SF Examiner: When Wimbledon gets a roof, the rain stays away

WIMBLEDON, ENGLAND — Manny Ramirez has nothing on this country, where one arrives to find a headline in the Times of London reading “Henderson guilty of doping ...”

He is the trainer of the Queen’s racehorse Moonlit Path.

What goes on out there? Manny? A-Rod? And now Moonlit Path, who failed a drug test in February?

Does the mare get a 50-day suspension?

A strange world sports has become. The U.S. Open in New York turns into a rainy mess and then offers up a surprise winner when Lucas Glover holds off Phil Mickelson and David Duval.

Over here, where there’s a new retractable roof over Wimbledon’s Centre Court to keep out the rain, it’s warm and sunny.

“The roof looks really nice,” said Venus Williams, who Tuesday looked very good herself, with an opening-match win over Stephanie Voegele of Switzerland, 6-3, 6-2.

“The sun’s been shining,” Venus affirmed. “We haven’t had to use the roof yet. It’s kind of ironic. But I’m sure it will get some use.”

Undoubtedly. They’ve had some notoriously bad weather at Wimbledon in the roughly 130 years the tournament has been held, occasionally consecutive days without tennis or afternoons when only one match was finished.

Andy Roddick followed Venus onto Centre Court and needed four sets to get by Jeremy Chardy, 6-3, 7-6, 4-6, 6-3. He said he barely was aware of the roof, which was pushed together like a closed accordion at one end of the superstructure.

“You don’t notice that much,” Roddick said. “I hadn’t seen it before I walked out. They did a good job. It’s not this big, imposing thing.”

As is television, at least figuratively. Television, the networks, in effect forced Wimbledon to construct the roof. The decision came painfully.

They don’t like a lot of change in Britain. Hey, if it was good enough for Henry VIII, then why tinker with success?

Unless, TV figuratively raises another roof because it has to show that 1980 Borg-McEnroe 18-16 fourth-set tiebreaker a 42nd time because there’s no live tennis. So, Wimbledon has its roof.

What Venus has is five women’s singles championships, the last three in succession. It was 15 years ago at what then was called Oakland Coliseum Arena, Williams, a teenager from Compton with white beads in her hair, made her professional entrance.

“I remember,” Venus said. “I was so excited. Just growing up, my parents always told us we’d be winning Wimbledon. ... It was something I was preparing for. I think they were geniuses to put that in our heads.”

Roddick hasn’t won it. He twice reached the finals but had the misfortune to meet Roger Federer, in tennis, a genius in his own right. Maybe, now at age 26, Roddick, once trained by Brad Gilbert of Marin, makes it to the summit. When someone asked him to sum up his chances, Andy said, “Better now that I got through the first one.”

Venus, too, is through the first one.

“It was pretty straight forward,” she said of the victory.

Venus turned 29 last week. Wimbledon is her great stage. “I obviously feel very good here,” she said with no real explanation, “and I take advantage of that feeling.”

I wonder how Moonlit Path is feeling these days? Probably thought she was given flaxseed oil.

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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Copyright 2009 SF Newspaper Company

CBSSports.com: Murphy's Law for Wimbledon: New roof keeps rain away

By Art Spander
The Sports Xchange/CBSSports.com

WIMBLEDON, England -- The Championship is an outdoor daytime event. That's the gospel according to the people in charge of Wimbledon. That's why the new toy has gone unused.

That's why the roof they didn't want to build remains open.

What's Wimbledon but grass courts, strawberries and cream and rain? Except the first two days of Wimbledon 2009, the skies have been cloudless. Of course. They spend $170 million, give or take a brass farthing, to raise the roof, a translucent, accordion-like device, and it stays open.

The roof sits there. "But," said Venus Williams, "I'm sure it will get some use."

We're all mixed up. The U.S. Open golf tournament last weekend in New York was hit by so many storms, the Bethpage Black course looked like Long Island Sound. Meanwhile here, at the place nicknamed "Wimbleduck" and "Swimbledon," people are hoping for a few drops just to see the roof.

They had to settle for watching tennis on Tuesday, and for America it was successful tennis, Venus and Andy Roddick taking their opening matches.

Venus, trying for her sixth singles championship and third in a row, easily defeated Stefanie Voegele of Switzerland in straight sets. Roddick, seeking his first, beat Jeremy Chardy of France in four sets.

There's a sense of history all over England. If it was done one way for, say, 300 years, then why change? Wimbledon's been around for a little less than half that, but the philosophy isn't much different.

One appallingly bad afternoon, when the guys who pull the tarps -- or, as they're called here, "the covers" -- spent more time on Centre Court than Pete Sampras, the question was put forth why, in this technological age, a roof couldn't be built.

The answer had as much to do with condensation of moisture on the grass, when a roof was closed after the beginning of a storm, as the price and design. "Do you know how greasy a court would be?" was the summarizing phrase.

Well, the TV networks knew what a waste of time, and money, rain delays would be and had been. So, finally, after years of discussion and almost as many of construction, The Roof is in place. But not in use.

"Yeah," said Venus, "it looks really nice, the roof does, actually. But the sun's been shining. We haven't had to use it yet. It's kind of ironic."

Roddick, smartly, paid more attention to what was going on in front of him than what wasn't going on above him.

"To be honest, you don't notice it at all," he said of the roof. Maybe he didn't, but most others did. The roof, like the axiom of the weather, was something everybody talked about but couldn't do anything about.

"I hadn't seen [the roof] before I walked out," said Roddick, who is two months from his 27th birthday and has one Grand Slam championship, a U.S. Open, and has been to two Wimbledon finals. "It's not a big, imposing thing. I think they did a good job of kind of blending it in with the original surroundings.

"Not much has changed from a player's perspective. I'm sure it will be different once it's closed."

It will be different because instead of players in the feature matches sitting around in the locker room and ESPN and NBC executives chewing on their cuticles and fans who paid big money telling themselves they should have gone to a movie -- er, a cinema -- people will be playing tennis.

As they were Tuesday, when the temperature was in the 70s and Wimbledon was a circus of sights and sounds, matches under way on all 19 courts.

Venus called her victory over Voegele, who ranks 97th, "pretty straightforward. In other words, no problems. Venus is seeded No. 3, behind sister Serena, who's No. 2, and Dinara Safina, No. 1 even without a Grand Slam title.

"It's a special moment when you walk out as defending champion on that court and throw those balls at that first point," Venus said. "It's a really great feeling."

The other defending champion, Rafael Nadal, is out of the tournament because of bad knees, which meant Roger Federer, the man he beat in the 2008 final that seemingly lasted forever because of recurring rain, had that special moment on Monday.

After the win, Federer, hardly the adventurous type, conceded, "I guess the moment will come that I'll play indoors here. But you don't really hope for it during the match."

Why not? He could become Wimbledon's first indoor champ.

Andy Murray, the Scot attempting to be the first Brit to win the men's title since 1936, won his first-round match in four sets over American Robert Kendrick.

A few days ago when Wimbledon brought in the media to see the roof open and closed, Murray also was in attendance. Naturally, he was asked his opinion.

"It looks really nice," he said, "compared to most roofs."

Especially compared to all the roofs they previously had at Centre Court, a total of none.

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http://www.cbssports.com/tennis/story/11885351
© 2009 CBS Interactive. All rights reserved.

RealClearSports: For Tiger, the Hardest Major of the Year

FARMINGDALE, N.Y. -- He liked his chances, as did the rest of us, a following that included the man he someday should supplant as the game's standard.

"I suspect,'' Jack Nicklaus had mused, alluding to Tiger Woods' 14 major championships, "that No. 15 will come in two weeks.''

Jack was speaking after Tiger won Nicklaus' own tournament, the Memorial. After Tiger never missed a fairway the last round. After Tiger seemingly verified he was ready to take this calamitous U.S. Open at Bethpage.

And even Tiger, properly favoring himself, told us, "I like my chances in any major.''

Yet as the 109th Open, a tournament with more suspensions than suspense, slogged through to a merciless conclusion at the course nicknamed "Wetpage,'' Tiger's chances were gone.

With the Open spilling over into Monday, it wasn't clear who would win: maybe Ricky Barnes, whose huge lead of Sunday afternoon had disappeared; maybe Lucas Glover, who had come from six shots back to tie Barnes; maybe even David Duval.

It was clear who wouldn't win, Tiger Woods.

Once again, a year after taking the championship, he took a figurative punch to the jaw. He couldn't repeat in 2001 or 2003. He couldn't repeat in 2009.

Even though we thought he would. Even though he thought he could, if with a caveat.

Not for 20 years has anyone won Opens back-to-back.

Not Nicklaus, not Payne Stewart, Lee Janzen or Andy North, although along with Tiger and Jack they did win more than one Open.

Since Ben Hogan, in 1950-51, a stretch of 58 years, only Curtis Strange in 1988-89 has taken Opens consecutively, an achievement he not so humbly embellished with the pronouncement, "Move over, Ben.''

Tiger was in the wrong place, the early starting wave on Thursday, at the wrong time, when the first of several storms powered in and, with Woods and playing partners Padraig Harrington on the seventh green, halted play until Friday.

The golfers who didn't get on course until the second day and then got in most of two rounds were those who got the good break.

Rub of the green, it's called in golf. And the green rubbed Woods very much the wrong way.

He got shafted by Mother Nature. Then he got in trouble. When Tiger returned on Friday, he was even par with four holes to play. And four-over par after those four holes. Balls dropped into the rough. Putts slid by the cup.

