Grow Up, U.S. Women's Soccer Team!

Read this excellent article in yesterday's New York Times and see what I'm talking about.

Everyone knows that in the women's World Cup a few years back, head coach Greg Ryan made a mistake and benched stellar goalie Hope Solo in favor of old favorite and World Cup hero Brianna Scurry for the semifinal game. The result: Scurry looked slow-footed, the U.S. was routed, and Ryan ultimately lost his job. En route to the latter result, Solo opened her mouth and complained, very publicly, that Ryan's decision was wrong. In the process, and, yes, wrongly, she threw the respected Scurry under the bus.

Solo later apologized, very publicly, about her transgressions.

So it all should be over, shouldn't it?

Nope.

Not a chance.

You see, the U.S. women's team is acting like a bunch of thirteen year old girls who've just gotten their own cell phones and are trying to own the landscape in middle school. They started the bad behavior after Solo initially transgressed, banning her from the team, the consolation game, the flight home and the team's hotel. Instead of embracing someone who was hurting, showing they were forgiving and, yes, bigger people, the other members of the U.S. women's soccer team, all of whom must be the equivalent of altar girls and none of whom has ever said something she wished she hadn't, took the other road, the road much more frequently traveled.

Virtual shunning.

Or so it seems. Friendships are over, moments are awkward, the fracture hasn't healed, and no one is showing the leadership to put once-upon-a-time former best friends together to mend the rift, publicly declare that it's over, pull the team together and give it at least a puncher's chance to win the 2008 Olympics. But no, the rest of the women's soccer team knows better, feels that if they continue to ignore the problem, Solo will vanish or will forget or that somehow the team can pull together to win the gold medal.

That's realistic, isn't it?

Yes, Hope Solo made a mistake, but in her mid-twenties, she was bound to, even a big one. She got caught up in a moment, ventilated publicly, and has paid an awful price for her transgression.

But hasn't she paid enough?

So who, exactly, are the leaders on the U.S. women's soccer team? Or, are the team members subject to the same criticism that the Boston Red Sox were when they weren't winning with great frequency decades ago -- "25 team members, 25 taxi cabs" when they were on the road?

Leadership requires putting the good of the team over everything else. Leadership means standing up to those who didn't transgress but who are acting badly know and saying that the rift is over. Leadership means that you do your best to heal all rifts and make things right. Don't just sit around and let bad things fill this awful vacuum. Solve the problem!

If you don't, you won't win, few will remember you, you'll get your coach fired and U.S.A. Soccer will have to take a long hard look at team chemistry and determine who will represent the country in the 2010 World Cup. And, yes, it will be an easy fix to cashier Hope Solo and find another goalie. But that would be the wrong fix, too, because among those who remain will be a bunch of people who acted in petty fashion and demonstrated that their own emotions and egos were more important than the greater good.

So, members of the U.S. Women's Soccer team not named Hope Solo, forgive her, talk to her, talk out your problems, and, yes, even apologize for not forgiving her soon enough. If you do this, you'll find out that you'll play better, and your team will play better, too.

The Old Princeton B-Ball Windbreaker

Years ago, when Pete Carril coached basketball at Princeton, if you supported the friends of Princeton basketball group at a certain level, you got to choose a gift from the b-ball program (only the difference was tax deductible, for those of you who care about these details). Anyway, if you gave over $100, and you got to choose from Princeton b-ball sweatsuits, umbrellas, blankets, athletic socks and windbreakers. Over the years, I picked up about 4 sweatsuits (one for me, one for my spouse and two for friends), a blanket and two windbreakers (one for my mother for yardwork and one for me).

I've had my windbreaker for about 15 years and it's shot. The lettering (placed where a left breastpocket appears on a sportcoat) has all but faded, and, well, the windbreaker looks bad and even out of style. I've insisted upon wearing it up through this spring, but the family has prevailed upon me to get rid of it because, well, it doesn't look flattering any more. I've always worn it with pride to show my support for the "Little Engine That Could" of college basketball, but now it's time to discard it.

