Sure, it was downright disappointing that the Brooklyn Nets lost Game 7 of their series with the Chicago Bulls.
Sure, the Bulls were the walking wounded with players having every malady under the sun except for malaria and Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and the Nets were the relatively healthier and deeper squad and the Bulls still won.
And yes, Tom Thibodeau proved that he's the best coach in the NBA bar none and willed his team to win the franchise's first-ever Game 7 on the road, punching every single right button along the way. Daequan Cook? Did he really hit two big 3-pointers in the game? I didn't even know he was on the Bulls' roster until that second trey hit the bottom of the twine.
Thibodeau had an answer for every single out-of-bounds possession the Bulls had. Every single one. There wasn't an improvisation to be found. All set plays, all leading to baskets.
So, yes, P.J. Carlesimo was the second best head coach on the floor last night at the Barclays Center. I think even P.J. would reluctantly agree that he played second fiddle to Thibodeau last night. P.J. was not bad, but Thibodeau was just that much better. It happens.
However, getting outcoached by a master isn't reason enough for Carlesimo to receive his walking papers from the Nets' Russian czar Mikhail Prohkorov. Regardless of what you may read in some of the New York tabloids today, calling for P.J.'s carcass, it's not his fault that the Nets didn't move on.
In fact, Carlesimo did a wonderful job coaching the Nets for 57 games. He won 37 of those games. There's no way that if the powers-that-be stuck with the now-forgotten Avery Johnson (well, forgotten by everyone except Avery's own son, who put on Twitter his own version of a 'Ha-Ha, that's what you get for canning my old man), that Johnson would have led the Nets to that point. There's no way. That team was headed for disaster before the team fired him in December.
Carlesimo got the most out of most of his players. He helped to turn Brook Lopez into a star. He got the daily malcontent, Deron Williams, to actually play like himself down the stretch and even helped Williams crack a smile or two along the way. He won games despite the fact that the team got very little offensive production all season from either forward position. Hell, the Nets won 49 regular season games with Reggie Evans as their starting power forward. Reggie Evans can't throw a beach ball into the swimming pool, but the Nets won with him.
It wasn't Carlesimo's fault that Joe Johnson, getting paid $19 million, couldn't make shots in Game 7 or that Thibodeau exposed the defensive weaknesses of Lopez, Evans and Andray Blatche. Carlesimo did what he could with the roster he was handed. It just wasn't good enough against a master like Thibodeau.
My friend Mike Vaccaro, the New York Post columnist, wrote that Carlesimo was playing checkers to Thibodeau's chess or even Chutes and Ladders to Thibodeau. He's right. The intangible of having Thibodeau as the head coach was enough to win Game 7.
But let's look at the whole body of work. Carlesimo handled the media better than any other New York coach outside of Joe Torre. He was brilliant in that respect. He also turned the Nets' season around in a blur and guided the team to the playoffs for the first time in six years. He's a basketball lifer who deserves to coach this team through a full training camp.
The Brooklyn Nets were a major success in Year One, from the arena to the positive vibe the team gave off to their new fan base. A lot of the credit of that success belongs to Carlesimo. He deserves the chance to coach this team next year and into the future.
Carlesimo needs to get more out of a very weird chemistry of this team, because they play weird. They disappear for stretches, usually in the third quarter. They play sometimes with no sense of urgency, like they did last night until they found themselves shockingly down 17 by halftime.
But P.J. deserves to be the head coach, plain and simple. They don't need Phil Jackson, who is going to tell the Nets to go stick it anyway. They don't need either Van Gundy brother. They don't even need Doc Rivers. They need to take the interim tag off Carlesimo's name and throw him a three-year contract.
And after that, they need to put out an APB for Johnson's jump shot, because it went missing at the way wrong time last night.
=========================================================
As everyone knows, I'm a diehard Mets fan. Yeah, I know. It's masochism 101.
And by now, nothing the team does should surprise me.
However, I received a promotional e-mail this morning saying that next Sunday, on Mother's Day, the Mets "will present a special performance from the Wiggles" beginning at 12:30 p.m.
Yes, the Wiggles. First, they had Cirque de Soleil in the parking lot. Now, it's the Wiggles. I Tweeted this morning that if any of the Wiggles can play the outfield or serve as a middle inning closer, then I was all for them.
C'mon now. The Wiggles? Is that what we've become? The freakin' Wiggles?
I can't shake my head enough at this franchise.
We have not a single outfielder worth a spit. Mike Baxter would be a decent fourth outfielder on the Anaheim Angels' Class AAA team. Yet he's playing almost every day for the Mets. I think he went homerless in Little League. Colin Cowgill was supposed to be a great find, until he couldn't find the baseball and couldn't get on base. And neither one has a better arm than my dead mother.
We have a horrific bullpen (thanks Sandy, because he has said for the last two years, it was his priority to build a solid bullpen and we've had nothing but a conglomeration of smelly fish coming from behind the right field wall), yet we have the Wiggles. Hey, if all else fails, we at least have the Wiggles.
It's a sad state when the best relief pitcher is a 31-year-old rookie who spent 16 years in the minors and now pitches every single damn day. Scott Rice pitches every day. His arm will fall off by July. But Terry Collins keeps parading him out there every game because, frankly, no one else can get anyone out.
Incredibly, some asinine Met fans were calling the radio shows this week, saying they wanted Collins fired. Hell, managing this God-awful roster, he should be named Pope rather than get fired. Wait, maybe that is not a step up these days.
It's not Collins' fault that his bosses are lying, tight-wad buffoons who don't spend a dime improving the team or the franchise or the baseball experience at CitiField.
But wait, at least we have the Wiggles. Not many other teams can lay claim to the Wiggles.
Rumor has it that the Tellytubbies are next, as long as Tinky Winky can play centerfield.
========================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com and www.dailyrecord.com. I'd say you can read my Nets or Devils coverage as well, but both those teams are on the golf course today as you read this.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
The man known as "Twin" knows how to win
Jason Collins was a member of the New Jersey Nets for more than six seasons. He was the starting center for the Jason Kidd-led teams that won two straight NBA Eastern Conference titles and went to the NBA Finals.
Collins was affectionately known as "Twin" during his days with the Nets, because he has an identical twin brother, Jarron, who also played in the NBA.
Although he wasn't a star with the Nets, "Twin" was always cordial in terms of offering himself to be interviewed, either at practices or after games. He was always willing to answer the tough questions, standing there, facing the media, every single day of the basketball season.
I always looked forward to the smiling Collins, who would handle jokes about being a classmate of Chelsea Clinton at Stanford and battling with the Secret Service, or having a twin brother and fighting over the remote.
Today, Collins became one of the bravest athletes to ever put on a uniform. He agreed to an interview with Frank Lidz of Sports Illustrated and in the story, Collins admitted that he is gay.
Collins said that he battled with the decision to come out of the closet, to become the first active athlete in any of the four major sports in the United States to admit that he was a homosexual.
Collins is now 34. He's played 11 seasons in the NBA. He's been part of six different teams. The news that Collins is gay isn't shocking or disturbing. In fact, Collins coming out while he's currently a free agent (his contract with the Washington Wizards expired once the NBA Playoffs began) is as courageous of a move that any basketball player has ever made.
Collins' decision to come out was the talk of the pre-game chatter at the Barclays Center, where the Brooklyn Nets were set to face the Chicago Bulls in Game 5 of the NBA Eastern Conference playoffs.
Everyone agreed that Collins was indeed a great guy and that his decision to come out now was indeed as brave as it comes.
"It is an honor for me to call Jason Collins a friend," said Brook Lopez, who also attended Stanford before coming to the Nets. "I admire his dignity as well as his courage to come out. I'll always have his back."
Joe Johnson, who played with Collins last year in Atlanta, also offered his praise of Collins.
"Jason Collins was one of the best teammates I've ever had," Johnson said. "I respect his tremendous courage to come out. I will always support him."
The reaction from the sports world has all been positive. The Twitter posts have all praised Collins for having the fortitude to come to grips with his sexuality.
Should it matter that Collins is gay? If he was an entertainer or an accountant or even a clergyman, the announcement wouldn't have received a peep of attention.
But because Collins plays in the manly NBA, with an image of rugged men sweating and dunking and soaring, the announcement has newsworthy aspects.
It was the lead story on ESPN's SportsCenter. It was the topic of conversation in both locker rooms prior to Game 5 and asked to both head coaches in the pre-game press conference.
Because Collins is an active member of the masculine and manly NBA, his coming out becomes huge news.
When honestly, it shouldn't. In today's day and age, we should be able to respect anyone's sexuality. We should be able to hear such news and let it roll off our backs.
However, you can be rest assured that Collins will be the victim of scorn and verbal abuse wherever he goes from ignorant fans who just simply don't know better.
"Twin" Collins couldn't even tell his twin brother about his sexuality until a year ago. That's how worried he was about telling the truth about the secret he hid for so long until yesterday.
No one should be ashamed for what they are. Gay, straight, bisexual. It's their lives, their priorites. Professional athletes are people like the rest of us. They don't have to have their lives placed under microscopes and scrutinized just because they play pro sports.
So in that respect, Jason Collins was indeed courageous in putting his private life on display for the rest of the world to see. Maybe it will encourage other gay athletes to follow Collins' lead and come out as well. Martina Navratilova has already declared Collins to be a "gay activist."
She's right. By coming out on the cover of SI, Collins became an instant celebrity for gay rights. Not there's anything wrong with that.
I applaud Collins for doing what he did. I wish others would follow suit so being a gay athlete isn't such a negative stigma. We are who we are. Jason Collins just happens to be gay. And that's something he should be proud of.
Everyone should be as accepting.
========================================================
Thirty-one years in the sportswriting business and I had a first happen to me Sunday.
As I awaited to speak to the WINNING team in a local baseball tournament, the team's assistant coach told me to get off the field. And it wasn't in nice terms.
I was at the lip of the infield grass. The team sat on the outfield, so I was about 20 yards away from where they were gathered together.
The assistant coach, mind you, said that I was too close to the group, that I could hear what they were saying.
"Get off the field," the assistant coach said.
