RealClearSports: Ignore 'Who's Better' Debates and Enjoy NBA Playoffs

By Art Spander

Another one of those unwinnable arguments. Another incessant and illogical need to compare. Another question that can’t be answered but has some people lined up determined to try.

Is LeBron better than Kobe?

Then again, is Kobe better than Michael? Or Michael better than Magic or Larry? Or, even though he played a different game in a different era, is Bill Russell, on the strength of his championships, better than anyone?

I’m going to appreciate every one of them. They were special, they are special. And just because ESPN or some other publication asks for a vote on who’s No. 1, we don’t have to be lulled into the trap and provide a response.

Now, if you ask if LeBron James was fantastic Thursday night, that’s different. Or if Kobe has been fantastic game after game. Or if Dwight Howard and Carmelo Anthony have shown they are among the elite, well, there’s no argument.

Basketball is the ultimate team game, so we dare not forget the other characters in the dramas, Pau Gasol, Chauncey Billups, Mo Williams, people far more than role players.

We’re getting everything we could wish, a postseason that – and yes, I’m breaking my own rule of rejecting comparisons – could be the best ever.

From the Bulls-Celtics series, that had it been the NBA finals and not simply a first-rounder still would have us talking and reflecting, the excitement has come sweeping at us in endless waves. What next?

Take it from someone, me, who has been there, someone who started watching the NBA when Jerry West, “The Logo,’’ was a rookie, 1960, it doesn’t get any better than it has been.

Even Magic-Bird. Even Rick Barry-Elvin Hayes. Even when in 1976 Gar Heard threw in that miracle for the Suns and forced the Celtics to go to triple overtime.

I was down on the NBA for a few years. The play didn’t meet the hype. The game was too programmed, too restricted, great athletes figuratively tethered by coaches who would rather have a wrestling match than a ballet.

But what’s out there now – what we’re witnessing, to expand on the theme of LeBron and the Cavaliers – is compelling theater, must-see theater. The wow factor has taken control. And isn’t that what counts?

If you’re a Lakers fan, a Cavs fan, or a fan of the other two teams still playing as May heads into June, it’s results that matter. For the rest of us, it’s method.

To watch LeBron hit that 3-pointer with time running out in Game 2, to watch the Magic hold off the Cavs with Tiger Woods in the building, to watch Denver attempt the virtually impossible scheme of keeping Kobe Bryant from getting off his jumper, is what sport is all about.

We don’t need Charles Barkley or Kenny Smith to tell us how great these games and players have been. We know. And we’re enthralled. How do the Cavs blow a 22-point lead and still win by 10? How does LeBron keep on running and jumping, shooting and passing?

It’s all worked out perfectly for the two networks, ESPN and TNT, one evening Lakers-Nuggets, the next Cavs-Magic, guaranteed excitement every 24 hours.

It’s all worked out perfectly for us, the sporting public who can’t wait for the next tipoff.

In his famed dictionary of 1755, Samuel Johnson, the Englishman, called sport “tumultuous merriment.’’ A brilliant definition, and surely the last few weeks the NBA playoffs have left us tumultuously merry.

Technical fouls have been called and then rescinded. Mark Cuban, unfortunately, belittled Denver’s Kenyon Martin via e-mail. In L.A., Jack Nicholson, from his $2,500 seat, has cheered the Lakers but given the high sign now and then to their opponents.

The NFL is No. 1 in America, a fact well recognized when this week Sports Illustrated put Tom Brady on its cover. And baseball has history on its side, carrying back to the 19th century. But basketball has found its place, on the tube, in our hearts.

If the play has been a trifle erratic, if it’s hard to figure why the Lakers look so good at home and so bewildering away, that’s only contributed to the excitement. Teams coming unglued. Teams coming back.

We were promised entertainment, and the playoffs have lived up to the promise. Is LeBron better than Kobe? Who cares, as long as they and Carmelo and Dwight are making us gasp and hope these games never end.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And he has recently been honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.   

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http://www.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/05/hoping_playoffs_dont_end.html
© RealClearSports 2009

RealClearSports: Serena Williams, A Conundrum of a Champion

By Art Spander

It’s her life. Maybe we should let it go at that. Maybe we should appreciate what Serena Williams has given to sport, to her sport of tennis, appreciate the championships and the panache, acknowledge what is, rather than question what might have been.

Maybe the gentle arrogance and the irritating independence are at the heart of her success, and the success of her sister, Venus. Maybe if she acted like the other players, thought like the other players, she’d be just another player, and not one who earned the titles, if not always earning the proper respect.

Serena won a first-round match at the French Open on Tuesday, won it in agonizing fashion for someone who, depending on either her viewpoint or the WTA rankings, is the best or second best female player on the globe.

She staggered and stumbled and squandered eight match points before finally dispatching somebody named Klara Zakopalova, who is ranked 100th.

But she won. As she has so often, confounding some, enthralling others. Oh, what a gift those sisters were awarded, such athleticism. Oh, what brilliance those sisters displayed. Oh, what doubts those sisters created.

The critics have badgered Venus, older by 15 months, and Serena, practically forever. When they weren’t praising them.

Venus and Serena were different, two African-Americans in a sport once as white as the attire prescribed for Wimbledon. They grew up on the tough streets of Compton, east of Los Angeles, instructed and shepherded by a father who made bold predictions and made others outraged.

The Williams sisters, the Williams family, were separate from the rest. They were more powerful than the rest. For a while in the early 2000s, it was Venus against Serena or Serena against Williams in virtually every final of every Grand Slam. A whimpering Amelie Mauresmo, who eventually would go on to win Wimbledon and the Australian, once proclaimed such domination unfair.

Then Venus either lost interest or was constantly injured. Or both. Then Serena got bored and went into movies or was constantly injured. Or both. But when Venus won Wimbledon in ’07 and ’08 and Serena the ’08 U.S. Open and ’09 Australian, a new theory was put forth. The opportunity to escape to other interests is what enabled the Sisters Williams to stay after other winners — Kim Clijsters, Justine Henin — departed because of burnout.

Still, Mary Carillo, the great tennis commentator, was adamant about the Williams’ careers, particularly that of Serena. Not that long ago, Serena and Tiger Woods were at the top of their respective sports. Tiger hasn’t left. Serena was a missing person.

“You can’t waste time when you’re an athlete,” said Carillo. “Careers are short. I thought Serena was going to break every record. She should have.”

But even with 10 Grand Slam victories, she has not.

Two weeks back, when Dinara Safina of Russia replaced her in the No. 1 position in the rankings, Serena huffed, “We all know who is No. 1. Quite frankly I’m the best in the world.”

Did we detect a bit of bitterness? Or was Serena attempting to remind us that when dropshot comes to forehand, she’d be the last one standing? The great thing about individual sports is you go out and beat everyone and you can’t be denied.

We’re never going to get into the psyche of Serena or Venus. We’re never going to learn why they always seem to be hurt when they lose. Or why they don’t always give an opponent credit when they win.

“My goal,” Serena said last year, “always has been to have the best time and to do the best I can.” She’s had the time of her life. Others worry that at age 27, time and tennis have passed her by. That would be hard to believe, especially since Serena has talked of competing in the ’12 Olympics.

The French, at Roland Garros in Paris, is played on red clay. Americans traditionally haven’t done well on the surface, although Serena won the tournament in 2002. This year, Serena had lost her only three matches on clay, one of those to Zakopalova, a Czech.

“I think I just played horrendous,” Serena said of her first-round win, sounding very unlike the young lady who a few days earlier boasted she was “quite frankly the best in the world.”

“I think I was a little nervous because I hadn’t won a match on clay all year, and I was desperate for a win.”

Desperate is a word new to Serena’s vocabulary. She’s never felt the need to use it. Now she understands. She owes us nothing, but she owes herself the chance to play every match as if it will be her last.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And he has recently been honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009. 

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http://www.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/05/serena_williams_a_conundrum_of.html
© RealClearSports 2009 

SF Examiner: Bay Area teams hurt by MLB scheduling

By Art Spander
Special to The Examiner

There was a woman, an entertainer, who in her era was scandalous but today wouldn’t even draw a reprimand from the so-called religious right. Mae West was the lady’s name, and among her axioms was one advising too much of a good thing is wonderful.

For no good reason, the people who create the schedules for major league baseball unfortunately have concurred. Thus the beginning of the week the Giants and A’s both have been playing at home. Not too bad for the Giants, who on Memorial Day drew 40,034 to AT&T Park.

Terrible for the A’s, who on the very same Monday afternoon had only 15,280. That, surprisingly and delightfully, both teams managed a rare combo win begs the issue. If a game is played and virtually nobody watches it — the situation for the A’s — does it count? It’s tough enough in Oakland, with the team crawling along on the bottom of American League West, but to force the A’s to go head-to-head for attendance with the more established Giants at the same time in a different — and less attractive — place, is grossly unfair.

Not that people beyond our fair region give a hoot. The Mets and Yankees have no trouble getting both attention and attendance in a metropolitan area of 18 million. Chicago can handle the Cubs and White Sox playing a few miles apart, and the Dodgers are in Los Angeles and the Angels are in Anaheim — no matter what the name implies — a 30-mile separation.

We’re told scheduling difficulties are caused by interleague play and there aren’t enough dates available to prevent conflicts. So baseball gives the A’s the shaft, and it isn’t being very kind to the Giants because both teams must jockey for space in papers shrinking like, well, I was going to say Travis Ishikawa’s batting average, but then the man hits a home run and goes 4-for-4. 

