Feeling Good

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It's spring break at the community college where I teach so I find myself with time on my hands this week.

Ordinarily, I would have spent yesterday doing chores like laundry or whatnot, but I didn't feel a sense of urgency about that sort of thing so I did something yesterday afternoon that I almost never do.

I watched TV, a lot of it, but it was an aimless kind of TV watching. There was nothing in particular that I wanted to watch so I did some channel surfing — and happened upon a movie that was in the theaters a little more than a year ago. It was a movie I wanted to see at the time, but I never saw it at the theater.

It was the Walt Disney film "Secretariat," a dramatization of the story of the legendary Triple Crown winner of 1973. It had only been on for about 10 minutes so I was able to catch most of it — and that's exactly what I did.

I was a boy at the time that Secretariat won the Triple Crown, and there are many things about that time that I don't remember, but I definitely remember watching Secretariat's astonishing triumph.

I never knew, though, until I watched that movie just how remarkable that story really was. I've done some research since watching the movie (well, I told you I have time on my hands this week!), and it really was an inspiring tale, a genuine feel–good story.

Ordinarily, I tend to avoid the feel–good stories, I suppose. Most of them are a little too shameless in their pursuit of unbridled emotion — and far too shy on facts.

But the story of Secretariat was a true feel–good story. It felt good to watch him win those races and do something no horse had done for a quarter of a century.

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It especially felt good to watch the re–creation of his amazing run at the Belmont in June of 1973.

That was a truly memorable time in my life. I was sick with mononucleosis (the so–called "kissing disease," although I don't recall kissing anyone at the time), and I remember stretching out on the couch to watch the race.

I didn't know much about Mrs. Tweedy and the loss of her parents — except what they said about her on TV. But I gathered that she, like her father, had been down and, also like her father, had bounced back.

She was an underdog. But she was a determined underdog.

Secretariat's success was her reward for the hard times she had been through — and what greater reward could there have been than to see that magnificent animal running away from the Belmont pretenders as if they were standing still?

After about the midway point of the race, Secretariat's eventual triumph was no longer in doubt — but his solitary run down the Belmont stretch remains one of the most thrilling and inspiring sights I have ever seen.

The re–creation was great. The moment itself was transcendent.

Sometimes the underdog wins. And there is no denying that it really does feel good when that happens.

Where Is Peyton's Place?

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Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts announced this week that they were parting ways ...

... which launched a mad scramble among all but a handful of the NFL teams for his services.

Some teams are more serious contenders than others, but there is no doubt that most of the teams in the NFL could use a quarterback. He wouldn't have to be a surefire Hall of Famer ... but, hey, as long as Peyton Manning isn't doing anything, anyway ...

ESPN reports that sources are saying Manning will make up his mind in the next few days. A dozen teams have made overtures to Manning's representatives — of those, ESPN says Arizona, Seattle, Washington, Miami, Kansas City, Denver and the New York Jets have been in direct contact with them.

But Vinnie Iyer of The Sporting News writes that Manning isn't interested in playing for the Redskins.

And, even though he admits Manning in a Broncos uniform is "difficult to envision," I get the feeling that Mark Kiszla of the Denver Post would like to see it happen.

But he says there are at least three reasons why it isn't likely:

1. "Broncos coach John Fox plus Manning equals a bad mix."


2. "Pat Bowlen would rather let some other franchise owner bet millions on Manning's health."


3. "Deep down, [John] Elway realizes Denver is closer to being a 6–10 team than a 10–6 team."
   
   Kiszla doesn't argue that Manning is not one of the greatest quarterbacks ever to play in the NFL. He just points out there are more pressing needs for a franchise that apparently wants to rebuild the foundation that took it to five Super Bowls when Elway was the field general.

At this point, I suppose, it really is anyone's guess where Manning will wind up.

Common sense says some teams are more likely than others — Green Bay and New Orleans, for instance, are surely out of the running — but there are still some intriguing possibilities out there.

For example, it would be very interesting if Manning signed with the Jets. Then he would be in competition with his multiple Super Bowl–winning brother Eli for the affections of the Big Apple's football fans.

