That Tour de France Thing...

Hey, it’s that time of year again…

Yeah, you say, the slowest time of the sports calendar… since the Texas Rangers’ Josh Hamilton, pretty much, carried us through the Professional Baseball Mid-Week Popularity Contest and Baseball Game with his performance ((dare we say- “Ruthian” performance?)) in the Bronx. And now we have to kill time until college football teams are allowed to practice…

Nah…not that…

The Tour de France…

What???!!! Isn’t that the bike race where Lance Armstrong had Sheryl Crow wave and wish him good luck before he was seen with the Olsen twins and Kate Hudson???

Well, yes, it was… But he doesn’t race in it anymore…

He’s busy being seen with the Olsen twins and Kate Hudson these days, remember…?

Hey, they’re all clean riders now… or at least they say they are clean…

We’re supposed to believe in that concept, right…?

It’s Not About The Bike…

But, apparently, and to no one’s surprise at OSG HQ an entire team has exited the proceedings after one of their riders came up on the plus side of an International Cycling Union-mandated testing procedure after the 12^th stage of this year’s Tour.

I know what you’re saying… they’ve already gone 12 stages this year…?

Riccardo Ricco had won two stages, and the A-sample of his test had what was referred to as a “new generation EPO” in it. Two marginal riders had been bumped off with positive tests earlier in the race- one of them, Moises Duenas Nevado, was still being questioned by authorities when Ricco was being led away in handcuffs. Ricco’s team, Saunier-Duval, decided enough was enough and pulled out as a group.

You realize that this is the third year in a row that something like this has happened…? And some of the riders are talking out of both sides of their mouth when they see their peers checking in to the French equivalent of the Po-Po.

Australian Cadel Evans said that “that the sport is being cleaned up in serious, fair and transparent way. Our sport is being crucified for doing the right thing.”

Understand, simply, that if you guys didn’t keep thinking that you could win in one fashion- enhanced- that the rest of us wouldn’t laugh at you and your too-tight tights, your six-hour rides, your aerodynamically efficient helmets, your Schwinns-turned-into-rockets, and your sport in general.

Simple, really… isn’t it...?

You don’t cheat. You play fair. You take your tests. You pass your tests. You win.

See Jim bike. Bike Jim bike.

See Jim cheat with a needle in his ass. Cheat Jim cheat.

See Jim suspended by his sport

See viewership go away.

Go viewers go.

"It's just amazing. It's irresponsible," British cyclist David Millar said. "This guy does not have any love or care for the sport."

You think…? And fans are leaving in numbers as well… or at least they should…

I’m half-tempted to say that either all of you should be allowed to cheat, or none of you should be allowed to cheat. The UCI should make up their mind once and for all. Let all of their hearts explode on the French countryside in some reckless, over-speeding, Autobahn induced excuse of a peloton.

Or shut it all down…

dot…dot…dot…

Ricco had been under some watchful, and appropriately-raised, eyebrows ever since he admitted that he’s had high hematocrit levels “ever since he was a child.” For those who don’t have PhD’s in hematology ((that’s English for the “study of all things bloody…” Got that one…?)), hematocrit levels are the indicators for red blood cell count levels inside the body. High hematocrit levels make people suspicious of EPO use, and you can circumstantially add one and one to come up with EPO use.

You just can’t connect those dots outright. The UCI did, anyway.

All you have to do is check other things, like hemoglobin levels, for back-up.

The two cycling teams based in the US, Garmin-Chipotle and Columbia, independently test their riders- separate from the UCI or Tour testing procedures. They are making pledges to cycling fans they will ride clean or the rider busted is out of a job.

I think it’s too late to bring interest into this country, even with such a noble thought. Ricco is 24 years old. If younger cyclists think they can skirt the system with new, designer drugs they will think of themselves as “bulletproof” until further notice.

Irony of ironies… after Ricco’s win in the 9^th stage, he said:

"I hope soon that everybody will stop speaking about that."

Maybe later…

Play it safe, everyone… I’ll talk to you soon…

Tamper Tamper??? Or "Can You Hear Me Now?"

This really should come as no surprise to anyone to follows life inside "The Shield" or the Brett Favre saga over the last few days. But it seems that the Green Bay Packers are mad as hell and they're not going to take it anymore...

Our friends at foxsports.com report that the Packers are bent at the Minnesota Vikings ((big shock there)) because of conversations Favre has had with Vikes Offensive Coordinator Darrell Bevell. Apparently, Favre and Bevell talked to one another in the off-season.

The hook- Bevell was Favre's QB Coach from 2003-2005, and the offense currently run in Minnesota is the closest thing to the "West Coast" Offense that Brett is comfortable running from behind center.

Hmmmmm....

Mike Sherman retools his offense to fit Aaron Rodgers.

Brett Favre goes to an old boss to talk shop...allegedly...The Vikings deny this, of course...

Hmmmmm....

((Insert black helicopter noise here))

If it's proven that conversations took place, the Vikes could lose a draft pick or draft picks-plural... and, maybe, some caish for good measure...

And, apparently, "Bus" Cook, Favre's agent is telling folks that Brett is laying low on the whole idea of filing for reinstatement.

The Green Bay Press-Gazette article by Pete Dougherty is hyah

Jay Glazer's scoop, if you missed it the first time, is hyah

UPDATE: 17 July

According to Mike Florio at Profootballtalk.com, the Packers may have this whole phone conversation-thing traced to one place.

Ahem... quote

"...it has been reported that the Packers believe that phone records will reveal that Favre has had multiple conversations with Vikings offensive coordinator Darrell Bevell. But we’re hearing that the Packers might already have the phone records. Since the Packers wouldn’t have had access to the phone records of Bevell or any other Vikings employee, the logical conclusion is that Favre was using a cell phone that has been bought and paid for by the Packers — and that the Packers have full access to the documents reflecting all calls made and received."

Another name on the phone records, according to PFT, could be that of a phone allegedly linked to Vikings Head Coach Brad Childress.

If that's the case... well, then... um... Oops!

Preds Boots Was Made For Moving

An investigation by the Tennessean newspaper, and authored by Brad Schrade , unearths some information that a lot of us here at OSG HQ had suspected for a long time. Had William "Boots" Del Biaggio ((pictured- thanks tennessean.com)) had his way he would have moved the Nashville Predators NHL franchise to the Sprint Center in Kansas City to be their primary tenant.

Del Biaggio had tried to become majority shareholder in the franchise, but could only swing a one-third interest in the current ownership structure because of financing difficulties. Those difficulties have led to him being under investigation by the Securities and Exchange Commission to the tune of... oh, hell... a lot of millions of dollars.

The Tennessean obtained a confidential document where Del Biaggio explained the Preds had, what he called, "portability value." Any investor that wished to join Del Biaggio and his Forecheck Holdings group could, in his view, be on the front lines for a part in moving the franchise to any other locale. If after the 2009-10 season, the franchise did not average 14,000 in attendance or had lost $20-million, Forecheck's view was that the other partners would cede control.

In the confidential document obtained by the Tennessean, the market of Kansas City had "already made a very compelling offer" for the Predators.

The team's lead owner, David Freeman, has already told the Mayor of Nashville, Karl Dean, that he was aware of the plan and had a certain "distrust of his (Del Biaggio's) motives." Freeman also asserts that the Preds are not in danger as a franchise in Nashville.

If that's the case, we ask, then who has taken care of the outstanding one-third of the shares that are needed for a full ownership group and investment capital for same. There will be a match race for the lowest payroll in the National Hockey League this season between the Preds and the Atlanta Thrashers. But, at least, NHL Commssioner Gary Bettman gave a basement figure of $40-million for that so they couldn't under-spend each other.

Enjoy... apparently Del Biaggio does... or did...

David Climer's editorial from The Tennessean on the situation is hyah

--Jon Nelson

Gators Sign New TV Deal/Raycom-SEC Relationship On Life Support

Reading between the lines in an article published Tuesday in the Orlando Business Journal, it looks like the new television contract with the Southeastern Conference will have some new dance partners.

Ahem... quote...

"The SEC is set to announce its new television contracts in August, industry sources say. By all accounts, CBS will retain the broadcast portion and ESPN will retain the cable portion, with ESPNU and ESPN360 also getting rights that were previously reserved for syndication partners."

