Two Stories I'll Be Really Glad Not to Hear About in 2011

Number one: The UConn women's winning streak. For starters, why are we comparing it to the UCLA men's streak? Men's basketball and women's basketball are not the same game; they don't even use the same rules. (I happened to notice, as I was watching the UConn women "break the record" on Tuesday night, that there's no 10-second violation in women's hoops.)

Don't get me wrong. Maya Moore is a great basketball player. Diana Taurasi was a great basketball player. Tina Charles, Sue Bird, Svetlana Abrosimova -- all great basketball players. The women's game is not worse than the men's. It's not better, either. It's just different. Do we compare softball records to baseball marks? Even Geno Auriemma had the good sense to say, "I'm not John Wooden and this isn't UCLA. This is Connecticut and that's good enough."

But the whole male/female thing is far, far from my main reason of thinking of "The Streak" as a totally bogus story. My real beef comes with the numbers. Forget the fact that only two out of the 89 games in the streak were decided by 10 points or less. The truly mind-blowing stat is that the average margin of victory has been 32.5 points! As I said in a previous post, could games like that really be fun?

It gets to the point where you hear Doris Burke reduced to saying nutso stuff, as she did in the UConn Florida State game: We're going to find out something about these two teams. Will Florida State keep competing, even though they're down by 335 points? Will UConn keep competing, even though they had the game won at the opening tip? Who gives a _ _ _ _? Just cause you're still "competing," it doesn't mean there's a competition going on. (Does the pre-ordained nature of the UConn games remind anyone of the Harlem Globetrotters vs. the Washington Generals?)

Number two: Brett Favre. Grizzled, battered Brett, with his Minnesota wool cap pulled down to his eyes like a good ol' boy. Ohmygod, have I ever seen enough of that face!

Sure, he'll go down as one of the greatest QB's of all time -- and he is. He's a sure-fire, first-ballot Hall of Famer -- and he deserves it. His career passing yardage could get us to the moon and back. And career TDs? He's got Peyton Manning beat by more than 100.

But please! The Great Gunslinger has hung around a few years too long. He's played for two teams too many. He's "surprised" us with way too many comebacks, and has been behind way too many coaching controversies. He's gotten far too much prima donna treatment, and his career has turned into far too much of a soap opera. Oh, and he's shown his penis around the internet one time too many.

So Brett, glad you're finally riding off into the sunset. Though I can't help thinking that, like some monster with his head cut off, he'll still rise up from the lagoon. Just when you thought it was safe to go back and watch ESPN.

So bring on 2011, and let's focus on some real sports stories. Like Rex Ryan's foot fetish.

-Hank

Knicks Fever

I've been told by a reader that this blog is too Jets-Dolphins oriented. Maybe so. But I can't let the Jets' last two games go by without commentary. First they decided not to show up against the Patriots, losing 45-3, and the following week, Chad Henne and the Dolphins tried everything possible to let the Jets win, and Mark Sanchez kindly declined. The Jets are terrible, and as long as this guy is their quarterback, they always will be.

Now that that's off my chest, it's time for the topic of the day: Knicks-Heat. My big Hannukah present was 2 tickets to this event (calling it a game would be degrading), one for me and one for my friend Chris. LeBron's first trip to New York as a member of Miami Thrice should be pretty interesting.

From the second LeBron decided to take his talents to South Beach, everyone talked about his December 2 Cleveland reunion. How it would be a night that no one would ever forget. How the Cavs fans will make him feel as though leaving Cleveland was the worst decision of his life. How he would be verbally abused by everyone in the arena. And how his old teammates would do everything possible to make him regret divorcing them.

To me, it didn't quite live up to that. Yeah, 'Bron was booed every time he touched the ball, but that's high school stuff. There were no cruel chants, no objects thrown on the floor, and most importantly, no effort by the hometown Cavs to ruin his homecoming. Mo Williams, Anderson Varejao and company gladly let Lebron and D-Wade walk all over them en route to a 118-90 drubbing.

Tonight, it's gonna be different. The 2010, new-look Knicks are no pushovers. Coming off 13 wins in their last 15 games, Amar'e has this team back in the spotlight, and Madison Square Garden comes alive for home games like it did during the Ewing era. I've always wanted to like the Knicks, but as a little kid, I never really got attached to a team that would celebrate a 30-52 season. It was hard to watch a team that never had a star who could take over games single-handedly. Maybe it's front-runnerish, but I am human.

Amar'e provides matchup problems for the virtually center-less Heat, and Raymond Felton should be able to take advantage of Mario Chalmers, Carlos Arroyo, or whoever else the Heat run out there at point guard. Stopping Wade and LeBron could be tough, but I don't see the Knicks being stopped too much either.

But the real reason I've been counting down the days is because of what I assume the atmosphere in the Garden will be like. With all due respect to Cleveland, their fans just aren't like us here in New York. New Yorkers hoped and prayed that LeBron would pair up with Amar'e and take this team to the promised land, and he turned his back on what now looks like an amazing opportunity. And don't think Knicks fans have forgotten.

As I posted back in the summer, I fully respect LeBron's decision to go where he thought the best opportunity was to win championships. But I think I will probably be in the minority tonight. And I'm excited to see the results.

-Robby

How 'Bout Them Huskies?!

Whew -- pretty venomous stuff, that last post from my son! "When the Jets head out to Gillette Stadium on Monday Night, I want them to get brutally destroyed in every facet of the game." Sounds like he really hates my team. I think I liked it better when he was three years old, and he called the team from Foxboro the "Pay-tweets."

Well, good for him, he got exactly what he wanted. And for Jets fans, obviously, the less said about that 45-3 loss to the Pay-tweets, the better. The good part for Jets fans is that we have the Dolphins this Sunday, and I can't think of a more delectable opponent for a bounce-back game. (Oh, and note to my co-author, who took the Jets to task for "celebrating a three-point win against the Browns like it's the Super Bowl": At least we beat the Browns, which a certain team I know from South Florida wasn't able to do last Sunday . . .)

But I'm going to move on here, and ask: How 'bout them Huskies?! (And no, I'm not talking about the women, winners of 7,942 games in a row. Can that really be fun?) I'm talking about Jim Calhoun's Huskies, picked pre-season to finish in the mid-to-lower depths of the Big East, and now ranked sixth in the country! Eight wins, no losses -- including victories over top-ten powers Michigan State and Kentucky!

