Joltin' Joe has left and gone away

It's been awhile, but I've covered this ground before:

• I asked Where Have You Gone, Joe DiMaggio?
• After some feedback, I clarified some of those thoughts with More on the Eclipse of the Great American Hero.
• And finally I found some satisfaction in getting to watch The Josh Hamilton Redemption begin to play out one night at old Yankee Stadium.

And if you don't want to go re-read all of that, essentially this was the root of my frustration:

I still find myself dejected over this sad state of affairs. It isn't because I just realized that there is hopelessness where I had always expected there to be hope. I think it is more that I wish to see my faith played out on that stage of public celebrity. I want to see some light shine through. I want to see some evidence in the world -- that I can point to... that I can show to others -- to say, "Here is where the Reign of God is breaking in & making a difference. Here is where the beacon on a hill is shining."

I know that Christ has forgiven us of all our sins (lowercase-"s"). But what about the (uppercase-"S") Sin problem here, while we're still on Earth? The cross has salvific power for eternity, and Scripture is witness to that. But also, the logic of the cross overcomes the problem in the here & now of the power of Satan in our lives. It's not enough to just have our record expunged. I want my heart washed clean, too.

And, so, it would be marvelous to find more examples, that are in public view, of humanity overcoming. I know some of you are still going to argue, "You're looking in the wrong place." I don't think I am. I'm just looking for that city on a hill. And I suppose my point in all this is that it's hard to find in celebrity. I want to be able to point at someone and say, "See, Christ works even THERE!"

That's a nice sentiment. But the more I've thought about it, it's a sentiment that's not completely honest. Because, whether or not I knew it at the time, I wanted to do more than point. I wanted to worship.

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Worship is what we do with celebrities. Of all kinds -- whether from sports, politics, Hollywood, private enterprise, or the music industry.

Even before tabloids there was a fascination with celebrity. In the Bible, when Israel had no King, they coveted other nation's that had one. And they begged God for one. So he up & gave them what they wanted. So Israel finally had it's King.

This urge to crown Kings is at the root of some of humanity's best stories. Tell me -- how many of our ancient legends or fictional stories are a variation on this basic premise:

"ONCE- there was a great King. Who ruled with wisdom and power and justice and compassion -- all at once! And therefore, when the King was there, the land experienced a Golden Age. And everyone blossomed and we all reached our potential. The land blossomed, the arts blossomed, our relationships blossomed, civilization blossomed.

"BUT- something has taken the King away. So everything has deteriorated. Everything has fallen into disrepair & decay.

"BUT- we look for the day in which the King will come back."

(HT Tim Keller, "Jesus Our King")

How many of our stories trace these themes? Robin Hood. King Arthur. Lord of the Rings. The current Batman franchise of movies. That just off the top of my head. There are so many others. How many more?

And why is this the case? Why this fascination with Kings? Why this need to crown them? When the actual record of human kings is terrible. When you survey the landscape of history, the actual record of kings is nothing but a trail of tyranny, tragedy, and broken-ness. There's a very good reason we don't have kings any longer. We decided it was a good idea to get rid of all the kings! We've replaced nearly all of them with Democracies.

And yet still: a good story about a king has a powerful impact on us. Why?

I'm convinced now that it's because we were wired to worship. We were made to give our devotion to someone. As the ancient writer said: "Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you."

The problem is this: we have this culture where we are invited to misplace our worship in any number of ways. We're even honest about it. We have a TV show called "American Idol." We even call our sports heroes idols.

Sportscaster Bob Costas put it this way 17 years ago when he eulogized Mickey Mantle:

And more than that, he was a presence in our lives-a fragile hero to whom we had an emotional attachment so strong and lasting that it defied logic. Mickey often said he didn't understand it, this enduring connection and affection-for men now in their 40s and 50s, otherwise perfectly sensible, who went dry in the mouth and stammered like schoolboys in the presence of Mickey Mantle.

Maybe Mick was uncomfortable with it, not just because of his basic shyness, but because he was always too honest to regard himself as some kind of deity.

But that was never really the point. In a very different time than today, the first baseball commissioner, Kenesaw Mountain Landis, said every boy builds a shrine to some baseball hero, and before that shrine, a candle always burns.

For a huge portion of my generation, Mickey Mantle was that baseball hero.'

In a time where baseball monopolized America what Judge Landis said was true. But now, with so many sports & entertainment options, boys (and even grown men) have shrines to all manner of heroes.

For generations of men in Pennsylvania, that shrine was built for JoePa. He was a great ball-coach. He represented winning, yes. But more than that. His credo was "success with honor." He championed the Penn State way. He represented doing things right, not taking short-cuts, and being people of integrity. Once, when asked when he would retire, he quipped that he would not leave the game "to the Jackie Sherrills and Barry Switzers." And those who worshiped at the feet of Paterno pumped their fist. Because Joe was their crusader. Wrestling the trophies away from those who would get down in the slop & dirty up the game we loved.

Penn State isn't unique in this way. I like the way Cecil Hurt put it:

Part of the culture which made denial possible in Happy Valley is a mentality that takes hold most tenaciously with success, one in which the football program isn't simply successful, or an asset to the community or the engine of a powerful economic machine. An attitude develops that the program is "good" (and, by extension, that most of its rivals are "bad").

All the great paeans of the great white knight Joe Paterno... Rick Reilly calls them idotic hagiography.

Hagiography: writing about the lives of saints. Beyond just putting people up on pedestals. But putting them on thrones & placing halos over their heads. When really they're just human.

You know what Saint Joe did 18 months ago when he found out that his old pal & assistant Jerry Sandusky was under investigation? When Joe could feel the noose tightening around his own neck? He did what most folks would do: he gave into instincts of self-preservation. He took Penn State University to the negotiating table and extorted them for a sweet contractual exit package. He transferred ownership of his home to his wife. Because he knew what was coming. It was like a slow motion train wreck for him. And he was shielding Sue & the rest of his family from the liability locomotive that was barreling down the tracks directly at them.

That's a far cry from the philanthropic image of Joe Paterno. The man who gave millions of dollars back to the University he worked for. Nevertheless, in the end, Joe & his sons were using whatever leverage they could to extract whatever benefits they could out of that University.

Hardly a saint. Idiotic hagiography.

Some people still have a hard time accepting the truth about Joe. After the Freeh Report was released last week, someone placed a sign at Joe Paterno's statue that read, "Remember: He was a man, not God!!!" It seems that at least one person couldn't accept that:

This was passed onto me by Mary Curran. Someone ripped the Paterno statue sign, which said, 'he was a man, not a god' twitter.com/sganim/status/…

— Sara Ganim (@sganim) July 15, 2012

It seems to be a ferocious thing to step between someone & the object of their worship.

---

We all would be better off if we kept the sobering lessons of this tragedy in our minds. Lesson #1 being this: protect the defenseless.

But while fans with their Joe Paterno shrines have furiously been defending the man, I appreciated these words from one of Joe's best players & one of Penn State's best ambassadors-- LaVar Arrington:

"If you really think about it, how much do I really know [coach Joe Paterno]?" Arrington told the "Wetzel to Forde" radio show. "How much do we really know him? I know the coaching figure - just like with Jerry Sandusky, I knew the coaching figure. I mean, there's obvious ways of looking at this right now with 20-20 hindsight, but I didn't know the person I thought I did."

The next time you're tempted to go use all your social media powers defend the honor of Barack Obama... or Mitt Romney... or Ron Paul...

or your favorite coach... or your favorite player...

or your favorite billionaire... or your favorite writer...

...as deeply as you may desire to offer your devotion to somebody -- as much as you may want to sit that person on the throne of your heart & place a crown on their head...

that person is just a person. How well do you really know them?

On Paterno

How ironic can names be? Consider with me:

• A man who grows up to become the General Manager of George Steinbrenner's New York Yankees... named CASHMAN

• An already famous man who becomes infamous for tweeting out a picture of his manhood... named WEINER

• A guy who runs a multi-billion-dollar Ponzi Scheme for decades, defrauding thousands of people & living off their wealth… named MADOFF

And, now-- we have a man who was a revered father figure for multiple generations of young men. Who, as it turns out, abandoned children who were in need of just such a father figure & protector. Who, as we learned in yesterday's Freeh Report, shielded a monster by acting like the father figure of a family mafia.

... named PATERNO.

The lionized leader of the Nittany Lions who, it turns out, was the definition of duplicity.

That's a lot of levels of irony. But it's no joke. Not for the victims of the man who Joe Paterno and his superiors lackeys protected.

A lot of good writers have already weighed in on Paterno. About how he was a derelict father figure. Or about how he was a a liar. Even about how Paterno's legacy now stands. An excerpt from that Dan Wetzel column:

There is no denying Paterno was a positive force in many lives, a gifted coach and motivator and, until now, a fine image for Penn State. None of that equals his shame.

