put it perfectly this morning on MLB Network. Now the Yankees will have to do things creatively, instead of just spending money, Reynolds said. I hope they’ll do it.
If the Yankees win this year, it will be because Andy Pettitte came back and continued his wonderful career. It will be because Phil Hughes got even better with the training wheels taken off and gave the Yankees a consistent season. It will even be because some pitching guru in the organization helped A.J. Burnett straighten himself out. There is accomplishment in these things.
Where is the accomplishment in spending more money than anyone else can hope to spend to put the two best lefthanders in baseball in your rotation? Where is the glory in winning when there is almost no chance of losing?
But since the Yankees now must operate at so much higher an economic plane, with their absurdly expensive stadium and its absurdly expensive seats, there can, of course, be no chance of losing. There can be no risk of the Yankees having to be patient with young players. They cannot allow one seat to go unsold, which might happen if they operate like any other team.
The Yankees' boulder must always start two feet from the top of the hill.
It wasn’t always this way. Too bad most Yankee fans can’t remember – and will never know again – what it’s like to stand with your team as it stands with that boulder at the top of the hill, drinks champagne and rejoices in pushing it all the way from the bottom of the hill.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Icing the kicker: the worst trend in sports
We saw another example of the most annoying trend in sports Sunday: the calling of a timeout to “ice” the opposing kicker before a dramatic field-goal attempt.
Houston coach Gary Kubiak stood next to an official and called a timeout, apparently just before the Redskins snapped the football to begin the play on which Graham Gano drilled a long field goal that would have won the game. In an unusual twist, Gano’s kick after the timeout, the one that counted, missed its mark badly, and the Texans won on their next possession.
Sadly, the gambit seemed to work. Not that coaches were going to halt this awful practice, but if there was any chance, after yesterday they’ll are saying, “See? It works!”
Oh, it works alright. It works if the goal is ruining the moment. A field-goal attempt in overtime is supposed to be a dramatic, do-or-die moment. Because coaches insist on using their timeouts in these situations, with the kicker and holder lined up and the field full of potential energy, much of the drama is removed. Rather than reacting in a normal way to a do-or-die sports moment, we’re looking around the field for an official, trying to find out if we’re allowed to celebrate or be devastated.
I’m pleased to see that most fans are as upset about this practice as I am. I just wish we knew what to do about it. I hear so many fans and media members screaming, “They have to change that rule!”
What rule?
There is no rule concerning timeouts and field goals. None. Head coaches and players on the field – and nobody else – may call time out at any time, as long as a play is not going on. That means that head coaches can call time out with the other team’s field goal team all lined up.
What would you like to see changed? “Well, you shouldn’t be allowed to call time out right before the snap.” Coaches cannot predict the future. They don’t know when the other team’s center is going to snap the ball.
“Well, then, you shouldn’t be allowed to call timeout in the last five seconds of the play clock.” That’s when offenses need to call timeout most often. You’re going to allow that but not allow the defense? Perhaps the defensive team, with three seconds on the play clock, suspects a fake is coming. Are you going to deny the team the chance to change its personnel and play call with a timeout? You can’t do that.
I want this situation to change as badly as you do. If anyone has a suggestion, I want to hear it. I just don’t see what you can do to the rulebook to change it. I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing: praying that every kicker that gets “iced” misses the kick that doesn’t count, then makes the one that does.
Houston coach Gary Kubiak stood next to an official and called a timeout, apparently just before the Redskins snapped the football to begin the play on which Graham Gano drilled a long field goal that would have won the game. In an unusual twist, Gano’s kick after the timeout, the one that counted, missed its mark badly, and the Texans won on their next possession.
Sadly, the gambit seemed to work. Not that coaches were going to halt this awful practice, but if there was any chance, after yesterday they’ll are saying, “See? It works!”
Oh, it works alright. It works if the goal is ruining the moment. A field-goal attempt in overtime is supposed to be a dramatic, do-or-die moment. Because coaches insist on using their timeouts in these situations, with the kicker and holder lined up and the field full of potential energy, much of the drama is removed. Rather than reacting in a normal way to a do-or-die sports moment, we’re looking around the field for an official, trying to find out if we’re allowed to celebrate or be devastated.
I’m pleased to see that most fans are as upset about this practice as I am. I just wish we knew what to do about it. I hear so many fans and media members screaming, “They have to change that rule!”
What rule?
There is no rule concerning timeouts and field goals. None. Head coaches and players on the field – and nobody else – may call time out at any time, as long as a play is not going on. That means that head coaches can call time out with the other team’s field goal team all lined up.
