Kirk Gibson's Walk-off Home Run

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I'm a Los Angeles Dodgers fan. Always have been. I don't really know why. I've never lived in Los Angeles. In fact, I've only been there twice in my life.

I grew up in central Arkansas, which was kind of an extension of St. Louis Cardinals territory. There was a minor league team in Little Rock that was affiliated with the Cardinals for a long time, and, when I was a child, I could always get Cardinals games on my radio. When folks in my hometown went on a summer vacation, nine times out of 10 they went to St. Louis to see a game or two. Heck, even my family did that a couple of times — and no one in my family could be called a Cardinals fan.

It would have been so easy to do as most of my friends did and take the Cardinals as my team. But I guess I wanted to assert my individuality so I picked the Dodgers.

And I have been loyal to the Dodgers ever since.

They haven't always made it easy. Many times, they haven't come close to being in the playoffs. Then, when they have been in the playoffs, they've often found some way to blow it.

They're in the playoffs again this yearm currently facing the St. Louis Cardinals for the National League championship. The Cardinals won the first two games during the weekend, but the Dodgers won Game 3 last night and are hoping to even the series tonight.

I discovered it was a small club, too. that list of Dodger loyalists. I didn't know any other Dodger fans when I was growing up. I met one or two in college, and I met one or two after I finished work on my bachelor's degree so I know that Dodger fans did exist in Arkansas when I lived there. They were just few and far between.

The last time the Dodgers were in the World Series, 25 years ago, I was certain they were going to lose it. They had had a spectacular run that year, beating the favored New York Mets for the National League title, and pitcher Orel Hershiser had had a remarkable year, setting a record for consecutive scoreless innings pitched in the waning weeks of the regular season.

But the foe in the World Series would be the Oakland A's, an intimidating team that had rolled through their American League competition behind the exploits of the so–called "Bash Brothers," Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire. Oakland swept the Boston Red Sox in the AL playoffs that year.

The A's won four more games that season than the Mets did. Their 104–victory total was greater than any American League team except one in nearly 20 years — the 1984 Detroit Tigers, who also won 104 games.

I just felt like the Dodgers couldn't compete with the A's. Neither did most sports observers.

In those days, I was working on the sports staff of a modestly sized afternoon newspaper in north Texas. Game 1 of the World Series was on a Saturday night, the one day of the week that a morning edition was prepared — for delivery on Sunday morning. Everyone on the staff was at work from about 3 in the afternoon until midnight.

The game began around 7 that night, and I timed my dinner break so I could run home and start my VCR with the first pitch. That way, I knew I could watch the game later.

As it was being played, though, I tried to monitor it from my desk, which was in view of the newsroom TV (there was no commercial internet to consult in 1988 — I had access to the sports wire, of course, and it provided score updates, but details were sketchy until game accounts began to move). From time to time, people came in from the backshop to ask about the score, and, for much of the evening, it seemed things were going to play out about as expected.

Things weren't going well for the Dodgers. They took a 2–0 lead in the first inning but immediately surrendered it to Oakland when the A's scored four runs in the top of the second.

The Dodgers added a run in the sixth but trailed, 4–3, in the bottom of the ninth.

Kirk Gibson had been the offensive star of the season for the Dodgers, but he was hobbled by injuries to both legs and had not started the game that night. However, in the ninth inning, he decided to make himself available for pinch–hitting duty and came to bat with one on and two out.

What followed was so implausible, so dramatic that no novelist or screen writer could have gotten away with writing it.

Oakland's ace reliever, Dennis Eckersley, was on the mound. No other reliever in the majors had as many saves as Eckersley did that year. Oakland fans regarded him as automatic — and rightfully so.

The count was full, there was a runner at second, and Eckersley threw a slider. Gibson swung, connected and drilled it over the fence.

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Most people, when asked what they remember about that moment, will tell you they remember Gibson pumping his right arm in jubilation as he circled the bases.

And I remember that, too. (It was the crowning touch on a moment in baseball history that has truly become iconic in the last quarter of a century. It is always shown in baseball's postseason, along with the clip that is arguably the Dodgers' lowest moment as a team — the Giants' Bobby Thomson's walk–off homer in the deciding game of the National League playoffs against the Dodgers in 1951.)

But what I remember most about that moment is watching Gibson's painful run around the bases. And I use the word run generously here. It wasn't really a run. It was more of a walk that was intended to be a run, but it just didn't work out. Sometimes it was a limp.

Kind of gave a new meaning to the term walk–off. Gibson's spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak.

But, when you hit a home run, you don't get extra points — or credit — for running around the bases at a record clip. All you've got to do is touch each base — especially the last one.

And that's what Gibson did. The fact that it took him longer than usual to do it simply meant Dodger fans had more time to savor the moment — and A's fans had to suffer through it longer.

By the way, Gibson played for the '84 Tigers.

The First Impossible Dream

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These are heady days to be a Dodger fan. I know. I've been a Dodger fan since I was a kid.

Last night, the Dodgers and the St. Louis Cardinals went 13 innings in Game 1 of the National League Championship Series. It was a tough loss for the Dodgers, 3–2, but Dodger fans are encouraged by the knowledge that their ace, Clayton Kershaw, is scheduled to pitch Game 2 tonight.

