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Monday, July 6th 2009 - Sports Commentary

You couldn't turn on the television over the weekend without immediately being treated to all the pomp, circumstance and standing ovations that accompanied the return of Manny Ramirez, the conquering hero.  And that was in San Diego, where opposing fans demonstrated their delight that a wrong had been rectified.  Manny had, afterall, been banned from baseball for fifty games.  For Cheating!  For using banned substances that gave him an unfair advantage.  Did anyone, during those fifty games, happen to mention that trafficking in such substances is against the law?  The message throughout baseball, as transmitted by its network partners, was, "Manny, we're thrilled to have you back!"  Manny 1 Decent Society 0.  Those P-E-D's really work.  The solicited analysis of Steve McNair's career the day he was found shot to death in Nashville made for interesting listening, not to mention revisionist history.  As I listened to the assessments of McNair the first class citizen and great team player I wondered if they were talking about the same Steve McNair who refused to play for the Titans, and demanded a trade, after losing his starting job.  Two days later a more realistic picture of his gentlemanly character came out when we learned the married father of two had been carrying on a two year affair with the woman who's body was found alongside his.  Roger Federer's record breaking grand slam title, a record breaking win over Andy Roddick in the longest men's singles final in grand slam history, seventy seven games, made for great television.  Not just for the drama that carried through two tiebreaks and a 16-14 final set, but for the minimalistic commentary from NBC commentators Ted Robinson and John McEnroe, who has emerged as one of the great pleasures of tennis television.  On the same day golf analysts called another Tiger Woods par three tee shot "perfect", only to watch it fall into the rough between the green and the trap and twice glorified Tiger drives only for us to later learn, then only through the order of the second shots, that he'd actually been outdriven by Anthony Kim, Robinson and McEnroe refused to pander to Federer just because he was on the verge of becoming the greatest grand slam player of all time.  They let much of the match speak for itself, even passing on a chance to insincerely gush over Federer's six point run to win the second set tiebreak.  They would have looked foolish in the attempt with Roddick clearly outplaying Federer most of the way, particularly from the moment he broke Federer in the fourth set and Federer began showing his obsession with that fifteenth grand slam title.  Kim, by the way, reacted much differently to shooting one over par on the final round yesterday than he reacted to the same score in the final round one week earlier when he sullenly stalked to the scorer's trailer at the Travelers only to emerge less than thirty seconds later and stomp the ten paces to the clubhouse, where he slammed the door behind him.  Of course, in Cromwell, he wasn't playing his first round ever with Tiger.  The next round anyone plays with Tiger in Cromwell will be the first.  But, despite the way Tiger has treated us all these years, galleries would probably turn out to shower him with adoration.  Hey, as we saw over the weekend, It works for Manny.  With a comment from the sports world, I'm Scott Gray.
 

Tuesday, June 16th 2009 - Sports Commentary

The chorus calling for the head of Red Sox pitcher Daisuke Matsuzaka has reached a crescendo in Boston, with duelling columns in the Globe and Herald this morning suggesting anything from his removal from the rotation to his removal from the pitching staff.  It's a far cry from the preseason two years ago when the Olde Towne was decked out in celebration over, not just the signing of the Japanese star of the World Baseball Classic, but the way the Red Sox braintrust, led by Theo Epstein, out-Yankeed the Yankees at the high stakes game of baseball poker.  Longtime Boston baseball analysts praised the repertoire Daisuke brought with him, some exaggerating his menu of pitches to include twenty seven different variations.  Of course, anyone with such an arsenal would never be able to perfect all of those pitches.  The one pitch he did supposedly possess that was going to create a sensation on his arrival from Japan, the so called "gyro" pitch, never materialized.  But, whatever his throwing capabilities, the true impact of Daisuke came with the manner in which the Red Sox landed him.  With all the experts predicting the posting fee auction for his bidding rights would top off in the thirty eight to forty million dollar range, and the Yankees bidding in that ballpark, the Sox set what would later become the "Sabathia Standard", outbidding everyone else by outbidding yourselves, by posting a bid no one would even imagine approaching, fifty two million dollars.  They then declared victory over agent Scott Boras by forcing him to settle for a five year deal with a potential ceiling of sixty million dollars or return his client to Japan.  With three seasons left on the contract the Red Sox now confront the possibility that they maxed out the Daisuke upside in the first two years.  He did give them two eighteen win seasons and was part of a staff that took them to a World Series Championship in 2007, but it's now a matter of pride with the Red Sox as much as a matter of finances.  They pride themselves as the "moneyball" standard bearers of the twenty first century and Bill James is their "moneyball" guru.  It was his book of statistics that become so minute they often verge on convoluted that led them to believe Daisuke would be the greatest pitcher in baseball for the next decade, leading them to bid accordingly.  The Yankees have a similar problem with two time nineteen game winner Chien Ming Wang.  The way Asian pitchers are used in their youth tends to age their arms six or seven years ahead of the calendar.  But there's more at stake for the Red Sox with Daisuke than for the Yanks with Wang.  Both teams are now in a position to carve a five man rotation out of six candidates but the Yankees didn't make Wang a symbol of their supremecy over the Red Sox and the Yanks now have their own currency printing press in operation.  Theo Epstein doesn't like to be on the recieving end of last laughs and the Red Sox hate to eat money.  Discarding Daisuke may make a lot of baseball sense but for the Red Sox "moneyball" philosophy it would be a giant step backward, an admission they got one wrong.  A very costly one, in more ways than one.  With a comment from the sports world, I'm Scott Gray.

