Cynics can't shoot down the Ice Bucket Challege

The Huffington Post has published an article by one Ben Kosinski criticizing the Ice Bucket Challenge for being ineffective. In this same article he points out how effective the Challenge has been. Nice strategy there. The guy points out that donations to the fight against amyotrophic lateral sclerosis – known most commonly as ALS or Lou Gehrig’s disease – have increased fourfold since the start of this effort compared to the same time period a year ago.

Since he torpedoes his main point right there, he naturally must back it up with some ideas that might actually support his opinion. They don’t. They’re ridiculous, and they’re unoriginal.

He argues, for instance, that our participation in the Challenge (I use “our” because I did it) is less about raising awareness as it is filling our social-media-fueled need to share our life experiences. This is an idea that has been written about so many times, Kosinski should be ashamed for pulling it out again. Even worse, it’s completely misplaced. Not that it isn’t true. It is. It’s pretty sad knowing how many people out there feel the need to film and post all their life experiences. A vacation isn’t a vacation unless you can post it to Facebook.

That has nothing to do with the Ice Bucket Challenge, which is not a life experience. It’s something that takes five minutes and exists solely within social media. Social media, itself, is a pretty sad excuse for a life experience, but if you use it, you might as well do some good with it.

“Instead of donating, we are posting,” Kosinski writes. No. We are doing both. As Kosinski pointed out, donations are up fourfold. Did it not occur to him that people who take the time to douse themselves with ice water also are donating?

Here’s my favorite part: “What if the thousands of people who spent money on buying one or two2 (sic) bags of ice actually gave that money to ALS?” Brilliant. Instead of making a nice donation and encouraging others to do the same, calling attention to it with a little self-deprecation, I should have just donated $1.98.

And once again, this logic has been beaten to death. Every October, a few souls bash the NFL for its displays of pink for awareness of breast cancer. I’m one of those folks. The NFL outfits its roughly 1,600 players in all new uniforms, home and away, for one month. Coaches and officials, too. That’s a lot of money that could be put toward research, and it’s hard not to be cynical about the NFL’s motives, knowing the regard in which the league holds human health. And still, the effort surely is at least somewhat effective.

A bag of ice? A dollar ninety-friggin-eight. You, Ben, are suggesting I write a check to the ALS Association for $1.98. I have a better idea: you do that, you cheap bastard. The rest of us are actually making real donations and sharing a silly laugh through social media, which is how many of us share such laughs with friends from afar.

Nice try anyway, Ben. Seriously. I really enjoyed reading about the Ice Bucket Challenge “generating immediate and heightened awareness but lacking any actual donations” and “the ALS Assocation (sic) has seen as much as four times as many donations.” Way to back up what you’re saying with facts.

I hope everyone will keep up this lack of actual donations by visiting www.alsa.org and donating today. And, over Ben Kosinski’s objections, have a little fun with it.

We've got replay. No more managers on the field.

I am dead-set against the use of video review in baseball. In fact, I am dead-set against the use of instant replay in any sport, but the use of it in baseball bothers me the most. My reasons? I’ll save those for another column.

If, however, we are stuck with replay in baseball forever, and I’m certain we are, replay must replace all discussions between managers and umpires on reviewable plays. There was an unnecessary stroll from the dugout to second base by Baltimore manager Buck Showalter in the third inning of today’s Yankees-Orioles game, and the intent of it was so obvious it was sad.

Ivan Nova picked off Steve Lombardozzi on a very close play at second base. Showalter walked out to second in a way that, from 1839 up through last season, indicated an intent to argue with the umpire (a gambit that has never served any purpose but entertainment for the fans or motivation for the manager’s team, but whatever).

With replay now in effect, of course, there is nothing for Showalter to argue. Instead, as Orioles play-by-play man Gary Thorne narrated in real time, Showalter was stalling for time to allow the coaches in the dugout to get word to determine whether the Orioles should challenge the play. Showalter, when he got to the umpire, actually turned to face the Baltimore dugout while conversing with the umpire.

What possibly could he have said to the umpire? Whatever it was, it was complete nonsense, unless it was, “I have nothing to say to you; I’m just looking at my coaches to see if they think you’re wrong. OK, they don’t think so.”

Can we just dispense with the charade of managers walking out to say nothing to umpires? Not only does it look stupid, it stalls the game, because then we have to wait for the manager to walk back. If there’s any chance of a challenge, just have the next batter stop right before reaching the batter’s box and tell the home-plate umpire, “Just give us a second; we might challenge.” The rule should be this: if the manager comes out of the dugout, it is either A) a visit to the pitcher’s mound (meaning the next such visit means the pitcher is gone; or B) he is challenging the call, and if he’s wrong, he loses a challenge.

But replay still has to go. Again: another column, another time.