Translation- looks like the 20-year relationship with Raycom may be a thing of the past. This also sounds a lot like the deal the National Hockey League signed with SportsChannel America way back when. The network waved a lot of money at the league at the dinner table and signed their viewership away. ESPNU is currently listed as having a reach of 20 million households. Their parent network, on the other hand, clocks in at 96-million households.

This comes on the heels of the University of Florida signing a new 10-year, $100-million deal with Sun Sports.

According to OSG sources close to the situation these two acts, probably, put any talk of a proposed SEC TV Network to bed. But, if the SEC still wishes to proceed with their master plan of controlling all content, the deal between Sun and the University of Florida will be put in the garbage can.

Jeremy Fowler's article from the Orlando Sentinel is hyah

John Ourand and Michael Smith's piece from the Orlando Business Journal is hyah

--Jon Nelson

A Consistent Lack of Recollection

The House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform has concluded its 16-month investigation into the events surrounding the friendly-fire death of Pat Tillman ((pictured- thanks cbssports.com)). The purpose of the investigation, looking upward in the chain of command, was to determine who knew "what" when. The Committee cites what they refer to as a "near universal lack of recall" that contributed to a great deal of internal frustration in getting to any kind of ultimate decision.

The Committee interviewed then-Communications Director Dan Bartlett, Press Secretary Scott McClellan, and chief speech writer Michael Gerson. Not a one of them could recall when he learned about the Tillman incident, or what he did in response.

The most classic quote of the whole findings comes from then-Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld:

“I don’t recall when I was told and I don’t recall who told me.”

Pleasant, don't you think...?

I am asking the next question because I, legitimately, don't know- Was this topic discussed at all in McClellan's new book?

The 51-page document, which also goes into the handling of the Jessica Lynch saga can be found hyah

The Committee, clearly frustrated by the whole process, came up with new information, but no real solutions or recommendations. This is, regrettably, the last we'll hear of this on Capitol Hill.

The report is a challenging read, but a word of warning, the more you read the more you get frustrated yourself with the government and how they lack accountability in situations like this.

This is the bottom line- and the last paragraph:

"The pervasive lack of recollection and absence of specific information makes it impossible for the Committee to assign responsibility for the misinformation in Corporal Tillman’s and Private Lynch’s cases. It is clear, however, that the Defense Department did not meet its most basic obligations in sharing accurate information with the families and with the American public."

Well, duh...

Countdown with Keith Olbermann interviewed Mary Tillman, Pat's mother, on May 9, 2008. Here's the interview, courtesy MSNBC and YouTube.

--Jon Nelson

The Friday Rundown

((Just a few things to keep a raised eyebrow on as we head in to the weekend))

1) How will Tony Stewart and Stewart/Haas-CNC Racing co-exist in their first weekend together in Chicago...?

Your recap of the events in Joliet are hyah ((Thanks tonystewart.com))

Dave Moody's take is hyah

2) So... who to believe in the Elton Brand to the 76ers saga...?

Bill Plaschke's video blog pleas were left unanswered. Your evidence is hyah

Looks like Clipper fans may keep their eyes on Emeka Okafor and Josh Smith

3) College football fans will do anything these days to get an advantage on the competition- including making something up

Just don't make it look like THE DAILY OKLAHOMAN!!! But you did, didn't you??? ((thanks newsok.com))

4) A-Rod has stripper friends in Detroit now, too... Just ask Mojo in the Morning...

5) And could 25 be heading to the Diamondbacks??? Let's consult with Jack Magruder from the East Valley Tribune

Carry on... visit early and often... That is all...

--Jon Nelson

That's 21st Century Baseball...

I was fortunate enough to meet Ernie Harwell on his first farewell tour of major league baseball parks. Interleague play had created one of those harmonic convergences in the schedule where the Tigers got to come to Atlanta and play the Braves.

Of course, being in local television at the time I absolutely, positively, without remorse or hesitation had to have him for a feature interview. So how do you pull that off…? Simple, you call the Tigers. The Tigers tell me, however, that he has his own set of individuals that you go through. Their suggestion is to write a letter to the powers-that-are that are with him in Phoenix ((since they’re playing the Diamondbacks)), and see if it’ll happen that way.

I pen a page-long letter on stationery and fax it to the team hotel. Easy enough…

Fast forward a bit. I’m leaving a party at 1AM local time on a Saturday night. My cell phone rings. Since I didn’t have a holster for it I had slipped it down my golf shirt and let it rest on my belt in front of the t-shirt underneath. Somewhere in the fishing expedition, I key it. Whoever is on the other end of the line gets, about, ten seconds of rustling fabric before I get to pull it out from between.

“Mister Nelson?” the voice on the other end asks. I recognize the voice instantly.

“Mister Nelson is my father, Mister Harwell, but thank you for calling to talk to me.”

And that was how I got my interview with Ernie Harwell. After his time reminiscing with Atlanta Journal-Constitution columnist Furman Bisher- whom I still refer to as “Mister Bisher”- I barely touched the surface in an 18-minute history lesson. To this day, it is one of the defining moments in my career.

Do I still have the tape…?

You bet your ass I do. The feature story won Brother Phil and me a regional award.

That’s Baseball…

Harwell gave a homily to the sport that he has felt blessed enough to be a part of when he was inducted in to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 1981- when he was a sprightly 63 years young. Harwell had initially written it in 1955. Brother Wilkie’s ode to Tiger Stadium sent me on this path to see if what Harwell’s heart had said to him at the time still holds water.

My apologies ahead of time as I shake my head over what the sport has become through my own pessimistic ((or is it realistic…?) prism for viewing.

“Baseball is the President tossing out the first ball of the season and a scrubby schoolboy playing catch with his dad on a Mississippi farm. A tall, thin old man waving a scorecard from the corner of his dugout. That's baseball. And so is the big, fat guy with a bulbous nose running home one of his 714 home runs.”

((Just so you know President Dave Kovic still has my vote for best “first pitch,” The “thin, old man” for those of you who don’t get the reference is Connie Mack… look it up. The big fat guy is Ruth, not Bonds.))

“There's a man in Mobile who remembers that Honus Wagner hit a triple in Pittsburgh forty-six years ago. That's baseball. So is the scout reporting that a sixteen year old pitcher in Cheyenne is a coming Walter Johnson. Baseball is a spirited race of man against man, reflex against reflex. A game of inches. Every skill is measured. Every heroic, every failing is seen and cheered, or booed. And then becomes a statistic. In baseball democracy shines its clearest. The only race that matters is the race to the bag. The creed is the rulebook. Color merely something to distinguish one team's uniform from another.”

((Walter Johnson was one of the best pitchers in the early 20th-century. Honus Wagner was one of the better hitters. Look them up, too.))

Democracy still shines its clearest except when the player’s union gets in the way, the owners want to collude, and the leagues want to have two sets of rules for offensive output. The only color that seems to matter these days is the color of money. Baseball is a game of wins and losses, of profit and loss, of arbitration and not-so-free free agency. Baseball is a game not of what-have-you-done-for-me, but of what-have-you-done-for-me-lately. It’s a game of bid and overbid. It’s a game of doctored birth certificates and being prematurely aged or being prematurely ageless. It’s a game of marketing, personae, and personal service contracts. It’s about endorsements and being endorsed. It’s about the good-ole-boy network and not necessarily giving new blood a chance to succeed. I take it back. Color also seems to be getting in the way of breaking the glass ceiling. But that is happening less and less.

“Baseball is a rookie. His experience no bigger than the lump in his throat as he begins fulfillment of his dream. It's a veteran too, a tired old man of thirty-five hoping that those aching muscles can pull him through another sweltering August and September. Nicknames are baseball, names like Zeke and Pie and Kiki and Home Run and Cracker and Dizzy and Dazzy.”

Baseball is a home-town hero being sent down for not learning to spray the ball the other way. That is until his agent squawks about how his player’s attitude has “soured” about playing at home. Then, those remarks are tempered through the press when he’s recalled. That veteran has now figured out how he can purchase the next-best-thing over the counter to keep him youthful until his mid-40’s so he can break every offensive or defensive record in the book- without failing a drug test. Baseball is about rights fees and usage fees. It’s about merchandising, charging for autographs and alternate jerseys.

“Baseball is the cool, clear eyes of Rogers Hornsby. The flashing spikes of Ty Cobb, an over aged pixie named Rabbit Maranville. Baseball is just a game as simple as a ball and bat. Yet, as complex as the American spirit it symbolizes. A sport, a business and sometimes almost even a religion”.