What would you like to see changed? “Well, you shouldn’t be allowed to call time out right before the snap.” Coaches cannot predict the future. They don’t know when the other team’s center is going to snap the ball.
“Well, then, you shouldn’t be allowed to call timeout in the last five seconds of the play clock.” That’s when offenses need to call timeout most often. You’re going to allow that but not allow the defense? Perhaps the defensive team, with three seconds on the play clock, suspects a fake is coming. Are you going to deny the team the chance to change its personnel and play call with a timeout? You can’t do that.
I want this situation to change as badly as you do. If anyone has a suggestion, I want to hear it. I just don’t see what you can do to the rulebook to change it. I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing: praying that every kicker that gets “iced” misses the kick that doesn’t count, then makes the one that does.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Is your name Johnson? If so, the NFL would like to speak with you.
Calvin Johnson’s catch
For an organization with as much collective intelligence as the NFL, its rules-makers sure are stupid when it comes to what constitutes the simple act of catching a football.
It seems we, fans and media, are in universal agreement that Calvin Johnson, who landed in the end zone with both feet, with two hands securely around the ball, then hopped and landed on those same two feet, then fell on his butt, then rolled onto one knee, then placed the ball on the ground, and then let go of the ball as he got up to celebrate, made a game-winning touchdown catch for the beleaguered Lions last Sunday. Hell, I say he made the catch four times, first for the two feet, then for the second two feet, then for the bum and finally for the knee.
Most have said the NFL applied the rule correctly, they just hate the rule. I’ll go further. I also hate the rule, which states that a player making a catch while going to the ground must maintain possession of the ball “all the way to the ground.” Johnson did that, and then some. He just didn’t see the need to continue to hold the ball for the act of getting up.
Let’s now make this even simpler. Two 8-year-olds playing catch in the yard with a football know what is a catch and what is not. What do you supposed they’d say about the play? Something along the lines of “Gimme a break” with an exaggerated eye rolling is my guess.
Bowling ball shot guy in Buffalo
The NFL just loves to hear itself talk. If the previous item does not demonstrate this clearly, maybe this will: the NFL has banned the tailgating practices of one Ken Johnson, a Bills fan who for 20 years has presided over a popular and delightfully wacky tailgate party. In addition to grilling meat directly on the heated hood of a 1980 Ford Pinto (what the hell else are you going to do with a 1980 Ford Pinto?), Johnson offers passers-by a shot of cherry liqueur out of the thumbhole of a bowling ball.
Apparently, this is all too much non-sanctioned fun for NFL commissioner Roger Goodell. The league, which apparently holds some jurisdiction over Ralph Wilson Stadium parking lots, has banned the practice. Johnson has gracefully agreed to move his tailgate party to a farther-away lot, though he has occupied the same space for two decades.
Have there been complaints? Have police been called to quell rowdy fans, normally docile sorts who raise hell when lubed up with a shot of fruity schnapps? If the answer is no, then I wish Johnson would steadfastly refuse to relocate, and that hardy Bills fans would band together with him. I'm sure he'd end up losing, but I'd love for him to fight this. This story needs to stay in the forefront for a while, for fans' sake.
Cowherd’s take on it
I am a big fan of ESPN Radio talk show host Colin Cowherd, mostly because he always tries to offer an angle that’s a little different than what everyone else is knee-jerkedly saying about an issue in sports. I could not, however, agree with his take on Ken Johnson’s tailgate. Cowherd seized upon a quote from Johnson, who said “You wonder how many people go to the games because of characters like me. I think I add to the experience.”
Cowherd compared Johnson, for this quote, to the guy at the comedy club who heckles the comedian, thinking his own humor adds to the comedic experience; to the loudest guy at a table at a steakhouse, telling the loudest jokes, laughing at his own jokes, thinking he’s the life of the party; and to the drunk fan at the stadium who thinks he adds something.
Colin, Ken Johnson is not these guys. At worst, he adds nothing to the experience of attending an NFL game but certainly doesn’t take anything away from it. But, nearer to the truth, the collective Ken Johnsons of the sports world make it fun to go to games. All these new stadiums have priced out so many fans, all in the name of providing comfy luxury boxes for wealthy “fans,” and “family entertainment” for people who attend the game with children. You know what? That is not enhancing the NFL experience for anyone who is supposed to matter. You want to entertain your kids? Take them to an amusement park. You want them to watch football? By all means, take them to the game, but let them watch football, not climb a pirate ship. You want to entertain corporate clients? Take them on a junket to Grand Cayman.
