BCS National Championship Game

Florida/Alabama winner vs. Texas

Other contenders (in order of likelihood): Iowa, TCU, Cincinnati, LSU, Boise State, Oregon.

Comment: Florida and Alabama are on a collision course for the conference title game. If neither team stumbles, the winner of that game will be representing the SEC in the BCS title game for the fourth straight season. Texas has a clear sailing toward the Big 12 title game, as it's expected to be a double-digit favorite for all of the remaining games.

Rose Bowl

Ohio State vs. Oregon

Other contenders: Iowa, Penn State; Arizona.

Comment: Ohio State controls its own destiny. Wins over Penn State and Iowa will send the Buckeyes to Pasadena. Penn State needs to beat Ohio State and also Iowa to lose twice. Arizona, believe it or not, still controls its own destiny as well, though it has Oregon, Cal and USC on the schedule. But if the Wildcats run the table, they will be making the school's first-ever Rose Bowl appearance.

Sugar Bowl

Florida/Alabama loser vs. TCU

Other contenders: Boise State, Utah.

Comment: The Sugar Bowl has to take the SEC runner-up with the first pick, or risk losing it to the Orange Bowl. By BCS's rotation rules, it will have the last pick. So that means it'll end up with the top-ranked Coalition team, either TCU or Boise State, or even Utah, which needs to knock off TCU and a Boise State upset loss for a return trip to New Orleans.

Fiesta Bowl

USC vs. Pittsburgh/Cincinnati winner

Other contenders: Notre Dame, Big Ten runner-up, Boise State, Arizona.

Comment: If the Trojans remain unbeaten the rest of the season, expect the Fiesta to snag them with the second pick. If they lose, then a 10-2 Notre Dame team will go here. If both teams lose somewhere along the way, then the Big Ten runner-up will get the nod. If the Fiesta ends up with the Big Ten runner-up, then it might decide to use its second pick on Boise State, even if it doesn't get the Coalition automatic bid.

Orange Bowl

Iowa vs. Georgia Tech (ACC champion)

Other contenders: Penn State, Cincinnati/Pittsburgh winner; Miami.

Comment: Most likely, the Orange will use its pick to take the Big Ten runner-up to go with the ACC champion. If neither USC nor Notre Dame qualified and the Fiesta decides to take the Big Ten's runner-up, then the Orange will go ahead and grab the Big East winner. A scenario also exists for a 10-2 Miami team to claim this spot.

---

Now comes the caveat: All the bowl talk could all vaporize if a few games don't go according to plan. But fear not, with the SEC and Big Ten refs carrying Blackberries to receive instant messages from their respective league offices, the "better" teams will find a way to win at the end.

Trust me.

★★★★★ GAME OF THE WEEK: LSU at Alabama, 3:30 p.m. ET (CBS). The past of LSU meets its present. Nick Saban and Les Miles each led the Bayou Tigers to a BCS title, and this game may determine who gets to go for a second ring. For all the talk about a Florida-Alabama SEC title game, LSU still controls its own destiny as a victory puts it on course to win the SEC West. Also a subplot: Alabama's Mark Ingram has a chance to burnish his Heisman credentials.

★★★★ FOUR-STAR GAME: Ohio State at Penn State, 3:30 p.m. ET (ABC). The Buckeyes are playing for a Rose Bowl berth and the Nittany Lions are playing for a BCS bowl berth. Those plans, unfortunately, are mutually exclusive. One team's BCS hopes will be squashed in Beaver Stadium. Terrelle Pryor will find out just how country Happy Valley is.

★★★ THREE-STAR GAME: Oregon at Stanford, 3:30 p.m. ET (FSN). The Ducks owned USC like the Trojans have never been owned before. But will they suffer a letdown in the aftermath? The Cardinal need one more win to be bowl eligible, but with Oregon, USC, Cal and Notre Dame still remaining (25-7 combined), they'll take that victory anywhere they can get it.

★★ TWO-STAR GAME: Northwestern at Iowa, noon ET (ESPN). Every week could be the week that Iowa's bubble gets burst. The Hawkeyes needed near miracles to pull out victories the past two weeks and they go to Ohio State for a make-or-break game next week. Will they get caught looking ahead or will their luck finally run out?

★ ONE-STAR GAME: Connecticut at Cincinnati, 8 p.m. ET (ABC). The grieving Huskies are still looking for their first victory after two heart-breaking losses (by an identical score of 28-24). The Bearcats have quite a gauntlet to finish the season, with West Virginia and Pittsburgh still on the schedule. They cannot afford to overlook anybody.

(Cross-post at BCS Guru)

Samuel Chi is Editor of RealClearSports. He may be reached at sam@realclearsports.com.

The edge of the continent may have put a limitation on movement - this is as far west as you can go without a ship or a surfboard --, but there never has been any limitation on ideas, no matter how irrational or unpopular.

Almost anything is acceptable. Almost.

This situation with the man who coaches the Oakland Raiders has all but reached a point of unacceptability, with people who don't know exactly what happened screaming "Off with his head'' and those in a position to find out the details saying very little.

Oakland is one city south of the Protest Capital of the World, Berkeley, or as the late columnist Herb Caen called it, "Berserkeley.'' It was an Oakland native, Gertrude Stein, who said of the city, upon returning to find her old home had been razed, "There is no there, there.''

These days, with Tom Cable being accused of everything except that recent mechanical failure of the Bay Bridge, the one that closed the structure for eight days, there is plenty there.

Too much for Cable and the Raiders organization.

The Raiders have a bye this weekend, which, when you're 2-6 for 2009 and haven't had a winning season since 2002, might be viewed as beneficial. Instead, it's proving just the opposite, since media which might be focused on the team's troubles instead is concentrating on Cable's.

And they are many.

During camp in August, up at Napa in the middle of the wine country - where else would a Nor Cal team train, anyway? - Raiders assistant Randy Hanson incurred a broken jaw during a meeting of the coaching staff.

He accused Cable of causing the injury, either, as the story goes, by shoving him out of a chair in which he had leaned back, or punching him in the jaw.

After an investigation, and surely deliberation, the district attorney of Napa County, declined to press charges, maybe because he didn't believe the case was strong enough, maybe because Napa didn't want to aggravate the Raiders and chance losing them to another city.

For a few days after the announcement, the Raiders' subject matter dealt with the ineffectiveness of third-year quarterback JaMarcus Russell and other paranormal items. Then on its "Outside the Lines'' program last Sunday, ESPN provided the revelation that some 20 years ago Cable had hit his ex-wife and early this year smacked a girl friend.

The Raiders contended they were blindsided by ESPN, a network the team contends harbors a grudge against it. But to the credit of the Raiders, meaning owner Al Davis, considerably more sensitive than his critics want to believe, and chief executive Amy Trask, the allegations were not taken lightly.

"We will undertake a serious evaluation of this matter,'' read a release from the Raiders. "We wish to be clear that we do not in any way condone or accept actions such as those alleged.''

This was not good enough for the National Organization for Women which demanded Cable be suspended while the allegations are checked out. It wants NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, who has spoken about fairness, to make a statement about Cable.

Earlier in the week, asked about his future, Cable insisted, "I'm coach of the Raiders, and I think my future is to be coach of the Raiders.''

Al Davis does not like firing coaches, despite all the coaches he has fired, and he likes even less dismissing them during the season, having done that only twice, Mike Shanahan and Lane Kiffin, over the past 40 years.

But this uproar over Cable is an embarrassment. It may even become a distraction, although the players, worried about their own futures and paychecks, invariably ignore everything except trying to keep the opposition from making a touchdown while making some touchdowns of their own.

Cable conceded he did slap his first wife, with an open hand, not a fist, and has regretted it. He said he did not strike any other female.

A team as bad as the Raiders, groping for any reason to be optimistic, hardly needs the current scenario, a coach under fire for reasons other than his record, and even the folk of Northern California wondering what is going on.

Any moment, we may all go over the edge.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

We're always hearing about the second part, how what a coach wants most is to prepare a kid for life after sports.

Do something wrong, you get punished. "Coach Suspends Halfback,'' is the headline. Unless he's too valuable. Then, well, as we're often reminded, discipline will be private.

Or virtually non-existent.

Urban Meyer, the Florida coach, has his own ideas about justice. And lesson-teaching. They might not be similar to ours, but we don't have to think about national rankings and the BCS.

Our ideas have to do with the difference between right and wrong.

To Meyer that difference is only 30 minutes, half a football game.

One of Meyer's players, linebacker Brandon Spikes, was caught last Saturday on videotape intentionally sticking his fingers through the facemask and into the eyes of Georgia's Washaun Ealey.

A dirty move, a cheap shot. And an incident replayed again and again on the various networks.

It bothered us. It didn't bother Meyer, not to the point he would keep Spikes out of uniform for the next game, against Vanderbilt.

Meyer understood he was required to make a showing. So he announced Spikes would have to sit out the first half of the Vanderbilt game. Then Spikes will be permitted to go out and gouge someone else's eyes.

"I don't condone that,'' said Meyer. He seemingly was referring to what Spikes did, not about his own decision.

Out West in September an Oregon running back, LeGarrette Blount sucker-punched a Boise State defensive end after the game, and Blount was suspended for the season. Or, barring a change in mind by Oregon coach Chip Kelly, to this point in the season.

But in the Sunshine State, the coach looks at violations a little more kindly. Or at the AP rankings a little more intently, not that Florida should need Spikes to beat Vanderbilt.
What it does need, however, is a sense of perspective and an understanding that there's no place for scofflaws in activities built on rules and fairness.

Reprimands have been popular of late in our sporting world. Chad Ochocinco, the Cincinnati Bengals receiver, was fined $10,000 for wearing a black chinstrap. That NFL certainly has its priorities.

Then a golfer nobody ever had heard of, Doug Barron, became the first PGA player to be suspended for violating the Tour's performance-enhancing drug policy. He's gone for a year.

Now, Brandon Spikes is going to banished for an entire 30 minutes of a 60-minute college football game. That should make him contrite.

"I talked to him,'' Meyer said of Spikes. "That's not who he is. I love Brandon Spikes.''

And then my favorite phrase in failing to explain why an athlete gets away with almost anything, "We're going to move on.''
They're going to do anything to avoid the facts, the implications, the embarrassment. They're going to worry about putting the ball in the end zone instead of putting a finger in an opponent's cornea or retina.

Why does it always have to be like this? Why does the final score have to supersede common decency? Why can't a coach, any coach but particularly one as recognized as Meyer, step forward and act responsibly, since he wants his players to act responsibly?

We know Urban Meyer can recruit and motivate. We know he's won national championships. What's so hard about admitting that there was a problem and as a leader of boys who would be men that problem will be corrected?

Why is Brandon Spikes being given a figurative slap on the hand used to attack an opponent's eyes? Why is getting a man into the lineup more important than getting a message across?

We found out long ago sport does not build character. What we found out the past few days from Urban Meyer was anything is permissible. Except defeat.

The sin, the author John Tunis said, is not failing to act like a gentleman, but in failing to win. Florida fans are thinking of another national title not of reprimanding an act which in some places would be considered disgraceful. Get the kid out of the doghouse and back on the field. That's all they care.

And so that's all Urban Meyer cares. You're surprised he didn't have Brandon Spikes write an apology on a chalkboard. That is if Spikes is apologetic.

Urban Meyer certainly doesn't appear to be.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

And for good reason.

It's not just because the Yankees want to christen their overpriced luxury liner of a stadium with a world championship in its inaugural season. And it's not just because Andy Pettitte, who is now the winningest pitcher in postseason history, will be on the mound for yet another pivotal October - er, I mean November - affair on Wednesday evening. If Pettitte were to notch a win in game six, he'd accomplish an extraordinary superfecta - as he'd add that to his clinching victories for the AL East title, the Division Series and the Championship Series.

No, what makes this game six in New York so appropriate, so profound and what may ultimately elevate it to its now-destined tragic conclusion for the Phillies is the fact that Pedro Martinez will be facing his old rival and scourge - again. It appears almost downright cruel that Pedro, in the late sunset of his brilliant career, would have to start two games in one series at Yankee Stadium.

After all, the future first ballot Hall of Famer did far more than what could have been expected of him in game two where, in a losing effort, he threw 107 pitches in six-plus innings and held the vaunted Yankee lineup to just three runs. More impressively he tallied eight strikeouts, rendering A-Rod and others helpless on several occasions. For sustained stretches last Thursday night he was channeling the Pedro from a decade ago. And if Phillies manager Charlie Manuel had taken Pedro out of the game prior to starting the seventh inning, his stat line would have been truly outstanding.

But should Manuel have arranged his pitching rotation differently and avoided the specter of starting Pedro twice in the Bronx? Logic and instinct both concur on this query - yes. After watching him pitch around trouble and fool them repeatedly last week, I doubt the Yankee hitters will fail again to produce more offense. With fastballs only reaching 90 at best, it will be a difficult task for Martinez to rely solely on finesse. The Yankee hitters are too patient and they are not a team that is easily fooled twice - with Cliff Lee as the current exception proving the rule.

For New York, Andy Pettitte did not have his best stuff in game three. But he brought his usual mental tenacity and he was able to do what he's always done, pitching out of trouble in big games and keep his team within striking distance. He will relish the opportunity to perform his trademark stare-below-the-cap stance and singular pickoff moves and clinch yet another title for the Yankees.

There is a question about how Pettitte will perform on short notice. He is only 4-6 with a 4.15 ERA when pitching on three days rest. But as the lefthander said, "I know I felt terrible the other night and that was on six days' rest. I am just going to go as hard as I can for as long as I can."

And the clear advantage for Yankee manager Joe Girardi is that he only needs five innings from Pettitte. With Rivera fully rested and already penciled in for the last six outs, the Yankee skipper will likely need only two innings from his middle relief corps.

More than any other sport, baseball needs a rich narrative as it is essential for compulsory viewing and Pedro supplies a more compelling and dramatic layer to the storyline.

Who knows, maybe this will turn out to be a lightning-in-a-bottle moment for Martinez and he'll shock the world and put the Phillies in a position to stage a historic comeback. Imagine how tense the Yankees would be in a game 7? Would the raging ghosts from 2004 make their way down the coast from chilly New England overnight and make this Yankee squad the team to perform the second worst choke in their storied franchise history?

No chance. Pedro and his Phillies teammates were doomed to head back to his city of torment for a doleful denouement.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

I know, the last thing you want to do is listen to me. Or anybody. You know what you're doing. You've won four division titles in eight years of managing, two league pennants and one World Series. I've watched and thought about more baseball games than ninety-nine percent of all American men; you've watched and thought about four or five times as many as I have.

I know what you're thinking. I understand why you'd think it. You've gotten your team this far.

Let me take it from here.

So let's talk about your pitching.

It's been a long season, and a tough Series. Cliff Lee's been spectacular. Pedro Martinez gave you a solid start, but A.J. Burnett was better that night, and that happens.

Besides those two? It's been like a plane piloted by Wile E. Coyote, falling apart as it goes along, first a wing, then the tail, then the fuselage and the cockpit, until it's just a helmet-and-goggles-clad coyote in a chair the moment before gravity takes hold.

You've got a daunting task, coming back to the Bronx down three games to two. And I know the old saws about climbing a hill one step at a time, playing ‘em one game at a time, you can't worry about game seven until you've won game six, blah blah blah.

That's fine for the players, Charlie. They've got to focus on the one game tonight. But you and me, we know better. The task is to give yourself your best chance to win two games, tonight and tomorrow night.

You're starting Pedro tonight. If anybody's going to rise to the occasion and meet the challenge of pitching at Yankee Stadium in front of that hostile crowd, it's him. And that's why you need him for game seven.

I understand Pedro pitches best in his normal rotation, and tonight he'll be going on four days' rest. Since 2005, he's been 18-6 with a 3.20 ERA with four days' rest, and 12-15, 4.05 with five. But c'mon - this year there's no such thing as normal rest for him. Since September 1, here's the number of rest days he's had before his starts: 4, 4, 5, 10, 15, 12, and now 4. There's no routine there, especially not now. Giving him an extra day to recover from the 107 pitches he threw in game two of the Series makes sense.

Who starts tonight? I'd go with J.A. Happ - he's a rookie, but he's not a kid - to get a lefthander out on the mound. You may need a cast of thousands out of the pen tonight; this is a game you're going to have to win with your bats. Tomorrow, against C.C. Sabathia, that's a different story. But tonight, you've got some options.

Andy Pettitte is starting on three days' rest. He's 37, and he hasn't pitched on short rest in three years. The postseason results for older pitchers on short rest haven't been so strong lately. Since Jack Morris went ten shutout innings in the last game of the 1991 World Series, there have been sixteen postseason starts on short rest by pitchers age 35 or older. They're 5-7, with a 5.56 ERA. On average, they haven't gotten out of the fifth inning.

You can win this game without getting a quality start.

Say you do start Pedro tonight. Who's going to start game seven on the road? Cole Hamels? The way he's looked this postseason? Yeah, I know about dancing with them what brung ya, but there's a time for prudence too. You know that; you showed it in the ninth inning Monday night, when you left Ryan Madson out there to get the save. I won't make you say it; you know who pitched, and who didn't.

You probably will need a low-run seventh game against Sabathia. And that's why you start Pedro. And after you get five or so out of him, it's time for Cliff Lee. Two days' rest? So what? He's got all winter to recover. This is why someone becomes an athlete: to be out there at a time like that, not to sit on the sidelines and say, "Hey, I did my job."

Remember, the task really is to win two games, not one. It's like the guy in the Old West showdown who's about to draw, and the sheriff reminds him, "Don't forget - if we tie, you're dead." One-and-one won't get it done.

I'm glad we had this talk.

And if your plan is to start Cliff in the seventh game... well, it did work for Derek Lowe in the ALCS in 2004. Against the Yankees. In the Bronx. Hmmm...

Jeff Neuman is a sportswriter and editor, and co-author of A Disorderly Compendium of Golf.

It was the defining moment and the epithet on Ryan Leaf's unfulfilled NFL career. It was replayed on TV, over and over again, even a decade later, long after Leaf has departed the scene, having moved on to the coaching staff of West Texas A&M and perhaps, jail, in the near future.

By all accounts, Leaf is the gold standard of pro football busts. Drafted in 1998 by the San Diego Chargers with the No. 2 overall pick, he was supposed to compete with Peyton Manning on the highway to Canton. Instead, Leaf serves as the biggest cautionary tale in recent NFL history.

The lesson? Don't waste your high draft picks on quarterbacks. Most of the time, it's just not worth it.

It's a lesson, however, mostly ignored by NFL teams. And they do so at their own peril.

From the first common draft in 1967 through 1997, only eight quarterbacks were taken first overall in those 31 years. Since 1998, however, a quarterback has been taken first overall nine times in just 12 years, including five in a row from 2001-2005.

1967-1997
1970 Terry Bradshaw
1971 Jim Plunkett
1975 Steve Bartkowski
1983 John Elway
1987 Vinny Testaverde
1989 Troy Aikman
1990 Jeff George
1993 Drew Bledsoe

As you can see, teams didn't blow their top pick on a quarterback unless they felt they had a sure thing. More than half of these quarterbacks are either enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame or led their teams to Super Bowl glory, and the rest had long and productive careers.

Now look at this list:

1998-2009
1998 Peyton Manning
1999 Tim Couch
2001 Michael Vick
2002 David Carr
2003 Carson Palmer
2004 Eli Manning
2005 Alex Smith
2007 JaMarcus Russell
2009 Matthew Stafford

Among this bunch, only the Mannings own Super Bowl rings and Peyton may be the only one headed to Canton. Two are already bona fide busts. Another one is just coming back to the league after spending two seasons in prison.

And those are just the No. 1 overall picks. Between 1998 and 2009, teams invested 33 first-round selections on quarterbacks, a higher percentage than any 10-year period in NFL history. Despite a mountain of evidence suggesting the contrary, teams continue to spend their most valuable draft pick on a highly risky proposition.

In 2009, of the 32 quarterbacks who started the majority of their teams' games, fewer than half (15) are first-round draft picks. The other 17 came in the second round (3), third round (2), fourth round (2), fifth round (1), sixth round (4), seventh round (1) and undrafted free agents (4).

That's right, nine starters came from the sixth round or later, or altogether undrafted. And put this list up against the one you just saw:

Tom Brady (sixth round, 2000)
Kurt Warner (undrafted, 1994)
Tony Romo (undrafted, 2003)
Marc Bulger (sixth round, 2000)
Matt Hasselbeck (sixth round, 1998)
Jake Delhomme (undrafted, 1997)
Matt Cassel (seventh round, 2005)
Derek Anderson (sixth round, 2005)
Shaun Hill (undrafted, 2002)

Among them, they've been to nine Super Bowls with four rings. Six of them were selected to the Pro Bowl. And you still want to waste that first-round pick, let alone No. 1 overall, on a quarterback?

Since what's done is done, we decided to conduct a thorough examination of these first-rounders during what we shall dub "The Quarterback Decade," that began in 1998 when Manning and Leaf went 1-2 in the draft. We want to find out, at least statistically, if Leaf was indeed the biggest flop.

Our research would cover a 10-year period between 1998-2007, ensuring that we have the goods for at least 2½ seasons before calling someone a bust. Out of those 28 quarterbacks, we exempted those who have started at least 75 percent of their teams' games while maintaining a passer rating better than 75.0.

The following statistical information was then taken into consideration for the remaining 14 quarterbacks:

1. Winning percentage as a starter
2. Percentage of games started for original team
3. Career passer rating (through Week 8 for active players)
4. Draft position

We discovered that Leaf had some fine company, and that, if you remove all the off-the-field stuff, he wasn't even the worst of the lot. Of the 10 biggest quarterback busts in the past decade, only one had a career winning record as a starter; one started more than half of his team's games; one completed more than 56 percent of his passes, and none threw more touchdowns than interceptions.

Half of them are already out of the league. Of the other half, three have their butts firmly planted on the pine, one just got off, and only one started more than half of his team's games this season.

And this is how we ranked team, from the pretty awful to the absolute worst:

Continue to Top 10 NFL Quarterback Busts

Samuel Chi is Editor of RealClearSports. He may be reached at sam@realclearsports.com.

In addition to his use of the recreational drug, the now 39 year old revealed that he also lied about his frequent use of the substance after he failed a mandatory drug test. Agassi's excuse that he mistakenly drank from his assistant's soda which had been laced with the drug was accepted by the ATP and a career threatening - let alone personally demoralizing - punishment was avoided.