And how 'bout Kemba Walker?! Who knew he could be this good??? One of the TV college analysts last night called him, along with Duke's Kyrie Irving, one of the top two guards in the nation! The way he's playing right now, who knows -- he could turn out to be the best Husky ever. Yeah, yeah, go ahead and hoot and holler, but over the first eight games of the season, he's averaging better than 28 points, shooting 53% from the field, and 88% from the line. I sure can't remember any Husky going on a tear like this.

And the team as a whole -- playing hard, playing fast, playing scrappy -- this is how UConn basketball is supposed to be! You've got a whole litter of freshmen fighting for playing time, and it's a pleasure to watch. Certainly nothing like last year's forgettable edition.

I have to say, ever since my Mets stopped playing in July (and yes, I know, the season actually dragged on into October), things have been going pret-ty well for my teams. The Huskies. The Jets -- 9-3 even after the Patriots debacle. My hometown Staples Wreckers, who bowed out a week-and-a-half too early, in the quarter-final round of states, but who had a great 9-2 run nonetheless. And even my Knicks (yes, the Knicks!!!): 14-9 and winners of their last six in a row.

Ah, it's good to be a sports fan again . . .

-Hank

Go Patriots?

Go Patriots. Two years ago, if someone heard me say that phrase, they would probably think I was fatally sick. For the first 13 years of my existence, I hated the Patriots more than the Yankees. More than Duke basketball. More than scrambled eggs. But now, I kinda like them. And it's all because of the new-look Jets.

Prior to the Rex Ryan-Mark Sanchez era, I didn't mind the Jets. They had respected, classy veterans like Chad Pennington and Curtis Martin. They had Herm Edwards, who was at least good for some funny press conferences (Hello? You play. To win. The game.) And maybe it's just because I didn't listen to as much sports radio back then, but it seemed like Jets fans actually knew how to keep their mouths shut.

Insert the new Jets. The self-anointed Super Bowl favorites, and best team in the NFL. The team led by a 24-year-old hotshot quarterback who feels the need to fly around like a jet after every single touchdown he throws, despite the fact that he has thrown the same number of interceptions as touchdown passes over his career. And the team that now has the most outspoken fan base in the NFL, who celebrates a 3-point win against the Browns like it's the Super Bowl.

This team has every ingredient of a team to hate, and hate them I do. Due to the fact that the AFC is the strongest conference in years, and that the NFL referees really want to see the Steelers in the playoffs (see my post "What Keeps The NFL From Being Perfect?"), my Dolphins are pretty much out of the playoff race. Thus, I don't feel too bad rooting for the Patriots, the Dolphins' division rivals.

Especially this week. When the Jets head out to Gillette Stadium on Monday Night, I want them to get brutally destroyed in every facet of the game. And then I will happily listen to paranoid Jets fans call in to 660 AM the next morning.

Last time I had a post dedicated to the Jets losing (Come On, Ravens), it worked out pretty well for me. So as weird as it feels to say, GO PATRIOTS.

-Robby

Jets Envy

HBO's"Hard Knocks" over the summer didn't help. Nor does having a head coach with a big belly and an even a bigger mouth. Jets-haters don't like our glamour-boy quarterback, and they really don't like that we've anointed our cornerback the best in the sport.

I can feel the animosity in my own house. Robby and his friends, who, strangely, don't root for the Jets or Giants, but rather for an unlikely assortment of out-of-town teams including the Dolphins, the Chargers, the Lions, the Steelers, the Bengals, the Bears, the Eagles, and the Falcons, watch the games every week on NFL Sunday Ticket in our playroom. Last Sunday, as I walked into that room after yet another improbably Jets victory (30-27 over the Texans), I could tell they were seething. If I so much as made eye contact with any of them, I know they would have gleefully told me how the Jets suck; how they're nothing but lucky; how they've been beating stinky teams. How they don't deserve to win.

And to all that, I have just one word: Standings. Call me crazy, but I think the standings are important. And if the fans from all those teams I mentioned look way, way up in the standings -- hopefully, without straining their necks too badly -- they'll find the Jets.

Gang Green sealed each of its last four victories in the final minutes. Their total margin of victory for those four games was 16 points. Winning ugly -- yeah, I heard that a lot. But when they pick the team to represent the AFC in the Super Bowl, I guarantee, it ain't gonna be based on style points.

Oh, and one more thing: Mark Sanchez.

Every once in a while, Robby will sing the praises of an athlete he says I have to like, because even if he plays for an enemy team, he's scrappy/tough/smart/fundamentally sound/old-school. In short, he has some combination of qualities he knows I can't help admiring.

To Robby, and to his fellow Dolphins fans, and to the motley crew that assembles in our playroom every Sunday, I say this: Would you like a 24-year-old quarterback who's got a rocket-launcher for an arm, who can escape the pass rush like Houdini, who in his second year is already the undisputed leader of his team, and who has this habit of pulling out victory after victory in the last minute?

I thought so.

And finally, switching gears to local high school football . . . a shout-out to my hometown Staples Wreckers, who this morning crushed the Greenwich Cardinals 27-8, finishing the regular season with a 9-1 record, and clinching a berth in the state tournament. Three more wins to go. GO WRECKERS!!!

-Hank

Thursday Night Mediocrity

As an NFL-addict, the concept of Thursday Night Football seems just about perfect. The waiting period from Monday to Sunday is split in half. It eliminates a football-less school night. Maybe even best of all, it provides an opportunity to take advantage of inexperienced fantasy owners who forget to set their rosters in time for the premature kickoff.

But from a pure football perspective, the games are almost always dreadful. I won't even pretend to know what the physical and mental punishment is like for NFL players, but I'll put it this way: I am EXHAUSTED after every single one of my high school football games, and I'm playing against 175 pounders, not 375 pounders. It just isn't fair to make these players throw their bodies around twice in five days. The human body should not have to endure that.

And the results are obvious. Last night's game between the Bears and Dolphins was proof enough. There were sixteen total points scored in the game (and as a Fins fan, I don't even want to mention how they were distributed). Not to make excuses for the Dolphins, but I have never in my life seen a team more depleted by injuries.

Already forced into using 3rd string quarterback Tyler Thigpen due to previous injuries to Chad Henne and Chad Pennington, the Dolphins seemed to be doomed offensively from the get go. But before halftime, the Dolphins also lost two centers, as well as star receiver Brandon Marshall, to injury. Miami had tackles playing guard, guards playing center, and no-names playing wide receiver. The announcer pointed out that the Dolphins had no more active offensive linemen in uniform. One more injury and a defender would've been forced to play on the other side of the ball!

My point is that this problem could've been avoided pretty easily. They could have just played the game on Sunday like the other 30 teams. Sure, more days of football mean more fun for the fans. But it's just not fair to have NFL games, and sometimes seasons, decided by players going on three days rest.