Unfortunately, I can't replace it. (Once Bill Carmody became head coach in 1997, he discontinued the practice of giving the gifts, probably because some of the gifts cost about $50, the donors probably didn't need them or had collected plenty of them over the years, and the program needed the money for various enhancements the university couldn't provide). I still support Princeton basketball with great enthusiasm, even if there have been many lean years since John Thompson left four years ago. I'll miss my constant spring reminder of doing more with less, of a "Moneyball" approach to college basketball, of backdoor cuts and interesting bits of philosophy.

I'll probably look nicer, but then again, the guy who sent me the windbreaker as a thank you never really cared about that, as it was and remains what's inside that counts.

As it always was with Coach Carril. He wasn't about flashy "Midnight Madness" displays or fancy trappings, just getting the best out of each kid and winning ball games. I'll still remember the Carril era for its economy of movement, clearness of purpose and honesty in its everyday dealings, windbreaker or not.

But, Coach Johnson, if you want a suggestion. . . enable your fan base to purchase some logoware. You'll be surprised, even in your rebuilding years, how many people will wear it proudly to show their support.

Sorry, Lacrosse Fans, But . . .

I have two major beefs with the college lacrosse game.

First, despite the entreaties of ESPN and its color commentator, Quent Kessenich, lacrosse is not the fastest game on two feet. Sorry, but check out something called basketball and something else called football. Not much is faster than when Chris Paul is running a fast break or Devin Hester is returning a kick. Lacrosse touts, come up with a better tag line. This one fails.

Second, the game is not telegenic and suffers from what hockey does -- it's hard to pick up the ball and you can't see the faces of the competitors. Those two aspects of the game will not help make lacrosse more popular beyond those whose families and friends play the game. Yes, the national championship game might draw market share, but the average game will have trouble drawing on television. It might be like hockey -- in person it's a much better product.

How Do You Know Which Team is Your Favorite?

Chances are you have many favorite teams. If you live in Boston, you might root for the four professional teams plus some college teams. You think that because you're a local or a native that you root for them equally, but how can you be sure?

I'll throw out the following hypothesis -- your favorite team is the one you stay up with to watch their West Coast games, the one whose results you eagerly look for the next day, the one you make the most time for, and the one whose ups and downs resonate with you for the longest.

So, for me, that team is the Philadelphia Phillies.

Sure, the Eagles are the "hot" team in the city now, and the Birdlls have overtaken the Phils in popularity since, perhaps, the mid-1990's (after all, we Philadelphia fans only could ensure oh so much assinity from then-managing partner Bill Giles, who insisted that the Phillies were suffering as a small-market team when the truth was the fans were suffering from small-minded ownership). The Flyers have always ponied up the money to try to remain competitive, and the 76ers are headed up now by a guy who made his name in, yes, hockey. Go figure.

Okay, I've rambled a bit, but the truth is that the Phillies are my favorite team. My dad split a Sunday plan with one of his friends, and we went to about 7 games a year on Sundays, somehow seeing Steve Carlton pitch more often than not. We shared that time together and, now that my dad's gone, I share baseball with my family. We have a partial season ticket plan to the Phillies, and we enjoy very much going to games and watching the hometown team. The fealty, as it were, runs deeper than the fact that the Phillies are my hometown team. It's a kinship to shared family times within a relatively small family, just sitting there, eating peanuts and trying to predict when the stars will hit home runs. It's all good fun.

Despite being a sports fan, and haven't dedicated a full Sunday to the NFL or an afternoon to watching the Eagles in a long time. Yes, I'm a bit fair weather -- if they make the playoffs I'll watch the entire game. But otherwise, I'm not going to sacrifice the fall's good weather to sit for three hours watching any game. The Eagles have been a captivating team, but tickets are very hard to come by and then, if you get them, you'll have to endure some of the diehards. Last I heard, the Linc isn't necessarily the place for women and children.

I grew up with the 76ers thanks to a family connection, had great seats (downstairs, center court, 20 rows up at the Spectrum cost about $15 apiece then), and lived and died with them. Died mostly in the late 60's and early 70's, after they traded Wilt and before they pivoted, signed George McGinnis and then Doctor J. Lived and had fun with them in the mid-1970's to very early 1980's, where somehow, some way, they couldn't get all the way up their seemingly Sisyphian hill. Then, in 1983, they did just that, and that was a special team. But over the past 25 years the NBA has morphed from great hoops to mediocre entertainment, too many teams and games, too many tattoos and dancing girls. I like the 76ers and Maurice Cheeks, but their ups and downs aren't all that compelling for me anymore.