There was an era when the term June Swoon held great fear for Giants fans, the team usually playing well through May and then collapsing as summer arrived. It won’t be a problem this year for a franchise that is helpless at the plate — or was until Ishikawa’s unforeseen breakout.

The rumored trade for Dan Uggla? Or Nick Johnson? Neither deal would hurt. But the name Matt Cain should not be allowed in any discussion. Better to lose, 2-1, which the Giants have done much too often, than 8-7, which is what the A’s did the other night after holding a 5-1 lead going into eighth against Arizona.

After spring training, the suggestion was if you could link the A’s hitting with the Giants’ pitching you might have a winner. The problem has been the A’s weren’t hitting, and while the Giants do have a strong staff, particularly Cain, Tim Lincecum and hard-luck Barry Zito, they also have Brian Wilson, who can blow any lead.

Each club is stuck mostly with what it has. And the beginning of this week each was stuck playing home games against the other. A bad idea indeed.

Art Spander has been covering Bay Area sports since 1965 and also writes on www.artspander.com and www.realclearsports.com. E-mail him at typoes@aol.com.

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http://www.sfexaminer.com/sports/Bay-Area-teams-hurt-by-MLB-scheduling-46182392.html
Copyright 2009 SF Newspaper Company

A’s make a mess of game in which Giambi makes history

OAKLAND –  History? The Athletics made some Saturday night. At least Jason Giambi did. They also made a mess of a game they should have won, but of course did not win.

Because they are the Athletics.

This one was as bad it gets for a team that’s become very bad.  That’s become terrible. That’s become atrocious. That’s always been agonizing.

A team that has the second worst record in the American League, the third worst in the majors.

A team that carried a 5-1 lead into the eighth inning against the Arizona Diamondbacks, who are almost as awful as the A’s, and then ended up losing to the D-backs, 8-7, in 11 excruciating innings.

Remember that Sinatra song, “Saturday Night is the Loneliest Night of the Week’’? Not this Saturday night. Not with 21,295 people in the stands at the Coliseum. Maybe a majority came for the post-game fireworks show, not that it matters. Maybe a majority came for the in-game fireworks.

Four home runs by the A’s, including the 400th of his career by Giambi. Another by Jack Cust, who, with practically every living soul in the stadium playing him to pull to right, where he had homered in the first, bunted safely down the third-base line. Another by Adam Kennedy. Another by Nomar Garciaparra.

Four home runs, and a seventh loss in the last nine games. And a 25th loss in 40 games overall.

Four home runs and no pitching. If you don’t count Edgar Gonzalez, up from the minors and making his first start for Oakland, against his last big-league team, Arizona. Went five innings and gave up only a run. You mean the A’s were going to win one? Ha!

Russ Springer, the third of seven – yes, seven – A’s pitchers started the eighth for the A’s and gave up three straight hits. He was replaced by Andrew Bailey, who after an out allowed a single to Eric Byrnes that scored two runs and a double to Chad Tracy that scored two more. And it was 5-5.

Where it stayed until the 11th, when Craig Breslow and Santiago Casilla combined to disprove the label “reliever’’ as Arizona scored three runs. That Oakland got a couple in the bottom of the inning only proved all the more agitating.

Especially for Giambi, who in the 13th year of his career returned to the A’s with the idea he might provide a bit of power, which finally he has done, and some credibility.

“We’ve got to stop giving away games,’’ said Giambi. “Hopefully we can turn it around before we bury ourselves.’’

They’ve already been buried. The season is done. All that’s left is pride. And it’s not even June.

Giambi drew some cheers from a crowd that at game’s close, 3 hours and 44 minutes after the beginning, was given to booing. Understandably.

“It’s an incredible thing,’’ Giambi said of becoming the 44th player to reach the 400-homer mark. “I had lots of ups and downs. The biggest thing is it was here in Oakland . I wish it could have been sooner, but I’m glad they got to see it where I started.’’

What they also saw was an A’s team unable to free itself from failure. Oakland hit those four home runs off the man the A’s traded to Arizona, Dan Haren, the most he ever allowed in a game. But you’ve got to stop the other team, and Oakland could not.

How’s it going to change? In a stretch of four games at Detroit and Tampa Bay a few days ago, the A’s were outscored a combined 47-13. That’s not baseball, that’s a debacle.

Those billboards advertise that the A’s are “100 percent baseball.’’  In truth, they’re 100 percent sad. The A’s play them close, and they lose. The A’s get smacked around, they lose. As if we needed any additional proof, that’s the mark of a team without hope.

Oakland signed Giambi and Matt Holliday, Orlando Cabrera and Nomar Garciaparra. But none is a pitcher. None comes out of the bullpen.

Even the bottom feeders in baseball win 60 to 70 games, but that won’t do around here. For the last year we kept hearing all that wasted talk about the A’s building a ballpark. What they need to build is a team.

Jason Giambi and the batters did what they could. It wasn’t enough. It’s never enough when a game that should be won turns into a game that’s a reflection of a season beyond repair.

RealClearSports: Michael Vick Will Be Back

By Art Spander

He will be back. Whether we like it or not, Michael Vick again will be in the NFL, again playing football, again making a big salary, again being chased by linebackers and by autograph seekers. Success trumps morality.

These are the words and phrases too frequently heard and seen the last few days: He has paid his debt to society. Everyone deserves a second chance. He has learned his lesson.The question is, have we learned our lesson? And will we ever learn it?

Do attributes such as being able to throw a football or shoot a basketball take precedent over a value system? When do we stop giving in to our urge to be champions? When do we judge an individual on the way he or she treats others, or treats animals, rather than simply on athletic talent?

Losing is the great American sin. John Tunis wrote that. He was a Harvard grad, a journalist and then, before and after World War II, an author of juvenile sporting fiction. But that’s no childhood hypothesis from Tunis.

We will do virtually anything, and use virtually anyone, to win.

The way the St. Louis Rams used Leonard Little after he was convicted of manslaughter when, his blood level far above that of intoxication, Little crashed his SUV into and killed Susan Gutweiler in 1998.

He got 90 days in jail, four years probation and a spot in the starting lineup for a Super Bowl. Six years later he was acquitted of driving while intoxicated.

Leonard Little killed an innocent victim, if unintentionally. Michael Vick killed innocent dogs, and it was intentional. He was sent to prison. As we are well aware from television coverage worthy of the appearance of a head of state, Vick has been released to home confinement.

The commissioner of the NFL, Roger Goodell, told us, “Michael’s going to have to demonstrate to myself and the general public and to a lot of people, did he learn anything from this experience? Does he regret what happened…”

I regret what happened. I have two dogs. Bless the beasts and children. Vick and his cronies tortured the beasts. That’s not nearly as terrible as what Leonard Little did. Or is it?

The disturbing part of Vick’s over-publicized release from Leavenworth Prison to home confinement was the way it was analyzed. Not in how he should be judged as a person but only as a football player. “Four teams could use him,” was one of the reports.

He’ll play. Goodell, wisely, will refrain from making a decision on allowing Vick to rejoin the league, waiting while Vick offers contrition, while groups such as the SPCA or Humane Society monitor his supposed progress.

Eventually Michael Vick will return as much because he might help some team win a title as because we are a forgiving nation.

Two viewpoints on Vick’s possible reinstatement were in Sporting News today. “Let me put it this way,” said Paul Hornung, the onetime all-pro for the Packers and a Heisman Trophy winner. “I love dogs. If I was commissioner I’d be a lot tougher on these guys … I just don’t think he should get in.”

That Hornung was suspended the 1963 season for gambling is an issue that may or may not be relevant.

Ted Hendricks, a linebacker who along with Hornung is in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, said of Vick, “He’s paid his debt to society, so I think he should be reinstated. I’m sure he’ll be an asset to whoever signs him.”

Of course. Or no one would sign him.

If Michael Vick were an ordinary player, all this would be moot. Except for the dog fighting, which is both despicable and illegal. But Vick was the first player taken in the 2001 draft, a quarterback who can run as well as pass, a quarterback who can make a difference.

Vick is special. That with his talent, fame and wealth he needed to find enjoyment from an activity in which helpless animals are set upon each other is beyond the understanding of most of us.

Humans make mistakes. That we do comprehend. Yet there’s difference in going 50 mph in a 35 zone and in operating a dog-fighting network over a period of five years.

Michael Vick will be back. He’ll say the correct things and do the correct things. Roger Goodell will approve reinstatement and some team that figures all it needs is Michael Vick to get to the Super Bowl will sign him.

I’ll grit my teeth and wish him well.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And he has recently been honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

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http://www.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/05/michael-vick-will-be-back.html
© RealClearSports 2009

RealClearSports: A Collision, Not a Dance

By Art Spander

The game is portrayed as one of elegance and grace, ballet in Nikes. In truth, pro basketball is a contact sport, with huge men crashing into each other, shoving and pushing. They’d just as soon knock down an opponent as they would knock down a jumper.

We weren’t sure what to expect when the Lakers met the Denver Nuggets on Tuesday night. Other than there would be a lot of fouls. Oh, and that the Nuggets would try to intimidate a Laker team that had everyone bewildered. Including the Lakers themselves.

A few weeks ago, in our usual rush to judgment, and with our monumental impatience, the NBA finalists had been decided, at least by people who have nothing better to do than express opinions.

It would be the Cleveland Cavaliers against the Lakers. It would be LeBron James against Kobe Bryant. It still might be, although we are less sure. And to hear Kobe talk after the Lakers staggered past the Nuggets, 105-103, in the opener of the Western Conference finals, maybe the Lakers also were less sure.

