Defining a legacy

Sometimes sports aren't fair. No matter what a guy does through the years of his career, he is often judged by one single play or one last little drive late in a game.

That's where Donovan McNabb found himself on Sunday with a little less than three minutes to go in Sunday's NFC Championship game in Arizona. It's a tough spot to be sure, but make no mistake about it, McNabb's career could very well be defined by his performance in those last few plays in the desert.

Tough spot.

But this time there was no fourth-and-26 miracle. No sudden death catches or runs with the game in the balance. No glory, no cheers and no stunning turn of events.

Instead, McNabb's final pass rolled harmlessly away on the desert grass as receiver Kevin Curtis lay face down and screaming for justice.

No flags, no hope, no second chance.

And no glory.

It ended like it had three times before with McNabb and his teammates watching another team celebrate beneath a cloud of confetti.

Yes, stopped short in the big game once again.

“It was perfect for us. We just weren’t able to pull it through,” McNabb said.

Perhaps McNabb is just one of those guys destined to get close, but always fall a little short. Actually, sports is littered with guys like that – guys who come close year in and year out, but when the career comes to an end there are no rings for the fingers.

Charles Barkley, Patrick Ewing, Dan Marino, Ted Williams are just a quick list of all-time greats that completed long, record-breaking careers without much of a sniff at a championship.

That’s not totally the case with McNabb, who has gotten a pretty big whiff in his decade with the Eagles. Five times he’s been to the NFC Championship game and just one time he made it to the Super Bowl.

Even that one ended with a dry heave in the middle of the field, remnants of yet another failed final drive.

“It’s always tough when you get this close,” McNabb said after the 32-25 loss to the Cardinals in championship loss No. 4. “We were one game away from our goal and we were a couple of minutes away from getting to the Super Bowl and continuing on…”

McNabb’s voice trailed off at that point. Oh sure, he kept talking, but it was nothing more than a mash-up of clichés delivered without feeling. Certainly McNabb knew what this one meant. There are no guarantees that he will ever get another shot at championship game No. 6. That’s especially the case after the unconventional run the Eagles took this time to get to the showdown in the desert.

After all, the Eagles are a pretty much a finished product. Yeah, there are pieces to add – a receiver here, a lineman there, veterans to deal with – but with McNabb, what you see is what you get. He’s not going to suddenly regain his rushing prowess or develop an extra deftness on his passes.

As they say, it is what it is.

“I guess I’ve been building for 10 years so I can’t sit and say about the building aspect of things,” McNabb said. “I think each year is an opportunity for you to add more weapons and add more guys that can contribute heavily and play a major part in what you want to do.”

So that’s what the Eagles will do once again. Stopped short before the Super Bowl for the fourth time in five tries over eight years, the Eagles have a lot of big questions to answer before they go to training camp in Bethlehem, Pa. in the heat of the summer.

Some of those questions concern whether coach Andy Reid, safety Brian Dawkins and/or McNabb will return for another run to finish the job. Another shot at defining his legacy.

“I don't know,” McNabb said when asked about his future with the Eagles. “We'll see what happens.”

Understandably, the Eagles’ brass will comb over the details. Though this has been a wildly successful era in the team’s history, maybe even the most successful time since the back-to-back NFL Championships in 1948 and 1949, team president Joe Banner says some soul searching is coming.

Maybe even some sleepless nights, too.

“If you keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect a different result, you’re fooling yourself,” Banner told Comcast SportsNet’s Derrick Gunn. “Not to devalue five trips to the championship game, but we will evaluate what we need to do.”

Fairly or unfairly, that’s all they can do.

Root, root, root for the team nearby

Driving home on the Turnpike the other night, I couldn’t help to notice one of those Penn DOT signs that read, “Go Steelers,” “Go Eagles,” “Drive Safely.”

It was hard not to notice because it the letters were orange, flashing and it was dark. They usually wait to trot that kind of stuff out there when the sun goes down.

But there was another phrase that popped up on that blinking board on the side of the road somewhere near the Downingtown exit. It was this part of the sign that hung there in the darkness that stood out the most. The weird part was that it was such a harmless little grouping of words that were probably plugged in there by a guy after he had just finished spreading some rock salt on the icy roads.

It read:

“Turnpike Super Bowl.”

Yeah. Let the significance of that sink in for a bit.

(I’ll wait.)

Apparently, geography isn’t as important as it seems in football allegiance. Instead, good old fashioned parochialism and front-running is the great determining factor. Just because a team is from the same state in which one is born doesn’t make them the “home team.”

Here’s what I mean:

Let’s get in a car and start in Philadelphia. For argument’s sake, we’ll start in the parking lot of the Wachovia Center on the side facing Lincoln Financial Field. You know, the lot where you need a special pass to park on game days.

From there we’ll go over the Walt Whitman, hook onto the New Jersey Turnpike and head up to Exit 16W. At that point we can drive into the Giants Stadium parking lot, loop around once, and then get back on the road to head south back to Philadelphia.

Keep a close look at the clock because we’re timing this.

Here’s part two:

Again we’ll start in the Wachovia Center lot, only this time we’ll get on I-95 and head south. After barreling through Delaware, Maryland and the Key Tunnel, we’ll keep heading south though we’ll give a nice salute to the M&T Bank Stadium out the passenger-side window.

In a few more minutes we’ll hit Landover, Md., the once proud home of the Capitol Center, the ugliest arena in the history of big-time American professional athletics. In Landover we’ll find a big, hulking stadium where we take a lap, exit the grounds, return to I-95 and head north to Philly.

So what does this prove? For one thing it proves that in the time it takes to drive on the PA Turnpike to Pittsburgh, a person can motor from Philly to the Meadowlands, or from Philly to the Washington, D.C. suburbs and back in less time.

That’s two different NFL franchises in each direction – four total – that are closer to us than the one all the way across the state.

Pittsburgh? Hell, it ought to be on the other side of the moon.

Better yet, when one moves farther west from Philly they actually get closer to Baltimore. For instance, my house in Lancaster is closer to the Baltimore stadiums than it is to the Sports Complex by a whopping four miles.

It’s a faster drive, too. No Schuylkill.

And yet Pennsylvanians on the eastern and south central ends of the Commonwealth continue to root for Pittsburgh teams and TV networks beam in Steelers games on Sundays. Sometimes they even do it at the expense of the Eagles and Baltimore Ravens.

The Redskins? Hell, D.C. ought to be on the other side of the moon.

So, at least on this end of Pennsylvania, the Steelers benefit from folks who escaped from Pittsburgh. Look, generalizing is bad. It’s not nice. But often with things that are bad or not nice, generalizing can be easy and fun. So let’s generalize about Steelers’ fans for a moment – you know, the ones from Pittsburgh as well as the kids growing up in the 1970s who saw Lynn Swann and John Stallworth and thought it would be fun to root for a good team.

These are the same types of people who rooted for the Cowboys because they liked that blue star on the helmets. Nothing wrong with that. It’s better than liking a team because it’s in the same state.

Back to the generalizations…

There are notions about people from Pittsburgh. Like they are all angry, have primordial facial features, and enjoy soaking in a cesspool of human bile. People from Pittsburgh also have scabs on their knuckles from where they drag them when they walk.

That isn’t right, is it?

Then again, Pittsburgh is so bad that people from Philadelphia look down on it… that means it has to be bad.

Go ahead, say I’m generalizing, or call me an anti-Pittsburghite, because you just might be right. But before you do, think about this: how many people from Pittsburgh do you know? Think for a second… I bet it’s quite a few. Like Tom Kowalski, Frank Kowalik, Jim Kowalewski, Ed Kowalak, Stan Kowalka, Pete Kowalkowski, Mike Kowalczyk, Christina Aguilera, Andy Warhol, and Rocky Blier. Now think of where all those people live.

I bet it isn’t in Pittsburgh.

Just be thankful you aren’t stuck in traffic in Atlanta.

So before we park ourselves in front of the TV tomorrow to watch the Conference Championships, let’s think about the proper matchups. Just because two of the teams anchor a long stretch of road six hours apart doesn’t mean it’s a heated rivalry. In fact, the best Super Bowl matchup is probably Philadelphia vs. Baltimore.

Never mind the proximity of the two teams (after all, the game will be played in Tampa and not some halfway point between the cities like Aberdeen), there are many common threads.

One is the Ravens’ coach Jim Harbaugh is one of Andy Reid’s guys. Andy groomed Jim Harbaugh, he showed young Jim the ropes and kept him employed for many years with the Eagles. First it was as a special teams coach, then he moved up the ladder to various coordinator positions. And as the Eagles’ fortunes grew in the NFC, so too did Harbaugh’s.

Now he’s all grows up.

Plus, it was against Baltimore where Reid unceremoniously yanked quarterback Donovan McNabb from the lineup in that ugly whipping by the Ravens. It was that came that set the whole late-season run in motion and forced the star-crossed McNabb to search for his missing mojo.

Without the Baltimore Ravens stomping all over the Eagles in November, it seems unlikely that we’d be in the position to discuss a Super Bowl matchup.

However, there is the matter of the Baltimore Ravens themselves. Baltimore is not the Ravens. No, no, no! Baltimore is the Colts. The Baltimore Colts. Always has been and always will be. In fact, the NFL should step in and force the Indianapolis franchise to return the name and colors back to Baltimore where they rightfully belong.

Let the people of Indianapolis pick their own Edgar Allen Poe poem to name their team after. Johnny Unitas, Alan Ameche, Raymond Berry and John Mackey played for the Baltimore Colts. Art Donovan, Lenny Moore and Gino Marchetti are Baltimore Colts.

When Baltimore was tearing up the NFL, Indianapolis wasn’t even on the map (OK, it was, but we’re ranting here). Let them be the Indiana Larry Birds or something. The Colts belong to Baltimore.

In other words, I will predict that Philadelphia will face Baltimore in the Super Bowl. Let Pittsburgh have their Heinz ketchup and disgusting sandwiches topped off with fries, some type of meat patty and a fried egg with cole slaw mixed in.

It’s gonna be Philly vs. Ballmer, baby.

________________________________________________________________ Ed. note: Frankly, I really have nothing against Pittsburgh or Pittsburghers. It really doesn't matter to me where a person is from. I also don't care about what team one chooses to root for either. But ridiculous "city rip" stories with even more ridiculous generalizations of the people from a particular place are quite intriguing. And now that I finally tried it, I'm sorry Pittsburgh. I just wanted to hack it up for fun. Thanks.
Indianapolis... you're on your own. ________________________________________________________________

All ball all the time

To be honest, my sports viewing diet is rather sparse. Frankly, I'm a grazer. I'll watch the Eagles throughout the year when it doesn't interfere with time with the kids and I'll tune in for the Flyers and Sixers as it pertains to work, but that's about it.

Remembering the day when I gave up on the NBA feels like it did at the last day of a summer job. You know, it's kind of bittersweet in a coming-of-age kind of way, but not a big enough moment to warrant a cake.

But that doesn't mean there aren't sports I won't go back to the buffet for. If it's baseball, a big track meet, basketball games from the late '70s and '80s, and hockey stories from Keith Jones, sign me up. I'm carving out a spot on the couch with the intent on feeling my ass grow.

Fun stuff.

But as far as I know, there is no marathon running channel (Marathon of Marathons?) for Comcast subscribers. If there was, maybe three people would watch and two of them would be hostages in my house. Occasionally on the NBA channel they show a "golden age" game with the Showtime Lakers, the Bird/McHale Celtics and the Sixers, but not too often.

Aside from the freeform offenses, who didn't love the '80s style? Short shorts and Charles Barkley? It's a wonder they don't run those old games in a loop.

And last I heard the Keith Jones variety show is not in the works. For shame.

Starting January 1, Major League Baseball started its own television network. Yes, just like the NFL and NBA, MLB waded deeper into the multimedia pool with its own channel. More notably, MLB is marketing the hell out of the channel with promises of baseball talk, old games, documentaries and Ken Burns.

More importantly, there was no mention of that Field of Dream/NPR baseball as a metaphor for life/abstract thinking at all. This is important because usually three seconds after that kind of catch-with-your-dad stuff starts, I go into the bushes and puke.

Yeah, I go for the seedy side of baseball - I like to work blue. Worse, like a big city marathon, I can watch baseball games all day. Frankly, it's a sickness, like the shingles.

Anyway, in order to get a better gauge of what's going on with the MLB Network and take some medicine before the cold snap envelops us while the cool kids get to go to Arizona to watch football, I embarked on an experiment and (maybe) a public service.

