Calling the Wambulance: Jonathan Papelbon

Everyone who watches sports, plays sports, used to play sports; they have all had problems with officiating. Fans and athletes (humans in general) are inherently biased. If the 49ers have a pass interference penalty called against them, I ignore the actual rules and list all the reasons why Nate Clements was not at fault. Naturally, if it's called against the other team, I comment on how fantastic the officiating has been this game.

Major League Baseball may be the toughest league to umpire in, and despite being harshly scrutinized, statistics show that MLB umpires do an unbelievably accurate job making calls every season. Still, one missed call can change an entire at-bat, which can change an entire game, which can change an entire series, which can change an entire season. But, human error has been a part of the game forever and despite the possibility of the expansion of instant replay, I highly doubt that umpires will ever be completely replaced by emotionless machines.

That being said, there is a fine line between complaining and protesting. And even when considered a protest, there better be a damn good reason for it. After Sunday night's game against the Yankees, Boston Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon criticized home plate umpire Phil Cuzzi, placing partial blame on him for a blown save that led to a 4-3 extra inning loss. From Yahoo! Sports, via the Boston Globe:

“Really rough tonight, considering the fact that I'm not only pitching against the hitter, I'm pitching against the umpire,” Papelbon said. “When you've got to do that against this lineup, you'll never be successful.”

Yes, the pitches were close and he didn't get the calls. But Cuzzi's strike zone was consistently tight all night, as manager Terry Francona acknowledged in the original Boston Globe article. Regardless of the calls made in the at-bat in which Alex Rodriguez walked to load the bases, prior to Robinson Cano's game-tying single, a few questions burn in my mind for Papelbon.

First, how did the first two hitters get on? Whoops. Second, after the close call that took the count to 3-2, why didn't you strike A-Rod out, or induce a ground ball, or do anything but walk him to put the winning run in scoring position with an MVP candidate coming to the plate? Right. Third, once the bases were loaded, why didn't you shake it off and just make a good pitch to get Cano out? Hmm. My point is, while you can complain all you want about the umpiring in that at-bat, Paplebon is the only person at fault. He has a history of failure against the Yankees and has had a rough season, by an established closer's standards. This makes me think that the end of a subpar season against arch rivals in a difficult place to pitch got to Papelbon, and he simply blew the save.

Complaints about officiating is all well and good. It's a part of sports. But it's a matter of sportsmanship and respect that we're dealing with here. If Terrell Owens had publicly-criticized an NFL official, he would have been fined an arm and a leg. If Papelbon had a problem with the umpiring in the game, you rant about it to a teammate or a coach in the clubhouse after the game. You call your friends or family and complain about the unbalanced strike zone. It's totally understandable for him to feel slighted, but as a professional athlete he has to know the limitations. He has to know that in the end, he didn't do his job. Going to the media was absolutely ridiculous and embarrassing. All that comes out of complaining to the Boston Globe is a loss of respect among other players, pure annoyance of the fan base, and a potential punishment from the Commissioner’s office. Papelbon already blew a save and essentially lost the game for the Red Sox. Don't rub salt in the wound and turn it around on the umpires.

Let me contrast Papelbon's situation with a now infamous event that happened mid-season, on June 2nd. Tigers starter Armando Galarraga had a perfect game through 9 2/3 innings against the Cleveland Indians. The 27^th batter of the game, Jason Donald, hit a routine ground ball to first. In picture-perfect form, Galarraga covered first base and took the flip from first baseman Miguel Cabrera in time for the out. Fans and players threw their hands in the air to celebrate the third, and most unlikely perfect game of the 2010 season, until first base umpire Jim Joyce yelled, “Safe!” Replays clearly showed that the runner was out and that Joyce had just accidentally altered baseball history by missing a very easy, average call.

Joyce tearfully admitted later that he blew the biggest call of his career and denied Galarraga a place in history. Now that is a reason for a player to call out an umpire. Galarraga, after an initial look of shocked disappointment, cracked a smile, took the mound and got the next batter out to complete a 1-hit, 3-0 win. After the game, no ill will was directed at Joyce by Galarraga or any of his teammates. He had every right in the world to bitch and moan to the media about how he had been screwed, but instead he talked about how good he felt after throwing the best game of his life. Not once did Galarraga throw Joyce under the bus or blame him for blowing his perfect game.

Fast forward to Sunday. Realistically, the Red Sox are out of the playoffs. The Yankees are in. All that remains to be determined are whether the Yankees will be the division champions or in as a wild-card team. It was a game with far less meaning than Galarraga's gem. This Red Sox vs. Yankees game would not have gone down in history, and was hardly an out-of-the-ordinary news story. Until Papelbon summoned his inner, spoiled 10-year-old and opened his mouth to reporters about the incompetence of a respected, veteran umpire. My guess is that if Papelbon had done his job and secured the win for the Red Sox, he never would have said anything about the umpiring. Something more along the lines of, “I didn't have all my stuff tonight, but fortunately I was able to keep making pitches and get out of that jam” would have been in order.

Papelbon didn't throw a belt-high fastball against Rodriguez and not get the call (of course, if he had, the game would have been over before Cano had a chance to come up...). Cuzzi didn't call anyone safe when they missed the bag. Things just didn't go Papelbon's way, and he let it get to him. Mariano Rivera blew a save on Sunday as well, and you would never hear him blame it on a bad call. That's part of the character that makes Rivera so likeable, so well-respected; a complete professional, who will eventually be enshrined forever as one of the greatest.