The world rejoiced with the creation of Monday Night Football, but the NFL should have just left it at that.

-Robby

This Just In: Son Admits to Rooting for Fantasy Team More Than Dolphins

Let me say right off the bat, before a certain 17-year-old goes ballistic, that the Herman son being referred to above is not Robby, the co-author of this blog, but Matt, my oldest son. In his latest post on FOOTBALL VS. GIRLFRIEND (http://www.footballvsgirlfriend.com/), Matt writes:

I held out on fantasy football longer than most -- This is my fourth year playing, whereas most people I know started 7-8 years ago. I resisted because I worried fantasy would hurt my appreciation for the game. But more importantly, I worried it would overtake my love for my favorite team -- the Dolphins. Well guess what? It did. I spend more time thinking about my fantasy team than I do the Dolphins, and I finally feel strong enough to admit it. Man Code deems it wrong to think such a thing, so most of us pretend it's not true. But deep, deep down, I believe virtually every guy who takes fantasy seriously cares more about his fake team than his real-life team.

As you know, I always suspected this was true. That's why I never wanted to get involved with fantasy. I'm proud that Matt was man enough to admit the way he feels. And I think all fantasy team owners should do the same: Open your window, lean out, and shout, "I ROOT FOR MY FANTASY TEAM MORE THAN I DO FOR MY REAL TEAM!"

And while I'm patting myself on the back -- how 'bout LeBron and his Miami Heat? You'll recall back in the early summer, when The Chosen One cheesily announced to the world that he was taking his talents to South Beach, I said that he was betraying Cleveland and should have stayed. Robby said he should do whatever the bleep he pleased -- and that furthermore, he was certain that with LeBron and his sidekick Chris Bosh joining D-Wade in Miami, the Heat would win at least 70 of their 82 games.

Well, as of this moment, the Heat have won 5 and lost 3 -- not bad, but certainly not on pace for a 70-win season. And the Cleveland Cavaliers, LBJ's jilted team that allegedly had nobody after the King left, and was supposed to curl up and die, is 4-4 -- exactly one game behind the Miami Thrice.

One more thing: Right around the time of the LeBron hysteria, the Knicks were getting ready to unload David Lee so they could sign monster free agent Amar'e Stoudemire. Though I'd always admired Stoudemire's athletic skills, I posted that there's no way the Knicks should dump Lee, since Amar'e was barely an upgrade: He was basically a D. Lee who dunks a little harder, plays a little flashier, and doesn't rebound as well.

Okay, Lee and his Warriors came to town last night. Lee had 28 points and 10 boards; Stoudemire had 33 and 10, and missed two clutch free throws down the stretch. The Warriors came away with another win, making them 6-2. The Knicks absorbed another loss, sending them to 3-5. Now there's $100 million really well spent.

-Hank

What Keeps the NFL From Being Perfect?

As a Dolphins fan, logic says that I should be in a pretty good mood right now. Miami's 4-3 and coming off a big road win at Cincinnati. The deadly first half schedule is almost over. The defense is dominating. But I'm not in a good mood. And that's because the Dolphins are truly 5-2.

As my dad has pointed out several times, when something is on my mind, it stays on my mind for a LONG time. Right now, all I can think about is the Dolphins losing two weeks ago, not to the Steelers, but to the referees. Up by two with less than two minutes remaining, the Fins' defense made yet another enormously clutch play, forcing Ben Roethlisberger to fumble a yard short of the goal line, then recovering it. But the men in black and white didn't see it that way. The play was reviewed, and the ref came out and said that there was inconclusive evidence that the Dolphins came up with the pigskin. To me, Karlos Dansby holding the ball and being smothered by four other teal jerseys was evidence enough. But my opinion doesn't matter in the NFL standings.

My dad says, "Get over it. It's one game." But as I stated in my post, "The Most Exhilirating Game", there's no such thing as "just one game" in the NFL. In a 16 game season, one game is everything. Every playoff race is decided by one game. In this year's ridiculously loaded AFC, it's gonna take a lot of wins to keep playing in January. And the Dolphins got one taken away from them by people who don't even play the game.

I watch a lot of football, and in my opinion, the refereeing in the NFL is putrid. Absolutely embarrassing. They are being paid loads of money to be on the field during NFL games. And all they have to do is watch. They miss holding calls, facemasks, and fumble recoveries -- told you it's always on my mind -- from 10 feet away that I can see on my 28 inch TV screen! I have all the respect in the world for NFL players, who put their lives on the line every week for our entertainment, and to see everything they work for be plucked away by the referees is difficult to watch.

Instant replay helps, but it's not enough. Most of the time the replays are not conclusive enough to overturn the incorrectly called plays. Other times the instant replay booth doesn't even function (sorry Chargers/Ed Hochuli fans). ). Something needs to be done so that the only people deciding these teams' fates are the players themselves. Maybe we need robots to call the games. Or maybe the refs should just take a little bit more pride in their profession and get the calls right.

I would like that win back.

-Robby

p.s. You think refs know what they're talking about? Take a look at this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pMrLBVtwTc

Robby#2-cubed

If you've been following OSNS regularly, I'm sure it came as no surprise to you that Robby delivers occasional pep talks to his fantasy football team, and from time to time benches his stars to "get their attention." (See "It's More Than Just Start/Sit," his latest post, below.)

But allow me to digress. There's a corny story I just have to tell you because . . . I love this stuff.

When my oldest son, Matt, started playing football for Staples High School, Robby -- yes, the same wiseguy 17-year-old who co-authors this blog with me -- was just a little three-year-old rugrat motoring around the bleachers and amazing the fans by reciting the names, positions, and jersey numbers of every player on the Staples squad. (This, obviously, was an early telltale of the idiot-savant qualities that would later enable him to retain more information bits about the NFL and fantasy football than any other mortal.) And the Staples player who really caught his attention was Robbie Rice. Rice was an electric tailback who helped lead the Wreckers to the state championship game -- but I think the real reason he became Robby's favorite is the obvious one: They shared the same first name. Rice, by the way, wore #2 on his jersey.

A few years later, when my middle son, Greg, was playing for Staples, their star was a tailback-turned-quarterback named Robbie Krauss, who led the Wreckers not only to the state championship game, but to the state championship. Again, same first name. Again, #2.

So I guess it was no big shock that when our Robby began playing PAL football in third grade, his jersey choice was #2. Or that he's been wearing it ever since.