From 10 p.m. on Wednesday night to 10 a.m. on Thursday morning, I grabbed the remote, turned it to channel 280 and settled in to soak in what the new network had to offer. I figured 12 hours was enough to get a good sampling of the type of programming MLB was going to trot out there. Actually, 12 hours might be just enough time to get everything they have.

Here's what we saw:

Thursday, 10 p.m. Hot Stove

This is the main show for the MLB Network. And based on the rest of the programming lineup for the rest of the evening/morning, MLB has a lot of guys sitting on the bench. Ex-Phillies Mitch Williams and Dan Plesac are signed on to work for the channel, and Jimmy Rollins has appeared in a handful of segments in the studio, including a standout in which he paid tribute to Rickey Henderson's induction into the Hall of Fame:

We're not sure about the technical term, but there seems to be different "pods" in the studio - all with clever baseball themed names - earmarked to deliver different types of information. It appears to be a new trend in TV news to show movement or flexibility with the show. In actuality it makes me dizzy, but gives the rest of the talkers to get out of their seats as if they were the weather man in front of the blue screen.

Blue screens for everyone!

But no blue screen for the main gang at the desk. Make that a long wood desk. Maybe an oak desk, because Harold Reynolds[1], the star of the network, looks like an oak man. Fellow oak men and MLB All-Stars, Al Leiter and Barry Larkin also saddle up with Reynolds for a spirited discussion/debate about the news of the day with panel host, Vic Rojas, the son of ex-Phillie, Cookie Rojas.

This time they talked about the election of Jim Rice into the Hall of Fame, the candidacy of Andre Dawson as a Hall of Famer and the voting process. When BBWAA members Tom Verducci and Jon Heyman joined the panel they discussed how stats and sabermetrics are not effective ways to measure players of different eras, though, strangely, did not dive into the voting process.

Why confuse the people so late at night?

The banter was all well and good and somewhat interesting, though not anything people couldn't watch from any other yack-fest on TV. Just because a few big-league All-Stars offer opinions about the baseball news of the day doesn't make it more insightful.

But where it gets really good is when the trio shifts to the studio with a faux diamond to demonstrate the process and nuance of pitching or hitting. Better yet, Leiter and Larkin got really into a pitching demonstration in which the old lefty explained the thinking behind pitching to a hitter like Larkin just by how he set himself up in the box.

Even better, they all dressed in matching dark track suits that kind of made them look like a less-hip version of Devo.

After the demonstration they went into a whole thing from the update desks where they reported that there was an overflow media crowd in Baltimore for the introductory press conference of Koji Uehara.

Really? Koji Uehara? Did the Ravens' practice let out early? Was Anna Benson there? Word is she was quite popular when she pitched for the Orioles a few years ago.

That was Anna, right?

They didn't actually show footage from Baltimore so I changed the channel to catch the end of "Blazing Saddles." As a result, I don't recall if there is theme music to the "Hot Stove" show. If I were them I'd contact Donna Summer's people about the rights to "Hot Stuff." They can change the lyrics to "Hot Stove."

No?

Thursday 11 p.m. & 11:30 p.m. Prime 9

Not exactly a deep concept to this show. There are nine positions on the ball diamond and nine places in the batting order. There are usually nine monks involved in important Buddhist rituals, nine planets in the solar system and "Love Potion No. 9" was a big hit for The Clovers in 1955, though none of those things are relevant here.

Nevertheless, on this show they pick a theme and count down from nine to one. Yeah, kind of a poor-man's Casey Kasem.

On this episode they counted down the nine best "characters" of the game. Our boy Larry Andersen was No. 8. They showed footage of him with sunflower seeds all over his face... yeah. Sunflower seeds made him a character.

Now who doesn't like like Larry Andersen? Or sunflower seeds? Still, it was pretty weird to see L.A. with that crap sticking out of face in that gaudy Houston Astros uniform that was hardly flattering. Remember Charlie Kerfeld in that uni? Oh yes, he definitely melted butter whenever he showed up on a TV screen. Scorching.

But after watching L.A. and the seeds (good band name?) I had enough and switched to Charlie Rose.

Charlie Rose is an oak man, too.

Midnight Seasons

Now this one was good. What they do is pick a year and dive into the big occurrences of the baseball season with interviews, footage and all of that good stuff. Luckily, I caught the 1986 episode, which was of great interest since I consider myself a buff of the '86 postseason.

I also consider myself a buff of the U.S. Presidents, Watergate, punk rock, U.S. geography, and the literature of Paul Auster.

But the 1986 baseball season... man, that's almost as intricate and involved as a Shakespeare tragedy. Only real. All too real. There's Dave Henderson, the Mets, Bill Buckner, Donnie Moore, Roger Clemens with baby fat cheeks (before he met Brian McNamee) and the craziest playoffs ever.

And, of course, Game 6.

By now there aren't too many secrets about Game 6 and the bottom of the 10^th of that day game at Shea Stadium, but it was interesting to see the video of Bob Costas in that tiny visitors' clubhouse with the champagne, Mrs. Yawkey, and protective plastic all set up. It was also pretty cool to see different angles of the Mets' celebration after the ball skidded through Buckner's legs.

Still, it kind of glossed over the deep cuts of that series, because to dive in any deeper would take Ken Burns and his entire team of documentarians.

Nevertheless, it wasn't a bad way to spend the early hours of a day.

Yet it seems as if MLB doesn't have enough programming yet. Instead of replaying old games, the network showed "Hot Stove" in a loop before restarting the entire cycle at 11 a.m.

Come on.

Previously they showed Don Larsen's perfect game in the 1956 World Series, which had never been rebroadcast before. They also showed some of the games from the 1989 ALCS between the Blue Jays and A's, which doesn't exactly scream, "CLASSIC!"

I don't know, maybe they can dive into the deep end and swim around with some different kind of shows. Perhaps these shows could be something to investigate:

"Drops: Inside a Rain Delay."

"Mustachio: From the Push Broom to the Handlebar - Great Mustaches of the MLB."

Tom Selleck could host this one with drop-ins with Bobby Grich, Ron Cey and, of course, Rollie Fingers.

"Bleep You! The Intricacies of the Umpire-Manager Dynamic."

Those are just a few of the top of my head. I can fill 24 hours for MLB easily.

---

[1] Interesting aside about Harold Reynolds... during the World Series workout in St. Petersburg, Harold and a few other MLBers were getting a hard time from security about not having his credential handy when walking into the stadium. A few of his cohorts were joking around doing that whole, "Don't you know who I am" schtick. So when we got onto the elevator I told the story about Frank Sinatra (or was it Milton Berle) who when asked for ID said, "You want ID? My face is my ID." So cocky, but so funny, too. Not sure if Harold Reynolds is to the level of notability of The Chairman (or Uncle Milty) yet. He's a handsome devil, though.

Funny how things change

We have been here before. Not too long ago, in fact. It was a different sport and a different man, but essentially the message was the same.

"Get that guy out of here!"

"Fire him now!"*

They screamed it from the headlines, the radio airwaves and if there were accessible rooftops, surely they sounded those barbaric yalps from there, too.

To most around here, the knee-jerk reactions were not only expected but kind of warranted. Even some of the so-called "thoughtful" types agreed that it was time to go. Time for some new blood and a new face. A different accent or louder voice.

But Charlie is still here and will be until the day he decides to retire (or 2011, whichever comes first). And Andy seems to have a similar deal, only he gets to pick his players and tell them which way to move on the field.

Only now, very few people are complaining and the ones that are have been shouted down.

It's a funny thing how fortunes change in sports. It's almost as funny as Terry Francona winning the World Series twice in four seasons with the Boston Red Sox. You remember Terry Francona, right? Phillies manager... fired after four losing seasons with a roster made up of kids and has-beens. Yep, things worked out well for Francona.

It took Charlie Manuel winning seasons and two playoff berths to win the World Series for the Phillies. But if those calling for his head would have had their way it might have been just a little more than two winning seasons. In fact, nationally known broadcaster Keith Olbermann called for Manuel's head during that woeful April of 2007 when the manager had a dust-up with a radio guy in some sort of reality version of a reality TV show.

Or something like that.

Quoth Olbermann in April of 2007 of the 4-10 Phillies:

"I think Charlie Manuel is going to get fired. I think the Phillies have woefully mismanaged their pitching staff. They have starters who should be relieving and relievers who should be starting and it's a mess. The batting order is a mistake. Pat Burrell was not the guy to bat behind Ryan Howard and it's going to ruin Ryan Howard this season and it's even going to hurt Chase Utley ahead of him because they're going to pitch around Howard and Utley isn't going to have a chance to steal bases. Wes Helms at third base might be a good hitter, but they are just now noticing that he might not be the most mobile infielder. There are a lot of problems and I'm not really sure if Charlie Manuel is a good manager."

Five months later Manuel had the Phillies in the playoffs for the first time since grunge was cool and got a contract extension to boot. Eighteen months later he got the Phillies their first world title since Kool & the Gang topped the charts, landed the city's first championship since fo', fo', fo', and snagged another contract extension.

"That's pretty good," Charlie probably said.

Now that Appalachian twang of Charlie's is homey instead a source of amusement for Philly natives (as if the Philly accent is any better) and his in-game decisions are valued as cognizant and astute baseball moves instead of fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants decisions.

Better yet, he is in charge of the team. Just ask Jimmy Rollins about that.

"Every manager has their own specialty, and Charlie has a way of handling people. It's a little different than everybody else's, and he's been ridiculed over time about the way he talks or the way he acts, whatever it is," Jamie Moyer said after the World Series. "But you know what? We know Charlie in this room, and the fans have gotten to know Charlie and gotten to understand Charlie and respect him for who he is. And I think that's one thing Charlie gets in this clubhouse: He gets respect from the players."

That's the same deal with Andy Reid. Nobody feels as if they know the Eagles' coach the way they have come to know Manuel, but that really doesn't matter to Reid - or at least it seems that way. The important part is that his players know the drill with their coach.

Yeah, there was that time with Donovan McNabb going to the bench when Reid didn't personally inform his QB he had been lifted, but even that slip up now seems to be a motivator.

Still, Reid rarely wavers. Everything is consistent. His demeanor, sideline outfits, press conferences, play calling and won-lost record have been uncannily solid, minus the hiccups.

"When you have a coach who stays the course, it helps everyone stay the course," strong safety Quintin Mikell told The New York Times.

Had the course remained on the same course it was heading in November, either Reid or McNabb (or both) likely were going to land in new locales. But no more than two months later, the two look like they are heading off into the sunset together.

Who knows, maybe they'll win one finally, too.

Yes, we've been here before.

______________________________________________________

* Isn't odd that given the state of the media business these days that media types would call for anyone's job? Really? They're still doing that?

Ain't no stopping us now

THE TOWN FORMERLY KNOWN AS ANGRYVILLE - They handle defeat very well in Phoenix or Glendale or wherever it is the Cardinals play these days. They don't mope, freak out, or litter the field with D-sized batteries during the action. They really don't even complain, to be perfectly frank. Actually, they're used to it. They just go home. They leave early and fight traffic. They put the crippling defeats out of their minds by skipping work to play in the sun. They just forget about it as they frolic in the Bermuda grass beneath cactus trees with cool drinks and lots of pretty friends.

Loss? Nah, they don't deal with it at all in Arizona. Who has the time?

In Philadelphia we know loss all too well. It's in our DNA. It's intense... no wait, that's wrong. It's intensity.

At least it was.

Back in the old days we all woke up before the dawn just as the rage had regrouped so we could wipe the bitter-tasting bile that has encrusted the corners of our mouths with the outer black sleeve of our spittle-coated Motor Head t-shirts. Then we dragged our sorry asses off the couch where we collapsed just 45 minutes earlier and instinctively thrust a middle finger at the rest of the world.

The day had begun in Philadelphia. The fury must be unleashed. We lost again.

But there is always a fleeting moment - one that usually occurs in the time it takes to get from one knee to a standing position after unfolding oneself from the couch - when stock is taken. A moment, as fast as a flap of a hummingbird's wing, enters our twisted and angry heads:

World weary. Saddened by my years on the road. Seen a lot. Done a lot. Loss? Yeah, I know loss. I know loss with its friends sorrow, fury and death. Yes, loss and me are like this... we're partners as we walk on the dusty trail of life.

But something happened last October. Beneath that tiney, porcupine-like exterior, glimpses into our souls were exposed. There was warmth, fear, insecurity...

Victory?

Yes, victory. The Phillies won the World Series. The Eagles are going to the Super Bowl (yeah, I said it). Both of these things are happening barely three months apart. Kind of like it was 1980-81 all over again.