Cowherd suggested people like Johnson are the reason people are choosing to stay home and watch in HDTV. No. People are choosing to stay home because the NFL is making it clear true fans like Ken Johnson, who enjoy a little good clean fun before and after the game, people who have provided us great memories of trips to the stadium in addition to the football memories we have, are being told they are not wanted. And by the way, with what it costs just for the privilege of parking your car in a lot, I think fans should be allowed a little Ken Johnson-type fun. One fruity shot is not the reason a crowd goes from family-friendly to drunk and disorderly. It’s just damn fun. And people do come out for that guy. If you don’t believe me, check this out. http://espn.go.com/blog/afceast/post/_/id/384/example-a-why-buffalo-bills-fans-rock.
Wanna be a reporter? Then dress like one!
Everyone, it seems, has an opinion about the Ines Sainz flap.
Sainz, in case you hadn’t heard, is the drop-dead gorgeous reporter from Mexico’s TV Azteca who claimed last weekend she was subjected to whistling and “catcalls” from Jets players when she entered the Jets’ locker room to interview quarterback Mark Sanchez, a Mexican-American.
To all those who plan to opine further on this story, I have just one thing to say: I will read your opinion if, and only if, you have seen what Sainz wore to the interview.
“She asked for it” and “she had it coming” and “what did she expect” are no longer acceptable explanations of sexual harassment, and never should have been. But I’d like each of you to ask yourselves this: If Ines Sainz showed up at your workplace and interviewed for a job there dressed the way she was dressed, would you and your co-workers not have gotten together and shared a good chuckle over the bimbo who thinks this is how you dress for work?
Female reporters deserve equal treatment in the sports media. None should be treated differently because she is beautiful, or because she has breast implants, as some have suggested Sainz has. I don’t care. Anyone is free to alter his or her body how he or she sees fit.
Just don’t show up dressed like a hoochie mama, with high-heel boots and jeans that were spray-painted on your body, and expect to be taken seriously.
Suppose the Jets' PR director intercepted Sainz on the way to the locker room and told her that she needed to change into more appropriate clothes before she'd be allowed in. That would have solved everything. Don't you get the feeling she'd have felt equally aggrieved?
Carl Crawford’s cardinal sin
Tampa Bay’s Carl Crawford made the final out of Tuesday night’s game against the Yankees trying to take third base on a fly ball. He was skewered in the media for it. He shouldn’t have been.
It is true that making the final out of any inning at third base is just about the worst mental error a ballplayer can make. You are already in position to score a run – in this case the tying run in the bottom of the ninth – on nearly any base hit to the outfield. Advancing to third base with two outs gives the runner so little extra chance to score, it is not worth the risk of being thrown out. Hence, the unwritten rule is this: don’t try for third unless you are absolutely sure you will make it.
It’s a good rule. Here’s the problem: nobody can ever be absolutely sure of making it, in a literal sense. One can only be pretty darn sure. When we see a player make it safely to third, we say, “well, he took a risk, but he made it, so it was a good risk.” How ingenious – hindsight.
Nonsense. Carl Crawford is one of the fastest players in the sport. He tagged up on a fly ball right on the rightfield line, medium-deep. He was thrown out on a sniper-rifle throw from a September-call-up outfielder, Greg Golson. If I’m Carl Crawford, I’m absolutely sure I’m going to make it. About as sure as one can be without hindsight.
Let’s put it this way: When I saw Golson settling under the ball, as a Yankee fan, my thought was, “OK, so we’ve got two outs; Crawford will be at third, but who cares?” I’m pretty sure this was a reasonable thought, shared by many. Golson’s throw was as shocking to me as it surely was to Crawford.
For an organization with as much collective intelligence as the NFL, its rules-makers sure are stupid when it comes to what constitutes the simple act of catching a football.
It seems we, fans and media, are in universal agreement that Calvin Johnson, who landed in the end zone with both feet, with two hands securely around the ball, then hopped and landed on those same two feet, then fell on his butt, then rolled onto one knee, then placed the ball on the ground, and then let go of the ball as he got up to celebrate, made a game-winning touchdown catch for the beleaguered Lions last Sunday. Hell, I say he made the catch four times, first for the two feet, then for the second two feet, then for the bum and finally for the knee.
Most have said the NFL applied the rule correctly, they just hate the rule. I’ll go further. I also hate the rule, which states that a player making a catch while going to the ground must maintain possession of the ball “all the way to the ground.” Johnson did that, and then some. He just didn’t see the need to continue to hold the ball for the act of getting up.
