TONY GOES TO CLASS! (10-6-06)

           After wrapping up my third week of classes here at Northwestern things are beginning to fall into place.  The first two weeks were a little hectic, as I had trouble remembering when and where all of my classes were.  Now things are coming a little more easily and I have begun to develop a routine. 

            My weeks are heavily front-loaded.  Coming right out of the weekend I have a Calculus class at 8 AM on Monday morning.  That was probably a mistake.  Later on in the day I have a Pre-Columbian Art class and Russian Literature.  Tuesday is my worst day, as I have an Intro to 21^st Century Media class to in addition to math, art, and literature.  From there my week eases up considerably.  I have only one class on Wednesday and two each on Thursday and Friday.  Overall, I have a good schedule, ending by 2 o’clock on most days.  My classes are not overly difficult, although I am swamped with homework.  Welcome to college!
 < Russian Lit. Yeah, that's the ticket to a career in sports.

            I came into college dreading the huge lecture classes, but I did find one big advantage:  it is easy to hide.  During my Russian Lit class I was able to tune into the baseball playoffs while taking notes.  I had four other guys around me watching the game on my computer as well.  Every time a team would score there would be a quiet “Yes!” 

            Homework aside, I have also joined the Northwestern News Network (NNN) and WNUR, our campus radio station.  Most of my work for NNN has been running cameras.  I have found that locating an anchor behind a desk with a camera is much easier than locating a soccer ball on the field.  The camera work has been fun, although on Wednesday things were crazy.  There are three cameras but only two cameramen, so I had to work two cameras simultaneously.  Even so, the camera work has definitely been a good experience.
 < Note: This is not Tony.

            Wednesday I also did my first report for WNUR.  For my first time, things went OK.  I was only able to get one source and that was after about 47 other phone calls.  I would call one place and they would say “Oh, no, you have to talk to this department.”  So I would call this department and they would say “No, you have to talk to that department.”  I hate bureaucracy.  I finally got a hold of one guy, but he was, to put it kindly, less than knowledgeable about the subject.  I was able to gather enough info to put together a fifty second recording, which is about right.  I sounded a little mechanical in my delivery, but for a first attempt I do not think it was too bad.  Things should get better as I gain experience.

            For now it seems like I am drowning in homework, but that should improve with time.  Several of my classes are front-loaded with work, so I will not have as much homework to do later on.   Between NNN and WNUR I have meetings or shows four days a week, which is enough to keep me busy, but also not overwhelming.  It will also help when the baseball playoffs end, as my homework output has decreased since they began, although I cannot imagine why.  Right now it seems as though there are not enough hours in the day for me to do everything I would like, but as I continue to develop my time management, everything should work out fine.
 < Time for Tony to goof off!

 SCOPIN' THE LADIES (VOLLEYBALL TEAM, THAT IS) …(10-1-06)

I had some free time Wednesday night, so I made the short trek to Welsh-Ryan Arena to watch the Wildcats play in-state rival Illinois in a women’s volleyball match. Illinois was ranked number eighteen, so I figured the Lady ‘Cats would have their hands full.  I did not know much about our volleyball team, or volleyball in general for that matter.  I knew you wanted to hit the ball over the net.  That was about it.

Despite getting swept in three straight by the Illini, the Lady ‘Cats gave a good effort.  They played hard, diving for balls and giving it everything they had.  They just were not able to finish plays off. 

The action was great and my seat was perfect: front row at center court.  If the crowd had had a pulse, the night would have been just about perfect.  The crowd was sparse, only a few hundred fans, many of them wearing orange and blue.  The Northwestern fans were pretty quiet the entire time, with only scattered applause whenever the ‘Cats scored.  The noisiest anyone got was during the pizza giveaway, where Willie the Wildcat gave away a pizza to the loudest fan.

The environment was depressing, making it difficult for me to get into the game.  While I enjoyed many aspects of the experience, the overall experience was disappointing because of the lack of electricity.  If the Lady ‘Cats can turn things around, perhaps they can draw enough fans to drown out the opponents.  Until then, the only reason I am going to a volleyball game is if I need a quiet place to study.

WHY MEN DON’T SHOP (10-1-06)

            “Hey, I’m going shopping.  Do you want to come along?”  My friend James needed to pick up a few groceries on Sunday afternoon.  I had nothing better to do, so I agreed to go along for the ride.  On Sundays we have what is called a “Shop-N-Ride” shuttle, which is a bus that goes back and forth between the campus and Wilmette.  Wilmette is a suburb west of Evanston that has stores such as Jewel, Dominicks, Best Buy, and Target, giving students access to any supplies they might need during the year.  After a ten minute ride we arrived at the grocery store.  Once inside, James inexplicably transformed into Takeru Kobayashi.  He started grabbing everything off the shelves.  He said “Oh, I need that!” for nearly every item we passed, including a 6’ tall Grim Reaper decoration (we finally passed on Mr. Reaper).  We just started checking out when our shuttle pulled up.  Perfect timing!  Unfortunately, when the shuttle pulled away a minute later we were still in line completing James’s purchases.  $150 later we were finally checked out and wheeling the cart out of the store.  It was about here that I asked “So, how are we going to get all of this home?”  We had about ten bags of stuff, too much for us to carry by ourselves.  We considered swiping the cart and returning it later, but that would take too much time.  James grabbed some paper bags and we were able to consolidate everything to about five.  I looked at my watch and saw the next shuttle was not due for another fifty minutes. 