The Flyers, though, come in last, if only because I didn't grow up in a hockey environment, my father disliked hockey, its homogenous fan base and the Flyers' owner, Ed Snider, for reasons that were never totally clear to me. I suppose that my father disagreed that fighting should be part of any sport, joined the bandwagon when the Flyers won 2 Stanley Cups in a row (perhaps only because he didn't want to see his kids become outliers by channeling his dislike of hockey and because the Philadelphia area needed a champion), but still didn't care for it too much. Besides, we had baseball and basketball to share (not to mention local college football games), so our sports dance card was full. The irony isn't lost on me that a guy who's still resting on laurels created almost 35 years ago now is in charge of the 76ers too. Put bluntly, despite the Flyers' turnaround this year, Ed Snider isn't doing a great job presiding over either professional sports team in Philadelphia.

At any rate, the Phillies are it for me. I check their scores frequently, read the accounts of every game I missed, follow Chase Utley and Ryan Howard closely, among others, share their triumphs and defeats with the family, and go to more of their games than those of any other team. Yes, we root for all Philadelphia teams and hope they win, we really do, but none of them affect our day the way the Phillies do.

Sam Bowie Owns Horses

One of the most oft-injured (and therefore disappointing) players in NBA history was Sam Bowie, the Pennsylvania native who played at Kentucky and then was drafted between Hakeem Olajuwon and Michael Jordan in the NBA draft.

The Philadelphia Inquirer published this article about the hoopster turned breeder of trotters in today's edition.

So, my question is this, does anyone see the irony about Sam Bowie's training horses? If you do, please let me know by posting a comment.

Book Review: The Mogul: Eddie Gottlieb, Philadelphia Sports Legend and Pro Basketball Pioneer

Things were different then.

No cell phones, no cable television, no big arenas with luxury boxes, cigar bars and $6 chocolate chip cookies.

No private jets, no entourages, no bling.

The guys my dad knew as casual acquaintances were short, rumpled guys, serious, determined, some lacking in basic social graces except "how ya doin?", and you weren't sure that they meant it when they said it. Sometimes they seemed to be in a hurry, trying to get from one opportunity to the next, yet, because the pace of the world was slow, at other times they seemed to have all the time in the world.

They were older than my dad, not necessarily old enough to be his father but most certainly much older brothers. They worked hard, they were deal makers, promoters, men who tried to make something happen. They weren't necessarily hale fellows well met, but they were, well, memorable.

They ate from the automat at Horn 'N Hardarts on East Market Street in Philadelphia (and if you ever had the baked crock of baked beans there, you'd remember it for life and swear that nowhere, nowhow could anyone come close to replicating that type of delicacy), they had their businesses in their heads or on random pieces of paper stuffed in their pockets, they knew everyone and every gym and playground, and, boy, could they tell stories. You see, Philadelphia was smaller then, much smaller than it is today, and people lived closer in, so you ran into people everywhere you went and they were prone to stop by, unannounced, to say hello, because that's what people in those days did.

I'm not going to reveal the source of my knowledge of the topic of the book, but Eddie Gottlieb was familiar to my father, because one of the supporting cast mentioned in the book was a neighbor of, and business associate of, my father (lest you draw any inappropriate conclusions, the business was totally legitimate and my father was a straight arrow). As a result, I had heard references to "Gotty" all of my young life, because Philadelphia was a basketball town, and Gotty, all 5'4" of him (sorry, Rich Westcott, but if Eddie Gottlieb was 5'8" then Wilt Chamberlain was 7 1/2 feet tall), was a well-known figure.

No one outworked the man, no one knew the business of professional sports better than he, and no one could lay claim to being the father of the NBA more than Eddie Gottlieb could have. He got his start as a player, a teacher, a promoter, and he formed a legendary team of intercity Jewish young men called the South Philadelphia Hebrew Association (the SPHAs) that was one of the best early teams in the history of organized basketball. I recall summertime conversations at the pool of a friend of my father's when the dads would talk about the SPHAs and how great some of the players were. The father of the SPHAs was Eddie Gottlieb.

