Thursday, May 21, 2009

Why I've Stopped Reading Men's Health After 22 Years

Men’s Health magazine launched in 1987, the year I graduated high school and began college. For the last 22 years, a period that has taken me to the cusp of my 40th birthday, I’ve been a loyal reader and/or subscriber. I’ve written a handful of stories for MH. Its parent company, Rodale, published the first four Core Performance books I’ve had the honor of writing with Mark Verstegen, himself a MH columnist until recently.

 

But the June 2009 issue will be my last. Maybe I no longer fit the MH demographic, but the magazine has morphed into something I no longer find useful, compelling, or even interesting.

 

For years, MH provided cutting edge research on fitness trends, nutrition, and performance. There’s still a taste of that in each issue, though for the most part it’s become just another celebrity-obsessed, New York-centric, jock-sniffing rag catered to the ADHD 18-to-34 male demographic whose main goal, apparently, is to impress 24-year-old actresses.

 

I was hoping the June issue would change my mind and, indeed, I felt a sense of sadness when it arrived with a “LAST ISSUE” warning and a come-on to renew my subscription, one of no doubt dozens I’ll receive in the coming months.

 

I began to turn the pages hoping to see a glimpse of the former MH. Instead, I was reminded of the many reasons why I’ll be getting one less magazine.

 

Admittedly, these are brutal times for the magazine business. Fast Company tried to lure me back the other day with a renewal rate of $10 for three years. (Not $10 annually, $10 for three years.) As someone who makes a living in part by writing for glossies, I feel the pain more than most. I understand the need to constantly evolve and the “meet the demands of readers,” whatever that means.

 

What I don’t get is the need to focus to no end on celebrities, preferably those with a connection to New York City. Every media outlet is guilty of this. It’s why ESPN does not go 10 minutes on any of its platforms without mentioning Brett Favre, even if there’s nothing new to report. It’s why athletes with above-average skills (Jason Sehorn, Jeremy Shockey) become larger-than-life figures. It’s why a no-talent nobody like Kim Kardashian can become famous for….what, exactly?

 

But MH always was different. Its covers always featured some anonymous fitness model displaying his eight-pack abs and rippling physique. So what if the guy starved himself for weeks leading up to the shoot and followed a training regimen that perhaps included a at least a few things that can’t be found in your local GNC. This is what loyal readers of MH like me wanted.

 

Then, in 2004, the magazine jumped the shark when Editor David Zinczenko began putting celebrities and athletes on the cover exclusively – with their shirts on. Initally, this wasn’t such a bag thing. There was a terrific feature on Matthew McConaughey and all of his crazy workout routines. McConaughey is a legitimate athlete, posting a competitive time in last year’s Malibu Triathlon. A few months later, MH profiled Sean William Scott, best known for playing Stiffler in the “American Pie” movies. Not exactly an A-list celebrity, but he did have some useful workout tips. Clearly this was a guy who took care of his body.

 

Unfortunately, MH soon discovered what’s obvious to anyone who follows Hollywood. Most actors (and actresses) are chain-smoking, hard-drinking hedonists who get into shape only when roles require it, with the help of accomplished, highly-paid trainers, nutritionists, nannies, and handlers. Exhibit A: Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, who have done more to promote smoking than anyone not named Strom Thurmond.

 

Even a magazine with the clout of MH had trouble landing the likes of Pitt. So it took a familiar page out of the celebrity magazine playbook, featuring up-and-coming stars of new movies. Early in 2007, MH profiled Gerard Butler, the lead actor in the Spartan-themed film 300, which inspired men everywhere to start performing crunches. For an ab-obsessed magazine like MH, edited by best-selling “Abs Diet” co-author Zinczenko, 300 was a godsend.

 

The movie aside, Butler wasn’t quite MH material. During the few hours he spent with a writer from MH (in New York, of course), he never stopped smoking. But, hey, at least he had washboard abs for a few months during the filming of 300.

 

Thus began a pattern of MH giving a pass to smokers. Never was this more evident than a recent issue that featured the nation’s First Cancer Stick Consumer, President Barack Obama. Though the media dutifully has avoided reporting on or shooting photos of Obama smoking, he’s by all accounts had trouble kicking a longtime habit. (The tight, parsed skin and baritone voice might be a giveaway.) Not so, according to MH, which reported that Obama was only an occasional smoker who had beaten the habit with nicotine gum.

 

Which brings us to the current cover boy, Ewan McGregor. Unlike most celebrity subjects in MH and other magazines, McGregor granted the writer more than the traditional 90-minute chat over lunch in a trendy NYC restaurant. Instead, they met for a hike in Malibu Creek State Park, which fit the theme of the profile of McGregor as a seize-the-day, man-of-adventure kinda guy.

 

There’s a lot to like about McGregor. I’ve always admired how he keeps his private life private. We’re about the same age, both with two kids (he adopted a third), and both married more than a decade. I haven’t seen many of his films, but thought he was terrific as Obi Wan Kenobi in the Star Wars prequel trilogy.

 

Unfortunately, as author David Hochman notes, “McGregor is not the complete Men’s Health guy. He hates the gym. Free weights, circuit training, treadmills – they bore him. “Oh and squats,” he says, as we head down the coast. “They make me angry and nauseous.”

 

McGregor notes that he smoked for years and hints at periods of heavy drinking. These days, his workout routine consists solely of five-mile runs with an occasional eight miler. In other words, the typical American long, slow distance “workout” that does nothing but produce overuse injuries.

 

Among McGregor’s fitness pearls of wisdom: “Stop drinking and you’ll lose weight.”

 

Then there’s this: “What matters most with any regimen, whether it’s to lose weight or stop drinking or smoking, is you willingness to seek help and your desire to say, ‘no more.’ The voice in your head that says ‘I choose not to’ is what ultimately makes the difference between not changing and making changes that last.”

 

Willpower! Who knew? Thanks for the takeaway, Obi Wan!

 

McGregor is hardly the only celebrity featured in the June MH. Among the other “gets” is somebody named Tyrese Gibson, star of the upcoming “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.” There’s even an odd mini-profile on Danica Patrick’s father and how he contributed to her competitive fire.

 

Danica, of course, is one of the most accomplished female athletes in sports. Her husband is a physical therapist for the Oakland A’s. She trains hard and is on the cover of the June issue of Shape magazine.

 

Of course, nothing says “accomplished female athlete” and “competitive fire” more than a black-and-white photo of Patrick in a low-cut dress wearing an annoyed expression while standing in the desert in front of a vintage Cadillac.

 

That’s the image MH uses for Patrick. Perhaps the art director thought MH was shooting one of its usual features on 24-year-old starlets offering advice on how to impress women. The June Babe of the Month is someone named Jessica Szhor, who is pictured eating (or at least holding) a piece of chocolate cake and claims she “eats like a man,” scarfing down hamburgers.

 

Now I might not know much about impressing 24-year-old actresses (or those of any other age), but I’ve dealt with enough prominent 24-year-old pro athletes to know that they live in a world that most of us can’t comprehend. How this is applicable to the life of the average MH reader is anyone’s guess.

 

Thankfully, MH still offers some meaty stories from the likes of decorated magazine writers like Bob Drury. The June issue includes a terrific seven-page investigation into the dangers of men eating soy protein. Written by the aptly-named Matt Bean, the story shows that soy is an estrogen precursor that will lead to decreased testosterone production, diminished libido and Alex Rodriguez-sized man boobs.

 

It’s a thorough examination of the topic, with numerous experts and studies quoted, just the type of helpful piece that MH became famous for. Unfortunately, the topic is at least two years old, previously featured in other magazines.

 

A decade ago, MH would have been the first to report stories like this. Instead, it stopped identifying trends and started reporting on them. No doubt this story came out of some meeting of editors, at least one of whom read a story on the dangers of soy…somewhere else!

 

It’s a symptom of magazine myopia. Editors, most of which live in or near New York City, believe they have their fingers on the pulse of America. If it’s not happening in NYC, it’s irrelevant. It’s why most magazine stories in MH take place in NYC gathering spots and profile young people with jobs that only exist in NYC or Los Angeles such as “publicity assistant” or “assistant book editor.”

 

No matter that more than 96 percent of Americans live remarkably interesting lives outside of NYC in beautiful places like Emmaus, Pa., home of Rodale and MH headquarters. Zinczenko, according to his publicity materials, splits his time between Emmaus and the company’s New York offices.

 

There aren’t many triathlons in New York, which might explain why MH has virtually ignored the boom in the endurance sport, continuing to focus mostly on the same tired workouts based on bodybuilding. Even though triathlon represents the hard-charging, Type A, $100,000-plus demographic MH craves – this month’s issue even includes a full-page ad for the Malibu Triathlon – there’s little editorial coverage.

 

Even highly-regarded, cutting-edge trainers are forced to write recycled pieces like Juan Carlos Santana’s “Chisel Your Chest,” a June issue workout involving various push-up routines. Pick up any previous issue and you’ll find something similar.

 

As MH has become more celebrity obsessed, it has ventured more into sports, sometimes with disasterous results. Last month, the accomplished writer Joe Kita profiled a training center created by baseball agent Scott Boras for his clients. Boras probably is glad his two most prominent charges, steroid cheats Alex Rodriguez and Manny Ramirez, don’t use his facility. The issue went to press before Ramirez was busted, but after A-Rod comped to using ‘roids, at least during his Texas Rangers years.

 

Though Boras has by far the most prominent client list in baseball, the only notable guys who seem to train at his facity, according to the story, are Matt Holliday of the A’s and veteran Garrett Anderson of the Atlanta Braves. Left unsaid was why nobody else trains there or a mention of any of the growing number of Boras clients, including A-Rod and Mitchell Report pitcher Kevin Brown, have used performance enhancing drugs.

 

Kita did his best to write around a story that likely didn’t produce the access he was hoping to receive. Still, are there no baseball fans on the MH editorial staff who could have noticed some glaring flaws in the story?

 

In fairness to Kita, there are more than a few magazine stories I’d like to have back for revisions. None of those were among the pieces I wrote for Best Life, a short-lived MH spin-off that folded earlier this year. Dedicated to living your “best life” possible, it featured stories on how to improve your life physically, financially, and emotionally. It reminded me a lot of what MH used to be.

 

Best Life was a victim of the economy, declining advertising, and perhaps the times. There were celebrity profiles, of course, but little advice on bedding 24-year-old actresses, no jock-sniffing sports pieces, and few tired bodybuilding routines.

 

Those things apparently aren’t part of living your best life.

 

But what do they have to do with men’s health?

 

 

 

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Why the Rays Don't Need Another Shef in the Kitchen

Gary Sheffield was an ex-Tiger for all of 10 minutes yesterday when there was talk of him joining the Tampa Bay Rays. After all, he's a Tampa native. Draw up the paperwork.

That was the mindset throughout the former Devil Rays era. This provincial, small-town community always was willing to welcome home a past-his-prime player such as Wade Boggs, Fred McGriff, or Doc Gooden. Heck, you didn't even have to be a star. Dave Eiland, come on down. If the D-Rays couldn't sign good players, they at least signed familar ones.

These days, the Rays are the toughest roster in baseball to make. They're struggling to find a spot for Jeff Niemann, a former first-round pick who would be snapped up in 10 seconds should he be placed on waivers. There's no room for Jason Isringhausen, who seems to have rediscovered his closer's form. Even David Price, the top prospect in baseball, is starting the year at Triple-A in part because of the logjam. Things would be really hairy if B.J. Upton, Fernando Perez and Chad Bradford were not beginning the year on the disabled list.

Even if Sheffield were still in his prime and willing to play for a reasonable price, he would be a bad fit.

The Rays have bent over backward to clear their clubhouse of distractions and problem children. Last year's success was due mostly to much-improved defense and the maturation of young talent, but ridding the room of the likes of Delmon Young and Elijah Dukes was important. There was not a bad guy or me-first character in the clubhouse, though Troy Percival's departure once he was left off the post-season roster remains unexplained.

Few players come with more baggage than Sheffield. It's not that he's a bad guy. Teammates love him. He's even good with the media. It's just that wherever he's been, he's managed to become a malcontent and frustrate managers. His nickname is "Always Something" because there's always something bothering him. Somebody has always done him wrong or shown him a lack of respect. He floats more conspiracy theories than Oliver Stone. He always seems to carry a chip on his shoulder, believing he's underpaid, even though he's been one of the most handsomely compensated players of the last 15 years -- $154 million for his career, according to www.baseball-reference.com.

Sheffield has been a very good player but there's always been a perception that he's underachieved. He's finished in the top five of the MVP voting just three times. Even though he's played on mostly well-heeled, winning teams, he's reached the World Series just once, with the 1997 Marlins. He spent five seasons with the Braves and Yankees and played in a league championship series just once. Given the success of the two teams over the last 15 years, that's almost impossible to do.

At no point in Sheffield's career would he be considered one of the game's 10 best players. Ten most talented? No doubt. Fastest bat speed? No question. But 10 best? Not quite.

