NBA: Let The Better Market... er.... Team Win

Deadspin posted some excerpts of Tim Donaghy's book that was going to be published before the NBA threatened to sue. Luckily for the world wanting to know the truth on NBA basketball and all those angry Sacremento Kings fans, the truth is out.

Donaghy not only mentions his own gambling addiction but also talks about how it was prevalent around the league.

To have a little fun at the expense of the worst troublemakers, the referees working the game would sometimes make a modest friendly wager amongst themselves: first ref to give one of the bad boys a technical foul wouldn't have to tip the ball boy that night. In the NBA, ball boys set up the referees' locker room and keep it stocked with food and beer for the postgame meal. We usually ran the kid ragged with a variety of personal requests and then slipped him a $20 bill. Technically, the winner of the bet won twice — he didn't have to pay the kid and he got to call a T on Mr. Foul-Mouthed Big-Shot Du Jour.

Though the most damning offense mentioned in the book was not about Donaghy, but about the NBA and how it dictated "encouraged" outcomes to games.

The 2002 Western Conference Finals between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Sacramento Kings presents a stunning example of game and series manipulation at its ugliest. As the teams prepared for Game 6 at the Staples Center, Sacramento had a 3–2 lead in the series. The referees assigned to work Game 6 were Dick Bavetta, Bob Delaney, and Ted Bernhardt. As soon as the referees for the game were chosen, the rest of us knew immediately that there would be a Game 7. A prolonged series was good for the league, good for the networks, and good for the game. Oh, and one more thing: it was great for the big-market, star-studded Los Angeles Lakers.

In the pregame meeting prior to Game 6, the league office sent down word that certain calls — calls that would have benefited the Lakers — were being missed by the referees. This was the type of not-so-subtle information that I and other referees were left to interpret. After receiving the dispatch, Bavetta openly talked about the fact that the league wanted a Game 7.

"If we give the benefit of the calls to the team that's down in the series, nobody's going to complain. The series will be even at three apiece, and then the better team can win Game 7," Bavetta stated.

It's easy to understand the context of when this occurred. The NBA's image was in the toilet, with the league trying to find the next Michael Jordan. The Lakers looked like they were the team of the future; Kobe Bryant, a hot young player with some many weapons and of course Shaq, the 21st Century's premier post player. Bigger and stronger than Wilt and Kareem.


Of course the tainted referee goes on to mention that this game was not the only one where the NBA wanted a different outcome. Also, it's not the only time the messenger, in an officials uniform, was Dick Bavetta.

Though in fairness to Bavetta, there were other officials painted as "company men" for the Association. Not to mention that certain refs had relationships with coaches and vendettas against certain players and teams.

Again it's understood that the game was in a transition from Jordan to the Holy Trinity of LeBron/Wade/Kobe focus it has now. The league was battling an image of a streetball mentality where players were brawling on the court, smoking grass off the court and creating a very rough urban appearance the league could not market to networks TV exects and key demographic households.

Though at the same time, if the NBA was so worried about it's image why force match ups? Would a Finals match up that featured the Kings really have damaged the ratings?

The Kings were the one seed with Divac, Bibby, Christie and Webber hitting their prime. Granted the endorsements were in favor of Kobe (Adidas) and Shaq (everything in the world). A Kings win could have bumped up their exposure value for not only more potential endorsements and publicity for a new NBA market but also create a long lasting rivalry with the Lakers, a true California rival.

For the NBA this revelation paints a picture that is comparable to the Black Sox Scandal on 1919. The fact that league officials and referees were in cooperation to manipulate and rig the outcome of games and series to promote larger and more profitable markets is not only damning to the fans who pay for these games but to the owners of the teams. Essentially the NBA hates every market except for L.A., New York, Boston, Chicago and Dallas. Those are some of your largest markets out there. Milwaukee, Orlando, Portland, Toronto can just go away. No one needs them.