So I did. I got in my car and drove back home. I'm not about to get scolded like I'm a 5-year-old in kindergarten by an assistant coach no less. There were better ways to handle the situation. The coach should have come over to me and explained what was going on.
The assistant coach ran to catch me at my car, but kept yelling, "Bob, Bob, Bob." At last check, I'm not Bob.
He got to my car and tried to explain that they were a private team and they were addressing a private matter. I don't care of they were planning the next Brink's Job. I just wanted quotes from the head coach and two players and go home. It was already an exhausting day.
But I couldn't have heard what was happening with a hearing aid. I was that far away. It was ridiculous, embarassing and something that will not happen again.
I've had friends in the business that said I should have told the coach off. I'm better than that. I did what any good baseball player does. I went home.
And as for the rest of the high school season, you can bet your bottom dollar I won't be at that place. Dignity has to be a priority, you know.
========================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com (nice feature on the new St. Anthony track program), www.theobserver.com and www.dailyrecord.com.
You can also Google me and read my coverage of the Nets-Bulls for SportsXChange or look for it on Yahoo! Sports.
Collins was affectionately known as "Twin" during his days with the Nets, because he has an identical twin brother, Jarron, who also played in the NBA.
Although he wasn't a star with the Nets, "Twin" was always cordial in terms of offering himself to be interviewed, either at practices or after games. He was always willing to answer the tough questions, standing there, facing the media, every single day of the basketball season.
I always looked forward to the smiling Collins, who would handle jokes about being a classmate of Chelsea Clinton at Stanford and battling with the Secret Service, or having a twin brother and fighting over the remote.
Today, Collins became one of the bravest athletes to ever put on a uniform. He agreed to an interview with Frank Lidz of Sports Illustrated and in the story, Collins admitted that he is gay.
Collins said that he battled with the decision to come out of the closet, to become the first active athlete in any of the four major sports in the United States to admit that he was a homosexual.
Collins is now 34. He's played 11 seasons in the NBA. He's been part of six different teams. The news that Collins is gay isn't shocking or disturbing. In fact, Collins coming out while he's currently a free agent (his contract with the Washington Wizards expired once the NBA Playoffs began) is as courageous of a move that any basketball player has ever made.
Collins' decision to come out was the talk of the pre-game chatter at the Barclays Center, where the Brooklyn Nets were set to face the Chicago Bulls in Game 5 of the NBA Eastern Conference playoffs.
Everyone agreed that Collins was indeed a great guy and that his decision to come out now was indeed as brave as it comes.
"It is an honor for me to call Jason Collins a friend," said Brook Lopez, who also attended Stanford before coming to the Nets. "I admire his dignity as well as his courage to come out. I'll always have his back."
Joe Johnson, who played with Collins last year in Atlanta, also offered his praise of Collins.
"Jason Collins was one of the best teammates I've ever had," Johnson said. "I respect his tremendous courage to come out. I will always support him."
The reaction from the sports world has all been positive. The Twitter posts have all praised Collins for having the fortitude to come to grips with his sexuality.
Should it matter that Collins is gay? If he was an entertainer or an accountant or even a clergyman, the announcement wouldn't have received a peep of attention.
But because Collins plays in the manly NBA, with an image of rugged men sweating and dunking and soaring, the announcement has newsworthy aspects.
It was the lead story on ESPN's SportsCenter. It was the topic of conversation in both locker rooms prior to Game 5 and asked to both head coaches in the pre-game press conference.
Because Collins is an active member of the masculine and manly NBA, his coming out becomes huge news.
When honestly, it shouldn't. In today's day and age, we should be able to respect anyone's sexuality. We should be able to hear such news and let it roll off our backs.
However, you can be rest assured that Collins will be the victim of scorn and verbal abuse wherever he goes from ignorant fans who just simply don't know better.
"Twin" Collins couldn't even tell his twin brother about his sexuality until a year ago. That's how worried he was about telling the truth about the secret he hid for so long until yesterday.
No one should be ashamed for what they are. Gay, straight, bisexual. It's their lives, their priorites. Professional athletes are people like the rest of us. They don't have to have their lives placed under microscopes and scrutinized just because they play pro sports.
So in that respect, Jason Collins was indeed courageous in putting his private life on display for the rest of the world to see. Maybe it will encourage other gay athletes to follow Collins' lead and come out as well. Martina Navratilova has already declared Collins to be a "gay activist."
She's right. By coming out on the cover of SI, Collins became an instant celebrity for gay rights. Not there's anything wrong with that.
I applaud Collins for doing what he did. I wish others would follow suit so being a gay athlete isn't such a negative stigma. We are who we are. Jason Collins just happens to be gay. And that's something he should be proud of.
Everyone should be as accepting.
========================================================
Thirty-one years in the sportswriting business and I had a first happen to me Sunday.
As I awaited to speak to the WINNING team in a local baseball tournament, the team's assistant coach told me to get off the field. And it wasn't in nice terms.
I was at the lip of the infield grass. The team sat on the outfield, so I was about 20 yards away from where they were gathered together.
The assistant coach, mind you, said that I was too close to the group, that I could hear what they were saying.
"Get off the field," the assistant coach said.
So I did. I got in my car and drove back home. I'm not about to get scolded like I'm a 5-year-old in kindergarten by an assistant coach no less. There were better ways to handle the situation. The coach should have come over to me and explained what was going on.
The assistant coach ran to catch me at my car, but kept yelling, "Bob, Bob, Bob." At last check, I'm not Bob.
He got to my car and tried to explain that they were a private team and they were addressing a private matter. I don't care of they were planning the next Brink's Job. I just wanted quotes from the head coach and two players and go home. It was already an exhausting day.
But I couldn't have heard what was happening with a hearing aid. I was that far away. It was ridiculous, embarassing and something that will not happen again.
I've had friends in the business that said I should have told the coach off. I'm better than that. I did what any good baseball player does. I went home.
And as for the rest of the high school season, you can bet your bottom dollar I won't be at that place. Dignity has to be a priority, you know.
========================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com (nice feature on the new St. Anthony track program), www.theobserver.com and www.dailyrecord.com.
You can also Google me and read my coverage of the Nets-Bulls for SportsXChange or look for it on Yahoo! Sports.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Barchi has to go, too
Let's face facts. No one in the sports world knew who Robert Barchi was until a few days ago, when it was revealed that Barchi, the president of Rutgers University, never saw the now-famous tapes of RU basketball practices under the now-deposed head coach Mike Rice.
But after Friday's bizarre press conference that was televised live on the high-and-almighty ESPN, the sports world certainly now knows who Barchi is. One thing is for sure: He's no Jerry Seinfeld, but Barchi certainly tried to be at least light-hearted, if not mistakenly funny, during the whole mess.
While Barchi was trying his best to tap dance around the tough questions, he failed to reveal one important fact.
Why in the world did Barchi wait until Tuesday, a day after everyone saw the shocking videos on ESPN, to view the tapes himself?
Barchi, who took the job as Rutgers president just last November, should have gone out of his way to make sure he knew what was on those tapes when now-former AD Tim Pernetti brought it to his attention that something had to be done to punish Rice back in December.
As soon as Pernetti told Barchi that such horrific videos existed, then the president should have taken the time to view the tapes with Pernetti in attendance. Then they should have both agreed on the right course of action, which of course, should have been Rice's dismissal back then.
But Barchi enabled Pernetti to make the decision to simply suspend and fine Rice on his own. It's your athletic mess, Tim, you take care of it.
Now we all know that it wasn't the most prudent thing to do. Because now Rutgers has a major crisis on its hand and the school continues to suffer daily embarrassments by leading every single sports show imaginable, including ESPN, which is treating the whole thing like they're proud they broke the story.
ESPN has been treating this mess as "Hey, look what we did!"
"As first reported on our Outside the Lines..."
That's just a little sickening for my taste. ESPN is pounding its chest while Rice and Pernetti lost their jobs.
They shouldn't have been the only ones. When he decided not to take the time to watch the tapes in December when Pernetti brought the tapes to his attention, Barchi lost the right to lead the university.
Barchi basically threw Pernetti under the bus Tuesday by saying that he hadn't watched the tapes, watched Pernetti squirm as he had to fire Rice, then drove the bus back over Pernetti by forcing him to resign.
Plain and simple, the new sports icon Barchi should have marched out the door at the same time. He failed to administer any sense of decency by allowing Rice to stay.
Now, he stands before a press conference and tries to crack jokes? What's so funny about this?
No one knew who Barchi was before Monday. It should be that no one knows who he is again by this Monday. He got his 15 minutes _ literally. Now it's time for him to disappear as well.
And as long as he stays around, Rutgers will continue to look like a complete laughingstock _ and do you think that's what the Big 10 wants, as Rutgers comes waltzing through the front door with its collective hand outstretched, looking to claim its first $22 million payday from the Big 10 Network.
No, I think if Big 10 guru Jim Delany had his way, he would reneg on that deal now, because Rutgers' failings in this mess only now makes the Big 10 look silly they accepted Rutgers in the first place.
Barchi can't dance around the fact that he failed to lead Rutgers through this mess. He ignored the warning sign from Pernetti by failing to watch the horror show, then made like a spoiled kid in kindergarten by basically throwing Pernetti to the wolves and stating, "Hey, I didn't do it. He did."
And then, as the so-called leader of the state university, he dances around questions at a press conference and tries to make light of the situation.
It's all part of this embarrassment that won't go away anytime soon _ or at the very least until ESPN stops leading SportsCenter with the daily saga.
========================================================
And here's my last bit on this Rutgers crap: How in the hell is Eric Murdock being treated like a champion in all this?
The former assistant coach, who as the director of basketball operations was in charge of filing the practice tapes and keeping a record of them, tried to extort $950,000 from Pernetti, when he said "Gimme the money and this goes away. And if you don't..."
It's not heroic. It's extortion. Now Murdock is filing a wrongful termination lawsuit against Rutgers. Well, Eric, here's some news for you. You weren't fired or terminated. You just weren't rehired. Your contract expired and that was that. There's no cause for a suit. Wrongful termination, my derriere.
