Sports Illustrated runs a small piece each week called, This Week’s Sign That The Apocalypse Is Upon Us. Often funny and always eye popping; it lists incredibly bad decisions or actions from all areas of the sports world. It’s one of the features I immediately turn to when the magazine arrives in the mail. Every once in a while, I have my own ideas about something that should be listed, like the Little League All Star team I recently saw that had four players wearing the following numbers: 02, 05, 07, 08. Or the marketing of a weekday afternoon game by an MLB team that encouraged students to “Play hookey from school.” I didn’t have to wait for my SI this week, however, as FOX Sports and fans of the Los Angeles Dodgers gave early notice.
On Saturday, during steroid cheat Manny Ramirez’s second game back after serving a fifty game suspension, FOX cut away from their Mets-Phillies broadcast to show each of Manny’s at bats against the Padres. Just as they would if a player was chasing 3,000 hits, 500 HR or some in-season record or streak. In other words, FOX afforded Ramirez, the first big star to violate MLB’s current policy, the same treatment given the likes of Henry Aaron, Rod Carew or George Brett. That no one at the network thought this was a bad message to send is shameful.
And what of the Dodger fans that drove to San Diego to cheer their hero from underneath their Manny wigs? This is the same guy that had no concern for his organization, teammates or fans while he was so carelessly using the PED’s that forced his suspension. Do you think any of them experienced such strong feelings of forgiveness when Alex Rodriguez was caught? Or Roger Clemens? To single out the fan base of any one team is unfair, though, as steroid cheats are welcomed back by fans throughout the game as long as they are productive. Something to keep in mind the next time someone gets his shorts in a bunch about whether any of these guys belong in the Hall of Fame. No matter how many times fans say, “No”, their actions tell a completely different story
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Speaking of Manny, is anyone smiling more than Red Sox GM Theo Epstein? Last year, faced with the impossible task of getting equal value for one of the game’s superstars, Epstein not only removed a problem from his clubhouse but replaced him with Jason Bay, currently the AL’s RBI leader.
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All right, I’ll admit it. I did watch much of the fifth set of the Wimbledon Men’s (I’m sorry, Gentlemen’s) Final on Sunday. In what turned into a marathon contest, Roger Federer beat Andy Roddick for his record setting 15th Grand Slam title. One thing that made no sense to me, however, was that the fifth set went thirty games as Federer finally prevailed 16-14 while, in contrast, Federer posted 7-6 victories in sets two and three via tiebreakers. My question is, how can a championship event be governed by two sets of rules? Some will say that a title shouldn’t be decided by a tiebreaker. I get that. Others point out that, without the tie breaker, sets two and three could have gone as long as the fifth. Another valid point. But neither explains away the silliness of two different rules being used in the same match. Isn’t it possible that Roddick may have won one of those sets absent the tiebreaker? Whatever your opinion, I’ve already spent entirely too much time discussing tennis.
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Many are impressed by the intensity that Jimmy Rollins brings to each of the Phillies’ matchups with the Mets. That he is able to raise his game to such a high level during every meeting with his hated rival is amazing. I’m wondering, however, if Philly brass is a little annoyed that he’s batting about .200 against the rest of the NL. They’re paying him to play against every team, aren’t they?
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So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. Despite Joba Chamberlain’s tremendous success as a reliever, the Yankees are adamant about keeping him in the starting rotation no matter how much he struggles. But, when it comes to Philip Hughes, they refuse to return him to his natural position as a starter because of his success in the bullpen. Huh?
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Complain all you want about MLB’s All Star selection process, and much of the griping is warranted, but every once in a while, they get one right. Such is the case this year with Tim Wakefield, a true professional and one of baseball’s good guys. Since bursting on the scene with the Pirates in 1991, Wakefield has fashioned a very impressive career, mostly in Boston, that has included just about everything except an All Star appearance. That it comes to him for the first time at 42 years of age is a thrill for his many fans, one of whom, I must confess, is me.
About twelve years ago, the Hausier’s Krowedum Fantasy Baseball League’s annual junket took its members to Fenway Park. Well, Boston actually, as more than a few of the boys never made it out of the Cask and Flagon. Those of us that did make it to the game found that our seats were in the first row behind the Bosox bullpen in right field. Wakefield wasn’t pitching that day and was hanging with the relief crew. Sometime around the fourth inning he came out to get a little work in and struck up a conversation with us. He proceeded to pull a chair up to the fence and spend the rest of the game as one of our contingent. He went into detail about the knuckleball; how he holds it and files his cuticles for a better grip. We laughed at his response to the question of his catchers’ opinion of the knuckler: “They hate my guts.” There were arguments over the worth of certain players in the game as he marveled at how our team loyalties dictated how we felt about different guys. When one of them, Bobby Bonilla, came up to bat, we bet him a hot dog that the ex-Met would strike out. Wakefield demanded we pay up after Bonilla’s double and happily downed the dog. I have no recollection of who won that game, but I still have the baseball he tossed me when it was over and won’t ever forget how much fun it was to watch a game while getting a big leaguer’s perspective. Here’s hoping AL manager Joe Maddon recognizes the opportunity to do something special and gives Wakefield the ball next Tuesday.
