If you were known for only one thing in your entire life, how would you like that one thing to be this:
You were bullied by somebody famous.
That was the fate of Neil Reed, who back in 1997 foolishly put his throat in the way of Bobby Knight's vice-like grip.
Even though Knight was a bellicose boor -- and, by the late-90s, an out-of-touch geezer who had stopped winning NCAA tournament games as he ran a once-proud program into the ground -- many fans/apologists/lemmings never forgave Reed for his role in Knight's exodus from Hoosierland.
The incident, caught on tape that clearly showed Knight throttling the young basketball player, led to Bobby being put on double-secret probation by Miles "Dean Wormer" Brand. Another incident soon followed (of course), and Knight was sent packing.
Ridiculously -- but predictably -- the bully was deified and the victim was vilified. This, of course, is typical behavior of blindly loyal college sports lemmings (see: Paterno Worshippers, Penn State University).
With the pitchfork-and-torch crowd closing in, Reed had to bolt Hoosierland and ended up at Southern Miss. He eventually became a high school coach and teacher.
Neil Reed died last week at 36 of heart complications. I'm guessing that thousands of Hoosierland sickos were happy when they heard the news.
His obituary in every newspaper in the country identified him as the player choked by Knight. That's who Neil Reed was -- not only until his dying days but for all eternity.
Bobby Knight not only ruined Reed's basketball career and Reed's life, the bully also ruined Neil Reed's death.
How sad is that?
Monday, July 30, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
The GM who gave my career a boost
In 1987, the year the NFL played with replacement players, I called Vikings GM Mike Lynn to get his opinion on something. (I was the AP sports reporter in Minneapolis.) About 5 minutes into our conversation, he almost casually mentioned that the strike was over and the regular players were coming back. I asked a follow-up question -- basically asked him to repeat it because I couldn't believe my ears.
We ended the conversation and I immediately called call our HQ in New York. As it turned out, this was news. Our sports editor and football writer whipped up a quick story and got it out on the wire, and TV and radio stations were quoting AP's story. Soon, the NFL and other teams confirmed the news.
I didn't get a byline on the story (nor should I have), but the sports editor -- a guy who rarely said nice things about anybody -- later sent out a note to the entire staff that praised me. Shortly thereafter, I started getting more national assignments, including the '88 Calgary Games (my first of five Olympics) the following winter.
I was 27 years old, one of the youngest (if not the youngest) full-time sportswriters in the company, and I was considered one of the "up-and-comers." Though my career trajectory was pointing up, I always felt that NFL strike story helped move things along more quickly for me.
Why am I writing about this now?
The Vikings announced Saturday that Lynn died. Obituaries led with his failed deal for Herschel Walker, which I suppose is appropriate. A year or so after the deal, when the jury was still out on it, Lynn said the trade probably would determine his legacy.
There was a lot more to Lynn than that trade, though. For one thing, he was a brilliant businessman and self-promoter. At one point, he negotiated a deal with team owner Max Winter that would bring him 10 percent of the suite revenue at the Metrodome forever. Yes, forever! Lynn collected on that for the rest of his life.
He also was a pretty good GM who got Cris Carter off the scrap heap and drafted numerous Hall of Famers and Pro Bowlers. Most of the players hated Lynn because he was a ruthless contract negotiator. He didn't care if players held out, because he knew he always was going to win in the end; back then, NFL players had zero leverage.
Like White Sox GM Ken Williams, Lynn was a "swing for the fences" guy who loved to make the big deals. For two decades, Lynn was ripped for the 1989 Walker deal, which sent a bunch of draft picks to the Cowboys; Jimmy Johnson parlayed those picks into the core of a Dallas team that would go on to win three Super Bowls.
At the time of the trade, however, many thought the Vikings got the better end of it. Walker's debut was spectacular and the team was in national headlines all season. Some pundits even thought Lynn had fleeced Johnson because the Vikings had landed a true game-changing superstar.
When Walker turned out to be anything but a superstar -- he spent the rest of his career with several teams as a supporting-cast kind of guy -- Lynn took the heat. By the early 90s, he was out of the Vikings' front office.
While most remember Lynn for that deal, I remember him as an ideal GM from a reporter's perspective. He loved the limelight and was always reachable -- even when there was bad news, such as the many drunk-driving arrests that plagued the team back then.
He once told me he never wanted to see a line in a newspaper saying he "could not be reached for comment" because that made it sound like a person was trying to hide something. I always thought it would be great if every GM, coach and athlete saw it that way.
And I of course remember Lynn for that NFL strike "scoop." It would be a leap to say it launched my career, but it certainly helped move it along.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Heimlich Maneuver, please!
I've witnessed many chokers over the years. Now I know how the Cubs -- and the rest of them -- felt.
My softball team, the Blue Thunder, lost in the playoffs Tuesday night. That's bad enough. We had become a really good team, as good as any in the league, so it sucked to have our season come to an end.
You know what sucks even more? Being the goat. A choker.
We were down 6-5 going in the top of the last inning. I was in right field. There were two outs, bases loaded. The next guy hit a line-drive between me and the right-center fielder. I got a late jump but I was there. Got my glove on the ball. Couldn't make the catch. Three runs scored. 9-5.
We got the final out and came to bat. You know how announcers always say, "It always seems like the guy who made the great play leads off the bottom of the inning"? Well, sometimes, the guy who choked and committed a three-run error also leads off the bottom of the inning. And then that guy gets to choke all over again, grounding out to shortstop.
We ended up scoring one run so we lost by three. The difference was the three-run error by the choking right fielder.
When he blew Game 7 of the NLCS against the Marlins, Kerry Wood looked a roomful of reporters in the eye and said: "I choked." He was man enough to admit it, and so am I.
I know I'm being awfully hard on myself. As many of my teammates later said as they tried to console me: If you only score six runs in softball, you can't win. I suppose that's true. We had been hitting the hell out of the ball, but just about everybody struggled in this one.
Still, if the right fielder makes that catch ...
OK. I've bloodied myself enough. It's a great group of guys and we'll be teammates again in the Fall League. In a day or three, I'll shake this off ... I think.
Until then, I'll wallow in self-pity a little. That's what chokers do, no?