Don't Blame the Stadium -- Yankee FANS are Quiet

I don’t take any issue with Terry Francona or Dan Shulman – who form a terrific team, by the way. (Oh, and you should catch a college basketball game with Shulman on the call, too. The guy’s just solid.) The ESPN Sunday Night Baseball broadcast team surmised this week that the weak crowd noise in the new Yankee Stadium – and it is undeniably weak – is a product of the Stadium’s design and high ticket prices. I don’t disagree, but I think there is something else that has contributed even more. Frankly, I think the old Yankee Stadium would be almost as quiet were it still standing and housing Bombers games. The fans have changed. Specifically, winning has spoiled them. I must first admit: I am going to take this completely from a self-centered viewpoint, but I don’t care. I think I’ve been a pretty damned good Yankee fan for 35 years. And my generation of Yankee fans and I had a lot to do with making the old Stadium what it was in the 1990s and early 2000s. It’s a good viewpoint. Read it. I’m 39 years old. That means I was 22 and a senior in college in the fall of 1995, when the Yankees made the playoffs for the first time in 14 years. I repeat: the Yankees made the playoffs for the first time in 14 years. Do you know what it’s like to go 14 years without seeing your team play a single post-season game? If you are an Orioles, Royals, Indians, Rangers, Astros or Pirates fan (or if you were an Expos fan), you do. If you came of age in the era of divisional play and cheered for any other team, you don’t. And either way, you certainly don’t know what it’s like to have that kind of drought while watching another team in the same city win a championship and take the town over. That’s what it was to be a Yankee fan in the 1980s – to see the Mets not only win two division titles and a World Championship, but also to see them draw 3 million fans and make New York truly a Mets town. Don’t believe me? The Mets won the World Series in 1986 for the first time in 17 years. They drew 3 million fans the next year. The Yankees won it in 1996 for the first time in 18 years. They drew less than 2.6 million the next year – in a bigger ballpark! They failed to draw 3 million in 1998, when they won 114 regular-season games. Over the six years from 1985, when the Mets started to content, to 1990, the Mets ranked second, second, second, first, third and second in the National League in attendance. I won’t even get into where the Yankees fell over those same six seasons, but over a similar stretch, from 1995 through 2000, the Yankees ranked seventh, seventh, fifth, third, third and third in the American League. Believe me now that New York was a Mets town? You put all that together, and you can believe me when I tell you that by 1995, those of us who had not seen the Yankees in the playoffs since we were little kids, had worked ourselves into a pretty serious frenzy, and when we went to the Stadium, we were going to shout ourselves hoarse to give the Yankees every last bit of home-field advantage. That place was rowdy and loud and happy and awesome. By 1999, when the Yankees won for the third time in four years, I guess it’s fair to say our thirst for victory had been somewhat slaked. The insane-asylum atmosphere in the Bronx could have dissipated. But then along came the Subway Series in 2000, and 9/11 in 2001, and the rise of the new and improved Red Sox in 2003. Each year, there was some new incentive to make it seem like life and death all over again. That’s not the case now. It’s hard to put a finger on when it stopped being that way. I think it was probably 2004, both with the arrival of Alex Rodriguez and the stunning loss to Boston in the 2004 ALCS. Each of those events changed the dynamic, at least for me. In 1996, the Yankees were a scrappy band of overachievers, a group so charming and likeable that the rival Mets took out a full-page ad in the New York Times after the Yankees won the World Series, congratulating the Yankees and thanking them for “making our city proud.” They ceased to be that sometime before 2004, but you could almost talk yourself into it. Not anymore, once Rodriguez showed up. At that point, the Yankees were undeniably the team that was going to win by outspending you. And they were worse than that, because they didn’t win. The loss in the ALCS, however, meant that the stakes we always knew no longer existed. It’s sad to say, and nobody in New York OR Boston wants to hear this, but the stakes were always different. The Yankees had to win every year. The Red Sox, like the Brooklyn Dodgers 50 years earlier, just had to win once. The 2007 title for Boston and the 2009 Yankees championship were great moments for each city, but they exist in a vacuum. For the Yankee fan, the collective years of having the upper-hand, right through 2003, were sweet because we had to win every time, and we did. That ended in 2004. And even if that’s not how you feel about it, there is this: If you are my age, you are not screaming your lungs out at Yankee Stadium the way you did when you were 22, because if you kept that up, you’d have no voice left. And anyway, what’s the point? You don’t have the fear of not winning this year because you don’t know what the future holds. You know exactly what the future holds. More Yankee teams that should at least make the playoffs. And if you’re 22 now, you are in prime stadium-screaming age. But you will never know what it is to want so desperately just to see your team win once, the way we did in 1995, the way fans of every other team do now. You can’t know, because the Yankees have been in the playoffs every single year but one since you were 5 years old, and they’ve won five World Championships. You are spoiled. You’re not as loud as we were. Why would you be?

Remember how awesome it was when East won the World Series?

Something has been bothering me about the Little League World Series for 22 years, and I’m going to get in off my chest right now.

