The Sports Aficionado

Fantasy Journal: Closer I Am to Fine*, by J-Christmas

2007-05-04T17:33:00.001-05:00

“It went okay, but I had closer problems all year.”

This was a wise friend of mine’s assessment of his lone fantasy baseball season. I, a virgin fantasy player, had gone to him earlier this year seeking advice before the draft.

Instead of really taking his words to heart, though, I recklessly followed my own path. Now those words have come back to haunt me.

I’m having closer problems.

To my credit, I kind of tried to stack my bullpen during the draft. I did take a closer – albeit a 39-year-old with a bad right shoulder, Philadelphia’s Tom “Flash” Gordon. Then I drafted 2 stud middle relievers, Joel Zumaya (Tigers) and Cla Meredith (Padres). The only problem: those guys don’t get saves. The rest of my pitchers were starters.

Once I realized my mistake, I started scrambling through the free agent scrap heap looking for potential closers. I scoured the fantasy advice columns for the buzz on who might lose his job, and who might take it. I even asked my sportswriter roommate, Mark “Bronson Arroyo” Goodman, to send me text messages whenever he saw a potential closer hit the market.

That’s how I ended up with a ragtag group of sometimes-maybe-closers like Derrick Turnbow, Henry Owens, Ryan Franklin, Joakim Soria, and Mike Gonzalez. Guys who throw heat inconsistently and live on the edge. Guys I would probably never have heard of if not for this weird game called fantasy baseball.

Despite another piece of advice, though, I refused to trade for a closer. I guess I’m a conservative manager in that sense. I’ll dig through the trash, but I don’t make trades.

So despite my cheap-ass efforts, my team languished in last place in the saves category for all of April, and close to last place overall. I couldn’t stop thinking that saves were holding me back.

But little by little, as I accumulated temporary closers and Flash Gordon unsteadily accumulated 5 saves, I started to claw my way out of the save cellar. Today it finally happened: I took over 11th place in saves!

The euphoria didn’t last long. This morning I also noticed a little sticky note with a fiery burst next to Flash’s name on my roster. In Yahoo land, this means breaking news (no pun intended). The note read: “Gordon is returning to Philadelphia to get checked out after feeling pain in his right shoulder.”

Goddamnit! Unsteady as he is, Flash owns 50% of my team’s 10 saves. I can already feel my #11 ranking in saves slipping away like a greased-up Easter egg.
I shouldn’t feel too sorry for myself, though. It’s been a rough start to the season for closers. Brad Lidge had another meltdown (the “sign Dan Wheeler!!!” text got to me too late). Eric Gagne had another physical breakdown. Bob Wickman soon joined Gagne, B.J. Ryan, Octavio Dotel and Jorge Julio on the disabled list. Even Mariano Rivera is suddenly throwing like a large steaming piece of dog poop.

Basically, the closer situation is a crapshoot. (Pardon all the fecal terms.) I’m tempted to just give up on it, accept that I’ll be last in saves, and focus on the other stats. After all, I’m now in 8th place overall, ahead of my mortal enemy Team Zambia, which is all I really care about.

But I’m obviously fated to obsess over closers all year. So I’ll keep tossing and turning at night, checking the waiver wire in the morning, and throwing shit at the bullpen to see what sticks.

*The title for this piece was going to be “Closer I Am to Find,” which I thought was a witty pun referencing both the Indigo Girls song from middle school and that nonexistent superstar closer I’m searching for. But halfway through this thing, I realized the words to the song are actually “Closer I am to Fine,” which makes a lot less sense, unless I’m going to fine Tom Gordon for having a mashed potato shoulder. Whatever.

-That explanation made no sense to me either. – Ed.

Miami’s Draft Struggles Didn’t End with Quinn, by Adam Zwecker

2007-05-01T18:18:00.000-05:00

The Dolphins’ draft choices this year were enough to make fans miss the Wannsteadt-Spielman Era. Granted, Ted Ginn could turn out to be valuable as someone who can return kicks while learning how to play football, a-la-Devin Hester. But what doesn’t make sense is, if the Dolphins were set on taking Ginn over Brady Quinn or some can't-miss prospect like Patrick Willis (a better, faster Zach Thomas) or Darrelle Revis/Leon Hall or even Joe Staley, why didn’t they trade down to select Ginn a few spots later, and accumulate some draft picks? Of course, with the way they draft and Miami’s tendency to give away draft picks for injured quarterbacks nearing retirement, I suppose it wouldn't have done much good to trade down anyway.

All in all, the Dolphins could have had (1) Brady Quin (possibly the best QB in the draft), (2A) Ryan Kalil (best center in the draft), (2B) Charles Johnson (one of the top three or four DEs in the draft), and (3) Tank Tyler (the third-best DT in the draft) or Ray McDonald (a DE/DT tweener perfect for a 3-4 front) – all on the first day.

Watching the draft unfold, I thought there was a strong possibility Miami would take a QB like John Beck or Trent Edwards (who went in Round 3) with their second round pick in Round 2 and then select center Samson Satele in the third where he was better value. I guess after the heartbreak of seeing Ryan Kalil go one pick before to Carolina, Miami freaked out and reached a little for Samson. Kalil, for his part, will be an All-Pro anchor of Carolina’s line and an above-average player as a rookie a-la-Nick Mangold. That is pretty hard to find these days in a center. Satele is more of a project. He is tough as nails and will at the very least be a good guard/center backup, but he has a strange frame with short arms and played in June Jones’s Tecmo Bowl-style fun-and-gun offense in Hawaii where he never had to run-block or make calls at the line. Hence, he will take some time adjusting to the NFL and might not be a starter this year were it not for the Dolphins’ pitiful O-line situation, as the team has just 3 starters on the roster.

As for the late rounds, I also liked the center from Central Michigan, Drew Mormino, they plucked in the sixth, but I couldn't believe they grabbed him and that no-name 270-lb fullback from Hawaii in the 6th when they could have taken Brandon Siler (the star MLB from the Gators’ defense) and Ben Patrick (the third best TE in the draft – Randy McMichael minus the attitude). They both ended up going in the 7th and I thought all of Miami’s last 5 picks in the 6th and 7th rounds were likely going to be undrafted free agents, particularly FB Reagan Mauia and the punter Brandon Fields.

Explaining Mark Prior

2007-04-18T09:02:00.000-05:00

A great photo essay breaking down Mark Prior's delivery.

The Wax and Wane of Red Sox Pitching, by Sara Hatch

2007-04-16T18:25:00.000-05:00

It’s an interesting time for the Red Sox rotation. There is a newness and an oldness to it, exemplified in forms by Daisuke Matsuzaka and Curt Schilling.

Matsuzaka is the hope for the Red Sox. Japanese players are becoming a more common feature in American baseball, akin almost to the American presence in European football. Matsuzaka and his improbable salary had a rough night in his first home game this past week but he’s got a bright future ahead of him. His command of pitches is good and he’s got a range of them. Also, he is used to pitching far longer games in Japan which will mean he’ll be much more durable than many of the other pitchers on the team.

Pitchers are treated with such a revered sense of coddling these days. They can’t have over 100 pitch counts; they can only pitch every five games. But Matsuzaka will be good for the franchise and his newness will have an effect for at least the first half of the season. His loss at home this week wasn’t even all that bad of a game. Sometimes you pitch a good game and the other pitcher is just better. I see good things in his future, especially as he adjusts to the Majors and becomes more comfortable with his surroundings.

On the other end of the spectrum is Curt Schilling who is facing the pull of age. Schilling was such a good pitcher in his time that even now at 40 he can pitch his way out of almost any situation. His fastball has lost its bite but he hasn’t lost his pitcher’s brain. But this year may be his last and it will be a sad thing to see him go. The past few years have been years of brilliance and excess for the Red Sox and Schilling will forever go down in Red Sox history for his World Series performance.

But with time comes change and the masterful command Schilling has on his pitches will become harder to maintain. Going six innings will be a blessing and the great games will come farther and fewer between. Even with all that though, he’s still one of the keys to this year’s rotation.

This year, more than anything, this team will live and die by the strength of its pitchers. When will Matsuzaka settle and when will Schilling break?

Devin Hester's Perfect 100

2007-04-07T09:32:00.000-05:00

The first 100 skill rating in the history of Madden football goes to Devin Hester...

but is he faster than Deion Sanders, Charles Woodson, and Randy Moss?

Also worth checking out: Hester vs. Ted Ginn vs. Reggie Bush.

Baseball Blogosphere Highlights

2007-04-05T07:12:00.000-05:00

Is K-Rod doctoring the ball? Have a look for yourself.

Following this week's Marlins-Nationals series made me wonder: who are these no-name Nats pitchers anyway? Well, today's my lucky day.

Blogosphere Highlights

2007-04-03T13:06:00.000-05:00

Interview about Cheating in baseball

Interesting piece on the disappearance of the activist-athlete.