Let’s now make this even simpler. Two 8-year-olds playing catch in the yard with a football know what is a catch and what is not. What do you supposed they’d say about the play? Something along the lines of “Gimme a break” with an exaggerated eye rolling is my guess.
Bowling ball shot guy in Buffalo
The NFL just loves to hear itself talk. If the previous item does not demonstrate this clearly, maybe this will: the NFL has banned the tailgating practices of one Ken Johnson, a Bills fan who for 20 years has presided over a popular and delightfully wacky tailgate party. In addition to grilling meat directly on the heated hood of a 1980 Ford Pinto (what the hell else are you going to do with a 1980 Ford Pinto?), Johnson offers passers-by a shot of cherry liqueur out of the thumbhole of a bowling ball.
Apparently, this is all too much non-sanctioned fun for NFL commissioner Roger Goodell. The league, which apparently holds some jurisdiction over Ralph Wilson Stadium parking lots, has banned the practice. Johnson has gracefully agreed to move his tailgate party to a farther-away lot, though he has occupied the same space for two decades.
Have there been complaints? Have police been called to quell rowdy fans, normally docile sorts who raise hell when lubed up with a shot of fruity schnapps? If the answer is no, then I wish Johnson would steadfastly refuse to relocate, and that hardy Bills fans would band together with him. I'm sure he'd end up losing, but I'd love for him to fight this. This story needs to stay in the forefront for a while, for fans' sake.
Cowherd’s take on it
I am a big fan of ESPN Radio talk show host Colin Cowherd, mostly because he always tries to offer an angle that’s a little different than what everyone else is knee-jerkedly saying about an issue in sports. I could not, however, agree with his take on Ken Johnson’s tailgate. Cowherd seized upon a quote from Johnson, who said “You wonder how many people go to the games because of characters like me. I think I add to the experience.”
Cowherd compared Johnson, for this quote, to the guy at the comedy club who heckles the comedian, thinking his own humor adds to the comedic experience; to the loudest guy at a table at a steakhouse, telling the loudest jokes, laughing at his own jokes, thinking he’s the life of the party; and to the drunk fan at the stadium who thinks he adds something.
Colin, Ken Johnson is not these guys. At worst, he adds nothing to the experience of attending an NFL game but certainly doesn’t take anything away from it. But, nearer to the truth, the collective Ken Johnsons of the sports world make it fun to go to games. All these new stadiums have priced out so many fans, all in the name of providing comfy luxury boxes for wealthy “fans,” and “family entertainment” for people who attend the game with children. You know what? That is not enhancing the NFL experience for anyone who is supposed to matter. You want to entertain your kids? Take them to an amusement park. You want them to watch football? By all means, take them to the game, but let them watch football, not climb a pirate ship. You want to entertain corporate clients? Take them on a junket to Grand Cayman.
Cowherd suggested people like Johnson are the reason people are choosing to stay home and watch in HDTV. No. People are choosing to stay home because the NFL is making it clear true fans like Ken Johnson, who enjoy a little good clean fun before and after the game, people who have provided us great memories of trips to the stadium in addition to the football memories we have, are being told they are not wanted. And by the way, with what it costs just for the privilege of parking your car in a lot, I think fans should be allowed a little Ken Johnson-type fun. One fruity shot is not the reason a crowd goes from family-friendly to drunk and disorderly. It’s just damn fun. And people do come out for that guy. If you don’t believe me, check this out. http://espn.go.com/blog/afceast/post/_/id/384/example-a-why-buffalo-bills-fans-rock.
Wanna be a reporter? Then dress like one!
Everyone, it seems, has an opinion about the Ines Sainz flap.
Sainz, in case you hadn’t heard, is the drop-dead gorgeous reporter from Mexico’s TV Azteca who claimed last weekend she was subjected to whistling and “catcalls” from Jets players when she entered the Jets’ locker room to interview quarterback Mark Sanchez, a Mexican-American.
To all those who plan to opine further on this story, I have just one thing to say: I will read your opinion if, and only if, you have seen what Sainz wore to the interview.
“She asked for it” and “she had it coming” and “what did she expect” are no longer acceptable explanations of sexual harassment, and never should have been. But I’d like each of you to ask yourselves this: If Ines Sainz showed up at your workplace and interviewed for a job there dressed the way she was dressed, would you and your co-workers not have gotten together and shared a good chuckle over the bimbo who thinks this is how you dress for work?