“Hey, how far could that bus have taken us?  I bet we could walk back.”  This statement definitely belongs in the book 776 Stupidest Things Ever Said.  For whatever reason, I thought it would be a good idea to trek an unknown distance hauling roughly two tons of groceries.  James, suffering from lack of sleep, agreed.  We start walking and James says “Wouldn’t it be funny if all our bags broke?”  You can see where this is going. 

We get about three blocks away and RIP!  We had brought a couple extra bags, so we simply rearranged everything and continued on our way.  RIP!  We had gone about five blocks and already had lost two bags.  We continued on, this time making it four blocks: RIP!  We were down to our last spare bag and we were still a long way from campus.  We arranged everything again, trying to distribute the weight equally among the bags.  Two blocks later: RIP!  Most of the other bags just lost one or both handles, but this bag completely shredded. 
 < This is just a re-enactment.
We had to use one of the already-broken bags and hope we could make it home.  The plastic bag I used to carry the milk and orange juice shredded, completely ripping out the bottom seam.  This is where things started going down hill.  Every block another one of our bags broke, so we were carrying bags by the bottoms.  We had to pile them one on top of the other just to carry them all.  About five blocks from home the bags started giving out again.  Now it was the bottoms that were breaking, rendering the bags completely useless.  We literally could not go on;  we did not have enough bags to carry everything. 

I called in some reinforcements, my friend Paola.  We waited for Paola.  After about two minutes a generous gentleman named Michael walked by and offered his help.  With Michael’s help we were able to continue for a couple of blocks when we ran into Paola.  We now had four people and were able to carry everything pretty easily.  Once back at the dorm, we took inventory.  We had everything, although nearly every box had been misshapen, distorted, or destroyed.  The bread was completely squished.  Overall, however, everything was in decent shape.  In the end, it took an hour and a half for us to travel seventeen blocks.  Needless to say, next time we will wait for the shuttle.  For the record James, no, it would not be funny if all of our bags broke.
 < "I'm not sure if these boys are ready for quantum physics."
 

CAMERAMAN FOR A DAY….. (9-24-06)
 

 

In college, most of us do some pretty dumb things.  Some people drink so much that they pass out at 2 AM and miss their final exams the following day.  Others drink shots and make out on the couch all night, only to find the following morning the object of their affection was a lamp (yes, most good college stories involve alcohol, and usually a lot of it).  Me?  I make that look like kid’s stuff.  I volunteered to videotape a game for the Northwestern Wildcats’ men’s soccer team. 

            It started innocently enough.  I was at a Sport’s Night meeting for the Northwestern News Network (NNN) when they asked for a volunteer.  They needed someone to tape the soccer game against DePaul.  Wanting to do whatever I could, I volunteered. What could it hurt? I should be able to handle it and it would be an easy $40.   

            On game day I met Coach Lenahan to get the video equipment and loaded it onto the bus.  On the way there I visited with a few team members and the athletic trainer, Kristen.  As we approached DePaul’s Wish Field the already quiet bus became almost silent as the players began to focus on the task at hand.  We filed off the bus and into the locker room.  Coach Lenahan gave a brief pre-game speech on their strategies for the game.  The ‘Cats were ready to take the field!
 < "Jarboe better not miss any action."

            The players warmed up as I set up my video equipment with the help of assistant coach Brad Napper.  At twenty minutes until game time I turned on the camera and…nothing!  That was a problem.  After a few minutes Brad realized there was no electricity in the outlet.  He reset the outlet and everything worked fine.  I focused the camera at midfield for the initial kickoff.  The whistle blew and we were under way!  Where’s the ball?  Over there! Now over here!  There it is!  The first thirty seconds of the tape looks as though I was filming while being attacked by a pack of hyenas.  I had been using the telephoto lens to get a closer picture, but the only pictures I was getting is where the ball had been two seconds ago.  I took a wider angle and things got considerably easier.  I was able to follow the ball for the most part. 

The worst thing about soccer is that it never really stops except for halftime.  I never got a break of more than a few seconds during a corner kick or a throw in.  The aforementioned halftime was a much-needed break for me.  I sat down and wondered why on earth I volunteered for this job.  Halftime ended soon thereafter and we were underway again.  Northwestern scored the game’s only goal in the 73^rd minute, Geoff Fallon’s first in his career (congrats Geoff!). 
 < Geoff Fallon's goal prevented OT!
After the game I tore down the equipment and met with the team on the field.  They mingled with the few fans that had shown up, mostly friends and family.  The parents had set up a post-game spread for the players consisting of pizza, salad, barbeque chicken wings, and cookies.  After the all the players had gone everyone else was allowed to dive in.  You didn’t have to ask me twice!

            Not surprisingly, the bus ride home was more upbeat than the one to the game.  The players celebrated the win and were discussing their plans for that evening.  I reflected on the experience and realized many things.  On the post-game show, a 1-0 game looks like a snooze-fest.  However, it is completely different when watching the game.  The game was intense throughout and any mistake could mean the game.  I also gained a much greater appreciation for professional cameramen.  I might even become a soccer fan.  Even with the lack of scoring, it is very fast-paced, and the clock rarely stops.  That said, the next time the NNN is looking for a volunteer cameraman, I will just keep my hands down.