It was a precursor. And a reminder.

"This is the hardest major we face,'' said Woods, "year in, year out. Narrowest fairways, highest rough. You have to have every facet of your game going.''

Nicklaus played more than 40 Opens. He won four. Arnold Palmer and Tom Watson won one apiece. Greg Norman never won any. The hardest major they face.

Heading into the final round, Tiger was at 1-over par 211 for 54 holes. Nine shots behind Ricky Barnes. Tiger's game wasn't going anywhere, although by the time play stopped, Woods having completed seven holes of the last round, he was even par. And seven shots back of Barnes and Glover.

"All week,'' said Woods on Sunday, "I hit it better than my scoring indicates. My finish the first day put me so far back, I had to try and make up shots the entire time. I finished that day playing poorly.''

No one finished anything Sunday, when play was called because of darkness. This is the pain of sport. This is the wonder of sport. We never know.

Rafael Nadal didn't win the French Open, even though we believed he would. Tiger Woods won't win the U.S. Open, even though we believed he would. You've heard it so many times, and you'll hear it again: That's why they play the game.

There's something reassuring in all this, not that Tiger was unable to meet expectations, but that sitting around and forecasting winners doesn't mean a great deal. The people on the courses and courts and diamonds are the ones who have the real say.

Tiger and Phil Mickelson and Ricky Barnes come back next week, and the probability is that everything is different. But they're not coming back. They had their chances. Barnes was making the best of his. Tiger couldn't do the same.

When after the third round somebody, dreaming, asked in effect if Tiger could overtake the leaders.

"Bethpage,'' said Woods who won here in 2002, "is one of those courses where you have to play a great round and get some help.''

Throughout this Open, Tiger had neither.

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://www1.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/06/21/for_tiger_the_hardest_major_of_the_year_96403.html
© RealClearSports 2009

Scotland Sunday Herald: Barnes surfaces after years of expectation

GOLF: Former amateur prodigy profits as washout engulfs rivals, writes Art Spander

PUTTS WERE falling, and again so were raindrops. The wettest, messiest and most confusing of US Opens kept splashing on yesterday towards an ending that would be neither expected nor timely.

A kid named Ricky Barnes, from whom greatness was predicted but hasn't been achieved, was the leader after a second round not completed until a third day. If you're mixed up, so is everyone.

Round two of a tourn-ament that began of a sort on Thursday was only headed to a finish yesterday. But when this 109th Open, being played at Bethpage's Black Course on Long Island some 30 miles east of Manhattan, actually ends is anyone's guess. The plan was to get those who made the cut back on the course to begin the third round before the thunderstorms or darkness, whichever came first, and then with luck complete it today.

Officials insisted, meanwhile, that a champion wouldn't be determined until a full 72 holes -- and maybe an 18-hole play-off were there a tie -- had been played "even if we have to go to Tuesday."

The good thing for the basic, boisterous New York crowd, was that Tiger Woods would go the full tournament. He arrived yesterday morning 12 shots behind Barnes, at four-over, and in danger of missing the cut in a Major for only the second time as a pro.

But Tiger, whose opening round consisted of six holes on Thursday, and another 12 on Friday, shot a one-under 69 yesterday for a three-over total of 143 to stay in the tournament, if not in contention. As a point of reference, the greatest halfway deficit overcome by a winner was Lou Graham, who was down by 11 in 1975 and then won in a play-off over John Mahaffey.

Woods, trying to be the first repeat US Open winner since Curtis Strange in 1988-89, was in the group with Open and PGA champion Padraig Harrington and Masters winner Angel Cabrera. Harrington, who had three double bogeys in his first round, shot 76 for 152 to miss the cut, while Cabrera posted a 69 in his second round for 143, the same as Tiger.

Barnes, with a US Open 36-hole record score of 132, after a second round of 65, leads Lucas Glover, who shot 64 for 133 and third-placed Mike Weir, whose 70 left him a shot further back.

Phil Mickelson, performing admirably as he attempts to deal with the news of his wife Amy's illness, shot a level-par 70 to finish on 139. It could be said, though, that all the leaders got the luck of the draw, having played their entire first rounds and much of the second in sunshine on Friday, and then finished the second in benign conditions yesterday morning.

It was the rub of the green -- Tiger's threesome was in the other wave, the one that did get pounded by rain on Thursday before play was abandoned for the day. Barnes, 28, won the US Amateur Championship in 2002 and in 2003 was, at the University of Arizona, college player of the year and also finished 21st in the Masters. But he couldn't qualify for the PGA Tour, playing the secondary Nationwide Tour where last year he did well enough finally to get elevated to the big time.

"It got me ready to play,'' said Barnes, from Stockton, California. "And it humbled me over the last four years. I've grown up. I always thought after college I'd be out here right away."

Barnes, who had seven holes remaining in his second round when he arrived yesterday, hit 31 of 36 greens. His eight-under 132 was a shot better than the mark set in 2003 at Olympia Fields in Chicago by Jim Furyk, who went on to win.

"Obviously, at the start of the week,'' said Barnes, "you don't think that score is out there. But my ball-striking was outstanding. But if you would have told me I'd be eight under and only have a one-shot lead I'd have said you're crazy.'' Mickelson is the favourite son of these New Yorkers, who cheer him on like a football crowd. That his wife Amy has been stricken by breast cancer has only endeared Phil even more to the fans. "I love it here," he said. "If I can get my putter going the last two rounds I like my chances."

David Duval, who won the 2001 Open championship at Royal Lytham, sits on 137. In 13 tournaments this year he hasn't finished better than a tie for 55th.

Sergio Garcia, who played well at Bethpage in 2002, added a second consecutive 70 and Todd Hamilton, who suddenly has found his game after doing nothing since winning the Open at Royal Troon in 2004, is on 138 after a 71.

Scotland's Martin Laird just missed the cut after posting a 71 for 145.

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http://www.sundayherald.com/sport/nationalsport/display.var.2515582.0.barnes_surfaces_after_years_of_expectation.php
©2009 newsquest (sunday herald) limited. all rights reserved

David Duval back for his second act

FARMINGDALE, N.Y. -- There are no second acts in American lives. F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote it, a generalization, hyperbole. David Duval is on stage once more, the script edited, the character unchanged. Raise the curtain.

Call it a comeback. That’s a more sporting term than second act. Call it a return. A renaissance, although in a way it’s been going for a while.

It’s just that on days such as Saturday, when Duval becomes a presence in a U.S. Open that has become beholden to the weather officials, we realize the man still is a great golfer. Still can play.

When the second round of this 109th Open ended Saturday, with officials hustling those who made the cut to start the third, trying to end the tournament on Sunday as scheduled, there was Duval tied for fourth place at 3-under par 137.

There was Duval, at age 37, saying, “I love playing the game. I love competing. But more than that, I’d really like for my wife and family to see how I can actually play the game. They haven’t seen me at my best, and I want them to.’’

We saw him. Saw him shoot a 59. Saw him ascend to the top of the world rankings. That was 10 years ago, when the part of golf that didn’t belong to Tiger Woods belonged to David Duval.

We saw Duval come close to winning the Masters a couple of times and heard him spill out his heart about the beauty of being in the hunt and then missing the prize.

We saw Duval at last conquer his demons and win a major, the British Open in 2001 at Royal Lytham St. & St. Annes, standing at the summit for which he had reached.

And then we saw Duval, the perfectionist, the intellectual, step away and literally move away, from the golfing mecca of Florida where he grew up to Denver and marry a woman who already had children to establish a life where the challenges had nothing to do with carrying a tee shot over a fairway bunker.

For various reasons that included back ailments and vertigo and a loss of interest, Duval and his game tumbled faster and farther than perhaps any top player. The golfer once No. 1 by last summer was ranked No. 1,087.

Then the climb back. He was only three shots out of the lead halfway into last year’s British Open before the wind and his errors created an 83. Painful, but not fatal. In fact, reassuring. He knew he still had it.

Now we know, too. “Patience is crucial in this game,’’ Duval reminded, “and I feel I have been patient for many years and continue to work hard. If anything, my patience is most tested over the last six, eight, 10 months, when I really felt like everything was falling together but nothing good was happening to me.’’

Duval’s formative years were difficult. At 9, he was the bone-marrow donor for his brother Brent, 12, who within weeks of the procedure died of aplastic anemia. David, it was said, blamed himself and grew even more inverted than he had been.

The death contributed to marital strife between David’s parents, who eventually divorced. By high school, Duval was a loner who, having been taught golf by his father, a pro, escaped into the game. He practiced by himself at the end of the range and once said his fondest memories as an adolescent golfer were of playing alone in heavy fog.

While Duval was a four-time All-American at Georgia Tech, he was known as Rock, both for his solid game and rough-edged personality. His intelligence -- David is one of the few people to understand the difference between “implied’’ and “inferred’’ -- manifests itself in arrogance, especially when pestered by journalists.

A sports psychologist contended that once Duval won the British, he was confronted with a vacuum with which it was hard to deal. It was as if Peggy Lee were singing, “Is that all there is?’’ That’s all there was, so David sought another life and found it.

He showed up at the 2004 U.S. Open, at Shinnecock, not having played a competitive round in seven months, the decision to use his exemption coming shortly before the Open as he sat in a golf cart at a course in Denver.