These disclosures have drawn a predictably wide range of comment, varying from those who say that the pensive Agassi is imbued with a thoughtful and reflective soul and it was brave of him to admit the use of illegal drugs to others who believe it is a too-late confession by an admitted drug user and documented liar and that it diminishes the Hall of Famer's legacy.

Among the more strongly worded assessments of this wholly unexpected and stunning revelation was delivered by Martina Navratilova. The always outspoken Martina, who most conclude is the greatest woman player of all time, stated that it was " ... shocking. Not as much shock that he did it as shock he lied about it and didn't own up to it. He's up there with Roger Clemens, as far as I'm concerned. He owned up to it [in the book], but it doesn't help now ... Andre lied and got away with it. You can't correct that now. Do you take away a title he wouldn't have won if he had been suspended? He beat some people when he should have been suspended."

The usually perceptive and sharp Martina is misguided in her comments and gave a far too impulsive and simply wrong reading of the facts in this matter.

First of all, whatever one thinks about Agassi's use of the drug on a moral basis, this much is clear - crystal meth is not a performance enhancing drug (PED) and his tennis was at best unaffected but was most likely hurt significantly from his use of the drug. This is the most important point of all as it highlights the unwillingness for critics to separate the use of recreational drugs versus PED's.

Additionally, 1997 was a dreadful year in peaks-and-valleys career of Agassi. He won only one event, a satellite tournament in November of 1997 (satellite tourneys are tennis' equivalent of the minor leagues) and finished the year ranked an abysmal 110th.

Furthermore, Navratilova's linking Agassi's deceit regarding his ingesting of crystal meth with Roger Clemens' apparent lying about steroid use is downright egregious. Agassi, if taken at his word, was battling inner demons and decided to stupidly suppress his pain with a dangerous recreational drug. He did not use the narcotic to illegally gain an advantage over other players which is the cardinal sin in sports.

Roger Clemens, if the accusations leveled against the hard throwing right hander are indeed true, did in fact inject PED's and repeatedly lied about said use. In all likelihood he did this to regain and sustain his brilliant form which had been slipping away in his mid-30's. There is absolutely no similarity between Agassi and Clemens - except for lying. And then we're talking about relative degrees aren't we? Clemens' lies are far more hurtful as it cheated fans, players and the institution of our national pastime. Agassi only foolishly risked his health and well being.

Martina should have known better and not rush to such immediate conclusions about the charismatic Las Vegas native. After all, she has come under so much unwanted and unfair scrutiny for her personal decisions and actions during her most decidedly fascinating life.

Almost as disappointing as Martina's comments were the few words spoken by world ranked number two Rafael Nadal on the matter. The beloved Mallorcan - and I count myself as one of his biggest admirers in the tennis commentary universe - said, "To me it seems terrible. Why is he saying this now that he has retired? It's a way of damaging the sport that makes no sense. I believe our sport is clean and I am the first one that wants that. Cheaters must be punished and if Agassi was a cheater during his career he should have been punished."

Nadal's utterances of "cheating" are too literal minded. Cheating implies that Agassi was using the drug to achieve the upper hand in the arena of competition. He wasn't.

What's even more curious is how quick Nadal was to criticize Agassi. After all, Nadal came to the immediate, definitive and justified defense of his friend Richard Gasquet after the Frenchman tested positive for cocaine earlier this year.

Just as the government is finally - and correctly - choosing not to prosecute distributors and users of medical marijuana in this country and instead refocusing their efforts on other criminal areas, the sports world would be well advised to not test for recreational drugs and instead keep the focus on the true threats to sport - PED's and illegal gambling.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

Another awful week, going 3-10-1, puts us under .500 for the first time this season (36-37-1). We have hit a stretch where every close game has gone against our pick, especially those we thought were easily in the bag.

Take last week's Miami-New Orleans game for example. We took the Dolphins, playing at home and getting seven points. This one was in the bank, as Miami jumped out to a 24-3 lead. The 'Fins weren't just going to cover. They were going to win outright.

And then an avalanche of Saints touchdowns turned the game around. But still, even with New Orleans ahead, 40-34, in the game's final minutes, the bet was safe, thanks to a botched Saints PAT. But no. Miami didn't just turn it over on the potential game-winning drive, it gave up a 54-yard interception return for a touchdown. Final score, 46-34. You want to tear your hair out (whatever is left) while you tear up your betting slip.

Such is the peril of sports betting.

Undaunted, we're back to clean up our own mess. So here are our fearless selections this week:

Denver (+3.5) over BALTIMORE
Seattle (+9.5) over DALLAS
CHICAGO (-12.5) over Cleveland
DETROIT (-3.5) over St. Louis
San Francisco (+14) over INDIANAPOLIS
Houston (-3) over BUFFALO
Miami (+3.5) over NY JETS
NY Giants (-1.5) over PHILADELPHIA
Jacksonville (+3.5) over TENNESSEE
Oakland (+17.5) over SAN DIEGO
Minnesota (+3.5) over GREEN BAY
Carolina (+10) over ARIZONA
NEW ORLEANS (-11.5) over Atlanta

Gundy's daddy, metaphorically speaking, of course, is T. Boone Pickens, a Texas oil man. A man who's given over a quarter of a billion bucks to the Oklahoma State athletic program. A man whose name graces the Cowboys' brand-spanking new stadium.

And Gundy has no better opportunity to please his (sugar) daddy than this week.

Oklahoma State's football program, thanks to the largess of Pickens, is trying to emerge from the shadows of Oklahoma and Texas and become a bona fide powerhouse in the Big 12. The trouble is, in order to be in their company, you have to beat them at least once in awhile.

Gundy has never beaten either since taking over as the Cowboys head coach in 2005. In fact, OSU last defeated Oklahoma in 2002 and has not won against Texas since 1997, which was the only time in history that the Cowboys managed to defeat both in the same season.

They have a chance to rewrite some history, beginning Saturday night when the Longhorns visit Boone Pickens Stadium, an invasion that's certain to draw a record crowd in Stillwater.

Texas is ranked No. 3, in line for its first BCS title game berth since 2005, and favored by 9 1/2 points. But the Cowboys, whose lone loss was at home to Houston, can seize control of the Big 12 South race with an upset victory. That would put them on course for the school's first Big 12 title, first BCS bowl game, and first 10-win season, ever.

It's a lot to play for. It's something to make your daddy real proud ... and rest assured he'll be there, since he never misses a game.

By all accounts, Pickens has not been the meddling type, but you'd be a fool to think that a man who's given OSU $400 million over the years doesn't exert some influence. Gundy, for example, got a new seven-year contract worth $15.7 million at the end of last season. We're just guessing that some (if not most) of that money comes out of Pickens' pocket.

For now, Gundy will have earn his keep without All-American wideout Dez Bryant, who has been declared ineligible for the rest of the season by the unforgiving NCAA. You see, even at OSU, there is a higher power that even Pickens' billions can't buy.

★★★★★ GAME OF THE WEEK: USC at Oregon, 8 p.m. ET (ABC). As important as the Texas-OSU game is, it doesn't quite take the top billing. Oregon has a chance to end USC's seven-year reign as the Pac-10's top dog, something the Ducks thought they had accomplished in 2007, but couldn't quite finish the job. The Trojans, despite playing a freshman quarterback, are in the thick of the BCS title race. A USC win at Autzen Stadium all but locks up, at the minimum, a record eighth straight trip to a BCS bowl.

★★★★ FOUR-STAR GAME: Texas at Oklahoma State, 8 p.m. ET (ABC). The Longhorns have beaten the Cowboys in the last 11 meetings and are 21-2 all-time against OSU. But the Cowboys have made things interesting of late, losing only 28-24 last year and dropping a 38-35 decision in 2007 after blowing a 21-point fourth-quarter lead. The winner of this game will effectively claim the Big 12 South and be a heavy favorite in the conference title game.

★★★ THREE-STAR GAME: Georgia vs. Florida, 3:30 p.m. ET (CBS). The World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party has been reduced to merely The Coke-Zero Tailgate Hangout as the recession and Georgia's mediocrity both have put a damper on this rivalry. The Gators are still acting mad about the entire-team celebration stunt from two years ago. The Bulldogs, meanwhile, are not acting or saying anything for fear of a repeat of last year's beatdown.

★★ TWO-STAR GAME: Indiana at Iowa, noon p.m. ET (ESPN). Will Iowa's luck finally run out? They have pushed the envelope in just about every game this season, including last week's Houdini-like escape against Michigan State. This year's Hoosiers are actually not half bad, and if the Hawkeyes are already dreaming about the BCS or the Rose Bowl, they could be in for a sudden and rude awakening.

★ ONE-STAR GAME: Cincinnati at Syracuse, noon ET (ESPNU). The Bearcats seem to be on a collision course with Pittsburgh in the season finale for the Big East crown and a BCS bowl berth. But they still have a few more obstacles to overcome before they can get there and aim for an undefeated season. Cincy's task this week? Beat a standout basketball star in the biggest on-campus basketball arena.

(Cross-post at BCS Guru)

Samuel Chi is Editor of RealClearSports. He may be reached at sam@realclearsports.com.

It reached new heights in late 1985 when after a particularly difficult offensive stretch for the superstar outfielder against the Toronto Blue Jays, who the Yankees were chasing for the division title; Steinbrenner slung his infamous and unfair sobriquet of "Mr. May" at Winfield. "Where is Reggie Jackson," the dictator fumed.

But the articulate, generous and multitalented native Minnesotan would get his sweet and beloved revenge when he had one of the finest late career renaissances in the history of the sport. In 1992, at the age of 41, Winfield played a vital role on the Blue Jays (who he had signed with after the 1991 season) hitting 26 homeruns and producing an extraordinary 108 RBI's. And full and complete glory finally came to the future Hall of Famer as he had one of the big hits that propelled the Blue Jays to their first - and Winfield's only - World Series title that year.

It remains one of the great redemption stories in baseball. And as discussed earlier this week, second chances are something every cursed athlete hopes for. (And speaking of Steinbrenner, he's another who received multiple chances, perhaps too many. But as John Huston famously uttered in Roman Polanski's Chinatown - "Politicians, ugly buildings, and whores all get respectable if they last long enough." I think Steinbrenner, with his record as a convicted felon for illegal campaign contributions and for his paying a gambler to find damaging information on Winfield, would perhaps qualify in that category).

I couldn't help but think of Winfield after watching Alex Rodriguez flail helplessly at pitches out of the strike zone in his first two games against the Phillies in this year's Fall Classic. Now, granted, it's only been two games and he's liable to break out and tear up that hitters' paradise also known as Citizens Bank Park. And to be fair, A-Rod seemed to have exorcised all his post-2003 playoff demons by putting up otherworldly numbers in the series wins over Minnesota and Anaheim.

But if A-Rod continues to toil in futility at the plate - and in the field, as his misplay last night nearly cost the game - and the Yankees fail to reclaim the title, look for the heat to come down. Hard.

And it's not just the fact that A-Rod is hitless in eight at-bats. It's the manner in which he is recording those frequent outs. He has struck out six times and has looked lost while doing so - in other words, eerily similar to the way he appeared during the 2004-2007 playoffs. He is barely getting his bat on the ball for solid foul swings. Yankee followers would be correct in comparing his swings thus far to those of Alfonso Soriano in the 2003 World Series against the Florida Marlins.

If his troubles at the plate continue unabated in the next couple of games, A-Rod should try to enforce his will onto the game in alternate ways and not let his fragile psyche overwhelm him as it has in the past. If I were privy to counsel of the Yankee third baseman I'd urge him to find his way on base with a walk, steal a base and create opportunity. For if he continues to try to enforce his will with just his bat, I wouldn't be surprised if his striving yields little.

When at his best, as he was against the Twins and Angels, A-Rod is an unstoppable, nearly unconscious force. Hall of Fame pitcher and announcer Don Sutton once famously said of the late, great Willie Stargell that, "He doesn't just hit pitchers, he takes away their dignity." It's a quote that could definitely apply to Rodriguez when he's relaxed.

The Yankees are stocked with offensive firepower and they could win without A-Rod generating fireworks from the middle of the lineup. And with Mark Teixeira showing signs of finding his swing, perhaps the Yankees could afford to allow A-Rod to have a terrible series. But that's a gamble the Bronx Bombers do not want to have to make.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

It didn't work on television, trying to cram that huge expanse onto a small screen. And kids who weren't playing video games supposedly were playing soccer, on baseball fields.

But here are the Yankees and Phillies going at it in this World Series in October 2009 as they did in the World Series in October 1950, and Alex Rodriguez and Ryan Howard are being given space in the sports pages equal that of Brett Favre journeying back to Green Bay.

Sure it's because of the Yankees, the most famous sporting franchise in North America, a team of wealth, pinstripes and history. The Yanks cannot be ignored. Nor, with this World Series, can baseball.

They had a 13.8 overnight Nielsen rating for Game 1, NFL type numbers, and presumably the figures will be about the same for Game 2, when the Yankees, hailed and hated, tied things up.

Baseball. "You win with pitching,'' said New York's Derek Jeter after the Yankees beat Philly, 3-1, Thursday in Game 2. Always will win with pitching.

The Phils took the first game, 6-1. Always have won with pitching.

Baseball. "Ninety feet between bases,'' wrote the late Red Smith, "is the closest man has ever come to perfection.''

Baseball, a game of axioms and survival. Despite the Black Sox scandal, despite the shutdowns and strikes, despite the despair over steroids, the sport keeps staggering on.

Gene Mauch, known infamously as the manager of the 1964 Phillies, who leading by 6 ½ games in September lost 10 in a row, told us, "Cockroaches and baseball keep coming back.'' And so baseball has returned in all its glory, old and new.

Hypnotic tedium was a description of baseball by Philip Roth, whose canon of work includes "The Great American Novel,'' dealing with the fortunes of a homeless baseball team. But Roth said not until he got to Harvard did he "find anything with a comparable emotional atmosphere and aesthetic appeal.'' Baseball was "the literature of my boyhood.''

The essence of baseball is cumulative tension. Each pitch adds to the question, the doubt. Does Cliff Lee go inside or outside to Jorge Posada? Does A.J. Burnett throw curves or fast balls to Chase Utley?

It's cold in the east. The games start too late - although not as late as past years - and go on forever. But New York and Philly are enthralled. So is much of America.

Baseball is the only team sport not played against a clock. It's the only team sport where a manager hikes to the mound to stall for time, where an argument with an official is not only accepted it's expected - even if never without positive results - where fans, like Jeffrey Mayer and Steve Bartman, may affect the outcome.

Baseball requires patience and persistence. The most famous cry is not "Play ball'' but "Wait ‘til next year.''

The Yankees have been waiting for some time. The Phillies, on the contrary, are trying to win a second straight championship, and you only wish the late James Michener, who authored dozens of books, could be around.

Michener once wrote a New York Times piece about his flawed love of the Phillies, which began in 1915 when he was 8-years-old and continued until his death in 1997. "Year after year,'' Michener conceded, "they wallowed in last place.''

A young literary critic confronted Michener and pointed out, "You seem to be optimistic about the human race. Don't you have a sense of tragedy?''

He answered, "Young man, when you root for the Phillies, you acquire a sense of tragedy.''

The Phillies are no longer tragic. They are involved in a World Series destined to go no fewer than five games and maybe with luck six or seven.

The Yankees have the prestige and the bullpen. The Phillies have a high degree of self confidence. Baseball has an attraction involving two of the country's more passionate sporting cities which happen to be located 100 miles apart.

Out West they wanted the Dodgers against the Angels, but truth tell this one is better, a team not many people other than baseball purists really know, the Phillies, and a team which because of its $200 million payroll and stars even the non-fan knows, those Damn Yankees.

And remember, you win with pitching.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

More to the point, are the Phillies blowing any chance of taking a commanding two-games-to-none lead against the Yankees by starting Pedro against the team he admittedly had epic problems pitching against? A team he famously declared was "his Daddy." The diminutive pitcher is 1-2 with a 4.72 ERA in six postseason appearances against his hated rivals.

This much is certain: Pedro, though an effective pitcher and an important late season addition to the Phillies when he won five of six starts, he even in fact won his last start at Yankee Stadium while a Met in 2005, is nowhere near the peerless, intimidating Hall of Fame hurler he was from the late 1990's until 2002. He is several years past his prime and will face a fierce, patient and vicious Yankee offense that will be looking to break out after being utterly dominated by the suddenly unhittable southpaw Cliff Lee in game one.

Phillies manager Charlie Manuel is an eminently likeable, elder statesmen figure and has proven to be the perfect fit for his team of multifarious talents. In fact he is their Joe Torre, with his calm but intense demeanor, absolute loyalty to his players and his reliance on instinct over stats to enforce his managerial will on a game. But it seems to me that Manuel is injecting a most unwanted element of emotional confusion and drama into tonight's game by starting Pedro. I find it borderline masochistic. And it may prove to be the misstep that causes the Phillies a chance to score a decided upset and beat the Yankees in the series.

It is clear that Manuel has other options for tonight's game.

Why not go with Cole Hamels tonight and save Martinez for game three in Philly? After all, this would give Philadelphia two consecutive starts with lefthanders against the vaunted Yankee power. The formula for beating the Yankees hasn't really changed that much since Babe Ruth - start lefties against them at Yankee Stadium. Cliff Lee, with his pinpoint variety of pitches that left the Yankees flailing last night is Exhibit A. Granted, Hamels has been hit fairly hard in his three postseason starts thus far but his control has been superb and he's been striking out nearly a batter per inning. And though he's only pitched twice against the Yankees, he does have a 2.77 ERA in those games.

Cockiness and confidence - always a thin line between the two and often intertwined - are necessary components to a successful athlete's makeup. And there's no doubt that Pedro has reserves of these qualities. But emotion is an underrated and undervalued part of sport. No matter how much Pedro wants to prove his many haters wrong - Yankee fans and journalists alike - sometimes it's best to reach for a smaller measure of revenge against your foe. This could have been accomplished by having Martinez start game three in Philadelphia where he'll be free of the visual ghosts that reside in the South Bronx. And this version of Pedro can't rely on pure power to overwhelm an opponent when he doesn't have his best stuff as he did in years past. It'll be hard enough for Martinez to remain focused with his finesse game, always a more taxing mental approach then throwing hard.

Why tempt fate? Why awake the famous mystique and aura (Curt Schilling's words) that are looking forward to settling in to their new digs across the street from their old residence on River Avenue?

If Pedro delivers six innings with only a couple of runs Manuel will look like the genius, defending World Series champion manager he is - no matter what the final score in game two. But I'd be shocked if Pedro makes it through five stanzas. There will be much second guessing going on in that famously angry mid-Atlantic city (City of Brotherly Love? Are you kidding me?) Friday morning, before the series resumes tied at one game apiece Saturday night.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

The two teams are extremely well matched. Both have potent and deep lineups that can generate multi-run innings from any spot in the order. Both led their leagues in runs, home runs, and slugging; had four players score at least 100 runs; and were extremely effective base-stealers as well (the Phillies stole at an 81.0% rate, best in baseball; the Yankees were second in their league and third in the majors at 79.9%). Both play in parks that favor the offense - though the Phillies actually hit more homers on the road than at home.

Both pitching staffs, on current form, have one dependable ace, two good and sometimes great starters, and a wealth of good arms in long relief and set-up roles. The closers are another story. Brad Lidge was perfect last season (48 for 48 in saves), dreadful in the '09 regular season (7.21 ERA, 11 blown saves), but has a 0.00 ERA in five postseason games this year. Mariano Rivera is Mariano Rivera.

The Yankees are... famous. Derek Jeter, Alex Rodriguez, Johnny Damon, Hideki Matsui, Jorge Posada, Andy Pettitte - the names are familiar to anyone who's followed the game over the last two decades. This year's team -- enlivened by the addition of C.C. Sabathia, A.J. Burnett, and Nick Swisher, bolstered by the offensive and defensive presence of Mark Teixeira -- has played with a looseness and joy absent from the Bronx since, oh, forever. Jeter at 35 has had a season straight out of his younger prime. A-Rod, shaken by scandal in the spring, has played as though free from the burden of being the team's focus in this postseason. Teixeira's playoff doldrums are unlikely to continue much longer; he did lead the AL in homers and RBIs this year.

The Phillies, the defending champs, are in the unusual position of being the team with more to prove, since the Yankees were all but conceded the title as soon as they spent their megamillions. Philadelphia's lineup is the equal of the Yanks': Ryan Howard, Jayson Werth, Chase Utley, and Raul Ibanez each topped 30 homers; Howard led the league against with 141 RBIs; Shane Victorino had a quietly effective season; and while Jimmy Rollins struggled, he can be an important spark at the top of the lineup in a short series. How is the Yankees outfield of Damon, Cabrera, and Swisher superior to the Phils' Ibanez, Victorino, and Werth? The Phillies ranked fourth in the majors in runs -- ahead of eleven teams that had the advantage of using DHs.

And now a word about one of the two most disgraceful aspects of World Series play, as it has been for the last twenty-four seasons. Whether you like the DH or hate the DH, it is absurd to play the Series under rules that disadvantage one league's team. Permitting the DH in games in AL parks but not in NL parks does not affect both teams equally; the AL team has the option of putting its DH at a defensive position, while the NL has to fill a position for which it has no need during the regular season. If you're an NL team, and have on your bench a starting-quality DH, there's something wrong with how you've allocated your resources.

The Series, as it generally does, will come down to pitching. A quick word about the other disgraceful aspect: playing games under what are certain to be difficult weather conditions. In the most important games of the year, it would be nice if a pitcher could choose among his various pitches without worrying about whether he can grip the ball well enough to throw it, or if he can even feel his fingers. The rotations are anchored by the recent prides of Cleveland, C.C. Sabathia and Cliff Lee. Sabathia has been terrific in the postseason, but so has Lee; the Cliff Lee of 2008-9 has pitched well against the Yankees (2-1, 1.89), while Sabathia in the same period has struggled against the Phils (0-2, 6.17). A.J. Burnett has never been a consistent pitcher, is averaging five walks per nine innings in the postseason, and Philadelphia has generally done well against him (5-8, 4.75 for his career). And for all of Andy Pettitte's reputation as a big-game pitcher, he has a losing record in the World Series (3-4).