 

 

           
OH, WHAT A DAY! (9-21-06)

“Welcome to Ryan Field.”  It was Saturday morning and I was preparing to watch the Northwestern Wildcats for the first time in my collegiate career.  That sign greeted me as I crossed into the parking lot almost four hours before kickoff.  I spent the morning tailgating with my uncle Vince and cousin Matt.  As 1 o’clock neared I entered Ryan Field, taking in the atmosphere as I walked.  The stadium was awash in a sea of purple and the feeling was electric.  I settled in my seat moments before kickoff and continued to watch the excitement build.  The Wildcats were coming off a tough loss to New Hampshire last week and were out for blood.  Fans knew we let one get away and the ‘Cats would not make that mistake again. 
 < Ryan Field.
Eastern Michigan kicked off and finally we were under way!  Under the direction of freshman quarterback Mike Kafka NU marched right down the field and scored on its first possession.  Kafka capped the drive with a six-yard run for the first score of the game.  The fans leapt from their seats, the marching band played Go U Northwestern, and the rout was on!  Someone forgot to tell that to Eastern Michigan, however.  They did not allow any points the rest of the half, and when they kicked their second field goal as the final seconds ticked off the first half, that initial pandemonium was replaced by concern.  Up by a single point, 7-6, to Eastern Michigan?  It looked like a recipe for an upset special.  Kafka had been struggling, so Coach Pat Fitzgerald put in backup QB Andrew Brewer to try and jumpstart the offense.  On the first drive of the second half Brew led the ‘Cats 72 yards for the score, leaping into the end zone to give Northwestern a 13-6 lead.  The extra point was good to make it 14-6, and that was how it ended.  In the waning moments of the fourth quarter, however, things got intense.  Eastern Michigan had the ball on the NU 47 when Deante Battle picked off EMU with about a minute to go to seal the deal.  The previously silent crowd exploded after the pick, and most remained standing as Brewer twice took a knee to run out the clock.  My first colligate game was not impressive but at least it was a win.  Ryan Field had several thousand empty seats that day, as many upperclassmen had not returned yet, and Eastern Michigan is not exactly a top draw.  As a result, the crowd was fairly quiet for most of the game except for the student section, which did not sit the entire game.  Students and fans were pretty quiet leaving Ryan Field, happy but not satisfied.  They knew today should have been a blowout but were willing to accept the win.  Nearly everyone has associations with the high school football team, whether they were part of the team, part of the cheerleading squad, or just part of the rabid fan-base that came out to support their guys every week. Every town has a high school team, whereas only a select few have professional or college teams.  This gives everyone an opportunity to experience pigskin at its best.
Not only are people familiar with high school football itself, but they are also familiar with the players.  In the NFL, the players are like gods.  Even the players that are down-to-earth are virtually unreachable.  High school players, on the other hand, are just ordinary kids.  They live and work in the community and you know them on a first-name basis.  Knowing these players makes it so much more enjoyable at games, because you are rooting for people and not just jerseys. 

Having grown up in a smaller community, I have witnessed first-hand all of the benefits of high school football to this quiet rural town.  Surprisingly, these benefits are not lost on larger towns.  I recently visited with Matt McGurgan, who attends a high school with roughly 5000 students, or 400 people more than my entire town.  Even in the larger community, the townspeople get pumped up every Friday night and attend the games in droves.  There is still a feeling of unity and familiarity, that same allure that draws fans to any high school football game.  What are you doing Friday night?  I will be at the game.


Role of Sports Agents Overblown(8-27-06)
              There was a time when sports coverage was sane.  Your sports information came either from the newspaper or the local TV news.  That was it.  Now there are 24-hour sports networks, sports periodicals, talk shows, and of course the almighty Internet, with its chat rooms, message boards, blogs, and sports information on-demand.  Now any 18-year-old schmuck can write his opinions online.  Sometimes members of the media have difficulty filling the hours, and are forced to fill time by scrutinizing minute details such as batting order, coaching decisions, and playing time.  Thanks to this over-saturation of sports information, it is simply accepted as fact that Adam Vinatieri and David Ortiz are clutch, Alex Rodriguez and Peyton Manning are choke artists, Tom Brady is a god, and sports agents are the Antichrist.
The truth is these hours are more wasted than a college student on spring break.   Over the long haul, those coaching decisions might mean the difference between winning and losing one game during the entire season.  In a rational universe, we would discuss these issues for one or two minutes and then go on to discuss more important problems.  As for the various sports “truths”, while most of them are factually based, all are blown out of proportion and seem to take on a life of their own.  The last one, however, is completely false, and is the direct result of bitter hatred gone unchecked.  Fans are angry with sports agents because they believe it is the agent who forced their favorite player to reject their team’s offer and instead become a free agent.  They believe that agents are holding a gun to teams’ head’s and forcing them to pay ridiculously high salaries for their clients.  Fans seem to feel that without agents players would make significantly less money, and everything would somehow be better.TIME TO GIVE THE NBA A SECOND CHANCE (8-11-06)