Is Bruce Springsteen still as popular as he was during the dawn of the Reagan Administration? Oh yeah, here in the dawn of the Obama Administration, Springsteen is playing halftime at the Super Bowl.

Coincidentally, the Eagles will go to Arizona and then Tampa to bring Philly its second parade in three months (excluding the Mummers). The Phillies went to Los Angeles and Tampa to win their World Series. During the World Series the weather wrecked havoc on the action while the beautiful west-coast and closed roofs on the road made the elements a pleasant afterthought.

For the Eagles, forecasters are predicting a frigid January cold snap this weekend. Could there be a more perfect time to go to Arizona?

In the old days during the B.C. Era[1], Tampa and Arizona were places that made it easy to look down upon with our sad, wretched lives of angry and failed dreams. In Glendale, Ariz. and Tampa, with their white, sandy beaches, gourmet restaurants, unimpeded gentrification, high-brow universities and sunshiny skies where for 364 days God gives them the gift of perfect weather and climate.

That 365th day it might get cloudy.

Those were the places Philly fans showed up en masse to watch our teams fight for our civic pride. Back in the old, B.C. Era, they saw us coming. We stuck out with that crippled walk of defeat, clenched jaws of stress and disgust, fists balled up and middle fingers erect. When we took the exit ramp off the boulevard of broken dreams to enter these happy, little towns, the local authorities were ready. They had been tipped off ahead of time and were prepared to set up a dragnet at a moment's notice.

But those condescending attitudes and the arrogance in which those people flit through life so carefree and cheery no longer sting. We don't turn them back with our jealousy and resentment. No, instead we take the hackery in stride. The mockery and stereotypes don't hurt any longer.

It's just one of those annoying things that championship cities are used to.

Hey, who knows... maybe there is a bit of respect coming our way? Oh sure, they still trot out the golden oldies:

Boo Santa. Cheer injuries. Snowballs at the Cowboys. Batteries for J.D. Drew. Cheesesteaks. Cracked bells. Anger and passion. Rocky Balboa.

But try this out... sportswriters are afraid of Philadelphians. At least that's (kind of) the contention of one mainstreamer writing for one of those new-fangled web sites.

Really? Uh... nice! So maybe this means that now that the proverbial shoe is on the proverbial other foot, the whole hacky city rip thing is finished? Instead maybe they'll write about the actual ballclubs instead of all the clichés?

Think so?

Of course not.

During the Phillies' run Charlie Manuel was often prophetic, but never more than when he said:

"Winning is hard. Nothing about winning comes easy," Charlie Manuel said. "... believe me, there's a price you pay for winning, too."

That price can sometimes mean dignity, self-respect and the ability to think clearly.

We're inside the looking glass, people. The Phillies won, the Eagles are winning and the Flyers are in first place.

All things considered, it ain't all that bad to be in Philadelphia.

---

[1] B.C. is "Before Championship(s)"

The answer is blowin' in the wind

Wind is the worst. It ruins sunny days, rainy ones, picnics, long car trips and ones in which you choose to wear a hat.

Yes, wind is the worst. That's especially the case when it comes to sports. In baseball, the speed and direction of the wind - no matter how slight - often determines whether the pitcher or hitter will have a good day. A baseball doesn't weigh all that much and when it gets up in the air, it's at the mercy of the elements.

Football is a little different only because the wind has to blow a little harder to become a player in the game. But when it straps it on and mixes it up, everyone notices. And by everyone we really mean it. The camera guy can't hold it steady, the fans have layer up with clothes that appear to be borrowed from the ballplayers, and the guys on the field have to change the way they do things.

But Mother Nature is perfect in her own little weird way. In that regard, the Eagles can be very grateful. With nature as the guide, all of the answers were blowing in the wind for the Eagles on Sunday at the Meadowlands.

Quick, someone call Bob Dylan so he can write a song...

"God is good," Donovan McNabb said immediately after the game.

"This is beautiful."

Well, McNabb wasn't exactly talking about the weather, but he should have been. After all, it was McNabb and the Eagles and not the hometown[1] Giants who figured it out. During the early going, McNabb and coach Andy Reid were content to lay the foundation despite the poor results. For instance, Brian Westbrook had negative-four yards on his first four carries and the entire offense had a rousing negative-four yards until the 8:53 mark of the second quarter.

More remarkably, the Eagles punted twice, took a safety and had a turnover in four of their first five possessions, yet somehow seemed to be in control with a 10-8 lead.

How could that be?

The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind...

While the Eagles went yard-by-yard and cashed in where they could, Eli Manning and the Giants tried to put their stamp on the game as early as possible. Like a guy who repeatedly beats his head against a brick wall strictly for entertainment purposes, Manning insisted on throwing it high and long.

With the wind blustering and blowing through old Giants Stadium, Manning's passes floated like paper airplanes. One of those passes floated gently into Asante Samuel's hands as if it were a quick kick. So while McNabb and the offense worked to gain its footing, Manning's pass to Samuel helped set up the Eagles' first touchdown.

"Turnovers are the name of the game," said head coach Andy Reid before launching into a few more sentences of the typical coach-speak stuff in order to drive home the point. "Turnovers are the name of the game. It's hard to win in the playoffs without them."

Make no mistake, McNabb figured it out. Watching as Manning continued to butt his head, McNabb threw darts. His passes during the second half were short and quick like one-iron shots intent on negating the elements so that they simply keep the ball in play.

One such pass came on 3^rd-and-20 where McNabb scrambled a bit to the right before firing a laser to the other sideline so that receiver Jason Avant could dash 21 yards for the first down. On that same third-quarter drive, McNabb hooked up on a another short pass on 3^rd-and-10 for a 19-yard gain to set up a field goal for David Akers.

It wasn't pretty or fancy, but it was effective. It was so effective that the short little darts set up a 48-yard bomb to DeSean Jackson that led to Akers' final field goal to make it 23-11.

"Donovan had some unbelievable throws there," Reid said. "They were throws only he could make."

It was a game of contrasts. Because the Giants were not able to fire the ball down field effectively, the Eagles' defense was that much more prepared for New York's bruising running game. Actually, the of the biggest plays of the game came when the hard-running Giants could not pick up a combined two yards on a pair of fourth down plays to sustain drives in the fourth quarter.

"If you're known for running the ball and you have fourth and one and you can't run the ball, I imagine that is frustrating," cornerback Sheldon Brown said.

Frustration. It was plastered all over Manning's face and body language that he clearly stole from Danny Ainge circa 1985. You that look - the squinched brow, pursed lips and squinty eyes that makes one want to walk over to the young quarterback and give him a big kick in the shins.

Maybe a punch in the arm.

But it was understandable. Manning looked like he was trying to open an umbrella in that wind. Just as soon as he got it open and placed it over his head, another gust would blow the damn thing inside out and send it skittering away. It was a maddening day to say the least. With his umbrella in tatters, spirit broken and dreams for another Super Bowl appearance crushed, Manning had to stand there and take it.

Worse yet, the weather sucked.

But it was sunny on McNabb's side of the field. It will be even sunnier in Arizona next Sunday when the Eagles go for another Super Bowl bid against the Cardinals. In fact, late in the fourth quarter, McNabb stopped on the Giants' side of the field, picked up a phone and checked on his hotel reservations.

Everything is all taken care of.

---

[1] Do the Giants have a hometown or just some exit off the Turnpike?

First baseball now wrestling?

So Vince McMahon and the whole WWE posse went to Washington for their turn on the barbecue with Rep. Henry Waxman (D, Calif.) and the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee. But unlike when Roger Clemens, Bud Selig and the rest of The Baseball Bunch sat in the same committee room, the rasslers’ testimony on Capitol Hill was a little more illuminating.

See, Rep. Waxman invited McMahon, his daughter Stephanie and the WWE brass, as well as some doctors and other experts to Washington to continue his investigation on steroids in sports. Never mind the fact that McMahon, under oath, explained that his operation is not sports. It’s entertainment, he said.

Everything is choreographed in the WWE, not unlike a performance from Britney Spears or whatever pop star one chooses to cite.

Still, inviting the WWE to Capitol Hill for an investigation on sports is kind of like sending the cops to an x-rated movie theater to arrest Pee Wee Herman. No, it’s not quite entrapment, but really, what’s the difference? Still, I’m no scientist, in fact, I did my best to sleep through 10th grade chemistry, but it appears as if some pro wrestlers might be using some sort of enhancers.

Call it a guess.

We’d preface it with the word “performance,” but for reason that term is relegated to athletics. It seems to fit the WWE more so than anything else, but who are we to argue with Congress?

After all, Waxman’s gang revealed that 40 percent of the performers in the WWE tested positive for steroids and that the organizations uses a testing policy similar to the one used by the NFL in that it also screens for illicit narcotics.

Here’s the big question on the drug-testing policy for the WWE…

Why? *

Really? Drug-testing in wrestling? We need to force people to travel to Washington from whoknowswhere, shack up in a hotel, burn carbon and brain tissue to answer questions (all day!) about the drug-testing policy in wrestling?

All on the taxpayer’s dime, of course.

Nice.

Of course the interesting part is that Congress believes baseball and wrestling need separate hearings to discuss the steroid issues in the respective sports. Does that mean the lawmakers can’t differentiate between an actual sporting competition and a staged exhibition? Maybe so. The unmistakable truth about Congressional hearings for both MLB and WWE is that someone with subpoena power can’t tell the difference.

Union hijinx and miscommunication aside, the MLB drug-testing system not only seems to be reasonably fair, but also reasonably effective. If a player tests positive not even the team(s) are informed until the process has been played out. This is good because names are kept out of public until the very end. Reputations aren’t ruined by false positives or shoddy testing procedure.

Meanwhile, since the beginning of the 2007 season, there were approximately 3,500 drug tests administered and analyzed of the members of the 40-man rosters of all the clubs. Over that same span there were 21 positive tests for steroids and stimulants in addition to the one reported from Phillies’ reliever J.C. Romero earlier this week.

That’s a far cry from the 40 percent in the WWE and the 50 percent estimate from steroid pariah Jose Canseco from the Golden Age of baseball’s juiced era.

According to the report issued by the independent group that administered and analyzed MLB’s drug tests, 114 players received therapeutic exemptions – of that 114, 106 were for attention-deficit disorder.

Still, if U.S. citizens are going to pay for ballplayers and rasslers to go Washington and talk about drugs, there has to be some entertainment value. C’mon, we need to get our moneys worth. However, the most hardy-har bits came from the differences in the baseball and WWE hearings. After all, it’s always the little differences were the appreciation lies.

For instance, in the baseball hearings we learned that Sammy Sosa forgot how to speak English, Rafael Palmeiro might have perjured himself and Mark McGwire doesn’t like to talk about the past.

Later, we heard how Roger Clemens isn’t quite sure what a vegan is and definitely is not a vegetarian (which, unless he’s eating farm-raised organic meat, makes him a steroid user… sorry folks) and members of Congress really, really enjoy grandstanding.

Actually, they really enjoy rambling and blustering and thundering on as long as that little red light on the cameras are turned on. It’s like a sickness or something.

But when the WWE, they let it all hang out. Well, of course they did – they’re entertainers.

For instance, Vince McMahon revealed that he once borrowed bowling shoes from stately sportswriter, NPR contributor and Real Sports correspondent, Frank DeFord. Actually, McMahon borrowed bowling kicks from Frank and his wife and it didn’t go over so well.

“…he has no sense of humor and he doesn’t like me,” McMahon said in his testimony. “We were bowling one night and I borrowed one of his shoes and he never found it. And so he had to walk home in a bowling shoe and one of his others, and he was upset about that I understand.”

Yes, we’re paying for this.

Better yet, Vince McMahon’s daughter Stephanie also gave some important nuggets to the committee. A triple threat with her dad’s company – Stephanie is in charge of talent relations and creative writing, was a champion wrestler, and is married to champion grappler Triple-H – the younger McMahon explained that the one-and only Hulk Hogan was a “lousy wrestler.”

What? The Hulkster?

Say it isn’t so.

Q: How does talent get to become main-event talent?

Stephanie McMahon: Basically, hard work and perseverance and overwhelming the audience. When someone walks out on that stage, they either connect with the people or they don't. If you walk out on stage and nobody cares and you don't have any presence, you are never going to be a main-event guy. But if you walk out and you make the people notice you, you can be a main-event guy. You really don't even have to be a good wrestler. Hulk Hogan was a terrible wrestler, and he still is.

Q: For the record, I am sure he would disagree with that.