The Rays do not need a designated hitter, having signed 32-year-old Pat Burrell. That leaves the outfield. Before the steroid era, it was all but unheard of for anyone over the age of 35 to play the outfield on a regular basis. As recently as 1995, Brett Butler, then 38, was considered Ponce de Leon. (Butler, at 165 pounds, is one of the few players we can definitely say did not use steroids.)

Teams are realizing that older outfielders are huge defensive liabilities. Some, like the Yankees, never get it, trotting out the likes of Bernie Williams, Kenny Lofton, Johnny Damon, and Hideki Matsui. The Rays, more than any other team, have been built around defense, which is another strike against Sheffield.

If the Rays want to sign Sheffield to launch his 500th home run as a hometown Ray, fine. The team can DL Gabe Gross with a mysterious ailment. But is Sheffield going to agree to the equivalent of an NBA 10-day contract? If there's one thing we know about Sheffield, it's that he never believes his skills have eroded, never concedes that he's not worth a huge contract.

The Rays have reached this point by being steadfast in their talent evaluation, not letting it be colored by sentiment or hometown considerations. That's why Rocco Baldelli is in Boston, Trever Miller in St. Louis, and Cliff Floyd with the Padres. It's why Gary Sheffield should be welcomed back to The Trop this season as a favorite son of the Tampa Bay area.

But only to throw out a first pitch.

 

Friday, January 9, 2009

My NFL-Free Season

I've long argued that it takes far more commitment to be a fan of Major League Baseball than it does the NFL.

In the NFL, there's only one game a week. Trades are rare and because of the popularity of college football, you know many of the players when they enter the league.

In baseball, there's a game most every day. Trades are common, though not as frequent as they used to be, and since players come from all over the world, there's a much bigger talent pool to follow if you want to be a baseball insider.

People who attend baseball games regularly tend to know the entire 25-man roster, along with players from both leagues. Many use a scorecard, which requires watching every pitch. If they play fantasy baseball, they know every player in the game, along with many in the minors.

People who attend NFL games regularly usually know only a handful of the players on their team - stars and skill position players. Even avid fantasy players couldn't name more than a few non-skill players on any given club.

Heck, I know longtime NFL season ticket-holders who couldn't name more than six or eight players on their team's roster. That's because they spend games drinking (or drunk) and pay little attention to the game. They wouldn't last five minutes with a scorecard, if such a thing existed for football.

There's drinking at baseball games, too much for my taste, but generally there's a lower level of drunken behavior at baseball games, at least when Yankees and Red Sox fans aren't involved.

To follow the NFL, it's not necessary to even watch the games, what with the oversaturation of coverage on talk radio, television, and print. There's also the "water cooler" factor. I don't even work in an office, but I'm familar with the TV shows "24," "Lost" and "Grey's Anatomy" even though I've never watched them. They're impossible to avoid.

The same is true with the NFL. This year, I decided to put my theory to the test. Because of the remarkable run of the Tampa Bay Rays here, I realized in mid-October that I had not watched a minute of the NFL.

Since the season was half over, I made a conscious effort not to watch the league the rest of the year. That also meant no pre-game shows, no ESPN football coverage or SportsCenter, no football-centered talk radio (as if there's any other kind these days) - nothing. (The NFL Network isn't carried on my cable system and that helped.)

I gave up listening to ESPN's Mike & Mike in the morning since football dominates their program. I restricted my NFL exposure to the local newspaper and a glance of the headlines on ESPN.com several times a week. None of my Thanksgiving guests cared that the TV was off.

Remarkably, I didn't feel any less informed. It helps that many NFL storylines never change. The obsession with Brett Favre, Terrell Owens, and Pacman Jones never goes away. The Lions and Raiders still stink. The Eagles, Steelers, Colts, and Giants remain consistently good. The Browns, 49ers, and Redskins continue to underachieve. Here in Tampa Bay, the Buccaneers subplots and drama never change. Jon Gruden can't decide on a quarterback or win consistently. Derrick Brooks and Ronde Barber continue to anchor the defense. There's no semblance of an offense.

Aside from the unlikely turnarounds of the Dolphins, Cardinals, and Falcons, there weren't any extraordinary developments in the NFL this season - despite the non-stop, breathless coverage of every NFL non-story across all media platforms.

As a sports journalist who covers the NFL to some degree, especially the NFL Draft in recent years, I worried that my NFL blackout might hurt me professionally. If anything, I feel refreshed and more informed heading into the NFL Draft. I probably paid more attention to the college game. By focusing on print coverage, casually at that, I actually felt better prepared when I appeared regularly on one of our "Sports Reporters" type shows here in Tampa Bay.

Here's the funny thing: I didn't miss the NFL at all. I'll watch the Super Bowl - it's in my backyard after all - but it won't be necessary. After all, I'll be just as informed whether I watch the game or not.

 

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Tampa Bay - the Real Title "Town"

Here in Florida, we love a recount. That’s why it’s time for ESPN, The Sporting News and everyone else who has conducted a “Title Town” poll recently to reconsider its choices.

Tampa Bay is Title Town.

True, Tampa Bay isn’t even a city. That might be why the national media seems confused when it comes to our community. WTBS broadcasters alone made dozens of references to the Rays as “Tampa” during the first two rounds of playoffs.

When teams travel to Florida to face the Rays, they don’t “go to Tampa.” After their charters land in St. Petersburg-Clearwater Airport, they bus to a downtown St. Pete hotel and face the Rays at Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg – more than 15 miles from Tampa, across the eight-mile Howard Frankland Bridge.

The all-Tampa Bay World Series will, if nothing else, serve as a geography lesson. Admittedly, the University of South Florida’s upstart football team has added to the confusion. (USF is far from Miami in Tampa, with a growing satellite campus in St. Pete, not far from Tropicana Field.)

Let’s take a look at the Sunshine State. Florida is shaped like a handgun, with Pinellas County the trigger. Pinellas is home to both the Rays (St. Pete) and the Philadelphia Phillies, who have trained in Clearwater for the last 61 years.

Ed Goren and the folks at Fox Sports view this World Series as the Watch-the-Ratings-Fall Classic, but it’s time they embrace the reality that Tampa Bay has been the center of the sports universe for the last six or eight years.

When it comes to deciding big events, nowhere is more important than Tampa Bay. That’s why for three presidential elections now, candidates have visited more often than Carl Pavano on injury rehab stints.

Barack Obama understands the importance of Tampa Bay and sports. Three weeks ago he spoke in Dunedin in the spring training ballpark of the Toronto Blue Jays. Two weeks ago Sarah Palin addressed the masses in Clearwater, not far from the Phillies’ complex. Last week, Obama returned and spoke at Steinbrenner Field, spring training home of the New York Yankees.

Since 2002, no other market can boast of a Super Bowl champion, Stanley Cup winner and World Series participant (and possible winner). New York, with its many teams, has just one major sports title to show for the Bush administration.

If Gainesville is considered part of the extended market, which it often is around here, then Tampa Bay also can boast of a pair of NCAA basketball championships and a BCS football title. If the Gators are not counted, then there are the South Florida Bulls, who have appeared in The Associated Press top 10 in each of the last two seasons. Not bad for a program that began one year before the Devil Rays.

Admittedly, Tampa Bay also is the de facto home of the Yankees, who play their spring training games in George Steinbrenner’s longtime hometown of Tampa, where the Buccaneers and Lightning also play. The Yanks haven’t done much since Bill Clinton left office. But that should not count against the market, which is happy to let longtime resident Derek Jeter call Tampa Bay home, at least as much as he’s allowed to by the IRS.

Now before Boston fans scream Belichick, Tampa Bay’s many other contributions to the national sports landscape should be noted, starting with food.

Outback Steakhouse began in Tampa, along with its subsidiaries Carraba’s Italian Grill and The Bonefish Grill. Outback was founded by Chris Sullivan and Bob Basham, who were limited partners in the former Devil Rays. They grew so frustrated with former head guy Vince Naimoli that they sold their shares to Stuart Sternberg, who later bought Naimoli’s controlling interest and pointed the franchise in the right direction.

Then there’s Hooters, founded in Clearwater in 1983. The last time the Phillies were in the World Series, Darren Daulton and original Hooters girl Lynne Austin were still married. Lynne’s now a sports talk show host here while Dutch is occasionally seen around town muttering about metaphysics and the end of the world. Given the global economy and the Rays season, the former Devil Rays bullpen coach is starting to make a lot of sense.

Earlier this month Hooters threw its 25th anniversary bash. John Daly showed up, sitting mostly alone in a booth hawking autographed photos for $25 while a line of people waited for free signatures from the Hooters calendar girls.

In this economy, the World Series is going to be a huge boost to area restaurants. You know who’s really pumped? The folks who operate the four Frenchy’s Restaurants on Clearwater Beach. During spring training, sportswriters account for much of Frenchy’s beer sales. Now the entire baseball media will descend like Xerxes’ hordes through the hot gates.

We’re not much of a basketball town here, but Matt Geiger no doubt will be welcoming some of his Philly friends back this week. The Pinellas County native, who somehow talked the 76ers into giving him a $52 million contract in 2001, now owns two popular “Courtside Grille” restaurants.

Geiger also is a big-time real estate developer who lives in a 26,000-square-foot house that in the movie “The Punisher” served as the home of a villain played by John Travolta. If you missed “The Punisher,” that’s understandable. It was sort of the Matt Geiger of action movies.

There’s some debate over who has the biggest house in Pinellas County: Geiger or Hulk Hogan, whose home near downtown Clearwater was the site of the reality show “Hogan Knows Best.” The Hulkster (ne Terry Bollea) has fallen on hard times lately, going through a divorce and watching his 18-year-old son, Nick, serve an eight-month jail sentence for felony reckless driving stemming from an accident last year that left a passenger seriously injured and possibly confined to a nursing home for the rest of his life.

Hulk has been a regular at Rays’ games during the playoffs. Thankfully, the Rays haven’t followed the lead of the Lightning and brought his daughter, Brooke, out to “sing” the national anthem.

Indeed, Tropicana Field has become hallowed ground this year, with the Rays virtually unbeatable. One theory for the advantage is that opponents still treat visits to Tampa Bay as they did when facing the hapless Devil Rays, basking in the sun all morning alongside a hotel pool made famous by Brian McNamee and a female companion, and staying out all night at Tampa’s legendary Mons Venus men’s club.

The Mons, which popularized the full-friction lapdance, stayed open around-the-clock during the Final Four in 1999 and Super Bowl in 2001, and no doubt will attract crowds this week.

Speaking of the Big Game, Tampa Bay in February will become just the third market to host the Super Bowl following the World Series – and potentially the only community other than Minneapolis (1991-92) to do so following a World Series championship.

Tampa’s fourth Super Bowl week will be an exciting time.

But first Title Town needs to decide a World Series - and possibly an election.

 

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Let's Settle This on the Court

Barack Obama and Sarah Palin seem to have much in common: youth, charisma, lack of foreign policy experience, upbringings in the nation's two newest states... and basketball.

Obama played for the Panuahou School in Hawaii, named by Sports Illustrated recently as the most domimant high school sports program in the nation. Palin graduated from Wasilla (Alaska) High, where she was a feisty point guard known as "Sarah Barracuda." She helped the team win the Alaska small-school hoops title in 1982, hitting a crucial free throw in the waning seconds despite having an ankle stress frature.

Next month, Palin and Joe Biden will square off in a vice presidential debate. Already the handicappers are declaring it a mismatch. Newsweek recently quoted an unnamed Republican operative who suggested half-jokingly that Palin's best strategy might be to cede her time to Biden. The GOP strategists are afraid of a repeat of 1988, when Lloyd Bentsen dressed down the inexperienced Republican VP candidate Dan Quayle with his "Senator, you're no Jack Kennedy" remark.

Given Biden's two episodes of plagiarism, as a Democratic presidential hopeful in 1988 and as a law student at Syracuse, it seems Palin's strategy should be simple. The first time Biden attacks, she need only respond, "That's a good line, Senator. Whom did you borrow it from?"

Some journalists are biased against Biden because there's no greater sin in the profession than plagiarism. It's a single-sanction firable offense. You copy someone else's work without attribution, you're done. Biden, though, seems to carry no baggage from these two episodes. Journalists also could be partial to Palin because she once aspired to be a sports broadcaster.

Which brings us to Obama, who likes to fancy himself as an ex-jock who still enjoys mixing it up under the boards. Obama downplays the fact that he has smoked cigarettes for years; he's apparently using nicotine gum to kick the habit, which is a good thing for a guy who might have to dictate healthcare policy and attack the obesity epidemic. Regardless of what kind of game Obama once had, if he's been chewing on cancer sticks for the last two decades, it's going to show.

That's why Palin should challenge him to a game of one-on-one. Let it coincide with the opening of NBA training camps. They could team with Biden and John McCain and make it two-on-two, but it's probably best to let the old guys stay on the sidelines.

Nothing against the Panuahou School, but the competition Palin faced in Alaska probably was much stiffer. The wonderful book Eagle Blue by Michael D'Orso chronicled a high school basketball season in Arctic Alaska. Between the weather, travel, and tough upbringings many kids in Alaska face, high school hoops is brutal, more like rugby on hardwood. The photos that have surfaced of Palin playing basketball show her on the floor battling for balls. The picures of Obama show him taking uncontested layups.