The exemption no longer exists. For the first time in 14 years, Duval had to qualify, which obviously he did successfully, a week and a half ago in Columbus, Ohio. Some golfers who had won major championships wouldn’t subject themselves to the pressure and, you could say, the ignominy.

David Duval was determined. He intends to get someplace close to where he used to be. He wants to perform that second act.

Tiger botches up a good round

FARMINGDALE, N.Y. -- The day was less than enthralling. Tiger Woods made a mess of things. Not as much of a mess as one of his playing partners, Padraig Harrington, but that might not be a good way of measuring a bad round.

There he was Friday morning, Tiger even par with four holes remaining. Even par in the U.S. Open, a tournament where par makes you a contender and sometimes makes you a champion.

That’s the sort of competition Tiger likes, where every shot is precious, and you have to work and grind and struggle -- and think.

But what Tiger was thinking when he finished on Friday what he started on Thursday probably was X-rated stuff. He played the final four holes double-bogey, bogey, par and bogey, coming in with a 4-over 74.

Harrington, with three doubles, shot 76, while the third member of the group, Angel Cabrera, like the other two players a multiple major champion, had 74.

It was only late morning and, because of a schedule revised by the rain, Tiger was done for the day.

“As of the way I feel now, no, I don’t want to go back out there right now,’’ Tiger said when some wondered if at the early hour, before 11 a.m. EDT, he wished he could get to a second round already shoved to Saturday.

“Probably would be a few clubs light,’’ he added, the implication being that Woods might have busted a couple of them in anger.

Done for the day, but hardly for the tournament. Even 10 shots behind.

What we’ve learned is you never quit on Tiger Woods because he never quits on himself. Remember when he overcame that seven-shot deficit on the back nine at Pebble Beach in the 2000 AT&T, catching a bewildered Matt Gogel? Remember when he was three down with five to play the first round of the 2008 Accenture match play and beat J.B. Holmes, 1 up?

So to declare Tiger Woods finished after he played only 18 holes in a major championship that, because of the weather forecast, might never finish is premature at best and presumptive at worst.

And yet there he was, back to even par in the 109th U.S. Open at Bethpage’s Black Course after a birdie on 15. There he was, a gallery of rowdy New Yorkers shouting their encouragement.

And then, whoops, there he was, losing four shots the last four holes.

“Well,’’ he said, “I wasn’t playing poorly. You know, that’s the thing. I was even par with four to go, and I was right there where I needed to be, and then two bad shots and a mud ball later, I’m four-over par.’’

Already there had been a double-bogey, but that was Thursday, in the deluge, before play mercifully was halted with Woods, Harrington and Cabrera on the seventh green. Tiger bogeyed seven when play resumed under clear skies at 7:40 Friday morning, but birdies at 11 and 14 had brought him back to even.

“That was kind of a goal,’’ Woods explained. The goal evaporated.

He hit a bad tee shot on the 459-yard 15th, described by one and all as the most difficult hole on the course. “But I had a great lie and went for it. Plugged it in the face, took a drop (a free one, because the ball was ruled as embedded), hit a decent pitch -- but I didn’t think it would come all the way back to my feet like that -- blocked the first putt and hit a bad second putt.’’

Woods is defending champion. He is trying to become the first repeat winner in 20 years, since Curtis Strange in 1988-89. Woods is the favorite. But after the first round, Woods is a good distance behind. Then again...

More rain is coming. More pressure will be building. More double-bogeys will be recorded.

Nothing is certain. The USGA, which announced Thursday it wouldn’t honor Thursday’s tickets, even though play was halted and didn’t resume, on Friday said it would allow those tickets to be used Monday. If there is play Monday. And it appears there will be play Monday. And maybe Tuesday.

“Overall,’’ said Woods, “the golf course is playing difficult. I’m just going to continue to do what I’m doing and hopefully clean up the round a little bit, drive the ball in the fairway and get a couple of breaks and not catch a mud ball. But if it dries out more, it will get worse.’’

Presumably Tiger Woods will get better. Presumably he won’t ruin a decent round by losing four shots to par in four holes.

He’s not giving up, not after one round of a major. He made a mess of things. He had two awful holes. Fifty hour holes remain. That’s more than enough for atonement. And victory.

RealClearSports: Open But Not Shut Case for Jeff Brehaut

FARMINGDALE, N.Y. -- It was golf's version of Waterworld, the non-Olympic 18-hole breast-beater stroke. No Michael Phelps. No Dara Torres. And if you were looking at the top of the leader board, no Tiger Woods, who told us in what wasn't breaking news, "It was pretty wet and windy.''

But there was a Jeff Brehaut, unexpected Jeff Brehaut, persistent Jeff Brehaut, upbeat Jeff Brehaut and, as anybody else who managed to get on the course Thursday during the first round of the splish-splash-I-ain't-taking-a-bath U.S. Open, a very damp Jeff Brehaut.

Jeff Brehaut, in only his second major in 27 years as a pro, in front of Tiger Woods and everyone else. If only temporarily.

"But it's still totally cool,'' said Brehaut, pronounced as the French would, "Bray-Oh.''

Asked if he'd ever been ahead of Tiger in a tournament before this one, Brehaut -- 46 and from Los Altos, Calif., down the road from San Francisco -- responded, "Yes, but not in a major.''

Particularly a major that virtually floated away to Long Island Sound. Especially a major in which nobody played more than 11 holes before the Bethpage Black course in places literally was underwater.

Tiger and his playing partners, Masters champion Angel Cabrera and PGA and British Open champion Padraig Harrington, made it six holes. Brehaut, in the first group off the 10th tee, got in 11, and he was 1-under par, while Tiger was 1-over.

When Brehaut, Greg Kraft and J.P.Hayes made it to their 11th hole, or the second at Bethpage, it was 10:15 a.m. EDT. It was also the end of the round. "It,'' Brehaut explained about Bethpage, "couldn't handle it any more.''

That Jeff Brehaut, a graduate of the University of the Pacific, 12-time failure at the PGA Tour qualifying school, has been able to handle it, meaning the struggle, is the real issue.

"Not everyone is a college All-American,'' he said, "and gets on Tour their first or second crack. And I'm living proof. I went to Q-School 13 times before I got through when I was 35. I played mini-tour golf the first four, five, six years. I played the Nike Tour, now the Nationwide Tour, for six straight years in the '90s. When I finally got on Tour it was a big deal.''

As big a deal as leading the Open, if it's not quite a full round of leading. As big a deal as holing a couple of shots from a bunker at the 9th hole back-to-back in Wednesday's practice round while fans waiting for Phil Mickelson applaud and scream.

"I was jumping up and down like Bob Tway when he beat Greg Norman," said Brehaut, referring to Tway's holing a shot off a bunker in the 1986 PGA. "I pumped my fist. I signed half an hour worth of autographs. Afterwards, I felt like I had just won the tournament.''

And a day later he was leading the tournament, if only through 11 holes.

Twenty-five years he was a professional golfer before qualifying for a major, the 2007 U.S. Open at Oakmont. By a shot, he missed gaining exemption to last year's Open at Torrey Pines, the one Tiger Woods won on a bad leg.

Now Brehaut has returned.

"My journey is different from that of most guys,'' he conceded. Jeff has a family. Jeff has had some decent payoffs, his earnings now past $3.7 million, but there were months of driving with his family from one event to another with little progress.

"But it's been worth it. What kept me going? Desire. I love golf. This is what I always love to do. I like the competition. I like the camaraderie.''

Gene Brehaut, 76, Jeff's father, was out there slogging through the rough and rain, proud, delighted. "He was jumping out of his skin,'' said the son.

Jeff Brehaut rarely gets the spotlight. He stays back in the chorus, a necessity instead of a star. "A lot of us,'' he said without rancor, "have to be the guys everybody else beats up on.''

He almost left golf. Almost. An option was to flip houses, buy one cheap, fix it up, and sell it at a higher price. That was before all the foreclosures. That was before he regained his confidence in the early'90s.

That was before he played in his first U.S. Open.

The third round at Oakmont in 2007, as he was about to hole out for birdie at 18, Brehaut paused to watch Tiger drive from the adjacent 12th tee.

"I wasn't going to miss that opportunity," Brehaut said.

Two years later he had an opportunity to lead in another U.S. Open. He didn't miss that opportunity either.

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://www1.realclearsports.com/articles/2009/06/18/open_but_not_shut_case_for_jeff_brehaut_96397.html
© RealClearSports 2009

RealClearSports: Phil and His Not-So-Private Struggle

FARMINGDALE, N.Y. -- We are taking part in Phil Mickelson’s private life made public. We are listening to his words, feeling his pain, understanding his fears, wishing him and Amy only the best.

It is never easy for any family when cancer strikes. It must be worse for someone famous, a movie star, an athletic hero, a face we know, a golfer we respect.

Always there is another good wish, always another tear, always another request for an interview.

The 109th U.S. Open starts today at Bethpage muni’s Black Course, where Mickelson, who played so well in the Open seven years ago, hopes to find success. And perhaps relief.

The country was made aware a few weeks ago. Amy Mickelson had breast cancer. Pink ribbons fluttered. Phil dropped off the Tour.

A week ago, at Memphis, the tournament named for St. Jude, ironically the patron saint of desperate causes, Phil returned. His game did not.

Mickelson closed with a 75, a tie for 59th. And now it is the most difficult tournament of any year, America’s national championship, the event with the high rough and slick greens where any mistake is magnified.

