From the summer of ‘61, to the spring of ‘98. From androstene to HGH. 61. 70. 73. 714. 755. 762.
It comes down to 3 single words.

I don’t care.

Keep in mind these words are coming from a person that has never done drugs, drank or smoke and was a really good athlete in his heyday. I take sports seriously, ask my wife. She once was winning in a game of horse and I kicked the ball to the playground side of the park and hit some kid with it.  Well I elaborated on the hitting the kid with it but in my mind it happened that way.  And this goes for non-sports related events.  She was once handing me my own in Monopoly and I threw the board across the room.  This was about 2 months after we were married, so either she likes that sort of thing or …well.. i dunno.  I also take cheating seriously shown by my straight C’s in high school. I don’t care though, I really don’t and you shouldn’t either. I’ll tell you why with a question.

Where do we draw the line?

This juiced-up chucklehead was forgiven the moment he admitted to being a cheater.

We have admitted steroids users such as Andy Pettite, Alex Rodriguez and now Mark McGwire and marked users by the media such as Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens and Sammy Sosa in a big stew. Add in Mickey Mantle, Ted Williams (frozen head and all), Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron and any other old guy my dad can mention. How do you separate this testosterone, drug and drunken infested stew?

For one thing you can’t. You can’t separate record books. You can’t have two Hall of Fames even though that would be sweet. Free program for one, free needles for the other. So what do we do about it? Not a damn thing because I don’t care.

It’s the changing ways of the sports realm and the world as we know it. 50 years ago doctors were in smoking ads and they said butter and eggs were good for you. Now they’re bad. Well not all of the egg just the yellow part is bad. And butter is good in moderation except for trans fats.  What the hell are partially hydrogenated oils? I know what it isn’t. Tasty. And if you want to step it up a notch go organic. You know the definition of organic is: characteristic of, pertaining to, or derived from living organisms. Isn’t that everything?

Years ago the drug of choice in the majors was beer and cigarettes, now it’s something else and 25 years from now it’ll be something else. You don’t separate it because deep down all athletes want an edge. All cheat legally, some cheat illegally. That’s right, all cheat.

You’ve played sports if you’re reading this, if you haven’t, buy a jock then have your friend kick you in the crotch. For those that continued reading without pain or fear of being sterile you know the guys (or gals for you that are pc) that pull on your jersey or push and shove to gain an edge. Call fouls when you don’t’ touch’m. Trip and fall over the ball then raise their hand for a call. What’s so different about a guy stealing signs? Or the roughnecks that come in to hurt a player? Or even roids? Nothing, because I don’t care.

My main question is are you seriously going to keep the home run king, the next home run king, two of the greatest pitchers of our time and a couple 550+ HR hitters out of the Hall? Seriously? Did you just hear yourself? Again, where do you draw the line? Who’s in and who’s out?

Former Cardinals strength coach, Jack Lalanne

Don’t athletes in today’s games have better training facilities and equipment? Science to back their every play, every move, every itch and scratch they get on the field. Medical procedures to keep them playing til they reach the apex of Jack LaLanne. That dude is like 200.  Aren’t the old timers at a disadvantage there too? Do we have to boost their stats and take down present day robot like players? Don’t’ let computers into the mix then we’ll have the BCS all over again and you know how that’s going.

In the end we should let them all in. Big Mac, Rocket and Arod. It’s a changing world. Records will continue to be broken legally or illegally. No one can police it just do your best to slow it down. You get a ticket every single time you go 15 over the speed limit?  If so my older brother would be living in a cardboard box.  No offense bra but you’re Kenny Racer.

Now just like the police hire the best criminals to help them in their work, they should do the same here. Put them in as a display of the history of sports and a statement to the future. No asterisk. No changing of record books. I think enough has been said by deeming it the “steroid era”.  They have to live with that for the rest of their lives.  People know and people will pass it down.  I’ll pass it down to my sons.  It’s just a different era and they’ll be another to come.

Last but not least, you know why my flippant regard for not caring? For one, I’m usually just like this and secondly, it really doesn’t matter because I won’t be here anyway. Either those trans fats and hydo oils are gonna catch up with me or a big dirty asteroid will probably take us out one day which will be in the shape of a egg yolk or a baseball not a needle. At least they got one thing right. The irony.