UF vs OSU highlights

Ode to Schaub, by Eric Perlmutter

2007-03-31T15:58:00.000-05:00

From hero to hero, except now youre playing,
But watch out for that O-line, or you best be praying.
Now youre the Texans’ boy, no longer ‘League’s Best Backup’ --
Your old spot was lockdown, now you’ll get hella jacked up. (JACKed, UP!)
I give you till week four – then it’s from QB to IV;
Unstead of throwin' passes, you’ll be gettin fed Hi-C.
You were The Man at number two – no backup Q had more ’B’in cred!
People treated you like a Pro Bowler, except Sundays, you’d be in bed.

Atlanta, you might miss it –
Your new contract, kiss it –
But Dwight Freeney’s got you lit like [something illicit].

Tournament Time and the Press

2007-03-21T17:19:00.001-05:00

Instead of the three or four upsets we’ve come to expect, in an odd twist the NCAA tournament’s opening day only saw one lower seed win. VCU (11 seed) beat Duke (6 seed) on an Eric Maynor last-second pull-up jumper. While those were the winning points, the reason why VCU was even in a position to win was the full-court press, a familiar weapon of the March Cinderella. When Maynor got the ball, the game was still close because VCU had forced 17 turnovers, including a game-high 6 by Duke’s PG Greg Paulus.

The press as a means to a round one upset is a March staple. Remember the LSU-UAB game from a few years ago (‘05) that featured the entire UAB squad preying on the hopelessly ill-prepared and ill-equipped LSU frosh PG Tack Minor? UAB rode the press and the charisma of their twin brother leaders to the sweet sixteen. Whether it’s Tulsa (’03) or Coppin State (’97) the full court press (usually accompanied by its sidekick, the three-pointer) is regularly the cause for a round one upset. Which begs the question why isn’t it used more often? Why was VCU the only team to use it on Thursday?

Think of Jim Boeheims’s Syracuse teams with their 2-1-2 or Pitino’s mid-‘90s Kentucky teams (who made 3 straight championship games) endlessly harassing the opponents on the opposite end of the floor. Pitino in fact still uses the press with UL but usually only for spurts in the opening five minutes as they did against A&M before eventually stopping and subsequently, if not consequently, losing the game (the A&M game that is). Before Pitino’s run of three straight with UK, Nolan Richardson (whose disciples were later responsible for the aforementioned UAB team) lead his famed “40 minutes of Hell” Razorback attack to back-to back championship games in ’94 and ’95 with a game-plan that got its nickname from its relentless ball pressure.

Why it’s become a relic of big time programs (Boeheim excluded) and solely a weapon of the non-BCS schools, I’m not sure. One theory: With fewer players staying for a full four years, the necessary practice and team cohesion can no longer be achieved with such frequent roster turnover. Whatever the cause, because the press seems to only be prevalent in the mid-major conferences, big time schools, being less exposed, are thus more susceptible to it.

For example, on Friday, the second-seeded and much hyped Wisconsin team (recall the mid-season Sports Illustrated feature) was losing by as much as 18 points with five minutes left in the first half. Here again, Texas A&M Corpus Christi’s full-court press was responsible, but in a yet slightly different way. It wasn’t so much pure turnovers and sloppiness on the part of UW, but rather an overall mental breakdown ostensibly due to CC’s claustrophobic defense. Shots were rushed and inevitable missed, rebounds were fumbled. Fifteen minutes had passed and the score was 25-7.

On Sunday, in a mini-upset (5 vs. 4 seed) USC beat Texas. Though they rarely pressed the length of the court, it was their pressure half-court defense that had those same Tack Minor-Greg Paulus effects on UT’s D.J. Augustin, a PG who relies on his speed and quickness (when he drives to the basket, which is all the time) to mask his propensity for losing control.

In this way the press is multifaceted. If not for actual turnovers, it serves to shock the opponent, to make them uncomfortable, to jostle their mental preparation that had their offensive sets and defensive assignments lined up so tidily in their mind’s eye. Like Wisconsin, teams are shaken. Unexpectedly there are travels and double dribbles even when players are momentarily left unmolested, the threat being sufficient. Furthermore, employing the press infects the pressing team with a greater sense of hustle. Beyond their press, once Wisconsin crossed half-court, CC “settled” into a 2-3 zone, one described by the announcers as a more active version of what OSU used. Recall that OSU beat UW 2 out of 3 times. UW’s poster boy, Alando Tucker, tried to look calm and collected through his body language when, for example, repeatedly passing the ball back to a teammate who had just thrown the ball his way in what was a blatant plea of “please save us Alando,” but what he really was, was passive, and scared to act. Harried and uncomfortable, he didn’t want to show it, instead putting the onus on his less able teammates. Eventually Wisconsin adapted and, more importantly, CC tired and couldn’t maintain the sufficient pressure throughout the second half.

This of course is one of two major disadvantages of running the press, lacking the sufficient energy to sustain it. That’s the nature of the press; it’s a gamble. Even if the pressing team can maintain the pressure for all forty minutes, good teams – well-coached teams – can beat it and capitalize on quick and easy baskets, leaving the pressing team out of breath and demoralized. That’s why it’s rarely used in NBA; the talent pool is too deep. But rarely is there a college team adept at consistently overcoming the press. The levels of talent, maturity, and basketball intelligence simply aren’t there up and down the roster on a college squad. That’s why it’s such an exploitable vulnerability.

So what do you get with the press when executed as designed? Well, besides the aforementioned basics, a nice side effect was exhibited in the VCU game. The fast pace lured the neutral fans, most of whom are at these games waiting for their team to play later in the day or to just enjoy college ball and don’t have a vested interest in 6 of the 8 teams they see that day. Combine that with the fact that it’s the underdog that is the more visually attractive team, and all of a sudden it becomes a home game for the little guys. The effect is so profound that it in the VCU game it even penetrated the professional armor of the announcers, who subtly, perhaps even unconsciously, began rooting for VCU, noticeably speaking excitedly about the success of the press even when it wasn’t achieving its optimum effect (i.e. they praised VCU even when they committed fouls in their haste, focusing on their hustle and neglecting to acknowledge such detriments).

And so it was with this collective emotional backdrop, the fans and even the announcers (Kevin Harlan and Bob Wenzel) rooting for him and the rest of the Rams that Eric Maynor calmly dribbled up the court before stopping suddenly at the free throw line and sinking the game winning shot, leaving less than two second showing on the clock. And for all his clutch ability, it’s not a stretch to presume that the Duke players might have been just a little more fatigued that usual, and Eric Maynor’s path up-court was made that much easier.

Final Thoughts before the Super Bowl

2007-02-04T10:32:00.002-05:00

With only hours to go before the last game of this season, some football musings:

-What does the NFL think it's accomplishing having a regular season game in London? Are British fans suddenly so hardcore that pre-season games aren't good enough for them? As a measure of how excited Brits are over this, the Feb. 2 announcement was unreported in the London Times. And of course the loss of one of only eight home games is significant for both the team and the fans.

-I don't even want to think about how many Ted Johnson-type stories there must be out there.

-Nice to see Thurman Thomas get his induction to Canton. The guy was definitely one of the NFL's elite RBs, along with Emmitt Smith and Barry Sanders, for a good number of years, and was a versatile weapon in the Bills' no-huddle offense. Recent all-purpose backs like Marshall Faulk and Reggie Bush must have especially high respect for him. Still, you wonder if the reason that he didn't make it in on his first try is that the most enduring image of him is, unfortunately, this one.

-While we're on the subject of the Hall of Fame, call me a homer, but Kuechenberg got robbed.

-Why is Terrell Owens hugging Donovan McNabb at a party in Miami a news story?

-Nice call getting Prince for the halftime show. Should be the complete opposite of last year's tepid, phoned-in performance by the Stones.

-Bill Parcells: all the guy did was turn around one franchise after another. Retires as one of the all-time coaching legends, in the same class as Lombardi, Shula, Walsh, and indeed Belichick.

-Colts 30, Bears 17.

Now Taking the Field, Your Local College 9!, by DaSkeeza

2007-01-22T16:37:00.000-05:00

I can’t believe it. Baseball season is just around the corner.

No, not major league baseball, college baseball!

Somehow I don’t think you’re real excited at that statement.

Maybe I can convince you otherwise.

With the college football and pro football seasons wrapping up and basketball season reaching mid-season form, a lot is going on in the sports fan’s head. Surely, with the explosion of punditry over the past five or so years, there is no shortage of opinion as to who is number one, who belongs, and who doesn’t belong.

Which is why college baseball may be an interesting way to clear a fan’s mind.

For one more year, the college baseball season will begin in late January. Since only western and southern schools can host games this yearly, the NCAA will move to a universal start date in the middle of February next season. Even then so, the early part of the college baseball season offers intriguing match-ups for fans.