Female reporters deserve equal treatment in the sports media. None should be treated differently because she is beautiful, or because she has breast implants, as some have suggested Sainz has. I don’t care. Anyone is free to alter his or her body how he or she sees fit.
Just don’t show up dressed like a hoochie mama, with high-heel boots and jeans that were spray-painted on your body, and expect to be taken seriously.
Suppose the Jets' PR director intercepted Sainz on the way to the locker room and told her that she needed to change into more appropriate clothes before she'd be allowed in. That would have solved everything. Don't you get the feeling she'd have felt equally aggrieved?
Carl Crawford’s cardinal sin
Tampa Bay’s Carl Crawford made the final out of Tuesday night’s game against the Yankees trying to take third base on a fly ball. He was skewered in the media for it. He shouldn’t have been.
It is true that making the final out of any inning at third base is just about the worst mental error a ballplayer can make. You are already in position to score a run – in this case the tying run in the bottom of the ninth – on nearly any base hit to the outfield. Advancing to third base with two outs gives the runner so little extra chance to score, it is not worth the risk of being thrown out. Hence, the unwritten rule is this: don’t try for third unless you are absolutely sure you will make it.
It’s a good rule. Here’s the problem: nobody can ever be absolutely sure of making it, in a literal sense. One can only be pretty darn sure. When we see a player make it safely to third, we say, “well, he took a risk, but he made it, so it was a good risk.” How ingenious – hindsight.
Nonsense. Carl Crawford is one of the fastest players in the sport. He tagged up on a fly ball right on the rightfield line, medium-deep. He was thrown out on a sniper-rifle throw from a September-call-up outfielder, Greg Golson. If I’m Carl Crawford, I’m absolutely sure I’m going to make it. About as sure as one can be without hindsight.
Let’s put it this way: When I saw Golson settling under the ball, as a Yankee fan, my thought was, “OK, so we’ve got two outs; Crawford will be at third, but who cares?” I’m pretty sure this was a reasonable thought, shared by many. Golson’s throw was as shocking to me as it surely was to Crawford.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Sports media BS about Andre Dawson
I flipped over to SportsCenter for about a minute this morning; just enough time to hear Tim Kurkjian talking about Andre Dawson. Dawson will enter the Hall of Fame today, and Kurkjian gave a list of his accomplishments, which sound pretty Hall-worthy.
But I have to call BS on this: he also said Tony Gwynn said Dawson was “as good as any player in our league for many years.”
What does that mean? Does it mean Gwynn thinks Dawson was the best player in the National League? If you don’t think that’s what it means, you need to read the words again. It means that Dawson was either the best player or in a tie for that status.
Yet Gwynn, at least according to Kurkjian, didn’t say “Dawson was the best player in our league.” Why not? Wasn’t he? Was he better than his contemporaries? Ryne Sandberg? Joe Morgan? Mike Schmidt? Mike Schmidt! Was Dawson really as good as Mike Schimidt? Better?
Absurd. Dawson was not as good as Mike Schmidt. So he was not “as good as any player in our league.” All you have to do is name one player to see that.
But nobody questions the soft statement. Had Gwynn said Dawson was “the best player in our league,” BS detectors would have gone off all over the ESPN-watching country. But this soft language goes undetected.
It goes to show the following: people need to pay closer attention to the words they use and the words they hear. There’s very little honesty and too much political correctness. Andre Dawson will be inducted into the Hall of Fame today. He was elected fair and square. That doesn’t make him the best player of his generation in the National League. He wasn’t.
But I have to call BS on this: he also said Tony Gwynn said Dawson was “as good as any player in our league for many years.”
What does that mean? Does it mean Gwynn thinks Dawson was the best player in the National League? If you don’t think that’s what it means, you need to read the words again. It means that Dawson was either the best player or in a tie for that status.
Yet Gwynn, at least according to Kurkjian, didn’t say “Dawson was the best player in our league.” Why not? Wasn’t he? Was he better than his contemporaries? Ryne Sandberg? Joe Morgan? Mike Schmidt? Mike Schmidt! Was Dawson really as good as Mike Schimidt? Better?
Absurd. Dawson was not as good as Mike Schmidt. So he was not “as good as any player in our league.” All you have to do is name one player to see that.
But nobody questions the soft statement. Had Gwynn said Dawson was “the best player in our league,” BS detectors would have gone off all over the ESPN-watching country. But this soft language goes undetected.