We’re always taught growing up to believe beauty is in the eye of the beholder but then we find out that’s only an excuse that ugly people use.  As we continue to focus on beauty in sports with our Maria Sharapova, Tom Brady, Kristi Leskinen, David Beckham, Kobe Bryant, Natalie Glublis and on and on we leave out the less fortunate that God created more like Danny Devito in the movie “Twins”…just with a lot of talent, speed and ability.  That was a stretch considering I don’t see Devito running the 110 hurdles or on the field with Urlacher, but I think you got it.  What better time to throw these freaks a party but during the days where they save money not buying a costume, the holiday that isn’t one, Halloween.

Here are my top 10 athletes that go door to door for candy everyday of the year.

No purchase necessary. Enter as often as you like.  Active athletes only.

# 10 - Randy Johnson

Thought i’d start off the list with an easy one.  The 6′10″ mullet maniac really needs no explanation.  He’s a great pitcher, one of the greatest we (and John Cruk’s soiled pants) have seen in our lifetime.  Off the diamond he’ll fit in nicely in a pre-halloween bbq in the garage with Uncle Billy, Mother, her 9 dogs and their collection of antique toilets.

# 9 Chris Kaman

Following the legacy of uglies produced by the NBA, Chris is trying his best to outdo Hall of Fame Freakies like Sam “Enemy Mine” Caswell and Popeye “OMG!” Jones.  Kaman changes it up so much that he was cast on the show Lost, showed up, read his lines, and no one knew he was there.  He’s one step below “the Big Unit” because of nickname precedence and at least Mr. Johnson has the fortitude to control his mullet.

#8 - Tayshaun Prince

Keeping with the NBA theme Tayshaun comes in ahead of Chris Kaman because he could strangle him from 8 1/2 feet away.  I’ve heard the Pistons actually had to make his championship ring 3 times as long just to keep with some type of players ratio qualifications.  Key points of disappointment:  Should have won at least 9 defensive player of the year awards by now with those wings and failed to audition for Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four when I urged him to.  We only pray that series is not a trilogy.

#7 - Mark Tauscher

He’s over 300 lbs.  Do you think i’m going to say anything about this wholly mammoth?  Caveat: If he knocks Farve out of this weekends game, he’ll be sent directly to the Hall of Awesome.  Seems very unlikely since he hasn’t played a game this season, thus he’s awarded here.

#6 - Aaron Harang

Directions: Repeatedly beat yourself with a baseball bat to the face. Result: Aaron Harang.  Wow, that was even wrong for my limits.  He was 6-14 this year, so it wasn’t all my doing.

#5 - Radek Stepanek

The one and only tennis player on the list hits us with his lizard like physique.  I seriously thought I saw him eat a fly off the net during a game break from 26 feet away.  I don’t know if Steven Tyler has a brother, but Radek would be his slightly better looking brother if it were true.  Is that how Tyler got his pipes? flies?  Focus Hoff focus.

#4 - Adam Morrison

Took a break from the NBA players only to see Cousin It’s senior class picture.  This over-hyped college player has played just a bit more than I have in the NBA but thus has a ring.  Shouldn’t there be more prerequisites to achieve this type of fame.  Anyway, the Hoff’s What I learned from Adam Morrison tip of the day: If you can’t grow a moustache, don’t.

#3 - Marshawn Lynch

Do you think he wakes up and scares himself?   I can see why he is a great running back. I wouldn’t want to tackle him either in fear of being snapped by one of his lifelike tenticals like Celia from Monsters, Inc. or turning to stone if you look at him. I did see that Marshawn has picked up the acting bug since I continually see him in Geico commercials.

2) 11348-way tie

2) 11348-way tie - Greg Oden, Joakim Noah, Chris Anderson, All Gymnasts and 96% of the NHL.

The first three are the new three headed monster of the NBA. I have nothing against gymnasts except they freak me out. Men and women should not be allowed to flip and fling about with no regard for other humans. Plus any sport that has Hobby Lobby yarn mixed with remembrances of egg and log rolls in gym class is auto disqualified. When you can fight anytime you want, sit in a box for 5 minutes, then do it again, you are just asking to be on this list NHLers. *fyi. look up Gino Odjick*

#1 - Ronaldo de Assis Moreira

Better known as just Ronaldinho.  Rule is, only he that sports a mullet and can eat an apple through a tennis racket can garner the top award.  This two-time footballer of the year is nasty on the field numerous ways.  This man is incredible and one of the greatest to ever play the most popular sport in the world, BUT he is a hybrid of Jar Jar Binks and a llama.  I give it to Ronaldinho for his Mastercard commercial though.  Contract: £85 million. Refusing to buy £1295 braces.  Priceless.

Did I leave someone off you think should qualify?  Send an email to: thehoff@sportswiththehoff.com with your list.  Who knows, I may just rethink it.  Probably not, but you can try.