In the next two months, much will be made of Obama and Palin's inexperience, with good reason. If sports is truly the biggest test of character, as many believe, maybe we should let basketball be a factor.

After all, many believe the 2000 election was decided in court. In 2008, perhaps it should be decided on it.

 

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Why Yankees Fans Must Vote for Obama

Barring a remarkable September turnaround, the New York Yankees will not make the playoffs for the first time since 1993. That's a remarkable streak, but not the most curious one involving baseball's most storied franchise.

The last time the Yankees won a World Series (2000), Bill Clinton was president. Unless there's a late-season miracle, the Bronx Bombers will go 0-for-8 during the George W. Bush presidency, just as they went 0-for-4 (with four losing seasons) with George H.W. Bush occupying the Oval Office.

The last time the Yankees won a World Series during a Republican administration, Dwight Eisenhower was president. Which means that on October 9, the Yankees will mark 50 years without a championship under a Republican regime.

In the interval, they won two World Series titles under John F. Kennedy (1961-62), two under Jimmy Carter (1977-78), and four under Clinton (1996, 1998-2000). Throw in the six won during the FDR regime and five under Harry Truman and the Yankees have captured 19 of their 26 championships with Democrats in the White House.

During the Yankees 50-year Republican drought, seven teams won the World Series under both parties, including Baltimore, Detroit, Los Angeles, Pittsburgh, and St. Louis. The other two - Florida and Toronto - didn't exist in 1958.

No doubt George Steinbrenner, like many large-business owners, has reaped the financial rewards of Republican presidencies, which he's long supported. But as far as baseball is concerned, he might have been giving cash to the wrong party. In 1974, The Boss pleaded guilty to making illegal contributions to Richard Nixon's reelection campaign and a felony charge of obstruction of justice. That inspired Billy Martin's famous line about Reggie Jackson and Steinbrenner: "One's a born liar, and the other's convicted." (The Yankees failed to reach the playoffs during the five full seasons of the Nixon administration.)

The Yankees reached the World Series in 1976 as Gerald Ford completed Nixon's tenure, but it wasn't until after Carter took over in January of 1977 that they won their first Fall Classic in 15 years.

Ronald Reagan, in one his last acts as president, pardoned Steinbrenner on January 19, 1989. It was the least Reagan could do. After all, his eight-year presidency included just one Yankee playoff appearance - the World Series loss to the Dodgers in strike-marred 1981.

Now, with the presidency hanging in the balance, it's worth considering the future of the Yankees. Since Steinbrenner, at 78 and in declining health, can't afford to wait another four (or eight) years for another World Series title, Yankee fans might want to consider supporting The Boss by voting for Barack Obama.

Is all of this coincidence? Perhaps. It's just as likely that Alex Rodriguez really is "The Cooler," casting a chill on everything around him like so many Harry Potter dementors. Then again, the Boston Red Sox haven't won a World Series under a Democrat since Woodrow Wilson in 1918 and they won in 2004 and '07 only after acquiring staunch Bush supporter Curt Schilling.  The New York Mets, meanwhile, won both of their titles under Republican administrations (1969/Nixon, 1986/Reagan).

In this electoral season, many voters are struggling when it comes to making a decision. After all, it's unlikely that either Obama or John McCain will find immediate solutions to the war in Iraq, the struggling economy, or healthcare. Neither is a polarizing figure like Bush or Hillary Clinton. What American voters really need is a hot-button issue. And what's more polarizing than the New York Yankees?

Nobody is lukewarm when it comes to the Bombers. You either love 'em or hate 'em. At the moment, it's not hard to envision them returning to prominence next season. It's also easy to see them enduring four more years of struggles as they rebuild the farm system and remodel themselves after the mighty Tampa Bay Rays (Motto: The Future in Blu-Ray!)

Thus, the November election is a referendum on the Yankees. If you support them, you must vote for Obama or accept another four (or eight) years without a World Series trophy. This shouldn't be much of a task for most New Yorkers, who often support Democrats. (The Steinbrenners cast their votes in Florida.)

If you hate the Yankees, the choice is simple: McCain and upstart rookie Sarah Palin. Go figure. Red Sox Nation voting for a Republican, Massachusetts becoming a "red" state. And the conservative New York Yankees, the richest, most Republican-like of all U.S. sports teams, fearing the possibility of another GOP candidate in office.

 

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Why the Rays Must Avoid "The Cooler"

Lately it seems every disgruntled or unemployed baseball player wants a one-way ticket to Tampa Bay to play for the Rays. Many smart baseball people somehow think the Rays would be interested in self-absorbed knuckleheads like Barry Bonds, Gary Sheffield, and Kenny Lofton.

Manager Joe Maddon and personnel chief Andrew Friedman have done a masterful job assembling a young, inexpensive, talented team free of egos, drama, and headaches. That's downright impossible to do in professional sports in 2008 and be competitive. Maddon, as bench coach for the Angels for a decade, helped forge the terrific chemistry that resulted in an unlikely World Series title for the Rally Monkey Halos in 2002. And he's doing a similar job in Tampa Bay.

When Delmon Young couldn't behave, Maddon had Friedman ship him off to Minnesota for Matt Garza and Jason Bartlett in what already looks like one of the best deals of the last five years. The Rays kicked problem child Elijah Dukes to the curb. And even though the Rays no doubt regret leaving Josh Hamilton up for grabs, it's hard to fault an organization for wanting to rid itself of players with issues.

In my 18 years of covering baseball, I've never been in a winning clubhouse that didn't have a few bad apples, but it's hard to find one in Tampa Bay. Garza can be a bit of a smart aleck and B.J. Upton has his moments of immaturity, but they'd be considered model citizens on many teams.

That's why the notion of the Rays adding a Bonds, Sheffield, or Lofton to the mix is downright preposterous. It's tough to think of three more high-maintenance players. It's probably no coincidence that the three have a combined total of one World Series ring, from Sheffield's 1997 Marlins.

No player has napalmed more bridges than Sheffield. He quit on the Milwaukee Brewers early in his career, frustrated players managers such as Bobby Cox, Jim Leyland, and Joe Torre, and seems to concoct conspiracy theories and vendettas out of thin air.

Bonds, as you might have heard, has some issues.

Then there's Lofton. Alex Rodriguez is known as "The Cooler" in baseball circles. Like a Vegas loser hired by casinos to stand next to people on hot streaks, A-Rod seems to douse the fires of whatever team acquires him.

That's not an inaccurate nickname, but A-Rod is a sparkplug compared to Lofton, who is the Forrest Gump of losers. Wherever he goes, teams fall apart during the postseason.

Lofton has been to the postseason 11 times, usually with heavily favored teams.  He's reached the World Series twice, losing both times. Wherever there's a memorable postseason collapse, you can find Lofton in the loser's clubhouse.

In the 1995 World Series, many thought the Indians would be the latest team to capitalize on the Braves' inability to win the Fall Classic. Lofton batted .200 and Atlanta won in six games.

The Braves, not yet aware of the Lofton jinx, acquired him before the 1997 season. That year, the wildcard Marlins upset Atlanta in the NLCS as Lofton batted .185.

In 1999, Lofton was back with the Indians, who went 97-65 and won the AL Central by 21.5 games. In the ALDS, the Tribe took a 2-1 series lead on the wild-card Red Sox only to lose the last two games 23-7 and 12-8. Cleveland scored 32 runs in the series. Lofton went 2-for-16 with six strikeouts.

Lofton reached the World Series for the second time in 2002 as a member of the Giants, who squandered a 3-2 lead and lost to the Angels and their Rally Monkey.

The following year, Lofton was playing for the Cubs, who took a 3-1 lead over the wild-card Marlins in the NLCS.  Cubs fans blame this one on Steve Bartman, but it wasn't Bartman who dropped the last three games, including the final two at Wrigley. If fans are going to blame Bartman and goat curses, it seems Lofton would be a more plausible explanation.

Remarkably, that's not the most epic choke job involving a Lofton team. That would come the following season, when the Yankees and Lofton squandered a 3-0 ALCS lead to the Red Sox and Curt Schilling's bloody sock.

The Cooler wasn't done, however. In 2005, he managed to play in just 110 games for $3.1 million from the upstart Phillies, who blew a wild-card berth in the last week of the season. In '06, he went 1-for-13 in the ALDS as the Dodgers were swept by the Mets.

Incredibly, the Indians acquired him for a third tour of duty late in the 2007 season. Sure enough, the Tribe coughed up a 3-1 ALCS lead and lost to the Red Sox, with Lofton batting .222.

If these were a few isolated instances, they could be shrugged off as coincidence and not karma. But Lofton has been a bad guy ever since he teamed up with Albert Belle early in his career. He's never had a strong outfield arm. Now 41, he couldn't throw out Sid Bream trying to score the winning run. (Wait, that's the one memorable postseason collapse of recent years not involving Lofton. That was Bonds who blew the throw.)

Lofton reportedly turned down an overture from the Rays in spring training, believing their $1 million offer was insulting. Actually, it's the best move the Rays never made.

 

Monday, July 21, 2008

Holly-Rod

Alex Rodriguez has signed with the William Morris Agency. Apparently A-Rod believes the Hollywood talent agency will help him extend his brand beyond sports.

The arrangement presumably will involve business affairs and marketing endeavors, but William Morris is best known for representing actors and entertainers. It seems every modern athlete fancies himself a budding actor, even though recent history suggests the market for athletes-turned-actors is non-existent.

In the 1970s and '80s, it was common for ex-jocks to find work in movies and television. Jim Brown did some solid work on the silver screen. O.J. Simpson's acting was forgettable, though extensive. Guys like Merlin Olsen, Fred Dryer, and Alex Karras enjoyed long runs on television shows. Even Bob Uecker is better known nationally not for broadcasting or Lite Beer commercials but for starring in "Mr. Belvedere."

It's difficult to think of a former athlete who has made a significant transition into acting over the last 15 years. Ray Allen showed promise in "He Got Game." Rick Fox did some nice work on HBO's "Oz" and even Shaquille O'Neal has had some moments, most notably in "Blue Chips." But in every instance they were playing basketball players. Not much of a stretch there.

These days, most ex-athletes pursue more lucrative post-careers as broadcast as analysts. Thirty years ago, Howie Long likely would have followed the path of Olsen, a fellow Hall of Fame defensive lineman, and spent more time acting. Long has demonstrated some talent in that area, but since he likely earns in excess of $5 millon annually as a Fox analyst, pitchman, and corporate speaker, it makes sense that he devotes his time to those areas.

Part of A-Rod's new deal involves William Morris finding him more endorsement deals. Earlier in his career, Rodriguez looked like the perfect jock endorser. Handsome, clean-cut, gregarious and bilingual, with awesome talent, he had his pick of corporate alliances and, indeed, had a growing stable that included Nike, Colgate-Palmolive, Amtrak, Pepsi, AT&T Wireless, Eagle Hardware, Speed Stick, and Armour Hot Dogs.

"You want to limit yourself to a few blue-chip companies that you believe in and can stand behind and hopefully have a relationship with for 15 or 20 years," Rodriguez told me in 2000 for a business-side profile that appeared in Street & Smith's Pro magazine. "I don't want to be a movie guy or a shoe guy. I want to be able to concentrate on baseball."

That interview took place months before he left the Seattle Mariners, signing a 10-year, $252 million contract with the Texas Rangers. At the time, A-Rod wondered what might happen to his endorsement potential if he played in New York like Derek Jeter.

"Derek's a great player on a great team in the media captial of the world," he said. "That's like a full house in poker."

So why is it that now that A-Rod is playing in New York, he seems to be holding a pair of deuces when it comes to marketing? It started with the Rangers deal, which cast him at best as a pawn for agent Scott Boras, a mercenary at worst. Traded to the Yankees, he's continued to underachieve in the post-season. For all the comparisions A-Rod and Boras like to make between the player and marketing juggernauts Tiger Woods and Michael Jordan, most view A-Rod as exactly the opposite on the field: a guy lacking a killer instinct, who can't perform in the clutch.

Then there's A-Rod's off-field antics. Jordan mostly got a pass in the media for his extramarital dealings, but A-Rod has faced a full-court press from the New York tabloids. Unlike the former Mrs. Jordan, Cynthia Rodriguez is not going quietly. There's A-Rod's strange mentor-pupil relationship with Pete Rose, as reported by ESPN.com, and his recent link to Madonna. Then there's The New York Times story about A-Rod's real estate dealings in Tampa that cast him as a virtual slumlord.

Perhaps it's no wonder A-Rod's endorsement deals have faded. It's not like he's hurting for money. But for a guy who wants to measure up to Woods and Jordan, at least off the field, it's no wonder he's turned to William Morris, which presumably will try to repair his image.

Or should that be his reputation? That's what A-Rod used to talk about, back when he wore No.3 on his back in honor of Dale Murphy, the squeaky-clean former superstar for the Atlanta Braves, and modeled himself Cal Ripken, who became an American symbol for work ethic, loyalty and determination.