Phil says he is ready. Ready for the competition. Ready for what lies ahead. The family, Amy, the three children, normally at every tournament, is home in southern California. Where Phil’s thoughts will be is the question.

This is Mickelson country. Tiger remains the attraction, as well as the favorite, but here on Long Island, where both Bethpage and Shinnecock Hills are located, and across the Hudson River in New Jersey, Phil is idolized.

At the ’02 Open at Bethpage, the ’04 Open at Shinnecock, the ’06 PGA Championship at Baltusrol in Jersey, the support and the shouts were overwhelming.

It was a Yankees crowd. A Mets crowd. A crowd boisterous and partisan. A crowd that called Phil Mickelson “The Mick.” A crowd that may be exactly what he needs this week, along with an accurate game off the tee.

“It could be that support helps carry me through on emotionally when I’m on the course,” Mickelson said Wednesday. “I’m certainly hoping for that.”

So are many others. Phil has won two Masters and one PGA. He’s never won an Open. He lost one, as we recall, not far away from here, in 2006 at Winged Foot in Mamaroneck up the road from Manhattan, when he blew a final-round lead with a double bogey on the 72nd hole.

It was agony. “I am such an idiot,” he said that fateful Sunday. This is agony of another sort. This is trying to keep one’s mind on a game where any slip could mean failure while 2,500 miles away a wife waits with her doubts.

There are expressions of sympathy. There are comments of understanding. Darren Clarke went through this torture a few years back. For Tiger Woods it was a similar ordeal as his father was dying from cancer.

“Is it easy?” Tiger asked rhetorically when discussing Mickelson’s situation -- and his own. “No, it’s not easy.

“Everywhere you go, people are reminding you of it, and you can’t get away from it. And you think that the golf course would be your escape, but it’s not. You’re surrounded by people wishing you well . . . but then again they keep reminding you of the circumstance you’re dealing with on a daily basis, and you can’t get away from it.”

Mickelson, whose 39th birthday was Tuesday, said the timing for the Open could not have been better. Amy is awaiting treatment and probably surgery. The future is a blur. So Phil will grasp the present.

“It will be a fun week,” he said of the Open. In 2002 he finished second at Bethpage, three strokes behind Tiger.

“I'm putting everything I have into this week, because I don’t anticipate being able to play for a while.”

A vacation is planned. Then comes the treatment.

“You’d never know what she was going through,” Mickelson said of his wife. “When we get started it will be different, but she’s an amazing person . . . how she treats people, how she interacts . . . and I think it’s hard for me to see somebody who is such good person go through something so difficult.”

Mickelson insisted despite his finish at Memphis he hit the ball well, attempting to replicate shots he would need at Bethpage. He has mapped out a game plan, when to be bold, if ever on an Open layout, when to be prudent.

Amy Mickelson offered her advice. “She’s left me a number of little notes, texts, cards, hints,” said Phil, “that she would like to have a silver trophy in her hospital room. So I’m going to try and accommodate that.”

The rest of us, invading Phil’s world, can only say good luck.

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

SF Examiner: It's Tiger's U.S. Open to lose

By Art Spander
Special to The Examiner

FARMINGDALE, N.Y. — Kobe one week, Tiger the next. From a large leather ball to a small dimpled one. From a hardwood court to soft fairways. From one champion to another.

The NBA playoffs, Kobe Bryant’s showcase, are done. The U.S. Open, Tiger Woods’ stage, is here, starting Thursday. What we got from Kobe — excellence, success — we’re expecting to get from Tiger.

“I like my chances in any major,” Tiger said Tuesday. We all like his chances.

The national championship, that’s what the Open is for golfers, a test of skill and will, an event of thick rough and high pressure where brains count no less than brawn.

“I just enjoy having to think your way around a golf course,” Tiger said.

This is the damp greenness of Long Island, 30 miles from Manhattan. This is where the Open went public for the first time when the 2002 Open was held at a muni, if you can call Bethpage Black a muni when it has a sign warning it is “An extremely difficult course which we recommend only for highly skilled golfers.”

This is where Tiger, or as crowds here pronounce it, “Ti-guh,” won and very likely could win again.

Some asked him, “In your opinion, who do you think at this point is the best golfer of all-time and why?”

“Jack,” responded Woods. He didn’t feel obligated to add, “Nicklaus.”

And Tiger? “He’s got 18. I’m at 14.”

Meaning major pro championships. Kobe is at four, meaning NBA championships, and Tiger, the Lakers fan, who grew up in Southern California, identifies with Bryant.

“His work ethic is phenomenal,” Tiger said of Kobe, as certainly Kobe could have said about Tiger.

“The hours he puts in, from just shooting on his own,” Woods pointed out, “to all the film study. Look at how he guides his team.

“That’s steady. That’s knowing the offenses, the defense you’re going against, basically all the chess pieces.”

That’s preparation, something of which Tiger prides himself.

Woods could become the first person ever with 10 U.S. Golf Association championships. He has three junior amateurs, three amateurs and three Opens, a total of nine.

Woods also could become the first to win back-to-back Opens in 20 years, since Curtis Strange in 1988-89 and the second in 70 years, Ben Hogan finishing first in 1950-51.

“Generally,” Tiger said of why the repeat is so rare, “this is the hardest major we face all year.”

Tiger took the 2008 Open at Torrey Pines in San Diego, also a muni, on a left knee so painful he winced after every shot. Surgery on the anterior-cruciate ligament a few days later kept him out of the game eight months and there were struggles after his return in February.

But he won the Memorial, Jack’s tournament, a week and a half ago, hitting every fairway from the tee in the final round, and Nicklaus not-so-boldly predicted Woods would win this Open.

Next year, the Open returns to Pebble Beach. In 2012, it’s at San Francisco’s Olympic Club. Every Open is different. Every Open is the same.

“You’ve got to grind it out and make pars,” Tiger said. “How you do is up to you.”

Tiger will find a way. As in another sport, Kobe found a way.

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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Twenty years later, Giants of ’89 recall the Earthquake Series

SAN FRANCISCO -- It was great to come back. Ol’ Humm-Baby said it. And everybody else thought it. Great to come back, to memories both sweet and painful.

Twenty years it had been since Roger Craig, Humm-Baby, managed the Giants to a pennant. Since Kevin Mitchell won that National League MVP. Since the Loma Prieta earthquake tore into the World Series and left us, the Bay Area, reeling and damaged and baseball in limbo.

The Athletics and the Giants on Friday night at AT&T. As on Tuesday evening, October 17, 1989 at Candlestick Park. The third game of the World Series. A region was enthralled with itself.

So much excitement. So much attention. And then, in a matter of seconds, a 6.9 earthquake, a section of the Bay Bridge pulling free, the Cypress Freeway down in Oakland, dozens of fatalities and attention for a reason that moments earlier seemed unimaginable.

It was great to come back. The ’89 Giants, at least a large number of them from owner Bob Lurie to general manager Al Rosen to Craig to players such as Mitchell and Will Clark and Rick Reuschel, had returned for a reunion.

There was needling. There was laughter. There was pensive recollection of the disaster that transformed what major league baseball labeled the Battle of the Bay but locally was known as the Bay Bridge Series into what forever will be known as the Earthquake Series.

A few minutes after 5 p.m., a few minutes before Game 3 of the Series was to start, the A’s having won the first two games in Oakland.

“Jeff Brantley and I were running down the tunnel to the dugout,’’ remembered pitcher Mike LaCoss, “when the lights started flickering.’’ LaCoss, who would have started Game 4, is a Californian, from the Central Valley. He knew what was happening.

“I told Brantley, ‘It’s an earthquake. Keep running,’ ’’ LaCoss said.

I also knew what was happening. After a time. I was in the upper deck of the ’Stick, in the auxiliary press box, a section where jerry-built tables had been installed to accommodate a media horde too large for the normal facility.

It sounded as if a freight train were running down the concourse. And felt like it too. Rob Matwick, then the public relations director for the Houston Astros and one of the many people working the Series, was in the next seat.

“What is it?’’ he shouted. “An earthquake,’’ I yelled. “Is it bad?’’ The shaking seemed endless, although later it was timed at 15 seconds. “Yeah,’’ I gasped.

Atlee Hammaker was in the clubhouse with fellow pitchers Dave Dravecky, who also is here for the reunion, and Bob Knepper. “When it hit,’’ Hammaker, now a father of five who lives with his family in Nashville, said Friday, “I wondered, ‘What’s that?’ Knepper knew. He said to get outside. We ran to the player parking lot, and the ground was rippling like a carpet. Then we went to our families.’’

There are photos of A’s and Giants on the field with wives and children. Candlestick had withstood the temblor, albeit with a few cracks in the cement, but the safest place in a quake of course is away from any structure. So that’s where players and their entourage were evacuated, whether the action normally would be.

Kevin Mitchell was already in the outfield, talking to the A’s Tony Phillips. “I didn’t know what was going on,’’ Mitchell recalled. “When they told us it was an earthquake, I was looking for my grandparents, but at first I couldn’t find them.’’

Mitchell is back in San Diego, where he grew up. The MVP plaque hangs on a wall at his home. “Everything is fine,’’ he said, that familiar gold tooth gleaming when he smiled. “Baseball was good, but life goes on.’’

The Earthquake Series did not go on. It came to a halt, for 10 days while the Bay Area recovered and mourned and tried to find its priorities.