Stephanie McMahon: I am sure he would disagree with that. I forget this is all public. But, you know, he was. He was a terrible wrestler. But what an incredible psychologist and what an incredible charismatic person. There is no denying Hulk Hogan is one of the biggest stars in the history of our business and will always be perceived as such. But he was not a great wrestler, not a great technician.

There we have it… baseball and wrestling go to Washington to testifiy on Capitol Hill and the best information we get is that Vince McMahon swiped Frank DeFord’s bowling shoes, Hulk Hogan can’t wrestle, and Roger Clemens is carnivorous.

Yeah.

________________________________________________________

* Actually, we know why Congress is taking on the WWE. It's for the kids.

________________________________________________________

Rethinking the vote

My grandmother turns 91 on Saturday and will probably drive herself to the little shindig we have planned for her. Oh yes, she’s set to turn 91 and still drives though we try our best to keep her off the roads at night. She also drives herself to a part-time job she keeps and has no trouble mixing it up with her great-grandchildren.

Word is she taught me all my best wrestling moves, which probably explains a lot. Nevertheless, she will surely be tumbling around with my kids to show them some of the moves she picked up from watching Gorgeous George or Killer Kowalski on the old Philco decades ago.

There really isn’t much she can’t do because of her age. There’s a steep hill in front of my house that she will trot up rather than take the steps. Why walk all the way around just to take the stairs when it’s easier to trudge up the hill?

Though she’s closing in on the big 9-1, she still goes to the gym to work out regularly, swims during the summer, travels when she can, keeps up with current events and tells silly old-timey jokes. She really hasn’t slowed down at all since I’ve known her.

Oh yes, she’s spry.

But in addition to the night-time driving bit, we’ve also asked to unhand the remote control and for her to turn in her voting privileges with the Valleybrook board of regents. Valleybrook is the development where she lives and the fact is she just doesn’t put as much thought into her voting anymore. But who can blame her? When you’re about to turn 91 who has time for nuance? Based on this we had her turn her vote over to a “younger” member of the board.

She agreed that it was a pretty good idea. There are other things she has to worry about, after all.

Needless to say if Corky Simpson were a member of the board at Valleybrook the only way to get his vote from him would be if you pried it from his cold, dead hand. Corky is going to cast his vote and make his voice heard, by golly, and damn you young whipper snappers for suggesting otherwise.

And while you’re at it, get off his lawn!

Ol’ Corky, a former scribe for the Tucson Sun in Arizona, made a bit of news in the so-called blog-o-sphere this week when he revealed his ballot for the annual Baseball Hall-of-Fame election from which the results will be announced on Monday. Writing for the newspaper at his retirement village in Southern Arizona, Corky informed his readers that he cast his votes for the following ballplayers:

• Bert Blyleven • Andre Dawson • Tommy John • Don Mattingly • Tim Raines • Jim Rice • Alan Trammell • Matt Williams

Parse those selections anyway you like – I won't stop you from proving or disproving the merits of Jim Rice or Bert Blyleven as Hall-of-Famers.In fact, go on and discuss it. I'll wait...

But here’s the thing about Corky’s logic… he omitted Mark McGwire because he questioned whether or not star-crossed slugger succeeded with the aid of illicit substances. However, Corky voted for Matt Williams, who also was named in the infamous Mitchell Report as a player who used performance-enhancing drugs.

That’s all well and good. Williams played for Arizona and probably gave Corky a few good quotes when he made the trip to the ballpark from Tucson, which, sadly, matters. In fact, it could be the reason why Jim Rice has struggled to get enough votes for induction though he was probably a better player than more than a handful of others already enshrined in Cooperstown.

Still, in explaining his vote for Williams, Corky wrote: Matt Williams, my first Hall of Fame vote for an Arizona Diamondback player.  Matty played 17 seasons for the Giants, Indians and Diamondbacks.  Nobody ever played the game with more intensity, nor with more reverence for the sport.  He was the inspirational leader of the 2001 World Series champion D’backs.

Intensity? Reverence for the sport? Inspirational leader?

Matty?

Shoot, if that’s all it takes let’s get Rex Hudler in the Hall of Fame already. Like yesterday.

But Williams’ inclusion on a Hall-of-Fame ballot isn’t the issue. The problem is that Corky voted for eight players (all borderline at best) but did not select Rickey Henderson.

Rickey Henderson… you know, the greatest leadoff hitter of all-time. Apparently all those records don’t translate well down there in the sun. Runs and stolen bases… p’shaw. Give Corky a gritty, inspirational type like Matt Williams.

The only defense for Corky might be that the omission of Rickey Henderson was an oversight. Or maybe he actually voted for Henderson, but forgot about it when he sat down at his Underwood to type out his column for Izzy Mandelbaum and the gang at the retirement village. Those deadlines are pretty tight down there as it is. After all, there was an early-bird special to get to, and quick.

But the bigger issue is not only why is Corky voting at all, but also why does the Hall-of-Fame continue to allow the Baseball Writers Association of America to decide which players belong. Enough of the BBWAA already… get rid of it and move on.

Here’s how it works: all one has to do is be a member of the BBWAA for 10 straight years and, voila, here’s a Hall-of-Fame vote. Worse, until last year only writers for newspapers were allowed in the BBWAA. That’s when they allowed some folks from ESPN.com and Yahoo.com in because apparently newspapers still aren’t sure about this whole Internet thing.

It might be just a passing fad.

So once a guy like Corky Simpson gets a vote, it never goes away. Ever. As long as a guy is breathing and he has that vote, dadgummit, he’s going to cast it.

It’s a helluva club, to be honest. It’s kind of like a college fraternity only with more ass paddling, more binge drinking, more free schwag that can be re-sold on eBay and more rules. Definitely more rules and definitely less dating than at the old frat house.

The rules thing is tricky because the ones everyone follows aren’t written down. It’s like a secret society that way, kind of like the Stonecutters or Skull & Bones. Or, maybe like the Marines at Guantanamo under the leadership of Col. Nathan Jessup in “A Few Good Men” with the “code reds.”

The not-so secret unwritten rule of the BBWAA? No one gets a unanimous vote into the Hall of Fame. Not Babe Ruth, not Ty Cobb, not Connie Mack, not Cal Ripken, not Hank Aaron, not Willie Mays, not Ted Williams, not Joe DiMaggio, not Mike Schmidt, not Nolan Ryan and definitely not Rickey Henderson.

No one. Ever.

No one is sure if it was under this thinking that Corky skipped past Rickey’s name on the ballot, but if it was no one should be surprised. Though Henderson likely will be voted in easily with a margin considerably higher than the 75 percent needed, it’s baffling that some members of the BBWAA hold tight to these anachronistic traditions. Then again, baseball is full of stupid traditions going back to the very beginning of the game. Two of the dumbest are the traditions in which only white men could play in the Major Leagues and giving the Hall of Fame vote to the BBWAA.

Back to the unanimous vote thing…

Venerable ballscribe Bill Conlin of the Daily News admitted in a recent column that he didn’t vote for Nolan Ryan for the Hall of Fame in 1999 because, well, just because. Conlin admitted that he was making a “political statement” which is another way to say that he had an agenda. That stuff is all well and good if Conlin were voting for something political like president or city council, but the Hall of Fame?

This has all been a long-winded way to say that it’s time for the Hall of Fame to cut its ties with the BBWAA. Form a committee of astute baseball thinkers and put them in a ivory tower and let them figure it out. Get Bob Costas, Keith Olberman, Ken Burns, Bill James and a commentator for NPR and let them wax on like Yeats or Pound about the nuance of Alan Trammell.

Oh yes, Alan Trammell… that wispy and wiry shortstop for the Detroit Tigers with a staccato-like swing from an elegant stance with a light-footed way of fielding his position that made it look as if ol’ No. 3 were walking on a cloud.

Yeah.

Make it so the new voters come with openness, no agendas and no drama. Better yet, make it so that if submits a stupid ballot, they have to turn in their card.

No more ass paddling for that guy.

________________________________________________________

* No, we aren’t comparing institutional racism to allowing baseball writers to vote for the Hall of Fame. It’s just a simplistic look at two stupid concepts.

________________________________________________________

If John Finger were a member of the BBWAA (he is not), or, better yet, a member of the new consortium headed by the sensitive baseball thinkers in the ivory tower, he would have checked the following names on his Hall-of-Fame ballot:

- Rickey Henderson - Jim Rice - Tim Raines - Bert Blyleven - Tommy John - Jack Morris - Lee Smith - Andre Dawson

Will Romero's suspension leave a *

Is the Phillies’ World Series title tainted? Has the suspension of J.C. Romero for 50 games at the top of the 2009 season ruined the winter of euphoria for Phillies’ fans? Should fans of the Tampa Bay Rays feel a little cheated?

What about the Mets? Right around the time the Romero took the urine test that returned the positive for a banned substance, the Phillies and Mets were battling for the lead in the NL East. In fact, according to the time lines, Romero was tested on Aug. 26 which is the day the Phillies beat the Mets in 13 innings thanks to four hits from Chris Coste after the eighth inning.

Romero appeared in that game either pre- or post-specimen delivery to pitch a scoreless 12th inning of a 7-7 game. It was just one of 11 games Romero pitched against the Mets in 2008 against who he went 1-2 with a 3.38 ERA.

Undoubtedly those were some pretty big games. Just like the two games in the World Series won by Romero.

So does it mean the Mets have a gripe like Rays' fans might? Hey, people are asking...

No. Absolutely not, says Major League Baseball’s executive vice president for labor and human resources, Rob Manfred.

The Phillies’ reliever was more than likely clean during the post-season run in which he did not allow a run in eight appearances, Manfred said. Still, Romero had a great run during the entire ’08 season and it carried over into the playoffs where he allowed just five base runners in 7 1/3 innings during the playoffs. Against the Brewers in the NLDS, Romero got out of a tricky eighth inning in Game 2 with the Phillies clinging to a three-run lead with two on and two out on just one pitch.

Counting the post-season, Romero pitched in 89 of the Phillies’ 176 games. That’s a lot of work.

“I think a scientist will tell you that the substance was no longer in [Romero's] system,” Manfred said.

But that doesn’t mean MLB was pleased with the fact Romero quietly appealed his positive test and did not take a lesser, 25-game suspension to be served immediately in September. Had Romero taken up MLB on the offer, he would not have appeared in any of the playoff games in 2008.

The removal of Romero from the playoff roster before it began would have been the ideal situation, according to MLB. “With any drug program, the goal is to remove the athlete as quickly as possible,” Manfred said.

“We usually do not negotiate discipline in the drug area,” Manfred said.

“We offered to reduce the suspension to avoid him being in the World Series.”

Let’s get this straight… the Phillies’ World Series victory isn’t tainted in the least, yet the team had a player on its roster that the league wanted to suspend for banned performance-enhancing substances. Not only that, but the league offered an under-the-table deal to undercut the entire appeals process as negotiated in the collective bargaining agreement specifically to keep one player on the Phillies out of the World Series and playoffs?

Wow.

Still believe MLB when it says the Phillies’ title isn’t tainted?

Why not? It’s the same bill of good they sold when Barry Bonds* broke Henry Aaron’s all-time home run record in 2007. There was nothing untoward about all of the homers Bonds hit, was there?

Already that pesky little asterisk has made the rounds amongst certain baseball and Tampa Bay Rays’ bloggers and columnists. It’s the same thing in New York, too, where the Mets are still fuming about two straight September collapses. Oh sure, nobody thinks the supplement 6-OXO Extreme that Romero purchased in Cherry Hill, N.J. at a vitamin store is as bad as “The Cream” or “The Clear,” but it kind of interesting that the guy credited with inventing “The Clear” is also the same guy (Patrick Arnold) behind the supplement said to have caused Romero’s positive test.

No, it doesn’t sound like Romero was trying to cheat. Not in the least. But it does sound like he was trying to avoid a positive test. Does that mean he was trying to go right up to the edge of what was legal (or not) and stop or is it that Romero was just trying not to get caught in some sort of a trap?

“This is an unfortunate situation,” Manfred said. “We don't like disciplining players. We try to help our athletes deal with the issue of nutritional supplements. But the fact is, the athlete has to be responsible for what he puts in his body. It didn't happen in this case.”

Next time Manfred says Romero (or the union) should have called the league offices. Undoubtedly, MLB would have referred the player to a list of acceptable supplements that it publishes online with the collective bargaining agreement on the MLBPA web site.

“If he had called, he would've been told this product was a problem,” Manfred said. “Romero testified [in his arbitration hearing after Game 1 of the World Series] that he did not call.”