P.S. Just don’t email me about how horrible or mean this is.  you know me, its a joke people, I love all these guys and I just hope one day someone puts me on their list.

Part One. History.

History is the study of the past, with special attention to the written record of the activities of human beings over time.

When I first heard about Tiger Woods I thought to myself, I’ve heard this all before.   A young phenom the so-called experts are deeming the next great one.  Kobe. LeBron.  Sid the Kid. Ronaldo.  Honestly, all I saw was a firery young kid with enormous marketing potential.  I know the second thought from that line may get hit with racism, but like I always say I don’t hate you because of your skin color…well I just hate everyone.  Its not because Tiger is black.  It’s because its golf.  I mean, golf.

Do you even remember golf without Tiger?  Do you?

He changed the golf world and the world as a whole.  He’s made it popular for inner city kids to wear red on Sundays and for kids to pick up a golf club instead of a football or basketball.  Now yes, the main focus of that statement was about black children.  I don’t sugar coat things, you should know that.

He’s endorsed by every major label out there and brings in over 100 million just by being him.  No club, just his image.  Ratings with and without Tiger at Tour events are night and day so I wasn’t wrong about my raciest comment earlier.  But with that money, image and publicity comes responsibility.   Responsibility that only a select few understand.  Jordan, Beckham, LeBron and so on.  But not exactly like Tiger.  I’ll explain shortly.

Everything Tiger says and does is global.  Everywhere.
Every word.  Every action.  Every breathe.  Even every fart.

After watching the last 6 months since he’s been back on tour he’s definitely stepped his profanity up a notch, his sulking is mind-blowing and his attitude mimics that of a 2 year old.  Maybe the old adage of the “terrible two’s” relates to the parents attitude when they have 2 children?  Isn’t he winning most of these tourneys as well?

Now I’m not saying Tiger is a bad father, I leave that up to my wife to give me the 10 minute rundown on the celebrity happenings when I get home from work, I think he’s a fine guy off the course.  But that’s not for me to judge since I don’t know anything about his personal life but you would think children would change a man.   I’ve heard story after story about how seeing your child changes you profoundly.

I think Tiger needs a to get tagged from that stick or more so a downright knockout.

For me the main turning point was watching fathers have to hold their hands over their kids ears on the course just in case Tiger hits a bad shot.  This was one mark on my “holy crap what is happening” list.  It’s golf, a gentleman’s game right?

Now I could only identify one person that can truly understand Tiger Woods, but he’s dead.
Not Michael Jordan and not Jim Brown since they’re still alive.
Not Michael Jackson.  Not even his father the late Earl Woods.

Before I mention this person I just want to make sure that you understand that I like Tiger Woods.  This isn’t a ripping because he’s in the limelight all the time or he’s the best at what he does, it’s needed BECAUSE of those things.  If you have accepted the role of being the face of anything, you need to live up to it.  Comes with the terms of the agreement, not in small writing either.  You need to respect it, respect the sport and those that watch it and you.  The sport is greater than anyone man, but those great men leave their legacy as it being “their” sport.

A little over 40 years ago a black athlete broke into a “white-man’s” sport and lived up to all those expectations and understood all these attributes I listed.  Unfortunately that’s where the relationship ends with Tiger.

I hope Tiger can learn a few things from history.
Not just athletic history, or black history or white history, but HIS history.

He should try to pick up where Authur Ashe left off.

Only women with children can even try to understand what Kim Clijsters has been through over the last 2 years.  Getting married, being pregnant and giving birth to your first child and taking care of that child with day to day (and night to night) tasks.  3 am feedings and changing diapers, getting a nap when you can get one.  Has she even thought about tennis?  Picked up a racket?

Now only 1 women can understand what she’s been through now as she captures her 2nd major of her career as a mother.   If that doesn’t bring a tear to your eye, stop reading and punch yourself in the face.  Then continue as you begin crying.

As I watched her win and fall to her knees with tears in her eyes tonight, I couldn’t help but try to fathom what she’s done.  As I said, only 1 women understands what she’s been through, Evonne Goolagong in 1980.  No man.  No football player.  No hockey or basketball athlete.  Just one and I think even Evonne would look at her and shake her head.

We think about athletes that come back from retirement and we’re just wowed by them.  Lance Armstrong in the Tour De France this year at age 38.  Michael Jordan with the Wizards at about that age as well.  Brett Farve…well…not everyone do we cheer on as immortals.  But Kim Clijsters.  She had a baby.  A baby.  A living breathing child but 18 months ago.  She’s barely played competitive tennis in the last 6 months.