I'm not worried. This championship series has begun in much the same way the one in 1988 did.

The Dodgers haven't always lived up to my expectations — but, I will admit, my expectations are always high. I always expect them to compete for a berth in the World Series, and I have usually been disappointed. In my memory, the Dodgers have only played in a handful of World Series — and they've only won two.

The first time they won it all was marred by a strike that wiped out about one–third of the season and forced the major leagues to go to an unconventional playoff arrangement.

The second one came 25 years ago this month, and the victory that wrapped up the National League pennant came on this day in 1988 when the Dodgers won the seventh and final playoff game with the New York Mets.

When the National League Championship Series began, most observers thought it was a foregone conclusion that the Mets would win. They dominated the Dodgers during the regular season — and I do mean dominated. As I recall, the Dodgers only beat the Mets once that season.

But as they wrapped up the regular season, pitcher Orel Hershiser set a record for most consecutive scoreless innings pitched, and the Dodgers seemed to be gathering momentum.

Still, just about every baseball expert spoke of the N.L. crown as being destined for New York. Practically no one gave the Dodgers much of a chance of winning.

At first, it seemed they were right. After facing Hershiser for eight scoreless innings, the Mets rallied from a 2–0 deficit with a three–run ninth against reliever Jay Howell in the opener and took a 1–0 lead in the best–of–seven series. I remember watching that game. That ninth inning gave me such a bad case of heartburn I thought I would never get any sleep that night.

But the Dodgers won the second game the next night to even things up as the series moved to New York for the weekend.

New York won that third game, which was postponed by rain, then the Dodgers evened things up in the fourth game. At the time, I was making one of my whirlwind trips to Little Rock on my days off. The time would come when I couldn't do that anymore, but in October 1988, I still made trips back from Texas to visit my friends — and, when I did, I often stayed with my friend Steve.

He wasn't working that Monday, which may have been the reason why I chose those two days off for a trip. I really don't remember now. Anyway, the Dodgers and Mets were scheduled to play that Monday afternoon. The winner would go back to Los Angeles with a 3–2 lead needing only one more win to advance to the World Series.

Steve and I cheered as the Dodgers rolled to a 7–4 win — Steve was a Cardinals fan and, consequently, a devoted hater of the Mets — and I drove back to Texas that afternoon sorry (as always) to be leaving my friends but eager for the next night's game.

Unfortunately, the Dodgers lost that sixth game to the Mets, setting up a winner–take–all showdown 25 years ago tonight.

Hershiser was on the mound for L.A. and he went the distance, characteristically shutting out the Mets in a 6–0 triumph.

When the final out was in the books and the Dodgers had officially won the National League pennant, Hershiser did something I will never forget. He took a step, maybe two, and knelt for a moment of silent meditation before being swarmed by his jubilant teammates.

I made a video tape of that game, and I watched parts of it over and over again. But I probably watched those few seconds of Hershiser immediately after Game Seven ended more than anything else.

It summed up how I felt on that occasion.

It was an impossible dream that came true.

But beating the Mets was only the first impossible dream for the Dodgers. The next was, perhaps, even more formidable. It would require them to beat the mighty Oakland A's.

The Race to Break Maris' Record

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There are two things I will always remember about the summer of 1998 — the worst heat wave in nearly 20 years that gripped most of the country and the duel between St. Louis' Mark McGwire and Chicago's Sammy Sosa to see who would break Roger Maris' 37–year–old single–season home run record.

(Maris, as baseball historians will tell you, broke Babe Ruth's single–season home run record in 1961, but he benefited from the fact that baseball seasons were 162 games by then, not 154 as they were in the Bambino's day. And for many, many years, Maris' record had an asterisk next to it in the record book because it was not achieved in 154 games.)

The home run chase made that summer of '98 memorable. Well, the heat wave did, too. It was the worst heat wave I've seen since 1980. But the McGwire–Sosa duel was truly riveting. If one had to stay inside because it was so miserably hot outside, watching SportsCenter for the latest update in the home run chase was worth one's time. And there was almost always a daily update.

In hindsight, one must wonder if the '98 home run chase would have happened at all if not for steroids.

In fact, McGwire did concede at the time that he used an over–the–counter substance that had been banned by, among others, the NFL — but not (at that time) major league baseball.

(McGwire was slipperier on his use of other substances.)

So my feeling is that the '98 season should have an asterisk next to it — or maybe it would be more appropriate to have a little syringe instead — in the record books.

But it doesn't, and it probably won't so 1998 will stand as the year that McGwire broke Maris' record. McGwire was eclipsed three years later by Barry Bonds, who has his own unanswered questions about steroid use, but 15 years ago today, McGwire was on his way to wrapping up the home run–hitting season of a lifetime.

("These long–ball extravaganzas were putting fans back in the seats," Greg Stejskal wrote recently in the New York Daily News, "but the cost was the integrity of the game.")

McGwire hit 70 home runs that year. No one before — and only one man since — hit that many home runs in a single season. (That year, in fact, Bonds hit slightly more than half as many home runs as McGwire.)

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That summer, I was working for a trade magazine that served the imprinted sportswear industry. Part of my job was attending trade shows in different parts of the country, and I recall attending a show in Chicago. Exhibitors at these shows were often regional representatives of licensed sports products, and major league baseball was a hot (pardon the expression) commodity in Chicago that summer.