When the NBA unveiled its schedule for the upcoming 2006-2007 season, I did something that I have not done in years: I looked.  Like most casual basketball fans, I was turned off by the lockout in 1998.  Basketball also lost the most marketable player in the history of sports, Michael Jordan, who retired for the second time. 
Either event on its own would be a considerable blow to the NBA’s popularity.  Coupled together, these events reached catastrophic proportions, and basketball lost all but its most undying supporters.  Ever since, basketball has been struggling to regain the fans lost during this tumultuous period.Many fans have refused to give the NBA a second look, citing a long list of grievances they have with the pro basketball.  Many fans feel the professionals do not play defense, are a bunch of greedy, selfish athletes, and that they move around too much from city to city and team to team. Fans also pine for the “next MJ”, another otherworldly talent that fans can become attached to.
 The fans that complain about defense must watch about one game per year, the All-Star Game, where final score is usually about 130-120.  Yes, I grant that defense is not a major priority in the All-Star Game.  All-Star squads aside, most teams have become much more defense-oriented.  Look at the NBA Finals from 2003-2005.  The San Antonio Spurs won two championships with a Detroit Pistons championship sandwiched in between.  The Spurs and Pistons won games by shutting down opponents on defense and mustering just enough points on offense to win.  The Pistons routinely won games by a score of 90-80.  Both the Spurs and Pistons played team ball, sharing touches, with no one player able to take over a game except maybe San Antonio’s Tim Duncan. Neither team had a sure-fire Hall-of-Fame player; they just won by being selfless with the ball.  The NBA, like all of sports, is a copycat league, so other teams have begun telling players that it is not illegal to exert energy when the other team has the ball.  Even the Dallas Mavericks (No D) shored up a weak defense and made it to the Finals this year.  Defense is back in the NBA.
  Basketball players, like every other human being on the planet, want to maximize their earnings potential.  Thus, as free agents, they sign the contract that is best for them.  Show of hands, who would turn down a five-year, $60 million contract for a five-year, $50 million deal?  Me neither.  However, we perceive the players as greedy when our team offers them $50 million and they reject it in favor of some other team’s offer of $60 million.  We often lament “Is there no loyalty anymore?”  Sure there is, but even loyalty has a price, and an extra $10 million should just about cover it.  Granted, sometimes players take it too far and gripe about their “meager” salaries, but these malcontents are rare.  Most athletes realize how fortunate they are.
Excessive player migration is a complaint that could apply to any sports league.  After stints in Oakland and Seattle, Jerry Rice opted for retirement rather than become a third receiver for the Denver Broncos.  Emmitt Smith’s last down came as an Arizona Cardinal.  Paul Moliter finished his career with the Minnesota Twins.  The fact is teams cannot afford to give aging veterans large contracts. 
They must sign the best player for the lowest amount of money, and that often means parting ways with a mainstay and fan-favorite.  It is a sad but inevitable truth in sports.  However, teams have stepped up this off-season to ensure their star players stay put.  The Cleveland Cavaliers just inked LeBron James to a three-year contract.  Carmelo Anthony is a Denver Nugget for the next five years.  Toronto locked up Chris Bosh for another three years, and Dwayne Wade just re-upped with the Miami Heat for three years.  Teams have signed their young talent to long-term deals to ensure they have a cornerstone around which they can build.  This also gives fans a player they can root for and become attached to.
Fans have been pining for “the next MJ” since Jordan retired in 1998 and again in 2003.  The fact is there will never be another player that matches Jordan’s combination of talent, poise, leadership, and rings.  All of this plus the fact that Jordan played in a major market, Chicago, made him the most recognizable athlete in the world.  However, there has been an incredible influx of young talent into the NBA in recent years.  It seems as though Kobe Bryant has been around forever, but he is only 27 (he turns 28 on August 23).  LeBron, ‘Melo, Bosh, and D-Wade are all under 25.  Nearly every team has a talented young player to build around, from Atlanta’s Chris Paul to Phoenix’s Amare Stoudemire to New York’s Renaldo Balkman (OK, maybe not Balkman).
    < "Don't make fun of my draft picks kid."
The NBA is entering a golden age this new generation begins to make its mark on the game. 

            The Ryan Field experience is a unique one.  When you visit schools such as Michigan, Ohio State, and Texas, you are overwhelmed by the sheer numbers and volume of those fans.  Northwestern is different.  Even when filled to capacity, fans at Ryan Field cannot hope to reach decibel levels achieved by other schools.  That is the tradeoff one must accept for coming to a smaller school.  The experience is not one that will overwhelm you, but it can be even more fun than the experience at those large schools.  Every seat in the stadium is a good seat, the parking lots are close to the stadium, and you do not have to deal with near as many people going in and out of the stadium.  Northwestern fans are also knowledgeable, almost to a fault.  Some of the chants can be downright nasty (“We don’t care about our losses!  In ten year’s we’ll be your bosses!”).  Truly, the Northwestern experience is one that I will cherish for years to come. I am proud to be a part of the “Purple Mafia”.
  < This is not Tony Jarboe. Just some bozo who wishes he was.

First Week Full of Adjustments (9-16-06)

            With a wave of the hand and a solemn “goodbye” I bid my parents farewell.  As I watched my parents walk down the hallway and through the door, I realized that this was the start of a journey unlike any I had taken before.  For the first time in my life I had no familiar people, places, or things anywhere near me.  Only strange faces and places surrounded me.

            Northwestern has what is known as “New Student Week,” which is basically freshman orientation.  New Student Week is designed to help students get acclimated to their new environment.  There are interminable meetings describing student expectations, which basically boil down to “use common sense.”  The only difference is that they told us this over the course of three hours rather than three words.  Students also have meetings with advisors to help choose classes, as well as a myriad of information sessions to help students learn some of the finer points of university life.  That said, there have also been many fun events to go along with the meetings, including games, sports, and parties (university-sanctioned parties, for all readers who happen to be my parents).  Those events are designed to help students meet new people and to become more socially involved.

             Next week the honeymoon ends and classes begin.  Among the classes I have scheduled is a Russian Literature class. That way if one day someone wants to start discussing The Life of Alexander Nevsky I will be fully prepared.  It is among the most highly sought-after classes in the university.  In truth, I have no great desire to learn Russian Literature. I am just curious to see what all the hype is about.