Papelbon has a lot to learn if he is still placing blame for his failures on the officials enforcing the rules of the game. He had no good reason to question the strike zone of Cuzzi and should be fined, justly. My only hope is that Papelbon grows up and starts taking credit for his own mistakes. From now on, the only people who should hear those kinds of gripes are his teammates, friends and family, all in private. Stay away from people with microphones, recorders and notepads. Because next time Cuzzi is behind the plate, you might find yourself with an even tighter zone to operate in.

Movie Review: Robin Hood

As usual, give me a minute here to annoy you readers who like the writer to jump straight to the good stuff. I have a couple background issues to cover before we get to the actual review. So, first of all, you must know that Gladiator is one of my all-time favorite movies. Some people listen to Metallica to get pumped up. Some people do steroids. I watch Gladiator. If Mark McGwire were listening to Metallica, while being injected with steroids by Jose Canseco who was simultaneously listening to Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N Roses, it would almost equal the amount of adrenaline output I get from watching one scene in Gladiator. In fact, though it's unlikely, if a girl ever quoted my favorite part (Russell Crowe: "My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next."), I would literally propose to her on the spot. I know, I know it's tempting ladies; but please refrain from trying this the next time you see me.

The reason I bring up Gladiator is that it has a whole lot to do with Robin Hood. Ridley Scott returns to direct Robin Hood, Russell Crowe again takes the leading role, and the dynamic duo again creates an absolutely awesome film. Everyone loves the story of Robin Hood. Everyone loves Ridley Scott. Everybody loves Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett. If a + b = c, and a + c = b, and...the square root of...or...nevermind. What I'm trying to say here is that if all the main elements of a movie are fantastic, there is very little chance that the movie won't be fantastic.

With that in mind, let me finally proceed to the actual review of Robin Hood. BUT, before I get there, two very quick disclaimers:

1. Don't be like me. Don't assume that Robin Hood will be Gladiator 2. Similar elements, similar personnel and a similar style does not a sequel necessarily make. Luckily, I had a revelation before watching Robin Hood and decided not to unfairly hold it to the standard of what I believe to be one of the greatest movies ever made. I still had unbelievably high expectations, and while I wasn't exactly let down, Robin Hood didn't get a fair chance.

2. This is NOT the classic story of Robin Hood. Don't go into it expecting to see Robin stealing form the rich, giving to the poor, etc. I made that mistake, and while it also didn't change my feeling on the movie, I was surprised and felt a kind of awkward anticipation the entire movie. As a species, we do not like surprises, we don't like to stray from the norm, so prepare yourself for this movie adequately.

Without further ado, the story before the legend we all know and love as Robin Hood:

Russell Crowe plays Robin Longstride, a common archer in the army of King Richard the Lion Heart. King Richard is on his way back from his Crusades, and sacking and pillaging French castles in the process. At the last castle before sailing back to England, King Richard is killed by an arrow. After hearing the news of the King's death, Robin and his band of merry men decide to ditch the army instead of continuing back with them. On their way, they see English knights who are in charge of delivering the crown back to London, get ambushed by a French squadron led by an English traitor named Godfrey (played by Mark Strong - Sherlock Holmes, Body of Lies, RockNRolla).

Robin and his men decide to take the deceased knights' armor and try to pass themselves off as the procession in charge of returning the deceased King's crown in order to be richly rewarded by the new King. Although they make it to London, the new King is Richard's incompetent youngest brother John, who refuses to give them any type of reward. Godfrey, who slayed the knight Robin is impersonating, happens to be at the kingdom when Robin returns the crown, and recognizes that the imposter "knows too much."

Robin's next quest leads him to Nottingham to return the sword of the knight he is puppeting to his blind, dying father, Walter Loxley. Merrian Loxley (Blanchett) is Walter's daughter-in-law. Walter convinces Robin to stay at their home and pretend to be his son so as to provide temporary stability to the family. All is good and well in Nottingham, until word gets out that Godfrey is on a rampage with a French army through England, "collecting taxes" for the unsuspecting King John by mercilessly raiding every town he passes through.

The brunt of the story is based on Robin leading the English army in a surprise siege upon Godfrey and his arriving French troops. Along the way, the audience learns to love and hate many characters with a passion. Robin must protect his people, lead in a way that King John can not, and uncover a surprisingly un-cliche mystery about his own father. I'm a big fan of not spoiling movies, so that's what I'll leave you with as far as plot goes. But, I can tell you that the acting, for the most part, is impeccable in Robin Hood. The directing is impressive, as is typical with Ridley Scott films. And the storyline is thankfully brilliant, as so much could have gone wrong trying to backtrack through Robin Hood's life.

Blanchett and Crowe make a great acting team in the film and have terrific on-screen chemistry. The lesser actors are perfectly suited for their roles and rarely acted poorly. The best thing for me is that in a couple instances, you get the epic, stone-faced Russell Crowe-delivered line, reminiscent of Gladiator. In the end, Ridley Scott managed to squeeze in a perfect sequence of events that leaves you hanging and begging for a sequel: the common Robin Hood tale.

