Big East: overrated…?

Being a Big Ten loyalist, I’m always happy to hear of my conference’s supremacy over rival conferences, even when said superiority is measured by computer rankings that I neither trust nor really pay attention to. Having said that, this is pretty embarrassing for the Big East. I mean, seriously, guys, you’ve got SIXTEEN TEAMS in your conference. Even the most mediocre of conferences should be at the top of the rankings with numbers like that. By sheer power of size, you figure at least a third of those teams (which is itself more than half the number of Big Ten member schools) would be decent enough to be ranked in the top 25. But we are talking, after all, about the Big East. Not a whole lotta tradition or historical legitimacy there, I’m afraid…

Eight years and counting, and still the money raineth down upon them…

Ugh. This makes me sick. But sick, I think, in a weirdly hopeful way. The breaking news is that Mark Teixeira, the latest of this year’s crop of hugely over-priced free agents, is now headed, along with I guess every other free agent, to the Bronx. This makes the Yankees proud owners of the four highest-priced ballplayers in the league.

Well, first allow me to vomit. And then, when I’m done with that, allow me to remind you that the Yankees still haven’t won the World Series this millenium, and that every player they buy increases that pressure to win, and, furthermore, that every season that doesn’t end in a championship exacerbates that pressure, which then brings the Yanks that much closer to implosion. This is like watching a Capitalist version of the Soviet Union’s collapse. They’ve got the bombs, but the essential, inner core has long been eroding…

Tis the season for exams and bowl games…

Apologies for my extended absence, guys. What with a surprisingly demanding set of final exams and the dislocations inherent in travelling home for the holidays, I’ve been going every which way for the past week. But, safely back in Iowa for Christmas, I’d like to first send a shout out to my Arizona Wildcats, winners of the Las Vegas bowl, who, along with the also-victorious Wake Forest Demon Deacons, have made this a very festive vacation indeed.

Arizona played about as well as I’ve ever seen an Arizona team play on Saturday, dominating the BYU Cougars (ranked 16th and gunning for their season’s 11th win) both on the offensive and defensive sides of the ball. Willie Tuitama, the Cats’ oft-maligned senior quarterback, had the best game of his career, and the defense shut down the Cougars’ vaunted passing attack when it mattered. Admittedly, the quality of the team we saw on Saturday begs Arizona’s early-season losses be re-examined (New Mexico State!? Stanford!?); however, being an Arizona fan, and thus quite unaccustomed to postseason play, period, I’ll put those demons to rest, content with a great season finale.

And speaking of demons, an almost equally impressive win for Wake Forest happened on that same Saturday (making it my second favorite football day of the year, after Iowa’s win over Penn State in November). Wake defeated Navy 29-19 in the ‘Who-Cares-What-It’s-Called’ Bowl – avenging a previous loss to the Midshipmen earlier in the season — on the strength of a perfect game from quarterback Riley Skinner (11/11, 166 yds, TD) as well as a surprisingly powerful running game. I think we can now safely conclude that little Wake Forest, the second-smallest division I football school, is building a dynasty.

Well, it was just a matter of time…

The conventional wisdom of the past decade holds that at some point during each NFL season, Terrell Owens’ off-the-field shenanigans absolutely must show up in sports periodical headlines. Usually the story involves, in one form or another, rifts with teammates, friction with coaching staffs, spitting at opposing players, and other bizarre incidents, all in the name of his own selfish pursuits.

This year’s manifestation of T.O. drama seems fall in the ‘rifts with teammates’ category, specifically rifts with his team’s Pro-Bowl tight end and superstar quarterback. ESPN reports that Terrell has been feeling a bit left out of the Tony Romo-Jason Witten alliance. This, apparently, is the source of Owens’ distress:

Owens believes quarterback Tony Romo and Witten — close friends and road roommates — hold private meetings and create plays without including Owens.

So how might the mature and reasonable Owens act on these feelings of resentment?

Team sources confirmed to ESPN’s Chris Mortensen that an incident occurred at the Cowboys’ training facility when Witten tried to engage Owens in a conversation about a pass route. Owens told Witten to stay away from him and called him a name. The two exchanged words before being separated. 

I’m sure that Cowboy fans the world over are overjoyed to see this kind of thing happening in the midst of a trying playoff push. How refreshing to see the interests of the team come first for this selfless star.