Last season, the defending national champions Texas Longhorns opened their season with a three-game tilt against the University of San Diego . On paper, it seemed like a giant mismatch. The defending national champion up against a team from the dinky West Coast Conference that didn’t make it into the previous year’s tournament, why even bother? After USD swept the series, it was no joke.

Texas has its chance for redemption when the Toreros come to town to open the 2007 campaign. A couple of weeks later, they have a series with perennial power Long Beach State, who proudly boasts MVP 07 NCAA Baseball coverboy Jered Weaver as on of its alums (among others, like Jason Giambi).

College world series contender the pre-season #8 Vanderbilt also receives an early test, when they face both Rice and Arizona State in its opening weekend of play. And what of the defending national champions Oregon State ? A three-game series with Georgia in Athens in the second week of the season should have the Diamond Dogs out in full force.

But enough about the high-profile match-ups. Why college baseball, of all things?

With skyrocketing ticket prices, drug scandals, and greater distance from the fans, some baseball fans may feel a little alienated by the whole major league experience. Taking the family to a ballgame these days costs a lot of money. And once you’re in the ballpark, access to special areas is usually limited. That’s a tough reality especially if you have kids, who, as you probably know, can’t sit still for a nine inning game.

In college parks, however, the prices are a lot cheaper. Most tickets don’t exceed $15. Some parks have lawn seating on the baselines or in the outfield, perfect for picnics and children who want to run around the park. The stadiums are small and cozy, and the seats are close to the action (better chance for catching foul balls). With many schools opening brand new parks in recent years, seats that go for top dollar in major league yards are easily obtained in college stadiums.

And the players? The experience varies, but I find that most of them are willing to sign autographs and mingle with fans. After all, with their parents at just about every game, the players would be wise to.

So what about the aluminum bats? They’re not really such a bad thing, as most people who have played baseball (or softball) use aluminum for much of their careers. Only the small, elite group that makes it to college semi-pro leagues on up use wood. Furthermore, it makes offense livelier and solid pitching that much more difficult to accomplish.

I’ve come to find that no matter where you watch baseball, each ballpark has its own personality. The fans behave a certain way. The outfields have varying dimensions and different skylines in the background. The regulars cover the entire spectrum of personalities. But when you look into college baseball, you find that there are hundreds of places you can experience the game. And with the cozy and collegial atmosphere, the experiences of baseball as an institution are felt more in a college ballpark than in a major league ballpark.

While these early season match-ups are great, the postseason is a completely different beast worthy of its own, exclusive description. Where tickets to the NCAA’s basketball tournament and college bowl games are hard to come by, tickets to the NCAA baseball regionals and super regionals are usually easily obtained. This is when you see the college baseball experience at its best. You see the same passion and energy in the fans as you do in the MLB playoffs, but here you get to see it at point-blank range.

It all ends in Omaha in June, at Johnny Rosenblatt Stadium, where the eight super regional winners battle it out in the Men’s College World Series. This site is so ideal that for over 50 years, the NCAA has never moved the series. What better place to contest college baseball’s championship than a minor league ballpark in America ’s Breadbasket? (Granted, the minor league team that plays there takes a road warrior trip for the three or four weeks the NCAA needs the stadium. Since no major league team would consider doing that, the CWS probably can’t be held in a major league park). Home runs have always been plentiful at the series, and they have been a proving ground for several players that have on gone on to major league success. Of recent note, Oakland closer Huston Street , who, in his time at Texas , was the Mariano Rivera of college baseball, and had the stamina to even come in at the tail end of the seventh or beginning of the eighth to slam the door on Longhorn opponents. Those familiar with his exploits do not find it surprising that he claimed AL Rookie of the Year honors two years ago.

So if you love baseball as an institution and want to experience it in a significant yet inexpensive form, visit your local college ballpark this year. It’s cheap, fun, and perhaps a solid reminder of the real reasons behind America ’s fascination with its national pastime.

Rookie Impacts

2007-01-20T10:13:00.001-05:00

In a year in which the Texans have the frontrunner for Defensive Rookie of the Year (DeMeco Ryans) and it’s not their first overall pick, its not surprising that this weekend’s final four all have one thing in common: rookies have played an integral part in their success. In the NFL it’s certainly been the year of the rookie, five of which will still be playing and likely making significant contributions on Sunday.

Of the four finalists, the NFC Championship game features the two teams that have perhaps benefited most from their rookies.

The 13-3 Bears won games because of their stellar defense, a unit that often had to compensate for the much-publicized struggles of Rex Grossman, and because of Devin Hester. He won two games on his own (Arizona, St. Louis) and sparked the comeback against the Giants with his record setting 108-yard field goal return. His effect on games has evolved to the point that last week the Seahawks squib-kicked almost all of their kickoffs, forfeiting the 30 yard line instead of tempting Hester with the end zone.

As for the Saints, Sean Payton has been able to construct the most eclectic offensive schemes in the NFL in large part because of the diverse talents of Reggie Bush and Marques Colston. Colston, at first just a complement to Joe Horn and Devery Henderson (how much could be expected from a 7th-rounder?), has emerged as the Saints best receiver. Bush’s gifts (speed, patience, vision, unbelievable cutting ability) are well documented and after a slow start he’s now consistently showing flashes of the brilliance we all saw at USC and on the YouTube high school highlight tape. But what has made him particularly valuable is that his skill set is such a perfect accompaniment to what Deuce McAllister can do. Payton has exploited these complementary parts to create innovative and oft-changing offensive sets, often playing the two backs simultaneously, sometimes both in the backfield, other times with Bush split wide.

While the Pats and Colts have relied less on their respective rookies, the AFC game has a second layer of rookie-focus within it beyond a personal measured impact.

The widely held belief is that back in April the Colts had targeted Laurence Maroney with their first round pick, only to watch the Pats trade up and snag him, and then had to settle for Joseph Addai. Addai has been no slouch (1,081 yards, a 4.8 avg., and 8 TDs), but the glut of first-year awesomeness and the year long disrespect of the Indy running game has left Addai and his rookie-leading rushing yards in the shadows of Vince Young, Maurice Jones-Drew, and even Maroney.

So what about Maroney? Has he just been coasting on reputation and plays that make Sportcenter more often than Addai’s? He’s played fewer games than any of these guys, missing two due to a back injury, but his impact can’t be understated. In a year in which the Pats offense had a sudden dearth of offensive weapons and lacked a home-run threat, Maroney was just that. It isn’t that he just took the pressure and additional pounding off of Dillon, but he also added that extra kick of power and speed too.

None of these guys will win Offensive Rookie of the Year, because that will probably go to Vince Young, as the QB position will likely be the trump card. Even without Young, the above five candidates would have plenty of competition from the deepest rookie class in recent memory: D’Brickashaw Ferguson, Nick Mangold, Marcus McNeill, Jones-Drew, Leinart.

But one of these standouts will get themselves a Super Bowl ring. So let’s think of things within that context, how these rookies will impact Sunday’s games.

At the pace Bush and Hester have been going I’m expecting one “wow!” play from each. Bush now understands when he can afford to dance around and when to run straight ahead. Hester hasn’t had a TD in more than a month and had one called back last week. It feels like he’s due. Of course both of these things can be mitigated respectively by the Chicago defense (since Bush turned the corner only Washington’s D has stopped him) and Hester’s penchant for nervous muffs (how come no one mentions this?).

The best thing about this match-up is that it’s strength vs. strength, the Saints’ O vs. Bears’ D, and while Bush and Colston are part of their team’s strength, Hester can be the tie-breaker. Do I have a little hometown bias? Yes. In the end, it’s too tough to pick against the Bears at home in the winter time, global warming or not.

The rooks in the AFC game are a smaller part of the big picture, only because of the recent playoff history between these two teams. But it could still be a showcase to confirm or disconfirm popular perception about the two backs. Both the game and the RB battle will come down to this question: Have the Colts actually been stopping the run or have they been playing against inept offenses? For all of the attention focused on Manning and Brady, their performances will be a function of the successes or failures of their respective team’s rushing attack.

The return of Bob Sanders from a knee injury has widely been touted as the key to Indianapolis’ defensive surge. However, he was in Foxboro on November 5th making 11 tackles. In that regular season meeting Addai stumbled to a 2.4 avg. compared to Maroney’s 4.8. The Colts ran for 53 yards to the Patriots’ 148. Once you discount the Sanders factor, there’s little reason to expect a difference this time around.

The Pats lost that game because of Brady’s four interceptions. Brady has never had more than two 3+ interception games in one season (playoffs included). That second game came last week against the Chargers. I’m taking Maroney over Addai, Brady over Manning, and a rematch of Super Bowl XX.

What About Grant Hill?

2007-01-18T13:42:00.001-05:00

Rewind your mind to the summer of 2000 and try to recall the commotion that surrounded the Magic’s signing of Grant Hill, the prize of the free agent class.