If that alone doesn’t get you, you need to check out the bracket she went through in New York this past 15 days:

Marion Bartoli, #14 in the world.
Venus Williams, #3 in the world.
Li Na, #19 in the world.
Serena Williams, #2 in the world.
Caroline Wozniacki, #9 in the world.

5 top twenty players in the world down.  3 top 10 players in the world beat.

As I start to again, try to fathom (it’s my word of the day), what she has done, it is to me, the greatest women’s tennis run in history.   And I’ll one up it on that.  It’s THE greatest tennis run in history.  Try to find a better one.  A better story.  A better player.  At last but not least, a better person.

In a weekend that’s thought of as the NFL kick-off weekend, college football battles and even the Men’s US Open Final a classy, humble and now the 2009 US Open women’s champion, Kim Clijsters, the mother, gets my nielson rating and my applause.  Well done Kim.

I need a kleenex.

After doing my best Tom Kite impression I thought it was my glasses, then I realized I don’t wear glasses.  Three decades after he beat the greatest golfer of that generation at the same championship, at the same venue, Tom Watson has woke up the course again at Turnberry.  With the eyes of the world focused on Mr. Woods and other young pups, the 59 year old Watson takes the headline for at least one day.

Where has Watson been by the way?  You rarely see his name on the leaderboard, yet alone near the top since his 1998 win at the Mastercard Colonial.  That was 3 U.S. Presidents ago and does anyone even use Mastercard anymore?  Exactly my point.

It’s quite an incredible feat even if it lasts for just one day.  I hope for him it continues.  With a golf world yearning for another story other than Tiger’s chase to Jack’s 18, I love the story of Watson.  If I would give you one guess at which American golfer has won the most Open Championships, 10 out of 10 would say Jack.  But its Watson with 5.  Jack has 3.  Only 1 golfer has more, which was back in the 1910’s, and only 2 golfers have that many Open wins.

Do I think he has a chance to win it?  Maybe.
Will he? Probably not.

Regardless, if he wins or not, whether he collapses or not, it’s a testament to golf as a sport.

Could you see Jordan dropping 40 when he’s 59?
Could you see Federer winning Wimbledon at 59?
Gretzky with a hat trick at 59?
What about Farve…well bad example.

Watson has brought a limelight to golf that was desperately needed, and I have a inkling that something special will happen this weekend.  I say good luck Mr. Watson, stick it to the young guns.  Just remember not to jump and run on the green like you did in 1982, you might break a hip.

What makes the athlete so special.  The professional athlete.  Are they not human? Inhuman?  is that the word?  They baffle us with their plays, goals, shots and throws only to shock us more by not only refraining from showing emotion but wowing us in the face of adversity and most of all death.

For many of us it rips us to the core or at least makes us crap our pants.  Not that I do…i’m just saying.  Death is scary.  My wife lost her uncle this past week.  As I looked at her face during this time, the loving beautiful face I know in my sleep, it is shown with a different color.  A different side.  A more fragile state.  Sad. Mourning. Loss. Anger. Regret.  That is the normal state for all of us during that particular moment in our lives when we lose someone dear or even hear about it.  We think about coulda’s, woulda’s and shoulda’s.  Thats normal right?  So why are athletes so different?

I get scared all the time and I do have a fixation with scaring people.  You can ask my family and I’ve actually written a book about it.  I think anyone can think of a few things they are scared about and two of those being life in general and your inevitable demise.   Are professional athletes scared?  They sure don’t show it.  Having the possibilities of Ray Lewis hit me from my blindside, taking a charge with Shaq coming down the lane, having the puck with Scott Stevens charging and me, they would make me buy oodles of stock in Pepto and Imodium AD.  Though I would eventually be filthy rich from that, the idea of sipping my pea soup through a straw and laughing at squirrels outside my window doesn’t interest me.  I would be mortified.  I actually am right now just thinking about it..  So how can Tom Brady, Tim Duncan and Sidney Crosby do it?  Why would death be anything else?

Professional athletes don’t show a fragile state when this happens.  It could be the ego or the “i’m a man, i’m 40!” mentality, but still.  Does it show?  At least not in front of the cameras.