No, it’s not that 11- and 12-year-olds are having their Little League games broadcast around the world in prime time on ESPN, although that is a little disturbing. My sportswriting colleague Jeff (also one of my most dependable readers) has a huge issue with this, and he’s not wrong. Here’s the way I see this: if you really want to watch kids this age on TV playing baseball, and you don’t know them or, at least, they’re not representing a place you call home, I have to question your choice of sports programming.

Yeah, I know, I know: “These kids are playing for the love of the game, with youthful innocence and enthusiasm and blah, blah, blah…” Almost all baseball players play the game that way. A few major-leaguers do not. Minor-leaguers do. Go watch them. Watching little kids play is creepy.

The flip side: if the kids are competing for a world championship, and they’re from your hometown, or at least a town close enough that you can feel a connection, you’d be crazy NOT to watch.

The Little Leaguers representing my hometown, Fairfield, Conn., just lost in their bid to reach a second consecutive Little League World Series. They dropped a one-run contest in the New England regional semifinals last night to the team from Cumberland, R.I. I was very proud to see that the town where I grew up and played Little League has gone so far in this competition two straight years.

What annoys me, however, is the way the TV coverage strips away that hometown identity. Yesterday’s game was on the New England Sports Network, the same network that shows Red Sox and Bruins games. I don’t get NESN here in Pennsylvania, so I don’t know how the score bug looked on the NESN broadcast. If the game were on ESPN, however, the teams would have been called “Connecticut” and “Rhode Island.” That’s how they would have appeared on the graphic, and that’s what the announcers would have called them 95 percent of the time.

But Connecticut and Rhode Island did not play. They don’t even have teams. The teams were Fairfield and Cumberland. I didn’t start following this regional online because Connecticut was in it. Connecticut is in it every year, and if the team is from New London or Kent or Manchester, I couldn’t care less. Those places are nowhere near where I grew up. Connecticut is a small state, but it’s not that friggin’ small. I started following to see how Fairfield was doing.

The reason this rant of mine goes back 22 years is it brings us to 1989, the year Trumbull, with Chris Drury, won the World Series. I was, like everyone I knew back then, fascinated that a team so close – Fairfield and Trumbull are less than a mile apart over near Sacred Heart University – was winning a world championship.

What left me scratching my head, however, is why the word “Trumbull” was absent from the team’s jerseys, replaced with the word “East.” Teams in the LLWS trade in their hometown uniforms for one representing their region.

But these teams are not representing their region. I can assure you, I will glean no regional pride later this month if Cumberland, or Andover, Mass., wins the Little League World Series, just, I’m sure, nobody in Pennsylvania in 1989 cared that a team from the “East” won it. I would have taken great pride had Fairfield won it.

Alas, ESPN and Little League would have done all they could to rob me of this. Fairfield would have worn “New England” jerseys and Mike Patrick would have referred to the team as “Connecticut.”

I’m sure that Little League wants to make sure all the teams have nice uniforms to wear – and that they look good on TV. I don’t mind that. But I guarantee, some uniform company can produce new uniforms in a few days that read “Fairfield” or “Cumberland” – or, for that matter, “Keystone,” the Clinton County, Pa., Little League team playing this weekend for the Mid-Atlantic’s berth in the LLWS.

But, like everything else, let’s just reduce everyone to their lowest common denominator. The hell with the folks from Cumberland, who might enjoy seeing that town’s name on TV on the jersey of the kids they know, competing for a world championship.

Jeter Commits Errors of Omission

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

SportsCenter is Bad for Children

OK, that's a little overly dramatic, but it scares me that a generation of future broadcasters is learning the trade by watching this crappy show.

I never really see any SC edition other than the weekday-morning shows, but I hope the people who host those other shows are better than the horrendous Josh Elliott. Last week I meant to blog something about his use of the term "missers" as the plural form of the word "mister." It isn't. The word is "messrs."

Today he showed the highlight of Kyle Singler of Duke crashing into ESPN sportscaster Dan Shulman (great play-by-play man, by the way) to save a loose ball (great play, by the way). And he identified Shulman as being "astride" Dick Vitale.

Please, readers, pick up a dictionary and look up the word astride. Quite a visual you will get of the working relationship of Messrs. Shulman and Vitale.

I'm fed up with the dorky, dippy Elliott. He is now in my crosshairs.

I have DirecTV, so I don't get to see NHL games on Versus, but I do see Versus hockey ads on the NHL network. Not good, boys. I'm actually pretty glad the NHL finds ways to keep most sports fans out. Thirty years I've been a hockey fan, and I'm glad that most people don't appreciate this great sport. It hasn't been corrupted by superstar cachet. I hope it never is.

So, Versus and NHL, please keep up the good work. Three closeups of Tim Thomas' face as we hear highlights of his saves -- all while he serves as Tukka Rask's backup. That's a fine ad campaign.

Scoreless Duel -- Or Scoreless Dull?

Wow, let's just get to April and play some real baseball, because this isn't doing much for me, other than watching what the Florida wind can do to a baseball -- oh, and a nice pick by Nick Johnson. It'll be good to see him back at first base for the Yankees. Oh, wait, we already have a first baseman? I guess he'll DH. So much for leaving the DH role empty for our older position players such as Posada, et al. Needless to say, I'm not in love with the Yankees' off-season.