The reason Paterno was able to wield such influence is the outsized value placed on college sports and the coaches who deliver those winning programs. A “pyramid of power,” Freeh described it. And anyone pointing to all the players he helped is just repeating the same pathetic concept.

Paterno did help his football players. Those men, however, were heavily recruited, talented and often highly motivated people. If they hadn’t gone to Penn State they would’ve gone to Michigan or Virginia or Notre Dame.

For decades he found a way to take top-line kids and maximize what they could do, usually by motivating them to excel at a sport they already loved. They were subject to mass adulation and had the potential to become millionaires at the professional level.

He wasn’t taking illiterate third-world children and getting them to Harvard. Almost every person Paterno positively impacted through football would have fared similarly had Penn State not even fielded a team. They just would have played elsewhere. Bo Schembechler or Lou Holtz or Bobby Bowden would’ve coached them up in football and life, just like Paterno did.

Conversely, the kids that Jerry Sandusky tricked, molested and in certain ways destroyed wouldn’t have lived the same life had Paterno done the right thing. They were attacked, out of nowhere. Without fault. Without provocation. Without the opportunity to create their own destiny.

The lives of these kids were profoundly and forever destroyed because of the actions of Sandusky, Spanier, Schultz, Curley and, yes, Joe Paterno.

There could never be enough victories, enough perfect graduation rates, enough national championships to justify that.

Joe Paterno was a great influence on men who were already likely to live great lives, men who could help him win football games.

He was a failure to those Second Mile boys who had no such talents, no such opportunity, no parade of recruiters looking to offer them scholarships. He turned his back on the very kids that were desperate for the kind of hero that Joe Paterno’s former legacy claimed he was all about.

And yet there are those who persist in saying that Joe Paterno was a man who "lived a profoundly decent life." Like Joe Posnanski, the man whose biography on Paterno will be published next month. And far be it from me to put words in Posnanski's book that the public has yet to see. But I suspect he will make mention of the lives Paterno touched that are touching others in tremendously positive ways.

Can you ignore that? You may have heard the Scriptures (1 Peter 4:8, James 5:20) that highlight the possibility of covering over a multitude of sins. But is it possible for a sin to cover over the magnitude of having “lived a profoundly decent life?”

I guess it depends on who is keeping the moral ledger. In the eyes of public opinion, I suppose the answer is 'yes.' The weight of Paterno's misdeeds is leading the media to tear his reputation asunder. "Not even a lifetime of heroism can make up for leaving a single child alone, abandoned to evil, weeping in the dark." (NYT) "Like the Roman Catholic Church, Penn State is an arrogant institution hiding behind its mystique." (NYT) Certainly the courts will follow public opinion. There may be nothing left but a heaping crater after the civil liability lawyers get finished with Penn State. Not to mention the separate on-going investigations being conducted by the Attorney General's Office of Pennsylvania, the FBI, and the Federal Department of Education. That last one is especially frightening for a University. Making the on-going NCAA investigation look paltry by comparison.

But public opinion can be such a capricious moral judge. And if our moral compass is only as actuated as the scale of punitive damages that may be exacted, then that compass is broken.

I think Dan Wetzel artfully explains (above) how that the magnitude of these wrong-doings overwhelm the good Joe Paterno has done. But does it wipe out the good in it’s entirety? No. Because Paterno’s influence in the lives of his players persists. Players that in fact did not go to UVA or Notre Dame. Who were shaped and molded by Paterno & who are shaping and molding others with positive values. That’s what makes this so complicated.



I'll say this- the statue & shrine at Penn State University that lionizes Paterno as a “Humanitarian” has to be removed. The Freeh Report showed very clearly how PSU weighed the sentiment of being "humane." It had everything to do with how Paterno & co. weighed treating Jerry Sandusky. It had nothing to do with how Paterno & co. weighed the lives of children who had been raped. Not to mention the ones who would be raped over the next decade. Yes- the statue has to go. Has to. It mocks Penn State University (and everything that Joe said he stood for) as long as it stays up.

And even in some ways still I pity Paterno. The choices he had before him in 1998 and beyond weren’t clean. As a good buddy wrote to me, “Paterno had a right choice, but he didn’t have a nice choice.” I think that's right. Paterno didn't ask for this. He had a serious decision thrust upon him. And he made the wrong choice to cover willfully for a monster.

I just hope that you & I make better decisions if, God forbid, we’re ever faced with a right choice that’s not a nice choice.

What Am I Rooting For?

I'm going to remember January 9th, 2012 as a great day. I'll remember it as the day that I enjoyed watching my team win the National Championship in New Orleans with my sister & other friends. The nervous anticipation all day of not knowing what Alabama and LSU would deliver that night. The maelstrom of complete joy that hit the French Quarter as running back Trent Richardson broke a run outside -- reaching the endzone & sealing victory. The scene on Bourbon Street minutes later as people wearing crimson filled the street.

That moment probably is what I'll remember most. I can't describe to you the joy of chanting at the top of my lungs, "L-S-WHO! L-S-WHO! L-S-WHO!" All the hugging and high-fiving was like a scene straight out of "Band of Brothers" after the 101st had liberated yet another European town. And, in a way, we all did feel liberated: we were unashamedly proud of our team & the social norms of the moment gave us permission to not hold it in anymore.

Nevertheless, despite the total satisfaction of rooting for a Championship football team, something in the back of my mind haunts me.

---

I remember back to college where I'd sit around with a group of intelligent friends and we, with the benefit of hindsight & the already well-formed judgment of history, would try to figure out why society could have such a hard time with common sense issues.

"How could Southern Caucasian Churches have struggled so mightily with the Civil Rights movement? Why were they so slow to adapt? Why weren't they at the cutting edge LEADING the cause for justice? What were they thinking?"

Inevitably, someone would ask the question, "What are we slow to act on today? What will be the blight of our generation?"

I honestly think it's this question that causes so many within Evangelical circles to push so mightily for same-sex rights. But I digress.

I wonder if I'm wrestling with an issue like that right now.

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Kevin Turner was one tough son of a gun. A fullback at Alabama 20 years ago, Turner graduated to the NFL where he played nearly a decade with the Patriots and the Eagles. He'd deliver crushing hit after crushing hit as the lead blocker for ball-carriers. Turner didn't play a glamor position. If he got his picture in the paper it was probably an accident -- the happenstance of being in the same frame as the star running back. Young, powerful, tough -- Kevin Turner was the picture of a young warrior in professional football.

Today Kevin Turner can't even hold a telephone to his ear. ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig's disease) has taken his strength away.

"I never dreamed that my brain would be destroyed after a period of time," said Kevin Turner, 42.

While he still can, Turner is educating the public about head trauma, which he believes contributed to his ALS.

[...]

Three months after Turner's diagnosis in May 2010, some Boston researchers reported a link between an ALS-type illness and the repetitive head trauma suffered by some athletes. Turner is now involved in research about the degenerative disease, which is called chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE).

It's believed to be caused by repetitive blows to the head, including concussions. CTE has been linked to depression, erratic behavior and early dementia in a number of former pro athletes.

"We've always known boxers could become punch drunk," Chris Nowinski said. "We never thought it could exist in other sports -- hockey, wrestling, soccer, football. The brain doesn't care what's hitting it. The brain is far more fragile than what we thought."

Then- Kevin Turner was a proud warrior on the gridiron. Today- Kevin Turner finds simple tasks like holding the hand of one of his children more & more challenging each day.

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The tough thing right now is that there isn't enough evidence yet to prove that ALS can be brought on by head trauma. It is an exciting loose association, but in the world of medical science it is a loose association at best. Chris Nowinski, President of the Sports Legacy Institute & one of the leading researchers connecting head trauma with neurological diseases, says they need more money (from a Bill Simmons podcast on 03/08/11). But mainly they need more brains.

Dave Duerson's brain was one of them last year. Duerson was a retired defensive back -- most famous for his role on the legendary 1985 Chicago Bears defense. But after a myriad of personal, physical, and financial problems had taken their toll, Duerson decided to end his life. He suspected he had CTE, but didn't know for sure. Duerson knew that the concussions he had suffered in his football-playing career were affecting him, but he couldn't cope with the problems anymore. So instead of shooting himself in the head, Duerson texted his family instructing them to donate his brain to science. And then he shot himself in the chest.

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Did you know that Lou Gehrig may not have even had Lou Gehrig's disease? He may have simply had CTE. Gehrig had numerous concussions from his high school football-playing days -- back when they strapped on leather helmets. He even played Major League Baseball before they wore batting helmets. They'd just wear the caps they wore in the field up to the plate. In an exhibition game in 1934, one pitch came up & in too fast for Gehrig to dive out of the way. It hit him in the forehead, knocking him unconscious. Who knows how many concussions he had in total.