Although the win, which seemingly halted the problems and the doubts created when the Lakers at times lacked direction and maybe lacked a little heart, probably changed everything.

Had the Nuggets been up 1-0 after a game on the Lakers’ home floor, they would be in control. Jack Nicholson and the other swells in the $2,500 courtside seats would be distraught. But it’s the Lakers up 1-0, winning a game of floor burns and bruised bodies, if not of bruised egos.

“They outplayed us,” said Lakers coach Phil Jackson, “and we won the game.”

Unlike a couple of those miserable performances against the Houston Rockets in the last series, when the Lakers needed the entire seven games to beat a team without its two main men, Tracy McGrady and Yao Ming.

The Lakers won because they have Kobe Bryant, who scored 40 points, 18 in the fourth quarter. And because they have Trevor Ariza, who in the closing seconds made a steal that showed anticipation as well as agility.

They won despite Carmelo Anthony, who scored 39 for the Nuggets.

This is what you expect from the big ones, your best players at their best. And so it was with Kobe and Carmelo. One would score. Then the other. Bryant courageously tried to stop Anthony on defense.

“He’s a bull,” Bryant would say in interviews carried on ESPNEWS.

A few days ago, after they had beaten the Rockets by 40 at home, the Lakers lost to the Rockets by 15 on the road. The probable matchup against the Cavs and LeBron seemed as far away as Mars. The sharp knives were out, wielded by critics who justifiably thought the Lakers caved in.

Even Kobe on Tuesday night felt compelled to use the word “capitulated,” indicating he was no less disgusted than the rest of us.

There was no capitulation against the Nuggets, who, while a lesser team than the Lakers, have the paranoia necessary to want to succeed. Denver is out to show something. The Lakers, on the other hand, are mostly worried about showtime.

The Lakers are more than L.A.’s team, they are L.A.’s focus. There’s no pro football franchise, if you don’t count USC, albeit many people do. There are only the Dodgers, Manny-less at the moment but still winning, and the Lakers, a team of stars and of the Hollywood stars. Along with Nicholson, Denzel Washington, Drew Barrymore and Justin Timberlake were in attendance.

Every time the Lakers are on the court, especially postseason, it’s less an athletic contest than a production number. You think the reviews were tough for “Angels & Demons,” check them out after the Lakers have a bad night. The water cooler talk about Tom Hanks is no less catty than it is about Kobe or Pau Gasol.

Kobe is The Man. As opposed to The Manny. Bryant had his own troubles six years ago, but those are a distant memory. Now Kobe is an MVP. Now Kobe is a savior.

“I could score 35 a night if I want, but that’s not something I’m concerned with,” he said without bragging. “I want to win a championship. Tonight, it was something we needed, but that’s not my goal.”

Jackson, the Lakers coach, agreed. “We had very little else going for us besides Kobe,” he insisted. “And at the end when we needed a basket he muscled his way through.”

In pro basketball, you get physical or you get beat.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And he has recently been honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

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http://www.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/05/lakers-nuggets-collision-not-dance.html
© RealClearSports 2009

SF Examiner: Niners’ season could hinge on QB decision

By Art Spander
Special to The Examiner

SAN FRANCISCO — In May, we ask about September, about the 49ers, about the most important of positions, about  the quarterback. In May, we wonder who will be starting when the season is starting.

That’s the issue as the Niners hold a minicamp, or what in NFL newspeak is labeled an “OTA” (organized team activity).

That’s the issue, who plays quarterback for the franchise of quarterbacks, the franchise of Frankie Albert, John Brodie, Joe Montana, Steve Young and Jeff Garcia.

Mike Singletary is a defensive guy, a Hall of Fame linebacker.

Singletary is a slug-it-out guy, who played for the Chicago Bears, a slug-it-out team.

“We will go out and hit people in the mouth,” Singletary promised in October after his first game as the then interim coach.

Maybe that works here by the Bay, maybe not.

We’re used to passes, short or long. We’re used to offense. We’re used to a quarterback who does more than hand-off.

So who’s that quarterback? Shaun Hill, the undrafted overachiever who doesn’t so much win games as he does from keeping the Niners from losing them?

Or from off the scrapheap, Alex Smith, the first man taken in the ’05 draft who for various reasons — injuries, coaching switches — has done almost nothing?

Does Hill, who we’re told is more caretaker than offensive innovator, become Singletary’s choice to keep the game under control?

Or does Smith, healthy again, get the opportunity to show the reason he was selected ahead of every other player then available?

“We’re all communicating,” Singletary said of players and staff. “They’re going to tell us when that decision needs to be made. They’re going to compete.”

The Niners brought in free-agent Kurt Warner for a visit after the Super Bowl, even after Singletary fired offensive coordinator Mike Martz, who years ago with the St. Louis Rams built the offense, the “Greatest Show on Turf,” which made Warner a star.

Warner never was going to join the 49ers. He re-signed with the Arizona Cardinals, the NFC champions.

So do the Niners believe in Hill or in Smith? Or in neither? Do the Niners, with their seventh offensive coordinator in seven years,Jimmy Raye, feel confident Hill, who spent seasons on the Vikings’ bench or Smith, who got trashed by former coach Mike Nolan, can make a losing team a winner?

“They’re competing not so much against each other,” Singletary said in one of those coaching comments that bewilders more than it explains, “but against the best quarterbacks in the league.”

Not until one of them is named starter. Not until the games begin.

“Coach Singletary is a fiery guy,” Hill said about the coach’s displeasure with the way both he and Smith performed in the first day’s workout, “and he obviously holds the quarterbacks to a high standard.”

A standard maybe neither QB reaches, although one of them will be reaching for the football from behind center.

“At the end of the day,” Singletary said, “we’ll know when that decision needs to be made, and we’ll do it.”

And we’ll hope they’ve done it correctly.

Art Spander has been covering Bay Area sports since 1965 and also writes on www.artspander.com andwww.realclearsports.com. E-mail him at typoes@aol.com.

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http://www.sfexaminer.com/sports/Spander-Niners-season-could-hinge-on-QB-decision-45456527.html
Copyright 2009 SF Newspaper Company 

Giants needed a win against the Mets and got one

SAN FRANCISCO – The Giants needed to win it. Nothing could have been more obvious. We didn’t need the observation from manager Bruce Bochy on that necessity, although we had it.

“Some games are bigger than others,’’ said Bochy, defying the baseball axiom that 162 times a season nothing varies, “and we needed to win this ballgame.’’

Which they did win. Showing poise. Showing skill. Showing the rest of us, the doubters, that while they’re not going to be winning any championships, as long as the Dodgers keep scoring runs in bunches, the Giants will be a presence. Four in a row they had lost, one to the Washington Nationals and then, through various methods, the first three of a four-game series against the New York Mets.

Four in a row, and Bochy sighing, “The last thing you want to do is get swept at home.’’

And because of Matt Cain, and a couple of double plays, one with nobody out and the bases loaded in the second inning that went first baseman Travis Ishikawa to catcher Bengie Molina to Ishikawa, it would be the last thing.

Against a team that had scored 24 runs in the previous three games, against a team that starting back in 2008 had beaten them eight consecutive times, the Giants on Sunday evening stopped the Mets, 2-0, before a third straight sellout crowd, this announced at 43,012.

They tell us you never know what you’ll see at the old ballgame. What we saw was the Mets getting no runs while their pitcher Mike Pelfrey got called for three balks, the most by any pitcher in the big leagues in 15 years. The first two balks were in no small part responsible for each of the Giants’ runs.

“That was a break for us,’’ said Bochy.

So for two consecutive weeks, the Giants have been at .500 or above. That wouldn’t have been the situation with another loss. They were 18-18 before the first pitch. Now they’re 19-18. Now closer Brian Wilson’s nightmares are squelched. Now the Giants once more can believe in the pitching upon which they must rely. Or haven’t you seen the batting averages?

Yes, Pablo Sandoval, who had a first inning single, was balked to second and scored on Bengie Molina’s single, is at .314. And Molina, the rock, is hitting .304. But Eugenio Velez, who led off and played second, is at .111. And Nate Schierholtz is .217. And Ishikawa is .236. And Aaron Rowand .248. And Randy Winn .255.

If it is to be done, it will be done by pitching, and so Sunday, when the game-time temperature was 76 degrees and ESPN was carrying the telecast, it was done by pitching.

Mostly by Cain. Then Bob Howry. Then Jeremy Affeldt, who stopped a possible eighth inning rally by striking out Gary Sheffield and forcing pinch hitter Angel Pagan to hit into a double play. Then, at last, by Wilson, who after disintegrating on Thursday and Friday had a perfect ninth.

“We dodged a couple of bullets,’’ agreed Bochy. “Couple of huge double plays saved us. We played well defensively. Matt worked hard the first couple of innings, and he got through it. He kept his composure and made pitches. I wasn’t sure in the second we were going to get six out of him.’’

In the second, you couldn’t be sure you were going to get two out of Cain. He walked the bases loaded with nobody out. Then the double play. Then a groundout by Pelfrey. Then a sigh of relief.

Cain had thrown 49 pitches by the time the inning closed. “But he’s a horse,’’ said Bochy.

Rachel Alexandra? Mine That Bird? This was Cain’s Derby and Preakness. If he couldn’t go wire-to-wire, he could go 119 pitches, go through six innings, go far enough and strongly enough to improve his record to 4-1 with a 2.65 earned run average.

