Watching Major League Baseball April 15, 2009, you never would have known Larry Doby existed. April 15 is Jackie Robinson day. It isn't Larry Doby day, Roy Campanella day, Roberto Clemente day or Josh Gibson day. It's Jackie Robinson day.
Every April 15, Major League players and coaches all wear No. 42 in honor of Robinson. The problem is that in celebrating Jackie Robinson day, a battery of trailblazers get left in the former-Dodger's dust.
The Cleveland Indians sent Larry Doby to bat July 5, 1947, less than four months after Robinson debuted. It was the first time a black player took the field in an American League game. Doby stepped to the plate 6301 more times in his next 12 seasons as a Major Leaguer. He was elected to the all-star team seven times, won a World Series in 1948 and led the league in home runs twice.
Doby also served in the U.S. Military, spending two years in the Navy.
But, like Buzz Aldrin's moon landing, nobody seems to care who was second. Major League Baseball seems to think Jackie Robinson was the only black player who was called "nigger" or received death threats. The truth is, Larry Doby was spit on when he slid into second base. He was forced to sleep in a separate hotel from his teammates. And just like Robinson, he didn't fight back, he just played baseball.
Those who have visited baseball's Hall of Fame can view racist and life-threatening fan letters to Hank Aaron from when Aaron was approaching Babe Ruth's home run record.
Before debuting in 1954 with the Atlanta Braves, Aaron played in the Negro Leagues to get noticed. He spent '52 and '53 with the Braves minor league club the Jacksonville Tars. In Florida, Jim Crow laws still existed, forcing Aaron to be segregated from his teammates and make his own food and lodging arrangements.
Aaron's father once said, "When Henry came up, I heard fans yell, 'Hit that nigger. Hit that nigger.' Henry hit the ball up against the clock. The next time he came up, they said 'Walk him, walk him."
Jackie Robinson day in Major League Baseball doesn't just ignore Doby, Aaron and other early black big-leaguers like three-time MVP Roy Campanella, it ignores the other races that make up MLB. A 2005 report by the University of Central Florida said 8.5 percent of MLB players are black, 28.7 percent are Latino and 2.5 percent are Asian.
Why isn't No. 21 retired? Roberto Clemente was the first Latin player elected into the Hall of Fame. He is a two-time World Series champion, 12-time Gold-Glove right fielder and member of the 3,000 hit club. And more importantly, Clemente was an incredible human being.
The Pirates star was killed in a plane accident while en route to deliver aid to earthquake victims in Nicaragua. In a recent interview, Clemente's son perfectly described his father's impact. "My father was the 87th Latino to be in the major leagues, but he was the first one to be able to speak up and become an activist, not only in baseball, but in society."
Here's another suggestion: How about a day to comemorate the players who were never given the chance to play Major League Baseball. A Josh Gibson day. Every player could wear a Negro League jersey.
With the emergence of Asian players, maybe MLB should have a Masanori Murakami day. Murakami was the first Japanese player. The left hander struck out 100 Major League batters between 1964-65.
MLB could have 162 "days" to celebrate all the players who have shaped baseball. What I'd really like to see next April 15 is players wearing the jersey name and number of the player who influenced them most. Before the game, there could be a ceremony where each player explains to the crowd why they chose their jersey-for-a-day.
This way, Jackie would get mentioned -Yankees second baseman Robinson Cano was named after Jackie and wears No. 24 because he can't wear 42. And at the same time, appropriate tribute could be given to those like Doby and Clemente.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Adenhart's death a lesson to athletes
I recognized the feeling.
Watching John Lackey and Tori Hunter stand on the pitchers mound at Angel Stadium in Los Angeles, each holding a shoulder of Nick Adenhart's No. 34 jersey, I remembered how it felt April 29, 2007, the day St. Louis Cardinal pitcher Josh Hancock died.
Everything looked eerily familiar. The patch on the shoulder of each player, the memorial outside the stadium and 25 hats over hearts.
Once again, I felt the confusion. The sinking feeling in my gut that surely will take weeks to leave. The hope that I won't have to feel this way again.
Hancock died after driving into a utility truck while driving drunk. Adenhart was killed by a drunk driver last Thursday night after his first Major League start.
In rehashing Hancock's death, I thought about Commissioner Bud Selig's immediate comments: "He was a fine young pitcher who played an important role in last year's world championship team."