Against the latter two, the Phillies will match up Pedro Martinez, a sure Hall of Famer who was brilliant against the Dodgers in the NLCS (and has long relished pitching against the Yankees), and Cole Hamels, last year's World Series MVP who is dominant when healthy. Is it at all unlikely that the Phils can get two top-notch starts out of Lee, and one of two each from Pedro and Hamels? The Phillies' long relievers, who should include rookie starter J.A. Happ for the Series, are less heralded than the Yankees' pair of Phil Hughes and Joba Chamberlain, but those two have looked nothing like their reputations lately (Joba's ERA since September 1 is 6.33; Hughes's ERA this postseason is 5.78, and he's allowed at least one hit in every outing). Which leaves only the closers: Can Lidge show some semblance of his 2008 form? Will Mariano Rivera, a month from his fortieth birthday, show imperfection at last?

Neither team is just happy to be there. The stage is set for seven explosive, tension-filled games. Phillies in seven.

Jeff Neuman is a sportswriter and editor, and co-author of A Disorderly Compendium of Golf.

McGwire became a near recluse, wanted to stay as far as possible from another question, another interview, another critical story.

He lived in a gated community in southern California's Orange Country, hung around with those who had the good sense not to be inquisitors and played as much golf as possible.

The votes came in for the Hall of Fame, and McGwire who at one time, before the steroids, before the painful appearance before Congress would have been a certain inductee, was rejected. And rejected a second time.

You can think what you wish, but McGwire belongs in the Hall. So does Barry Bonds. So do others whose performances were worthy.

The steroids, the artificial enhancements, were part of the late 1990s and early 2000s, part of baseball. They made players better, but they didn't make stars out of failures.

In time we will realize that. What Mark McGwire presumably realized is he wants dearly to be in the Hall, and to do that needs to rehabilitate an image that has been pounded as he once pounded the ball.

Or maybe the Hall of Fame is of no concern. Maybe McGwire decided he needed something in his life, an assignment, a challenge.

So here he comes, a few days past his 46th birthday, connecting with the man who managed him, first with the Oakland A's, then with the St. Louis Cardinals, Tony LaRussa. When LaRussa signed once more with the Cards he brought along as his hitting coach Mark McGwire. And why not?

McGwire was always shy, hesitant to face the press. He became part of the A's "Bash Brothers,'' almost by accident. He could hit home runs, but it was Jose Canseco, the extrovert, who hit the jackpot with the media. McGwire wasn't a bad guy, just a reluctant guy, at the opposite end of the clubhouse and the spectrum from Canseco.

At Damian High School in LaVerne, some 30 miles east of Los Angeles. McGwire even skipped baseball one semester to join the golf team. He was an independent sort. At USC he pitched, but when you're 6-foot-5 and 225 pounds, the future is as a slugger. Sorry, hitter.

The 1987 season in Oakland, when he was Rookie of the Year, following Canseco who earned the award in '86, McGwire hit 49 home runs. No artificial enhancements. Just natural ability. And yet he would tell writers, "I'm not a home run hitter.''

He wasn't any kind of hitter in 1991 when, unhinged because of family troubles, McGwire dropped to a .201 average. But he recovered quickly enough, and the photos of him and Canseco smacking forearms became familiar.

Retirement came after 2001. McGwire was out of sight until that painful 2005 hearing before a House committee when, asked whether he had played "with honesty and integrity, he responded, "I'm not going to go into the past or talk about my past. I'm here to make a positive influence on this.''

Refusing to address allegations against him and other players in Canseco's tell-all book, McGwire explained, "My lawyers have advised me I cannot answer these questions without jeopardizing my friends, my family and myself.''

He took the Fifth. And he took a whipping from the media. Presumed innocent until guilty? McGwire was presumed guilty until innocent. And then he went deeper into seclusion.

Wright Thompson of ESPN.com chased after McGwire a couple of years back, and wrote a wonderful piece with interviews from old pals and ex-USC teammates, but nothing at all from McGwire himself.

"He just wants to slink away,'' Ken Brison, son of a former McGwire Foundation board member told Thompson. Well, now he's unslunk.

Now he's agreed to put on a uniform and advise people with bats in their hands how to make contact while one supposes doing his best to avoid contact with journalists.

The game will be better off with McGwire as part of it. McGwire will be better off. Baseball cherishes its past, even the unfortunate parts. Triumph and figurative tragedy are ingrained. Willie Mays is a frequent visitor to San Francisco's AT&T Park, Tommy Lasorda a regular at Dodger Stadium. Barry Bonds has showed up now and then at Giants home games and was all over the place during the recent Presidents Cup international golf matches at Harding Park.

Mark McGwire is back. Maybe Barry also becomes a batting coach. Maybe it doesn't help their Hall of Fame chances, but it certainly doesn't hurt.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

The notion and belief in redemption has for the most part proved beneficial to our nature, frequently aiding in our efforts to stake out the compassionate ground of our collective character.

But the flip side of forgiveness and redemption - or perhaps more aptly described as selective amnesia and denial - is that while it is necessary to survive and thrive through crisis, it also allows for too much to slip through, causing a blurring of the facts and a disturbing lack or permanent loss of perspective. So occasionally reminders must be sent out.

In sports, the narrative of second chances are routinely woven into nearly every major event and this year's baseball postseason is no exception. Indeed, the New York Yankees and Major League Baseball provide ample evidence of the inevitable triumph, whether deserved or not, of second chances.

It was entirely appropriate that Andy Pettitte was on the mound last night, pitching the Yankees to their 40th World Series with a strong performance that Yankee fans have become accustomed to in his two tours of duty in the Bronx. One can be excused for feeling as if they had been transported back to the late 1990's when Pettitte delivered clutch pitching in many a postseason contest.

The raucous applause from the Yankee faithful at the new stadium when Pettitte exited the game in the seventh inning could also be viewed through the lens of justifiable forgiveness - as his admirers were perhaps letting Pettitte know that they have long moved past his use of steroids.

When Pettitte admitted using human growth hormone on only a handful of occasions to fight off injury, there was nearly universal acceptance and belief in his statement. His upstanding character nearly demanded it. And nothing he has done before or since would give any fodder to his few detractors. The soft-spoken southpaw has been remarkably consistent in both his pitching and outward demeanor and his return to vintage form - pitching out of difficulty with a steady hand - has been entirely welcome.

But the big story of the 2009 postseason when it comes to redemption is obviously that of Alex Rodriguez. His storied, nearly epic hitting struggles in the clutch that commenced with the 2004 disaster against the Red Sox and continued on a raging downward spiral the following three years worth of playoff games have come to an abrupt and definitive end during this October. He has been the most prolific offensive force thus far in the Yankees' two series victories and it'd be surprising if he doesn't pummel National League pitching in the World Series.

But here is where there is an irksome loss of perspective. It appears to this writer that fans and commentators alike have put completely behind them the pathetic fact that A-Rod lied on numerous occasions in front of audiences both large and small, including a 60 Minutes interview, regarding his use of steroids during his years with the Texas Rangers - with the saddest aspect being that as talented as he was he needed no further advantage. And though he came clean, barely, when finally pressured many questions remain unanswered.

Lest people forget, the otherworldly talented Rodriguez stated back in February that he was "young, naive and stupid" during those years he was ingesting the banned substances and that he didn't know which drugs he was taking. We were supposed to buy the story that at the age of 27 he was still clueless - this after being a superstar and exposed to all of life's bounty by the time he was 20.

As we now know following the suspension of Manny Ramirez and the swirling suspicions surrounding his fellow Fenway Force David Ortiz, A-Rod was far from the only megastar whose name was linked to steroids over the last year and there is an argument that Rodriguez was unfairly outed and that if he weren't a Yankee it wouldn't have generated as much hype. These are not mortal sins after all, as we are talking about a game.

And A-Rod should be celebrated for his fertile fall but some tempering is called for - or at least a longer memory - before he is sainted in Yankee land following their 27th world title which they'll surely secure next week.

One individual who has clearly run out of chances and who needs to be cut off prematurely before his scheduled closing time in 2012 is our fair commissioner Bud Selig. For all his sincere love of the sport and his superb stewardship of his beloved Milwaukee Brewers three decades ago, Selig has been an utter failure as the overseer of America's pastime.

As if the steroid scandal and All-Star game fiasco weren't enough cause for his removal from his basically self-appointed position serving his fellow owners, we now are witness to yet another affront to baseball sensibilities - that is, the scheduling of the World Series in November. It is an absolute insult to the integrity and rhythm of the sport. Selig has proven to be all too complicit in our country's complete and total submission to moneyed interests which in Bud's case is TV ratings. But what Selig doesn't seem to grasp or see is that further erosion of the game's integrity puts the sport in jeopardy, something far more harmful than a drop in viewers.

Angels' manager Mike Scioscia put it best a few days ago when he said, "it's ridiculous, taking 21 days to play eight games. Can I say it any clearer than that? I think that it's something that eventually is going to have to be addressed. And I think that it does have an impact. I don't know if it has an impact so much on who wins or loses but it has an impact on the quality of play. And I think that's very, very important to the integrity of our game.''

Just like our fragile economy, do the important issues in baseball have to get even worse before any action is taken? Will the owners ever dare to let an outsider run the sport? After all that's the way it was done until Selig's ruinous reign. There have been good and bad commissioners in the past but at least they were not in on the fix so completely. One gets the feeling that fans aren't angry enough about how unsettling it is to have had an absence of objectivity in the sport's Park Avenue offices.

I mean, after all, you hear about those irrational, obsessed people fretting about how the chance of a "communistic", government aided healthcare program would spell doom for America - but I think the baseball fans among them would be well advised to turn their attention to protesting the fact that the owners are in a cabal all by themselves, something more similar to the Cold War era Soviet Politburo than anything liberals could come up with.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

But that's the way sports betting goes, even the perfect system (and really, there is no such thing) will have a few bad weeks due to unforeseen circumstances. Last week, we went 4-10 against the spread, but two of the losses were by one point and another two turned against us in the final minute of the game.

Overall, we're still comfortably ahead. On the season, we are 33-28, with a winning percentage of 57. Our week-by-week breakdown:

- Week 3: 11-5

- Week 4: 8-6

- Week 5: 10-4

- Week 6: 4-10

We're moving on. One week does not a trend make. So here are our picks for Week 7 (point-spread as of Saturday night, the latest line here):

KANSAS CITY (+6) over San Diego
PITTSBURGH (-6) over Minnesota
Green Bay (-8.5) over CLEVELAND
TAMPA BAY (+16) over New England
San Francisco (+3) over HOUSTON
ST. LOUIS (+15) over Indianapolis
CAROLINA (-7) over Buffalo
OAKLAND (+7) over NY Jets
Chicago (EVEN) over CINCINNATI
MIAMI (+7) over New Orleans
DALLAS (-4.5) over Atlanta
NY GIANTS (-7) over Arizona
WASHINGTON (+7.5) over Philadelphia

Check back with us next week. And good luck!

Florida has the World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party next week (I know the schools now frown upon the moniker, but since when do I give a flying fig about the eggheads and their pusillanimous sensitivities?). Mind you, Georgia is more poodle than Bulldog this year, but the game in Jacksonville is always a big deal. The Gators had better not overlook Mississippi State, though, as it's now coached by Dan Mullen, their erstwhile offensive coordinator. Take this game lightly at your own peril, see Exhibit A: Sarkisian, Steve vs. USC.

Alabama has Halloween off to go trick or treating, but it gets LSU the following week. The Tigers may be the final stumbling block for the Tide's return to the SEC Championship Game and another shot at the BCS title. This week, they welcome Lane Kiffin to Tuscaloosa as part of his ongoing Southern Hospitality Tour.

The biggest game in the Pac-10 this season looms next Saturday at Autzen Stadium, where Oregon attempts to end USC's reign as top dog. Before their tussle, though, the Trojans must take care of business against the pesky Beavers, who have beaten them two of the last three years (but both in Corvallis, not the Coliseum). Oregon goes up to Washington to renew its heated rivalry with the resurgent Huskies.

And finally, there's Texas. Next week's game at Stillwater against Oklahoma State will be a make-or-breaker for the Longhorns. A win, and a BCS title game berth will be within reach. A loss there may mean being denied yet another shot at the Big 12 championship, let along a national championship. This week, they're on the road to Columbia to face a reeling Missouri team.

Only one of those contests will make our top games of the week. But keep an eye on them, though, as this is the perfect time for an unsuspecting title contender to succumb to a season-killing upset.

★★★★★ GAME OF THE WEEK: TCU at BYU, 7:30 p.m. ET (Versus). TCU is one of eight remaining unbeaten teams and is vying with Boise State for a guaranteed bid granted to a non-BCS team as long as it finishes in the top 12. BYU had been the front-runner for that spot after upsetting Oklahoma, but a loss to Florida State knocked the Cougars out of the race. The Frogs may even have a shot at playing for the BCS title, but they need to win this game, and get some help.

★★★★ FOUR-STAR GAME: Iowa at Michigan State, 7 p.m. ET (Big Ten Network). The Hawkeyes have surprisingly emerged as the Big Ten's top BCS contender, and this trip to East Lansing is the penultimate road game for them this season. Get by Sparty and win at Ohio State, then Iowa will be playing in Pasadena, on either New Year's Day or Jan. 7.

★★★ THREE-STAR GAME: Auburn at LSU, 7:30 p.m. ET (ESPN2). The battle of the Tigers lost a little bit of its bite after Auburn dropped its last two games. But for the Bayou Tigers, this is a must-win game to keep their hopes alive of winning the SEC West and return to the conference title game. LSU will be seeking to restart a home winning streak in night games after having that snapped by Florida two weeks ago.

★★ TWO-STAR GAME: Penn State at Michigan, 3:30 p.m. ET (ABC). The Big House has been nothing but a house of horrors for the Nittany Lions, who have lost their last five visits to Ann Arbor. Last year, they finally ended Michigan's nine-game winning streak in the series with a rout in Happy Valley, but Rich Rodriguez's Wolverines this year will be much more menacing.

★ ONE-STAR GAME: Oregon at Washington, 3:30 p.m. ET (ABC). The Ducks have certainly recovered from their season-opening meltdown at Boise State, winning each of their five games since. They have also done it with style, blasting their three Pac-10 opponents by a score of 118-19. The Huskies have been the ultimate cardiac kids, with their last three games decided on the final possession. But UW must quickly recover from last week's heartbreaker, when it gave up a 50-yard bomb with 5 seconds left in a 24-17 loss to Arizona State.

(Cross-post at BCS Guru)

Samuel Chi is Editor of RealClearSports. He may be reached at sam@realclearsports.com.

This following Steve Phillips, former major league GM, recent baseball analyst and oft-time Don Juan, being forced to take a leave of absence by ESPN for reasons that had nothing to do with the hit-or-take sign.

We know the real world is out there, but how about allowing us a few unspoiled moments when we don't have to worry about troubles other than a pitcher losing his stuff.

In SoCal, from the very start of the Dodgers' League Championship Series against the Phillies, the issue seemed to be about Frank McCourt not so much losing his spouse, the self-assured and quite well-heeled Jamie, but about losing his team. To his spouse.

So as that melodrama unfolded - he's going to have to sell, as John Moores in San Diego; no, she's going to give up her 50 percent - along comes Phillips to take the headlines. He had what was called "a fling,'' and that didn't mean hurling a baseball.

Parallel worlds. Phillips' wife apparently is filing for divorce for his dangerous liaisons. Meanwhile, with the McCourts the word "divorce'' has not been spoken, only speculated.

Up in Northern California, where hatred of the Dodgers is more noticeable than love of the Giants - yes, jealousy - the citizenry is viewing the McCourts' problems as pure Hollywood. And also with pure delight.

Even Giants fans are respectful of the tradition of marriage and wish no ill will to either McCourt. But if their union does fail, there's the possibility the Dodgers also may fail. After all, the Padres went from a champion to a disaster when the assets were divided, as required by law.

It was interesting McCourt announced the removal of his wife of 30 years from her post the day after the Dodgers had been removed from the playoffs by the Phillies. Presumably he thought everyone in L.A. either would be in such a funk they wouldn't notice a little hanky panky in the front office.

One person who did notice, of course, was Jamie McCourt. Another was her attorney, Dennis Wasser, who gave the normal legal response in such situations, to wit: "Jamie is disappointed and saddened by her termination. As co-owner of the Dodgers, she will address this and all other issues in the courtroom.''

All other issues? What would they be, whether Steve Phillips will stop huddling with girls half his age?

Frank McCourt's attorney, Marshall Grossman, played barrister-ignorant on whether his client had canned the mother of their four children from the post she'd held since March.

"The Dodgers' policy is not to comment on personal issues,'' said Marshall Grossman, Frank McCourt's guy. Then they stand alone in the mess, since everyone else is commenting, gossiping and guessing.

What happens to the Dodgers? What happens to Joe Torre? Normally, owners fire managers, not chief executives.

Is Jamie McCourt, who teaches at UCLA's business school and has degrees from Georgetown, the Sorbonne and University of Maryland School of Law, really lining up investors to buy out her hubby?

Does Steve Phillips wish he had a woman as sharp as Jamie figuring out a way to save his career?

When McCourt vs. McCourt gets to a court, it could make Judge Judy blush.

Grossman contends "Frank McCourt is the owner of the team.'' Wasser contends, "If the ownership issue must be adjudicated, the Dodgers will be determined to be community property, owned 50 percent by each of the McCourts.''

OK, Jamie, which half of Manny Ramirez do you want?

Major League Baseball lists Frank McCourt as the Dodgers' "control person,'' but according to Bill Shaikin of the Los Angeles Times, a "high-ranking baseball source'' said the couple presented themselves together for the approval of commissioner Bud Selig when they bought the team in 2004.

"I think,'' agreed the source, "it's going to be pretty ugly.''

It already has been. Baseball doesn't need this, doesn't need the embarrassment of Steve Phillips, not during the post-season, not any time.

You think those people in the right field pavilion at Dodger Stadium are the least bit concerned with Jamie and Frank McCourt's domestic relationship. They've got their own problems.

They turn to the Dodgers, to baseball, to any sport, for a few hours of entertainment. Of course, in L.A., marriage on the rocks is part of the entertainment.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

No entertainment personalities. No inside info on the breakup of Jamie and Frank's marriage. No Tommy Lasorda anecdotes. No confusion whether they're the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, the Anaheim Angels of Los Angeles or Charlie's Angels.

The Yankees are supposed to be that good, aren't they? A-Rod has the largest contract in history. Sabathia got enough to bail out Wall Street. He certainly bailed out a team that last year didn't even get to the playoffs. Mark Teixeira is earning $20 mill a season, or thereabouts. Then there are Derek Jeter, Johnny Damon, and a cast of thousands.

TV loves the Yankees. Because so much of America hates them. Or did. It was the Red Sox who stepped in for the Yanks as target of our disenchantment the last few seasons. They became the very Evil Empire that the execs in Boston called the Yankees.

The theory here is "In cars, wine and ballplayers you get what you pay for, with exceptions.'' Alex Rodriguez has hit a home run in three straight post-season games, five total. He's acting like a guy who should be getting millions.

Long ago, the Yankees of Ruth, Gehrig and their teammates were nicknamed the "Bronx Bombers,'' a label shortened in the New York tabloids to Bombers. As in Bombers crush Angels. And in Game 4 of the American League Championship Series they certainly did.

Not a great 24 hours for the folks along the Pacific Ocean. The Phillies rally with two outs in the ninth to beat the Dodgers on Monday night, and then the Yankees do some freeway wheeling, 10-1, Tuesday evening.

A Yankees-Phils World Series isn't quite as glamorous as Yankees-Dodgers or, as the West Coast crazies would have preferred, Angels-Dodgers, but the baseball itself should be fascinating.

One team is the defending World Series champ, the other long has been the template for judging American sports. Arguably the three most famous franchises on the planet are Manchester United, FC Barcelona and the New York Yankees.

In the case of all three, they're the best teams money can buy. But in a way that's incidental. Pack together a lot of star players and it results in success on the field, or pitch, and at the gate or on the tube. Did anyone notice Friday night the Yankees-Angels had a TV rating nearly twice that of Dodgers-Phils?

You sort of wish the problems with the economy were as easily correctly as those with the Yankees. Sign C.C. Sign Teixeira. Pick up Nick Swisher and that's that.

All the agonizing in March, about A-Rod on steroids, about A-Rod undergoing hip surgery, about A-Rod struggling to find his form has quieted considerably.

He's knocking balls into the stands. He's scoring from second on singles. He's playing like a $250 million man.

Rodriguez went from Seattle to Texas to the Yankees, but he's never gone to the top, never been a World Series Champion, a point emphasized on the back pages of the tabs.

They've been waiting for a new Mr. October. He's arrived.

Only a week ago, after the Angels and Dodgers swept their division championship series from two very good clubs, the Red Sox and Cardinals, euphoria was on the loose in L.A. and vicinity.

Thirty miles or so from Anaheim to Dodger Stadium. Randy Newman's song "I Love L.A.'' on the radio. Great fall weather. Eat your heart out Manhattan while we roll back our sun roofs and roll down Interstate 5.

It isn't going to happen. Not even half of it. No Angels. No Dodgers. Instead it's going to be the very underappreciated Phillies and the very impressive Yankees. Instead it's going to be two teams who have a beautiful blend of pitching and hitting.

Southern California was getting just a bit cocky. The Lakers won the NBA title. USC is no worse than the fifth best college football team in the land (despite what the BCS says). And then the Angels and Dodgers had made it one step from one short drive to a regional World Series.

But unlike so many Hollywood productions, this one will end without the hero getting the girl, or more specifically the two baseball teams getting what they thought they would an opportunity to meet for a title.

A bummer. Or should that be a Bomber?

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

So maybe this is for real I thought, as this Yankee team is truly dominant and deserves comparison to those storied teams of the late 1990's. After all, the Finally Fruitful Fall of Alex Rodriguez has been something to watch. His newfound, uncanny knack for crucial late inning home runs during this 2009 postseason (he also had one during the middle innings on this night) has been one of the key reasons why the Yankees entered the game with a commanding two-games-to-none series lead. Though he is not and perhaps never may be the incarnation of Jeter in October, A-Rod has nonetheless squashed all talk of choking.

But manager Joe Girardi, who managed superbly during the regular season in guiding the Yankees to a dominant 103 win season, could not conjure up that other most "intangibly important" Yankee from a decade ago, the man who shares his first name - Joe Torre.

In fact, during this game at least, Girardi would be fairly characterized as the anti-Torre. Choosing to run back to check stats from his loose leaf binders in the visitors dugout rather than use his eyes and his instinct - which was Torre's chosen strategy on most occasions - Girardi made a series of horrendous decisions leading to a 5-4 loss to the Angels. Bizarrely enough, the Yankees have now scored four runs in five consecutive playoff games, which has to be some sort of record.