Now I hadn't seen Rice or Krauss in awhile, but a few weeks ago I learned that Robbie Krauss has been keeping up electronically with Robby Herman from time to time -- via Facebook or Twitter or whatever. (I understand as much about Facebook, Twitter, and the rest of the social network Never-Neverland as I do about fantasy football.) And in the final minutes of Staples' 42-20 blowout win over Harding last Saturday, I saw the two of them having a catch behind the bench. (Former Wreckers are always welcome on the sideline.)

When the game was over, as we waited at the gate to high-five the players, Krauss came over and gave my wife a big hug and me a big man-hug. "Robby had a great game," he told us, "and I like the way he looks in #2."

Guess things had come full circle.

-Hank

It's More Than Just Start/Sit

For yet another time, my dad stubbornly tried to fight away his longing to manage a fantasy football team. Sure, he has (had) fun with Survival Football -- for the whole one week he was in it. But playing Survival and not Fantasy is like going to a movie and leaving after the coming attractions. There's a reason the main topic at offices throughout America on Monday mornings is who got a W in their fantasy league. This phenomenon runs the male football-loving world for four months a year. And I know my dad wants in.

With my senior year class work, college applications, and football practice, I don't have as much time as I'd like to spend on my fantasy team. However, I'm still pulling all the right strings with my players psychologically. You probably just read that and thought, "What on Earth is he talking about? Fantasy football is just Xs and Os, who's gonna have a good game and who's not." Sure, it seems that way. But it goes much deeper.

To be a successful fantasy football manager, you must have the respect of your players, and they have to want to play hard for you. But at the same time, you can't be afraid to put them in their place and send them a message.

For example, I have two great quarterbacks on my team: Tom Brady and Kyle Orton. Brady is clearly my starter, and there is no real need for me to roster Orton. In fact, I could probably get pretty decent value back for him in a trade. But I don't want Brady to get complacent. He needs to be pushed every day in practice. So Orton will remain on my squad for now.

I have two star receivers, Brandon Marshall and Calvin Johnson, who seemingly should start on my team every week. Johnson started off slow this season, and instead of keeping him in the starting lineup like I "should have," I benched him for Malcom Floyd, a lesser-known, unproven player. I didn't do this because I thought Floyd would accumulate more points, but because Johnson needed a kick in the rear end to demonstrate the need for him to perform.

Sure enough, my decision backfired, as Johnson greatly outplayed Floyd while he was parked on my bench. But I stand by it. If I hadn't made the move, Calvin would've kept strolling along at his unsatisfactory slow pace.

You, my dad, pretty much everyone out there probably thinks I'm nuts right now. So be it. Keep managing your team the way you want to. Just don't come crying to me in December when you're watching the fantasy playoffs from your living room couch.

-Robby

Great news! OLD SCHOOL, NEW SCHOOL has been picked up by the Hearst Connecticut Media Group and will appear on the websites of the Connecticut Post, Stamford Advocate, Greenwich Time, and Danbury News-Times. Check it out here.

Survival

Normally I'm tempted to react to Robby's rants (see "BBall's back," his most recent post), but even though I'm an NBA junkie, and as much as I want to get excited about Amar'e, Gallo, Timofey Mozgov and Co. -- I cannot be drawn into talking about hoops while my two football teams are playing lights out.

As today's NFL action winds down, my J-E-T-S have won five in a row, they're sitting comfortably atop the standings in the AFC East, and mentioning them as Super Bowl contenders is no longer just drivel out of Sexy Rexy's mouth. And Robby's high school team, the Staples Wreckers, are undefeated at 5-0, and are the third-ranked team in the state.

Robby, by the way, continues to taunt me about being one of only eight males in America without a fantasy football team. And it occurs to me that I never revealed how shockingly close I actually came to being sucked into that fray. The fact is, though I don't always admit it, I really do like to share experiences with my youngest and final son -- so I approached some other Wreckers dads about forming a low-key, low-maintenance, maniac-free fantasy league in which all members would vow to do absolutely no "studying," and weekly preparation would be strictly limited by mutual agreement.

First I recruited Rick into the Staples Wreckers Dads Fantasy Football League, and then I enlisted Tom. Next I turned to Joe, who I thought would be another perfect fit. Joe looked me in the eye and said, "There is nothing I would less like to do than join a fantasy football league." His statement snapped me out of the spell Robby had cast over me, because there's also nothing I would less like to do than join a fantasy football league. So much for "sharing" with my son. And so much for the SWDFFL.

Though I don't miss for a minute being part of fantasy football lunacy, I do regret having bowed out of Survival Football in the very first week of the season. Last year I made it to Week 5, when I finally succumbed by allowing Robby to bait me into taking the Jets over the Dolphins when there were still much safer picks available. This year I was determined to play with my head instead of my heart, and studied diligently for over an hour before making my Week 1 pick: San Diego over Kansas City. The Chiefs, a team I pegged for awful, not only won that game, but went 3-0 before losing a game.

At least Robby (he called his team WEEK 2 HOPEFULS, since he hasn't made it past Week 1 in the last three seasons) was also eliminated on opening day, so I didn't have to hear about it from him. He had the Chargers, too. It was one of the few times we ever agreed on anything -- and look where it got us. Clearly, not a good idea . . .

-Hank

Great news! OLD SCHOOL, NEW SCHOOL has been picked up by the Hearst Connecticut Media Group and will appear on the websites of the Connecticut Post, Stamford Advocate, Greenwich Time, and Danbury News-Times. Check it out here.

BBall's Back

Here we are in mid-October, and for some reason, the horrifically boring game of baseball is still prevalent on my TV. By no means is this my choice, but I can't avoid it. Baseball playoff games. Highlights of baseball playoff games. Baseball umpires blowing easy, meaningful calls. These calls not getting reviewed by instant replay. (Don't even get me started on that issue.). Press conferences about how bad baseball umpires are. For one more month, baseball is everywhere. People think I hate it because my Mets have been mathematically eliminated since early July. I think it's because I can change my clothes, get a snack, brush my teeth, and come back during the same at bat.

In the world of the NFL, there has been nothing to complain about. The Dolphins are only 2-2, but I have a lot of confidence about the rest of the year. My fantasy team, Henne a la Vodka (named after Fins QB Chad Henne), is rolling along at 5-0 for the best start in Westport Fantasy Football League history. But the Monday-Saturday (or Tuesday-Saturday if we're gonna get technical) void that I covered last week is still there.

But as Lee Corso always says....

"NOT SO FAST MY FRIEND."

Because basketball is back.

