Category: Sports

Notice has been served. The National Football League has a new sheriff, Commissioner Roger Goodell, and it’s open season on the NFL’s chronic miscreant and criminal elements.

That became abundantly evident when Goodell suspended Tennessee Titans’ cornerback Adam “Pacman” Jones for a year and the Cincinnati Bengals’ wide receiver Chris Henry for half a season. They are both multiple offenders who have run afoul of the law and shown little but contempt for their employers and their teammates.

The tough-love message has been sent: “Most of our employees are law-abiding and don’t bring ’embarrassment and ridicule’ upon their clubs and the league. That’s good for business and society. Those who don’t fit that minimalist profile, however, won’t be fined relative chump change or given a PR “rehab” pass; they will be denied their privileged, high-profile, highly compensated livelihood.

“At the end of the day, we want more fans talking about Peyton than Pacman.”

Every year, it seems, the basketball tradition known as “March Madness” includes tales of woe and crushing, disillusioned disappointment: teams that barely missed the cut for the 65-team “Big Dance.” This year that includes the Florida State University men and the University of South Florida women.

Without getting caught up in the esoterica of weighted schedules and RPIs and all that, let’s at least acknowledge this: If there are more than a half dozen teams in your own conference that are better than you, what are you doing in a national championship tournament anyway? Shouldn’t selection mean selective?

Time was when only a conference winner went to the NCAA Tournament. Period. Or only a conference tournament winner moved on.

Back in the day, the biggest obstacle to a Jerry West-led West Virginia team making the NCAAs was the Southern Conference Tournament final with tiny Davidson. It was great hoops and great drama. And occasionally Davidson slew Goliath.

The problem now is there are too many teams from the big-name, big-budget conferences in the tournament — and in a game of increasing parity not nearly enough Valparaisos, Vermonts, Butlers, Belmonts, Evansvilles and Bucknells.

You want to make the Big Tournament? Earn it. Don’t be an also-ran in your own — however big the name — conference and then complain because it’s embarrassing to the administration, alumni and fans to miss a bloated, 65-team tournament.

To anyone who has watched women’s basketball over the years, it’s apparent how much better the college game has become. The players are notably and noticeably more skilled. And it’s not just at Tennessee and Connecticut. It’s across the board, including the University of South Florida, which has a very competitive Big East program.

It’s also obvious how much the women have been emulating their male counterparts. Even the occasional dunk. Alas, there are also more tattoos and more “trash talk.”

Then there was this. I caught part of the Duke-North Carolina game last week. They’re both powerhouses. At a moment of celebration, several exuberant UNC players paired off — just like the guys.

But flying chest bumps?

Step down on top, Tony.

Given the usual givens – parity and luck – it’s not likely that the Indianapolis Colts will repeat as Super Bowl champions. So, Tony, max out on your influence now.

Come back to Tampa – as you plan to some day anyhow – and work with your causes, the ones that will always be more important than football, including All Pro Dad.

But if you stay on with the Colts, which seems likely, be wary of a double-edged sword. A locker room is not a sectarian pulpit.

Continue to preach being a good person, of course. And putting fame and special physical skills into perspective. There are precious few voices of dignity and wisdom like yours. And while you’re at it, you might use that unique forum to speak out against an insidious hip hop culture that is a moral yoke on the black community. You will never have more credibility and impact than you do right now.

But enough of the “God’s plan” rhetoric when it comes to the games professionals play and the ebb and flow of playoff success. Frankly, it’s unworthy of a Deity with, hopefully, other priorities.

It was one of those easily buried, three-graph obit stories two weekends ago. Perhaps you saw it: “‘The King’ of Softball dies at 81.”

“The King” was Eddie Feigner a legendary pitcher who barnstormed the country for some 50 years with his four-man team, “The King and His Court,” taking on all comers. With his 104-mph fastball, pinpoint control, a few trick pitches, and gimmicks that included a blindfold, he didn’t need more than a catcher, first baseman and roving fielder. The Walla Walla, Wash., native threw 930 no hitters and 238 perfect games and totaled more than 141,000 strikeouts. He was also a helluva hitter – and always used a short, billy club-like bat.

In a nationally televised exhibition against major leaguers in 1964, he struck out – in order – Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Maury Wills, Harmon Killebrew, Roberto Clemente and Brooks Robinson.

And in 1970 he struck out me.