I don't understand how Murdock walks away from this looking like a hero. In my eyes, he walks away smelling like a rat.
=========================================================
From Atlanta and the Final Four, I'm trying to find a way how the Shockers of Wichita State are going to upset Louisville, but I can't. I also remember the former Wichita State head coach Eddie Fogler hanging out in Dohoney's in Jersey City way back when, saying that he was going to get Jerry Walker to go to Wichita. Fogler was certain he had a shot to get Walker, when in reality, he had no shot. Much like the Shockers have no shot today.
The second game will be more interesting. We're hoping that John Beilein and the Wolverines can somehow beat Syracuse. Beilein is a fantastic coach who coached Carlos Cueto at the University of Richmond. I coached Cueto, the current Secaucus High head coach, when he was 14. Is there a parallel? Hardly. But we want Beilein and the sensational Player of the Year Trey Burke to win.
With that, until Rutgers makes news with some other disaster, we will bid farewell and head out to enjoy the sights in Hotlanta.
=======================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com, and www.dailyrecord.com
But after Friday's bizarre press conference that was televised live on the high-and-almighty ESPN, the sports world certainly now knows who Barchi is. One thing is for sure: He's no Jerry Seinfeld, but Barchi certainly tried to be at least light-hearted, if not mistakenly funny, during the whole mess.
While Barchi was trying his best to tap dance around the tough questions, he failed to reveal one important fact.
Why in the world did Barchi wait until Tuesday, a day after everyone saw the shocking videos on ESPN, to view the tapes himself?
Barchi, who took the job as Rutgers president just last November, should have gone out of his way to make sure he knew what was on those tapes when now-former AD Tim Pernetti brought it to his attention that something had to be done to punish Rice back in December.
As soon as Pernetti told Barchi that such horrific videos existed, then the president should have taken the time to view the tapes with Pernetti in attendance. Then they should have both agreed on the right course of action, which of course, should have been Rice's dismissal back then.
But Barchi enabled Pernetti to make the decision to simply suspend and fine Rice on his own. It's your athletic mess, Tim, you take care of it.
Now we all know that it wasn't the most prudent thing to do. Because now Rutgers has a major crisis on its hand and the school continues to suffer daily embarrassments by leading every single sports show imaginable, including ESPN, which is treating the whole thing like they're proud they broke the story.
ESPN has been treating this mess as "Hey, look what we did!"
"As first reported on our Outside the Lines..."
That's just a little sickening for my taste. ESPN is pounding its chest while Rice and Pernetti lost their jobs.
They shouldn't have been the only ones. When he decided not to take the time to watch the tapes in December when Pernetti brought the tapes to his attention, Barchi lost the right to lead the university.
Barchi basically threw Pernetti under the bus Tuesday by saying that he hadn't watched the tapes, watched Pernetti squirm as he had to fire Rice, then drove the bus back over Pernetti by forcing him to resign.
Plain and simple, the new sports icon Barchi should have marched out the door at the same time. He failed to administer any sense of decency by allowing Rice to stay.
Now, he stands before a press conference and tries to crack jokes? What's so funny about this?
No one knew who Barchi was before Monday. It should be that no one knows who he is again by this Monday. He got his 15 minutes _ literally. Now it's time for him to disappear as well.
And as long as he stays around, Rutgers will continue to look like a complete laughingstock _ and do you think that's what the Big 10 wants, as Rutgers comes waltzing through the front door with its collective hand outstretched, looking to claim its first $22 million payday from the Big 10 Network.
No, I think if Big 10 guru Jim Delany had his way, he would reneg on that deal now, because Rutgers' failings in this mess only now makes the Big 10 look silly they accepted Rutgers in the first place.
Barchi can't dance around the fact that he failed to lead Rutgers through this mess. He ignored the warning sign from Pernetti by failing to watch the horror show, then made like a spoiled kid in kindergarten by basically throwing Pernetti to the wolves and stating, "Hey, I didn't do it. He did."
And then, as the so-called leader of the state university, he dances around questions at a press conference and tries to make light of the situation.
It's all part of this embarrassment that won't go away anytime soon _ or at the very least until ESPN stops leading SportsCenter with the daily saga.
========================================================
And here's my last bit on this Rutgers crap: How in the hell is Eric Murdock being treated like a champion in all this?
The former assistant coach, who as the director of basketball operations was in charge of filing the practice tapes and keeping a record of them, tried to extort $950,000 from Pernetti, when he said "Gimme the money and this goes away. And if you don't..."
It's not heroic. It's extortion. Now Murdock is filing a wrongful termination lawsuit against Rutgers. Well, Eric, here's some news for you. You weren't fired or terminated. You just weren't rehired. Your contract expired and that was that. There's no cause for a suit. Wrongful termination, my derriere.
I don't understand how Murdock walks away from this looking like a hero. In my eyes, he walks away smelling like a rat.
=========================================================
From Atlanta and the Final Four, I'm trying to find a way how the Shockers of Wichita State are going to upset Louisville, but I can't. I also remember the former Wichita State head coach Eddie Fogler hanging out in Dohoney's in Jersey City way back when, saying that he was going to get Jerry Walker to go to Wichita. Fogler was certain he had a shot to get Walker, when in reality, he had no shot. Much like the Shockers have no shot today.
The second game will be more interesting. We're hoping that John Beilein and the Wolverines can somehow beat Syracuse. Beilein is a fantastic coach who coached Carlos Cueto at the University of Richmond. I coached Cueto, the current Secaucus High head coach, when he was 14. Is there a parallel? Hardly. But we want Beilein and the sensational Player of the Year Trey Burke to win.
With that, until Rutgers makes news with some other disaster, we will bid farewell and head out to enjoy the sights in Hotlanta.
=======================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com, and www.dailyrecord.com
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
No question, Rice should have been fired
First, let me start this entry by saying that Mike Rice is a great guy. The now-beleaguered former Rutgers basketball coach is a family man, a devoted husband and father.
I've known Mike since his playing days at Fordham, when he was a tough-as-nails guard who was quick to pick up a charge and not afraid to dive on the floor for a loose ball.
I followed Mike through his days as an assistant coach at my alma mater Marquette, a hard-working, diligent student of the game. I watched him work his way toward becoming the head coach at Robert Morris and witnessed first hand a verbal altercation between Rice and former Seton Hall coach Bobby Gonzalez during a game, where Gonzalez was heard threatening Rice.
"Jimmy, did he just say he wanted to kick my ass?" Rice asked me during that game at the Prudential Center, a game where Robert Morris managed to blow a 22-point lead in the second half. "Did he really just say that?"
I heard Gonzalez's taunt and later told Rice that if a fight was going to take place between the two, I might have been right behind Rice. As everyone knows, there was no love lost between me and Gonzo.
So when Rice got the job at Rutgers, I was generally happy for him. I thought he was an excellent hire and would do a great job in Piscataway.
I was wrong. Dead wrong.
The rest of the universe realizes that as well, after ESPN aired the horrific tapes of the practice antics of Rice _ throwing the ball deliberately at the heads of his players, grabbing and pushing them, calling them derogatory names, even going as far as kicking one.
Watching the tapes were sickening. Everyone had to sit in a state of shock watching them, wondering if they were for real. You almost wanted to turn away, like videos of nannies tormenting babies or sick individuals torturing animals. It was almost too unbelievable for words.
So it wasn't a shock that Rice was relieved of his duties this morning. In fact, it's a wonder why it took so long.
Rutgers thought they did the right thing by suspending Rice in December for three games, docking his pay for about $35,000 and fining him an additional $50,000.
But that was on the suggestion of AD Tim Pernetti after he was given access to the tapes. Pernetti apparently never showed the tapes to his superiors, to the school president, to the chancellor.
The powers-that-be were blind-sided by the extreme violence of the tapes. They didn't realize the brutality until it was too late.
So now Rice is deservedly gone, with the school taking a $1.8 million hit for his firing. Pernetti more than likely will be shown the door as well, because it was his duty to show the tapes to his superiors when he received them.
There are some major problems with this story. Why did Pernetti fail to show the tapes to his bosses? Why did Eric Murdock try to basically extort money from Rutgers, trying to bargaining with Pernetti and school officials, asking for a reported $1 million to keep the tapes private? That's just really sleezy to say the least.
Why didn't Pernetti fire Rice when Pernetti first received word of the tapes in November? Was it done to try to save face because Rutgers was applying for admission to the Big Ten? That news of such horrific actions by their basketball coach might be enough to steer the Big Ten clear of Piscataway?
It's just another chapter of hideous behavior involving the men's basketball coaches at the school. We recall former coach Kevin Bannon forcing his players to strip naked during free throw drills. And then there was former coach Freddie Hill, Jr. going apeshit during a baseball game coached by his father.
Now, this latest episode. Why do these things always happen to Rutgers?
Where do they go for a replacement? Well, it's late in the coach/recruiting game right now and whoever leads the RU athletic program in the weeks and months to come will have to find a suitable leader who will make the school proud in its final season in the American Athletic Conference - WHAT A PINCH OF THE ACC THAT WAS! - and then the Big 10.
But that coach will have to come on the cheap, because any coach will have to make less money than women's coach C. Vivian Stringer. However, Rutgers will most certainly have to overpay to get someone to turn this troubled mess around.
Some of my writing colleagues mentioned Danny Hurley as a possible replacement. Well, why would Danny want this mess, when he's already got a good paying gig in Rhode Island? Maybe they can woo former assistant Darren Savino home from Cincinnati. There were others mentioned like Fran Dunphy of Temple, but he's also getting more than Rutgers will be willing to pay, again less than what Stringer gets.
Whatever happens won't change one thing. Rutgers is once again the laughingstock of college athletics, with these tapes making the lead story on the network news broadcasts. Free publicity? Hardly.
Mike Rice is now gone and will take a long time to get back into any school's graces to even be an assistant, much like the guy he almost locked horns with at the Prudential Center three years ago. But nothing will change my opinion that Rice is basically a good guy who got wound too tight when he coached, made some mistakes and will now pay the ultimate price with his job.
Bad guy? No way, no how. Anyone who has ever met Rice will say the same thing. He was just completely out of control as a coach and never had a chance to harness that intensity in a positive fashion.