My anticipation for a sequel is built up very high now, and I have to say I'd be severely disappointed if there wasn't one. I really believe that this could be one of those rare instances where the sequel has the potential to be better than the original film. While I won't spoil the events leading up to the end of the movie for you, I can safely tell you that in the sequel, Robin will be referred to as "Robin of the Hood," and he and his allies will have a bounty on their heads, considered thieves living outside of the law. And all Robin Hood leaves you with is the wonder of what in the world they are all doing in the depths of Sherwood Forest right now.

I highly recommend this film to anyone who likes action, adventure, Robin Hood...heck, anyone who enjoys a well-made movie. Robin Hood is to Gladiator as Eli Manning is to Peyton Manning. Solid, entertaining, surrounded by a good cast...just not quite as great as the big brother. Either way, I give Robin Hood a B+ overall and would expect a real classic out of any potential sequel.

The. Billy. Breen.

Raise your hand if you've seen Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives? How about Man vs. Food? Best Thing I Ever Ate? No? Then, first of all you're a loser. All great, very entertaining shows on the Food Network. Just don't watch while hungry. A quick recap: Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives is hosted by Guy Fieri as he tours certain cities around the country looking for the best unknown cafes, diners, restaurants, etc. I've personally found a couple really delicious, random places to eat from watching that show. Man vs. Food is about Adam Richman traveling the country to find insane food challenges to take on (5-pound grilled cheese, 72-ounce steak, 12-pound cheeseburger challenges, among others). Best Thing I Ever Ate is just as it sounds - a bunch of Food Network personalities describing in vivid, mouthwatering, unfair detail what the best _____ they ever ate was.

Anyway, back to business. I've had my fair share of amazing, memorable meals...orange chicken or chicken bellagio at The Cheesecake Factory, lettuce wraps at P.F. Chang's, In N Out Burger, my mom's taco salad...but this weekend in Spokane I ate something that topped them all. This one would qualify for all three shows. An old-school diner in downtown Spokane, a serving too big to handle, and by far the best burger/sandwich/dinner/MEAL I've ever eaten. I can only hope that some day the Food Network sees this review and heads straight for Spokane, Wash. to test it out.

The place: The Satellite Diner
The subject: Hungry, hungry ME.
The meal: "The Billy Breen"

Picture this. Take your normal cheeseburger and fries and put some mutant steroids in them to cover a gigantic, oval plate. Then, take everything off the burger except for the meat and cheese. Replace each bun with something real special. The Billy Breen's claim to fame is that instead of your typical burger buns, there is an entire grilled cheese sandwich on top and bottom of the meat. I know by now most of you are drooling. BUT, it gets better! When you are grilling up the top bun, don't forget to throw a couple strips of delicious, juicy bacon on with the cheese. When grilling the bottom bun, don't forget to throw a handful of warm, steamy french fries on with the cheese. When both sandwiches are done, you have your buns. Place the cheeseburger on the french-fry-filled grilled cheese, and top it all with the bacon-filled grilled cheese. Call over another cook to help you lift the gargantuan meal from the grill to the plate. Cut it in half, and serve with a far too large helping of seasoned steak fries.

This is not a joke. It really happened. One half of that burger and I was toast (no pun intended). I couldn't stop though. I wolfed down the second half and all the fries en route to raising my cholesterol 100 points and gaining 18 pounds in one meal (statistics not based on real fact). You can imagine the happiness, fullness and resulting wonderful sickness that this meal bestowed on me. I can still taste it. And I would honestly make the 90-minute drive RIGHT NOW to get another.

Take my word for it. If you are ever in Spokane, stop by The Satellite Diner and ask for The Billy Breen. Better yet, tell them Jamblin' Man sent you. It won't make any difference, but at least it will confuse the server for a second. Good night and good luck.

Rockstar Hangover

Energy drinks are my generation's form of uppers. Liquid crack, if you must. Anyone who tells you that energy drinks don't affect them is lying to your face and should be justly punished. Obviously, there is a physical effect. But mentally, you receive an unlimited supply of focus. Unless of course, you overdose. There are especially strong energy drinks. Rockstar is the standard...I purchased a gigantic 24 oz. "tropical punch" (more like blood) Rockstar to study for my test last night. First of all, I should not have started drinking it at 10:00 p.m. I can usually count on an energy drink working it's magic for around five hours. Perfect timing to study for my test! But, I failed to factor in two things:

1. It was a gigantic 24 oz. Rockstar...
2. The five hours don't really kick in until the whole thing is gone (which for me, was around 1:30 a.m.)

Anyway, I did okay on my exam and didn't piss red, so all in all the night was worth it. The main complaint I have is how un-freaking-comfortable I was trying to fall asleep. I have a huge, soft bed. Perfect amount of darkness. Warm blankets. Snoring puppy curled at my feet. But I was basically in a void of nothingness. I was nearly unconscious. I was experiencing INCEPTION! Just kidding...although it did feel like I was having an out-of-body experience (does the warning on the can's label say anything about THAT? Didn't think so...)

If a computer that is "shut down" is a human "asleep," then I was a computer asleep. Does that make sense? I was just laying there, existing; nothing else. Humming. My heart was beating extremely fast and everything about me felt tired, but the actual act of sleeping just wouldn't happen. Finally, around 5:30 a.m. (wake up call at 9), the buzz faded and I was able to sleep. Needless to say, waking up was not fun. I'm still not having much fun as I write this, sitting through my fourth long class of the day. One paper and two more tests to go this week - let's hope I survive.