The NBA threatened the lawsuit on the publishers saying that the aforementioned statements by Donaghy are untrue. Now the league has hired someone to look into the officiating problems, just as the refs are ending their holdout. If the NBA wants to avoid a Selig-Steroids debate that could easily linger with the league for seasons, they might as well admit it.

That brings up the point of whether everything he said is true. If the NBA had never had those problems then they could easily assassinate Donaghy's character, claiming that he was just a former employee with an beef. Though with all the incidents and all the names dropped, say what you will about Donaghy's character because it looks like he is speaking the truth.

I remember one of my classes in college, a sports management class. The question was, "What elements comprise of a game?" One of them is an undetermined outcome. If the NBA has a policy like they do for the 2002 Western Conference Finals, then is it really a game?

Deadspin Link
ROC SPORTS NET 2009

Bud should ban post-season champaigne celebrations

I'm a big fan of tradition in sports. Whether it be growing beards for the playoffs, throwing back the opposition's home run ball or having the Lions and Cowboys play on Thanksgiving, i like it. But there are some traditions that become, say, outdated. So, when the Los Angeles Angles of Anaheim poured champaigne over Nick Adenhart's jersey to celebrate a playoff birth, they weren't being ironic or mocking, they were covering their teammate in champagne just like they would if he was still there, as is the tradition. Instead of questioning the Angles players (as many have done), it's the champagne celebration we should take a harder look at.

Seems there has always been a relationship between alcohol and professional sports. Beer and a hot dog, right. But, as we take a closer look at the connection, it goes far beyond beer and a dog. The tradition of celebrating with champagne pushes the message that celebrations have to include alcohol. When you win, you drink. Sure, Adenhart's family was OK with the celebration. Sure, players gave money to Mothers Against Drunk Driving, but when it came down to it, they kept the path of the status quo. You know, Donte Stallworth was celebrating his new contract the night he hit and killed Mario Reyes.

We shouldn't only point the finger at the Angles. After clinching, after the first and second playoff rounds and after the World Series, whoever wins will celebrate with champaigne. If Bud Selig is paying attention to anything other than weather radar this post-season, he will ban alcohol during post-game celebrations. If not for any other reason, Bud should place the ban out of respect for Adenhart's family or for Cardinal Josh Hancock, who was killed in a drunk driving accident in 2007. Or, how about because the alcohol problem in professional sports has become (or probably always was, right Mickey?) epidemic.

The problem with alcohol and professional sports isn't just with players, it's with fans and advertisers too. I'm sure tailgating is a blast, but thousands getting sloshed before a game does little for fan safety, especially after the game. Meger attempts to limit drunkeness like stopping the sale of alcohol after the third quarter are pointless if fans have been drinking since 9 a.m. And, you are telling me the NFL couldn't restrict the content of alcohol commercials? Maybe show ads that don't feature Average Joe football fan getting lap dances from super models because he has a Coors Light in his hand?

Professional sports should, but realistically won't, reform it's policies when it comes to alcohol. Bud Selig could, but won't, set a precedent. As long as it's still $10 a beer and Coors pays $10 million to advertise, no one will.

Say it ain't so, Stan

A few weeks before the International League season began, I had the pleasure of meeting Rochester Red Wings manager Stan Cliburn. If you've met him, you know a few things: he's a baseball man. It's not just his religion, it's his ethnicity. Baseball isn't a second language, it's the only language. Stan might as well have been pulled straight from Bull Durham, minus the "one day at a time" speech, that's just not his style. Stan's style is honest, hard-working, old school.

Spending a few minutes with Stan, I couldn't help but think he could have been in the dugout in any era. Connie Mack, Sparky Anderson or Leo Durocher, you can easilly picture him managing in the 1890s or 1990s. What makes Stan a transcendent-type figure isn't just his baseball saavy, it's his ability to spin a great yarn (or in English, tell a story). Trust me, Stan tells the best.