So that’s it. Romero tested positive. Everyone agrees on what caused it. The pitcher was given an arbitration hearing, played in the World Series and won two games. Now he’s gone for 50.

Tainted? Of course not.

It's not like baseball is like cycling in that it goes around suspending its athletes on the sports’ biggest stage.

The burden of proof

J.C. Romero might have learned the age old lesson the hard way. Actually, make that the extremely hard way…<

The burden of proof is always on the athlete. Always.

In other words, don’t ever assume innocent until proven guilty when it comes to the wild and wacky world of doping and drugs policing. Don’t put much faith in basic things like common sense or due process, either. Just don’t.

That’s because as soon as an athlete begins to trust any of the sports bureaucracies, he’s done. All J.C. Romero needs to do is to ask around. There are plenty of athletes who have had hard-earned championships stripped or Olympic dreams denied because of silly things because they didn't know what they were using had ingrediants that were on the "banned list."

For instance, maybe a guy had a sore throat and took a dose of cough syrup without a note from a doctor filed to the proper agency. Or maybe an athlete used the wrong hair gel not knowing that some have traces of the infamous steroid, androstenedione. Do they sell hair gel at GNC?

But guess what? The test came back positive. Don’t even think of washing your hair.

Or maybe a guy took dozens of drugs tests before a sample was sent to a questionable lab in France at the most curious time. Even though the guy passed every test before and after his event, that one sloppy sample can ruin a career and a bank account just like that.

Floyd Landis lost $2 million of his own money fighting his case – one that any self-respecting judge in the U.S. would have laughed right out of court – because of testing errors and protocol violations without even the consideration of due process.

J.C. Romero will lose 50 games and $1.25 million of his own money for going to GNC...

Even though his own union initially told him there was nothing he could buy over-the-counter that would elicit a failed test.

Even though the opinions of two different nutritionists and his own team athletic trainer gave him the go-ahead to take those supplements purchased at shop in a mall in Cherry Hill, N.J.

Even though MLB, the MLBPA and everyone else agreed that the positive doping test Romero turned in (despite piles of negatives before and after) was from the vitamins he bought in Cherry Hill.

Even though the chemist behind the supplement he took also was the inventor of “The Clear,” worked for BALCO and was sentenced to jail for conspiring to distribute steroids.

Even though Romero trusted the people he was supposed to put faith in and thinks he acted without negligence, the Phils’ pitcher was found guilty by MLB based on an arbitrator’s ruling of “negligence.”

Yeah, get that… Romero tells everyone what he was taking and when he was going to take it, they say OK and then tell him he was guilty of being “negligent.”

Shoot, he would have been better off taking the stuff Victor Conte and the BALCO gang was dishing out. So yeah, Romero tested positive for vitamins and Barry Bonds never tested positive for anything.

Good work, guys.

“Basically, I am being punished for not having a chemistry lab in my house to test everything I put in my body, because reading the ingredients on a label is no longer good enough,” Romero said. “I am all for catching the guys that cheat and punishing them. But I feel like I'm the victim of system where a player like me is punished because other players before me have blatantly broken the rules.”

The MLBPA, at least to a degree, have Romero’s back. They admit there is nothing else they can do to lessen the penalty for the Phils’ pitcher since the appeals process has played out.

“We strongly disagree with the commissioner's discipline and with the arbitrator's decision. Romero ... legally purchased nutritional supplements from national chain stores in the United States. Nothing on the labels of those supplements indicated that they contained a trace amount of a substance prohibited under Major League Baseball's Joint Drug Prevention and Treatment Program. Neither player intentionally ingested this prohibited substance, but the arbitrator nevertheless found, wrongly in our view, that the players' conduct violated the Program's ‘no fault or negligence’ standard.

“The union respects the arbitration process and treats the decision as final. In our view, though, the resulting discipline imposed upon ... Romero is unfair. [He] should not be suspended. [His] unknowing actions plainly are distinguishable from those of a person who intentionally used an illegal performance-enhancing substance.

“The association and the commissioner's office must now act to prevent future similar occurrences within baseball. The association remains committed to a strong Joint Drug Program, but will continue to advocate forcefully for fair treatment of our members.”

Phillies general manager Ruben Amaro Jr. is remaining tight-lipped about Romero’s case and defended Doug Lien, the team’s strength and conditioning coordinator whom Romero consulted.

Whether or not there was a communication breakdown, Amaro isn’t saying.

“We can't really comment on the specifics of it,” Amaro said. “I support how Major League Baseball has handled the drug policy issue all along and we continue to support it. Again, we cannot comment on the specifics of the issue. I'll sound like a broken record here, but the fact of the matter is we're supportive of J.C. It's an unfortunate event. We'll deal with it, and we'll move forward from it.”

Unfortunate, indeed. But it is not without its merits. You see, Romero learned a bit here about how he is accountable for anything that is in his body. The collective bargaining agreement is easily available. It’s online for anyone to read – whether one is a chemist or not.

Since the burden of proof is always on the athlete, Romero should be aware of the company he keeps. Actually, he should be aware of the company the makers of the products he ingested keep.

Because speaking of BALCO, it is interesting that the supplements Romero took, called 6-OXO Extreme, cost $70 for 60 capsules and are made by none other than Patrick Arnold. For those without their doping scorecard handy, Arnold was the chemist for Conte at BALCO. He also is widely credited with creating “the clear,” the famous undetectable steroid that BALCO provided to athletes.

In 2006, Arnold pleaded guilty to conspiring to distribute steroids, and was sentenced to three months in prison and three months of home confinement. He was among five people convicted in the BALCO case. As part of his plea agreement, he did not have to name athletes and coaches to whom he supplied drugs.

These days he fronts a company called Ergopharm, a maker of supplements that aren’t so covert as his previous work with BALCO.

Romero is kicking himself now.

What now?

So what’s the solution for baseball and for guys like Romero? If the stuff they buy at GNC isn’t always safe, what can be done to protect themselves?

Easy.

Take nothing.

If it’s stronger than coffee, Red Bull or ibuprofen maybe baseball and ballplayers should treat it as a banned substance.

McNabb does a big 180

It’s quite interesting to watch Donovan McNabb play quarterback in person as opposed to on television. In person when McNabb overthrows a receiver or short-arms one that darts to its target’s feet, it’s bad. At times when McNabb misses, he really misses. He leaves no doubt.

But on television it doesn’t look nearly as bad. Whether it’s the camera angle or some sort of magic makeup, the errant passes appear to be nothing more than bad timing. Unless one is sitting in the stadium and staring down at the action on the field, they really don’t get to see how wild some of the throws are. It’s a good thing the ball doesn’t create much in the way of sound effects because sometimes there could be outbreaks of stadium-wide tinnitus.

But when he connects… yeah, look out.

In throwing for 300 yards on 23-of-34 passing, McNabb continued his transformation since the unceremonious benching in the nasty 36-7 loss to the Baltimore Ravens just six weeks ago. That game in Baltimore might have been the low point not just in the season for McNabb and the Eagles, but also the most humiliating moment of the quarterback’s career. Oh sure, a lot of Hall-of-Famers got the hook on occasion. Johnny Unitas was sent from Baltimore to the San Diego where he finished his career on the bench.

Even Joe Montana was traded away from San Francisco to make way for Steve Young. Heck, if a player is lucky enough to stick around they will eventually get replaced. That’s just how it works for everyone – Johnny Unitas, Joe Montana and Donovan McNabb included.*

Yet after that day in Baltimore where he threw two interceptions and completed just 8-of-18 passes before he got the hook at halftime, McNabb has thrown just two interceptions in the next six games, including Sunday’s wild-card playoff victory in Minnesota. Over that same span McNabb has fired 10 TD passes and attempted at least 30 passes in all but one of the games.Yeah, there are many underlying variables for McNabb’s recent success from better defense to improved pass-run ratios to reveling in the pressure of the playoff race. Of course the lack of turnovers is HUGE. Sometimes it's not so much as what a guy does so much as it is the things he doesn't do. Lately, McNabb hasn't been screwing up. That helps.

But make no mistake, the biggest variable is that the Eagles seem to be a much better team when McNabb is on the field. After all, the Eagles are headed to the Divisional round of the playoffs for the fourth time in a season in which McNabb has played in every game.

Not so coincidentally, the Eagles have advanced to the divisional round in each of the seasons in which McNabb has played in all 16 regular-season games.

So just when we thought it was all over in Philadelphia and that Game 16 would be the very last for the lightning rod of a QB, it appears as if the Eagles, their fans and McNabb are stuck with each other for a little while longer. Based on the comments from owner Jeffrey Lurie to The Boston Globe last weekend it looks like we can debate his future all over again in 2009.

Is that so bad? With a contract that calls for $9.2 million in ’09 and $10 million in ’10, is McNabb a bargain?

Maybe. Hey, maybe McNabb has figured out a way to connect with everyone.

“Donovan has had a very good year, but it also has had its ups and downs,” Lurie told The Boston Globe. “You have to know, in this sport, especially at the quarterback position, you're going to have your ups and downs. Hopefully the ups are predominant, and he’s proven with him at quarterback, you have a very good chance of winning and winning big.”

Nope, that doesn’t sound like Lurie was talking about a guy on his way off to another team.

It still doesn’t explain what “clicked” after the benching in Baltimore. Nor does it reveal how McNabb could throw 10 picks in the first 11 games with seven over a stretch of four games, yet give it away just once in the final five regular-season games.

How could a guy nearly be run out of town with a big chunk of the season remaining yet quarterback the team to a franchise record for points in a season?

And now Lurie told The Boston Globe he has, “every intention of having him back.”

Wow!

“He looked so calm,” head coach Andy Reid said about McNabb’s demeanor on the field during Sunday’s victory over the Vikings. “He hung in there a few times and made some huge throws, particularly when we didn't have the field position and he was able to change it around on them.”

Maybe that’s it… maybe McNabb is simply playing like he has nothing else to lose? Maybe he figures he has just a few more shots left with the Eagles and he might as well use them?

Maybe he didn’t figure he was going to put himself in a spot to get another shot.

At least that’s the way it looked from in person and on TV.

__________________________________________________

* Yes, this is the first (and last) time the names Johnny Unitas, Joe Montana and Donovan McNabb were used in the same sentence in the history of sentences. Breaking ground…

__________________________________________________

Charles being Charles

If you go to the web site The Smoking Gun, Charles Barkley is one of the leaders in celebrity mug shots. Only rapper DMX (five) and O.J. Simpson (four) have appeared on the dubious list more than Sir Chuck, who is tied with convicted rapist Mike Tyson with three official mug shots posted for posterity.

The difference, of course, is in the crimes (of course). Barkley, by virtue of his personality, had a way of making his notable arrests sound funny. Clearly if Mike Tyson or DMX (not O.J.) handled the situations the way Barkley did it’s doubtful any would laugh and say, “Oh, that’s just DMX being DMX. He’s so silly.”

After all, Barkley is the guy who spit on a little girl during a game when he was playing for the Sixers, and was pretty much forgiven. How does that happen? Spit on a little girl (OK, his aim was off, but still…), spread some money around and everything goes back to the way it was?

Barkley, of course, was arrested in Milwaukee in December of 1991 when he punched some dude named Joseph McCarthy in the nose. Apparently McCarthy and his pals saw Charles hanging out in a Milwaukee bar early one morning and yelled, “Hey Barkley, show me how tough you are.”

That was followed by an invitation to fight which was RSVP’d with the right to the nose.

A few hours later, Charles was arrested and held in the local holding pen for four hours before posting $500 bond. Eventually, the case went to trial before Barkley beat the rap because of self defense.

Milwaukee isn’t the only city where ol’ Chuck mixed it up, either. There was that time in Orlando in 1997 when he picked up a guy and tossed him through a plate-glass window at a bar. Maybe it was Mickey Mouse? That joker Goofy? Either way, Barkley pleaded no contest to a misdemeanor charge of resisting arrest and was sentenced to community service and ordered to pay $320 in fines and court costs.

That’s less than tip money on a random Tuesday night for a man of Barkley’s appetites.

But that doesn’t mean Barkley didn’t have regrets from that incident in Orlando.

“I regret we weren’t on the second floor,” he said.

See, that’s funny. After all, anyone who has ever been in a little dust up or traded some minor fisticuffs at a bar around 2 a.m. also says they would have preferred to throw a guy through a picture window or smacked him with a trash can Sonny Corleone style, but can’t. Just before the fists fly and the hold-me-back muscles flex, the thoughts of lawyers, jail cells and reality always rears its head.