“This game was huge for our team,’’ said Affeldt. “Matt did everything. His pitching kept us in the game, and he had a big hit.’’

That came in the fifth. Rowand was on third after a single, Pelfrey’s second balk and a groundout by Ishikawa. Bochy, knowing Cain is good bunter, called the suicide squeeze. Rowand took off, but Pelfrey’s pitch dove so severely that Cain could just knock the ball foul.

With the count 3 and 2, Cain had to swing, not bunt. He swung and lined a single to left, bringing in Rowand.

“Matt Cain doesn’t panic,’’ said Affeldt. “When you needed what we needed, he gave it to us.’’

Cain said he tried to keep his emotions in check. “When you get into the situations I put myself in,’’ he said, “you have to stay calm. It worked out great.’’

After four straight losses, it was about time.

Newsday: Sheff leads Mets' hit parade to support Santana

BY ART SPANDER
Special to Newsday

SAN FRANCISCO -- The story keeps getting better, for Gary Sheffield, for the Mets. The man who was unwanted the first day of April now is described as the man who has given character to a team criticized the previous two years for lacking it.

Three in a row for the Mets over San Francisco. Yesterday, when the fog was absent and the temperature reached the high 70s by the bay, the Mets pounded the Giants, 9-6, before another sellout of 41,336 at AT&T Park.

Three in a row, 11 out of 13, and Mets manager Jerry Manuel talking not about what but how, about the "little things,'' primarily from Sheffield.

"Our biggest at-bat'' is what Manuel said of Sheffield at the plate in the first. There already were two runs in, Carlos Beltran having doubled home Luis Castillo and Alex Cora.

"Sheff gives himself up,'' Manuel said. "He went the other way, to the right side. He got a base hit anyway, but I thought that set the tone for us for the whole game.

"If we're able to play that type of game and run and have occasional power, then we can be a pretty tough team.''

They've been a problem team for the Giants, taking eight straight from San Francisco dating to 2008.

This one was supposed to be a battle between historic lefthanded pitchers: the Mets' Johan Santana and the Giants' 45-year-old Randy Johnson, with his 298 wins. "It was special to go against him,'' said Santana (5-2, 1.36 ERA), who finally allowed an earned run after 221/3 innings.

For the Mets - who had 16 hits, 11 off Johnson (3-4) in four-plus innings - it was special the way they went after the 6-10 lefthander.

With Carlos Delgado on the disabled list and Jose Reyes still nursing a sore calf, the rest of the Mets finally gave Santana some support. Beltran had three hits and three RBIs. David Wright had three hits and three RBIs. And Sheffield, who was released by the Detroit Tigers on March 31 and joined the Mets on April 3, had three hits.

"Leadership?'' Manuel asked rhetorically after someone tossed in Sheffield's name. "When he does what he did today, when he's the number four hitter and sacrifices himself, that's what you're looking for in leadership.

"I think this is where he's been all his life, handling responsibility. But the thing I have to be careful of - he's kind of in the evening of his career, so to speak - is to give him days off, make sure he's fresh. That's going to be a big key for us.''

Wright has nine RBIs in the series, which ends Sunday. He said he's getting good pitches to hit. That's because of the guy who precedes him in the lineup: Gary Sheffield.

"He's got some huge hits for us,'' said Wright, who has 27 RBIs, one fewer than Beltran. "He provides a presence in the middle of the lineup, provides a presence against lefthanded pitchers - and righthanders, too. One swing of the bat if the pitcher makes a mistake, and he knows the ball is going to leave the yard.''

Through a career that has taken him to Milwaukee, San Diego, Florida, the Los Angeles Dodgers, Atlanta, the Yankees, Detroit and now the Mets, the 40-year-old Sheffield has hit 501 home runs, two in 2009.

"But seeing a number four hitter, a future Hall of Famer, trying to advance a runner,'' Wright said, "makes us understand we should expect that type of play from everybody.''

The Mets, who have scored 24 runs in the series, led 3-0 after one inning. The Giants got an unearned run in the third and two runs, one of those unearned, in the fourth to tie. But 10 men batted for the Mets in a four-run fifth in which they had six hits, including an RBI double by Beltran, a two-run double by Wright and an RBI single by Ramon Castro. Castro had another RBI single in the ninth, and even Santana had a hit.

Said Manuel, "We've gotten everybody involved.''

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http://www.newsday.com/sports/baseball/ny-spmets1712777030may16,0,641613.story
Copyright © 2009, Newsday Inc.

Lakers: Plenty of talent, very little heart

Here are the conceivable excuses available for the Los Angeles Lakers, reputedly a basketball team of championship caliber, if not championship character.

* The game in Houston started at 9 p.m., past the Lakers’ bedtime.

* But 9 p.m. in Houston is only 7 p.m. in Los Angeles, so maybe the Lakers hadn’t awakened from their afternoon naps.

* The Lakers lost concentration because Yao Ming, unable to play, was a spectator, and rarely had been watched by anyone taller than an even 7 feet.

* The Lakers were so amused by the Nike commercial with Kobe and LeBron as Muppets characters, they couldn’t stop laughing until the Rockets were ahead 17-1.

* The Manny Ramirez situation has everyone in the L.A. area so distracted, nobody can think about anything else, Lakers included.

Yes, the Lakers will win Sunday and will take the series and move on to face Denver. But they shouldn’t. Not the way they stood around in Game 6 for the first six minutes.

You can’t call the Lakers gutless. They did rally to get within two points in the third quarter on Thursday night before losing, 95-80.

But you can call them heartless. No team with that much talent, with that much momentum, the Lakers having beaten Houston by 40 points on Tuesday night, should play that badly.

And you can call them clueless.

They were baffled by the Rockets’ Louis Scola, who scored 24 points, many of them on baskets about four inches from the rim. Scola’s from Argentina, so maybe the Lakers were looking for a guy with chaps and a Gaucho hat singing about Eva Peron.

The Lakers and Boston Celtics both have Game Sevens at home. The Celtics, the anti-Lakers, a team that scraps and hustles, earned that seventh game, showing more than enough fight in the loss at Orlando. No Kevin Garnett. Guys in foul trouble, but the Celts kept trying.

The Lakers earned a sneer. The Rockets were not only without Yao but also Tracy McGrady. And they had lost, 118-78, two evenings earlier. They had the right to, as Sinatra sang, roll up into a big ball and die. Instead it was the Lakers who were in a funk.

Phil Jackson, the Lakers coach, has nine NBA titles (six with Michael Jordan), so seemingly he understands not just the technical side of basketball but the psyches of the men who play it. Yet as Houston kept making points and L.A. kept making mistakes, Jackson was no more adept at making corrections than Madonna.

After the game, Jackson said that the Lakers play on the road “concerns me, but what are we going to do about it now? We can’t stew on it.’’

Others can. There’s the issue of pride. Champions – and hasn’t everyone all but conceded the finals will be between the Lakers and Cavaliers? – play like champions. That doesn’t mean necessarily that they’ll win. It does mean necessarily that they don’t embarrass themselves.

Or pro basketball.

You win by 40 points and 48 hours later lose by 15? Just because Jack Nicholson isn’t sitting courtside? Something is wrong.

“You know what, you’ve just got to grind these things out, man,’’ Kobe Bryant told the media after the game. “The key now is to win by any means necessary.’’

Not to question Kobe, who got his 32 points (if on 11 for 27 shooting), but isn’

t that the idea every time a team takes the floor or the field or the ice, to win?

To show up and show some courage. You’ve heard more times than needed that defense is simply hard work. Maybe the shots don’t fall, but there’s no reason you can’t do everything possible to keep the opponent’s from falling. The Lakers early on did nothing of the sort.

Scola was scoring. Aaron Brooks, 26 points, was scoring. Who would you rather have, Kobe and Pau Gasol or Louis Scola and Aaron Brooks?

Houston, the town, had given up. “Pulse faint for Crutch City Rockets,’’ was the headline in Thursday’s Houston Chronicle, a reference to McGrady and Yao. Houston the team had not given up.

Los Angeles the team? We can debate that.

Phil Jackson said he was “looking forward to Sunday’s game.’’

Coaches always talk like that. What happened in the past, even the very recent past, is never discussed openly (although you can bet there were some aggressive conversations in private.)

In a way, the Rockets are also looking forward to Sunday’s game. They never figured to get that far. Not with the Lakers having beaten them four straight in the regular season. Not with the Lakers holding the home-court advantage. Not with Houston losing star players.

“We play differently on our home court,’’ Kobe Bryant insisted.

Is that an explanation? Or an excuse?

RealClearSports: Ryan Zimmerman Brings Thoughts of Joltin’ Joe

By Art Spander

The best part is we may understand how good Ryan Zimmerman is going to be. The second-best part is we may again understand how good Joe DiMaggio was.

Zimmerman, the kid from the Washington Nationals, caught our attention there for a month. He hit in 30 consecutive games.

The streak ended Wednesday against the Giants. The streak ended with a standing ovation. From fans of the visiting team.

The streak ended with greater appreciation for Joe DiMaggio.

We don’t know much very about Joltin’ Joe these days. He came before ESPN and CNN and Twitter. He retired 58 years ago. But Ryan Zimmerman, age 24, knows all he needs to know about DiMaggio.

“Thirty games,” said Zimmerman, “makes you realize how much better 56 is than 30. What he did is pretty remarkable.”

