Bah Humbug To The NBA

Chris Paul recently joined the Clippers in a trade that basically sucked the
life out of the New Orleans Hornets. The Paul trade is just one of many
reasons I am locking out the NBA from my TV set this Christmas.

The NBA season begins on Christmas, and to be honest, I could not care less.

It isn't that I don't like the NBA — or basketball for that matter. I used to be a huge fan, but this past offseason as been more of a put-off than a turn-on.

Don't take it personal, NBA fans. It's nothing you did. If you had to blame someone, blame the greedy players and owners who couldn't settle things like civilized human beings. Instead, they both wanted everything without giving up anything — proving that there was no bargaining in the bargaining agreement.

The previous lockout left fans with a sour taste in their mouth, but this lockout seemed slightly worse. Perhaps it was the NBA trying to rush through a half-hearted attempt at a preseason to make sure that they don't lose the TV revenue on Christmas. Or maybe it was the league's rejection of a trade that would have sent Chris Paul to the Lakers after allowing LeBron James, Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh to all sign with the Heat a year ago.

Paul eventually found his way to Los Angeles, by way of joining the Clippers. Understandably, the Clippers have need help for years — looking more like an NBA D-League team than an actual competitor. But was allowing Paul to join forces with Blake Griffin really the answer?

The trade has turned one mediocre team into a contender, but it sucked the life out of another city with a history of heartbreak. New Orleans has already lost one team, and I wouldn't be surprised if the Hornets don't find a new home in the coming years.

So while many fans will watch the full slate of games to begin on Christmas, I will spend my day with the family waiting for the NFL game to start. And as for the NBA's owners and players, they can expect a lump of coal in their stockings.

All Part Of The Job

Spring (Texas) Dekaney coach Willie Amendola tries to divert a runaway
cart away from a couple of reporters during an interview after Amendola's
team won the Texas 5A Division II chamionship. The runaway cart shows
that being a sports reporter is never an easy job.

This week is always tough for sports reporters. Between high school basketball tournaments and dealing with players like Dallas Cowboys defensive tackle Jay Ratliffe, it's no wonder most of my colleagues spend the holidays with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

But nothing compares to what happened in the Texas 5A Division II high school football championship — or more specifically after it. A unmanned electric cart took off down the field before plowing into a group of reporters interviewing a coach.

As a reporter, I know I take my life into my own hands when I step on the field. More often than not, I appear to have a target on my back when it comes to footballs, basketballs, soccer balls and softballs. I've even been run over by a 200-pound running back — although he ended up taking the brunt of the blow.

Never have I been run over by an electric cart.

When I first saw this video, I couldn't help but laugh for a good 20 minutes. It was a scary moment, but once you learned that everybody survived with minor injuries, you can't help but laugh. From Spring (Texas) Dekaney's coach Willie Amendola — father of St. Louis Rams and former Texas Tech wide receiver Danny Amendola — trying to control the cart from the passenger seat to watching the field workers unsuccessfully track down the cart, this viral video is full of comic gold. It just takes a couple of viewings to see it all.

No doubt, some readers will say a couple of those reporters deserved to be run over. I can probably think of a couple of guys I'd like to see run over by a cart. Hopefully they all got hazard pay after this incident.

All kidding aside, I'm glad to see that no one was seriously injured in this bizarre accident. And I know the next time I go to interview a coach,  I will keep one eye open for runaway carts and possibly goalposts.

The Naughty National League Central

Milwaukee's Ryan Braun recently tested positive for
performance-enhancing drugs. Braun can expect a lump of
coal in his stocking this year from Brewers fans.

The holiday season is nearly upon us, but not everybody has been nice — especially in the National League Central.

While Cardinals fans were mourning the loss of Albert the Great to the Los Angeles Angels, National League MVP and Milwaukee Brewer Ryan Braun tested positive for performance-enhancing drugs. It's safe to say that both Pujols and Braun can expect lumps of coal in their stockings from their fan bases.

Braun's positive test was devastating to Brewers fans and the rest of baseball. He was supposed to be the new wave of players — clean-cut and pure — after one of baseball's darkest ages. Braun still hasn't been convicted of actually using steroids yet, but if he is, it's just another black eye for a sport that has already been through more than a decade of embarrassment.

Perhaps the most criminal aspect of Braun's positive test was he was instrumental in the success Milwaukee had this season. Teams like Atlanta and Arizona can't help but to feel cheated if it turns out that Braun was using performance-enhancing drugs during the season.

Braun's actions may have been hurtful, but equally as hurtful were the actions of Albert Pujols. Sure, the Angels got an early Christmas present when Pujols signed a 10-year, $254 million contract. But it came at a cost.

Pujols always seemed different than most athletes. While teams in the National League Central loved to hate El Hombre, there was hardly any doubt that he would eventually retire as a Cardinal. In an earlier blog post (found here), I said I thought Pujols should have been paid what he was worth. Now he is — in Los Angeles.

Obviously St. Louis fans are upset about the move — or lack of moves made by their owners. Pujols tried to soften the blow by taking out a full-page ad in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch thanking the fans for all that they have done for him. With that kind of money, maybe he could have also thrown in a nice dinner at Mike Shannon's steakhouse for everyone in St. Louis.

The loss of Pujols came as a blow to Cardinals fans, but in four or five years those same fans will be praising management's decision to let Pujols walk — freeing up some money for up-and-coming players like David Freese.

Every kid had a difficult time waiting for Christmas when they were younger. Much like when we were kids, now we have to wait and see if what think is naughty right now will actually turn into something nice when it's all said and done.

Mass(ive) Controversy

Boston Cathedral High School's Matt Owens raises his arm in celebration
for what he thought was the go-ahead touchdown in Saturday's Division
4A Super Bowl in Massachusetts. Instead Owens was flagged for
unsportsmanlike conduct, resulting in his team losing 16-14 to Blue Hills.

Let me take back to a couple weeks ago. For those of you who follow this blog with any regularity, you probably remember when I railed on Buffalo's Stevie Johnson for his touchdown celebration against the Jets (if not you can read about it here).

Now, I believe Mr. Johnson owes the players on Boston's Cathedral High School an apology.

In the Massachusetts state championship, Cathedral's Matt Owens broke free for what should have been a 56-yard go-ahead touchdown. But as he raced down the field, Owens raised his fist in a brief celebration — resulting in a 15-yard penalty that nullified the touchdown.

As it turns out, that minor fist pump cost Cathedral a state title.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a fan of excess showboating in any sport. Everybody knows the old cliche "There is no I in team," but football players especially are notorious for turning a team's accomplishments into more of a, "Look what I did."

While guys like Johnson and Chad Ochocinco give football players a bad name, what Owens did was did not warrant a flag.

One of the great things about high school and college sports is that the athletes show raw emotions. Momentum is a huge factor. It is the thing that fuels upsets and propels a team to victory.

By definition, yes, Owens was in the wrong in raising his fist. No doubt, Owens would give anything to have that second in his life back. But you have to look at the circumstances surrounding that situation.

Picture yourself in that situation as an 18-year-old athlete. This could be your greatest achievement of your life. Why wouldn't you want to raise your fist in celebration — even if it is just for a brief moment?

