JStephen’s whereIstand Blog

With a wholly unexpected run to the Super Bowl, is it fair to say the Giants have become a rarity in professional sports, a New York team that actually engenders nationwide appreciation? (Full disclosure: I have had Giants season tickets for my entire life; even fuller disclosure, until mid-season, I hated this team.)

After enduring the melodramatic Jeremy Shockey, the histrionical Tom Coughlin and the equivocating Michael Strahan (never mind the barb-tossing Tiki Barber), I wanted to tear it down, begin again with a new coach, a new corps of players and hope to be able to contend by the time they enter a new stadium in 2009. The Giants, around week two of Coughlin’s fourth year, were perfectly contemptible.

But something has happened, hard as it is to explain, to make this team, well, admirable. They’ve set an NFL record with 10 straight road wins, have won playoff games in the cramping conditions of Tampa and the meat-locker of Green Bay; not to mention what they did in Dallas, where most Giants fans privately expected the run to wind down.

All the while they have never complained … just performed. In winning three straight playoff road games, they have eliminated the top two seeds in the NFC tournament, taken out two of the NFC’s Pro Bowl quarterbacks and given New York City a sense of spirit it hasn’t seen since the Yankees were capable of beating the Red Sox.

You can hate New York; I don’t, I live here. But it’s hard not to be impressed by what the Giants have accomplished. And, frankly, the way they have accomplished it. In fact, after a decade of excuse-making, they seem to finally understand that what matters is the logo on the front of the jersey, not the name on the back. In that regard, they call to mind the 2001 Patriots.

Odd isn’t, how all those who howled for Eli Manning to show some emotion, are finally beginning to understand what Ernie Accorsi saw in him four years ago … that sense of calm purpose that is so necessary to survival in New York.

It’s hard to make a logical case for the Giants winning this game. They gave New England all it could handle a month ago, put the fear of God into the Patriots, in fact, and still lost. Can the Giants possibly elevate their play against what looks like an immortal team on an immortal stage?

I think not. But I’ll say this: These Giants have given Gotham more joy in the past four weeks than any New York football team in a decade. If you saw this coming, Nostradamus-like, God bless you, because no one here did.

The soccer explosion is coming. So the experts have said for the better part of three decades.

Perhaps with David Beckham, it finally will arrive.

The charismatic Englishman with the "Spice Girl" wife could be the one to elevate Major League Soccer off the agate pages and into the consciousness of mainstream sporting America. Could be, that is, if Americans will give him, and his sport,  a chance.

I don’t claim to be a soccer sophisticate. But I’ve watched enough of it, and enough of all sports, to recognize greatness when I see it. And Beckham is no myth.

One of the greatest passers the sport has ever seen, indeed one of the best dead-ball kickers ever, Beckham will bring a skill set heretofore unwitnessed on this side of the Atlantic. And with his glamor-boy good looks, who’s not going to pay attention when the Galaxy makes its weekly appearance on ESPN.

The parallels to another foreigner turned Los Angelino are striking. Nearly two decades ago, Wayne Gretzky brought similar skills to a Southern California population that could barely distinguish a hockey puck from a soccer ball. Within five years, the Kings were playing for the Stanley Cup, and youth leagues were blossoming. 

Labor stoppages and poor management derailed whatever momentum Gretzky’s Kings cultivated in Los Angeles. Hopefully, the leaders of the Galaxy will learn from that example.

In the meantime, assuming Beckham can approximate his level of performance from previous years, he will bring attention and international credibility to a league lacking in both. His example could lead more of the world’s top players across the pond, but even if it does not, it might provide American-born players with a credible place to perform. 

For the first time, the U.S. soccer generation born three decades might have a place to call home. 

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• Will the Los Angeles Galaxy’s acquisition of David Beckham increase the popularity of Major League Soccer in the U.S.?

This just in: ESPN has learned exclusively that there will be a presidential election in 2008. Sources tell Chris Mortensen it will, in fact, be held on a Tuesday. 

As recently as five years ago, ESPN was a must-watch for anyone sincerely interested in the batted ball or the thrown pigskin. Even in a digital age, its collection of authorities provided insight that could not be matched. How times have changed. 