To that last sentence… Amen.

((Look all three of those three players up- Hornsby, Cobb, and Maranville. They were good.))

“Why the fairy tale of Willie Mays making a brilliant World's Series catch. And then dashing off to play stick ball in the street with his teenage pals. That's baseball. So is the husky voice of a doomed Lou Gehrig saying., "I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this earth.”

Any player dashing off after a game to play street ball or go back to their old neighborhood for a surprise visit without a PR representative and a security detail…? An anomaly… That’s baseball.

“Baseball is cigar smoke, hot roasted peanuts, The Sporting News, ladies day, "Down in Front", Take Me Out to the Ball Game, and the Star Spangled Banner.”

Baseball is about reserved parking lots and parking passes. It’s about luxury suites and alternate sources of revenue. It’s about not being able to bring in a cooler to the ballpark. It’s about $9 domestic beer and $5 slices of pizza. Baseball is a name game tied to corporate sponsors and their pockets until they file Chapter 11 and allow the same space to open for the next guy. It’s about bond referendums to fund stadiums and hold tax payers hostage. It’s about millage rates and the wanton disregard of history. It’s about the Internet and the guy who owns 37 different fantasy teams in leagues with no financial reward.

It’s about “Bean The Ump.” That’s baseball.

dot…dot…dot…

Here’s how Harwell wrapped up his speech…

“Baseball is a tongue tied kid from Georgia growing up to be an announcer and praising the Lord for showing him the way to Cooperstown. This is a game for America. Still a game for America, this baseball! Thank you.”

Here’s how I wrap up mine…

Baseball is a twenty-year veteran of sports media who wishes his baseball was more like Harwell’s.

But, that’s baseball…

Play it safe, everyone… I’ll talk to you soon…

--Jon Nelson

Here Comes the Calvary

I’ve been listening to a lot of Seattle sports-talk radio the last few days. I’ve watched some television and thumbed through the Post-Intelligencer newspaper’s take on the whole thing. It’s really strange to say that the Seattle SuperSonics ((or Sonics if you’re younger than I am)) are only a part of the history of the NBA.

They’re history. Really strange to say…

But, for those of you who have listened on OSG Sports Radio’s “Count/Pointercount,” you knew a long time ago that Clay Bennett wasn’t long for the Emerald City. As soon as Oklahoma City treated the New Orleans Hornets the way they did, collectively, after the team relocated after Hurricane Katrina you knew Bennett was hungering and hankering to do it for real- and not having hotel guests in the Ford Center.

After lawsuits and settlements totaling $45-million now ((and, maybe, another $30-million later)), the Sonics gear is now on clearance at Key Arena.

There will be purchases made by some of us at OSG HQ. Trust me…

But the only ones happy about this are the folks who scream “Boomer Sooner.”

Bring On The Cavalry…

That’s my personal favorite. I like the idea of a pale rider on a dark horse. You can’t do “Outlaws” or anything like that because of the current anti-thugonomics vibe felt by Commissioner Stern. Probably some color scheme of maroon and black, one as athletic trim for the other.

There still is the idea of former owner Howard Schultz’s lawsuit against Bennett and his PBC group. Bennett addressed the idea at his Oklahoma City presser as “baseless.” I think Schultz needs to worry more about his 600 store closures and all the artists he’s releasing in to the work force than the idea of bringing a team back to a town and its antiquated arena. But, it seems, that Governor Christine Gregoire has completely lost touch with the situation;

“Now it's time for the state Legislature to get to work,” she said in a statement.

Now??? NOW??? “Now” is the time for the Legislature to go to work. A completely reactionary approach to saving a franchise lost. And that is part of the problem. No one wanted to do anything appropriate on a governmental level to retro-fit ((or raze and rebuild)) KeyArena when they knew the clock was ticking on survival. And if anyone thought that Clay Bennett’s end game was to keep the SuperSonics in a bad building, they were sadly mistaken and misunderstood the dynamic of big business.

And that’s what the idea of professional sports is… big business. There is a certain level of civic pride to the elements of ownership, but its percentages aren’t what they used to be. When Ford Center plays to over 100-percent capacity and someone sees the idea of instant dollar signs to be the only game in town. Aren’t you going to jump at that chance…???

Thought so…

The fans of Seattle view Bennett as a corporate raider and the basketball fans of OKC as toothless, wife-beater wearing fans of sport who drive in Conestoga wagons. Oklahoma City doesn’t care, but they don’t hate the folks of Seattle. They don’t need to feel that way. They won- in the short term, anyway.

I don’t think Bennett and his cadre at PBC give two tinker’s damns about “What happens when we still stink in a few years and no one shows up?” They’re looking more at the short-term gains of a full building and no competition. If you think the Blazers and RedHawks are going to impact the bottom line, you’re nuts and not thinking clearly.

Understandably, Sonics fans are now threatening protest outside the front doors of the office building and, irrationally, trying to think of any way to get back what they’ve lost. You lash out. That’s what you do.

Mayor Greg Nickels even admitted, which wasn’t a good idea, that as he signed the agreement over the lawsuit he had only attended two Sonics games in the last ten years. That’s not something your voting public wants to hear when part of their civic fiber is being torn asunder…

With the ink that’s leaving your hand…

If I were Mayor Nickels I would change my phone numbers, increase my security force, and make sure I had a dry cleaner that can get any stain or smell out of your suit jackets. Does your water hose work well enough to get all the toilet paper out of your trees for the foreseeable future…???

Hope so…

dot…dot…dot…

They’ve already unleashed a wagon-circling mentality at the Sonics offices… the ones in Seattle are the ones I’m talking about at the moment. No employee can be interviewed by the local media and all requests are normally headed off by their Media Relations Director. The city is “arguing” that the money they get from Bennett will pay off the debt service on KeyArena.

“We got some money from him, so everything’s now okay,” I can just hear city officials in Seattle say.

They point at a check with Clay Bennett’s John Hancock in the lower right-hand corner. It’s got a bunch of zeroes on it. To be perfectly honest, that’s how I view the legislators on the whole from the northwestern part of Washington state right now.

Am I happy for Oklahoma City…? Sure. It’s always nice to see a business go where it’s appreciated and could, very possibly, have some kind of long-term success.

Am I disappointed for Seattle…? Sure. The town’s supporters of professional basketball after 41 years get a shot in the eye with a hot poker- and a lot of their elected officials are responsible for the damage. I was also happy for Washington, DC when they got the Expos from Major League Baseball and felt disappointed for the city of Montreal.

But I do have a word of warning for both cities…

Seattle. You may be in good standing with the NBA if you rebuild or just “build” an arena. But you may be waiting a long time to resurrect a long-standing tradition. My best guess is when George Shinn tries to hold the city of New Orleans hostage in a few years that may be your best chance to rejoin the NBA. But don’t hold your breath.

Oklahoma City. Will you be willing to support your only big-boy-toy after years of mediocrity and Clay Bennett wants upgrades to the Ford Center…? And will you be willing to pay big-boy prices when the finance department calls wanting an astronomical season ticket deposit…?

Now that you’ve birthed the baby, just be prepared for the Terrible Twos and beyond…

You’ve both been warned…

Play it safe, everybody… I’ll talk to you soon…

Random Thoughts

Admittedly, there are weeks around here where we have too much to think about. And then there are some weeks where we have no idea what we’re going to talk about.

I thought about writing a side-bar wrap-up column about Fred Powers, the “human piñata,” that Mike James at newsblues.com called him in referring to his “journalistic style.”

But I thought that would be a bit of a downer- talking about the dead and all that.

I thought about telling you what it’s like turning 40.

But I thought that would be a bit of a downer- talking about the old and all that

So, I’ll just throw all of it into one, big pile this week.

Random Thoughts…

So the now-former Houston Astros pitcher Shawn Chacon felt compelled to, allegedly, choke and throw down his GM Ed Wade. Depending on who you talk to Chacon was eating dinner and didn’t wish to be disturbed. Or Chacon was eating dinner and didn’t want to do what was required in returning to the bullpen. Some people have compared Wade to Napoleon. Others say he’s a good guy.

Notice that no one inside the Astros clubhouse is talking about it…?