What's interesting - and maddening - about Selig's statement is that he only mentions Hancock as a player, not a person. He finds a way to plug the league's championship, and does not bring up alcohol's role in the accident or in Major League Baseball.
Adenhart's death was caused by a drunk driver, but since the driver wasn't a star left fielder, the issue of professional athletes drinking and driving remains in the shadows.
After Hancock's death, 14 teams banned alcohol in the clubhouse. A nice gesture, but pretty transparent. The move was a pre-emptive one to say "look, it's not our fault." The book Moneyball more accurately paints the portrait. The book sites the story of Oakland A's owner Billy Beane, who when discussing drafting a player who is anti-drinking says that the player should "have another career in mind."
Watching John Lackey and Tori Hunter stand on the pitchers mound at Angel Stadium in Los Angeles, each holding a shoulder of Nick Adenhart's No. 34 jersey, I remembered how it felt April 29, 2007, the day St. Louis Cardinal pitcher Josh Hancock died.
Everything looked eerily familiar. The patch on the shoulder of each player, the memorial outside the stadium and 25 hats over hearts.
Once again, I felt the confusion. The sinking feeling in my gut that surely will take weeks to leave. The hope that I won't have to feel this way again.
Hancock died after driving into a utility truck while driving drunk. Adenhart was killed by a drunk driver last Thursday night after his first Major League start.
In rehashing Hancock's death, I thought about Commissioner Bud Selig's immediate comments: "He was a fine young pitcher who played an important role in last year's world championship team."
What's interesting - and maddening - about Selig's statement is that he only mentions Hancock as a player, not a person. He finds a way to plug the league's championship, and does not bring up alcohol's role in the accident or in Major League Baseball.
Adenhart's death was caused by a drunk driver, but since the driver wasn't a star left fielder, the issue of professional athletes drinking and driving remains in the shadows.
After Hancock's death, 14 teams banned alcohol in the clubhouse. A nice gesture, but pretty transparent. The move was a pre-emptive one to say "look, it's not our fault." The book Moneyball more accurately paints the portrait. The book sites the story of Oakland A's owner Billy Beane, who when discussing drafting a player who is anti-drinking says that the player should "have another career in mind."
What Billy Beane and Bud Selig don't seem to have in mind is alcohol awareness programs for players. There is some irony in the fact that the guy who helps you find your seat has more training on alcohol than the guy whose jersey you are wearing. In 2003, the staffs of 28 Major League teams attended alcohol management training. Thus far, Google search for "alcohol awareness for MLB players" comes up empty.
Just before taking his place in center field Friday night, Tori Hunter jogged out to touch the newly painted picture of Adenhart on the center field wall. Hunter said before the game that his perspective on life has been changed by the loss. Watching Hunter, I couldn't help but think, "is it really?" Will Adenhart's death prevent a professional athlete from drinking and driving? Will any player say to himself, "I could have been Andrew Gall0 (the drunk driver who hit Adenhart's vehicle)?"
During my afternoon commute to work, my mind was fixed on Adenhart's story. Adenhart was 22-years old, I am 22. I kept thinking, "What if that was me?" Over and over. Every stop sign, I looked twice. Every green light, the same.
Questions came pouring into my mind. After twisting through all the questions that usually surround death, the questions took a new form. They began to circle around a theme : If it had been an athlete killing a civilian, would we know his name the way we now know Nick's?
The coverage of two contrasting stories, that of Adenhart and of Cleveland Browns wide receiver Donte Stallworth would suggest they wouldn't. In mid-March, Stallworth was driving drunk when he struck and killed a pedestrian. I heard about it on ESPN, saw the headline in the newspaper, but until today, did not know the man's name who Stallworth had killed.
It was 59-year old Mario Reyes. Why didn't I know that? Because instead of Reyes's picture on the front page, it was Stallworth's. Same goes for ESPN. We didn't see his family or friends crying the way we did Adenhart's. Professional athletes never see the consequences. They never see Mario Reyes's family's press conference. They never see the pain they can potentially cause when driving drunk.
I can only hope that Nick's death will open eyes. That losing one of their own will inspire a multi-millionaire athlete to call a taxi. That seeing Scott Boras - a man most often thought of somewhere in between a snake and Johnny Cochran - break down in tears will cause someone to get a designated driver.