Perhaps it was his overly thoughtful Libran nature which can at times stifle action and result in over thinking, as compared to the innately instinctual Cancerian nature that Torre embodied. Whatever the case, the evidence of Girardi's missteps were plentiful. I'll just enumerate an unholy trinity of poor decisions here:

• In the sixth inning Girardi made a trip to the mound with a seemingly determined look on his face as he spoke to Posada and Pettitte about the strategy when pitching to Vladimir Guerrerro. Though the Angeles slugger has struggled of late he presented a clear threat to tie the game. Girardi implied that he wanted Pettitte to pitch around him - why not just walk Guerrerro?
• Worried that the weak arm of Johnny Damon may cost the Yankees a run in the top of the 10th on a possible sacrifice fly when the Angels had the bases loaded and one out with Rivera on the mound, Girardi chose to replace Damon with Jerry Hairston thereby forcing Rivera to take the place of the designated hitter in the batting order. Girardi then used a pinch hitter in the 11th and Rivera was out of the game when he clearly could have pitched another inning. And with one out and Rivera on the mound why take out Damon? There was a good chance Rivera could induce a few weak fly balls or ground outs - which he did - and the benefits of pitching Rivera far outweighed the chances of a medium distance fly ball being hit to Damon.
• In the bottom of the 11th, Girardi chose to go with David Robertson who has been hurling very well of late. He pitched superbly, getting the first two batters out with ease. But then Girardi ran back those two feet in the dugout to check his stats and determined that the match-up against Itzuris and Mathis favored Alfredo Aceves. (And it must be noted that Mike Scioscia made brilliant moves, going with his gut by allow the not fleet-of-foot Mathis to stay in the game.) Aceves then gave up two hits and the game was over. In the 2009 postseason thus far, Aceves has allowed seven base runners in two and a third innings.

Did Girardi not feel strong enough to tell Pettitte just to walk Guerrerro or literally just throw the ball in the dirt to see if the powerful, possible future Hall of Famer would reach for a few pitches - after all, until tonight Guerrerro has looked fairly desperate at the plate. Did not Girardi witness how effective Robertson had been during the eleven pitches he threw to Posada? And most importantly, did Girardi panic, managing as if his team was playing in an elimination game, using seven - count them, seven! - pitchers in relief?

It's only one game and Girardi obviously pulled all the right levers during the regular season and the Angels were destined to break through and beat a team they have demonized for the better part of the decade. And until Monday night the Yankees have been playing more fundamentally sound baseball than Los Angeles.

But if the Yankees lose tomorrow night, the manager - not the players - will be feeling the most pressure. And having already failed last year in not leading the Yankees to the postseason for the first time since 1993 (after Torre had managed 12 consecutive playoff seasons) Girardi is in desperate need of an A-Rod boost - after all, if the most vilified Yankee has demolished nearly all suspicions about his October activities, then Girardi can surely overcome a few self doubts and manage from his gut rather than his notes.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

Well, here at RealClearSports, someone may have cracked the code. We've tested our method over the last three weeks of the NFL season (Weeks 3-5) and our record, against the point-spread, is 29-15. That's right, a whopping 66 percent.

This is how we did from week-to-week:

- Week 3: 11-5

- Week 4: 8-6

- Week 5: 10-4

Emboldened, we're now sharing our little secret with the public as we will be unveiling our picks every Sunday. Of course, a couple of discliamers here: Past performance is no guarantee of future success; unless you're in the state of Nevada and wager legally at the sportbooks, these picks are for entertainment purposes only; and compulsive gambling is a serious disorder, so we don't encourage it in any way whatsoever.

So are you ready? Here are our picks for Week 6 (point-spread as of Saturday night, the latest line here):

NY Giants (+3) over NEW ORLEANS
St. Louis (+9.5) over JACKSONVILLE
CINCINNATI (-5) over Houston
PITTSBURGH (-14) over Cleveland
TAMPA BAY (+3) over Carolina
MINNESOTA (-3) over Baltimore
Detroit (+14) over GREEN BAY
WASHINGTON (-6) over Kansas City
OAKLAND (+14) over Philadelphia
SEATTLE (-3) over Arizona
NEW ENGLAND (-10) over Tennessee
NY JETS (-9.5) over Buffalo
Chicago (+3) over ATLANTA
Denver (+3.5) over SAN DIEGO

Good luck and check back with us next week.

The game is at home - they can let the grass grow. The Trojans have a freshman quarterback and a sputtering offense. Jimmy Clausen is a true Heisman candidate and can't wait to finally pick apart the USC defense.

It all sounds nice and interesting. But it's all hype.

The Irish ain't gonna beat the Trojans. Not now. Not next year. Not anytime soon.

Notre Dame's 4-1 record was achieved mostly by late-game meltdowns (offensively, defensively or officially) by its mediocre opponents. Michigan State absolutely gagged the game away as it was marching down the field for a game-winning touchdown. Purdue choked with a blown assignment on the game's last meaningful offensive play, a fourth-down pass by Notre Dame. And with its victory over Washington, ND forever loses any future privilege for whining about the Bush Push, for the entire Irish offensive line drivepiled the ball into the end zone while the officials swallowed the whistle during the interminable 2-point conversion.

So there.

The fact remains that Notre Dame simply isn't in USC's class. The Trojans had their annual September slumber against an inferior Pac-10 opponent. That happens every year, and it continues to be the one thing that tarnishes Win Forever. But they usually hit their stride by October. And they don't give away games that they feel like they have something to play for.

Even with freshman quarterback Matt Barkley and a somewhat depleted running back corps, the Trojans still have enough firepower on offense to overwhelm the Irish. Defensively, USC has been its stout self this season, stifling high-powered offenses such as Ohio State, Cal and Washington with both speed and scheme. There is no reason that USC shouldn't be a prohibitive favorite in this game - by 10 points in most betting lines.

For Charlie Weis, building up this game will have consequences. He's in need of a signature win - so far in his four-plus years in South Bend, his most memorable moment was the near-miss Bush Push Game. Under Weis, the Irish have been trounced in each BCS bowl game. They have lost to Michigan whenever Michigan was any good. And they have not come close to beating USC except in 2005, Weis' first year.

The clock is ticking in the Weis Era. Another loss to USC will drop Notre Dame out of the top 25. The Irish do not have another opponent near the Trojans' stature left on their schedule. A 10-2 record, with losses to Michigan and USC (ND's two marquee rivals), will not get ND into a BCS bowl. It might be good enough to save Weis' job for another year. But for some of the true Notre Dame fans, that's just prolonging the agony.

★★★★★ GAME OF THE WEEK: Oklahoma vs. Texas, noon ET (ABC). Despite OU's two losses, the Red River Shootout in Dallas still takes the top billing this week. Sam Bradford is back for the Sooners, whose desperation to win this game should be obvious. A victory sends Oklahoma on track for the Big XII South title and a BCS bowl berth. A loss effectively ends its season. Texas has national championship aspirations, but the 'Horns won't win anything if they don't beat OU.

★★★★ FOUR-STAR GAME: USC at Notre Dame, 3:30 p.m. ET (NBC). The Trojans are still aiming for the BCS title, and the Irish think they have a shot at a BCS bowl. Somebody's plan will be unalterably changed after this game.

★★★ THREE-STAR GAME: Virginia Tech at Georgia Tech, 6 p.m. ET (ESPN2). The Hokies are No. 3 in the final Simulated BCS Standings and may stay there with a Texas loss. Their remaining schedule is much more agreeable than all the other major title contenders. And win here will keep VT as a potential frontrunner for the BCS championship game.

★★ TWO-STAR GAME: South Carolina at Alabama, 7:45 p.m. ET (ESPN). The Tide have a considerably tougher schedule than Florida, as the two teams seem to be on a collision course to play for the SEC title and a spot in the BCS championship game. South Carolina has been steady if unspectacular, but whatever it's got won't be enough to win in Tuscaloosa.

★ ONE-STAR GAME: Iowa at Wisconsin, noon p.m. ET (ESPN). The Big Ten's lone unbeaten team tries to emerge as a surprise contender not only for the Rose Bowl, but also for the game a week later in Pasadena. The Hawkeyes have danced on a tightrope in their victories against opponents big and small. The question is, how long can they keep up?

(Cross-post at BCS Guru)

Samuel Chi is Editor of RealClearSports. He may be reached at sam@realclearsports.com.

"I didn't really feel the quake at first,'' Bob Welch said a while ago. He was in the visiting clubhouse, getting liniment rubbed on his shoulder. He was five minutes from walking to the bullpen to warm up, to prepare for his start.

"I thought they were rolling barrels on the ramps above the clubhouse.''

On the other side, Dusty Baker, the Giants' batting coach at the time, didn't have any doubts. He knew it was an earthquake.

Up in the second deck at Candlestick Park, where the overflow media had been seated, an area of temporary desks, the so-called auxiliary press box, I also knew.

What no one knew was how severe it would be. How it would knock down freeways, dissect the World Series.

Twenty years ago. I still have the memories. I still have a copy of the column I wrote for the San Francisco Examiner a couple of days after the quake. Not the night of the quake, because there was no power in the city.

The Examiner and Chronicle, a joint-operating effort, couldn't print. The Oakland Tribune could. The San Jose Mercury could, but not the papers in the city where the tragedy occurred.

Rob Matwick is an exec with the Texas Rangers now. Twenty years ago he was public relations director for the Houston Astros, assigned as many of his colleagues, to work the Series. He was adjacent to me when it sounded as if a fright train were running through the park.

"What's that?'' he asked. As Dusty, I'm a native Californian. "An earthquake,'' I answered. I'd spent all my life in the state, south and north, I know earthquakes.

"But,'' I wrote 20 years ago, "I've never known one like this before. Candlestick swayed like a ship on a stormy sea. The quake lasted maybe 15 seconds that seemed like an hour.

"And then it was over, and some 60,000 cheered. They were Californians. They were Giants fans. They were survivors. Surely this was a sign from nature: No harm, no foul. ‘Play ball, play ball,' they began to chant.''

The teams couldn't play. No power. No lights. No idea of what was happening.

Norm Sherry, the Giants pitching coach, was telling those on the field, "The Bay Bridge is down.'' I had one of those little battery-powered TV sets. The bridge was standing, but a section of the upper deck had dropped onto the lower deck.

In effect, the bottom had dropped out of the World Series.

"After it stopped,'' said Welch, who now lives in Arizona, "I still thought I was going to pitch. Actually, I thought about (Oct. 1) 1987, when my last start for the Dodgers, there was a 5.9 quake in L.A. that rolled me out of bed.''

This one, the Loma Prieta Quake, named for the fault some 65 miles southwest of San Francisco, was first called at 6.9 on the Richter scale, where the rating is logarithmic and not merely one step above the next.

Then it was revised to 7.1, the worst earthquake in Northern California since the infamous one of 1906 which along with a subsequent fire destroyed most of San Francisco.

There was a fire in the '89 quake too, centralized in the Marina District, and because of low pressure water had to be pumped from the bay. A couple of days after the quake, Joe DiMaggio was in line with Marina residents to check on property owned by his family.

That first night was science-fiction eerie. All of San Francisco was pitch-black. No lights, no elevators, no television. The next afternoon baseball commissioner Fay Vincent spoke to the media in a ballroom at the St. Francisco Hotel lit only by candelabra, as in the 18th Century.

From Candlestick to candelabra in a matter of hours.

Dozens were killed by the quake, many under a collapsed freeway in Oakland, never to be rebuilt. Damage was in the billions.

Candlestick, windy, much-reviled Candlestick, built on a solid ground, held up except for broken hunks of cement here and there.

The A's, who had taken the first two games in Oakland, decided to dress at their park and bus across the bay, maybe 23 miles from stadium to stadium. Wives and families had come in their own transportation.

Mark McGwire helped his then girlfriend from the stands. As the A's Stan Javier, years later to play for the Giants helped his wife, Vera. Oakland's Terry Steinbach embraced his wife, Mary. The Giants' Kelly Downs, in a photo which would be on the cover of Sports Illustrated, carried a young relative to safety.

Jose Canseco would be seen gassing up his Porsche some place down the Peninsula from Candlestick. Who knew if the San Mateo Bridge, the next one south of the Bay Bridge were open - it wasn't at first - or even the Dumbarton Bridge?

Some wanted the World Series stopped right there. Vincent, alluding to Winston Churchill insisting the cinemas in London be kept open during Blitz to create a sense of normalcy, intended to continue.

Ten days after the quake, with a group of rescue workers and police and firemen tossing out ceremonial first pitches, baseball was back. But not for long. The A's won two more and swept the Series.

Twenty years ago, a time of joy and grief.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

The Yankees' winter spending spree was impossible to ignore. Reeling from the end of their thirteen-year postseason streak, they added starting pitchers C.C. Sabathia and A.J. Burnett and first baseman Mark Teixeira (from the Angels) as free agents, with outfielder Nick Swisher coming over in a lopsided trade. Has any team makeover ever worked as well? Sabathia was a horse, averaging nearly seven innings per start, winning a major-league high 19 games. Burnett had his second healthy year in a row, going 13-9 despite leading the AL in walks. Swisher became the regular right-fielder after one disappointing year in Chicago, and returned to the form he'd shown as a budding star in Oakland, hitting 29 home runs (21 on the road) and drawing 97 walks. All Teixeira did was lead the AL in home runs and RBIs, while providing excellent defense at first.

Johnny Damon contributed his best season in years, and Derek Jeter and Robinson Cano became the only double-play combination in baseball history to have 200 hits each. Mariano Rivera pitched like Mariano Rivera, and manager Joe Girardi found the eighth-inning compliment he'd been missing by shifting young Phil Hughes to the bullpen. Hughes struggled as a starter, going 3-2 with a 5.45 ERA in the early season; beginning in June, he worked exclusively in relief, posting a 1.40 ERA and holding opponents to a .172 average.

And then there was Alex Rodriguez. His year began with the steroids revelations and the publication of Selena Roberts's book about him. He opted for spring surgery on his ailing hip, and the procedure had the twin effects of repairing damage and allowing the often-hostile Yankees fans to miss him for a while. By the time he came back, the team was 13-15, and Manny Ramirez had taken over as the latest pharmacological scapegoat. A-Rod homered on the first pitch he saw, and wound up with 30 home runs and 100 RBIs in 124 games. He seems happier to be just one of many parts of the team instead of its focal point; he may have gotten enough attention in February and March to last a lifetime. The club has played at a .679 clip, 93-44, since he rejoined the lineup. He even delivered a big October hit, his two-run ninth-inning home run off Joe Nathan that sent game two of the ALDS into extra innings.

The new faces brought an entirely new spirit and enthusiasm to the team. The Yankees played with a visible joy that they'd never shown even in their near-dynasty of the 1990s. During a three-game series against the Twins in May, they won each game with a walkoff hit - and the hero was rewarded with a shaving-cream pie in the face during his postgame TV interview, courtesy of A.J. Burnett. Pies - and wins - became an instant tradition as the Yankees won twenty-eight games in their final at bat, the most in the majors. Angels center-fielder Torii Hunter noticed the change, telling reporters in September, "There's something different over there about those guys, like they're having a lot more fun instead of walking on eggshells."

If the Yankees' early wound was self-inflicted, the Angels' was truly tragic. The season was just three games old when 22-year-old starting pitcher Nick Adenhart was killed in a car crash. The clearly shaken team limped through April, and was still sitting at .500 in the second week of June. John Lackey and Ervin Santana returned to the rotation in May, though Santana never recovered the form he'd shown in 2008. But suddenly, almost overnight, the team seemed to shift from shock and grief to inspiration and determination. They won 13 of 16, lost Torii Hunter and Vlad Guerrero to injuries and went 17-4 without them, and romped through the rest of the season with a 71-36 record after June 11. Adenhart's home locker remains untouched, and a locker is set aside for his memory on the road.

The biggest surprise for the Angels was the blossoming of Cuban émigré Kendry Morales. In his first full season, replacing the departed Teixeira, Morales hit 34 homers and drove in 108 runs while earning $21 million less this year than the new Yankee. During the Angels' four-month surge that began June 12, Morales hit .331 with an OPS of 1.015. He joined with the quietly effective Bobby Abreu to spread the offensive burden throughout the lineup; seven Angels scored at least 70 runs, the most in the majors, and the Angels finished second in the AL in scoring.

The number-one offense in the AL was in New York, of course. The Yankees and Angels had the exact same number of hits, but the Yankees had 35 more doubles and a whopping 71 more home runs. They also drew over a hundred more walks. The Angels have the reputation of an aggressive, running team - but while the Yankees stole 37 fewer bases than the Angels, they were caught stealing 35 fewer times, so the running game was more of an advantage to the New Yorkers than to the Angelenos/Anaheimers.

The Angels will put forward a good rotation against the Yankees: Lackey, Jered Weaver, Scott Kazmir, and Joe Saunders have all pitched effectively against New York in the past, while Sabathia, Burnett, and Pettitte have struggled against the Angels. Still, Sabathia gives the Yankees the one true ace in this series, and they will probably pitch him on three days' rest, starting him in game one and bringing him back for game four. Sabathia made three consecutive starts on four days' rest for the Brewers in September 2008; he went 2-1 with a 0.83 ERA while averaging seven innings per game. He can handle it. For the Angels' good-but-not-great staff, the Yankees' lineup will be much harder to handle.

Yankees in five.

Jeff Neuman is a sportswriter and editor, and co-author of A Disorderly Compendium of Golf.

There are no Tampa Bays among baseball's final four this year. All the participants in the 2009 League Championship Series are solid members of the $100 million club, proud possessors of nine-figure payrolls. Such expenditures don't guarantee success - ask a Mets fan, if you can find one - but failing to make them helps you get an early start on your autumn vacation.

Big markets don't always add up to big ratings, but this year's foursome offers something for every fan's taste: a defending champion with a patched-up rotation and an arsonist for a closer; two Southern California squads with balanced offenses, pitching staffs bolstered by late-season acquisitions, and likable Italian-American managers; and one 500-pound gorilla that spent lavishly and well, adding two top starters and two power bats to a star-drenched squad.

The Phillies-Dodgers series is a repeat of the 2008 NLCS, won by Philadelphia in five games. Cole Hamels shut the Dodgers down in games one and five, and the deep bullpen allowed three runs in eighteen and two-thirds innings. Hamels will start the opener, but it's been a different Cole Hamels this year, hampered by a variety of sprains and tweaks. Cliff Lee has been the surrogate ace since arriving from Cleveland just before the trade deadline; J.A. Happ, Joe Blanton, and Pedro Martinez give the Phillies more starters than they'll need (though Pedro has thrown just seven innings since an ill-considered 130-pitch outing against the Mets a month ago).

The Phillies' question mark all season has been closer Brad Lidge. His perfect '08 (48-for-48 in save opportunities including the postseason) gave way to an excruciating '09. He blew eleven saves in forty-two attempts; his ERA inflated from 1.95 to 7.21, batters hit eleven home runs against him (versus two in 2008); his hits per inning ratio increased by sixty-nine percent, while his strikeouts per inning fell by twenty-one percent. He earned two saves in the division series against Colorado, allowing no hits or runs (though two walks) to the six hitters he faced. Charlie Manuel's faith in him is touching, but there is no way to know which Lidge will come out of the pen on any given night.

Offense is less of a problem. Philadelphia was the only NL team to score more than five runs per game, and it was no Citizens Bank Park illusion: they scored more runs on the road than they did at home. The lineup tilts heavily leftward, with three of their four 30-home run hitters swinging from that side (Ryan Howard, Chase Utley, and Raul Ibanez; Jayson Werth was the fourth). Switch-hitters Jimmy Rollins and Shane Victorino provide some balance, while causing problems for platoon-obsessed bullpens. And for a team with so much power (their 224 homers easily led the league), they also run effectively -- 119 steals with a .810 success rate, led by Utley (23/23), Rollins (31/39), Victorino (25/33), Werth (20/23), even Howard (8/9).

The Dodgers' hopes may rest on Clayton Kershaw's 21-year-old arm. Kershaw allowed the fewest hits per nine innings in the majors this year; only four active pitchers have posted a season total lower than his 6.263 (Pedro Martinez twice, Johan Santana, Randy Johnson, and Chris Young). Lefties batted .173 against him, with one home run in 154 plate appearances; righties batted just .208, but with a much higher walk rate. Kershaw gets to open the series in Dodger Stadium, where he had a 1.83 ERA in sixteen starts. He is, however, 0-3 with a 6.64 ERA in four starts against Philadelphia. (Hamels, his game one opponent, is 4-0, 1.64 against the Dodgers.)

Vicente Padilla, Hiroki Kuroda, and Randy Wolf are expected to round out the rotation. Padilla threw seven shutout innings against St. Louis in the division series, but these three will mostly be counted on to keep the game close until the bullpen can take over. The Dodgers' relief pitchers led the major leagues in ERA, batting average against, and WHIP, and this strength of the team grew even more effective after the trade for lefty George Sherrill, who allowed just two earned runs in thirty games for L.A. Supersized closer Jonathan Broxton struck out 13.5 batters per nine innings, holding them to a.165 average, the lowest in the majors. Joe Torre loves to use relievers in roles defined by innings, and the Sherrill/Broxton combo gives him his best end-of-game pair since Rivera and Wetteland.

The Dodgers ranked fourth in the NL in scoring, impressive for a team playing in Dodger Stadium, especially impressive for a team playing fifty games without Manny Ramirez. In Manny's absence, the club held its own: it played .580 ball without him, .589 before and after his suspension, despite a decrease in runs per game from 5 to 4.4 while he was out. Andre Ethier helped fill the power void, hitting a career-high 31 home runs; Matt Kemp had an impressive season for a 24-year-old in a pitcher's park; and the rest of the lineup (Russell Martin, James Loney, Orlando Hudson/Ronnie Belliard, Rafael Furcal, and Casey Blake) contributed without a true weak spot. Los Angeles had the best record in the league throughout the season, only a late slump keeping them under 100 wins.

While Manny struggled - for him - after returning to the lineup (a .269 batting average and sub-.900 OPS in 77 games), he's proven impervious to postseason pressure throughout his career, and should help the Dodgers hold the Phillies' offense to a standoff. The biggest edge held by either side is the Dodgers' bullpen; if you're going to beat them, you'd better do it early.

Dodgers in six.

Jeff Neuman is a sportswriter and editor, and co-author of A Disorderly Compendium of Golf.

Times change. Perceptions change. Integrity never changes.

Couldn't win the big one.

Wooden was in his formative years at UCLA, a team competent enough in the old Pacific Coast Conference and its successor, the AAWU. But in the tournament, there was USF with Bill Russell, or Santa Clara, with Ken Sears, and the Bruins were eliminated.