So let's talk hockey. Hockey? Yes, hockey. Specifically this: Will the buzz from the Olympics translate to an increase in interest in the NHL?

In a word, no. I don't know why Americans don't like hockey. I love hockey. I always have. It's not great on TV, but really, neither is baseball. And hockey in person is better than anything. It's beatiful. You think the sound of the crack of the bet is special when you're at a baseball game? It's nothing compared to the "clop" of a puck on a stick as a player receives a pass.

Hockey has given Americans plenty of opportunities to fall in love with it. The Miracle on Ice -- followed, you may remember, by the first of four straight Stanley Cups for the New York Islanders, won in sudden-death overtime. Gretzky's time in L.A., Lemieux's entire career in Pittsburgh, including back-to-back titles. The Rangers' breaking the Curse in 1994. Not to mention there was already a USA-Canada gold medal game in 2002, in this country!

It's not the lack of a good TV deal. The NHL was on ESPN for years. It helped, but hockey just never took hold. And let's put it this way: if football were on Versus, would the ratings suffer? Or would people complain for five minutes and then find out where Versus was? You bet they would.

Does interest in figure skating pick up after the Olympics? Seriously, does anyone watch the long program, or whatever it's called, and see some pixie win a gold medal, then make a commitment to go to more figure-skating performances? Or, for that matter, speed skating? Does anyone care about Apolo Ohno in a non-Olympic year?

I don't care about figure or speed skating even during the Olympics. For the 100 or so people who are interested in them all the time, I am missing out. That's how I feel about non-hockey fans. It's the best sport to watch, and I've been addicted to it since I was 8 years old. And it had nothing to do with the Miracle On Ice. It had to do with having a father who loved hockey and shared his passion for the sport with me.

So my kids will probably love hockey, too. Yours probably won't. It'll be their loss.

Balls and Beers

Mitre gets the Pirates to go 1-2-3. Then again, so could I. OK, that's a little harsh. I'm going to try to be nice to the Pirates for as long as I can, because I'm thinking of making multiple trips out there for games this year. I've never been to PNC Park but I hear it's one of the best ballparks there.

I have been to Citizens Bank Park in Philly, and I've long thought I could get into the Phillies as an NL team I could follow. I really like Philadelphia, and they have a great ballpark.

Alas, after 18 months of venom from Boston fans, I don't think I'm going to spend that much time around another angry fan base. Philly fans aren't the self-righteous clowns Boston fans are, but they more than rival the Beantowners in the anger department, and I'm not going to deal with that, especially the season after the Yankees have just vanquished the Phils in the World Series.

Meanwhile, I hadn't had much to write since the first, so I needed inspiration. So, I crack open a Yuengling and take one sip, and the ideas just start flowing. This one is a "Bock Beer," and the label features a goat and the words "Tastes Good." And it does. My initial reaction: what a weak slogan! But have you seen a Bud Light commercial lately? "Here We Go!"

They actually paid an ad exec to come up with "Here We Go"? I must be in the wrong business. I could have come up with that. That's even worse than "It's the Cola" and "The Strength to Be There." And ad people wonder why we all use our DVRs to skip commercials.

A-Rod fires to first to end the top of the fourth and jogs off the field with a smile on his face. Why is he smiling? Because at this time last year his mind was occupied with just about everything but baseball. Now, it's just baseball. Rodriguez will hear "STE-ROID" chants the rest of his career, but I everything has turned for him. He's about to put up a monster year. Count on it.

And here comes Jeter to the plate. Is there anything better than that?

Welcome to the New Embassy!

That's right, New York sports fans, but the Embassy has moved. In fact, the whole need for an "embassy" may have disappeared with my move from Boston. Then again, probably not. While no place does "hate NY" quite like Boston, you must trust me when I tell you that Yankee-hating knows no boundaries.

So, my digs in Lancaster, Pa., will remain a safe haven for Yankee fans. Right now the location is my father-in-law's house. Ron is a huge Yankee fan who grew up in Jersey. He's got memorabilia and photos from the '50s and '60s Yankee teams all over his office. Mrs. Ambassador and I will be moving into a downtown apartment pretty soon.

But regardless of place, I will never stop following the hometown teams from the city of my birth.

And this year, the one that ends up being the subject of most of my ink is the defending World Champion!

So let's get going with a look at today's starter, Chad Gaudin, who is competing for the Yankees' fifth starter role, along with Sergio Mitre, Chan Ho Park, Alfredo Aceves and undoubtedly a few others, in addition to, of course, Joba Chamberlain and Phil Hughes.

I'd say it's safe to read into this that the Yankees, while they publicly proclaim that Joba and Hughes figure to be starters in the Yankees' long-term plans, have to be considering the possibility that both pitchers could be destined for the bullpen.