I have to admit, Adenhart's death struck me for another reason. About seven years ago, my father was hit by a drunk driver. The driver swerved into my father's lane, causing him to slam his car into a guard rail, avoiding major contact. This week reminded me of how close I was to not having my dad.
I now realize I was given a glimse that night of how Mario Reyes's and Nick Adenhart's families must feel. This was the man who took me to Skydome for my first Major League game, the man that taught me how to throw a pitch, how to write a column and how to be a man. And he was that close to being gone because of drunk driving.
When Scott Boras broke down, I cried. I cried because Nick Adenhart will never throw another pitch. I cried because Mario Reyes's family had to cry. I cried because drinking and driving came so close to taking my father. And I cried because I know I will cry again.
In 2006, there were more than 16,000 alcohol-related fatalities. In the 2009 drunk-driving statistical report, Nick Adenhart's name will be on the list. Life, as the game of baseball, will carry on. But maybe, because of this tragedy, athletes and fans will choose not to drink and drive.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
An Umpire's Story
Part of the allure of Major League Baseball is its mythology. A collection of myths and stories transformed through generations, which in turn ties them all together, making the game magical.
Everything from Babe Ruth's called shot to Josh Gibson's 500-foot bomb to Curt Schilling's bloody sock. Players and fans alike know stories of Shoeless Joe and Dizzy Dean like Christians know Cain and Abel.
There are hundreds of players and coaches who are forever part of this mythology. For umpires though, there is one ump who stands alone in the "larger than life" category: Bill Klem.
Klem, who umpired from 1905 to 1941, has a resume that rivals Babe Ruth and Ted Williams' stat sheets. He worked 18 World Series' (the most all-time, the next best has 10) he was the oldest umpire in history, behind the plate until age 67, and called balls and strikes for five n0-hitters.
The only thing outweighing his achievements is the never-ending mythology (as well as true stories) regarding Klem.
He is known for modernizing umpiring, creating the rule that umpires must stand in "the slot" between the catcher and batter to ensure a better view of the plate. He is also known for famous confrontations, including ejecting players or managers if they crossed a line drawn in the dirt called "the Rio Grande." Unsuprisingly, Klem is the all-time leader in ejections.
Klem was unendearingly referred to by players as "Catfish," which serves an accurate visual of his mug. He is once said to have thrown a player out of a game for drawing a fish in the infield. Like all great folklore, the drawn fish gets bigger each time the story is told.
Like those of Shoeless Joe or the Babe, it is impossible to determine which stories about Klem are embellished. It is best to just enjoy them.
The most famous sure-fire myth about Klem is that he invented hand signals for umpires. Klem's self-made myth even appears on his plaque in the Hall of Fame as well as on the Wikipedia page dedicated to him.
Everything from Babe Ruth's called shot to Josh Gibson's 500-foot bomb to Curt Schilling's bloody sock. Players and fans alike know stories of Shoeless Joe and Dizzy Dean like Christians know Cain and Abel.
There are hundreds of players and coaches who are forever part of this mythology. For umpires though, there is one ump who stands alone in the "larger than life" category: Bill Klem.
Klem, who umpired from 1905 to 1941, has a resume that rivals Babe Ruth and Ted Williams' stat sheets. He worked 18 World Series' (the most all-time, the next best has 10) he was the oldest umpire in history, behind the plate until age 67, and called balls and strikes for five n0-hitters.
The only thing outweighing his achievements is the never-ending mythology (as well as true stories) regarding Klem.
He is known for modernizing umpiring, creating the rule that umpires must stand in "the slot" between the catcher and batter to ensure a better view of the plate. He is also known for famous confrontations, including ejecting players or managers if they crossed a line drawn in the dirt called "the Rio Grande." Unsuprisingly, Klem is the all-time leader in ejections.
Klem was unendearingly referred to by players as "Catfish," which serves an accurate visual of his mug. He is once said to have thrown a player out of a game for drawing a fish in the infield. Like all great folklore, the drawn fish gets bigger each time the story is told.
Like those of Shoeless Joe or the Babe, it is impossible to determine which stories about Klem are embellished. It is best to just enjoy them.
The most famous sure-fire myth about Klem is that he invented hand signals for umpires. Klem's self-made myth even appears on his plaque in the Hall of Fame as well as on the Wikipedia page dedicated to him.