Art Agnos, San Francisco mayor at the time, wanted a month delay, but baseball commissioner Fay Vincent insisted on a resumption as soon as possible, which wasn’t that soon at all.

Games 3 and 4 weren’t much different than Games 1 and 2. The A’s won both and a World Series was swept for the first time in 13 years. Giants fans contended the quake affected the outcome. Craig, now a hearty 79, and splitting time between residences in the desert town of Borrego Springs and San Diego, disagrees.

“You can’t blame it on the earthquake,’’ said Craig, “The A’s had the better ball club.’’

That they did, proving it in a World Series that will live in infamy.

RealClearSports: There's No Magic for Orlando

By Art Spander

So life returns to normal. The Lakers win another championship, the Magic kick themselves – or maybe an effigy of Mickey Mouse – and we settle down to a summer of contemplating exactly how good Kobe Bryant really is.

Oh, the Lakers haven’t yet won the NBA title? Indeed they have; only the league has yet to make the acknowledgement.

You heard all the comparisons, Hollywood vs. Disney World, not that there’s much difference between the two if you don’t count humidity and the traffic on Sunset Boulevard. In Hollywood, however, they always know how the script ends.

And watching Hollywood’s team, the Lakers, so do we.

Not a bad game Thursday night, the fourth of these very enticing finals. The home team (bad guys, if you’re some screenwriter who has Laker tickets) makes a little noise but, because it can’t make free three throws come apart when it should be coming together.

Long ago we learned pro basketball is a game of ebb and flow, and just because one team – the Magic, in this case – looks brilliant and the other can’t read a defense or seemingly a shot clock, it doesn’t mean that’s not going to change.

Trailing by 12 points at halftime, shooting 33 percent from the floor, the Lakers stepped out of their funk, stepped up the defense, made their usual key shots and beat the Magic, 99-91, in overtime.

Or did the Magic beat themselves?

“Free throws,’’ said Orlando coach Stan Van Gundy, the guy who hasn’t gone hungry – literally that is; figuratively, since he and the Magic have never been champions, they are candidates for food stamps.

“What did we shoot, 59 percent?’’ He knew. What we all knew was that when you get 37 foul shots and miss 15, you don’t deserve to win. When you have a five-point lead with fewer than 30 seconds remaining and get tied in regulation, you don’t deserve to win.

This wasn’t exactly a choke job by the Magic. Rather, it was comeback by the Lakers. Rather than a tightening of throats by Orlando, it was a tightening of the defense by Los Angeles.

They know a good story in Hollywood, and Derek Fisher definitely is one. He was with the Lakers when they won their three titles with Shaq and Kobe. Then, because of things like age and salary caps, he was let go, signing first with the Golden State Warriors, where he fit like an elephant would in a Mini Minor, and after that with the Utah Jazz.

His infant daughter was stricken with retinoblastoma, a cancerous tumor in her left eye, but Fisher kept coming back from the hospital to help the Jazz come back in the first two rounds of the ’07 playoffs. Then, released once again, he was re-signed by the Lakers where, as we noted, he released that rainbow 3-point jump shot.

The first, with 4.6 seconds left in regulation, tied the game, 87-87, Thursday night. The second, with 31.3 seconds in overtime, broke another tie. Explaining why he was open on both attempts, Fisher, who offered a very noticeable smile after the one in OT, told ABC-TV, “No. 24 gets a lot of attention.’’

That, of course, is the man of the hour, Kobe Bryant. And even though Kobe was only 11 of 31 on field goal attempts, he did score 32 points and have eight assists and seven rebounds. Without him, of course, the Lakers aren’t even close.

At intermission, however, some may have concluded they were close to a collapse. Yet even though L.A. was out of synch – “We got hamstrung; we played soft,’’ said Lakers coach Phil Jackson – you sensed Orlando didn’t believe in itself.

The Magic kept waiting for the Lakers to make their run, and with Trevor Ariza scoring 13 points in the third quarter after scoring no points in the first half, they made it.

The Lakers are the better team, the championship team, and the only question was when they would play like champions. The answer was not long in coming.

Kobe has been badgered about during this series by critics who no matter how much he does expect him to do more. There was a story that having been on the Olympic team last summer and then going straight into the NBA season, Kobe is worn out, and the weariness is showing. What’s showing is Bryant’s character. And courage.

We’ve watched great shooters over the years, Sam Jones, Jerry West, Oscar Robertson, Michael Jordan naturally and now LeBron James. It’s hard to say where Kobe ranks, but it’s not worse than second.

Weary, worn out, smacked around by Mickael Pietrus, hammered by Dwight Howard, Kobe still connects most of the time when he gets free and some of the time when guys are hanging on his arms.

He wanted a championship. He’s got a championship. He and the Lakers. Like Magic.

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 

Crossing the bridge: A’s against the Giants

OAKLAND -- The great Roger Kahn called it “transpontine madness,’’ the baseball played across the East River in New York, across the bridge, alluding specifically to the Dodgers in Brooklyn, that borough of individuality.

The passion isn’t quite the same in the Bay Area, where the bridge is longer but the rivalry shorter and surely less intense. The years don’t extend back to the early part of the 20th century. The feeling doesn’t preclude fans wearing hats that carry the logos and colors of both teams.

But there is something special when the Athletics face the Giants, which they do this weekend in three games at San Francisco’s AT&T Park. Oakland figuratively is the unwanted child, living in, well, not poverty, but hardly in the elegance and with the history of the Giants.

The A’s, however, as the upper management used to tout in the commercials and on the billboards, have won four World Series since they took up residence in Northern California in 1968. Or four more than San Francisco since the Giants came to the region 10 years earlier.

Interleague play it is, and if the purists want to find fault, what would you rather have, Giants against the Nationals, A’s against the Royals?

The fans love this stuff. So do the players, especially the A’s, who Thursday, down 3-0, rallied to beat the Minnesota Twins, 4-3 at the Coliseum.

Especially the A’s because, as fate would dictate, Rajai Davis, claimed off waivers a year ago April from those Giants, singled home pinch runner Chris Denofria in the bottom of the ninth of a game then tied 3-3.

“We’re happy to come out on top,’’ said A’s manager Bob Geren. A two-game losing streak had ended. A seven-game home stand had ended with five wins.

“Now,’’ said Geren, “let’s go across the bay.’’

Now let’s see the Giants’ Tim Lincecum, 5-1, 2008 National League Cy Young winner, against the A’s Vin Mazzaro, 2-0, earned run average 0.00.

“They’re playing well,’’ Geren said of the Giants, who did lose at Arizona, 2-1, on Thursday but finished their road trip 6-4. “We’re going to be seeing three outstanding pitchers, and we got some good-looking ones of our own.”

Lincecum, 300-game winner Randy Johnson and 8-1 Matt Cain are scheduled for the Giants, with, in order, Mazzaro, Josh Outman (4-0) and Brett Anderson (3-6) for the A’s.

“Lincecum throws hard and has a good breaking ball,’’ Geren said, emphasizing what everyone knows. “Mazzaro is off to a great start, and except maybe for spring training they haven’t seen him at all, It’s a good park to pitch in, so it should be a nice pitchers’ duel.’’

Then, showing a perverse nature too often missing, Geren added, “Watch, it will be 11-10.’’

Whatever it is, it will be enjoyable. Not a lot of hatred when the teams meet, not like the Cubs and White Sox or the Yankees and Mets. We’re too mellow. And somewhat lacking in intolerance. But not in interest.

“It’s going to be fun,’’ said Mazzaro, brought up a couple of weeks back from Sacramento. “There’s going to be a good crowd. I’m excited. I’m going against a Cy Young winner. I’m pumped.’’

He and the other A’s pitchers also will be going against the Giants from the batter’s box. No designated hitter in the National League park. “My swing is not too good,’’ said Mazzaro, “but I think I can get the bunts down. I’m happy to swing the bat against (Lincecum). I can’t wait until Friday.’’

AT&T will be filled or virtually filled. For the A’s, that will be a change. On Thursday, the A’s, who had won seven of their previous nine games, drew a disgraceful 13,383 fans to the Coliseum.

“The atmosphere will be different over there,’’ said Trevor Cahill. He was the A’s starter Thursday and was effective for the most part, other than the fourth when Joe Crede went after a sinker Geren said usually results in a ground out but this time resulted in a three-run homer.

“(Wednesday) night, they kind of snatched one from us,’’ said Geren. “Today we won one they probably should have won. To bounce back and win this one is a pretty good feeling.’’

Cahill was feeling more than pretty good even if had no decision, Brad Ziegler earning the victory.

“We wanted to get back on track,’’ he said. “It’s going to be a huge series against the Giants. When we cross over the bridge, it’s going to be so good to go over there with some confidence.’’

Not much madness around here, but indeed a great deal of anticipation.

SF Examiner: Time for government to forfeit case against Bonds

SAN FRANCISCO — To the question of whether anyone remains interested in Barry Bonds in his second year out of a Giants uniform, there is a clear and present answer: The U.S. attorney’s office does.

But not to join their team.

They are hardly interested in putting Barry behind, say, the No. 3 hitter. What they want is to put him behind bars.

Lots of luck.

A few days past, federal prosecutors filed a brief requesting a reversal of U.S. District Judge Susan Illston’s well-known decision to bar from Barry’s perjury case evidence she determined to be hearsay.

Yes, Judge Illston’s ruling came back in February, and this is June, but the wheels of justice grind slowly, sort of the way Bonds moved out in left field his last year with the Giants, the 2007 season.