I'm a firm believer that the best case for both guys is that they succeed as starters, but it may be that it's not going to happen for either guy. Chamberlain, in particular, shows the widest gulf between what he can do as a starter and as a reliever. He has had a few bright spots as a starter, but mostly he has been a frustrating pitcher who has struggled to throw strikes. He's a good bet every time out to throw 105 pitches in five innings and guarantee a long night for the bullpen.

Yet it was only 2 1/2 years ago that Chamberlain came up from the minors and became, instantly, the best relief pitcher in baseball not named Rivera. We haven't seen that guy since the midge game in Cleveland. Then again, the Yankees have screwed around with Joba so much, he's never had a chance to simply go to the mound and throw fire.

I've long been a supporter of Joba being a starter, but I'm running out of patience for that, and I think Mariano Rivera's replacement might be there. Perhaps we should just turn Joba loose from the bullpen once and for all and stop trying to craft a starter out of him. He just might not be that guy.

Hughes, on the other hand, has really not shown yet that he can't be a starter, he just hasn't stayed healthy. In truth, his career is not that unlike Joba's, yet something about him just screams "starter." He was incredible in the eighth inning a year ago, but he just doesn't seem like a short reliever. He looks more like a craftsman than a brute.

Here's hoping Hughes can just stay healthy all spring and get a fair shake at winning the No. 5 starting job.

Meanwhile, no score end of the 1st. Maholm breezes through Jeter, Granderson and Teixeira, and Gaudin pitches around his own error and an infield hit.

Granderson now 0-1 against lefties this spring. New York writers sound alarm bells all over the city.

Time to Start Writing, Again

I apologize to all my fans (yes, that's a joke) for the long silence from The Embassy. Winter is a crazy time, with a lot more broadcast work keeping me busy than in the rest of the year. In addition, I had a regular gig blogging the New York Football Chokers for NFL.com. Turned out to be somewhat of a bitch-fest, as the Giants gave us a lot more consternation than jubilation from mid-October on.

Tonight, however, I'm off from work and have an evening to kill. There also was a development in the New York sports world that compels a response from The Embassy. And with the Jets, the favorite team of the Ambassador's father, two days away from an AFC Championship Game, the Knicks playing Kobe Bryant's Lakers on national TV and Syracuse cruising along in what could become a special season, who would have thought that the inspiration for my long silence to end would come from one of the dullest New York franchises, the stuck-in-the-mud New York Rangers?

But I saw the video this morning on ESPN.com of Flyers' scumbag (redundant) Daniel Carcillo happily throwing potshots at the Rangers' nonconfrontational goal-scorer Marian Gaborik, followed by Sean Avery, whom I've lambasted in this space, making a point of going after and mixing it up with Carcillo, and, finally, Ranger coach John Tortorella making a bigger priority of embarrassing a reporter than of addressing all of the above.

I'll address this by grading each of the six particulars on their performances:

1) Carcillo -- C. I'm grading him on a curve. Sure, dropping the gloves with a smaller, finesse player who clearly has never had any interest in fighting is an F performance, but how can you blame Carcillo? Blaming a Philadelphia Flyer for being a cowardly bully is like locking a dog in a cage for a week with 20 rabid raccoons and then blaming him for having rabies. I credit Carcillo for not biting Gaborik.

2) Gaborik -- B. I admire Gaborik's fortitude in dropping the gloves with Carcillo, whom he had no chance of beating in a fight. All players end up in these little post-whistle scrapes around the net, the likes of which often end in fisticuffs but rarely involving guys like Gaborik. You could find plenty of footage of, say, Brian Leetch headlocking a forward who was jabbing away at a Ranger goalie a little too long after the whistle, but you wouldn't see him in a fight because guys like him and Gaborik are not looking to drop the gloves, and fighters usually respect that. Gaborik seemed to end up in a situation in which he could either turn his back on Carcillo or accept the challenge. Turning his back would have been a blow to his manhood, so fight he did. Gaborik does not get an A, however, because he could have gotten seriously hurt in a foolish endeavor, fighting a true goon. The Rangers' offense is anemic even with Gaborik. Without him, they may as well not even show up for their remaining games.

3) Daniel Girardi -- Incomplete. ESPN's Steve Berthiume and Matt Barnaby, a former pugilist for the Rangers and other teams, ripped Girardi, a good-sized defenseman, for standing by -- close by -- while Carcillo fought Gaborik. The way it sounds, Girardi let discretion be the better part of valor by not jumping in. Had he gone in, he would have been the third man in a fight, an infraction that carries an immediate major and game misconduct. That would have left the Rangers killing a 5-on-3 Flyer advantage for the moment and short a valuable defenseman for the game. Players of this generation all have seen Slap Shot, but they have grown up knowing that they can't join other players' fights. Jumping into this fight, however, also would have sent the message that the Rangers are willing to take severe penalties to stand up for their most critical player not named Lundqvist.