 

Wednesday, June 17th 2009 Sports Commentary

I spent much of my morning trying to tally the number of championships won by
Central Connecticut State University athletic teams over the last fourteen years.  I 
gave up.  Maybe sports information director Tom Pincince can help me out.  He'd 
be the guy to ask and his count would be accurate.  He was a Charlie Jones hire and 
Charlie's demonstrated a good sense for putting the right person in the right job 
during his tenure as Central's athletic director.  Charlie's relationship with Central 
reaches back far beyond his years a A.D., it's just that after four years as an 
undergraduate student athlete before earning his masters in education at Central, 
where he would go on to spend the next quarter of a century on staff, Charlie was
the right man for the job when the position opened up fourteen years ago.  He 
wasn't on the job long before he engineered his first major coup, calling in the chips
with a former Central basketball teammate and old friend, Howie Dickenman, luring 
the former All American forward away from his associate head coaching job at 
UConn to take the reins of the Blue Devils.  It was a critical time in Central athletic 
history, a time for accelerating the progress of the various programs at the division 
one level, to which the Devils were relative newcomers.  That move paid fast 
dividends and three times Howie has taken his hoopsters to the NCAA tournament.
With his premier program in good hands Charlie went to work finding the right 
people to lead his other teams to the success level at division one they'd once 
enjoyed in division two.  Just the personality he was looking for to lead his women's
basketball team into the power structure of the Northeast Conference was waiting 
just across town for the call, New Britain High School coach Beryl Piper bringing the 
needed infusion of excitement to the program.  The energy generated by Jeff 
McInerny has brought new prominence to Central football while Sean Green and 
Mick D'Arcy have created a legacy of success in men's and women's soccer.  The 
coaches at Central have one thing in common.  They're reflections of the man
himself, Charlie Jones.  But don't call him Charlie, call him C.J. or, as he's sometimes
known, The Cookie Monster.  He loves 'em, baking them and eating them.  Living in
the shadow of the athletic juggernaut at UConn C.J.'s had to fight for his share of
the limelight and one thing I've always appreciated about Charlie is his appreciation
for the guys who gave him that share, particularly in these trying times when media
outlets are drying up and sports departments are shrinking.  When the big guys 
finally did show up for the big games, those of us who were there all along still had 
our seats at midcourt and always recieved a special greeting.  It's rare loyalty in an 
era when the bigger you are the more attention you get.  Yesterday C.J. announced
he's retiring.  After forty four years as a true blue and white Central Connecticut guy
it's a retirement well deserved.  But Charlie won't go far.  Whenever they need him,
whatever they need him for, he'll always be just a phone call away.  To a guy like 
me, to whom Charlie's always been a good friend, a great golf partner and one of 
the truly first class people in the Connecticut sports world, that was the best part of
his retirement announcement.  Central Connecticut will always need Charlie Jones, 
Charlie will always need Central.  They were made for each other.  With a comment
from the sports world, I'm Scott Gray.