Many in the deaf community have pushed for the induction of the real inventor of signals, Dummy Hoy. Hoy, a deaf turn-of-the-century outfielder, used ball and strike signals with a third base coach as early as 1886.
Three years ago, this his long-argued controversy drew the interest of Rochester production company Crystal Pix director/producer Don Casper. Casper started researching Klem and Hoy and became enamored with the story.
A few weeks ago, Casper finished his docu-drama Signs of the Time, which chronicles the controversy and explores the character of Bill Klem.
Crystal Pix's "labor of love," as Casper calls it, explores Klem's role in turning umpiring into a profession. "Umpires were not treated very well back then," Casper said. "Bill Klem was instrumental in the way umpires are viewed now."
Signs of the Time infuses as well as explains Klem's immortality. Casper uses clips of his famous interview (the one where he claimed to have "invented" taking credit for inventing signs), but also features former American League umpire Jim Evans to explain Klem's impact on the modern game.
"We would create little dramatic scenes that play out, that give you a window into who they (Klem and Hoy) were," Casper said.
The picture, which is narrated by Oscar-winning actor Richard Dreyfus, also utilizes first-hand accounts from players who stood in front of -and were ejected by- Bill Klem. The who's-who list of guest speakers includes Hall of Famer Bob Feller, Bill Werber and Danny Litwhiler.
Earl Weaver, Brooks Robinson and Fred Lynn also offer input on Klem's long lasting effects on umpiring.
Watching this film, to a baseball geek, will be like American Graffiti is to a car guy. It transcends the beauty of the oral tradition of story telling in baseball through Bill Klem, while using the backdrop of the ball-and-strike signs controversy as a stage for Klem's story to be told.
Signs of the Time was featured at RIT's Deaf Film Festival and is likely to appear at more film festivals around the country. I have - and all baseball fans should - joined the mailing list at signsofthetimemovie.com to watch a trailor and find out when the film will be played.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Letter To My Bracket
Dear Bracket,
You've hurt me for the last time. I'm playing Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know" on my IPOD. I'm soooo over you.
You see, beloved Bracket, each March you have come to me with promises. You say that you'll make me rich, fill me with free pizza for a month or even buy me a new car. If I can only please you, it all can be mine.
But what you never mentioned was how impossible you are. I've done everything you ask: payed extra for ESPN U, alienated myself from friends and family and spent many brutal hours getting in shape (by studying North Dakota St.'s free throw percentage in close and late situations of course).
Look what you've turned me into! When Siena, the underdog from my home state, beat Ohio St., I should have been overjoyed, but as usual, you forced me into depression. I sat alone for hours mumbling, "he can't hit two three's, his percentage is too low, too low...too low."
You even made me secretive and backstabbing. The first step is admitting, so I'm coming clean: I was pushing for Missouri. It's true! I know Cornell is only hours away, but I had MU going deep...what do you want from me!
I even became delusional, believing for a minute that Fields' 70-footer could land and keep us together and happy, only to be disappointed agian. Because of you, Bracket, in my mind every whistle became the wrong call. FOUL! OUT OF BOUNDS! NO! FOUL!?!?! C'MON, REF!
Because of you, I got evicted, my car was impounded and am forced to write this letter on the back of a Domino's pizza box.
That was me then. But no more. I'm strong enough to walk away. I'll never fill you out again. I'll never spend nights awake worrying about you. I'm curing this twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome, today.
My theripist says I must learn from the past (I pay him $3,000 per-hour for that?). Remember Vermont beating Syracuse? Vermont, representing the beauty of an underdog, but there was Matt, sitting there screaming, with blood shot eyes and nubbed fingernails, for them to lose.
All that because I bandwagonned and took SU to make the sweet 16. I said after that game, "never again." But, the very next season, Texas A&M did it to me again. The tears of rage only smeared the Aggies name upon my crinkled sheet of misery.
You know, Bracket, infidelity has also been an issue. Remember 1999? Joe the Plumber (not the one you're thinking of), that's right, the guy who went to Weber St. that you had a crush on.
It didn't matter that North Carolina was a three and Weber St. was a 14 seed. It didn't matter that Joe watched as much college basketball as atheusts watch televangelists. You chose him over me. You knew I had NC going to the Final Four, but you didn't care. You have never cared about me...it feels so good to finally say it.