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Trying to remember how to have a ball
^
Aside from the obvious -- my kids and my close friends -- the thing I miss the most about Chicago is baseball.
When I came to that realization, it surprised me a little. After all, I'm neither a Cubs fan nor a White Sox fan ... and, in fact, I spent the a good part of my 16 years there making fun of both teams.
(OK, I made lots more fun of the Cubbies. For 100-plus obvious reasons. But that's besides the point.)
Looking back, there was something cool about waking up every summer morning knowing there was going to be a game in my town that afternoon or evening. And as one who made a living chronicling the adventures of Ozzie, Sammy, Paulie and Gracie, it truly was comforting, too.
Here in Charlotte, we don't have baseball. Even the Triple-A team plays in a suburb across the border in South Carolina. I'd call the Knights an afterthought, but that would be insulting afterthoughts everywhere.
Fortunately, I can follow baseball pretty easily. On any given night, there are a half-dozen games being aired on some combination of ESPN, MLB, WGN and the various regional sports channels on my cable package.
Oh yeah, there's that InterWeb thingy, too. That comes in handy.
So anyway ...
This being the All-Star break -- and with another of Bud Selig's thrilling This Time It Counts All-Star Games in the books -- I thought I'd take a quick look at what we've seen to date and what we'll see in the season's second half.
FIVE BIGGEST STORIES SO FAR:
5. The Angels' season has been saved by a rookie (Mike Trout) who makes roughly a zillionth as much money as the guy who was supposed to save them (Albert Pujols).
4. The NL East has become the Bizarro Division, with the Nationals rolling to a 4-game lead over the Braves ... and a 14-game lead over the Phillies.
3. Statistically, two-time Cy Young Award winner Tim Lincecum is the worst pitcher in the major leagues. Somehow, his Giants are in a dead heat with the Dodgers atop the NL West.
2. Pitchers great (Matt Cain) and not so great (Phil Humber) threw perfect games, and three other guys threw no-hitters, but it was a guy who could "only" throw a couple of one-hitters, R.A. Dickey, who knuckled his way into the headlines the most.
1. The Pirates are in first place. Repeat: The Pittsburgh Effin Pirates are in first place!!
NL FIRST-HALF MVP BALLOT:
5. Melky Cabrera. Batting .356 for a Giants team with nary another .300 hitter.
4. Carlos Beltran. 20 HR, 65 RBI for Cardinals. Albert Who?
3. David Wright. I thought the Mets would be anchored in last place by now.
2. Joey Votto. The Big Red Hitting Machine.
1. Andrew McCutchen. You did get the memo that the Pittsburgh Effin Pirates are in first place, right?
AL FIRST-HALF MVP BALLOT:
5. Mike Trout. Albert's Angels were wound too tight until the kid showed 'em how to have fun again.
4. Paul Konerko. Once again, Mr. Dependable on the South Side.
3. Robinson Cano. A swing of beauty for the Yankees.
2. Miguel Cabrera. After a slow start, the Tigers are right there.
1. Josh Hamilton. Duh.
FIVE THOUGHTS HEADING IN THE SECOND HALF:
5. I admit I was skeptical at first, but I'm loving the idea of the second wild-card team. There finally is real incentive to winning a division vs. being a wild-card team, and this situation sets up potentially incredible races between the Rangers and Angels; the White Sox and Tigers (sorry Indians; I'm not feeling ya); the Pirates and the rest of the NL Central; and, especially, the Dodgers and Giants. If I'm gonna criticize The Commish for his silly ideas, I have to praise him for his good ones.
4. Cubbieland needs to let Anthony Rizzo be the 22-year-old rookie and not ask him to be the next Tyler Colvin. Because ridiculous expectations didn't work out so well for the last Tyler Colvin.
3. I wouldn't bet against Pujols finishing with 30 HR, 100 RBI and a postseason berth. Someday before his contract expires, he'll be mediocre. Someday, however, is still lots and lots and lots of days away. (Meanwhile, someday seems to have arrived for Alex Rodriguez. Hey, nobody ever said life without HGH would be easy.)
2. Really looking forward to Robin Ventura matching wits with Jim Leyland down the stretch.
1. Nats vs. Pirates in the NLCS! Crazy? Impossible? Well, the Twins and Braves each finished in last place in 1990, a year before they met in the best World Series I've ever seen.
Aside from the obvious -- my kids and my close friends -- the thing I miss the most about Chicago is baseball.
When I came to that realization, it surprised me a little. After all, I'm neither a Cubs fan nor a White Sox fan ... and, in fact, I spent the a good part of my 16 years there making fun of both teams.
(OK, I made lots more fun of the Cubbies. For 100-plus obvious reasons. But that's besides the point.)
Looking back, there was something cool about waking up every summer morning knowing there was going to be a game in my town that afternoon or evening. And as one who made a living chronicling the adventures of Ozzie, Sammy, Paulie and Gracie, it truly was comforting, too.
Here in Charlotte, we don't have baseball. Even the Triple-A team plays in a suburb across the border in South Carolina. I'd call the Knights an afterthought, but that would be insulting afterthoughts everywhere.
Fortunately, I can follow baseball pretty easily. On any given night, there are a half-dozen games being aired on some combination of ESPN, MLB, WGN and the various regional sports channels on my cable package.
Oh yeah, there's that InterWeb thingy, too. That comes in handy.
So anyway ...
This being the All-Star break -- and with another of Bud Selig's thrilling This Time It Counts All-Star Games in the books -- I thought I'd take a quick look at what we've seen to date and what we'll see in the season's second half.
FIVE BIGGEST STORIES SO FAR:
5. The Angels' season has been saved by a rookie (Mike Trout) who makes roughly a zillionth as much money as the guy who was supposed to save them (Albert Pujols).
4. The NL East has become the Bizarro Division, with the Nationals rolling to a 4-game lead over the Braves ... and a 14-game lead over the Phillies.
3. Statistically, two-time Cy Young Award winner Tim Lincecum is the worst pitcher in the major leagues. Somehow, his Giants are in a dead heat with the Dodgers atop the NL West.
2. Pitchers great (Matt Cain) and not so great (Phil Humber) threw perfect games, and three other guys threw no-hitters, but it was a guy who could "only" throw a couple of one-hitters, R.A. Dickey, who knuckled his way into the headlines the most.