            Dealing with change is one of the biggest obstacles we all face during our college years.  We are out on our own for the first time, making our own decisions.  We leave all that is familiar and go somewhere new.  It is a challenging time filled with adjustments, but it can also be one of the most enjoyable times of your life.

Moment of Silence

 I would like to have a moment of silence in rememberance the death of Northwestern’s championship dreams after falling to New Hampshire 34-17.  (Pause.)  Oh well, I guess going 10-1 isn’t too bad.

AN OPPORTUNITY AWAITS……(9-9-06)Is there any other combination of words in the English language that conjures up as many memories, emotions, and spirit as “Friday night”? Nearly every community, large and small, is dead by 7 o’clock, save one place:  the high school football field.  Fans love high school football for its purity, unity, and familiarity. 

High school football is the purest form of pigskin around.  There are no contract disputes, no over-the-top end-zone celebrations, and no super-sized egos.  These kids are out there for one reason: they love football.  These kids are on the field giving it their all each and every play.  They display incredible enthusiasm and pull for each other.  That is because these young men are not worried about their paychecks, endorsements, or statistics.  The only thing these players want is to win, and they will do whatever they can to make that happen.
Large cities and small towns thrive on high school football.  It is a uniting cause, a reason for the entire town to come together with one goal in mind: whack the living beaver snot out of the opponent.  The rest of the week can be spent divided on various issues, but on Friday night, there are no divisions.  In an otherwise sleepy town the high school football team gives them a beacon of pride that they can point to and say, “That is my hometown.”

The moment that I have been anticipating all summer is rapidly approaching.  On September 11, I leave the only place that I have ever called home, Paxton, Illinois, and move to Evanston, where I will attend Northwestern University.  As I write this, I am busy packing, saying my final goodbyes, and finishing my summer reading assignments. 

Most of my fellow Class of 2006 graduates are long gone.  Nearly every other college started several weeks ago.  I am all that remains after the mass exodus, and most people seem to think I cannot depart soon enough.  Whenever anybody sees me, they inevitably ask, “So, when do you leave?”  By now even my parents are asking me when I head up there.  I feel like that overzealous guest at a party.  You know, the one that is still there two hours after everyone else is gone.  You try to give him subtle hints that perhaps he should leave, such as looking at your watch, glaring at him, pointing a gun at him and shouting “Leave!”, etc.

The first week is primarily freshman orientation, where first year students set class schedules, learn about the different clubs and organizations, and attend various workshops and conferences.  Looking at the schedule for the first week, I will be able to squeeze everything in provided I do not do frivolous things such as sleeping and going to the bathroom.  I will be able to eat, however. 

About half of my functions include a meal, meaning that for the next few weeks my wardrobe will consist of one outfit, but in three sizes: large, extra-large, and blimp.  That first week is also when we purchase our books.  I am not sure what to make of this, but there is a lending institution right next to the bookstore on campus. 

Leaving for college is always emotional.  On one hand, I am leaving behind everything I ever knew.  I will have no family or friends and I will be completely lost.  I have lived in a rural area for 18 years, and I will now be living with about 3.4 million other people.  Obviously this will be a huge adjustment. 

That said, college can also be a wonderful time.  For one thing, I no longer have to answer questions such as “Where are you going?” “When do you leave?” “What are you studying?” and “Are you excited?”  It has gotten so bad that I have resorted to wearing an FAQ sign on my shirt that reads “Northwestern, September 11, Journalism, Yes, I am excited.” 

More than anything, though, college is an opportunity.  It is an opportunity to get a fresh start and begin a new life. It is an opportunity to gain a top-notch education.  It is an opportunity to live on your own, setting your own rules, and no longer depending on your parents for help.  Most of all, college is an opportunity to find out who you really are, and what you really want to do with your life.  College is like being handed a clean canvas, a paintbrush, and paint.  There is nothing there now, but with a little work it can be anything you want it to be. 

FRIDAY NIGHT (9-3-06)
 

            The fact is that agents have almost no control over the salaries of their clients.  Sure, the best agents may be able to squeeze a few extra million out of a team, but for the most part a player will get about the same salary that they would without an agent.  The controlling factor in a player’s salary is the market. 

            What about Scott Boras?  Drew Rosenhaus?  Carl and Kevin Poston?  These agents always demand lucrative long-term deals for their clients, some (the Poston’s) more so than others.  Yes, they always open negotiations with seemingly ridiculous demands.  However, when the dotted line is signed, their clients usually do not receive much, if any, more than they would have gotten with any other agent.  There are others, but these men in particular love to make a big show of things, demanding obscene amounts of money.  In the end, however, their clients are not any better for it.  The only thing they really accomplish is to draw the ire of sports fans everywhere, and to sully the reputations of sports agents across the country.

The bottom line is that even though some agents make a big show of demanding top-dollar for their clients, they almost always end up with a contract right in line with market price.  Market price is determined by several factors, including number of teams bidding for a player’s services, money available for each of the bidders, and quantity and quality of the free-agent pool. Free agents who sign later also use the early free-agents as a bar to figure their approximate worth.

            Agents have done little to drive player salaries skyward and do not deserve titles such as “The Most Hated Man in Baseball” (Boras), “A Complete A—hole” (Rosenhaus)(Yes, he is kind of a jerk, but “Complete A—hole” is overboard), or “The Darth Vaders of Sports Agents” (the Postons).   They merely represent a tangible scapegoat for fans to vent, as it is difficult to be angry at invisible forces such as the market.  This, combined with the often-negative coverage sports agents receive, makes sports agents one of the most hated groups in America.  In reality, however, sports agents are all bark and no bite.  They love to talk big but in the end are powerless against “the invisible hand” of the market forces.