I have a good friend who would undoubtedly like to see Manning in a Kansas City uniform. Don't be too quick to dismiss the notion, either. The Chiefs do have something of a history of signing castoff quarterbacks — remember when Joe Montana took them to the AFC championship after being let go by San Francisco?

The Cardinals have been even more successful. They signed Kurt Warner after he left the Rams — and Warner took the Cardinals to the Super Bowl.

The only thing I'm sure of, at this point, is that someone will sign Manning. I just don't know who.

Stay tuned.

A Hundred Points The Hard Way

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I don't ordinarily write about basketball.

It was never my sport when I was growing up. I had more interest in baseball and football.

And, in the hierarchy of basketball, pro basketball is the low man on the totem pole for me. I like college and high school basketball much better.

Even in my teen years, I preferred college basketball — my alma mater, the University of Arkansas, was always in the national tournament so I could usually count on being able to watch them play during spring break.

My high school team was pretty good — went undefeated and won the state title when I was a sophomore.

But, for awhile, when I was about 12 or 13, I was a bit of an NBA fan.

One of the stars at that time was Wilt Chamberlain. Actually, he was nearing the end of his career by that time; a young Lew Alcindor (soon to be known as Kareem Abdul–Jabbar) was emerging as his successor as the league's superstar.

But many years earlier, Chamberlain had chiseled his name into the NBA record books with an achievement that I think is not likely to be matched.

I'm talking about the day 50 years ago today when Chamberlain scored 100 points in a single game.

Basketball fans are accustomed to games in which one, if not both, of the teams scores 100 points or more. But the scoring usually is spread out. Even Michael Jordan — who made many of the most amazing shots anyone will ever see — didn't score 100 points in a single game.

And Jordan had the advantage of being able to shoot for three points. The three–point shot was still several years in the future when Chamberlain retired.

So has Kobe Bryant, who scored 81 points in a game in 2006, and, as Ryan Rothschild observes in Sports Illustrated, Bryant scored seven three–pointers — and he still came up 19 points short of Chamberlain.

Rothschild writes that it is "a record that seems all but unbreakable." I'm inclined to agree.

Because of his height (7'1"), Chamberlain was known as "Wilt the Stilt" and "Goliath" by many, but his favorite nickname was "The Big Dipper," and that is the name that always comes to mind for me when I think of Chamberlain because, in my mind's eye, I can see him dunking the ball repeatedly as he towered over nearly everyone he faced.

Alcindor was really the first player he encountered in his NBA career who could look him in the eye, you might say — and that was one of the reasons why Chamberlain scored so many points in that game and others. Seven–footers are commonplace in the NBA today, but they were rare in 1962.

Chamberlain also scored so many points because his team, the then–Philadelphia Warriors, permitted him to keep going to the basket long after the issue had been decided, in large part to see if he could score 100 points.

It also seems likely to me that a 21st century coach, faced with the same situation, probably would not allow his star player(s) to continue playing once the game was out of reach for the opposition — even if he wanted to see if his star could surpass Chamberlain.

But I think that record will remain on the books for a long, long time.

Gary Carter Dies

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I had mixed feelings today when I heard that Hall of Fame catcher Gary Carter had died.

I wasn't one of Carter's fans. Just the opposite, as a matter of fact. He played most of his career for teams other than the Dodgers — who have been my personal favorites since I was a kid.

Twenty years ago, as his 19–year career was nearing its end, he spent a season with the Dodgers. But he spent most of his career being a thorn in their sides.

In 1981, when a strike wiped out about one–third of the season, Montreal faced Los Angeles in the National League Championship Series (which the Dodgers won, three games to two). Carter hit a blistering .438 for the Expos in that series.

Then, in 1988, as a member of the New York Mets, he came up a game short against the Dodgers again.

But, while there were many highlights in his career (which included 11 All–Star Game appearances and three Gold Gloves), Carter probably will be remembered most for the role he played in his only World Series, the 1986 Fall Classic against the Boston Red Sox.

It was the sixth game, and the Mets trailed, three games to two. In the 10th inning, the Mets trailed by two runs and there were two outs when Carter stepped to the plate. Boston got two strikes on Carter and was only one strike away from ending a title drought that was, at that time, nearly 70 years old — but then Carter got a hit and sparked a come–from–behind victory that is — justifiably — regarded by many as the greatest World Series game ever played.