But with Charles Barkley nothing ever rears its head. Instead, he gets to act the way we all want and all he has to do is pay a fine, cool his heels in the drunk tank for a few hours and moves on to the next little adventure.

It’s like some sort of night-life fantasy camp and Chuck is counselor. All we get to do is watch and laugh as he brawls, racks up crazy gambling debts, orders up everything on the menu and picks up all the checks while good-naturedly complaining about all the “freeloaders.”

And we laugh through it all because who doesn’t want throw around betting chips like confetti and still have enough to pay everyone’s tab? When most of us have to show restraint in nearly every aspect of our lives, Barkley has always been the opposite. We diet, he eats. We show temperance, he drinks. We save and count our pennies and Barkley gambles and wastes.

Sometimes even the regular folks get caught up in his wake. Even in tired, old Lancaster, Pa. where the Sixers used to hold their annual training camp, Barkley found all the hot nightlife spots. Needless to say that’s no small feat. Still, Barkley stories are rivaled only by Harrison Ford sightings from when he filmed the movie “Witness” back in the early 1980s. Barkley was (and is) the celebrity without the velvet ropes around himself. Everyone is granted access, though certain people are granted more/better access.

It’s kind of hard not to like a guy like that.

But has Barkley gone too far this time? And if so, what makes this time so different?

As most people who follow these things know, Barkley was arrested last week for suspicion of DUI in Scottsdale, Ariz. But that alone isn’t the shocking part even though, frankly, it’s pretty damn stupid. Bar fights, spitting and gambling are one thing, suspicion for DUI is something else altogether. If Barkley spits on a girl or rumbles in a bar, there is very little in the way of collateral damage, but DUI…  sheesh, that’s bad.

Suspicion of DUI makes Barkley a potential menace to society. No, he’s not a bad guy and he’s no less interesting because of his many faults – faults for which he makes no apology nor hides. However, it seems as if the hand-wringing isn’t about the potential seriousness of the crime, but instead the trivial tabloid nature of the arrest report.

See, ol’ Charlie told the arresting officer that he was on his way to get… well, let’s just say he was in a big hurry. At the same time, Barkley may or may not have been traveling with a car filled with wine coolers, bear claws and Steve Urkel.

Because when you’re dashing off to do what Barkley says he was going to do, wine coolers, bear claws and Urkel are the top three things you need.

So is this the end for our man Chuck? Is someone going to finally put their foot down and tell him to clean up his act? Will TNT drop him from the NBA telecasts? Or could the good people of Alabama really elect him governor now?

No, of course not.

If anything Barkley might be more marketable now than ever before. People are talking about him and writing about him all over the country and asking the very same questions posed here.

What they seem to miss though is that we enable guys like Barkley because he is the clown. Charles may have tons of faults, but the role of the party guy with the lampshade on his head has paid off pretty well. Sure, the people around him might need years of therapy and the patience of Job to deal with their meal ticket, but to the rest of us – those watching from afar as if his life were nothing more than a sitcom – he’s just the clown.

In with the new

We got what we wanted in 2008 so now we can move on. To help with the process we came up with a short In/Out list for 2009. You, since we are the arbiters of hip with the tired old list thing.

Better yet, we also invite you to submit your own with something like:

Out: WIP

In: The 700 Level.

Got it?

Good.

OUT	IN
Pat Burrell	Raul Ibanez
Counting down to training camp	Counting down to spring training
“World [bleeping] champions!”	WFC
Wing Bowl	Parades
Club boxes and suites	Affordable tickets
Drafting for the future	Jamie Moyer/Brian Dawkins
tailgating	Party train
G.W. Bush	B.H. Obama
Get a ring…	Get another ring…

Looking back at a good year

There is something that seems odd about celebrating the passage of time. Insert all the metaphysical stuff you want right here and it will apply, but it will never explain why there are parties to welcome in a new year and another number tacked on to the calendar.

But here we are on the last day of 2008 all set to dance and sashay in 2009, which is a year that already has the odds stacked against it. After all, the global economic difficulties are supposed to get worse before they improve. That means more jobs will be lost, credit pushed to its limits and old and reliable businesses will vanish.

This is progress they say. Actually, it’s more like Leonardo DiCaprio’s character William Costigan quoting Hawthorne to Martin Sheen and Marky Mark in “The Departed” when he says, “Families are always rising and falling in America…”

What’s the matter, you don't know any Shakespeare, smart ass?

Anyway, take away the economics and the various scandals (which are typically based in one form of economics or another) and ’08 wasn’t half bad. Think about it, there was a historical presidential election in which the results were not disputed and great advances in technology changed much about everyday life.

Only problem is we might not have the cash for all the cool stuff.

Around here, of course, 2008 was pretty nice. Generally the term “October Surprise” has sinister connotations but in regard to Philadelphia in 2008 it ended with a massive parade down Broad Street to celebrate the city’s first championship in 25 years. For the World F. Champion Phillies the 11-3 run through the post-season clinched just the second World Series victory since 1883.

So yeah, the Phillies made the year during the playoff run that began on Oct. 1 and ended on Oct. 29. Call it the most fun-filled and wacky four weeks in recent sports memory.

Before we delve into one of those odious recaps of the year that are almost as puzzling as gathering in the town square to dance and holler for a new year, it is fair to report that the good (sports) things of 2008 weren’t just the property of the Phillies or Philadelphia. After all, based on how the Eagles wrapped up November who would have guessed they would open 2009 with a playoff game?

Someone gets a last laugh there and it ain’t me.

Meanwhile, last spring the 76ers and Flyers continued the proverbial building for the future with playoff berths. While the Sixers’ still have much work to do to repeat on ‘08’s success, the Flyers are one of those young and exciting teams that cities not named Philadelphia have.

Nevertheless, outside of the baseball post-season (at least in Philly), the Olympics in Beijing were as good as they have been in a generation. Michael Phelps delivered, the Dream Team woke up and Usain Bolt stole the show.

Still, the Phillies moments will continue to dominate the locus of my mind. Who will ever forget Brad Lidge’s last pitch to in Game 5 part 2? Or how can we forget Carlos Ruiz’s game-winning hit in the wee hours of the morning in Game 3?

Chase Utley’s fielding and Cole Hamels’ pitching will morph into legends as the years steamroll on, while manager Charlie Manuel will be remembered as a guy who made all the correct moves at precisely the right time.

But the two memories that stand out the most are not the champagne showers after the clinchers over the Nationals, Brewers, Dodgers and Rays. And the Marriott’s in Milwaukee, Pasadena and Clearwater weren’t exactly the Ritz, though the folks traveling around the country to write and report on the Phillies made every joint feel like the most fun place on earth.

After all, it’s always the journey more than the destination.

Regardless, when Shane Victorino stepped out of the batter’s box at Dodger Stadium during Game 3 of the NLCS and told pitcher Hiroki Kuroda to be a man and plunk him in the ribs with a pitch was stellar. It also was one of those scene-shifting moments of the series in which the Phillies proved to be an atypical bully in that they were going to dish it out and take it.

You know, it was one of those moments when the gauntlet is thrown down, picked up and tossed right back to the other side. It definitely makes for exciting baseball.

After that game, when all the press had retreated back to the press box to collect their things and go back to their Marriott since the east coast newspaper deadlines had passed (hey big newspaper exec-types, don’t tell anyone, but this Internets thing… it might catch on kind of like the TV), Victorino snuck out from the back corridors of the shoe-box sized clubhouse at Dodger Stadium from where he’s been hiding. Never one to avoid the press like that, Victorino told me he didn’t want to talk about the incident with Kuroda only to continue to talk about it for 10 minutes next to his locker.

“They had to do it. Someone was bound to get hit and it was my turn,” Victorino said in noting that the Dodgers’ Russell Martin and Manny Ramirez had already been brushed back or plunked. “Just don’t throw at my head.”

There were other things Victorino said that are relegated to the off-the-record file, but the essence of it all was the same.

“It’s part of the game,” Victorino said. “I have no problem if they want to brush me back or stick one in my ribs. Just don’t throw at my head.”

Do that and it just might get the pesky Hawaiian a little ticked off and do something big. You know, like he might belt a game-tying two-run homer in the late innings of Game 4 to set the table for the big blow a few hitters later.

That shot from Matt Stairs pretty much nailed it down.

The interesting part about Stairs’ pinch-hit homer wasn’t so much about the distance it traveled (it was a bomb!) or that he slugged on off a pitcher who had not allowed a homer at Dodger Stadium all season. Sure, the blast helped the Phillies rally to wild, come-from-behind victory and a 3-1 lead in the NLCS, but more importantly it became the moment of a long baseball career.

If Matt Stairs never gets another hit for the Phillies, it’s OK. His one home run did a pretty good job killing a lot of ghosts.

It killed a lot of stories, too. Ironically, Game 4 of the NLCS was on the 20th anniversary of Kirk Gibson’s famous home run against Dennis Eckersley in Game 1 of the ’88 World Series. Seated to my right was the Inquirer’s Phil Sheridan who told me he was sitting in the press area not too far from where we were when Gibson hit his walk-off homer. At the time though, Sheridan said he didn’t really get a chance to enjoy the moment because he was fighting another east-coast deadline and was all set to send a story back to Philadelphia about Oakland’s victory when Gibson stepped up and ruined it all.

So two decades later on the same exact night, Matt Stairs ruined a lot of stories. The funniest part was the stares and curses I received when Stairs strolled to the box and I proclaimed…

“He’s going deep right here.”

Nailed that one.

But before we get too full ourselves I should also mention that I thought Tampa Bay was going to win Game 5.

Shows what I know.

How to party like a ballplayer

There is no need for goggles in a celebratory football clubhouse. Actually, it’s not even a clubhouse. It’s a locker room. There are all sorts of different jargon in the two sports that essentially mean the same thing. For instance, in baseball they have a clubhouse and not a locker room. Say locker room in a baseball clubhouse and they’ll look at you as some sort of rube.

Right off the turnip truck.

Meanwhile, Charlie Manuel is the manager and Andy Reid is the head coach. Call ol’ Chuck a “coach” and watch everyone laugh into their sleeves. No, it’s not exactly the most subtle way of embarrassing a guy in a crowded room, but there’s nothing about being in a clubhouse that’s friendly. A clubhouse is kind of like being a restaurant in that there is something about combining food and money outside of the home that makes people lose their minds.

Why do people act like idiots when they go to restaurants?

Anyway, clubhouses and restaurants are similar only there nudity in one and food in the other. There are also things like champagne and moonshine in one after a significant victory. In fact, every time they clinch anything in baseball the clubhouse gets covered up with industrial-sized sheets of plastic as if it were being prepped for a mafia hit. But like any good whacking, a celebratory clubhouse leaves remnants that typical polymers simply can’t cover up.

Though the goggles and the commemorative t-shirts and caps can offer some protection, there is nothing even they can do to mask the stench of a proper clinching throw down in a clubhouse. Besides, a good clinching bender takes a few days to come from, which is why they have so many days between rounds during the baseball playoffs. Sure, they say it’s because of TV, but come on… any party where they give out shirts and caps and cover up the room with big sheets of plastic is serious business. Guys need to take a break.

So when champagne-room veteran Jimmy Rollins stepped into the Eagles’ clubhouse… er, locker room… after the drubbing of the Cowboys at the Linc last Sunday, he must have wondered what was going on.

Didn’t those guys just clinch a playoff spot? Where was the plastic? How about the champagne? Why weren’t they dousing each other like a bunch of lunatics? Where were the t-shirts and caps?

They call this a party?

Well, yeah.

When the Eagles sewed up the last playoff spot in NFC in the 44-6 whacking of the Cowboys last Sunday, there were a few raised fists, a little jumping around and maybe some spilled water here and there. But then it was over. Guys stood by their lockers and calmly deconstructed the game for the local sporting press. They looked ahead to next Sunday’s playoff game in Minnesota. Sure, spirits were high, but no one staggered out of the locker room reeking and soaked.

Jimmy Rollins left with an official NFL ball from his pal Donovan McNabb, but other than that there was nothing different from that clincher, say, a game in Cincinnati during the middle of November. After all, there was more football to play, practices to prepare for, meetings to attend and film to study. Plus, there are more than twice as many guys on a football team which would require many more cases of booze and triple-XL t-shirts.

No, in football they leave the revelry to other folks. For instance, suburbanite Kobe Bryant chose not discuss his Lakers’ huge victory over Golden State a few days ago because he was geeked up over the Eagles tearing up the Cowboys. Instead, he asked reporters to ask him about the Eagles.