Those who have played sports — be it in high school, college or the professional ranks — know the rush of making such a play. As Boston mayor Thomas Menino said, "You wouldn't be a human being if you didn't show some expression."

Because of the recent antics of Johnson and Ochocinco — among many others — officials are cracking down on the celebrations — even if it means taking away a state championship.

To me, there's only one possible solution. Cathedral and Blue Hills should split the state title this year. It was an honest mistake by Owens and one I'm sure he will regret for the rest of his life. But there's no sense in punishing his team any more than necessary.

'Tis The Season

Texas A&M's Mike Sherman received word that he had
been terminated while in the driveway of a recruit's
home. Understandably, Sherman was perplexed by this
move by the Aggie athletic department.

As college football's regular season winds down,  the game of Musical Chairs: Coaches Edition begins. Some, like Washington State's Mike Leach or Ohio State's Urban Meyer, use this time to return to coaching, while others are just hoping to have a job next season.

Like every other upper management job across the country, athletic directors are stressed beyond belief right now. Nobody likes to fire a coach, but sometimes changes need to be made.

There is a right and wrong time to do it, however.

Kansas coach Turner Gill said he knew before he played Missouri his time was up. He was still heartbroken, but when athletic director Sheahon Zenger called Gill into his office, he knew what was coming. The same can be said for Memphis coach Larry Porter, after going an abysmal 3-21 in two seasons.

Then there's the case of Texas A&M's Mike Sherman and UCLA's Rick Neuheisel.

Sherman was actually on a recruiting trip in the driveway of a prospective athlete's home when athletic director Bill Byrne called and told him he was relieved of his duties. Ironically, the student-athlete had already heard rumors about Sherman's firing.

In reality, Sherman deserved to get fired. The Aggies were arguably the worst second-half team in college football, resulting in a 6-6 record. But to be notified over the phone without so much as a warning? That's just classless, Texas A&M.

But while Sherman's dismissal came as a slight shock, Neuheisel's firing was even more of a shocker. Of course, Neuheisel is no stranger to being canned — just ask people at Washington and Colorado — and when you coach in Los Angeles, people expect immediate results.

The news that Neuheisel had been fired came less than a week before his Bruins were to play in the inaugural Pac-12 Championship game. True, UCLA only got into the game because USC is on probation,  but had UCLA upset Oregon Neuheisel still would have been terminated.

As with any job, results are expected. If you don't produce, your boss will find someone who can do the job better. At the same time, there are right and wrong ways to let a coach go — and UCLA and Texas A&M could use a couple of classes on how and when to fire a coach.

Cue The Celebration

Buffalo's Stevie Johnson was flagged for a 15-yard penalty
after mocking Plaxico Burress and Santonio Holmes.
Johnson should leave the crazy celebrations to the likes of
Terrell Owens and Chad Ochocinco.

When it comes to celebrating touchdowns I'm of the thought the more creative, the better. Football is all about the fans, and if you can come up with something creative, more power to you.

But there is also a fine line. Buffalo's Stevie Johnson crossed that line on Sunday against the Jets.

After catching a 5-yard pass from Ryan Fitzpatrick, Johnson did a little jig and and then grabbed his leg. The move was supposed to mock Jets wide receiver Plaxico Burress, who shot himself in a Manhattan night club and spent two years in prison as a result.

That wasn't the end of Johnson's antics. He also emulated a jet before tumbling to the ground — mocking Santonio Holmes.

Johnson was hit with a 15-yard penalty and will more than likely be fined by the league. The penalty also indirectly led to a New York touchdown — proving to be the difference in New York's 28-24 victory.

We've seen a lot of crazy celebrations over the years. From Joe Horn's hidden cell phone to the numerous goofy celebrations by Chad Ochocinco. But there's one glaring difference between those and Johnson's celebration. Those were all in good fun and actually clever.

A lot of wide receivers would love to be in the same category as a Terrell Owens or a Chad Ochocinco, but leave the dumb celebrations to them. They can get away with it because they are superstars and have the game to back it up.

Johnson is still a nobody in a small NFL market. Perhaps one day he will be the next T.O. or Ochocinco, but until then he needs to act like he's been in the end zone before — or come up with something more clever than mocking your opponent.

The Hardest Thing I've Ever Done

You will be hard-pressed to find any person better than
Oklahoma State women's basketball coach Kurt Budke.
Budke died in a plane crash on Thursday, leaving behind
a wife and three kids, along with a huge vacancy in the
hearts of many across the country.

In my career, I've covered a lot of events — from state championships to college sports. But fortunately I've never had to experience what I went through last Friday.

For those who may have missed it, Oklahoma State women's basketball coach Kurt Budke and assistant Miranda Serna were killed in a plane crash outside Perryville, Ark., during a recruiting trip. The news was devastating to the community of Stillwater — especially after Oklahoma State lost 10 members of the men's basketball team's traveling party in a plane crash in January 2001.

As a journalist I'm supposed to be impartial, but covering the press conference where Oklahoma State president Burns Hargis announced that Budke and Serna had been killed — along with Olin Branstetter and his wife Paula — was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my young career.

I remember the first time I met Kurt Budke. It was one of my first days in Stillwater, and I had gone to Gallagher-Iba Arena to pick up my media pass for the football season. I was wandering through Heritage Hall completely lost when I was approached by a man nearly my height — maybe even a little taller.

He greeted me with a smile and introduced himself as Kurt Budke, the women's basketball coach. From there, we talked as he showed me where the media relations office was.

That's the type of person Kurt Budke was. He treated every stranger like they were a close friend. It didn't matter who you were, he wanted to make sure you felt welcome at Oklahoma State.

I only met him one time after that. I covered the Cowgirls first regular season game against Rice. Shortly afterward, I spoke with him one-on-one about his career for a feature in our Stillwater Style magazine. That was last Sunday — and it proved to be one of the last interviews he ever gave.

He could have easily blown me off and gone back to his office. He didn't. Instead we talked for roughly 20 minutes about his life, his family and basketball. It may have been one of my favorite interviews of all time.

Coach Budke was a family man who also enjoyed going on recruiting trips. He treated his players and recruits like family. During games, his voice could be heard throughout Gallagher-Iba Arena. But he wasn't angry — he was excited.

I've seen a lot of coaches come and go in my young career. But I can categorically say that I never expect to come across another coach like Budke. He was one of a kind and when his plane crashed, "America's Brightest Orange" became a little bit darker.

Not-So-Happy Valley

Part of the job of being a head coach is to know what's
going on in your program at all times. Because of the
Sandusky scandal, Joe Paterno lost his job when he
failed to report young boys being assaulted by former
coach Jerry Sandusky.

I've always had the upmost respect for Joe Paterno and the program he ran at Penn State. For 50 years, he did everything he could to turn the Nittany Lions into champions — and he did it the right way.

That is until we learned about Jerry Sandusky.

The life of a college football coach is never easy. During the season, most coaches get an average of four hours of sleep a night — even fewer if there's a big game coming up.

What Sandusky did was unconscionable. And while Paterno did report Sandusky's actions to people above him, Paterno could have done a lot more.

