WTF?!?!: Urban Meyer

I'll just say it. I don't like Urban Meyer. Not because I think he's a bad guy or anything. After all, he is an Ohio boy just like me. I don't like him only because he coaches Florida, and after Florida owning Ohio State in two national championship games, you'll understand if I hold a little bit of a grudge. Anyway, this is why he is driving me so crazy right now, reported here on ESPN.com. Urban Meyer suspended star linebacker Brandon Spikes after he saw footage of Spikes inserting his fingers in and out of the facemask of Georgia runningback Washaun Ealey, attempting to gouge his eyes (I would just like to point out that Meyer didn't ever see it originally, and it wasn't until his wife pointed out Spikes' onfield conduct to him after the game did he know it even occurred). Upon confronting him, Spikes admitted to Meyer that this move was retaliation for getting his helmet knocked off earlier in the game and getting poked in the eye. Meyer did the right thing by suspending him. However, it's the length of the suspension that puzzles me. Spikes will be out for the FIRST HALF of the Florida-Vanderbilt game this Saturday at the Swamp. The first half? Really? That's going to teach him a lesson? I'm not saying this is LaGarrette Blount suspension-worthy, but one half? He's been battling injuries the entire season, and there's a good chance he wouldn't even have played the first half! Come on Meyer, get a grip.

Wow...

Wow, it's been a long time. Anyway, let's talk baseball. I can honestly say that if you would've told me 2 years ago of a CC Sabathia vs. Cliff Lee game 1 of the World Series, I'd say you're out of your mind. But given the Phillies' clinching last night, and the way the Yanks are playing, it's looking more and more like that's going to happen. It's a shame how many former Indians you can see in these games. In the Philly-LA series, you had Lee, Ben Francisco, Charlie Manual (yeah, I'll count him), Casey Blake, Ronnie Belliard, (newly-acquired) Jim Thome, and Manny Ramirez. That's nuts. I miss those guys a lot, especially Thome. Jim Thome made my childhood enjoyable. He'd put his heart and soul into every game he played for us, which made it even tougher to stomach when he left Cleveland for Philadelphia, and later the division-rival Chicago White Sox. Now it looks like Thome is going to need a new home, most likely in the American League. I hope he goes to a competitor. He can still hit, and would be a great addition. If the Indians didn't have the terrifying contract of Travis Hafner, I think we'd pick him back up. Oh well...I can always hope...

Mike on the Mic

This week has been a hard week. Slowly getting back into the swing of things at school can take a lot out of you, so I apologize for the lack of posting.

We are on the cusp of the High Holidays, and traditionally, as the song says"These are the days to say we're sorry, for all the things we've done that we can do better..." I have been joking around with my friends, saying that we should all get out as many transgressions as we can before the new year. However, it seems that someone shares this opinion of mine. Michael Jordan. As any NBA or Jordan fan knows, His Airness was inducted into the Hall of Fame last Friday, along with NBA greats David Robinson and John Stockton and coaches Jerry Sloan and C. Vivian Stringer. Robinson's speech was short, and from the heart, thanking many people that helped him get to NBA greatness. Like the Admiral, Jordan too, shared some heartfelt words. But these two orators could not have been any different. David Robinson is a sweetheart, arguably one of the nicest guys who walked the earth (I'm pretty sure the award for good sportsmanship in the NBA is named after him). Jordan is a competitor. And as Robinson's heart is big, MJ's heart is cold.

Listening to Jordan's induction speech was more than just disturbing--In a sense, it ruined my childhood. Growing up, I, like most kids, was a HUGE fan of #23. I thought that the Michael Jordan that existed off the court was a nice family man. For the love of God the man made Space Jam! It didn't occur to me that he was actually a total D-Bag. I mean, everyone has their own faults, but there's a certain way that you should act in public, especially when you're receiving a high honor. Upon his selection to be a member of this year's class in the HOF, he was a big annoyed. He didn't see it as it's a huge honor, but rather, the end of the line. He's done everything else, and now this is just one more accolade accrued, the final one. Apparently to the Air-Man it seems as if he'll soon be banished to the land of the NBA forgottens list, right up there next to Craig Ehlo (who he schooled so many times), Len Bias, and Sam Bowie (arguably the biggest flop in NBA history. Another honorary mention for that title would be Darko Milicic). When a normal person would be happy to be in the Hall of Fame, Jordan seemed anything but giddy about being there. So Mike decided that when getting the opportunity to speak at his "last hurrah", you know, the way everyone will remember him, to not just NOT thank anyone, but rather go on and on and on about those who flummoxed him and irritated him during his playing days. It was more awkward that Kanye West's a-hole move, when he stole the spotlight from Taylor Swift after she won her award at the MTV VMA's.