With its mindless programming, non-exclusive "exclusives" and ego-driven on-air personalities, ESPN has become a parody of itself. In fact, absent its Monday night NFL game, it would be without value whatsoever. 

While in my view, it’s been a net loss for viewers, what has its impact been on sports themselves? Those fans of domestic soccer or collegiate softball might differ, but I have trouble thinking ESPN has done much for the integrity of the industry. 

Games and footage 24-7 are nice, particularly for those unseen sports, but too often ESPN seems to sacrifice those in favor of the "watch-me" video bite or the "jacked-up" highlight that dumb the games down to their most primitive levels.The result is a sports culture of Jeremy Shockeys or Michael Irvins, whose antics after a 10-yard reception are equally neanderthal. 

What’s more, ESPN’s editorial transparency is in such evidence even an O.J. Simpson jury would have no trouble recognizing it. Amazing how Arena Football became such an element of Sports Center once ESPN secured the broadcast rights. 

In fact, ESPN’s cross-promotional efforts are in such display during a major telecast one sometimes is left to ponder if, in fact, a Monday night NFL game is but a read-in for "The Bronx is Burning" or the 2007 ESPYs. 

It’s easy to take shots at the Bristol network, and it goes without saying one of the most inspiring sports stories of my lifetime – that of autistic basketball star Jason McElwain – might have gone unnoticed had ESPN not brought it to public consumption. However, one must always cynically wonder whether ESPN did so only because it smelled a made-for-Disney movie on the landscape.

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I love professional football. I also have three beautiful dogs. The notion that Michael Vick, the wondrously gifted, if occasionally scatter-armed quarterback of the Atlanta Falcons, may have sanctioned dog fighting in his Virginia home, is as repugnant to my sensibilities as a sword in the stomach.

But what to do about him? Fine him? Trade him? Bench him? 

If the desire is to punish Vick, to perhaps teach him that all living things deserve some respect from those on the top of the food chain, it seems to me a fiduciary punishment hardly rates as appropriate. What would Vick possibly learn from the mere cutting of a check., the size of which probably would be dwarfed by what Vick pays in valet parking each month.

Trade him? Banish him from Atlanta? Trades are so rare in the NFL, particularly trades of high-profile players, as to render that possibility as far-fetched as Vick suddenly become a sponsor of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. And besides, who would really want Vick now, at his salary, with his baggage? How do you determine market value for a player whose productivity has never matched his talent and is now the latest to join the NFL’s wanted poster parade? 

No, it seems to me, the only thing to do with Vick, assuming the Falcons have the guts, is to not play him. To force him to watch while castoff Joey Harrington attempts to run Atlanta’s offense under new coach Bobby Petrino, who would seem to have management’s imprimatur to build a team based on talent AND character.  

As I see it, some lengthy time on the pine and Vick might  come to understand the values of respect., civilized conduct and basic human decency. Then again, perhaps not.

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For years now, the vocal lobby of college football fanatics has, with one voice, clamored publicly for a playoff system. (That there is one, just not in the Division I game, is conveniently ignored.)

Count me among the minority; count me among the education-preserving pollyannas even, but the idea of a Division I playoff just doesn’t sit well with me, and never has, for a number of reasons.

Primarily, it’s not necessary. The Bowl Championship Series, that made-for-TV invention that was supposed to give us the champion we crave, has not been perfect. Yet it has established a system that over the past several years has pitted the consensus top teams in a national championship game. Isn’t that enough?

To some, mostly those a generation or so removed from the classroom, it’s not. They cite the inequities of a computer or polling system determining the two teams most deserving of the national game. As if those inequities would disappear once the field expanded to eight. Tell that to the ninth-ranked team.    

We all recognize the money-making potential of a playoff system, and I am sure the suits at Fox would lavish even more huge sums on the NCAA for for the right to broadcast  the two, four or eight games of this system. Advertisers would, in turn, lavish huge sums upon Fox for the right to be mentioned in said broadcasts. 

Everyone seems to win; everyone except the student-athletes.