Eddie Gottlieb also was a booking agent, and he had dibs on certain venues and got a cut of the take when he booked a team in a venue. He was involved in various ways in Negro League baseball, and if there were those who had bad things to say about him, they did so much more because of his tightfistedness with money (he treated nickels like they were manhole covers) than they did because of his views on race (which were not enlightened, especially at the time he owned the Philadelphia Stars).

He ended up buying the Philadelphia Warriors from Walter Annenberg and coaching them, but he was no Red Auerbach. Auerbach was the innovator on the court, whereas Gottlieb coached the team with no great method, except, perhaps to coach to a style that would maximize an exciting style of play and therefore put people in the seats. After he sold the Warriors to a Bay Area group in the late 1950's, he served as a consultant for the team. Seemingly forever, he sat on the NBA rules committee, advocated many rules changes that made the game more entertaining (such as the 24-second clock, although it wasn't his idea), and served as the NBA's schedulemaker until his death in the late 1970's. At one point prior to that time, the NBA tried to get a computer to replicate Gottlieb's Herculean efforts in scheduling the long 82-game season, and the computer short-circuited.

Gottlieb never married, looked out for a sister who was in and out of mental institutions her entire life until she died in her mid-70's, was charitable to all sorts of people and causes without ever seeking any publicity, hung out with legendary 76ers public address announcer Dave Zinkoff (the best P.A. announcer in the history of the pro game), used to eat frequently at the house of one-time 76ers' owner Ike Richman, had a messy office that had all sorts of visitors, kept most of his business dealings in his head, bought 6 suits at a time, and once asked for a player to return twelve cents to him when he gave the player too much meal money a month earlier. Many liked him, some didn't (because he was direct in his dealings and not a diplomat), but all seemed to have respected him. He was a true period piece, an American original the likes of whom will not be replicated.

Author Rich Westcott did as good a job as possible writing a book about this legendary man, and, overall, it's a good read. The unfortunate aspect of biographies like these is that Gottlieb and his contemporaries are long-since deceased, and the guys who played for him are either pretty old or deceased, and, in any event, the activities of which they speak happened four, five and six decades ago. In short, it's hard to capture the flavor of the times or the people involved in the tapestry that was Gottlieb's life because the source material isn't as rich as it was, say, thirty years ago. Nonetheless, Rich Westcott described the Eddie Gottlieb who was described to me -- direct, persistent, brilliant, and, deep down, a nice man with a passion for promotion and basketball.

If you're looking for a good book to give your father for Father's Day about Philadelphia sports way back when or the NBA's history in particular, buy him this one. It's a good read, and it takes you back to days when the game was more accessible, and when the owners ran the teams for the love of what they were doing and not to feed their own egos.

Should Baseball Have Instant Replay?

The report here is that the Majors might try instant replay in the Arizona Fall League.

After numerous blown home run calls this year, do the Majors have an alternative? Put differently, to what would instant replay apply? Just home runs? Check swings? Third strikes? Whether balls are foul or fair? Bang-bang plays on the bases? Diving catches?

That's the problem. I don't think that instant replay should apply to anything other than home run calls. That's where most of the problems have arisen, and they've arisen because of the designs of stadiums, foggy nights, balls leaving the park so quickly, among others. That problem, as it were, could be easily rectified. If the umps aren't sure whether a ball left the park, after the play stops, they can signal the replay official and look at video.

Problem solved.

Beyond that, I think that baseball is asking for trouble, especially since they've quickened the pace of play. During my years of viewing, I think that the umpires get mostly everything right. Check swings? The catcher appeals to a base ump, who gets it right. Third strikes? Why should they be treated differently from first or second strikes? So long as the ump has a consistent strike zone for both teams, I'm fine, even if it's painful at times to witness a different interpretation of the strike zone from the one I'd use (translated: umps with bad backs or big stomachs sometimes are overly generous -- or not -- on low strikes). Close calls on the bases? They don't miss many. Ditto for diving catches.

Used correctly, instant replay could help improve MLB's product.

On a limited basis.

Where Else Did the Patriots Cheat?

Former NFL lineman Ross Tucker said that Coach Bill Belichick also played games with the injured reserve roster.

Filming where he shouldn't have been filming.