Imagine if I had watched these tournaments without you, Bracket. I could have celebrated the Gonzagas and George Masons of the tourney. I could revel in watching the teams who use 12 players, who all make smart passes, play defense and actually have a chance at graduating from college.
You've hurt me for the last time. I'm playing Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know" on my IPOD. I'm soooo over you.
You see, beloved Bracket, each March you have come to me with promises. You say that you'll make me rich, fill me with free pizza for a month or even buy me a new car. If I can only please you, it all can be mine.
But what you never mentioned was how impossible you are. I've done everything you ask: payed extra for ESPN U, alienated myself from friends and family and spent many brutal hours getting in shape (by studying North Dakota St.'s free throw percentage in close and late situations of course).
Look what you've turned me into! When Siena, the underdog from my home state, beat Ohio St., I should have been overjoyed, but as usual, you forced me into depression. I sat alone for hours mumbling, "he can't hit two three's, his percentage is too low, too low...too low."
You even made me secretive and backstabbing. The first step is admitting, so I'm coming clean: I was pushing for Missouri. It's true! I know Cornell is only hours away, but I had MU going deep...what do you want from me!
I even became delusional, believing for a minute that Fields' 70-footer could land and keep us together and happy, only to be disappointed agian. Because of you, Bracket, in my mind every whistle became the wrong call. FOUL! OUT OF BOUNDS! NO! FOUL!?!?! C'MON, REF!
Because of you, I got evicted, my car was impounded and am forced to write this letter on the back of a Domino's pizza box.
That was me then. But no more. I'm strong enough to walk away. I'll never fill you out again. I'll never spend nights awake worrying about you. I'm curing this twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome, today.
My theripist says I must learn from the past (I pay him $3,000 per-hour for that?). Remember Vermont beating Syracuse? Vermont, representing the beauty of an underdog, but there was Matt, sitting there screaming, with blood shot eyes and nubbed fingernails, for them to lose.
All that because I bandwagonned and took SU to make the sweet 16. I said after that game, "never again." But, the very next season, Texas A&M did it to me again. The tears of rage only smeared the Aggies name upon my crinkled sheet of misery.
You know, Bracket, infidelity has also been an issue. Remember 1999? Joe the Plumber (not the one you're thinking of), that's right, the guy who went to Weber St. that you had a crush on.
It didn't matter that North Carolina was a three and Weber St. was a 14 seed. It didn't matter that Joe watched as much college basketball as atheusts watch televangelists. You chose him over me. You knew I had NC going to the Final Four, but you didn't care. You have never cared about me...it feels so good to finally say it.
Imagine if I had watched these tournaments without you, Bracket. I could have celebrated the Gonzagas and George Masons of the tourney. I could revel in watching the teams who use 12 players, who all make smart passes, play defense and actually have a chance at graduating from college.
Next year, next year... I'm going to change. No more foolish pride.
So, please Fran McCaffery, please Steve Donahue, take our underdog New York mid-majors back and upset some giants. I will be on your side, cheering the loudest. Because no longer will you, my NCAA men's tournament bracket, ruin the greatest month in all of sports.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
The reality of College Basketball
Listening to the John DiTullio Show this morning and the truth was aired. DiTullio was interviewing Cornell's men's basketball coach Steve Donahue, talking about the teams tight first half against Memphis. However, the topic turned away from the game, rather to recruiting.
Recruiting is vital to a teams program, everybody knows that. It's the very reason teams like UCLA, Duke, UNC, even Syracuse survive in NCAA basketball. Donahue laid it all out for teams like Cornell, like Davidson, like George Mason. They have no chance of winning the NCAA title. No chance, for most of these teams, getting as far as you can, how deep in the tourney you can go is the goal. It's realistic, it's not an overly optimistic goal, but it's recruiting.
You're a blue chip recruit at a Rochester school. You play power forward/center, 6'9'', you dominate the glass, have a decent shot, you block shots, have great court vision. To top it off you are a B+/A student. Three schools from the area are hard on you. Canisius, Cornell and Syracuse.
Being rather smart and perceptive to your situation as a NCAA basketball recruit, you automatically throw out the material from Canisius. That school is not going to take you anywhere. When the hell have they been in tourney? Heck Niagara was in a few years ago courtesy of a last day win.