Consider that — not including spring practice – players from LSU, Notre Dame, USC and other likely title contenders begin workouts in, what, late July. The "regular" season lasts a dozen or more weeks during which they are routinely removed from the classroom, required to travel, take exams on the fly and be tutored on the road. 

And we wonder why graduation rates among Division I athletes are off the charts low.

And now the vocal majority would like to extend the season for some schools by at least another month to accommodate their desire to crown a champion. To which I say, at what point is our need to certify a winner trumped by a student-athlete’s right to a realistic education?

But I’m naive.
    

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“The designated hitter rule is like letting someone else take Wilt Chamberlain’s free throws.” 

So said Rick Wise, a fairly good-hitting pitcher upon his trade to the American League in 1974. If ever a man could draw a comparison. 

Thirty-four years after Ron Bloomberg became the first full-time pitcher’s pinch-hitter, the designated hitter has run its course. And I say this as someone who always appreciated the American League game, who liked the smaller ballparks and generally eschewed the four-hit pitchers’ duels in which so many found joy. 

Every change made to the game in the past, oh, three generations, from the DH to mound-lowering, has been done with the notion of gimmicking-up offense. But now with every American League lineup boasting nine hitters, scoring has escalated to softball-like proportions. It’s time to rein in the DH. 

The arguments about strategy are well-worn. In truth, a compelling case can be made that use of the DH actually has ADDED elements of strategy to the AL game. For example, an American League manager must know intuitively when it is time to bunt, not merely any time the pitcher’s spot in the order rolls round. Likewise, he must know intuitively when to abandon his starter and not just pinch-hit for him when the situation warrants a better bat. 

That’s still not enough to convince me that the DH is worth preserving. 

Call this intellectual growth if you will, but I have come over the years to recognize that the double-switches, constant pinch-hitting and LaRussa-like calls to the bullpen do make for a better game. It also makes for a more complete game inasmuch as every National League player, from outfielder to last man out of the bullpen, actually must engage in every skill the game requires. 

I am inclined to think the baseball landscape recognizes the value of the full-time performer. How else to explain the 2005 AL Most Valuable Player balloting when David Ortiz, twice as valuable to the Red Sox as Alex Rodriguez was that year to the Yankees, finishes a distant second to the Gold Glove third baseman? 

What;’s more, as much as the DH has lengthened the careers of great hitters (Paul Molitor, Edgar Martinez), it has had the contrary effect of minimizing the value of the bench in the American League, in a sense turning non-starters into non-essentials, who can be replaced with the end of each game, each season. 

For that reason, baseball’s players union, will never allow the DH to die a natural death. But the way I see it, more than three decades after its debut, it’s time to finally close the door on the DH.

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“To hit .400, you need a great start and you can’t have a slump."

So said BIll Terry, who in 1930 fashioned one of the finest seasons in baseball history when he scored 139 runs, hit 23 homers, had 129 runs batted in and hit .401. Terry remains the last National League player to hit .400.

The question now is, could any player, National Leaguer or American, equal such a standard in an era of interleague play, smaller ballparks, expansion-depleted pitching and the dreaded designated hitter. 

I’m inclined to think so. I’m inclined to think it might happen sooner rather than later.

Ted  Williams, he of the .406 season in 1941, once said of baseball that it "is the only field of endeavor where a man can succeed three times out of 10 and be considered a good performer." And he ought to know.

Of course, Williams was playing in a pre-expansion era, where eight teams constituted the entirety of the American League, where maybe 150 pitchers had earned the right to call themselves major leaguers.

Think of all that has happened since. Major League Baseball has doubled in size, each team now carries at least two pitchers who years ago would not have seen the inside of big-league stadium absent a ticket and a catcher, a CATCHER, flirted with .400 a year ago. 

That catcher, Joe Mauer of the Twins, carried a .389 average into July only to slump amid the demands of the position and finish at .347. That was still enough to earn Mauer a batting title, the first by a catcher in 54 years.

Truth is, if Mauer weren’t a catcher he’d probably be the best candidate since George Brett to best .400. He carries the finest swing in the game — bar none — doesn’t strike out (barely 160 in four big-league seasons) and most importantly, plays far enough away from the spotlight in Minnesota that he’d be unburdened by the media until he’d well established himself as a .400 candidate.