LITTLE LEAGUE WORLD SERIES TEACHES WRONG LESSONS (8-18-06)

Character. Courage. Loyalty. These three words are found on the official Little League crest and are the values that Little League purportedly teaches. However, when it comes to competing in the Little League World Series (LLWS), these values get replaced with a single principle: win at all costs.
Little League is supposed to be about the kids, teaching them values such as hard work, teamwork, and ethics while having fun at the same time. Too often, however, parents and coaches forget that Little League is about the kids, and make it all about themselves instead. These people think that they can compensate for their failed athletic careers by raising their children to be champions. The pressure we put on the Little League World Series participants is immense. If they mess up, the whole planet knows about it. These twelve-year-olds literally have the weight of the world on their shoulders. Where is the fun in that?
The "win-at-all-costs" attitude not only removes all of the fun for the players, but also is dangerous for them. Coaches are increasingly encouraging their twelve-year-old aces to develop breaking balls even though kids should not begin throwing curveballs until they are fourteen and sliders until age sixteen. Flip on the LLWS, however, and you will see twelve-year-olds snapping off Uncle Charlies like Barry Zito. Coaches will also ride their best pitchers longer and harder during these games causing fatigue, leading to poor mechanics and ultimately more injuries. Increased pitch counts and more breaking balls are hurting the future of these kids, but who cares? The most important thing is winning right now.
With the increased pressure to win also comes the added temptation to disregard the Little League’s principles in order to become victorious. Consider the stories of Danny Almonte, Denis Place, and Tony Rasmus.
Perhaps Rolando Paulino, coach of the Rolando Paulino All-Stars in 2001, knew the dangers of twelve-year-olds throwing breaking balls. Since he did not want to risk injuring a young pitcher, he used fourteen-year-old Danny Almonte as his ace in the twelve-and-under league. Almonte had a birth certificate from the Dominican Republic stating he was only twelve and thus was allowed to play. Almonte set numerous LLWS records and led his team to a third place finish in the tournament. It was not until later he was found to be two years older than the rest of the participants. Almonte’s records were erased, and the team was stripped of its third place finish. Although he lacked character, Paulino was certainly courageous. He put his faith in a Dominican Republic birth certificate’s legitimacy. That takes guts.
Last week in Bristol, Connecticut, the team from Portsmouth, New Hampshire played Colchester, Vermont for a berth in the New England title game. Vermont was leading with two outs in the sixth inning, but coach Denis Place had forgotten to play one of his subs. All players must play either three consecutive outs in the field or get one plate appearance by league rules. Failure to do so leads to a forfeit. Place then ordered his pitcher to intentionally walk in a run in to tie the game, thus allowing Vermont an opportunity to get the last sub an at-bat. However, New Hampshire’s coach, Mark McCauley also realized this, and told his players to intentionally strike out. The next batter came up and whiffed on pitches that even Phil Cuzzi would not have called strikes. Vermont was unable to get the final sub his required playing time and thereby forfeit the game. Congratulations to New Hampshire, who actually lost 9-8, but advanced anyway because they are better at throwing a game than Vermont. There was even a coach who quit his job to coach his Little League team. Seriously. Tony Rasmus coached Phenix City to the LLWS title game in 1999, where they lost to Japan 5-0. For ten weeks, his players practiced four hours a day, six days a week. He did not allow any of his players to go on vacation, and he quit his job as a high school chemistry teacher. After the series, the man may want to take some of his newfound free time to straighten his priorities.
The Little League World Series flies in the face of the ethics that Little League is supposed to teach. Where was the character of Paulino when he allowed Danny Almonte to pitch despite the uncertainty about his age? Where was the courage of Place, who tried to throw the game rather than own up to his mistake? Where was the courage of McCauley, who told his players to strike out on purpose, knowing he would win on a technicality? Where was the loyalty of Rasmus when he forced his players to practice constantly and forbid family vacations? Coaches who ride their aces into the ground lack the character to stop these pitchers before they hurt themselves, the courage to use their other pitchers, and the loyalty to these kids to protect their futures. Coaches and parents must also lay off their kids. Little League is not a vehicle to give parents and coaches an ego trip. Rather, Little League is about instilling values into these children and allowing them to have some fun at the same time. That is what Little League is really about. Really, who cares that you are the best twelve-year-old team on the planet? When you are thirty and stuck in a cubicle, will it really matter? It is time we abolished the Little League World Series and give these twelve-year-olds their childhoods back. I am not saying winning is bad. After all, losing every game 15-2 is not much fun. What I am suggesting is that maybe, just maybe, there are more important things than winning.

   The 1-2 punch of the lockout and losing Michael Jordan alienated the NBA’s entire casual fan base.  Basketball has slowly been recovering, although many fans have sworn off the NBA completely.  As the NBA enters a new prosperous era, fans should at least give basketball another chance.  Defense is back with a vengeance.  Teams have begun locking up their franchise players, giving fans someone to latch on to.  The future of pro basketball has never been brighter, as the crop of players under age 25 is arguably the best ever.  Attendance has been on the rise in recent years as more fans have discovered that the NBA is once again worth watching.

PERSONAL SEAT LICENSES PROVE TOO COSTLY FOR FANS, TEAMS (8-5-06)

        When you were younger, do you remember how you settled disputes between you and your siblings?  Whenever everybody wanted the same thing, the first person to shout the magic word usually ended up getting it.  No, not “please”.  The first person to shout “dibs” at the top of his lungs got the item, and that was that.  Whether it was the car when you were playing Monopoly, that last cookie, or riding shotgun in the car, “dibs” settled all arguments as to who got the coveted prize.
 < Ooops, wrong Dibs.