For 50 years, parents of athletes have trusted Paterno to protect their kids while they were at college. In fact, I'm sure that's one thing he promised to do when he was recruiting the athlete. But how can you walk into a recruit's living room and make those promises when you know that one of your assistants is sexually assaulting young boys in his home and on campus?

When Paterno was relieved of his duties as head coach at Penn State, no doubt this thought had to cross his mind. He realized that he had a responsibility to those players and to Penn State.

Fans protested the Paterno's firing immediately afterward, but I believe it was absolutely the right move. As a college football fan, you hate to see one of the greatest coaches ever go out like that, but there are more important things in life than football.

When all the smoke clears and the dust settles, maybe some day we can look back on JoePa's career and marvel at what he did for the Nittany Lions. But until then we can't look past what happened at Penn State. Afterall, that's how we got into this mess in the first place.

Who Is Ali Without Frazier?

The Thrilla In Manila was arguably one of the greatest boxing matches of
all time. But where would Muhammad Ali be without the late Joe Frazier
pushing him? The world will certainly miss Frazier, who died of liver
cancer on Monday.

I was not around in 1975. And frankly, I feel bad if you were — with all the aching bones you must have when you wake up each morning, not to mention having to live through the disco era.

All joking aside, those that were alive will no doubt remember that warm morning in the Philippines when Smokin' Joe Frazier took on Muhammad Ali — also known as the Thrilla In Manila.

I didn't get to see it live, but I have caught glimpses of it on ESPN Classic from time to time.  I can only imagine what it was like to see Frazier and Ali lumbering around the ring after trading blows.

As I type this, I'm watching the movie "Troy" and I can't help but to relate Ali and Frazier to Achilles. Ali and Frazier were gladiators in their own right. Frazier's eyes were swollen shut while Ali compared the fight to dying.

But while the Thrilla In Manila was a great battle — it was nothing compared to what Frazier went through recently. On Monday night, Frazier lost his life to liver cancer.

It hardly seems possible that a man who went toe to toe with The Greatest died. He seemed almost like a superhero. I mean, who can't hear Howard Cosell's "Down goes Frazier" call after his 1973 fight against George Foreman in Jamaica?

When you think of boxing, Frazier is easily one of the first names that comes to mind. The man may be most famous for losses to Ali and Foreman, but he laid the foundation for guys like Mike Tyson and Manny Pacquiao.

No doubt the world will miss one of the greats, but I have a feeling he's already training for another round with Ali. And I, personally, can't wait for the Fight In The Sky or the Bout In The Clouds.

Crossing The Line

Kurt Busch has been known as an aggressive driver in the past, but his
actions in Friday night's NASCAR Truck Series race were cause of a well=
deserved suspension for the rest of the season.

If you ask any casual observer, one of the things they like about NASCAR are the wrecks. Sure, wheel-to-wheel racing is fun, but nothing beats a good 14-car pile up.

Last Friday, Kyle Busch crossed the line when it comes to competitive racing. During a caution in the Truck Series, Busch intentionally wrecked Ron Hornaday Jr.

Over the past couple years, NASCAR has allowed drivers to be more and more aggressive — rarely punishing them for accidents. But what Busch did was uncalled for.

Officials finally made it clear that Busch's behavior will not be tolerated — suspending him for both the Nationwide and Sprint Cup races in Texas. And I applaud officials for taking action.

We've all seen the effects of a crash at nearly 200 miles per hour. Less than a month ago, Dan Wheldon lost his life following an IndyCar crash. And who can forget the death of Dale Earnheart in Daytona 10 years ago.

Don't get me wrong, I love watching the "Boys, have at it" style of racing. It makes every race that much more exciting. But there comes a point when you have to worry about the drivers' safety.

Without any action from NASCAR officials, the situation would only get worse. Eventually a once great sport would turn into nothing but 500 miles of bumper cars and could possibly result in even more tragedies.

Do You Believe In Magic?

David Freese's walk-off home run in the 11th inning was
pretty magical. But even more magical was the tribute
broadcaster Joe Buck paid to his late father with the call.

Something magical happened in Thursday's Game 6 of the World Series between the Texas Rangers and the St. Louis Cardinals. And if you weren't paying much attention, you might have missed it.

No, I'm not talking about the Rangers' epic bullpen collapse, or even the hometown hero hitting a walk-off home run to force a Game 7. Not even Josh Hamilton hearing God's voice before delivering a Kirk Gibson-like homer in the 10th inning, or the fact that the rally squirrel struck again.

St. Louis has seen plenty of magic this postseason, but what I'm talking about happened in the press box.

Throughout the course of the night, broadcaster Joe Buck kept eluding to the day before being the 20th anniversary of Kirby Puckett's walk-off against Atlanta on October 26, 1991 — a game called by his father, the late Jack Buck. Little did he know this would be the only game in World Series history that could rival that.

When David Freese's home run landed softly on the grass between the centerfield bleachers, Joe Buck uttered a familiar phrase, "We will see you.... tomorrow night." The phrase was made popular by Jack Buck, as seen in this video.

I admit that I've always been a fan of Joe Buck. I enjoy his monotone voice — how he doesn't get overly excited even in a moment like that. He has remarkable timing, knowing that at some moments silence is golden — allowing the fans to focus on the images flashing across their television screens.

But to do it like that was nothing short of extraordinary.

Everyone dreams of following in the footsteps of their hero. Joe Buck, a longtime Cardinal fan, got to live that dream. Not only did he get to call a World Series game for his beloved Cardinals, but in doing so he also got to give a nod to one of the greatest broadcasters of all time — and a man dear to his heart.

If the world were to end today before Friday's Game 7, it's safe to say Joe Buck would die a happy man. I'm not sure if it was intentional or not, but I do know that somewhere a proud Jack Buck was beaming with pride when he heard those words come out of his son's mouth.

Weird, Wacky Stuff

Michigan State's Keith Nichol (7) and B.J.
Cunningham (3) celebrate after the Spartans beat
Wisconsin 37-31 on a hail mary pass. Mid-October
games like that are only part of the reason Americans
love college football.

If you didn't catch any college football last week, I regret to inform you but your fan card has just been revoked.

From fake refs and the ensuing brawl in the Arizona-UCLA game to Michigan State's hail mary victory upon further review this weekend had just about everything a college football fan could want. Then again, doesn't October always bring out the best in college football?

Think about it for a second. Usually right around Halloween we start to see the major upsets. Teams that once had dreams of national championships and undefeated seasons suddenly show their true colors and become pretenders. Why is that?

The obvious reason is that desperation starts to sink in for everyone. Teams on the bubble for a bowl began to step their game up against the country's top teams, resulting in some of the best games of the season.

It can get messy sometimes — see the brouhaha at Arizona — but it can also be fun. In a matter of hours, we saw two top 10 teams fall on Saturday night — effectively changing not only the BCS scene but also the national championship picture.

This is why we love college football. It isn't just the tailgates, the homecomings and the love for the ol' alma mater that draws us to these games week after week. It's the upsets — knowing that on any given Saturday dreams are crushed, while other live on.

In a couple weeks, LSU will face Alabama. Assuming all goes well, it should be No. 1 against No. 2. And I, for one, can't wait to see how the rest of the season plays out.