Six years prior, as a Pistons rookie in 1994, Hill was already part of the national consciousness after a career at Duke which featured two national titles, a third appearance, and the most famous lob pass in NCAA history. In February of that season he became the only rookie in NBA history to lead the league in All-Star votes. Four months later he was co-Rookie of the Year with Jason Kidd.

Twelve years later Jason Kidd is among the league assist leaders and a perennial All-Star. Grant Hill is a perennial afterthought. But as this season approaches the halfway mark, Orlando is currently slotted as a playoff contender, Hill has barely missed a game and is the team’s second leading scorer behind the man-child Dwight Howard. Averaging less than fifteen points per game isn’t exactly noteworthy, unless it’s viewed in the proper context. This isn’t a matter of how good Hill is now that he’s finally healthy, but rather his reclamation of a piece of the greatness that has been taken from him so habitually.

21.5, 7.5, 6. That’s points, boards, and assists per game over Hill’s first six years in the league. He was a triple-double waiting to happen every night. In those six seasons, his best running-mates were a past-his-prime Joe Dumars and an immature Jerry Stackhouse who hadn’t yet gone long enough without a championship that he was willing to subjugate his game for the betterment of the team. Allan Houston also made a two-year appearance to shoot and do nothing else. Under Alvin Gentry, the guard situation was so bad that Hill regularly brought the ball up the court. Replace his effervescent attitude with a scowl and he would’ve been the original KG.

Of course that attitude is what makes his setbacks that much sadder and his persistence that much more understandable.

When something happens with regularity it is human nature to tune it out, to let it fade to the background of your consciousness. In the NBA no player has incited this kind of conditioned apathy like Grant Hill and his non-compliant ankles.

Think back to the hype that surrounded those Magic signings of Hill and McGrady. It was going to be the beginning of a new era after four hapless and Shaq-less years. Remember, Orlando was thought to have a shot at Duncan too. That summer must have injected that city with the kind of hope and excitement and eager anticipation that only six year-olds experience on the way to its theme parks.

Then came the first broken ankle and the first rehab. Actually, it was the second rehab. Hill had in fact injured the ankle in the previous postseason and spent that free agent summer getting better. At the time it was considered minor; no one mentioned it much and it was rarely listed as a possible concern for his long list of suitors. This attitude persisted even when he missed 78 games that year with the same injury. Why wouldn’t it? Who could have imagined the next five years?

Year after year it was the same song with a different verse. These were the lowlights: six surgeries (including deliberate re-fractures), a staph infection which necessitated a life-saving trip to the ER, and a total of 357 missed games.

Imagine the strain that each injury must have put on his personal life and his family. He must have been a broken record to his wife and kids. Imagine the strength it took to not only to commit to recovery but to have asked your family to support what must have seemed like a lost cause.

For years, one of the pre-season’s top stories was about Hill’s rehab. The tone was hopeful and anxious each time. It was a hope fueled by his past success and compounded by the anxiety that came with the Magic’s $93 million investment.

It looked like he might have turned the corner in 2004, playing 67 games, putting up 20 points per. But just when the ankle seemed OK, the constant tweaking, and favoring of his other foot, began to affect the rest of Hill’s body. The constant overcompensation brought on hamstring, shin, and foot problems in the previously healthy leg. Thus Hill devoted this past summer, just as the six before it, to doctor visits and rehabilitation.

Of course the aforementioned tune-out syndrome is accelerated and intensified when an investment of emotions is involved. It’s hard to be let down for six straight years. That’s why Grant Hill’s current season is a non-story. Like the quiet hum of an air conditioner, he’s become ambient noise. After all, there’s still plenty of time for him to get hurt, or so it seems is the popular thought process.

Don’t you think Hill remembers what kind of player he was, the kind of ability he had, how bright his star had shone? It’s easy to see him on the verge of depression with each successive medical analysis. And yet every time it happened he braced himself mentally for the physical therapy marathon and re-upped. Hill’s story is unprecedented. His persistence and commitment are admirable.

For all those athletes that everyone ends up rooting for just because they get old and have been around long enough, here you have an even more compelling case. This isn’t someone who “deserves it” just because he’s been around a while, but because he’s had to fight harder than anyone else to stick around. Its not just playing on bad teams or for bad coaches, it’s a refusal to quit.

Grant Hill is 34. So far he’s healthy, the Magic are on the playoff path in large part because of him, and no one seems to have noticed. Perhaps this will be proven the right way to think, perhaps its naïve to expect a full season from Hill.

I suppose it’s even better to have it as a non-story, to be able to think about it independent of any sort of media crush and to appreciate persistence and a refusal to quit without being told to do so.

The US Should Embrace Soccer, But Not Because of Beckham, by Sara Hatch

2007-01-16T19:56:00.000-05:00

David Beckham is coming to the US. He’s been a very gifted soccer player for both the England National team and various European clubs. He’s also losing his gifts and is playing at nowhere near the level required to be a star in Europe. Any soccer fan that pays of a modicum of attention to the sport worldwide has seen the Beckham move coming for months. Still, there’s been plenty of talk about the possibility of him reviving the MLS and therefore soccer’s popularity in this country. This misses the point though, because the best way for Americans to get into soccer isn’t MLS; it’s the World Cup.

The World Cup is the best fit for a society that already has overlapping major league sports. It comes once every four years in splashes of over-exuberance. European papers drone on endlessly about the relative merits of their national teams, with at least one bemoaning the horrible tragedy it is that their team, obviously the best in Europe, didn’t make it to the final tournament.

The World Cup also comes during the peak of summer. Any veteran sports fan knows that pretty much the only thing going on at that time is the doldrums of baseball, the time when it really doesn’t matter yet who’s winning what. There’s no other serious competition in the sports world that can hinder one from tuning into the World Cup. Unless, of course, you watch a lot of golf, but that’s a whole problem in and of itself. And in recent years the games have become easier to watch: in 2006, every game was shown in its entirety and on ESPN or ABC, whereas before American audiences could only watch parts of games, and then only on cable.

But probably the best thing about the World Cup is its character. It’s all about the good kind of patriotism, a word I’ve found it hard to espouse in the past few years. When I sit in front of a TV with thousands of screaming fans in some sold out stadium somewhere in the world and watch the American team (which has competed in the last two Cups and should into the future) run up and down the field I can’t help but be proud of my country.

The World Cup is truly global and the stories it produces can’t be repeated. In the 2006 World Cup, the warring factions in Cote D’Ivoire declared a truce when their team reached the tournament. Talk about bringing people together. For all the good things the World Series and the Super Bowl do, they’ve never reunited a war-torn African nation.

Those who really love soccer (and anyone who’s ever lived for any amount of time in Europe) might call it a travesty that a fan only follows the World Cup. But for a nation with too many sports, I’d call it more than progress if they could get behind that much. One month every four years…and the best competition you’ll ever see.

The Best Team Won…Because It Always Does, by Gabe Sokoloff

2007-01-15T12:55:00.000-05:00

Each championship system values different qualities: the BCS values the intangibles factored into a poll of coaches, the single-elimination NFL playoff values clutch performance, and the best-of-five/seven series MLB playoff values tenacity (to name three). Most of us prefer one above the others, and I am interested our ability to assess these systems.

Let me clarify my purpose from the outset. I am not interested in discussing which system is best. That discussion might go: "tenacity is important...but clutch performance is the true mark of greatness. So, the NFL’s championship system is better than MLB’s". Instead, I am interested in what it really means for a system to be good or bad. The point of departure is this puzzle: we judge a system as good or bad based on its ability to identify the best team, and yet we define what qualities belong to a “best team” by referring back to that system.

A quick side-note: the subject here is both on the dry side and is unusually 'meta' for sports journalism, so I want to explain why I'm writing this at the outset. My reason is that complaints about how “the best team didn't win it all” – how a championship system often fails to reward the most deserving team – ARE common fare in sports journalism. I think then that it is important to look beneath the surface of these comments and figure out what all these terms really mean, in the hope of allowing for more meaningful complaining, especially with the Patriots’ upset of the Chargers just behind us and another Super Bowl just in front.

So, back to the puzzle. Our first premise is that a system is supposed to reward the best team. This point isn’t too controversial. But we usually mean it in a particular way: we think that the system is not creating the best team, but rather identifying it, just as a timed Olympic race identifies who is the fastest man. The notion of “fastest man” is somehow outside, somehow bigger than the test itself, which is just a means of finding to the result that was somehow always there. Even without a race, one of those men is still the fastest. Similarly, we tend to think that, system or not, there is a best team, and the championship system is just a more complex stopwatch for this more complex race among teams.

Our second premise – that we define what makes a best team by referring to our system – is as intuitive as the first. Consider this: to be the best NFL team, no one would dispute that it is more important to have a good record in games than a good record in halves-of-games. But we think this because our system rewards teams that perform well for full games, not halves. Similarly, we all believe that a team’s greatness over a season is indicated by its won-loss record, not by its points differential. But again, we hold this opinion because our system specifically rewards those teams that perform well in full games and does not (directly) reward teams for their points scored/ points allowed.

