By Bob Markus
This is the week that columnists wait for all year. Please don't analyze that sentence too closely, because if you do you'll realize how absurd it is. Of course it's the week columnists--and everybody else--wait for all year. It's the last week of the year for God's sake. But what makes it special for columnists and other pundits is that they can look in any direction and find gold. They can look back and make lists of the top this or that of the year. Or they can look ahead and make predictions about what next year will bring. It's so easy a caveman could do it. This year we are doubly blessed since New Year's Eve not only will mark the end of the year 2009, but the end of the decade.
Who's the Athlete of The Year? Of the decade? What were the top stories of the year? Of the decade? The answer to all four questions is the same, my friends. Tiger Woods. The AP sports editors named Tiger the top athlete of the decade and I don't see any reason to argue the point. He's so dominated his sport--we're talking about his golf game here--that the only question I have is whether golf is actually a sport and whether golfers are actually athletes. It is a question I resolved in my own mind many years ago. Or, at least, Arnie Palmer resolved it for me. Palmer had just been named Athlete of the Year or the Decade or some such and I, new to columnizing, had written that golfers were not athletes. I had in mind the fact that a golfer could be as pot bellied as Santa Claus or as skinny as the holes opened by the Chicago Bears' offensive line and still win golf championships. A few weeks later I was invited to a luncheon where Palmer was one of the guests. As it happened Arnie was seated right next to me and after the introductions were made, the golfing great said: "Chicago Tribune. There was a guy from The Tribune who wrote an article saying golfers aren't athletes." "Yeah," I confessed, "that was me." "Aw, that's O.K.," said Palmer. "It didn't bother me." He then went on to refute my case, pointing out the tremendous stress involved in playing 72 holes of tournament winning golf, holding one's swing together through fatigue and pressure, knowing if you didn't play well you weren't getting paid that week."
So, conceding that Tiger Woods is an athlete, he gets my vote for the grand slam--best athlete and best story for the year and decade. As far as story of the decade is concerned, Woods could easily be placed one, two. His miraculous one-legged U. S. Open win in 2008 was leader in the clubhouse until Woods' Thanksgiving night nightmare opened a can of worms that are eating him out of house and home cooking.
However, Tiger Woods isn't really the subject of today's column. What I really wanted to discuss was the other half of the equation--the vote for Female Athlete of the Year. I don't pay enough attention to tennis to know if Serena Williams deserved the honor, especially since I don't know her from her sister Venus. Oh, Serena's the one who threatened an official with bodily harm over what she considered a blown call? What I do know is that the runner-up has always been a model of decorum. There are no neigh-sayers when it comes to Zenyatta, whose victory over the best male thorobreds in the Breeders' Cup electrified racing fans and galvanized at least 18 voters into naming her Female Athlete of the Year.
Why the wing-footed mare, who turns 5 on New Year's day, didn't win the whole frittata is beyond me. Somebody must have a prejudice against horses. All Zenyatta did was score the biggest victory for feminism since Billie Jean King turned Bobby Riggs into an old man in the course of a few sets of tennis. This one might have been bigger. Riggs, after all, was 55 years old and had not been a big hitter even in his prime. It was as much a victory of youth over old age as it was of female over male. Zenyatta defeated the best field that could be assembled, albeit not a particularly star-studded one.
We may never know how Zenyatta feels about the slight, because horses are notoriously close-mouthed when it comes to blowing their own manes. But, although it was four decades ago, I do have some experience in talking with horses. I had received an invitation to meet Governor Max, one of the favorites to win a big feature race at Arlington Park. Max was hoping to become the first Governor to win a race in Illinois and not subsequently go to jail. I was a little uneasy about the meeting because I didn't know the etiquette involved. Do you offer to shake hands with a horse or do you wait until he puts his best hoof forward? Emily Post was no help. apparently she had never met a horse, either. I must tell you that Governor Max's trainer was known as the Joe Namath of horse racing, which might account for the conversation that ensued.
Markus: Hi, Max, glad to meet you.
Governor Max: You a sports writer?
Markus: Yeah.
Governor Max: I don't usually talk to sports writers. They always try to put words in your mouth. What did you want to see me about?
Markus: Well, you know, you're one of the bigs stars of this race. I just wanted to find out what kind of guy, er, horse you are.
Governor Max: Well, you just ask the questions and if I feel like answering 'em, I'll answer, 'em.
Markus: O.K. First, how will you prepare for the big race Saturday? I understand you're regarded as somewhat of a playcolt. Do you plan to spend Friday night in bed with a filly and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red?
Governor Max: Neigh!! I don't drink Johnnie Walker Red. Old Overholt's my brand. We horses are partial to rye, you know.
Markus: And how about the filly?
Governor Max. Don't believe everything you hear. After I win on Saturday I'll have all the fillies I can handle. Mares, too. The older women kind of go for me, you know. After I win this race they'll be coming to me. I'll have to beat 'em off with a jockey stick.
Markus: You really think you can win this thing? Some of these horses have run in better company than you have.
Governor Max: I know I'm going to win it. I personally guarantee it.
But horse talk, like any other foreign language, needs to be practiced. So when I decided to give Zenyatta a call, I wasn't too confident about how it would turn out. I needn't have worried. Zenyatta turned out to be a perfect lady, "and that's more than you can say for that Serena Williams,"she snorted into the telephone. "I take it you're a little unhappy about finishing second?" "I've never finished second before in my life. Fourteen starts, fourteen wins."
"Speaking of going unbeaten, how about that Rachel Alexandra beating the boys in the Preakness. She's unbeaten, too." "Yeah, but she's still just a baby. A 3-year-old. Let her get some more races under her saddle cloth and then she can come see me. Besides, she had her chance to run in the Breeders Cup and she chickened out. She knew she couldn't beat me."
"Her trainer says she didn't run in the Breeder's Cup because of the artificial surface at Santa Anita." "Unh huh, and my name is Man 'O War. Tell you what, mister. I'm going to do this again next year and I'm going to be Female Athlete of the Year. I guarantee it." Now where have I heard that before?