I'm not willing to fail Girardi right now, for two reasons. One: the ESPN video did not show Girardi. I've only heard people talk about what he did or didn't do. Two: Let's say his reticence was as bad as I'm hearing. I'm willing to wait a while to see how he performs in future tests of manhood. I'm sure he'll remember this and respond the way he should. One reader commented on Larry Brooks' story on this incident on the Web that all the Rangers probably hate Girardi now. That is foolish speculation, and I have a hard time believing it's true. Girardi has been their teammate for a long time. Gaborik is in his first year on the team. I doubt the men in that locker room are all ready to sever ties with a guy who has been their teammate for that long because of one incident in which he failed to stand up for a newer teammate -- if that even truly happened.

4) Sean Avery -- A. This grade is not an A+ only because Avery did not jump in and pound Carcillo while the fight with Gaborik was going on. Not that he could have. He was not involved. It's not a punishment for Avery. Just can't get the plus. But it's an A performance by Avery, not just going right after Carcillo but beating him decisively. So much of what Avery does drives me and many Ranger fans crazy, and he's a cheap-shot artist who deserves to be as hated as he is by fans of all the other teams. He is, however, a hell of a hockey player and a good fighter, and he stood up well for a teammate. Nothing more to say. Great job.

For all you roasting Girardi, by the way, I'd like you to imagine the following scenario: Avery, not Girardi, is standing near the Carcillo-Gaborik fight, jumps in, pounds Carcillo, takes the requisite penalties and gets tossed from the game, and the Flyers score during the ensuing 5-on-3. How many of you would have ripped Avery for hurting his team with foolish, immature penalties? Don't everyone raise their hands at once.

5) Larry Brooks -- B+. About the only thing I've ever liked about the Post has been its hockey coverage, thanks mostly to Brooks. And he stood up pretty well to Torts, who was acting in typical bully fashion -- more on this later. He could have done better, however, insisting, as I will shortly, that Torts answer the question and stop avoiding it with this other crap about not wanting to answer Brooks' questions.

As for the Brooks column that had Tortorella so upset, I haven't seen it. At least I don't think I have. I found, on the Post's Larry Brooks archive, one story from Jan. 1 insisting that Ranger GM Glen Sather admit his personnel mistakes by getting rid of Wade Redden, Michal Rozsival and Donald Brashear, another cowardly Flyer who just happens to be in the Rangers' employ; and another from mid-December that roasted Redden for whining about being a healthy scratch. Tortorella said Brooks wrote a sarcastic article. Brooks retorted, "It was funny." I'm pretty sure I didn't see this story. But Brooks has been covering the NHL with professionalism for a long time. I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt.

6) Tortorella -- F. Tortorella's failure is threefold. First, he danced around a very important question from Brooks about the most important moment of the hockey game. Brooks asked him whether a player -- implying Girardi, I assume -- should have entered the Gaborik fight as the third man. Tortorella responded by saying he would not answer questions from "you," talking to Brooks. No matter how big a problem Torts has with Brooks, he absolutely must answer that question, even if only with a "yes" or "no," though I expected a lot from Torts on this question.

Second, Torts' exchange with Brooks was completely gutless and bullying. "You probably got beat up at the bus stop." Tortorella is the one who sounded like the kid at the bus stop. Brooks responded to Torts like a man: "Are you challenging me?" He didn't try to escalate the situation, but he didn't try to defuse it, either. He really was looking to find out, face-to-face, in public, from Tortorella if the coach was indeed challenging him to a fight. Of course, Tortorella wasn't. Not because he wouldn't win. I'm sure he would. But because -- and we've seen this too many times -- he's another bully picking on the nerd with the notebook. He doesn't have to fight him if he can just embarrass him and make him cry "uncle." Just once, I'd love to see a writer -- the type coaches love to embarrass, the ones who didn't play the game -- shove a coach into a wall and then see if the coach continues essentially to call him a sissy in front of people and cameras.

Third: John Tortorella is in no position to be grandstanding with reporters. The media was pretty welcoming to him when he got this job after the firing of the classy and successful Tom Renney, who got the Rangers to the playoffs in each of his full seasons in New York after the team had not reached the playoffs in nine years and won a playoff series in his last two springs, something Tortorella could not do last April when spotted a three-games-to-one series lead. Tortorella's Rangers have seven fewer points in the standings through 54 games this season than Renney's Rangers had through the same number last year, despite the presence of the other-worldly talent of Gaborik.

I'm not saying Tortorella should fear for his job, or even agree with whatever Brooks wrote. I'm just saying a little humility might do him some good, especially in the face of good questions from good hockey writers. And if you've got a problem with Brooks, John, I'm guessing you'd have no trouble getting him on the phone. That's the venue to voice your displeasure.

All Is Right With The World Again

Nine years is not that long a time to wait, and I'm not looking for any sympathy from anyone, but I'm so glad the wait is over. The New York Yankees are world champions, and I, living in Boston, am going to enjoy this one so damn much!

The Genius of Gruden

I have a question: Why is it so hard on NFL.com to find the records for "Most Explosive Plays in the First Six or Seven Weeks of a Season"?