I can’t help but remember the statistic that shows people are more afraid of speaking in front of a group as opposed to dying. Seriously, dying is #2 behind public speaking.  I was baffled by this but I can understand why now as I’ve spoken in front of many a groups, most times wishing to die or at least get to the bathroom before I end up on YouTube with 5 million hits in the wrong direction.  This is an area where the professional athelete seems to excel in their job.  They’re constantly in front of the reporters and tv cameras.  So why should they be afraid of death?  Most show no sign of nervousness and so called stage fright when they know that millions are hanging on their every word.  Is it the athlete or the ego?

See, when I read that I saw Eggo, thats why I’m not this caliber of athlete.  The ego is large for most athletes, at least the great ones.  They know they’re great and they show it.  Sometimes we hate them for it, sometimes we love them.  That’s a personal call, but I really think this translates into this world of defeating death.  They don’t lose.  They don’t lose games, loved ones, treasures of the organization.  And even though its something they will always lose, they still compete against it because of the ego, because they have to and its what they do.

Again I say, they have to to do it.

Brett Farve, a day after his father died, played on Monday night Football and threw for four touchdowns in the first half and 399 total yards.  It’s what he had to do.

Michael Jordan retired for the first time citing his fathers murder in 1993.  A few years later he cemented his already Airness legacy with a second three-peat, the leader of the greatest regular season record ever and…well I don’t need to go on.  Its all he knows.

Tiger Woods lost his father in 2006.  That year at the British Open, he tore up the field with a score of 18 under to close out his 3rd Open Championship of his career.

I know, I know i’ve only mentioned the big guys.  This mentality hits home with all pro athletes.

Taylor Pyatt is a winger from my Vancouver Canucks. Yes I called them my Canucks and you should know why if you follow SWTH.  Many probably have no clue who Taylor is, and honestly neither did I a few years ago.  He’s an average player who’s bounced around a few teams in his 7 year NHL career.  He has about 190 total regular season career points.  To put that in perspective, The Great One had 190+ in one year a few times.  An average winger with an average NHL salary at the age of 27.  He was going to marry his fiance, Carly Bragnalo, this summer and probably go on to live an average life during and after hockey.

Taylor’s fiance was killed a few weeks ago in a car crash.  At 27, as he begins to plan his life with his career, his wife and family, its gone.

I’ve seen athletes play my whole life but the amazing part is how and why athletes push past the grim reaper’s doing in their own lives, whether that be loved ones, family members, teammates, or historic figures in their teams history.  There is something there that none of us have in our own lives.  And though we many never find out why or how, it gives us reasons to watch them even more, even if it may sound morbid.

Not much has been heard from Taylor since this happened to him and his fiance’s families, but I have an inkling.  A feeling.  He’ll be back on the ice.  Soon.  It’s what he does and what he knows.  The absence of fright. The ego. The cameras. The sport.  He’ll be back and when he does he’ll have the abundance of support with not a dry eye in the house including mine, because it’s not what I know or what I do.

I’m actually scared of the dark.

Sports with the Hoff regular, the Ken, analyzes whether the gentlemans game is gone or it just has a cold.

You’ve got to hand it to golfers.

When the PGA hosted a mandatory meeting on the tour’s new anti-doping policy just over 14 months ago, as part of the Buick Invitational at Torrey Pines, the reactions were mixed, but by far, the loudest responses seem to be full of anger and disbelief. The ever loquacious Frank Lickliter appeared the most incensed. After discovering that the Vicks Vapor Inhaler is among the WADA-prohibited substances, Lickliter commented, ”If I use Vick’s nasal spray three times, they can kick me off the tour forever. Now, do you think Vick’s nasal spray is helping me compete out here? Half the stuff they’re testing for doesn’t help golfers. These so-called experts are not experts in golf.”

Perhaps not, Frank. However, they are experts in drugs and doping and in the enhancement of athletic performance as a result of these substances, and their existence is nothing more than a commitment to ensuring a level playing field. Is that really so bad?

Now, the Vicks Vapor Inhaler might not straighten out a putt, lengthen a drive, or help Craig Stadler perspire less on his foray around 18 hill-strewn holes, but other substances might, and do.

John "Gloop" Daly

I remember the awe I felt the first time I watched this tank of a young man named John Daly hit golf balls so far you couldn’t see them land. He outweighs you by 100 pounds, he hits the ball 100 yards further. Coincidence? And what if Daly was all muscle, fueled by a Mark McGwire regimen instead of one endorsed by Augustus Gloop?

PGA Tour professionals are, well, professionals. Indeed, the PGA has a long history of tradition and honor – the gentlemen’s game, if you will – the paramount evidence being that golf is the only sport in which players call penalties on themselves. As a group of professionals, one could assume that the level of skill among the top players is reasonably similar (man-machine Tiger Woods excluded, of course). Forms differ, swings differ, gaits differ, putting styles differ, and attitudes differ. But any tourney in which Tiger Woods is not entered is fair game for everybody. Isn’t it?