For the record, Kobe was in the middle of a champagne party at the Wachovia Center a few years ago when the Lakers took care of Sixers in five games in the NBA Finals. Yes, they spread out the plastic in the NBA only they save it until the end and not after every round.

Meanwhile, Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie acted like a fan last Sunday with his playoff stubble and erratic and oh-so spontaneous high-fiving with his pals in his suite at the Linc. Mrs. Lurie got into the act, too, though she mostly was a victim of her husband’s reckless brand of celebration as documented on the Internets:

Still, there probably is no truth to the rumor that the gang in the Lurie suite rolled out the protective plastic, hid the china and got crazy with the Clos du Mesnil, 1995. No, the high-fives were enough.

Sometimes that’s all it takes.

Jimmy likes what he sees Meanwhile, the World F. Champion Rollins enjoyed the Eagles victory over the Cowboys and marveled at the fact that during the first half, “it was 17-0 for the defense.”

That’s a clever line from Rollins, but even more astute is the 2007 NL MVP’s read on the Eagles’ late-season rally. Then again, Rollins and the WFC Phillies know a little something about late-season comebacks and collapses from their arch-nemesis.

“Good things happen to a team when they believe in themselves,” Rollins said. “You gotta have determination every day. That’s what you saw on [Sunday]. Everyone knew how talented the Cowboys were – there’s no doubt about that. But what you saw was a team like the Eagles that wanted it more. They weren’t taking no for an answer and they weren’t going home. All you have to do is get to the playoffs and everyone is 0-0.”

Rollins was more impressed with the way quarterback Donovan McNabb regrouped following his benching in Baltimore last month. Again, the former MVP knows a thing or two about getting benched, too.

“Donovan is definitely a professional,” Rollins said. “Sometimes people get on you for expressing yourself and for telling what you feel is the truth. And there is nothing wrong with that. He’s not jaded, he’s not going to give you the answers you can get from everyone – he’s going to tell it the way it is. But what you saw in Donovan was a man who wasn’t going to quit on himself. He knows his talent, he knows how good he is and he knows how important he is to the team. He didn’t want to let anyone in that locker room down and they aren’t let down.”

Rollins very well could have been talking about himself, too.

Chatting the winter to spring

The thing about following one sport exclusively for a long time is that other things tend to get lost in the shuffle. For instance, last March as the Phillies were working out in Clearwater, Fla. before kicking off the 2008 season, every other sporting event in the city was seen from just a cursorily view. It’s not by plan. It’s just the way it is sometimes.

So when the Flyers and 76ers were making their late-season playoff runs as winter turned to spring, and March Madness was heating up the hardwood with Temple taking the Atlantic 10, baseball was the focus here.

But it wasn’t as if there was much going on with the local ballclub either. It was one of those proverbial calm-before-the-storm periods where all we did was talk.

Talk, as they say, is cheap. It don’t cost nothin’. But boy does it sure make things fun.

Cheap thrills as they also say.

In March the sideshow came from a couple of pitchers, namely Billy Wagner and Cole Hamels. In regard to Hamels, the not-yet named MVP of the NLCS and World Series mouthed off when the Phillies renewed his salary to a mere $500,000.

Yeah, chump change.

“I’m a little surprised,” Hamels said. “It’s about respect, and when people don’t show that to you, you’re caught off guard. I thought it was a low blow.

“I felt it wasn’t necessarily equal compensation for what I do and for what I can do. I have to follow the ladder of other guys, some who play every day, and I know I’m not in that category, but you want to feel like you’re getting equally compensated for what you do on the field compared to other people that are in the same league.”

But what Hamels didn’t realize at the time was that since Scott Boras was not his agent and he wasn’t J.D. Drew or Travis Lee, there was a salary structure that had to be followed for a player with not-quite two seasons in the league. Basically Hamels had to wait until this winter when he became eligible for arbitration for the first time and could really fight for the big bucks. In the meantime, he came off like a spoiled punk living in an alternate reality. Most folks wish they could be treated so shabbily that their employer only offered a half a mil.

The cool thing about Hamels, though, is that he gets it. Or, at least, he figures out things. He later realized that whining about making a fortune is ridiculous and admitted that he was a bit out of line.

He got it, yet in some sense he is actually evolved in that he recognizes the conservative nature and anachronisms in baseball and does what he can to change them. Notably, Hamels was the catalyst behind the Phillies relenting and hiring a cadre of chiropractors around the league so that players can visit for adjustments or active release treatments, which is a combination of deep-tissue massage, stretching and manipulation to alleviate problems with muscles, tendons, ligaments, fascia and nerves. Again, chiropractic treatments are nothing new for athletes in other sports – it’s old news, in fact, and just part of the entire landscape. But in baseball, unless it’s a cortisone shot followed by a paper cup filled with beer, it’s considered innovation.

It wasn’t just the establishment that Hamels’ challenged, either. Most importantly, he pushed himself to pitch to a level he had never seen before and as a result, the post-season performances proved to be the cherry on top of a delicious sundae. See, Hamels had never made it through an entire season without an injury. Ever. Even in high school Hamels got hurt and missed time on the diamond so the fact that the lefty made 38 starts and pitched 262 1/3 innings is very significant.

Significant enough that come March of 2009 it’s doubtful we’ll ever hear Hamels complain about his salary again.

Wagner still throwing heat

Meanwhile, last March Wagner, well… was his old self.

Generally, there is rarely a dull moment when Billy Wagner is on your team. For a group that gets more mileage out of other people’s words than their actions, Wagner sometimes is a writers’ dream.

But at the same time he can also be a nightmare. Sometimes the hot air that blasts from his pie hole has nothing to do with anything, but because Wagner used to be one of the better closers in the game before injuries derailed him, even the craziest stuff he says generates headlines.

Pitching in New York with a penchant for opening his mouth? Forget it…

It was that way in Philadelphia, too. Sometimes, when there was nothing going on and there were no stories to be found anywhere, all a reporter had to do was grab a big stick and give ol’ Billy a couple of pokes and wait to see how long it took for him to growl.

Sometimes it didn’t even take a poke with a stick. For instance, during an exhibition game in Port St. Lucie against Michigan ol’ Wags threatened to start a bean ball battle with a college team because some undergrad kid had the audacity to attempt a bunt at a time that didn’t jibe with his delicate interpretation of some ancient baseball protocol.

“If he got that bunt down, I would have drilled the next guy,” Wagner said. “Play to win against Villanova.”

Wagner continued: “It’s hot and I’m just trying to work on some pitches, and they’re bunting like it’s the College World Series. Go do that against Villanova.”

Billy Wagner: The anti-Cole Hamels

The thing is the game against the Mets was as big as the College World Series to Michigan as well as all the other college teams playing one-shot exhibition games against big leaguers in spring training. When Florida State went to Bright House Field in Clearwater to play the Phillies last spring, it looked as if the kids’ eyes were going to bug out of their heads because they were so excited. Better yet, Phillies’ Hall of Famer Mike Schmidt went into the FSU clubhouse to talk to the team for a half hour before the Phils opened up their clubhouse so that the Seminoles could wander in and chat up the big leaguers.

But, you know, Wagner gets chapped by a bunt by a college kid.

Hey, it’s one thing to threaten a bean-ball battle against the Phillies in ‘08  and ’09 after they ate the Mets’ lunch so routinely the past two seasons. After the way the Mets strutted scoffed about the Phillies’ chances last season it’s understandable that the humble pie didn’t go down so smoothly.

But a college kid busting his rear in an attempt to impress a big-league scout or coach… come on. Maybe Wagner doesn’t remember being a Li’l Napoleon back at tiny Ferrum College where he played Division III baseball. I wonder if Wagner would have fired his big fastball at the Major Leaguers or if he would have deferred to them because they’re just trying to work on their swings?

My guess is Billy would have reared back to try to throw his heater through his catcher instead of saving it for Shenandoah University.

Talk, talk, talk…

So yes, we were talking all through last March. As the election primary season was dominating the news, ESPN’s Jeff Pearlman wrote about the perceived vapidity of pro athletes.

Elsewhere, we rambled on about the makeup of the Phillies’ roster, and were curious about why Ivy League teams even bother going into the NCAA Tournament.

Meanwhile, Lenny Dykstra resurfaced for a final assault on the sporting media and noted steroids expert Dr. Charles Yesalis claimed that sports fans of a certain age just don’t care that athletes use drugs. They just want to watch the game.

With the lights out its less dangerous

Here we are now

Entertain us

I feel stupid and contagious

Economics 101: Baseball style

It was the first day of the Winter Meetings in Las Vegas when a gang of media types formed a circle around Dodgers’ general manager Ned Colletti to ask him questions about the state of the economics in Major League Baseball. GMs like Colletti were worried not just for themselves, but also for the players because there was so much uncertainty digging into the minds of everyone.

“Is there anybody here that doesn't know anybody that's affected by [the downturn] or that's a little bit frightened by it?” Colletti said, noting that he had no idea what was in store for a lot of baseball teams. “I think we all do.”

Certainly it was a peculiar spot to be having the conversation. After all, just through the labyrinth of hallways outside of the plush ballroom in the back of The Bellagio baseball execs were talking about the biggest deals (and non-deals) that would set up some ballplayers and their families for generations. Apparently lost on Major League Baseball was the fact that the discussions and their annual meetings were being held in a city built on broken dreams.

All those sparkling lights, elaborate fountain shows and erupting volcanoes weren’t built because regular folks were winning, were they?

But baseball has been winning. At least some in baseball had been winning. The Winter Meetings were held during a spate of contradictory revelations about the game. Just two days before everyone got together at The Bellagio, MLB laid off approximately 30 employees because of “cutbacks.” Yet, despite the cutbacks MLB reported a record revenue year in which it made $6.5 billion and were just weeks away from launching its own television network.

The trip to Vegas also came at a time when published reports indicated that commissioner Bud Selig had taken home $14 million in salary and bonuses. No doubt such hard times made it easy to understand why MLB would lay off workers who made barely a percentage per year what Alex Rodriguez made for playing in one game.

Yes, times were quite difficult for some associated with MLB, though not for the guys signing players or doing the firing.

Isn’t there a word for people like that? Aren’t there a bunch of words for people like that?

Still, Astros general manager Ed Wade stood in the hallway outside the ballroom and told me the reason why his club stopped its pursuit of free-agent pitcher Randy Wolf was a simple matter of economics. The Astros simply didn’t have the money to pay what Wolf was asking even though they had made generous offers before halting negotiations. Oh sure, the Astros had it, they just weren’t going to spend it.

After all, rich folks didn’t get that way by writing a bunch of checks.

“We hope to revisit the talks with Randy soon,” Wade said, perhaps hinting that they would make an offer to the ex-Phillie when the cash somehow magically re-appeared. Perhaps by holding a bake sale with $1,000 brownies.

But we haven’t gotten to the really weird part yet. Colletti and Wade and even Phillies’ GM Ruben Amaro Jr. had very different messages about the state of the economy and how it related to their clubs. Though Colletti knew about the tough times his friends were going through, it didn’t stop him from making huge offers to free agents Manny Ramirez or CC Sabathia. Interestingly, Colletti revealed that Sabathia told him that the pitcher wanted to play for the Dodgers despite signing a $160 million deal with the Yankees a few days later.

“I know that when we make an offer [to an agent], I'm getting less verification of whether it's good or bad,” Colletti said. “Which tells me that when I give it to them, they don't know. They don't know if this is the best they're going to get or the worst they're going to get.”

And while Wade struggled to find the cash to make an offer to Randy Wolf, his old pupil Amaro claimed he didn’t think the economics would hurt the Phillies all that much. He thanked a victory in the World Series for that, but noted the so-called “second tier” free agents might have some trouble landing jobs.

“The big boys, the CC Sabathias and Manny Ramirez, they’re still going to do quite well,” Amaro said while sitting in a hospitality suite on the 31st floor in The Bellagio.“Beyond that, those middle-tier free agents, they’re going to have a tough time getting what they think their value is. Some teams may be more apt to go with a younger player with a lower salary rather than have to pay multi-millions for that free agent.”

Not the Yankees. While other teams crunch the numbers and wring their hands over how to make the money work, the Yankees and the next generation of Steinbrenners have been downright obscene with their spending.

Recession? What recession? The Yankees have a $1 billion new stadium to pay for and tickets that cost thousands of dollars per game and may (or may not) require a blood and urine donation.

So after signing Sabathia to that big deal, the Yanks got A.J. Burnett for $82.5 million and first baseman Mark Teixeira for $180 million.

Mark Teixeira?

“It’s the latest embarrassment of riches,” a baseball official told The New York Post.