"I don't believe in image; I believe in reputation," Rodriguez said in Pro magazine in 2000. "You can build an image overnight, like Dennis Rodman. You get a reputation like a Dan Marino or Cal Ripken or Joe Montana only after a long period of time. When I think or reputation, that's a lot more valuable than image."

 

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Pizza on the Furniture

Sometimes a sponsor is just not a good fit for sports. Take Kane's Furniture, a Tampa Bay area chain that has sponsored the Rays for several seasons.

Back when Vince Naimioli was running the Rays (insert punchline here), the Rays created a furniture showroom right in the stadium and a special "Kane's Club." Fans paying the highest ticket prices took an elevator to field level, where they had to walk through a showroom full of leather furniture with hanging pricetags to reach their seats.

The promotion was shameless and cheesy, typical of the Naimoli era, but not as "cheesy" as the current Kane's sponsor deal. Each time Rays pitchers strike out 10 or more batters during a home game, fans get a free PapaJohn's pizza.

Sounds like a pretty good deal. The problem is that fans must take their ticket stubs - or print out a "stub" online if they didn't attend the game - to a Kane's Furniture store within three days. Only then do they get a PapaJohn's coupon....for a 10-inch cheese pizza.

That's a lot of effort to get a pie that will barely feed two young children. (Kane's only surrenders one pizza coupon per adult per visit and PapaJohn's only accepts one pizza coupon per order.) Fans who go through this ordeal end up feeling annoyed with the Rays, who have tried their best to mend fences in the first three seasons of the post-Naimoli era.

It reminds me of when I held season tickets in the early 1990s to the Washington Bullets, a team that rivaled the former Devil Rays in terms of poor management and treating fans badly.

But the Bullets had one great promotion that activated every time they scored 100 points. This was back when NBA players spent four years playing college hoops and entered the league knowing how to shoot and run an organized offense. Thus, even bad teams like the Bullets were capable of reaching the century mark on a regular basis.

Whenever the Bullets scored 100, fans received a coupon for a free sandwich at "Jerry's Subs," a D.C. area chain. Bullets employees manned the exits and handed out the coupons as fans left the building.

It was a tremendously successful promotion. Even when the Bullets were blown out, which was often, fans stayed until the end to see if they'd get the coupon, thus spending more money at the concession stands. The employees waited until a minute before the end of the game to man the exits. So even when the Bullets reached 100 early - win or lose - the team still benefitted by having them in the building longer.

Not only that, the Bullets saw an attendance boost whenever they played West Coast teams. This was back when those squads, especially the Denver Nuggets, played a more uptempo game that virtually guaranteed scores in triple digits. Unlike today, where the West is the NBA's glamor conference,  a lot of West Coast teams weren't good draws in the Michael Jordan glory days. But the likely prospect of the Bullets scoring 100 and a free Jerry's sub boosted the gate receipts.

Back then, you could feel a buzz in the crowd whenever the Bullets approached 100. It also was good for Jerry's, which began in 1954 and was still a fledgling operation in the early 1990s. Today it has 140 stores in nine countries and bills itself as the East Coast's "No.1 sub and pizza chain." It's not as big as Subway or Quiznos, but it's doing very well.

Good for Jerry's. That 100-point promotion no doubt cost them some money, which apparently was well spent.

PapaJohn's, of course, is far more established then Jerry's ever will be. That's why they're no doubt letting Kane's foot the bill for some if not most of the Rays pizza promotion. Kane's, being a furniture operation, doesn't have a natural sports tie-in to lure customers to its store. (Its drawings for the chance to meet a Rays player on the field and get an autographed jersey seem like a reach.)

As for the Rays, they're missing a huge opportunity. For the first time in franchise history, pitchers are striking out 10 or more on a regular basis. Scott Kazmir is a good bet every time he goes to the hill. If Rays employees were handing out PapaJohn's coupons at the end of the game, they'd no doubt boost attendance. Instead, many fans don't want the hassle of going to Kane's, which has only five stores in the Tampa Bay area. With gas $4 a gallon, fans aren't going to go far to get a pizza coupon worth about $6.

Plus, by allowing fans to print out a ticket stub equivalent online - to build Kane's mailing list - the Rays have removed the incentive to attend the game.

Instead, fans can sit at home and watch the game on TV.

At least they might sit on Kane's furniture.

 

Monday, June 2, 2008

Play-by-Play Debut

I've always admired radio and TV play-by-play announcers. They take a tough job and make it look easy, weaving real-time announcing with storytelling and analysis. I always figured it was much tougher than it seemed and that was confirmed Sunday night when I served as play-by-play man for a high school All-Star Game broadcast locally in Tampa Bay on Catch 47 TV live from Tropicana Field.

Many a sportswriter has transitioned into television, but it's usually in the role of analyst, insider reporter or, occasionally, sports anchor. Very few have become play-by-play people. In recent years, the only example that comes to mind is Michael Kay, the former Yankees beat writer who now does play-by-play for the team's YES television network.

I have no plans to follow Kay, nor would I be capable of such a move. I prepared for the gig by sitting in the stands at Tampa Bay Rays games and calling the action to myself. (Since there's always plenty of room to spread out at a Rays game, I didn't have to worry about bothering fans around me.)

It seemed relatively easy sitting in the stands. After all, I know the Rays roster well and am familar with their various opponents. I've watched thousands of baseball games, understand the rules, and have a decent understanding of the rhythms and cadences an announcer uses. If the Rays broadcast team was kidnapped moments before a game and there was nobody else available, I could probably get the job done. Poorly, but at least we'd have a broadcast. I have no doubt people like Dewayne Staats could do my job a lot better than I could do theirs.

Calling a high school game added to the degree of difficulty. Thankfully, I had John Cotey of The St. Petersburg Times as my color man. John has covered high school sports in the Tampa Bay area for years and was able to provide a steady flow of informatoin.

As for me, well, I had to make sense of the revolving door on the field. As with any All-Star Game, the lineups changed constantly. The players weren't familar, nor were they wearing their own uniforms, as is the case with a big-league All-Star contest. Players were moved from one position on the field to the pitcher's mound, and then sometimes to another position. Our commercial breaks were only one minute long, making it tough to keep track of it all.

By the fifth inning, my scorecard was a wreck. By the sixth, I was struggling to keep track of anyone other than the pitcher, batter, and catcher. By the seventh, my calls sounded something like this:

"Swing and a drive toward left...This should be deep enough to score a run....The left fielder (unsure who) circles underneath, makes the catch...Tagging from third is...(quick glance at scorecard)...Jones...No throw and Hillsborough extends its lead to 7-2."

Good broadcast teams make it sound so effortless, like two guys sitting at a bar. They fill in the space between pitches with stories and anecdotes that fit perfectly into the alloted time. The play-by-play guy, like an effective writer, never seems to describe the same play the same way.

My biggest concern was my home run call. How would I come up with something unique? Surely there would be plenty of dingers with All-Star kids using alumnium bats. Instead, there was just one longball, a line drive that barely cleared the wall. It got out so fast I didn't have time to say much of anything.

Otherwise, I felt like I was repeating calls constantly and trying to fill dead air. John tossed in plenty of background material, which was huge. (I don't know how the solo announcers do it.) Thankfully, the home team won, saving us a half-inning of work.

The producers said I did a terrific job, which was nice of them to say. I'll stick to writing and pontificating on TV and radio. Whatever money play-by-play guys earn, it's well deserved.

 

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

The (Harkle) Road to Playboy

Earlier this week, WTA pro Ashley Harkleroad announced that she has posed for the August issue of Playboy magazine.

Most people responded by asking "Who is Ashley Harkleroad?"

Harkleroad, 23, is the 61st-ranked player on the women's pro tour. She's best known for showing up to the 2001 U.S. Open as a 16-year-old in a skimpy Nike outfit that showcased her curves. The comparisions to Anna Kournikova were immediate and neither Harkleroad, her Nike handlers, nor her parents seemed to object.

A few months after the 2001 Open, I spent a day with Harkleroad at the Saddlebrook Resort near Tampa for a feature for Tennis Life magazine, where my wife worked at the time as the art director. Harkleroad was pleasant and down-to-earth; she even asked my wife to come back to her condo and help select wardrobe for the photo shoot. But it was clear even then that Ashley would have a difficult time concentrating on tennis when everyone else was busy packaging her as the next Anna.

"I'd rather be known for my tennis, but I think it's good that I get attention," Harkleroad said that afternoon. "It's good that people know who I am. If it's negative or positive attention, whatever. Having my name out there is a good thing. It's good to have people know you on the tour."

Harkleroad was viewed at the time as a promising prospect, not a can't-miss but certainly a raw talent. She hasn't lived up to expectations, never advancing beyond the third round of a major and not winning a tournament of any sort. Along the way, she's been married, divorced and now engaged again, and dealt with various injuries.

As far as tennis, she has yet to match the modest accomplishments of Kournikova, who never won a singles title but was ranked as high as No.8 in the world and captured numerous doubles championships with Martina Hingis.

Perhaps there's something in the water at the Saddlebrook Resort. Hingis, who has owned a home there since 1999, retired earlier this year after testing positive for cocaine at Wimbledon last year. (Hingis denied using the drug.) Jennifer Capriati, the poster child for squandered tennis talent, has owned a home at Saddlebrook since 2001. And now Harkleroad.

Harkleroad's decision to pose for Playboy is part of a recent trend of female athletes stripping for a magazine that seems less relevant all the time. Back in the 1980s, fading actresses in their mid-to-late 30s used the magazine to stay in the spotlight. In recent years, volleyballer Gabrielle Reece and swimmer Amanda Beard have posed.

Perhaps Playboy will be a springboard for Harkleroad to get work trading on her looks and bubbly personality. Her tennis game apparently still needs a lot of work.

 

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

If the Rays Win in a Forest...

The Tampa Bay Rays, for the first time in their 11-year history, are on fire. They've won six straight games to take over first place in the American League East. The team's pitching and defense have been among the best in the game. The Rays have defeated many of the AL's best pitchers, including Roy Halladay, Josh Beckett, Chien-Ming Wang, and Ervin Santana. Last night, they won in extra innnings against Mariano Rivera.

The Rays have the most exciting young team in baseball and appear well equipped to make a run at the postseason. You might think Tampa Bay fans would be coming out in droves, especially with the top-draw Yankees in town. You might think that, but you would be wrong.

Last night, the Rays drew just 16,558 fans to Tropicana Field and continue to battle the Kansas City Royals for the worst attendance in the league. On Thursday, the Rays will unveil a plan to finance their proposed waterfront stadium, on the site of the historic Al Lang Field spring training site.

The timing couldn't be better...or worse. Throughout their existence, the Rays have struggled to draw fans. The thinking was that if they could ever field a competitive team, they'd attract crowds. After all, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and Tampa Bay Lightning each spent a decade (longer in the case of the Bucs) as one of their league's worst franchises. Once they turned things around, their tickets became difficult to acquire. The Bucs, who have floundered in recent years, recently raised ticket prices for next season 30 percent in most parts of the stadium. Nobody raised a protest. The Bolts are struggling, four years removed from a Stanley Cup championship, but still fill the former Ice Palace most nights.

The Rays, meanwhile, have among the lowest ticket prices in the game. Unfortunately, they play in a market unlike any in North America. The reasons for the lack of attendance are many, but here's a top 5 list.

1. It's the economy, stupid.

Over the last five years, the Tampa Bay area quietly has become one of the most expensive places in the nation to live. Part of it was the real estate boom, where Tampa Bay was ahead of most of the country. No longer is real estate considered a bargain, or even affordable, for most people relocating here. That's because homeowners insurance has more than QUADRUPLED since four hurricanes struck Florida in 2004, even though they came nowhere close to Tampa Bay. So if you were paying $1,200 for insurance in 2004, you're likely paying $5,000 or more annually now. Property taxes are roughly 2 percent, which cancel out much of the savings from living somewhere with no state income tax.

Not only that, Tampa Bay has the lowest per capita income of any Major League Baseball market. This is not an area where there are many six-figure corporate jobs. For years, this didn't matter because the cost of living was so low. Companies drew employees with the promise of cheap housing, no state income taxes, and sunshine. These days, housing is expensive and any money saved on state income tax goes toward homeowners insurance and property taxes.

I walked the stands at The Trop over the last two nights and what was striking was the number of young adults in attendance. That's a good thing for the Rays. Once a team is viewed as the in-thing to do, the 18-to-34 demographic will come out in droves. They tend to buy more beer. Unfortunately, it was difficult to find many families. Yes, school still is in session. But it's also the economy. The NFL and NHL already have priced families out of the stadium, but can fill a house with guys and couples. Baseball, with 81 home dates, can't do that.

Even with modest prices, many families likely still can't afford more than an occasional night at the ballpark.

2. It's the gas, gas, gas.

Tampa Bay is a provincial market. For some reason, people view a drive of more than 10 miles as a nuisance, even though traffic here is negligible. Anyone relocating here from Los Angeles, Atlanta, or the D.C. area (as I did), finds it fast and easy to get around. After all, we had grown accustomed to driving 45 minutes-plus to get anywhere, even if it was only 10 miles.