1. The Pirates are in first place. Repeat: The Pittsburgh Effin Pirates are in first place!!
NL FIRST-HALF MVP BALLOT:
5. Melky Cabrera. Batting .356 for a Giants team with nary another .300 hitter.
4. Carlos Beltran. 20 HR, 65 RBI for Cardinals. Albert Who?
3. David Wright. I thought the Mets would be anchored in last place by now.
2. Joey Votto. The Big Red Hitting Machine.
1. Andrew McCutchen. You did get the memo that the Pittsburgh Effin Pirates are in first place, right?
AL FIRST-HALF MVP BALLOT:
5. Mike Trout. Albert's Angels were wound too tight until the kid showed 'em how to have fun again.
4. Paul Konerko. Once again, Mr. Dependable on the South Side.
3. Robinson Cano. A swing of beauty for the Yankees.
2. Miguel Cabrera. After a slow start, the Tigers are right there.
1. Josh Hamilton. Duh.
FIVE THOUGHTS HEADING IN THE SECOND HALF:
5. I admit I was skeptical at first, but I'm loving the idea of the second wild-card team. There finally is real incentive to winning a division vs. being a wild-card team, and this situation sets up potentially incredible races between the Rangers and Angels; the White Sox and Tigers (sorry Indians; I'm not feeling ya); the Pirates and the rest of the NL Central; and, especially, the Dodgers and Giants. If I'm gonna criticize The Commish for his silly ideas, I have to praise him for his good ones.
4. Cubbieland needs to let Anthony Rizzo be the 22-year-old rookie and not ask him to be the next Tyler Colvin. Because ridiculous expectations didn't work out so well for the last Tyler Colvin.
3. I wouldn't bet against Pujols finishing with 30 HR, 100 RBI and a postseason berth. Someday before his contract expires, he'll be mediocre. Someday, however, is still lots and lots and lots of days away. (Meanwhile, someday seems to have arrived for Alex Rodriguez. Hey, nobody ever said life without HGH would be easy.)
2. Really looking forward to Robin Ventura matching wits with Jim Leyland down the stretch.
1. Nats vs. Pirates in the NLCS! Crazy? Impossible? Well, the Twins and Braves each finished in last place in 1990, a year before they met in the best World Series I've ever seen.
Monday, July 9, 2012
The eyes didn't have it
^
Why haven't I been posting lately? Two reasons:
1. Eye-eye-eye, have eye had problems!
I developed what the doctor termed an "ulcer" on my left cornea. It went from being a little uncomfortable to feeling as if somebody was poking my eye with a rusty nail. I lived with it for a few days, thinking that I just had something in my eye or that I had a small scratch. Finally, tired of hearing me whine, Roberta convinced me to go to the doctor, who made the diagnosis and prescribed some drops.
The drops have been working; at my follow-up exam today, the doctor said he was very pleased with my progress. I have no more stabbing pains and only a little discomfort, and my acuity is slowly returning in my left eye. (Thankfully, I have 20-20 vision in my right eye.) My dose has been reduced from 9 drops per day to 5, and I hope to be fully healed in a week.
The eye woes cost me an entire weekend of work at the country club, which obviously sucks. The situation also kept me from spending much time at the computer or in front of the TV, because the light from each bothered my eye greatly.
2. Straight cash, homey..
What little time I did have in front of the computer, I used to write something that actually will make me a little money: another financial article for Seeking Alpha.
It's about my desire to buy stock in oil companies. If you care a little about the subject, click away. If you don't care, still click away because I earn $$$ (or at least cents) per click!
---
I hope to post again sometime during the All-Star break with some baseball observations. No doubt, you'll be holding your breath in anticipation the entire time.
Why haven't I been posting lately? Two reasons:
1. Eye-eye-eye, have eye had problems!
I developed what the doctor termed an "ulcer" on my left cornea. It went from being a little uncomfortable to feeling as if somebody was poking my eye with a rusty nail. I lived with it for a few days, thinking that I just had something in my eye or that I had a small scratch. Finally, tired of hearing me whine, Roberta convinced me to go to the doctor, who made the diagnosis and prescribed some drops.
The drops have been working; at my follow-up exam today, the doctor said he was very pleased with my progress. I have no more stabbing pains and only a little discomfort, and my acuity is slowly returning in my left eye. (Thankfully, I have 20-20 vision in my right eye.) My dose has been reduced from 9 drops per day to 5, and I hope to be fully healed in a week.
The eye woes cost me an entire weekend of work at the country club, which obviously sucks. The situation also kept me from spending much time at the computer or in front of the TV, because the light from each bothered my eye greatly.
2. Straight cash, homey..
What little time I did have in front of the computer, I used to write something that actually will make me a little money: another financial article for Seeking Alpha.
It's about my desire to buy stock in oil companies. If you care a little about the subject, click away. If you don't care, still click away because I earn $$$ (or at least cents) per click!
---
I hope to post again sometime during the All-Star break with some baseball observations. No doubt, you'll be holding your breath in anticipation the entire time.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Chief Justice Roberts: Unimaginable hero (or villain) in sport-like Obamacare drama
^
My single favorite things about sports (or "sport," as Mitt Romney likes to say) is that we just don't know what will happen. We may think we know what will happen, but even the most skilled prognosticators are wrong time and time again.
For me, covering sports meant chronicling different dramas everyday, with new heroes and villains, surprising stars and incredible 3D action.
If only life could be more like sports, how interesting life would be.
Sometimes, thankfully, life doesn't disappoint. Such was the case Thursday, when the Supreme Court decision on Obamacare came down.
Although a majority of pundits seemed to think the law would be shot down, there were plenty who felt it would be upheld. But did any of the folks on either side of the aisle -- even one? -- believe the drama would unfold the way it did?
As it turns out, it wasn't Anthony Kennedy -- Mr. Swing Vote -- who would decide the law's fate, as pretty much everybody had predicted. No, the unlikely hero (for libs) or villain (for cons) was Chief Justice John Roberts, a reliably conservative jurist vetted by Karl Rove and appointed by Dubya Bush, who saved Barack Obama's signature act as president.