At these shows, I would walk around the hall and sit down to interview exhibitors who caught my eye. As a former sports editor, I was particularly interested in these sports licenses. Major league baseball had a crippling strike a few years earlier, and there had been talk that baseball's popularity was on the decline.

The McGwire–Sosa home run derby was the first thing to breathe some life back into the sport. It was baseball's goose that laid the golden egg.

And the exhibitors were all too eager to talk about McGwire and Sosa — but none, that I can recall, had any interest in talking about steroids.

If they were concerned that I might quote them on the subject in one of my articles, they worried needlessly. I only asked because I'm a sports fan, and I like baseball (although not as much as I did when I was a boy).

Maris' record finally fell 15 years ago today, about three weeks before the scheduled end of the season. McGwire had broken the record in far fewer games than it took Maris — or Ruth, for that matter. That should have raised some red flags.

But, like the exhibitors I spoke to that summer, no one wanted to talk about steroids. Not the teams' management or coaches or players — or fans, for that matter. They wanted to talk about all the home runs, not the steroids that even a casual observer could conclude had made them possible.

The thought of steroids definitely crossed my mind in the summer of '98, but, as I say, I never found anyone who was interested in talking about that angle.

Perhaps now those people have learned that there is a frightful price to be paid for ignoring an approaching storm. It's like ignoring a persistent toothache, hoping it will go away. (In the words of writer Aldous Huxley, "Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.")

But then I remember — that's the kind who never learn from the past.

One More For The Road

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As I have mentioned here before, I have been a Dodger fan since I was a boy.

Most of the time, it hasn't been very satisfying — kind of like most of the years that I spent as a Packer fan when I was growing up.

Twenty–five years ago, though, the Dodgers won it all. They confounded all the experts, who were convinced that the mighty Oakland A's would prevail.

During their late–season run in 1988, the Dodgers were led by pitcher Orel Hershiser, who threw 59 consecutive scoreless innings, breaking the major–league record that had been held by Don Drysdale for 20 years.

The baseball playoffs won't start for a couple of months, but I'm kind of having the same sensation this year that I had in 1988.

After a rough start to the season, the Dodgers have bounced back and surged to the lead in the National League West. OK, that's a team accomplishment, not an individual one, but I really like what they've been doing lately.

Yesterday, they matched the team record (which stood since 1924) for consecutive road wins — 13. As Steve Dilbeck of the Los Angeles Times pointed out, it was the longest road winning streak in the National League since the Philadelphia Phillies won 13 in a row in 1976.

Until today. The Dodgers beat the Chicago Cubs, 1–0, for their 14th straight win.

Having set a team record for consecutive road wins, I suppose the next thing for the Dodgers to do is take aim at the NL's all–time record of 17 set by the New York Giants in 1916.

We'll find out in the next few days if the Dodgers can set a new league record. They play a four–game series in St. Louis starting tomorrow.

Eventually, I know the road win streak will end. But when it started, the Dodgers were 16–24 on the road. Twenty–seven road games remain to be played now, and the Dodgers only need to win about two–fifths of them to have a winning record on the road.

And tonight, the Dodgers are 5½ games ahead of the slumping Arizona Diamondbacks in the NL West.

Stan the Man: A Gentleman and a Heckuva Ballplayer

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Stan Musial has long been one of the most admired people in St. Louis.

Other sports stars have come and gone, and, at times, some have temporarily exceeded Musial in popularity.

But Musial has been a fixture on that imaginary list and certainly will remain so, after his death yesterday at the age of 92.

As Rick Hummel observes in the St. Louis Post–Dispatch, it was the baseball fans in Brooklyn who hung the nickname "The Man" on Musial, but the folks in St. Louis eagerly embraced it.

He was retired long before I began collecting baseball cards, which was the point when I really started following baseball, but I already knew who he was, and as I matured, I became familiar with his many achievements. He was one of the greatest hitters in baseball history, clubbing 475 home runs and driving in nearly 2,000 runs. His career batting average was .331.

He was an All–star 24 times, a member of three world champion teams, a three–time MVP and a seven–time batting champion.

He was also a first–class individual.

My friend Randy, who lived in St. Louis as a child and returned as an adult, and I once posed for a photo in front of the statue of Musial that stood in front of Busch Memorial Stadium for a long time.

It is my understanding that, when the Cardinals moved into the new Busch Stadium, the statue was relocated there as well. That wouldn't surprise me. There have been many great Cardinals over the years, but none have been as revered in St. Louis as Stan the Man.

Jorge Ortiz writes in USA Today that Musial "was the perfect fit for the city that became his home and the era in which he played."

Ortiz concedes that, with his batting average, Musial would have succeeded in any major–league town in any era.

"But what set him apart from some of the game's greats was the unabashed kindness he displayed during and after his playing days," writes Ortiz, "a quality fully embraced in St. Louis."

He was the very embodiment of the middle American values I have seen in abundance on countless occasions.

My Memory of Jack Buck

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"Go crazy, folks! Go crazy!"