Here in Tampa Bay, many people hate driving between Tampa and St. Petersburg (home of the Rays) or between Clearwater and St. Pete or between Tampa and Clearwater. The communities, which make up one market, are separated by short bridges/causeways with minimal traffic. But you'd think people were being forced to navigate the Holland Tunnel at rush hour or the lengthy Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel between Virginia and Maryland.

With a winning ballclub, that modest drive to St. Pete might not look so bad. But now that gas is approaching $4 a gallon, the folks in Tampa and Clearwater likely will continue to stay away. Because of the higher cost of living and the low per capita income, higher gas prices affect people more here, even though they tend to drive less than in many parts of the country.

3. The Ghost of Vince Naimoli

It's tough to think of a baseball owner that did more to alienate fans, businesses, and community leaders than Vince Naimoli, who was the team's managing general partner until being bought out as front man in October of 2005.

Naimoli often made George Steinbrenner, his bitter crosstown rival, look like a laidback, easy-going fellow. This is a guy who once asked high school band members to purchase tickets before they could play before a game, a guy who once insisted the St. Pete-Clearwater Chamber of Commerce pay $750,000 to use a Rays photo on the cover of a tourist brochure promoting the area (and the then-Devil Rays), and a guy who routinely berated members of the media publicly in the press box. Stadium ushers seemed to adapt Naimoli's temperment, often treating fans like trespassers.

In 2004, Naimoli sent angry letters to Hillsborough County officials demanding that they remove pesky raccoons from his massive estate, which includes a 25,000 square foot home. (Ironically, the Rays went on a long winning streak immediately after.) And in perhaps his most memorable moment, Naimioli went ballistic on a St. Pete patrol man who had the nerve to stop Naimoli's wife for running a red light. Naimoli, who was driving behind his better half, pulled over behind the cop. Naimoli screamed, "Don't you know who I am? I'm Vincent Joseph Naimoli, owner of the Devil Rays. That's my wife!" The cops leaked the videotape to the media.

Naimoli's successor, former Wall Street financier Stuart Sternberg, is a mild-mannered, gregarious guy. He and his staff have spent 30 months mending fences. But many fans still associate the rebranded Rays with Naimoli, who remains chairman of the team, with a 15 percent ownership stake, even though he's now a silent partner.

4. All football, all the time

Ten years ago, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa were national heroes. You still could argue whether football or baseball was more popular. Now, it's not even close. The NFL has run laps around MLB. Ten years ago, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers were just emerging from the wilderness of two decades of losing, moving in to a new stadium.

The Buccaneers generally have struggled since winning the Super Bowl following the 2002 season, but they still have a huge following. The same fans who gripe about $9 upper deck ticket prices to see the Rays think nothing of spending a minimum of $99 for lower bowl tickets to watch the Bucs. They don't complain about personal seat licenses or being forced to pay full-price for two exhibition games each year -- three last season, when Jon Gruden opted to rest his starters for the final home game once the NFC South was clinched.

The NFL dominates sports talk year-round in most communities, but especially in Tampa Bay, where they do occasionally take time out to discuss Urban Meyer's Florida Gators.

Even with the Rays moving in to first place, sports radio today likely will be dominated by the news of quarterback Jeff Garcia threatening to hold out unless he receives a new contract.

5. The New Stadium Factor

When Tropicana Field opened, we still had the Seattle Kingdome, the Houston AstroDome, and the remnants of the cookie-cutter, multipurpose generation of fields in Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, San Diego, and San Francisco. Since 1998, St. Louis, Milwaukee, and Cincinnati also have opened new ballparks.

Now "The Trop" looks especially outdated, even though it provides much-needed air-conditioned comfort. Because of global warming, it doesn't rain here much anymore, but the 72-degree temperature is most appreciated. Indoor baseball is what it is, but Rays owners - both Naimoli and Sternberg - have done everything they could to make the place more inviting. Nobody can deny that it's a pleasant place to watch a game.

Still, Sternberg wants a new facility, one with a retractable, sail-like roof covering that supposedly will keep the place shaded and relatively cool. He has a lot of political hurdles to overcome before breaking ground, let alone opening in 2012.

Over the last two decades, it's been proven that new ballparks are, at best, short-term solutions. Coors Field, Camden Yards, and Turner Field were packed houses throughout the late '90s. Now they struggle to fill half way. The Pirates, mired in a 15-year slump, have never drawn well in their lovely new digs.

The Rays no doubt will see a spike in attendance in 2012, especially if they build the type of sustainable low-budget team that the Twins and A's have fielded for years.  Even then, they'll likely still face the same challenges that have plagued the franchise since the beginning.

 

Monday, May 5, 2008

Jose, Can You See Foreclosure?

Last week, Jose Canseco lost his 7,300-square-foot home in Encino, California to foreclosure. The ex-slugger couldn't have timed the market worse, paying $2.8 million at the peak of the real estate boom in 2005, according to The Wall Street Journal.

Real estate hasn't been Jose's strong suit. He used to live in a palatial estate in Weston, Florida, where his neighbors included Dan Marino. (In the movie "Any Given Sunday," Dennis Quaid's character lived in Marino's massive home.)  It's a nice place, Weston. Gated, lavish, neatly manicured, near Fort Lauderdale. Sort of The Truman Show on steroids, especially at Jose's former estate. The compound, incidentally, was the site of the now-infamous pool party that Roger Clemens either did or did not attend.

Anyway, according to a recent story by Pat Jordan, Jose unloaded the Weston home several years ago in exchange for $2 million in stock of a Mexican telephone company on the condition that he couldn't sell the shares for two years. Canseco was told the stock would be worth $5 million by then. Instead, he was able to sell for a paltry $15,000.

It's just the latest in a string of bad investments. During spring training, 2000, Jose held court with a bunch of sportswriters, including myself, when he was playing for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. He mentioned that he was making a fortune in technology stocks and had even created "The Canseco Financial Group" to help others manage their money. He told us that if we weren't experiencing at least a 100 percent annual return on our portfolios, we should fire our investment advisors. He even handed out business cards. The fact that Canseco was soliciting sportswriters was perhaps the best indication of his handle on finance.

Within a month, the tech bubble burst. Within 18 months, Jose's baseball career was over.

"You know my life, this financial thing, is a very complicated issue," Canseco told The Associated Press last week. "Obviously, when you make all that money, people think, `OK, let's assume it is $35 million.' People have to understand that $35 million, you're paying the government 41 percent. That leaves you with about $17 or $18 million, not even. Then you're taking care of your whole family."

Well, not exactly. For starters, Canseco made more than $45 million over the course of his career, according to Baseball-Reference.com. This does not include post-season bonuses, contract incentives, and endorsements. He also made the bulk of that money before 1997, nearly all of it before the turn of the century. With some conservative investment planning, Canseco could be worth at least $50 million today.

Canseco also told The AP that his two divorces cost him $7 million or $8 million. His prenuptial agreement with second wife Jessica (the one who posed in Playboy) called for her to receive only $100,000 and a BMW. Presumably Wife No.1 (Esther) got the rest or perhaps (hopefully) the bulk of it is going to the daughter he fathered with Jessica. Either way, it's less than 20 percent of his career earnings.

Canseco is hardly the only one to have foolishly invested in the late '90s technology boom. Much of his fortune also went to very fast cars, exotic pets, and other toys. It's difficult to think of an athlete who has blown such a huge stash of cash without recreational drugs involved. We're used to hearing financial cautionary tales from the likes of Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry. But Canseco's performance enhancing drugs presumably weren't that expensive.

In recent weeks, Canseco has shrugged off these tales of financial woe, noting that he's now a two-time author of best-selling books. "Best-seller" is a relative term in the publishing world. Last night, Canseco's new book "Vindicated" ranked 6,059 on Amazon.com after six weeks on the market. That means it's probably only selling a few hundred copies a week through all distribution channels. His first book, "Juiced," was a legitimate best-seller, but it's unlikely he'll make more than $1.5 million between the two books.

Perhaps Canseco will be inspired to take better care of this $1.5 million than he did the first $45 million.

 

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Tax the Rich...Less in Florida

Yesterday, Tax Day, the New York Yankees were in town to face the Tampa Bay Rays. For Florida residents such as Alex Rodriguez, Derek Jeter, and Jorge Posada, this was an opportunity to save a few dollars on their taxes.

The players make their homes in Florida for various reasons. A-Rod is a Miami native; Jeter and Posada live in Tampa, not far from the Yankees' spring training home. Then, of course, there are the tax implications; Florida has no state income tax.

A-Rod, who will receive $28 million this year, won't have to pay the 10 or 12 percent in New York state and city income taxes, a savings of $3 million or so. Unfortunately for No.13, he's subjected to the "jock tax" that applies whenever he travels and plays in states that have income taxes, including New York.

The jock tax, first enforced by California in 1991 and since levied in 19 states with major pro sports teams and state income taxes, has created an administrative nightmare for the athletes' tax accounts, who must file as many as 20 state income tax returns.

California has had a law on its books since the early 1980s requiring non-residents to pay tax on income earned in the state. Yet it was not until Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls defeated the Los Angeles Lakers in the 1991 NBA Finals that state officials realized it would be possible to enforce such taxes on athletes, whose travel and schedules are printed in the newspaper.

Illionis responded with its own jock tax, and other states followed, figuring the public would not object to helping meet budget shortfalls by taxing the sizable salaries of pro athletes.

The phenomenon went largely unnoticed until 2002, when David Hoffman, an economist at the Tax Foundation research group in Washington, D.C., began crunching numbers. He found that athletes were unfairly targeted. Hoffman argued that since players are paid at home, they're not really earning money on the road. Not only that, but they're bringing additional revenue to the visiting states by attracting fans to games.

Players do not have to pay state income taxes in their home states on days spent on the road, although this doesn't help those living in states with no income tax. But state tax rates vary. Things get more confusing if a pro plays for a team in Canada or lives outside the United States.

A pro making $10 million annually will play about $200,000 in jock taxes. That's just 2 percent of annual income. For someone living in Florida or Texas but playing in New York or California, that's still a considerable savings.

For most players, it's not just the amount taxed but also the additional costs for tax preparation. Pro athletes, for all of their lavish expenditures, dislike paying the taxman as much as anyone.

Last year, the IRS went after Jeter, claiming he owed back taxes in New York and was a resident of the Empire State and not Florida, as Jeter contended. If Jeter were, say, a wealthy businessman, nobody could prove how many days he spent in one state or the other. But since Jeter's schedule is public, anyone can see that he "works" most days from April through September outside the state of Florida, along with a couple dozen more days during a typical October.

That's why the IRS maintained that he was only a part-time resident of the Sunshine State and not entitled to such tax savings. Jeter, who has owned a home in Tampa and lived there during the off-season for more than a decade, reached a private settlement with the IRS.

Last night, the Yankees completed a two-game sweep of the Rays, rebounding from a sluggish start to the season. Jeter and Posada no doubt spent time in their Tampa homes, not only enjoying the familiar feel of their own beds but another two days of glorious tax savings.

 

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Rays Close off "Olive Garden"

Back in the early 1990s, the Olive Garden was a white-hot restaurant. If you wanted to get in to enjoy some above-average, chain-restaurant Italian food, you were going to have to wait. People gladly did, spending money in the bar until their names were called.

Gradually, the novelty of the Olive Garden wore off. No longer was the place packed, but you still had to wait. That's because the Olive Garden began closing off half of the restaurant. If pressed for an explanation, hostesses would say they didn't have enough servers or weren't expecting such a big crowd.

In reality, they just wanted to create the illusion that the restaurant was as popular as ever and continue to funnel people into the highly-profitable bar area. The strategy worked for a while, but gradually people caught on and grew annoyed with having to wait to eat in a half-empty restaurant.

Or it could be, like any chain restaurant, the Olive Garden's luster wore off. It became a "mature business."

Instead of trying to fool - and annoy - the customers, shouldn't Olive Garden have found a way to maintain its popularity? Outback Steakhouse, which is about the same age as Olive Garden, seems to have been up and down as a business, but it manages to keep people lining up - and the restaurant packed.

I was thinking of the Olive Garden last night when the Tampa Bay Rays announced a "sellout" crowd of 36,048 for their home opener against the Seattle Mariners, the ninth sellout in the 10-plus year history of the franchise. The Rays stopped selling tickets when they got to 36,048, opting to place tarps over the seats of about 6,000 upper deck seats.

For their inaugural game, a sellout on March 31, 1998, the Rays drew 45,369 fans. They didn't sell out another game for six years, attracting 41,744 to see their 2004 home opener, against the New York Yankees. If memory serves, the Rays had reconfigured some sections of the ballpark, so that probably was a legitimate sellout. By last season, however, they were taking the Olive Garden approach, announcing sellouts of 36,048 on three occasions, twice against the Yankees and once vs. the Red Sox.

When a team draws only 12,000 fans a game, as the Rays have for much of the last decade, it makes sense to put tarps on much of the upper deck to create a more intimate setting and save on the costs of ushers and clean-up crew. But why announce a "sellout" of 36,048 two days in advance when you could sell another 6,000-plus tickets?

It's easy to understand the mentality. By increasing demand, supply is limited. This is why baseball keeps building smaller ballparks; it was unable to fill the stadiums built in the 1960s and '70s. Not surprisingly, the Rays proposed new stadium will hold 34,000 seats.