Peter Keane, Dean Emeritus of the Golden Gate University School of Law, told the New York Daily News that the recent government filing “reeks of desperation,” and is merely “postponing the inevitable.”

So feds, give it up already.

We admire your perseverance and attention to detail. If George Washington told the truth, ballplayers probably ought to do the same.

And anybody who has dealt with him, in a courtroom or in a clubhouse, understands Barry can be uncooperative, abrasive and a pain, thus there is an eagerness to get after the man.

But enough. Barry didn’t sell people sub-prime mortgages. Barry didn’t run off with anyone’s 401 (k). Barry didn’t tell the world Iraq had weapons of mass destruction.

The government essentially is wasting millions of our dollars trying to make a mark against a guy who has made his mark, 762 career home runs. What if he were just a singles hitter with a .238 lifetime average?

“These documents tend to show that Bonds was lying when he testified in the grand jury that he did not knowingly take steroids,” U.S. attorney Barbara J. Valliere wrote in a 56-page argument dealing with Bonds.

Los Angeles attorney Mark Geragos, who represents Bonds’ trainer Greg Anderson — aka The Guy Who Won’t Talk — called the government’s appeal “the last vestige of scoundrels.”

The dirty rotten kind or just the ordinary garden variety?

Maybe Barry is guilty, maybe he isn’t. What does it matter any more?

The guy we could call the Slammer for all those long balls is not going to the slammer. He’s almost certainly not even going to trial.

Which is fine with me. Spend the money on something worthwhile, cancer research, feeding the underprivileged. I keep getting images of Javert, the police inspector in Les Miz, who stalks Jean Valjean through the years.

Does America care more that Bonds seemingly cheated in baseball than a lot of guys at banks and loan agencies cheated people out of their homes?

Can’t the feds and Barry, who now also has domestic problems, call this battle a tie without plans for a makeup game?

Bonds’ attorneys might tell the prosecutors how much they admire persistence. The prosecutors might tell Barry and his counsel that while there’s no clock in baseball there should be one in perjury cases.

Then the attorneys can write books and make tons of money. It’s as American as apple pie, motherhood and denial of steroid use.

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

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Copyright 2009 SF Newspaper Company

RealClearSports: We Can Stop Worrying about Tiger and Roger

By Art Spander


The questions have been answered. The shots have been made, chips from the edge of the green, forehands from the back of the court. We can stop worrying about Tiger and Roger. 

All is right with the world. Summer is coming on. Tiger and Roger have come back, as if we ever should have doubted they would. Dial up another Sinatra song on the iPod or the radio. Hoist a glass of ice tea. Back the ’55 Chevy out of the garage.

We’ve returned to the good, old days, 2009 version.

So quick to lose faith, particularly in Roger Federer. We knew Tiger Woods eventually would be there. It takes time to recover from ACL surgery. The tee shots would return. The confidence would return.

We merely wondered when. Now we know.

Roger Federer was different, in our minds at least. Men’s tennis, so long his domain, suddenly was in the grasp of Rafael Nadal.

When Nadal beat Federer in that marvelous Wimbledon final last July, when Federer’s streak of Grand Slam tournaments without a victory had extended to three, we decided the torch had been passed.

A champion is more than the game he plays. A champion is a winner, able to reach into the past and when the moment arises, when proof is required, regain the brilliance he or she once displayed.

Federer did exactly that during a French Open that, with the first-week upset of Nadal, who previously never had lost in the tournament, presented an opportunity.

Champion that he is, Federer grabbed that chance and carried it to history, becoming one of six players ever to win all four Slams, the Australian, the French, Wimbledon and the U.S. Open.

In tennis and golf, familiarity does not breed contempt but rather comfort. If Roger Federer is hoisting a trophy with tears in his eyes, if Tiger Woods is balling a fist and shaking it in triumph, then everything again makes sense.

Woods’ victory seemingly didn’t mean quite as much as that of his colleague, with whom Tiger shares respect and Nike and Gillette endorsements. Or maybe it meant more.

No major title but a giant step forward, a verification that on a tough course, Muirfield Village, Tiger could drive straight and long and rally on the final day as he had done so often.

One magnificent round, one reassuring finish, and like that Woods became the favorite for the U.S. Open next week at Bethpage, where he won America’s golfing championship in 2002.

“I knew I could do this,’’ Tiger said Sunday after his victory in the Memorial, a victory that came maybe half a day after Federer’s in Paris.

“I was close to winning, but the game wasn’t quite there when I needed it on a Sunday,’’ Tiger explained. “I rectified that.’’

The way Roger Federer rectified his problem, filled in the blank.

So much in common those two. Each has a cap with his own initials on the front. Each has a claim on being the best ever in his sport.

Federer’s win was his 14th in a Grand Slam, equaling the record of Pete Sampras. Tiger has 14 majors, four behind Jack Nicklaus, who as fate and fable would have it conducts the Memorial event and was a spectator at the final green.

Tiger is 33, and has many more years remaining. Federer is 27 and has enough time left. But what they accomplish from now on cannot mean any more than what they have accomplished, particularly on Sunday.

For Federer it was overcoming an obstacle that two weeks earlier the experts never believed he never could overcome, not with Nadal, who had beaten him on clay repeatedly, in waiting. Then Rafa departed and the gates, and heavens, opened for Roger.

For Woods it was an irritation. He hadn’t been the Tiger who was so reliable before that knee operation last June. There had been a victory, in March, but there also had been a few last-day misdeeds. He was grumpy from his lack of progress. We were bewildered, even though medical experts said healing could not be rushed.

Tiger’s U.S. Open is a week away. Roger’s Wimbledon is in two weeks. Where will they be in another month? Receiving more accolades after receiving more trophies? Where will their sports be?

Nicklaus suggests Tiger will be a winner, which is no great shock. Federer’s achievement on clay suggests Roger will be a winner on the grass at Wimbledon, where he had five straight titles from 2003 through 2007.

We can only anticipate. These good, old days are very up to date indeed.

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 

A’s Beane: “We’re doing the best we can with what we have’’

OAKLAND -- This was the week that was for the Oakland Athletics, the week that presaged what very well might be. This was the week the A’s could step off the treadmill and not so much take a deep breath as a long look at the future.

All we’ve heard, because of rumors, because of speculation, is who the A’s will trade. There’s Matt Holliday, the well-paid slugger. Or Bobby Crosby, the struggling infielder. Or Orlando Cabrera, because every team needs a shortstop. Every team including the A’s.

But Billy Beane, Mr. Moneyball, the general manager, who literally was on a treadmill, because he chooses to work out in the facility next to the clubhouse while the game is on, tells us to stop speculating and guessing. Tells us to stop dealing in extremes.

“People say you’re going for it or you’re not going for it,’’ Beane said Sunday, not long after Oakland went for its sixth straight win and a three-game series sweep, beating the Baltimore Orioles, 3-0.

“Sometimes you just are trying to do the best you can with what you have. We spend what we have here. OK, we got this; we can trade for Matt Holliday. We can sign Jason Giambi, sign (Nomar) Garciaparra to help our young players. You cut the piece of the pie into as many bites as you can.’’

Six in a row for the first time in three seasons. Seven and a third shutout innings by rookie Vin Mazzaro, the real Jersey Boy, in his second start. His total 13 2/3 scoreless innings is the longest streak for a starter beginning his career with Oakland.

Six in a row and questions whether Beane, as we’ve read, plans to dismantle this group, once more dealing the reality of the present for the possibility of the future. Beane contends he does not.

“One of the most important things coming into the season was to develop our young pitching staff,’’ said Beane. “For a small or mid-market team to sustain success for any amount of time, they have to have pitching that comes from within.

“In the off-season we brought in some veteran guys, and one reason was to give these young pitchers as much of a cushion as we could. We were hoping we would be a better offensive team to give the young guys room for error. It didn’t start out that way, because of injuries and the fact we just weren’t hitting. But what’s happened now, quite frankly, is the young pitchers have taken the bull by the horns, and we sort of responded by hitting better.

“So it’s kind of the young guys leading the other guys.’’

The young guys are Mazzaro, 22, Darren Cahill, 21, Brett Anderson, 21, and Josh Outman, 24. Add 25-year-old Dallas Braden, and every A’s starter has at least one win in those last six games.

“It’s nice to see,’’ said Beane, “the last two weeks, the last 20 games or so, these kids have a sub-3.00 ERA. The starting pitching has been pretty amazing. And if you got that, you’ve got a chance every game.’’

Across the Bay, the Giants have that in Lincecum, Cain, Zito and Randy Johnson. Now the A’s have it. And should have it the coming years. It’s the early 2000s all over again, with Tim Hudson, Mark Mulder and Barry Zito. It’s visions of contending teams, if not immediately then not far away.

“When Hudson, Mulder and Zito came up,’’ said Beane, “they not only were good but they were good right away, and so we had them for a long time and didn’t have to spend much time developing them.

“Everyone wants to win every year. When we traded some of our guys, we acquired a lot of pitching, knowing that once again for us to maintain long-term success, we have to have that pitching.’’

They’ve got it. Those six games, when the bleeding as stopped, when the A’s staggered back from a 19-30 record on June 1, the Oakland starters have allowed only five earned runs in 40 1/3 innings, a 1.12 earned run average. It’s hard to lose if the other team doesn’t score.