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
By Bob Markus
Christmas brings memories. Memories of childhood and sleepless nights, waiting for Santa. Memories of fatherhood, anticipating the looks on the childrens' faces when they found the gifts piled all around the tree. And for a sports writer who was there, memories of one of the greatest games in National Football League history. It was Christmas day, 1971, and instead of watching my kids open their presents, I was sitting in the press box in Kansas City's old ball park, watching what was, at the time, the longest game in football history. The game had everything: The Chiefs' Ed Podolak producing an individual tour de force that should have been enough to produce a victory; Chiefs' kicker Jan Stenerud, a future Hall of Famer, missing the chip shot field goal that should have won the game in regulation time; and, finally, Garo Yepremian, a balding, 27-year-old Cypriot who had never even seen a football game until five years earlier, kicking the game-winner for Miami 8 minutes into the second overtime.
The game was swaddled in controversy before it was even played, because it was also the first NFL game played on Christmas day. Commissioner Pete Rozelle was roundly criticized for scheduling the game on one of organized religion's two most sacred holidays. He was either Scrooge or The Grinch, take your pick. I didn't see it that way. In a column I wrote before boarding a plane on Christmas Eve day, I pointed out most of the criticism was coming from fans in the two cities involved--the NFC playoffs were opening in Minneapolis the same day--and that nobody was water boarding them to force them to attend the games. The only ones who had no choice were the teams, the officials, and the media. As a member of the last-named group I couldn't find it in my heart to complain. I pointed out there were worse places one could wake up on Christmas morning. Viet Nam, for instance.
Although this was the first year I can recall missing Christmas Day itself with the family, in most years we'd have our gift opening in the morning, have a festive midafternoon meal, and I'd be on a plane to the Rose Bowl or an NFL playoff by Christmas night. Once, in the days when The Tribune not only allowed but mandated that its employees fly first class, I was the only passenger in the front section on a Christmas night flight to Baltimore.
Missing out on holidays is an occupational quid pro quo for a sports writer. I almost never was at home on New Year's Eve. I can recall Thanksgivings in Dallas, covering the Cowboys, and in College Station, covering Texas at Texas A M. , and in Norman, Okla., covering the 1 vs. 2 showdown between Nebraska and Oklahoma. That was especially bitter sweet, because while the game was one for the ages, it came during a week when my wife's beloved aunt Grace died and I barely made it home for the funeral.
When my wife's alma mater, Illinois, went to the Rose bowl after the 1983 season, the whole family flew out to Pasadena. I went early, arriving a few hours after the Illini landed at the John Wayne Airport in Orange County. After reaching the team's hotel I immediately got into a screaming match with an assistant athletic director, who turned down my request for an interview with Head Coach Mike White on grounds that he had given a mass interview at the airport. White happened by in the middle of the ruckus and, obviously upset, grumbled, "Hey, we've got a big ball game coming up here." He eventually agreed to meet with me a few hours later, but the tension he displayed was not a good omen. Illinois, which had won its last 10 games after an opening game loss to Missouri, was a heavy favorite against a UCLA team that went into the game with a 6-4-1 record. What everyone overlooked was the fact that the Bruins, after an 0-3-1 start, had won six of their last seven games. No one expected them to even be in the Rose Bowl game, let alone win it. In fact, on the final week-end of the Pac 10 season, with Illinois having already clinched the Big 10 title, I had gone to Seattle to interview several Husky players for a special Rose Bowl section. After arch-rival Washington State produced a shocking upset on Saturday, I threw away my interview notes, placed a call to UCLA's athletic department and advised them I'd be in Westwood by Monday morning to interview some of their players.
Because New Year's day was a Sunday, the 1984 Rose Bowl was played on Jan.2, a date that will live in infamy in Champaign-Urbana. Illinois was never in the game. In a complete reversal from the 1947 Rose bowl when Illinois (7-2) had dismantled an unbeaten UCLA team that had lobbied to play Army (of Blanchard and Davis fame) instead, the Bruins returned the favor. They tore apart a young Illinois secondary in a 45-9 spanking that gave me the once in a lifetime chance to write: "Illinois has seen 1984 and it is more horrible than anything George Orwell could have imagined."
It's been many years since I last left hearth and home for Christmas. But it's also been many years since the entire family has celebrated the holiday together. I miss the old days. Still, I have my memories. I imagine you do, too. Merry Christmas, everyone.
Christmas brings memories. Memories of childhood and sleepless nights, waiting for Santa. Memories of fatherhood, anticipating the looks on the childrens' faces when they found the gifts piled all around the tree. And for a sports writer who was there, memories of one of the greatest games in National Football League history. It was Christmas day, 1971, and instead of watching my kids open their presents, I was sitting in the press box in Kansas City's old ball park, watching what was, at the time, the longest game in football history. The game had everything: The Chiefs' Ed Podolak producing an individual tour de force that should have been enough to produce a victory; Chiefs' kicker Jan Stenerud, a future Hall of Famer, missing the chip shot field goal that should have won the game in regulation time; and, finally, Garo Yepremian, a balding, 27-year-old Cypriot who had never even seen a football game until five years earlier, kicking the game-winner for Miami 8 minutes into the second overtime.
The game was swaddled in controversy before it was even played, because it was also the first NFL game played on Christmas day. Commissioner Pete Rozelle was roundly criticized for scheduling the game on one of organized religion's two most sacred holidays. He was either Scrooge or The Grinch, take your pick. I didn't see it that way. In a column I wrote before boarding a plane on Christmas Eve day, I pointed out most of the criticism was coming from fans in the two cities involved--the NFC playoffs were opening in Minneapolis the same day--and that nobody was water boarding them to force them to attend the games. The only ones who had no choice were the teams, the officials, and the media. As a member of the last-named group I couldn't find it in my heart to complain. I pointed out there were worse places one could wake up on Christmas morning. Viet Nam, for instance.
Although this was the first year I can recall missing Christmas Day itself with the family, in most years we'd have our gift opening in the morning, have a festive midafternoon meal, and I'd be on a plane to the Rose Bowl or an NFL playoff by Christmas night. Once, in the days when The Tribune not only allowed but mandated that its employees fly first class, I was the only passenger in the front section on a Christmas night flight to Baltimore.
Missing out on holidays is an occupational quid pro quo for a sports writer. I almost never was at home on New Year's Eve. I can recall Thanksgivings in Dallas, covering the Cowboys, and in College Station, covering Texas at Texas A M. , and in Norman, Okla., covering the 1 vs. 2 showdown between Nebraska and Oklahoma. That was especially bitter sweet, because while the game was one for the ages, it came during a week when my wife's beloved aunt Grace died and I barely made it home for the funeral.