Why did Roberts do it? Why did he go out of his way -- seemingly digging and digging until he found something of a loophole -- to uphold the dreaded individual mandate that Republicans hated (even though many GOPers liked it before it was pushed by Obama, who hated it before he liked it)?
We might not know until Roberts writes his memoirs. Heck, we may never know.
In the end, it was something straight out of a John Grisham novel ... except in this one, readers would have shaken their heads in disbelief and said: "Yeah, right. As if that could happen."
But happen it did: a thrilling, impossible conclusion to a hotly contested Game 7, a wild finish that left half the audience elated and the other half crushed.
Pretty cool, just like sport itself.
^
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Today's High 5: College football's unimpressive playoff. Also: vacations for me ... and Erin Andrews
^
5. Four teams? Please.
The college football playoff needed to accommodate at least eight teams to make it a true national tournament -- as well as to keep cronyism at bay. You know the selection committee will be filled with big-money-conference types who will protect their golden geese.
The bloated bowl system remains intact, too, which is nice for fans of the Beef O'Brady's Bowl.
As satisfying as it was to hear the powers-that-be finally admit that the BCS was a huge failure, this is barely progress. And for some head-scratching reason, college honchos felt the need to lock this new system in place for 12 years.
Wake me when we have a real champion, please.
4. White Sox GM Ken Williams gets criticized often, but I always have admired the way he swings for the fences. His latest move, getting Kevin Youkilis from the Red Sox for spare parts, bordered on brilliant.
3. I took some time off from TBT while Roberta and I visited Chicago. We drove up from Charlotte with our beautiful pup, Simcha -- who was in the car, not strapped to the top in an air-tight cage.
We spent most of our time with young'uns Katie and Ben, who are doing wonderfully, thanks for asking. We also got to visit our dear friends, the Marks, the Pellikans and the Brundidges.
On Friday, I golfed with sportswriter buddies Rick Morrissey, Teddy Greenstein, Mike Imrem, Lindsey Willhite and Adam Rittenberg. That's right: a Sun-Times guy, a Tribster, two Daily Herald dudes and an ESPN.com scribe; that's about as diverse a group as a bunch of lily-white males can be. It would have been even more diverse (and more white and more male) if the Southtown Star's Phil Arvia had joined us as planned. He wimped out with the lamest of excuses: his wife broke her leg. Two days later, I hit the links with my two best Marquette friends, Tom Chodzko and John Lamich. I shot a pair of 93s, so it's a good thing the company was great!
One of the trip's highlights took place Saturday night, when my wife and I saw our favorite band, Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers, rock the Cubby Bear. Katie and Ben joined us and a fantastic time was had by all.
Oh, and of course, we ate at Pequod's, the best deep-dish pizza on earth.
All in all, it was a super fun Chicago visit before we returned to Charlotte -- just in time for it to be 100-plus degrees all weekend. Pass the deodorant, please.
2. I have yet to decide if I love HBO's newest series, The Newsroom, but I'm pretty sure I don't hate it.
And I must admit that I laughed out loud upon hearing that Jeff Daniels' character, combustible newscaster Will McAvoy, spent a vacation in the tropics canoodling with Erin Andrews.
You know ... I had wondered why I hadn't seen her lately.
1. After winning our previous three games, including our playoff opener, by double-digit slaughter-rule scores, our 45-and-over softball team, the Blue Thunder, suffered a tough defeat Tuesday night.
Yours truly had two line-drive hits, scored a few runs and had an RBI ... but I also messed up: Playing catcher, I failed to scoop a low throw that would have cut off a run; I also got thrown out at the plate trying to score. As a team, we played a little too loose in the field, walked a few too many batters and didn't have quite enough hits, all contributing factors to us blowing a late lead and losing by two runs.
We're not done yet, though. It's a double-elimination tournament, and we already have scored decisive victories over the next two teams we'll face (if we win our next game, that is).
Why am I boring everybody with my softball team's exploits? Well, because I can. It's my blog!
Besides ... our playoffs, unlike major college football's, will produce a true champion.
^
5. Four teams? Please.
The college football playoff needed to accommodate at least eight teams to make it a true national tournament -- as well as to keep cronyism at bay. You know the selection committee will be filled with big-money-conference types who will protect their golden geese.
The bloated bowl system remains intact, too, which is nice for fans of the Beef O'Brady's Bowl.
As satisfying as it was to hear the powers-that-be finally admit that the BCS was a huge failure, this is barely progress. And for some head-scratching reason, college honchos felt the need to lock this new system in place for 12 years.
Wake me when we have a real champion, please.
4. White Sox GM Ken Williams gets criticized often, but I always have admired the way he swings for the fences. His latest move, getting Kevin Youkilis from the Red Sox for spare parts, bordered on brilliant.
3. I took some time off from TBT while Roberta and I visited Chicago. We drove up from Charlotte with our beautiful pup, Simcha -- who was in the car, not strapped to the top in an air-tight cage.
We spent most of our time with young'uns Katie and Ben, who are doing wonderfully, thanks for asking. We also got to visit our dear friends, the Marks, the Pellikans and the Brundidges.
On Friday, I golfed with sportswriter buddies Rick Morrissey, Teddy Greenstein, Mike Imrem, Lindsey Willhite and Adam Rittenberg. That's right: a Sun-Times guy, a Tribster, two Daily Herald dudes and an ESPN.com scribe; that's about as diverse a group as a bunch of lily-white males can be. It would have been even more diverse (and more white and more male) if the Southtown Star's Phil Arvia had joined us as planned. He wimped out with the lamest of excuses: his wife broke her leg. Two days later, I hit the links with my two best Marquette friends, Tom Chodzko and John Lamich. I shot a pair of 93s, so it's a good thing the company was great!
One of the trip's highlights took place Saturday night, when my wife and I saw our favorite band, Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers, rock the Cubby Bear. Katie and Ben joined us and a fantastic time was had by all.
Oh, and of course, we ate at Pequod's, the best deep-dish pizza on earth.
All in all, it was a super fun Chicago visit before we returned to Charlotte -- just in time for it to be 100-plus degrees all weekend. Pass the deodorant, please.