---

Perhaps I shouldn't feel responsible for this. These men chose their path in life. Some of them capitalized handsomely as a result of it.

But, in a way, I think we're all responsible. The more that we make football a religion -- and it's heroes our idols -- the more young kids we're sending out to the field to prove their own manhood. And that's where the real danger lies: all those fragile teenage brains that are laid on the line under the Friday night lights.

As Jonah Lehrer wrote:

Rollinson (a high school football coach) then leans forward in his chair, as if he's about to tell me a secret. "Look, most of my players aren't going to play ball for a living," he says. "I know they don't want to hear that, but it's the truth. So there's really no reason they should risk messing up their brain."

If the sport of football ever dies, it will die from the outside in. The only question now is whether the death has begun.

I know that if there are any young Mama's who ask me for advice, I'm going to tell them to push their boys toward basketball, or baseball, or golf. Almost anything but football.

And if I believe that, then why do I continue to jump up & holler when the boys representing my tribe of choice make a big play? Am I wrestling with the "Civil Rights"-like issue of my day? Will this be the blight of our generation? If rooting on players on the field of battle only makes them to go harder, potentially destroying their brains, then what am I rooting for?

Fair Weather Fanhood: A Manifesto

Just a fair warning to all: this is a long one. Relentlessly long. You may wanna try to print it out & read it somewhere more comfortable than a swivel chair. Then again, it might empty your ink cartridge. Ehhh, do whatever you want.

---

Allow me to go ahead & get the griping out of the way early: the weather STINKS here in Florida right now. It's positively disheartening. I know I shouldn't complain. I don't guess it does any good to complain... except making me feel better. So, just so we're clear on this matter, I don't like the hot weather right now. Not one bit. Not at all.

I guess the other side of this coin is that we're the first to get the warmth of spring. That is pleasant. But it also means an oppressively endless summer. Starting in May and running through June, July, August, September, and now 12 days into October, it's still summer weather here in Panama City, FL.

"So what? Big deal? You should be happy you don't have to shovel snow." Let me explain a little bit of what this is like for you, the non-Floridian.

I walk my dog every day. I'm a good, loving master, and my dog loves me for it. If you don't know, I'm a big man. Not small. I tend to perspire, like many big men. Okay, let's just keep this simple: I fill up a t-shirt with sweat every day. Every day there is a slim ring around the shirt-tail that is dry because it's the one part of the shirt not sticking to my sweat-soaked body. It is every bit as awful & disgusting as it sounds. And THIS every stinkin' day. Especially days where the heat index rises into the high 90's. Or over 100, like it did at least twice last week.

It became a source of humor for one of my golf buddies the other day. He caught me a mile into my route last week, and he stopped to turn his truck around, roll down his window, point at my shirt, guffaw, and think of every wisecrack he could in the 30 seconds he had to make fun of me.

It was humiliating. I will crush him the next time we hit the links.

What's more, the grass hasn't stopped growing here. And unless you've mowed Florida grass, you probably don't grasp how relentless this creature is. And I've been an outstanding yard manager this year. I'm not bragging; I'm just saying that it was a banner year because I put a lot of effort into it. I didn't neglect my lawn. Mowed it every week.

And I'm still mowing! It's not over! I want it to be over! Why can't it be over?! It's supposed to be over! It's October; it's supposed to be COOL. The grass should stop growing so fast by now. But it hasn't been that way.

Plus, when it gets down to it, I'm just selfish. I feel entitled. I don't know why, but I feel like October is my month. I want to walk outside to my truck & have there not be any humidity in the air. I'd like to not be scrambling to click on the A/C as quickly as I can. In fact, I'd like to roll down the window & fill my nostrils with the crisp air of a cool, fall day. Gosh. Just typing that makes me yearn even more. And that is supposed to happen in October. Why hasn't that happened yet here in October?

"Okay! We get it. It's hot in Florida & you hate it." Sorry. So what am I getting at?

Fair weather. I love fair weather. Who doesn't? Who isn't a fan of a crisp fall day?? Nobody, that's who. I want to declare this openly & loudly: I'm a fan of fair weather.

"STOP! What are you REALLY getting at?"

Well, not only am I a fan of fair weather, but I'm also a fair weather fan. There. I said it. I root harder for winners than I do for losers. But at least I'm honest about it. Seriously: who in their right mind roots harder for losers than they do for winners? Nobody, that's who! Nobody "in their right mind" that is. Nuts & weirdies root hard for losers. And I'm not gonna be one of those nuts or weirdies.

The season's over & we can call it now: the Red Sox royally sucked this season. The only reason they won the Wildcard is because the Rangers collapsed quicker than Boston could. They suffered through injuries (Wakefield, Dice-K, Lowell, etc.) & underperforming seasons (Ortiz, Pedroia, Bay, Varitek, etc.) across the board. Bottom line: they didn't have it this season. It wasn't close.

But you know what was even more disappointing? It didn't seem like they cared. How quick was that Red Sox dugout cleared out after the game was over? I saw Jason Bay give what looked like a cursory, token "blank stare out to the field watching the other team celebrate." That's about it. I'm not the only one who noticed this. I'm almost certain that it's this that motivated The Sports Guy to say this after the Game 2 loss: "If you're expecting me to throw remotes, punch walls & go for 2-hour dog walks for this lifeless '09 Sox team, think again."

Because this group didn't care. Not like those Angels cared; that much was very plain. And certainly not like the fans cared. My Lord... Red Sox fans sell out games & buy merchandise at a rate that would juice the economy if it happened in the cities of the other 29 MLB teams. If any fanbase has ever loved their team & blindly rooted for laundry, it is Red Sox fans. But, as the movie line goes, did the Red Sox love them back? I say no.

I've been having this on-going conversation with some Braves fans, too. The Braves have this new General Manager who is tarnishing the once good name of the Atlanta franchise. He's offending Hall of Famers left and right. He's botching deals, as he did last offseason with Rafael Furcal. He over-spent to nab Derek Lowe because he mis-read the market, thought there would be better pitching available, and panicked to bring in the best remaining option. Mark my words (Dan!): given more time, Frank Wren is going to run the Braves into the ground.

Little do Braves fans recognize this, though. Oh, the die-hards are convinced that next year is their year. As hard as I've tried to convince them of their GM's folly -- of his poor record doing business, of his strange signings -- they're convinced that Wren out-paces every other GM in baseball. Really. And they've invested their hopes & dreams into this guy who is leading them off a cliff.

So since when is rooting for those teams a measure of someone's devotion? Sounds sick to me. Pouring your care into a careless team. Investing your hopes in a hopeless franchise. It is folly I say.

Just ask a Green Bay Packers fan. Ask them what it's like to love a player like a son, only to see him rip your heart in the most careless, disloyal way imaginable. What's that like? Thankfully we were enlightened, courtesy Bill Simmons:

Question: I am 19 years old. I have been a fan of Favre and the Packers since the third grade. I grew up thinking Favre could do no wrong. As a mature 17-year-old, I cried the day he retired from the Packers. I was tolerant of the Jets experiment -- even have the jersey to prove it. But what am I supposed to do now? Tonight I watched my childhood hero stomp all over the team and the fans he represented for 16 years. I found myself cursing him for the very same reasons I used to love him. The phony TD celebrations, the smug smiles, the way he hams it up with his new teammates and his new fans. I don't know how to handle it. I started this e-mail thinking I had something to say about all of this, but I just feel lost. I don't know what to think anymore ... I'm just lost.
--Drew, Bloomington, Ind.

Simmons: And that's the part of Monday's game that got lost. Every Packers fan felt like how a dutiful wife would feel if she stuck with her husband through thick and thin, watched him become a success, then got dumped for a younger trophy wife who also happened to be her archnemesis. Favre failed in the same way Roger Clemens failed when he signed with the Blue Jays in 1997 -- his problems with management affected his feelings toward his old franchise, and he did a piss-poor job of letting his old fan base know that he still cared about it. I have written about this before, but I turned on Clemens during his Toronto news conference when he simply refused to acknowledge Boston fans beyond a few generic words. It hurt. I took it personally and decided he was an opportunistic, disloyal, dishonest scumbag from that moment on. And as it turned out, he was.

In Favre's case, his lack of empathy for Packers fans has been really alarming. I know he plays with his heart on his sleeve. I know he's a "kid out there" and "having a ball out there" and all the crap. And maybe he's not a brain surgeon, but he's smart enough to understand what he meant to Packers fans and the state of Wisconsin, which means he had to understand how it went over after he (A) signed with an NFC North team two months ago; (B) dialed up the finger-pointing and fist-pumping during Monday's Pack-Vikes game so egregiously that even his biggest fan fron Green Bay couldn't defend him; and (C) gave that self-satisfied postgame interview in which he never said anything like, "I just wanted to say hi to everyone back in Wisconsin and tell them that this was as strange for me as it probably was for you, but I want you to know that it was just one game -- a game that I wanted to win because I'm a competitor and I love my teammates, but still, none of this changes the fact that I love you guys and I always will." That's it. That's all he had to say to Michele Tafoya after the game.