And on that point, we may have hit on something. It’s doubtful a big-market player, no matter how talented, could endure the scrutiny of a .400 season. Tabloid pressure is a reality in cities such as New York and Boston. But in a two-paper city such as Minneapolis?  
 
Mauer just signed a $33-million contract extension with Minnesota, guaranteeing he’ll remain a Twin until at least 2010. If the Twins are smart, they’ll find another place to play him – left field, first or second base, a la Craig Biggio, also a former catcher —  where his sweet swing won’t be compromised by the demands of catching.

Mauer has my vote as the one player, maybe the only contemporary player, capable of eclipsing baseball’s gold standard.

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To fully comprehend how much Alex Rodriguez is paid annually — $25 million — consider that to match him paycheck for paycheck in 2007, the average guy would have to win the "Deal or No Deal" grand prize about once every two weeks.  

Ouch.

So much is too much? That seems to be the question at issue here.  Is Rodriguez "overpaid"? Is Peyton Manning? Is Tiger Woods,  whose $100 million annually dwarfs every one of his fellow athletes? 

From a social values perspective, the answer is definitely in the affirmative. Why the point is so self-evident, it hardly merits debate.

But what does that have to with the free market?

It seems to me this argument only has legs if one is to suspend the market economy, restricting compensation to some perceived standard of equity. But who would determine that ? And if that were so, who would then determine if business executives, television personalities and recording artists were similarly over-compensated?

However contemporary the notion of athletes as overpaid might  be,  it overlooks one fundamental principle: That in consumerist  America, the market pays what the market will bear. And while we all might yearn for nickel beers at the ballpark, I certainly do not want an abitrary third-party determining what is fair compensation in my profession.

Athletes are paid money because they make money for their employers. Lots of it, in truth, from merchandising, ticket sales, broadcast rights, franchise appreciation and more. Odd isn’t it that we are less likely to begrudge Julia Roberts $20 million for a hit film than we are to envy Peyton Manning’s $35 million to play quarterback?

It seems to me that any argument that athletes are "overpaid" has its roots in the worst kind of class envy. Since most of us who have played the game as children have often said we would "play for nothing" if we could, we resent those who do not.

And that’s our fault, not A-Rod’s.

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Despite the papal-like atmosphere that accompanied the announcement of his return — Roger Clemens in the owner’s box at Yankee Stadium waving to worshipers down in the bleachers, Yankee radio broadcasters shouting as if Clemens had walked upon the East Rver — it seems clear that after a handful of starts, the Yankees have misfired in luring the seven-time Cy Young winner out of "retirement." As if he ever really planned to stay that way.

I say that not to indict Clemens — who among us would have said no to a pro-rated deal for $28 million ? — but rather to suggest that through nearly half a season, the Yankees are evidently a flawed team. An no pitcher, particularly not a 44-year-old, is going to amend that.

The Yankees are old, and the Yankees are slow. They are an adventure defensively, and most disturbingly, seem to have abandoned what made them so successful in the early years of the Torre administration. Things like situational hitting, defensive responsibility, a bullpen and a bench.

It says something about the chemistry of this collection of  Yankees that  they are mired a near-dozen games behind the Red Sox despite the expected all-star performances from Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez and a career season from Jorge Posada.  Think about that: three Hall-of-Fame seasons from three key players and the Yankees remain baseball’s biggest enigma of 2007.  They have had 10 days to remember this year, three months worth forgetting.

And now they turn to Clemens. Forget for a minute the family plan of a contract the Yankees handed him, what reasonably could they have expected from the 44-year-old? To win 15 games? Maybe toss a three-hitter in his first playoff start? All of that might (and still could happen) but unless the Yankees address the more fundamental issues that plague the team, the Clemens signing will have a zero-sum effect on their 2007 season.

It’s clear Brian Cashman signed the Rocket because he doubted he could acquire anyone better, not without surrendering a good portion of the team’s future. Clemens may yet work a miracle in the Bronx, but the team’s resurrection is anything but assured.

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