What Zimmerman did, in his fourth season in the majors, also was remarkable. Not Joe DiMaggio remarkable, however. Not 56-game hitting streak remarkable. Not May to July remarkable. Not never-to-be-equaled remarkable.

“I don’t think that will ever be touched,” said Rich Aurilia. He is 37, a long-time member of the Giants, with 13 plus years of service. Been there, seen that.

“Too many different pitchers in a game these days,” said Aurilia. “You’ll face four different guys.”

The Giants, on Wednesday, indeed used four pitchers. Zimmerman faced only two. Starter Barry Zito got Zimmerman on ground balls twice and walked him twice, the second time, in what was thought to be Zimmerman’s last plate appearance, intentionally.

Then, because the Nats -- finally about to beat the Giants, 6-4, after nine straight defeats, two this season -- scored three times in the seventh, Zimmerman had one final chance, against Pat Misch in the top of the ninth.

But he grounded to shortstop Edgar Renteria for a fielder’s choice, and what had started April 8 was now finished, more to the distress of the 30,120 fans at AT&T Park than Zimmerman himself.

As he headed to the dugout, the spectators stood and applauded and cheered. For a visiting team’s player. For the game of baseball. The gesture was not unappreciated.

“They’ve got knowledgeable fans here,” Zimmerman said of the crowd’s response. “They know baseball. They love baseball, and it was special. Anytime you get people on the road telling you good luck and cheering for you, it means something. It was pretty cool.”

Pete Rose had a 44-game hitting streak in 1978, and there was one of 41 games by George Sisler in 1922. Paul Molitor of Milwaukee made it to 39 in 1987 and only a few years back, in the end of 2005 and start of 2006, Jimmy Rollins had 38 in a row.

So Zimmerman had a fine run. He made us recognize both his consistency and potential. “He helped put us on the map,” said Manny Acta, manager of the forlorn Nationals. Zimmerman also made us comprehend what DiMaggio accomplished. And he did it in San Francisco, DiMaggio’s hometown.

Watching from the press box Wednesday was 85-year-old Charlie Silveria, who grew up here, who as a 10-year-old watched DiMaggio, then with the San Francisco Seals, hit in a Pacific Coast League record 61 straight games in 1933.

Silveria joined Joe on the Yankees in the late 1940s and was Yogi Berra’s backup catcher. They talked about the old days. They didn’t talk much about streaks. “He was private,” reminded Silveria.

We never learned what DiMaggio thought of hitting in 56 straight major league games. We did learn what Ryan Zimmerman thought of hitting in 30.

“It was fun,” Zimmerman insisted. “I enjoyed it. I learned a lot going through the experience. To get a hit every single game for a month, there’s got to be a little bit of luck involved. But not wasting at bats, not swinging at bad pitches is hard to do. Every game, to put four good at bats together is not easy, especially against the talent you’re facing on the mound.”

Streaks sneak up on us and the individuals involved. A team wins three or four in a row, and it doesn’t mean much. But all of a sudden it’s 15 in a row, and everywhere you look a clubhouse is filled with cameras and reporters.

“I wasn’t really conscious until the media started following, about 20,” said Zimmerman. “I tried to keep it a secret as long as I could. I would have liked to keep going. I guess it will be nice to get back into the routine and not have to worry about it every day. But it was a lot of fun.”

For himself and everybody else.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And he has recently been honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009. 

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http://www.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/05/ryan-zimmerman-reminds-of-joe-dimaggio.html
© RealClearSports 2009 

The City That Knows How, and knows baseball

SAN FRANCISCO -- They call it The City That Knows How. Ryan Zimmerman wouldn’t disagree. It’s also the city that, despite the digs about fans on cell phones or wandering about the park looking at the bay, knows baseball. And knows Ryan Zimmerman.

The streak, Zimmerman’s streak, came to an end Wednesday. It was halted at AT&T Park by several Giants pitchers, most notably Barry Zito.

In 30 straight games, Ryan Zimmerman, at age 24 one of the great young ones, had at least one base hit. Until Wednesday.

Zimmerman’s Washington Nationals finally beat the Giants, after nine consecutive defeats, two this season, whipped them, 6-3. And that softened some of the disappointment. After all the basis of sport is to win. But next to that, there always are numbers.

The Giants fans, and attendance was announced as 30,120, wanted a win. That didn’t happen. They also wanted Ryan Zimmerman, of the Washington Nats, to go on hitting. That didn’t happen either.

So, when Zimmerman in the top of the ninth hit a grounder, which San Francisco shortstop Edgar Renteria turned into a force play, when the hard reality had hit that Zimmerman would end the game without getting a hit, the crowd rose and applauded.

A standing ovation for a visiting player. A standing ovation for a rare achievement.

“They’ve got very knowledgeable fans out here,’’ Zimmerman said later in the clubhouse. “They know baseball. They love baseball, and it was special. Anytime you get people on the road telling you good luck and are cheering for you, it means something. It was pretty cool.’’

For more than a month, starting April 8, Zimmerman hadn’t played a game without getting at least one hit. Until he went 0-for-3 with a couple of walks. One of those walks, in the seventh inning with Nats on second and third, was intentional, but neither Zimmerman nor his manager, Manny Acta, was bitter about the tactic.

“I understand completely,’’ said Acta. “I would have done the same thing.’’

Ryan was the 26th player to hit in 30 consecutive games or more. Pete Rose got to 44 in 1978, which sounds like a lot until compared to the iconic mark of 56 straight by Joe DiMaggio in 1941.

DiMaggio was a San Franciscan, of course. Grew up here, as did his younger brother Dom, who died only the other day. A lot of these young athletes are unable to reference the legends of their sport, but Zimmerman knows full well who and what about his game, about our game.

“I almost snuck one through there in the ninth,’’ he said in reflection. “They made good pitches on me today. It’s tough to get hits. Thirty games makes you realize how much better 56 is than 30. But this was fun. I enjoyed it. I learned a lot going through the experience.

“You don’t usually have people on the road saying they hope you get a hit. It’s cool. I think that’s one of the best parts of sports. Fans actually appreciate the game whether you’re on their team or not.’’

They appreciate the game in the Bay Area. The garlic fries and the big glove in left and across the bay the world championship pennants flying at the Oakland Coliseum may be worthy of conversation. But the ones who show up in the stands are not merely spectators, they’re fans in every sense of the word.

They’ll cheer a well-placed sacrifice bunt as much as they will a double to left. They love hanging the letter “K’’ on the wall after every strikeout by a home pitcher. And they understood what Ryan Zimmerman was doing. His uniform didn’t matter. It was his play, his hitting, that counted.

“We want to thank the Giants fans,’’ said Acta, the Nats skipper. “What they did, the standing ovation, was very classy. You don’t get that everywhere you go.’’

The Nationals, the former Montreal Expos, have the worst record in the majors. The only time they had been mentioned was in the punch line of jokes, such as the one borrowed about the old Washington Senators built on George Washington: “First in war, first in peace, last in the National League.’’

Then Ryan Zimmerman started hitting. And until Wednesday didn’t stop.

“I think we’ve gotten a little of attention because of him,’’ Acta said. “It puts us on the map, what he did.’’

What he did was stunning, even for Zimmerman.

“To get a hit every single game, there’s got to be a little bit of luck involved,’’ said Zimmerman, “but not wasting at bats, not swinging at bad pitches is hard to do. Every game, to put four good at bats together is not easy, especially against the talent you’re facing on the mound.’’

Zimmerman did it for 30 straight games. It was worthy of a standing ovation from The City That Knows How.

SF Examiner: Let the Warriors' puppet show begin

By Art Spander
Special to The Examiner

OAKLAND — It was pretty much what you expected, this snatching of the keys from the man who no longer mattered and handing them to the guy who already had been opening the locks and obviously the eyes of the team president.

The Warriors on Tuesday, as promised (or should it be, as threatened?) officially installed Larry Riley as general manager in place of the obviously quite replaceable if still much admired Chris Mullin.

There were a few promises, a lot of words and a bit of skepticism, from the people with notepads and microphones, not from the two primary subjects, Robert Rowell, the Warriors prez who made the decision to dispose of Mullin and bring in Riley, or Riley, who talked as tough as he thought was required.

The three people who would have made the session considerably more entertaining — if not necessarily more enlightening — owner Chris Cohan, head coach Don Nelson and the deposed Mullin were not in attendance.

But you can’t have everything.

Of all the Bay Area pro sports franchises, a group that aside from the Sharks has been appallingly ineffective, the Warriors always have been the lovable losers. That’s meant figuratively, because for two seasons out of the last 15 they actually had winning records.

Only once in those 15, however, did they make the playoffs, and yet, a public that would boo the bejabbers out of the 49ers or Raiders — and has done so — meekly accepts the Warriors. So, went the thinking, why would management worry about improvement?

Because, insisted Rowell in the media session at Oracle Arena, losing is “unacceptable.”

Well, isn’t that a shocker?

Whether Riley can make a difference is the question, because his immediate predecessors, Mullin and Garry St. Jean, could not.

Right off, Rowell addressed the oft-whispered belief that Riley is Nelson’s “puppet,” because he has known and worked with Nellie through the years and once took a Texas-to-California journey in Nellie’s truck while he and Don “smoked cigars, chewed tobacco and listened to George Jones.”

“I don’t buy it,” Rowell said of the marionette suggestion. “You got to understand, I got a coach who will be 69 on Friday. ... He’s going to be the winningest coach in NBA history with just 24 wins next season. He’s quirky, unconventional, stubborn and hates to lose. I need someone in a position to lead this organization who understands our head coach.”