I’m not so sure (unless one of you can have your caddie channel Bagger Vance – I am sure he is not considered a banned substance by WADA).

To me, there is a sense of not seeing the forest for the trees. Vicks Vapor Inhaler is only one substance on the list – why single that particular item out? Why not turn the microscope on the multi-billion dollar business of your own sport? Take golf equipment, for instance – clubs and balls in particular have been modernized and personalized to the point of absurdity. The guys at Ping, Callaway, Nike, and Titleist make more money than I can count (and as I am a math teacher, that’s hard to imagine), all because someone is willing and able to pay for a custom club that keeps the ball straighter, longer, softer, and smoother. Because someone needs a golf ball with an asymmetrical geodesic pattern of space-time warping dimples that will add 20 yards to a drive, make a landing on the green softer than a baby’s bottom, or create a wormhole to bypass Rae’s Creek altogether on Golden Bell. Aren’t customized clubs a form of advantage? Why doesn’t everyone use the same clubs? Why are composite clubs still called “woods” and “irons” anyway? Oh wait… they do call that one club a “fairway metal.”

Alright, so technology interfered, as is natural. All sports evolve, you say. Football helmets and shoulder pads. Baseball bats and gloves. Ice hockey sticks and pads. Cycling handlebars, wheels, and frames. Swimming suits and goggles. Soccer balls and boots. All have gone through technological evolution. But so did the players in those sports. They realized that someone else was doing it faster, farther, and better, and they were missing out on the paycheck. Maybe they did so legally, maybe not. But the players in those sports are subject to WADA controls and anti-doping policies in some way, shape, or form. So why not golf? Whether it’s Vicks Vapor Inhaler or EPO, the things on that list are probably things you shouldn’t put in your system.

Tiger's Knickers

And to probe more deeply, are you telling me that all golfers are reincarnations of Jones, Hagen, Sarazen, and Nelson? Are players going to start wearing knickers again? Or a nice tam, out of respect for the game? Of course not – it’s a different era of golf. So what about that prodigy that just hasn’t gotten over the hump to crack the top ten? Or the aging veteran trying to make a last run at glory? A little creatine here, a little andro there, or a little needle over there… All of a sudden, holes that used to require a lay-up beckon the shot that can reach in two. Balls in the second cut feel like they are in the shorter stuff. Knees that used to be weak after 71½ holes are stronger, and the birdie putt on 18 is truer. Not only that, the body is more prepared to do it all again next week. That’s the invisible danger of the stuff on WADA’s wall of shame, Frank; it all has the potential to take a pure game, perhaps the purest in all of sport – man vs. course in a contest of will and individual ability – and make it impure by unnaturally tweaking that ability.

On the eve of the Masters tournament, as these honorable men wait with deserved anticipation for their names to be called on the first tee, as they contemplate what they hope to be four days of walking through the hallowed grounds at Augusta National, as they imagine the glory or despair awaiting them at Amen Corner, and as they dream of that stroll in triumph toward the 18^th green on Sunday – let us hope they understand that although fewer people are waiting and walking with them in person this year, more will be dreaming and cheering from their homes, transfixed upon these honorable men playing their game and hoping that they are doing so with integrity and honor.

Let the doping control authorities – doctors and scientists with just as many years as experts in their fields as PGA players have in theirs – do their jobs. You just do your job on the course… oh, and remember to leave the Vicks at home.

Original story

if you’re looking too hard.

There once was a time, my father often tells me about, that players were respected and respectable.  You could find a player and watch him for his whole career, more times than none, play with the same team.   They could be trusted and had integrity.  I found this fascinating like a bed time story of a far away land that players played for the love of the game, their team, and their fans and not for the fame and cash that lay in front of them.

“Where can I find them Daddy?  Where?” I asked him as any 30 year-old man would ask as he sits on his father’s knee.
“You have to look hard son.  They’re almost extinct.  They’re chameleons, but keep looking, you’ll find one eventually”, he replied.

He mentions names like Whitey Ford and Meadowlark Lemon.  Bill Russell and Satchel Paige.  They sounded like myths alongside Sasquatch and Lochness, but were actually real men.  Bill Russell did have some likeness to Sasquatch, with size and hair, but my father assured me he wasn’t Big Foot.  I marveled at men who played their entire careers with the same team.  This can’t be possible.  You mean I don’t have to change jerseys?