Stan still has a tape of the radio broadcast of his first home run in the major leagues (one of only two he hit). But, as Stan told us, his motives for hanging onto the tape were more than just for the keepsake. Years later, the pitcher who gave up the bomb was working as a pitching coach for a club in the same league as Stan. When the two teams played, Stan played the tape over the stadium loud speaker. To which the pitching coach yelled, "Oh, shut that off."

If you are a baseball guy, you are a Stan Cliburn guy. If you are a baseball city, you are a Cliburn city. And Rochester is a Cliburn city. Though he has a Southern drawl like Dr. Phil and can be a crude as Larry the Cable Guy, Stan's blue collar attitude, honesty and effort to make a connection to fans made him the guy to root for in Rochester.

Unfortunately, we now have to talk past-tense about Cliburn in Rochester. After a sub-.500 finish, the Rochester Red Wings decided to let Stan go after four seasons as manager. It wasn't the below average finish that got Stan canned, it was a season full of behind the scenes drama stemming from the decision to demote Stan's twin brother Stu from Red Wings pitching coach to the same position at double-A affiliate New Britain.

"I must have rubbed somebody the wrong way," Stan said. Likely so, but off-field issues or not, the city of Rochester and the Red Wings organization was lucky to have Stan Cliburn at the helm.

What could have been for Serena

After columnist Jason Whitlock bashed Serena Williams's booty earlier this year, he endured a downpour of flack. Feminists acted as if he'd spit on Susan B. Anthony and fellow columnists kicked it into attack mode like Whitlock was an extra and they were Steven Segal. Yes, they were harsh on Whitlock, but it wasn't his backside bashing of Serena that was bothersome, it was that Whitlock misdiagnosed Serena's problem.

In his column, Whitlock said Serena could be the Tiger Woods or Michael Jordan of her sport. This is true, but what's holding her back isn't her bottom, it's her top. Get your mind out of the gutter, I mean her brain. Her attitude. The unwavering cockyness and arrogance that cost her the U.S. Open.


During Saturday's match against Kim Clijsters, Serena threw a temper tantrum that made John McEnroe look tame. It made Dennis Green's famous "they are who we thought they were" speech look somber. After being hit with a foul, Serena looked at the line judge and said, "If I could, I would take this ball and stuff it down your throat." Of course, her quote is minus the explatives. After she went wacky, Serena was immediately penalized a point for her tirade. The point turned out to be match point and Serena was eliminated.

Serena's insincere, public-relations-company-written, day-later response said it was the competition, the heat of passion that caused her to go bizerk. OK, I could see it if this was the first example of Serena actling like she's the prodigal princess of the court, but it isn't. Before the Italian Open, Serena pronounced herself No. 1 in the world, though Dinara Safina held that title. "We all know who the real No. 1 is," Serena said. "Quite frankly, I'm the best in the world."

Before we delve into the shear arrogance of her statement, we have to ask: would Tiger Woods say that? Would Tiger threaten to bash an official's brains in with a four iron? Can you picture Tiger leaning back in his chair with a sly smile saying "screw Vijay, screw Phil, I'm No. 1."

Serena's actions Saturday and her comments about Safina prove she respects no one. She doesn't respect the game, her competitors, it's officials or her fans. She could care less about young female athletes. She scoffs at those who work their entire lives toward the pinnacle moment of facing her like they are trash she must kick aside in order to maintain her super stardom. And when she loses, she couldn't have been outplayed, no no, just ask her. When the press inquired about who she feared most, she said "probably myself. I always beat myself."

Well, I can't help but agree with her. But she doesn't beat herself with unforced errors, she beats herself by acting like an over-privlidged little leaguer whose dad coaches the team. She beats herself by trying to be Meghan Fox and not Serena Williams. During the same press conference that she announced she was better than everyone, she also said she wanted to get into more off-court activities, though she is already into fashion and acting. Maybe that's where she belongs.

