Ballers, Gamers and Scoundrels

The NCAA Selection show is boring. Oh sure there’s drama. What’s better than watching groups of young men in sweats watching television? Frankly, a lot.

The show announcing which teams qualify for the NCAA Tournament and where they play could be so much better. It should be better. In this Reality TV era, you can’t tell me someone can’t do something with a show with a such a captive audience and so much on the line - coaches’ futures and young men’s dreams.

Here’s one thought:

Let’s face it. All the action really happens behind a closed door and involves a bunch of middle-aged men in suits. First of all, give us some access to the war room. Okay, so they’ll never put cameras and mikes in there. But throughout the day, have someone come out and give us an update on what’s going on inside. Like the new coach’s sideline interview during NBA games. Just give us something.

But here’s my big move:

I think it is virtually impossible to seed 65 teams with an real degree of reality. It’s hard enough to seed 32 teams. This season, after the top, say four teams, isn’t everyone pretty much the same? Didn’t seventh-ranked Duke lose to Clemson today.And eighth-ranked Wisconson barely survived Michigan State. How do you accurately seed the rest of the field with any real certainty.

I say seed only the top eight teams in each bracket, then open the war room and seed the remaining teams with a lottery. That’s right, ping-pong balls or some such.

The machine would contain 31 balls. (The two worst teams, those in the play-in game, would be left out and the overall top seed would automatically get the winner). Each ball contains the logo of a team that qualifies for the 65-team field. That way teams still do not know if they’re in the Dance.

Standing before a big board featuring the 32 teams and their seedings in region, cheerleaders representing schools from last year’s Final Four teams (Hey, I’m trying to make TV here!) call out the names of the schools as each ball pops out of the machine and its team is placed in a regional slot.

What the worst that could happen? A No 8 seed would draw no team batter than it would have before - a No. 9 seed. And so what if a No. 1 or 2 seed draws what would have been a No. 9 under the current system. Shouldn’t they beat them handily anyway?

My show has more drama, more flash, a dash of sexiness and an element of luck.

Sounds like a hit!

During a recent sports-talk show, I was asked my view on whther a certain veteran athlete should retire. The guy was coming off a mediocre season, one that fell far short of the all-World seasons he regularly produced at the peak of his career. The inference was that he should go out with “dignity,” or before he suffered some life-altering injury.

Without much thought I said: “Play on!”

Who are we to tell an athlete when he or she should retire? We do it all the time, typically wanting our icons to retire “on top,” or before we have to watch them perform like pitiable shells of their former selves. (Old guys, please let the Willie Mays thing go!)

We want New York Giants defensive leader Michael Strahan to retire after winning his first Super Bowl. (Please, the man has huge alimony payments.)

We wanted Michael Jordan to retire after nailing the NBA Championship-winning offensive foul/jumper against the Utah Jazz in the 1998 Finals. (The body said yes, but MJ’s mind clearly said no.)

Most athletes retire quietly, disappearing before we know they’re really gone. Some leave in the wake of ignominious remarks that will live in infamy. (See: Latrell Sprewell’s “feed my family” diatribe for turning down $5 million three years ago, an amount his agent called “a slap in the face.” Just recently it was reported that Sprewell’s home was in foreclosure due to more than $200,000 in payments in arrears, and that he’d auctioned off his yacht to pay the $1.32 owed on it.)

Some athletes don’t really retire retire - i.e. the spate of NBA veterans that have been dusted off of late by teams either looking for wizened reinforcements for the playoff stretch (P.J. Brown) or someone to throw into a trade deal to make the numbers work (Keith Van Horn). (The lesson: Never sign those retirement papers!)

Back in the early 90s, I waxed on about how Jimmy Connors should retire. It was 1991 and the aging, injured champion had fallen to No. 936 in the world. Because of his petulant behavior (on and off the tennis court) I had never been a huge fan. I respected his achievements and on some level admired his up-from-nowhere fire. But as he pushed 40 his act had grown weary. I was adamant that tennis (and sports) would be better off if Connors and his tantrums just faded away.