He didn't say it.

And believe me, I've been there as a fan. It's unforgivable. Especially when you're under 30 and don't realize that many of your "heroes" are people who don't deserve that level of worship, or any worship, for that matter. They just play sports well. They don't care about you. They care about themselves and that's it. If this realization hits you at the wrong time in your life, it can be hard. (I know it was hard for me. I took the Clemens thing personally, as witnessed by the fact that I once wrote a column wondering if he was the Antichrist.) So if the Packers fans want to play along, so to speak, then they can't cheer Favre on Nov. 1. He set the stakes. He made it clear that he's moved on with his new team and cut all ties to the old one. That means you need to go to Lambeau and boo the living hell out of him. Make him miserable. Rattle him. Flummox him. Do everything you can to get the better of him for three hours. This man does not belong to you anymore, and maybe, he never did.

Wow. Truth is sobering, isn't it?

You know what, let's call it: Hosea was a SICK man. There's a reason that his is an awkward story to tell in Church. Marrying a prostitute? Expecting her to remain as faithful & pure as he was? That's like Favre fanhood to the extreme. Which, I mean, for Hosea, is just unimaginable the amount of grief & pain & sorrow he had to wrestle with so often. ONLY God is capable of executing that kind of love and faithfulness. Not us. And that's the point of the book. It's right there in chapter 11 verse 9:

I will not carry out my fierce anger,
       nor will I turn and devastate Ephraim.
       For I am God, and not man—
       the Holy One among you.
       I will not come in wrath

Only God can do that. I mean, it'd drive a man insane to love to that degree of passion & have it not returned.

In fact, in terms of Scriptures that are a model, I default to Psalms 22 on this one. That Psalm where David just opens up on God without any pretense: "My God My God, why have you forsaken me?" It's like he's saying, "Hey Father... this situation I'm in right now -- this is really awful. I'd like to tell you how very awful I think it is." And David goes on to describe his plight in detail. He wrestles with ideas like God's faithfulness, and his own worthiness, and several other similar worries that we all have anxiety over when we're in the midst of trial.

But you know what: if David were being measured by the people who measure fanhood in 21st century America, the man after God's own heart would be only a fair-weather follower.

And I say that's rubbish. David was wallowing in his pessimism, but at least he was taking it to the right place. David was keeping it real, but he wasn't quitting God. He wasn't going down to some Baal or Molek to offer his worship there. He was taking it to God & dumping the full load with HIM: in all it's gritty, unpolished glory.

And here's the point I want to stress to a certain doubter of my fanhood: I'm not putting pinstripes on over here. Just because I can spot an apathetic loser when I see one doesn't mean that I'm leaving Red Sox Nation. I'm staying true to my team. But in doing that, I'm not losing the ability to stay true to myself.

I want to offer as a model of honorable fair weather fanhood my cousin Jason. I have to admit: I'm biased. I love this guy. He's one of my favorite people in the world to spend time around. And that for lots of reasons that I'll spare you from me listing here.

One of the greatest things about Jay, though, is his passion. It comes through so clear on the golf course. When he hits a bad shot, it kills him. Every time. And when he's squared off trying to compete against his brother Barry, it kills him double. Jason is a passionate guy.

This passion comes out in funny ways as it relates to his beloved Crimson Tide, too. I'll never forget the referees running out of the stadium -- running right by he & I -- at the tail end of the 1997 'Bama/Mississippi State game. Alabama had been conquered that day, and Jason wasn't in a good mood. So he taunted those referees. And don't worry: Jason's Mormon, he kept it clean. He just let them know that they SUCKED on that day. ;) And if you ask him about it today, he will work himself into just as much of a frenzy as he was in at that moment.

Oh, and there's also the time where he almost picked a fight after a win. It was October 2nd, 1999. Alabama had just defeated the #3 Florida Gators. IN the Swamp, where the Gators hadn't lost a game in 5 whole years. It was a high moment in all our lives. We felt like kings walking back across campus in our crimson polo shirts. That is, until someone dared taunt the kings. Some drunk guy started heckling us with, "You guys suck! You don't even know what top 5 is!!" Well, Jason isn't the type to turn the other cheek at that. "Hey loser!!... We just beat you IN YOUR OWN HOUSE!" Well, this drunk guy kept following us. And Jason kept not backing down. Until finally we've walked up to this guy's fraternity house, and Jason is standing out on the front lawn red-faced yelling at this clown. He was just about to follow the guy into his FRATERNITY HOUSE. We literally grabbed him to pull him out of that spot & back to my apartment.

I hope you'll believe me when I tell you that Jay is a passionate man. And so, just like his errant shots on the golf course, it kills him a little inside each time Alabama loses. And having a decade like Alabama had from 1997-2007, with 2 separate probations and 3 losing seasons, it was almost enough to crush his spirit.

But Jason figured it out toward the end of the Tide's decade of futility. Whenever 'Bama played, he just went to play golf. I couldn't believe it! This guy who loves Alabama football more than I've ever loved anything in my life. I gave him a hard time about it. How could he do it? Well, for one thing, he taped all the games. And he had a simple rule. When he got home, he'd ask his wife who won. If Alabama won, he'd watch the tape. If Alabama lost, the tape was tossed.

Lots of tapes were tossed.

But Jason made a simple realization about life that I hope each one of you will adopt: He was too passionate to put up with mediocrity. His heart was too big, his love was too strong, and the object of his affection was too small for him to continue down the path of experiencing one heart-wrenching loss after another. So he made that simple calculation: "It's not worth it."

And danged if he's not right! Sports isn't worth it. Sports is never worth it. That is, not when the "it" is putting up with rampant mediocrity & disappointment.

It's as Solomon wrote in Proverbs 4:23 -- "Guard your heart with all diligence, for out of it flows the wellspring of life." I don't know why we subject our hearts to so much anguish over such trivial matters. It reminds me of how C.S. Lewis famously put it:

We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

You know what I recommend to Florida State fans right now? Go play golf! Go savor the good things in life. Seek out fair weather wherever it may be found in your life. If in the Noles won, then fire up that DVR and enjoy the show. If they lost, then forget about it. It's JUST football.

Why is that so hard for people to say? "It's just football." "It's just baseball." I'm convinced that it's hard because we wrap our sense of self-worth & personal pride in our sports tribe of choice. So that when the tribe succeeds, it's like we succeed. But when the tribe fails, it's just as if we failed.

And, to me, that's sickening. It's just revolting. Because when your fanhood becomes THAT, it's tantamount to idol worship. And so we then begin to measure someone's virtue -- someone's loyalty -- by their mindless, automaton-like sense of devotion to a sports team? How poor a measure is that!

I've got an idea: How about we try measuring people's virtue & loyalty by things that really matter? Like how well they love their wives. Or how well they raise their kids. Or how healthy they grow their puppies? Or how green they keep their lawns? Even over months & months of oppressive heat!

(That's right: it's all about me here)

I'm not saying just to go root for winners. Definitely don't do that. That's not fanhood. That's being a front-runner. No, don't be like the louses that I grew up with who were fans of the Seminoles, Cowboys, and Bulls. Please. Don't go changing teams.

But here's what I am saying: choose to go enjoy the good weather wherever good weather may be found. That's what I'm doing. It's a High Tide in Alabama. That's why you have to put up with my obnoxious "Power 12" rankings every week. Because I am as into that as President Obama is into being on the TV!! A baseball playoffs commercial on TBS? Really, Mr. President?

So may you enjoy the good weather wherever that good weather may be found. It'll do your heart some good to enjoy the crisp purity of refreshing air in some other slice of life. Because too much of the rest of life is bad weather. Why put up with it in your hobbies & recreation? I mean, there are more important things in life than a sports franchise that deserve that from you which is precious above all else: your devotion & your loyalty. So may you find fair weather spaces in your life to invest your heart where it's safe & where it's rewarded.

And, while we're at it, may the good Lord bless me with some cool Fall air. Please?

Angels in the Outfield

Something very touching happened very late last night. While most of America had already crawled into bed, the Los Angeles Angels clinched the pennant. After six grueling months of a seemingly eternal-long regular season -- a length of time that just grinds players down & almost empties their souls -- those Angels laid claim to the best record in the AL West Division & the ticket to the playoffs that comes with it. It is an accomplishment that can only be celebrated one way: by pouring copious amounts of alcohol all over one another. It is a special time where hours & hours and days & days and months & months of hard work is satisfied in a moment of wild, unharnessed exuberance.