The sad part is that women's sports need a Tiger Woods. They need a hero who rises above all competition with grace. Women's sports need Serena Williams to show strength and humility instead of pompusness and self-importance. Especially young black female athletes. If Serena wasn't so busy designing jean skirts, she'd realize that she could introduce a new generation of young black girls to tennis the way Tiger Woods introduced black youth to golf.

One can only hope a fine and possible suspension opens Serena's eyes to the bigger picture. If so, she could see her relevance as an athlete can go far beyond winning a bunch of tournamants. But, at age 27, she's past the point of maturation and growing nearer to the the point of being surpassed. And when that day comes, when we are given time to reflect, we will look back and say "if only." If only Serena Williams could have gotten over herself, she could have been great.

Man not-so Genius QB move

If Cleveland Browns coach Eric Mangini's idea of living up to his nickname "Man-Genius" was trying to pull one over on the Vikings by playing Guess My Quarterback, then he might think Reggie Jackson was called "Mr. October" because Reg enjoyed the many changing colors of the leaves.

Trying to fool an NFL coaching staff by playing mind-warp with Brady Quinn and Derek Anderson is like trying to stump NASA with a sudoku puzzle. Sure, Childress may resemble George Castanza, but I can't exactly see him starting a fake charity, calling in a bomb threat, or pushing old ladies down in a panic over the QB switch-a-roo.

By the way Genius, Childress is so confidant in his game plan, he decided to share it with me: hand off to Adrain Peterson 30 times, blitz 20 and after the Vikings are up by 35 at half, rest the starters.

While in the process of playing David Copperfield with his starting QBs, Mangini must have fogotten that his team runs, catches and blocks like The Little Giants and is as tough on D as a soggy pizza box. If Adrian Peterson runs for 200-plus with 3 TDs, does it really matter who the opposing QB is?

Through trickery, Mangini must still be trying to impress his old boss Belichick. But Bill's moves make a little more sense: taping the other team, that was genius (and illegal, but you have to give him points for innovation.) Putting Brady on the injury list week after week, then taking him off when he was actually injured, OK I can see it. Even having Matt Cassel punt last season, very clever. You have to think Belichick is snickering under his hoodie at his former minion.

By the way, we aren't exactly talking about Young and Montana here, Genius. This pre-season, Anderson and Quinn made Couch and Holcomb look like Len Dawson and Bart Starr. The Browns aren't debating whether Koufax or Drysdale should start game one. Maybe, in the interest of getting Colt McCoy or Sam Bradford, Mangini should start third-stringer Brett Ratliff. Remember how Marlon Brando's character in On The Waterfront regretted taking dives? Well, taking dives might be the only way for the Browns to eventually become a contendaaa.

You have to feel for Brady Quinn. He gets drafted 10 spots lower than expected, has to sit and watch a nobody put together a Pro-Bowl season, then when finally he gets his shot, he's got Five-Hour-drops Edwards and a tight end as mentally stable as Britney Spears. Then he gets hurt. Now he's forced to battle for the prize of leading a team predicted to win two games led by a coach who seems to thinks he's a Jedi.... Maybe Quinn should have joined his Notre Dame pal Jeff Samardzija and played baseball.

'Roid Rumors Must Go

When we talk about major league candidates for performance enhanced cheating, we have pretty set criteria. We profile a cheater. We put on our George Mitchell hats, pull up stat sheets and start investigating, looking for a glitch, blip or bump in the numbers. Compare age to production. Compare rookie height and weight to current. And if we are really good, we eyeball hat size from our recliner. You can see, our investigations are thorough. And when finished, we work diligently to prove to everyone we know that so-and-so is “a user” or “on the list.”

Some easy examples of how our Woodward-and-Bernstein-like digging illustrate: Barry Bonds goes from hitting 34 home runs at age 34 to hitting 73 at 36. Roger Clemens had an earned run average of 4.60 at age 36, at age 42 it was 1.87. Red flag! The user begins to slip on production, then has a wild resurgence defying nature. Gotcha cheater.

