I won’t go so far as to say Brett Favre lied to the Jets about his plans for retirement. Not because I think Favre had a legitimate change of heart or that no one in his right mind would turn down twelve million dollars. I just don’t care.
Through all of the gnashing of teeth by indignant members of the media inexplicably insulted by the quarterback’s decision and fans with jilted feelings over his flip flopping, one point seems to be lost: Favre is done.
Didn’t anyone else notice that the aging QB was the biggest contributor to the Jets’ late season collapse? His performance over the last four games was abysmal, as was his failure to beat a number of the weak sisters on the Jets’ schedule. Despite less than stellar seasons, Oakland, San Francisco, Seattle and Denver all handled the Jets in a season where just one more win could’ve meant a playoff berth.
P.T. Barnum famously stated that there’s a sucker born every minute. Seems like this minute’s sucker is Vikings’ owner Zygi Wilf, who’ll soon find out that the increased ticket sales and apparel revenue will contribute nothing to Minnesota’s playoff effort. The same will likely be true of Favre.
The pitch count police had a great week. Last Wednesday, Staten Island Yankees hurler Sean Black held the Auburn Doubledays hitless through six innings. However, he was lifted after the sixth because he was over his allotted pitch total. This on the heels of a report that the New York City Council is considering imposing a pitch limit in the city’s high school leagues. Yes, the same uninformed City Council that removed metal bats from high school but ignored the infinitely more dangerous situation created by the same bats in Little League.
Dennis Canale, head baseball coach at Xaverian High School, a perennial city power, had his own views on the idea. “First of all, we’ve always used a pitch count here. I keep my Varsity guys to around 95 pitches. Freshman and JV get 90 pitches a week but won’t appear a second time if they go more than 50 in their first appearance.” “However, I think these decisions should be left to the individual coaches. I’ll let one of my kids get up to 100-110 if it means closing out a game and that decision should be mine.”
He went on to share a terrific idea, one too logical to gain any support within the city’s bureaucracy. “If the City Council is really concerned about the welfare of these kids, they should mandate that all coaches be certified. All coaches. Create a program where coaches learn the value of stretching, hydration and proper technique. That way, you’ll have them making informed decisions.” A great thought, but since it’s one that won’t generate headlines that turn into votes, it’ll never happen.
“Please rise and remove your caps for the playing of our National Anthem.” It’s an announcement we hear before every ballgame and I’m wondering when it became necessary to remind people to remove their caps. I also can’t decide which is more embarrassing: That we now need to be prompted to do it or that, despite the advisory, so many fail to do so, anyway.
Done much traveling this summer? Not as much as Quentin Richardson, I’d imagine. The former Knick guard, traded to the Grizzlies on draft night, has subsequently been sent to the Clippers, who dispatched him to the Timberwolves, who then traded him to the Heat. He’s still in Miami as of this writing but has no guarantees regarding training camp. He’s keeping his bags packed.
Danny McCarthy was a Bay Ridge guy who brought a sweet swing to both the baseball field and the golf course. He was part of one of those special families that seem to exist in most neighborhoods; the one whose every member serves the community. In McCarthy’s case, it was the local little league, where his father served as commissioner while his mom repaired uniforms and raised funds. Dan and his two brothers played in the league through elementary school and then became coaches, volunteer positions they held well into adulthood. There were very few kids in and around our corner of Brooklyn that didn’t benefit from the generosity of Danny and his family.
We lost Danny on December 21st, 1988, when he became one of the 270 victims on Pan Am flight 103 that were murdered over Lockerbie, Scotland. I thought of him today as I learned that Abdel Basset Ali Al-Megrahi, serving a life sentence after being tried and convicted for the attacks, was to be released by the Scottish government on “compassionate grounds” due to the fact that his prostate cancer is terminal. Apparently, his sentence was for all but the last three months of his life. I also wondered about the “compassionate grounds” that might have been exercised by Al-Megrahi when he, instead, made the decision to murder so many innocent people.
Danny McCarthy was a good son, brother and friend. He was a young man about whom no one ever had a bad thing to say. Everyone he dealt with was better for having known him, especially those kids that were fortunate enough to have him as a coach. It’s comforting to know that there are now young husbands and fathers that were influenced by Danny’s kindness and dignity. Comforting enough, that is, to overcome yet another tragedy in Scotland.
Happy Birthday, Gin.