For the Angels, this season was especially soul-draining & trying, though. Because very early in the season -- in the very first week of the season in fact -- they lost one of their own. Nick Adenhart, a young promising pitcher, lost his life after his vehicle collided with another vehicle that was being steered by a drunk driver.

It was tragic.

The Angels were left to pick up the pieces. As is true whenever you experience loss in life, life goes on. It was really almost unfair for each of those team-mates of Nick Adenhart's. They still had a season to play. Grieving, they had to go out night after night & perform under the big lights. And that they did. Without wallowing in self-pity or making excuses for lethargy, they went out and did their job. And they won the pennant.

Respect THAT!

(I've gotta say, as a fan of the team that will have to face the Angels in the first round of the playoffs, I'm not excited about playing them. They're a stronger team because of what they faced. Stronger than other Angels teams that the Red Sox have whipped in playoffs past.)

And yet, despite going through arduous routine & having been focused on doing their job everyday, the Angels still remember their fallen brother. Along with releasing all the pent-up joy & happiness from their fantastic accomplishment, the Angels released some other emotions, too. They let the world know that it still hurts. They told their fans that, even in this fit of machismo & chest-bumping, it's okay to cry. The Angels just missed their friend. And so they paid tribute to him in one of the neatest ways sports has ever seen. Here are some of the images:



And then, after the traditional clubhouse celebration, the Angels took it back out to the field -- to the outfield -- where the Nick Adenhart tribute banner sat on the outfield wall all season just staring back at them. And they honored him there, too:



And here are video clips of the tributes:

From ESPN: the so-called "Highlight of the Night"

From MLB.com: The Angels in the outfield


That had to be so wonderful for those Angels players. As an outside observer, there's a strong sense in which it looked like they felt that they shared one last moment with their buddy, Nick. Not that it's all about me here, but I know the feeling in my own life of accomplishing something and thinking how great it would be if I could call Mom & share that moment with her. Sometimes it's crushing when I realize I can't.

So that's why it was so touching to see those players have that moment:

• to empty the cans of beer on that empty jersey as if they were actually piling on their team-mate in real life...
• to run out to right-centerfield to be with Nick as if he were actually there...
• to lift a can in honor to him as if he were there actually appreciating the tribute...
• to take a team photo as if having Nick's image in the back-drop finally actually made things feel complete again.

What a rich moment that must have been. And what a loving act for those Angels to make to their fallen brother, and to his family. And, really, to every family everywhere that's ever lost a member. I'm not gonna forget these Angels in the outfield. How special are they.

There have been some under-the-radar special moments in baseball in the last couple of years. Josh Hamilton destroying his demons in Old Yankee Stadium last July in the Homerun Derby. With each swing of the bat, it seemed like he was slaying yet one more demon after another. Jon Lester throwing a no-hitter after having beat cancer. The more fireballs he threw, the stronger he made us all feel against the powers that threaten to destroy our lives. And now we have the Angels winning the pennant & paying tribute to Nick Adenhart. Reminding us that even when we lose a big part of us, we still have one another. I just wanna break out in praise over God giving us these moments to enjoy.

It's Time to Go...

It's time. WAY past time.

If Bobby Bowden & Joe Paterno were dinner guests, it'd be about the 1:00 AM hour. They had been great guests for the most part. They told laugh-out-loud-funny jokes & some of the best stories you'd ever heard. You enjoyed having them around. But it is PAST time for them to go.

This is how I want to remember Joe

But they're not budging. These two bull-headed old men are too full of pride to come out on the bottom end of their personal rivalry. Paterno has career 383 wins; Bowden has 381. The one who retires first will likely end up on the short end of the totem pole. But 2008 would be a great year for BOTH of them to announce that this past season was their last.

Paterno brought Penn State back to elite status this season. They were a legitimate part of the National Championship chase. After 4 losing seasons in a 5 year stretch earlier this decade, Joe-Pa has rattled off 40 wins in the last 4 years. They're going to the Rose Bowl this year. Even though all that ink was spilled earlier this decade talking about how Joe had lost his mojo, he's proven that he still has it.

So why not go out on top? I don't want to remember Joe Paterno limping out the door because he's not agile enough anymore to evade football players crashing into the sideline. Joe had to spend much of this season up in the press box, getting around with crutches. If he doesn't step down, that'll probably happen again & again. That's not how I want to remember Joe-Pa. I want to remember him coaching the Nittany Lions in the Rose Bowl & then riding off into the sunset.

Same goes for Bowden. The Florida State football program has been in steady decline this entire decade. Momentum is seeping from the program. Recruiting is still going well, but that talent isn't getting developed. There doesn't appear to be the same drive -- the same fire -- that was a part of this program in the 80's and 90's. It's plainly evident everywhere, even in Coach Bowden's speeches. I mean, my goodness... this is pathetic:


Oh, so we're gonna have to fight tonight? And-and... execution? Got it, coach. Thanks for the inspiration. Really fired me up.

There's no sign that Coach Bowden can do anything to turn this thing around. Bobby isn't suddenly going to sprout more ambition. If he sticks around for next season, he will turn EIGHTY years old! The fire is gone and it's not coming back.

FSU has a coach-in-waiting that other schools keep trying to interview every offseason anyway. That is a coach with ability. He can recruit, he can motivate, and he can scheme with X's and O's. That's also a coach with enough youth & ambition to re-energize FSU with the fuel it needs to become a contender again.

I think that the athletic directors of Penn State & Florida State would do well to get together and end this public rivalry that holds both schools hostage. If they can't get Paterno & Bowden out this year, then say to them, "You both get one more year. That's it and that's all." I guarantee that both schools would get biggest work ethic out of those two old coaches; there would be a fire present that those programs had not been seen probably in decades. Neither one of them wants to be on the short end of the totem pole. So they would work their rear ends off to go out on top. It would be a glorious end for both of them.

Come on, Coach Bowden & Coach Paterno. We're on the wrong side of midnight here. It's time to go.

Be a Man, Manny

As a fellow Red Sox fan like Bill Simmons (ESPN's "The Sports Guy"), I too rooted on Manny Ramirez. I loved him when he was funny. But I also hated him when his jokes weren't so funny. I wrote a couple months ago that with the way Manny disrespected his team-mates, the fans, and the game, I hoped he fell flat on his face in L.A. & went the way of Nomar.

In his really, really ridiculously long article that will headline ESPN.com this weekend, Simmons argued that Manny shouldn't take the blame. He had put up great numbers, he was still putting up great numbers, he was going to put up great numbers -- what wasn't there to love? And any culpability for a poor attitude, lack of hustle, faking injuries & ducking games, intentional strikeouts, and being a bad team-mate in general should be laid at the doorstep of Manny's agent, Scott Boras. I personally think Simmons overstates his case. But did he have good reason to do so?

The Sports Guy stops just short of overtly alleging the existence of a cabal between the Red Sox front office, the Boston print media, the Boston sports talk machine, ESPN analyst Peter Gammons, and -- The Great Satan himself -- Scott Boras. He essentially assassinates Gammons in terms of him having any journalistic integrity or objective voice of his own anymore.

Not to mention that he takes swipes at current Red Sox GM Theo Epstein's integrity in holding Manny to a standard he himself allegedly did not keep. He compares Epstein not being re-signed & let go at the end of the '05 season to Manny quitting on his team mid-season for no apparent reason. I'm not sure how solid those comparisons are.

And, on top of all that, The Sports Guy even makes veiled accusations of racism. There is a long-standing history of sports racism in Boston (with both the Celtics and the Red Sox). Simmons patently implies the Red Sox front office of preserving this long-time Boston sports pastime of sorts by referring to the current product on the field as "lily-white" & akin to looking like a prep school athletics squad.

My first reaction was that Simmons must not be a Sox fan anymore. I mean, seriously: the guy never writes about them anymore. He spills endless amounts of ink over football lines and on baskeball; but he barely acknowledges baseball anymore. And when he FINALLY decides to grace us with his thoughts on baseball by talking about the Manny divorce, he basically slanders his favorite team? One of my major gut reactions was that Simmons just needs to go buy a Dodger blue #99 jersey & make it official. If it's Manny you're loyal to, then be up front about it. But don't claim Red Sox fanhood if you're not into it anymore.

I'll give Simmons credit where he deserves it, though. He doesn't throw darts without hitting a few targets.