Moral of the story: if you must drink liquid crack, or as it is more commonly referred to, "Rockstar," start early and drink in moderation. You'll thank me.

Why I Want To Do Semester At Sea

I consider myself a pretty well-traveled person...at least here at home. I've lived in California and Washington state (for school...), visited Nevada, Arizona, Florida, Oregon, Idaho, New York, Massachusetts, Vermont, Florida and Hawaii, been to Mexico a few times, even up to Canada. But one thing I've never, ever done, is cross the Atlantic, or even leave North America for that matter. I have tons of friends who have studied abroad in places like Spain, England, Greece and China. I almost took my 2nd semester of sophomore year to study in Chile and Argentina...unfortunately the credits didn't transfer and I know hardly any Spanish so it never happened. Ever since researching studying abroad, I have been interested in going to South America. Ever since talking to my friends who have been to Europe or Asia, I've been interested in going there. Ever since I can remember, my dream vacation has been New Zealand/Australia. My point is, I've had my fair share of vacations, but never to a country or culture that I consider vastly different from my own. Doing Semester at Sea this summer would give me the perfect opportunity.

The 2011 summer voyage is supposed to go to the Bahamas, Barcelona, Naples, Athens, Istanbul, Morocco, Croatia and Egypt. Wow. So many different cultures, so much history, so much to do and see over 66 days! Plus, the voyage ends in Boston, one of my all-time favorite cities, so maybe I could swing spending a couple days there as well! Anyway, my time to earn school credits while traveling is running out. I don't know if I could put myself in any better situation after this year. A huge cruise ship with hundreds and hundreds of college students with similar intentions to me, hanging out all day and then exploring Europe and parts of Africa and South America? Don't even get me started on the opportunities this trip would give me to further my cultural knowledge and therefore expand my ability to write!

Obviously, there are a couple of roadblocks...

1) COST - my god...including all the fees, airfare, personal money for expenses, textbooks, etc., I would want to budget around $15,000 for this trip. In the end, money is just paper...but it is really hard to move around without it. I'm avidly searching for a job on campus right now to start saving. I know my beautiful, wonderful, loving parents would throw a small bit of money my way, but realistically I'm looking at around $10,000 otherwise. This is where selling drugs comes in...JUST KIDDING. This is where financial aid, scholarships, work study, grants and loans come in. Luckily, Semester at Sea offers a 10-month payment plan option. So basically, starting in January (I believe...), I would pay around $1,200 to them every month to cover the basic trip fees. Along with saving up that extra $500 or so to set off to the side each month for extra expenses. I know for sure that I can get a $2,000 work-study scholarship...basically I agree to work 2 hours a day on the boat and they give me $2,000. According to a friend from University of Washington who did the trip a couple years ago, that's a really good, easy way to cut some costs. He told me that the work is simple and that it allows you free internet access on the boat (not usually free). Also, I can apply for need-based and normal financial aid. And I'm curious to see if I can keep a travel blog to promote Semester at Sea with all my experiences. That would give me practice as well as giving them free advertising? That warrants knocking off a good five or six grand, right? But in all honesty, I'm going to work my tail off to make this happen. I have a meeting with the abroad office here at WSU in a couple weeks and will be emailing my academic adviser this week with questions. Lastly, I'm in contact with the Semester at Sea "recruiter," so I should be able to ask him a few questions tomorrow over the phone.

2) CLASSES - Probably even more important than the money is, will my credits transfer? Will they have English and/or Communications courses on the ship that will transfer back into one of the 8-10 remaining courses I need for my majors? Will any of it count as English 498 "Internship" credit? (Ugh, that would be amazing, what a pain in the butt to get out of the way!) My parents are worried that even if they do transfer back, that if I still had to go back to Pullman for Fall semester 2011, it would be a lottttt of money to spend, and rightfully so. Factoring in a new house lease (current one expires August 2011), paying for more classes, etc. it may just not be worth it. That's why it all comes down to the classes. If I can get 2 courses knocked out on the ship, or 1 course and English 498 credit, that would be ideal. This is why I need to meet with so many people. I have one full semester of college left, no matter how I look at it. Classes are harder to come by in the summer, so I want to be able to plan my registration for this Spring as best as possible. But, ideally, I will take 15-16 credits at WSU in the Spring and be left with 9-10 that I can take on the boat...

Either way, the application is going out tomorrow and we'll go from there. I understand the financial and logistical constraints of this possibility, but the adventure bug is calling and I really want to answer it. Unless something goes absurdly wrong, hellooooooo Bahamas, hellooooooo Europe and helloooooooo Africa! Pencil me in for summer!

Book Review: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

I read. I read a lot. It's probably unhealthy, honestly. The only thing I won't read is my textbooks. The latest victim of my predation was The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. The description on the back was pretty blah, but it was heavily endorsed by my Mom...a fail-proof source. Seriously. She hasn't recommended a bad book to me yet. So I went for it.

No joke, within the first two chapters, it was one of my favorite books of all time. Right up there with Night by Elie Wiesel, the Harry Potter series, Change of Heart by Jodi Picoult, Black Hawk Down, and anything by Dan Brown.