2. I have yet to decide if I love HBO's newest series, The Newsroom, but I'm pretty sure I don't hate it.
And I must admit that I laughed out loud upon hearing that Jeff Daniels' character, combustible newscaster Will McAvoy, spent a vacation in the tropics canoodling with Erin Andrews.
You know ... I had wondered why I hadn't seen her lately.
1. After winning our previous three games, including our playoff opener, by double-digit slaughter-rule scores, our 45-and-over softball team, the Blue Thunder, suffered a tough defeat Tuesday night.
Yours truly had two line-drive hits, scored a few runs and had an RBI ... but I also messed up: Playing catcher, I failed to scoop a low throw that would have cut off a run; I also got thrown out at the plate trying to score. As a team, we played a little too loose in the field, walked a few too many batters and didn't have quite enough hits, all contributing factors to us blowing a late lead and losing by two runs.
We're not done yet, though. It's a double-elimination tournament, and we already have scored decisive victories over the next two teams we'll face (if we win our next game, that is).
Why am I boring everybody with my softball team's exploits? Well, because I can. It's my blog!
Besides ... our playoffs, unlike major college football's, will produce a true champion.
^
Monday, June 18, 2012
Today's High 5: Clemens "not guilty" ... but probably not Hall bound
^
5. OK, so Roger Clemens is officially "innocent." Can we please start spending tax dollars on something that actually matters to society?
Like, perhaps, appointing me Czar of Sports Hackery?
4. Yes, Jim Furyk imploded in a collapse that, while not quite Vandeveldeian or Normanian (or even Cubbian), certainly was impressive. And yes, some poser named Eldrick Woods fell apart on Saturday and Sunday, proving for the umpteenth time that he's nowhere near being Tiger again.
But give Webb Simpson credit. While others around him were fading away in the San Fran fog, he was shooting a 68-68 over the weekend on a course that seemed only slightly more fun than a Seamus Romney road trip.
Simpson not only outlasted everybody, he outplayed everybody. He made the most big shots on championship Sunday. And that, my friends, is how you win a U.S. Open.
3. I remember having a discussion at the end of the 2007 NFL season with another scribe during which we concluded that LaDainian Tomlinson was one of the top five running backs we had seen, right up there with Walter Payton, Emmitt Smith, O.J. Simpson and Barry Sanders. (We both are too young to remember Jim Brown.)
After that discussion, L.T. had an injury-plagued 1,100-yard season, followed by two sub-par (for him) years, followed by last season's slog as a specialty back for the mediocre Jets.
And now he has retired at the ripe old age of 32.
Life as an NFL runner is glamorous for a short spell but certainly isn't easy.
2. Finally, LeBron James is looking and acting and sounding and, most importantly, playing like a guy who cares more about winning than anything else.
He's only two wins away from proving he belongs to be mentioned in the same breath as the Michaels, Kobes and Magics.
Of course, he's also only three losses away from having more scorn rained down upon him than any Twitter-era athlete ever has experienced.
Kind of makes you root for him a little, no?
No? OK.
1. So now that Clemens has been found not guilty of perjury and all other charges against him in a trial that cost taxpayers a mere 3 million bucks, what are his chances of getting into the Baseball Hall of Fame?
Answer: not too good.
Based on how voting has gone down the last few years, if a guy even is suspected slightly of having used steroids, he gets the short shrift from the Baseball Writers Association of America. And despite Monday's verdict, more than a little suspicion remains about Roger. He will be shunned big-time.
I am leaning toward voting for him because I believe he had a Hall of Fame record of accomplishment before his juicing reportedly began.
Having said that, I probably won't vote for him this December, when he appears on the ballot for the first time.
I've never been a voter who has differentiated between "regular" Hall of Famers and first-ballot Hall of Famers. It never bothered me that some of my peers reserved first-ballot status only for the best of the best, but I always felt that if a guy deserved a Hall vote, he deserved it ... period.
I think I'll change things up for the few Roid Boyz that I deem Hall worthy. If they're going to get my vote at all, they're going to have to wait for it.
Why? Because I have the power to make them wait, that's why.
^
5. OK, so Roger Clemens is officially "innocent." Can we please start spending tax dollars on something that actually matters to society?
Like, perhaps, appointing me Czar of Sports Hackery?
4. Yes, Jim Furyk imploded in a collapse that, while not quite Vandeveldeian or Normanian (or even Cubbian), certainly was impressive. And yes, some poser named Eldrick Woods fell apart on Saturday and Sunday, proving for the umpteenth time that he's nowhere near being Tiger again.
But give Webb Simpson credit. While others around him were fading away in the San Fran fog, he was shooting a 68-68 over the weekend on a course that seemed only slightly more fun than a Seamus Romney road trip.
Simpson not only outlasted everybody, he outplayed everybody. He made the most big shots on championship Sunday. And that, my friends, is how you win a U.S. Open.
3. I remember having a discussion at the end of the 2007 NFL season with another scribe during which we concluded that LaDainian Tomlinson was one of the top five running backs we had seen, right up there with Walter Payton, Emmitt Smith, O.J. Simpson and Barry Sanders. (We both are too young to remember Jim Brown.)
After that discussion, L.T. had an injury-plagued 1,100-yard season, followed by two sub-par (for him) years, followed by last season's slog as a specialty back for the mediocre Jets.
And now he has retired at the ripe old age of 32.
Life as an NFL runner is glamorous for a short spell but certainly isn't easy.
2. Finally, LeBron James is looking and acting and sounding and, most importantly, playing like a guy who cares more about winning than anything else.
He's only two wins away from proving he belongs to be mentioned in the same breath as the Michaels, Kobes and Magics.
Of course, he's also only three losses away from having more scorn rained down upon him than any Twitter-era athlete ever has experienced.
Kind of makes you root for him a little, no?
No? OK.
1. So now that Clemens has been found not guilty of perjury and all other charges against him in a trial that cost taxpayers a mere 3 million bucks, what are his chances of getting into the Baseball Hall of Fame?
Answer: not too good.
Based on how voting has gone down the last few years, if a guy even is suspected slightly of having used steroids, he gets the short shrift from the Baseball Writers Association of America. And despite Monday's verdict, more than a little suspicion remains about Roger. He will be shunned big-time.
I am leaning toward voting for him because I believe he had a Hall of Fame record of accomplishment before his juicing reportedly began.