The MLBPA plans on taking the Astros to task if they decide to waive Chacon outright after his waivers period expires. I’m sure there a lot of people who like the idea of the plebeian choking the “man.” Problem is that if you’re getting paid seven figures to throw a ball into a mitt from 60-feet 6-inches, you don’t choke your boss. Insert your Latrell Sprewell joke here… it’s not the last we’ve heard of this.

I just wish Chacon would wear his hat the right way. Who does he think he is…? Chad Cordero…?

Indiana University Athletic Director Rick Greenspan is resigning/retiring at the end of the calendar year after all of the fallout from the Kelvin Sampson fiasco. The NCAA has also decided to pile on with a “failure to monitor” charge- which could add more recruiting restrictions and even more scholarship reductions than current Head Coach Tom Crean has to deal with now.

While “failure to monitor” isn’t a lack of institutional control, it’s pretty much on the same part of the cereal aisle at the college version of the grocery store.

Apparently, the University had a chance to fix what the NCAA thought was wrong, but never did. Greenspan, apparently, told compliance officers that everything was fine when it really may not have been… compliance officers were receiving the cell phone bills that Sampson’s assistants made. And when there were three-way calls made, the bill told you so. In direct violation of the sanctions that were imposed on Sampson at Oklahoma and Indiana…

Crean gets one scholarship player back for the new season- one. Good luck with that…

Rick Dutrow, the trainer with the Triple-Crown version of Foot-in-mouth disease, is wondering why everyone is making a big deal about a 15-day suspension he got for elevated steroid levels in one of his horses.

“It's my responsibility, but it's not my fault,” Dutrow said. “It's just a mistake that happened but it's not as big a deal as everyone is trying to make it out to be. I'm just getting flooded with everybody calling me all the time with negative stuff. I wish it would all stop.”

A little humility, instead of a lot of hubris, would have gone a long way during your horse’s run probably would have avoided all this, ya know…?

Just a thought…

Did you see that Davidson resigned Bob McKillop to a contract extension…? Good move…

What is an NBA Draft without the New York Knicks fans booing the idea of the sunrise…?

Danilo Gallinari didn’t know what hit him…?

11 foreign-born players were selected this time around. Outside of Gallinari, I don’t know a damn one of them. You know what…? Don’t really care, either…

dot…dot…dot…

Buffalo Bills running back Marshawn Lynch had his driver’s license revoked after hitting a pedestrian that he says he never even knew he hit.

“It was raining real hard, there was a dancing pedestrian in the middle of the street,” the 22-year-old Lynch said before the hearing. “I slowed down to let her go and continued on my way home. I didn't know my car had hit anyone or anything.”

Investigators believe the woman Lynch struck was near the woman he saw dancing.

A longer written statement issued by Lynch's attorney after the hearing said police officers later came to his house and removed his car and that Lynch “was in disbelief” when told it had been in an accident.

Uh huh… “Woman disguised as speed bump gives running back first loss of the season…”

And he hasn’t even hit training camp…

Let’s finish with the rantings of Justin Gimelstob, probably-soon-to-be-former ATP muckety-muck…

I can’t even do any of these justice. They stand on their own before his massive apology:

Asked if he would ever have an affair with Anna Kournikova: “Definitely not. I have no attraction to her because she's such a douche. I really have no interest in her ... I wouldn't mind having my younger brother, who's a kind of a stud, nail her and then reap the benefits of that. She has a great body but her face is a five (out of ten).”

((Good for your brother, I guess…? Kournikova doesn’t do anything for me, either…))

He claimed there were fewer lesbians on the current women's tour than 15 years ago, explaining: “That's because they're all Russian chicks. And there's some other cute ones out there. There's some talent out there.”

Way to go…

My guess is none of them will be seen with you on their arm any time before, oh I dunno, the apocalypse…

Play it safe, everyone… I’ll talk to you soon…

--Jon Nelson

Viva La Veto, or Grunge and All His Friends...

Three different events offering some sort of harmonic convergence in a whirling mess of legal mumbo-jumbo, double speak, and abject failure are giving us something to look at and remember just who exactly guys like John McLaren, Clay Bennett, and Kelvin Sampson actually are…

Who would have thought that the city of Seattle would be the center of the North American sports universe these days…???

Three different events offering some sort of harmonic convergence in a whirling mess of legal mumbo-jumbo, double speak, and abject failure are giving us something to look at and remember just who exactly guys like John McLaren, Clay Bennett, and Kelvin Sampson actually are…

McLaren had one of the best tirades of the year… and rightly so.

Here was a guy coming off an 88-win season and seemed ready to take on the rest of the American League west. But somewhere in the transactions involving Erik Bedard and Richie Sexson the M’s are already 22 games under .500 this year and fading faster than Barry Zito these days. McLaren and GM Bill Bavasi have already been let go. There is talk that Sexson won’t last the weekend or the upcoming road trip.

Jim Riggleman gets to take over now…

So much for the SoDo Mojo…

Look it up…

When is football season again…???

I Guess That’s One Way To Keep Them From Bodily Harm…

Indiana University Athletic Director Rick Greenspan didn’t want to be anywhere close to the Hotel Deca in Seattle. He had a statement drawn up that Senior Associate Athletic Director Tim Fitzpatrick got to hand out like a ditto sheet for an SAT Exam.

While he was doing that to the NCAA Committee on Infractions Milwaukee Bucks Assistant Coach Kelvin Sampson was headed out some side door somewhere on the premises. He didn’t want anything to do with IU, Hotel Deca, the NCAA, or the city of Seattle. Thing was, though, he kinda had to be there to answer questions about what he may or may not have done that the NCAA didn’t like while he was Head Coach at Indiana.

The NCAA is accusing him of “providing false or misleading information to investigators about more than 100 impermissible phone calls.” They also accuse him of knowingly violating recruiting restrictions imposed when he was the Head Coach at Oklahoma. In a month or so, the NCAA should figure out their judgment in the case. And it looks like new IU Head Coach Tom Crean will have an empty cupboard for the 2008-2009 season. There could be a post-season ban thrown in there for good measure…

And Crean still wants the job…

There are thoughts that then-Assistant Rob Senderoff and Sampson went around the ban by having Senderoff punch the digits on the phone, and then hand the phone off to Sampson for all the sweet-talk. After all, Sampson didn’t actually make the phone call then, did he…??? Problem there is that the NCAA thought they took care of that idea when they busted Sampson at OU in 2006.

Nah…

If both Senderoff and Sampson are then given what is called a “show-cause” penalty, they would ((and any future employer would as well)) have to petition the NCAA for reinstatement if anyone is interested in their services. Senderoff is already employed by Kent University. If he’s found guilty, Kent would have to either appeal the decision of fire him.

Sampson doesn’t have to worry about that. He’s escaped to the NBA…

I love this game...

Apparently, Sampson does, too…

The AP’s Gregg Bell reported at the time just as Sampson was found out before he left;

Sampson said the first seven hours of the hearing “went well. It's a process,” he said.

When asked if the initial questioning went as he thought it would, Sampson said:

“About what we expected.”

Good for you…

dot…dot…dot…

What do you do when you have a business in a town, but you as the owner, are lucky to have someone relieve themselves on you if you happened to be on fire standing on a street corner. That’s the question Clay Bennett is trying to answer as the head of Professional Basketball Club, LLC- the current owners of the now-Seattle Supersonics.

His answer is simple- move to Oklahoma City.

Not so simple…

The city thinks Bennett acted in poor faith and wanted to move there all along instead of putting on the public front of “We’d like to stay, but no one is going to help fund a new arena that we all know we need for things to stay successful. So we have to go now…”

The end result is a 6-day, non-jury trial that has their geographic and economic future at their fingertips. The city is bringing up all kinds of witnesses from talk show hosts to rabid fans to economic experts trying to strip the franchise from Bennett’s grasp ((twirl handlebar mustache now)). Bennett claims the Sonics will lose upwards of $60-million if they’re forced to stay through the remaining two years of their lease at Key Arena. He’d like to cut his losses and run.

The city would like to cut his throat.

Bennett has survived on the stand so far, and has even gone so far as to admit that he and the PBC went about the political climate poorly in their attempts to gauge how successful keeping the team around in Seattle might be. So, it was onward to Oklahoma City after a failed attempt to get an arena in the suburbs.