The story is about a girl named Liesel Meminger, a foster child growing up in Nazi Germany. In a matter of 500 pages, she deals with more death than any human, fictional or not, should ever have to deal with. Part coming-of-age story, part recounting of World War II, part statement on human nature, and part sticking-it-to-Hitler story, the book is artfully crafted and eloquently written. The storyline is great in itself - Liesel becomes a book thief, learns how to read and write and develops a love-hate relationship with words in the process. All the while, she deals with adventuring with her best friend Rudy, love, death, Hitler's youth soldiers, bombs, and her foster father secretly hiding a kind-hearted Jew in his basement. Just your average few years of puberty.

The story will keep you involved, but Zusak could have written a 500-page poem about broccoli and I still probably would have read it. Why? By far the most entrancing, involved writing style I've ever seen. He has a strange way of keeping it simple, yet descriptive. The character development unfurls over time; he doesn't give it all away up front. At some points, it's almost a poetic style of writing but it flows in with the normal prose perfectly. More than a few times, I literally put the book down and sat there in shock at how vivid an image was or how deep a passage was. Don't laugh, but the only other time I've ever had that happen to me when reading, was when Dumbledore died. Sorry if I just spoiled Harry Potter for any real slow readers....

Anyway, that's the mark of a truly awesome novel: things really stick with the reader. I could try to forget the story, the characters, etc. but I don't think it's possible. Did I mention the most original part of The Book Thief? The narrator is Death. Sounds like it could be cheesy. Not even close. Zusak kills it! (That's a good thing, for my older crowd!) The narrator is a recurring character in the book but it really snaps you back to reality when he shows up. And all the connections that Zusak makes between death and Death work to perfection.

If it wasn't 8:30 on a Thursday night and I wasn't getting summoned to play Beer Pong, I'd have a much more in-depth analysis for you. Hopefully I've done enough to convince you to pick up The Book Thief and give it a try. You won't regret it!

A Hero's Last Ride

The 2nd article I ever wrote for Sportscolumn.com...eventually got published in a college English textbook. My writing has definitely changed since then, but it's still a memorable accomplishment for me! Written after Armstrong's 7th straight Tour de France victory.

“Ultimate Sports Hero Mix”-Mixing Instructions

Step 1: Fill pot with dedication and hard work and turn up the desire until it is boiling.

Step 2: Stir in the obstacles (the package containing France, cancer, and critics)

Step 3: Now add the entire box of pressure and expectation, and supervise for 7 years as it dissolves.

Step 4: Add as much courage as you can find to the pot, stir for 10 minutes, and then top it off by adding a touch of champagne and a yellow jersey to the mix and letting it sit in its glory for the rest of its life.

So what do you get with this strange concoction? If you follow these directions, you receive the best, most inspirational athlete of this era. He overcame enormous odds to return to his sport, he cleared so many hurdles on his way back. He had to swim the English Channel while his opponents took a lap in a pool. He had to climb Mt. Everest; they took a stroll in the foothills. Lance Armstrong is not only riding away from his sport on top, but he is leaving as the best there ever was.

Everyone knows his story, what he accomplished, how he did it. Lance Armstrong is a household name, and not just because of his yellow bracelets. So, when he announced that 2005 would be his last Tour de France, was there really any doubt that he would capture that unprecedented seventh straight title?

He had already defeated so many demons on the way there, what was going to stop him from winning again? Absolutely nothing. If the critics couldn’t get to him, if he didn’t crack under the pressure and expectations of an entire nation, why would a silly little race beat him? Cancer? He took it down. The almighty French? No problem. There is nothing he couldn’t do and he left the same way he came in, by winning the Tour de France yet again.

How do the other riders compete with someone that has made it through so much? They all know about the tragic event that could have taken his life, and derailed his career for 2 years. He was ranked as the number 1 cyclist in the world going into 1996, when something his doctor told him put a quick stop to his certain stardom. He was diagnosed with advanced testicular cancer that had spread to his lungs and brain. He had less than a 50 percent chance of recovering. But, always determined, Lance began on a rigorous chemotherapy schedule and amazed everyone in 1999 when he was able to get back on his bike and ride in the Tour de France.

Though he was scarred from his fight with cancer, just lining up at the start of the race was a victory in itself for Lance. When he actually came out and beat all the other world-class cyclists in that Tour, who could have known it would be the start to the most famous and inspirational record-setting career in cycling history? Not only did that first win shock the world, but opened the eyes of American citizens to the man representing their country on foreign soil, and winning the most demanding physical event in sports.

Lance went on to win again in 2000 and 2001. Then he won…again…and again…and again. By 2004 he had won six consecutive Tour de France races, breaking a record and infuriating the French. Why was this American so dominant in their race? There were talks of steroids involved, illegal substances, cheating on Armstrong’s part. But he had done it all legitimately, and nothing could change that. He had no fear, knowing that he had already stared death in the face and survived. No rider could compete with someone with so much motivation.

Coming into 2005, the Tour de France committee even attempted to “Lance proof” the course, to give other riders a chance at winning. Nothing they did would work and the Tour de Lance continued, when Armstrong’s Discovery Team rode into Paris at the end of the last stage, with Armstrong maintaining his four minute and forty second lead over the second place finisher. It had gotten to a point where if someone asked you who you thought would win the Tour de France, it was a natural response, a no-brainer to say: “Lance! Duh!” Lance Armstrong has provided us with seven years of excitement, and now he is leaving just the way he should: with that one last title.