The real question was whether the A’s were going to lose players. Whether Holliday, now up to a .282 batting average after sinking to .227, would be swapped. When Cabrera, signed during spring training, would be dealt.

“It’s natural speculation because of our market place,’’ said Beane. The A’s drew only 17,208 on Sunday. “And because of our history. But we don’t have payroll issues. We’ve managed our payroll. And at the end of the day, we want to have as good a year as we can.

“Where that puts us I don’t know, but the last week at least shows what can happen.’’

RealClearSports: The Raiders Mystery

By Art Spander

ALAMEDA, Calif. – He used to be the most fascinating maverick in sports, a man who cared about nothing except success and for so many years had that success.

“Just win, baby’’ was his mantra, and to hell with how he played the games. Of football. Or of life.

Al Davis owns the Oakland Raiders and in a way owned pro football. He never met a rule he didn’t believe couldn’t be broken.

The more that people, the league, the consultants, told him what couldn’t be done, throwing deep, moving a franchise, the more intent Al was on doing it.

The Raiders were the NFL’s original bad boys — in image, not record. If the Dallas Cowboys of the 1970s were America’s Team, the Raiders were Satan’s Team. Davis relished the idea.

“I love to go to a visiting stadium and hear the fans boo us,’’ Davis said, or words to that effect. “It is better to be feared than loved. It’s the Raiders’ mystique.’’

The mystique has ebbed into mystery. And agony.

Nobody fears the Raiders these days. Except their own fans.

As the franchise a couple of days ago was involved in what officially is called an “organized team activity,’’ or off-season workout, Davis was out of sight, upstairs in the headquarters building.

But he never was out of mind.

The Raiders have been losing it. They haven’t had a winning season since 2002, when, they actually went to the Super Bowl, getting crushed by a Tampa Bay team led by Jon Gruden, who the year before had been the Raiders’ coach.

The question asked too often these days is, has Al Davis lost it?

In a month, on the Fourth of July, Davis will be 80. A leg problem has required him to use a walker, making him seem even older. Yet he is very much in control, at least by one definition.

“I am the Raiders,’’ Davis reminds those who want him to relinquish the power. He still calls the shots. He still runs the draft. He still hires the coaches, and thus still fires the coaches. Beginning with 2002, he has hired and fired four coaches and then during last season brought in a fifth, Tom Cable, who hasn’t yet been fired.

Al Davis is a football man. He coached the Raiders in the early 1960s, briefly became commissioner of the AFL before it was merged into the NFL and for more than 40 years has been owner, general manager, dictator, czar and everything else possible.

The Raiders could be described as football incestuous, Davis rarely going outside the organization for a new face or new ideas. Two of the three times he has done so, bringing in Mike Shanahan to coach in the 1980s and Lane Kiffin in 2007, ended up in bitter divorces. Shanahan still claims the Raiders owe him back pay. Kiffin was dispatched “with cause,’’ which is about as nasty as it gets.

A football team is many parts, but the single most important of those parts, as in any business, is the individual at the top.

Davis knows more football than half of the NFL combined. One wonders if his concepts work in 2009. No less significantly, do the players used to employ those concepts meet the standards of 2009?

Two years ago, Oakland made a 6-foot-6, 260-pound quarterback, JaMarcus Russell, the No. 1 pick in the 2007 draft. Russell virtually can reach the moon with his throws, the extreme of the Al Davis philosophy of going deep. But he struggles to throw short. To read defenses. To be a leader.

When practice ended the other morning, the media chased after Russell. He’s making a ton of money, which in a way is incidental. All anyone cares about is whether he’ll make an impact.

LeBron-like, Russell refused to wait for an interview. In some ways, he couldn’t be blamed. How often need he respond to the same doubts?

In other ways, he could be blamed. Is JaMarcus learning the offense? Is he, as demanded of the very first man selected in any draft, capable of bringing a team back to glory?

That very question has been asked again and again of Al Davis. His appearance and the Raiders’ failings over the past several seasons give the critics their ammunition. He’s ancient, we’re told. His football style is ancient.

His mind, however, is sharp. That he walks slowly doesn’t mean he can’t think fast. He can remember players and games from the 1970s. He knows systems. He knows schemes. Maybe his own major fault is he doesn’t know how to – or doesn’t want to – delegate authority.

Davis admits mistakes, signing DeAngelo Hall, drafting Robert Gallery, who, despite size and potential, was incapable of becoming the blind-side tackle. But Davis won’t admit he no longer can create a champion.

Some despise Al. I admire him. He won’t give in or give up. Who can’t appreciate staying power, in a team or a man?

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/2009/06/the_raiders_mystery.html
© RealClearSports 2009

Randy Johnson makes the Bay Area smile

As the man himself said, “It’s nice to have this moment.’’ More than nice, it was exciting. It was uplifting. For Randy Johnson. For his family. For baseball. No less significantly, for the Bay Area.

Maybe this hasn’t been a complete sporting wasteland. The Sharks had the best record in hockey before they collapsed as normal in the playoffs. Cal football had a winning record. But mostly, we’ve been through tough times.

The Giants, the A’s, the 49ers, the Raiders and the Warriors all have had a losing season, the 49ers and Raiders multiple losing seasons. We needed something to make us smile, to make us cheer. To make us remember the enjoyment inherent in sports.

On Thursday, we remembered.

On Thursday, Randy Johnson won his 300th game. He did it in a San Francisco Giants uniform. A carpetbagger, in a way. A “rent-a-player.’’

A newcomer who is an old-timer. But who also grew up in the region, Livermore, and has deep ties even if for the previous 20 of his 21 years he played in Montreal, Seattle, Houston, Arizona and New York.

The last memorable occasion was Barry Bonds’ 756th home run. Steroids didn’t matter. His personality didn’t matter. Barry drove one to centerfield and the strobe lights flashed and the crowd screamed. The ordinary had become the extraordinary.

Now, finally, another thrill. We’d been spoiled through the years, the Catch, Baron Davis’ dunk against Dallas, the Raiders’ Sea of Hands, Canseco’s blast into the upper desk in Toronto.

Do you recall Dave Stewart out-staring and out-pitching Roger Clemens? The instant the Giants captured the pennant in 2002?  Now we can recall 45-year-old Randy Johnson, laconic, iconic, bringing one home for Northern California.

“It was a long road,’’ Johnson said on the Comcast postgame show. “If there is one word to sum it up, I persevered.’’

Not just on a rainy afternoon in Washington, when the 6-foot-9 Johnson made history by becoming the 24th pitcher and sixth lefthander to reach 300 victories. But through a career in which, because of his size, he had to perfect mechanics and later had to come back from injuries.

Baseball, it’s been said, is less a team sport than a series of concerts by the artists. Still, when a baseball player helps himself, with a well-pitched game, with three hits in four at bats, he is helping his team. All of Johnson’s wins meant 300 victories for the clubs on which he played, number 300 coming for the benefit of the Giants.

“I’m exhausted,’’ conceded Johnson, who came out with a 2-1 lead after six, watched the defense make some spectacular plays to retain the advantage and then sat in the dugout when the often hitless Giants picked up three runs in the top of the ninth.

“I had a senior moment when I thought I was 25,’’ said Johnson. “Just think about it. I’m coming on 600 games.’’

Johnson’s son, Tanner, in a Giants uniform, was with his father. “I think the coolest moment has to be able to share it with a son,’’ Randy said.

“I wish my dad was here,’’ he added, referring to his late father. “But I haven’t been able to think about that for the last 17 years. I hope he was watching from up above.’’

The rest of us were watching from down here. And from everywhere. At Nationals Stadium, everyone seemed to be a Johnson fan, even those in red Washington caps. Baseball fans appreciate records, whether set by their team or the opposition.

Maybe Randy deserved a better stage, a larger crowd, but scripts are not to be prepared in sport. Everything is extemporaneous. You never know what might happen. Or what might not happen. Any hope that number 300 would be recorded at home, at AT&T, was incidental. You take what you can get.

Johnson went out and took this one, pitched beautifully. Which is what is needed for the Giants, a team that is last in hitting.

“I came here,’’ Johnson said of joining San Francisco, “to help this team turn things around.

“The one thing a pitcher has control over, essentially, is strikeouts. He has no control over wins that he gets. But wins always outweigh the strikeouts. I wanted to be known for winning games rather than for strikeouts.’’

He’s known for both. And in the Bay Area he’ll be known for an afternoon when we remembered the excitement of a magic moment. Welcome to the club, Randy.

RealClearSports: Scandals Are as Old as College Sports Itself

By Art Spander

One autumn day in ’69 – 1869 – young men from Rutgers and Princeton engaged in what they called a football game. That surely was the last time real students were called upon for such competition.

College sport these days is played by people chosen for the task – “student athletes,” as the NCAA describes them – and while they may go to class and even pass with flying honors (as compared to passing the football), they were brought in to win games. Or matches.

It is an inescapable fact: the better the athlete, the better the team. Which is why we have this little contretemps at Memphis, wherein the best high school basketball player in the nation a couple of years back, Derrick Rose, was readily enrolled, even though he may have cheated on his entrance exam.

And why the University of Southern California finds its reputation in danger on charges that Heisman Trophy winner Reggie Bush broke rules by accepting cash, a car and free housing, and charges that basketball star O.J. Mayo received improper payments from the school’s coach, Tim Floyd.

The Sorbonne doesn’t have a home-and-home series with Cambridge. Or anyone. There is no such thing in Europe as intercollegiate sports. Or high school sports. Kids go to school to study and learn. If they play games, it is for a club.