The Mets went on to win the seventh game — and the Series — but that 10th–inning rally in the sixth game shifted the momentum irreversibly in New York's direction, and Carter was responsible for that.

There are still some Red Sox fans who will complain — loudly and at length — about Bill Buckner's infamous error, But if Boston had gotten Carter out, that error never would have happened, and Red Sox fans would not have been forced to endure 18 more seasons without a World Series title.

Any ballplayer can catch lightning in a bottle, of course, even on a stage as big and in a spotlight as bright as the World Series, and I would never suggest that Carter was the best player — or even the best catcher — I ever saw play the game.

But in just a few hours since I heard of his death, the thing I have heard mentioned the most about Carter — more often than the '86 Series or his All–Star selections or anything else — by sports writers and athletes alike was his infectious, ever–present smile.

"I cannot conjure a single image of Gary Carter with anything but a smile on his face," writes Tom Verducci for Sports Illustrated, and I must agree.

I did a little informal research and looked back at all the photos I could find of Gary Carter, both on the baseball field and off, and that smile was always there. It was contagious, in a way, capable of bringing a smile to the sternest of visages.

I think that was because Carter never came across as being insincere. He had been known as "The Kid" since, well, since he was a kid, and he always seemed to have that youthful zeal and exuberance.

"He was as genuine a person and as tough a ballplayer as you would ever want to come across," Verducci writes, and that certainly is true. He was a competitor. You don't spend nearly two decades playing catcher in the majors if you aren't.

They're remembering Carter with great fondness in New York, as you might expect. Mike Lupica writes in the New York Daily News that Carter is "dead much too young, the old Met they knew and we knew as Kid, the one who played the game with talent and joy and a smile."

And the New York Times, which has raised obituary writing to an art form, observes that "Carter's exuberance complemented his prowess at the plate." Considering that the Times is also mourning the loss of Anthony Shadid, its Pulitzer Prize–winning foreign correspondent, I think that's pretty generous.

In what may be the most impressive tribute paid to Carter, though, the writers in Red Sox country are being generous, too.

Ben Walker writes in the Boston Globe that "[h]is smile, bubbly personality and eagerness to excel on a ballfield made him a joy to watch at the plate and behind it."

In seven weeks, the 2012 major league baseball season will begin, and baseball fans will see every player who takes the field showing the kind of excitement that Carter showed every day of his playing career, even when his legs began to slow and his bat lost its pop. The enthusiasm fades for most ballplayers as the season progresses, but, for Carter, it never did.

Every day was like Opening Day for Carter. It was his default position.

Eli's Coming

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When I was a boy, Three Dog Night was one of the most popular bands around, and one of its earliest hits was a tune called "Eli's Coming."

That song wasn't related in any way to football, but, nevertheless, the title sprang to mind as I watched, for the second time in the last five years, Eli Manning lead his New York Giants to a come–from–behind victory over Tom Brady and the New England Patriots in the Super Bowl.

On Saturday, I observed that it was the fifth anniversary of Eli's brother's one and only Super Bowl triumph — and I also noted that, with another win over the Patriots, Eli would notch his second title "and, in the process, probably secur[e] his spot in the NFL's Hall of Fame."

That's how it tends to be with multiple Super Bowl–winning quarterbacks, I wrote, and, in the aftermath of Sunday's game, I see I'm not alone.

Don Banks of Sports Illustrated wrote of the "pretty select club" Eli joined with his victory.

"Quarterbacks with multiple Super Bowl wins have a cache all their own in NFL history," Banks wrote, "and we best start wrapping our minds around the reality that Peyton Manning's little brother is in the fraternity, and the Colts' long–time great isn't. That last shall be first stuff really does come to pass sometimes."

Banks reeled off the names of the multiple winners and observed that nearly all of them are enshrined in the Hall of Fame. That certainly improves the odds that Eli will wind up in Canton as well.

Lord knows he wouldn't get in on the strength of his regular–season numbers. For that matter, his numbers on Sunday were good but not great. He completed 30 of 40 passes for just under 300 yards and one touchdown.