He has done so much for the sport, gotten it recognition everywhere, and he is an amazing, inspiring role model to athletes everywhere. Even with his departure, cycling will become more and more popular because of the presence he had. He is a walking example of the phrase ‘nothing is impossible’.

As Lance rides off into the sunset, toward the rest of his life, let us wish him luck in whatever comes his way. Thank you Lance Armstrong, for all you’ve done for athletes everywhere and how much hope you’ve given to anyone that didn’t believe they could succeed. Your legacy will live on forever in the minds and memories of everyone who knows your name. Now go enjoy the rest of your life. You deserve nothing less.

Why Charlie Got Hustled: The Long Overdue Call From The Hall

Wrote this on Sportscolumn.com a long time ago...one of the articles I'm most fond of...pics and quotes taken from wikipedia and the Baseball Almanac, respectively.

“Playing baseball for a living is like having a license to steal.” – Pete Rose

Major League Baseball has committed a sin; an absolute crime. They have robbed a man of his lifelong dream; of the ultimate accomplishment in the game that he loves more than anything in the world. He was robbed of this achievement, which he rightfully earned, and perhaps deserved more than any other player in the history of the game. Pete Rose was cruelly robbed of his place as a baseball immortal.

“The banishment for life of Pete Rose from baseball is a sad end of a sorry episode. One of the game’s greatest players has engaged in a variety of acts which have stained the game, and he must now live with the consequences of those acts. There is absolutely no deal for reinstatement.” – Bart Giamatti

At least Commissioner Giamatti acknowledged that Rose was one of the best players to ever grace a diamond. But with this announcement on August 24, 1989, Giamatti banished one of the greatest heroes of the sport and cast a dark shadow over the game.

Since Charlie Hustle’s banishment that fateful day, we have never seen another player with so much heart, hustle and determination as him. Rose collected hits like they were being handed out for free: He is the all-time record holder for most hits in a career with 4,256 and currently holds the second longest hitting streak in the history of baseball, one that lasted 44 games. Rose finished his 24-year career with a .303 batting average and a .375 on-base percentage and holds the all-time record for most games played and most at-bats. If he could, he would’ve played every inning of every game for his entire life. That’s how much Rose was in love with baseball.

Rose won the National League MVP award in 1973 and Rookie of the Year in 1963. He made 17 all-star appearances at five different positions, and won three World Series titles with the Cincinnati Reds. He was MVP of the 1975 World Series and a leader of the `Big Red Machine’. He won three batting titles, two gold gloves, and has more seasons of 200+ hits than anyone else, with 10. Rose was extremely versatile too, playing over 500 games at five different positions over his career.

So what is a player with such amazing credentials doing sitting on the bench, riding the pine, NOT in the Hall of Fame? The reason is that Commissioner Giamatti banished Rose from baseball for betting on the Reds as their manager, a charge Rose denied, but still agreed to be placed on baseball’s ineligible list for. Rose denied the ruling for years after his expulsion, until 2004, when he published a book called My Prison Without Bars, an autobiography in which he admitted to betting on baseball.

Seventeen years after Rose’s ban, he has yet to be re-instated and still watches the Hall of Fame inductions every year instead of being included in them. So was Rose’s betting on the Reds really “detrimental to baseball” as Giamatti claimed? Is it really any worse than taking steroids to enhance one’s play? Because if it is, it’s unfair that sluggers like Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire will most likely be Hall of Famers and Rose won’t. Today, people are arguing that Bonds should be a first-ballot Hall of Famer based on accomplishments alone, not on merit. Well, Bonds pumped up his muscles, lied to the Supreme Court, and unnaturally changed his performance. That is a lot more detrimental to the game then betting on a team you manage. Besides, it’s not like Rose was paying the pitchers to throw the ball down the middle.

Steroids and gambling: both can be unhealthy, both are illegal in baseball, but only one physically affects how an individual plays the game. I’m not saying steroids helped Barry Bonds have a beautiful swing, have the power to hit a home run, have a better eye at the plate, or have loads of talent. In fact, I agree that Bonds should be in the Hall of Fame based on his career before 2001. But, if Bonds is a Hall of Famer, Rose is undoubtedly one as well. Both players made a choice and both have been criticized for what they’ve done. The only difference is Rose got the ultimate heave-ho. Rose committed a crime against baseball that is much less harmful to the game, yet he was punished in the harshest way possible. Bonds and other substance-abusers are getting to walk free, and with every step they taint the game a little bit more.

The bottom line is that Rose betting on baseball was a minor crime compared to what’s going on today, for two reasons. First, Rose’s play and managerial tactics were not affected in any way, shape or form. Secondly, what Rose did does not resonate with younger players who look up to the pros and try to mimic everything they do. Steroids have crept all the way into high school locker rooms, and there is no doubt in my mind that part of the blame has to go to the professional players who make it seem okay to be juiced. Rose is a god and a role model compared to some of the superstars of today.