Jack Buck
Oct. 14, 1985

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When I think of Jack Buck, the legendary St. Louis Cardinals radio announcer who died 10 years ago today, I think of an October day in 1985.

It was a Monday, and the Cardinals were playing my favorite baseball team, the Los Angeles Dodgers, in the National League Championship Series. It was an afternoon game, but that wasn't a problem for me in those days. I was working nights for a metro newspaper, and my regular days off were Monday and Tuesday.

The series was tied, two games to two, and I was looking forward to settling in to watch the game. I was anticipating it all the more because my best friend, Randy, had promised to drive to my apartment after his workday ended and watch the end of the game with me.

Randy was a Cardinals fan — still is, for that matter — and, although I wanted the Dodgers to win, I wanted the score to be close when Randy arrived. If the outcome was already decided when he got there, it would spoil the experience.

It could hardly have worked out any better. The score was 2–2 when he arrived, and the Cardinals were coming to bat in the bottom of the ninth. With one out and no one on base, St. Louis' switch–hitting shortstop Ozzie Smith came to the plate to face Los Angeles' right–handed ace reliever, Tom Niedenfuer.

Mind you, Smith was never a power hitter. He hit a few home runs in his career, but he had never hit a home run when batting on the left side of the plate, and I recall hearing Buck say something about that (whenever I have a choice between the TV and the radio for play by play of a game, I choose the radio) only seconds before Smith connected with Niedenfuer's pitch and drove it over the right–field wall.

I had listened to Buck on the radio many times in my life before that afternoon. Heck, I grew up in Conway, Ark., which was smack dab in the middle of Cardinals territory in those days (it may be different now, with other regional and broadcast options for baseball fans).

When I was a kid, if I wanted to listen to a baseball game on the radio, I could listen to the Cardinals — or no one. And the only televised games in those pre–cable days were NBC's games of the week on Saturday afternoons.

Also, the minor league club that was based in Little Rock — the Travelers — was part of the Cardinals farm organization. The Cardinal influence was all around me.

So I listened to the Cardinals games, and I associated Buck's voice with baseball on the radio on warm summer evenings. No other voice has ever sounded quite right to me for describing the action on a baseball field.

Buck's signature sentence when a Cardinals victory was assured was "That's a winner!" But he sounded emotionally drained after Smith's unexpected blast, and I could imagine him slumping in his seat and urging his listeners to "Go crazy, folks! Go crazy!"

I've heard old–time Dodger fans say that the baseball moment that broke their hearts was in 1951 when the Giants, after overcoming a seemingly insurmountable Dodger advantage in the standings to force a rare playoff, beat the Dodgers to claim a spot in the World Series.

That was before my time. My most painful baseball moment may have been that day in 1985 when Ozzie Smith drilled a walkoff home run to beat the Dodgers. Ultimately, the Cardinals won the league championship and went on to face the Kansas City Royals in the World Series.

But I was happy for Randy. And I was glad that we had shared that experience together. Other than the outcome, it was everything I could have wanted.

In the years ahead, we attended many Dodger–Cardinal games at Busch Stadium. And I always liked knowing that Jack Buck and I had watched the same game in the same place.

It's been many years since I went to a game in St. Louis, but the last one was when Buck was still alive and still calling games for the Cardinals.

Randy and I never took a radio with us when we went to a game so I never had the experience of listening to his play by play of a game I attended.

But I think the knowledge that Buck is no longer in the press box would make it difficult for me to feel the same about being at a game.

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.

The Game That Wouldn't End

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Epic.

That seems to be the best word to describe what unfolded last night at Busch Stadium in the sixth game of this year's World Series.

If you didn't see it, the bottom line is that St. Louis beat Texas, 10–9, to force tonight's Game 7. That's a much higher score than one ordinarily sees in any major league baseball game, even in the American League with its designated hitter rule.

But even the knowledge that 19 runs were scored doesn't fully do justice to how all those runs were scored — to the fact that the Cardinals were a single strike away from defeat — not once but twice — and came back to win.

In the last minutes of Thursday or the earliest minutes of Friday, the Cardinals officially overcame the Rangers with a walk–off home run and made tonight's Game 7 necessary.

Joe Strauss of the St. Louis Post–Dispatch wrote, fittingly, that it was a moment that was "too complex to fully understand but too compelling to ignore."

Those are the words from the winning side — and I'm sure Cardinals fans do feel that what they saw last night really was too complex to understand but impossible to ignore. Some may be inclined to attach some sort of religious significance to what happened.

As Bernie Miklasz writes in the Post–Dispatch, "Their strength never wanes. Their will to win never fades. Until the end, this proud and resilient team believed. They knew that somehow the dream would stay alive."

Has a biblical sound to it, doesn't it? You can almost hear him exhorting the faithful to open their hymnals.

Here in north Texas, the pain of defeat is everywhere this morning. Anyone who considers himself or herself to be a sports fan surely understands how the fans here feel. Everyone has had that feeling.

Not everyone claims to have spoken directly to God, though, but Texas' Josh Hamilton does, according to Eddie Sefko of the Dallas Morning News.

Hamilton, Sefko reports, says God told him he was going to hit a home run in the 10th inning of last night's game.