((Transcripts from the Court proceedings Day 3- courtesy: seattlep-i.com))

Q What do you face in the way of -- from a financial standpoint in terms of the next two years? What are you anticipating in terms of the team's financial performance?

A Well, the studies that we have submitted suggest over the two years a $60 million cash loss to the business. I think that is perhaps reasonable, but certainly moving parts within that that we need to focus on and really take a look at it. I think that is probably a conservative estimate.

Q And how does that compare to what you anticipate for the financial performance of the organization if you are permitted to go to Oklahoma City now?

MR. LAWRENCE: I object as to relevance.

THE COURT: Overruled.

THE WITNESS: Our studies indicate and our projections suggest that we would see a 7 million --approximately $7 million cash profit in year one, and approximately a $10 million profit in year two.

BY MR. KELLER:

Q What are the primary drivers of such a significant difference between the two?

A Well, the central driver is the building.

Q Wait a minute. You are still going to have to pay your rent here in Seattle, aren't you?

A We will certainly pay whatever we are required to pay.

Q Have you always stood ready to meet your financial obligations to the City under this lease for the last two years?

A Certainly.

Q I am sorry for interrupting. What are the primary drivers of this swing between a $60 million loss over a two-year period and upward of $15 million profit?

A The primary one that allows them all to happen is the building.

And away we go… just don’t let the courts see any e-mails from the last two years from your e-mail accounts…

Deal...???

Play it safe, everyone… I’ll talk to you soon…

--Jon Nelson

For Once in Its Life

For once in its life, the United States Golf Association decided not to monkey with its host course for the national championship. Torrey Pines, a public course in La Jolla, California, is from what I understand enough of a pain in the ass in the first place.

The rough is what you and I are used to when we go to our favorite hack-n-go track- gradual, but consistently unforgiving the more you decide not to obey the basics of swing form.

You hit it straight. The course has no qualm with you.
You as much as flinch the course takes out its ruler and finds your knuckles over and over again.

The only thing missing is the penguin.

The USGA is always looking for even par over 72 holes to be the yard mark for their champion. If you go under that level, then you have bettered Mother Nature and the USGA. Talk about a handicap match. If you don’t and you end up in black numbers, the powers-that-are shrug their shoulders, offer no forgiveness whatsoever, hand you a trophy, a long-time exemption, and a big check.

You’ve survived...

And Who Are You Again…???

You look at the last few years of winners and it’s almost a “Who’s Who” of “Who’s Who.” Angel Cabrera smoked three packs wandering around his last 18 on the way to a title. Geoff Ogilvy…??? He had a great shot pulled out of his bag to deny others a title. Michael Campbell survived and was the first Kiwi to win a Major. The only thing missing was a disrobing and a Haka dance. The last time anything was normal was 2004 when, going backwards, you get Retief Goosen, Jim Furyk, Tiger, Goosen again, and Tiger again in 2000.

They decided to pair the Top 12 players in the world with each other in the first two rounds worth of threesomes. Everyone looking at the Tiger, Phil, and Adam Scott grouping for either one of three reasons:

1) Gee, that Adam Scott is a cutie…
2) When is the first time that Phil is gonna say, “God, I was so stupid!”
3) Tiger’s quest to distract everyone from knee surgery with his wife and child wearing red
on a Sunday...

That’s cool and all, but it’s not what the National Championship is about.

It’s about a guy like Rickie Fowler, an amateur, who has played in Walker Cup competition, but not the US Open. No big deal- he shot a first-round, one-under par 70. He’s also the youngest guy in the field.

Kyle Stanley is another amateur, from Clemson University, who was in line for a collegiate title. That was until a final-round 82 blew that idea. Pro golf…? Not yet. Maybe in a few years… but that didn’t stop a Top-20 performance in his first 18 holes- a one-over par 72.

That Tiger guy…? He also shot 72.

What’s a Derek Fathauer…? He plays golf at the University of Louisville with his twin brother, Daryl. He wrapped up with a two-over par 73. So did some guy named Adam Scott.

Enough about the guys hanging around in the Top 31… look at the top of the leaderboard… The guys up there remind me of the year at that-golf-tournament-in-Augusta when Mike Donald was in the last pairing- before he imploded worse than Greg Norman ever could.

Justin Hicks had only been in the US Open once before- 2004. He missed the cut. Hicks has played the mini-tours in Florida. Apparently, one of his winner’s checks bounced ((I think I know what tour that was on)). That kind of a mentality leads to the idea of going for every pin on every hole. You have to take someone’s idea of the Country Club ((and someone else’s idea of a tour stop)) and beat the hell out of it to win. His first day resulted in seven birdies…

Seven… on Torrey Pines… He and his caddie decided they were going to catch a movie Thursday night. There was no way they were going to watch the highlights.

Who are you again…??? That Hicks guy led with a 3-under par score until someone else came along.

dot…dot…dot…

Kevin Streelman got into the Buick Invitational as the third alternate. He was even paired with that Tiger guy until his Saturday and Sunday rounds went 75-77. He’s a tour rookie and a Dookie. Try not to hold it against him. He hadn’t finished any higher than 14th in any of the events he’s played in this year.

Like that stopped him…

Five birdies on his front 9 ((the back nine on the course)) added with two bogeys gives him an out of 33. He birdies his 11th hole to go to four under par. Four under par… at the US Open… at Torrey Pines. But then you could see that the gravity of the situation was grabbing at him a little bit…

Okay… grabbing at him a lot…

The 7th Hole is a par-4 of 477 yards on Round One. He hits his drive into the first cut which means his second shot is a punch out. He needed a good angle for an up and down. The pitch was less-than-standard if you listened to the TV-types broadcasting. He needs to sink a putt that had to go about 18-feet, clear a ridge, and make a hard-left turn at the end… all for a PAR!!! So, what happens…? The ball takes the hard left ((like a 90-degree left)) and heads home. Streelman pumps his fist like he just nailed a birdie on the 71st hole instead of his 16th hole on a Thursday.

Dude’s entitled…

Some nervous chipping and putting gets him through the 9th hole ((his 18th on the day))- the 612-yard, par-5. And you could tell it was really getting to him by then. If he had a few more holes to play I think the wheels would have come off and rolled across traffic. But he was safely in as long as his math checked out and he could remember his name in the clubhouse.

So, while the rest of you go for seeing Tiger and Phil challenge each other in Mickelson’s back yard give me a Streelman or a Hicks going for their moment where the marine layer clears just in time for a putt that really means something by Sunday…

Play it safe, everyone… I’ll talk to you soon…

Got a Bridge in Brooklyn...

NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman had an interesting exchange with “Hockey Night in Canada” host Ron McLean the other day. McLean was doing his standard heavyweight tête-à-tête with him ((as he always does)) and the subject of William “Boots” Del Biaggio came up.

For those of you behind the curve a little bit, Del Biaggio is the third in a current list of NHL owners or minority partners that have run afoul of the American government in the last month or so. Henry Samueli of the Anaheim Ducks and Eugene Melnyk of the Ottawa Senators are now joined by “Boots.”

And it ain’t pretty...

But if you take The Bettman at his word, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. All that is missing is your standard Kevin Bacon-Dressed in military garb-on a street corner screaming;

“STAY CALM! ALL IS WELL!!!”

Got A Bridge In Brooklyn Up For Sale...

Del Biaggio is now under investigation for allegedly working $17-million in loans with fake paperwork. Did he slide someone else’s finances in so he could get three separate loans for his own workings...? It’s being looked into...

Bettman told McLean that if you were a Nashville Predators fan, you had nothing to worry about. I call “B--- S---!” at this very moment. But that’s just me and my Chicken Little mentality where the fastest sport on ice is concerned.

Del Biaggio, apparently, put in close to $30-million to be a minority investor in the Preds since he couldn’t secure ten times that amount to buy the team and move them to a new arena in Kansas City that is screaming for a primary tenant. Everything’s fine, right...?

Right…??? Stay calm…??? All is well…???

If memory serves, the Preds barely made their self-imposed quota for an attendance figure to keep the team afloat in town. If they didn’t make it, the owners ((in whatever shape or form they’re in currently)) could bail on the agreement with the city and seek another fortune elsewhere. They haven’t done that...

Yet...