No, an embarrassment of riches would be paying to much for a kitschy item like a velvet painting of Elvis or a trip to Vegas to have a bunch a meetings at The Bellagio after firing some employees for no good reason at all. This is just showing off...

Actually, it's worse than that. It's taunting. It's nanny-nanny boo-boo stuff and that's just mean. What makes it especially mean is that the Yankees' luxury tax bill is nearly as much as the Marlins' entire payroll.

Talk about tacky...

Yet Teixeira has a job and guys earning in a year what he will get for taking part in one batting practice don’t? How does that work? Which one is the bigger strain on the economics?

Worse, how are these guys going to get paid if the TV networks walk away or the fans can no longer afford tickets?

“You can't bury your head in the sand on this one. We all have to watch out for people’s wallets. Any team not looking at 2009 a little differently, in terms of pricing,” said Dodgers chief operating officer Dennis Mannion. “I think everyone has to be thinking about providing more value to their customers.”

So they’re thinking, huh?

Coming up: A look back at March and Christmas.

Old rivals die hard

Throughout their histories, the 76ers and Celtics have been tangled in a veritable chess match. When Boston moved, Philly countered. When Philadelphia zigged, Boston zagged.

And on and on it went.

The Celtics had Bill Russell so the Sixers got Wilt. Later it was Julius Erving and Larry Bird and Charles Barkley for Kevin McHale. When Andrew Toney became the “Boston Strangler,” the Celtics went out and traded for Dennis Johnson.

Even the secondary players had their rivalries within the rivalry. Who can forget the time when Danny Ainge got so far under the skin of the Sixers that the only reasonable move was for Sedale Threatt to smack him?

Or the time when the Sixers couldn’t find an answer for Bird who had torched them for 42 points by the third quarter so Doc started a fight and took shots at him while Moses Malone and Barkley held him down.

Ah yes, nothing like a classic rivalry.

Recently, there has been some minor rekindling of the old days like in 2002 when the Sixers and Celtics went the full five games in the first round of the playoffs. But for the most part the old-time rivals have been resigned to wallow in mediocrity together. The good part was that in the weakened Eastern Conference the Sixers and Celtics always had a shot.

Actually, it was kind of nice. They always had each other even though they weren’t exactly standing in the middle of a path to the finals. Success and misery love company. What other way is there to know how good (or bad) a team is?

These days, though, the rivalry is totally one-sided. In the Eastern Conference of the NBA it’s the Celtics’ world and the Sixers are lucky enough to be able to buy a ticket. On Tuesday night the Celtics won their 19th game in a row to set an all-time franchise record. That’s pretty impressive considering the Celtics have been to the NBA Finals 20 times. In setting the record it wasn’t as if the Sixers got to see the gulf between the two clubs – it was more of a grim reminder of what has to be done in order to recreate the good old days.

The Sixers aren’t there yet. Not even close.

“Basically, you have to play perfect basketball,” said Andre Iguodala about beating the streaking Celtics.

Certainly Sixers’ general manager Ed Stefanski is engaged in the process. After all, signing Elton Brand and firing coach Maurice Cheeks well before the new year bear out the fact that the Sixers want to revisit old fights. More telling is that the move to get Brand was a retort to the Celtics loading their roster with All-Stars Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen for last year’s title run.

Looks like Stefanski needs to make a few more moves. Actually, it’s kind of like how the rivalry dipped in the mid-1970s where the Celtics won titles with Dave Cowens, Jo Jo White and wily veteran John Havlicek while the Sixers regrouped. First they got World B. Free and Darryl Dawkins straight from LoveTron to mix in with Caldwell Jones, Doug Collins and George McGinnis.

Then came the Doctor and everything fell into place.

Is there a Doctor in the house for Stefanski?

Looking back at 2008 – February

Not only did the groundhog see his shadow last February, but also the hated New York Giants pulled off a big upset over the undefeated New England Patriots in the Super Bowl. It was a victory that should have sent a cold shudder through the offices at the Nova Care Complex, but instead The Gold Standard just kept on clicking along.

Otherwise it was a fairly quiet month filled with reports on the baseball team from Clearwater, Fla. and the mid-season formalities of the NHL and NBA seasons.

Other notable events of February 2008:

• Roger Clemens and his ex-trainer Brian McNamee testified in front of the Congressional House Oversight and Government Reform Committee. During the hearings we learned that Clemens did not know what a vegan was and the whole steroids culture in baseball was slimy and tacky. Good show, guys.

• Senator Arlen Specter (R-PA) attempted to claim a Super Bowl victory for the Eagles by digging into the Patriots’ “Spy-gate” thing. In this one Specter’s single-bullet theory almost seemed sane in comparison.

• Kyle Kendrick got traded to Japan… only this Phillies wished he really did.

• Ryan Howard got a record $10 million salary in arbitration. Some wondered if he effectively priced himself out of Philadelphia in the near future.

Or did he?

We'll revisit that one again next February.

Close your eyes, we're looking back

Scoreboard watching seems so unnatural in football. It just doesn’t fit. The pace of the game and the way the schedule is set up makes it difficult and underscores the fact that George Carlin missed one difference between football and baseball in his famous bit. Here:

Yet not-so strangely enough, the Eagles are left to scoreboard watch in Week 17. Worse, there is a chance that the Eagles will know their playoff fate – yay or nay – before they kick it off against the Cowboys at the Linc next Sunday. That means the team  has to sit around and hope the Buccaneers or Bears lose and then it has to go beat the Cowboys, who need to win to get in.

What a pain.

But doesn’t it just figure that Andy Reid and the Eagles are in this spot?

And doesn’t just figure that the Eagles lost Sunday’s game by a yard with no timeouts remaining after a pass into the middle of the field?

Doesn’t that just personify the entire Andy Reid Era? He burned up all the timeouts long before the team really needed them, threw the ball way too much and answered all the same old questions the same old way.

“You guys aren’t very creative,” Reid answered when asked about having to answer the same old questions after every loss.

Sigh!

Takes one to know one.

Regardless, the most important point seems to be that Andy Reid continued yet another miserable trend during his decade-long run in Philadelphia. That trend? Reid has lost the biggest game of the season every single year.

Every single one of them.

No, this isn’t to say Reid’s run has been a failure because that would be wrong. Plus, the Eagles definitely have won some pretty big games over the last decade. But, in the biggest game of every season, the Eagles have lost every one. Certainly this fact is often determined long after the fact and Reid is hardly the only Eagles’ coach to accomplish this dubious feat. After all, we’re heading into the sixth decade without a title in Eagles-ville.

But it’s pretty difficult to dig up another bunch of Eagles teams that have been blessed with so much talent over such an extended period of time. Yet somehow Reid and his gang somehow figure out a way to come up with nothing at the end.

Maybe that’s more maddening than the press conferences and the play calling.

Looking back at January

We kick off our revisiting of 2008 at the beginning. Back then we still had no idea what was in store for us, though with the aid of hindsight we could see the seeds being planted. For instance, in January the Mets went out and got ace pitcher Johan Santana.

The Phillies?

Pedro Feliz.

In no particular order here are the notable events of January 2008:

Goose Gossage elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame by the antiquated secret society called the Baseball Writers Association of America.

Roger Clemens went on “60 Minutes” to tell America he takes his vitamins.

Donovan McNabb creates a controversy when wrote on his blog that the Eagles need more “weapons.” Sheesh… just think if he would have gone to Mexico with Jessica Simpson.

Terrell Owens cried.

Mike Lieberthal announced his retirement.

The Phillies got Pedro Feliz.

The Mets apparently won the division by signing Johan Santana. Oops!

Not even close

Finally, here are some predictions I made back in January… nope, I wasn’t very close on any of them.

Despite a 15-win season from Adam Eaton, the Phillies finish third in the NL East.

After drafting an offensive lineman with the top pick, Andy Reid replaces Joe Banner as COO of the Eagles.

Curt Schilling writes an entry on his blog telling himself to shutup.

Scott Rolen finally finds a manager he can play for… it’s Charlie Manuel!

The Patriots lose in their first playoff game after the 16-0 season.

It turns out that Roger Clemens never took performance-enhancing drugs, but, as it turns out, he shot Ol’ Yeller.

No athletes test positive in the Tour de France and Beijing Olympics.

Ricky Watters answers his own questions

Ricky Watters rolls deep. When he showed up at the Comcast SportsNet offices on Thursday afternoon for an appearance on “Daily News Live” after a day of passing out turkeys in Philadelphia and his hometown Harrisburg, Ricky had a bona fide gaggle of people with him.

With Ricky were close friends, a state senator and a person to keep him on schedule and get him moving to the next stop.

Ricky is a busy guy.

No, this entourage was hardly Iverson-esque. In fact, it out-numbered ex-Mennonite Floyd Landis’ peeps by two when the star-crossed cyclist appeared on DNL. But it was impressive nonetheless. Not many people visit a TV show and park a state senator in the green room to await a cameo appearance with the former football star.

Impressive is certainly the image Watters is trying to project. He wore his Super Bowl ring he got with the 49ers in the game he scored three touchdowns in to beat San Diego. Certainly that Super Bowl victory was the crowning achievement on an 11-year NFL career in which he made it to five Pro Bowls, is 20th on the all-time rushing list, and won a National Championship in college for Notre Dame. The numbers are a testament to his durability in which he missed just five games during the first 10 years of his career.

But all those numbers (nearly 15,000 yards from scrimmage), touchdowns (91) and Pro Bowl trips might not be enough to get Watters to Canton, Oh. for induction into the Hall of Fame.

He can blame two questions for that.

For who?

For what?

Though the achievements are difficult to deny, Watters’ NFL career is defined by one play and four words he spoke to reporters after an opening day loss to Tampa Bay at The Vet in 1995. As fate would have it, the incident occurred in Watters’ very first game for the Eagles and his first game after scoring three touchdowns in the Super Bowl. Instead of rallying his hometown team with a tough reception over the middle on a pass from Randall Cunningham, Watters gave it the ol’ alligator arms treatment and then gave one of the most memorable quotes in the history of Philadelphia sports.

“For who? For what?” he said when asked why he didn’t make a better effort to haul in the pass in traffic on a crucial late-game drive.

People don’t forget. Oh yeah, Watters led the NFL in yards from scrimmage in 1996, averaged 106. 5 yards per game and scored 32 touchdowns in 48 games for the Eagles, but that never erased the memory of that very first game.

Worse, Watters’ questions became the calling card of the quintessential selfish athlete. In fact, the phrase is still a punch line in these parts. In fact, when Phillie Aaron Rowand crashed into the center-field fence face first to make a catch during the 2006 season, he was asked about Watters’ famous line.

“For who? My teammates,” Rowand said, his eyes blackened and nose in a protective brace lest he break it again doing who knows what. “For what? To win.”

Just like that Rowand became a cult hero. He was instantly the anti-Ricky.

"I have moved on from it," Watters said. "It was 13 years ago. I was young, angry, and upset that we lost a game. I never would have thought that it would get taken the way it was. It blew up pretty quickly."

These days Watters might be the anti-Ricky, too. A little thicker (but still fit) from his playing days that ended in 2001 with Seattle, Watters laughed easily when told a story from his days when we wore No. 12 for Bishop McDevitt. He posed readily for anyone who wanted a photo with him and handed out business cards with all the information needed to get in touch with him for anything.

On those cards Watters is listed as CEO/Founder of the Orlando, Fla.-based Urban Youth League. It was to publicize the efforts with his charitable group that brought Watters back to his old stomping grounds and answer some questions he asked all those years ago.

For who? For what?

“When you say for who, it’s for those who need us. And for what because they need us right now,” said state senator Anthony H. Williams, who represents parts of Delaware and Philadelphia counties and made the rounds with Watters on Thursday. “This charitable organization centered around children is going to have a powerful impact for generations.”

Certainly Watters isn’t the only ex-jock “giving back” to those less fortunate. And certainly there are others who do so with less fanfare. But there aren’t too many out there handing out turkeys and walking the forgotten streets in Harrisburg and South Philly who had a reputation quite like Watters.

He has all the answers now.

“I’m here to bring hope and to bring some change to some people who really need it. That’s what it’s really all about to me,” Watters said. “I feel just as alive as I did when I was playing ball. When I’m out here giving back to the people and talking to the people and touching them the way I am right now.”

Is it much different than the way he was then? Who knows? We all grow up and change at our own rate. Watters’ perceived selfishness as a player might be what’s keeping him out of the Hall of Fame, but really, what good is a bust in Canton when there are turkeys to hand out?