And it's safe to say that Pernetti might not be too far behind.
==========================================================
I attended Opening Day at CitiField Monday and once again, I was dismayed with what went on.
First of all, my ticket cost $130 and I was in the left field bleachers. C'mon. Jacking up the prices for Opening Day is like price gouging at a gasoline station. It's wrong. These were $45 seats at best. And the sad thing was that there were several hundred of these $130 tickets in my section.
Secondly, as I pulled up next to the ballpark, I noticed these huge tents in the left field parking lot. I wondered what in the world they were.
As I got closer, I realized that they were the home for the Cirque de Soleil troupe, which is apparently performing in the tents from now until Christmas.
Wait a second! In the parking lot at CitiField on Opening Day? What wizard dreamed up that deal? It was just another sign of the Coupon family trying to nickle and dime their way into our hearts. Can you comprehend putting some circus troupe in the parking lot on Opening Day, forcing fans to park in Astoria?
Now, you get inside and the concession lines were longer than the bread lines in Russia during the Cold War. It took about an hour to buy a beer. Or even fried dough. Yes, that's what they sell. Fried dough.
However, on the beer line, they had one octogenarian who saw Babe Ruth play live trying to operate the beer line ALONE! I've seen dead animals move faster that this senior citizen. When I got to the front of the line after three innings, I said, "Why do they have you working alone?" She replied, "I don't mind." Sure, you don't mind, Lady, but the rest of us thirsty morons do.
It was yet another example of the Coupon organization doing something on the cheap. They couldn't hire additional people to work the stands on Opening Day? Or have additional ticket takers or ushers? Nope. They let us all suffer.
Sure, the Mets won and a lot of people left happy. But I wasn't one of them. The Mets are a second-rate cheap as they come organization. I was embarrassed to be a fan on Monday.
OK, so they're 2-0 now...that's nice. But what about those blasted circus tents???
=======================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com and www.dailyrecord.com.
I've known Mike since his playing days at Fordham, when he was a tough-as-nails guard who was quick to pick up a charge and not afraid to dive on the floor for a loose ball.
I followed Mike through his days as an assistant coach at my alma mater Marquette, a hard-working, diligent student of the game. I watched him work his way toward becoming the head coach at Robert Morris and witnessed first hand a verbal altercation between Rice and former Seton Hall coach Bobby Gonzalez during a game, where Gonzalez was heard threatening Rice.
"Jimmy, did he just say he wanted to kick my ass?" Rice asked me during that game at the Prudential Center, a game where Robert Morris managed to blow a 22-point lead in the second half. "Did he really just say that?"
I heard Gonzalez's taunt and later told Rice that if a fight was going to take place between the two, I might have been right behind Rice. As everyone knows, there was no love lost between me and Gonzo.
So when Rice got the job at Rutgers, I was generally happy for him. I thought he was an excellent hire and would do a great job in Piscataway.
I was wrong. Dead wrong.
The rest of the universe realizes that as well, after ESPN aired the horrific tapes of the practice antics of Rice _ throwing the ball deliberately at the heads of his players, grabbing and pushing them, calling them derogatory names, even going as far as kicking one.
Watching the tapes were sickening. Everyone had to sit in a state of shock watching them, wondering if they were for real. You almost wanted to turn away, like videos of nannies tormenting babies or sick individuals torturing animals. It was almost too unbelievable for words.
So it wasn't a shock that Rice was relieved of his duties this morning. In fact, it's a wonder why it took so long.
Rutgers thought they did the right thing by suspending Rice in December for three games, docking his pay for about $35,000 and fining him an additional $50,000.
But that was on the suggestion of AD Tim Pernetti after he was given access to the tapes. Pernetti apparently never showed the tapes to his superiors, to the school president, to the chancellor.
The powers-that-be were blind-sided by the extreme violence of the tapes. They didn't realize the brutality until it was too late.
So now Rice is deservedly gone, with the school taking a $1.8 million hit for his firing. Pernetti more than likely will be shown the door as well, because it was his duty to show the tapes to his superiors when he received them.
There are some major problems with this story. Why did Pernetti fail to show the tapes to his bosses? Why did Eric Murdock try to basically extort money from Rutgers, trying to bargaining with Pernetti and school officials, asking for a reported $1 million to keep the tapes private? That's just really sleezy to say the least.
Why didn't Pernetti fire Rice when Pernetti first received word of the tapes in November? Was it done to try to save face because Rutgers was applying for admission to the Big Ten? That news of such horrific actions by their basketball coach might be enough to steer the Big Ten clear of Piscataway?
It's just another chapter of hideous behavior involving the men's basketball coaches at the school. We recall former coach Kevin Bannon forcing his players to strip naked during free throw drills. And then there was former coach Freddie Hill, Jr. going apeshit during a baseball game coached by his father.
Now, this latest episode. Why do these things always happen to Rutgers?
Where do they go for a replacement? Well, it's late in the coach/recruiting game right now and whoever leads the RU athletic program in the weeks and months to come will have to find a suitable leader who will make the school proud in its final season in the American Athletic Conference - WHAT A PINCH OF THE ACC THAT WAS! - and then the Big 10.
But that coach will have to come on the cheap, because any coach will have to make less money than women's coach C. Vivian Stringer. However, Rutgers will most certainly have to overpay to get someone to turn this troubled mess around.
Some of my writing colleagues mentioned Danny Hurley as a possible replacement. Well, why would Danny want this mess, when he's already got a good paying gig in Rhode Island? Maybe they can woo former assistant Darren Savino home from Cincinnati. There were others mentioned like Fran Dunphy of Temple, but he's also getting more than Rutgers will be willing to pay, again less than what Stringer gets.
Whatever happens won't change one thing. Rutgers is once again the laughingstock of college athletics, with these tapes making the lead story on the network news broadcasts. Free publicity? Hardly.
Mike Rice is now gone and will take a long time to get back into any school's graces to even be an assistant, much like the guy he almost locked horns with at the Prudential Center three years ago. But nothing will change my opinion that Rice is basically a good guy who got wound too tight when he coached, made some mistakes and will now pay the ultimate price with his job.
Bad guy? No way, no how. Anyone who has ever met Rice will say the same thing. He was just completely out of control as a coach and never had a chance to harness that intensity in a positive fashion.
And it's safe to say that Pernetti might not be too far behind.
==========================================================
I attended Opening Day at CitiField Monday and once again, I was dismayed with what went on.
First of all, my ticket cost $130 and I was in the left field bleachers. C'mon. Jacking up the prices for Opening Day is like price gouging at a gasoline station. It's wrong. These were $45 seats at best. And the sad thing was that there were several hundred of these $130 tickets in my section.
Secondly, as I pulled up next to the ballpark, I noticed these huge tents in the left field parking lot. I wondered what in the world they were.
As I got closer, I realized that they were the home for the Cirque de Soleil troupe, which is apparently performing in the tents from now until Christmas.
Wait a second! In the parking lot at CitiField on Opening Day? What wizard dreamed up that deal? It was just another sign of the Coupon family trying to nickle and dime their way into our hearts. Can you comprehend putting some circus troupe in the parking lot on Opening Day, forcing fans to park in Astoria?
Now, you get inside and the concession lines were longer than the bread lines in Russia during the Cold War. It took about an hour to buy a beer. Or even fried dough. Yes, that's what they sell. Fried dough.
However, on the beer line, they had one octogenarian who saw Babe Ruth play live trying to operate the beer line ALONE! I've seen dead animals move faster that this senior citizen. When I got to the front of the line after three innings, I said, "Why do they have you working alone?" She replied, "I don't mind." Sure, you don't mind, Lady, but the rest of us thirsty morons do.
It was yet another example of the Coupon organization doing something on the cheap. They couldn't hire additional people to work the stands on Opening Day? Or have additional ticket takers or ushers? Nope. They let us all suffer.
Sure, the Mets won and a lot of people left happy. But I wasn't one of them. The Mets are a second-rate cheap as they come organization. I was embarrassed to be a fan on Monday.
OK, so they're 2-0 now...that's nice. But what about those blasted circus tents???
=======================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com and www.dailyrecord.com.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
How a college star changed my life
I was 10 years old when my father, Jack Hague, passed away in 1971. I was truly devastated by the loss. He was my Little League coach, my life mentor, my biggest supporter, my friend. He was sick, dead and gone in a matter of three weeks, dying on New Year's Eve. His illness was the way I found out the truth about Santa Claus, because we didn't celebrate Christmas that year.
After my Dad died, I was extremely moody. I cried an awful lot. I kept to myself mostly, except for a few close friends. It was a tough time for all of us, but it was really hard on a growing, impressionable young boy who thought he knew it all _ and didn't want anyone to tell him otherwise.
The next summer after Dad died, my neighbors in the St. Paul's of Greenville Parish did a wonderfully nice thing for me. They raised a lot of money to send me to the NFL Players Association football camp at Lehigh University in Pennsylvania. I don't know whose idea it was to send me to the camp. It was either my St. Paul's grammar school football coach Bill DeFazio or my sixth grade teacher John Tennessen. They both believed that football would point me in the right direction in life.
It was the first time that I was away from home on my own. I was 11. My mother, who didn't even know how to drive yet, went with me to the Port Authority Bus Terminal to get on the bus to go to the camp.
As I got off the bus, carrying my brand new gym bag bought in the Great Western for three dollars (never had a gym bag before), the organizers said that quarterbacks went one way and running backs went another. I thought I was going to be the next Johnny Unitas, so I went with the quarterbacks. In fifth grade, it was the only position I knew.
But one of the big, burly organizers pointed me with the linemen. "You're a lineman, son. You're a big guy."
He must have known something, because I was not the behemoth I am today by a long shot. Believe it or not, at age 11, I was somewhat of a runt. I later evovled into Gigantor in high school.
There was a problem to all of this. I didn't want to be a lineman. I wanted to be Johnny U, my idol.
So when I was pushed off with the bigger kids, I started to do what I always did back then. I cried.