It goes to show the following: people need to pay closer attention to the words they use and the words they hear. There’s very little honesty and too much political correctness. Andre Dawson will be inducted into the Hall of Fame today. He was elected fair and square. That doesn’t make him the best player of his generation in the National League. He wasn’t.
Monday, May 24, 2010
SUPREMES’ RULING A BLOW AGAINST ‘THE BIG SPORTS COMPANY’
A Supreme Court ruling concerning the NFL got very little press today, both on ESPN.com and on the online site of the New York Times.
But it drew my attention nonetheless.
The court ruled unanimously that the league is not a single entity but 32 separate businesses, and therefore cannot receive antitrust protection.
Now, I know very little about the law. That’s the domain of my wife and, more specifically in this case, my sister, who practices corporate law.
But I do know this: I’m getting very tired of seeing the NFL turn into the WWE or American Gladiators – a collection of trained warriors being divvied up under a single patriarch and told to go out and entertain the masses. Jerry Seinfeld once joked that all sports fans root for is laundry. I don’t think he had any idea how right he was.
In fact, the only things other than the uniforms that differentiate one NFL team from another anymore are the fans, by dint of the common culture they have from their shared geographic location.
And really, neither the fans nor the uniforms differ that much. Every NFL uniform now has the NFL shield – that’s fine; they all should bear the league’s shield. But do they have to bear it in exactly the same manner? “The shield must go on a small separate, white piece of fabric that connects the two sides of the V below the player’s neck, because that’s what an NFL uniform is mandated to be.” I’m paraphrasing the obvious.
Players, however, don’t play for the NFL. They play for the New York Giants (or whomever). Why should the Giants’ uniform conform to an exact style? Can’t they determine what their uniform should look like – and, more importantly for this court decision and for their business – who makes it?
I’ve been disgusted seeing EVERY team in the league mandated to put an identical “C” on the jerseys of their captains. Perhaps certain teams would like to decide for themselves that, “We’re football players, not hockey players. We don’t put a ‘C’ on the captain’s jersey.” Perhaps they would like to wear them but would prefer to determine for themselves what that “C” should look like. Maybe they don’t like having a “C” that looks like the one in the world “ALCOA.”
This is a trend that is making sports awfully bland. I know it’s not the most important consideration and hardly takes away from what was the best NCAA tournament I’ve ever seen, but the NCAA’s mandatory uniform floor being used in every venue removed the uniqueness of the arenas used. The people who traveled to, say, Syracuse should have been able to take with them the memory of their favorite team playing on “Jim Boeheim Court,” adorned in orange and a little blue. Instead, they remember the exact same wood-and-black monolith they saw on TV while watching other games.
The paranoia of sports leagues to control EVERYTHING is taking all the character out of the games we love. It’s enough to make me wish that Cubs fans would storm Wrigley Field by the thousands and knock those light stanchions from the roof and make that ballpark, once again, the true Friendly Confines – and, in doing so, raise a giant middle finger to Major League Baseball and to the Cubs’ ownership in a way that says, “We are the Cubs, and we don’t care about MLB’s prime-time TV ratings. We play our g**dam games in the g**dam daytime, because WE think that’s when baseball belongs.”
I hardly think Monday’s Supreme Court ruling is going to have anywhere near that dramatic an effect, and I think we’ve pretty much lost this battle against the devolution of sports into one big company. But if at least Eli Manning can take the sterile, corporate, ALCOA-looking logo off his chest, so he doesn’t look like he’s a business partner of the captain of the defense that’s trying to take his head off, it’s a step in the right direction.
But it drew my attention nonetheless.
The court ruled unanimously that the league is not a single entity but 32 separate businesses, and therefore cannot receive antitrust protection.
Now, I know very little about the law. That’s the domain of my wife and, more specifically in this case, my sister, who practices corporate law.
But I do know this: I’m getting very tired of seeing the NFL turn into the WWE or American Gladiators – a collection of trained warriors being divvied up under a single patriarch and told to go out and entertain the masses. Jerry Seinfeld once joked that all sports fans root for is laundry. I don’t think he had any idea how right he was.
In fact, the only things other than the uniforms that differentiate one NFL team from another anymore are the fans, by dint of the common culture they have from their shared geographic location.
And really, neither the fans nor the uniforms differ that much. Every NFL uniform now has the NFL shield – that’s fine; they all should bear the league’s shield. But do they have to bear it in exactly the same manner? “The shield must go on a small separate, white piece of fabric that connects the two sides of the V below the player’s neck, because that’s what an NFL uniform is mandated to be.” I’m paraphrasing the obvious.