Having said that, I probably won't vote for him this December, when he appears on the ballot for the first time.
I've never been a voter who has differentiated between "regular" Hall of Famers and first-ballot Hall of Famers. It never bothered me that some of my peers reserved first-ballot status only for the best of the best, but I always felt that if a guy deserved a Hall vote, he deserved it ... period.
I think I'll change things up for the few Roid Boyz that I deem Hall worthy. If they're going to get my vote at all, they're going to have to wait for it.
Why? Because I have the power to make them wait, that's why.
^
Friday, June 15, 2012
What a lucky schlub I've been
^
It's a big year for personal anniversaries ...
50 YEARS AGO
I first cultivated my sense of adventure ... as captured in this Aug. 1, 1962 story in my hometown Milford Citizen:
Little 20-month-old Michael Nadel decided to go for a walk this afternoon at 5 o'clock and wasn't missed until the family saw his chair empty at dinner time.
Just as the family of Mr. and Mrs. Jerry Nadel, of 59 Wheeler Avenue, went out to look for the boy, he rode up to the house a proud passenger in a police car.
Sgt. Frank Polizzi, who lives about a half mile away from the Nadels, explained he saw sun-suited Michael walking along Milford Point Road and didn't recognize him as being from the neighborhood. A few youngsters nearer the Nadels' home told the policeman where the boy lived.
My parents should have been soooo embarrassed. I mean ... a sunsuit?
40 YEARS AGO
The fall of '72 was incredibly thrilling as my team, the Miami Dolphins, became the first -- and still the only -- NFL squad to go through an entire season (including playoffs) unbeaten and untied.
How did a kid from Connecticut come to like the Dolphins instead of the Patriots, Giants or Jets?
Well, I was a late bloomer when it came to sports. In fact, I kind of hated them. But as I approached adolescence, I got to be good friends with a kid named Dave Kirschner, who was a huge sports fan. He convinced me to like his favorite basketball team, the Knicks, but I wasn't about to like the Jets because, well, they pretty much sucked.
No, I was an impressionable kid and I wanted to root for a great team, and the Dolphins were coming off a Super Bowl season (they lost to the Cowboys). Plus, they had the coolest aquamarine and orange uniforms. Larry Csonka was my favorite player.
So I became a Dolphins fanatic. Eventually, a Knicks and Yankees fanatic, too. And I started keeping scrapbooks on those teams, as well as the Rangers in hockey. Which, in turn, made me fall in love with writing.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
35 YEARS AGO
Marquette won the '77 national basketball title in Al McGuire's final game as coach.
Not long after that, I went to a college fair and the Marquette representative was very persuasive. She had to be to get a Jewish kid from Connecticut who had never been east of Lancaster, Pa., to agree to freeze his keister off in freakin' Milwaukee. Why I didn't go to Arizona State or Miami or Hawaii or UCLA, I'll never know!
There are those in academia who claim that the success of athletic programs doesn't really help a university's profile. Well, I wouldn't even have known Marquette existed if not for the Warriors -- and I'm guessing thousands of others who chose to matriculate there say the same thing.
After becoming a professional sportswriter, I gave up my allegiances to the Dolphins and Knicks and Yankees and Rangers. But I always will root for Marquette hoops.
Bottom line: I was never a Dolphin or a Yankee. I'll be a Warrior forever.
30 YEARS AGO
I graduated from Marquette and began my career with the AP in Milwaukee.
These days, it's tough for graduates to get a job. How difficult is it? In article after article, the authors almost always write something like: "This is the most difficult job market for college graduates since 1982."
Yep, the 1982 recession was a rough one. I was one of only a few Marquette J-school grads to get a job in the profession. I'd love to say it was because I was the best, but I know better. It was at least 75 percent luck.
How I got that first job with AP is a great story ... and maybe you'll read about it someday if I ever write that book!
25 YEARS AGO
I covered my first Stanley Cup Finals in 1987 -- Oilers vs. Flyers -- beginning a long stretch as AP's de facto national hockey writer.
Was I chosen because I was a hockey expert? Hardly. I was working in Minnesota, so I simply was closer to Canada than anybody else. "Hey, they have lots of ice in Minnesota, right? Let's send Nadel to Edmonton."
The association with hockey worked nicely for me, as I went on to cover seven more Stanley Cups and four Olympic hockey tournaments for AP. The only two national writing awards I received were for hockey-related stories.
These days, I'm not sure I could name a dozen NHL players. Is Chris Chelios still in the league?
20 YEARS AGO
I covered my first NBA Finals -- Bulls vs. Trail Blazers.
One of my favorite keepsakes is a Portland newspaper photo of a media session. Michael Jordan is looking up at me, answering one of my questions.
Someday, one of my grandkids will ask: "Who's that guy in the picture with grandpa?" That'll be cool.
I still had hair in 1992, though it was thinning rapidly. I also had my trusty Bic 4-color pen in hand ... and I still buy them by the multi-pack.
15 YEARS AGO
Jordan had his incredible "food-poisoning game" against the Jazz in the '97 NBA Finals.
It was the only playoff game during the Bulls' Jordan Era II that I didn't cover.
While in Utah for Game 4, I got the word that my mom had died. After that game, I flew to Philadelphia for the funeral. I watched Game 5 -- the sickness game -- while sitting on my brother's sofa a few hours after we buried my mom.
10 YEARS AGO
As a freshman, my daughter Katie helped her high school team win the city championship in its division. She was the leading scorer in the playoffs and made the title-clinching steal.
Katie would go on to be the first athlete in Walter Payton College Prep history to win four varsity letters in one sport.
I still display a great framed photo, snapped by a Chicago Tribune photographer during her freshman year. The one time in her life she drove left, it was captured for all eternity.
Obviously, I was proud of Katie's exploits ... and equally proud of my boy Ben's many, many athletic triumphs. Today, both are in their mid-20s, employed and on their own -- which also makes me very proud.
For a guy who never rooted for the teams he covered, being able to cheer on my kids' teams was huge. After Ben played his last high school baseball game in 2006, I went through withdrawal. Seriously. It took me a year to get over that void.
If you have young kids and they are into sports or acting or music or whatever, enjoy the hell out of it, because the time will go by far too fast!