And you’d think that if the confidence the rest of the group is showing were to amount into something, they’d already have someone ready to take over in Del Biaggio’s slot. But I haven’t seen Vince Gill, Amy Grant, Kenny Chesney, or Garth Brooks’ names mentioned as suitors- potential or otherwise. Little Jimmy Dickens...??? Anyone...???

Or no one...

The Bettman hasn’t flinched in Anaheim, Ottawa, or Nashville.
I think he needs to...
But I know he won’t unless it’s kicking and screaming...

dot...dot...dot...

But I do know someone who could be on the table if the commissioner could take some ego ((probably more like super ego)) off the table, and think about what’s best for the league.

Enter Jim Balsillie...
Again...

A report came out in the Toronto Star newspaper that, according to Balsillie spokesman Richard Rodier, the genius that invented the Crackberry has had contact from as many as eight different teams about becoming their owner- future location be damned.

The roster includes, but is not limited to, the Atlanta Thrashers, the Carolina Hurricanes, the Tampa Bay Lightning, and the Dallas Stars. I would venture to guess the Florida Panthers and the Phoenix Coyotes are in there. For the sake of argument, let’s throw in Columbus and Nashville. Balsillie wants no part of moving a current-Canadian franchise to move them to a Hamilton/Waterloo location.

We’ve been through this dance before, but the dynamic is a little different now. To no one’s surprise a report has come to light claiming that the franchises north of the border are carrying the league’s profit margin these days. If they weren’t around, growth would be in the neighborhood of only three percent- the standard rate of inflation.

With the strength of the Loonie and Toonie against uncle Sam these days, it would be silly not to consider one of the world’s richest men ((and hockey fans)) if he wants to continue the potential growth in a potential growth market. Balsillie offered $175-million US to buy the Penguins, and $238-million US to take control of the Predators.

He’s proven that he’s more than willing to overpay for a product to get a starved area another outlet for entertainment- and for Balsillie fun and profit.

Analyzing for a second...

• Atlanta’s ownership group hasn’t shown a willingness in the current marketplace to spend the necessary money to succeed.
• Peter Karmanos won’t sell a majority stake…unless seats continue to stay empty.
• Tampa might be a contender if the new owners can’t get their act straight.
• Tom Hicks won’t sell a majority stake, either.
• Wayne Huizenga uses the Panthers as a write-off for the Dolphins.
• Phoenix is hemorrhaging $30-million a year in the middle of nowhere...
• Columbus putters along...
• Nashville is Nashville...

So, then, the contenders would be Atlanta, Nashville, and Phoenix...

Each ready for the owners to exit through the tunnel…and each franchise south of the Mason-Dixon line...

Send the guy in Ontario a text message...
I’m sure he’ll answer...

Play it safe, everyone... I’ll talk to you soon...

--Jon Nelson

Reverend Pullhook

Brother Phil and I were out playing golf the other day…

Actually, to be more honest, we were just losing golf balls in some of the worst conditions we’ve ever played in. It was one of those courses that we all have in whatever town we live in.

The fairways aren’t fair...
The greens aren’t green...
And the hazards could scare the ever-living hell out of the local Civil Defense guys.

The guy who designed the course made the best of the situation, or was a direct descendant of Snidely Whiplash. Pick the most incredulous idea for where a hole ((and a hole location, for that matter)) should be- it’s there. This guy woke up on the wrong side of the planet and decided that his course design would resemble what the mind of a 4-year-old would make playing in a sandbox in his back yard.

Whomever felt compelled to call themselves “Greenskeeper” was an abject failure. There were sand traps on multiple greens, and divots that hadn’t been replaced on the same greens that had the bunkers on the other half. A putt could be heading for the hole for one of those rare pars either one of us had on the day, and the damn thing would take a right turn that would bring a red mark from any Driver Ed. Instructor.

But we’ve all been there...

You Sure This Is A Par-61...???

It’s not what the course did to you. It’s what you did on the course.

They call these kind of courses - “Executive.”

I call them “Executions.”

Even if there were transformers buzzing all kinds of electrical energy over your head. And, yes, they could reach out at any wayward moment and grab a ball you misplayed and shock the hell out of it. There was foam in the retention pond on the 2nd Hole- right next to the perpetual goose toilet for a tee box.

The sign, very wisely, pointed out there was to be no swimming or fishing. What it didn’t tell you was that the birthplace for the “Simpsons” three-eyed fish was what you were walking around.

The 8th Hole is, probably, best described as golf’s version of Chinese Handcuffs. The tee box was 208 yards away from pay dirt. Trees cover the cart path on the left. A ditch is under the trees that flank the right side of the chasm- right up to the green. Good luck with your long iron ((or in Phil’s case, a 3-wood that destroyed a few tree limbs as the ball disappeared into the afternoon)).

Balls dropped into hamstring-high rough - never to be found.
And the woods were laughing at their ill-swung gains...
But I took a leak in the woods on the 11th tee box.

We were even...

dot...dot...dot...

By the time we got to 16, my game was so bad, I couldn’t help but curse at myself for how bad I had become. Pull-hooks that never existed had emerged from some kind of anxiety closet that I couldn’t barricade with billy-clubbed cops.

So, I got a wild hair...

I teed up a ball ((initially a swoosh-brand, but Phil swapped out a crapper)) on the back of the green and wanted my shot at the electrical power station on top of the other mountain.

“Dude, there’s no way you’ll get it there,” Phil convinced me.

That didn’t keep me from taking my shot.

“I’m aiming for the shed in the front,” thinking that somewhere my driver would make up for all the bad ideas that ran through my hands for the last three hours.

He was right...

Reverend Pullhook and his chorus of perpetual laughter in four-part harmony drove something low and right a good 100 yards short of the target born in a moment of poorly-thought out machismo.

“You can hit it out there, but not that ‘out there.’”

Thanks for the reminder...

The lesson came on 18...

A 162-yard par three that was fairly straight, had bunkers on the right side of the green, and divots on the left side of the green. I pulled out an 8-iron.

And the Right Reverend was out to lunch...

12 feet for birdie and an easy tap in for par...

It’s holes like that that give you that sense of accomplishment. You’ve conquered someone else’s ideas of geography and geometry.

Snidely Whiplash be damned... Phil and I will be back...

Just not with our lunar landers for our next round...

And you will, too... Don’t lie...

Play it safe, everyone... talk to you soon...

Bigger Than You...