The strongest part of Simmons' article is probably his critique of the widely-loved Peter Gammons. It is indeed puzzling that Gammons never once blamed Boras, but only spoke noble words of him. Even I recognized it to be pretty clear (in my write-up two months ago) that it felt like Gammons was the mouth-piece for the Red Sox administrative arm. For Gammons to not even say a single ill word about Boras, though -- a man universally recognized in baseball circles as the media's version of the protector of the integrity of the game -- is really bad. Even Curt Schilling fingered the obvious villain when interviewed at the trade deadline:

On Scott Boras’s involvement:

“I think absolutely he’s absolutely had a hand in this … I think he absolutely has a piece of this. Scott Boras stands to make zero dollars if the Red Sox pick up Manny’s options the next two years. Manny’s not 1- years from retirement, he’s maybe four obviously, that’s where he’s at. So does Scott Boras want to get a two year-deal for Manny or a four-year deal for Manny? At the end of the day it falls on the player because Manny’s an adult… I can’t fathom Scott hasn’t had some… you read his comments, he just has no ability to answer a question short, tactfully, and straightforward. It’s a 12 paragraph way to say 19 syllable words that you just can’t figure out what the hell he’s saying.”

There does appear to be an attempt by the Red Sox front office to control spin & to establish relationships that are ultimately beneficial for their own self-preservation & advancement. Think about who benefits. Gammons gets first dibs at any scoop coming out of the Red Sox front office, not to mention other probable fringe benefits at Fenway Park when watching his self-disclosed favorite team. The Red Sox watch Boras drive up prices on all the mid- & low-market franchises -- a development that plays into their hands with their massive fan base and, thus, money pool. On top of that, though, the Red Sox help establish a gentler view of Boras & a kind relationship with an agent who is vilified everywhere else in order to perhaps receive favorable treatment with Boras' long list of clients (cough, cough -- J.D. Drew). And, of course, Boras gets paid.

This article by Simmons even brought back fresh to my memory an interview I remember seeing Theo doing four years ago after the Red Sox re-signed Varitek but had let Pedro go. Varitek is, of course, represented by Boras. When Theo was asked about Boras' cut-throat, blood-sucking reputation, he succinctly & directly responded, "Well, Scott always gets top dollar for his clients." I remember being shocked by that answer. It was sort of a relentlessly positive way of looking at a really, really awful person in terms of what a scourge he is on baseball in general. I like the way Simmons referred to him: "one of the worst human beings in America who hasn't actually committed a crime."

I want to make this clear: I detest Scott Boras. He himself is a huge reason why a baseball game is so expensive to go watch in person right now. He encourages and openly fosters disloyalty to the "home team" (he basically fundamentally opposes one of the first principles from the National Anthem of Baseball, "Take Me Out to the Ballgame"), which completely spits in the face of baseball fans everywhere. And he does all this to increase his own bottom line.

And you know what else, my Republican readers? I want to say to you that this is what unchecked free market enterprise produces. So everytime you praise Republicans for their common sense and demean Democrats for how "wrong" they are, I want you to remember that you are giving a tacit endorsement to the reckless & utterly insensitive greed of The Great Satan himself.

And as I wag my finger on that point, I can't help but be almost completely ashamed of my Red Sox fanhood now. I've been a fan for a long time. I don't know if these revelations will change that overnight. But the Red Sox look more & more like the Yankees at every turn. It's disillusioning, to be sure.

Back to Simmons, though... one thing I think that he completely overlooks is the fact that it wasn't a guarantee that Manny was not going to quit on this team that was defending a title. Manny had already done just that when he sat out for five weeks at the end of the '06 season for some mysterious, probably non-existent injury. Manny could have shut himself down for as long as he wanted. He didn't care. And if the '08 Red Sox were going to make a run at defending their title, it was clear that Manny wasn't going to be a part of that effort. It was clear enough that he had other selfish interests in mind, and Manny's not one to juggle more than one task at a time.

At the end of the day, though, the man who is speaking the most truth here is Curt Schilling. (Why is it always the jerks & the blow-hards? Canseco was the truth-teller on steroids. Now it's Schilling on Manny.) He was absolutely correct when he said, "At the end of the day it falls on the player because Manny’s an adult." Simmons can call Manny an "idiot savant" all he wants, and portray him as the ignorant puppet in Boras' puppet-master scheme. But Manny ultimately chose this path when he chose Boras & acted out like a petulant child. I don't see God absolving everyone, both sheep & goats, on Judgment Day just because that Satan was one persuasive cat. That's just not how it works -- at least not in my worldview.

Manny made his bed. Now he's lying in it. And I'm still hoping that it has some uncomfortable lumps so that Manny will go the way of Nomar. My hope is still that Manny falls on his face to the extent that whenever a future athlete thinks of acting out and being selfish, he will think of the cautionary tale that is Manny Ramirez.

Sports Haiku's

A long time ago, while I was an undergraduate student at Harding University, the University of Florida had a football coach named Ron Zook. He was so hated that some Gator alumnus started a web site called FireRonZook.com. My room-mate & I took much glee in the haiku's that were printed there about Ron Zook. Sadly, the web site has gone away, and I can't find those haiku's anymore. I just remember that one of the haiku's started with the line "Sucky Sucky Coach."

So, I thought I would bring back the very merry genre known as the sports haiku. Enjoy...

About the horrific former Texas Ranger pitcher Chan Ho Park
By Texas Ranger fan, Jordan Powell

Painful memories return
Park throws large beach ball to plate
The Ho has to go

Sucky Sucky Arm
If curve not dive into dirt
Ball flies over stands


About Brett Favre...

Bribing Brett to sit
Packer fans scratch their cheese-heads
Stay healthy, Aaron


About my beloved Crimson Tide...

Seniors really stink
but the Freshman really good
We will be lousy


About the hated Auburn Tigers...

Silly new offense
Can't recruit with the big boys
Tommy's end is near


Found on the Red Sox forum "The Sons of Sam Horn"

Jeter, anus-face
Jeter, Jeter, anus-face
Jeter, anus-face


About Manny Ramirez...

Way too much drama
More money for his mama
Hate like Osama

I hate Scott Boras
Pours honey in Manny's ear
Hope for small pay-day


About Joba Chamberlain...

A new Yank to hate
He's more homely than Babe Ruth
They like 'em ugly

My Comprehensive Manny Entry

I have little doubt that Peter Gammons has been a mouthpiece in public for the Red Sox Front Office's views. And he's really summed it up well from my perspective, too. So, that said, here's Gammons this week on Manny:

How & Why Manny Was Acting Out

Why He Had to Go

And other various sundry thoughts...


I'll remember the good times with Manny. 2004 World Series MVP. Helping to take us to the promised land twice. The potent Manny/Papi connection in the lineup.

But in the meantime, I'll be rooting for Manny to fall flat on his face Nomar-style. His level of selfishness represents to me everything that is evil & wicked. I want Manny to ultimately wish he would have hung around to get his $40 million from the Red Sox. I want this to be a lesson to every future would-be free agent who thinks they can throw a fit to get their way & get top dollar. So that when a future athlete thinks of acting out and being selfish, he will think of the cautionary tale that is Manny Ramirez.

So, right now? I guess you could say that I think as highly of Manny as Johnny Cash did of San Quentin. However, like I pretend the Yankee years never happened with my boy-hood hero Wade Boggs, one day I'll try to forget the bad times & fondly remember "Manny being Manny."

Sports Luck & Me

There is something about being a sports fan that makes you inherently myopic & narcissistic. I recognize this and am aware of this, yet I cannot help but notice some strange occurrences that passively involve me in some way. Consider the following:

• On my Ballpark Pilgrimage, I usually rooted for the home team, but there was one game where I rooted for the Red Sox in an away game. Along the way, the teams I rooted for went 2-8 in ten games. In the first game I watched at Fenway, the Red Sox lost their first game at Fenway since May 1st.

• I showed up late to my game in Philadelphia at Citizens Bank Park. When I got to the game, I spent an a couple innings just walking around and checking out the stadium from different perspectives. When I finally got to my seat, I realized that the Phillies pitcher was working on a no-hitter. The very next inning after I had sat down in my seat, the no-hitter gets broken up.

• Red Sox first baseman Kevin Youkilis set a major league record for consecutive games at first base without an error earlier this year. When the error-less streak came to an end, guess who was there. Not only that, but he also committed ANOTHER error the next day. And, yes, I was also there for that one.

• Three days before I saw the Cardinals play, Albert Pujols injured his calf and went on the DL.

• Two days before I saw my first Red Sox game in Baltimore, David Ortiz injures his wrist and goes on the DL.

• One day before I saw the Cubs play, Alfonso Soriano broke a bone in his wrist and went on the DL.

• The night I saw the Indians play, Victor Martinez injured his elbow and went on the DL.

I thought of all of this tonight while I was watching the Red Sox/Diamondbacks game on ESPN. I had been watching the game in one particular room. I got up to go use the restroom, and then I began watching the game in another room in my home. All of a sudden the Diamondbacks scored two runs off of Red Sox ace Josh Beckett. I immediately went back to the original room, but it was no use. D'backs beat the Sox 2-1.