I ask because John Gruden just declared that Philadelphia's DeSean Jackson "has more explosive plays in the first six or seven weeks of the season than any guy in NFL history," and I just thought I'd do some research to see whose record Jackson broke in this category.

I haven't watched a 'Monday Night Football' game since the first one of the preseason, which ended in more Gruden stupidity, specifically the coach "analyzing" a rather amazing finish to an otherwise meaningless game by saying, "Wow! Monday Night Football on my birthday!"

I just finished watching a tremendous "30 in 30" documentary about the USFL on an ESPN network, and then I turn to another and hear this nonsense. I can't believe it's the same network.

Update: Jackson just muffed the Redskins' punt. I think that's explosive. Therefore he has just put a little more distance between himself and his pursuers for the record.

The Embassy Celebrates

My good friend Dave the Tall Jew spent about three years living on the West Coast in the years shortly after college, and I really would not have been surprised to see him stay there. He's such a laid-back guy, he would seem to fit in nicely in California.

Except for one thing: the guy's a die-hard Yankee fan. And when he moved back, one of the things he told me was how hard it was on him to be so far away from his Yankee-fan friends as the Bombers won three straight titles from 1998 to 2000.

I now know how he feels. I lived my entire life in the Greater New York area until last September. I had never been away from a place where the basic cable package included the Yankees' primary TV carrier. And I watched a TON of games. From 1985, when I was 12 years old, until 2007, I probably averaged about 120 games a year and never saw fewer than 100 (excluding the strike year of 1994).

Moving to Boston this year was not a test of loyalty. Watching the 1989-1992 Yankees was a test of loyalty -- passed with flying colors. This year was just a unique experience for this Yankee fan, but a common one for baseball fans of most any era. My Yankee-fan experience this year has been a mixture of post-modern, merely modern and positively ancient. A hundred years ago, fans who could not get to games followed their teams through the newspapers. I did that this year, though I read said papers online.

In the first decade of the 20th century, not only did newspapers post game stories and box scores, but some, during the World Series, would post giant displays on the sides of their buildings that showed the scores, the balls, strikes, outs and positioning of baserunners. If that sounds a little like MLB GameCast to you, you're 100% right. I followed plenty of games that way. I caught grainy broadcasts on AM radio, and those got a little easier to hear as the darkness came earlier and earlier as the season got later and later.

I made two long trips from Boston to New York to go to games at the new Yankee Stadium because I could not bear the thought of not going there this year. And yes, I even saw the Yankees play at the wondrous Fenway Park -- and let me tell you this: I don't like Red Sox fans, and I don't think they're the great fans that, well, THEY think they are. But the experience of being a sports fan in Boston is absolutely fascinating. It's just very hard for a Yankee fan to enjoy it because clearly we are not welcome -- though I did find a neighborhood bar around the corner from the Embassy that would let me watch the games there in relative peace.

But tonight's pennant-clinching win was a unique experience for me. I was always surrounded by other Yankee fans -- in 1998, by about 57,000 of them at Yankee Stadium. Tonight, I was in an apartment, alone, and not even in the same place in time as other Yankee fans, because I had to work and started watching the game on the DVR at about 9:45 or so.

So when I saw Mariano Rivera strike out Gary Matthews, it was an hour after it had happened and I was in the same empty apartment in a city full of sleeping Red Sox fans.

It also was an entirely different experience than any Yankee title I've been old enough to see -- which is to say, the ones that have come from 1996 on, as I barely remember the 1981 World Series and knew nothing prior to that other than Reggie and the Yankees were champions twice in my toddling years. I spent the 15 years leading up to 1996 not only wondering if I'd ever see the Yankees win a title but pretty well convinced I would not. So when they did, indeed, win that '96 championship, it was more satisfying than anything I could imagine. And when they won four more pennants and three more titles in the five years after that, it remained so sweet, because the taste of the years of not just failure but near incompetence remained fresh.

The last nine years have brought so much frustration, compounded by the newfound success of our chief rivals, that it has made the 1996-2003 glory seem so long ago, as the Yankees ceased to conjure fear, maybe even respect. And the Yankees spent and traded and rebuilt and reloaded and came up empty year after year.

But you knew something was different this year. You just felt like they had the right guys. Guys like the old Kevin Brown and the old Randy Johnson and the one-season teases Carl Pavano and Jaret Wright and the enticing but untested Jeff Weaver and Javier Vazquez -- you always knew these guys were the type that would be good pitchers on other teams but not aces on a Yankee staff that needed one. You knew that Jason Giambi would put up big numbers but come up short as a championship piece.

Enter C.C. Sabathia, who everybody in baseball knew was an ace; and A.J. Burnett, who is frustrating but does not have to be a No. 1 guy in New York; and Mark Teixeira, whose best years will not rival Giambi's but has made more great plays with his glove this month than Giambi has in his whole career.

And enter Nick Swisher, the posterboy for Moneyball. His batting average is not good, yet he's always on base and he hits home runs. I watched Sox fans berate him during batting practice before the first Yankees-Red Sox game this year at Fenway and scratched my head, knowing this is exactly the type of player Boston keeps digging up and plugging in, to great effect (Kevin Millar, anyone?).