"He said, 'You haven't hit one in a while and this is the time you're going to,' " Hamilton said. "But there was a period at the end of that. He didn't say, 'You're going to hit it and you're going to win.' "

OK. It's really hard to know God's reason for speaking to Hamilton and telling him that he would hit a home run that, in the end, would not win the game for his team. The Lord apparently didn't share his reason with Hamilton, but I have to wonder why he would tell a player that he would hit a home run that would ultimately mean little to anyone except that player.

Why, for that matter, would he even bother to tell Hamilton that he's going to hit a home run? He doesn't seem inclined to share more important insights with those in a position to influence economies and global conflicts.

Guess he must know what he's doing, though. After all, people are always saying that he has a plan, which suggests there must be a reason for everything that happens — even when bad things happen that devastate lives while good things, like Hamilton's dinger, ultimately mean nothing to anyone except him.

Oh, well.

If the Rangers lose this series — and they're facing Chris Carpenter, who won Game 1 in St. Louis and got a no–decision in Game 5 in Arlington — they may be sorry they used Derek Holland in a relief role last night.

I think that is a decision the Rangers may well regret.

Holland nearly threw a complete–game shutout at the Cardinals on Sunday. If Game 6 had been played on Wednesday as scheduled, Holland probably wouldn't have had enough rest to start a Game 7 on Thursday.

But, with the one–day delay, he would have been rested enough to pitch tonight. Instead, Texas manager Ron Washington chose to use him in a relief role last night, clearly in the hope that he could wrap things up in six, and stick with his original choice to start Game 7, Matt Harrison, if it went that far.

Which it has.

In his last appearance, Harrison had time to take his shower, get into his street clothes and find a bar to have a beer and watch the end of Game 3, in which Albert Pujols became only the third man to hit three home runs in a World Series game.

Strategically, it is hard for me to see why Harrison would be preferable over Holland — if it had been up to me, with Rangers leading the Series 3–2, I would have used Harrison in middle relief and save Holland for a potential — and, now, definite — Game 7.

The Cardinals haven't proved they can hit Holland. But they have proved they can hit Harrison.

Meanwhile, the Rangers have had problems with Carpenter.

I think it will be a good game, a low–scoring game, and I think the Cardinals will win it.

Let's get it on.

One For The Ages

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Gosh, you know, it seems like only yesterday that Jayson Stark of ESPN.com was saying that this year's World Series was going to be must–see television ...

Wait a minute. It was only yesterday. And Stark was writing in the context of the first two games, which were low–scoring nail–biters. Each was decided by a single run.

That really seems remarkable to me in hindsight, though, because Stark wrote that before Albert Pujols did something that no other non–New York Yankee had ever done.

He hit three home runs in a single World Series game.

Babe Ruth did it twice for the Yankees in the 1920s. And Reggie Jackson did it once for the Yankees in 1977.

Ruth, of course, achieved it in the days before television — so, other than the fans sitting in Sportsman's Park on Oct. 6, 1926 or the fans sitting in Sportsman's Park on Oct. 9, 1928, no one saw it.

I suppose the people of that time might have been able to witness either of those accomplishments on the newsreels at their local theaters — except they didn't really come along until a few years later.

Consequently, Ruth's achievements — which sandwiched his historic 1927 season, in which he hit 60 home runs and set a record that stood for more than 30 years — were seen by a comparatively tiny sample of America's population.

Any baseball fans who were not fortunate enough to be in Sportsman's Park (which, ironically, was in St. Louis) on either of those days had to wait nearly 50 years to see that accomplishment matched.

What viewers saw last night is something exceedingly rare, something that sports fans have witnessed en masse only once before — on Oct. 18, 1977, when Reggie Jackson hit three home runs and drove a huge stake through the hearts of Dodger fans (and I know because I am a Dodger fan).

Needless to say, I guess, Game 3 of this year's series wasn't as close as the first two games were.

Well, the experts were saying that the warmer temperatures and the hitter–friendly park would lead to more runs.

Maybe that is what it was.

But I'm more inclined to think it was Albert being Albert.

He's a difference maker.

A New Attitude

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There is a new attitude here in north Texas these days — at least among baseball fans.

Some things haven't changed.

Diehard football fans are still living and dying — mostly dying — with the outcomes of Cowboys games.

Diehard basketball fans continue to wonder if they will get to see the Mavericks defend their NBA title this year.

There are still some diehard hockey fans around here, too. The bandwagon jumpers who followed the Stars when it was trendy — after they won a Stanley Cup more than a decade ago — have mostly jumped off now so the Stars crowds are almost entirely genuine hockey enthusiasts.

But until last year, the Texas Rangers were lovable losers who had never even caught much of a whiff of the World Series — let alone been immersed in its magical waters. For many years, if one went to a Rangers game, it was for the entertainment value alone, not because the Rangers were anything approaching legitimate contenders.

Now, I'll admit that I feel pulled by both sides when it comes to this year's World Series. I have friends who live in the St. Louis area. My goddaughter lives in the St. Louis area with her young son. But my family's roots are here in the Dallas–Fort Worth Metroplex. I have lived here for most of the last 20 years.

So I am torn. As Mark Twain replied when asked whether he preferred heaven or hell, I have friends in both places.

The Cardinals have been here many times before. In fact, no other major league team — except the Yankees — has won as many world championships as the Cardinals.