He did nothing of the sort, of course. And that fall Connors put on what may have been the greatest show in tennis histor, reaching the semifinals of the U.S. Open and stirring all of New York in the process. On his 39th birthday, he defeated 24-year-old Aaron Krickstein 3-6, 7-6(8), 1-6, 6-3, 7-6(4), overcoming a 2-5 hole in the final set, in 4 hours and 41 minutes of the most scintillating sports exhibition I may have ever witnessed.

An exhibition we would have missed had Connors retired, as so many were saying he should do.

After that, I’ve been loathe to judge whether any athlete should retire. Play on.

Yesterday, Brett Favre retired “on his terms,” as we like to say. He said simply that, after 17 NFL seasons, he was tired. He had nothing left to prove to anyone, including himself. Some lament that the certain Hall-of-Fame QB’s last pass was an ill-thrown interception in the NFC title game that led to Green Bay being eliminated from the Super Bowl Derby. Hogwash. The all-time everything QB will be remembered for far more than that.

What will we remember about Roger Clemens? I’m not sure whether he’s thrown his last pitch from a major-league mound. but it certainly seems unlikely now that he’ll stare down another batter. He’s too busy staring down the rest of us. He’s too busy telling us what few others believe to be true - that he did not take steroids, was not at Jose Conseco’s party, did not influence a caretaker about her potential testimony and did not tell Andy Pettitte his drug use.

And soon he may have to stare down a federal investigator trying to determine if he lied to Congress.

Right now, all the greatness Clemens displayed on the mound, the greatness that led us to debate whether he was the best pitcher ever, seems pretty insignificant relative to the ugliness that surrounds him now.

Definitely not a way to go out.

Ralph Ellison would love Chris Paul. Despite the mounting evidence that screams for attention, the New Orleans guard remains the NBA’s Invisible Man, largely unrecognized, largely ignored.

Oh sure, some have noted and celebrated his gifts. But few (if any) have said the obvious: Chris Paul is the best point guard in pro basketball.

Moreover, Paul belongs in any discussion regarding the league’s 2008 Most Valuable Player. In fact, right now, he’s at the top of my ballot.

Go ahead, make your case for Kobe or LeBron. Bring it on. Either would be a fine choice. In fact, both are better than CP3, as he’s know in N’awlins. But dang, not by much. And picking one of them would be safe. This is what I think of safe: Zzzzzz.

First the numbers: He leads the league in steals (2.7) and is second in assists (10.8 per game). He’s averaging more than 20 ppg (18th in the league) and shooting 48% from the field, highest among guards in the Top 20.

The team: The Hornets have been the best team - start to finish - this season. Not that they have the best record (fifth-best, 38-18). But they’ve been consistently good, avoiding the kind of long losing strides that have tripped up even the better teams. Their recent-three game slide matched their longest losing string of the season.

On Wednesday night, Paul erased any doubt regarding the league’s top playmaker. In fact, he made two-time MVP Steve Nash look like a wide-eyed D-Leaguer. He had 25 points, 15 assists, six rebounds and 3 steals. Nash failed to even score in the first half, and finished with 8 points on 1-of-6 shooting. If you watched the game, frankly, it was as if Paul was the only point guard on the floor. New Orleans won in a blowout, 120-103.

A week ago, Paul took advantage of a disoriented Jason Kidd, playing his first game as a Mav, to make the Hall of Famer long for the New Jersey swamp he left behind. He abused Kidd for 31 points, 11 assists, 5 rebounds, and 9 freakin’ steals. He shot 55% from the floor. The Hornets won, 104-93.

Interestingly, he and the Hornets are still void of the proverbial “respect” that gets bounced about when discussions begin about MVP and teams that could win the title. The Hornets have been dismissed with the same brush-off that once was used against a certain presidential candidate - lack of experience. Fair enough, neither Paul nor his two best teammates - center Tyson Chandler and all-star forward David West - are playoff tested. Heck, they three they’ve played 19 playoff games between them, almost seven times fewer than Kobe (131.) Even 23-year-old LeBron, who’ll probably break ever “youngest to…” record in the books, has more post-season seasoning (33 games).