Good enough to get the job done, but not eye popping.

Of course, unlike his older brother, Eli's life is hardly at a crossroads. He's a hot property, having won not only his second Super Bowl but his second Super Bowl MVP award as well. And that makes up for a lot of things.

Success is fleeting in the NFL — just ask the last three quarterbacks who won the Super Bowl — and someone else may well be on the mountaintop in the space of another year.

But today it is Eli who stands astride that mountaintop, surveying the NFL's terrain below and basking in the praise that comes his way for his achievements.

That praise is certainly deserved, but I can't help thinking of how slender the gap between winning and losing a Super Bowl can be. After Manning's Giants opened the game with an impressive and workmanlike — but ultimately futile — possession, they had to punt and succeeded in pinning the Patriots deep in their own territory.

On the first play from scrimmage, Brady threw a pass that went 45 or 50 yards in the air easily — but the officials ruled that no eligible receivers were in the vicinity of the pass, which is the definition of intentional grounding, and threw a flag.

Ordinarily, the penalty for intentional grounding is loss of both yardage and down. Since Brady was in the end zone when he threw the pass, it resulted in a safety and a 2–0 Giants lead.

It has been my experience that some people believe that, for intentional grounding to have occurred, a quarterback must be in the grasp of a defender — and clearly in danger of being tackled for a loss — and throws the ball away to avoid the lost yardage and/or to preserve time on the clock.

But it is not essential for the quarterback to be under duress. It is only necessary for no eligible receiver to be in the vicinity of the pass — whether that pass is short or long.

An old friend (a colleague from my sports desk days) observed on Facebook that it was "the longest intentional grounding play I've ever seen," and I had to agree.

It also seemed to me that, given the fact that Brady's pass covered about half the length of the football field, it was unreasonable for anyone to expect him to be precise about his target — or whether the receiver would stay in the vicinity of the pass in the time it took for the ball to reach its destination.

But that is how the rule is written — currently. I think it would be wise to revisit that rule during the offseason.

Anyway, the game proceeded with the usual scoring — touchdowns and field goals — until late in the game, when the Patriots led, 17–15, and the Giants scored what proved to be the winning touchdown. They went for two on the conversion and came up short, making the final score 21–17.

Now, imagine if the Patriots had not been penalized for intentional grounding but failed to put together a scoring drive on their first possession and wound up punting.

And everything else unfolded as it did (which you really can't assume because everything that happened after the penalty was predicated, to some degree, on the fact that it did, in fact, happen).

That would have made the score 17–13 when the Giants began their game–winning drive.

As it was, the Giants were under no pressure to score a touchdown. All that was needed to take the lead was a field goal, and perhaps that made a difference in the way they played in those final minutes.

But, in the alternate scenario, a touchdown would have been necessary. Under the additional pressure, would the Giants have crumbled? Would they have called different plays? Would the Patriots have followed a different strategy on defense? We'll never know.

If we assume, however, that the Giants would have scored the touchdown, as, of course, they did, it would have made the score 19–17, and my guess is the Giants would have settled for one point on the conversion instead of going for two.

Extra–point kicks are almost always successful, and this one would have given the Giants a 20–17 lead — nearly the actual final score but with a crucial difference. That one–point variation could have made all the difference for New England.

The Patriots' strategy would have been to get within field goal range and try to force the game into overtime, not to get into the end zone, and their play calling would have reflected that.

But the game turned out the way it did — and that first–quarter safety made it possible for the Giants to gamble on a two–point conversion. Whether it was successful or not, they knew the Patriots would have to score a touchdown, they didn't have much time and they were almost out of timeouts.

Eli Manning certainly contributed to the victory, but so did everyone on the team — and, indirectly, Brady did, too. I'm not sure if he deserved to be named MVP.

But he got his second title, and that may be what matters most. Eli is in his prime and could still win another title or two before time catches up to him as it has his brother. He might not, though. You never know.

Eli's coming? He's here. But he might not be back.

Time will tell.

Peyton's Place

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At this writing, there is considerable uncertainty about Peyton Manning's future as the quarterback of the Indianapolis Colts.