When my wife's alma mater, Illinois, went to the Rose bowl after the 1983 season, the whole family flew out to Pasadena. I went early, arriving a few hours after the Illini landed at the John Wayne Airport in Orange County. After reaching the team's hotel I immediately got into a screaming match with an assistant athletic director, who turned down my request for an interview with Head Coach Mike White on grounds that he had given a mass interview at the airport. White happened by in the middle of the ruckus and, obviously upset, grumbled, "Hey, we've got a big ball game coming up here." He eventually agreed to meet with me a few hours later, but the tension he displayed was not a good omen. Illinois, which had won its last 10 games after an opening game loss to Missouri, was a heavy favorite against a UCLA team that went into the game with a 6-4-1 record. What everyone overlooked was the fact that the Bruins, after an 0-3-1 start, had won six of their last seven games. No one expected them to even be in the Rose Bowl game, let alone win it. In fact, on the final week-end of the Pac 10 season, with Illinois having already clinched the Big 10 title, I had gone to Seattle to interview several Husky players for a special Rose Bowl section. After arch-rival Washington State produced a shocking upset on Saturday, I threw away my interview notes, placed a call to UCLA's athletic department and advised them I'd be in Westwood by Monday morning to interview some of their players.
Because New Year's day was a Sunday, the 1984 Rose Bowl was played on Jan.2, a date that will live in infamy in Champaign-Urbana. Illinois was never in the game. In a complete reversal from the 1947 Rose bowl when Illinois (7-2) had dismantled an unbeaten UCLA team that had lobbied to play Army (of Blanchard and Davis fame) instead, the Bruins returned the favor. They tore apart a young Illinois secondary in a 45-9 spanking that gave me the once in a lifetime chance to write: "Illinois has seen 1984 and it is more horrible than anything George Orwell could have imagined."
It's been many years since I last left hearth and home for Christmas. But it's also been many years since the entire family has celebrated the holiday together. I miss the old days. Still, I have my memories. I imagine you do, too. Merry Christmas, everyone.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
By Bob Markus
As Frank Sinatra memorably crooned: Regrets, I've had a few. One of them is that I'm probably the only baseball writer who didn't vote for Roberto Clemente when he first appeared on the Hall-of-Fame ballot. Since Clemente, obviously, was one of the greatest right fielders of all time, that, on the face of it, appears to be outrageous. No one admired the Puerto Rican born Pittsburgh outfielder more than I did. On the one occasion I met him, in the dressing room after his second home run in two days gave the Pirates a 2-1 victory over Baltimore in the seventh game of the 1971 world series, I found him cooperative, thoughtful, and surprisingly articulate in his second language.
What, then, was my problem? It was this: Clemente was killed in a plane crash while on a mission of mercy after the 1972 season. There was an immediate stampede to place his name on the ballot, despite the rule that a player must wait for five years after his retirement before being eligible for the Hall-of-Fame. My argument was that if we bent the rule for Clemente, there might come a day when we would bend it for someone not so worthy. Besides, as far as I was concerned, Clemente was already in a higher Hall of Fame and he didn't need any writers' votes to validate it. I intended all along to vote for him five years later and I did write his name in on my ballot that year. Which was my second mistake, although not one that I regret.
While pondering this year's list of eligible players, I was reading through the rules for voting as determined by the Baseball Writers Association of America and came upon clause (D) under rule 3--in case of the death of an active player or a player who has been retired for less than five full years, a candidate who is otherwise eligible shall be eligible in the next regular election held at least six months after the date of death or after the end of the five year period, whichever occurs first. Whether that clause was in effect in 1973, I don't know. Reading further I find under rule 4, Clause (B) that "write-in votes are not permitted."
Now comes another player named Roberto and once again I'm torn. I know that some year, if I'm still around, I'll vote for Roberto Alomar. There are 15 players eligible for the first time this year and it seems to me that Alomar is the best of the lot. Some of the first timers can be dismissed without much thought, guys like Kevin Appier, Ellis Burks, Pat Hentgen, Mike Jackson, Eric Karros, Ray Lankford, Shane Reynolds, David Segui, Robin Ventura, and Todd Zeile. If any of these guys gets the required 5 per cent of votes needed to keep them on the ballot next year, I'll be surprised.
But a few names made me pause. Andres Galarraga, one home run shy of 400 and a former National League batting champ. Barry Larkin, 19 years with one team and the first shortstop to hit 30 homers and steal 30 bases. Fred McGriff, 493 homers, 1550 r.b.i. Enough said? Edgar Martinez, .312 lifetime batting average over 18 seasons, all with the Seattle Mariners. And, of course, Alomar. Some people may remember Alomar as the player who spit in umpire John Hirschbeck's face in 1996 and was suspended for five days. But the well-travelled second baseman should be remembered for his 10 Gold Gloves, his 12 consecutive All-Star appearances, his lifetime .300 batting averge and 474 steals..
There are those who feel that the Hall of Fame is becoming diluted, with too many players being voted in who were very good--but not great--players. I tend to favor the exclusionary side myself, but it's awfully hard, sometimes, to define greatness, especially so in these times when ball players are hanging around for up to 20 years, compiling numbers that almost demand inclusion.
Last year I was disappointed that Tommy John did not make it in his 15th and final try. This year I don't think I'll be disappointed even if no one gets the required 75 per cent. Last year I voted for seven players, including Harold Baines. I admitted that I ws only voting for him to help him get the 5 per cent he needed to stay on the ballot. He did that, but from now on he's on his own. As the Hall of Fame is now constituted I don't think he belongs there. At some future date, who knows. I voted for only five players this year, finally deciding that as long as Mark McGwire's name is on the ballot it's not up to me to rule on his character. So he got one of my votes. Lee Smith, the big, hard throwing relief pitcher, whose 478 saves rank third alltime, also gets an "x" next to his name. He definitely belongs. I voted for Andre Dawson, who captured 67 per cent of the votes last year and is the leading returning vote getter, and for Pitcher Bert Blyleven, who got nearly 63 per cent in his 12th try. Obviously his time is running out.
I considered Martinez and probably will vote for him some day, but all his numbers were accrued as a designated hitter and I have a problem with that. Finally, I voted for Alomar. I hope I don't regret it.