As a young teacher — and baseball coach — in Bristol Township, Pa., I was asked to help fill out a squad that was going to play “The King and His Court” at Woodrow Wilson High School of Levittown, just outside of Philadelphia. I had heard of “The King,” but not enough to be intimidated. My first miscalculation.

It was a night game. The crowd, including a number of my students, was standing-room only and probably 25-deep in the outfield. I hit eighth, and the seven guys in front of me, including former minor leaguers, ex-college players and a couple of current high school hot shots, all struck out. One while Feigner was blindfolded. Another when Feigner pitched from – second base. Contact of any kind, including foul tips, was applauded. A serious foul ball warranted a cheer. The animated home plate ump seemed to be playing along and appeared to enjoy punching out hitter after hitter to the delight of the pumped-up crowd.

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was that traumatic.

Feigner doffed his cap and showed a crew cut that would have done Roger Maris proud. He smiled and held up the ball as if to say “This is as good a look at you’re going to get.”

I decided not to swing at the first pitch – no matter where it was – and hoped it was a ball. Then I would be better able to gauge the speed, and fans would think I had exercised a good batter’s “eye.”

Windmill windup. Release. Zzzzzz. THUMP. “STEE-rike one.” I never saw it. It was a blur. He didn’t let up on the number 8 hitter. Thanks for the respect.

New strategy. Don’t just stand there; swing.

Windmill windup. Release. Zzzz–Begin swing–zz. THUMP. “STEE-rike two.” I swear I had barely begun my swing when the catcher was tossing it back to Feigner. Fans laughed.

Amended strategy. Begin to swing AS he was releasing. Hope he hits you in the bat.

Windmill windup. Release. Swing. THUMP. “STEE-rike three.” Never heard it; never saw it. As I turned, the crowd began howling. I pivoted around to see Feigner holding the ball aloft with a toothy grin. It had never left his hand. I had swung and missed a real phantom pitch. The catcher had loudly pounded his mitt and the ump bellowed “STEE-rike three.” That’s show biz.

That was the “King and His Court.”

And his jester.

Some Super Bowl givens:

1) Not unlike a heavyweight championship fight, most folks in attendance will have little clue as to what is actually going on. Doesn’t matter. It’s the mother of all VIP tickets.

2) Nothing exceeds a Roman-numeraled football game for sheer pretension.

3) Much more than usual, the media horde falls all over itself for vapid, jock-sniffing stories.

4) Each year the extortion ante is raised for the host city.

5) USF economics professor Phil Porter will be quoted around the world as saying that the Super Bowl doesn’t mean economic squat for the host city.

Tiger Woods now dominates golf as no other athlete dominates his or her sport. Ultimately, after a few more Major wins, he will be accorded “best ever” status. We’ll not see his like again.

Currently, Woods is on a seven-tournament (PGA Tour) winning streak, second only to the late Byron Nelson, who won 11 in a row in 1945. And yet for all the success, all the fame, all the riches, he maintains a perspective that is refreshing.

When asked about his streak that now approaches what had long been thought to be untouchable, he answered: “

As gridiron consolation prizes go, this Sunday’s Super Bowl game certainly qualifies around here. For the fourth consecutive year, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers won’t be in it. But ex-Tampa Bay coach Tony Dungy will lead his Indianapolis Colts against the Chicago Bears of Lovie Smith, his former assistant during their Buc days.

The game is historic because it marks the first time a black coach — let alone two in tandem — have made it to the Super Bowl. But no less important, it also matches two of the nicest, classiest men in the business.

Rush Limbaugh recently opined that NFL games were looking increasingly like contests between “the Bloods and the Crips.” We’ll chalk it up to trash-talking, dreadlocks and Rush-to-judgment hyperbole. But make no mistake. Super Bowl XLI is a long overdue “Good Guy Game.”

And lest we forget amid all the jubilation across Gator Nation, remember who has asserted itself as the second-best team in this football-crazed state this season: USF. In the final AP poll, the Bulls were ranked in the top 30. Among the unranked: Florida State and Miami.

Even by the win-at-all-costs, marketplace-gone-wild salaries of today’s athletic arena, it seemed skewed.

Nick Saban was recently hired as the head football coach at the University of Alabama. Saban, who had been coaching the NFL Miami Dolphins, signed an eight-year deal worth $32 million guaranteed plus annual bonuses worth more than $700,000. One can only wonder what he would have commanded had he had a winning record with the Dolphins. In two years he was a disappointing 15-17.

One also can only wonder what the ripple effect will be on other college campuses, including the one in Gainesville.