Sure, it's only preseason, but watching Miami Thrice play together on one court was a pretty sight. And LeBron vs. Durant was even better. In my opinion, the NBA has been down for the past few years. The playoffs are always great, but I would never find myself in early October counting down the days until Opening Night. This year is different. We're only 16 days away from Heat-Celtics, and my mouth is watering just thinking about it.

There are zero flaws with the NFL, but it's the Wednesday nights on the couch with nothing to do but Calculus homework that are killer. Those nights are now gone. No more reruns of Entourage. No more going to bed early just because there is nothing better to do. The void has officially been filled.

-Robby

Great news! OLD SCHOOL, NEW SCHOOL has been picked up by the Hearst Connecticut Media Group and will appear on the websites of the Connecticut Post, Stamford Advocate, Greenwich Time, and Danbury News-Times. Check it out here.

Auto-Pilot

I found Robby's last post -- about the exhilaration and perfection of an NFL Sunday -- very lyrical, very heartfelt, very touching . . . but also a little vague, as if maybe he was avoiding something. It's interesting that after half a dozen posts about the Jets-Dolphins showdown, there was not a word from Robby about how it turned out. Somehow I'm thinking if the game had gone the other way, I would have heard about it, loud and clear. Ah, well . .

But if he can change the subject, then so can I. I want to get back to fantasy football for just a minute. I heard Robby talking fantasy to his older brother Matt last night. When he got off the phone, he said to me, "You think I spend a lot of time on fantasy. (And yes, I would say finagling with your roster maybe 10 hours a week, plus spending the entire previous summer cramming, is a lot.) Well, Matt spends twice as much time -- and he still stinks at it."

Funny, the correlation between time spent obsessing about fantasy and actual success. Last week I had drinks with an old friend from Philadelphia. Now, compared to the sports fanatics in my family, this guy considers himself an amateur, so I was quite surprised to hear he'd joined a fantasy league. He told me he'd been roped in by a bunch of friends, but that he drafted his whole team by autopick, and that he manages in the same hands-off way. He spends exactly zero minutes a week studying injury reports, and agonizes not at all over roster moves -- because he doesn't make any. After Week Three, he told me, he got an e-mail from the commissioner: Congratulations, you're in second place. This, in a league where the rest of the guys were maneuvering their brains out!

This reminded me of the March Madness pool I join every year, consisting of my sports-freak sons, their sports-freak friends, a couple of random dads like me, and a smattering of girlfriends. And you know who generally winds up at the top of the charts? Of course -- the girlfriends.

To be fair, Robby, who studies and prepares for all his fantasy leagues like the true maniac he is, generally does very, very well. (A future, maybe, in fantasy consultancy?) But for the rest of us, a little knowledge . . .

Btw, the photo above is one I like of Robby taking down all-everything back Mike Rivas of Trinity Catholic in Week One of the current high school football season. It has nothing whatsoever to do with this post . . . but I'm his dad.

-Hank

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The Return of Sunday Fever

For some reason, I always try to think if there is anything bad about football season. There's the Dolphins. There's my consistently-in-first-place fantasy team. There's no more baseball (not to me, anyway). When you force yourself to dig deeper, however, there is one con that comes along with the plethora of pros. Sunday fever.

Sunday's are so fun, so exhilarating, so perfect, that they make all the other days of the week seem a little less appealing. That's not to say they're bad, as I still get to play for my own football team throughout the week and watch college football on Saturday. But the stretch between Monday and Saturday during NFL season typically seems like a 6-day countdown period on my inner calendar.

Every Sunday, a bunch of my friends come over to watch the NFL. My house has DIRECTV's Sunday NFL Ticket, granting us access to every game, every Sunday. The NFL on Sunday to us is like candy on Halloween to the normal American child. We live for it. We have one game on in the den, another on in the playroom, and others being followed closely on our laptops. (As the host, and therefore remote control user, I have the constant struggle of keeping everyone happy.)

There is always trash talk about who's beating who in fantasy and whose favorite NFL team sucks the most. There's nonstop cheering, like when Calvin Johnson comes down with a spectacular catch in the end-zone, and there's disgust that follows when the ref proclaims he never controlled the ball.

Every Sunday is an event. From 1-11:30 there is NFL football. If only the other days of the week could be like that...

-Robby

Exiled

In Robby's most recent post, he lamented that for Sunday's Jets-Dolphins game (notice he refers to it as a Dolphins-Jets game), he and his brother Matt will be exiled to the playroom to watch, while Greg and I remain in the comfort of the den. At first blush, this type of quarantine might seem harsh.

Allow me to explain.

First I want to tell you about the way Greg and I watch a Jets-Dolphins game if Robby and Matt are in the room with us. Let's say the rejuvenated LaDainian Tomlinson breaks one for a 67-yard TD. Greg and I would cheer, fist-bump . . . and then settle down. We wouldn't gloat because a.) we're gentlemen, and b.) if we did, someone would have to call the men in white coats carrying strait jackets for Robby and Matt. Now if something unfortunate happened for the Jets -- let's say Mark Sanchez throws a pick to Dolphins DB Vontae Davis, Greg and I would exchange disheartened looks -- and then move on and wait for Gang Green to regain possession.

In other words, we watch the game like civilized human beings.

Now let's look at Robby and Matt. (Btw, that's the two of them, top right, at a Dolphins-49ers game in Miami in 2008.) Let's say a Dolphin makes a great play, one that involves a noticeable Jets screw-up -- maybe a Cameron Wake sack resulting in a Sanchez fumble. There's Matt jumping up and down on the green couch -- literally bouncing so high that his head is almost hitting the ceiling beams -- shouting JETS SUCK! at the top of his lungs. There's Robby parading around the den, pumping his fist, pronouncing Sanchez by far the worst QB in NFL history, and the Jets the stupidest team ever for wasting a first-round draft pick on him.

If something bad happens for the Fins -- say Ricky Williams fumbles in the red zone -- Matt will yell "F_ _ _!" and then stomp out of the den, slamming the door behind him. And Robby? Robby will throw a pillow full force at the TV, struggle to breathe as if he's having a stroke, bury his face in the couch, and then announce that Williams (at one time his favorite player, after whom his beloved beagle is named) should be cut -- or better yet, just taken out and shot.

So yes, on Sunday Greg and I will watching in the den, and Robby and Matt will be in their padded cell -- the playroom.

Let the game begin . . .

-Hank

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The Most Exhilarating Game

Before I get to the main topic of my post, let us all rejoice in the fact that Dolphins-Jets week has arrived. As mentioned several times in this blog, these matchups create a Civil War-like atmosphere in the Herman household. My brother Matt and I are exiled to the playroom to root for the Fins while my brother Greg and my dad sit quietly in the den and watch in disgust.