When the Rangers finally scaled that mountain last year, they and their fans celebrated winning the American League championship — and were glad merely to be in the big show.

Not too surprisingly, the Rangers went down in five games.

Now that the Rangers are back in the World Series, just getting there won't be enough. Even this area's most casual baseball fans — the ones for whom a trip to Arlington still qualifies as entertainment and not some sort of pilgrimage — know that.

Jeff Wilson of the Fort Worth Star–Telegram mentioned that difference in attitude in yesterday's column. But Wilson wrote that the difference for the players was visible on their airplane ride home from St. Louis.

The pressure they felt being down 0–2 to San Francisco when they returned to Texas for Game 3 last year was nowhere to be seen this year. These Rangers are more relaxed, more confident.

No, just being there won't be satisfactory this time. I've heard countless people around here speaking of how the momentum of the series shifted in the Rangers' favor when they rallied to win Game 2 the other night — and how home field advantage belongs to Texas now.

But the games that will be played here almost certainly will be different from the ones that we saw played in St. Louis. They will require both managers to make different kinds of strategic decisions.

And, frankly, while the first two games were thrillers, these lineups just have too much pop for either team to settle for 2–1 and 3–2 victories. A persuasive argument can be made that both teams are overdue for an offensive explosion.

As most people acknowledge, The Ballpark in Arlington is much more hitter–friendly than Busch Stadium, but that doesn't seem special to me. St. Louis has always been tough for hitters.

I went to many games in the old Busch Stadium, and it was never known as a hitters' park. Mark McGwire was probably the only genuine power hitter to play in St. Louis since the days of Stan the Man — until Albert Pujols came along.

For as long as I can remember, the Cardinals built teams around pitching and defense. On offense, they scratched out hits and were aggressive on the base paths, but, at best, their power hitters supplied 20 or 25 home runs a season.

That's not a very good description of the modern version of the Cardinals, though. Everyone already knew about Pujols, but the postseason has given the rest of the country the opportunity to become familiar with a whole roster of guys who can produce at the plate.

Bernie Miklasz of the St. Louis Post–Dispatch writes that "[t]here's no reason to believe the Cardinals will remain in the slumber mode."

In 2011, Miklasz points out, "the Cardinals averaged more road runs than every American League team. And the Cardinals will have a DH in their lineup over the next three games. So there's really no excuse for Cardinals hitters to struggle."

Except, perhaps, for the sheer resolve of the Rangers — and their devoted followers — to win it all this time.

I teach writing at the local community college, and one of my students will be at tonight's Game 3. We talked about it the other day in class. He is part of the emerging generation of Rangers followers, the ones who don't remember the long years of losing their elders endured after the old Washington Senators moved here in the early 1970s.

He remembers only the years when the Rangers have contended, even made the playoffs, but fallen short. He can't understand the frustration of people around here who have been following this ball club for four decades.

He doesn't remember the time when the Dallas Cowboys ruled the football world. The Cowboys haven't played in a Super Bowl in his memory. But he has seen the hockey team win it all and the basketball team win it all, and he wants to see the baseball team win it all, too.

He isn't alone. Then again, everyone seems to have an opinion about this series.

Joe Lemire of Sports Illustrated anticipates a jump in run production now that the Series has moved southwest about 550 miles.

The weather will be warmer, he points out — can't argue with that since today's high around here is supposed to be 84° while the high in St. Louis is expected to be 70°, but we're in the unpredictable time of year in these parts.

Perhaps you've heard of that devastating drought we've been experiencing here this year? We hardly had a drop of rain all summer, but suddenly rain has emerged as a threat in the baseball postseason. Already at Arlington they've had one playoff game delayed for a couple of hours by rain, and another game was rained out and had to be played the following day.

We may be in for more of the same tonight. The National Weather Service says there is a 50% chance of rain after the sun goes down.

If they're able to play, Gerry Fraley of the Dallas Morning News writes that St. Louis starter Kyle Lohse might struggle tonight. His previous appearances in Arlington didn't go well — but it's been more than five years since he started a game here, and he is a different pitcher now.

And, if this series goes six or seven games — and, consequently, must return to St. Louis — the outlook is for wetter, cooler weather on the days when the last two games are scheduled to be played.

We might see some high–scoring games in Arlington over the next few days — only to go back to St. Louis next week to see that offensive fire doused by a cold rain and harkening the return of the 2–1 and 3–2 scores.

Jayson Stark of ESPN.com thinks we might be on the brink of "something special." The first two games were nail–biters, he observes. If you aren't watching, you're missing out.

Let's get it on.

The Birth of a Tradition

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The year after Randy and I made our pilgrimage,
he was married and living in St. Louis. I returned
to go to a game with him and his wife, Tammy.

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It was 25 years ago today that my longtime friend Randy and I embarked on a weekend adventure that, in hindsight, is the kind of thing that can only be done when one is really young — and really stupid.

It simply cannot be done under any other circumstances.

But what can I say? We were really young and really stupid.

And that weekend was the start of a tradition that was repeated annually for five years. Maybe someday it will be revived. But I'll get back to that.

(Some folks might tell you that the only thing that has changed is that we're both 25 years older. But I digress.)