I was away from home. I wanted to go home. Right there and then. I was done. I knew I wasn't too far from my brother's house, so he could come get me. But I also thought of all those people who donated a dollar here and there to send me to the camp. How could I let them down if I came home after the first day? I'd be a disgrace to the neighborhood.
So I sat on a log and I cried. Cried some more. Got made fun of by the other kids, but I didn't care, because I didn't know anyone. I cried and cried. They started football activities right away, but I just sat on this log by myself and cried.
Then this huge burly guy came over to me. I couldn't see his face because of the sun. I looked up and just saw a gigantic figure.
"Son, I heard you don't want to be a lineman," the voice said. "Well, I'm going to teach you to become a lineman."
He stuck out his huge hand and helped me off the log. As I stood up, I recognized the face right away. It was Merlin Olsen, the All-Pro defensive tackle of the Los Angeles Rams, who after he retired, became famous for his roles on "Little House on the Prairie" and "Father Murphy" and as a sportscaster or even more importantly as the spokesperson for FTD flowers on commercials.
Olsen is the reason why I became a Rams fan. And I'm still a diehard Rams fan today. I have an autographed picture of the "Fearsome Foursome" hanging on my bedroom wall, with Merlin's signature right there. My friends gave it to me for my 40th birthday.
At the same camp, my counselor, who was in charge of me and about 20 other kids, was the starting quarterback at the University of Oklahoma back then, a wonderful young man named Steve Davis.
Davis and I hit it off pretty well that week and he promised to keep in touch if I gave him my address. So I did.
About three weeks later, the UPS delivery man came to my house carrying a huge box. It was addressed to me. As an 11 year old, I never got boxes before, so I was thrilled. In the box was an assortment of Oklahoma stuff, a hat, a pennant, a T-shirt, bumper stickers, posters, notebooks, pencils, you name it. The letter in the box was from Davis.
"Keep working hard, James," the letter was signed.
I was a Sooner fan for life and still am. Steve Davis made me a Sooner fan and Merlin Olsen made me a Ram fan and that has never changed.
I got to see Steve Davis several times at Giants Stadium, when he was working the Kickoff Classic for CBS Sports. I had to remind him who I was, but he remembered and we shared memories of that memorable week at Lehigh.
Yesterday, as I sat down at my computer to cover the Devils-Rangers game, I clicked Yahoo! Sports like I do almost every day. The first story that popped up was that Steve Davis was killed in a plane crash Monday. The private jet he was in hit a row of houses in South Bend, Indiana. Steve Davis, the starting quarterback on two Oklahoma national championship teams, was 60 years old.
I paused for a second and then did what I did when I was 11 years old. I cried.
I hadn't seen Steve since perhaps 1996 or so, but every time I put on one of my 35 Oklahoma T-shirts, one of my 25 Sooner hats or my gaudy Oklahoma fleece, he always came to mind.
It also made me reflect that some of the most inspirational people in my life are now all gone _ my Dad, my coaches like Bill DeFazio, Dick Branagan, Bill Gargiulo; and then those two people who changed my life in the summer of 1972, Merlin Olsen and Steve Davis. They're all gone and that's a shame.
I hope OU recognizes Steve Davis in some capacity this season. It's almost eerie to think that he went down in South Bend and the Sooners play there this fall.
I will always remember how good Davis was to a moody 11-year-old and how good he made that kid feel when that box arrived. I felt like a king, pulling one thing after another after that box. For that _ and for making me a Boomer Sooner _ I'll always be grateful. Rest in peace, Steve.
===========================================================================
Just a quick bit on Seton Hall basketball. The worst kept secret since Michael Strahan got to sit next to annoying Kelly Ripa every day became official when one of the two talented players on the Pirates' roster, Aaron Cosby, came through with what was rumored and announced he was leaving the Hall to transfer elsewhere.
Losing Cosby was yet another blow to the tenure of Kevin Willard, who has done very little to earn this six-year contract extension that is also being rumored about.
Willard has done no recruiting whatsoever, except getting the quartet of lackluster performers from the same secondary school in Spain. None of those four kids can play.
The one good recruit was Cosby and he's now left, because he was not happy with the way Willard treated him.
And the two recruits that Willard went after have now both been charged with felony assault.
That's just awesome. The Pirates went 13-17, lost almost every single game under the sun since New Year's Day and don't have any top recruits coming in for next year. There were several top New Jersey players who the staff didn't even bother to approach.
Reggie Cameron and Kavon Stewart of Hudson Catholic? Nope. Didn't get a call. Hallice Cooke and Josh Brown of St. Anthony? Sorry. Trevis Wyche of St. Peter's Prep? Not him either.
Right there are five kids less than 15 miles from the South Orange campus and they didn't get a sniff, but those four kids from that school in Spain panned out great, right?
Haralds Karlis, who can't put the ball in the basket whatsoever, would not play at neighboring NJIT. He's not good enough. Tom Mayaan, who was supposed to be a god-send point guard, also can't shoot his uniform number. By the way, he wore 0.
That program is a complete mess and Willard gets a six-year extension? That's because the new AD, Patrick Lyons, worked with Willard at Iona. The new head of the Pirate Blue Fund? He comes from Iona, too. They're also pursuing the Iona women's basketball coach to replace the departing Anne Donovan as the Pirates' head women's coach.
Since when did Iona become the pattern school and athletic program that everyone should follow? They're turning South Orange into South New Rochelle, a Gael-force wind of changes. Iona was no big shakes, a program constantly flirting with NCAA probation. "I-O-N-A, Idiots on North Avenue," is the chant that the Fordham student section used to spew to rile up the Iona faithful. Well, that's where Seton Hall is headed. A bigger, less boisterous version of Iona.
Which makes no sense whatsoever _ just like this reported extension Willard received. Until Willard landed a good solid local recruit, he shouldn't have received an additional penny, never mind six years.
==============================================================================
OK, here goes, the great predictions on the entire NCAA Tournament
In the Midwest, we're going with Louisville over whomever they play first round, Missouri over Colorado State, Oklahoma State (this Marcus Smart kid is a player to watch) over Oregon, St. Louis over New Mexico State, Memphis over St. Mary's (I think, this play-in crap has me reeling), Michigan State over Valpo, Cincy over Creighton and Duke over Albany.
Continuing there, then it's Louisville over Missouri, Oklahoma State over St. Louis, Michigan State over Memphis and Duke over Cincinnati (sorry Darren Savino).
Then I have Louisville over Oklahoma State and Duke over Michigan State and Duke over Louisville in the final.
In the West, I got Gonzaga over Southern, Pitt over Wichita State, Ole Miss over Wisconsin, Kansas State over my mother, Arizona over Belmont, New Mexico over Harvard (take that, Tommy Amaker), Notre Dame over Iowa State and Ohio State over Seton Hall North, oops, I mean Iona.
Staying there, I like Pitt over Gonzaga (the first big upset of the tourney), Ole Miss and Andy Kennedy and Marshall Henderson over Kansas State, Arizona over New Mexico and Ohio State over Notre Dame. Then I like Pitt over Ole Miss and Ohio State over Arizona and Pitt to go to the Final Four, joining Duke.
In the South, let's go with Kansas over Western Kentucky (in a nailbiter) and North Carolina over Villanova, who I still can't believe is in the tournament. Then I have VCU over Akron and Michigan over South Dakota State, UCLA and my boy Kyle Anderson over Minnesota and Florida and my boys Mike Eusebio and assistant coach Rashon Burno over Northwestern State. I like San Diego State over Oklahoma (only root for Sooners in football) and Georgetown over Florida Gulf Coast, which sounds like a place I'd rather be right now than cold Kearny, NJ.
Staying there, I like Kansas over North Carolina, Michigan over VCU, Florida over UCLA and Georgetown over San Diego State. Then I have Michigan over Kansas and Florida over Georgetown and the Gators of Florida going to Atlanta in the Final Four with Duke and Pitt.
On the East side, I like Indiana over the Jersey City YMCA, then NC State over Temple, UNLV over California and Syracuse over Montana (although the Grizzlies' people were sure nice to this Biggun when I visited Missoula). It's Butler over Bucknell and the Golden Eagle Warriors of the greatest Jesuit university this side of Lake Michigan taking care of Davidson. Coach McKillop is a nice man who I met at the Coaches Party in Detroit and had a few libations together, but he's not taking out Buzz and the boys from my alma mater. I also like Colorado over Illinois and Miami over Pacific.
Staying there, I have Indiana over NC State, Syracuse over UNLV, Marquette over Butler (avenging that horrible loss to begin the season) and Miami over Colorado.
Then it's Indiana over Syracuse and Miami over my beloved Marquette. Some have picked Marquette to go further. I can't see it. If Buzz pulls that off, they should rename Wisconsin Avenue as Buzz Boulevard.
Then it's Indiana over Miami to go to the Final Four.
So I have Duke, Pitt, Florida and Indiana at the Final Four in Atlanta, with Duke beating Pitt, Indiana beating Florida and then Indiana defeating Duke to win the national title.
And yes, my old friend Tom Crean gets a national crown, just not with my beloved Golden Eagle Warriors.
So there's the tournament in a nutshell.
Thanks for reading as always.
=============================================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com and www.dailyrecord.com.
After my Dad died, I was extremely moody. I cried an awful lot. I kept to myself mostly, except for a few close friends. It was a tough time for all of us, but it was really hard on a growing, impressionable young boy who thought he knew it all _ and didn't want anyone to tell him otherwise.
The next summer after Dad died, my neighbors in the St. Paul's of Greenville Parish did a wonderfully nice thing for me. They raised a lot of money to send me to the NFL Players Association football camp at Lehigh University in Pennsylvania. I don't know whose idea it was to send me to the camp. It was either my St. Paul's grammar school football coach Bill DeFazio or my sixth grade teacher John Tennessen. They both believed that football would point me in the right direction in life.
It was the first time that I was away from home on my own. I was 11. My mother, who didn't even know how to drive yet, went with me to the Port Authority Bus Terminal to get on the bus to go to the camp.
As I got off the bus, carrying my brand new gym bag bought in the Great Western for three dollars (never had a gym bag before), the organizers said that quarterbacks went one way and running backs went another. I thought I was going to be the next Johnny Unitas, so I went with the quarterbacks. In fifth grade, it was the only position I knew.