Stashing healthy players on the I.R. and then letting them practice.

What else?

Tony Dungy appeared on Mike & Mike on ESPN Radio this morning and, in response to a question, indicated that to some degree Belichick's accomplishments will be accompanied with some doubt. Dungy is a very gracious guy, and he didn't elaborate, but it's clear that the antics of Belichick and the Pats riled many in the NFL.

It's one thing to be aggressive. It's another to go past the boundaries because you start to believe your own press clippings as to how great you are and then (wrongly) believe that because of your genius status the rules don't apply to you.

And that seems what happened with Belichick. If what Ross Tucker says is correct, it seems that the NFL will have no alternative but to investigate this allegation as well. Investigators tend to turn over rocks until there are no more to turn over. In the case of Belichick, I don't think that NFL Commisioner Roger Goodell has a choice here.

Tucker seems credible. He's bright, he has no axe to grind, he was an NFL journeyman, an unsigned free agent out of a school (Princeton) that doesn't groom guys for professional football. He's not on a crusade, so to speak, he's just making a point.

And that raises the question as to what else might have gone on in New England that blew through stop signs and boundaries.

Brilliant Choice for Bucknell Men's Basketball

Bucknell hired two-time DIII coach of the year Dave Paulsen (formerly the head coach at his alma mater, Williams College) to replace Pat Flannery. You can read about the hiring here.

Paulsen is a great, creative choice for Bucknell. He withdrew from consideration for the Dartmouth job a few years ago when the Big Green hired Terry Dunn (my guess is that Paulsen just didn't feel he could win in the Ivies at Dartmouth -- and Dunn's tenure is proving him right). He should have been (and perhaps was) a candidate at Brown to replace Craig Robinson, and I also thought that Penn and or Princeton should have considered him for their vacancies when Fran Dunphy moved to Temple and Joe Scott went to Denver.

It's easy to say why: the just is a proven winner, period, and success begets success. Paulsen knows how to coach smart kids, and with some scholarships available at Lewisberg, he should make the transition to the Patriot League rather easily.

I can't say enough about what a great choice this appears to be. Congratulations, Bucknell, on your decision.

Only in Europe: Man U, Chelsea battle in Moscow

Which is pretty ironic that the Champions League was decided in Russia, given the recent influx of Russian owners of about 25% of the Mayfair section of London and of teams like Chelsea and Portsmouth. At any rate, Man U (owned by Americans) and Chelsea (owned by oligarch Roman Abramowich) battled in Moscow yesterday, with Man U winning a bloody match on penalty kicks.

You can read all about it here.

The match report leaves me with only one question: If Cristiano Ronaldo, the Portguese native who plays for Manchester United, isn't the best soccer player in the world at the moment, who is?

Comment below.

Who in the World is George Sherrill?

Where did he grow up, where did he come from, and why at 31 after years of not closing is he now all of a sudden close to the lead in the American League in saves -- and as a lefty, too? And for the surprising Baltimore Orioles!

Click here for information but not necessarily clues.

Was Sherrill suppressed because he didn't have a blue-chip pedigree? Often-injured? Is he a late bloomer? Did he have a miraculous later-in-career velocity transplant, a la Jim Morris of The Rookie?

Are the barriers to entry to becoming a closer lower than they've ever been? Is that good for the hypothetical, average relief pitcher? How many teams are confident in their current closers? How many say novenas every night for them? How many are looking to change their closers?

At any rate, George Sherrill appears to be a great story.

NBA Mock Drafts and the 76ers

Here's an NBA mock draft from Ian Thomsen of Sports Illustrated. Thomsen has the 76ers picking West Virginia's Joe Alexander with the pick, over big men such as Georgetown's Roy Hibbert and Rider's Jason Thompson.

I think it's a great pick. Alexander excelled in the NCAA tournament, playing the best hoops outside of a guy named Stephen Curry. Sure, at 6'8", 230, the cognoscenti will say that he's too short to play the four and too slow to play the three. How many times have we heard that? And how many apologies have we heard from those who said that guys like Carlos Boozer and Shane Battier couldn't play in the NBA?