As Frank Sinatra memorably crooned: Regrets, I've had a few. One of them is that I'm probably the only baseball writer who didn't vote for Roberto Clemente when he first appeared on the Hall-of-Fame ballot. Since Clemente, obviously, was one of the greatest right fielders of all time, that, on the face of it, appears to be outrageous. No one admired the Puerto Rican born Pittsburgh outfielder more than I did. On the one occasion I met him, in the dressing room after his second home run in two days gave the Pirates a 2-1 victory over Baltimore in the seventh game of the 1971 world series, I found him cooperative, thoughtful, and surprisingly articulate in his second language.
What, then, was my problem? It was this: Clemente was killed in a plane crash while on a mission of mercy after the 1972 season. There was an immediate stampede to place his name on the ballot, despite the rule that a player must wait for five years after his retirement before being eligible for the Hall-of-Fame. My argument was that if we bent the rule for Clemente, there might come a day when we would bend it for someone not so worthy. Besides, as far as I was concerned, Clemente was already in a higher Hall of Fame and he didn't need any writers' votes to validate it. I intended all along to vote for him five years later and I did write his name in on my ballot that year. Which was my second mistake, although not one that I regret.
While pondering this year's list of eligible players, I was reading through the rules for voting as determined by the Baseball Writers Association of America and came upon clause (D) under rule 3--in case of the death of an active player or a player who has been retired for less than five full years, a candidate who is otherwise eligible shall be eligible in the next regular election held at least six months after the date of death or after the end of the five year period, whichever occurs first. Whether that clause was in effect in 1973, I don't know. Reading further I find under rule 4, Clause (B) that "write-in votes are not permitted."
Now comes another player named Roberto and once again I'm torn. I know that some year, if I'm still around, I'll vote for Roberto Alomar. There are 15 players eligible for the first time this year and it seems to me that Alomar is the best of the lot. Some of the first timers can be dismissed without much thought, guys like Kevin Appier, Ellis Burks, Pat Hentgen, Mike Jackson, Eric Karros, Ray Lankford, Shane Reynolds, David Segui, Robin Ventura, and Todd Zeile. If any of these guys gets the required 5 per cent of votes needed to keep them on the ballot next year, I'll be surprised.
But a few names made me pause. Andres Galarraga, one home run shy of 400 and a former National League batting champ. Barry Larkin, 19 years with one team and the first shortstop to hit 30 homers and steal 30 bases. Fred McGriff, 493 homers, 1550 r.b.i. Enough said? Edgar Martinez, .312 lifetime batting average over 18 seasons, all with the Seattle Mariners. And, of course, Alomar. Some people may remember Alomar as the player who spit in umpire John Hirschbeck's face in 1996 and was suspended for five days. But the well-travelled second baseman should be remembered for his 10 Gold Gloves, his 12 consecutive All-Star appearances, his lifetime .300 batting averge and 474 steals..
There are those who feel that the Hall of Fame is becoming diluted, with too many players being voted in who were very good--but not great--players. I tend to favor the exclusionary side myself, but it's awfully hard, sometimes, to define greatness, especially so in these times when ball players are hanging around for up to 20 years, compiling numbers that almost demand inclusion.
Last year I was disappointed that Tommy John did not make it in his 15th and final try. This year I don't think I'll be disappointed even if no one gets the required 75 per cent. Last year I voted for seven players, including Harold Baines. I admitted that I ws only voting for him to help him get the 5 per cent he needed to stay on the ballot. He did that, but from now on he's on his own. As the Hall of Fame is now constituted I don't think he belongs there. At some future date, who knows. I voted for only five players this year, finally deciding that as long as Mark McGwire's name is on the ballot it's not up to me to rule on his character. So he got one of my votes. Lee Smith, the big, hard throwing relief pitcher, whose 478 saves rank third alltime, also gets an "x" next to his name. He definitely belongs. I voted for Andre Dawson, who captured 67 per cent of the votes last year and is the leading returning vote getter, and for Pitcher Bert Blyleven, who got nearly 63 per cent in his 12th try. Obviously his time is running out.
I considered Martinez and probably will vote for him some day, but all his numbers were accrued as a designated hitter and I have a problem with that. Finally, I voted for Alomar. I hope I don't regret it.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
By Bob Markus
Even when the BCS (Bowl Championship Series) gets it right it can't get it right. The BCS did the popular thing--and the right thing--when, for the first time, it invited two nonmember schools to its postseason bowl party. Most college football fans were rooting for TCU and Boise State to be selected for one of the major bowls, all of which are controlled by the BCS. But not against each other.
The whole idea was to give the Horned Frogs and the Broncos, both of whom went undefeated in the regular season, the chance to prove they can play with the big boys. No one cares whether TCU can beat Boise State. What we want to know is whether TCU can beat a Florida, whether Boise State can beat a Georgia Tech or Iowa. Boise State will be playing in its second major bowl, having upset Oklahoma in the Fiesta bowl a few years back in one of the most exciting college games ever played. The Fiesta bowl once more will be the venue and once again Boise State will be the underdog against TCU. It could be an exciting game, but it is totally meaningless. How much more interesting the bowl season would have been had TCU, for instance, gone to the Sugar bowl to play Florida with Boise State squaring off with Big East champ Cincinnati in the Fiesta bowl or ACC champion Georgia Tech in the Orange.
This, of course, was a strange season, with five teams going undefeated. The BCS was lucky to have escaped another controversy when Texas had to kick a last second field goal to defeat Nebraska, 13-12, in the Big 12 championship game and remain undefeated. If the kick had failed, Cincinnati would have been in the national championship game against Alabama and TCU fans would have been livid. Because Cincinnati jumped over TCU in the final rankings on the basis of a last minute 45-44 victory at Pittsburgh. The Bearcats, of course, also ended up undefeated, and presumably moved up because of strength of schedule. Pittsburgh, which had gone into the game 9-2, was a big prize for the Bearcats no matter how slim the margin of victory.
