Barry Bonds First Edition deserves to be in Baseball Hall of Fame

Toward the end of a wonderful, peaceful, joyous Christmas day spent with my family, I had an opportunity to watch a few minutes of “The Tenth Inning,” which has been airing on the MLB Network during the holidays.

“The Tenth Inning” picks up where Ken Burns’ landmark 1994 documentary “Baseball” left off and provides a history of the sport from the 1990s to the present day.  Not surprisingly, the 1998 home run race between Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa is highlighted.  Burns and co-director Lynn Novick take viewers back to that magical summer when the media and fans transformed McGwire and Sosa into larger than life superheroes.

If we are to believe what “The Tenth Inning” and others have implied, it was this 1998 home run race and the adoration bestowed upon McGwire and Sosa that irked Barry Bonds.  As the theory goes, Bonds was outraged that two lesser players had become the biggest stars in the game through their use of performance enhancing drugs and followed the old adage:  “if you can’t beat them join them.”  The rest as they say was history, albeit controversial history, as Bonds went on a hitting rampage in subsequent seasons, including a 73-homer campaign in 2001 to break McGwire’s controversial single-season record set in ’98.  Bonds then took aim at the all-time home run list and when his assault was complete, he was the new king of the long ball with 762 career blasts.

Myths and baseball go together like a glove and ball, but this theory surrounding Bonds has always sounded very plausible to me.  That is why I think the process is simple for Hall of Fame voters who have to make a decision on Bonds.  These voters need to simply evaluate what he had accomplished by the conclusion of that ’98 season—the season before Bonds’ physical form seemed to radically change before our eyes. 

Much is made of the physical transformation of Bonds beginning with the 1999 season, but an eye test also should be applied to what he accomplished before that season.  When this is done, we rediscover a multi-talented player who had already won three National League Most Valuable Player awards and was the first player to amass 400 home runs with 400 stolen bases.  Bonds also got it done in the field during this period as his numerous Gold Glove awards attest.  Those numbers and accomplishments make Bonds worthy of being a first ballot Hall of Famer and that’s how the voting should go if voters consider the considerable portion of Bonds’ career when no one questioned if he was using PEDs.

I realize that there is a moral clause that factors into the Hall of Fame voting, but I contend that Bonds is no more morally flawed than the many less talented players that may have used PEDs just to stay in the game.  Also, how about the morality of the media and the baseball establishment that continued to hype McGwire even after his suspected use of PEDs was written about by an Associated Press reporter during that majestic 1998 season? 

As we continue to celebrate the season of giving, I hope those still undecided Hall of Fame voters simply give a great ballplayer his due and vote Barry Bonds Edition I into Cooperstown. 

New film reveals bitter truth about Marcus Allen’s football odyssey with the Raiders

Just when I thought I had seen one of the best sports documentaries in a long time after viewing the ESPN 30 for 30 piece on Bo Jackson this past weekend, the NFL Network premiered “Marcus Allen:  A Football Life” last night.

While I’m still savoring the delightful film on Bo, for my taste, the Marcus Allen film was equally well done and moving.  Ironically, football fans will forever link the two men because they shared the running back position for parts of four seasons (1987-1990) with the Los Angeles Raiders. 

As the film revealed, it was possible for a player to be Rookie of the Year; a Super Bowl MVP; and finish his career with more than 12,000 yards rushing and still not accomplish everything he could have due to the actions of a vindictive team owner.  This was the football life lived by Marcus Allen. 

However, the hour-long program was just as much the late Al Davis’ story, because he was the owner who denied Marcus Allen and his own team from being all they could be by personally seeing to it that Allen was kept off the field for a significant chunk of his career.  The fact that Allen still had much to give was the nine victories he led the rival Kansas City Chiefs over the Raiders in 10 heated contests after leaving behind the silver and black.

Indeed, Marcus Allen’s football life was stranger than fiction but he never lost the respect and support of his teammates, and Allen’s journey finished in a sweet place in Canton, Ohio at the NFL Football Hall of Fame.

The sledding for the Raiders has not been as sweet.  Not only have they not won a championship since Allen’s departure following the 1992 season, but also an argument can be made that they have replaced my beloved Detroit Lions as the least-respected franchise in professional football.  Evidently the football gods don’t like ugly and there is still a price the Raiders must pay for management’s mistreatment of the classy Marcus Allen.