Players, however, don’t play for the NFL. They play for the New York Giants (or whomever). Why should the Giants’ uniform conform to an exact style? Can’t they determine what their uniform should look like – and, more importantly for this court decision and for their business – who makes it?
I’ve been disgusted seeing EVERY team in the league mandated to put an identical “C” on the jerseys of their captains. Perhaps certain teams would like to decide for themselves that, “We’re football players, not hockey players. We don’t put a ‘C’ on the captain’s jersey.” Perhaps they would like to wear them but would prefer to determine for themselves what that “C” should look like. Maybe they don’t like having a “C” that looks like the one in the world “ALCOA.”
This is a trend that is making sports awfully bland. I know it’s not the most important consideration and hardly takes away from what was the best NCAA tournament I’ve ever seen, but the NCAA’s mandatory uniform floor being used in every venue removed the uniqueness of the arenas used. The people who traveled to, say, Syracuse should have been able to take with them the memory of their favorite team playing on “Jim Boeheim Court,” adorned in orange and a little blue. Instead, they remember the exact same wood-and-black monolith they saw on TV while watching other games.
The paranoia of sports leagues to control EVERYTHING is taking all the character out of the games we love. It’s enough to make me wish that Cubs fans would storm Wrigley Field by the thousands and knock those light stanchions from the roof and make that ballpark, once again, the true Friendly Confines – and, in doing so, raise a giant middle finger to Major League Baseball and to the Cubs’ ownership in a way that says, “We are the Cubs, and we don’t care about MLB’s prime-time TV ratings. We play our g**dam games in the g**dam daytime, because WE think that’s when baseball belongs.”
I hardly think Monday’s Supreme Court ruling is going to have anywhere near that dramatic an effect, and I think we’ve pretty much lost this battle against the devolution of sports into one big company. But if at least Eli Manning can take the sterile, corporate, ALCOA-looking logo off his chest, so he doesn’t look like he’s a business partner of the captain of the defense that’s trying to take his head off, it’s a step in the right direction.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Urban Meyer Is Sports' Latest Coward
I had a run-in with a high-school hockey coach 13 years ago. The coach was furious that I printed a quote from one of his alternate captains after the team's flat, losing performance in the first round of the state tournament.
I knew the player to be somewhat of a hothead, but he was, as a key player, a senior and a guy with an "A" on his sweater, a perfectly appropriate player for me to interview after the game. The player criticized two key coaching decisions. I thought one of his criticisms was dead-on, the other ill-considered. But that didn't matter. The young man had a right to his opinions, and I certainly had a right to print them.
The coach was upset, not just because I printed these quotes, but because I did not go to him for response to the player's comments. He had a right to be upset about that.
At the beginning of the following season, he refused to speak with me at all concerning the team, finally relenting after my editor spoke to him. Our relationship seemed uncomfortable after that, to me, that is, but he apparently got over it very quickly, telling a mutual friend that he had no problem with me, and later telling me what a good job he thought I did.
Incidentally, I did not think he was a very good coach, but I admired the fact that he was willing to listen to reason, and to get over one indiscretion by a journalist concerning an accurate quote.
I italicize the word "accurate" because there has been a flap today concerning another accurate quote from an athlete. Orlando Sentinel reporter Jeremy Fowler quoted Florida Gators receiver Deonte Thompson comparing Tim Tebow and his apparent successor, John Brantley. "You never know with Tim," Thompson said. "He can bolt. You'll think he's running, but then he'll just come up and pass it to you. You just have to be ready at all times. With Brantley, everything's with rhythm, time. Like, you know what I mean, a real quarterback."
That last part, "real quarterback," implies that Tebow is not a real quarterback. I don't care about the debate over what type of quarterback Tebow is. What I do care about is that Urban Meyer was angry enough about the quote that he threatened the reporter -- becoming just the next in a long line of sports figures to reveal himself as a bully, and, closely related, a coward.
Meyer seems to be upset for two reasons -- one, because the quote is insulting to his favorite player; or, at least it would be insulting to Tebow if it weren't clear to anyone with common sense that Thompson merely was drawing comparisons between the freelancing, running style of Tebow and the more traditional pocket passing of Brantley; and two -- because Thompson has apparently caught hell for the quote, likely from those without the aforementioned common sense.
But that's not Fowler's problem. Fowler's job is to report facts and back them up with accurate quotations. For those of us with common sense enough to know what Thompson meant, it was a great quote, the type of quote that let us football fans know exactly what this receiver felt about working with one quarterback after working with another.