Then they began to eliminate everybody else. Starting in 1964, UCLA won all the big ones, won 88 games in a row, won seven NCAA championships in a row, and John Wooden earned a reputation he's never lost as the finest college basketball coach in history.

The great man, the "Wizard of Westwood'' - a phrase Wooden still dislikes; it came from the title of a book by Dwight Chapin and the late Jeff Prugh - turns 99 today, October 14. Ninety-nine, one short of a century.

Sadly, he is looking his age, frail, fighting through one ailment after another, the sort of problems not uncommon to those who make it to their ninth decade.

Delightfully, he never acts his age. He hates being pushed in a wheelchair. Doesn't want to be fussed over.

"I'm embarrassed not being able to get around,'' he said a while back. "I don't like it.''

Who does? In our minds, it's always yesterday, always a time of youth, when we never imagined what the future would be, never dreamed those old guys would be us.

The India Rubber Man someone called Wooden. He was the All-America from Purdue in the early 1930s. He would hit the floor and bounce up. Then he would hit a basket.

He became an English teacher and a coach. No, he became The Coach. After serving as a naval lieutenant in World War II.

UCLA hired him from Indiana State in 1948. He headed West and almost headed back to Indiana. Life in southern California, call it the "Hollywood Effect,'' was unsettling. Wooden considered leaving not long after he arrived.

But he still was there when I entered in 1956, a freshman on the school paper, the Daily Bruin, sent to interview Wooden in less than elegant campus surroundings, a spartan office in a wooden bungalow maybe 150 yards from an antiquated gym so small (2,500 seats) and so closed-in it was, in a word-play on the Tennessee Williams' drama, nicknamed "The Sweatbox Named Perspire.''

Wooden was polite if impatient. Businesslike. Efficient. The Pyramid of Success, now marketed, was attached to the wall. He had his ideas. When he would get his players, Walt Hazzard (Mahdi Abdul-Rahman) and Gail Goodrich, Lew Alcindor (Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) and Bill Walton, the ideas were brilliant.

Twenty-seven years, 10 NCAA titles, 620 wins, 147 defeats. UCLA finally got its building, Pauley Pavilion, in 1965, and Wooden finally got an office worthy of his status. But deep down, he was still the no-nonsense guy from Middle America.

For many years, Wooden has lived in an unpretentious San Fernando Valley condominium that is more museum than residence. Memories, homilies and most of all awards are on virtually every inch of the walls, atop every desk, table or trophy cabinet.

There is a letter from Richard Nixon, a bobblehead doll of Tommy Lasorda, a Yankees cap from Derek Jeter, a photo montage of John Stockton, of whom Wooden wistfully noted, "Was the last player in the NBA to wear shorts, not bloomers.''

He has books about Mother Teresa, a Medal of Freedom award from George W. Bush, a football autographed by Don Shula and, of course, photos of the UCLA teams he coached to titles before retiring in 1975.

"Nell arranged those pictures in the Pyramid of Success,'' explained Wooden, alluding to his wife, who died in 1985. "I didn't like that, but I wasn't going to change anything she did.''

Nell Riley was the only girl John Wooden of Martinsville, Indiana ever dated. There's a framed photo, leaning against a wall, of the two of them, John 16, Nell 16. The love of his life, to whom he still writes a letter the 21st of every month.

Her name is alongside his on the basketball floor at Pauley. It was the only way he would allow the court to be dedicated, to both of them.

Wooden is a baseball fan. He would come to UCLA games when they still played at a utilitarian facility on the land where Pauley was erected and harass the opponents, a classic "bench jockey,'' insulting but never obscene. Wooden can talk about Babe Ruth. Or about Barry Bonds.

John Wooden knew. John Wooden knows. In 99 years, he hasn't missed much. Including winning the big one.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

The modern sports fan is an all-devouring, insatiable and utterly spoiled beast. But who can blame them. There is nary a dull moment in the year where he or she has to fret about not watching or attending a major sports event in this country. And if one is a follower of baseball and football, arguably the two most popular American sports, there is only one month in the calendar - March - without either of these sports contesting regular season or playoff games.

But at least both of these national pastimes have extended offseasons that allow fans a break, granting them the necessary act of missing their favorite games so that when they make their annual reappearance there is always the joy of rediscovery. Isn't this what we're supposed to do in life anyway? After all it's what most young men are taught when first lovestruck - give the girl space, don't overwhelm her, give her a chance to miss you. Well, this applies to sports.

There's a reason why baseball works on a literary level, even if it annoys the hell out of those who find its romanticization suffocating and obnoxious. Bart Giamatti, the late, great commissioner of our treasured game - and he truly was the last great, towering figure in the sport as Bud Selig just hasn't cut it - said it best when he wrote: "It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, you rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then, just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops."

And football too makes its devotees suffer for the good of the sport. Those who worship at the gridiron have to wait even longer every year for their beloved game to reappear. And just as baseball fans yearn for spring's arrival after the harsh and depressing winter, there are many millions who name autumn as their favorite season, as it heralds footballs return and a renewed love of Sundays.

Really, all sports should have a significant break between campaigns. Even basketball and hockey, though their seasons are about six weeks too long, take several months off.

But for diehard fans of tennis and golf there's just simply too much going on. And it's going to end up injuring - literally and figuratively - both sports unless something is changed.

Over the last few days both Rafael Nadal and Andy Roddick, who are in Shanghai to play in yet another required event, have vented their frustration about the length of the tennis calendar. "It's impossible to play 1st of January and finish 5th of December," said the 23-year-old Nadal, who had to miss Wimbledon this year because of a knee injury. "It's impossible to be here playing like what I did the last five years, playing a lot of matches and being all the time 100 percent without problems." And said Roddick, "It's ridiculous to think that you have a professional sport that doesn't have a legitimate offseason to rest, get healthy, and then train. I just feel sooner or later that common sense has to prevail."

It's an egregious affront to the sport if the disorganized and misguided overseers of tennis don't remedy this situation quickly. What good does it do to have players who are only 70% healthy at any given time of the year?

Tennis should conclude just weeks after the US Open. The ATP could then stage a year-end championship, which could help sort out the final standings, in early October. This gives players a little more than three months rest before the first grand slam in Australia in late January. I'd be shocked if any player - whether ranked in the top 10 or 100 - would balk at such a proposal.

Maybe one of the only benefits derived from the dire state of the world economy will be a reduction in events. But since every nation - those developed and not-fully-developed, Asian or Western or African - seemingly wants to host a tennis event I doubt much change will come soon.

Rather, it will have to be the players who demand it. The top pros revolted in the early '70s - under the leadership of Arthur Ashe, Jack Kramer and other tennis dignitaries - which gave the main attractions of the sport a significant say in the administration of events. This must be reconfigured for the 21st century. Perhaps we need more boycotts or a strike of some sort to finally see a change. I'd love to see Nadal, Roddick or others band together and refuse to play until changes were adopted. I dare tournament organizers to stand up to them. Only then, when the pros commit to an act of definitive consequence will any action be taken.

Tennis' daunting and eternal schedule is a more urgent problem than golf's calendar obviously because of the physical demands of the sport. And since golf is primarily an American sport for the top pros, there's less of the grueling worldwide travel. But even with golf there's far too much tournament play toward the end of the year.

Are the Fed Ex Cup events in September really necessary, other than to further pad the coffers of these talented athletes with truly vulgar sums of money? Golf should have a season-ending event though, the competition calls for it. But let it be contested a couple of weeks after the final major - the PGA Championship - and let it serve, as in tennis, to finalize the rankings for the year. Maybe have the top 30 or 40 players compete in one event.

Or better yet, why not also stage a fun event in late August or September which would offer a "skills test" to the top pros - driving, putting, sand play, hitting from the rough, etc. Make it an obstacle course of sorts and have it count a little toward the ranking to make it legitimate, with any money awarded donated. I'm sure it'd make for enjoyable, compelling viewing.

Unless significant alterations to both the professional tennis and golf schedules are initiated immediately, both sports will suffer from physical burnout as well as fan ennui. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know - but that seems to be a lost notion in parts of the sports world.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

And earlier last week, when the Detroit Tigers, who had utterly choked down the stretch of the regular season, seemed on the verge of making that final week a wonderfully distant memory as they found themselves up a run going into the bottom of the 10th inning in that epic game against the Twins, one just felt that it wouldn't be enough to withstand the assault from both the Twins and their Metrodome fans. And sure enough, it wasn't. The Twins tied the game and then won it in the 12th.

It just always feels as if the road team is charged with a Herculean task when faced with an extra inning game in postseason play. Sure enough, the statistics bear this out. In my count, since the inception of the Wild Card in 1995, there have been 52 postseason games (including two "163rd" games to decide a playoff spot) that have gone to extra innings. In only two of these years - 2002 and 2006 - were no extra inning games contested. The home team has triumphed in 35 of these contests, for a 67% winning percentage. It's a startling statistic considering that in the playoffs the teams are often evenly matched, especially when it comes to pitching.

It's tough to compare with other sports. In NFL's overtime over the last decade, the team who wins the coin toss first has won 60% of the games according to various studies. The fact that it's not more than 60% is in some way surprising as the advantage of gaining possession in a sudden death situation would appear far more advantageous than both teams getting an equal chance, as in baseball.

Perhaps the closest analogy is tennis. When serving second, or "from behind", in the final set of a match it is a marked disadvantage - if you lose your serve, it's over. Whereas if the player who serves first loses his serve, there's that psychological edge that you can always get another shot. Just ask Andy Roddick. The poor guy had to serve to stay in the Wimbledon final against Roger Federer an unreal 10 times. But on the 11th try he came up short and just like that the match was over.

So it is just purely a psychological edge that the home team in baseball knows they get the last word, win or lose, that allows them to ease up? Is it the home crowd that can will a team to victory as many claim it did last week in Minneapolis? We'll never really know.

What is for certain is that some of these extra inning games have to be regarded as some of the greatest of all games played. Below is a short list which all can agree contain five of the finest games ever contested, postseason or otherwise. But I would take a fair amount of umbrage with anyone who disagrees with the No. 1 extra inning postseason game of the last 15 years.

THE GREATEST POSTSEASON EXTRA INNING GAMES SINCE THE INCEPTION OF WILD CARD PLAY:

5 -- 2001 World Series Games 4 and 5, 2001 World Series, Yankees vs. Diamondbacks - We'll count these as one game, considering the circumstances, with 9/11 as a backdrop. Brenly - inhumanly it seems - leaves Kim in both these games and forces him to face the Bronx crowd on consecutive nights.
4 -- 2003 ALCS Game 7, Yankees vs. Red Sox - Aaron Boone becomes the 21st century Bucky Dent to millions of New Englanders after Pedro is left in the game too long.
3 -- 2007 NL Wild Card Tiebreaker, Rockies vs. Padres - After surrendering two runs in the top of the 13th, the Rockies answer with three to complete their remarkable run to the postseason.
2 -- 2009 Twins-Tigers -- Greatest one-game playoff, ever.
1 -- 2005 NLDS Game 4, Houston vs. Atlanta - Houston was down 5-0 in the 5th and 6-1 in the 8th. They tied the game in the 9th and then after eight scoreless innings from both teams, won the game in the 18th on a home run by Chris Burke. A bizarre footnote to this game is that the fan who caught Burke's home run also caught the grand slam hit by Lance Berkman earlier in the eighth inning.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

Samuel Chi is Editor of RealClearSports. He may be reached at sam@realclearsports.com.

And yet this four-day competition held at a muni course on the western edge of San Francisco, Harding Park, a muni course that is not very far from the San Andreas Fault and very near the Pacific Ocean is not much different than most tournaments.

It's all about Tiger Woods.

He's only one player on a 12-man American team, a group which includes Phil Mickelson, Steve Stricker and two of this year's major champions, Lucas Glover and Stewart Cink. But as always Tiger is a majority of one.

He's the focus. He's the main man. In press conferences, where he's practically invisible behind a wall of television cameras. On the fairways where his galleries dwarf those of other players.

Tiger brings them in. Michael Jordan, his pal, is an unofficial assistant captain, chosen by Fred Couples as much because he is Tiger's confidant as anything else, is at Harding. So is Barry Bonds, back in the area where he grew up and played. So is the great Jerry West, a scratch golfer himself.

The event is special. San Francisco knows its place among the globe's chosen cities. Narcissism is not exactly unknown among the citizenry. When there's news breaking, no matter what the story and where the location, the live shot is always of someone standing with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. Unless it's the Bay Bridge in the background.

But this Presidents Cup is special. Because in the last 20 years, since the Earthquake World Series, there have been only two notable sporting events which actually took place in the region, the 1998 U.S. Open and the 2002 World Series.

And because Tiger Woods is playing.

He once went to school at Stanford, but that was 13 years ago, before the legend had been established. Tiger doesn't come around here very much any more. But he's here now. So is the Presidents Cup.

On Day 1, Thursday, Woods teamed with Steve Stricker, who might be described as the anti-Tiger. Stricker is pure Midwest, quiet, unassuming, content to play the game and earn his money. A good guy. A very good golfer. But not the sort who has fans chanting his name. As they chant Tiger's.

Northern California weather can be mysterious. You're familiar with the line Mark Twain probably didn't say but no matter who did say is wonderfully accurate, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.''

Earlier in the week it was among the warmest autumns anyone had ever spent in San Francisco. But the fog and chill arrived just before the first tee time. So there was Tiger, who doesn't like long sleeves because they restrict his swing, in a long-sleeve sweater.

Bright red. For the U.S.A. But, as locals noted, for Stanford.

Team golf is a bizarre animal. There's four-ball or better ball, in which two guys from, say, the U.S. play two guys from the Internationals. All four balls are in play. And the golfer who takes the fewest strokes wins the hole for his team.

But on Thursday, the game was foursomes, or alternate shots. That meant Tiger hit the drive, then Stricker the next shot, then Tiger the next shot and so on until the one ball they were playing was holed out. It's a form of torture when your teammate hits into a bunker or the rough and you are forced to make up for his wildness.

When John McEnroe still was active the toss-out line around tennis was that the best doubles team in the world was McEnroe and whoever was his partner that day. Same thing, in foursomes, with Tiger.

In the match-play format, meaning every hole is a separate entity and a match is over when one side leads by more holes than remain, Woods and Stricker overwhelmed Geoff Ogilvy and Ryo Ishikawa, 6 and 4. That's like beating someone by three touchdowns.

Woods now has the best foursomes record of anyone in the nine years of Presidents Cup play, eight wins, two losses and a half.

"I felt a little extra pressure going out today,'' said Stricker. "I was comfortable having Tiger as a partner, but I wanted to make sure he was comfortable having me as a partner because I didn't want to feel he had to hold up my end as well as his end.''

Tiger Woods will hold up both ends and the middle. He's a big reason the Presidents Cup is a sellout. He's a big reason the U.S. has the first-day lead.

"Where's Tiger?'' some breathless fan asked when he and Stricker were still in the distance.

Where's Tiger? Where he always is. By himself in the world of sport.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

So, with this in mind, I turn to the Yankees. Their awesome power and versatility on display in Game 1 in their playoff debut at the House That Ruth Did Certainly Not Build (more like the Stadium the City Got Bullied Into Giving the Steinbrenner Family after they threatened to vacate New York) dealt a blow to the heavily underdogged Twins who were clearly exhausted - and probably hungover? - after their thrilling win less than 24 hours prior in that embarrassment of a baseball field in the Mill City against the choking Detroit Tigers. I'd be surprised if the Twins are able to escape an 0-10 record against the Yankees in 2009 - they were swept in their seven games in the regular season prior to Wednesday's game.

And much will be made of this team's righting the playoff wrongs from the Yankees of recent years, where they had only won four of their previous 17 playoff contests. Alex Rodriguez will be a big story - for reasons other than steroids and Kate Hudson - as he seemed to exorcise at least a portion of his sizeable collection of postseasons ghosts last night by securing hits with runners on base, something he had been unable to do basically since the Great(est) Choke of 2004 against the Red Sox. And with Jeter being his usual sublime playoff self and the eerily ageless Mariano Rivera ready to hurl a demoralizing one inning knockout on a moment's notice, the Yankees appear for now to be the clear favorites to take the World Series and return the trophy to its rightful owner after eight years in enemy hands.

If the Yankees do indeed triumph in November (and by the way what the hell is up with this scheduling, having our summer game conclude several days into November? That month should be associated solely with the awe-inspiring World Series moments delivered after the 9/11 tragedy when there was a legitimate reason to play in the 11th month of the year. MLB could easily have managed the postseason itinerary in a more compressed manner) there will be the usual celebrations, both on the field and off, and New York will gloat about having its 27th world championship.

But it's just not the same. While walking around the city last night and watching the game in several watering holes to gauge interest, there was not that palpable sense of tension and excitement that is usually a built-in part of autumnal acoustics and environment in New York. In recent years one would have to jockey for position to get a good seat and watch these games. There's just no pulse on the street - and those Yankee diehards who would challenge this assertion are either in denial or blind and deaf.

One can't use a sense of ennui or jadedness as an excuse. As previously mentioned, the Yankees have not played well in the playoffs in some time and missed the postseason last year for the first time since 1993. So you'd think that fans would be more eager and intense with their rooting this time around.

And when the Yankees were winning repeatedly in the mid and late 1990's it never appeared to this observer that fans were losing interest. There was a distinct, almost civic, awareness and pride that those teams and players engendered. Those teams were, in fact, loved.

Is this Yankee team loved? Well, players themselves are but not as a unit. Most definitely Jeter and Rivera are loved, adored and worshipped and rightfully so. And to a lesser degree Posada falls into that category, followed by those who came up through the once-vaunted farm system - Robinson Cano, Joba Chamberlain and Phil Hughes.

So then what's the reason for this lack of Yeats' dreaded "passionate intensity" when it comes to the Yankees? It's hard to pin it on one thing as it's more of an accumulation of events that have led to - and I'll invoke Jimmy Carter here - a malaise of sorts for a segment of Yankee fans; a vulgarly overpriced and less intimate stadium in this time of economic distress most exemplified by New York's Wall Street, the stacking of free agent players that would make even prior Yankee teams blush, the steroid scandals with Roger Clemens and A-Rod, the absence of Joe Torre, etc.

Of course, the sellout crowds cheering like crazy over the next few weeks and loving this version of Yankee success would find this entire argument ridiculous and wrong, perhaps bitter. But there's no question that, well ... things were just better in Yankeeland back in the 90's.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

I have often utilized that self-guiding principle (which is basically a deeper, more personal restating of the "all's well that ends well" axiom) when analyzing a day's or week's activities, and I also apply the same when discussing sports. For instance, at September's US Open in New York, Juan Martin Del Potro and Roger Federer participated in a thrilling final that helped save a subpar tournament on the men's side. If the Open had been chock full of exciting matches up to the final but the championship match turned out to be a flat, dull affair, then the tournament would have lost a significant storyline.

This obviously holds true for all sports. And the just concluded regular season of baseball is a clear -- illuminating, in fact -- case in point. Yesterday's epic victory by the Minnesota Twins over the heartbroken Detroit Tigers, who represent that heartbroken section of our hurting nation, finally brought thrills to a season in which nary a pennant race existed until the last week of the season. Just days ago, the Twins were three games out with four to play. They would have to sweep their remaining games and hope the Tigers stumbled, which did indeed occur. And for the first time in the history of the sport, a team was able to overcome such a deficit.

And with their tiebreaking game to decide the rightful owner of the Central Division crown, these two Midwestern teams provided such a fantastic and superlative defying gift to fans of our national pastime that the 2009 season now, finally, has its signature moment. Of course, we'd all love it to be surpassed with an exciting and fitting conclusion in the postseason, but for now baseball fans are content with the brilliant contest in that profoundly ugly venue in its final year of hosting baseball.

So where does yesterday's game rank with the other 13 one-off games (or series) of seasons past to decide a playoff spot? Well, there are clearly four that stand out far above the rest, listed here in chronological order:

• October 3rd, 1951: Giants over Dodgers, 5-4. This was actually the third of a best-of-three format that was used before the current one game system was put into place. This game need no further explanation as it's regarded as one of the finest ever played as unlikely hero Bobby Thomson catapulted himself into history -- baseball and otherwise -- with his dramatic homerun to defeat the hated Dodgers and vault the Giants into the World Series against the Yankees. Few even remember the fact that the Yankees demolished the Giants to win the Series, but many remember "The Shot Heard 'Round the World."

• October 2nd, 1978: Yankees over Red Sox 5-4. Bucky ------- Dent, as he's lovingly referred to in New England, a mediocre hitter at best, launched a shot that barely cleared the Green Monster that gave the Yankees a lead which they were able to cling to. And when Goose Gossage retired Red Sox great Carl Ystremski on a fly ball to third baseman Craig Nettles, the Yankees had accomplished the impossible, coming back from 14 ½ games back to claim the AL East. Though Dent's homerun is justifiably remembered as the highlight of the game, it was Reggie Jackson's mammoth homerun to the deep centerfield bleachers of Fenway in the eighth inning that provided the margin of victory. The Yankees went on to overcome a two-games-to-none deficit against the Dodgers in the World Series before winning four in a row to claim yet another championship.

• October 1st 2008: Rockies over Padres, 9-8 (13). Was Matt Holliday really safe at home? It doesn't matter because when the Rockies' star player made his controversial slide and touched -- or didn't touch, depending on one's rooting interest -- home plate to give the Rockies their incredible, come from behind win after being down two going into the bottom of the 13th, was the end ever in doubt anyway? After all, this was a team that had to win 11 in a row and 14 of their final 15 games down the stretch just to force the playoff. The Rockies' joy ride continued through the National League, but their progress was decidedly arrested by the Red Sox, who swept Colorado in the World Series. But that great run may have served as inspiration to this year's Rockies squad who reached the playoffs after an utterly miserable opening to the season.

• October 6th, 2009: Twins over Tigers 6-5 (12). I'll forgo the narrative of last night's contest as it will be covered in great detail in the ensuing days, but what elevated this contest into the upper levels of greatness was that game-saving double play when Tigers leftfielder Ryan Rayburn, making up for a botched play that almost handed the game to the Twins moments before, threw out Alexi Casilla at home plate to temporarily extend the game. Ironically, it was Casilla who stroked the game-winning hit in the 12th. There was also that missed call on the ball that grazed Brandon Inge ... so many related themes crammed into compressed moments in this already legendary match-up. Too many moments to enumerate.