He was a womanizer, which isn't so commendable for a married man with children. He was a tough competitor, and there's nothing wrong with that. But there's a point when competition becomes too much, and you turn into a jackass.

For me, it's hard to accept this. Michael Jordan was my idol. He was my hero. I drank his drink, I ate his food, I watched his movie, I wore his apparel. I have the posters, the jerseys, rookie cards, everything. But none of that matters anymore. I don't know why I'm so hurt by seeing who the "real" Michael Jordan is, but I really am. I know Kobe Bryant and LeBron James are far from perfect and also total a-holes in their own right, but I let their play on the court overshadow my thoughts of them as individuals off the court. Friends of mine from Chicago would go to games of Jewish schools that would play against the schools his kids went to, just to catch a glimpse of him. But they always told me how he was so cold, and never would even flash a smile at these people. Another friend told me a story about how Michael Jordan ditched him during a photo-op. But I never thought that these accounts could accurately portray the man I and many other kids idolized.

Let me finish by saying how confused I am that Jordan never spoke out and said he was the best. Oh, he knew it. Muhammad Ali and Rickey Henderson both paraded around their respective leagues shouting that they were the best. When the media portrayed Jordan as the greatest, he just shrugged it off. But let's compare Henderson and Jordan. During their tenures as professional athletes, they both were elected to their sport's HOF. Henderson on the field was a haughty, out-spoken competitor. Jordan was quiet. But if you watched Henderson's induction speech for the MLB Hall of Fame earlier in the year, you would've never known it. These two sports stars are the total opposites. You would think that a player like Rickey, who went around exclaiming "I'm the greatest", (most notably when he was crowned with the record of most stolen bases) would act like a total ba'al gaiva, or be disgustingly arrogant upon his induction. You could not have been more wrong. Henderson shocked everyone when he finished his speech by saying "I am humbled", which was greeted with a roaring cheer from those present, and everyone legitimately seemed ecstatic for him. So you would think that a guy who seemed to be a humble guy on the court would make his induction speech just like Robinson's or Henderson's, right? You would've been disappointed, just like me. It made me realize that if this was the way that Jordan acted, I am certain that I would NEVER want to be "Like Mike". So thank you Michael, for essentially ruining my childhood.

Gone but not Forgotten

I just read this story on Aol.com that I really liked.

The story wasn't much of blip on the sports radar. A football coach in Alabama suffered chest pains during a game and died on the way to the hospital.

It wasn't Nick Saban or anybody you'd know. It was Keith Howard, whose name you'll probably forget as soon as you click off this screen.

There are more pressing stories to get to, like Rich Rodriguez's tears or Joba Chamberlain's pitch count or whether T.O.'s ailing toe will make an appearance in this week's reality episode.

So if you're looking for a story that registers in our 24-7 news cycle, skip this. But if you want to read about a guy who really mattered, it would be my privilege to introduce you to Howard.

If you're lucky you already know him, or somebody like him.

"High school kids don't do what you tell them," he used to say. "They do what you live and do."

That makes people like Howard infinitely more consequential, if far less rich and famous than T.O.'s toe. Howard was more influential than most. He was the head coach in a small Southern town, where so much of life revolves around what happens on Friday nights.

"He was probably the most powerful man in the county," said Chad Martin, Lincoln High's defensive coordinator. "He was a legend, and not just in the sports sense."

Howard was born in Lincoln, Ala., pop. 5,486. He spent most of his 48 years there and seemed to know everybody in Talladega County.

"Black or white, rich or poor, he treated you like a brother," Martin said.

He knew football. The Golden Bears went 11-2 last season. But when he hired an assistant coach, he didn't ask what offense or defense they liked.

"He wanted to know if you were a family man and if you loved kids," Martin said.

Do that and they'd take a lot more than Xs and Os out into the real world. Nobody suspected last Friday night would be his final lesson.

Lincoln got on the bus and traveled 35 miles down state road 77 to Attalla, home of the Etowah Blue Devils. As the teams ran off the field for halftime, Howard told Martin he wasn't feeling right and the team doctor was going to check him out.