Then it comes to Cornell. Granted your a B+/A student, you're not an A+ student, because Cornell is a great institution. It is the easiest Ivy to get into but even at 24% acceptance rate it's a little tricky. But then again, maybe you think you have a future in the Association. Ivy Leagues hardly make a dent in the tournament where a lot of kids get discovered or lost. Guy like Jameer Nelson benefited from taking a small school deep in the tournament and having a high profile team all year.
Finally we get to Syracuse. Jimmy B shows up, the man has hundreds of wins. He got John Wallace, remember him. You probably played against his high school. You know they won the 2003 NCAA title. You are surrounded by Cuse fans. You've gone to the Dome, maybe played there. Many guys have gone from Cuse to the Association; Wallace, Rony Seikaly, Carmelo Anthony, Derrick Coleman, Billy Owens. You have a proven program, alumni who have succeeded to the next level, a great coach with a legacy of winning.
We would love to believe that any team could win, we want that Hoosiers story. While it is always possible, we need to always consider that sometimes the better team on paper will always win the biggest game.
ROC SPORTS NET 2009
Recruiting is vital to a teams program, everybody knows that. It's the very reason teams like UCLA, Duke, UNC, even Syracuse survive in NCAA basketball. Donahue laid it all out for teams like Cornell, like Davidson, like George Mason. They have no chance of winning the NCAA title. No chance, for most of these teams, getting as far as you can, how deep in the tourney you can go is the goal. It's realistic, it's not an overly optimistic goal, but it's recruiting.
You're a blue chip recruit at a Rochester school. You play power forward/center, 6'9'', you dominate the glass, have a decent shot, you block shots, have great court vision. To top it off you are a B+/A student. Three schools from the area are hard on you. Canisius, Cornell and Syracuse.
Being rather smart and perceptive to your situation as a NCAA basketball recruit, you automatically throw out the material from Canisius. That school is not going to take you anywhere. When the hell have they been in tourney? Heck Niagara was in a few years ago courtesy of a last day win.
Then it comes to Cornell. Granted your a B+/A student, you're not an A+ student, because Cornell is a great institution. It is the easiest Ivy to get into but even at 24% acceptance rate it's a little tricky. But then again, maybe you think you have a future in the Association. Ivy Leagues hardly make a dent in the tournament where a lot of kids get discovered or lost. Guy like Jameer Nelson benefited from taking a small school deep in the tournament and having a high profile team all year.
Finally we get to Syracuse. Jimmy B shows up, the man has hundreds of wins. He got John Wallace, remember him. You probably played against his high school. You know they won the 2003 NCAA title. You are surrounded by Cuse fans. You've gone to the Dome, maybe played there. Many guys have gone from Cuse to the Association; Wallace, Rony Seikaly, Carmelo Anthony, Derrick Coleman, Billy Owens. You have a proven program, alumni who have succeeded to the next level, a great coach with a legacy of winning.
We would love to believe that any team could win, we want that Hoosiers story. While it is always possible, we need to always consider that sometimes the better team on paper will always win the biggest game.
ROC SPORTS NET 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Thurman Thomas: Hall of Fame Passion
T'was January 27, 1991. Buffalo Bills running back Thurman Thomas's eyes are big. He and the rest of the free world know if Scott Norwood makes a 47-yard field goal, Thomas is the MVP of the Super Bowl.
It wasn't to be, but Thomas lead the Bills to three more Super Bowl appearances, won a league MVP and was a six-time All-Pro selection. He was elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 2007.
Today, Thomas's eyes are big again. No, the 42-year old isn't looking to make a comeback (though he still looks like he could) but the mere mention of football transforms Thurman into third-down-and-one-mode. His fists clinch, he rocks in his chair impatiently and his eyes....well, any Bills fan could tell you about those eyes.
At first, I didn't understand Thomas's latest venture: a part-ownership role with Indoor Football League team the Rochester Raiders. Why indoor football? Isn't that like Hemingway investing in coloring books? Why would Thomas, who is from Houston, Texas, want to hang around Rochester? Is he looking to lose money on purpose? Look at the AFL!
Thurman answers all my inquiries with two words: "it's football."