TCU's schedule, while not overwhelmingly difficult, had a few high hurdles that needed to be negotiated. The Horned Frogs won at Clemson, which played in and almost won the ACC championship game, and handled a respectable conference schedule, which included wins at Air Force and Brigham Young and a home victory over Utah. Utah, by the way, destroyed Alabama in the Sugar bowl last year, making it 3-for-3 in favor of non-BCS teams over the last few years. With the TCU-Boise matchup that streak will come to an end. Somebody has to lose. Besides the fans, that is. TCU quite likely could beat any of the other bowl teams on a given day. Boise State had one given day and it was its opening game of the season when it embarrassed Oregon, 19-8. None of the Broncos' subsequent opponents presented much of a challenge, although Nevada was riding the crest of an eight game winning streak when it played the Broncos, who won, 44-33. If there is a difference between TCU and Boise State it probably is on the defensive side of the ball, although Boise State's defense was sensational in the opener when it held Oregon without a first down until the third quarter. Oregon was to lose only one more game all year and will be the favorite to beat Ohio State in the Rose bowl.
The other significant development over an exciting week-end of college ball, was the whittling down of Heisman Trophy candidates to five. Alabama's Mark Ingram appears to be the favorite on the basis of a good, but not dominating game, against Florida in the Southeast Conference title game. . There are those who feel that Stanford's Toby Gerhart, the leading rusher in the nation is better. Count me in that number although I admit my judgment was formed on too little evidence. The only game I saw Ingram play was the Auburn game, when he was mediocre at best. The one game I saw Gebhart play he tore Notre Dame apart.
But that's the trouble with Heisman voting. The voters may see a lot of games, but many if not most see one game a week, because they are working that game. I probably saw Notre Dame more than any other team because they are always on TV and a few weeks ago I opined that Irish QB Jimmy Clausen would get my vote if I had one. But Clausen did not have a good final game against Stanford and Notre Dame finished with a 6-6 record. Clausen would probably be one of the Heisman favorites next year but has decided to enter tne NFL draft, along with his talented receiver, Golden Tate. With their top two players gone, the Irish are going to need their new coach to be the second coming of Knute Rockne if they are to win as many as six games next year.
Oddly, two of the three quarterbacks who went into this season as best bets to win the Heisman are not generating much happy talk, despite the fact their teams went a combined 25-1. Both Florida's Tim Tebow and Texas' Colt McCoy were less impressive than last year and with Tebow losing his last game and McCoy being sacked seven times and almost letting time expire before the Longhorns kicked their season-saving field goal, it would be a surprise if either won.
The fifth candidate is the most intriguing and the player I now think should--but probably won't--be the Heisman winner. He's that boy named Suh that Johnny Cash used to sing about and I don't know if his name helped make him tough, but I do know that Nebraska tackle Ndamukong Suh played the greatest defensive game I've ever seen on a college football field Saturday night. He should change his first name to Kingkong, because he was flinging Texas players around like the giant ape of movie fame. He singlehandedly, well, actually two-handedly, almost beat Texas all by himself. Look at these stats: 7 1/2 tackles for loss; 4 1/2 sacks. In one game! Draft guru Mel Kiper says that Suh will be the first player chosen in the next NFL draft and calls him "as productive a defensive tackle prospect as I can remember in my 32 years in the business." In all the years of Heisman voting there has been only one defensive lineman to win it--Notre Dame's Leon Hart, who also was a standout tight end on offense. Suh would be the first true defensive lineman to win. He says he plans to come back for his senior year and if he does he'll likely be the Heisman favorite next year.
Even when the BCS (Bowl Championship Series) gets it right it can't get it right. The BCS did the popular thing--and the right thing--when, for the first time, it invited two nonmember schools to its postseason bowl party. Most college football fans were rooting for TCU and Boise State to be selected for one of the major bowls, all of which are controlled by the BCS. But not against each other.
The whole idea was to give the Horned Frogs and the Broncos, both of whom went undefeated in the regular season, the chance to prove they can play with the big boys. No one cares whether TCU can beat Boise State. What we want to know is whether TCU can beat a Florida, whether Boise State can beat a Georgia Tech or Iowa. Boise State will be playing in its second major bowl, having upset Oklahoma in the Fiesta bowl a few years back in one of the most exciting college games ever played. The Fiesta bowl once more will be the venue and once again Boise State will be the underdog against TCU. It could be an exciting game, but it is totally meaningless. How much more interesting the bowl season would have been had TCU, for instance, gone to the Sugar bowl to play Florida with Boise State squaring off with Big East champ Cincinnati in the Fiesta bowl or ACC champion Georgia Tech in the Orange.
This, of course, was a strange season, with five teams going undefeated. The BCS was lucky to have escaped another controversy when Texas had to kick a last second field goal to defeat Nebraska, 13-12, in the Big 12 championship game and remain undefeated. If the kick had failed, Cincinnati would have been in the national championship game against Alabama and TCU fans would have been livid. Because Cincinnati jumped over TCU in the final rankings on the basis of a last minute 45-44 victory at Pittsburgh. The Bearcats, of course, also ended up undefeated, and presumably moved up because of strength of schedule. Pittsburgh, which had gone into the game 9-2, was a big prize for the Bearcats no matter how slim the margin of victory.
TCU's schedule, while not overwhelmingly difficult, had a few high hurdles that needed to be negotiated. The Horned Frogs won at Clemson, which played in and almost won the ACC championship game, and handled a respectable conference schedule, which included wins at Air Force and Brigham Young and a home victory over Utah. Utah, by the way, destroyed Alabama in the Sugar bowl last year, making it 3-for-3 in favor of non-BCS teams over the last few years. With the TCU-Boise matchup that streak will come to an end. Somebody has to lose. Besides the fans, that is. TCU quite likely could beat any of the other bowl teams on a given day. Boise State had one given day and it was its opening game of the season when it embarrassed Oregon, 19-8. None of the Broncos' subsequent opponents presented much of a challenge, although Nevada was riding the crest of an eight game winning streak when it played the Broncos, who won, 44-33. If there is a difference between TCU and Boise State it probably is on the defensive side of the ball, although Boise State's defense was sensational in the opener when it held Oregon without a first down until the third quarter. Oregon was to lose only one more game all year and will be the favorite to beat Ohio State in the Rose bowl.
The other significant development over an exciting week-end of college ball, was the whittling down of Heisman Trophy candidates to five. Alabama's Mark Ingram appears to be the favorite on the basis of a good, but not dominating game, against Florida in the Southeast Conference title game. . There are those who feel that Stanford's Toby Gerhart, the leading rusher in the nation is better. Count me in that number although I admit my judgment was formed on too little evidence. The only game I saw Ingram play was the Auburn game, when he was mediocre at best. The one game I saw Gebhart play he tore Notre Dame apart.