It certainly wasn't that way five years ago today.

In Super Bowl XLI, played in Miami, Manning led the Colts to a come–from–behind 29–17 victory over the Chicago Bears, throwing for a touchdown and giving up only one interception. He received the MVP award for his trouble.

No, sir, there was no doubt that Manning was the Colts' quarterback in 2007. He was the toast of the town.

But times can change quickly for an NFL quarterback. Manning brought the Colts back to the Super Bowl three years later (which they lost to New Orleans) — but, given the nature of the injury that sidelined him in the season just past and the growing doubt that he can come back from it, that may prove to be the last Super Bowl appearance of his career.

At least, as a player.

At some future date, Peyton Manning may be invited back to a Super Bowl. Sometimes, past MVPs have been guests at Super Bowls. Sometimes they have participated in the coin toss. And who knows? When his playing career is over, Manning could join the pantheon of former players who have gone on to broadcasting or coaching careers — and possibly return to the Super Bowl as more than a mere observer.

But, on this day five years ago, no one was thinking about when Peyton Manning would hang it up. People were thinking about how many Super Bowls he might win. It seemed all but certain that he would win more than one before his career was over.

Ironically, if his younger brother Eli and the New York Giants beat New England tomorrow, Eli will earn his second Super Bowl ring, eclipsing his brother — and, in the process, probably securing his spot in the NFL's Hall of Fame.

Quarterbacks with multiple Super Bowl victories almost always wind up in the Hall of Fame when their playing careers are over (a noteworthy exception is Jim Plunkett). One–time winners — like Peyton Manning and Brett Favre — need glittering numbers to make up for the absence of glittering jewelry on their hands.

Peyton's got the numbers. His credentials for the Hall of Fame are beyond dispute. He's in the top five in pass attempts, completions, passing yardage and touchdown passes — and each of the guys who are ahead of him are either in the Hall of Fame or will be as soon as they are eligible.

When Peyton does retire, it will only be a matter of time before he is enshrined with the rest of pro football's best.

What Manning did in February 2007 wasn't remarkable — at least not when one looks at the numbers in the box score. It was steady, disciplined, workmanlike, the kind of performance fans had come to expect after watching Manning play for several years.

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In the immediate aftermath of the victory, Manning spoke not of his individual performance but of the team accomplishment and how hard all the Colts had worked that season to achieve it.

Manning's numbers that day probably made it easy to be generous. So, too, I suppose, would the certainty that he would be back in the winner's circle again.

But when all is said and done, Manning may well look back on what he accomplished five years ago today and see it as his finest hour in football.

One For The Books

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Such a thing is frequently said of a championship game, but Super Bowl XXXVI, which was played 10 years ago today, really was one for the books.

• It was the first Super Bowl ever played in February.
  
  If you're under 20, you might not have a clear memory of a time when Super Bowls were always played in January, but in the decade since Super Bowl XXXVI was played, only one Super Bowl has been played in January. The rest — including the one that will be played this Sunday — have been in February — and it certainly has the look of a permanent change.
  
  The fact that the Super Bowl was played in February 10 years ago was completely unintentional. It was a consequence of the Sept. 11 attacks and the fact that the NFL postponed all the games that were scheduled for the weekend after the attacks.
  
  Those games eventually were made up the weekend after the regular season was scheduled to end, pushing the start of the playoffs back by a week. The Super Bowl originally had been scheduled for Jan. 27, but it was moved instead to Feb. 3.
  
  Super Bowl host cities are chosen years in advance, and other events are often planned for the week leading up to the game. Local businesses plan to cash in on all that Super Bowl windfall — which is never limited to game day alone.
  
  (Here in Dallas, for example, where last year's Super Bowl was played, there were stories of private citizens who were renting out personal property for up to two weeks — for thousands of dollars per day. And, in spite of an ice storm that virtually crippled the area in the week leading up to the big game, hotels, restaurants and transportation providers still did a thriving business. Some reportedly raised their fees just for the occasion.)
  
  There wasn't any wiggle room for adjusting the schedule to allow for something like a terrorist attack a decade ago.
  