But I like their fire, their consistency and the fact that their coach has a bit of a chip on his shoulders from being fired after twice leading the Nets to the NBA Finals. Revenge can be a great motivator.

For his production, his consistency, his team’s success and his downright dominance of his peers, Paul should be the leading chocie for MVP. Just as neither youth, nor inexperience has deterred support for that certain presidential candidate, those traits should not sway MVP voters against Chris Paul, either.

See, I’m not the only one. Blogger Mr. Irrelevant was watching TV the other night and commented that North Carolina coach Roy Williams had fielded an all-white squad. Granted the Heels were up by 40+ against Virginia Tech. But still ….

The Hollywood writers reached a settlement just when we didn’t need them. You couldn’t a script any more compelling than what you’ll see tomorrow live from Capital Hill! That’s when Roger Clemens will commence to stare down his performance-juice nemesis (and former friend) Brian McNamee before a congressional committee and a curious national audience.

Zap the popcorn, baby, this one will be a show.

Or will it? I can’t imagine hearing thing any more compelling that what we already know - McNamee saying he stabbed Roger in the butt with juice; Clemens saying he’d be growing an ear in the middle of his forehead if he’d used the stuff; McNamee calling his former BFF and almost tearfully wondering what was going on; Clemens recording the whole thing and playing it for us; McNamee showing us seven-year-old syringes and gauze he says contains Roger’s DNA and residue of God knows what; Roger glad-handing with your local Congressmen; and McNamee saying even Mrs. Rogers asked for a juice boost before an SI Swimsuit shoot!

You could not write a better script.

In fact, unless Roger’s head explodes in anger and he tossed a chair leg at a Congressman, the most compelling moments will like come early when the former BFFs are seated in relative proximity to each other and asked to raise their right hand. Otherwise, we’ll hear more of what we’ve already heard: He did, I didn’t, He did, I didn’t, He did …

Frankly, I do not know who’s telling the truth (and I’m coming pretty close to not caring). One man is adament, the other defiant.

Clemens either never took juice, or he’s convinced himself to his soul that the needles that were jabbed into his but contained fruit juice or some such.

But this is what I cannot understand: What would McNamee gain from lying? There’s been no evidence or conjecture that the feds pressured him to give up Clemens or go to jail. Short of that, why would this guy ruing his life by lying? He’s lost a best friend. He’s lost his livelihood. He’s lost his stature within the sports community. His family is suffering.

What’s his gain?

That’s the question that keeps me thinking that this just cannot end well for Roger.

Then again, I have not peeked at the script that will be played out tomorrow.

Pass the popcorn.

Michael Wilbon, a good friend, suffered a mild heart attack today. He suffered chest pains around 3 a.m. Monday morning while at his second home in Scottsdale, Az. Thankfully, his wife rushed him to a local hospital. Doctors found minor blockage and conducted an angioplasty to clear things out. He’s doing okay now, he told me tonight from the hospital.

I called him simply to leave a message, but he answered the telephone. “Do I have to cuss you out for answering the phone?” I said.

He started laughing.

“Now, stop laughing!” I added.

“I’m feeling good,” he said. “Thanks for calling. I really appreciate it.”

You may know Michael from ESPN or the Washington Post.

Tonight, I am telling you he’s just a good friend - a long time colleague in the struggle - who is in my prayers.

Dana Jacobson

Not again. Well, this time the venue wasn’t national television, but the remarks were just as vile. Worse, actually. Today, ESPN’s Dana Jacobson, co-host of the morning show “First Take,” was suspended by the network for a week because of derogatory remarks she made about Jesus at a roast for colleagues Mike Greenberg and Mike Golic (of ESPN Radio’s “Mike & Mike in the Morning”) in Atlantic City earlier this month.