But one of the big, burly organizers pointed me with the linemen. "You're a lineman, son. You're a big guy."
He must have known something, because I was not the behemoth I am today by a long shot. Believe it or not, at age 11, I was somewhat of a runt. I later evovled into Gigantor in high school.
There was a problem to all of this. I didn't want to be a lineman. I wanted to be Johnny U, my idol.
So when I was pushed off with the bigger kids, I started to do what I always did back then. I cried.
I was away from home. I wanted to go home. Right there and then. I was done. I knew I wasn't too far from my brother's house, so he could come get me. But I also thought of all those people who donated a dollar here and there to send me to the camp. How could I let them down if I came home after the first day? I'd be a disgrace to the neighborhood.
So I sat on a log and I cried. Cried some more. Got made fun of by the other kids, but I didn't care, because I didn't know anyone. I cried and cried. They started football activities right away, but I just sat on this log by myself and cried.
Then this huge burly guy came over to me. I couldn't see his face because of the sun. I looked up and just saw a gigantic figure.
"Son, I heard you don't want to be a lineman," the voice said. "Well, I'm going to teach you to become a lineman."
He stuck out his huge hand and helped me off the log. As I stood up, I recognized the face right away. It was Merlin Olsen, the All-Pro defensive tackle of the Los Angeles Rams, who after he retired, became famous for his roles on "Little House on the Prairie" and "Father Murphy" and as a sportscaster or even more importantly as the spokesperson for FTD flowers on commercials.
Olsen is the reason why I became a Rams fan. And I'm still a diehard Rams fan today. I have an autographed picture of the "Fearsome Foursome" hanging on my bedroom wall, with Merlin's signature right there. My friends gave it to me for my 40th birthday.
At the same camp, my counselor, who was in charge of me and about 20 other kids, was the starting quarterback at the University of Oklahoma back then, a wonderful young man named Steve Davis.
Davis and I hit it off pretty well that week and he promised to keep in touch if I gave him my address. So I did.
About three weeks later, the UPS delivery man came to my house carrying a huge box. It was addressed to me. As an 11 year old, I never got boxes before, so I was thrilled. In the box was an assortment of Oklahoma stuff, a hat, a pennant, a T-shirt, bumper stickers, posters, notebooks, pencils, you name it. The letter in the box was from Davis.
"Keep working hard, James," the letter was signed.
I was a Sooner fan for life and still am. Steve Davis made me a Sooner fan and Merlin Olsen made me a Ram fan and that has never changed.
I got to see Steve Davis several times at Giants Stadium, when he was working the Kickoff Classic for CBS Sports. I had to remind him who I was, but he remembered and we shared memories of that memorable week at Lehigh.
Yesterday, as I sat down at my computer to cover the Devils-Rangers game, I clicked Yahoo! Sports like I do almost every day. The first story that popped up was that Steve Davis was killed in a plane crash Monday. The private jet he was in hit a row of houses in South Bend, Indiana. Steve Davis, the starting quarterback on two Oklahoma national championship teams, was 60 years old.
I paused for a second and then did what I did when I was 11 years old. I cried.
I hadn't seen Steve since perhaps 1996 or so, but every time I put on one of my 35 Oklahoma T-shirts, one of my 25 Sooner hats or my gaudy Oklahoma fleece, he always came to mind.
It also made me reflect that some of the most inspirational people in my life are now all gone _ my Dad, my coaches like Bill DeFazio, Dick Branagan, Bill Gargiulo; and then those two people who changed my life in the summer of 1972, Merlin Olsen and Steve Davis. They're all gone and that's a shame.
I hope OU recognizes Steve Davis in some capacity this season. It's almost eerie to think that he went down in South Bend and the Sooners play there this fall.
I will always remember how good Davis was to a moody 11-year-old and how good he made that kid feel when that box arrived. I felt like a king, pulling one thing after another after that box. For that _ and for making me a Boomer Sooner _ I'll always be grateful. Rest in peace, Steve.
===========================================================================
Just a quick bit on Seton Hall basketball. The worst kept secret since Michael Strahan got to sit next to annoying Kelly Ripa every day became official when one of the two talented players on the Pirates' roster, Aaron Cosby, came through with what was rumored and announced he was leaving the Hall to transfer elsewhere.
Losing Cosby was yet another blow to the tenure of Kevin Willard, who has done very little to earn this six-year contract extension that is also being rumored about.
Willard has done no recruiting whatsoever, except getting the quartet of lackluster performers from the same secondary school in Spain. None of those four kids can play.
The one good recruit was Cosby and he's now left, because he was not happy with the way Willard treated him.
And the two recruits that Willard went after have now both been charged with felony assault.
That's just awesome. The Pirates went 13-17, lost almost every single game under the sun since New Year's Day and don't have any top recruits coming in for next year. There were several top New Jersey players who the staff didn't even bother to approach.
Reggie Cameron and Kavon Stewart of Hudson Catholic? Nope. Didn't get a call. Hallice Cooke and Josh Brown of St. Anthony? Sorry. Trevis Wyche of St. Peter's Prep? Not him either.
Right there are five kids less than 15 miles from the South Orange campus and they didn't get a sniff, but those four kids from that school in Spain panned out great, right?
Haralds Karlis, who can't put the ball in the basket whatsoever, would not play at neighboring NJIT. He's not good enough. Tom Mayaan, who was supposed to be a god-send point guard, also can't shoot his uniform number. By the way, he wore 0.
That program is a complete mess and Willard gets a six-year extension? That's because the new AD, Patrick Lyons, worked with Willard at Iona. The new head of the Pirate Blue Fund? He comes from Iona, too. They're also pursuing the Iona women's basketball coach to replace the departing Anne Donovan as the Pirates' head women's coach.
Since when did Iona become the pattern school and athletic program that everyone should follow? They're turning South Orange into South New Rochelle, a Gael-force wind of changes. Iona was no big shakes, a program constantly flirting with NCAA probation. "I-O-N-A, Idiots on North Avenue," is the chant that the Fordham student section used to spew to rile up the Iona faithful. Well, that's where Seton Hall is headed. A bigger, less boisterous version of Iona.
Which makes no sense whatsoever _ just like this reported extension Willard received. Until Willard landed a good solid local recruit, he shouldn't have received an additional penny, never mind six years.
==============================================================================
OK, here goes, the great predictions on the entire NCAA Tournament
In the Midwest, we're going with Louisville over whomever they play first round, Missouri over Colorado State, Oklahoma State (this Marcus Smart kid is a player to watch) over Oregon, St. Louis over New Mexico State, Memphis over St. Mary's (I think, this play-in crap has me reeling), Michigan State over Valpo, Cincy over Creighton and Duke over Albany.
Continuing there, then it's Louisville over Missouri, Oklahoma State over St. Louis, Michigan State over Memphis and Duke over Cincinnati (sorry Darren Savino).
Then I have Louisville over Oklahoma State and Duke over Michigan State and Duke over Louisville in the final.
In the West, I got Gonzaga over Southern, Pitt over Wichita State, Ole Miss over Wisconsin, Kansas State over my mother, Arizona over Belmont, New Mexico over Harvard (take that, Tommy Amaker), Notre Dame over Iowa State and Ohio State over Seton Hall North, oops, I mean Iona.
Staying there, I like Pitt over Gonzaga (the first big upset of the tourney), Ole Miss and Andy Kennedy and Marshall Henderson over Kansas State, Arizona over New Mexico and Ohio State over Notre Dame. Then I like Pitt over Ole Miss and Ohio State over Arizona and Pitt to go to the Final Four, joining Duke.
In the South, let's go with Kansas over Western Kentucky (in a nailbiter) and North Carolina over Villanova, who I still can't believe is in the tournament. Then I have VCU over Akron and Michigan over South Dakota State, UCLA and my boy Kyle Anderson over Minnesota and Florida and my boys Mike Eusebio and assistant coach Rashon Burno over Northwestern State. I like San Diego State over Oklahoma (only root for Sooners in football) and Georgetown over Florida Gulf Coast, which sounds like a place I'd rather be right now than cold Kearny, NJ.
Staying there, I like Kansas over North Carolina, Michigan over VCU, Florida over UCLA and Georgetown over San Diego State. Then I have Michigan over Kansas and Florida over Georgetown and the Gators of Florida going to Atlanta in the Final Four with Duke and Pitt.
On the East side, I like Indiana over the Jersey City YMCA, then NC State over Temple, UNLV over California and Syracuse over Montana (although the Grizzlies' people were sure nice to this Biggun when I visited Missoula). It's Butler over Bucknell and the Golden Eagle Warriors of the greatest Jesuit university this side of Lake Michigan taking care of Davidson. Coach McKillop is a nice man who I met at the Coaches Party in Detroit and had a few libations together, but he's not taking out Buzz and the boys from my alma mater. I also like Colorado over Illinois and Miami over Pacific.
Staying there, I have Indiana over NC State, Syracuse over UNLV, Marquette over Butler (avenging that horrible loss to begin the season) and Miami over Colorado.
Then it's Indiana over Syracuse and Miami over my beloved Marquette. Some have picked Marquette to go further. I can't see it. If Buzz pulls that off, they should rename Wisconsin Avenue as Buzz Boulevard.
Then it's Indiana over Miami to go to the Final Four.
So I have Duke, Pitt, Florida and Indiana at the Final Four in Atlanta, with Duke beating Pitt, Indiana beating Florida and then Indiana defeating Duke to win the national title.
And yes, my old friend Tom Crean gets a national crown, just not with my beloved Golden Eagle Warriors.
So there's the tournament in a nutshell.
Thanks for reading as always.
=============================================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com and www.dailyrecord.com.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Memories of the Big East, as it once was
Georgetown will face Syracuse today in the Big East Conference tournament semifinals at Madison Square Garden.
If there's ever been a more fitting showdown for the final Big East tourney as we once knew it, it's a matchup of the Orange and the Hoyas, two of the original members of the old league, two of the titans of the Big East.