That's what a sellout will be when Olive Garden Park, home of Al Lang Field, opens in 2012. By 2014, I'm guessing a sellout will be 29,876.

 

Thursday, April 3, 2008

Baseball's Real Iron Man

Jeff Conine retired from baseball the other day, finishing a career best known for two stints with the Florida Marlins, both of which included World Series championships.

Most baseball players of Conine's stature transition immediately into broadcasting and/or assume cushy jobs as "special assistants" in the front offices of one of their former teams. Others take a year off to travel, fish, and golf. A lot.

Conine? He just announced an ambitious schedule of triathlon events for this year. At the end of this month, he'll compete in St. Petersburg, Florida, in the prestigious St. Anthony's Triathlon. He'll also compete this fall in the Ironman World Championship in Kona, Hawaii, along with the Ironman 70.3 (half-ironman) championship in Clearwater in November.

Most triathletes have to qualify for Kona or Clearwater and it's no easy task. Conine no doubt is getting a special exemption because of his celebrity status and it's hard to argue with that. Many triathletes buy their way into competitions, either by raising money for charity or paying for high-end equipment and coaching. Conine's former boss, Marlins president David Sampson, received an exemption in 2006 and he's not nearly the celebrity Conine is.

Until Lance Armstrong opts to return to his teenage triathlon roots, which remains a hot rumor, Conine might be the best thing to happen to the sport, which is booming from a participant standpoint but remains off the radar screen as a spectator sport. Conine is a terrific guy who is comfortable dealing with the media, not that the sport attracts much coverage. The Ironman folks no doubt will create some slogans playing off Kona and Conine. Heck, Conine even looks a bit like Armstrong.

Conine, 41, has never completed a triathlon of any kind, let alone the grueling Ironman distance, though he has finished a few duathlons (run-bike-run races). He might look like a typical lumbering baseball player, but he's actually a terrific athlete. He pitched for UCLA and has been a competitive handball player.

Conine made more than $30 million playing baseball, so he has the time, resources, athleticism, and drive to become competitive in triathlon immediately. So do many ex-athletes, though it's difficult to envision many taking on the challenge. Each year, it seems an ex-NFL lineman tackles the Boston or New York marathons after losing 100-plus pounds. People like Robin Williams and Felicity Huffman pop up in sprint distance triathlons, which though challenging do not require much time commitment. (Heck, I'm able to do them.) But an Ironman takes 30 hours of training a week.

The Ironman distance consists of a 2.4-mile swim and a 112-mile bike ride followed by a marathon (26.2 miles). The pros finish in 8 hours or so. The rank-and-file take 12 to 16 hours. I'm guessing Conine will clock in with a respectable 11-to-12 hour finish.

Conine's baseball experience no doubt will serve as good preparation for triathlon. Even though it's more anaerobic than aerobic, it's a grueling 162-game season, a true endurance sport from a mental standpoint.

Between his stints with the Florida Marlins, Conine was a teammate of Cal Ripken with the Baltimore Orioles. Ripken, of course, is known as baseball's "Iron Man" for playing in 2,632 consecutive games, a streak that never will be broken. If Conine completes the Kona Ironman, less than a year after playing his final game, he deserves a share of that title.

 

Monday, March 31, 2008

Two dollars...I Want My Two Dollars!

The Tampa Bay Rays haven't hired a kid to ride around their box office shaking down customers for an extra two bucks. But with their latest spin on ticket pricing, the Rays seem to be paying tribute to the John Cusack movie "Better off Dead."

This season, if you want to buy a Rays ticket within five hours of gametime, it will cost an additional $2. The Rays, hoping to inspire fans to purchase tickets in advance, are penalizing walk-ups with a surcharge. For a team that has struggled to sell tickets at any price, this doesn't seem like a sound marketing strategy. For a team trying to rally support for a controversial referendum for new a ballpark that could appear on the ballot in November, it seems downright foolish.

When you're a struggling franchise, you do whatever it takes to create the illusion that your tickets are a hot item. When Arthur Blank purchased the Atlanta Falcons, he offered season tickets in the upper deck at the rate of $10 a ticket. The idea worked and soon the Falcons were selling out every game. Back when Michael Vick was electrifying fans (and not just dogs), the Falcons were an exciting team and Blank gradually was able to raise those $10 rates.

In the early 1990s, I was among the few dozen people who held season tickets to the Washington Bullets, a bad team run poorly, sort of the Devil Rays of the NBA for the last two decades. The team president, Susan O'Malley, was famous for creating smoke-and-mirrors sellouts. She'd give away thousands of free upper bowl tickets in the depressing Capital Centre so she could announce games as sellouts. At least once a month, I'd find extra Bullets tickets in the mail. Just what I needed; it was tough enough unloading my prime center court seats when I had other plans.

Give O'Malley credit, though. More often than not, her scheme worked. The building was full, forcing people to buy tickets in advance, much like Falcons fans had to commit to purchasing season tickets for the first time in franchise history. No longer could they just show up an hour before the game. Gradually, O'Malley was able to pull back on the number of freebies she distributed. The team still stunk, but in 1997 it got a boost by moving into a new arena. A few years later, the team enjoyed another windfall when an aging Michael Jordan tried to jumpstart the snakebit franchise.

Jordan and O'Malley are long gone now. The Bullets/Wizards still are mediocre and again there are plenty of good seats available. Perhaps they should rekindle those O'Malley ticket giveaways.

This isn't just a sports phenomenon. In the early days of the Internet, airlines sent out weekly e-mails for bargain basement airfares. On Wednesdays in the late '90s, people in the Northeast were scheduling weekend trips to Florida for $129 roundtrip. It was as if the airlines were rewarding people for not making travel plans in advance.

The airlines recognized that it did them no good to fly with empty seats. So why not fill them with people who would not otherwise travel - regardless of price? These weekday airline specials don't exist anymore. There are fewer airlines and not as many flights and, not surprisingly, airlines travel at near capacity. But it was a sound business strategy while it lasted. I'm not an airline industry analyst, but I'm guessing it helped keep the perennially struggling USAir afloat for a few years. This is an airline that has been mismanaged at every level; USAir even purchased naming rights to the Capital Centre, which is like paying to stick your name on a port-a-john that's been through Mardi Gras.

Speaking of airlines, one of the best promotions the Rays ever had - and I realize that phrase belongs in the "tallest of the seven dwarfs category" - was the Southwest Freedom Fare Seats. In the early days of the franchise, when they attracted national sponsors in prominent categories such as "airlines," Southwest was the official airline of the Devil Rays. The Rays installed several rows of actual leather airline seats in the right field and left field stands. Unlike on a plane, there was plenty of legroom, so they actually were desirable seats, especially being in the lower bowl and especially at just $3 for adults, $1.50 for seniors and kids.

I'm not making this up, though looking at the 2000 media guide, the price does seem hard to believe. Interestingly, the Rays had a much higher payroll ($60 million) in 2000 than they do today and far less income from revenue sharing, baseball's national television package, and the cash cow of MLB Advanced Media, which barely existed in Y2K.

Southwest, like many Devil Rays sponsors, took off as soon as its expansion multi-year sponsor deal was over. Now those same seats, in the back rows of sections 133-141 , cost a minimum of $22 for a "regular" game and $38 for a "prime" game featuring the Yankees, Red Sox, or Cubs. Tack on an additional two dollars per ticket if not purchased at least five hours before gametime.

Here's the irony of those Southwest Freedom Fares: They were only available at the stadium box office within two hours of gametime. In 2000, a 40-year-old guy might have decided in late afternoon to attend a game with his 65-year-old father and 10-year-old son. They could have purchased three Southwest tickets for a grand total of $6.

This year, those three tickets cost $72 - or $120 for prime games.  Is there anything anywhere that has been marked up more considerably in the last eight years? Even real estate has come back down.

Interestingly, sports franchises no longer list ticket prices in media guides, no doubt to discourage these sort of comparisions down the road.

In fairness to the Rays, the price of upper reserved outfield tickets has increased from $10 to no more than $16 (for premium games not purchased in advance). In fact, an upper reserved ticket to a regular game bought in advance actually is just $9.

So it's hard to accuse the Rays of being too stingy. After all, Southwest probably bore the cost of those tickets. (The Rays could be faulted for not snagging another airline sponsor.) But the $2 surcharge still is inexcusable. Rather than taking a pro-active, fan-friendly approach like the Bullets, Falcons - or even the 2000 Devil Rays - the Rays are penalizing customers for not buying tickets in advance.

Sometimes you have to wonder if the newcomers running the Rays understand the economics of the Tampa Bay area. Yes, it's the 13th-largest market in the country. Yes, there's considerable money here, much more so than in 2000. But since 2000, Tampa Bay has become one of the most expensive places to live in the country. It has among the worst ratios of salaries to cost-of-living. Since 2000, real estate prices have doubled, homeowners insurance quadrupled, and now we're in a recession.

Many of the well-heeled people with waterfront homes live here only part of the year - in the winter. They're not buying Rays tickets. The folks that might consider supporting the Rays do live here year-round and face the cost-of-living challenges. Even though the Rays have many affordable tickets, especially compared to other markets, hitting them with a $2 surcharge seems like something out of the Vince Naimoli era. Heck, in fairness to Naimoli, he never came up with a surcharge.

At a time when the Rays are warehousing overripe prospect Evan Longoria in Durham to save a few dollars down the road, the surcharge seems terribly shortsighted, especially for a team that seems to be focused mainly on 2012, the year a potential new stadium could open.

If the Rays want to discourage people from waiting until the last minute, stage a few Susan O'Malley smoke-and-mirrors sellouts. A few last-minute "airfares" would be priceless in terms of goodwill, and perhaps worth a few stadium votes come November. Then there's always the one sure-fire strategy for making tickets scarce and inspiring people to buy in advance.

That would be winning, of course. And if the Rays can accomplish that this season, as many believe they will, they'll soon be able to raise ticket prices 30 percent across the board like the Buccaneers and hear nary a protest.

 

Thursday, March 27, 2008

A Long Endorsement Career

Chris Long could be the top overall pick in next month's NFL Draft. An All-America defensive end at the University of Virginia, he almost certainly won't last beyond the fifth selection.

Like a lot of top draft choices, he'll have numerous endorsement opportunities. Companies no doubt are salivating over Long, who is well-spoken, handsome, and unlike the rest of his draft class has seen commercials actually filmed.

Last year, Brady Quinn seemed to jump for every endorsement dollar thrown his way. That's unlikely to happen with Long, at least if his family history is any indication.

Long's father, Howie Long, is a natural on camera. He was a gregarious interview subject during his NFL Hall of Fame career. In the early 1990s, he was so convincing in Radio Shack commercials with Teri Hatcher that some people think the desperate housewife is Chris Long's mother. (She's not; Howie married his college sweetheart and they have three sons, all elite athletes.)

Howie Long no doubt has turned down many endorsement opportunities, which is something other ex-jocks should consider. For every Long who judiciously chooses what to pitch, there are four Dan Marinos shilling for weight loss programs, financial products, and Internet sites.  Hall of Fame coach and successful restaurant guy Don Shula, who presumably doesn't need the money, is touting hearing aids. A few years ago, Wade Boggs was pitching a Tampa hair restoration company. He wasn't just a spokesman; he was an actual client.

Hey, everyone is entitled to make some easy dough, no matter how much you have already. If you want to look cheesy and undignified, that's your call. But is it a good long-term business decision? About 15 years ago, Johnny Bench was everywhere. He was a spokesman for USA Today and Krylon spray paint, among many other things. Now he's nowhere to be found.

Is Bench any less of an all-time baseball great now than he was in 1993? Or could it be people just got sick of him. It's hard to measure overexposure. TV viewers never seemed to get tired of Chevrolet's "Like a Rock" campaign, which used a Bob Seger song for more than a decade. A similar Chevy spot, featuring John Mellencamp's "Our Country" grew old quickly.

Howie Long, years removed from Radio Shack, now stars in a series of Chevy ads. In the spots, he drives around in a manly (Chevy) truck offering manly advice and looking manly as only he can. (It was the late Hunter S. Thompson who once declared Long the "manliest man alive.")

Granted, Long looks like a Hollywood action hero and, indeed, has starred in such films. Bench, with his bald head and squatty physique, looks like an aging former catcher. It figures the better-looking guy will get more offers.

But what about Marino? Like Long, he's a handsome, well-spoken guy with a high-profile TV career and world-class natural hair.  Unlike Long, Marino seems to star only in campy ads for weight-loss products, adjustable beds, and nutritional supplements. He seems to work for three TV networks and even has his own self-named restaurant.

In other words, he's the new overexposed Johnny Bench, at least for now. With Brett Favre now retired, Marino might lose his status as the most popular retired quarterback on the endorsment market.

Favre seems like he'll take the Howie Long approach to marketing, sticking with rugged products like Wrangler jeans that fit his personality. As for Long, I expect 10 years from now he'll be doing pretty much what he is now, offering insight for Fox and pitching a short list of clients in memorable commercials.