So we see that our system does not merely ‘identify’ the best team, in the way a stopwatch identifies the fastest man, but actually shapes what we consider the best team to be. But if this is true, then what of claims like "the best team didn't win it all? How can the best team not win if the best team is, by definition, the team that wins? That's the rub.

Two quick suggestions for how the best team may fail to win come to mind, but neither holds up to scrutiny. The first is that practical considerations impose a finite length on a season and playoff and so our sample size of games is too small to reliably reward the deserving winner. But this view assumes, like in science, that a larger sample size is always superior to a smaller one. But sports are not science, and this view ignores the value of winning when it counts most. We all agree that a great team is not simply one that wins nine times out of ten, but the team that wins the one time that matters.

A second (and related) answer might be that sometimes the best team doesn't win because it is the victim of bad luck. Here, we must take a hard look at our term “luck”. I would divide “luck” into two categories, which I call “in-the-game luck” and “outside-the-game luck”. When a defensive back makes an interception he would make only one time out of one hundred, his team benefits from “in-the-game luck”. A team that wins a game on a blown call benefits from “outside-the-game luck”.

“Outside-the-game” luck occurs when something prevents the system from working properly, such as a blown call, or if a player breaks the rules and doesn't get caught (e.g. steroids). In this case it is true that the best team might not win, but it is not the system's fault; instead, the system’s rules were violated. In other words, if a team loses on a blown call, we do not have a case of the best team not winning, but rather a case of an asterisk-tainted “winner”.

“Inside-the-game” luck occurs when something very unlikely influences the game – say, when the opposing team’s defensive back makes a game-winning interception he would only rarely make. It is tempting to say that, in such a case, the best team would not win. But if a player makes a play he would make only one in a hundred times, it is still the result of skill in some sense, as it’s possible that most players (or at least most people) would only make it one out of a thousand times.

I think that “luck” is a perfectly sensible term that we use meaningfully most of the time. I only mean to argue that it is beyond the ability of language to separate out factors like luck and skill as clearly as we often think we do. The fact is, once you are talking about real-life teams playing real-life games, terms like “skill” and “luck” are clumsily pieced together, and break down a whole into parts in a way that can never really work that well. Luck and skill are everywhere and they are nowhere. We might want to believe that the truly best team is the one that would win in a luck-free environment, but “luck-free” is nonsense, as are the notions of a team whose “raw skill is highest”. For these terms to have meaning there must be things in reality to which they correspond, but in real life no such thing exists. In our imaginary case of the once-in-a-hundred interception the arbitrariness and ultimate impossibility of deciding whether it was a result of luck or skill is very clear.

Given this, it’s hard to say that “luck” keeps the best team from winning; it is rarely if ever that simple. So I can now state, hopefully even more convincingly than before, that what makes a best team best are results only, where “results” = a team's status as decided by a system, despite any claims about luck or skill. The statement “the best team did not win” is self-contradictory, and so then are critiques of championship systems that are based on that idea. A championship system defines, not identifies, the best team, and can therefore never be mistaken.

One final question: how do we reconcile this view with the fact that we simply DO tend to prefer one championship system to another? I myself have always preferred the NFL’s single-elimination playoff to the MLB’s best-of-however-many games system. My reason is that I like the idea that each team has only sixty minutes of play to show itself to be superior. For whatever reason, I value that highly – perhaps I myself find clutch performance more personally challenging than tenacity, and I value in others what I myself lack. Whatever the reason, my preference for one system over another is completely personal and has no objective basis, as is the case with anyone’s preferences. These matters of taste are irrelevant to whether a system rightly or wrongly rewards the best team. I hope the reader does not resent that I have taken such a roundabout way just to illustrate that our mere preferences are mere preferences.*

*In this article I have dealt only with those of our preferences between systems that pertain to the qualities of a team themselves. There are other completely different kinds of reasons for preferring one system to another. For example, one might hold that the college football coaches’ poll is flawed because coaches may be biased. This is not the sort of complaint addressed here (and a complaint that can, I think, have an objective basis).

Video Highlights - Divisional Playoffs Edition

2007-01-14T14:42:00.000-05:00

The hit that everybody's talking about.

Ed Reed is awesome.

And some great stuff from UF's beatdown of OSU earlier this week. Anyone still think we should have had a rematch of two Big 10 teams in the national title game? On a related note, does it make any sense for OSU to still be ranked #2 in both major polls? Would anyone take them against LSU or USC at this point?

In Honor of Lamar Hunt (1932-2006)

2006-12-14T14:58:00.000-05:00

Remember the AFL

Heisman Hype...

2006-12-12T21:14:00.001-05:00

... and what the award has in common with Paris Hilton.

Powered Out, by Sara Hatch

2006-12-12T21:01:00.000-05:00

A professor of mine once said “there’s something inherent in America, in our national psyche that loves rankings.” He was talking about ranking presidents, but the statement works equally well for the NFL and the current obsession with Power Rankings.

Power Rankings are a way for a fan to know that his team is best. With the shortest schedule of the four major sports, it’s almost a given that at least two teams each week will have the same record. How can these teams be qualified? How is one to know for sure that an 8-5 is better than a 7-6 team? They can’t. Thus, Power Rankings. But as this past Sunday’s slate of game shows, even Power Rankings can’t predict the future, much less how whether or not a team is good or just great.

Fans want to know that their 7-6 team is better than your 7-6 team, and they are great ways for commentators to wax poetical about why one team is better than the other despite the fact they’ve lost two more games. At the beginning of the season, everyone considered the Giants as definite contenders. They lived up to the expectations for the first half of the season, going 6-2. They then lost 4 games in a row; falling from spot 6 in ESPN.com's rankings down to 15, and then back up to 11 with one win over a lackluster Carolina team. There is no formula to the madness, no logic to the numbers. It was a crucial game that the Giants needed to win and they stood up and did it. But they’re still not guaranteed a playoff spot, much less a win next week. Their rise to spot 11 means nothing all that much.

It matters even less when you get to the top of the rankings. Indianapolis has a worse ranking than the Saints but a better record, as does Chicago. But all have looked capable of an almost total implosion. Ranking reveals little, as evidenced by the ESPN-ranked #9 Seahawks falling to the #29 Cardinals. It’s all a big guessing game, and hardly a perfect science.

ESPN is not the perpetrator of Power Rankings. Many sites have them and everyone has a different opinion about who’s the best and who is the most likely to fall on the spikes of defeat. The best example of is Profootballtalk.com’s short and pithy Power Rankings that dispense with trying to make some sense of a crazy NFL season where good NFC teams look like peewee football and bad AFC teams beat up on perennial favorites.

Great examples from last week their characterizations of the Falcons (“Finger-flickin’ bad”), the Patriots (“Junior, say-ow”), and the Buccaneers (“Yo ho yuck”). This week’s offerings are no less entertaining: Panthers (“Show your Weinke”), Bears (“Gross, man”), and Lions (“Try softball?”).

This is what sports coverage really needs, a good dose of not taking itself a little too seriously. Great minds of football can predict all they like, try to explain why the Colts implode with regularity, and sing the praises of LaDanian Tomlinson and Philip Rivers. But good old comedy always gets the job done. And editors are always yelling, “tighten, tighten, tighten!” Finally, someone is listening.

Blogosphere Highlights: Miami Edition

2006-12-12T20:26:00.000-05:00

Thebiglead.com's interview with ESPN contributor/ Miami Herald columnist/ serial contrarian Dan Le Batard.

And while I'm being a complete South Florida homer, here's a great clip of the one and only Devin Hester.

Bowl Games: Do we really still need them?, by DaSkeeza

2006-12-12T01:20:00.000-05:00

This winter, 32 bowl games will be played between the middle of December through January 8th's BCS Championship game. Teams have competed throughout the fall to be among the 64 teams selected to play in a bowl game. No doubt, this is a wonderful accomplishment, and all the players, coaches, and fans have every right to be proud of it. But with the questions about the bowl system, BCS voting, and the like raging through the minds of angry Michigan fans, elated Florida fans, and filling the TV and sportstalk airwaves, maybe a thoughtful inspection of how the bowl system came to be in the first place can provide some perspective on why it exists in its current form and whether it really is still necessary given modern conventions.

The Rose Bowl was the first of college bowl games. If you read the history, the Pasadena Tournament of Roses began in 1890. The townspeople of Pasadena basically got together and said, "You know what, all our friends and family back east are covered in snow, and here our flowers are in bloom and fruits are bearing. Let's give those east coasters the bird by having a parade and floral pageant to show them how much our place rules and their place sucks!"

Thus was born the Pasadena Tournament of Roses. And even then, football wasn't a part of it from the beginning. The first game wasn't held until 1902. Even then, the organizers thought the sport too violent for the tone of the festival. Football did not return as part of the festivities until 1916 (when a certain excellent Ivy League university was invited to play after a stellar season).