But this is the good old U.S. of A., where the idea is to fill stadiums and arenas, leading to hours of television coverage, all of which is accomplished by bringing in the Reggie Bushes and Derrick Roses. They purported themselves well, too, the Trojans and Tigers both reaching national championship games with Reggie and Derrick in the lineup.

Here, we stick decals of our school on the back window and slogans – “How ’bout them dogs” – on the back bumper. In Britain, rear-window decals identify the dealer where the car was purchased. How ’bout them cylinders?

It’s all a matter of talent. There’s a kid, runs the 40 in 4.4 and scored 30 touchdowns as a prep. Or maybe he’s 6-9 and averaged 25 points and 12 rebounds. Intellectually, he’s not Albert Einstein. But your rival is chasing him. And as the sports sociologist Harry Edwards points out, “If you don’t get him, they’ll get him and use him against you.”

So Kelvin Sampson becomes a little too aggressive after coming to Indiana.

So a long while ago, SMU gets the so-called Death Penalty for a zillion violations, but with Eric Dickerson and Craig James, the Mustangs did beat Texas, meaning it was worth it to the alums.

So even Harvard – Harvard! – is accused of a number of questionable practices to work around NCAA rules by hiring an assistant basketball coach who had been traveling and playing pickup games with potential athletes.

It’s not going to change. Ever. Penn State has expanded its stadium to more than 100,000. Michigan, Tennessee and Ohio State all are in six figures. You think those schools, you think any school in big time sports, might be scouring PE classes for a quarterback? Or a point guard?

“Football,” said a man named Elbert Hubbard, “is a sport that bears the same relationship to education that bullfighting does to agriculture.”

Ole! And back at you.

“A school without football,” said Vince Lombardi, “is in danger of deteriorating into a medieval study hall.” As if Vince, who went from Fordham to coach in the NFL, knew anything about medieval study halls. Now, blocking and tackling, that was different.

What will happen to USC or to Memphis is probably nothing. USC has been under a cloud for months – Bush has been on the New Orleans Saints since 2006 – and already Memphis is in full denial, insisting it found no proof Rose cheated on the exam. Derrick, of course, joined the NBA as soon as possible.

The people who buy the season tickets are remarkably unmoved by any and all accusations. They don’t care how you win, they just want you to win. And to hell with anyone looking for trouble.

It was in 1976 when Frank Boggs of the Oklahoma City Times, acknowledged to be the best sportswriter in the state, wrote a story that another NCAA investigation of the University of Oklahoma’s football program was under way.

Boggs, merely the messenger, not the cause, was harassed, threatened and had to have police protection. A caller said he would burn down Boggs’ home. Eventually, Boggs moved to Colorado.

Jack Taylor, who shared the byline with Boggs, had done pieces on the Mafia and corruption in government, but said public reaction to the football story was “much more controversial” than anything he ever had written.

People don’t want the truth. They want championships.

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/2009/06/scandals-old-as-college-sports-itself.html
© RealClearSports 2009 

SF Examiner: Odds of 49ers staying in S.F. are slim to none

SAN FRANCISCO — So what do you think of the Santa Clara 49ers? The training facility is in Santa Clara. The presumptive new stadium will be in Santa Clara.

Why then should they ever be called the San Francisco 49ers again?

We nearly had the Fremont A’s, who still think of themselves as the San Jose A’s. They remain determined to pull a fast one on Oakland, which put a lot of money into the Coliseum, but is a city without cachet.

For the moment, it’s an NFL team going south — literally.

San Francisco used to be the place where the action was. It had the bridges, the little cable cars and the Niners, the first major sports franchise in Northern California.

It also, besides the Giants, had the Warriors. Yes, they were the San Francisco Warriors before playing a few games in San Diego, being given the mythical title of Golden State and then relocating along the Nimitz.

At least the Warriors — Team Dysfunction (And hasn’t that surreptitious e-mail from HQ been a hoot and a half?) — are only a BART ride away from The City, where they once played. And where the Niners will have once played.

True, until Jed York puts his Gucci shoes on a gold-plated shovel in one of those photo-op poses and construction symbolically is underway, the stadium remains only a talking point, though a cost of $937 million is an expensive talking point.

A lot of promises have been made, but the good citizens of Santa Clara must give their approval, and, hey, even the bottom-end of Silicon Valley has an independent streak.

You know there’s going to be opposition, because in Northern California, unless it’s a vote to save salamanders or marijuana fields in Mendocino, there’s always opposition.

Back in the late 1990s, after San Franciscans, at least those who actually voted, passed a $100-million measure that seemingly enabled the Niners to get a new facility at the old location, the team was going to have a combination 
stadium-shopping center at Candlestick.

But first the team went semi-bad, then was snatched away from benevolent owner Eddie DeBartolo, who according to the courts was more than semi-bad, and taken over by the man Eddie wouldn’t invite to his own parties, brother-in-law John York.

About the only thing Eddie and John had in common was the undeniable belief the Stick was a pig sty and not a very pretty place.

Nor were the Niners a very pretty team the last few years.

In the 21st century, it became apparent San Francisco had neither the political maneuvering (come back Willie Brown, wherever you are) or the financial support to keep its team within the city limits.

Mayor Gavin Newsom, with the assistance of one-time Niners executive Carmen Policy, couldn’t make a go of it, and so the Niners are destined to flee one city named after a saint to another.

“It’s a great deal,” said Patricia Mahan, the mayor of Santa Clara.

You expect her to be critical?

Good riddance, then, Niners. The City will still have the Giants and AT&T Park, the anti-pig sty. Things could be worse.

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-Odds-of-49ers-staying-in-SF-are-slim-to-none-46775722.html
Copyright 2009 SF Newspaper Company 

Magic, Serena are in and Cavs are way out

The Magic is in, and the Cavs are way out. Serena is in, meaning her usual controversy as well as the fourth round of the French Open. And Venus is out. Interesting enough weekend for you?

The Lakers had to love it. Without Phil Jackson voicing a single complaint, they now have the home-court advantage for the NBA finals.

ABC-TV has to rue it. Kobe vs. LeBron is simply another failed dream.

Tennis has to appreciate it. Serena Williams is what America finds irresistible, an unending drama, the true reality show.

LeBron James is a great basketball player. If he weren’t, the Cavaliers would have been swept by the Orlando Magic, instead of losing the Eastern Conference finals in six games.

What Nike’s going to do now with that commercial of Muppet-like characters representing a dueling LeBron and Kobe is anyone’s guess. What Cleveland’s going to do now that its team, which had the best record of the regular season, laid a dinosaur-sized egg is everyone’s guess.

LeBron leaves for the Knicks when his contract is up in another year. You want to hang around a team that isn’t a team, but just one magnificent player who virtually by himself could win two games in the playoffs but found it impossible to win four?

Venus Williams played, well, about as poorly as the Cavs, losing on Friday to someone you’ve never heard of, Agnes Szavay, 6-0, 6-4. Yes the multiple Grand Slam winner, the No. 3 seed, got bageled, which is what some of the tennis folk call a shutout. Only the 14th time in 662 matches Venus was blanked in a set.

But Serena wasn’t to put up with that nonsense. She not only rumbled back from her usual slow start on Saturday, over there on the clay in Paris, to beat Maria Jose Martinez Sanchez, 4-6, 6-3, 6-4 (don’t they have a limit of three names in tennis?), Serena accused Martinez Sanchez of cheating.

Now, there’s a lady you have to like. Enough of this etiquette stuff.

In the first set, Serena smashed a ball at Sanchez, and most people, including Williams but not her opponent, thought the ball never touched Sanchez’s racket but instead banged off her right arm and dropped on Williams side of the net.

Sanchez won the point, even though the rules dictate that if the ball hit her body, the point belonged to Serena.

Serena first apologized for driving the ball at Sanchez, the normal procedure, but then added about the apparent cheating, “I’m going to get you in the locker room for that. You don’t know me.’’

The rest of us do. Serena has the toughness needed to be a champion, the toughness the Cavaliers only wish they had.

The Orlando Magic aren’t a lot of frauds, not with people such as Dwight Howard or Rashard Lewis. But neither are they supposed to be facing the Lakers.

The script was LeBron against Kobe, this year’s MVP against last year’s MVP. Nice try.

Some of the people out there, the reasonable thinkers, had the smarts to point out that teams with one superstar never win championships, that Michael had Scottie, that Kobe had Shaq. LeBron’s cast didn’t provide that balance.

Amazing didn’t happen in Cleveland. Orlando happened in Cleveland. And to Cleveland. Orlando, in truth, was relentless. If it wasn’t for LeBron’s ridiculous shot with no time on the clock in game two, the Magic would have taken four straight games.

The Lakers will not take four straight from Orlando, but they will win another title. After its inability to show anything resembling Serena Williams’ gutsy style in the first few games against the Nuggets, L.A. came through with a vengeance to take the conference title.

You have to believe that the Lakers finally have figured out what is required. And, even with their sometimes listless play against Houston and then Denver, the Lakers did end up winners, which is all that matters.

Kobe seems particularly focused. He’s the man now. Considerable help from Pau Gasol and Trevor Ariza, but Kobe Bryant controls the game. He doesn’t need to share the basketball and for certain he won’t have to share attention.

No LeBron. But a very enticing NBA final. And should Serena continue another few matches, the final of the French Open could be just as enticing.