Martin wasn't overly concerned. Howard would get so worked up at games he'd literally chew right through his game plan. Once or twice a year he'd let Martin handle the halftime duties.

"Take 'em in and talk to them," he'd say.

Last Friday night was slightly different.

"Take 'em in," he told Martin. "They're yours."

Before walking away, he told Martin one last thing.

"I love you."

"I love you too, coach," Martin said.

As the team came out of the locker room, the chaplain handed Martin two teeth-marked folders full of game plan notes. Howard had handed them off right before getting into an ambulance.

Martin put on his headset and did what Howard had taught him. The Golden Bears had just forced Attalla to punt when the news crackled into Martins' ear.

"He coded."

A minute later, it was official.

"He's gone."

Martin took a few steps back and crouched down.

"I felt nothing. My whole sense of being just left me," he said. "My mentor, my boss, my best friend, the guy I leaned on for everything. He was gone."

Martin couldn't let that show. He remembered one of Howard's lessons.

"Lincoln football was here before me, and it will be here after me," he would say. "We're not the program. We're just a small piece of it."

Nobody in Talladega County would completely agree with that. The per-capita income is only $22,357, but Howard had begged, cajoled and fund-raised Lincoln High into a 21st century showcase.

He did not stop until the Golden Bears had an indoor practice facility. There were new baseball and softball parks. The past three years he'd rebuilt Lincoln Memorial Stadium.

Some nights Howard would turn on the lights and go to the top of the bleachers, just to gaze at the project. The finishing touch was field turf installed over the summer.

"He could get people to do stuff you couldn't imagine," Martin said.

In five years as head coach, Howard never had an assistant leave Lincoln. And they sure didn't stay for the money."He was your best friend, a role model, a counselor. Every school has those people, but he was all that wrapped into one."
-- Chad Martin

"He was your best friend, a role model, a counselor," Martin said. "Every school has those people, but he was all that wrapped into one."

By the middle of the second half, the news was spreading through the crowd. The team had not been told its coach had gone to the hospital, but with four minutes left in the game the players knew.

Martin didn't have to tell them to do anything. They simply remembered how Howard lived.

"They finished the game," Martin said.

They won 26-7, then everyone cried.

Howard is survived by his wife, Lisa, his 12-year-old daughter, Lindsey, 27-year-old stepson Matt Geier and who knows how many people he influenced along the way.

"There is a hole in the Lincoln community," said Terry Roller, the school's principal.

He's asked coaches and players from all over the county to attend Tuesday's memorial. They'll show up in their jerseys at Lincoln Memorial Field.

Make that Keith Howard Field.

They've already decided to rename it. The first game will be Thursday night.

"The thing that breaks my heart most is this was his vision," Martin said. "All the work he put in, and he didn't get to see it."

He paused, and I could tell he was trying not to let me hear him cry on the other end of the phone. All I knew was to say the obvious.

"I'm sure he'll still be there."

"I'm sure he will," Martin said.

Outside of Lincoln, Ala., nobody may notice. College football starts Thursday night, and there's always Matt Cassel's knee to worry about and Roger Federer's winning streak.

Those are the big stories, but they really just come and go.

It's the small ones like Keith Howard that really live on.

Least Favorite Pro Sports Player 8: Brett Favre

Wow. This one hurts. I think I should have titled this "Former all time favorite players, now most hated players". It came out today that, pending a physical, Brett Favre will sign with the Minnesota Vikings. I'm sure Nate Rischall is peeing his pants with joy right now. As for me, I couldn't be more disgusted. When the Browns moved to Baltimore (Al Yedei Art Modell, yemach shemo), that was when I really started to develop a love for sports. Without a football team, I followed one player: Brett Favre. He was my favorite player up until his stint with the Jets last season. Now, whenever I hear his name I feel gross. Can he still play? Sure he can, but that's not the issue at hand. He's a flip-flopper, the NFL's John Kerry (a MUCH worse version). This is nothing we haven't seen before, since he's "retired" like what, 8 or 9 times? He's eclipsed "the boy who cried wolf" status, into uncharted waters of lying/mind-changing. Brett Favre is dead to me, and this may be a bit brash, but I hope that Green Bay does not retire his number, and that he ultimately isn't inducted into the Hall of Fame. As far as I'm concerned, there is no room for people like him in Canton. Thanks a lot Brett, for ruining my childhood. I hope John David Booty doesn't give up his number, which would probably get him released. So in place of that, I hope Sage Roselfels and Tavaris Jackson beat him down in the parking lot.