Randy and I went to school together, worked together in the summers when we were in high school. He was originally from St. Louis, but his parents moved to central Arkansas when he was a little boy and settled in my hometown.

My hometown was very small in those days, and most municipal business was handled rather simply — or maybe that's just how it seemed to me. There were three elementary schools in town, and which one you attended depended upon where you lived. Everyone attended the same middle school, junior high and high school.

I guess Randy and I must have gone to different elementary schools because I don't recall seeing him or being in a schoolroom with him until we were in middle school.

Even so, we didn't become the friends that we eventually became until we were in high school — and then we did everything together.

As close friends do, we learned just about everything there was to know about each other. One of the things I learned early on about Randy was that he desperately wanted to move back to St. Louis — and, as a matter of fact, he did — 25 years ago next month. He's still there.

But, in July 1986, he was still in Arkansas. He had gotten married a few years earlier, and he and his budding family moved around some, but, by this date 25 years ago, they were all back in central Arkansas. His marriage had ended, though, so I saw him more frequently than I had since high school, and I really thought our friendship was the same as it had always been. On the surface, I guess it was, but, while I didn't know it, he was thinking again about returning to St. Louis.

In 1985, Randy and I watched the TV coverage of the dramatic National League playoff series between his favorite team, the Cardinals, and my favorite team, the Los Angeles Dodgers. Inspired by that, we resolved to drive to St. Louis to see a couple of games between our favorite teams in person the next year.

The major leagues were structured differently 25 years ago. There were two divisions in each league, not three as there are today, and teams generally hosted the teams from the opposing division twice a year. That meant there was a pretty narrow window of opportunity for us.

In those days I was working on the sports copy desk of a metropolitan daily newspaper. One of the perks of the job was that we usually got information about schedules before just about everyone else, and I remember eagerly waiting for the release of the Cardinals' 1986 schedule.

For a time, Randy and I would begin every phone conversation the same way: "Did it come in yet?" (There was no reason to be more specific than "it.") "No."

Then, one day, the schedule arrived at the office.

In 1986, the two series in Busch Stadium were scheduled for mid–May and mid–July. I don't know why May didn't work out for us — maybe because the games were scheduled for the middle of the week.

The teams were scheduled to face each other in a four–game series between July 17 and 20. That was a Thursday–Sunday series, and, even though it was mostly on a weekend, it created some hurdles for us to clear, too. Still, it was our best option.

Randy, as I recall, couldn't get off work on a weekday. He hadn't been working at his job long enough to qualify for vacation time.

I was working nights at a morning newspaper, and my regular days off were Monday and Tuesday. I did qualify for vacation time at my job, and I must have used some. Or perhaps I used a compensatory day or two that I had on reserve for working on what should have been paid days off. As I recall, that was a somewhat common practice in those days. I don't remember the specifics.

Somehow, though, I managed to get that weekend off, and Randy and I decided to make a whirlwind trip to St. Louis to see the games on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, then we would drive back to central Arkansas, arriving sometime around midnight on Sunday.

I still had to work my usual shift on Friday night so Randy agreed to meet me at my apartment around the time I normally got home (which was roughly 1 a.m.), and we would try to get a few hours of sleep. We would get up at something like 4:30 or 5, throw on some clothes, throw our stuff in my car and hit the road.

We had it planned out so that we would arrive at the stadium in time for the first pitch on Saturday afternoon. The game was supposed to begin at 12:30, I believe. It was roughly a seven–hour drive.

It's astonishing to me when I think of it now, but it never occurred to me that something might happen along the way (it should have because, back when Randy and I were in high school, we drove to St. Louis to visit his brother and sister–in–law for Thanksgiving — and we had a flat tire on the way). I just assumed we would arrive on schedule.

Oddly enough, we nearly did. Sheer blind luck, I suppose.

We didn't quite get to our seats in time for the first pitch. In fact, it was around the second inning before we got to our seats. We might have been on schedule, though, if we hadn't stopped to pick up some beer and hot dogs.

The thing I remember vividly about that day is how unbelievably hot it was. It was every bit as hot as it has been lately. The air temperature was about 105° — and I read, in the St. Louis Post–Dispatch the next day, that the temperature of the artificial surface was over 130°.

I kid you not.

Here's something else: I seldom drink beer anymore, but that's the only time in my life that I haven't been able to finish a beer before it got too warm for me to drink it.

That Post–Dispatch article explained why I saw players for both teams sprinting off the field when it was their turn to bat — and dragging their feet when it was time to take the field. Talk about getting a hotfoot.

It also explained why the game was played so quickly. The teams combined for only three runs in a full nine–inning game that took only 2½ hours to play. (I remember that a columnist for the Post–Dispatch observed that the players played ball that day "like they were double parked.")

Tired and drained, we made our way back to my car after the game and proceeded to drive some 40 miles or so west of St. Louis — to his brother's home, where we spent the night.

I remember how blissfully cool his brother's home seemed to me, how refreshing it was to take a shower there and rid myself of the grime of the day and how grateful I was just to lie down on the cot on which I spent that Saturday night. We ate what was probably a basic summer meal that night (I don't recall what was on the menu — probably sandwiches and chips, maybe some ice cream), and I remember feeling full and satisfied as I relaxed in front of the TV with a cold drink in my hand.