It’s called the most exciting two minutes in sports. The Kentucky Derby, an event I watch every year even though thoroughbred racing is far from an area of expertise for me. I’ve always wanted to understand the sport of kings well enough to be able to have some idea as to who I’m putting my money on come Derby day. Unfortunately, I’m as capable of handicapping a horse race as I am to perform open heart surgery. I usually just bet on the horse whose name I like the best.
So, seeking a bit of an education, I headed to the local OTB hoping to gain some insight into this year’s run for the roses.
Luckily for me, ( I think), I ran into three veteran horse players more than willing to share their extensive knowledge with me but not as forthcoming when asked for their names, choosing instead to identify themselves only as Johnny Gaga, Oakie and Philly Wrinkles. Undeterred, I explained to them that most of the gambling I had done on the horses had been limited to five dollar pools at work or family parties and that I needed a little advice if I was to place an intelligent wager on this year’s race.
The first thing I learned was that you’d better have a little time on your hands when you ask guys like this for their opinions. They’re a little passionate about the subject. They began by recalling numerous wins and losses caused by a variety of criteria involving jockeys, horses, trainers and track surfaces. They indoctrinated me as to the meaning of some slang terms such as Juice (Lasix), Five Pound Bug (A weight adjustment based on the size of the jockey), Weeds (Grass surface), Blinks (Blinders), Changing leads (Something about the horse’s front foot; I thought he had two) and the downside of being “Caught on the wood behind a dead piece” ( Being trapped inside the field near the rail behind a slow moving horse.)
Finally, after detailing at least one reason to like just about every horse in the race, they got down to their picks. Wrinkles liked the filly, Eight Belles; a choice I quickly discounted as he seemed to be the type of guy that liked anything to do with females and I questioned his objectivity. Gaga and Oakie were the logical two of the three and therefore more persuasive with their pick, Colonel John. So, after all of this research, who am I putting my money on? Court Vision. I like his name the best.
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Last year, the Patriots and their affable, fun loving coach, Bill Bellichick, were caught red handed taping the defensive signals of the New York Jets during the season opener for both teams. After a lengthy investigation, Commissioner Roger Goodell levied sizable fines against the organization and Bellichick, himself. It was further decided that they would forfeit their first round pick in this year’s draft; the 31st overall. While the Pats also owned the 49′ers pick, which turned out to be the seventh overall, Goodell decreed that he was only allowed to strip New England of its own pick, not the better one. So, since the Patriots traded the seventh pick to New Orleans for the tenth pick as well an additional selection in the third round, could someone explain to me how they were actually penalized?
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The key number for the Jets in this year’s draft may very well turn out to be 37. That is the total number of times that first round pick and new multi millionaire, Vernon Ghoulston, was able to bench press 225 pounds during the NFL scouting combine; sending the Jets into a “we have to have him” frenzy. It is also the total number of tackles that Ghoulston made during thirteen games in his senior season at Ohio State. A starting defensive end with 14 sacks who managed just 23 more tackles in an entire season. Hard to believe, but Gang Green has been seduced by workout demons in the past, most recently trading two first round picks in 2003 to move up and select defensive tackle Dewayne Robertson in the fourth overall slot. Despite the fact that Robertson was only voted 2nd team all-Conference in the SEC, the Jets decided he was the fourth best player in the nation and paid dearly for that evaluation. Last week, after five highly forgettable seasons, Robertson was traded to the Broncos for an undisclosed draft pick. Smart money says it won’t be the fourth pick overall.
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Much has been written over the last decade about the practice of professional sports teams abandoning their standard colors for black alternate uniforms. By now we all know that this is done strictly for purposes of merchandising and with no regard for their ridiculous appearance. It is silly that the Kansas City Royals would wear any color other than royal blue and the black and gray clad Blue Jays actually have their color in their name. One team, however, wears its black hat in violation of more than just good taste or common sense. The Mets, who now sport an alternate helmet that features not even a hint of their standard orange anywhere in the logo, have thumbed their noses at their own tradition and heritage. While multiple changes of official colors by teams like the Rays, Padres, Astros and Diamondbacks are a simple matter of preference by ownership, the Mets’ original colors actually have a deeper meaning, one that is a tribute to the baseball history of New York City. The uniform of the original Mets was designed to pay tribute to the three teams that came before them. It incorporated the blue of the Dodgers, the orange logo of the baseball Giants and the pinstripes of the Yankees. A fact lost on many of today’s younger fans; depriving them of a chance to baseball’s past in the Big Apple.