Unfortunately, all Brandon Marshall-Darrelle Revis trash talk will be set aside as news came out today that Revis is very doubtful to play this Sunday night. (I found it very interesting that Revis "coincidentally" injured his hamstring on the same play that he was torched by Randy Moss.)

These games are even more important to me than the typical Dolphins game, as divisional standing, and more importantly, bragging rights are on the line.

However, after watching the Dolphins offense do everything in its power to hand a win to the Vikings this Sunday before having the defense historically salvage the game, I realized that I'm a nervous wreck during every game of the season. And although that may not seem too great to the casual fan, I think the cruciality of every single game is what makes the NFL the best league America has to offer.

You see, it's not like baseball, where each game is merely 1/162 of the season. When the Mets lose, who cares? They have 161 more chances. That's not the case in the NFL. Every playoff race comes down to one game, making every game a must-win. It's a common cliche for NFL coaches, but wins are sacred in this league, even ones against the Bills.

When Ricky Williams fumbled on the Dolphins 2-yard-line, shifting the momentum squarely in the Vikings favor, I said to my mom, "That could've just ended our season." And while she laughed it off, it's true. Everything can be decided in one week, whether it's Week 1 or Week 17. What could be better than that as a fan?

Each game can be nauseating; I feel like the Vikings game took five years off my life. And a fan's body can take a physical toll as well. (My hand is still numb from punching the wall after the refs botched a Roughing the Kicker call.) But the gratitude of every single win is what makes this league so beautiful.

Now bring on the Jets.

-Robby

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10-9

I got home at 12:50 AM after my first game -- and the Jets first game -- at the New Meadowlands Stadium, and was greeted by five separate notes left on the kitchen counter:
- Good season for Jenkins!
- Shonn Greene is awful!
- Kyle Wilson is even worse!
- But . . . nothing compares to . . .
- 10-21 for 74 yards, and 1-11 on third down! J-E-T-S SUCK, SUCK, SUCK!

Hey, let Robby have his fun. He's right -- it wasn't pretty. (I should have known it wouldn't be the Jets' night when my son Greg's friend said she knew a shortcut from White Plains to the Meadowlands, and 45 minutes later we were in . . . White Plains.) We got penalized maybe 18 times for about 780 yards. We dropped what seemed like 12 passes, even though we only had the ball for approximately four minutes all night. The Ravens handed us scoring opportunities on a silver platter, and we said no thanks. Our offense was about as adventurous as a third grade Pop Warner team.

But I'm not gonna kill myself. And here's why. We played a team that just about everyone has anointed as a Super Bowl contender, we stunk up the field -- and we still only lost by a point.

Greg, my Jets-fan son, and I (that’s the two of us in the photo, taken, obviously, with the Jets still ahead) looked at this game as a wake-up call for our team and our coaching staff. We can't put it all on the "D" to single-handedly win games for us on. We can't shove Greene on the bench and leave him there to rot because he fumbles once. We've got to take the handcuffs off Sanchez and let him play; that's what we drafted him for.

Yeah, Robby, enjoy -- the Jets are 0-1 and tied for last place. But we lost 10-9 to an actual football team. The Dolphins beat the Bills -- and just barely.

The schedule says we play you guys down in Miami in Week Three. Let's talk then . . .

-Hank

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Come On, Ravens

Here we are, one day into the NFL season, and sure enough, the Dolphins are ahead of the Jets in the AFC East standings. Naysayers will point to the fact that the Jets haven't even played a game yet, but that's just a small detail to me.

Like my dad has referred to in several of his posts, I hate the Jets. He thinks I care more about the Jets losing than the Dolphins winning. And while nothing is better than putting a tally in the W column for the Fins, a close second is definitely watching the Jets get pummeled.

For most of my life, the Patriots were my team to hate. They won Super Bowls, they had a pretty boy quarterback, they cheated. They were everything a rival fan dreaded. But the thing is, they walked the walk without even talking the talk. Belicheck's crew never said anything that remotely resembled bulletin board material, and they still went out every Sunday and punished people.

The new-look Jets are completely on the other side of the spectrum. Ever since Rex Ryan took the reins in New York, any attempts at being a classy organization have flown out the window. They are already this year's self-proclaimed Super Bowl Champions before having stepped on the field. That's fine with me. It's usually the defending Super Bowl Champs that have a target on their backs all year, but now Ryan has planted one on his own.

Tonight, the Jets begin another season of mediocrity at home against the Ravens. Ray Lewis shares my thoughts about Big Rex: "The only danger it can be is writing the check that you can't cash. Rex can talk all he wants to. Rex isn't putting on pads. So that's pressure on his players. If it's pressure and his players respond to that then let them respond. At the same time, you put that bull's-eye on your team's head."

My dad and brother will be at the game tonight, and they were already talking about what CD they should listen to on the ride home. I don't think they'll be in the mood for music. Lewis and the Ravens are going to punish the Jets tonight, and they'll be planted next to the Bills in the standings.

Lewis went on to say, "They're doing all this talking. They're in the Super Bowl. OK. Do what you do. Come Monday night no matter what you do, the whistle has got to blow and somebody has to get hit."

I can't wait to see it.

-Robby

Next Stop, Revis Island

It's 6:15 on a Monday morning -- Labor Day, in fact -- and I'm helping Robby get out the door for his scrimmage. High school football coaches particularly like to do two things: (1) Yell very loudly at their players, and (2) "get them prepared." One form of "getting them prepared" is having them at the field by 6:30 for a 9 AM scrimmage.

Even at this early hour, with neither of us truly functioning, Robby's on the internet, checking espn.com -- or whatever it is he checks -- in his never-ending quest for that critical fantasy advantage.

"Revis signed," he says glumly, never lifting his eyes from the screen.

And so begins the best Labor Day ever for me and the rest of Jets Nation. Revis' summer-long holdout is over! The Jets best-in-the-NFL defense is back intact! Yeah, sure, Kyle Wilson's been looking good in the pre-season, and Jets fans have been talking the talk of winning without Revis -- but that was all whistling in the dark. The truth of the matter is without #24, any plans for a Super Bowl appearance are dead in the water. To me, Revis was so key that I named my Survival Football entry after him. Prior to Labor Day, it was called NO REVIS, NO PROBLEM. As soon as Robby gave me the news, I changed it to NEXT STOP, REVIS ISLAND. (For an insightful take on the naming of fantasy teams, please see my oldest son Matt’s Sept. 1 post, “What’s In a Name?,” in his FOOTBALL VS. GIRLFRIEND blog.)