“I think just about everybody ought to get a second chance and I’d like to see it worked out, because he brought a lot of joy to the game, and he gave a lot of joy to people, and he’s paid a price – God knows, he’s paid a price.” – Bill Clinton

Of course you think everybody deserves a second chance, Bill. Of course you do. Jokes aside, our former President makes a couple good points. Rose really did bring a lot of joy to the game and he really did pay a price. Being thrown out of the baseball world and stomped on for seventeen years is a pretty good price to pay. We baseball fans have never seen a player who hustled all-around as much as Rose did since he was banished and I don’t know if we’ll ever see someone with as much heart and who loved the game more than he did.

“Somebody’s gotta win and somebody’s gotta lose and I believe in letting the other guy lose.” – Pete Rose

The picture I ripped out of Sports Illustrated that is on my wall says it all. It’s a shot of Rose in 1976 sliding headfirst into third base, his body completely off the ground, eyes full of steely determination, focused on nothing but reaching the bag safely. That is how he played for 24 years straight. Now, I challenge you to find a player today who has never jogged to first on a groundout or who has played his heart out on every pitch of every inning of every game of every season. Let me save you some trouble: You won’t find one.

There are no Pete Roses left in baseball. Charlie Hustle played harder than anyone else and never let up. He played every game like it was his last and did whatever he could to win. Without a doubt, at the very least, this man deserves re-instatement to baseball. I’m too young to have ever seen him play, but I still envy and worship him as a player, for moments I’ve seen clips of and heard about; plays that I will never forget.

Scene: 1970 All-Star Game in Cincinnati, bottom of the 12th inning. Rose is on second after his leadoff single, Bill Grabarkewitz of the Dodgers is on first, and the Cubs’ Jim Hickman is at the plate. (The All-Stars back then would play the game to win, but it was still an exhibition in a way, just to assure players’ safety. And unlike today, there was just pride on the line, no home-field advantage for the World Series.) Unfortunately for Indians’ catcher Ray Fosse though, Pete Rose was of a different breed. He didn’t care about getting hurt, just as long as his team won the game. So, when Hickman singled to center and Rose came barrelling around third, looking to score the winning run, he ran over Fosse, who was blocking the plate, and won the game for the National League. That’s how Rose played: to win at any expense.

“Does Pete hustle? Before the All-Star game he came into the clubhouse and took off his shoes and they ran another mile without him.” – Hank Aaron

Everyone who played with him or against him knew it. They knew he was one of a kind. The kind that had so much desire to win and so much love for the game that nothing would slow him down. They all knew that he was a star and that he would eventually have a spot in the Hall of Fame. If Rose was re-instated today, he would be unanimously voted in on the first ballot and rightfully so.

With the way rules are already bent so much on a daily basis in every level of baseball, it’s hard to believe that Commissioner Bud Selig can’t re-instate the best pure hitter to ever play the game. It seems like the only reason he won’t, is he’s either afraid of the backlash from people who support the decision to ban Rose, or he just doesn’t want to be the one to do it. When cheaters like Bonds and Sammy Sosa are given pardons and second chances, it’s a travesty of monumental proportions that Rose doesn’t even get the place in Cooperstown that he deserves.

We all know that the Cincinnati Reds organization subliminally supports Rose in his quest for re-instatement and wants him to be inducted into the Hall of Fame. How do we know this? It’s not just a coincidence that Rose’s number 14 jersey has not been worn full-time by any other Reds player since Rose played (His son had a short stint with the team in which he was issued his father’s number). It’s sort of an informal retirement of the number out of respect by the Reds, because as part of the lifetime ban, the Reds were not allowed to officially retire his jersey.

“When you play this game twenty years, go to bat ten-thousand times, and get three-thousand hits, do you know what that means? You’ve gone zero for seven-thousand.” – Pete Rose

This article may simply sound like a plea to get Pete Rose into the Hall of Fame. And in a way, it is. But, mostly, I am just giving one of the greatest of all time his due. He deserves to be given a second chance and deserves to be in the Hall of Fame amongst the rest of the best players in baseball history. Rose gave his life to baseball, the least baseball can do is give it back.

“I’d walk through hell in a gasoline suit to play baseball.” – Pete Rose

And I’m sure he’d do the same to have a plaque in the Hall of Fame of the game he loved.

Cleveland's Got Nothin' On Me

Copied from my latest freelance, just-for-fun published article on www.Sportscolumn.com (aspiring sports writers, or sports fans check out the website and join for free!)

Hi, my name is JDWC and I’m addicted to sports. I was hooked from birth, because my father is an addict too. Like him, my drugs of choice are the Dodgers, the 49ers and the Oakland A’s. But, like most addicts and sons, I pledged to be better, to be more. So I surpassed my father…I became a basketball fan and chose the most depressing depressant known to man: the Golden State Warriors. The high school years were a brief, four-step recovery program. I graduated from the program in 2007, proclaimed clean and cured!

Alas, tragedy struck again. I was thrust into the real world and sent up to Pullman, WA to educate myself in the arts of Journalism and Creative Writing. From the first time I tasted Washington State University football, I was hooked again. Years passed and I drifted back into my addictive haze. Over the last week, I have hit rock bottom. If only I had chosen St. Louis. New York. Boston. Even Seattle. Instead, I got what I deserved. My teams have taken years from my life I will never get back. This is the uncut, untold story of my struggles:

I literally can’t remember the last time I was completely clean. I’ve been an on and off user of the Warriors. I didn’t discover the Cougars until I was a freshman in college. But the strongest, longest-lasting addictions have been to the original three. I’ve never wavered, never lessened my dosage; in fact, I’ve only increased the amount of attention I give to my drugs. Each year of losing worsens my dependence, yet I still fail to get clean. Now, they are beginning to fail me. The A’s, Dodgers and 49ers have all provided me with some great trips. In particular, I remember the 2003 A’s and the 2009 Dodgers and the 1998 49ers. Oh, those were the good old days. Young talent, Hall-of-Fame veterans, tons of money…just riding out the wave.