My Don Adams will always be 'the' Don Adams to me

While getting ready for a short run yesterday, a segment on the MLB Network caught my attention and took me back almost 40 years in a time capsule.

The image on my TV screen was that of a little boy living in Texas, no more than six-years-old, who was crying over the news that longtime Texas Rangers standout Michael Young had been traded to the Philadelphia Phillies.

The scene naturally brought on a big “aw” from the studio hosts and me as well, which caused me to remember the first time that I learned an athlete would no longer be a part of my hometown team.  It’s an occurrence that all young sports fans must eventually experience, and for me it happened sometime toward the end of the 1974-75 NBA season when my dad told me our hometown Pistons had cut forward Don Adams.

Our Don Adams was nowhere near as famous as the actor of the same name, but for a kid approaching his eighth birthday and following the hometown team throughout the entire season for the first time, the hardworking role player from Northwestern University was a big deal.

I guess by that point in my young life my parents had done a good job of explaining to me the importance of having a job, because I remember asking my dad questions like:  How will Don get money to eat?  Where will he live? What’s going to happen to his family?

My dad said that Don would be OK, and while I always believed what my dad said, I still had an uneasy feeling about Don’s prospects for survival.  I began following sports in an era when athletes were not millionaires.  Although the players were doing something that I dreamed about, I still regarded  them as working people just like my mom and dad.  I knew I would be very sad if my dad came home and said he didn’t have his job, so I had similar feelings for Don Adams.

I finally felt a little better a season or two later when I saw Don Adams once again on TV playing for another team.  However, even after his career was long over, Don Adams served as a reminder to me that professional athletes are also vulnerable and fragile and more times than not deserve our sympathy.

I feel bad for the little boy in Texas who is crying over losing Michael Young.  As one of my favorite former presidents might say:  “I feel his pain.”  But make no mistake about it I love the little boy’s spirit.  He possesses the heart and spirit that make all true sports fans special.  

'Girls on the Run' continuation: If Isabella likes it; I love it!

On Saturday I wrote about my eight-year-old friend Isabella in Washington D.C. who recently participated in a 5K “Girls on the Run” event.

When I first heard that Isabella was doing this it warmed my heart and excited me to know that she is experiencing the joys of running at a young age and being empowered in the process.

A similar feeling of joy and excitement consumed me last night when I received a very special message from Isabella’s mom telling me that Isabella enjoyed reading my story about her.

Well, if Isabella likes it, I love it!  In writing about Isabella’s experience, I had not considered that it is also would be a positive experience for her to relive the 5K by reading a story about the event with her cast as the star.  Perhaps having her story told in writing will give Isabella a little extra excitement the next time she laces up her running shoes.   If so, I feel my writing is serving a much higher service and I do not want this service to end.

If anyone reading this knows of a young person who is beginning to have a life-enriching experience through sports and physical fitness, please feel free to drop me a line.  I would love to feature the child’s story in this blog and hopefully encourage more youth and parents to view physical activity as a pathway to a positive life.

Today's NFL players could learn a lesson from Bo

For the past two Sundays, America has been reminded just how fragile some of the athletes are in the National Football League.

I am not referring to the strength of the players’ bodies, but rather the fragile nature of some of the players’ internal makeup, as witnessed by the headlines of the past two weekends. 

A murder suicide committed by a Kansas City Chiefs player has been followed up by news of a Dallas Cowboys practice squad player who was killed in an automobile driven by an intoxicated friend and teammate.

Any football fan with a heart has to hurt for the families of these players and everyone directly involved.  It is indeed a sad feeling to take into a football Sunday, but then I suddenly remembered a documentary I saw last night and I began to cheer up.

The ESPN 30 for 30 series documentary “You Don’t Know Bo:  The Legend of Bo Jackson” tells the story of one of my all-time favorite athletes. 

Bo starred as a football and baseball standout at Auburn University during a chunk of my high school years, when I was sometimes at odds with my dad for not applying myself in school.  Bo had no way of knowing that his exploits on the football field brought me tons of enjoyment during a challenging period of my life.

My first year of college was Bo’s senior year at Auburn, and by that time my grades were no longer an issue and I could watch Bo work his magic while feeling relatively stress free.  I celebrated as Bo won the Heisman Trophy following his senior season and whenever I could I watched him perform as a professional with the Kansas City Royals of Major League Baseball and later the NFL's Oakland Raiders.  A feat he performed simultaneously! 