Alexander wins. NBA teams need to focus not solely on promise, but guys who make the plays and help their teams win games, night in and night out. Guys who keep working, guys who hit the boards and the open man, and guys who hit the clutch shot. Alexander is all of those guys. I marveled at the slippage of Boozer years ago to the second round, because all he seemed to do was make the plays, and he's proven me right.

Joe Alexander is another excellent player. The 76ers would be lucky to get him.

How Tough are the San Antonio Spurs?

Tough enough to be only 1 of 20 teams (out of a denominator of 100) to win a Game 7 in an NBA series on the road.

That's tough.

Call it game-tested tough, Texas rodeo tough, whatever you want, but this is a playoff-tested team that will go down with its boots.

The NBA regional finals should be a treat. You have Kobe and the gang against the wisened old pros of San Antonio, and then you have the Celtics (to whom many pundits gave the title in the pre-season) against other set of wisened old pros, the Detroit Pistons.

The networks probably are craving another Celtics-Lakers final.

The basketball purist in me wants to see the two old bands battle it out for perhaps one last time. I'm going with age over beauty, and I'm picking the Spurs to meet the Pistons in what should be a classic NBA final.

There is No Fix in the Tim Donaghy Case

Although the disgraced former NBA's referee apparently suggests otherwise.

Tim Donaghy, who admitted to gambling on basketball games he officiated, is up for sentencing in Federal court soon. His attorney wrote to the judge stating that his client fully cooperated with investigators, revealed pieces of information that could have led to further investigations, but that Federal prosecutors have done nothing with that information and that the NBA might have pressured the U.S. Attorney's office to go no further on the matter.

It's hard to believe.

U.S. Attorneys are among the most zealous people on the planet, and if they are presented with facts that lead to further investigation, under normal circumstances they'll continue to pursue their leads until they come up dry. Moreover, it's hard to believe that any outside organization -- especially the NBA -- would have enough juice to get U.S. attorneys to back off.

Mike Greenberg discussed the allegations on ESPN Radio this morning and wondered aloud whether there was anything to this story. It was not Greenberg's best moment, because he's not familiar with prosecutorial climates and usually relies upon legal analyst Roger Cossack to help him. Had Greenberg involved Roger Cossack this morning, Cossack would have said almost precisely what I did -- that the U.S. attorney would have pursued all credible leads and that there's no way a U.S. attorney would stop because the NBA asked him/her to do so.

Oh, yes, there can be fixes everywhere, but do we believe that there has to be a fix everywhere? Is that the way we all want to live our lives? Look, if Donaghy's attorney has something, he should raise it more articulately with the higher ups at the Justice Department, with the press and with the judge, and then let "the system" take over. It's my opinion, though, that perhaps Donaghy didn't have as much information to give as he or his attorney thinks.

If there's something to this story, it will come out eventually. But respected pundits such as Mike Greenberg should give more thought to giving credibility to allegations without consulting with their experts.

Tigers Don't Have "Eye of the Tiger"

Good piece in today's USA Today by Bob Nightengale on what's ailing the Detroit Tigers.

My assessment: you have a team built to draw 4 million, but not necessarily a team designed to win a championship.

The reason: there is no established leader on the club, and none of the 7 all-stars has shown a willingness to seize the leadership mantle and make the entire team accountable. Another take: there is no one person who sets the tone whom the other all-stars are willing to follow. Last take: the putative superstars don't have a sense of urgency about winning.

In other words, they've lost the "Eye of the Tiger."

But it doesn't look like they're going to listen to their version of Apollo Creed and go train in a decrepit, inter-Los Angeles gym with young minor leaguers who have the "Eye of the Tiger" any time soon.

Naturally, the Tigers' gruff old manager disagrees with any popular psychology, but, then again, old-school baseball people are among the most xenophobic people out there. Something is rotten in Detroit, and if Jimmy Leyland doesn't help fix it fast they'll ride him out of town in a foreign auto that they've set aflame.

The Tigers right now have the worst record in the American League and are on pace to lose 100 games. You really couldn't hit that number with a $138 million payroll if you tried. After all, the Tigers' ownership isn't baseball's version of "The Producers", and the 2008 Tigers aren't those owners' version of "Springtime for Hitler." The Motown ownership wants its local nine to win in the worst way.