I wish I was making this stuff up.

Sports: It Ain't What It Used To Be

There have been a lot of cool happenings in the world of sports lately. The Celtics & Lakers rekindled an old rivalry and had a great playoff series. Tiger Woods won the U.S. Open with a torn ACL & double stress fracture -- all in his left knee. And, of course, I embarked on an epic Pilgrimage for two weeks in which I will always be able to brag about, as Bob told me, when gas prices were at their highest.

But nothing has happened in the last several weeks that is as big for my "sports worldview" as are the latest allegations from former NBA referee Tim Donaghy. The juiciest allegation is that NBA referees, who Donaghy calls "company men," made calls in such a way as to favor one team over another in order to extend a playoff series from the sixth game to seven games. The team that received the favorable calls won game 6, and even went on to win the series & eventually the NBA Championship.

This team was the Los Angeles Lakers -- perhaps the biggest draw in the NBA. The NBA makes more money if that series goes seven games, and they also make more money the further the Lakers advance into the playoffs. To add to that, Dallas Mavericks Owner Mark Cuban made a comment on "The Dan Patrick Show" radio program last month that in the past there were certain referees who, quote, "knew where their bread was buttered."

This is a huge paradigm shift for me. Just looking at this year's NBA finals -- were the Celtics & Lakers really the league's two best teams? Or did the league help steer those two teams to the finals? Just looking at the Celtics, they had to get through several tough series to make it to the finals...

And what about other NBA achievements? I certainly look at the final plays of the 1998 NBA Finals a little bit differently: Jordan's hack at Karl Malone to steal the ball, and his push-off of Bryon Russell (from another angle) on the final shot. Bryon Russell was recently interviewed (interview at SI.com), and he reminisced that other referees came up to him & told him that they would have called a foul on Jordan on that play.

There's also the shameful-looking case of the 1996 NBA Finals. Of the Bulls championship teams, this one was the best. Michael Jordan's father had died, and Jordan had spent a couple of years languishing away in the mediocrity of minor league baseball. The '96 season was Jordan's first full season back in the league, and the Bulls won 72 of their 82 regular season games -- an NBA record. But that's not the suspicious part. In the playoffs, the Bulls rolled through their competition, losing only one game in their first three series. When they got to the finals against the Seattle SuperSonics, they won the first three games with relative ease. But then, all of a sudden, they dropped two games in a row to the Sonics. Game six was to be on Sunday -- Father's Day. Of course, the Bulls won, and everyone got to see Michael Jordan show all of his emotion after winning his first championship without his father.

It makes me wonder: what am I watching when I tune in to watch sports? I used to think that it was reality TV. But now its beginning to look as scripted as theater.

I always wondered why Shaquille O'Neal wanted out of Orlando so bad & wanted to play for the Lakers. Is it because he knew he would be on the favorable end of calls if he played for L.A. rather than another franchise?

Or what about Major League Baseball in 2008. The Cubs have now not won a World Series in exactly 100 years -- since 1908. And guess who has the best record in MLB in 2008 to date? The Chicago Cubs. It would be a compelling story if the Cubs made it to the World Series. Perhaps umpires will be more inclined give the Cubs more favorable calls in tight spots because "they know where their bread is buttered." Who knows? It may go further than that. Maybe a "company man" from MLB was messing with the potassium in-take of Cubs division rival Cardinals superstar Albert Pujols so that he would strain a muscle in his left calf & be unavailable to play.

How far can you take it? How far does it actually go?

It used to be that the difference between professional sports & sports-entertainment (e.g. Pro Wrestling) was that only one of them was scripted. But how can I know anymore that what I'm watching when I turn on a ballgame is any better than World Wrestling Entertainment?

A Pilgrimage Playlist (With Reflections)

I finally finished my final game synopsis tonight. And also did a cute little run-down of my Pilgrimage "by the numbers."

But I also put together a commemorative song playlist on iTunes. A "Pilgrimage mix tape" to play on rainy days to remind me of my epic adventure. Here is how it rounded out...

1.) "Centerfield" by John Fogerty

I don't know what it does for you, but this song just gets me all geeked up for baseball. And I believe it should be played before the first pitch of every baseball game. I would institute that if I were Commissioner for a day...

2.) "The Gregarious Raconteur" by Theocracy

You have to be a faithful listener to the ESPN Bill Simmons podcast to understand this song. And it brought me a great deal of laughter & entertainment on the opening stretch of the trip.

3.) "Pork and Beans" by Weezer

Because its awesome. Because it just came out. Because Weezer has written the latest anthem for non-conformists everywhere. And because when I explained this pilgrimage to people, I always heard feedback like, "You're going on a trip just to watch baseball games?" -and- "You're going on a trip like this by yourself?" YES. I AM. And I did. Because I like baseball, dang it. And because I can meet cool people along the way & hang out with old friends in big cities. And it turned out to be quite awesome... haters...

4.) "So Afraid" by Bebo Norman

If there was one thing that I discovered & recognized about MYSELF on this trip -- for the first time -- was how afraid I was at seemingly every turn. I am a total weeny. No, really -- I am. I was afraid of all these big cities, of leaving my rental car in parking lots, of riding subways, of how bad my knee was when I first hurt it. Real, exhilarating-and-brings-a-rush-of-adrenaline fear. But I faced & conquered each of these fears one by one. Sorta proud of myself for that. I reflected on it in my considerable amount of time on the road, happened upon this song one day in my iPod's shuffle mode, and grew a new appreciation for the lyrics.

5.) "I'm Shipping Up To Boston" by Dropkick Murphys

Boston's best-loved Irish folk-rock band. Papelbon's tune. Watching Sox fans dance an Irish jig in the stands when Papelbon came in. I'll think of these things whenever I hear this song from now on...

6.) "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond

I haven't felt THAT much peace, joy, good-will toward my fellow man, et. al. warm fuzzies since I don't know when. Singing this song at Fenway was a warm experience that is difficult to describe. Part "fanhood rite of passage" & existential becoming mixed with part "Strange sense of Homecoming to a place I'd never been" (in a way that "this must be sorta like what Heaven will feel like one day" -- homecoming even though I've never been there) sensation. I know it sounds corny to say, but Fenway was sort of a religious experience for me. And I miss it. This even borders on sounding sacrilegious, but there's a yearning to experience that again, and a dull ache when I realize that it may be a long while. You know that line "I don't care if I never get back" (speaking of not returning home from the ballpark) from Take Me Out to the Ballgame? I feel that way about Fenway...

7.) "New York Groove" by Hello

I played this song as I was driving into NYC on Monday the 9th. I'll admit: it was an utterly cheesy moment as I sang along. But I was having fun with my first visit to NYC. And this cheesy sing-a-long song fit the moment.

8.) "Girls In Their Summer Clothes" by Bruce Springsteen

You just have to visit a big city on a hot day in the summer time to understand. Wow! If the word "eyeful" ever applied...

9.) "Your Hand In Mine" by Explosions in the Sky

I played a lot of Explosions in the Sky on my day driving through Pennsylvania. If you've never heard of them, they are the instrumental band that does the music for the television series "Friday Night Lights." You could listen to their music doing literally the most mundane thing in the world -- like, say, pooper-scooping after your dog -- and yet feel a melancholy sense of heroism. Great music.

10.) "Into the Fire" by Bruce Springsteen

Russert was apparently a big fan of The Boss, so they were playing his tunes in the background during MSNBC's coverage on that Friday in St. Louis. Especially this song, which is sort of a spirited dirge. So I downloaded it, and immediately clung to it. And I'll always think of Russert & St. Louis when I hear it.

11.) "Rise Above This" by Seether

When the Cards were getting blown out, and were bringing in a reliever, they blared this song over the speakers. I was intrigued, so I looked it up & downloaded it when I got back to the hotel. A fantastic rock tune! I sense some spiritual undertones, too; though, I had to download a "Clean" version since there is also apparently a "Restricted" version. A great song to sort of bring you back to a right frame of mind from depth of sorrow. I'll always think of Busch Stadium & the positive Cardinals fans when I hear this song.

12.) "Willow" by James Horner & The City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra

This is a rendition of all the songs from the score of the film, "Willow," fit into a tidy little three minute & fifty-three second piece. I was in a soundtrack mood at one point on Saturday, my 12-hour driving day home from St. Louis. And I got stuck on this song for a little while. For one, it is a GREAT movie -- an epic tale of a little man who goes on a great adventure, plays a big surprisingly big role in the outcome of a great battle, only to return home again to his loved ones. Second, this was the first movie I ever went to see at the theater, and it was my Mom who took me -- just she & I. And, third, this was a GREAT, totally-underrated movie score that covers a wide range of emotions. And its a great song to end a playlist on.