Truth be told, it doesn’t matter if Nelson pulls the strings, as long as the strings end up attached to some playing talent.

“He knows what he’s doing,” the 64-year-old Riley said of Nelson. “I’ll make decisions. I don’t have any problem doing that.”

Riley was seemingly already making decisions, an eminence grise behind the scenes, while Mullin was slipping off the GM chair.

Mully still is employed by the Warriors until June 30 when his contract expires, and “has responsibilities,” according to Rowell — whatever that means.

A wonderful player, a good guy and a so-so GM, Mully lost out in a power struggle in which he had all the struggle and none of the power. Anyone ready for the puppet show?

Art Spander has been covering Bay Area sports since 1965 and also writes on www.artspander.com and www.realclearsports.com. E-mail him at typoes@aol.com.

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http://www.sfexaminer.com/sports/Spander-Let-the-Warriors-puppet-show-begin-44854642.html
Copyright 2009 SF Newspaper Company 

RealClearSports: There’s No Mystery About Tiger

By Art Spander

The problem for the moment is not that Tiger Woods isn’t the same. It’s that we are the same. We keep thinking this is the Tiger of a couple years past, maybe even the Tiger who was a miracle worker last summer. But it isn’t.

It couldn’t be. And it won’t be for a while.

The surgery Tiger underwent last June a few days after he somehow performed the impossible, winning the U.S. Open on one leg, the reconstruction of the anterior cruciate ligament of the left knee, necessitates months of recovery.

In an athlete’s case, years.

Yet Woods is playing demanding, big-time golf 11 months in, perhaps against own best plans. And because Tiger didn’t win the Masters, and even more significantly, faded in The Players despite being paired with the collapsing leader, we’re dumbfounded.

In truth, we’re merely dumb.

Dr. Lanny Johnson, a pioneering orthopedic specialist who created the tools used in Tiger’s surgery, in September advised Woods not to return too quickly.

“Other forces will try and hurry Tiger back,” Johnson told the Daily Telegraph of London, “but he should take it easy… If you tear your cruciate ligament in football, you can play within a year, and with full confidence within two years. Based on this, and the recovery period of other athletes, I am guessing that Tiger will need two years.”

But he hasn’t had even one year. He won the Arnold Palmer Invitational at Bay Hill in March, only the third tournament he entered following the eight-month absence. In the five stroke-play events in which he’s competed, starting at Doral in mid-March, there’s no finish worse than ninth.

We want more, because we’ve known more. He wants more, although he understands why he doesn’t have more.

“I didn’t have the pop in my body, nor should I,” Woods said after coming in fourth at Quail Hollow, another place where the old Tiger, the pre-surgery Tiger, would have won, but this Tiger could not win.

“It takes time for anyone who has had reconstruction to come back and get the speed back and the agility and all those different things. Most athletes take over a year to get back. I’ve been able to get back sooner because of the nature of my sport.”

In which there is no running or leaping or contact. But in which there is considerable stress. Tiger’s not hitting his drives nearly as far. After the Masters, Phil Mickelson, who was with Tiger the final round at Augusta, joked with the Associated Press, “I had to keep waiting for him to hit.”

Tiger’s never hit his drives that straight. Now, shorter and even more erratic, he’s playing a different game than he played back then. The marvelous recovery shots – under trees, out of bunkers – still are there. The worry is he’s hitting one seemingly on every hole.

While Woods was gone, as Nike emphasized in its lighthearted commercial of its stable of golfers, others improved. They literally could look down a fairway instead of figuratively over their shoulders.

The others gained confidence. Surely, Tiger lost some, along with strength.

That Woods comprehends his own flaws doesn’t mean he is accepting of them. The anger at a poor shot was apparent. And after a round that failed to satisfy his own standards, Tiger cut short media time to rush to the practice ground.

What Tiger taught us in his greatness, and what should not be forgotten in his struggles, is he never is to be underestimated.

Tiger missed the cut at the 2006 U.S. Open after a nine-week layoff following his father’s death, the only time as a pro Woods didn’t play all four rounds in a major. While the doubters suggested he might be slipping, Tiger leaped back with victories in the British Open and PGA Championship.

It is a cliché now, Tiger insisting he wouldn’t enter any tournament unless he believed he would win. That doesn’t separate him from the rest, from Phil Mickelson or Geoff Ogilvy or, considering The Players, Henrik Stenson. These guys think they’ll finish first every time out.

You don’t modify your thinking, even if you have to modify your swing. The TPC Sawgrass Course, with its mounds and lakes and pines, always has been a challenge to Woods. He won there, won The Players, in 2001. But only then.

A course always troublesome for Tiger, a knee still far from totally recovered, and Woods, instead of a sub-par final round and a win, has a one-over par final round and eighth place.

He isn’t the same. But he will be. After all, he’s Tiger Woods.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And he has recently been honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

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http://www.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/05/no-mystery-about-tiger.html

© RealClearSports 2009

Mullin better than Warriors deserved

OAKLAND -- It wasn’t exactly man-bites-dog stuff, the firing of Chris Mullin as the Golden State Warriors’ general manager. It was inevitability becoming fact.

Mullin, the lamest of lame ducks, got caught in what either was the saddest or funniest of sporting tragicomedies, sort of a Three Stooges version of “Hamlet.’’

For the past year, Mully wasn’t exactly a dead man walking, but through machinations among those above him (team president Robert Rowell) and around him (head coach Don Nelson), Chris had lost everything but his integrity.

Why this came about could perhaps be explained by those knowledgeable in Freudian theory or Communist theory, but there was no denying what had taken place, despite the denials or the silence.

On Monday afternoon, the Warriors, in one of those euphemistically phrased announcements, said “the club has elected not to renew’’ the contract of the 45-year-old Mullin, which expires June 30, and had replaced him with his 64-year-old assistant, Larry Riley.

Who is a pal of Nelson’s and who for the past few months has been in control of an operation most would agree is out of control.

Mullin had been elevated to vice president of basketball operations, or GM, in April 2004, a decision that at the time seemed both logical and intelligent. One of the Warriors’ stars of the late 1980s and early 1990s, Chris worked his way through the front office, showing skill and intelligence.

But along the way, he and Rowell had disagreements. And as others have found throughout history, in that sort of situation, the boss, the guy who in effect signs the checks, always wins.

Mullin already was semi-ostracized by the time the great Monta Ellis caper took place last summer, not long after the guard signed a huge contract.

Ellis, at home in Mississippi, incurred a severe ankle injury -- he said playing pickup basketball but what in actuality was caused by a moped accident.

Rowell, angry and vindictive, wanted to deduct a large amount, several million, from the new $66 million contract, contending through the accident Ellis violated terms of the deal and implying that Monta’s long departure (he didn’t play until January) cheated season-ticket holders who thought Monta would be on the court, not in rehab.

However, Mullin, the ex-player, was more sympathetic, figuring the pain, physical and mental -- and maybe some actual guilt -- was more than enough punishment.

This came shortly after Mullin tried to re-sign the man who had become the face of the franchise, Baron Davis, while Rowell steadfastly refused to give Baron a salary reportedly around $18 million to $19 million a year.

Surely, the disagreements over both Davis and Ellis drove the wedge between Mullin and Rowell to where there could never be reconciliation.

And there won’t be.

“It’s never an easy decision to make a change,’’ was Rowell’s comment on the dispatching of Mullin. “This case is compounded by the fact it involves Chris Mullin -- someone who has provided Bay Area fans with many great memories over the years, as both a player and executive.

“He’s a class individual who will always be remembered for his accomplishments with the Warriors organization.’’

Oh yes, a lot of praise as they figuratively toss you out the door.

While there may not have been much surprise, there is among some a great deal of disappointment. Chris Mullin, until he understandably went into hiding a few months back -- if you have nothing to do, why hang around? -- basically was an upfront guy.

Whether he was a good general manager can be argued. He gave big contracts to people such as Adonal Foyle, Derek Fisher and Mike Dunleavy, but managed to slip out of those.

Mullin traded to New Orleans to get Davis, and that transaction was the key to the Warriors in 2006-07 making the playoffs for the first time in 13 seasons and stunning the Dallas Mavericks in the first round.

But Mullin also hired Mike Montgomery from Stanford to be the Warriors’ coach. Montgomery never got the attention of the pros, particularly Baron Davis. On came Don Nelson, out of retirement, to replace Montgomery.

The new GM, Larry Riley, is a Nelson man, if that means anything. A few days ago, Nellie conceded he wasn’t sure who was making the team’s preparations for next month’s draft.

It wasn’t Chris Mullin. Even before he was out, he was on the outs. The Warriors, who had a 29-53 record this past season (Ellis’ injury and Baron’s departure were blamed), are once again waddling in confusion.

Chris Mullin may not miss all that transpired the last few months, the uncertainty, the power struggle, but we’ll miss Chris Mullin. He was better than the Warriors deserved.

A’s show life on Geren’s ejection, Giambi’s homers

OAKLAND -- The manager finally showed some life. So did his first baseman. Not the afternoon the Oakland Athletics had wished, but one that offered a great deal of possibility, and in May baseball that is not to be underestimated.

Bob Geren got bounced. Indeed, the guy in charge of the A’s, the man who seemingly never displays any emotion, who treats the old national pastime as if he were wearing a suit and tie rather than a uniform, was ejected.

“It was nice to see Bob support his players,’’ said Jason Giambi. It was nicer to see Giambi have his first multi-home run game since last June, when he hit the 398th and 399th of his career.