For once, college football gets it right

And the winner of this year’s Heisman trophy is…Sam Bradford. As the sophomore quarterback for the Oklahoma Sooners, Bradford has thrown up numbers that pretty much defy rational explanation (even surpassing fellow Big 12 supermen Colt McCoy and Graham Harrell), and has led his team to a 12-1 record, a conference championship, and a berth in the BCS championship game. So, in short, I agree with the pick; in fact, I felt that it was close to an obvious choice.

But it wasn’t the numbers or his team’s record or even the fact that he looks like a mer-man that ultimately convinced me of Bradford’s worthiness. That moment came during Oklahoma’s game against Oklahoma State — a bruising matchup in which both teams combined to score, roughly, 243 points, trading touchdowns like jello shots at a frat party. In the third quarter, when the outcome was still in doubt, and after the momentum appeared to be shifting in the Cowboys’ favor, Bradford’s Sooners faced 3rd and goal from OK State’s ten yard line. Bradford hiked the ball, and the play was almost immediately busted by the Cowboy defense (a rare coup in this game, to be sure). With his offensive line breaking down in front of him, Bradford was chased out of the pocket by a linebacker who looked sure to take him down for a fifteen-yard loss. Somehow, though, Bradford evaded the sack, rolling out to the strong side with linebackers hot on his heels. At this point, I figured Bradford would simply throw the ball away and settle for a field goal, and in fact I wouldn’t have blamed him; that would have been the sensible thing to do. Instead, he took off down the sideline and lunged for the endzone, only to be blasted into a somersault by three tacklers. He didn’t score, but the result was an eight-yard gain after what should have been a backfield sack. And more than that, the play was pure guts. After what looked like a punishing landing, Bradford immediately leapt to his feet, yelling encouragement to his teammates, and promptly took a QB sneak into the endzone on fourth down. That’s the kind of thing that wins Heismans.

Update: But why would you read my description when you can watch the play for yourself:

When Congress and the BCS collide…

…the Federal Trade Commision Act will be violated. It seems our esteemed Congress, after dilly-dallying about for all these years in the mundane practice of actual governance (if we’re being kind), has finally discovered its true calling. That’s right, I’m talking about legislative action against the BCS computer ranking system, and specifically in support of a playoff to determine the season’s champion. As Deadspin summarizes, this might well be the straw that breaks the camel’s back:

And so the BCS as we know it is doomed, of course. It’s caught in a perfect storm, with rabid Texas Republicans on one side, popular President-elects on the other, and the thorniest nemesis of them all, ESPN, waiting in the wings. The Worldwide Leader signed a four-year commitment to broadcast four BCS games beginning in 2011. So if you think the current system will still be alive then, keep dreaming.

Incidentally, one of the bill’s co-sponsor’s includes Illinois rep. Bobby Rush, none other than the only man to ever defeat Barack Obama in an election (back in 2000, and he blew Obama out of the water). So we’re glad they’re agreeing on something, these days. The BCS seems to bring people together that way.

Yankees resilient in the face of economic woes, prepare to drop $160 mil on Sabathia

Why am I not surprised?

C.C. Sabathia looks about to become New York’s latest record-breaking contract holder. We’ll see what happens. For the record, here’s what I expect: next year he’ll be mediocre, with the weight of the incomparable New York scrutiny resting heavily upon him — say, 14-11, with a 4.42 ERA. The year after that, I predict he’ll make a bit of a comeback, after everyone else has written him off as a bust, followed by more mediocrity and an injury-plagued denouement to his career. 

I’m not saying this because I wish to glorify in the failures of others – at least not individuals; I’m saying it because it’s been the Yankee pattern of late, and I truly do not believe in the power of blockbuster free agent signings. But maybe C.C. will prove me wrong…

The best college basketball player you’ve never heard of

For those who haven’t heard, the biggest sports news of the weekend wasn’t the college football BSC selection show (remove the ‘C’, and we’re getting somewhere), nor was it Oscar de la Hoya’s surprising defeat at the hands of Manny Pacquiao. No, the top story came in the form of a 31-10 thrashing of Arizona State University by my own Arizona Wildcats. Ok, maybe that’s my own fanatacism talking. Still, it marked the first time in my college career I’ve seen the U of A beat ASU on the gridiron, and it was truly a dominating performance, made sweeter by the fact that the victory denied the Sun Devils a postseason bowl game appearance.