And re-enter Melky Cabrera who struggled through an absolutely pathetic offensive season last year, finally suffering the indignity of a demotion to the minors three years into his major-league career. What a difference a dose of humility can make. Swisher, Cabrera and Brett Gardner are a great reminder of the importance of role players to a championship team. They are the guys who find a way to come through because nobody necessarily expects them to. They are not chokers when they fail, so they don't.

So yes, so much was different this year, both for me and for the Yankees. But the core of a New York pennant, now as a decade ago, is the same, minus O'Neill and Bernie. It's Andy Pettitte taking to the mound and showing you in the first inning that he's not getting beaten tonight. It's Jorge Posada's fiery leadership keeping everyone "grinding it." It's Mariano Rivera being completely dominant -- and in the rare instance that he fails, getting right back at it the next day and dominating again.

And it's Derek Jeter playing like a Hall-of-Famer again. So much was made this year about the fact that Jeter will make the Hall, but mostly because of his great "longevity" and "intangibles." No. That's not why. He has longevity and intangibles because he is a great player. Check out the numbers. The guy has a career batting average of .317 and an OPS of .847. His OPS in the postseason rises to .858. Is there anyone else in baseball you'd want up in a big spot? Me neither.

That leaves Alex Rodriguez. Rodriguez's failure to come through for the Yankees has been documented well. Neither Rodriguez nor any Yankee fan -- or Yankee hater, for that matter -- needs to be reminded that Rodriguez's first year in New York coincided with the exact season in which the Yankees' 80-plus-year dominance of the Red Sox came to a pronounced interruption if not an end. No one has to be told of his collossal failures in the postseason leading to his being dropped to eighth in the batting order in the Yankees' last game of the 2006 Division Series against Detroit.

Rodriguez had failed in the clutch over and over, during the regular season as well. So when he put up a monster season in 2007, including what seemed like nightly big hits in big spots, it still was not enough to make you think he'd come through in the postseason, and he didn't.

But something was different this year. It started disastrously enough, with the public discovery of his steroid use, followed by hip surgery that kept him out until May and clearly hobbled him all year. But it became obvious that the steroid revelation made him want to keep his mouth shut and let his bat do the talking. It also appeared quite clear that being without some of his incredible physical ability made him realize that he'd be better off just blending in with his team, because he was not going to carry them on his own.

And then something funny happened: he did carry them. Mystique and Aura, thy names had never been Rodriguez -- until this month. Rodriguez's late-game heroics against the Twins and Angels might have stood out against the backdrop of his putrid post-season tableau from Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS right up through 2007, but they were right on par with his 2009 season, except for one thing -- through 2009, he was clutch, but his average said he was a lesser player. This month, he has been clutch, and he has been a superior player to everyone out there.

Yet he has blended in. The Fox cameras showed cutaway shots of almost everyone during the ninth inning of Game Six, as it was obvious, with a 5-2 lead and Rivera on the mound, that we were watching the countdown to a championship. It would have been understandable for Fox to keep flashing over to Rodriguez, inferring that Rodriguez's finally getting to the World Series was the story. They never did. Only after it was over did they show a tight replay of Alex's reaction to the final out -- mixed in with the same shot of Jorge Posada, Joe Girardi, Derek Jeter, Mark Teixeira, Mariano Rivera and Robinson Cano.

I think it's fitting that C.C. Sabathia won the series MVP award over the equally deserving Rodriguez. It might not have mattered, but maybe "ALCS MVP" is not a label Rodriguez needs. Maybe "Yankee third baseman" is best. That would make him the one thing that so many people have said, over the last six years, he is not.

A Yankee.

Swisher was out. Then he was safe!

If ever a make-up call actually made up for a blown call, it was in the top of the fourth tonight, as Nick Swisher was clearly out at second base on a pick-off throw but was called safe, and then was clearly safe tagging up at third on a would-be sac fly but was called out. So, no harm done. Obviously umpires don't try to miss calls, so there's not much to argue about these. It happened.

But here's something worth thinking about: perhaps MLB should expand video replay review to include tag-up plays. I'm never a fan of too much replay, but this is an instance where it would be welcome because: A) it's not going to happen that often; B) when it does happen, it often will be directly related to a run scoring or not scoring; and C) as we just saw, there really is no way an umpire can see this clearly. You just can't keep one eye on the outfielder making the catch and one on the foot of the baserunner making the tag. The umpire surely can't rely on sound the way he does when making a safe/out call at first base.

Admittedly, these plays aren't as important as home run calls, the only calls for which replay is used, but at least on those calls the umpire can focus right on the spot he needs to watch -- where the ball lands. He can see it or not see it, but at least he doens't have to pretend he saw two things happening at once as Tim McClelland did moments ago.

Meanwhile, C.C. may be pitching the best game of his Yankee career, and Alex Rodriguez just made Joe Buck look like a genius. Please, keep it going, boys!