There are times in the television business when you realize that there are people at play that are a lot bigger than you- or anyone else around you for that matter. It can come across in a simple gesture, or in a gesture of many acting as one. The power is the same from either source. And the story will stay with you always… 96… The first time I met Chris Johnson was when he was a Sophomore at Northside High School. Depending on what part of the state of Georgia you live in, it’s either “Northside” or “Northside-Warner Robins.” You get in to the semantics of geography since there is more than one city that holds the title. Chris was in street clothes for the state championship game in Statesboro in December of 2005. He wouldn’t be playing, and I knew why. He couldn’t play football. He had a higher set of priorities and worries. He was fighting leukemia. He seemed like every normal 15-year-old- hat slightly off-center, over-sized, striped, collared shirt, and baggy blue jean shorts. He was quiet on the sidelines for the game in Statesboro and just kind of took everything in. I asked him how he was. He said he was “all right.” I told him that I hoped he would get well quickly, and I went on working that sideline for the night. I admit, now, that I would look over at him every now and then. I would wonder what he and his family were going through. I had a good guess, and it’s never a pretty one. He kept on fighting, and I kept on working. For the 2006 season, I visited Warner Robins a few times for games. Once was for their in-town rival game where Northside would play Warner Robins. Chris went through the banner as football players do. But he did it in a wheelchair this time around. His mother, “Miss Pat” as she is known, was driving him through the paper and grass over to the sideline. She did it again for the state title game against The Marist School. During the season it became crystal clear that the Johnsons were spending the standard “boatload” of money for their son’s care. The Northside community started a “Quarters for Chris” campaign at home games, and asked anyone with change to spare to donate it to help fray the costs. It helped some, and Northside won their first state title for head Coach Conrad Nix at home that night last year. Twenty years of work at the school, in two different shifts, and Nix got his first ring. Chris still fought, and I still worked. That is, until June… Chris lost his battle, but the team never forgot. The number “96” was emblazoned everywhere on campus. Football players had the number placed on their jerseys over their hearts as a memorial. When the home turf was decorated, the team asked the number be painted in the endzone. The offensive linemen would gather in a circle and pray around his number before games. There were “96” stickers on every helmet without fail. And what a lot of people outside of middle Georgia don’t know is- the quiet kid came out of his shell. He became a spokesman for bone marrow donation in his community. He would encourage others, old and young, through their cancer treatments as he persevered through his own at the children’s hospital. It didn’t matter what you looked like. It didn’t matter if you were a fan of some other school. He unified an entire community that is normally divided in their allegiances by the road that bisects Warner Robins at its mid-section. In a military town, it was the football player who stood ramrod straight in the face of a disease and gave it his best shot. All this from a kid who didn’t even make it to the age of 18 like his teammates and classmates did. Which left this nationally-ranked team in an emotional void for what would have been Chris’ senior season. A community, a school, friends, and family all needed closure. But how does something like that come for someone who has left such a mark on those he touched…? The team marched through the regular season, at one point losing their star quarterback to a broken bone in his leg, and steam-rolled people in the first three rounds of the playoffs. No points allowed… which gave them the chance to play a suburban-Atlanta school, Tucker High School, in the state semi-finals. Tucker’s speed seemed to get to the Eagles in the first half as they broke out to a 28-7 lead. But then the world tilted… The injured QB, Marquez Ivory, returned to start the second half. It was common knowledge that he would play- ahead of schedule- but no one knew how much. Ivory found receivers all second half long. He completed 11 out of 16 for 305 yards and three scores. Two of those TD passes were to Kevyn Cooper for 69 and 82 yards. After the game, Kevyn was asked about it. He said that there was no doubt in his mind that Chris was there helping him catch those passes. You see… Kevyn, Marquez, and Chris were best of friends. A field goal with 12 seconds left gave Northside the win to advance to the state finals. dot…dot…dot… The way the state finals worked was, that if both teams were top seeded in their region, it would come down to a coin flip to decide where the game would be played. Ware County High School Head Coach Dan Ragle won the toss, and got to host the game three hours away from Warner Robins- in Waycross. Tickets were at such a premium that people were driving from Waycross to Warner Robins to see if they could get in that way. The coaches told me, at their mid-week radio show, that something special was planned for the entrance onto the field. A photo of Chris from the year before, smiling and flashing a “peace” sign, was reproduced and placed in the middle of the banner. The cheerleaders holding the banner aloft seemed confused as the Eagles walked AROUND it, escorting a poster of Chris in his uniform from his 9th-grade year at the front of the procession. They played, understandably, with too much emotion for the first half… the first three quarters, really… and they trailed the underdog Gators 16-13. The 4,000 fans that made the trip were given a piece of poster board with that “96” on it. They were asked to hold it aloft as a show of support- telling the world that Chris was their “12th Man.” I’m not normally distracted by the atmosphere of my job. But when those signs were held in the air as we headed to commercial, I got goose bumps. I understood. And so did the kids on the field. A play that the Eagles hadn’t used since a pre-season scrimmage, a half-back option pass, got the team the win and back-to-back titles- 20-16. Head Coach Conrad Nix told the Johnsons, Chris’ father Ovie and “Miss Pat,” that if there was something- anything- he could do to give them closure where Chris was concerned he would do his best. Ovie rode the team bus down to Waycross for the title game, and was on the sidelines for as many games as I could count. He gave a pre-game speech at the pre-game meal before the championship, and even went as far as telling the team he wanted some gator-skin boots. Chris was the only player on the roster in all capital letters. He was at the top of the tackle charts, and he was never far away from everyone. And there was a lot of karma at play- if you believe in that stuff… Going into the title game, I’ll give you one guess as to how many points the team had given up… Going into the semi-finals, I’ll give you one guess as to how many minutes were left in the team’s season. And, after that school week had been completed, I’ll give you one guess as to how many school days were left in the calendar year. Yep… And, since he was the “12th Man,” I’ll give you one guess as to what number is evenly-divisible by 12. For all the rallying, for all the chanting of a number that meant so much to so many people, and for all the pain that one family has gone through losing someone so young, you can only hope that the championship brought some kind of closure to the family in some small way. Chris loved football. And an entire football team and town loved him back… They still do. And I have a good feeling that he saw the whole thing unfold right in front of him… Play it safe everyone, I’ll talk to you soon… --Jon Nelson

The Chase is Over

What seems to be the longest, death march of a record-setting chase is finally over. It took entirely too long to come to fruition. But now it finally has.

Thank ((insert divine being here))!!!!!

And counting, I'm sure. We all know that the gentleman wants to get 3,000 hits before his, ahem, esteemed career comes to a close.

And I've been over the whole thing for quite some time...

I'm not a big Major League Baseball fan, anymore. I kind of grew out of the sport after the strike in the mid-1990's. Guys complaining about money and self-worth. Owners complaining that there isn't enough money to go around.

"Whatever to the both of you! And a pox on both your houses!" I said at the time.

I keep a casual interest in the sport, just to the idea that I "have" to know what's going on at any given moment. The same thing applies for professional wrestling these days with me. And you know what? Both activities are strangely similar. And I still wish a pox on both your houses.

Before you go and complain... sit down for a second...
It's either everyone's fault, or no one's fault. I choose to look at the former.

I choose not to look at Bonds, who is without a doubt, the poster child for this drug-induced assault on the history books. But I'm looking at an entire era of athletes that have taken advantage of a system set in place ((or, probably to be more accurate- not set at all)) for their own personal, financial and statistical benefit. I look at Ken Caminiti, Brady Anderson, Eric Gagne, Mark McGwire, and Sammy Sosa just as much as I do a player like "25."

I look at John Rocker, Rafael Palmeiro, Roger Clemens and all the owners and Commissioners that have passed through any turnstile or business office just as much as I do our current homerun champ.

The whole process is disgusting...as was the turning of that phrase that ended the last paragraph.

Players take advantage of a system. Owners and personnel turn their heads and cough.
All of them have not only soiled the very game we all grew up idolizing ((and all the records that were accomplished within)), but have soiled themselves in the process. We all need to shower and grab a change of clothes.

It's only fitting that the record was set in "25's" home stadium. The response he got in Los Angeles was nothing short of expected. San Diegans wanted to boo- and to cheer- simultaneously. The easy-going ones wanted it both ways. Boo until he gets to the plate. Cheer when he makes an out. Cheer louder when he hits 755 off Clay Hensley ((himself server of a steroid suspension in the minors)). Boo their own pitchers when they choose to pitch around him. Greg Maddux being the only savior in the weekend. "Doggie" played with Bonds' mind saying he'd walk him so as not to get tagged with the 755 moniker. What does he do? Challenge him and send "25" home- going oh-fer-four.

Chicks may dig the longball, but I dig the artistry of the backwards "k" in the scorebook just as much.

San Franciscans have chosen to wear the rose-colored glasses the entire time. And that's their prerogative. If they choose not to see the extremes a truly talented player went to to make himself better than those before him instead of believing in his God-given abilities- it's his fault for not having faith in himself, but having the hubris of a hundred men to want to see his name in every history book from now until Doomsday- asterisk be damned.

Would "25" have been a Hall of Famer without enhancement- still unproven, but alleged from every mountaintop? Absolutely.

But the greed of wanting that "little extra" turned into "a lot extra." And I don't think that one of the most surly stars of this generation could give a tinker's damn about what the rest of us think one way or the other about him.

Included, godfather Willie Mays, who seemed ignored by "25" when they were on the field together after 756. And you know... you KNOW... Hank Aaron will collect some big favor someday for reading the cue card and prepared statement of congratulations after the fact. The heart-felt love and appreciation shown by "25" to the big screen almost reminded me of a bad buddy movie, I-love-you-man moment that sends the release straight to DVD shelves and cable television.

What do we get instead in all of this?

We get Bud Selig, hands in pockets, fishing for car keys and the closest exit while "25" circled the bases after 755. We get Jimmy Lee Solomon from the league office to represent The Game. Or was it Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio? Mary Stuart Masterson? Joe Don Looney? Joe Don Baker?

Jimmy Crack Corn... you know the rest...

dot...dot...dot...

But what they say about karma may return to the ballpark one day. It always gets a hand stamp. I'm still waiting for it to tap David Stern and Gary Bettman on the shoulder.

I don't think any one of us could root for Alex Rodriguez any harder or any faster these days.
I can't believe I just volunteered that information, either.