5 YEARS AGO
GateHouse Media bought the Copley newspapers in Illinois.
That was the beginning of the end for me, because I knew it was only a matter of time before the weasels there deemed me a luxury they no longer could afford. After all, they needed to have plenty of money on hand to give themselves bonuses and double-digit raises. Not that I'm bitter or anything.
Thankfully, 2007 also was the year we sold our last Chicago home, an overpriced condo that we never should have bought in the first place.
Despite its glorious rooftop deck that provided a sterling view of the skyline, the condo didn't sell easily. It took six full months and the process caused lots of angst. Little did we know that the housing market was in the early stages of a total freefall and we were lucky to sell at all.
We moved into an apartment with the idea that we'd buy a house, maybe in the suburbs. But the market just kept getting worse ... and then I got laid off. It sure was nice knowing we didn't have a house we couldn't afford. That "temporary" apartment ended up being home for 3 1/2 years until we moved to Charlotte.
Wow. Lots of anniversaries. Next year's the biggie, though: 30 years of wedded bliss to my wonderful Roberta. Who'da thunk a schlub like me would be lucky enough to land and keep a babe like that?
You know, despite a bad break or two, I really have lived a charmed life.
^
It's a big year for personal anniversaries ...
50 YEARS AGO
I first cultivated my sense of adventure ... as captured in this Aug. 1, 1962 story in my hometown Milford Citizen:
Little 20-month-old Michael Nadel decided to go for a walk this afternoon at 5 o'clock and wasn't missed until the family saw his chair empty at dinner time.
Just as the family of Mr. and Mrs. Jerry Nadel, of 59 Wheeler Avenue, went out to look for the boy, he rode up to the house a proud passenger in a police car.
Sgt. Frank Polizzi, who lives about a half mile away from the Nadels, explained he saw sun-suited Michael walking along Milford Point Road and didn't recognize him as being from the neighborhood. A few youngsters nearer the Nadels' home told the policeman where the boy lived.
My parents should have been soooo embarrassed. I mean ... a sunsuit?
40 YEARS AGO
The fall of '72 was incredibly thrilling as my team, the Miami Dolphins, became the first -- and still the only -- NFL squad to go through an entire season (including playoffs) unbeaten and untied.
How did a kid from Connecticut come to like the Dolphins instead of the Patriots, Giants or Jets?
Well, I was a late bloomer when it came to sports. In fact, I kind of hated them. But as I approached adolescence, I got to be good friends with a kid named Dave Kirschner, who was a huge sports fan. He convinced me to like his favorite basketball team, the Knicks, but I wasn't about to like the Jets because, well, they pretty much sucked.
No, I was an impressionable kid and I wanted to root for a great team, and the Dolphins were coming off a Super Bowl season (they lost to the Cowboys). Plus, they had the coolest aquamarine and orange uniforms. Larry Csonka was my favorite player.
So I became a Dolphins fanatic. Eventually, a Knicks and Yankees fanatic, too. And I started keeping scrapbooks on those teams, as well as the Rangers in hockey. Which, in turn, made me fall in love with writing.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
35 YEARS AGO
Marquette won the '77 national basketball title in Al McGuire's final game as coach.
Not long after that, I went to a college fair and the Marquette representative was very persuasive. She had to be to get a Jewish kid from Connecticut who had never been east of Lancaster, Pa., to agree to freeze his keister off in freakin' Milwaukee. Why I didn't go to Arizona State or Miami or Hawaii or UCLA, I'll never know!
There are those in academia who claim that the success of athletic programs doesn't really help a university's profile. Well, I wouldn't even have known Marquette existed if not for the Warriors -- and I'm guessing thousands of others who chose to matriculate there say the same thing.
After becoming a professional sportswriter, I gave up my allegiances to the Dolphins and Knicks and Yankees and Rangers. But I always will root for Marquette hoops.
Bottom line: I was never a Dolphin or a Yankee. I'll be a Warrior forever.
30 YEARS AGO
I graduated from Marquette and began my career with the AP in Milwaukee.
These days, it's tough for graduates to get a job. How difficult is it? In article after article, the authors almost always write something like: "This is the most difficult job market for college graduates since 1982."
Yep, the 1982 recession was a rough one. I was one of only a few Marquette J-school grads to get a job in the profession. I'd love to say it was because I was the best, but I know better. It was at least 75 percent luck.
How I got that first job with AP is a great story ... and maybe you'll read about it someday if I ever write that book!
25 YEARS AGO
I covered my first Stanley Cup Finals in 1987 -- Oilers vs. Flyers -- beginning a long stretch as AP's de facto national hockey writer.
Was I chosen because I was a hockey expert? Hardly. I was working in Minnesota, so I simply was closer to Canada than anybody else. "Hey, they have lots of ice in Minnesota, right? Let's send Nadel to Edmonton."
The association with hockey worked nicely for me, as I went on to cover seven more Stanley Cups and four Olympic hockey tournaments for AP. The only two national writing awards I received were for hockey-related stories.
These days, I'm not sure I could name a dozen NHL players. Is Chris Chelios still in the league?
20 YEARS AGO
I covered my first NBA Finals -- Bulls vs. Trail Blazers.
One of my favorite keepsakes is a Portland newspaper photo of a media session. Michael Jordan is looking up at me, answering one of my questions.
Someday, one of my grandkids will ask: "Who's that guy in the picture with grandpa?" That'll be cool.
I still had hair in 1992, though it was thinning rapidly. I also had my trusty Bic 4-color pen in hand ... and I still buy them by the multi-pack.
15 YEARS AGO
Jordan had his incredible "food-poisoning game" against the Jazz in the '97 NBA Finals.
It was the only playoff game during the Bulls' Jordan Era II that I didn't cover.
While in Utah for Game 4, I got the word that my mom had died. After that game, I flew to Philadelphia for the funeral. I watched Game 5 -- the sickness game -- while sitting on my brother's sofa a few hours after we buried my mom.
10 YEARS AGO
As a freshman, my daughter Katie helped her high school team win the city championship in its division. She was the leading scorer in the playoffs and made the title-clinching steal.
Katie would go on to be the first athlete in Walter Payton College Prep history to win four varsity letters in one sport.