Who do you root for?  You have about two minutes to make up your mind.
That's about when Tiger Woods' first number should go up on the board
at golf's U.S. Open at Bethpage Black on Long Island.  In a field of over a 
hundred and fifty there are only two favorites.  Among the oddsmakers 
it's Tiger.  The sentimental favorite is Phil Mickelson.  Both are capable of
winning, both capable of running away from the field.  Both are capable 
of losing, both capable of being their own worst enemy.  Bethpage Black 
is a public course with a caveat.  A sign at the first tee warning it's, "An 
extremely difficult course which we recommend only for highly skilled 
golfers."  The rough is like driving on the highway.  Dangerous, 
particularly when wet, which it will be this weekend.  If Tiger hits the 
fairways like he did two weeks ago, fourteen for fourteen in the last 
round of the Memorial, the rest of the field plays for second place money.
If he's as erratic as he's been most of the season he'll have little chance 
of claiming his fifteenth major this week.  The irony of being Phil 
Mickelson is being Phil Mickelson.  Everyone rooting for Phil to win wants 
him to take his best shot at losing.  They love Phil for his gambling 
nature, his ability to create a shot where none exists, or not.  Sometimes
playing it safe might be enough to secure a victory, but safe isn't in his 
nature and going for broke has cost him some of the most prestigious 
titles in his sport.  He's lost more majors than some of the greatest names
in the game have won.  It's hard not to root for Tiger.  He's the best 
chance a generation of golf fans has to embrace their own golf history.  
He's Gen-X's link to the lineage of Bobby Jones, Sam Snead, Arnold
Palmer and Jack Nicklaus.  The torch has already been passed, it's up 
to Tiger to pass Jack like Jack passed Arnie and Arnie passed Sam.  But 
Phil's a long standing favorite in the New York Metropolitan area and
they tuned up and ready to him on his arrival for a practice round 
yesterday, one day after he celebrated his thirty ninth birthday at home 
with his wife and his three daughters.  They welcomed him to Bethpage
with a chorus of "Happy Birthday", just to let him know he's there guy.
He touched the tearducts with his acknowlegement that Amy, preparing
for the biggest challenge of her life, a face to face confrontation with 
breast cancer, sent him here on a mission.  To bring home a silver trophy
for her hospital room, and he's going to do his darndest to accomodate
her.  No one knows when we'll see Phil play a competitive round again.
He's going to see this thing all the way through with her first.  It was 
obvious as he labored around the course at the St. Jude Classic last week,
competent golf but nothing dazzling, that there were times his heart and 
mind were elsewhere.  So it's down to two for the Open.  Unless someone
else emerges so hot as to take Tiger and Phil completely off the board the
remainder of the field is likely to toil in virtual anonymity this weekend.
It's been a long time since, before the first shot found the first fairway, 
the focus was so clearly centered on two golfers going into a major.  It 
was a rhetorical question.  With Tiger and Phil in the starring roles this 
U.S. Open is going to be golf theater at it's best.  The script is written.  
Whatever the ending, we know it will be fitting.  With a comment from 
the sports world, I'm Scott Gray.

Friday, June 19th 2009 - Sports Commentary

On second thought.  I was going to use the tried and true commentators "a friend of mine" ploy.  But, for the sake of honesty and full disclosure, this happened to me.  I was recently given an opportunity to take my wife to a Major League Baseball game, one the average fan will have trouble getting into, particularly at the price, no charge (no quid pro quo, the tickets came from the radio station).  The Red Sox and Yankees at Fenway Park.  Still I had to consider the strings that are now attached to major league games.  The choice was a Friday night in August or Sunday afternoon.  Sunday afternoon would be better, except for the new trick Major League Baseball plays on it's fans.  Late season, Red Sox and Yankees, American League East ramifications.  Don't be surprised when ESPN and Major League Baseball turn your Sunday afternoon in the park into a late Sunday night and a bleary eyed arrival at work Monday morning.  We took Friday night.  Still, it's an intriquing proposal, one I couldn't pass on, a chance to just be a fan again.  Go to the park, sit in the stands, enjoy the game, go home, no work involved.  It's been years.  I'm very excited about just being a fan again.  Yesterday the Yankees kept their fans waiting for five and a half hours, in the rain, before they played a watered down game, in more ways than one, with the Washington Nationals.  They had no choice.  Interleague play has put Major League Baseball in that position.  Teams make just one trip to the other league's ballparks with no common days off. The game has to be played, the fans have to wait it out, and buy as much beer and food as they can in the interim.  Baseball's hands are clean.  Bud Selig blames interleague play on the fans, or, as the commissioner says, they only play interleague games because "it's what the fans want."  Last night at Fenway the Sox forced their fans to watch in conditions normally reserved for ducks and frogs.  Again, an interleague game with no window for a make up, because it's what the fans want.  Then they had the fans sit through a two and a half hour delay, until eleven thirty, eating and drinking the whole time of course, before telling them the game had actually ended sometime just before nine.  Yesterday golf fans, some of whom paid ticket prices well into three figures for the right to spend a full day on the course, got approximately three and a half hours of U.S. Open action before round one was halted due to rain.  That's the fans who showed up early.  Those who planned on arriving later and spending the afternoon were rained out completely.  More accurately, shut out, by the USGA.  To the USGA yesterday was day one of their premier event.  Fans holding tickets to day one, even tickets that never got ripped at the gate, had their day.  That's it.  One and done, a hundred bucks, two hundred bucks, premier sky box seating, whatever, you got what you paid for, even if you didn't get it, Thursday at the golf course, whether you used it or not, whether all you got for your ticket price was rained on.  You've had your U.S. Open experience and they won't let you back in.  Day two is only for people who bought day two tickets, same for day three and so on.  No, dare I say it, "rain checks".  On second thought, maybe I shouldn't be so excited about just being a fan again.  With a comment from the sports world, I'm Scott Gray.