Still, the Tigers are a foundering team right now, and they had better go on a streak of some sort soon before resignation sets in that the best they can do is finish .500. On paper, they have the whole package. The key is whether they can put it all together on the field.

The Martelli Rule

I heard a snippet on ESPN Radio in Philadelphia this morning while driving to work. Afternoon drive-time show host Mike Missanelli was interviewing Martelli, who gave his views on college basketball and the NBA's requirement that (in essence) requires high-school seniors to go to college for one year before pursuing a pro career.

Martelli's prescription: that the NBA should have the same rules that Major League Baseball does. Require high school kids to either go pro out of high school or stay for three years in college before being eligible for the draft again. In this fashion, the creme will go pro right away, and the rest will go to college for appropriate seasoning. Sure, there's a risk that too many kids will opt for the draft out of high-school, but once they hear the stories of the Korleone Youngs of the world they might think differently.

The NBA's current set of rules is bad for colleges and college basketball. While every coach should want to recruit the top talent, most are sensible enough to realize that recruiting top-10 talent means you'll only get a kid for a year. It's hard to build a program that's rooted in transcience, and that's what you'd have should you recruit too many "one and done" players. Put differently, the NBA benefits from this rule; colleges don't.

Major college coaches are left in an awful conundrum. Recruit the top talent and risk having bad continuity in your program. Fail to recruit the top talent, and you might miss out on that one player who for one year (Carmelo Anthony comes to mind) could help take your program to the Final Four. Worse, decline to recruit that player because of continuity issues, and then watch your rival take him and get to the Final Four.

Martelli's rule makes sense. Despite the NBA's rigidity, some players (Dwight Howard, LeBron James) are ready to go straight to the pros. They belong there and shouldn't be compelled to go to college for a year today. The remainder should commit to college for three years, get seasoned, and then be eligible for the NBA draft. As a silver lining, they'll have three years' worth of credits toward a degree and could easily go back to complete their education. That is, of course, if the kids today are actually expected to go to class and make progress in meaningful subjects.

What say you NBA, NCAA?

Should There Be Legalized Sports Betting in New Jersey

State Senator Ray Lesniak, political patron to one-time Governor Jim McGreevey, thinks so.

He wants the state to challenge a Federal law that limits sports betting to four states, most prominent among them Nevada. So far, Governor Jon Corzine's office has declined comment.

Corzine made a mint helping run Goldman Sachs, the investment bank that specialized in, of course, legal investments and speculation. So, it would stand to reason that the governor would support this challenge, given that New Jersey has huge unfunded pension obligations, an aging population and is almost out of moves when it comes to find ways to raise revenue.

Watch this one -- the stakes are high, and New Jersey smells the money.

The odds are that they'll take action.

So that, at the end of the day, their casinos can take the action.

Jason Giambi's Lucky Gold Thong

From the category of, "you're probably revealing too much information than the public should or really needs to know" department, Jason Giambi revealed that he wears a lucky gold thong under his uniform pants when he tries to snap out of a slump.

Girly man? Crazy man? Silly man?

If the back story were that he took it off a Bangkok stripper in a game of Texas hold 'em at 2 a.m. on a cruise near Cabo San Lucas while partying with Guns 'N Roses and doing flaming shots with the Dixie Chicks, well, that would make it more interesting. The story didn't reveal where Giambi sourced the undergarment. Perhaps Brian McNamee procured it for him. After all, you doubt that Major League Ballplayers would purchase XXL skimp undergarments themselves in Manhattan, where many worship the Yankees more than their religions. Somehow, news would have gotten out.

But, no, Giambi had to tell the whole world about his superstition and his cure for the common batting slump. Okay, so it's not a common batting slump, for him at his age it could be a career batting slump. Teams simply don't let mid-thirties first basemen who can't field a lick hang around when they're hitting a buck eighty and only have warning track power.

The New York Daily News apparently broke the story, and they've been good at digging up the dirt on many a New Yorker. In this case, they'll be fervent about digging up the gold, as in gold underwear. Apparently, Giambi, the owner of the garment, might have loaned it to other teammates when they were in slumps.

Male bonding at its finest, wouldn't you say?

So, Mr. Giambi, if you have any other secrets, rest assured that they won't remain safe in New York for long.

Are Labor Troubles Brewing for the NFL?