By then, he'll probaby be joined by NFL veteran Chris Long and All-Star left-handed pitcher Kyle Long. By taking the long-term view of an endorsement career, Howie the pitchman will never grow old.

 

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Want to Get into College? Hire a Sportswriter

In today's Wall Street Journal, columnist Sue Shellenbarger writes about the growing trend of parents not only helping their children with college applications - but taking time from work and even quitting jobs to do so.

Yep, apparently the phenomenon of micromanaging "helicopter" parents has reached a new level. Kids no longer can be counted upon to fill out those pesky college applications on their own, let alone in a timely manner.

Is it that difficult to knock out a few college applications? I've never understood this. When I applied to college back in the stone age of 1986-87, I did so on an electric typewriter. I modified the same basic essay for each of the eight schools I applied to, got my parents to write a few $40 checks, and stuck the packets in the mail. I don't imagine I spent more than 10 hours on the entire process, most of which was dedicated to writing essays.

Heck, I probably could have saved a few hours if we owned an early computer with word processing. Instead, I went through a half ream of paper. What excuse do the members of the Class of 2008 and 2009 have? My guess is it has something to do with an utter lack of writing skills. A cottage industry has sprung up to "help" kids write their college admissions essays. Having taught journalism classes at the college level, I've seen firsthand how we've lowered the bar when it comes to writing expectations.

Shellenbarger also reports how stressful it is for parents and children to arrange and take campus visits. Are you kidding me? What's so hard about this? I remember one day in the fall of 1986 my parents let me take a day off to visit the College of William and Mary. I made the two-and-a-half hour drive myself and spent about an hour on the campus. I walked around class buildings, the student union, and the bookstore. Then, like Clark Griswold viewing the Grand Canyon, I quickly nodded and left to visit relatives who lived nearby.

This WSJ column is timely. Just yesterday, I was scrolling through the profiles of my "connections" on linkedin.com and was reminded of how many sportswriters went to top colleges such as Stanford, Princeton, Penn, Georgetown, North Carolina, and Vanderbilt. My alma mater, the University of Virginia, has produced a disproportionate share of sports scribes for a school without a journalism program.

Now you could argue that we have squandered our prestigious sheepskins by toiling in the sports media and I'd be hard pressed to offer anything beyond the do-what-you-love defense. But I wonder if we didn't get into those universities in part because we developed strong writing skills in high school. Journalists are detail oriented and deadline driven. I bet most of my colleagues had little trouble with their college applications. Maybe we should hire ourselves out to write college essays.

Granted, there are plenty of prominent journalists who went to lesser-known colleges or none at all, as there are in every profession. There also are self-made billionaires who can't write a coherent sentence without help.

As a parent, I'm not worried about what college my sons attend. I'll be more concerned, when the time comes, if they lack the discipline, independence, and writing skills to knock out a few college applications.

 

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Headed to Elliot in a Handbasket

 

Funny how often sports and politics collide. The two biggest stories in New York right now involve Elliot Johnson and Eliot's johnson.

On Saturday, Elliot Johnson, an obscure infielder for the Tampa Bay Rays, plowed over a Yankees back-up catcher, infuriating Yankee fans and manager Joe Girardi. Yesterday, it was revealed that Eliot Spitzer, the New York governor, plowed over - er - hired a prostitute in Washington on Feb. 13 and paid her $4,300, according to news reports.

The governor's alleged tryst took place in D.C.'s Mayflower Hotel, best known in baseball history as the site of several futile negotiating sessions during the 1994-95 players' strike. (It's not to be confused with the Ritz Carlton Pentagon City, the popular NBA team hotel where the Feds first approached Monica Lewinski and where Marv Albert had some of the more colorful moments of his career.)

One of the many bizarre episodes of the baseball strike negotiations took place at the Mayflower when President Clinton - a man who today can feel Spitzer's pain - summoned the players and owners to the White House. The negotiating teams thought Clinton was going to mediate. Instead, he asked for a few autographs and talked ball for a couple of hours. This, looking back, set a bad precedent. Within six years, a baseball owner occupied the Oval Office.

The White House negotiations took place Feb. 8, 1995, almost 13 years to the day of Spitzer's pre-Valentine's Day session. Want to hazard a guess as to which future Yankees manager was among the players talking to Clinton that night? Yep, Joe Girardi was at the time actively involved in the players' association. Heck, it's possible Girardi even could have been staying in Room 871 of the Mayflower Hotel, future site of Spitzer's encounter with a New York-based call girl who used the name "Kristen."

Spitzer registered under the name "George Fox," which isn't nearly as slick as, say, "Ron Mexico." George Fox sounds like the type of vanilla name someone invents under pressure, like Jan Brady's fake boyfriend George Glass. Instead, George Fox actually is a longtime friend and supporter of the governor's.

It's sort of like how Michael Jordan once checked into hotels under the name of the last guy to make the varsity team M.J. got cut from as a high school sophomore. (Jordan, like most pros, uses aliases for privacy in hotels.) At least Jordan didn't list the name of a close friend and supporter like Spitzer did with Fox, a hedge fund guy who presumably has given the governor a few bucks over the years.

Spitzer has been identified as "Client-9" in the federal complaint. "Kristen" apparently works for an international prostitution ring known as the "Emperors Club VIP," which sounds like a name under consideration for premium seating at the new Yankee Stadium. According to the recently-removed Emperors Club website, women were ranked with a "diamond" system. Fees varied from $1,000 to more than $5,500 an hour, a range that's less than what the Yankees paid Roger Clemens last season, but comparable to what the Rocket is now paying to lawyers.

Spitzer paid "Kristen" $4,300, which represents more than what Elliot Johnson will pull down next month as a member of the Durham Bulls. If nothing else, Eliot's johnson seems to have pushed Elliot Johnson into the inside pages of the New York tabloids, who have been treating the play as nothing less than Pete Rose bowling over Ray Fosse in the 1970 All-Star Game.

Girardi was upset that Johnson rolled catcher Francisco Cervelli, who suffered a fractured right wrist. The manager called it "uncalled for" in spring training and believes different rules apply to the laidback exhibition season. As if to prove his point, Girardi on Thursday will allow Billy Crystal to play against the Pirates, giving the actor and longtime Yankees fan an early 60th birthday present.

Crystal is a huge Roger Maris fan, having directed an HBO film about him. Given the circumstances, it's better that Crystal will wear No.60 instead of Maris' retired No.9.

Elliot Johnson, meanwhile, isn't expected in the Major Leagues this season. Cervelli is considered the Yankees' catcher of the future. Which means when he reaches the Yankees for good, he'll need an alias when he checks into hotels. Something generic and forgettable.

Something like Elliot Johnson.

 

Wednesday, February 28, 2008

Ex-Home of the Braves

As a Virginia native and an opponent of publicly-funded sports venues, I've always been proud that the Commonwealth has never - ever - surrendered public dollars to sports owners.

When Jack Kent Cooke, the late owner of the Washington Redskins, wanted to build a stadium in Northern Virginia, Virginia turned him away, even though Cooke was willing to buy the land and build the stadium himself. Virginia didn't want the area around historic Old Town Alexandria sullied by a sports venue.

In the mid 1990s, when momentum began building for the return of baseball to Washington, Virginia looked like the overwhelming favorite to house the new ballpark. Even when baseball was just a hypothetical, Virginians revolted, killing any chance of a stadium in the Commonwealth. This, of course, is a good thing since the new stadium in southeast D.C. is by all accounts spectacular.

Even my alma mater, the technically-public University of Virginia in Charlottesville, had to privately finance its new basketball arena, which is considered such a terrific concert venue that Bruce Springsteen will play there in April, remarkable for a town of 100,000 or so.

Then there was the day in 1994 Disney was forced to give up plans to build a historical-related theme park in Northern Virginia because of citizen protests. Not even Disney's powerful lobbyists could overcome Virginia preservationists.

Virginia is for lovers, not stadiums. It has more history and natural beauty than any state in the country. That's why it's the largest state in the nation, and one of few overall, not to meet the demands of sports owners. It doesn't need sports teams to define it. Where I grew up, less than two miles from George Washington's Mount Vernon mansion, we didn't just study American history, we went out and experienced it. Whether during class field trips or family outings, I got to see Jamestown, Yorktown, Colonial Williamsburg, Civil War battlefields, and the homes of Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and James Monroe, to say nothing of everything the nearby nation's capital has to offer.

It's no coincidence that Florida is the Development State, the anti-Virginia. You want to pave over a mangrove for condos? Go for it. You want to knock down some orange groves for a Wal-Mart? Knock yourself out. Some of the richest men in America, guys like Malcolm Glazer, George Steinbrenner, Wayne Huizenga, and Richard DeVos, have enhanced their fortunes by demanding and receiving new Florida sports venues. With the Marlins finally getting their new digs, Jeffrey Loria can join that list.

So it's been with mixed feelings that I learned recently that the Richmond Braves will be moving to surburban Atlanta. For more than 40 years, Richmond has been the home of the Atlanta Braves' Triple-A affiliate. I saw my first baseball game at old Parker Field in 1976. A year later, Dale Murphy played there. In 1985, they tore down Parker Field and opened "The Diamond" on the same site. During my college years in the late '80s, we'd roadtrip an hour from Charlottesville to watch "R-Braves" like Tom Glavine and John Smoltz and eat at Bill's Barbecue across the street.

When The Diamond opened, it was hailed as a modern new ballpark. Unfortunately, it opened eight years before Baltimore's Camden Yards became the back-to-the-future, financial model for baseball facilities at every level. The idea was to demand - and receive - public funding to build a baseball palace with modern amenities, especially luxury boxes and suites, but with architecture that harkened back to cozy ballparks from the 1950s.

By the mid-1990s, The Diamond was still a young venue, but it was as if the Braves had purchased a car the last year before a dramatic re-design. It suddenly looked very old, especially with a building boom throughout minor league baseball that continues unabated.

In recent years, the Atlanta Braves pushed the city of Richmond for a new ballpark, and it seemed as if the city would concede with a new stadium in Shockoe Bottom, a popular restaurant-and-nightlife district. But between tropical storm damage to the low-lying area and the usual Virginia resistance to public financing, a deal never emerged. In January, the Atlanta Braves announced plans to move the R-Braves to the Atlanta suburbs.

Maybe Richmond doesn't need the Braves. It has plenty of Civil War and Revolutionary War attractions. It also has held on to its two NASCAR Sprint Cup races. But this is a city that 30 years ago was on the verge of becoming what Charlotte or Jacksonville eventually became. Richmond refused to build a modern airport and remained a "Triple-A" city. Now the International League apparently will stay out of the Virginia capital, with a Double-A or Single-A team likely to arrive.

Some people will consider that a bad ecomonic decision by Richmond on many levels and they'd probably be right. Still, it's admirable that Virginia remains perhaps the only holdout when it comes to public financing for sports venues.

 

Friday, February 8, 2008

The Health Hazards of Sportswriting

The last two weeks have been tough on sportswriters. A few days before the Super Bowl, Michael Wilbon suffered a mild heart attack. The longtime Washington Post sports columnist, who now hosts "PTI" on ESPN, appears to be okay. Len Pasquarelli, who covers the NFL for ESPN.com, underwent quintuple bypass surgery during Super Bowl weekend. Barry Bloom, a longtime baseball writer who now reports for MLB.com, underwent colon resection surgery to remove a cancerous polp. And Peter King, the ubiquitous NFL insider, was hospitalized with bronchitis during Super Bowl week in Phoenix.

Sportswriting is a terrific job. I know, having done it full-time for one decade and part-time for part of another. Getting paid to watch and report on sports is one of the best gigs in the world. In recent years, it's become a high-paying career, with people like Wilbon and King earning much-deserved, seven-figure incomes through print and television work.

But it's also a high stress profession. Covering sports isn't like following games as a fan. Writers and television people typically get to the stadium hours before the game and don't leave until hours after. Sports journalists spend much of their time working the phones, trying to uncover information. It's a non-stop, 24/7 job that takes its toll on family, personal lives and, yes, health.

Business travelers in other professions have it easy compared to sports journalists. Baseball writers, for instance, arrive at the ballpark shortly after 3 p.m., and often remain there until after midnight. Dealing with deadlines is stressful, and it's difficult to go right to bed. So you stay up to decompress, often eating a late dinner - or a second dinner - and perhaps downing a few drinks. Press box food usually isn't the healthiest stuff in the world, which only adds to the degree of difficulty of eating healthy on the road.

 

As many business travelers know, it's easier to work out on the road, with a gym in the hotel and no family responsibilities. But that 5:30 a.m. workout that corporate travelers can get in before their 9 o'clock client meeting isn't an option for sports journalists, who work until midnight.

Again, we're not asking for sympathy. Working in sports isn't work compared to many professions. Plus, if you want to work out, you can find a way. Wilbon and King, like many sportswriters who transition into TV, dropped weight once they started facing the camera on a regular basis. Still, it's probably no coincidence that the four journalists who went down during Super Bowl week are roughly the same age. Wilbon is 49 and King is 50. Bloom and Pasquarelli are in their mid-50s, I'm guessing. All four are 30-year veterans of the business. It takes a toll, no matter how well you take care of yourself.