  In the past, there had been a bye week between the conference championship games and the Super Bowl. If a bye week had been scheduled 10 years ago, it could have been sacrificed to make up the lost regular–season games, and the Super Bowl still could have been played on Jan. 27.
  
  But the bye week had been temporarily dropped during a transition period in which the start of the NFL season had been moved to the weekend after Labor Day. That meant there was no bye week to drop in order to accommodate the lost games and keep the Super Bowl on its original schedule.


• It was the first time that the lead changed on the final play of the Super Bowl.
  
  There have been a few Super Bowls in which the outcome was unknown until sometime in the final minute, and sometimes it went down to the last seconds. But Super Bowl XXXVI was the first — and, so far, only — one that had a lead change on the final play.
  
  In fact, there was no leader when the teams lined up for that final play. The score was tied, and just about everyone must have assumed we were about to witness the first Super Bowl to go into overtime.
  
  But the New England Patriots engineered a remarkable drive, capped by an even more remarkable field goal by Adam Vinatieri to beat the heavily favored St. Louis Rams as time ran out.


• Even though he was on the losing side, Rams quarterback Kurt Warner had the second–most productive passing day in Super Bowl history — second only to the day he had two years earlier when the Rams beat the Tennessee Titans.
  
  Warner's numbers (365 yards in February 2002, more than 400 yards in January 2000) seemed appropriate for a team that had been dubbed "The Greatest Show on Turf." The Rams of those years piled up big yardage and incredible scores almost every time they played and are remembered by many as one of the greatest offensive units in pro football history.
  
  But, for some reason, they seemed to encounter immovable objects when they got to the Super Bowl.

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• The reputation of the Patriots' Tom Brady had not yet been established 10 years ago.
  
  When the 2001 regular season began, Brady was the team's #2 quarterback behind Drew Bledsoe, but he was pressed into full–time service when Bledsoe went down with an injury in the second game of the season.
  
  It's safe to say Patriots fans never missed him.
  
  New England was 0–2 following the game in which Bledsoe was injured. The Patriots were 11–3 the rest of the way with Brady at the helm, even though he was only in his second year and had thrown just three passes on the pro level before Bledsoe was hurt.
  
  Warner finished the game with gaudier numbers, but Brady won a ring.

He's added two more to his personal collection since then, but this Sunday he will be seeking to avenge the one time when it got away.

And, when he takes the field against New York, he will be starting in his fifth Super Bowl. That's as many as John Elway — and more than Joe Montana, Terry Bradshaw or Roger Staubach.

It's hard to remember when Brady was a relatively unknown quarterback who had never even played in a Super Bowl, much less won one.

But it all began 10 years ago today.

More Than a Trainer

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I've heard it said — by more than one person — that Muhammad Ali never would have become who he was if not for trainer Angelo Dundee.

I guess Dundee, who died yesterday at the age of 90, will always be remembered as the man who was in Ali's corner in all but two of his fights, but, in fact, Dundee worked with many noteworthy fighters, including Sugar Ray Leonard and George Foreman.

He left his fingerprints all over the sport of boxing. While his name probably will always be linked to Ali's, he was really so much more than that. He was even more than a man who trained more than a dozen champions.

Did you happen to see "Cinderella Man," the movie about the life of James J. Braddock starring Russell Crowe? Dundee was too young to have trained Braddock — but he was hired to train Crowe to portray Braddock in the film.

" I think I would have to go so far as to say Russell is Jim Braddock," Dundee said. "I'm amazed the way Russell picked up his mannerisms, his smoothness, the legs, the way he slides, that slip, slide, block, slide, jab — boom! Like Jim, he has just about the greatest left hook I've ever seen. He's got the speed, the rhythm, the determination and especially the will. Best of all, he has learned to think like a fighter. One thing about Braddock is that he was a smart fighter, and Russell uses his noodle just like Braddock did. I do think if he wasn't an actor, Russell could have been a great fighter."

Dundee was generous with his praise, but he just might have been able to train anyone.

A decade ago, he was portrayed on the silver screen by Ron Silver in the 2001 biopic "Ali."

Ali was certainly the most high–profile fighter with whom Dundee worked, but he might never have become the figure he became if not for Dundee.