Cheers and Jeers

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages. I am proud to present to you some good, Kol Ramah-esque "Cheers and Jeers". Here you go:

-Cheers to: My brand new Cliff Lee jersey.

-Jeers to: Not getting a chance to wear it before we tossed him to Philadelphia.

-Cheers to: The only player with MLB experience in the 4 trade deadline week deals that the Indians made, for playing well tonight in his debut with the Tribe.

-Jeers to: It NOT being Clay Buchholtz.

-Cheers to: The Indians recently having a 5 game winning streak.

-Jeers to: Blowing it.

-Cheers to: Seth Shapiro, one of my best friends since kindergarten.

-Jeers to: Mark Shapiro, the WORST general manager that the Cleveland Indians have ever employed.

-Cheers to: Cliff Lee pitching well in his debut with the Philadelphia Phillies.

-Jeers to: Mark Shapiro settling for mediocre prospects, and not insisting on the top quality farm guys that Richardi and the Blue Jays were insisting on having to package a deal for Roy Halladay.

*****-Additional Jeers for throwing in Ben Francisco to the Cliff Lee deal, as if losing our ace (and reigning AL Cy Young winner) for the 2nd straight year was enough.

-Cheers to: Tomo Ohka for actually showing some decent pitching last night.

-Jeers to: One again, the Cleveland Indians for actually having Ohka on the roster.

-Cheers to: The hot streak that Jhonny Peralta has been on recently.

-Jeers to: The Indians for not trading Peralta after the 2007 season.

*****-Additional Jeers for the fact that he hasn't changed the spelling of his name ever since his parents made the spelling mistake at birth.

-Cheers to: Jake Westbrook being back in action for the Tribe in late June...

-Jeers to: That not actually happening...

-Cheers to: Andy Marte, Chris Gimenez, Trevor Crowe, and Wyatt Toregas getting some big league playing time.

-Jeers to: Travis Hafner, Jake Westbrook, and Kerry Wood getting WAY to much money for not enough (or in one case ANY) production.

-Cheers to: Victor Martinez bobble head night and chest protector backpack giveaways.

-Jeers to: Those two promotional giveaways STILL occurring AFTER we traded him to the BoSox. Fail.

-Cheers to: The Indians for FINALLY bringing up Andy Marte from AAA Columbus, after hitting 43 extra base hits, including blasting 18HRs, and hitting .327.

-Jeers to: Trading away Ryan Garko for a Class-A pitcher

*****-Additional Jeers to Eric Wedge for splitting his time between 1st and 3rd, when he's clearly better at 3rd than anyone we have, including Peralta who plays 3rd, but shouldn't.

Least Favorite Pro Sports Player 7: Anderson Varejao

I was perusing around ESPN.com today, and something happened to catch my eye. It was this. Honestly, not only am i not surprised, I could care less. This may seem like a bit of a shock to some of you, but Anderson has been on my short list for quite some time now. It all started a few years back when he and recently traded Sasha Pavlovic (who I like) were contract hold-outs after the Cavs reached and were subsequently swept in the NBA Finals in 2007. Back then, Wild Thing thought that he was all that AND a bag of chips, but he wasn't. He then decided to test the market as a restricted free agent. December came around, we matched an offer sheet and he got a deal which turned out to be less that what we had originally offered him. Super. Anyway, he opted out of his contract today, searching for greener pastures (or pockets) from what will probably be a a team circling the drain of the draft lottery. I'm sorry but if he wants a big time deal, he should put up big time numbers. Every so often this season, he'd have a good game, and every game he had maybe one good turn around backwards layup. But that's it. Frankly, I hope he's on a different team next season, unless we can keep him for the same amount he'd be making this year anyway. But I just don't understand how you can give someone a Wally Szczerbiak type contract for, well, Wally Szczerbiak type play. Varejao averaged 9 points and 7 rebounds in 28.5 minutes per game this season. During the playoffs this year, I would joke around and refer to Chicago's Joakim Noah as a "Poor Man's" Anderson Varejao. But when you crunch the numbers, at a third of the salary of Varejao, Noah averaged 7 points and 8 rebounds in just over 24 minutes per game. No joke there.