Sportswriters are forever lampooned as overweight slobs and there are more than enough examples to support the stereotype. I've run into several former colleagues who got out of the business and it's always remarkable how much better they look. They're like recently-retired NFL linemen who shed the weight to begin a new career. I know I'm in far better shape now that I'm off the full-time sportswriting treadmill and can write books with people like trainer Mark Verstegen, whose program has gotten me into the best shape of my life.

The bottom line is this: No matter what your profession, you need to take care of yourself first, no matter how crazy your schedule becomes. If not, you might find yourself requiring a timeout, even in the middle of the Super Bowl.

 

Monday, February 4, 2008

New York Scratches Seven-Year Itch

On behalf of the residents of the most powerful state in the nation, I want to congratulate New York for winning its first major sports title - college or professional - during the current Bush administration.

Yep, despite having seven major pro sports franchises - eight if we count the Brooklyn-bound New Jersey Nets - the Big Apple managed to come within one year of going 0-for-W. That's no small accomplishment. After all, it's not easy to fall short so consistently when you have every financial advantage.

Here in Florida, we not only revel in the role of underdog, we capitalize upon it. I realize New Yorkers view us as a third-world nation, a bunch of Wal-Mart-shoppin', college football obsessed, trailer park retirees who can't punch a ballot and think The Times refers to a St. Petersburg newspaper.

To which I say, "Scoreboard."

From the time the New York Yankees provided Gotham with its last reason to celebrate in 2000 - with long retired stars such as David Cone, Tino Martinez, Scott Brosius, and Chuck Knoblaugh - the NBA-free Tampa Bay area alone has won a Super Bowl title and a Stanley Cup championship.  Less than 100 miles to our north, the University of Florida has won a BCS football title and a pair of college basketball championships. Our friends in Sourth Florida have tacked on a World Series title, with the Yankees choking to the Marlins in 2003, along with an NBA championship and another BCS crown, courtesy of the University of Miami in 2001.

During that same period, we've decided two Presidential elections and likely will determine the 2008 campaign. We yokels managed to see right through Rudy Giuliani's transparent attempt to use us and last month relegated him back to his familar role as the nation's first jocksniffer.

That is, if George Steinbrenner will take him back. The Boss, even in his semi-retirement, has no patience for losers. That's why he's been a longtime resident of Tampa, here in the heart of The Champion State. That's why at the end of each Yankees season, around Columbus Day, Derek Jeter takes the first private jet flight to his primary residence in Tampa. In recent months, Jeter has been tangled with the IRS over where he calls home. The IRS thinks he's using Florida because it has no state income tax. No way. He just wants to be associated with winning.

Look at it this way, New York: During your dry spell, we've imported Tiger Woods and exported Alex Rodriguez to New York.

Yes, New York, you've missed a lot in the last seven years. During that time, the University of South Florida's football team went from Division I-AA to national powerhouse, ranked as high as No.2 in the BCS standings this past season. The Bulls are 3-0 all-time against Syracuse, the closest thing you have to a college football team. The Yankees, who are headquartered in Tampa, no longer are even the most powerful sports property on Dale Mabry Highway, now that the Florida-based Buccaneer owners now control Manchester United.

Heck, New York can't even pick the right Barber. Here in Tampa, we have future Hall of Famer Ronde Barber, a man with a Super Bowl ring and at least two good seasons left in the tank. New York has Tiki Barber, a fine running back in his day, but now retired and working in television.

Sure, you laugh at our Tampa Bay Rays and their pitiful payroll. But let's not forget the bumbling Mets provided baseball's most lopsided trade of the recent New York drought, sending Scott Kazmir to the then Devil Rays. The Mets have spent $500 million more than the Rays during the 2001-2007 stretch and have the same number of World Series rings to show for it. We're glad, though, to see the Mets continue to provide gainful employment for ex-Ray good guys long past their expiration date.

By the way, how's Victor Zambrano working out for you?

So enjoy the Giants parade, New York. Perhaps if you're lucky we'll see you here in Tampa next year when we host the Super Bowl - for the second time in a decade. Meanwhile, despite all your wealth, your two football teams continue to share an upholstered men's room. No Super Bowl for you - ever.

At least you're finally prepared to take a wrecking ball to those two concrete eyesores that pass for ballparks. By all accounts, the new digs for the Yanks and Mets will be terrific. Enjoy the reviews - the Rays waterfront home is coming for 2012. Unlike your ballparks, this won't be in Queens or the Bronx. Plus, it's being built on the site of the former Al Lang Stadium. So unlike your new fields, ours contains ground walked upon by everyone from Babe Ruth to Mickey Mantle, Gil Hodges to Tom Seaver.

Yes, it's hard to believe, but 2012 is not that far away. Just three years after that, New York will be due for another championship.

 

Friday, October 5, 2007

TBS: Big Hurt Painful to Watch

Anyone watching TBS' coverage of the baseball playoffs has found it uncomfortable watching the studio analyst debut of Frank Thomas, who appears like he'd rather be anywhere else than offering insight on the playoffs.

When TV executives decided several years ago to employ active players as analysts, it seemed like a dubious proposition. After all, current players are unlikely to offer candid opinions on anything, not wanting to offend teammates and opponents they'd be facing again the following season.

Unfortunately for viewers, Al Leiter and Mark Grace did a terrific job for ESPN and, not surprisingly, are now excellent analysts for the Yankees and Diamondbacks broadcasts, respectively. TV producers, forever playing copycat, now trot out current players for every postseason series in every sport. With little training beforehand, it's usually a recipe for disaster.

The players, like Thomas, usually are chosen based on name recognition. If TV producers were smart (insert punchline here), they'd choose players based on their on-camera presence and how they appear in interviews. Fortunately, baseball players have opportunities to do interviews EVERY SINGLE DAY. It's easy to tell who will be good in a broadcast situation and who will not be.

In the case of guys like Leiter, Grace, Tony Gwynn, and ex-Devil Ray John Flaherty, now a part of the Yankees broadcasting team, it's no surprise that they're naturals on television. That's because during their careers they were accommodating to the media, not only giving their time but offering insightful answers that were as candid as possible. After doing literally thousands of these interviews, they were able to make smooth transitions to the broadcast booth. (Gwynn, however, needs to speak up. It seems like he's too far away from the microphone. He has one of the most distinctive voices you'll ever hear - and should want to hear. I learned more from interviewing Gwynn over the years than from any other player.)

Thomas, on the other hand, has had a combative relationship with the media, especially in Chicago. After being accommodating for the first few years of his career, he generally avoided reporters. Even though he's a good-looking, well-spoken guy with a big grin - people used to say he looked like an extra-large version of the actor Gary Coleman - he now comes across on TV the way he does when facing reporters: guarded, uncomfortable, even paranoid.

This phenomenon isn't unique to baseball. Eric Dickerson never spoke to the media as a player. Because of his stellar career as an NFL running back, he was given an opportunity to work as a sideline reporter for Monday Night Football. Not surprisingly, he was a trainwreck, stumbling over sentences and struggling to offer any sort of coherent insight. ABC soon let him go. What a shame. Dickerson could have used all those years in the NFL to hone his on-air camera presence, much like Tiki Barber did.

There are players like Bill Walton and Sterling Sharpe who avoided the media and gone on to solid television careers, but they're the exception.

Then there are ex-jocks who fall in the middle. Cal Ripken, who is working for TBS, and Fred McGriff, who does TV work here in the Tampa Bay area, were generally accessible to the media as players. Always professional and polite, they still kept their guards up, often talking in "coachspeak" and not offering a lot of insight or candor, usually just the minimum in terms of quotes. This is the formula guys like Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez have learned to follow. Ripken and McGriff seem okay on TV, but they have a long way to go to reach the Gwynn-Leiter level, which is less a reflection of natural personality than it is how they approached interviews as players.

None of this really matters. We're talking about guys - even Leiter and Grace - who made in excess of $45 million in their careers. Ripken, McGriff, and Thomas made much more. None of them needs to do TV work and perhaps in the case of Ripken and Thomas, they're just trying out the TBS gig to see if they like it. As someone who has struggled to develop a comfortable on-air TV presence, I understand the challenge.

But if athletes aspire to careers in television, all they have to do is agree to some informal on-the-job training every day with the media.

To remedy the Thomas situation, TBS announced today that John Smoltz will be joining the TBS studio team beginning Sunday. Smoltz will be much more comfortable than Thomas bantering with host Ernie Johnson, a longtime Braves announcer. With more meaningful postseason experience than any pitcher of his generation, Smoltz will have plenty of insight.

Most importantly, Smoltz is a terrific interview who has always made himself available to the media. Like most great athletes, he makes his teammates better. So even though Smoltz no longer is a relief pitcher, Thomas and Ripken no doubt will appreciate this call to the bullpen.

 

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

A Tale of Two Umpires

Bruce Froemming retired as a Major League umpire last week, completing a record 37-year tenure in the big leagues. The 68-year-old received a nice ovation while working in Milwaukee, where he lives during the off-season, and received warm wishes from people throughout the game.

Tim McClelland was behind the plate on Monday night when the Colorado Rockies came from behind to defeat the San Diego Padres and advance to the National League playoffs. McClelland ruled that Rockies outfielder Matt Holliday was safe when he slid headfirst into home with the winning run. Television replays were inconclusive, though Padres fans - already believing the umps are against their team since Padres president Sandy Alderson once was a league official overseeing the men in blue - now have more fuel for their conspiracy theories.

One might assume Froemming is a highly-regarded umpire and McClelland a guy of modest credentials. Actually, the opposite is true.

One of my most challenging assignments came in 1998, when I was the point reporter for an anonymous survey of Major League Baseball players. We asked them who they believed were the best - and worst umpires - in baseball. As you might imagine, nobody wanted to talk on-the-record about this for fear of reprisals. Many players didn't even want to do that.

Along with several of my USA Today Baseball Weekly colleagues, we fanned out across the country and approached the players we knew best. All told, we sampled about 100 players. We took the data and ranked the five best and five worst umpires in each league. (Back then, umpires worked only one league.) Froemming was rated one of the five worst in the National League, with players suggesting he had a hair-trigger temper and was burned out on the game.

When the story came out, Froemming blasted the piece, suggesting that 100 players was hardly a representative sampling. Interestingly, the survey was widely-quoted (if rarely attributed) by baseball broadcasters and we received several reporting awards for our efforts. Shortly thereafter the MLB Players Association did its own survey, with presumably higher levels of participation, and the results were almost identical, with Froemming again rated low.

McClelland? In both surveys, he was among the highest rated. Players praised his consistency, his work both behind the plate and on the bases, and his fair, even demeanor.

A year after the Baseball Weekly survey, MLB managed to break the powerful umpires union. With the umpires' labor agreement about the expire, umpire negotiator Richie Phillips made the ill-advised decision to have all of the umpires turn in letters of resignation.

Alderson, the former general manager of the Oakland A's who assembled the team's late '80s dynasty, was working as an executive in MLB's front office at the time. He graciously accepted the resignations. The umpires backpedaled, rescinding their resignations, but MLB to some degree got to pick and choose who it rehired. Some umpires struggled to get back into the game for years. Several never did, taking early retirement. Phillips was out, the union was busted, and Alderson and MLB now had disciplinary power over umpires that they hadn't possessed in nearly two decades.

In 2005, Alderson left the MLB front office to become an executive with the Padres. Several players privately have suggested that the umpires have since taken out their frustrations with Alderson on the team.

Anything is possible, but there's been quite a bit of turnover in the umpire ranks in the last decade and many younger umpires were not part of the 1999 battle. Certainly nobody would question the integrity of McClelland. If anything, players and managers seem more satisfied with the work of all umpires since the '99 labor dispute took the power out of the hands of the umpires union and brought it back to MLB. Even Froemming seemed like a better umpire in recent years.

No system of officiating is perfect. But as the Holliday slide indicates, not even instant replay is always conclusive. Against that measuring stick, baseball umpires are pretty darned good.

 

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

O.J. Vegas Memorabilia Worthless

If you Google "sports memorabilia expert," this Web site appears at or near the top of the list. I guess when you've written a couple of books on the topic, you occasionally draw some attention.

So it was this week that my phone began ringing. Television producers wanted to get my take on the value of O.J. Simpson memorabilia. I never thought I'd end up on Inside Edition and Court TV with Star Jones, but there I was. I also showed up on CNN (twice), with Anderson Cooper and Nancy Grace. (I wish I could get these media outlets this fired up when I have new books to promote!)

Simpson showed poor judgment on any number of levels by busting into a Las Vegas hotel room. But the most amazing thing was that he risked his freedom for about $1,000 worth of autographed memorabilia, most of which was signed by Simpson himself.

Imagine that. Would you risk prison time to retrieve a bunch of common photos that you had signed? Why not just sign some more? The Vegas stash also included a baseball signed by Hall of Famer Duke Snider and a lithograph autographed by NFL great Joe Montana. Both players are still living and have signed a ton of collectibles. So this wasn't exactly rare memorabilia The Juice was after.

Heck, the value of the memorabilia probably won't pay for more than an hour or two of Simpson's legal expenses.

 

 

 

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