Whiny Homer Announcers

The downside to expansion teams in baseball over the last 15 years is that I get to see less & less Braves baseball here in Florida. Braves used to be on "WTBS" every night back in the day. Now the MLB has contracted games out to Fox Sports Net, I only get to watch the Braves on TV whenever they are the Fox or ESPN game of the week.

The upside, however, is that I get to watch 19 Red Sox games per year. By virtue of playing the Tampa Bay Rays 19 times every season, I get to see those games on my local FSN affiliate. The Rays are playing in Boston this weekend, so I've enjoyed watching the games on TV.

There is a downside even to this, however. I have to listen to the poor souls who have the unenviable task of announcing all 162 Rays games every year. And it really shows. Bob Uecker, a.k.a. "Harry Doyle," made it funny in the movie "Major League." But these guys are clearly depressed. And it becomes evident when they start talking about the "privileged" Red Sox.

"Boy, how can these guys lay off pitches THAT close??"

They whine about every bad call, and the production crew show endless replays of it. Today, Ray Eric Hinskie had a double land in fair territory that the umps called foul, and these announcers won't let it go. In fact, they have some commercial sponsor that sponsors the "[So-and-So Company] Call of the Game." That just gave these whiners another excuse to wring their hands over that missed call again.

Kevin Youkilis especially draws the ire of these announcers. If there's a borderline pitch, and Youk doesn't swing at it, and the Ump calls it a ball, it drives them nuts. "Well, its never a strike if KEVIN YOUKILIS doesn't swing at it, apparently." "[Chuckle Chuckle]," goes the color man.

By the way... it is now the top of the 8th inning. (I'm totally not making this up.) And the FSN production team just showed the "Infiniti Unbelievable Play of the Game." And they showed a replay of Hinskie's fair ball that the umps called foul.

Its not that I'm angry that these Rays announcers are so sour & jaded. Its that I pity them. Let go of the bitterness & hate, guys!

I Hate Tennessee, man...

Brotherly love in the SEC...

Mi Amor

And even as I wander
I’m keeping you in sight
You’re a candle in the window
On a cold, dark winter’s night
And I’m getting closer than I ever thought I might

And I can’t fight this feeling anymore!

Uh oh. What's going on here? Has your beloved blog writer found himself smitten with a female?

Not quite. Although, Valentine's Day was involved...

On February 14th, pitchers & catchers reported to spring training this month. It is the Groundhog Day for baseball fans everywhere. It means that baseball is coming back. When the rain & cold weather would wither my soul away to nothing, a crack of warmth creeps in when I remind myself that the boys of summer are right around the corner.

I love baseball. I love the sounds and the smells. I love the simplicity & complexity. I love playing fantasy baseball, and I love watching baseball when there's nothing on the line. But I especially love it when something is on the line.

I love watching Josh Beckett carve up a line-up. I love watching Jose Reyes stretch a double into a triple. I love the drama of a late-inning nail-biter. I love watching David Ortiz step to plate in those kinds of games. I love Big Papi's pre-hitting routine of spitting on a glove and slapping his hands together.

I just love baseball.

There is something elemental about the game. Maybe it's just because it was the first sport I ever really fell in love with. But it's a great game on so many levels. Despite all the hullabaloo over performance enhancing drugs, the game is good. It is uncomplicated; it makes sense. While there are a lot of things in this world that confuse me, baseball is a comforting constant to return to. And existentially, it represents so much of who we are -- where we've been, who we are, and what we are becoming.

I welcome you back, America's pastime. I look forward to our next few months together.

Fred Couples

Way back in the day, B.T.W. (Before Tiger Woods), golf wasn't cool.

The Coolest Golfer Ever

But even before Tiger made it popular to play golf, there a guy who made it fashionable. This man was Fred Couples. He's beginning to show his age now, but back then he was "the man." He was the epitome of the saying, "Every woman wanted him & every guy wanted to be him." He looked like Don Johnson, and walked like he didn't have a care in the world. He had this very unorthodox swing, but it was silky smooth. And if any one word defined him, it was that last one: smooth.

A few years ago, my Dad & I traveled to Pinehurst, NC to watch the U.S. Open Golf Tournament live & in person. One of the treats of that Sunday round was walking the course in the crowd almost alongside Fred Couples. You'd just have to watch him walk. He's so... smooth. As smooth as watching liquid chocolate being poured out. It was a fun experience. The other cool thing -- this guy's nickname is "Boom Boom." It's because he's such a long driver of the golf ball. At the time, his sponsor was Bridgestone. And there were these hot blond girls in the crowd that Bridgestone paid to follow him around & wear these cute outfits that said "Boom Boom" on them. Now THAT is cool!!

There are a few athletes that come along from time to time who just seem to be "favored by the gods." Like, Sandy Koufax or Gale Sayers. Fred was one of these. Lucky things would happen for him on the golf course that don't happen for anyone else. Extremely fortunate events. Like (in the video at the bottom, starting at time-marker 0:36) when he holed out from the roadside bunker at the 17th hole at St. Andrews after leaving it in on the previous shot. That is, without question, the most difficult bunker shot in all of golf. And he holed that sucker out. Or, (starting at time-marker 2:00) when he hit his approach shot short at the par-3 12th hole at Augusta in the final round of the Masters Tournament that he went on to win, and it DIDN'T go in the water. It held up on the slope. That NEVER happens! Never has, and likely never will again. But Fred was touched by the golf gods, and he just sort of acts like that's par for the course.

The Achilles of golf

But as the myth goes with those who are touched by the gods, other gods become jealous that a human would be favored above them. And in their envy, these gods act out on their vindictive natures by striking down the favored human. And so, the greatness of these individuals once touched by the gods is only fleeting. Sayers tore ligaments in his knee, and Koufax walked away before he blew out his elbow & ruined his quality of life. For Couples, it was his back. He's always struggled with spasms & back pain that kept him from playing and practicing at an elite level for an extended period of time.

Anyway, this is a compilation of some of Freddy's best moments on the golf course. My favorite moments are from the the 1996 edition of THE PLAYERS Championship. He won that tournament. This is the tournament where they have that island green par 3. The first highlight (starting at about the 4:15 mark) is where he put it in the water on his first shot, re-teed it up, and then holed his 2nd try for a par. The second moment is from the final round of that '96 tournament on hole #16, where he sunk a long putt for eagle. And the final moment is also from the final round of that '96 tournament, where he sunk a long putt for birdie.

The Pilgrimage

My friend Luke Norsworthy blogged the other day about having seen the new movie "The Bucket List." He also gave a list of a few items he would put on his own Bucket List, and encouraged others to post their lists. Then, today, one of my old college room-mates, Jamie Hooten, issued an invitation for me to visit Chicago & take in a ballgame anytime I wished.

My friends have inspired me to work toward achieving an item on my own bucket list: to visit the more prestigious Major League Ballparks in our United States. I cannot visit all of cathedrals dedicated to housing our Nation's Pastime in one trip. But I can take in a few of them!

I created a new blog dedicated to chronicling this adventure called "The Pilgrimage."

Here is the tentative schedule:

What Authentic Contrition Looks Like

I've spent bandwidth here in the past discussing the public phenomenon of denying misdeeds & public figures who refuse to take responsibility for their actions (as evidenced here, here, and here). I've spent even more bandwidth recently discussing the public melodrama between Roger Clemens & his former trainer Brian McNamee regarding Clemens' alleged use of steroids. So I felt the need to share this.

Former Major League Pitcher Dan Naulty participated with Former Senator George Mitchell's investigation & was named in the Senator's Report on pages 232-233 (or 280-281 of "print pages" of the PDF document). I find Naulty to be an admirable person for having truly come clean about his past. I commend to you this interview that aired Sunday morning on ESPN's Outside the Lines.

I present you with former Major League pitcher, Dan Naulty:



One element that is so disturbing in the midst of these events resulting from the Mitchell Report is the lack of sincerity & authentic contrition in terms of players "coming clean" about these allegations. According to Naulty, at the time he was being interviewed, George Mitchell told him that he was the ONLY current or former player who had been fully open and honest about his history with performance enhancing drugs. What does that say about the sport, and its participants, who I follow & root for so passionately? That is REVOLTING. Revolting. It is little wonder that baseball has little to do with Naulty's life these days, at least as evidenced by the decor in his home.

I am pleased that Naulty does this public purging of his past in the name of Christ. According to an article he wrote in the New York Daily News:

The 37-year-old Naulty now lives in Colorado with his family and is pursuing a Ph.D in Biblical studies after earning two M.A. degrees at Trinity College and Theological Seminary (Ind.) and Iliff School of Theology (Colo.). He hopes to teach at a university or seminary and publish his story in book form.

If you want to listen to more of Dan Naulty's story, you can listen to a lengthy interview right here.