Now, each game had its own overarching context that one could factor in. The Dodgers and Giants were hated rivals, making the Giants comeback in both their season and that final game that much more rewarding and dramatic. The same holds true for the Yankees and Red Sox. And the Rockies had that September to remember to even get them that close.

But for me, if one analyzes just the playoff game itself, stripping away the drama and back stories that preceded each, last night's Duel in the Dome rightfully deserves the title of Greatest.

NOTES:
The number of television ads for "erectile dysfunction" and other medical conditions is out of hand. One can debate whether they should be allowed to be aired in the first place, as it allows pharmaceutical companies to shape health debate, not doctors. But what I was also thinking about was kids. Should children be fed this bizarre, hyper-anxiety fueled parade of ads regarding men's "problems" in addition to other commercials showing a young daughter talking to her dad about how he may have a heart condition and then speaking to him of the virtues of Plavix? For me, I'd rather have my kid watch the alcohol industry push the joys of beer than having a child become immune to the overmedication of our country.

Chip Caray must go! His call in the bottom of the 10th declaring that the ball hit to Tigers left fielder Ryan Rayburn was a "hit!" ("Line drive BASE HIT, caught out there!") was perhaps the most egregious case of an announcer speaking to soon in a big moment that I have witnessed. Not only was that "hit" clearly a routine line-drive out, but the ensuing throw to nab Casilla at home extended the game. And how many times can Caray use "fisted" when referring to a weak fly ball? Perhaps a thesaurus should be present in the broadcast booth to help out with the adjectives.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

The Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome in Minneapolis opened for business the year after the 1981 strike shut down baseball for fifty-eight days. Its last baseball game was supposed to be three days ago, but like Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Rasputin, and Tom DeLay, it refuses to go away.

A month ago, the Twins were seven games behind the Detroit Tigers. A week ago, they were two games back, beginning a vital four-game set in Detroit - their last realistic chance to make up ground. They split the four games, losing vital calendar pages while getting nowhere. The Tigers' magic number was two, with three to play. It never reached zero.

The Metrodome has long been the Twins' loud secret weapon. When they won the championship in 1987, their record at home was twenty-seven games better than on the road. In League Championship Series and World Series play, the Twins have gone 12-2 at the Metrodome while losing ten of fifteen on the road. They've been in three World Series, including one in 1965; each Series went seven games, the Twins won two of them, and they have yet to win a World Series game on the road.

Down the stretch this season, Minnesota won nine of their last ten at home leading up to yesterday's one-game playoff. It's the second year in a row that the Twins played a 163rd game to determine the Central Division champion. Last year, they lost to the Chicago White Sox. This year, they defeated the Tigers.

Care to guess where each of those games was played?

Its baseball diamond is shoehorned into a basically rectangular structure intended for football. The outfield dimensions are irregular, proving that asymmetry is not synonymous with charm. The large sheet of vinyl beyond the right-field boundary (it's difficult to call it a wall) covers the seats that extend outward for Vikings games. The roof is Teflon, the ceiling a shade of whitish gray, with intermittent holes that accommodate lighting and do a wonderful job of mimicking balls in flight. Fielders are urged to keep a constant eye on what would be routine pop flies anywhere else; if you lose sight of the ball, you'll have to choose among the many small round options in your range of vision. As with any enclosed arena, it holds sound very well; crowd noise at games can reach levels associated more with fighter jet engines than baseball's bucolic roots.

Worst of all, the dome forced Minnesotans to make a choice no fan should face: Do I want to spend a beautiful day outside, or do I want to go to a baseball game? If you live in Minnesota, chances are you love the outdoors; summers there are too short to waste much time watching others play, especially inside.

The passing of the Metrodome from the major leagues will reduce the number of artificial surfaces in baseball to two: Toronto's Rogers Centre and St. Petersburg's Tropicana Field. Perhaps it's true that, as the bumper-sticker has it, Nature Bats Last.

The dome isn't going away; the Vikings will continue to play games there, squandering the home-field advantage they enjoyed when they played outdoors in the cold. Young twin-cities fans will discover a new baseball sensation: the smell of fresh-cut grass on a summer evening, one that's been denied them for nearly 30 years. The great bubble will still be around, a reminder of futuristic visions from someone else's past. And, for at least another week, it will cast its inflated shadow on the game that fits it so poorly. The Yankees will be overwhelming favorites to eliminate the Twins and quickly, but no one's gotten rich yet betting against the monster in the night.

Jeff Neuman is a sportswriter and editor, and co-author of A Disorderly Compendium of Golf.

Not a bad evening for the man. Too old? Too spectacular.

We worry more about others more than about ourselves. We're always giving advice but rarely listening to advice. Maybe we should just shut up.

That goes for sports journalists, writers, announcers, former players. The whole lot of us virtually demanded Favre give it up. Insisted he was making a fool of himself, was embarrassing the NFL.

Favre didn't hurt anyone. If you don't include the Green Bay Packers.

He's a football player who wants to play football. Disingenuous? Flip-flopping? That's trivial stuff. The way he passed against Green Bay is not.

There's lyric from "South Pacific,'' a show which even predates Brett Favre.

"...So suppose a dame ain't bright or completely free from flaws, or as faithful as bird dog or as kind as Santa Claus. It's a waste of time to worry over things that they have not; be thankful for the things they've got.''

Be thankful for what Brett Favre still has, which is a remarkable ability to throw a football, an unfulfilled passion for competing at football.

He will be 40 before this week is finished. The term "graybeard'' is descriptive, not only a cliché reference. But he's young as springtime when he's given time in the pocket. When he can thread a ball through defenders.

The Packers didn't want him after the 2007 season, not under his terms. It was a painful separation. But once he took his leave, Favre was under no obligation to walk away from the game.

We carry images in our mind. We hated to see Joe Namath stumble when he spent that season with the Rams, winced when Johnny Unitas tried to hold on after he joined the Chargers. It's not so much what the veterans do to themselves, but what they do to us.

We want to remember the homecoming queen when she was 21, not when she was 61.

Yet Favre at 39 is as memorable as Favre at 29. A father could poke his 7-year-old Monday night, assuming the kid hadn't gone to sleep, and tell him, "You're watching history, son.'' Because, Brett Favre indeed is history.

An athlete is only what he can produce, only what his body allows. It was Joe Montana, the great 49ers quarterback, the winner in four Super Bowls, who had a ready answer when someone asked why he didn't quit. "What do you have to prove?'' was what someone wanted to know from Joe.

Nothing, in effect. Except for himself, to himself

"When I retire, I won't be coming back,'' Montana had explained. "I'm not like an accountant who can take a sabbatical. So I'm going to keep going as long as I feel like I can play and I enjoy it.''

No regrets. That's the essence. No wondering what might have been. Just do it until you no longer can do it. And then don't look back.

You know there are individuals who wanted Brett Favre to make a mess of things. Individuals who were aching to say, "I told you so.'' What are they saying now?

That despite their misgivings, their disenchantment, Brett Favre is a champion, a player who makes other players better, a player who makes teams better.

The Vikings knew all about Brett Favre. They had lost to him more than enough. They saw him as the one who could be the leader, be the winner. So far they are correct in their assessment.

We can never be sure when an athlete is done. A change of scenery, a new outlook, a revised dedication may resuscitate a career. We're too eager to write an ending. There, it's over, so go about your business and get away from us.

A Sports Illustrated article by the wordsmith Selena Roberts questioned Tiger Woods' future. In a year Tiger came back from knee surgery, a year he won six tournaments but not a major, he suddenly was on the downside and probably never would catch Jack Nicklaus' record of 18 majors. What?

Tiger is only 33, and to conclude his golf had reached a plateau is wild thinking. Maybe Selena is right. Most likely she's wrong. Nicklaus himself went three years without a major and then started winning them again with great frequency.

Tiger's going to be around a long while. So is Brett Favre. He looked brilliant against Green Bay, looked like someone who deserved to be given the chance to work his magic.

Tiger Woods didn't suddenly lose his touch. Brett Favre never may lose his touch.

The great ones need listen only to themselves.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

But there is one thing the theories about the reasons have in common. Arrogance. Good ol' American arrogance.

Instead of dedicating three days and nights working the IOC members, as we hear Tony Blair did for London in its successful bid for 2012, President Obama figured all he had to do was show up for a few minutes here at Bella Center after an all-night flight on Air Force One.

He had normally blasé media types pressing their noses against the windows of this sleek convention center just to get a glimpse of him stepping into his flown-in Cadillac. His very presence shook down the tight schedule the IOC usually likes to keep. His very name peppered the cacophony of unfamiliar languages all over town with little hints of recognition.

But Obama was long gone by the time his ripple factor had flattened out. By then, Brazilian President Lula da Silva was wowing the room with his avuncular, rumpled flair.

"Among the countries that today compete to host the Games, we are the only one that has never had this honor," Lula reminded the IOC. "For the others, it will be just one more Games."

Lula came off more street savvy than his more-scripted comrades in world leadership. Looking like the old-guy version of Raymond Burr as Perry Mason. Sounding like a Portuguese-speaking Dick Vitale.

With his nearest spin doctor as far away as the Amazon, Lula made his counterparts - Obama, Spanish Prime Minister José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero and new Japanese Prime Minister Yukio Hatomaya - look like metrosexual façades. And the freshly scrubbed politician just did not resonate the way the guy with a face full of hair did.

Maybe this is the latest edition of the new world order. Four years ago it was Blair, slickly going where no politician had gone before. Vladimir Putin was inspired, shortly after. He showed up in Guatemala with a sudden ability to speak English, pushing Sochi, Russia, over the top in the bidding for the 2014 Winter Olympics.

By the time Obama made his cameo here in Copenhagen, the IOC had been there and done that. It was not much of an appearance after all.

Even the disgraced ex-president Juan Antonio Samaranch - pushed out the door in the wake of the Salt Lake City bribery scandal - reached out and grabbed his old IOC friends with his "I know I am near the end of my time, I am 89" speech on behalf of Madrid. Damned if it didn't get them to the final vote.

It is safe to say more people will remember Samaranch and Lula from Copenhagen 2009 than they will Obama. Air Force One made a bigger impression. But to say Chicago lost because Obama mailed this one in would be missing the problems churning deeper in the Olympic waters.

The IOC and the U.S. Olympic Committee have been at odds over money for years. American companies provide the biggest share of sponsorships; American TV networks have kept the cash flow constant. So the USOC commands a great deal of revenue, something that has to rub more than a few IOC members the wrong way.

Add the USOC's ill-timed and since-suspended decision this year to poke the sleeping bear and start its own TV network over the IOC's loud objections, and the kindling is there to ignite a firestorm against anything American.

The Obama factor was merely an interesting distraction to what was really going on inside the big clubhouse in the middle of this Danish nowhere.

So Chicago is summarily dismissed in one vote as New York had been in two votes four years ago in Singapore. So what's next for an American Olympics that will become no less than 16 years on from Salt Lake City 2002 and at least 24 years between Summer Games?

As New York went noisily into that good night, expect Chicago to do the same.

"It's already in this hemisphere with Rio, and it would not make sense for an American city to try again in 2020," Chicago mayor Richard M. Daley said. "It's in this hemisphere, and they have to move somewhere else."

Does that bring us back to Los Angeles - spurned this time around by a USOC convinced Chicago would be the better bidder? And does this mean putting in a call for 2024? Probably. By then, word is Paris will want to celebrate the centennial of its "Chariots of Fire" Olympics.

America, this Olympic thing may take a while.

Ron Flatter is an American free-lance journalist based in New York who has covered international sports since 2004 for Radio Sport 927, Melbourne, Australia.  He also does sports updates for 1050 ESPN New York and has anchored the news nationally for Fox News Radio.

But despite nearly a week of red-carpet glitz starring Oprah Winfrey, some old-fashioned politicking by Michelle Obama and an 11th-hour cameo from President Obama, Chicago was a first-round knockout victim in the International Olympic Committee's vote to determine the host of the 2016 Olympics.

Even the final awarding of the Games of the XXXI Olympiad to Rio de Janeiro seemed anticlimactic in the wake of America's colossal failure.

Chicago polled only 18 of the 94 votes cast in round one. Most of those shifted to Rio, which came within two votes in the second round of getting the necessary 50-percent majority. With Tokyo then eliminated, Rio easily defeated Madrid 66-32 in the decisive third round.

"Some days you win; some days you don't," said Pat Ryan, the chief of the Chicago 2016 bid. "To use a sports metaphor, I think we had a great team. We had a great plan. But it wasn't our day to win today."

The tide was turning against Chicago even before Air Force One touched down at Copenhagen Airport. President Obama's anticipated presence alone made for front-page headlines in Danish newspapers early in the week and provided the drumbeat leading up to the vote.

But by rolling out America's big stars, some IOC members wondered aloud if Chicago was not turning their vote into a referendum on the importance of style over substance.

"I think frankly that's starting to get out of hand," said Dick Pound, the anti-doping pioneer who remains one of the IOC's most influential members. "I'm not sure that with all the things on the plate of a head of state of a serious country - let alone the leader of the free world - should have to come to the IOC to say in person that his country is serious about the Games. I think we ought to look at that in the future."

It was not as if political power did not have its place in this campaign. Where Obama was matter of fact and filled with gravitas during his touch-and-go mission to Denmark, Brazilian president Lula da Silva was the laughing, crying, ebullient hip-shooter who tirelessly campaigned for Rio all week.

"Some fellows here saw Air Force One arriving in Copenhagen," Lula told a news conference tonight. "My friends said, ‘Obama has arrived, and we're going to lose.' I was at the G-20 meeting with Obama, and I invited Obama to come to Copenhagen today. (I told him) if you don't go I'm going to win, because I'm going. And then he came.

"But God wished that we would win, even if he did come here."

IOC president Jacques Rogge had a simpler explanation for Rio's victory than divine intervention or political backlash.

"The message is clear," he said. "There was absolutely no flaw in the bid. The members I believe choose also for the extra, added value of going for the first time to a sub-continent that never had the Games."

Ron Flatter is an American free-lance journalist based in New York who has covered international sports since 2004 for Radio Sport 927, Melbourne, Australia.  He also does sports updates for 1050 ESPN New York and has anchored the news nationally for Fox News Radio.

This last season with the Giants, this 11th season of the 15 years he has been in the majors, was less than hoped for Aurilia. His bat had slowed. His average had dropped to .215. All that didn't matter to the crowd.

They were saying goodbye. They were showing class to a player who never showed anything but class.

Aurilia wasn't Barry Bonds. Aurilia isn't Albert Pujols. But he was an All-Star when he had a 203-hit season in 2001. And as the Giants' Bruce Bochy, who managed against Aurilia and managed with Aurilia, would say, even facing teams with Bonds and Jeff Kent, "Aurilia was the guy you didn't want up there.''

Now, on this Wednesday afternoon, with the sun shining, the bay a delightful blue and autumn nowhere in sight or in mind, Aurilia, at age 38, was the guy up there, and the crowd up on its feet.

Aurilia was the reminder of the way it was, the last player remaining from the 2002 World Series team. He had left, gone, to Seattle, San Diego, Cincinnati and then, because he still was able to help and because he never complained, he had returned in 2007 to back up at shortstop, third base, first base.

"He did a great job of accepting his role,'' said Bochy, who on Wednesday put Aurilia, the one-time kid from Brooklyn, who went to Xavarian High and St. John's University as did the great Chris Mullin, into the starting lineup for the first time since July 17.

It was a grand gesture, appreciated by Aurilia, appreciated by the fans, and before the day was done, and the Giants had beaten the Arizona Diamondbacks, 7-3, Aurilia would get two more standing O's and a curtain call. Even though he went 0-for-4.

It was his 1,291st game with the Giants. His last home game with the Giants. And when he went to play first in the top of the ninth, he put on sunglasses so nobody would know he was crying. Then, Bochy removed him, as was proper, and there more cheers.

It was a day for nostalgia. Randy Johnson pitched the ninth inning for San Francisco, and having reached his 46th birthday in September who knows if he's reached the end of the line.

Aurilia is unsure of whether he'll try for another team or just retire. He wanted just one last base hit. A blooper to center in the eighth was caught. "I thought I hit it just soft enough,'' he said, "and cracked my bat enough for it to fall in there, but it was just not meant to be.''

Nor was one more chance for the post-season. The Giants were better than expected, already reaching 86 wins, after only 72 in 2008, but they weren't quite good enough to get to the playoffs.

"That's the only thing I could have wished for me,'' said Aurilia, "that we were still in the race. But it's been a great ride, and I have great memories. I'm thankful Bochy put me in there and let me have a a day like that, because it's something I'll never forget.

"That first (ovation) surprised me. I guess they had been reading the papers knowing this would be my last game here. It's been an honor to be here, an honor to wear that uniform with Giants across it the majority of my career.''

He'll go home to Arizona, near the Giants' spring complex, and then sort out what's ahead. "I know I won't be back here as a player,'' he confirmed, "and that's ok. But I know I have relationships here I'll keep forever and there could be a spot in the organization if I decide to come back.''

Asked his most powerful memories, they were less about himself than about teammates.

"A lot of them were when I was on deck,'' he explained. "I was on deck when Brian Johnson homered (in the 12th against the Dodgers) in 1997; on deck when J.T. (Snow) homered in the 2000 playoffs off (the Mets) Armando Benitz; on deck when we clinched the NLCS in '02) to go to the World Series.

"I guess that makes me a good teammate because all my memories that are great have nothing to do with what I've done but with us winning.''

Nothing wrong with that. Everything right with Rich Aurilia.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

The Raiders are a team with convoluted priorities. They can't stop the run but management put much of its effort in stopping a former player turned critic from attending practice.

They can't get the ball into the end zone but in the post-game locker room they can get into the face of a journalist asking a legit question.

The Raiders are 1-2 after three games. It's going to get worse. They play at Houston, but then they play the New York Giants, Philadelphia Eagles, New York Jets and San Diego Chargers. It's going to get worse, but after the last week in a way it couldn't get much worse.

The 23-3 loss on Sunday to Denver, in Oakland, almost was incidental. A game, a defeat. It happens.

What also happened was a Raiders assistant reportedly told the police in Napa where the team holds camp that Cable punched him and broke his jaw on August 5.

What also happened was CBS analyst Rich Gannon, the last person to play quarterback for a Raider team with a winning record, was banned from the team facility for knocking the current quarterback, JaMarcus Russell.

What also happened was Lowell Cohn, a columnist from the Santa Rosa Press Democrat asked Richard Seymour, the guy the Raiders obtained in a trade from New England, whether he was assessed a personal foul for pulling the hair of the Broncos' Ryan Clady. Seymour grew belligerent, and a Raider official then started arguing with Cohn.
What also happened was the Raiders were some 18,000 seats short of a sellout, so there was no local television of the game in which the Broncos gained 372 yards to Oakland's 127.

Paranoia runs deep. Stole that line from Buffalo Springfield, a rock group which was together briefly in the late 1960s. That was a time Raiders used to be successful, a time when Davis didn't worry about what was written or said, just about his team performing.

Al is the creator of the phrase, "Just win, baby,'' which in effect proclaims, who cares what the rest of the world thinks, just get more points than the other team. These days, however, the Raiders management, if not the athletes, care about the wrong things.

Russell, the quarterback, is in his third season. He was the No. 1 overall pick in the 2007 NFL draft. He's big, strong and throws interceptions. But he was Davis' selection, so he'll remain as a starter, maybe improving, maybe not.

Presumably Cable will remain as head coach. He's also Davis' selection, installed last season when Lane Kiffin was uninstalled.

Cable is either a cockeyed optimist or delusional. "We're just around the corner from where we want to be,'' was his comment . "It's right there in front of us.''

Right there behind him is the training camp incident. According to NFL.com, defensive assistant Randy Hanson told police he was struck by Cable, and the result was the broken jaw. Hanson's attorney John McGuinn called it "a classic case of felony assault.''

The Raiders are a classic case of incompetence. They haven't had a winning year since 2002 when they went to the Super Bowl and Gannon was their leader. But now he's persona non grata because Rich said the team "should just blow up the building and start over.''

Gannon finally was allowed on the property, after CBS whined to the NFL, and he definitely was at the Oakland Coliseum to watch the Raiders get pummeled by the Broncos. Probably had to choke back a few giggles.

But the Raiders are no laughing matter. Since '02, six plus seasons, they've had five coaches and 25 wins, no more than five in any of the six full seasons. When Russell threw his two interceptions in the first quarter against Denver, the fans, the faithful, started booing and never stopped.

"I have to have faith in the guy,'' said Cable of Russell. "His growth has been extreme regarding his work effort. He's just not consistent. He's part of the 10 percent of the team that has to bring his level up to the 90 percent which is performing.''

Then the coach pointed out, "Everything can be fixed, and if not it has to be changed.''

With the Raiders little's been fixed, if anything, and nothing ever changes.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

Instead, the Russians are buying us out.

The guy considered the richest man in Russia, a label that once might have been a comedian's punch line, Mikhail D. Prokhorov is going to become the principal owner of the New Jersey Nyets, um, Nets.

Times indeed have changed. The Twitter Generation may not be aware, but the Russians, actually the USSR, of which Russia was the major part, used to be the bad guys. Now they're the wealthy guys.

A strange week over here in the United States. Jerry Jones opens this billion-dollar stadium, for which he is proverbially slapped for indulgence and then a few days later people are enthusiastic because Prokhorov is going spend millions to take control of an NBA team.

Prokhorov's offer is being called a "rescue package'' for current Nets owner Bruce Ratner, who bought the Nets six years ago with the idea of hauling them to Brooklyn, where apropos of nothing a great many Russian émigrés have settled over the decades.

Six years ago, another Russian billionaire, Roman Abramovich purchased the English Premier League soccer team, Chelsea, which was immediately nicknamed "Chelski'' by a lot of skeptical journalists. When it comes to games with round balls and nets, money seemingly is no object to the Russians.

Nor is it a problem for Jerry Jones, a man who despite coming across as pretentious and arrogant, still should be allowed to do what he wants with his.

Nobody stood around and took shots at Louis XIV when he was having Versailles expanded to 700 rooms. Of course, if they had it would have been the guillotine. Why can't we be magnanimous toward Jones and his Cowboys palace?

The reaction to Prokhorov investing $200 million generally has been favorable, although there is that skeleton in the closet ... a 6-foot-9 one, Prokhorov was once a basketball forward. In January 2007 Prokhorov was arrested while on vacation at a French ski resort for supplying prostitutes to friends. He was released after several days, charges were dropped and Prokhorov said he will not do business again in France until there's an apology.

Prokhorov started out selling jeans in Moscow in the 1980s and, lo and behold suddenly had a large stake in Norilsk Nickel, the largest producer of nickel and palladium on the globe.