Fighting For His Life

Dewey Bozella spent 26 years behind bars after wrongfully being accused
of murder. On Saturday night, his dream came true when he fought Larry
Hopkins and won. He retired with a 1-0 record and will now open a gym to
help keep kids off the streets in Brooklyn.

Imagine spending 26 years behind bars for a crime you didn't commit. You sit in your cell day after day and watch all your hopes and dreams pass you by.

Dewey Bozella could have easily called it a life and packed it in. He could have became just another Average Joe trying to make his way in the world. Instead through anger and frustration of wrongful imprisonment in the Sing Sing prison, Bozella kept his dreams alive.

After being accused of killing 92-year-old Emma Craspar in 1983, Bozella spent his time in Sing Sing earning two college degrees. He also became the light heavyweight champion of Sing Sing before being exonerated in 2009.

Dreaming night after night of fighting in front of a crowd, Bozella finally got his wish on Saturday night. Not only did he fight, he beat Larry Hopkins by a unanimous decision, allowing the 52-year-old to retire with a 1-0 record.

"I used to lay in my cell and dream about this happening," Bozella said. "It was all worth it. It was my dream come true."

Many of us go through our entire lives and watch dreams fade away. Not Bozella. He watched his father beat his pregnant mother to death when he was 9 years old. Two of his brothers were murdered on the streets of Brooklyn.

Perhaps that's why he kept fighting — fighting for life and fighting for freedom.

After his release from prison, he managed to catch the eye of Oscar De La Hoya's Golden Boy Productions — earning his license and fighting his way to the top. Now that his fight is over, Bozella said he plans to open a gym to help get kids off the streets.

Bozella is the epitome of having that never-give-up attitude. Its what helped him in the ring and its what will continue to help him as he tries to put the pieces of his life back together.

A Labor Of Love

Amber Miller put all marathon runners to shame when she
completed the Chicago Marathon while she was 39 weeks
pregnant. Somewhere London Marathon runner Rob Sloan
is currently hiding his head in shame after taking a bus to
finish his marathon.

Let it be known that I am by no means a marathon runner. My daily exercise routine usually consists of a 100 yard walk to the mailbox to check the mail.

So I can't say I blame Rob Sloan for taking a bus during the London Marathon.

Apparently exhausted after 20 miles, the 31-year-old former army mechanic flagged down a bus and took a jaunt through the woods to finish third with a time of 2 hours, 51 minutes. The time beat his personal best by 21 minutes.

When asked about the race afterward he said the marathon was "unbelievably tough" and that speculations that he cheated were "laughable." As it turns out, race organizers had the last laugh when they stripped Sloan of his medal.

But while Sloan was criticized by fellow competitors for tainting "Britain's most beautiful marathon," no doubt he's going to catch even more flack from his buddies because of what happened in the Chicago Marathon.

Amber Miller — and to some degree June Miller — completed the Chicago Marathon on Sunday. Nothing to special about that, right? Wrong.

Amber Miller was 39 weeks pregnant with June, but still managed to complete the race in 6 hours, 25 minutes. Sure it was a little slower than Sloan, but at least she did it without the assistance of a motorized vehicle.

Miller fought off labor contractions near the end of the race to finish. Seven hours later, she gave birth to June — a healthy 7-pound, 13-ounce baby girl — proving to the world that she's about as close as they come to Superwoman.

Or perhaps with Chicago traffic, her bus just had a hard time getting to the finish line.

Time To Kill The Rally (Towel)

Phillies fans twirl imitation Terrible Towels during home
games. What is it with the people in Pennsylvania and their
fascination with twirling towels over their heads?

An epidemic has spread across the country in baseball stadiums everywhere and it isn't pretty.

That's right, folks. I'm talking about the imitation of the Terrible Towel.

Once only reserved for those hardcore Steeler fans of the 1970s, it appears every John Q. Fan with an oversized washcloth has shown up at the ballpark this postseason. The result? Thousands of fans twirling these scraps of cloth, making fans at home have seizures with each passing movement. It's almost as bad as the vuvuzelas of the World Cup.

Unlike its football counterpart — which is where the Terrible Towel was invented — baseball is a calmer game. It is meant to be enjoyed in the comfort of seats — or as comfortable as sitting on plastic for four hours can be. It isn't a game that relies on emotion.

Nobody is quite sure when the Terrible Towel knockoffs started in baseball, and believe me, I've asked. My only guess is that some Pittsburgh fan from the 1970s somehow figured out how to travel through time and ended up at a Phillies game — because we all know he or she would never travel through time for a Pirates game.

Either way, the country is in dire need of something else to rally around besides the rally towels. Remember the Rally Monkey? Or the phrase "Cowboy Up?"

True, baseball fans did have those awful balloonstix — which sounded like clapping a pair of beer cans together and consequently giving off the worst sound known to man until the vuvuzelas made their way to pop culture — but generally baseball has some great celebrations and rally igniters. Just look at the "We Are Family" Pittsburgh Pirates of the late 70s.

Anybody can twirl a towel around their head. Let's hope that one team will figure out a new promotion that baseball fans — who are known to be thinkers — to use their gigantic, stat-filled brains and apparently strong shoulders for something other than looking like a helicopter that's about ready to take off but never will.

That way, those of us who choose not to partake in looking like an idiot on cable television can at least watch the game without worrying about being slapped in the face.

Oh What A Night!

Red Sox third baseman Mike Aviles sits in the dugout after
Boston's loss to Baltimore. Three minutes later he saw his
season come to an end in one of the biggest collapses in
the history of sports.

With apologies to single ladies and NFL fans alike — I'm sorry but my heart has been taken.

Turn on SportsCenter. I dare you. No doubt the talking heads are still salivating over the improbable and epic turn of events on Wednesday night — the last night of the MLB season.

But just in case you missed it or in case you had been off in another galaxy — because clearly everyone in this universe has already heard the news — in a span of 25 minutes we saw two of the biggest collapses in the history of sports.

Atlanta, up 8.5 games on St. Louis on September 1, saw its season dashed with a Hunter Pence blooper that didn't leave the infield. That was the biggest collapse in history... for about 20 minutes.

The American League wild card race trumped Atlanta's choke job when Jonathan Papelbon gave up a game-winning single to Robert Andino during a game that had everything — including a rain delay — putting Boston's season in jeopardy. Three minutes later, that season ended when Evan Longoria homered to left, sending Tampa Bay to the playoffs.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is why we love sports. This is why I went to the University of Missouri's School of Journalism. This is why I love my job.

I've been on both sides — both during my high school playing days and covering local teams. I know the sheer ecstasy the Cardinals and Rays are feeling, and also the sickening agony that the Braves and Red Sox are feeling.

But this is why we, as Americans, are drawn to baseball — despite the fact that teams some of our favorite teams are mathematically eliminated by May. That's right, I'm talking about you in September Cubs and Royals fans.

Even in the social networks like Facebook and Twitter, baseball was the hot topic. Fans from all four teams were going nuts, showing their true enthusiasm for the sport. Some may only be fans in October, but when push comes to shove, they are out there showing their support for the boys of summer.

So, in the words of Maximus Decimus Meriduius I ask you, "Are you not entertained?"