            Now you can call dibs on your favorite seat at college and professional sporting events, although it will set you back a pretty penny.  For an exorbitant amount of money, you have the right to purchase season tickets in your favorite seat for five or ten years, or even the rest of your life, depending on your team’s plan.  The cost of these Personal Seat Licenses, or PSLs, vary from team to team, with some costing under $1000, while others are priced upwards of $10,000.  In any case, the PSL only gives the buyer the right to purchase that seat.  The actual season tickets are a separate fee. 

Often in the five and ten year plans, teams require you to sign a contract that states you will buy season tickets for the life of the PSL agreement, meaning you are on the hook for tens of thousands of dollars, even if your team spends more time in the cellar than your wine collection.

What if after a couple of years, your team has been lousy, and you decide that you have had enough?  You cancel your season tickets, and that’s it, right?  Wrong.  Later you get a phone call from your team notifying you that if you do not pay for your tickets soon, the team will sue you.  There was at least one instance where a Tampa Bay Buccaneers fan bought a ten-year PSL, decided after two years he did not want the tickets anymore, and was then informed by the team they might sue if he did not pay up.  In turn, many once-loyal fans have sued the teams they used to bleed for, questioning the legality of the contract forcing them to purchase season tickets for the life of the PSL.  Currently, both the Cincinnati Bengals and Oakland Raiders are in legal battles regarding PSLs.  
             Fans purchase PSLs with the promises of receiving premium seats and great benefits that ordinary fans are not entitled to.  In the end, the primary “benefit” is the feeling that you have been ripped off by the team you have so blithely supported your entire life.  Another major benefit is the possibility of getting sued if you do not pay for your season tickets in a timely fashion.

            PSLs are yet another way teams are pushing loyal fans away from the action, and allowing “corporate fans” the best seats in their new stadiums.  Joe Fan cannot afford to pay $10,000 for a PSL plus the cost of season tickets for the duration of the PSL contract.  Only a select few can afford to pay such outrageous prices, and even then at the cost of major sacrifices, which even some of the most die-hard fans are not willing to make.  To large corporations, however, this is merely a drop in the bucket, and they can use these prime seats to entertain clients, as perks for top employees, or recruiting prospective workers.  As a result, Joe Fan ends up in the nosebleed section, far away from his heroes, as Joe Corporate is right next to the action, but too busy to take notice as he talks on his cell phone to one of the company’s major partners.
 < "Yeah, I think the Brewers are playing...but I'm not sure."
            Beginning as an experiment in the 1990’s, many college and professional teams began looking to PSLs as an answer to help fund a new home.  However, usually the only question PSLs answer is “How can we alienate our most loyal supporters and get ourselves tied up in endless litigation at the same time?”  Fans eagerly gobble up these PSLs under the guise of receiving special perks and great seats, only to find too late the perks are few and far between, and the seats simply are not worth the extreme cost.  Several teams have alienated their fans to the point that the fans struck back, suing the team over the PSLs.  At $10,000 apiece, Personal Seat Licenses push the true fans even further from the action, giving corporations first shot at choice seating.  In the end, the cost of PSLs is too great, for both the fans and the teams.  It is time to accept the fact that Personal Seat Licenses are a failed experiment, and that now is the time to do away with them permanently.

WE'RE NUMBER 2!  (7-30-06)
In American society today we demand excellence. We only accept the best. We insist on our children having the best schools. We purchase only top-of-the-line products: cars, jewelry, clothing, paperclips, anything. In nearly every aspect of our culture, second-rate just does not cut it.

Why, then, do we have the Wild Card, which allows second-rate teams into the playoffs? The playoffs are supposed to be the epitome of excellence, an exclusive club in which the only way to merit an invitation is to be division champion. Instead, we allow substandard teams entry via the Wild Card.

Sure, many people love the Wild Card. If not for that extra playoff spot, teams such as the Astros, Braves, Brewers, Twins, and White Sox would be selling off their veterans for young talent and looking ahead to 2007. Instead, they are among the twenty-two teams that have a realistic chance of playing in October. This means more fan interest, leading to more tickets, concessions, and memorabilia sold. Add it all up, and the Wild Card is a huge cash cow for Major League Baseball.

Why take that away? Why eliminate an idea that has created so much buzz and produced millions of dollars in revenue for baseball? When a team wins the World Series, it is supposedly the best in the world. However, a team that makes the playoffs via the Wild Card is not even the best team in its own division. To call a Wild Card team "World Champions" is a farce. How can the best team in the world not even be the best team in its division? This very question taints any championship won by a Wild Card team, not just in baseball, but any sport.
 < "The wild card has been berry berry good to us!"

Although the Wild Card creates additional races, we lose so many potentially great division battles in the process. Nearly every year, the Wild Card turns a would-be down-to-the-wire thriller of a division race into a forgettable ho-hum of a finale simply because the Wild Card destroys the sense of urgency these teams would normally have. The teams in question rest their stars on the final weekend rather than pulling out all the stops in an attempt to win the division. Why risk injuring your stars when you are already in the playoffs? Making the playoffs as a Wild Card is just as good as making it as a division champion.