In April, according to the New York Times, he was pressured by the Russian government into selling his stake just before the world financial crisis hit the Russian stock market.

He thus had something like $14.9 billion, and even after hosting his usual number of fancy parties still had a large reserve of cash and securities.

Already owner of a share of the Russian hoops team CSKA Moscow, Prokhorov said one reason for his investing in the Nets is to provide Russian basketball a financial revitalization by allowing coaches and players to attend NBA training programs.

The league already has played official games in China and Europe. Commissioner David Stern has suggested, if not predicted, the NBA will create a new conference or division of teams from cities such as Madrid and Paris. For a Russian to control a team is only another step in the process.

Consider some of the owners in big-time sports, Dan Snyder of the Redskins, Mark Cuban of the Mavericks, even Al Davis of the Raiders, individuals making waves, making enemies, making money.

To borrow from Doris Kearns Goodwin, they are a team of rivals.

What's one Russian billionaire more or less added to the blend?

It's simply that not very long ago, until the late 1980s, when Russians and Americans were involved the relationship was "them'' and "us.'' We boycotted the 1980 Moscow Olympics. They boycotted the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics.

To think a quarter-century later a Russian would be involved with a franchise playing the one game invented in the United States would have been inconceivable.

Japanese have invested in the Seattle Mariners. Conversely, Americans run Manchester United and Liverpool, two of most famous soccer teams on the globe. The Brits thought owners from the U.S. would muck up their sport. It hasn't happened.

On Prokhorov's intent, Cuban of the Mavericks, a maverick in his own right, if a very intelligent once, said, "I love the idea. It will bring a whole new perspective, and with the dollar struggling, an entrée to new financial markets.''

Money talks, no matter the language.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

Gators coach Urban Meyer expressed concern swine flu could ravage his team. Kiffin, the Tennessee coach, reportedly asked for medical verification, while gleefully hoping the entire Florida squad will be quarantined until 2010, along with Al Davis.

About a year ago, Sept. 30, 2008, Davis dismissed Kiffin from his briefly held position of Oakland Raiders coach, setting off a chain reaction that found Tom Cable taking over at Oakland and Kiffin, after joining Tennessee, taking a lot of shots at Florida and Meyer.

The two schools finally played last Saturday, the Gators, the national champions, winning 23-13, but that was only a three and half hour interim in the verbal game.

Meyer followed up by saying his game plan was conservative because he didn't think the Volunteers appeared to be playing for a win and also that several Florida players already were ailing from the flu.

Never one to let an opportunity slip by without adding his ill-chosen remarks, Kiffin 48 hours later, when asked if he were worried the Gators were contagious and could have given the flu to some Tennessee players, responded, "I don't know. I guess we'll wait and after we're not excited about a performance, we'll tell you everybody was sick.''

There were no official reports on how all this was being viewed from the second floor of Raiders Central in Alameda, Calif., where Davis spends his working hours - meaning all day, every day - but it is presumed the mood is joyful and more than once somebody muttered, "What did you expect?''

Al, who turned 80 in July, doesn't offer public statements frequently, but he knows who's who and what's what. And you can be certain as Kiffin continues to speak out when it would be wiser to remain silent, Davis is feeling more than a touch of reassurance.

Davis fired Kiffin "for cause,'' citing everything from conflicts over personnel moves to lies to the media. "I don't think it was one thing,'' Davis said at the time. "It was a cumulative thing. I think the pattern disturbed me.''

What is happening of late to Kiffin doesn't disturb Al one tiny bit. A vindictive sort, Davis doesn't easily forgive and he never forgets. After UCLA upset Tennessee in Knoxville a couple of weekends back, stopping the Vols inside the 5-yard line, Davis was asked for a comment.

"I didn't care one way or other,'' Davis insisted, even though everyone in the free world knew he did care. "I know (UCLA coach Rick) Neuheisel. I know the other fella who's coaching the other team. I did see the similarities, though, when you get near the goal line.''

The "other fella.'' Davis wouldn't even permit himself to use Kiffin's name. Lane, however, was a trifle more magnanimous. When Tennessee was in the tunnel waiting to go onto the field at Florida's Ben Hill Griffin Stadium a photo held up by a hometown fan caught Lane's eye.

"The picture of Al Davis,'' Kiffin said, "made me laugh.''

Not much else has the last 51 weeks. Kiffin watched the press conference of his removal as Raiders coach on television. He subsequently announced he would sue Davis and Oakland to gain the money Davis is withholding under the argument Kiffin did not fulfill the obligations of his contract.

Signed by Tennessee, Kiffin went after Florida the way Tennessee only wishes it could do on the field, insisting the Gators violated recruiting rules in trying to get a commitment from wide receiver Nu'Keese Richardson.

Then came the obligatory apology, with that wonderfully disingenuous embellishment, "My comments were not intended to offend anyone at the University of Florida.''

Which they did and which Kiffin knew they would. "I'm going to turn Florida in right here in front of you,'' boasted Kiffin to a room full of Tennessee partisans, who cheered the fact Richardson chose their school.

"I love the fact that Urban had to cheat and still didn't get him,'' was Kiffin's valedictory statement.

Surely Meyer loved the fact that after the rhetoric, Florida beat Tennessee, providing Meyer a forum for more rhetoric.

"When I saw them handing the ball off,'' the Florida coach said the day after, "I didn't feel like they were going after the win.''

The feeling among others is Urban Meyer was going after Lane Kiffin, if in a different way than Al Davis went after him. Everybody please shake hands and come out snarling.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

But in some ways, if one hasn't won a Best Director Oscar, that person is in just as fine company as those who have claimed the statuette. The same paradigm, while perhaps to a much lesser degree, holds true for Major League Baseball and the Most Valuable Player (MVP) award.

Though perhaps not as much of an affront to the sensibilities and knowledge of its historians and fans, Major League Baseball has also had its share of dubious oversights when awarding its version of "the best" - the MVP award. While the honor is almost always bestowed upon at least one of the most deserving players in either league for a particular year, there have been flagrant omissions where there was an obvious choice for the trophy and that player was blatantly overlooked.

And in no year was this more conspicuous than 1942. Ted Williams, coming off his historic .406 season the year before - a year in which he lost out to Joe DiMaggio for the MVP, courtesy of Joe D's 56 game hitting streak - won the Triple Crown in 1942 and unbelievably still didn't claim the prestigious accolade. Not only was Williams the leader in the Triple Crown categories, he also led the league in slugging percentage, runs and total bases. Imagine the circumstances - being the last player to hit .400 followed by a Triple Crown year and not being declared the best player in the league either time?

So who won the MVP in the American League in 1942? Joe Gordon of the Yankees. Though a superb player and Hall of Famer in his own right, Gordon didn't lead the league in any statistical category that year. What he did have was something that Williams lacked in spades throughout his extraordinary career - the favor of the press. The papers were very biased in those days, both in terms of being pro-Yankee and anti-Williams. Ted did win two MVPs, in 1946 and 1949. Ironically in neither season did he win the batting title.

And then there's the rather dubious and rare honor of being a multiple winner of the MVP award but with a career not deemed meritorious for enshrinement in Cooperstown. There have been 29 players who took home the award on more than one occasion and all of them are or will be in the Hall of Fame (with the jury still out on Barry Bonds), except for two; Juan Gonzalez of the Texas "Steroid" Rangers of the 1990's and Dale Murphy of the Braves (1982 and 1983) are the recipients of the Archie Griffin Prize (Griffin won consecutive Heisman Trophies in the 1970's as a star running back under Woody Hayes at Ohio State but failed to make much of an impact in the NFL).

When it comes to players who have never won a MVP, the list is impressive. Here's a Top Ten list of the greatest players (acknowledging significant room for debate) not to have won the MVP who deserved it at one point in their career: Eddie Matthews, Duke Snider, Al Kaline, Eddie Murray, Dave Winfield, Paul Molitor, Wade Boggs, Tony Gwynn, Mike Piazza and Derek Jeter. These men also have something significant in common; all are members of the Hall of Fame or will be in the near future (Piazza, Jeter).

And it looks like Derek Jeter will once again be denied the MVP in 2009. Though he is having another superb season in his 14th pinstriped campaign and is a sentimental favorite among fans and some writers, there are other players with gaudier offensive numbers who are more worthy. Joe Mauer is the likely candidate to take home the MVP and it's hard to argue. Mauer is a native Minnesotan and is in fact the "Twins' Jeter", with his consistency, talent, work ethic and Jeter-like preternatural leadership qualities at such a young age. As of this writing the 26 year-old catcher is hitting .374 and is leading a late season charge that may result in the Twins overtaking the Tigers in the AL Central.

But there were years when the Yankee captain could or should have won the award. For starters, consider 1999 during the height of the Steroid Era. Jeter hit .349 with 24 home runs and 102 RBI's while batting second in the order. He also finished first in hits, second in runs and third in on base percentage. Jeter lost out that year to Ivan Rodriguez of the Texas Rangers. Though the very short but powerful catcher had 35 home runs, at the time a record for catchers, he wasn't in the top four in any significant offensive category. Though he was blessed with one of the great throwing arms in the history of the sport, defense has unfortunately been ignored as an important consideration in the MVP voting.

And knowing that I-Rod has been linked numerous times to steroid use (though never an admitted user), in retrospect it seems nearly unfair that Jeter didn't win the MVP that season. One has to wonder whether, in the future, historians will demand a re-do of awards and other stats after the dust finally settles on the ignominy of the performance enhancing drug era in the sport. It'd be highly unlikely and a statistically problematic exercise but I imagine a few baseball historians will give it a crack and seek to offer their revised list of honors when reviewing this period.

But Jeter's legacy is well intact and if he ever feels down about not having acquired the MVP honor, he need only to glance back at the Yankee bullpen during games for an important reminder; Mariano Rivera, that other cornerstone of the Yankee dynasty of the late 1990's and unquestionably the greatest closer of all time, has never won the Cy Young or MVP. And if there are any pitchers who embodied the initials of the MVP (though I am firmly of the belief that it should only be for offensive players) it is Rivera.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

Harrison left the New England Patriots after last season and joined NBC's Football Night in America, a program one can determine from the title is as impressed with itself as Harrison contends Favre is with himself. And we learn Harrison is with himself.

Not that egotism is a rare commodity among either athletes or entertainers.

Favre, with his departures and returns definitely has irritated people associated with the NFL, if only those in a peripheral capacity, such as journalists, fans or analysts on Football Night in America.

But for all his faults, real or imagined, Favre was not suspended for violation of the league's drug policy, as happened two seasons ago to Harrison.

One is always suspicious when former jocks get into television or radio and start popping off. Stepping away from fields and courts, they often join the ranks of the anonymous, a difficult transition after years of fame or infamy. So they start telling it, not so much like it is but how it can be to get them a maximum of recognition.

No one is debating Harrison's skills or determination. In 15 seasons, the first nine with San Diego, he became the only player in history to total at least 30 sacks and 30 interceptions and twice was named All-Pro. But once the career ends, what does he do to get noticed? Tear in to Brett Favre.

On June 24 he went on the Dan Patrick Show to say Favre was "pretty selfish.'' Now there's a revelation. Then Aug. 19, Harrison on another talk show, "Mully & Hanley,'' implied Favre's vacillation over signing with the Vikings had tarnished Brett's legacy.

Oh yes, Harrington also explained that day, "I'm a guy that tries to avoid the spotlight and not put a lot of attention on myself..'' So then why doesn't he just stop babbling?

The beginning of September, after Favre indeed had joined Minnesota, Harrison, on Sirius/XM, offered, "I don't think personally Brett is the answer. I think that move kind of sabotaged that locker room . . . He doesn't even come in and earn the position. He just comes in and takes over.''

Duh. That's why Minnesota, which had done more than whisper in Brett's ear, persuaded him to join the team, so he could take over. He's thrown for a zillion yards. He's been in two Super Bowls.

You think Kobe Bryant has to earn his way? Albert Pujols? David Letterman? Oprah Winfrey? Those people don't need tryouts. Neither does Brett Favre.

But a couple of days ago, Favre, and for this he should be held responsible, said the last few weeks of 2008, with the New York Jets, he played with a bicep injury the Jets concealed, never making disclosure on the weekly injury report.

The Jets, general manger Mike Tannenbaum and former coach Eric Mangini were fined a total of $125,000 for withholding details, so Patrick, who knew where to go, had another bout with Harrison, who knew what to say.

"Why bring all this stuff up now?'' wondered Harrison, which would be a legitimate question if Favre hadn't been persuaded to discuss an injury, which despite rest and treatment is still an issue.

Had it last year. Has it this year. But with two different teams.

"Everywhere he goes he craps on everybody,'' Harrison told Patrick, about Favre. "He goes to Green Bay, and he leaves them with a bunch of noise.''

This from a man who is making enough noise to blot out the sound of a 747 taking off. A bunch of noise? A few interceptions would be more accurate, but without Favre two years ago the Packers don't have the best record in the NFL and go into overtime in the NFC championship game before losing to the New York Giants.

"He goes to the Jets,'' Harrison said of Favre in 2008, "they give him a bunch of money . . . he plays bad, and he craps on them.'' Another misstated generalization. At one time the Jets had the best record in the league before slipping to 9-7. But the year before, without Favre, the Jets were 4-12.

Harrison is angry Favre was named Vikings captain after missing training camp, assuming head coach Brad Childress, the man who wanted Favre, made the call instead of having the players vote.

Enough already. Those who can, play; those who can't say a lot of stupid things about those who can. Seems like jealousy from a guy who wishes he still were in uniform.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

If he has a big game, it's big news. If he has a bad game, it's big news. If he talks after a game, it's big news. If he doesn't talk after a game, now THAT'S big news.

After the Bills collapsed to the Patriots Monday night, blowing an 11-point lead with just over 5 minutes remaining, everyone wanted to know how T.O. would react. Owens was targeted just three times. He dropped one pass and caught two for only 46 yards. Just three passes his way? Surely, Owens would blow up and begin to tear the locker room apart. Not physically tear it apart, but the media can only hope!

Instead, he told reporters, "You're wasting your time. I have nothing to say." The media scrambled. He didn't say anything! No outburst. No yelling at Trent Edwards. No sideline fight with new offensive coordinator Alex Van Pelt. What will we write about? It seemed like Owens behaved himself and there would be little flack coming his way -- but you know that can't happen.

"They say Owens is a great teammate," writes Jerry Sullivan of the Buffalo News. "But once the real games began, T.O. wasn't all about the team. He was, as we'd been warned, all about himself." This is all because Owens wouldn't talk to the press after the game? Gee, why wouldn't Owens want to talk to the media? It's not like they've ever twisted his words around before. It was just about a week ago when T.O. was asked whether or not he liked the Bills no-huddle offense, to which he replied, "No, not really, but I gotta deal with it." Of course that's what the stories focused on, and taken out of context, it sounds serious. But the statement was clearly a joke. He laughed right afterwards and then said the reason for his dislike was because it was tiring him out. He just needed to get into better shape.

Sullivan mentions that "When the Bills signed Terrell Owens, we were told he would be a leader for a young team, a better teammate than we realized, a star who would bring some straight talk and swagger to the locker room." First of all, of course the Bills are going to say that. You think they're really going to say, "We're getting a disgruntled wide receiver who is very temperamental. It's a crapshoot but hey, we've been 7-9 for three straight years. Gotta do something!" But even putting aside whether he's actually a good leader or not, I don't understand how not talking to the media negates those possibilities. Owens can still be a great teammate and leader without talking to the media.

Owens' snub of the media might be a sign of his maturity. We all know Owens is an emotional guy. We all remember him crying in defense of his quarterback, Tony Romo. He had to be upset following the game. Who wouldn't be after such an utter collapse? Safety Donte Whitner couldn't even field questions without breaking down in tears. "Gee, do you think T.O. would have talked if he had 12 catches, like Randy Moss and Wes Welker?" Sullivan wrote. Of course, Sullivan is right. If he had had a monster game he definitely would've talked to the media. He would've been all smiles and would've given the media a show. But in a loss like this, what's wrong with taking advice we all learned in elementary school -- if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

In all honesty, Owens undoubtedly wasn't happy with the amount of looks he got. He's used to seeing the ball come his way about ten times a game. I'm sure he was frustrated by only being targeted three times. If he had talked to the media extensively something like that would have come out, and that would be what everyone was talking about the next day, no matter how many other things he said. Instead, he turned to where more and more athletes are going to make news, Twitter.

"We'll b ready next week! I promise u that!!" he tweeted Monday night. Let's see the media try and take that out of context.

It had been a bad few weeks for the big guys, Tiger Woods going head-to-head the final round of a major, the PGA, with Y.E. Yang, the great nobody who became somebody, and finishing second.

Not too long after, Roger Federer, supposedly unbeatable, lost the U.S. Open final to Juan Martin del Potro, who fell flat on his back after the final point. There was some symbolism, tennis having been flipped upside down,

Upsets are supposed to be lifeblood of sports, and society. They give us hope anything can happen, keep us from getting bored, complacent or giving up. As kids we're preached the legend of The Little Engine That Could.

Hey, if a guy who by all rights should be playing basketball, the 6-foot-6, del Potro of Argentina, can drop the first set to the best tennis player in history and come back to beat him, anything's possible. Right?

Wrong. But it has the ring of authenticity.

Del Potro called his win a dream. We'll accept the proposal, but the reality is even before his upcoming 21st birthday, he was already rated one of tennis' very best.

One of these days, the experts predicted he was going to win a Grand Slam tournament. The day came Sunday. He wasn't dreaming.

It wasn't as if Walter Mitty, the fictional character of secret life who resided in reverie, stepped out of a cloud onto the court and stunned Mr. Federer. Del Potro had battled Roger to a fifth set in the French Open. The kid can play.

Still, as in the case of Yang v. Woods, the del Potro result was unexpected. Not impossible. Unexpected.

That's why they play the game, we've been told, because we don't know who's going to win, even though most of the time we do know.

As the late author, Paul Gallico, wrote, "The battle isn't always to the strong or the race to the swift, but that's the way to bet.''

A stunner is permitted now and then to keep us off balance, but mainly sports demand a large dose of stability. We can't continually have Central Michigan upsetting Michigan State, although that was a spectacular onside kick. Or have Y.E. Yang overtaking Tiger Woods. It's too confusing.

How are judgments to be made? No less significantly how are commercials to be made? Gillette is selling celebrity even more than it is close shaves, which is why Tiger, Federer and Derek Jeter are the chosen ones connected with the Fusion razor ads.

Sponsors want winners. Sponsors want recognition. They don't people who drop fly balls or lose five-set matches.

The New York Yankees and Pittsburgh Steelers provide a yardstick for excellence and fame, as compared at the moment to the New York Jets and Pittsburgh Pirates, although the Jets have this quarterback from Hollywood, or nearby, Mark Sanchez, who's already getting Namath-type attention.

Love the Yankees, hate the Yankees. There's not much difference as far as advertisers or television networks are concerned. The only trouble is if we ignore the Yankees, which virtually is impossible.

Because the Yankees won't allow themselves to be ignored.

Neither will the Dallas Cowboys. Or Patriots. Or USC or Notre Dame. Or Tiger Woods or Roger Federer.

Sure we get excited about a Melanie Oudin or Kendry Morales, new faces, but it's familiar faces and familiar teams which hold our interest.

It isn't going to happen, not on our watch, but if, say the Yankees and Red Sox, Tiger and Phil Mickelson, Serena Williams and Roger Federer all slipped into mediocrity the whole sporting scene would be a mess. We'd be clueless.

You sensed our bewilderment just when first Tiger, who never had lost a lead in a major, tumbled. And then a month later , Federer allows his streak of five straight Opens, to be snatched away.

Oudin, the kid from Georgia, had "Believe'' on her shoes. But after Woods and Federer both fell on their faces, as opposed to del Potro who was on his back in celebration, we were wondering what to believe.

The Patriots provided the answer. They showed the way. They were favored, and they won, Not by much, a field goal, but they won. As they were supposed to win. Heartwarming.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

For too long the only man who could penetrate Sir Roger's hermetically sealed force field has been Nadal. The lefty's dominance of Federer has been well documented - he owns a career mark of 13-7 against Fed, including the even more impressive statistic of 5-2 in Grand Slam finals on three different surfaces. This has been, up to now, the only measure that a scant few tennis historians - including yours truly - have invoked to deprive The Roger of that tiresome and needless Greatest of All Time (GOAT) label. But aside from Nadal there's been no one else to rise up to that that arduous, some would say Herculean, challenge.

If one decides to take part in that thorny, some would say futile, practice of comparing players from different generations, a critical gauge has to be the depth of field one is up against. What should clearly not enter dispute is that prior periods in men's tennis had far stronger, and varied, competition. Whether it's Rod Laver, Pete Sampras, Bjorn Borg or Pancho Gonzalez (the generally agreed upon quartet of players who are in the GOAT debate of the modern era), all of these men faced stiffer and more intense competition from more than one player than did/does Federer.

This in no way diminishes the singular accomplishments that Federer has compiled. Several of his records, one can utter with a great degree of confidence, will never been broken, let alone approached - 15 Grand Slam titles; streaks of 10 and 7 consecutive Slam finals reached; 22 straight semifinal appearances in Slams. The numbers are by any measure staggering and ridiculous. The only missing ingredient to this perfect recipe is that rarest of tennis feats, a calendar year Grand Slam, last managed by Rod Laver in 1969 (and this was actually less daunting back then as there were only two surfaces, clay (French Open) and grass (the rest of them) in the Slams - hard courts didn't appear until 1978 at the US Open and 1988 at the Australian Open).

Yet one can play the game of conjecture and consider the possibilities if Del Potro - or anyone else - had joined the battle during Federer's prime. Imagine how much more formidable and wondrous Fed's accomplishments would seem if he had been able to wage battle against both the indefatigable champion that is Nadal and a player of such imposing force as Del Potro. Laver had the Australians. Borg, McEnroe and Connors had each other. Lendl, Edberg, Becker and Wilander fought it out concurrently. Sampras was up against Agassi, Courier, Chang, Ivanisevic and Rafter.

But we'll never know. And mainly because we are much closer to the end of Federer's career than most would want to acknowledge. Though he has vowed to play at peak form through the 2012 Olympics, it's hard to imagine that he can sustain his current pace. Though it'd be utter folly to doubt the genius' resolve.

The graceful champion spoke volumes, in words and gestures, during his post-match press conference on Monday night. The tears that were present in Melbourne in January after being blown off the court in the fifth set by Nadal - some would say selfish tears at that, as it deprived Nadal of fully basking in his achievement - were replaced by words that acknowledged he had no answers for Del Potro in the end.