The only drugs my father ever told me about back then were beer and cigarettes.  Those were the drugs of choice in locker rooms and for ball players.  You never heard of ‘riods or even creatine.   They also played with heart, broken bones and torn muscles, not turf toe and blisters.  These guys could play and play they did.

He turned to me, with the pain in his face due to what my 165lb frame was doing to his leg, and told me, “Now find a player son”.   Wow.  I need to find a player?  There are so many, who do I pick?  It’s like American Idol and I’m widdling down the contestants.  Bird? Magic? Gretzky? Roy? Montana? Farve? A-Rod? Clemens?  As I cycle through the players in my mind, let me tell you about my father in the mean time.

pops (illustration by mark tyburski)

My father is a hard worker.  Always has been.  He gets up every morning at 6am and reads his devotional.  He makes breakfast and kisses my mother goodbye as she walks out the door to her job as a teacher’s aide.  Then he starts to work.  Not the work he’s always done.  He was chief engineer of the water and gas department for the city he lives in for the last 24 years.  He holds a Bachelors in Aeronautical Engineering and a Master’s in Mathematics.  He’s spoke in front of city councils and taught aviation classes.  Now he folds laundry or works on the yard.  He cleans the house or has other activities he enjoys.  He loves his birds. They come right up to him everyday like Ace Ventura, minus the hair, unless it’s really early.

I wander back from this story and think, Alex Rodriguez.  Wow, what a hitter!  3x AL MVP!  553 Home-runs! But like a bad smell that lingers around and you have no clue where its coming from, the word steroids hits me in the nose.  He admitted to using them and a large question mark flies over my head.  I scratch him off the list and continue thinking.

I learned everything I know from sports from my father.  He taught me how to shoot, pass and score.  My father swam in college and can play some mad basketball and baseball.  He’s also hustled the best at billiards and bowling growing up in New York and played stick ball with future New York Yankees in the early 50’s.  Not many can beat him with his 6 degrees of separation to Mantle, Maris, Yogi and even the aforementioned Whitey Ford.

It’s about 4pm and he takes a nap on the floor, since the day has just began for his 66 year-old body.  He heads off to work at 5pm, everyday, to work as custodian at his local church.  He cleans floors, fixes doors and make sure everything is in working order, doing all of that with a smile on his face.  He locks up, takes out the trash and leaves at well after 9 most nights.

Then it hits me.  Kobe Bryant.  Now thats my player!  3 time NBA Champion!  MVP of the league! One of the greatest ever.  You can’t get much better than that!  Then again a few more words come up in his biography.  Rape.  Adultery.  But he’s a sure fire hall of famer?  What went wrong?  Another one scratched off the list.

My father comes home to my mother as he’s done so for the last 35 years.  Three kids, two cars, one marriage, 35 years.  She’s already in bed as he opens up a beer, which he never drinks.  I think he just likes the thought of having one close by just in case of a nuclear war, he’ll have his beer.  He crashes on the floor  watching whatever is on his 25″ TV since he’s unable to find the remote nor use it, but he doesn’t care.

That’s my father.  After 66 years he does all that with an honest and happy outlook on his life even though he had a stroke 12 years ago that left him disabled, out of a job and unable to speak, probably for the rest of his life.  He does it and has always done it with respect.  He taught my brothers and I to play sports and play life, yes play life, with respect.  You give respect, you get respect.  Our reply was “Yes, sir”.

Barry Bonds?  steroids?
Michael Jordan?  infidelity?
Pete Rose?  cheating?
O.J Simpson?  murder?
Patrick Roy? domestic abuse?
Even Bill Russell divorced twice.

Is there anyone I can pick?

I’m at my end and I try to think back to good memories in sports and the name Meadowlark Lemon comes back to me as earlier mentioned.  I met Meadowlark once with my father, mother and my brothers outside Charlotte, North Carolina.  At the time I had vague clue of who he actually was.  He was tall, so I imagined a basketball player since I was about 12 at the time.  Anyone tall was a basketball player.  I don’t remember much of that exchange.  A picture.  A signature on a napkin from inside the Cracker Barrel.  But I do remember him saying to us, which I found out was one of his favorite phrases years later, “You can be anything that you can imagine.”  What advice from a legendary, Hall of Famer and now ordained minister such as the great Meadowlark Lemon?  I found my answer to my father’s question, “Pick one.” in Meadowlark’s quote.

I pick my father.