That being said, there is a current ballplayer who fits the profile and should be - but isn’t being - vehemently accused of being a cheater. That player is Derek Jeter. Derek Sanderson Cheater. The Syringe Captain. What? I can’t accuse Derek Jeter of being a steroid user? Why not? Look at the numbers: age 35, batting average .334 home runs 17 slugging percentage .482 stolen bases 23. In 2009, his average is at it’s highest point since ‘06, home runs highest since ‘05, slugging highest since ‘06 and steals highest since ‘06.

For the Yankee lead-off juicer, pop outs are now home runs, ground outs are worm-burners and each steal leaves a trail of smoke on the base paths. Could this explosion by an elder be because of health? No. Could it be hard work, perseverance? No. Steroids, that’s it.

OK, accusing Derek Jeter of using steroids sounds completely ridiculous -and it is, but his 2009 performance doesn’t match a normal statistical curve. Funny thing is Albert Pujols’s, thus far, does. Yet every time Fat Al hits a home run, somebody whispers or tweets or blogs that Pujols is juicing. The chant continued in the last week’s Sports Illustrated where Pujols’s name was dropped in comparison to what Usain Bolt should expect as far as ‘roid questioning. The “Pujols on steroids” mantra keeps coming up no matter how far Albert goes to make clear he’s clean. He even said he’d give back every dime to St. Louis if he ever tested positive.

Pujols is 29-years old. Isn’t 29 about the prime of every pro-athlete’s career? So far, things are going according to nature, he’s hit 42 home runs and is batting .320. Career highs are 49 and .359 in those categories. With less than a month to go, Pujols is 31 home runs behind Bonds’ record. He’s 80 percentage points from .400 and a good 70-plus RBI from Hack Wilson. His numbers are human, the only thing that is super-human is his consistency.

But, perhaps the most consistent player ever Hank Aaron put up similar numbers averaging 37 home runs and 113 RBI per 162 games over 20-plus years. Hammering Hank suffered through constant racism, Pujols will always be barraged with ‘roid rumors.

We’ve gotten to the point where we’re condemning anyone and everyone for the actions of a few. It’s the sports equivalent of putting the Japanese in internment camps or dubbing every Middle Eastern person a terrorist. Of course, he isn’t the only victim of accusation - Raul Ibanez was hit with rumors after a hot first half, but Pujols is on the wrong end of more digs than Osama Bin Laden.

At this point, Pujols is the victim of high school antics. He’s like the innocent cheerleader that all the other girls say sleeps around. Because there’s so much good to say about him (he even won the Roberto Clemente award) some seem to need that “yeah, but.” Yeah, I know she can do a triple back flip and stick the landing. I know she raises money for sick puppies, but, did you know she’s a slut?

I understand the hearts of baseball fans have been broken time and time again, Big Papi's news may have hurt the most (because regardless of those going "I knew it! I knew it! You didn't, shut up) and I get that it becomes a fool-me-once type of situation, but if anyone can heal the wounds, it's Albert Pujols. The man looks into the camera and says, "I respect the game too much to cheat." He doesn't smerk like A-rod. He doesn't scream like Bonds. He stares at us as if even the thought of cheating makes him physically ill. Hearing Pujols speak could make Joseph Stalin feel guilty for thinking anything negative.

The reality is that until any evidence surfaces, we must assume innocence because, well, what else can we do? Unfounded accusations get you as far in journalism as fantasy football does toward being a tailback. Thing is, even John Dowd can’t go into the clubhouse, trainers room or follow players home. We have the choice between marveling at Pujols the way people did at Aaron or being cynical. Call me naïve, but for now, I’m choosing a state of awe.