Throughout its history, the Rose Bowl was a unique opportunity for a western team to play an eastern team. As college football grew in popularity, regional powers emerged, and the bowl game proved to be an excellent arena to settle all the gossip floating around each region and its superior teams.

In the end, that's really what a college bowl game accomplishes. Its goal is to bring together two teams that otherwise would not play each other. Furthermore, it is also an opportunity for fans from one region to inspect teams from another region, together with its own fans and traditions.

It has since evolved into a substantial moneymaker. Host cities expect millions of tourism dollars from the two competing schools and traveling fans. The payouts to the schools and conferences are quite substantial (and if you're Notre Dame, you don't have to share that money with a conference). Television and sponsorships make the bowl system even more of a cash cow. In the end, just about all the participants seems to make a nice payday from the bowl system, and therein lies the largest obstacle to starting a playoff in the Bowl Subdivision*.

Today, with television, radio, and Internet pervading sports media, seeing teams far from one's home region is much easier. It is now possible to see games thousands of miles from home on a weekly basis. Fans today know more now about teams from other regions than their predecessors, and as a result, the bowl game may very well prove little in the way of exposing people to new teams and traditions.

This knowledge, however, now manifests itself in the ongoing debate as to which two teams should be given the honor of playing for the "national championship." Given whatever you think about the decision to match Florida with OSU instead of Michigan (or whether Notre Dame belongs in the BCS at all, if you read my distinguished colleague's piece on this site), you cannot deny that all the voters in the polls had access to every single minute of game film of both teams this season. In some ways, that makes it easier to come to a decision, given full information. But what's missing though, is perhaps key. In a game between Florida and Michigan, who would win?

Given the sports fan's desire to settle matters on the field, as well as the concept of the bowl game no longer filling its original purpose, perhaps a playoff system is a accurate reflection of the fact that we now have full information on the abilities of any team in the country, and thus can accurately select a group of teams to participate in a short championship tournament.

*In as much as I have served on the staff at several NCAA Championships, I feel it necessary to inform you that Division I-A (the division with the BCS), is no longer referred as Division I-A, but rather the Division I Bowl Subdivision. Division I-AA has since been renamed the Division I Championship Subdivision, thus changing the name of the I-AA tournament to the "NCAA Division I Football Championship.

Are We Really Any Closer to a BCS Playoff?, by Kevin Parker

2006-12-11T13:31:00.000-05:00

With Troy Smith winning the Heisman Trophy we can finally put an end to this year’s college football regular season. Which means, of course, that our thoughts can now turn to candy canes, latkes, and zawadi*. But alas, before we can settle into the holidays we have to first have our annual debate about that great quagmire of college sports – The BCS System. This year, like so many others, has us left with one clear #1 but no clear #2. How then do we decide who should play in our BCS Championship Game?

It looked like it was going to be easy. USC, after rolling through a Notre Dame team that thought itself in the championship hunt (for more on that read here), looked destined to go to its third straight BCS Championship Game. The week after beating up on the Irish, USC jumped Michigan in both polls to go to #2 and had a virtual lock on a spot in the BCS Championship – all they had to do was beat their six-and-five cross-town rivals, UCLA. But, in decidedly non-USC fashion, USC stumbled and left us with a bit of a problem. In the wake of USC’s collapse who would play OSU now? One-loss Florida (who had just won the SEC Championship) or one-loss Michigan (who hadn’t played for the last two weeks)?

When the final polls came out we got our answer. Once again, Michigan fell behind a team when they didn’t even play a game, losing a shot at the BCS championship in the process.

Of course this much we all already knew, and writing up a history of the last few weeks of this year’s football season wouldn’t make much of a column. The question that is interesting is this – Does this mean that we should reexamine the BCS and finally have a playoff? Plenty of people think that Michigan may well be the second best team in the country, shouldn’t they then get a chance to play the consensus #1 in the National Championship? The pollster said no, you don’t get a second bite at the apple. And they were right.

I don’t think that anyone can complain about the outcome of this year’s BCS slate (with the possible exception of wondering what Notre Dame is doing playing in the Sugar Bowl). OSU-Florida will be a great championship game. Furthermore, USC-Michigan has the chance to be an even better game. The Granddaddy of Them All has a matchup more than worthy of its storied tradition. Sure, Michigan would rather play in the National Championship Game, but these kids have also all grown up with dreams of playing in the Rose Bowl as well.

Yes, a playoff would be great. There have been years when I have been furious with the BCS (Oregon's 2001 snub in particular comes to mind). However, it was a result of that 2001 year that the BCS was reweighted in order to give more preference to the polls. And this year the pollsters did their jobs. Like a good NCAA selection committee they looked at the body of work, the matchups, and gave us a good championship game. That is something that we can all enjoy.

* Gifts that are “enriching” and part of a Kwanzaa celebration.

Best RB ever?

2006-12-11T12:08:00.000-05:00

The Chargers' LaDanian Tomlinson's record-setting season has naturally got many fans and commentators asking whether he's the best running back in NFL history. But let's not forget an RB from just a few years ago who also deserves to be part of the conversation.

Rumor has it some law students frequent this blog

2006-12-10T20:56:00.000-05:00

An interesting angle on the Daisuke Matsuzaka saga.

Anyone who's been following this story closely is probably already familiar with Matsuzaka's alleged "gyroball," but if not, have a look at this.

Blogosphere Highlights

2006-12-08T18:49:00.000-05:00

The Kansas City Royals are completely insane from thebiglead.com

But are they crazier than the Giants? from scoresreport.com

... and have a look at Kei Igawa, possibly the Yankees' answer to Matsuzaka.

The Meaning of D-Wade...

2006-12-07T20:52:00.001-05:00

... and preferring Bledsoe to Manning.

Click here for article.

Material from Around the Blogosphere

2006-12-06T17:58:00.000-05:00

Some good reads:

The latest in MLB offseason overspending from thebiglead.com.

Is Jack Morris Cooperstown-worthy? from FanIQ.com.

Some defensive stats on first basemen and catchers from baseballmusings.com.

In honor of Maddux going to the Padres...

Put On Your Sunday Best, by Sara Hatch

2006-12-04T19:25:00.000-05:00

Years ago, ESPN conceived its brainchild Sunday Night Football to give some competition to the Monday Night network stalwart. Sunday Night Football has long been MNF’s inferior cousin, but with the regular season winding down, I’ve come to a realization: Sunday Night Football has superseded Monday Night Football as the premium prime-time game.

Sunday night is a better night for football. During the week, there are major shows to compete with, which isn’t really a factor on Sunday night. The biggest hit on Sunday night is Desperate Housewives, which I have a hard time believing pulls all that many viewers away from football. Also, the game starts earlier on Sunday. It’s not a complete and total deal-breaker to stay up often until one for the end of the game, especially if your team is playing, but it’s very hard once the week has started. Staying up on Sunday night is no picnic, but it’s still technically the weekend.

Monday Night Football has become the NFL’s spectacle. The ornate and long pregame revelry and the commercials that last forever and interrupt at every possible turn have made the game a stalled, badly paced event. (One week they actually brought the guy who sings the Monday Night Football theme up into the booth to talk during the game.) Even the announcers are of the sort that makes it harder to focus on the game over whatever they’re blasting off about that week. No offense to Tony Kornheiser, but if I want to hear your objections to every part of football, I’ll turn on Pardon the Interruption.

Sunday Night also has one feature that completely tips the scales: in weeks 10-15 and week 17, the flexible schedule will be in place, ensuring an exciting and playoff-worthy game every week. This can be seen most recently with the decision to pull the Giants/Bears game on 11/12 to the prime-time slot. This game pits two of the best teams in the NFL against each other and puts in on a national stage. Monday Night Football unfortunately is not blessed in this capacity. They are locked into their schedule. With the flexible schedule, good teams will get showcased and good games will follow. Unpredictable things will happen but the quality of football will be higher.

This season, some of the most exciting games this season have been on Sunday Night Football. The Giants-Colts game at the beginning of the season and the Pats-Colts are some examples. The Monday Night match up the same week as the Pats-Colts game was between Seattle, which is a good team, and Oakland, which is not. Further degrading the play of Seattle was the loss earlier in the season of their quarterback. Profootballtalk.com’s writers stopped writing their blog at halftime in protest. Tonight’s game between the disappointing Panthers and McNabb-less Eagles looks to be not much better.

Even in the non-flexible weeks, Sunday Night Football had interesting and competitive match-ups, while Monday Night Football will feature Oakland twice and there have already been three blowouts this season. And while the Giants and Bears fought it out to the finish, two teams with only mediocre records will played on Monday night. It’s seems that the prominent franchises always get two appearances a year while other decidedly good franchises do not. Favoritism is the name of the game in Monday Night Football.