It appears that the NASCAR-like appeal of the NFL (in that each time has the same amount of money to spend and there's a hard salary cap) might end, and soon. The owners are reported to be seriously considering opting out of the collective bargaining agreement with the players. There wouldn't be any immediate effect, but things could get mighty interesting after the 2009 season.

For the teams with the big bucks, opting out has serious appeal. For those without, well, doormat status could be perenially upon you.

Ryan Howard and a Megabucks Long-Term Contract

All we heard in spring training was about the Phillies' going head to head with Ryan Howard and trying to hold the line on salaries. Howard, eligible for salary arbitration for the first time, was asking for $10 million; the Phillies' countered with (what some fans considered was a miserly) $7 million. During the time leading up to the arbitration, we heard fans and pundits offer that the Phillies' ownership was being predicably cheap, that holding the line on this rare slugger was a mistake and guaranteed to put him in a Yankees' uniform in 2012. Howard won the arbitration, and, to both parties' credit, they handled the matter (at least publicly) with dignity.

The season then began, and people began to forget about Howard and his contract issues. After all, he did just win $10 million, and the beginning of the season transcended contractual matters. Then a funny thing happened -- Ryan Howard looked like he forgot how to hit for the first say 35 games of season, waving at all sorts of junk and hitting a paltry .174, or roughly his weight in the eighth grade. Suddenly, all of those folks who had challenged the Phillies' wisdom of not giving Howard Miguel Cabrera-like numbers (and, after all, Cabrera showed that he couldn't lay off the junk food last year, while Howard has a nutrionist who helps keep his big-boned physique in check) grew silent, about as silent as they were loud when the Phillies disagreed with the first baseman's arbitration number.

Instead of advocating that the Phillies open up their vault for Howard, they were silently praying that their slugger would return to form. Thankfully, within the past 10 days, the slugger has started to hit. Put Howard's recovery along with the return of Jimmy Rollins and Shane Victorino, and the Phillies somewhat dormant bats (yes, they have been hitting homers, but their team batting average was among the worst in the NL) are going to start making quite a racket (witness last night, when OF Jayson Werth cranked 3 home runs and knocked in 8). All of this, of course, is positive for the Phillies.

But then there's that lingering question of a long-term deal for Howard and what he's worth. Current Phils' GM Pat Gillick doesn't like long-term deals. Then again, Gillick is retiring after this season and his heir apparent, Assistant GM Ruben Amaro, might feel differently. Still, the bright folks at Baseball Prospectus have been consistent in their belief that Howard doesn't project for consistent production over the course of say, a seven-year deal, because players with his size historically don't play well into their mid-30's (especially without the assistance of performance enhancing substances). Names such as Bobby Bonilla and Mo Vaughn, among others, come to mind. The former got heavy, and the latter got so heavy that he had orthopedic problems (ankle) that rendered him unable to play. Atop that, Howard is (very) streaky, and then you wonder whether at 28 (Howard will be 29 in November), Ryan Howard is worth a 7-year, $140 million deal (Chase Utley a year ago receive a 7-year, $84 million deal -- while Utley hasn't slugged the way Howard has, he's more likely to be productive -- very, perhaps -- at 36 than Howard is). Finally, there's the Barry Zito albatross, which is that no GM wants to give a long-term deal to a hitter who turns out to be the hitting version of Zito, the Giants' hurler who got $126 million in a long-term deal a few years ago only to fall off the cliff.

It's not easy to be a GM, is it. Sure, you have to pay for the top talent, because it's hard to have a top team if your payroll isn't in the top third of all of baseball. I believe that the numbers show that, and while the Rays and Marlins are doing well right now with (much) less than the traditional front-runners, it's only mid-May, and novas tend to flame out over the summer. It's an age-old story in baseball. Yes, right now the Rays and Marlins are doing well and the Rays particularly project out well over the course of the next several years, but their current formulas are much more ones as to how to rebuild a team than they are to build a champion now. That digression aside, do you lock up Howard at what he wants, negotiate something in the middle, or keep on taking him to arbitration until he's in his early 30's?

Somehow, so long as Howard continues to do an excellent job of keeping his own middle in check, I think that the middle is where both sides will (reasonably happily, too) end up.