According to the The Press of Atlantic City, Jacobson made an “absolute fool of herself, swilling vodka from a Belvedere bottle, mumbling along and cursing like a sailor as Mike & Mike rested their heads in their hands in embarrassment.”

They were kind. At least one other site has offered an unfiltered version of the remarks: It notes that Jacobson reportedly trashed Notre Dame, Golic’s alma mater. No crime in that, but in the midst of her tirade the anchor reportedly said, “F–k Notre Dame,” “F–k Touchdown Jesus,” “F–k Jesus.”

Wow.

Full disclosure: I worked with Jacobson for several weeks during the previous incarnation of “First Take,” “Cold Pizza.” She was smart, funny and very supportive. Like many women in the male-dominated sports media, she’d become “one of the guys,” holding her own on any sports conversation and never backing down from a good sports “fight.” I like her, so I was particularly pained when I read of her rant. As a Christian, I was incensed.

So, yes, just like the Golf Channel’s Kelly Tilghman, her suspension was warranted.

And it might get worse for her. The Christian Defense Coalition, has called for Jacobson to be fired. According to the Christian Newswire, the group has planned a public vigil for this Friday at ESPN’s headquarters in Bristol. CDC director Rev. Patrick said this to the wire service: “Hate speech, and religious intolerance should have no place in American society. When we see these things raise their ugly head, it is critical that people of good will unite together and prayerfully stand against such bigotry and prejudice. By publicly saying, ‘F–k Jesus,’ while representing ESPN, Dana Jacobson has crossed a very well defined line. Her comments are so outrageous and inflammatory that the only proper response for ESPN is to immediately release her. A week suspension is simply not enough and sends a message that ESPN tolerates this kind of behavior and speech.”

Another organization, the controversial (and some say fringe) Catholic League has called ESPN to verify her comments. If they are correct as reported, said organization President Bill Donahue, then the penalty was “inadequate.” An earlier post on the Catholic League’s website was entitled “ESPN Anchorwoman Trashes Jesus Christ.” ““Imagine the outrage if Ms. Jacobson said, ‘F–k Mohammed,’ ‘F–k Jews,’ or ‘F–k African Americans.,’ ” said Donahue. ” Although the faith community can forgive and extend mercy to Ms. Jacobson, she still must assume full responsibility and accept the consequences for her hate-filled rhetoric.”

And we haven’t even heard a peek from Rev. Al Sharpton - yet.

It’ll be interesting to hear from those who howled that Tilghman was unfairly punished, and that she should have been protected by the first amendment. Free Speech ain’t free, as I’m sure you’ve heard many times. You can’t yell “Fire” in a crowded building, and we are all accountable for the words we utter. If you don’t believe me, go into your boss’ office and tell her what you really think.

Those of us in the media are also held to a higher standard. We fight for the right to speak freely and report freely, but we are also cognizant of every word we write and speak - at least most of us are. No single word I write is by accident, nor is it written without thought to the consequences of using it. When I am on television - even during commercial breaks - I am conscious of everything I say, whether live or on tape. (Now watch a game with me and my buddies, as we did last Sunday night, and the mouth filter is OFF!)

We are held to a higher standard because we understand the power of words - written or spoken. It is why many of us joined this profession. We do not take words for granted, no matter where we are.

Even at a roast. I understand that wherever I am publicly, I am representing not only Roy S. Johnson, but also Men’s Fitness, SportsNet New York, NBATV, as well as my family and friends. Anyone might slip, as Tilghman did, but I do my best to respect them all and mind my words.

That she was not “on the air” offers no solace for Jacobson.

In the obligatory statement to the world, she said: “I am sorry. My actions at the roast were inappropriate and in no way represent who I really am. I have personally apologized to many of the people involved. I won’t make excuses for my behavior but do hope that I can be forgiven for such a poor lack of judgment.”

She will definitely be forgiven, but will she be back on the air?

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Jacobson v Tilghman: Who’s Worse? Read: Here.