Nice guys finish last, huh Plax

Watching Plaxico Burress's ESPN interview was pretty tough, you know, I mean, you know what I'm sayin, you know? Sorry. He ended by saying (minus the you know's) "I'm human, I'm not an animal." True, and some are feeling the heart-string-tug, but when it comes to compassion Plax, I'm all out. Put it this way:

I'm not a bad person. I always put my cart back at the grocery store to make it easier on the workers. I don't park in handicap spots or fire lanes. If I find $20 on the ground, I look around for it's owner for a reasonable amount of time before pocketing it. And, if someone is coming toward my elevator, I hold it for them regardless of age, race, scent or gerth. You see, I'm not a bad person.

But, the other day I got a parking ticket. It was stupid of me, really. The meter clearly read "one hour parking" yet I tried to get away with two. Nailed! And because I broke the law, the fine was promptly paid and my debt to society erased. So, if I - a generally good guy - have to pay for breaking rules which maintain order, then why are so many people crying about Plaxico Burress getting two years in prison for carrying an illegal weapon?

My car blocked the parking space. Plax shot himself. Feeling bad about blocking the space isn't enough punishment and neither is Plex's flesh wound. I might have inconvienced someone, Plax might have killed someone. Sure the punishment seems harsh (that's why Tony Soprano lives in New Jersey) heck, I thought the $75 fine for the extra hour was like being hit with an anvil for tapping the glass at the pet store.

However, if there's a law that says I should get my brains bashed in for disturbing the fish, then maybe I won't bother them. Just like if New York City has notoriously tough gun laws, maybe I don't stuff one in my jeans before heading to da' club. Though I suppose that's touching on Burress stupidity, which stands out like a pair of zuba pants. How does anyone believe being a friendly-faced rock brain is a reason to receive a pardon?

Nobody pardoned Dante Stallworth and I'm sure he's swell. Stallworth's crime was without malice, too. All Dante wanted to do was get hammered, not hammer an innocent man with his vehicle. Drunk driving isn't that much different from bringing a loaded gun in public yet outcry for Stallworth's release is non-existant. Stallworth didn't get an exclusive ESPN interview.

If one of Vick's dogs bit him in the leg ending his season, would we say that was punishment enough? How about if Tonya Harding swung, missed and took out her own knee? Really, who else were Straw and Howe hurting other than themselves by blowing coke? I guess every pro-athlete should be pardoned as long as they are "good people" and only hurt themselves.

I'm per-Plaxed. Houston Chronicle columnist Jerome Solomon said he felt sorry for Plax. "I hear those of you that say, 'What if he had accidentally shot somebody else?' Well, we can't go on the what-ifs, only on what happened." Really? Aren't all laws based on what-ifs? If I drive 95 in a 30, there's a fair chance I don't kill anyone, but the law says driving that fast severely increases the chance I will. The law assumes the question: "what if someone is backing out or a child is chasing after a ball?" Just like carrying a loaded gun increases the chance of killing someone and presumably asks "what if it went off in the direction of a crowd?"

Solomon also said if Plax shot himself in Texas, we'd all be laughing not locking him up. No doubt, and if I hit golf balls on the moon, I'd outdrive Tiger Woods every time. Or better put, if I dropped my gum on the street in Japan, I'd be in the slammer for longer than Plax. Knowing this, I'd eat Mentos.

Plax is not an animal. He's a felon. You may think the law is stupid, you may think he's a good guy (though I've noticed no one has questioned Plax leaving his pregnant wife and son at home while he's clubbing) bottom line is he broke the law and there is no reason to demand his release or even feel sorry for anyone but his wife and son. Come see us again in two years, Plax.

Say It Ain't So Papi

The endless obsession with roids is back. A list of players testing positive for PED dropped David Ortiz’s name along with Manny Ramirez’s. Ramirez is coming back from a 50 game suspension so this call didn’t prompt the same outcry as Ortiz.

Looking at twitter feeds and facebook status updates, a lot of people, particularly in the Rochester area are in a joyous cheer for the announcement. The calls were filled with Pro-Yankee attitude:

“Manny and Papi, looks like someone has two tainted rings!!!”