It has become the greatest event on our yearly sports schedule. The NCAA Men’s Basketball tournament sends even the most casual fans into a three week frenzy of bracket watching. Last Wednesday, not many of us were aware that Western Kentucky had even won its conference tourney. As they lace up their sneakers tonight, however, most of us now know that the Hilltoppers’ leading scorer is senior guard, Courtney Lee. Every year, even with all of the whining on Selection Sunday from the teams that were left out, a Goliath like Tennessee finds itself hanging on for dear life against Davids like American and Butler. Any of the so called experts that think the tournament accommodates too many of the smaller conferences should test his theory this week in an open forum on the campus of Davidson College.
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As the curtain rises on another baseball season, it’s hard not to notice some conspicuous holes in the rosters of our two local teams despite all of the money each has spent. In Flushing, general manager Omar Minaya may very well have assembled the National league’s best pitching staff but, it remains to be seen how often the Mets will be able to put a healthy lineup on the field behind those hurlers. Over the bridge, on River Avenue, the Steinbrenners put their $200 million dollar Yankees into the hands of three young pitchers and a manager with only one year of experience. It will be interesting to see how either team reacts to a slow start.
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It was ironic to listen to Virginia Tech men’s basketball coach, Seth Greenberg, moan about his team’s exclusion from the tournament. Do you think the Hokies’ fortunes may have been changed had they bothered to recruit Davidson guard, Stephen Curry? After all, Curry’s father, longtime NBA sharpshooter, Dell, is one of only four Virginia Tech players to have his number retired.
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After three months, six tournaments, five days and a rain delay, Tiger Woods finally lost in 2008. Only 32, Woods already has 64 Tour victories; just 18 shy of the all-time record. You have to go all the way back to Babe Ruth to find an athlete dominating his sport the way Tiger is right now. Even more amazing is that he is just entering the prime of his career. Jack Nicklaus raised some eyebrows a few years back when he predicted that Tiger would win 10 Masters’ titles. At this point, 10 looks like an understatement. Good luck to the rest of the field next month in Augusta.
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I guess Bobby Knight is finding out that this media gig is a little tougher than he always thought. On ESPN’s Selection Special, Knight, when asked his opinion of those bubble teams who may have been unjustly left out of the tourney, instead went on a two minute rant about how the field should be expanded to 128 teams, leaving the others on the panel dumbfounded. It is interesting, however, to see the contrast of the sweater-clad General seated next to Digger Phelps, a man so dapper that he switches his highlighter pen to match the color of his tie. Memo to Knight: Wearing the sweater instead of a suit does not in any way diminish your hypocrisy. You have spent your career railing at the media but now, when a network is willing to throw some cash in your direction, it’s all of a sudden not such a bad deal?
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The term, “March Madness”, has taken on a completely different meaning for St. John’s hoop fans as their beloved Johnnies have failed to make the Big Dance since 2002 and have managed to log just one appearance in the Big East tourney
during the four years that coach Norm Roberts has been at the helm. Adding insult to injury is the fact that so many rosters in both the conference and national fields are populated with kids from New York City. There was a time when prep stars from the Big Apple put other schools on hold as they waited for St. John’s to call. Longtime coach, Lou Carnesecca, used to joke that his recruiting budget consisted of a roll of subway tokens. Not anymore. This year alone, two Mc Donald’s All-Americans, Sylvan Landesberg of Holy Cross and Rice’s Kemba Walker, have declined invitations to play their college ball in Queens. If Coach Roberts continues to swing and miss in his own backyard, his fifth season with the Red Storm could be his last.
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How could we open a Baseball season without making bold predictions for the coming year that seem well thought out in April and become laughable in October? Well, here goes. In the Senior Circuit, Joe Torre will create enough stability in the clubhouse to forge a productive union between veterans and young players and propel the Dodgers to the West division crown. Francisco Cordero becomes the final piece of the puzzle in Cincinnati as Aaron Harang, Adam Dunn and Brandon Phillips help Ken Griffey return to the postseason. A season long nail biter will develop in the East with the Mets riding their superior pitching to a narrow victory over the Braves, who grab the Wild Card. In the AL, the Mariners take advantage of injuries to the Angels’ pitching staff and steal the West title. The Tigers and their new third basemen, Miguel Cabrera, will hardly be tested as they coast to the Central title. In the East, the Red Sox ride a healthy David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez to their second straight East title while the Yankees barely hold off the Blue Jays for the Wild Card. In the Fall Classic, look for the Tigers over the Braves. As for awards, start engraving the MVP plaques with the names of Atlanta’s Jeff Francoeur in the NL and the aforementioned Cabrera in the AL. Cabrera may actually win the Triple Crown. As for the Cy Young, Johan Santana celebrates his first year in New York with his third while Jonathan Papelbon is recognized for carrying an injury riddled Red Sox staff to the crown.
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With all of the focus on college basketball, I’ve been a little distracted. Are the Knicks still in the NBA?