I Shift You Not

One of the stipulations to keeping the Big 12 together was
that Dan Beebe resigned as commissioner. After nearly
losing four teams to the Pac-12 earlier in the week, it seems
like the Big 12 is here to stay — for next year, anyway.

Well that was much ado about nothing.

All week, no matter where you turned you couldn't help but hear the rumors surrounding the Big 12 Conference. First, Oklahoma and the boys in the south tried to jump ship to the Pac-12, then Missouri started to look toward the SEC.

And while we all sat on the edge of our seats waiting to see who would go where, we forgot one simple thing — you might want to check with the conferences themselves before you decide to join their conference.

Like Spirit, the Auburn eagle, the Big 12's hopes of dismantling crashed and burned when Pac-12 commissioner Larry Scott told the world that he was happy with 12 members in a midnight press conference. Oklahoma and Texas already had the green light to join the Pac-12 and Oklahoma State was in the process of getting the go-ahead when Scott made his decision.

Much to the dismay of one Columbia sports editor — a man who enjoyed the comparison of conference shifts to plate tectonics — the conference somehow survived the weekend. The only major shifts came in the form of Syracuse and Pittsburgh heading to the ACC.

Now the nine remaining members must go back to the league they once tried to demolish with their tails between their legs. And I, along Mike Gundy, could not be happier. Those die-hard football fans saw Oklahoma State's 3 a.m. finish in Tulsa last week. Could you imagine if that happened every weekend? It's a strong possibility with trips to the West Coast each weekend — no thank you!

Some fans are upset that there wasn't the massive tectonic shift that shook the college sports scene, but there were hundreds of sports reporters that breathed a sigh of relief with Scott's announcement. So, now that all this is over, can we put it behind us and just play football — at least until next season?

And remember kids, if you want an invite into someone's house — or in this case a conference — it's best to ask permission before you barge in with guns blazing.

Thou Shall Honor The Unwritten Rules

Floyd Mayweather's next bout may come against Larry Merchant after

Merchant criticized Mayweather for breaking an unwritten rule of boxing.

If you've ever played sports — whether in high school, college or little league — you are no doubt familiar with the unwritten rules that are associated with them.

Baseball is notorious for such rules like "Thou Shall Not Steal Second With A Seven-run Lead In The Seventh" or "Thou Shall Not Swing Hard At The First Pitch." Soccer has similar rules like "Thou Shall Give The Ball Back After An Opponent Kicks It Out Intentionally So The Training Staff Can Attend To An Injured Player," and football's "Thou Shall Not Run Up The Score On An Opponent" has forced many coaches to be scrutinized over their play calling.

But on Saturday night Floyd Mayweather decided to ignore one of the major unwritten rules of boxing — "Thou Shall Not Hit A Defenseless Opponent."

After head-butting Mayweather earlier in the round — another unwritten rule — Victor Ortiz tried to apologize to Mayweather with what can only be called a "bro hug." Instead Mayweather tapped Ortiz's gloves and then landed a 1-2 punch that sent Ortiz to the canvas.

True, Ortiz should have expected it  — I mean, he was in the middle of a boxing match — but that still gives Mayweather no right to ignore the unwritten rules. George Foreman or a younger Mike Tyson must be rolling their eyes at this young punk.

Perhaps the greatest part of the fight came afterward. During a post-fight interview, Mayweather took exception to a question asked by Larry Merchant — an 80-year-old television journalist who is often proclaimed "the greatest announcer known to boxing."

Merchant's response?

"I wish I were 50 years younger so I could kick your ass."

While chin music and middle fingers are the usual responses for breaking the unwritten rules of a sport, the thought of an 80 year old jumping into a ring and kicking Mayweather's tail is enough to make any casual observer fork over $30 to watch on pay-per-view. And if I had to place my bets, I would definitely go with Merchant because you can't beat a feisty old-timer.

Keep On Rollin'

A large American flag was unveiled at the Jets-Cowboys game on Sunday night. The Jets
won a thrilling 27-24 game on the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.

Ten years ago,  the world was a much different place. From Barry Bonds to the NFL season, fans across the nation were in sports heaven.

Then came that fateful Tuesday morning that made us realize there are more important things than sports.

Our nation froze in terror as three planes hit the World Trade Center in New York and the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. A fourth plane was presumed to be headed to Washington, as well, had it not been for four former athletes.

After September 11th, no longer did people cheer for their individual teams. Instead they began cheering for one team – America.

Sports is such a huge part of our way of life. Families have been divided over rivalries. Relationships have ended over allegiances. But when the story about what Jeremy Glick, Todd Beamer, Mark Bingham and Tom Burnett emerged, one couldn't help but feel inspired. The phrase "Let's roll" no longer is used in casual conversation – now only reserved for rare and special occasions.

We all know what kind of person it takes to be an athlete at any level. That competitive drive along with years of muscle tuning turned these average Joes into national heroes. When the games resumed, teams from across the country made special signs and donned patches as a salute to the four.

It has been 10 years since the tragic events of 9/11. We've seen Pat Tillman – a former Arizona State and Arizona Cardinals star – make the ultimate sacrifice while fighting the war on terror. We've heard stories of former athletes like Nebraska softball player Julie Geis, who lost her life in the Twin Towers.

Times have changed, but the world has finally returned to a form that resembles life before the attacks. But on Sunday, as NFL fans relaxed and watched their favorite teams, we all were reminded of the events that shattered lives and rocked our world. From Lance Briggs wearing customized cleats and gloves – a gesture he deemed as "the best fine he would ever have to pay" – to giant flags that covered the entire football field, Sunday was a day of remembrance – a day where we were all Americans once again.

So to the thousands that lost their lives in the terror attacks and to the hundreds of thousands more who made the ultimate sacrifice while fighting terror overseas, my fellow Americans and I would like to give a big, heartfelt thank you. Your sacrifice has helped us recover, and you will not be forgotten any time soon.

The Good, The Bad And The U-G-L-Y

Maryland's season got off to a rocky start with new
uniforms. It's hard to say whether the uniforms were
punishment for Miami's Shapiro-gate or just a well-devised
distraction to help the Terrapins get a season-opening win
over the Hurricanes.

We finally made it.

After an offseason full of arrests and scandals, the college football season finally kicked off this past weekend – for better or worse.

Much like the offseason there were some bumps and bruises. Auburn nearly tripped out of the gate against Utah State, the Fightin' Irish of Notre Dame didn't put up much of a fight against Skip Holtz's South Florida squad and the ol' alma mater struggled against Miami (OH).

Then there were the were teams like Ohio State – crushing Akron without five members of its team and quarterback Terrelle Pryor. Or Oklahoma State dismantling the Ragin' Cajuns of Louisiana-Lafayette with Brandon Weeden and Justin Blackmon.

But perhaps the most shocking event of the weekend came on Monday night. Miami has already been through its toughest offseason ever, with Nevin Shapiro's atomic bomb. Turns out they were served their punishment when they saw Maryland go from bad to worse in their jersey selection. One can only hope things will get better for the Terps and their 38 uniform combinations.