March Madness or Bowl games?  More games in a season or less?  Does it make more sense to lose one and you’re out?  Or is it better to have a chance to climb your way back and get a glass hightop?   How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop?  Endless questions, though I know the answer to the last.  Yes, I have way too much time on my hands.

When we look at the power houses in the NCAA its a runaway from the rest of the pack with football and men’s basketball leading by only an amount Stephen Hawking can figure out.  No offense to women’s basketball, baseball, horseshoes, roller derby and cricket, but come on.  Don’t try that argument because you lose immediately like the bad guy on Walker Texas Ranger.  Chuuuuuuuck Norris.

Let’s argue these two monsters with my top 5 go betweens.

Cash rules everything around me.
College Football is big.  No, really big and I don’t just mean from a standpoint of stadiums, teams and colleges.  You hear a lot about this subject and its true about the money.  They are rolling in it.  The bowl games alone, not including exposure, bring in over 1 trillion a year.  That’s with a T.  Every year the bowl games pay out over 180 million, as of 07, and continues to grow every year.  As far as the comparison to basketball, just from the SEC, is about a 6 million dollar difference with the needle pitching to the football side.  But, always a but.  Schools like Gonzaga, Davidson, or George Mason don’t even grab the moola at anywhere near that peak in football, yet alone basketball, but that discussion is for the next topic.   Winner: Football 1-0

3-4 Coverage.
Not many people think of this one, since colleges have coverage everywhere.  To me in college basketball they have the chance to have more.  The opportunity to shine on a national spotlight, numerous times during the year, even for small schools, makes some of the Bowl games in CF look like my cousin Craig’s classmates in the 3rd grade (He was probably 5′4″, 150).  Honestly the Jim’s Famous Turkey Potpie Dinner & National Grapefruit Bowl doesn’t really grab my attention, but seeing two small schools battle it out for the that one Big Dance ticket makes me crave some of that pot pie and grapefruit.  Which leads to #3…oh…Winner: Basketball, tied 1-1

Playoffs?  are you kidding me…playoffs?
This is the most common of arguments, a playoff system.  B-ball has it.  Football says no.  Every sport has one except for college football.  Though I give them points for the ego trip, you’re destroying the love of the little man.  Do you really want to see the good looking stud get the girl, or would you rather see the pocket protector wearing nerd steal her away with a punch?  Man I love Back to the Future!  That’s what we love in America, the little guy not the ego infested jock.  Hence, the next topic.  Winner: Basketball, up 2-1

We are who we thought they were
I love to offend, so this was interesting to me since this is the fabric of our quilted future.  This is where I leave it up to recognizable players than my opinion.  You be the judge on the intelligence of the players from both sports:  Stephon Marbury vs. Maurice Clarett and Tim Duncan vs. Peyton Manning.  Eh, you’re right. Push - Basketball up 2-1

Fans
Cameron Crazies or over 100k screaming in Beaver Stadium.  This is hard to separate since they’re all rooting for “their” teams.  The love of the game.  The camping out to get tickets.  The screaming, crying, winning, losing, it builds up for an entire season and I think I have the answer.  I’m sorry college football fans but you bring out old guys who played the game 400 years ago and give them standing O’s, and even though Kentucky football had the legend Bear Bryant, Wildcat basketball has Ashley Judd.  Winner and Champion: Basketball 3-1

11.  But what about 10? No, 11.  It goes up to 11.

The Canucks have been my team since I was a fetus.  If you think i’m lying ask my mom.  3 kids. Catholic.

Through all those years we’ve had two Stanley Cup runs but only one I can remember (sniffs).  Suck it up Hoff because this year is different.  Its a feeling, a very strong feeling, in the my bowels.  Did I just refer to myself in the third person? Anyway, as the regular season comes to an end we see the Canucks reel off 11 straight home wins, a franchise record.  I know its only a little more than half of the longest home win streaks of all time shared by the 29-30 Bruins and the 75-76 Flyers, but I find this much less interesting than how the previous 3 Stanley Cup champions finished the season.  Last years Red Wings went 12-4 to finish out March and April.  The Ducks, 07 champions, finished 15-5, but also 12-4 at home during that span.  In 06, Carolina finished 13-6 but at home were 9-3.  The Canucks are presently 16-3-1 in their last 20 games including 11 straight at home.

Eleven.

They have 12 games left in the season with only 4 being at home.  Even if they even split those games, which I doubt they will with the way they’re playing, they will still finish the season 22-9-1.  Listening to the stats on the last 3 years champs ringing in my ears, I can’t help but think that the Canucks will be playing at an 11, and the rest of the NHL at a 10.

That’s one louder.