Writing in the Los Angeles Times, Steve Springer describes the scene: "At the end of the fourth round of a 1963 fight against Henry Cooper, Ali, then known as Cassius Clay, was surprised by a left–hand punch that floored him and left him dazed. Fortunately for Clay, it was the end of the round, allowing him to stagger back to his corner.

"It was there that Dundee, trying to buy time until his fighter's head cleared, stuck his finger in a slight split in the seams of one of Clay's gloves, causing a slightly bigger split. That allowed Dundee to ask the referee for another pair of gloves. None were available, but the incident added valuable seconds to Clay's rest time, allowing him to recover and go on to win on a fifth–round technical knockout.

"His next fight, against heavyweight champion Sonny Liston, might not have occurred if Clay had lost to Cooper."

Springer goes on to observe that Dundee applied more creativity when Ali fought Sonny Liston for the title in 1964.

Dundee was an old–school kind of guy.

Scream 2

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As I have mentioned here before, I used to work on the sports copy desk of the old Arkansas Gazette.

I made many friends during my time there. "Some are dead and some are living," in the words of John Lennon, and one of the living ones, with whom I have reconnected via Facebook, is, as I have told him, the foremost authority on tennis that I know.

I thought of him today when I was watching Maria Sharapova battle Victoria Azarenka in the women's final of the Australian Open.

It was a rematch of a tournament showdown I watched last spring, and the outcome was nearly the same. The 22–year–old Azarenka completely dominated Sharapova and appears to be well on her way to the top ranking in the world.

I wanted to get some feedback from my friend so I e–mailed him after the match, and this is what he had to say.

Of Azarenka, whose victory this morning was her first Grand Slam title, he said, "[S]he's mentally strong enough to win some slam tournaments. She plays big points well."

That was my impression as well. She continues to impress me every time I see her play — and in unexpected ways.

And, perhaps, nothing I saw in today's match made a greater impression on me than what I saw at the end — a triumphant Azarenka dropped to her knees and appeared to be stunned that she had actually won a Grand Slam event.

Never mind that she had completely dominated Sharapova, who has been regarded as a formidable force in women's tennis since winning Wimbledon nearly eight years ago.

Shortly, though, Azarenka's bewilderment turned to pure unadulterated joy as she ripped the sweatband from her brow and threw it into the cheering crowd, then threw tennis ball after tennis ball to the fans.

Her domination of Sharapova had been so complete, in fact, that none other than Chris Evert observed, at one point, that, in her day (and, I would presume, the practice predated her career), it was said that if one player won five consecutive sets (or more) against someone else, the first player owned the second.

And, based on that, Evert continued, it could fairly be said that Azarenka owns Sharapova.

Certainly, based on my observations, that is true. Azarenka beat Sharapova in straight sets in the match I watched last spring — and I thought at the time that it was their first encounter, but, as I understand it, they actually met for the first time a few years earlier. Azarenka won on that occasion, too, which means she has won at least five straight sets against Sharapova.

Of Sharapova, my friend said, "I love watching Sharapova but I don't think she's that interested in winning on the court. She can make more money posing."

Regretfully, that seems to be true.

She's still making noises about wanting to win Grand Slam tournaments, but I have to wonder, especially as Azarenka's star is ascending, if she isn't being drawn to a more lucrative modeling career.

And, frankly, who could blame her?

She is an attractive young woman, and there is always a lot of money for young women who are willing to parlay their physical attributes into bank accounts.

And, if she chooses to dedicate herself to the pursuit of easy paydays, that's fine. It might even be the wisest choice she could make.

Because Azarenka, it seems, is dedicating herself to the pursuit of Grand Slam titles. And, as Geoff MacDonald writes in the New York Times, "she is an attacking, all–court player capable of success on any surface. With her new–found equilibrium on the court, and her fearless competitive spirit, Azarenka will contend for all four Grand Slam titles."

Might be hard for Sharapova to compete.

'Ryp'ping the Bills

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Twenty years ago, I worked on a newspaper copy desk with a young woman who was a devout Washington Redskins fan.