Blessed with legendary strength and speed, Bo thrilled fans in both sports before his hip gave way after being tackled in a NFL playoff game at the age of 28. By this time I viewed Bo more as a long distance friend, as opposed to a hero, and I felt awfully bad for my friend.  Watching him return to baseball for a short stint following hip replacement surgery left me with an even sadder feeling.

However, a surprising thing happened after Bo’s professional athletic career was officially over at age 32.  Instead of the sad feeling lingering, I found myself becoming happy during those rare occasions Bo was interviewed on TV after his career, because Bo always seemed to be happy.  This man who made the game so special for so many fans, did not seem to miss the game and all that he was able to do on the playing field. 

Bo has always come across as a man very much at peace with no great external wants or regrets.  This comes across in the Michael Bonfiglio directed documentary and I thank ESPN and Bonfiglio for presenting this film to let me and the world know that our old friend Bo is doing just fine.

I hope the players performing today can avoid injuries as much as possible.  But more important, I hope they all can find the inner strength that Bo Jackson seems to possess.  If so, these players will be much better off during the remainder of their playing careers and beyond.

'Girls on the Run' empowers young ladies one step at a time

The challenges of life had taken me away from my blog for several months.  Therefore, it is fitting that a program which helps people conquer challenges would bring me back to my blog and hopefully this time for good.

The program that I speak of is "Girls on the Run," which empowers girls from the ages of 8 to 13 by exposing them to distance running.

As a lifelong runner, I understand with all my heart how running long distances can fuel the mind, body and soul.  My family and running are the constant sources that keep my life moving forward each day regardless of the challenges I may face.

That is why a big smile flashed across my face when I learned my eight-year-old friend in Washington D.C., Isabella, was running in a 5K race (3.1 miles) put on by the "Girls on the Run" chapter in her area.  I have wanted nothing but the best for Isabella since the day she came on the planet and to know that she and the other young ladies in the program are learning that they can accomplish anything in life through a one-step-at-a-time process, feels me with joy.

I knew nothing about "Girls on the Run" until Isabella's mom, a coach in the program, informed me of the journey they were about to embark on together.  Now I want to learn more about this wonderful program and I encourage anyone who comes across this post to do the same.

For more information about "Girls on the Run" please visit www.girlsontherun.org.  www.girlsontherun.org

The Day a Seven-Year-Old Cried for Bob Knight

The Day a Seven-Year-Old Cried for Bob Knight

There is a space of flooring in my parent’s room that will always be sacred to me.  It is an area that starts roughly four steps into the room and extends about six feet back to my mom’s nightstand.  And within this area, stretched out on the floor with my feet pointed to the room’s back wall, I have watched many a big game with mom and dad.

One of the earliest contests I can remember viewing from this special place was the 1975 NCAA basketball tournament Mideast regional final game between Indiana and Kentucky.  I was all of seven years old and I was just becoming aware of the world of sports.  I can’t recall if I had picked it up from the Detroit Free Press sports section, or simply heard the announcers talk about it, but I was aware that Indiana was riding an undefeated season.  I also was aware that I shared the same first name with Indiana’s star player, Scott May.  However, when May took the floor he was wearing a cast on his arm.  I think the sight of the injured forward was when my heart began to feel soft, but my emotions and senses also were focused on the fiery Indiana coach who wore a plaid sports jacket and appeared to be close to my parent’s age.   The coach was known as “Bobby” Knight in those days and something inside of me felt compelled to cheer for this man and his team.

Although I was just beginning to study sports in earnest, I was equally deep into comic books and sometimes the two worlds merged.  Viewing the game with my comic book perspective, I had no doubt in my mind that the team I deemed the good guys—the Indiana Hoosiers—would prevail.  Just like watching a Batman cartoon, I began to feel ill whenever the Kentucky team appeared to be getting the best of my heroes, but I still had my comic book faith that the team I latched onto would prevail in the end.  But on that afternoon I learned a lesson that the team I assign special status to will not always come out on top as the Wildcats won that day, 92-90.