While for me this was like Christmas in early September, for Robby, it was his worst nightmare. Yeah, he'd been sky-high about his Dolphins taking on the Bills in Week One. He'd been crowing for months about how B-Marsh would be by far and away the best receiver in NFL history, how Henne was ready to step up as a truly elite quarterback -- and he liked all the positive hype his team was getting from the ESPN talking heads. But when you boiled it down, two things really got his juices going.

The first was mocking Mark Sanchez. Back in July, when my middle son Greg (quick review of the family dynamics: Greg and I are the Jets fans; oldest son Matt and Robby are the Dolphins fans; Carol claims to be for the Dolphins to appease Robby, but we all know she just roots for whatever result will promote family harmony and peace on earth) was in Anaheim for the MLB All-Star game and had the opportunity to hang with Sanchez, Robby kept bugging him to put Sanchez on the phone. Greg, of course, had the good sense to refuse. He knew, and I knew, that if Robby got on the line with Sanchez, all he'd talk about would be how Sanchez threw three picks to the Pats' Leigh Bodden in one game last season.

And the second, of course, was the Revis holdout. Sorry, Robby. Bummer.

In my last post, I mentioned that it looked like Greg might be able to get me in to the first game at the New Meadowlands Stadium -- Jets vs. Ravens in a Monday Night matchup of Super Bowl hopefuls -- and it turns out he came through! So look for the two of us at the Meadowlands Monday night. I'll bring the sausages, the burgers, and the Foreman grill. Greg'll bring the tickets. And we'll both by wearing our Revis jerseys.

-Hank

Change I Wish We Could Believe In

All right -- college football is finally here. As I'm sure you could guess, I've been waiting a long time for this weekend. There's nothing better than watching college football -- except, of course, watching NFL football. And that's just five days away.

As the college football season kicks off, I need to take a minute to point out just one thing that stands in the way of perfection. Of course, I'm talking about the way the so-called "National Champion" is crowned.

In my book, hard work should lead to success. Enough success should lead to the opportunity to prove one’s supremacy in that field of work. Unfortunately, that blueprint is crumpled up and tossed out the window in the college football world. Year after year, teams put in the work. Year after year, teams win every game on their schedule. And year after year, these teams are left out of the National Championship game.

Right now the college football regular season is followed by 30+ bowl games, including the National Championship game. It’s great that so many teams are able to participate in some form of a postseason, but the top programs are truly all fighting to win the big one, and right now, they aren’t always given a real chance to do so. In fairness to the players, coaches, and fans, some of these bowls need to be replaced with a playoff system in which a true champion can be determined on the field, not by a computer or selection committee.

Even President Obama says "We need a playoff. I don't know any serious fan of college football who has disagreed with me on this."

People against creating a playoff point out that weeks would have to be added to the end of the season. While this is valid, it could be solved by eliminating some of the non-conference games at the beginning of the year.

Another downside would be that the regular season would lose some of its intensity, as teams would have more room for error. However, with a playoff system that includes 8 or 16 teams, it would still be incredibly competitive to earn a bid, and losing more than one or two games could be enough to leave a team home.

The 2008 Utah team is a prime example of a team that was cheated by the system. The Utes won all 13 games of their tough schedule, including an upset victory over Alabama in the Sugar Bowl, but finished the year ranked #2 overall, forced to watch Florida win the National Championship on TV.

Coach Kyle Whittingham was left in disbelief that his team wasn’t given a chance to achieve their goal. Utah won every game it played, and deserved to be considered the #1 team in the land.

With an 8 or 16 team playoff system, a true champion would be crowned while the other teams could still participate in the remaining bowl games. Otherwise, a lot of future players, coaches, and fans will be put in Utah’s shoes, and those aren’t too comfortable.

- Robby

Attention Deficit Disorder at the Stadium

So it seems Greg, my middle son, has already scored a ticket for the Jets-Ravens opener at the New Meadowlands Stadium. He says he's trying to come up with one for me, too. I hope he comes through. Man, I can already smell those bratwursts grilling . . . see the Namath and Klecko and Chrebet and Sanchez jerseys . . . hear Fireman Ed leading Gang Green with the J-E-T-S JETS! JETS! JETS! chant. Ah, the simple pleasures of being at the stadium . . .

Apparently, though, these simple pleasures aren't enough for Generation Next. An article I saw a few weeks back in The New York Times asked what I previously would have thought of as a completely nutso question: "How do you keep football fans coming to the stadium when the television coverage is so good?"

The answer, according to the piece -- at least for the Jets/Giants fans at the New Meadowlands Stadium -- is to provide more and better video than people can get from their couches. Fans can tap into free smart-phone applications that only work inside the stadium -- and that will give them access to video replays, updated stats, and live video from out-of-town games. They can even go up against fans in other sections of the arena in fantasy games! "A real-life game," the report concludes, "no longer seems to be enough."

What's even more amazing to me is that Roger Goodell actually seems to agree with this conclusion. The commish is quoted as saying, "The experience for fans in stadiums needs to be elevated to keep fans engaged."

Ohmygod. To keep fans engaged? Is the attention span of the average NFL fan really that microscopic that we need to be kept amused by the kind of lame distractions you'd find at a Bluefish-Riversharks game?

Maybe it is. When I sit down with Robby in front of the TV, I watch the football game. He watches, too. And checks Stat Tracker on his laptop for fantasy updates. And watches a second game with picture-in-picture. And follows yet another game via Gamecast on his cell. And replays the same monster hit over and over and over using DVR. All the time with those thumbs pumping, texting smack to his buddies.

You might call this multi-tasking. I call it A.D.D.

I do applaud one perk of the New Meadowlands Stadium's cutting edge technology: The smart phones can tell me which concession stands have the shortest lines. Now there's an app I can get behind.

- Hank

Another Reason To Hate Baseball

I'm gonna switch things up a bit.

Although my dad has experienced life for five more decades than I have, thus making him the "old school" part of this blog, I actually have an old-school stance on an issue in baseball.

As I miserably sit here and watch the Mets (believe me, there's nothing else on), I can't comprehend why players feel obligated to slowly jog to first base when they hit a ground ball to an infielder. And furthermore, I can't comprehend why this has become acceptable to the point where managers don't even get angry.

Sure, infielders tend to have fielding percentages high in the .900s, but there is always a chance that they make a bad throw, or that the first baseman comes up empty. And besides, what does the batter have to lose? We have to remember that these people are playing the least physically punishing sport known to man. They get up to the plate once every 18 batters, and even batting isn't tiring. Once in a while they have to sprint for four seconds to make a play in the field, and then they have 45 minutes of standing and doing nothing. There's no excuse for dogging it down the line when that is pretty much the extent of the day's workout.