And he was OK with it. Of course he was - because how can one top the perfect season that Federer had put together? Completing the career Grand Slam in Paris, besting Sampras' record of 14 Slam titles at Wimbledon, then getting married and becoming a first-time father to healthy twin girls has left Federer a happy and wise man at 28. Dare I utter that most dangerous of adjectives to professional athletes or artists, the one word that is anathema to progress and the hunger necessary to improve? Yes, The Roger is content.

And a contented Federer will likely translate to a permanent shift at the top of the sport in 2010 and beyond (and lest the eternally short memories of fans go unchecked, before he was injured, Nadal was the runaway number one player until the Summer of Roger). There's no way anyone can expect Federer to sustain that competitive fire with little else to play for. Even if he were to lose in the first round of every event he entered next year, it wouldn't leave a dent in his legacy.

Now, if the busy and happy Dad is able to summon up the competitive fire and appear to be as brilliant as ever then yes, we'll all be able to enjoy seeing Fed compete against the powerful Del Potro, Nadal and all the others. Even more satisfying however, this would give us all a little insight into what could have been if Federer were 24 and in mid-career, with more than one rival. That may be too much to ask. But maybe it isn't.

Whatever the case, the men's game hasn't been this rich and joyful to watch in decades. If Federer can continue at least near his current level and Nadal comes back healthy, as he is expected to, and Del Potro can add a net game to his scarily powerful ground attack (a truly awesome, fear inducing thought) and Andy Murray and Novak Djokovic finally live up to their potential then - well, either way, the GOAT debate may be settled once and for all.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

Even more remarkable is that Del Potro pulled off that extraordinary double feat and became the first to beat both Nadal and Federer in the same Slam event. Indeed, there is now a third man on the scene in men's tennis. As Roger Federer stated in the post-match press conference, speaking of the incandescent rivalry between himself and Nadal - "maybe Del Potro will join that thing too."

There was no way one could have predicted the eventual outcome midway through the second set. After Federer rolled to an easy first set and was up a break in the second, it looked as if, yet again, Federer would deprive the grand occasion of any drama and roll to easy victory and just add to his singular legacy. But Del Potro somehow managed to break back and played a focused tiebreak to even the match.

And that was the just the first of many shifts in tempo and momentum - with a dash of tension thrown in for good measure as Federer was actually heard cursing at the chair umpire in a dispute over the replay system. It was an unaccustomed display of emotion from Federer and exhibited just how daunting a task it was to face the relentless assault of Del Potro.

The towering Del Potro broke for a 4-3 lead in the third set and appeared that he had wrested that elusive momentum away from The Roger and would seize control of the match. But the Argentinean played a horrendous service game following the break as Federer ran off four consecutive games, taking the set when Del Potro double faulted twice at 4-5.

In the fourth, Del Potro once again attained an early break - slapping hands with front row spectators along the way - and was serving at 4-2. But Federer broke back with the aid of some tentative serving by the big man. And all of a sudden a few minutes later Federer found himself at 30-30, 5-6 on Del Potro's serve only two points from the championship. From that point forward however, Del Potro was the one who exponentially increased his power and started to dominate.

Unleashing inside out forehands with extraordinary precision and force - some eclipsed 110 mph - and making Federer struggle to regain his footing, Del Potro won the tiebreaker relatively easily, 7-4, and never looked back. I stated yesterday that Del Potro had to replicate his level of play that he sustained against Nadal and bring it to the court against Federer. Though he didn't accomplish this at first, his tactical and physical bullying of Federer over the last set and a half was brilliant. And part of this shoving around of the five time defending champion was all guile as Del Potro greatly reduced his first serves, choosing to basically spin them in as he had utter - nearly arrogant - confidence in his truly prodigious forehand.

The fifth set was more a formality and an exclamation point than anything else. In fact, it was similar to the fifth set at the Australian Open in January when Nadal, after losing a two-sets-to-one advantage, thrashed Federer in the final stanza. Del Potro, who had the important advantage of serving first in that last set, never let Federer believe in the fifth set and he proved that the "experience over inexperience" argument in crucial moments in sports is vastly overrated.

It was Roger who looked deflated and exhausted after losing that fourth set tiebreaker. One had a sense from his body language and facial expressions that he knew he had no answer to the raw power of Del Potro.

Does this herald the start of a new age in the sport? Well, yes. For too long now Nadal has been the only new rival to come along - I'm not including Andy Roddick as he was there before Fed's reign and he has always displayed grit - willing to fight to the end against Federer (are you listening Novak Djokovic and Andy Murray?) and never let up. Federer himself was probably surprised that Del Potro didn't just go away after being down a set and a break. The tall man from Tandil also displayed positive body language throughout, not something The Roger is used to aside from a certain lefty from Spain.

It was a joy to see the soft-spoken and seemingly gentle hearted Del Potro take in the moment after Federer's backhand sailed long to finally end the encounter after four hours on a gorgeous, windless, clear New York City night. A day after saying, "this is the happiest day of my life", Del Potro admitted that tonight was "much better".

NOTES:
The only sour note on this night was the insulting and joy-robbing moment courtesy of CBS and Dick Enberg. Del Potro, like a sweet child asking his cranky grandfather for some attention, was refused on two occasions by the veteran announcer when he asked to say a few words in Spanish. Enberg finally, grudgingly allowed the victor to speak to the excited throng but the moment was nearly ruined.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

Yes, Nadal is still suffering from a stubborn abdominal strain that rendered his serves nearly impotent and reduced his ability to move the Argentine around the court. But even if Nadal were 100% it would have been a difficult task for him - or anybody for that matter - to have defeated Del Potro on this sunny day. Nadal finally admitted after the match that his injuries were bothering him but true to form, he didn't offer it up as an excuse as he was obviously in awe of how dominating Del Potro was.

Rafa is the man who is usually running his opponent around the court, leaving them exhausted after one too many extended rallies. Not on this most welcome gorgeous late summer afternoon in Gotham. Nadal was the one who looked visibly helpless and irritable, even venting some frustration at the chair umpire, something one rarely witnesses from the polite Mallorcan.

Nadal also had a failure of strategy and tactics of sorts on Sunday. Knowing how vicious and deep Del Potro is capable of striking his groundstrokes, Nadal should have crept closer into the court on returns, especially during second serves, and rob Del Potro of a little time. Easier said than done obviously as when Del Potro is that consistent, it's hard to sustain an effective strategy.

Additionally, Nadal may have been wise to utilize the slice more frequently on Sunday. His usually tricky and high-bouncing topspin shots fall right into the hitting zone of Del Potro - unlike against Federer, where Nadal's shots zero in on the Fed's high backhand side - making it cannon fodder. Early in the match when it seemed Nadal may strike with an early break, Nadal was hitting low slices and nearly wrested control of the encounter. But again, with Del Potro forcing the issue and being the aggressor Rafa was not able to engage the tall man in longer rallies.

The good news for the Nadal camp and his many fans is that it was quite an accomplishment to even reach the semifinals, especially with only half a serve. There's no reason to believe that Rafa will not be one of the favorites when the Grand Slam season starts up again in January in Australia.

Del Potro, regardless of the outcome of his final Monday afternoon against Roger Federer, is ready to make a push for number one in the world over the next twelve months. After he had Federer on the brink of defeat in Paris, when he owned a two-sets-to-one lead over the eventual champion before nerves got the best of him, Del Potro has been on a mission to prove that he is ready to assume the role of Grand Slam champion.

Is there a chance that he'll take down The Roger on Monday? Well if he plays the way he did on Sunday then yes, of course. But he truly has to play that well. For one thing, he'll be on the receiving end of Federer's serve and not the spin deliveries that Nadal was forced to hit. Secondly, he hasn't proven to Federer in their previous meetings that he can beat him. In their six meetings, Del Potro has taken sets from Fed on only one occasion, in the previously referenced French Open semi. How much that weighs on the young man's mind will surely be a factor.

And if he is to challenge, let alone beat Federer, it is imperative that he secure the early lead. If not, game over. Novak Djokovic learned that lesson - again - on Sunday. Having just broken Federer and serving with a 4-2 lead in the first set, Djokovic lost his service game at love and the match was for all intents and purposes over at that point. The remainder of the semifinal was of relatively high quality but the script was eerily similar to their meeting in the 2007 Open final; Djokovic has break opportunities and leads in the first couple of sets and then Federer comes back to win in straight sets.

When playing Federer the first commandment is - thou shall not hit a ball to the Federer forehand. It still appears that Rafeal Nadal is the only one who has studied the Way to Beat Roger Federer textbook. Once again today Novak failed to keep the ball away from The Roger's strong side on the crucial points.

And of course Roger played like Roger usually does, with consistent strength off the grounds punctuated by wise and effective forays into the net and mid-court slices to entice his opponent into mistakes. And then there was that between-the-legs shot for a winner in the final game that seemed to signal, yes indeed the King's reign is far from over.

NOTES:
I wish Dick Enberg, who possesses a classic, smooth commentator's voice, would stop saying "Noduhl" instead of Nadal.
I'll say it again - why can't CBS show the match at night on Monday? Or at least start the match at 7? Showing it at 4 is an insult to fans and makes a mockery of their supposed complete and comprehensive coverage of the tournament. And if they don't want to go up against Monday Night Football, then have it stated ahead of time that they'll show the match on Tuesday night in case it's postponed from Sunday.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

Which is what Serena Williams should have said.

She's one of two or three best tennis female players in the world, arguably the best. But Serena embarrassed herself, embarrassed her sport during a U.S. Open semifinal.

Lost control. Lost the match. Was mad at herself and in a expletive-filled tirade took it out on a lineswoman who even Serena later conceded only was doing what she is paid to do.

A foot fault is a rare call in tennis. It occurs when a server touches the baseline with either foot. Despite denials that she never foot-faults, and seemingly is only guilty in New York, Serena has been called many times in her career.

When she was called in the U.S. Open semi was a problem, down a set to Kim Clijsters, losing 5-4 in the second set and 15-30 in the game. Foot fault. Suddenly it was 15-40, suddenly it was match point.

Suddenly Serena Williams, defending champion, 11-time Grand Slam winner, turned into an immature, foul-mouthed tennis brat.

She held a ball in her left hand, a racquet in her right and extending the left arm told the lineswoman, "I'm going to stuff this bleeping ball down your bleeping throat.''

In the NFL or the NBA or baseball, that threat would result in instant ejection. What it got Serena was a code warning, which added to the warning she received for bashing her racket to the court in the first set cost her a point. And at 15-40, that point meant game, set and match to Clijsters.

Whether a foot fault should be called at that juncture is a legitimate question, the same as whether a foul should be called in basketball in a tie game and a man driving to the basket and a second on the clock. But whether Serena disgraced herself is not a question. She did.

What she didn't do, was apologize. In the post-match interview, a rather insincere Serena Williams, insisted, "I didn't threaten. I didn't say . . .I don't remember anymore. I was in the moment . . . I don't think it's necessary for me to speak about it. I've let it go. I'm trying to move on.''

So someone wondered if the lineswoman deserved an apology, and Serena, in her haughtiest voice, answered, "An apology for? From me? How many people yell at linespeople? . . .Players, athletes get frustrated. I don't know how many times I've seen that happen.''

That's no justification. Serena confided she has a temper, which is not an indictable offense. Serena confided one of her heroes was John McEnroe, notorious for his language when berating officials.

But Serena is almost 28 years old, supposedly a role model, as well as a fashion model. She's always placing a bottle of Gatorade next to the microphone during interviews to promote one of her endorsements. You think the company likes one of its stars swearing like a street punk?

Tennis is personality driven. It is Serena Williams and Roger Federer who bring the attention. This isn't exactly inmates running the asylum material, but the players have control. Even when they're out of control.
They are the lifeblood of their sport. They can get away with virtually anything.

Serena was fined $10,000, but she wasn't suspended. Having her beaten before the final of the Open was bad enough. She was the last American standing in American's championship. Not that she would have been standing even if she didn't go into her diatribe.

Clijsters, three months out of retirement, was outplaying Serena. Serena knew it. Serena was angry at herself. She took out it out on the lineswoman, of whom later Williams said, "If she called a foot fault, she must have seen a foot fault. I'm not going to knock her for doing her job.''

She didn't knock her, she trashed her. It was shameful. Then Serena had second thoughts. Then Serena was contrite. But she wouldn't apologize.

"It was a tough day,'' Williams justified. "I didn't play my best.''

Asked if she regretted losing her head, if briefly, Serena said, "I haven't really thought about it to have any regrets. I try not to live my life saying, ‘I wish, I wish.' I was out there and fought and I tried and I did my best.''

Her best was not very good. What we wish is a woman of Serena Williams' talent and reputation could say simply, "I apologize.'' We'd let it go at that.

As a reporter since 1960, Art Spander is a living treasure of sports history. A recipient of the Dick McCann Memorial Award -- given for his long and distinguished career covering professional football -- he has earned himself a spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He was recently honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award by the PGA of America for 2009.

Speaking of competitive grit and determination, no one athlete has personified those characteristics in modern sports more than Michael Jordan. In his career with the Chicago Bulls what separated him from his tormented rivals was an ability to raise his game at the most important moments, literally imposing his will on his opponents rendering them frustrated, heartbroken and breathless in his wake on most occasions. No need to go into a verbal highlight reel here - even those without any interest in sports are aware of the permanent, theatrical and electric images that Jordan has left behind as his legacy.

But unfortunately this weekend, in over a little more than a 24 hour period, both of these legends left permanent stains on their characters with bizarre and disrespectful conduct - one blatant, the other subtle - leaving a sobering and unpleasant aftertaste to what should have been enjoyable events.

Hall of Fame speeches are usually boring but amusing occasions. While not always exercises in moving prose, they often do carry plenty of emotional weight and are imbued with a significant degree of humility, passion and respect. So when Jordan took to the podium at the alternate site for the speeches (too many fans were expected so the Hall of Fame moved the ceremonies to a theater that could accompany the thousands of fans who showed up) most expected that the man considered to be the greatest of all time in his sport would follow protocol and thank his coaches, teammates - even adversaries - while stating how much he loves the sport.

To be fair, Jordan did offer up the usual niceties to friends, family and select coaches and teammates. But after the cursory politeness, Jordan launched into a vicious rant against all those who have slighted the sacred cow of athletes - from Jeff Van Gundy to former teammate Charles Oakley to his high school coach and teammates.

But was it really out of character for Jordan? I don't think so. After all, he's the first one I can recall to speak of "my supporting cast" when referring to his teammates ; he's the one who refused to aid Harvey Gant in his Senate race against the race baiting Jesse Helms in his native North Carolina; and most of all he's the one who had more influence on the increasing corporatization and commercialization - or should I say Nikeization - of sports, raising the cult of personality to new and dangerous heights. It's always been just about Mike.

So the disappointment for me lies in the fact that it was all too familiar. It's that he was just himself, that this moment that should have been a humbling one turned into another forum to lord his dominance over his rivals. Instead of being surprised by a show of tearful warmth, we got the utterances of a brilliant but bitter and angry athlete who left the impression that he has no enjoyment away from a competitive arena.

By now everyone has seen the embarrassing and downright ugly tirade that Serena Williams unleashed late Saturday night in her semifinal match against Kim Clijsters. After an admittedly ridiculous foot-fault call on a second serve as she was serving to remain in the match, Serena erupted and spewed more violent epithets that I've never before witnessed - by man or woman - in a match (Connors, McEnroe, Nastase included). It was obvious at the end of the first set that Serena was becoming unhinged when she smashed her racquet and was given a warning then.

Thankfully, the match was probably ending up with an inspiring Kim Clijsters win regardless. The mother of a two-year-old daughter's accomplishment of returning to championship form in her first few months after an extended departure from the sport is a marvel. Serena's tantrum should not be given more play if only out of respect to Clijsters.

If Serena plays it correctly - and she is quite intelligent and shrewd - she should deliver a sincere and complete apology on Monday before or after her doubles final. Serena is too important a player for her career to be defined by this repugnant moment. She can redeem herself.

Lest one be too crestfallen, it was not all that bad a weekend for icons though - Derek Jeter's obvious but restrained joy and acknowledgment of the magnitude of the moment upon surpassing Lou Gehrig's Yankee hit record served as a reminder that there are still special athletes out there whom one can believe in or at least root for.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com

But the weather finally cooperated today - barely - and allowed for the match to be completed at the noon hour in front of a sparse crowd at the largest tennis venue on the planet. The result - a visibly injured and irritated Gonzalez put up little fight, not winning a single game, providing Nadal with basically a 35 minute practice session as the Spaniard claimed the match 7-6, 7-6, 6-0. Rafa couldn't have asked for anything more. He got the day off yesterday that his aching body (this time a strained stomach muscle) needed and then had to spend little time on court this afternoon. He'll now take on Juan Martin Del Potro in the first semifinal match on Sunday.

And with it, the men's tournament will finally begin.

With all the upsets and surprises on the women's side resulting in just one player seeded higher than eighth (#2 Serena Williams) making it to the penultimate round, the men have basically followed form for the second consecutive year. And though the lack of major upsets - with the exception of Andy Murray going down to defeat against up-and-comer Marin Cilic, a mildly surprising result - deprived the men of significant drama, the final act of this tournament should showcase tennis theater at its finest. The storylines are plentiful and what is at stake is thus - whether we continue to inhabit the Era of Roger and Rafa or are we indeed at the dawn of a New Age.

When there is a calcified group of men at the top of the rankings, the earlier rounds merely play a perfunctory role before the top combatants battle it out. And the quartet of players remaining - Roger Federer, Novak Djokovic, Nadal and Del Potro - have faced little opposition through the first five rounds as they all seek final glory in 2009.

If one is a fan of powerful hitting from all corners of the court then the semifinal matches will provide a feast for the viewer. Perhaps no one strikes the ball with as much ferocity from both wings as soon to be 21-year-old Juan Martin Del Potro. The soft spoken, six-foot-six Argentine can hit winners from anywhere on the court and is the owner of perhaps the finest backhand down-the-line misdirection shot in the sport. If Nadal ceases control of the baseline and allows Del Potro to step into the court it will be a very long afternoon indeed for the Man from Mallorca.

Surprisingly Del Potro has taken his time in developing a consistently strong first serve. But he has come into his own this year in that department and routinely hits first offerings in the high 120's. With his height and flexibility I wouldn't be surprised if he averages near 140 mph in the years to come. But if Del Potro is to sustain his level tomorrow he's going to have to hit 60% of his first serves. Nadal will jump all over his inferior second deliveries if given the chance.

The one doubt about Del Potro's game is his stamina. He breaks down when conditions are muggy, as evidenced by the sudden letdown of his play against Andy Murray several weeks ago in Cincinnati after winning the first set. Del Potro prefers the cool weather. And though tomorrow is not supposed to be warm, the sun will be out and he'll be playing at the warmest time of day.

For Nadal, we all know his deal. He was the clear number one player in the world before his knees gave out and aided in his shocking fourth round dismissal in Paris and his subsequent withdrawal from Wimbledon. And though his knees appear to be in fine shape now, the stomach muscle injury does pose a significant hurdle on his way to a career Grand Slam at the precious age of 23.

But if his body holds up and he is in top form, look for the southpaw to force the action more than usual and stay much closer to the baseline than he is accustomed to. Look for Nadal to attack the net when possible and try to steal time away from Del Potro. Nadal's vicious, high-bouncing topspin missives are far less effective against taller players so he'll look to flatten out his shots more and force the ball through the court.

Though Nadal has won four of six meetings with Del Potro, the Argentine has won their last two encounters, both on hard courts, including at Nadal's first tournament back from his injury in Canada in August. This match has the makings of a classic if both players are playing at their highest level. The one wild card element is the time away from the court with all the rain. The fact that Nadal was able to play today may prove to be an advantage. Consider that Del Potro hasn't been on court since Thursday afternoon. If there is any rust showing, look for Nadal to jump to a quick early lead.

For the third consecutive year, Roger Federer and Novak Djokovic will meet in Flushing with this being the second year in a row they'll meet in the semis. It's their fifth date in Grand Slam play with Novak only victorious once, at the 2008 Australian Open. Federer has won eight of their twelve meetings but Djokovic has won two of the last three. Quite simply, this match is difficult to predict, mainly because of the mercurial Djokovic.

Federer is, well, Federer and he'll be his typical sublime self on court with his effortless style on full display. The Roger will look to dominate early on his serve, putting pressure on the Serb, whose return game may be his finest weapon. Federer's footwork and shot selection has looked peerless thus far during the fortnight and he'll look to move Djokovic around the court as much as possible.

Djokovic has been a puzzle this year. Though he is still ranked fourth in the world he has had disappointing results in the Slams this year, not advancing past the quarters until the US Open. He also made the most curious decision of switching racquet companies earlier this year, something unheard of at this level of the sport. In addition, Djokovic has had to engage in some PR work since his alienating comments after his defeat of Andy Roddick in last year's Open. And its apparently working as the lighter, jovial aspects of Novak's personality are reemerging.

Another interesting aspect is Djokovic's decision to hire Todd Martin, former Top Ten player and US finalist himself in 1999, as a consultant. The studious and refreshingly friendly Martin was an accomplished volleyer and he was brought on to aid Djokovic's suspect front court game. Djokovic has never seemed comfortable at the net even though he can strike volleys well. If he is to beat Federer tomorrow, he'll have to sneak in to the net a few times and keep Federer off balance. Easier said than done.

There is a very basic theme to Sunday's matches; the more aggressive player will emerge victorious. Though that may sound obvious, it's often difficult to accomplish and the players who are confident with their game plan should triumph. And with it, the world may get what it wants - finally, a Federer vs. Nadal title match in Gotham. Indeed, their dominance of the sport is not history yet.

TOURNAMENT NOTES:
As of now, the men's final is schedule to take place at 4PM on Monday - which means that most people will not see the match as they will be at work. Why don't the USTA and CBS go head-to-head with Monday Night Football and air the match at 8PM? Imagine if it is indeed Federer and Nadal in the final? I'm sure CBS would get a healthy share of viewers and it'd give the sport a unique showcase. Or does the insidious and incestuous relationships among all networks now preclude it from happening, since MNF is on ESPN and ESPN2 has been the cable carrier for the Open.

Award-winning columnist Tim Joyce provides regular commentary for RealClearSports. His work has also appeared in Yahoo.com, MSNBC.com, and Tennis Week. Email: joyce.timothy@gmail.com