Since the glory days, things have gotten ugly. The A’s are a revolving door of Moneyball prospects and injury-riddled stars. It’s still a strong drug at a cheap price. A well-known brand. But, I’ve started to lose trust in my dealer. Goes by Beane, Billy Beane. He laced my last dose with a little Matt Holliday. That was the definition of a bad trip. Now St. Louis and Colorado (the Carlos Gonzalez-laced stuff) are reaping the benefits. Those damn spoiled junkies. There is always so much potential with this drug. It can be so good. So good. But nobody supports it, nobody will pay for it. As a result, the taste and the strength of the actual product is turning sour. Don’t get me wrong, a new shipment of young pitching and a small does of strong stuff from Sacramento gives me hope. But the inconsistency kills me. Almost makes me want to go clean. Almost.

The Dodgers’ downfall has been the result of a power struggle among drug lords. Destruction has started from the top, between Capo’s Frank and Jamie McCourt. Ned Colletti is Frank’s right hand man, and is just as much a part of the problem as anyone. The 2009 stuff was delicious. All new on the market; a strain of Kemp, a little Ethier, a splash of Loney and a hint of Kershaw. Sprinkle that Manny-weed throughout and that sweet, easy taste of Broxton at the end of each hit…it got me so, so high. We were never going to be as good as that stuff from Philly, but we were on the way up. Unfortunately, the drug became too popular. My addiction soared. I was strictly ingesting Dodgers on a regular basis; everything else was secondary. The money became too important, and the users suffered. Now, the Kemp is stale, the Ethier is thrashed, the Loney is weak, the Manny is gone all together, and the Broxton tastes like shit. I could care less for a hit of the Dodgers at this point.

Until this year, I had never been as high on anything as I was on Warriors in 2007. Everyone I knew was on that stuff heading into the playoffs. Baron Davis endorsed it, and We Believed. Sure, we were wasted, but we all knew our stuff would take down Dallas’ best. When our prophecy came to fruition, we drank it and smoked it and injected it in every orifice. Since that trip, the drug’s popularity has seen a steep decline. Disappointment after disappointment has left me wary of trusting it again. Of course, some good comes out of every bad: I can safely say I’m no longer hooked. That’s one drug down, four big ones to go. Although I’m always on the verge of relapse…

Thankfully, I had my hopes up for a brand spankin’ new shipment of 49ers. That red and gold goodness that I missed so much. The real stuff hadn’t even hit the market yet when I was already smoking the tester. The teaser. All I could think about was 49ers. Finally, a much-needed drug in a year of disappointments. I was so high on 49ers before it even came out, I was actually skipping class to check the status of the delivery. Finally the big day arrived. Sunday, September 12, 2010 – the day the new 49ers were introduced to the world. A confident Alex Smith, a revamped line, a healthy secondary…it smelled so good. Pretty bubble-wrapped packaging and a shiny, silver box. It all turned out to be a big hoax. A small name operation from Seattle tore it apart, bit by bit. There was no Crabtree in the drug as promised, hardly any run game and the line was far more shaky than advertised. I still hit that line, I fell for the hype and now I’m giving the 49ers one more chance to prove that I should continue to be an addict. Never in my life have I been so disappointed by a single substance. From sky high to rock bottom, in a matter of four very long, very ugly 15-minute quarters. One single season, one Singletary reason to prove to me why I should choose them.

The 49ers is still my drug of choice. It is supposed to last at least four months…if it lasts longer, it was a success. And if it was a success, my craving is cured. In the mean time, I’ve got one on the side. I do it every weekend because it’s local and extremely cheap. It’s never a good trip and I’m never high for long, but as other Washington State Cougar fans know, it’s still worth doing. The football team is awful, squeaking out a 23-22 win over Division-II Montana St. last weekend. The basketball team underperformed last year and now has lofty expectations of a 2^nd place Pac-10 finish to live up to this year (according to ESPN). Truth be told, taking Cougar is more like a shot of bad vodka and a midday nap. A win and I’m drunk, anything less is a waste of time and money. Since I got hooked on Cougar, I’ve been drunk less than ten times in four years. What a terrible, terrible ratio.

I’m not one of the strong ones. I can’t go to Changes Rehab or Winehouse Springs to get clean. I can’t resist the urge, the pull of my addictions. I will always be hooked on A. I will always be hooked on Dodger. I will always be hooked on 49er. And honestly, I probably won’t forget the glory of Cougar. I’ll hit Warrior when it’s good and keep paying for the others even when the crop is weak. That’s the nature of a true addict. While I can’t ever be healthy, I’ve at least accepted that resistance is pointless. These drugs will be in my blood forever. They are a part of me. I can’t stop now.

The days ahead may be dark, but the sun always rises eventually. I just hope it warms me up before the addicts of Huskies and Giants, those filthy, rotten druggies. And god forbid, I hope the sun warms me up before Cleveland.