Speaking of uniforms, hopefully you were able to adjust your television sets back after watching the Boise State-Georgia game. It's fine that Boise State wants to join the likes of Oregon as Nike U, but Georgia should seriously consider burning those uniforms given the tradition surrounding the program and the SEC.

There were definitely some winners and losers in this first week. Not all the winners won their games,  and not all the losers lost. But if there's one thing we've learned, it's that we have a long season ahead of us.

And it could be made even longer if someone doesn't stop the Under Armour-Nike train that is running rampant across college football, turning once traditional garbs into nothing more than high school uniforms.

The Man Who Has Been Through It All

Michael Vick signed a six-year, $100 millioncontract on
Monday to remain with the Eagles for possibly the rest of
his playing days. Despite his checkered past this second
chance is well deserved for the former Atlanta Falcon.

Say what you want, but today we witnessed something extraordinary – a man getting a second chance.

Michael Vick has always been one of my favorite players. He was absolutely electrifying at Virginia Tech, and that sheer athleticism made him a crowd favorite in Atlanta early in his career.

But then he got mixed up with the wrong crowd.

Still a young pup (oops, too soon?), Vick started making headlines for more off-the-field issues than the ones on the field. From his days as Ron Mexico – his alias name after he infected a woman with herpes – to the marijuana bust and dog fighting, Vick was losing his charm and heading down the wrong path in a hurry.

Something must have happened in jail, though. He came out a changed man – he grew up.

Now, he just signed a six-year, $100 million contract, and I, for one, could not be happier for him. While most young people continue down the path of destruction, he recognized where he was headed and changed his life back around. He worked hard to become the athlete that he once was, and now is reaping the rewards.

And kudos to the Eagles and their staff. They all deserve a round of applause for even giving Vick a chance. There were dozens of teams that would have loved to have Vick's athletic ability on the field, but shied away from him because of his checkered past.

Not the Eagles.

They met the problem head-on, realizing everyone deserves a second chance. They laid down the ground rules for Vick, and basically told him that if he didn't follow those rules, he'd be out of a job. And Vick knew this was his last chance.

We're starting to see a similar development in the case of former Ohio St. quaterback Terrelle Pryor and the Oakland Raiders. Oakland took Pryor in the supplemental draft, costing them a third-round pick next year. But the question is, can they keep him out of trouble and on the field? If I were Mr. Pryor, I'd be constantly texting and talking to Vick – a man who has been through it all.

And while some of you might not agree with me, let me be the first to say it: Welcome back to the top, Mike. We missed you. Now just stay on the right path and you'll do great.

After all, everybody deserves a second chance, right?

Caddie Smack

Caddie Steve Williams might want to keep his lips sealed
for a while, after taking credit for Adam Scott's victory at
the WGC-Bridgestone Invitational last weekend.

We all know golfers appear to be rich, pretentious snobs. Maybe it's the fact that they don't interact with fans as much as – say – a baseball player diving into the stands for a foul ball. Perhaps it's the isolation of the game – being alone in the fairway with only your caddie within shouting distance.

But as arrogant as golfers are, nothing compares to an arrogant caddie.

Last week, Steve Williams – former right-hand man to Tiger Woods – was on the bag when Adam Scott won the WGC-Bridgestone Invitational. Instead of being a normal caddie and giving all the kudos to Scott for playing well, Williams decided that he was the reason Scott won, saying, "It was the best win I've ever had."

The best win he's ever had?

Now I'm no Tiger Woods – or Adam Scott for that matter – but I do know it takes a little more than some friendly advice to win a tournament. I'm not putting down the caddie profession, but that's what they're there for – advice.

When I first started playing golf, my dad would give me all kinds of advice. Yet, I could rarely shoot below 110 over 18 holes. I'm not sure whether it was bad advice or just my terrible coordination and athletic ability, but according to Williams, I should have been the best golfer in the world.

The point is, Scott had to use the clubs and make the shots. Anyone can give advice, but great men know how to take that advice and use it to their advantage.

Sure, Williams' quote probably had something to do with being fired by Woods. It also could be that Williams was just so glad to be back on top that he let his mouth shoot off a little. But unless you picked up a club and physically put the ball in the hole, there's no need to downgrade Scott's achievements.

My guess is that sometime this week Scott will remind Williams of his place, maybe during a friendly round between co-workers. If Williams plays well, they might even make a movie out of it and call it "Caddyshack."

Or you might run into Williams at the unemployment line in Georgia. Either way, Carl Spackler would be proud.

Here We Go Again...

Kobe Bryant may be trading in his Lakers
jersey for an overseas one if the players and
owners of the NBA don't start talking soon.

Just when you thought everything was returning to normal, it appears were in for another long stretch of court dates and litigation – and I could care less.

It took four months to sort out the situation in the NFL – with the players eventually succumbing to the owners' wishes – and now it appears we're in for a second round.

According to NBA players and owners, both sides haven't even addressed each other about the pending lockout. The games biggest stars like Kobe Bryant are looking at possibly signing overseas contracts to guarantee that they play.

This isn't the first time the NBA has been in this situation. Just a few years ago, there was a lockout that did heavy damage to the league's reputation. Now they're threatening to go through it again? Please.

I honestly have never been a huge NBA fan. Over the years it has turned into a playground version of a dunking contest as athletes get bigger and stronger – but that's another subject for another time.

While Dirk and the Mavericks brought back some of the magic by beating the Three-Headed Monster in Miami, should the NBA follow the NFL's footsteps, it will almost surely kill the sport. There's only so much patience the fans have for guys in suits after the NFL and the most recent lockout

And I'm afraid that patience is about to wear thin.

Buyers And Sellers

Hunter Pence says goodbye to his teammates on Friday
night in Milwaukee. Blockbuster deals like the one the
Phillies made for Pence are the lifeblood of baseball during
the dog days of July and August.

The dog days of July can often be taxing even on the most hardcore of baseball fans. The weather is hot, all teams seem to struggle and the casual fans tend to avoid the stadium for the air conditioning.

But when the last day of July rolls around, there's a new excitement in the air. That's right, I'm talking about the trade deadline.

From Fister-Furbush – arguably the greatest trade name of all time – to massive blockbusters that involve half the teams in the league, there is no greater day than July 31st. Football and basketball don't make big deals about their trade deadlines. Only in baseball do we get to witness the true madness of teams trying to make the playoffs or build for the future.

As a kid – when the trade deadline was still midnight – I used to stay up, glued to "Baseball Tonight," hoping to witness a blockbuster trade. I still remember the Randy Johnson trade to the Astros coming moments before the deadline expired.

Now the deadline has been moved up – presumably to accommodate to the sleep schedules of the owners and sportswriters alike – but there's still that magic surrounding the deadline.

In a few short hours, fans will see what management thinks of their post-season chances. Some teams – like San Francisco and Philadelphia – have already made deals, electing to go after a three-month rental of superstars Carlos Beltran and Hunter Pence, respectively. Others are having a fire sale, selling everything in hopes of building for the future.

But if there's one thing that can be said about the trade deadline, it's that it is hard on everyone involved. Just look at Pence during Friday night's game in Milwaukee.