I still display a great framed photo, snapped by a Chicago Tribune photographer during her freshman year. The one time in her life she drove left, it was captured for all eternity.
Obviously, I was proud of Katie's exploits ... and equally proud of my boy Ben's many, many athletic triumphs. Today, both are in their mid-20s, employed and on their own -- which also makes me very proud.
For a guy who never rooted for the teams he covered, being able to cheer on my kids' teams was huge. After Ben played his last high school baseball game in 2006, I went through withdrawal. Seriously. It took me a year to get over that void.
If you have young kids and they are into sports or acting or music or whatever, enjoy the hell out of it, because the time will go by far too fast!
5 YEARS AGO
GateHouse Media bought the Copley newspapers in Illinois.
That was the beginning of the end for me, because I knew it was only a matter of time before the weasels there deemed me a luxury they no longer could afford. After all, they needed to have plenty of money on hand to give themselves bonuses and double-digit raises. Not that I'm bitter or anything.
Thankfully, 2007 also was the year we sold our last Chicago home, an overpriced condo that we never should have bought in the first place.
Despite its glorious rooftop deck that provided a sterling view of the skyline, the condo didn't sell easily. It took six full months and the process caused lots of angst. Little did we know that the housing market was in the early stages of a total freefall and we were lucky to sell at all.
We moved into an apartment with the idea that we'd buy a house, maybe in the suburbs. But the market just kept getting worse ... and then I got laid off. It sure was nice knowing we didn't have a house we couldn't afford. That "temporary" apartment ended up being home for 3 1/2 years until we moved to Charlotte.
Wow. Lots of anniversaries. Next year's the biggie, though: 30 years of wedded bliss to my wonderful Roberta. Who'da thunk a schlub like me would be lucky enough to land and keep a babe like that?
You know, despite a bad break or two, I really have lived a charmed life.
^
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Chicago musings: Forte's contract, Humber's imperfection, Jaramillo's exodus
^
I guess what the mystics have said for eons is true: You can take the bald dude out of Chicago, but you can't take Chicago completely out of the bald dude ...
The Bald Truth
If I were Matt Forte -- and we often are mistaken for each other because of our incredibly athletic physiques -- I would skip all of minicamp, all of training camp and as much of the season as it takes ... until the Bears give me the contract I deserve.
Contracts in the NFL are unlike those in baseball, basketball and football. Beyond their signing bonuses, most players do not get guaranteed money. If they get hurt, they can be discarded as if they were dryer lint, and their team owes them nothing. Running backs, especially, have short careers and must maximize earnings while they can.
Forte has given everything to the Bears. One could argue pretty easily that he, not Jay Cutler or Brian Urlacher, has been their MVP these last few years.
Since he arrived in 2008, has there been a more underpaid player in the entire NFL?
After being jerked around by the McCaskeys and their personnel people, Forte deserves a contract that reflects his value.
He is irreplaceable, and he should dare the Bears to try to replace him.
The Balder Truth
In his 4-0 win over the Mariners on April 21, Philip Humber didn't allow a single baserunner. In his other 10 starts for the White Sox, he has a 6.92 ERA.
Oh well. Nobody's perfect.
BALDEST TRUTH
When the Cubs couldn't hit in either the 2007 or 2008 postseasons and then got off to a slow start in 2009, somebody had to take the fall. It wouldn't be their GM or manager or, God forbid, any of their players. No, it would hitting coach Gerald Perry. He was the problem, so Jim Hendry fired him.
The following offseason, in probably the most-hyped hiring of a hitting coach in baseball history, Hendry threw millions of Cubbie Bucks at Rudy Jaramillo. Over the ensuing months, Hendry and everyone else associated with the team repeatedly called Jaramillo "our biggest free-agent signing."
Oops.
Lou Piniella quit, Hendry got fired, a bunch of players got shipped away, different players came aboard. And no matter what, the Cubs never hit under the great Rudy Jaramillo.
Now, it's Jaramillo who is looking for a job.
Yep, today's Cubbie Savior (Theo Epstein) has sent yesterday's Cubbie Savior packing.
And on and on and on it goes.
^
I guess what the mystics have said for eons is true: You can take the bald dude out of Chicago, but you can't take Chicago completely out of the bald dude ...
The Bald Truth
If I were Matt Forte -- and we often are mistaken for each other because of our incredibly athletic physiques -- I would skip all of minicamp, all of training camp and as much of the season as it takes ... until the Bears give me the contract I deserve.
Contracts in the NFL are unlike those in baseball, basketball and football. Beyond their signing bonuses, most players do not get guaranteed money. If they get hurt, they can be discarded as if they were dryer lint, and their team owes them nothing. Running backs, especially, have short careers and must maximize earnings while they can.
Forte has given everything to the Bears. One could argue pretty easily that he, not Jay Cutler or Brian Urlacher, has been their MVP these last few years.
Since he arrived in 2008, has there been a more underpaid player in the entire NFL?
After being jerked around by the McCaskeys and their personnel people, Forte deserves a contract that reflects his value.
He is irreplaceable, and he should dare the Bears to try to replace him.
The Balder Truth
In his 4-0 win over the Mariners on April 21, Philip Humber didn't allow a single baserunner. In his other 10 starts for the White Sox, he has a 6.92 ERA.
Oh well. Nobody's perfect.
BALDEST TRUTH
When the Cubs couldn't hit in either the 2007 or 2008 postseasons and then got off to a slow start in 2009, somebody had to take the fall. It wouldn't be their GM or manager or, God forbid, any of their players. No, it would hitting coach Gerald Perry. He was the problem, so Jim Hendry fired him.
The following offseason, in probably the most-hyped hiring of a hitting coach in baseball history, Hendry threw millions of Cubbie Bucks at Rudy Jaramillo. Over the ensuing months, Hendry and everyone else associated with the team repeatedly called Jaramillo "our biggest free-agent signing."
Oops.
Lou Piniella quit, Hendry got fired, a bunch of players got shipped away, different players came aboard. And no matter what, the Cubs never hit under the great Rudy Jaramillo.
Now, it's Jaramillo who is looking for a job.
Yep, today's Cubbie Savior (Theo Epstein) has sent yesterday's Cubbie Savior packing.
And on and on and on it goes.
^
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