It wasn't to be, but Thomas lead the Bills to three more Super Bowl appearances, won a league MVP and was a six-time All-Pro selection. He was elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 2007.
Today, Thomas's eyes are big again. No, the 42-year old isn't looking to make a comeback (though he still looks like he could) but the mere mention of football transforms Thurman into third-down-and-one-mode. His fists clinch, he rocks in his chair impatiently and his eyes....well, any Bills fan could tell you about those eyes.
At first, I didn't understand Thomas's latest venture: a part-ownership role with Indoor Football League team the Rochester Raiders. Why indoor football? Isn't that like Hemingway investing in coloring books? Why would Thomas, who is from Houston, Texas, want to hang around Rochester? Is he looking to lose money on purpose? Look at the AFL!
Thurman answers all my inquiries with two words: "it's football."
Though the general idea of the interview was to talk indoor football, Thurman would rather talk Bills.
He has been vocal since moving back to Buffalo in 2007, even being quoted as saying he could barely stand to watch Buffalo play. But since his statement, the Bills made an unprecedented signing in Terrell Owens. Thurman, your thoughts? "I love it," he says. "They should go out and sign Tank Johnson and Pacman Jones too. Anything to get them going."
The way Thurman is talking, I think if I said "hike" he'd block me to the ground like a blitzing Bryan Cox. "Oh man, if Terrell had gotten in Kelly's face, Jim would have punched him right out!" Thurman says as if he was in the pre-game huddle.
If you have ever seen a pre-schooler squirm in church, you'd know how hard it is for Thurman to stay in his chair when the Bills are brought up. And with Thurman, they come up a lot. If you talked about politics, he'd talk Jack Kemp. If you talked about weather, he'd talk Miami Hurricanes (Kelly's alma mater). If you said NASA, he'd talk about James Lofton's break away speed.
Thomas attributes the Bills recent struggles to a lackluster locker room. "I walked in there (the locker room) and nobody was saying anything. When I was there, Darryl (Talley) would be up yelling getting everyone pumped."
About that indoor football Thurman.....OK, never mind, this is too much fun. Let's talk about Marshawn Lynch's off-field problems. "At first, I was like 'trade him,'" Thomas says. "But now I think they should give him another chance. He's still young."
Though his tone has transformed from excited to serious, his eyes stay big. "I was an only child," he says quietly. "My mom told me a long time ago, if you are going to hang out, hang out with the right people. I had friends who were always behind me."
Since he's been back in Western New York, Thomas has done some recruiting for his new team, bringing in players he has met at his training facility, "Thurman Thomas Sports Training." According to Thurman, around 80 percent of the Raiders talent is home-grown. "When you have that many players (from Western New York) it brings everybody together," he says.
Finally talking about the IFL, Thurman mentions the one thing that makes his fists clinch a little less tightly and his eyes a little less fierce: his son. "My son is so excited," he says. "He keeps asking me 'when does football start?' You know, he plays all sports and wears No. 34, too."
It is yet to be seen whether Thomas's investment will be valiant or tragic. But, it's obvious that there was more to Thurman's game than yards-per-carry, receptions or pancake blocks. It was his passion and intensity that carried the Bills in the 90's. If his new team, the Rochester Raiders, can adopt a fraction their new co-owner's qualities, they will be unstoppable.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
ESPN, Not Hiring
Wow! Not even out of college yet and, believe it or not, I've been offered my first job. Who knew, in this economy. Who would take a chance? If you're wondering, it's ESPN. Yep, the biggest sports casting network in the world, and they want me.
It's huge, I know. But, I'm having some reservations. You see, they gave me this 6,263 page handbook and there are a few troubling passages. Such as:
Page 358: "If a great game or individual performance takes place the previous night, on all morning shows, the player or game must be referred to as the 'greatest of all-time.' Always assume your audience is ignorant and knows as much about sports history as Madonna knows about chastity."
Hmm..now that I think about it, page 358 seems to take place a lot, especially on First Take. Just the other day, analyist Skip Bayless called the Netherlands win over the Dominican Republic the, "greatest upset in sports history."
So, I ask my interviewer, "Doesn't an upset have to have some kind of relevance as well as the underdog taking down the favorite?"
That game was an exhibition. By that standard, Virginia Tech no-hitting the USA team in softball last year would be the biggest ever. The USA women hadn't lost an exhibition in 12 years."