After being pulled from the game, Pence hugged each of his teammates as a way of saying goodbye. Little does he know, he's about to go from a lowly Astros team to the heart of the playoff race with the Phillies. And while he was visibly upset, my guess is he'll quickly warm to his new teammates.

Whether your team is a buyer or seller – or you're just looking for a laugh through trade names – the trade deadline offers some hope for all of us. If nothing else, it means that football is right around the corner.

What I Learned At College

Texas Tech's Tommy Tuberville may be smiling during
the Big 12 media days, but my guess is he'll quickly lose
that smile after Dan Beebe reprimands him for his sarcastic
remarks about the league's staying power.

While the NFL players are signing contracts and trying to get ready for the season in half the time they normally take, not all eyes are on the big boys. Some are carefully watching the college game and ignoring all the legal mumbo-jumbo that's going on at the professional ranks.

From Ohio quarterback Gunner Kiel's shocking verbal commitment to Indiana to the zoo that is media days, college football is certainly on the forefront of most fans' minds. For those that went to college, this final week in July signifies hope that our alma mater will once again make us proud on the field in the fall.

It is also a time most journalists – like myself – salivate for the quotes bound to come out of players' and coaches' mouths. I'm not sure whether its the heat, the two-a-days or just the fact that everybody's so enthralled about getting ready for the season, but every year there seems to be at least one coach or player who spouts off at the mouth and says something he immediately regrets.

Last year, Texas Tech's Tommy Tuberville criticized the Big 12 and said the league wouldn't last without Nebraska or Colorado. Dan Beebe, the Big 12 commissioner, didn't enjoy Tuberville's lack of enthusiasm and reprimanded the coach.

This year, Tuberville didn't spout off at the Big 12 media day, per se. Instead he showed his support for the league by saying it will last. But before his time at the podium ended, Tuberville followed that answer up by asking the media if that was what he was supposed to say – taking one final dig at Beebe. One can only imagine the punishment that is bound to occur this time.

However, Tuberville is not the only one who will be in hot water before the start of the season. Southern Cal running back Marc Tyler may also end up in coach Lane Kiffin's doghouse after a night out in Hollywood.

Tyler – knowing full well that USC is currently under the close watch of the NCAA – told TMZ that the reason the Trojans are able to land such prized recruits is because at "USC, they breaking bread." Now I'm a little behind on my hip-hop lingo, but I can't help but wonder if USC players are making more than the NFL players. After all, what kind of college kid has enough dough to hit up a Hollywood club? Who knows, maybe Kim Kardashian has gone back to her old roots of chasing down USC running backs.

Either way, these are just two examples of what is sure to be a colorful week of college football. The games are always fun to watch, but if this is just a taste of what's to come this year – well, you better fasten your seatbelt and get ready for a wild ride.

Are You Ready For Some Football?

It has been a summer full of headaches for NFL Commissioner Roger
Goodell and his associates. Fortunately, some quick thinking by the NFL
owners turned the players into the enemy in the fans' eyes – possibly
resulting in the two sides reaching a deal soon.

In what has become a summer long chess match between the NFL's players and owners, it looks like the world is finally ready for some football.

And for the players, it's checkmate.

Using the shrewd tactic of appealing to the fans – something the players should have done a long time ago – the owners of the various clubs managed to get a stronghold on a situation that's has gotten almost out of control.

With the NFLPA still looking over the contract – a contract that includes a 14-year labor agreement to keep a lockout from happening for several years – the players now have a choice. Do they accept the bargain as is – ensuring there will be an NFL season – or do they reject it and possibly lose the loyal support of their most prized possession, the fans?

Either way, the players lack of action has put them between a rock and a hard place – not that many Regular Joes would sympathize with then multi-million dollar athletes anyway.

Its sad, really. If you look at the strikes in Major League Baseball, and the NBA lockout, every time it seems like the players turn into public enemy No. 1. When in reality, we should sympathize with them more. While they're paid massive salaries, they are only able to work a few years before their career is over.

I honestly believe that the players want to play the game – they just don't want to do it for peanuts like circus animals. They have been dying to get in the weight room and lace up the pads all summer. Now, the time has come for them to decide if they can work with the owners and get this thing straightened out.

And should that happen, I shall echo my fellow herd of NFL fans when I say, "It's about time!"

All In A Day's Work

The Phillie Phanatic is one of the most lovable mascots in
all of sports. Even after a hot, grueling day full of mini bats
and tail pulling, the Phanatic can still make almost anyone
laugh at his antics.

The next time you think you have the worst job in the world, just remember, it could be worse – you could be a mascot.

While most of us enjoy the luxuries of air conditioning and a stationary lifestyle behind a desk, there are those out there sweating it out in the summer heat, making not much more than minimum wage. Granted, most of those involved are young enough to handle the extreme temperature, but being a mascot is a job I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

Not only are you having to lug around a 20 to 40-plus pound sweater and oversized shoes – effectively turning the fluffy costume into an oven – but there are plenty of other hazards to look out for. Just ask the Phillie Phanatic.

A few weeks ago the man inside the lovable green goofball was on the receiving end of a foul ball. The ball struck the mascot in the neck – or directly on the man's head. Being the trooper that he is, the actor continued to dance and put hexes on opposing pitchers. But it was to no avail, as two innings later he was taken in for treatment, never to return to the game.

Foul balls aren't the only obstacle mascots encounter. There's also the dreaded kiddos.

While the University of Missouri's Truman the Tiger is known for his tail-twirling ways, other mascots know how kids see tails – as something to be unexpectedly pulled, yanked and twisted at a moment's notice. Many a mascot have lost their hind quarters because an overzealous toddler latched on at an inopportune time. I, too, have been guilty of pulling at the tail of the Omaha Racers' Rowdy a time or two when I was a kid.

As if foul balls and tail pulling isn't enough, there's always one night a year every mascot fears. That's right, I'm talking about mini bat night.

Imagine a bunch of kiddies full of cotton candy and ice cream with mini clubs in their hands. They want to hit something and the only thing they can spot is a giant fluffy creature – turning said fluffy creature into a oversized piñata. Napoleon Bonaparte himself has never faced such a fearsome army.

So the next time you head out to the ballpark, remember all the people behind the scenes that make the game enjoyable. From the beer man to the mascot, they're out there sweating it out and taking lumps with mini mallets so that you and your family can have the ultimate experience. And if you see a mascot trying to entertain you, don't hesitate to laugh. For them, that's the biggest perk of the job.

O Captain! My Captain!

All eyes were on Derek Jeter during his quest
for 3,000 hits. Jeter's home run for No. 3,000
was a perfect ending to a long and storied
career full of hard work and playing the game
the right way.

Let it be known that I have, nor will ever be, a Yankees fan. I despise any team that spends an exorbitant amount of money to buy championships, while teams like the Kansas City Royals build the right way – through their farm system.

That being said, I was actually in awe of the Yankees last week – well, at least in awe of their captain.

I've never been a huge Derek Jeter fan, but he is one of the few players that plays the game the right way. He shows up to the field ready to play, diving into stands to catch a foul ball or getting the timely hit his team needs. He doesn't show up the other team or the umpires – for him, it's just business as usual.