Finally, Sunday Night Football is the only prime-time game left on one of the three major networks. Thursday Night Football is exclusively on NFL Network and Monday Night will almost certainly be on ESPN for at least a decade. In an age when cable is affordable by large swaths of the population, this does not seem as bad. But it still places one of the most popular American sports on networks that are not accessible by every viewer.

With their flexible schedule and premium placement and time, it’s clear that Sunday Night Football is the best that TV has to offer for true football fans. Are you watching?

This Article Is Not About Michael Strahan

2006-11-30T22:21:00.002-05:00

Last night (November 29) SportsCenter devoted what must have been a three minute-long segment to Michael Strahan and Plaxico Burress. First, let’s agree that a three minute report is a long one. SportsCenter usually reserves time slots of this length for meaningful playoff games or drug/violence-related activity off the field. Thus it would seem logical that the Strahan-Burress story was compelling enough to merit such attention. The way SC presented it, it sure must have seemed to an otherwise uninformed viewer like something worth discussing extensively.

I, however, had already watched parts of Mike and Mad Dog, a New York sports talk radio show that’s broadcasted daily on YES. I’d heard of Mike and Mad Dog before moving to New York. Now that I’ve given them a few listens/watches I can confirm that their interstate popularity is well-deserved. These guys are two of the most logical and level-headed sports commentators around. I’m consistently impressed with them.

It was from these guys that I first heard about the Strahan-Burress story. What actually happened? Strahan, when asked to comment on Burress’s lack of effort on the first Pacman Jones interception in last Sunday’s game, replied that no one should ever give up on a play. It was a very general comment, hard to characterize as instigative. Yet, SC reporter Kelly Naqi chose to present it in a different light, approaching Plax and asking if he had heard about Strahan’s supposedly invective comments. Then, Naqi went back to a surprised Strahan with Plax’s response. To this Strahan predictably reacted angrily, giving Naqi and SC the tantrum-toned sound bites they wanted.

This last part only became clear when I watched the SC segment, because Mike and Mad Dog judged both parties to be in the wrong, conceding that although Strahan should have been more restrained, Naqi unprofessionally and manipulatively incited acrimony where none had previously existed.

The worst part of the SC piece wasn’t that they devoted so much time to it, but that they spun it. They conveniently excluded Strahan’s original quote and failed to provide its exact context. They went straight to the video of Naqi questioning Plax and Strahan. Their presentation implied a purpose to Strahan’s original comments that simply wasn’t there. But once that purpose was accepted as truth by the viewer, then the clip of Plax’s self-proclamation of character, how that’s not his style, how he wouldn’t do that, that he doesn’t call teammates out, etc. seemed logical and served to elevate the level of contentiousness further.

Some may say that this was a big deal regardless, that it was a legitimate story no matter the exact context of Strahan’s quitter comments. Others, like Michael Wilbon in his PTI intro, only 30 minutes before SC aired, might say, “Today was a slow day. What are we going to do?” It was a slow day. And that is the only reason this story was even concocted and given such extensive coverage. The fact is that Plax quits on plays regularly. He’s more concerned with cocking his visor to a precise angle than he is with playing hard. That’s the real story, not the high-school-cafeteria-he-said-she-said periphery that SC covered.

This kind of story is emblematic of what has become of SC. It has become clear that at some point in the past few years there was an executive-level decision to focus SC more on the E (entertainment) than the S (sports) in ESPN. It seems that it has become the policy of the show to neglect genuinely compelling sports stories in favor of anything that could have a cross-over appeal to non-sports fans. Thus the rationale for the aforementioned story: when the audience to which they’re catering is considered, a story about bickering teammates is much more appealing than one about on-field effort.

It was a slow sports day, and instead of a more in-depth analysis of the few basketball games that were played the night before, or a handful of other directions which they might have chosen a few years ago, SC chose to make something out of nothing and effectively create their own news.

Off to the Races, by Mike Klein

2006-11-29T20:16:00.000-05:00

The baseball season may be long over for the players, but as far as the GMs are concerned, this month (and the upcoming week in particular) are the playoffs. I'm talking about free agency, the MBLPA's knight in shining armor that burst from its mother's womb 30 years ago with such calm, shining eyes, announcing to the world that, "you can't push John Q. Shortstop around any more!" Anyone who has read Ball Four, Jim Bouton's seminal 1969 book about the real life of baseball players, knows that, prior to free agency, the players got the very short end of a very long stick. In 1969, the minimum major league salary for a ballplayer was $10,000 (about $56,000 in 2006 dollars), not terrible, but bad considering that before reaching the majors, players often toiled for many years in the minor leagues for much less pay. Bouton related tales of bully tactics the team owners would use to keep salaries down and felt (correctly) that the owners were getting rich at the players' expense.

Fast forward to the winter of 2000-2001: Manny Ramirez gets a $160 million deal from the Red Sox, and Alex Rodriguez gets a (now infamous) $252 million dollar deal from the Texas Rangers. The deals are so big that, suddenly, and largely for the first time, the common fan thinks that free agency might be going to far. Then the Yankees (and later the Red Sox, Mets and others) started raising their payrolls to new heights (the Yankees reached the $200 million plateau in 2005, whereas a few years prior no team had ever hit the $100 million mark) and suddenly the idea of a "salary cap" is being thrown around both within and without the sport. A salary cap, of course would limit how much money the players can make, so it was almost a 100% certainly that a cap = players strike. In the end, none of this became a real problem because between 2001 and the current offseason (a) free agency cooled off and it looked like giant nine-figure contracts were a thing of the past and (b) the sport was making so much money that the owners were getting rich, even with the high salaries paid to players.

I should stop there for a minute though: "the owners were getting rich." Not all owners have been getting rich. Mid-sized market teams (Seattle, Cleveland, St. Louis) and big-market teams (Yankees, Mets, Giants, Dodgers, etc.) have been getting rich and, in particular, teams with their own TV networks have been getting rich (due to a loophole which allows TV revenues to go un-taxed by MLB). The small market teams have either been "sly, and gettin' by" (A's, Twins, Marlins) or "pretty much dead, ‘cause they couldn't stay ahead" (Devil Rays, Royals, Pirates, Nationals). Beside the residents of those latter teams’ cities, no one has seemed to mind much the inequality of the teams, using the crutch "if the A's can do it with a low payroll and smart trades/ player development, then it's the Devil Rays’ own fault they aren't competitive." This is partially true, the Rays and Nats in particular have been self-skunked by constantly asking for too much in trades and ending up with nothing (the non-trade of Alfonso Soriano this year was a case-in-point). These low-revenue teams have been helped by revenue sharing from the high-revenue clubs, but they've all been essentially lost causes without good, young, and inexpensive talent (something the more successful small-market teams have been awash with).

So why write about this now? Well, it's almost as if the 2000-2001 offseason was free agency's first nip of classy booze and this month is its 21st birthday. Alfonso Soriano, a soon-to-be 31-year-old with two good seasons on his resume, gets an 8-year deal worth $17 million per. Fat and ill-fielding slugger Carlos Lee gets a $100 million deal over six years. Gary Matthews Jr., he of the great glove and one offensive season that was better than below-average, gets $55 million over five years. Juan Pierre, who is getting older and increasingly less useful, gets $45 million over five. I won't even get into the $51.1 million posting bid the Red Sox made for Japanese ace Daisuke Matzuzaka, and the majority of big-name pitchers have yet to sign.

So the Devils Rays, Royals, Pirates etc. just went from 6-feet-under to 7. Big deal. I believe that the teams that will really be affected by this spending upturn will be the "clever"/lucky small market teams, and some of the mid-market teams that have been making a lot of money, but not nearly as much as the big boys. All these small, smart teams seem to get by with a mix of young players and moderately priced free agents (the Marlins seem to be the exception, fielding essentially an entire roster of pre-free agent players). Let's focus on the Twins: two cornerstones of their team the past few seasons were Johan Santana (a.k.a. the best pitcher in baseball – by far) and Brad Radke (whose body and right arm are now living in separate, but adjacent, cities). After the 2004 season, Santana signed a four-year, $40 million dollar deal. This deal bought out his last two arbitration years and his first two free agent years (he would have been a free agent this current offseason).

Santana is young (27) and won the American League Cy Young award unanimously this past month (he also won the award in 2004 and got robbed in 2005). Any guesses to how much this guy commands on the open market? Try $160 million over eight years, minimum. That same offseason, Radke signed a 2-year $18 million deal to stay with the only team he's ever played for. Now, I believe that Santana is a loyal player with good values blah blah blah, but I don't think for a second that he would have signed this extension if he knew what kind of money would have been on the table just two short years later. Likewise, if 2004 were 2006, Radke would have been in line for a much larger contract. I don't believe that the Twins can afford much more than they paid these two guys, and, while I believe that Santana and Radke would still have taken a pay cut to stay in Minnesota, I don't think they would have gone as low as Minnesota needed them to. Translation: Santana and Radke walk and the Twins are no longer a competitive team.