"NO!" The interviewer screams at me. "People don't remember that or care. We're trying to be outrageous and flashy, not accurate. It's about ratings here. If you don't get that straight, it won't work out between us."
"Isn't that kind of silly since it was only the second round of the Big East tourny and both teams were already guaranteed tournament bids? Aren't you insulting your audience to assume they don't remember Christian Laettner's shot in the '92 regional final to beat Kentucky? Or Houston losing to the ultimate Cinderella NC State on that famous last-second dunk?"
His face is beat red. "GET OUT! You will NEVER work here. GET OUT!!!!" He screams over and over.
As two former Chicago Bears, now security guards, carry me away, I can't help but yell back over my shoulder. "How about Appalachian State for an upset? How about Villanova over Georgetown in the '85 NCAA basketball final for greatest college game?"
So, looks I'll never be allowed to work as an analyist for ESPN. I want to be a sports journalist, not a shock jock. Time magazine writers don't pen articles for National Enquirer.What sports journalism needs is a John Stewart. Stewart, of Comedy Central's The Daily Show has been on a crusade to call out news networks (most particularly CNBC) for bad reporting on the economy and on recent fraud scandals.
There isn't anyone big enough to challenge ESPN, but wouldn't it be nice to hear Bayless ripped for his "greatest of all-time," rants. If this were the case, ESPN analysts would have to think twice making ridiculous arbitrary statements.
While they are at it, the crusader could hold them to the fire for giving as much attention to small market teams like the Minnesota Twins as Jessica Alba would give John Goodman.
The fans deserve better from the authority on sports, unfortunately, as you could tell by my interview, ESPN just isn't interested.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
A Diversion of Some Sorts
This morning I was listening to the radio and I heard a new commercial for the Rochester Red Wings. The spot began with a very patriotic sound of music and a voice over talking about how in the 1930's and 1940's baseball was America's game. Now with our current economic crisis, the spot urged people to go to baseball games as a diversion. Two different times, but it is still the same message - go to a baseball game.
It got me to thinking. A baseball game is what we need. I'm not saying turning on the TV and watching the YES Network is the answer but actually going out to a baseball game. You leave your home where some of us feel the stress, paying bills, talking to loved ones about the pressure of a down economy and go out to the ballpark. Get some air into your lungs. Get lost in the joy of watching baseball this leisurely game where time is not a vital factor.
Look at the 1930's and 1940's, America was hurting. The roaring 20's brought baseball to the forefront of American living. But just as soon as it was going well, we run into The Great Depression and World War II. Let's not forget that FDR demanded that games be played to boost morale and the people still went out. People bought tickets even though they may have lost their job or had a loved one over seas. Hell the troops enjoyed it via Armed Forces Radio.
The games may not be a matter of life or death but the three-four hours outside of the home, the office, outside of a stressful world is worth spending six dollars on a Red Wings ticket. I love going out to a game, which is usually twenty times a year and it's the best medicine for a tough time looking for work or thinking about my financial situation. It's baseball, it's game is relaxing and fun at the same time. So folks, let's help out our local economy and let's support an American made product of minor league baseball.
ROC SPORTS NET 2009
It got me to thinking. A baseball game is what we need. I'm not saying turning on the TV and watching the YES Network is the answer but actually going out to a baseball game. You leave your home where some of us feel the stress, paying bills, talking to loved ones about the pressure of a down economy and go out to the ballpark. Get some air into your lungs. Get lost in the joy of watching baseball this leisurely game where time is not a vital factor.
Look at the 1930's and 1940's, America was hurting. The roaring 20's brought baseball to the forefront of American living. But just as soon as it was going well, we run into The Great Depression and World War II. Let's not forget that FDR demanded that games be played to boost morale and the people still went out. People bought tickets even though they may have lost their job or had a loved one over seas. Hell the troops enjoyed it via Armed Forces Radio.
The games may not be a matter of life or death but the three-four hours outside of the home, the office, outside of a stressful world is worth spending six dollars on a Red Wings ticket. I love going out to a game, which is usually twenty times a year and it's the best medicine for a tough time looking for work or thinking about my financial situation. It's baseball, it's game is relaxing and fun at the same time. So folks, let's help out our local economy and let's support an American made product of minor league baseball.
ROC SPORTS NET 2009
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