It was a rare moment when an athlete, in an interview, actually SAID something!
And what does this reporter get for this insightful piece of writing? A threat from a gutless coach, who said, "If I were (Thompson's) father, we'd be going at it right now. Be very careful." And where did Meyer make this threat? In front of several of his assistants. Just like so many other sports figures, who threaten reporters in front of all their teammates. You never see a guy go to a newsroom and threaten a reporter. He might actually get his butt kicked.
ESPN's Michael Wilbon decried Meyer's actions on Pardon the Interruption, wondering if Meyer is going to threaten scouts and GMs who pass on Tebow in the draft. No. Of course he won't threaten them. They're usually former football players who just might give Meyer the beating he deserves. A reporter? Ah, just some skinny geek with a notebook who never played a sport.
Just once, I'd like to see one of these cowards take on the wrong reporter -- the one who actually moonlights as an MMA fighter -- and get a serious beating. I don't think that will change the fact that coaches think the press is supposed to be nothing but positive, but maybe it will tell them that it's time to show some guts. If you're so tough, try picking on someone your own size -- and without all your buddies backing you up.
I knew the player to be somewhat of a hothead, but he was, as a key player, a senior and a guy with an "A" on his sweater, a perfectly appropriate player for me to interview after the game. The player criticized two key coaching decisions. I thought one of his criticisms was dead-on, the other ill-considered. But that didn't matter. The young man had a right to his opinions, and I certainly had a right to print them.
The coach was upset, not just because I printed these quotes, but because I did not go to him for response to the player's comments. He had a right to be upset about that.
At the beginning of the following season, he refused to speak with me at all concerning the team, finally relenting after my editor spoke to him. Our relationship seemed uncomfortable after that, to me, that is, but he apparently got over it very quickly, telling a mutual friend that he had no problem with me, and later telling me what a good job he thought I did.
Incidentally, I did not think he was a very good coach, but I admired the fact that he was willing to listen to reason, and to get over one indiscretion by a journalist concerning an accurate quote.
I italicize the word "accurate" because there has been a flap today concerning another accurate quote from an athlete. Orlando Sentinel reporter Jeremy Fowler quoted Florida Gators receiver Deonte Thompson comparing Tim Tebow and his apparent successor, John Brantley. "You never know with Tim," Thompson said. "He can bolt. You'll think he's running, but then he'll just come up and pass it to you. You just have to be ready at all times. With Brantley, everything's with rhythm, time. Like, you know what I mean, a real quarterback."
That last part, "real quarterback," implies that Tebow is not a real quarterback. I don't care about the debate over what type of quarterback Tebow is. What I do care about is that Urban Meyer was angry enough about the quote that he threatened the reporter -- becoming just the next in a long line of sports figures to reveal himself as a bully, and, closely related, a coward.
Meyer seems to be upset for two reasons -- one, because the quote is insulting to his favorite player; or, at least it would be insulting to Tebow if it weren't clear to anyone with common sense that Thompson merely was drawing comparisons between the freelancing, running style of Tebow and the more traditional pocket passing of Brantley; and two -- because Thompson has apparently caught hell for the quote, likely from those without the aforementioned common sense.
But that's not Fowler's problem. Fowler's job is to report facts and back them up with accurate quotations. For those of us with common sense enough to know what Thompson meant, it was a great quote, the type of quote that let us football fans know exactly what this receiver felt about working with one quarterback after working with another.
It was a rare moment when an athlete, in an interview, actually SAID something!
And what does this reporter get for this insightful piece of writing? A threat from a gutless coach, who said, "If I were (Thompson's) father, we'd be going at it right now. Be very careful." And where did Meyer make this threat? In front of several of his assistants. Just like so many other sports figures, who threaten reporters in front of all their teammates. You never see a guy go to a newsroom and threaten a reporter. He might actually get his butt kicked.
ESPN's Michael Wilbon decried Meyer's actions on Pardon the Interruption, wondering if Meyer is going to threaten scouts and GMs who pass on Tebow in the draft. No. Of course he won't threaten them. They're usually former football players who just might give Meyer the beating he deserves. A reporter? Ah, just some skinny geek with a notebook who never played a sport.
Just once, I'd like to see one of these cowards take on the wrong reporter -- the one who actually moonlights as an MMA fighter -- and get a serious beating. I don't think that will change the fact that coaches think the press is supposed to be nothing but positive, but maybe it will tell them that it's time to show some guts. If you're so tough, try picking on someone your own size -- and without all your buddies backing you up.
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