But that's the trouble with Heisman voting. The voters may see a lot of games, but many if not most see one game a week, because they are working that game. I probably saw Notre Dame more than any other team because they are always on TV and a few weeks ago I opined that Irish QB Jimmy Clausen would get my vote if I had one. But Clausen did not have a good final game against Stanford and Notre Dame finished with a 6-6 record. Clausen would probably be one of the Heisman favorites next year but has decided to enter tne NFL draft, along with his talented receiver, Golden Tate. With their top two players gone, the Irish are going to need their new coach to be the second coming of Knute Rockne if they are to win as many as six games next year.
Oddly, two of the three quarterbacks who went into this season as best bets to win the Heisman are not generating much happy talk, despite the fact their teams went a combined 25-1. Both Florida's Tim Tebow and Texas' Colt McCoy were less impressive than last year and with Tebow losing his last game and McCoy being sacked seven times and almost letting time expire before the Longhorns kicked their season-saving field goal, it would be a surprise if either won.
The fifth candidate is the most intriguing and the player I now think should--but probably won't--be the Heisman winner. He's that boy named Suh that Johnny Cash used to sing about and I don't know if his name helped make him tough, but I do know that Nebraska tackle Ndamukong Suh played the greatest defensive game I've ever seen on a college football field Saturday night. He should change his first name to Kingkong, because he was flinging Texas players around like the giant ape of movie fame. He singlehandedly, well, actually two-handedly, almost beat Texas all by himself. Look at these stats: 7 1/2 tackles for loss; 4 1/2 sacks. In one game! Draft guru Mel Kiper says that Suh will be the first player chosen in the next NFL draft and calls him "as productive a defensive tackle prospect as I can remember in my 32 years in the business." In all the years of Heisman voting there has been only one defensive lineman to win it--Notre Dame's Leon Hart, who also was a standout tight end on offense. Suh would be the first true defensive lineman to win. He says he plans to come back for his senior year and if he does he'll likely be the Heisman favorite next year.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
By Bob Markus
In a perfect world, Notre Dame would have waited a week to fire Charlie Weis or Tiger Woods would have settled for a cold shower. As it is I now have two huge national stories to comment on, three actually, if you count the virtual sacking of Florida State Coach Bobby Bowden, whose 34 year tenure at Florida State has taken him beyond the bounds of regionalism and into the national spotlight.
Let's start with Tiger, whose post-midnight prowl on Black Friday gave the newly-minted term for the day after Thanksgiving new meaning. Woods may be among the world's greatest drivers, but apparently that applies only to the golf links. Behind the wheel of his SUV, Woods appears to be a duffer. How else explain his double bogey--a demolished fire hydrant and a bruised tree--at the home hole? Indeed, his failure to explain where he was going at 2:30 in the morning, why he presumably floored it exiting his driveway, why he was wearing no shoes, and just how he lost control of his vehicle is the very crux of a story that has made front page headlines throughout the known world. Who knows what the Martians are using to fill the news hole these days?
By Florida law, Woods doesn't have to tell anyone, including the police, what happened and there are many who believe that he has every right to remain silent. And he does. But he has already discovered that the absence of information inevitably leaves a vacuum that will soon be filled with rumor and innuendo. Surely, even those who most staunchly defend and even encourage Tiger's silence must wonder what did happen. Everyone has his own interpretation of the few facts that exist and here's mine: Tiger and his wife have a violent argument, not in the physical sense, but in the decibel sense. The argument probably has nothing to do with the consistency of the mashed potatoes in the recently consumed Thanksgiving dinner. More likely Elin, his wife, had seen the article in the National Enquirer which claimed that Woods was having an affair with a woman from New York and confronts him with it. He denies it (or maybe he doesn't) but at some point the discussion escalates to the point where Woods is agitated enough to storm out of the house, jump into his car and stomp on the gas pedal. He likely wasn't wearing a seat belt, which would account for the facial bruises and brief period of unconsciousness that has been reported.
If that is the truth of the matter, or something near the truth, it would serve Woods well to own up to it. Most people could relate to that. What married couple hasn't had a knockdown, dragout screaming match at least once in their lives? I've had more than one myself and my ultimate response has been to walk out of the house with the appropriate slamming of the door (just to make sure she knows I'm leaving) and walk off my anger.
Woods' image, which along with his unmatched golfing brilliance has made him a billionaire, is going to take a hit no matter how this story plays out. Perhaps it will soon be forgotten, as other sports heroes' escapades have gone away. How many people think of his rape trial when they watch Kobe Bryant play for the Los Angeles Lakers? Chances are, Tiger will keep winning golf tournaments and piling up endorsements, but for the short term when you hear the name Tiger Woods, "great golfer" will not be your immediate mental response. Rather, you might find yourself wondering, just why did Tiger's wife have that golf club in her hand when she went out to see what had happened?
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Notre Dame is easy to love and easier to hate. Its football players, by and large, are good kids who stay out of trouble. You rarely hear of a Notre Dame football player being involved in a barroom brawl. But its fans are insufferable. That's why being the head coach of Notre Dame's football program is the second toughest job on earth. Barak Obama has the toughest. The last three Notre Dame head coaches have all been fired, despite posting winning records. None of them lasted longer than Charlie Weis's five years. The longest tenured Irish coach was also, arguably, the greatest--Knute Rockne. The Rock served for 13 years and might have gone on for 13 more had he not been killed in a plane crash.
Since then there have been three more highly successful coaches at Notre Dame. Curiously, they each coached the Irish for 11 seasons and quit while they were ahead. The three of them, Frank Leahy, Ara Parseghian, and Lou Holtz all had something in common when they took the reins in South Bend. Experience. Frank Leahy was 20-2 in his two years as head coach at Boston College before coming to Notre Dame in 1941, just as America was preparing to go to war. His teams lost only four games in three seasons before he himself went off to war and when he returned he was even better.