OK, so James Southerland isn't exactly Billy Owens and Otto Porter isn't the same as Reggie Williams, but the meaning is still there. Sure, it's Boeheim vs. Thompson, but this time, it's the big, burly Thompson's kid, not the menacing giant with the towel draped on his shoulder.
But it's almost like karma that these two teams face each other today for the very last time _ unless they somehow meet in the Final Four. Syracuse took the ACC's money and ran, a move that really didn't make much sense for their entire athletic program, considering Syracuse is only beginning to become relevant in football again after many years of dormancy.
I don't care what bowl game Syracuse goes to in the years to come, because the school was, is and always will be a basketball school _ make that a basketball powerhouse.
And we all know what Georgetown is.
But Syracuse leaving for the greener (as in $$$$$) pastures of the ACC can't exactly excite the rabid followers of Orange basketball. Are they getting pumped up right now for that classic Syracuse-Clemson showdown? How about the Orange against Virginia Tech? Or even Virginia, for that matter? I just cannot see 30,000 screaming basketball junkies jamming the Carrier Dome for those games. Sure, Duke and North Carolina will stir some interest, but the rest of the ACC? There are no rivalries there.
Not like Syracuse-St. John's in the heyday, with Pearl Washington going up against Chris Mullin. Or Syracuse against Villanova or Syracuse-UConn. Those were basketball games.
So this is the final year of the Big East as we once knew it. Sure, there will be a conference called the Big East next year and some of the familiar names, like Georgetown, St. John's and Villanova will be part of it, as will my alma mater, Marquette. They'll even play the tournament in Madison Square Garden, the arena that helped to build the Big East.
But will it be the Big East? Hardly. Not without Syracuse. Not without Pitt. Those were Big East mainstays.
For me, the Big East will be 1985, when three members of the league went to the Final Four in Lexington, Kentucky and Villanova shocked the world by stealing the NCAA title. Earlier that year, St. John's and Georgetown met in a regular season game at the Garden, with Patrick Ewing going up against Mullin and Walter Berry. They were the top two teams in the country, facing off on a Wednesday night, with the Garden abuzz. Lou Carnesecca had that ugly sweater and Thompson unveiled a matching one. It was classic showmanship.
That game was so huge that practically every sports fan in Jersey City flocked to bars in Bayonne, because Jersey City didn't have cable television yet. I remember standing the entire game watching in a now-defunct bar in Bayonne, where a Domino's pizza store now stands, and the place was packed with Jersey City basketball fans.
There were other great moments, like Pearl Washington's three-quarter court running shot, like the 1996 tourney final pitting Allen Iverson against Ray Allen, like the six overtime classic between UConn and Syracuse, like the sharpshooting of Gerry McNamara.
There were even the two Big East Tournament titles won by local favorite Seton Hall, championships thought to be unreachable when the Hall was the doormat of the league in its inception.
It was a basketball haven for Hall of Fame coaches. Just think of all the coaching greats that participated in that league. Thompson, Boeheim, Carnesecca, Calhoun, Pitino _ all Hall of Famers.
So the Big East as we knew it ends this weekend. It should remain a strong basketball conference for the years to come with the Catholic 7, along with Xavier and Butler, forming a solid conglomeration.
But can it match what it once was? No way, no how.
And we can thank the pursuit, the greed of the almighty green, for the league's passing.
It's basically like Dallas replacing Barbara Bel Geddes with Donna Reed or the Three Stooges replacing Curly with Shemp. Sure, the show must go on, but it's just not the same show.
And for a basketball purist like me, it's sad.
I was already in love with college basketball by the time the Big East came around during my senior year of high school. I already watched Bill Walton capture my fancy with the UCLA teams and saw David Thompson became David Skywalker during his North Carolina State days in the early 1970s.
And of course, I was hooked by the time my future school, Marquette, won it all in 1977.
But the Big East became my home. I gobbled up those games, those tournaments, those memories.
It's a shame that it all ends, the way it was, this weekend. That's why Georgetown-Syracuse tonight proves to be something special, one for the ages, one last dance to remember what it once was.
===============================================================================
I am so totally through with Mike Francesa.
The blow-hard egotistical windbag sealed that deal earlier this week, when he took yet another passing blow at the New York Jets and especially head coach Rex Ryan.
Now, I'm not a Jets fan, but Francesa made it a point to open his show Wednesday morning taking more pot shots at the Jets and Ryan. However, this time, the narcoleptic know-it-all actually went as far as to say that maybe the Jets could play all four quarterbacks at the same time. He thought that was funny.
But when he went as far as to say, "And where is Rex during all of this? He's invisible. He thinks he lost so much weight that he can't be seen."
Now, Francesa should have taken a slice of life from his former good friend Bill Parcells, who used to be as thick as thieves together, owning horses together, and now don't speak. Gee, I wonder why.
Where in the world does Francesa get off criticizing someone for losing weight? As Parcells once said, it was time for Francesa to take a long look "at the man in the glass," because Francesa is beyond portly.
I've had it with Francesa's condescending tone to callers, his hypocritical approach with interview guests, where he kisses their collective asses when they're in front of him, then blasts them when they're gone. I'm done with him constantly repeating himself, over and over, to the point of annoyance.
Did anyone catch his reporting of the new Pope? It's beyond ridiculous. And for that, he gets paid in the millions.
But when you're a fat ass (like I am as well), you have no right to make fun of someone's weight loss. If you are in dire need of a salad to go along with that Diet Coke you swill, then you cannot poke fun at a guy like Ryan, who had the lapband surgery and has dropped over 100 pounds.
I'm done with him. I was an avid listener and even called the mo-mo to knock him down a few pegs when he was wrong about St. Peter's playing Monmouth in that 6 a.m. game a few years ago. He had no idea what he was talking about.
Now, I won't listen. I have better things to tune in to. Like 80s on 8 on XM Radio.
Come on Eileen from Dexy's Midnight Runners. Much better than blowhard Francesa any day.
=============================================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com and www.dailyrecord.com, where I have a great feature about famed figure skater JoJo Starbuck and her twin sons. Check it out.
If there's ever been a more fitting showdown for the final Big East tourney as we once knew it, it's a matchup of the Orange and the Hoyas, two of the original members of the old league, two of the titans of the Big East.
OK, so James Southerland isn't exactly Billy Owens and Otto Porter isn't the same as Reggie Williams, but the meaning is still there. Sure, it's Boeheim vs. Thompson, but this time, it's the big, burly Thompson's kid, not the menacing giant with the towel draped on his shoulder.
But it's almost like karma that these two teams face each other today for the very last time _ unless they somehow meet in the Final Four. Syracuse took the ACC's money and ran, a move that really didn't make much sense for their entire athletic program, considering Syracuse is only beginning to become relevant in football again after many years of dormancy.
I don't care what bowl game Syracuse goes to in the years to come, because the school was, is and always will be a basketball school _ make that a basketball powerhouse.
And we all know what Georgetown is.
But Syracuse leaving for the greener (as in $$$$$) pastures of the ACC can't exactly excite the rabid followers of Orange basketball. Are they getting pumped up right now for that classic Syracuse-Clemson showdown? How about the Orange against Virginia Tech? Or even Virginia, for that matter? I just cannot see 30,000 screaming basketball junkies jamming the Carrier Dome for those games. Sure, Duke and North Carolina will stir some interest, but the rest of the ACC? There are no rivalries there.
Not like Syracuse-St. John's in the heyday, with Pearl Washington going up against Chris Mullin. Or Syracuse against Villanova or Syracuse-UConn. Those were basketball games.
So this is the final year of the Big East as we once knew it. Sure, there will be a conference called the Big East next year and some of the familiar names, like Georgetown, St. John's and Villanova will be part of it, as will my alma mater, Marquette. They'll even play the tournament in Madison Square Garden, the arena that helped to build the Big East.
But will it be the Big East? Hardly. Not without Syracuse. Not without Pitt. Those were Big East mainstays.
For me, the Big East will be 1985, when three members of the league went to the Final Four in Lexington, Kentucky and Villanova shocked the world by stealing the NCAA title. Earlier that year, St. John's and Georgetown met in a regular season game at the Garden, with Patrick Ewing going up against Mullin and Walter Berry. They were the top two teams in the country, facing off on a Wednesday night, with the Garden abuzz. Lou Carnesecca had that ugly sweater and Thompson unveiled a matching one. It was classic showmanship.
That game was so huge that practically every sports fan in Jersey City flocked to bars in Bayonne, because Jersey City didn't have cable television yet. I remember standing the entire game watching in a now-defunct bar in Bayonne, where a Domino's pizza store now stands, and the place was packed with Jersey City basketball fans.
There were other great moments, like Pearl Washington's three-quarter court running shot, like the 1996 tourney final pitting Allen Iverson against Ray Allen, like the six overtime classic between UConn and Syracuse, like the sharpshooting of Gerry McNamara.
There were even the two Big East Tournament titles won by local favorite Seton Hall, championships thought to be unreachable when the Hall was the doormat of the league in its inception.
It was a basketball haven for Hall of Fame coaches. Just think of all the coaching greats that participated in that league. Thompson, Boeheim, Carnesecca, Calhoun, Pitino _ all Hall of Famers.
So the Big East as we knew it ends this weekend. It should remain a strong basketball conference for the years to come with the Catholic 7, along with Xavier and Butler, forming a solid conglomeration.
But can it match what it once was? No way, no how.
And we can thank the pursuit, the greed of the almighty green, for the league's passing.
It's basically like Dallas replacing Barbara Bel Geddes with Donna Reed or the Three Stooges replacing Curly with Shemp. Sure, the show must go on, but it's just not the same show.
And for a basketball purist like me, it's sad.
I was already in love with college basketball by the time the Big East came around during my senior year of high school. I already watched Bill Walton capture my fancy with the UCLA teams and saw David Thompson became David Skywalker during his North Carolina State days in the early 1970s.
And of course, I was hooked by the time my future school, Marquette, won it all in 1977.
But the Big East became my home. I gobbled up those games, those tournaments, those memories.
It's a shame that it all ends, the way it was, this weekend. That's why Georgetown-Syracuse tonight proves to be something special, one for the ages, one last dance to remember what it once was.