Imagine if the Wild Card had been around in 1951. The Dodgers would have been crowned division champions due to their superior head-to-head record against New York, and the Giants would have been the Wild Card entry in the playoffs. That is almost as thrilling as what really happened; watching Bobby Thompson hit a game-winning three-run home run to clinch the pennant for New York after splitting the first two games of the series with Brooklyn. 
  < The call today would have been, "The Giants win the pennant, The Giants win the pennant...and the Dodgers win the wild card, the Dodgers win the wild card!"

The same is true of 1978. Fans were treated to a spectacular back and forth battle between the New York Yankees and Boston Red Sox to decide the American League East, watching as Bucky Dent hit an improbable three-run homer to put New York up 3-2 en route to a 5-4 victory. What if the Wild Card had been in place? Fast-forward to 2005, where New York won the division based on a better head-to-head record, and Boston was the Wild Card. Thank goodness for the Wild Card.

The Wild Card cheapens the entire regular season by forcing the best teams in baseball to again prove their superiority over the Wild Card, despite having already done so time and again during the regular season. Regular season records are thrown by the wayside, and if the better team cannot prove its supremacy one last time, it goes home while the Johnny-come-lately Wild Card goes on.

Why am I picking on baseball? The baseball playoffs are still the most exclusive of the Big Four, allowing only eight teams to enter. The NFL playoffs have twelve teams, and the NBA and NHL playoffs have sixteen teams each. However, both the NBA and NHL are struggling for ratings, so they are forced to expand the playoffs to attract viewership, even at the cost of tainting the championship.
  "What watered down playoffs?"

The NFL does not have this excuse, as it is the premier sports league in North America. It too should eliminate the Wild Card, and have only the four division champions from each conference square off for the Lombardi Trophy. That said, the NFL has had the Wild Card since the 1970’s and is unlikely to change now. The Wild Card is still a relatively new concept in baseball, having only been implemented in 1995. There is still hope that baseball will realize the error of its ways and remove the Wild Card team from the playoffs.

The Wild Card destroys the purity of the championship, turns unforgettable finishes into unremarkable endings, and diminishes the meaning of the regular season. While it adds ratings and revenue, it seriously taints the championship by allowing second-tier teams the opportunity to compete for the ultimate prize. When it comes to crowning our champions, the little boys should just worry about lowering their golf handicaps and let the big boys be concerned about winning the rings.

If you are like most people, you throw things out once they are no longer useful. That milk in the back of the fridge that expired three weeks ago? Gone. That cool new eight-track player from 1970? See ya! So why on earth does the American League still employ the designated hitter?
|The DH is nothing more than a gimmick created by the American League in 1973 to compensate for poor offense and dwindling attendance. 
 < Ron Blomberg, the first DH.
http://www.baseball-reference.com/b/blombro01.shtml

They hoped this boost of offense would be enough to put fannies in seats. Thiry-three years later, we can see the results have been anything anyone could have asked for, and more. The American League is the dominant league, attendance is on the rise, and offense is at an all-time high.
These reasons are precisely why now is the time to say goodbye to the designated hitter. Offense in both leagues is at an all-time high, and why would it not be? Virtually every change in baseball over the past forty years has been advantageous to hitters. The pitching mound was lowered, home run fences and foul territory are shrinking, and baseballs are being wound tighter. The American League then compounds this by taking away the one almost automatic out in the line-up. With the pitcher out of the lineup, every man who comes to bat is a threat to hit a homerun, forcing the pitcher to bear down every batter, every pitch. This shortens a pitcher’s outings, tires him more quickly, and thus makes him more susceptible to injury, not to mention the fact that it puts a greater strain on the bullpen to pick up lost innings. Seriously, these days sending a starting pitcher out there against a good AL lineup is like holding up a magnifying glass to an ant. Sure, at first it is fun to watch him struggle, squirm, and beg, but then you start to feel sorry for the poor guy. People complain about how pitchers of yesteryear were so durable, and how today’s pitchers are such wimps, but if Cy Young had to face today’s lineups could he have gone the distance 749 times? Probably not.
 < Cy Young. "What's a bullpen?"

Aside from the whole humanitarian angle, what has the DH become? Usually a full-time designated hitter is either a) a player that is good with the lumber but could not run a glove with an instruction manual, or b) an aging star trying to prove he can still play. To be a professional baseball player shouldn’t one be able to both hit and field? While designated hitters often prove valuable with the bat, they are completely removed from half of the equation. While they help score runs, they literally do nothing to help prevent runs. We glorify these players even though they spend half the game sitting on the bench spitting sunflower seeds. If a designated hitter would produce more runs than he costs his team on defense, put him in the field. Otherwise, he should not be in professional baseball.
As for the aging star, is there anything more heart-wrenching for a fan than to watch our heroes as they transform from baseball god to 40-something year-old struggling to bat his weight? Once a player is unable to perform both in the field and at the plate, it is time to retire.
 < "I'm not a baseball player...I'm a DH!"
That said, most teams have already gone away from employing a full-time DH. Only Carl Everett, Travis Hafner, Raul Ibanez, and David Ortiz got as many as 300 at-bats as a designated hitter in 2005. Most teams just use it as a day to "rest" one of the regulars. If that does not signal a need to eliminate the position, what will? When ten of fourteen teams use the position as an "off day", it is time to abolish it.
The designated hitter was merely a gimmick to draw fans to a struggling American League and boost offenses, and it has succeeded in both. Now all the DH is accomplishing is to beat pitchers senseless, make fools out of once-great players, create careers for players that never should have been there in the first place, and to become a day of rest for regulars. The DH has had a fun thirty-three year ride, but now is the time for the American League to ditch the designated hitter and get back to playing real baseball.