So now, with the confidence of football superiority firmly at my back, I will, in the name of magnanimity, throw a bone to that sorry Tempe lot, who are badly in need of comfort and support in these trying times, I’m sure. Specifically, the respect I’m offering, in the name of being a gracious winner, goes to ASU hoops renaissance man James Harden, who apparently is having probably a better year than almost anyone else in college basketball. Seriously, check out Mike Miller’s breakdown over on Beyond the Arc. His statistical analysis gets a bit wonky even for me, but he makes a pretty good case that this kid deserves all the attention we can give him.

All of this, of course, bears in mind that when he comes to Tucson, we’ll root that much harder against him.

Wie beats Q-school, earns her LPGA tour card

After years of tournament participation based on nothing more than pure potential and celebrity sheen, Michelle Wie has finally qualified to join the LPGA tour for the coming 2009 season.  

Long a prodigy and media darling, Wie has played off-and-on in LPGA tour events since she was in seventh grade, awing crowds with 300-yard drives and flashes of major tournament success. However, in recent years the phenom’s golden edge has been tarnished somewhat, as she has suffered a stream of missed cuts and injuries, leading some to question the endorsements and special tournament invitations she has received (particularly, there has been resentment among tour members with regards to her tournament exemptions, each one of which prevents one qualified player from playing in that week’s tournament).

My own feeling with regards to Wie’s early career was always one of skepticism. For such a young woman to have sustained and consitent success in the world of professional sports was always an exceedingly rare prospect, and too often the attempt to facilitate that success cripples the athlete’s future prospects (as I stated above, it’s important to remember that Wie played her first LPGA event in seventh grade!). And I’m cynical too about the LPGA’s motives behind promoting her participation; despite what they’ll have us believe, their goal wasn’t to foster and encourage her success. The fact was that her presence drew crowds to otherwise unknown tournaments, created advertising possibilities, and otherwise offered the LPGA publicity and revenue.

Having said all that, these concerns are quickly become irrelevant, as Wie has now, like thousands of professional golfers before her, earned her own way onto the tour the old-fashioned way: by simply playing good golf. Now that she has accomplished this feat (in the process eliminating the impetus behind the resentment her ‘special status’ generated among other tour players), one hopes that she will be able to finally realize the dazzling potential that has been both her boon and her Achilles’ heel.

Cooperstown better get ready for Rickey, says Rickey

For those very few out there who actually have a say in this, it’s time once again to start thinking about the Baseball Hall of Fame ballot selections, and this year, it looks as if the biggest name on the list is Rickey Henderson. Henderson, of course, was a superb ballplayer, fully worthy of Cooperstown. His speed and knack for stealing bases (an art in decline in today’s game) with such prodigious consistency is well-known, and on that score his legacy will probably never be bested. Less well known, however, was the fact that his talents stretched beyond the basepaths. In his prime, Henderson hit for power (28 HRs in two separate seasons, and almost 300 for his career), drove in runs (over 1,100 for his career), and had one of the best batting eyes in the game. His scored over 2,200 runs in his 25 year career, and accumulated over 3,000 hits. Check out his career stats here.

But the stats tell only part of Rickey’s story. Long renown for outrageous behavior and hilarious non sequitors, it seems that anyone who’s ever played with the man has a great Rickey tale. Deadspin links to a good number of them here, listed courtesy of FanIQ, including the (unfortunately fictitious) tale of Rickey’s relationship with teammate John Olerud and his famous helmet.

My favorite Ricky story was told to me by my father, and might or might not be completely truthful (although in some form I’m sure it happened). The story goes something like this: Ricky — who’s well-known for referring to himself frequently in the third person – walks to the plate for an at-bat, muttering under his breath “Ricky’s the man, Ricky’s the best…” etc. and digs in to the batter’s box. The pitcher winds and throws, and Henderson takes it for strike one. ”Rickey’s the man, that ain’t what Rickey wanted…” he mutters, digging in for the second pitch. A hard, biting slider sails by for strike two. “That wasn’t what Rickey wanted either,” Henderson says, unfazed by the unfavorable 0-2 count. He prepares for the pitcher’s third delivery, a perfect two-seam fastball that paints the outside corner of the plate for strike three. Rickey looks at the umpire and begins the slow walk back to the dugout. But before he does, he says, loudly this time: “Dammit, Rickey’s still the man!”