Many people like to blame the Yankees and their insane payroll for "ruining" baseball's competitiveness. While I hate the Yankees, I don't believe any one team has the power to do such damage (the Yanks are 0 for 6 for world championships during their post-2000 spending deluge). The Yankees’ 2006 payroll was $199 million (actually a bit above $200 million if you use average annual values of contracts, which what baseball bases revenue sharing numbers upon). The Red Sox come in next at $120 million. After the Sox, about a third of baseball (11 teams) is clumped between $88 and $104 million. Put another way, the big-market teams spent an average of about $105 million on payroll in 2006. The current free agency market looks to have at least a 20% inflation rate over past markets (and this number may be a low estimate). The end result is that these big-market teams seem to be willing to spend an additional $250+ million on their payrolls, money that will be used on premium players, as well as to keep average-to-above-average talent away from competitors (and small market teams). A single Yankees team can only do so much damage, but if a third of baseball starts spending like they're from the Bronx, many teams simply will not be able to keep up.

So what to do about this? A salary cap doesn't seem to be the solution: (a) it would cause a players’ strike and (b) the money is obviously out there, so if it doesn't go to the players than it would go to the owners. Revenue sharing is a good thing, and I think there needs to be more of it. Additionally, as much of the big clubs' muscle comes from their TV networks (think YES, NESN), I think this revenue stream should also be taxed by MLB. Finally: more money from baseball should be earmarked for charity. If a certain portion of profits is going to charity, the money simply won't be available for the players to vie for. Sounds simple and stupid, but the owners are only spending all this money because they have it.

A Letter to Eli Manning Following His Third Abysmal Performance This Season, by Sara Hatch

2006-11-28T21:56:00.000-05:00

Dear Eli,

I’ve been a Giants fan all my life and I’ve been a fan of you since you came on the team. I lived through the Kerry Collins offense for many years so it’s nice to finally have a quarterback who can run an offense on the field. This season has been especially enlightening (I lived in England for most of last season and was not able to view your progress then). You’ve shown no less than some of the purest talent I’ve seen in my time watching the NFL. Let’s face it, you’ve got amazing potential. But frankly, after suffering through a third straight loss that I can’t hang on anyone but you, I’ve become a little concerned.

There are a lot of reasons that you guys have lost the last three games. The roster of injuries on this team is overwhelming, and I don’t think anyone really appreciated Luke Petitgout before he broke his leg. Brandon Short and Michael Strahan are instrumental pieces in the defense. No less than that, but Strahan has really become the cheerleader for the defense—firing them up on every play, pulling together on a bad run. Even through all the injuries though, you guys have still held strong. Antonio Pierce seems better now than at the beginning of the season. Fred Robbins gets mentioned several times every game. Even the secondary is starting to tighten up a little, although they have a long way to come. But Eli, you are the scale on which all these things balance. And you’ve been tilting off to the side for weeks.

There is absolutely no reason that you aren’t up in the top 5 quarterbacks in the league. You’re extremely talented. When you take your time and step up in the pocket, your throws are like heat-seeking missiles. You can thread the ball past two defenders and into the hands of Jeremy or Plaxico like it’s nothing at all. But then two minutes later you can throw the same ball and have it picked. When you’re on a roll, like a few of the drives in the Jags game last night, you’re near unbeatable. But something seems to come loose when things aren’t going the right way and you seem to lose all confidence in your playing ability.

It must be hard being a Manning in this league, living in the shadow of not only your father but Peyton too. You’ve probably grown sick the number of times you’ve had your stats compared to Peyton or been mistaken for him. I understand the frustration. But here’s the thing. There’s a thin line separating you from mediocrity and greatness, and that line is all in your mind. You have been incredibly lucky to end up at a franchise that wants to make you one of its marquee players. You have a rock solid defense and an offense that can knock your socks off when they’re firing on all cylinders.

Whatever you need to do, you need to calm yourself down in your head. You need to throw to Jeremy early and often. He might be a little bit crazy off the field, but he’ll fight to the death for any pass that you throw him. You two seem to have this unmistakable connection. When you need a clutch play, he’s the guy you can go to. Same with Plaxico on long plays. He’s tall enough to reach over most cornerbacks and safeties. He’s the guy who will make those downfield catches for 20+ yards. Even Tim Carter has presence and can be a great asset. And never forget that you have two great running backs with explosive power off the line. The Jags had you stuffed, but once Bob Whitfield settles in you’ll start getting more running options—leaving you to make the big plays and better control the offense.

There is no end to my faith in you. But right now, this is succeeding or failing on your back. There’s no doubt in my mind that some day you will be compared to Peyton not as a younger brother but as a rival or equal. You are that good. It’s time to step up.

Sincerely,
Sara Hatch

"Your attention, please. . .", by DaSkeeza

2006-11-27T00:09:00.000-05:00

I am a sports announcer.

No, you don't know me. I'm not on Fox, ABC, CBS, NBC or ESPN. I'm not on ESPN Radio, or the Jim Rome show, or anything like that. In fact, you've probably never heard my name or noticed me, and if that's the case, I've been doing my job well.

This is my 13th year announcing sports. True, some of it was in college radio, but the majority of it has been as a public address announcer.

So what's that, you ask?

The public address announcer is the voice of your local stadium, arena, rink, or whatever venue you watch sports at. He (or, in the case of the San Francisco Giants, she) welcomes the fans, introduces the starting lineups, reports on essential game information, and reads sponsor messages over the facility's sound system. And, if you happened to leave your lights on in the parking lot, I'll gladly tell you and all your fellow fans of that fact.

If you think about, the perks are great. I get in to games for free. I have access to all the areas the media does (meaning free food and drinks, sometimes). I sit courtside at the scorer's table for basketball, or in the press box for football, soccer, and baseball. Most of the time, I get paid for my services.

But before you think it's all gold, there are some hang-ups. Proving one's worth to those who hold the keys to the high profile gigs is a process similar to that of an aspiring actor. There are games that last forever in front of only a handful of fans, most of which are played while other games you are more interested in are going on. There's the whim of the public relations and marketing staffs, who, for one reason or another, may favor loyalty over talent. And, to cap it off, chances are that when starting out, an announcer will likely have to volunteer his services before being deemed worthy of a paying gig.

And what about that part about doing well if I'm not noticed? Think about all the great games you have seen on television or in person. Do you remember anything the public address announcer said? To be quite honest, if you did, then it probably wasn't that great a game. If I do my job poorly, people will notice and have a hard time focusing on the game itself. If I do too well and people notice, that probably means the fans were focusing on me and not the game.

Yet, it is my belief that even though you may be faceless as a public address announcer, what is said over the sound system has a direct bearing on the way fans experience the game. Over the next couple of months, I hope to let you in on how that process manifests itself through my eyes. I want to share with you all the experiences and revelations that I gather through my announcing work, and perhaps provide you with a perspective that will enhance your approach to the world of sports.

The Classic Position, by Sara Hatch

2006-11-27T00:04:00.000-05:00

When I was a kid, I loved pinball. It’s one of the oldest and simplest arcade games, but also one of the most fun. I was once reading a book where a father was describing the experience of playing pinball in a Paris café with his son. It was marvelous. It’s one of those classic games. I think my love of pinball is also the reason why I love running backs the most of any position in football. Watching the running game is like watching a game of human pinball.

If you asked me ten times whether I prefer offense or defense, nine and probably even ten times I’d say that I like defense more. A good sack of the opposing quarterback is one of the most thrilling things to see in football. But defense is a team effort. A safety can get a sack just as easily as a defensive end. And one player alone rarely accomplishes stopping a running back at the line of scrimmage. There are true defensive stars on all of the best defensive teams, like Brian Urlacher for the Bears and Michael Strahan for the Giants, but without a well-built defense around them they’d just be getting good tackles every few plays while mostly getting scored on from here till Monday. So, I find it hard to say that I love one position on the defense more than the other.

But running backs are pure pleasure to watch in action. A good running back will be supported by his offensive line, but he must also have the uncanny ability to see the holes that develop on the field. When I say that the run is like human pinball, I mean it. It’s a series of repetitive tasks: running towards objects that are trying to push you in the opposite direction. Most gains are little snippets, 5 or 6 yards here or there, constantly pushing closer to the goal line as boundaries are whizzed past. And then every once in a while there’s a brilliant convergence where all the pathways open up and it’s a clear line ahead. The goal is achieved. The touchdown is scored and you’re back at the beginning, ready to do it all again — to rack up more points.

The running game is fundamental and incredibly lethal. Indianapolis is 10-1 at this point but one key reason many fans don’t buy them as a Super Bowl favorite is their inability to defend against the run. It’s the running game that turns an offense from good to amazing, that gives the quarterback the ability to make throws on plays that look good, to set them up beautifully. So while the quarterbacks stand on the field ready to deliver those few laser strikes when coverage opens up, the running backs are there, bouncing off on down after down, relentlessly driving towards the goal.