All that, the excitement, the ejection, the long balls, only proved to be diversionary, as the Toronto Blue Jays beat the A’s 6-4 on Saturday, before only 15,817 at the Oakland Coliseum. The Athletics did virtually zilch until the ninth -- for a while they had more errors (two) than hits (one), when at least they rallied enough to get the winning run to first with two outs.

A’s general manager Billy Beane likes his non-playing employees to not to lose their cool -- in other words to be the opposite of the Billy Martins and Earl Weavers. Not much for the TV cameras or journalists seeking inflammatory quotes, but that’s the way it is. And Geren, pleasant, informed, is the way he is.

It was the way home plate umpire Paul Nauert was that irritated A’s cleanup batter Matt Holliday, who having been called out on strikes on a questionable pitch in the first was agitated when he was called out on strikes on a questionable pitch in the seventh.

When Holliday started arguing, Geren jogged from the dugout, said something to Nauert and with the ump’s theatrical wave of the arm and thumb was tossed.

“I didn’t really ask for an explanation,’’ Geren would say later. “I just told my part of the call. But you can’t argue balls and strikes. There wasn’t much to it.’’

There’s a great deal to Giambi’s best day since he was signed by Oakland in January with the thought he might bring back some of the magic from 2000 and 2001 before he joined the Yankees. Jason was hitting only .202 and had just one homer in 26 games.

Then, Saturday after a walk and strikeout against Toronto starter Brian Tallet, Giambi homered off Tallet in the seventh and off Scott Downs in the ninth.

“I’m swinging the bat better and better,’’ said Giambi. “I swung it good the other night, but I didn’t get any hits. That’s part of the process. You can’t worry about results. You just have to worry about the ingredients.’’

For some, the worry was that the 38-year-old Giambi had lost bat speed, that after the injuries and the steroid use, he had been down a road too extended and too hard to allow him to recapture the past.

The 399 home runs? “It means I’ve played the game a long time,’’ said Giambi. Indeed, he arrived in the majors in 1995. “I’m hoping to get this team going. That’s what I’m here for, to help lead this team in the right direction.’’

Neither Giambi nor the A’s have succeeded so far. Oakland did have a two-game win streak, after four straight defeats, but against the Jays it was down quickly. Yes, the rally indicated the A’s haven’t quit. But something more than tenacity and hustle are needed when you’re in last place in the American League West.

The A’s wore their awful-looking black jerseys Saturday, and while  laundry never will be as important as the players who wear it, the franchise has too much history to go around looking like the Rays or Marlins. Especially when the Athletics’ home whites are as classy as any baseball attire.

You wouldn’t see the Yankees or Dodgers in black at home (or on the road), so the A’s should dispense with the idea and the jerseys.

What Geren said the rest of us should get rid of is the belief that Giambi still can’t hit a baseball.

“Ever since a week ago in Seattle, when he hit a ball to the opposite field about as far as you can, 420 feet, without leaving the stadium, his swing has been shorter, crisper.

“Reaching 399 home runs is quite a milestone. Just to play in the major leagues 10 years is very hard to accomplish. And he’s averaged a lot of home runs, almost 40 a year. That’s tremendous.’’

Two homers for one man and an ejection for another. Now that’s baseball we haven’t seen from the A’s for a long while.

Raiders’ first pick is a first-class guy

ALAMEDA, Calif. — In person, Darrius Heyward-Bey didn’t look bad and sounded good. The most disparaged, berated, criticized individual in pro football who never had played a game was wonderfully slick and carefully glib.

Heyward-Bey spent a few hours showing his moves on a morning of sunshine and curiosity, and then followed that up with a few minutes showing his intelligence.

Not a tart word or an angry thought about those who deem his selection in the first round by the Oakland Raiders nothing short of blasphemy.

For the past two weeks, since the draft, observers who weren’t wringing their hands — “How could the Raiders take this guy when they had a chance at Michael Crabtree?’’ — wanted to wring someone’s (yes, Al Davis’) neck. It was if football had been profaned.

“Everybody wants to get you when you’re down,’’ said Raiders coach Tom Cable when asked to explain what some saw as a greater national scandal than the economy. “People get upset when you do something they think you shouldn’t do.’’

What the Raiders did, of course, was with the No. 7 pick in the draft take Heyward-Bey, who was a junior at Maryland, who caught passes for only 600 yards and who has brilliant speed, but that apparently didn’t enter into the equation — except, as always, for Al Davis.

Saturday was the first day of the rest of Heyward-Bey’s life, minicamp for a franchise that, after six consecutive losing seasons, needs a maximum of help. He was out there with the big guys, JaMarcus Russell at quarterback, Nnamdi Asomugha, the all-pro, at cornerback.

Then while a continuous loop of videotape ran on a television screen above him, the Raiders’ ingenious method of proving Heyward-Bey can catch the ball as well as run with it, Heyward-Bey faced the media and the music. He departed leaving an impression.

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Maybe, as the analysts predict, Heyward-Bey will be a bust. Then again, listening to the young man (he’s 22) after watching him, one is struck with a surprising thought: He might be the next Bay Area superstar.

It isn’t only talent that elevates an athlete into that rare position, although you don’t qualify without having a great deal of that. You also need personality, an ability to handle an interview as smoothly as a deep pattern. You need a smidgen of arrogance and a great deal of confidence. You need a sense of humor. And to make it all work, you need a topping of self-deprecation.

If the sit-down after his first practice is an indication, Heyward-Bey has all of the above, at least off the field. And he believes he has what is required on the field, too. Naturally.

“It wasn’t strange to me,’’ said Heyward-Bey, when someone wondered about the controversy created by his draft selection. “Things like that happen all the time. But I was happy to be a Raider. I know Al Davis and the rest of the coaching staff made a great choice.

“All I can do is worry about me. My attitude was going to be the same whether I was the first pick in the draft or the last pick in the draft or a free agent. I was going to work hard, regardless.’’

Cable hasn’t commiserated with Heyward-Bey, who didn’t arrive in town until Friday. The player said he doesn’t need happy talk. “He called me,’’ Heyward-Bey said of the coach, “and said he had my back. I felt good enough with that . . . you can run through mountains when a coach tells you that.’’

Mountains he doesn’t need to conquer. Rather it’s the doubts of the non-believers. The Sporting News Today gave the Raiders a grade of D, adding, “Bad teams can’t make mistakes such as WR Darrius Heyward-Bey and S Michael Mitchell.’’ Another scouting service awarded the Raiders an F.

“My mom doesn’t understand,’’ said Heyward-Bey. “It doesn’t bother me at all. You brush it off and keep working. That’s what we’re born to do.’’

When it was pointed out he and Crabtree, picked by the 49ers, might be linked competitively as Kobe Bryant and LeBron James are, Heyward-Bey quickly answered, “I don’t think we’re like Kobe and LeBron yet. I’ve just got to worry about getting into the playbook and making the team.’’

What he made was a leaping catch and a couple of adjustments on routes, as both JaMarcus and Jeff Garcia threw to him and other receivers.

“Every time you’re in there,’’ said Heyward-Bey, “you want to think you’re a starter and hold on to the spot as long as you can, and don’t want to be starstruck with all those big-name guys, You want to feel part of the group, and they made me feel right at home.’’

And his reaction after his first workout as a Raider? “I didn’t pass out, so that was good.’’

This kid is a comer.

RealClearSports: Manny being a mess

By Art Spander

OAKLAND –- Manny? He’s sorry. Maybe not as sorry as the Dodgers. Maybe not as sorry as baseball. Still, he’s sorry. And he’s been advised not to say anything more. Which is always the way when somebody breaks the rules.

Let an agent talk –- are you out there, Scott Boras? Let an attorney talk.

Athletes were playing ball Thursday afternoon at the Oakland Coliseum. Not Manny, although he and his drug suspension were the only things people seemed to want to discuss. The Texas Rangers and Oakland A’s were going at it in the sunshine.

Manny Ramirez was down the coast, in southern California. And down for the count. Or more specifically, 50 games.

John Madden could have summarized this one beautifully: “Boom.’’ A story that hit like a bomb. A story that made us wonder, who next? A story that, after all the agony of the Yankees’ and Mets’ ticket blunders, of Alex Rodriguez’s drug involvement, trumps all the rest of the negative material with one big blow.

Manny gone until the beginning of July. What’s going to happen to sales of those dreadlocks wigs in the stands at Dodger Stadium? What’s going to happen to the Dodgers?

With Manny in the lineup, they literally had been unbeatable at home, 13 out of 13. With Manny in the lineup, they had compiled the best record in the majors.

Barry Bonds never was suspended. A-Rod hasn’t been suspended. But Manny was given 50 games for failing a drug test, which proves both that baseball is serious in cleansing its sport of the doubt and disgrace and that Manny is either arrogant or ignorant.

Ramirez said the drug violation was due not to a steroid but a medication from a doctor, “which he thought was OK to give me. Unfortunately the medication is banned under our drug policy . . . I do want to say I’ve taken and passed about 15 drug tests the past five seasons.’’

He didn’t pass this one. A man with a two-year, $45 million contract, a man who almost single-handedly carried the Dodgers to the 2008 postseason after they traded for him in July, a man batting .348 after Wednesday night when he doubled in two runs, got smacked and hard.

They must be laughing and exchanging high fives in Boston. And exhaling in San Francisco, not that the Giants, even with frequent rumors, were a particularly strong candidate to get Manny last winter when he became a free agent. He was worth too much to the Dodgers. And worth more than the Giants could ever pay.