===============================================================================
I am so totally through with Mike Francesa.
The blow-hard egotistical windbag sealed that deal earlier this week, when he took yet another passing blow at the New York Jets and especially head coach Rex Ryan.
Now, I'm not a Jets fan, but Francesa made it a point to open his show Wednesday morning taking more pot shots at the Jets and Ryan. However, this time, the narcoleptic know-it-all actually went as far as to say that maybe the Jets could play all four quarterbacks at the same time. He thought that was funny.
But when he went as far as to say, "And where is Rex during all of this? He's invisible. He thinks he lost so much weight that he can't be seen."
Now, Francesa should have taken a slice of life from his former good friend Bill Parcells, who used to be as thick as thieves together, owning horses together, and now don't speak. Gee, I wonder why.
Where in the world does Francesa get off criticizing someone for losing weight? As Parcells once said, it was time for Francesa to take a long look "at the man in the glass," because Francesa is beyond portly.
I've had it with Francesa's condescending tone to callers, his hypocritical approach with interview guests, where he kisses their collective asses when they're in front of him, then blasts them when they're gone. I'm done with him constantly repeating himself, over and over, to the point of annoyance.
Did anyone catch his reporting of the new Pope? It's beyond ridiculous. And for that, he gets paid in the millions.
But when you're a fat ass (like I am as well), you have no right to make fun of someone's weight loss. If you are in dire need of a salad to go along with that Diet Coke you swill, then you cannot poke fun at a guy like Ryan, who had the lapband surgery and has dropped over 100 pounds.
I'm done with him. I was an avid listener and even called the mo-mo to knock him down a few pegs when he was wrong about St. Peter's playing Monmouth in that 6 a.m. game a few years ago. He had no idea what he was talking about.
Now, I won't listen. I have better things to tune in to. Like 80s on 8 on XM Radio.
Come on Eileen from Dexy's Midnight Runners. Much better than blowhard Francesa any day.
=============================================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com and www.dailyrecord.com, where I have a great feature about famed figure skater JoJo Starbuck and her twin sons. Check it out.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Santana delay is sign he's done
Once again, the Mets are trying their very best to dance around the truth. In fact, they have become better dancers than Fred Astaire and Denny Terio combined.
They danced around the fact that they were never going to sign Michael Bourn. They made themselves look good in the eyes of their fans for a few weeks, saying that they "were interested" in signing the former Brave All-Star, but when push came to shove, they used the excuse of not wanting to give up the No. 11 pick in the MLB Draft.
That was such a crock. They didn't want to sign Bourn because it was going to cost them $50 million. Heck, they wouldn't re-sign Scott Hairston because he wanted $6 million for two years. He ended up signing for $5 million. The Mets turned their back on their lone right-handed outfield power source for a measly $1 million. So they were "interested" in Bourn? Get real. That was all such a huge tease to get Met fans to buy tickets this season.
Now, here comes Dance No. 2. Johan Santana was shut down after having nothing left in that arm. He has no velocity whatsoever and no control with his famed change-up (a major warning sign). So the Mets say that they're going to give Santana until March 10 to see if his arm miraculously gets stronger.
Gee (not pitcher Dillon), spring training is just a week old and we're already shutting down pitchers? Face facts. Santana is done and the Mets know it. They don't want to say it, because they were really hopeful that someone would take that ridiculous $25 million contract off their hands, which is like hoping that Ted the Bear is going to hang out with you and drink brewskis at the neighborhood bar.
No one wants Santana, especially not with that contract. But the Mets, once again, think that fans are so stupid that they will buy this latest dance around the truth.
Why not try to recoup some of that $25 million by forcing Santana to retire because of the injury? They did that with a washed-up Mo Vaughn several years ago when Vaughn was done. Makes perfect sense here.
They can then send Santana out to pasture and allow phenom Zack Wheeler to begin the season with the big club, instead of shipping him to Triple A. Everyone would rather see Wheeler anyway, rather than a finished Santana. And please, don't give me a dose of Jeremy Hefner. I'd rather shave my head with a cheese grader and chew on aluminum foil than watch Hefner pitch.
So the Mets will continue to disco the night away instead of facing the truth. It's really not a good thing for a team in a so-called major market to do. Maybe Met fans would accept the hideous situation more if the front office would just tell the truth instead of doing the tango.
And while we're at it, is there a worse outfield in the majors? The Mets actually believe Lucas Duda can hit 30 homers? Did they watch games last year? During late July-early August, Duda couldn't hit a beach ball with a two-by-four. He struck out more than Screech with Lisa Turtle on "Saved By The Bell." He's not a good major leaguer. Mike Baxter? C'mon. Kirk Niewenhuis? Oh, good God.
So we're supposed to get excited about this team? Sandy Alderson, who somehow gets a flier from the media, even though he's just as bad of a liar as owners Freddie Coupon and Coupon, Jr., said that the Mets are looking at 2013, but shooting for 2014. Is that right? Then why should I go this season? To see Marlon Byrd? LaTroy Hawkins?
This is a team that will be really lucky to win 70 games this year. They'd be a last place team if Jeffrey Lauria didn't take out a pocket knife and proceed to gut the Marlins.
This is a bad baseball team, but hey, at least we know the front office can dance.
================================================================
The college basketball season is winding down toward the days of March Madness and unlike last year, when you could have crowned Kentucky as national champ in November, there really isn't a sure-fire favorite to win it all this year.
Is it Indiana? Not so sure. Duke? The Blue Devils sorely miss Ryan Kelly. Miami? It's been a great run by Jim Larranaga, but can the Hurricanes actually win it all? Or is it another Cinderella darling?
Honestly, I don't know. Things can change between now and St. Paddy's Day. But it certainly will lead to an interesting and possibly exciting NCAA Tourney. Anyone can win it. That makes it exciting.
================================================================
My work life has been insane, with coverage of the Nets, the Devils, Seton Hall basketball, high school sports. Every day is something new, so that makes it exciting as well as hectic.
That's why the blog has taken a beating. Only the second one of the year? C'mon that's just wrong. I promise to find more time to write the blog in the weeks and months to come.
=======================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com and www.dailyrecord.com.
They danced around the fact that they were never going to sign Michael Bourn. They made themselves look good in the eyes of their fans for a few weeks, saying that they "were interested" in signing the former Brave All-Star, but when push came to shove, they used the excuse of not wanting to give up the No. 11 pick in the MLB Draft.
That was such a crock. They didn't want to sign Bourn because it was going to cost them $50 million. Heck, they wouldn't re-sign Scott Hairston because he wanted $6 million for two years. He ended up signing for $5 million. The Mets turned their back on their lone right-handed outfield power source for a measly $1 million. So they were "interested" in Bourn? Get real. That was all such a huge tease to get Met fans to buy tickets this season.
Now, here comes Dance No. 2. Johan Santana was shut down after having nothing left in that arm. He has no velocity whatsoever and no control with his famed change-up (a major warning sign). So the Mets say that they're going to give Santana until March 10 to see if his arm miraculously gets stronger.
Gee (not pitcher Dillon), spring training is just a week old and we're already shutting down pitchers? Face facts. Santana is done and the Mets know it. They don't want to say it, because they were really hopeful that someone would take that ridiculous $25 million contract off their hands, which is like hoping that Ted the Bear is going to hang out with you and drink brewskis at the neighborhood bar.
No one wants Santana, especially not with that contract. But the Mets, once again, think that fans are so stupid that they will buy this latest dance around the truth.
Why not try to recoup some of that $25 million by forcing Santana to retire because of the injury? They did that with a washed-up Mo Vaughn several years ago when Vaughn was done. Makes perfect sense here.
They can then send Santana out to pasture and allow phenom Zack Wheeler to begin the season with the big club, instead of shipping him to Triple A. Everyone would rather see Wheeler anyway, rather than a finished Santana. And please, don't give me a dose of Jeremy Hefner. I'd rather shave my head with a cheese grader and chew on aluminum foil than watch Hefner pitch.
So the Mets will continue to disco the night away instead of facing the truth. It's really not a good thing for a team in a so-called major market to do. Maybe Met fans would accept the hideous situation more if the front office would just tell the truth instead of doing the tango.
And while we're at it, is there a worse outfield in the majors? The Mets actually believe Lucas Duda can hit 30 homers? Did they watch games last year? During late July-early August, Duda couldn't hit a beach ball with a two-by-four. He struck out more than Screech with Lisa Turtle on "Saved By The Bell." He's not a good major leaguer. Mike Baxter? C'mon. Kirk Niewenhuis? Oh, good God.
So we're supposed to get excited about this team? Sandy Alderson, who somehow gets a flier from the media, even though he's just as bad of a liar as owners Freddie Coupon and Coupon, Jr., said that the Mets are looking at 2013, but shooting for 2014. Is that right? Then why should I go this season? To see Marlon Byrd? LaTroy Hawkins?
This is a team that will be really lucky to win 70 games this year. They'd be a last place team if Jeffrey Lauria didn't take out a pocket knife and proceed to gut the Marlins.
This is a bad baseball team, but hey, at least we know the front office can dance.
================================================================
The college basketball season is winding down toward the days of March Madness and unlike last year, when you could have crowned Kentucky as national champ in November, there really isn't a sure-fire favorite to win it all this year.
Is it Indiana? Not so sure. Duke? The Blue Devils sorely miss Ryan Kelly. Miami? It's been a great run by Jim Larranaga, but can the Hurricanes actually win it all? Or is it another Cinderella darling?
Honestly, I don't know. Things can change between now and St. Paddy's Day. But it certainly will lead to an interesting and possibly exciting NCAA Tourney. Anyone can win it. That makes it exciting.
================================================================
My work life has been insane, with coverage of the Nets, the Devils, Seton Hall basketball, high school sports. Every day is something new, so that makes it exciting as well as hectic.
That's why the blog has taken a beating. Only the second one of the year? C'mon that's just wrong. I promise to find more time to write the blog in the weeks and months to come.
=======================================================
You can read more of my work at www.hudsonreporter.com, www.theobserver.com and www.dailyrecord.com.
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