And where was "Commissioner" Selig? Meeting with George Mitchell and his toothless committee results trying to determine which major leaguer he could blackmail into testifying next.

Genius...
Absolute genius...

Will people remember the names Clay Hensley and Mike Bacsik? Maybe as much as Jack Billingsley and Al Downing...
Will people remember the "chase?" Probably.
Will people remember the sunken feeling in the pits of their stomach around the country after the chase ended?

One can only hope... this wasn't fun to watch at all.

Play it safe, everyone... I'll talk to you soon...

--Jon Nelson

The Big C...

I know I haven’t written in a while...

The whole "hearing-my-voice" thing instead seemed to take off - and we’ve stuck with it...

But there is a reason this time... important to me - and it probably should be to you. Not necessarily for the same reasons, but important nonetheless...

The Big C...

My dad was diagnosed with colon cancer a few months ago...

He was having problems with his stomach that he thought were more related to angina or something like that. Turns out- it wasn’t that way at all...

A year ago he was diagnosed with anemia. Doctors treated the anemia, but ((and, from this moment on, is strictly opinion without a whole lot of basis in fact)) failed to follow up or dig a little deeper into what could be the genesis of the problem.

His stomach ailments got worse and, then, when he went back to the doctors they asked a simple question.

"When was the last time you had a colonoscopy?"

His answer was "never."

The physician looking him over strongly suggested one, and they found a tumor the size of a softball in his intestines. 17 days later, he was operated on. The tumor was removed. They took out half of his intestines, more than two-dozen lymph nodes and one of two cysts near his tailbone.

And Thursday was his first day of 6 months of chemotherapy.

He asked, at the time of the operation, how long it would take for a tumor to grow to that size. The physicians told him "ten years." I would have, personally, taken 9 years of growth, and a little personal responsibility from a doctor instead of 10 years and a substantial operation.

But that’s in the past... I can still be hot about it as a pre-cursor for behavioral patterns. But the tumor was pulled, and that’s one of the important things here.

It’s not the first time I’ve been through chemo with someone I love, and it won’t be the last. I have experience in an area that I don’t want, and wished I didn’t need.

We were supposed to show up at 6:30 in the morning. The session was scheduled for six hours or so. But the people at his hospital have a different schedule for their own work hours. The Radiology/Oncology Infusion Room wasn’t set to open until 8. It’s good to know that hospital operational consistency is consistent throughout the country.

My dad had a chemo port installed under his right collar bone about ten days ago, which made the process a little easier. The inserting of the needle isn’t, really, for the squeamish. I’ve known people who have had to have it done through veins in their arm. Nurses have been known to misfire and create chemo burns, which are worse than 3rd Degree, that evolve from the inside out. Think of the inside of your arm being on fire, and you can’t do anything about it. That’s a chemo burn.

After a consultation with his personal Oncologist, he went to sleep and the nurses did their thing for most of the morning. I went back home, worked out, watched some soaps, and waited for the six hours to wrap up. But it really doesn’t wrap up after that.

He had a take-home test.

dot...dot...dot...

They gave him a fanny pack with more chemotherapy medicine in it. He had to wear it for 48 hours as the last segment of the "First Time." He had to get used to wearing it, sleeping with it, and showering with it.

The medicine they gave him ((insert irony here)) - 5-FU...

So, the moral here...?

Simple- get tested...

I’m, admittedly, a few years away from my first scheduled test. So, I know it’s on my list of things to do down the line.

And I’m not just telling guys to get tested on colon cancer. Get everything squared away- regular check-ups, learn your family history, know how things may progress on both sides of the family.

And the irony in my family...?

My dad is going through what his father went through later in his life. My aunt is going through the possible pre-cursors of heart disease that felled their mother.

He’s moved through the first par in one piece, and that’s a good thing.

But there aren’t good things that happen all the time.

And that’s what next time is all about...

Play it safe, everyone...I’ll talk to you soon...

--Jon Nelson

Everything Looks So Small...

At 39,000 feet, you get to think about a lot of things.

Most of the time, I can fall asleep during the pre-flight instructions when I’m going from story to story. You run around, and run around some more. You learn how your body works, and you learn how to work around your schedule.

But on two particular flights, I really couldn’t sleep. I had more thinking to do than trying to figure out if I can hold off on going to the bathroom before the pilots can turn off the "Fasten Seat Belt" sign.

Especially from the window seat...

Everything Looks So Small...

I’m quite skeptical of doctors in general… They have under-diagnosed, misdiagnosed, neglected, and covered more ass than Levi Strauss. Something diagnosed as an ulcer turns into, actually, ovarian cancer. And I can see where the world changed. When we turned into such a litigious society people started looking out for themselves.

I’m clumsy and spilled hot coffee on myself, but it’s your fault.

I’ve tripped and fallen, but it’s your fault.

My father had to wade through a "legal analysis." Before the Medical Center he’s seeking treatment in would operate, they had to figure out their "official" diagnosis. What in the hell is there to analyze... ? He has cancer. You operate. You treat. You try to conquer. What’s to analyze... ?

I’ll tell you what there is to analyze. The idea of "How Can I Cover My Ass" so I don’t get sued...

And, then, there’s the idea of Doctoring By Omission.

I’ll paraphrase what my father’s Oncologist told him about his most recent round of CT and PET scans. He told us that the tumor markers hadn’t changed in size or element- which is good. But there is the one area that isn’t getting chemo that they can’t get to. They can’t see how, or if, the cyst near his tailbone will spread, metastasize or both.

He admitted they don’t have the technology to look at it. This is a Top Five cancer hospital in the country, but will remain nameless, that has openly just admitted to me that they can’t treat everything all at once. They can’t look at multiple cancerous areas that need treatment. But, they can surely hope things haven’t moved by the end of the 6-month chemotherapy cycle.

Which brought an interesting point-of-view from my brother... He thinks there is a conspiracy at foot to make sure things will stay in their favor to keep us under their thumbs until further notice. They treat one aspect of his illness, but don’t treat another- on purpose. This way, they can figure out that they have a "perpetual patient" on their hands and in his wallet.

Interesting theory... one, I’m sure, that has crossed a lot of other people’s minds over time.

They can’t flip him over like a pancake and check on things. But they can make sure they’re late, give us the wrong instructions, and give us confusing directives, if not other things I haven’t quite thought of yet, either. If you can’t tell, I’m a little more than annoyed.

And the one area that can’t be looked at is the one we all thought, initially, would be the one pounded by the chemotherapy. So much for introducing logic into the situation...

The fact that English seemed to be the second language of some, if not most, of the nursing staff didn’t really help matters off the top, either. Imagine trying to get explanations of your father’s chemotherapy play-by-play from someone whom considered English as their learned, and not native, tongue. Instructions and end results all given to you through thick dialects. Concentrating is hard enough as it is for something like this...

And I get that...? I know they all try very hard and want to make things better for not just my family, but countless others, but there are some elements of the process that would be infinitely easier if...

Just if...

dot...dot...dot...

When you're in the Infusion Room, you see how cancer has affected different people in different ways.

There are people who are just starting out (like my dad). There are those who seem to be veterans of the whole thing. And there are those who are, seemingly, beaten down by the whole process. There are those who kick back in the easy chairs. There are those who have lost their hair, wear the bandana, and have lost an incredible amount of weight.

Bottom line- they just look "over the whole f**kin' thing."

The one thing that sticks in my mind during that day more than anything was that Luke and Laura’s second wedding from "General Hospital" was on the television of one of my dad’s new bunk mates. I remember where I was when they married the first time. And I’ll remember where I was the second time.

One scene in particular hangs with me. Laura was forgetting little things like direction and location. Her short-term memory was going away- the by-product of the medication she was taking wearing off. Helena Cassadine appears from nowhere to explain to Laura, in no uncertain terms, that before the rose petals fell from her hair after the ceremony- she wouldn’t remember the happiness of the day at all.

She would be the person she was before she was revived- catatonic and listless...

Helena then snapped her fingers... and walked away.

It would all go away- like that...

And it did...

Makes you wonder...

Life is a vapor, they say. It’s like trying to grab a hold of a contrail from an airplane passing overhead.

We are all just passengers on the plane. And when it lands, it lands.

Whether we like it or not... and it’s not one of my favorite lessons to have re-emphasized to me...

Play it safe, everyone...I’ll talk to you soon...

--Jon Nelson