I didn’t say anything to my parents immediately after the game.  For that matter, I had watched most of the game in silence as I tried to take everything in while learning what to me was a new world called sports.  There may have been another tournament game on TV afterwards, but if there was, my mind remained on the Indiana-Kentucky contest.  At some point I made the short trek down the hall to my room and that’s when my eyes watered.  Not only did I learn that my teams will not always win no matter how hard I root, but that game also revealed to me the beauty of spectator sports, because putting yourself in another person’s shoes and wanting the best for them is indeed a beautiful thing.

The following season, Indiana would once again head into the NCAA basketball tournament undefeated, and I rooted for them all the way, even when they played and defeated a team from my state—the University of Michigan—in the championship game.  Even as I quietly celebrated Indiana’s 1976 championship from my special place in my parents’ room, I still found myself thinking back to the Kentucky game a year earlier.  As the years passed, the coach I cared about in 1975 became known as “Bob” Knight and he would do things that I did not care for as I watched him with more mature eyes.  But even as I sometimes questioned Bob Knight’s actions, I often found myself thinking about that 1975 Mideast regional final played in Dayton, Ohio, and once those thoughts sank in, more times than not I gave the “General” a pass. 

As I watch tonight’s Indiana-Kentucky game of this year’s NCAA tournament, I know I am going to think back to that game in 1975, because it is already very much on my mind.  Tonight I don’t plan to shed a tear for the winner or loser, but having those memories is sure to make this game that much more special in my heart and mind. 

Congratulations Mike Woodson

As a young Big Ten basketball fan in the late 1970s, one of my favorite players was a silky-smooth swingman for Indiana named Mike Woodson.  Whenever an Indiana game was shown in the Detroit market, number 42 was my guy.  Woodson had a great collegiate career, en route to scoring 2,062 points from 1977-80, but his run with the Hoosiers came just after the undefeated 1976 national championship team and ended just before IU captured another national title in 1981 led by superstar Isiah Thomas.  Therefore it's easy to forget that Woodson was one of the all-time Big Ten greats and a first-round pick in the 1980 draft by the New York Knicks.

Woodson's pro career is easy to forget as well, despite the fact that he averaged a very respectable 14 points during an 11-year run in the NBA.  Woodson's pro numbers may have been good enough to make him a small part of the Knicks lore, had he stayed with the team.  However, following an undistinguished rookie season in New York, Woodson embarked on an NBA journey, which included uniform changes in New Jersey, Kansas City/Sacramento, Los Angeles (Clippers), Houston and Cleveland.  With Kansas City and the Clippers, Woodson reached minor-star status (averaging 18 points during two seasons), but playing in an era when most teams received minimal if any national coverage, few fans outside of the markets where he played were likely to have paid attention to the solid career Woodson was crafting.  In fact, as a teenager I followed Woodson's pro career primarily through box scores and I always smiled when he notched another double-figure performance.

I smiled again years later when I began to see Woodson on NBA benches as an assistant coach after his playing days.  As I now stayed connected with my friend through cable TV, I felt that I had picked a good person to follow those many years ago.  When Woodson became the head coach of the Atlanta Hawks in 2004, I flashed a big smile and rooted for him passionately many a night through the magic of the NBA League Pass.  In typical Woodson fashion—under the radar, away from the spotlight—he began to make the Hawks better culminating in a run of three consecutive playoff appearances.  However, despite transforming what was one of the league's lowliest franchises when he took over into a consistent playoff qualifier, the Hawks felt they no longer needed Woodson's talents following the 2010 season.

During the time I have followed Woodson's career, from my preteen days to manhood, I have learned that life can be cold and Woodson's exit from the Hawks was a perfect example.  But I also have learned that life is full of surprises, such as the surprise of learning that Woodson would be the interim coach of the Knicks following Mike D'Antoni's departure earlier this month. The timing of D'Antoni's exit caught this fan a bit by surprise, but I am not surprised that the Knicks have gone 5-0 since Woodson took over following a road victory over Atlantic Division rival Philadelphia on March 21.  I am a realist and I know at some point the team will cool off and the boo birds will come out once again at Madison Square Garden.  However, if the Garden faithful stay behind Woodson I can guarantee them they will be rewarded.  I can say from years of experience that Mike Woodson is a good man to follow.  Also, life is full of juicy surprises, so maybe the 1980 first-round pick will finally become a part of Knicks lore after all these years.  I know I will be pulling for my guy to make it happen.