“Ha, I knew it, how could Ortiz go from a nobody in Minn and then become a power hitter in Boston”

Home bias aside, this is just a sad sight for baseball. This game is at its peak as each season this century we have been treated to a wide open game, free of dynasties and boring games. Many young big names are entering The Show and new heroes are developing. The mere mention of Mark Buehrle’s perfect game showcases that. Two teams (Boston and Chicago) breaking painful championship droughts have reenergized the greatest game. But we see this world where people are excited to see new big names be dropped as “dopers”.

It’s sad because children watch baseball games, collect baseball cards and ask parents for jerseys of their heroes. Then to have these heroes torn down, ironically as many youngsters grew up admiring players such as Pete Rose and Mickey Mantle, two men who were far from perfect humans.

One of the greatest things about covering a college summer baseball team is the ability to get inside the game and ask current players, some with the possibility to be drafted their thoughts.

Yesterday as the Geneva Red Wings were looking for win to clinch a playoff spot, I asked players about the steroid issue and Ortiz’s dilemma.

One player, an infielder, said that the need to drop big names in the game is horrible. “It’s so hard to understand the situation a player is in,” said the infielder. “Some of these guys come from Puerto Rico with nothing and the ability to make a million dollars here and send it home. A million in these countries is double its worth here.”

Even the use of steroids is not out of the question if you think of it hypothetically. If you were a minor leaguer and you just needed a little push and one of it was steroids, would you take it? The responses are amazing.

A relief pitcher said, “If I was losing something on my fastball or I needed something for my change, I would take it if I didn’t get caught.”

“You can take the stuff but you still have to hit the ball!” Barked one outfielder, who has hit some homers this season.

That’s one thing overlooked by most people. Baseball is an extremely hard game to be great at. The game has not seen a .400 hitter in over sixty years. The best hitters hover around a .300 average lifetime. It’s great to have a 20 game hitting streak, it’s amazing at 30 games and anything beyond that is unreal. Home run hitters have only hit the dinger in 8 straight games and that’s a very lucky few.

A first baseman for the Red Wings takes cuts off a tee, and then takes batting practice after games and every day at 10:00 in the morning. He’s only had thirty at bats and no home runs. Not to sell this player short but even if he took steroids, would he still be able to hit bombs without the extra cuts he takes everyday?

When you talk to some journalists, especially sports writers, one thing to ask them is, “did you play baseball growing up?” After they answer that question yes or no, and if they say yes, ask them, “how far did you get?” Chances are most of them never played past little league.

See some sports writers become amazing at writing and with words because they were awful athletes growing up. They either had no skill, no ambition to practice for hours on end or were not well liked. As soon as they were done with the game, they develop this, “if I can’t play then I’ll write and write MY WAY! If you have a problem with that tough!” I knew guys like this in college. These guys are always biting and short on players’ reasons for failure in their articles and columns.

That’s when there is a new confession from Jose Canseco or the Mitchell Report (the biggest waste of time and tax payer money) comes out these writers are dying to get their two cents. These guys take their failure as a child and poor relations with someone and make it personal like sharks in the water. They smell blood so they know its dinnertime.

As a fan of baseball, that’s the only bias I will give, it pains me to see this desire to find out who is on steroids. The public wants to know so badly. They feel they “need” to know, like it’s a fourth estate issue. Professional baseball players are in the business of the game. The more home runs they hit or the more wins they tally the more money they are paid. It’s simple as that.

I wanted to be a sports journalist for one reason, I love the game. I love them all, no matter what the sport. One of man’s greatest achievements was the four minute mile. The human body is an amazing thing and its ability to throw 100 MPH or leap up a ten foot wall or steal 100 bases is a thing of beauty. We need to move past the steroids. It’s something the league has dealt with. These players were using it before it was banned. Let bygones be bygones and let Ortiz, Manny, Barry, Roger and A-Rod go.


ROC SPORTS NET 2009