I have the utmost respect for football players, basketball players, and sometimes even soccer players for the effort and commitment they put into their sports. But baseball players get paid millions of dollars to do next to nothing. The least they could do is sprint down the first base line.

- Robby

It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over

On a chilly Tuesday night in late March of 1998, a dad took his three sons, aged 16, 14, and 4, to opening day at Shea Stadium. They watched as their Mets battled the visiting Phils through nine scoreless innings . . . then 10 . . . then 11 . . . then 12. Even though the dad had taught all three boys that you never leave a ballgame till it's over, the two older boys started talking about heading home as the game dragged into the 13th inning. They were both high school students, and had to be in class by 7:30 the next morning. The dad agreed that the boys had a point.

But the four-year-old reminded everyone about the family rule, and he steadfastly refused to budge from his seat. (True, he only had to be at pre-school the next day, where naps were not only allowed, but encouraged.) His older brothers and his dad wavered . . . and the youngest got his way, as he usually did. With the game well into its fifth hour, in the bottom of the 14th inning, the Mets finally pushed across a run -- and the four-year-old and the rest of his family went home happy with a 1-0 opening day victory.

As you probably guessed, that four-year-old was Robby (in photo above, with older brother Greg) -- and he's apparently forgotten that lesson about sticking with your team 'til it's over. He's already left the Mets for dead and moved on to pre-season football. And in his last post, he strongly suggested that I do the same.

Yeah, the Mets are 10 games behind the Braves, and it's the middle of August. I'm not gonna try to tell you that things are looking good. But that's why you root for teams, and stick with teams -- to be there when the amazing happens. You don't leave a game when your team is down 8-1 so you can beat the traffic; you stay so you can be there when they score 10 runs in the bottom of the eighth and come away with an 11-8 victory (Mets v. Braves, June 30, 2000). You don't stop following your team just because they're 14 games out in July; you stick with them so you can be part of the joy when they come back and win the division title in a one-game playoff in October (Yanks over Boston, 1978). Why give up before you have to? What's the rush?

Sure, it's a longshot. But in the past week, the Mets have shown some signs of life: Johan's complete-game shutout; Dickey's one-hitter. As Robby so recently reminded us, the Mets managed to blow a 7-game lead with 17 to play back in 2007. Maybe this year it's the Braves' and the Phillies' turn to choke.

So Robby, enjoy your pre-season football, but find another room to watch it in. And Yanks and Red Sox fans, have fun with your rivalry -- at the local bar. Because on my TV, I'm still watching the Mets.

- Hank

It's Time To Give It Up

I apologize to any NFL-crazed, sick-of-baseball fans who are reading this, but I need to take the focus of this blog back to “America’s Pastime” (hopefully for the last time). I, like my two brothers, dog, and every other Mets fan I know, have given up on this season, and for good reason. The pitching staff is falling apart, scoring three runs is cause for celebration, and the Mets find ways to lose even when Johan throws 8 innings of shutout ball.

It may sound front-runnerish to give up in early August, but there’s a fine line between being a good fan and being unrealistic. I’ve invested 3 hours a night watching this team for way too long, and there comes a time when even the best fans have to give up. The free time I now have during Mets game is pretty nice, and I can rest much easier knowing that a K-Rod blown save or a David Wright strikeout doesn’t matter at all.

This weekend, we had 14 people staying with us. Several of them are Yankees fans, and a few other root for the Sox. And coincidentally, those two teams faced each other. Since my brothers and I don’t care about the Mets anymore, we had the Red Sox-Yankees game on TV to satisfy those baseball fans who still root for relevant teams. My dad walked in and angrily asked why we were watching the Yankees over the Mets. Why watch something nobody cares about when we could watch a game that at least half the room was interested in?

The 2007 season proved that even when the Mets are up 7 games in the division, they have a good chance to finish the season by watching the playoffs on TV. Now that they’re down 7 games (or maybe even more), you can throw any possible hope out the window.

The void that the Mets have left me will be easily filled by the NFL. The preseason starts tonight, with the high-powered Cowboys squaring off against the Bengals and the T-Ocho Show. For those still wasting their time with baseball, feel free to watch the Red Sox-Yankee game. For those ready to admit that it’s football season, getchya popcorn ready.

- Robby

It's NOT About the Rings

OMG -- we actually agree on something! A few days ago Robby and I were talking about how Peyton Manning and Dan Marino are easily two of the best QBs of all time, and he said it shouldn't matter that they happen to have one and zero rings, respectively, because one player can't control the fate of the whole team -- especially in football. Bingo! For quite some time, I'd been thinking exactly the same thing, and wondering how serious sports minds could possibly buy into this hogwash.

The whole nonsense about championship rings -- and it's come to a head in recent weeks in the conversations about LeBron and Kobe and D-Wade -- is a farce. People say A-Rod wasn't a real Yankee until last year, when he finally won a ring. This logic is not only ridiculous; it also misses the point that A-Rod will never be a real anything -- ring or no ring. Hello? These are team sports we're talking about. One player doesn't win. If you've got a roster filled with names like Kanehl and Cannizzaro and Throneberry, it doesn't matter if you're Ted Williams; you're not going to the World Series.

Ernie Banks is often mentioned as the best baseball player to never win a championship. Hey, Ernie Banks was one of the best shortstops in baseball history, period -- end of sentence. Is Derek Jeter better than Ernie Banks because he's got five rings? No way. Luckier, yes: Jeter plays for the Yanks; Banks played for the Cubs. The curse of the Cubs wasn't his fault. Was John Elway chopped liver until he won his first Super Bowl at age 38 -- and then all of a sudden he became great? Will LeBron be a better player when he wins in Miami (which I hate to admit, he undoubtedly will) than he was when he failed in Cleveland? Not for my money; he just came up with a better, if more cynical, strategy. The only individual whose value can, and should, be judged by the number of rings he has, is the general manager -- the guy who actually puts together the team. Or maybe the owner, who gives the GM the bucks to work with.

These days the Elias Sports Bureau can measure every infinitesmal factor in performance, from offensive winning percentage to batting average on balls in play to plus/minus points when Joe Blow is in the game . . . and we're still judging a player's worth by the number of rings he's got on his fingers??? That whole idea is as ludicrous as the positively inane idea that one particular pitcher on a team, and only that one pitcher -- The Closer -- can pitch the ninth inning of a tight game when a lead needs to be protected. What a crock! And yes, I'll be talking about that one real soon . . .

- Hank