And, when the Redskins won the Super Bowl in January 1992, she was ecstatic. In the aftermath of that game, all kinds of Redskins paraphernalia adorned her work station — and I'm sure I heard her humming "Hail to the Redskins" a couple of times. My desk was next to hers, and I'm convinced I couldn't be mistaken ...

I've never really cared for the Redskins, but even I had to grudgingly admit that it took a certain amount of courage for her to publicly acknowledge she was a Washington fan. We were working for a paper in north Texas, practically a stone's throw from Dallas, home of the Redskins' longtime rivals, the Cowboys.

Most of the people in the newsroom grew up here, and most were Cowboys fans. A Redskins fan living in or near Dallas must feel the same as a Yankees fan living in Boston — like a man without a country.

Oh, sure, these days devotees of just about any sports franchise can find groups of like–minded fans in any metropolitan area. Perhaps these groups have been around for a long time and today, thanks to the internet, it isn't too hard to locate them and the sports bars where they congregate, but if those groups existed in 1992, the task of finding them was a lot more difficult.

So my hat was off to her. We weren't buddies and spent no time together outside the office, but my guess is that she couldn't have had much of a support network based on her favorite football team. Must have been kind of an isolating experience for her.

Anyway, I left that newspaper a few months after the Redskins won the Super Bowl, and I have no idea what became of my former co–worker. But, if she is still living, I wonder how well she's been holding up. The Redskins haven't been back to the Super Bowl since.

For that matter, they haven't even played in a conference championship game since. They share the distinction of the longest period between NFC Championship game appearances with the team they beat in 1992, the Detroit Lions, and both teams will add to their record championship game droughts until one returns. At that time, other one will be the sole holder of that dubious record — unless they both return to the NFC Championship game in the same year.

If they do face each other in a rematch of the '92 title tilt, I hope it will be more competitive. Twenty years ago, the Lions committed two early turnovers and the Redskins jumped to a 10–0 lead and never looked back en route to a 41–10 hammering.

Considering what happened in the most recent NFL season, the Lions may well return to the NFC Championship game before the Redskins do. But it is doubtful that they will enjoy the kind of day the Redskins did in Super Bowl XXVI with the Buffalo Bills.

Things got started a little slowly, which was odd because the teams were the highest–scoring squads in the league. Neither team scored in the first quarter, but the Redskins hung 17 points on the Bills in the second quarter and took a 17–0 lead to the locker room.

The Redskins made it 24–0 before Buffalo ever got on the board, and they strolled to their eventual 37–24 triumph.

Clearly, the outcome was never in doubt.

It was vindication for quarterback Mark Rypien, who was named the game's MVP. When the season started, the Redskins weren't settled at the quarterback position. Rypien had been their starter for the last two seasons, but he had been erratic at times.

By the time the final gun sounded in Super Bowl XXVI, Rypien was regarded by many as the league's best quarterback.

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But my memories of that day do not focus on the game, really.

I remember attending a Super Bowl party thrown by one of my co–workers. In true Southern fashion, he prepared brisket for his guests (with the usual sides) and was generous in his servings, each of which was bathed in his homemade barbecue sauce.

I grew up in the South and, consequently, I've eaten my fair share of brisket. This may have been the best I've ever eaten. If it wasn't the best, it was darn close to it. (It might have been the sauce.)

Yep, the food was good. Very good. But after the score became 24–0 in the third quarter, there really didn't seem to be much incentive to stick around. When the score reached 31–10 near the end of the third period, I excused myself at a commercial break and went home.

What really stands out in my memory from that day is when Bill and Hillary Clinton appeared on TV to talk about the allegations that had been made about Clinton's relationship with Gennifer Flowers.

The interview was heavily promoted since Clinton was at a critical juncture. He had come in third in the Iowa caucuses, and he was trying to overcome charges of infidelity before the New Hampshire primary that was coming up in three weeks.

That was the challenge to Clinton. If he couldn't demonstrate that his campaign was on an upward trajectory, he might as well drop out.

So the Clintons came on TV after the Super Bowl and made their case. It was convincing enough for Clinton to finish second in New Hampshire, proclaim himself the "Comeback Kid" and essentially launch his successful bid for the White House by sweeping the "Super Tuesday" primaries.