His teams went undefeated for four consecutive years, then, after three comparatively mediocre sesons, he ended up with a fifth undefeated season. That one was marred by a 14-14 tie against Iowa in a game that changed football history. The Irish scored their two touchdowns on the final play of each half after faking injuries to stop the clock. His successor, Terry Brennan, had no head coaching experience at the college level and was a Leahy assistant for only a year. Despite four winning seasons out of five and a monumental 7-0 upset of Oklahoma, which broke the Sooners' 47-game winnning streak, Brennaan was fired. Then began the bleakest era in Fighting Irish history and it was Parseghian who came to the rescue. Ara had loads of experience when he took the Notre Dame job in 1964. He had been at Miami (o.), the Cradle of Coaches, for five years and at Northwestern for eight more. He had twice guided the perennial doormat Wildcats to the No.1 spot in the polls, only to see the dreams fade away because of a lack of depth. It was to fulfill his ambition to coach a national champion that he took the Notre Dame job and he almost accomplished it in his first season. The Irish, in a stunning turnaround (they had gone 2-7 the previous year), won their first nine games and led Southern Cal 17-0 in the season finale before losing 20-17. Nevertheless quarterback John Huarte went from obscurity to the Heisman Trophy during the course of that magical season. Parsegian got his national title in 1966, either because of or depite the infamous 10-10 tie with Michigan State. He repeated with an undefeated team in 1973 but in another year, burned out by the pressure, he retired, never to coach again.
Parseghian's successor, Dan Devine, had plenty of experience. I first met him when he was coaching Arizona State in the 1950s. I was stationed in Yuma, Ariz. at an army base where, as public information specialist I had a disc jockey show on Saturday afternoons. There I met Chuck Benedict, the radio voice of the Sun Devils, who took me along as a spotter on several occasions. Later Devine coached at Missouri, my alma mater, and with the Green Bay Packers, where I got to know him fairly well. On the day Parseghian resigned, acting on a tip, I flew to Green Bay, where Devine was getting ready to announce he was leaving for the Notre Dame job. After ending a hastily called press conference in the late afternoon, he crooked a finger at me and said, "Bob, come into my office for a minute." When we were alone, he said to me, "I just want you to know that whoever gets this job here will start with better personnel than I had when I got here." That was typical Dan Devine. In one sentence he had absolved himself of blame and put pressure on his successor, who happened to be Bart Starr.
I covered several Notre Dame games while Devine was head coach, including his only loss, 20-13 to Mississippi, in a game played in Jackson, Miss. That loss came early in the year and Devine's Irish won the national championship by beating Texas, 38-10 in the Cotton bowl. Devine worked for six years in the pressure cooker before resigning. To replace him the Irish turned once again to an untested coach, Gerry Faust, who had a brilliant record as a high school coach in Ohio, but no college head coaching experience. That turned out to be a disaster and, so, the Irish went back to the tried and true, hiring Holtz away from Minnesota. Before that he had seven successful years at Arkansas, where I first met him. You couldn't help liking the man. He spoke quickly, and with a lisp, and performed magic tricks with true dexterity. As coach at Notre Dame, Holtz won a natyional championship with a 12-0 team in 1988 and finished second in 1989 and 1993. The Irish haven't been in serious contention since Holtz left. During Monday night's NFL telecast Holtz commented on the Notre Dame situation, noting that the three coaches who followed him were good men, but lacked experience. Bob Davies and Weis had never been head coaches, he reminded and Tyrone Willingham had only a few years as head man at Stanford. Actually he coached the Cardinal for seven years. Holtz also dismissed the popular conception that it's easy to reruit at Notre Dame. "Notre Dame recruits nationally," he said, "which means when they recruit in Oklahoma they're going against Oklahoma and Oklahoma State and when they recruit in Pennsylvania they're up against Penn State."
I don't know who the next Notre Dame coach will be, but it's likely to be an experienced, successful college coach. Several names have been put out there, but there's one name I haven't heard and I wonder why. How long has Nick Sabin been at Alabama now. Two years, three? Isn't it time for a change?
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Bowden has spent 34 years turning Florida State from an ugly frog into a handsome prince. He didn't deserve the kissoff he was given Monday by school administrators. Their offer to keep him on for a final year with diminished responsibility was an insult. You're either head coach or you're not. Bowden was right to turn the offer down. Bowden not only was a great football coach, but a great guy. I covered his team only once. It was a battle of Titans against Miami and Bowden's team lost it when he went for a two point conversion in the final minute and missed. The next morning he hosted a media breakfst and was charming. I hope he enjoys his retirement. He once said that "after you retire there's only one more big event in your life." I hope, too, that he enjoys many little events before the inevitable big one.
In a perfect world, Notre Dame would have waited a week to fire Charlie Weis or Tiger Woods would have settled for a cold shower. As it is I now have two huge national stories to comment on, three actually, if you count the virtual sacking of Florida State Coach Bobby Bowden, whose 34 year tenure at Florida State has taken him beyond the bounds of regionalism and into the national spotlight.
Let's start with Tiger, whose post-midnight prowl on Black Friday gave the newly-minted term for the day after Thanksgiving new meaning. Woods may be among the world's greatest drivers, but apparently that applies only to the golf links. Behind the wheel of his SUV, Woods appears to be a duffer. How else explain his double bogey--a demolished fire hydrant and a bruised tree--at the home hole? Indeed, his failure to explain where he was going at 2:30 in the morning, why he presumably floored it exiting his driveway, why he was wearing no shoes, and just how he lost control of his vehicle is the very crux of a story that has made front page headlines throughout the known world. Who knows what the Martians are using to fill the news hole these days?
By Florida law, Woods doesn't have to tell anyone, including the police, what happened and there are many who believe that he has every right to remain silent. And he does. But he has already discovered that the absence of information inevitably leaves a vacuum that will soon be filled with rumor and innuendo. Surely, even those who most staunchly defend and even encourage Tiger's silence must wonder what did happen. Everyone has his own interpretation of the few facts that exist and here's mine: Tiger and his wife have a violent argument, not in the physical sense, but in the decibel sense. The argument probably has nothing to do with the consistency of the mashed potatoes in the recently consumed Thanksgiving dinner. More likely Elin, his wife, had seen the article in the National Enquirer which claimed that Woods was having an affair with a woman from New York and confronts him with it. He denies it (or maybe he doesn't) but at some point the discussion escalates to the point where Woods is agitated enough to storm out of the house, jump into his car and stomp on the gas pedal. He likely wasn't wearing a seat belt, which would account for the facial bruises and brief period of unconsciousness that has been reported.
If that is the truth of the matter, or something near the truth, it would serve Woods well to own up to it. Most people could relate to that. What married couple hasn't had a knockdown, dragout screaming match at least once in their lives? I've had more than one myself and my ultimate response has been to walk out of the house with the appropriate slamming of the door (just to make sure she knows I'm leaving) and walk off my anger.