A healthy Manny, an unsuspended Manny, is a winner, a player who turns teams into champions. The Red Sox couldn’t win a World Series, if you don’t revert to 1918, until they got Ramirez. Then they won twice in four years.

Juan Pierre takes over in the Dodgers outfield for Manny. Not exactly the power or the personality. But a body that isn’t under suspension. Or suspicion. A dropoff in talent, but an improvement in eligibility.

All February, the questions swirled about the Dodgers. Would they finally give Manny, and Boras the agent, what they wanted? Would they be successful in re-signing the irrepressible Ramirez, who had made them successful? Finally, a couple weeks into spring training, the Dodgers made the announcement. They were whole once more.

No longer. Not for another two months. The guy who dominates the cover of their media guide, indeed the guy who dominates Dodger opponents, arguably the biggest bat this side of Albert Pujols, is banned from the game.

The sport’s balance is tipped. The Dodgers are more than Manny, certainly. You don’t start the way they’ve started without other star players. Yet they will be less without Manny.

As Bonds, when Barry was at his best, Ramirez is a difficult out, less troublesome with an intentional walk than a pitch that could be driven to the fences or over them. A week and a half ago, in a game against the Giants, Manny walked in his first two plate appearances and doubled in his next three.

After Bonds, after Mark McGwire, after Rafael Palmeiro, after the warnings and the threats, the presumption is that players understand they are responsible for what ends up in their bodies, even if they contend they have no idea how it got there.

A month ago, Jose Canseco, self-professed steroid user, at an appearance at the University of Southern California, said Ramirez’s name “is most likely 90 percent’’ on a list of 104 players who failed a drug test in 2003.

It sounded like bluster. Instead, it was dead accurate.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And he has recently been honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

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© RealClearSports 2009

Cust becomes A’s designated viewer and slammer

OAKLAND -- Jack Cust isn’t much different from a lot of men who love baseball, other than the fact he can hit one over a fence. Jennifer Cust isn’t much different from a lot of wives whose husbands probably spend too much time around the game, even if it’s the game where Jack makes his living.

Cust is the Oakland Athletics’ designated hitter, if he’s not playing outfield. On Wednesday night, in the A’s 3-2 loss to Texas, Cust went 3-for-4 and then returned to his residence and watched highlights on ESPN.

Not of his game -- of the Dodgers’ game in Los Angeles.

“I slowed down Manny Ramirez’s swing,’’ Cust said, alluding to recording and playing back the sequence, “and I show it to my wife. She said, ‘Enough of this baseball stuff. You’re playing all day and then you come home and show me Manny Ramirez’s swing on TV?’ She’d had it.’’

We know what happened a few hours later to Ramirez. He was suspended for 50 games after failing a drug test. What happened to Cust not long after, Thursday afternoon, was he hit a grand slam to get the A’s rolling in their 9-4 win over the Rangers at the Coliseum.

Cust thus became the focus of journalists who wanted to know about his homer and naturally about Manny’s figurative fall. Cust wasn’t terribly enlightening about either, but that was acceptable. His requirement is to help unleash the A’s offense, and in the previous three games that hadn’t happened.

“There’s not a lot of pressure on a hitter when you have the bases loaded and nobody out,’’ said Cust, describing his at bat in the fourth. “You’re just trying to hit the ball in the air (for a sacrifice fly). I wasn’t trying to hit a home run.’’

But when he did, the dugout of an A’s team that had scored 13 runs in the previous three games combined became energized.  “You could feel the excitement,’’ said Cust after his second career slam. “It was something we hadn’t had for a while.

Not after four straight defeats -- three to open their home stand. In the warmth of the best weather by the Bay in two weeks, things suddenly become more encouraging.

Asked the obligatory question on his feelings about Ramirez, Cust said, “Well, we’ve got Alex (Rodriguez) and Manny, now, two of the best hitters who ever played (both having failed tests). People are going to have questions. You don’t know about anybody, including our favorite players when we were growing up.’’

What we know about Cust is on DH days, which means most of the time, he has his own in-game agenda. Thursday it kept him from seeing very much of teammate Trevor Cahill getting his first major league victory.

Cahill had made five starts and pitched decently in four of them, but his record was 0-2. At last he got off the schneid in a game in which Cahill didn’t walk anyone and allowed only five hits in seven innings.

“He looked good,’’ said Cust of Cahill. “But honestly I wasn’t watching him. When I’m DH I don’t watch much of the game. I just kind of watch our at bats and then go to the video room to watch my swing and how their pitcher is throwing to the other guys. Really, it kind of stinks, because I enjoy watching both sides of the game, enjoy playing defense.

“I saw some of his strikeouts, a lot of stuff. But I also didn’t see lot of stuff.’’

Cust, however, was watching when in the bottom of the fourth Matt Holliday, apparently out of the doldrums, hit a three-run homer to left.

“I was on deck,’’ said Cust. “When he hit it, I knew it was out. Then it hung up for a while, and I said, ‘Oh, oh, I hope that gets out.’ It did. I’m happy for him, because Matt has worked as hard as anybody. He’s a great teammate. You wouldn’t know he’s been struggling.’’

Holliday had been down to a .222 batting average. He’s now .233 and moving in what he believes is the proper direction.

“We’re humans, and confidence is always an issue,’’ said Holliday, a lifetime .319 hitter signed as a free agent. “But enough of us have had careers where our past indicates it’s there and eventually it’s going to come out. It’s been frustrating. You feel you’re not helping the team. But I promise you, I’ve been doing all I can.’’

Short of videotaping Manny Ramirez’s swing.

RealClearSports: A Volume on A-Rod Is a Yawn

By Art Spander

Another book about another baseball player whose lifestyle was something other than visiting orphans and signing autographs. Once again, America turns out to be the land of the free and the home of the disgraced athlete.

Anyone care?

Alex Rodriguez maybe was feeling a bit rejected, what with Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens the only ones to have volumes about their off-field activities. Not any more. Alex gets his own pages of accusations and intimations.

Selena Roberts, formerly of the New York Times, currently of Sports Illustrated – and are there any two more impressive journalistic connections? – has produced “A-Rod: The Many Lives of Alex Rodriguez.” She was allowed.

Just as we are allowed to shrug.

The problem with books about athletes used to be they made every subject sound like a blending of St. Francis of Assisi and Sir Francis Drake. Even Ty Cobb was made to appear charming and kindly in a first biography. Then a second showed him to be the louse he truly was – not that he couldn’t hit a fastball.

We do the full 180. Now the books detail everything from a man’s immoralities to his phobias and fantasies. In a world full of Dr. Phils and Jerry Springers, it’s the only way to sell. You are obligated to offer something more appalling, and presumably compelling, than seen on TV.

So, “Game of Shadows,” created after brilliant investigative reporting by Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams, hit the stands and whacked Bonds. For about 10 minutes there was outrage. Then we returned to our normal programming. Hey, who’s batting third?

A book on A-Rod’s contretemps was inevitable. Virtually all the publishing houses are in New York. A-Rod, when he’s not rehabbing, is in New York. Something like 15 million people are in New York. The tabloids are in New York. Was there ever a more likely scenario for several hundred pages on performance-enhancing steroids, performance-enhanced Madonna and a ball player reputed to not perform when it matters?

Interestingly enough, in a town where journalists usually jump onto a scandal without caution or question, some of the sporting writers, while not doubting their colleague Roberts, have asked about a few details in the book.

Neil Best of Newsday reminds that Roberts in an interview said much of her evidence of A-Rod after 2003 is circumstantial.

It’s been a fine few months for those (see reference to New York’s 15 millions) who find fulfillment reading about the woes of the Yankees. Tom Verducci and Joe Torre combined to knock the team the tabs call The Bombers. Then there’s the book about Roger Clemens, “American Icon.” And now – please don’t doze off – A-Rod.

Who’s next, Nick Swisher?

Not that we don’t believe in fair play, the so-called level field, but we’ve reached our quotient of shock and awe. And probably of interest. Every day brings a new allegation. Bud Selig seems to be the only one surprised, and you’ve seen how he’s responded.

Sport is supposed to be the last place in society where people must follow the rules. Three strikes, you’re out. A game goes nine innings. No matter what a defense lawyer argues. That’s why the use of steroids finally became an issue no one could ignore.

But we’re in the Commissioner-Who-Didn’t-Cry-Wolf stage of the situation. No matter what we hear or read, or even see, we’re numb. A-Rod on drugs? Well, then we'll have to idolize Albert Pujols.

Yankees manager Joe Girardi, saying exactly what we’d expect him to say, explained, “I don’t want this Alex thing to be a target because I have some issues with it. It’s interesting how the book date got moved up, and I get tired of answering these questions. I don’t understand why somebody would write a book like this anyway.”

Girardi understands. You write a book because (a) you have a story to tell and (b) because you want to make money from the book. Nothing wrong in either case. Nothing right – or write – either.

Terry Francona, the manager of the Red Sox, who have been embarrassing the Yankees of late more than any book possibly could, naturally was asked if he had thoughts on the volume.

“What I care about,’’ Francona responded, “is when (Alex) comes back, I hope he makes outs against us.”

If that is the case, it will disturb Yankee partisans more than anything in any book. Fans never are into ethics and principles as much as they are into winning and losing.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And he has recently been honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.  

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http://www.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/05/volume-on-a-rod-a-yawn.html
© RealClearSports 2009