Last week, Jeter recorded his 3,000th hit – an impressive feat for anyone. But the way he did it was even more remarkable. Of the 3,000-plus hits, only 237 have been home runs and 481 have been doubles. Basically, Jeter has made a Hall Of Fame career out of being the setup man for the Bronx Bombers that hit behind him. He has also made only 224 errors in nearly 9,500 chances.

It isn't just his offensive production that impresses me, it's also his character. Jeter was a star in high school, but he never let it get to his head. That sense of maturity has carried on throughout his career – so much so that the only time he makes the papers is when he starts dating another supermodel.

Even with all the fanfare that surrounded his 3,000th hit, Jeter kept his cool. He didn't press because he knew eventually he would get it. And when the ball sailed over the fence for No. 3,000 and into the mass of people eagerly awaiting the chance to clutch history, Jeter trotted around the bases as if it were his 100th hit – nothing too special.

He probably could have taken the rest of the game off if he wanted to, but that wouldn't be Jeter's style. No, instead he went 5 for 5, while helping the Yanks beat Tampa Bay – a perfect ending to a perfect day. After the game, Jeter's character shined even brighter when he met the young man who came away with the ball, posed for several photos and signed some bats and balls for the ultimate dogpile warrior.

So from baseball fans everywhere, I'd like to say, "Thank you, Derek." You have worked harder than anyone else and have played the game in such a way that brings honor to the pinstriped Evil Empire. And when the time comes to hang them up, I will guarantee that you're a first-ballot Hall of Famer and deserved to have your number and bust hanging beside the likes of Ruth, Gehrig and Mantle.

What's Your Life Worth?

Police officers secure the area where Shannon Stone fell to his death during
the Texas Rangers' game against Oakland. Stone's death shows that more
safety precautions need to be put in place at all stadiums.

Anyone who has stepped through the gates at any ballpark around the country has the same dream. A dream of a white sphere floating towards them before landing gently in their hands.

The odds of catching a foul ball are so small – about 1 in 500, give or take – people will do anything to get their hands on these prized pearls. They bend, twist and stretch over railings, people and chairs hoping to take a free souvenir home from the game.

I, myself have been lucky enough to have held two foul balls in my life – both came during Cards-Cubs games with my dad. Of course, having a dad who's 6-foot-5-inches tall and has an impressive wingspan doesn't hurt when it comes to snatching fouls.

Many father-son bonding moments have been had over foul balls. It's a special time when a father shows he's willing to do just about anything for his child. Although, in the case of the Cards-Cubs game at Busch, my dad willingly jumped out of the way of a screamer before we both decided to give the ball up to a pair of ladies who had never been to a baseball game before.

Unfortunately, this willingness to show his son Cooper Stone just how much he cared cost Shannon Stone his life when the 39-year-old firefighter tumbled over the railing onto a concrete slab. The moment of joy, when Cooper's hero Josh Hamilton tossed a ball toward them, quickly turned to tragedy that has torn at the heart of every baseball fan in America.

No longer will Shannon be able to sit in the stands and cheer on his slugger during little league games. Who knows, seeing his dad fall to his death may force Cooper to turn away from baseball completely – a game that was made for fathers and sons to enjoy.

The tragedy could also have an affect on the players. Chances are, because of this, they will think twice about tossing a ball into the stands.

Baseball is supposed to be a safe, enjoyable event. The time has come to make sure that all stadiums are safe. If there's gaps between the fence and the spectators, put nets up. If the railings don't reach at least the chest of an average man, build them higher.

Commissioner Selig, I challenge you. Make sure Cooper is the last to lose his father at a baseball game.

And while you're at it, how about a nice moment of silence for Shannon Stone during Tuesday's All-Star Game in Phoenix. After all, baseball wouldn't be where it is today without the loyal support of its fans.

Finally, if any of you would like to donate to the memorial fund in honor of Shannon Stone, you can do so here.

Hot Dog!

The pain Joey Chestnut is experiencing
during Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest will
be nothing compared to the heartburn felt the
days after the competition ends.

If you haven't been to Nathan's on Coney Island or have never tuned into ESPN on July 4th, you are missing quite a spectacle.

From the 400-pound beefeaters to the tiniest of hot dog hogs, men and women of all sizes are paraded and lined up on a stage for the world's greatest competitive eating challenge – Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest.

While this year's competition will miss the familiar shake of Takeru Kobayashi – a 150-pound hot dog king who is still embattled in a contract dispute – there is still be plenty of shimmying on stage. One who will surely be shaking it all about is three-time reigning champ Joey Chestnut.

As a former competitive eater, I can categorically say that doing a little jig helps. During my time at the Missourian in college, I won a hot dog-eating contest amongst the summer's sportswriters, Granted, the contest was only a minute long and most people chose to enjoy the free snacks, but I managed to down three hot dogs in that short time.

It may or may not have been the single greatest moment of my life.

Of course, there have been plenty of disasters with hot dogs, as well. Who hasn't eaten a bad polish sausage from the dorm cafeteria in college? The heartburn that follows is usually the kind that cripples you on the couch and makes you swear to never eat any processed pork product again.

So while most of you are grilling burgers and brats, just remember why we are celebrating – for the true heroes. The guys who down 60 hot dogs in 12 minutes without thinking of the ensuing pain that will follow in the coming days.

While you're at it, remember those Pepto Bismol workers passing out the pink stuff to limit the heartburn. And don't forget those honorable porcelain thrones and the folks that make them. Afterall, the massive quantity of hot dogs has to go somewhere.

What's In A Name?

Ron Artest has done a lot of crazy things during his time,
including a few wacky haircuts. But under the new name
Metta World Peace he is currently in a dogfight with Chad
Ochocinco for world's craziest athlete.

It appears the search for the world's craziest athlete has turned into a two-horse race – and Charlie Sheen isn't included, despite using steroids during the filming of "Major League".

That's right, following the example of one Chad Ochocinco, the artist formerly known as Ron Artest upped the ante by changing his entire name. Instead of being known as Ron Unocinco (for one-five in Spanish), he has changed his name to Metta World Peace – pretty ironic for a guy who once climbed into the stands in Detroit after a Diet Coke was flung at him.

When the announcement came last week, sports broadcasters and writers across the nation cringed at the thought of using him in their stories. Can you just imagine hearing "Peace for three," while watching a Laker game on TV? Or how about Laker public address announcer Lawrence Tanter introducing him as "Mettaaaa Woooorld Peeeeeeeace"? It's about to get ugly in Tinsel Town, folks.

Not to be outdone, Chad Ochocinco isn't giving up the crown just yet to Peace (see, even here that looks bad). The troubled Bengals' star has been in the new more times this summer during the lockout than he has for his on-the-field antics during any regular season.

From trying out for MLS to bull riding, Ochocinco is slowly crossing off his bucket list during his free time. He even took a couple of laps around the Atlanta Motor Speedway with Jeff Burton, going 150 miles per hour. My guess is that a couple of cars in his garage can top that.

But while being a NASCAR driver may not be in Ochocinco's future – as he was quoted in saying "I'd lose every damn day" – the tour will go on. Next up for the eccentric wide receiver? Rumor has it he will be wrestling with an alligator – because that's exactly what the Bengals want to hear.

Your move Mr. Peace – or is it Mr. World Peace?