Woods' image, which along with his unmatched golfing brilliance has made him a billionaire, is going to take a hit no matter how this story plays out. Perhaps it will soon be forgotten, as other sports heroes' escapades have gone away. How many people think of his rape trial when they watch Kobe Bryant play for the Los Angeles Lakers? Chances are, Tiger will keep winning golf tournaments and piling up endorsements, but for the short term when you hear the name Tiger Woods, "great golfer" will not be your immediate mental response. Rather, you might find yourself wondering, just why did Tiger's wife have that golf club in her hand when she went out to see what had happened?
-0-
Notre Dame is easy to love and easier to hate. Its football players, by and large, are good kids who stay out of trouble. You rarely hear of a Notre Dame football player being involved in a barroom brawl. But its fans are insufferable. That's why being the head coach of Notre Dame's football program is the second toughest job on earth. Barak Obama has the toughest. The last three Notre Dame head coaches have all been fired, despite posting winning records. None of them lasted longer than Charlie Weis's five years. The longest tenured Irish coach was also, arguably, the greatest--Knute Rockne. The Rock served for 13 years and might have gone on for 13 more had he not been killed in a plane crash.
Since then there have been three more highly successful coaches at Notre Dame. Curiously, they each coached the Irish for 11 seasons and quit while they were ahead. The three of them, Frank Leahy, Ara Parseghian, and Lou Holtz all had something in common when they took the reins in South Bend. Experience. Frank Leahy was 20-2 in his two years as head coach at Boston College before coming to Notre Dame in 1941, just as America was preparing to go to war. His teams lost only four games in three seasons before he himself went off to war and when he returned he was even better.
His teams went undefeated for four consecutive years, then, after three comparatively mediocre sesons, he ended up with a fifth undefeated season. That one was marred by a 14-14 tie against Iowa in a game that changed football history. The Irish scored their two touchdowns on the final play of each half after faking injuries to stop the clock. His successor, Terry Brennan, had no head coaching experience at the college level and was a Leahy assistant for only a year. Despite four winning seasons out of five and a monumental 7-0 upset of Oklahoma, which broke the Sooners' 47-game winnning streak, Brennaan was fired. Then began the bleakest era in Fighting Irish history and it was Parseghian who came to the rescue. Ara had loads of experience when he took the Notre Dame job in 1964. He had been at Miami (o.), the Cradle of Coaches, for five years and at Northwestern for eight more. He had twice guided the perennial doormat Wildcats to the No.1 spot in the polls, only to see the dreams fade away because of a lack of depth. It was to fulfill his ambition to coach a national champion that he took the Notre Dame job and he almost accomplished it in his first season. The Irish, in a stunning turnaround (they had gone 2-7 the previous year), won their first nine games and led Southern Cal 17-0 in the season finale before losing 20-17. Nevertheless quarterback John Huarte went from obscurity to the Heisman Trophy during the course of that magical season. Parsegian got his national title in 1966, either because of or depite the infamous 10-10 tie with Michigan State. He repeated with an undefeated team in 1973 but in another year, burned out by the pressure, he retired, never to coach again.
Parseghian's successor, Dan Devine, had plenty of experience. I first met him when he was coaching Arizona State in the 1950s. I was stationed in Yuma, Ariz. at an army base where, as public information specialist I had a disc jockey show on Saturday afternoons. There I met Chuck Benedict, the radio voice of the Sun Devils, who took me along as a spotter on several occasions. Later Devine coached at Missouri, my alma mater, and with the Green Bay Packers, where I got to know him fairly well. On the day Parseghian resigned, acting on a tip, I flew to Green Bay, where Devine was getting ready to announce he was leaving for the Notre Dame job. After ending a hastily called press conference in the late afternoon, he crooked a finger at me and said, "Bob, come into my office for a minute." When we were alone, he said to me, "I just want you to know that whoever gets this job here will start with better personnel than I had when I got here." That was typical Dan Devine. In one sentence he had absolved himself of blame and put pressure on his successor, who happened to be Bart Starr.
I covered several Notre Dame games while Devine was head coach, including his only loss, 20-13 to Mississippi, in a game played in Jackson, Miss. That loss came early in the year and Devine's Irish won the national championship by beating Texas, 38-10 in the Cotton bowl. Devine worked for six years in the pressure cooker before resigning. To replace him the Irish turned once again to an untested coach, Gerry Faust, who had a brilliant record as a high school coach in Ohio, but no college head coaching experience. That turned out to be a disaster and, so, the Irish went back to the tried and true, hiring Holtz away from Minnesota. Before that he had seven successful years at Arkansas, where I first met him. You couldn't help liking the man. He spoke quickly, and with a lisp, and performed magic tricks with true dexterity. As coach at Notre Dame, Holtz won a natyional championship with a 12-0 team in 1988 and finished second in 1989 and 1993. The Irish haven't been in serious contention since Holtz left. During Monday night's NFL telecast Holtz commented on the Notre Dame situation, noting that the three coaches who followed him were good men, but lacked experience. Bob Davies and Weis had never been head coaches, he reminded and Tyrone Willingham had only a few years as head man at Stanford. Actually he coached the Cardinal for seven years. Holtz also dismissed the popular conception that it's easy to reruit at Notre Dame. "Notre Dame recruits nationally," he said, "which means when they recruit in Oklahoma they're going against Oklahoma and Oklahoma State and when they recruit in Pennsylvania they're up against Penn State."
I don't know who the next Notre Dame coach will be, but it's likely to be an experienced, successful college coach. Several names have been put out there, but there's one name I haven't heard and I wonder why. How long has Nick Sabin been at Alabama now. Two years, three? Isn't it time for a change?
-0-
Bowden has spent 34 years turning Florida State from an ugly frog into a handsome prince. He didn't deserve the kissoff he was given Monday by school administrators. Their offer to keep him on for a final year with diminished responsibility was an insult. You're either head coach or you're not. Bowden was right to turn the offer down. Bowden not only was a great football coach, but a great guy. I covered his team only once. It was a battle of Titans against Miami and Bowden's team lost it when he went for a two point conversion in the final minute and missed. The next morning he hosted a media breakfst and was charming. I hope he enjoys his retirement. He once said that "after you retire there's only one more big event in your life." I hope, too, that he enjoys many little events before the inevitable big one.
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