We got a full night's sleep, awoke refreshed the next morning, packed my car, said goodbye to Randy's brother and sister–in–law and returned to Busch Stadium.

Temperatures at the ballpark were at least 10 degrees cooler that day. It almost felt cold by comparison — although, of course, it wasn't. This time, however, my beer was still somewhat cold when I finished it. (It might have helped that our seats were in the shade on Sunday.)

The less–brutal temperatures seemed to make the players more attentive to their work — at least the offensive part — and the teams combined for nine runs. Los Angeles scored most of them, though, so Randy and I decided to leave before the game was over and get a jump on the trip back home.

Once again, everything went according to schedule. No flat tires. No car trouble of any kind, actually. Since he had to work the next morning, Randy was supposed to get a little sleep on the drive back, but my memory is that he didn't. We talked some and listened to cassette tapes, and we pulled in to my apartment shortly before midnight. We transferred his things to his car, and he left for home.

And I went to bed.

I presume he made it to work the next day. Monday, as I said, was my usual day off so I'm sure I slept late. The only thing I remember doing the next day was my laundry.

The trip was a blast — in fact, I enjoyed it enough to repeat it four straight years after Randy moved to St. Louis. It's a great memory for me now, and sometimes I wish I could do it all again.

But so much is different now. In fact, when I think how much can change in a quarter of a century — a mere blink of an eye in the lifetime of this planet — it makes me appreciate how much there is just beneath our feet from which archaeologists can learn.

Future archaeologists won't find what is left of Busch Stadium, though, for it is gone. It has been demolished, replaced by another stadium that bears its name, but it isn't the same place.

I guess it is the place where the next generation will make its memories. I hope they have as much fun as I did.

The Notorious Blown Call

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I will always remember the night of Saturday, Oct. 26, 1985.

I was working on the sports copy desk of the Arkansas Gazette in Little Rock. Football season was two months old, and I had been working there long enough to know that Fridays and Saturdays in the fall meant everyone on the sports staff had to be in the office to handle the workload.

Football season was — and is — serious business in Arkansas. High school. College. The pros. All of it.

The University of Arkansas' Razorbacks, of course, were — as they are today — at the center of attention, but every high school in the state had its rabid followers for whom every Friday night in the fall was a life–and–death situation. And the pros — mostly the Cowboys when I was growing up — had plenty of devotees.

The Gazette's longtime sports editor, Orville Henry, was widely credited with saving the paper in the late 1950s when readers were leaving it over its series of Pulitzer Prize–winning editorials supporting the integration of Little Rock Central High School.

How did he do that? By promising that, during football season, the Gazette would have, in the Saturday morning papers, the scores from every football game involving every high school in the state that fielded a football team.

The Gazette, you see, served the entire state, and most of its sports readers, whether they lived in Little Rock or its neighboring counties or any of the 75 counties within Arkansas' borders, cared about high school football. But the paper had multiple deadlines each night, and the edition that went out to the far corners of the state went to press long before any night games had ended. Those readers — in places like Fayetteville and Blytheville and Texarkana and points in between — didn't expect to get the football scores in their Saturday morning papers.

But the edition that went out to the neighboring counties in central Arkansas went to press around 11 at night, and the city edition went to press around 12:30, so there were plenty of readers who did expect to see those scores in the paper that was delivered to their doorsteps on Saturday mornings.

And everyone on the sports staff had to stay in the office until we had scores for every game. As the hours went by, staffers were calling anyone they could think of from areas where we hadn't heard a score — a principal, a teacher, the county sheriff.

Many times, we published scores based on something as iffy as "Well, I think the score was ..." I'm sure we got it wrong sometimes. But, in all the years I worked there, we always had a score, whether it was right or wrong, for every game when the city edition went to bed on Friday nights.

There were — and, I presume, still are, although there was considerable consternation over the possibility of school consolidation at the time I left — many tiny, rural high schools all across the state. And it could be quite challenging at times to get their scores.

I was there for four football seasons, and I remember nights when we were in the office until nearly 3 in the morning trying to track down the score from a single football game.

I guess it goes without saying that, on many Saturdays, the sports staff was dragging.

I don't remember if Friday, Oct. 25, 1985, was such a night. It may well have been one of those (comparably rare) football Friday nights when everything went smoothly and we managed to put the paper to bed at what was a normal time for us. But, for those of us in the sports department, it was a time of year when things were complicated by the World Series.

And the sixth game of the World Series was to be played that Saturday night. The teams that were playing were the Kansas City Royals and the St. Louis Cardinals in what was known as the "I–70 Series" — in honor of the highway that directly connects the two cities.

With both of the teams coming from cities in the state the bordered Arkansas to the north, it should be obvious that there was a distinctly regional flavor to that year's World Series.

When I was growing up, central Arkansas was Cardinal country, and that tradition was alive and well in the Gazette newsroom in 1985. Lots of people, whether they worked on the sports side or not, were openly pulling for the Cardinals.

But there was no TV in the newsroom in those days — so many folks who had to work at night (usually that was almost exclusively the copy desk, but there were some reporters who wrote at night) had to listen to the radio at their desks if they wanted to know the score in that pre–internet world.

The Cardinals led the Royals, three games to two, when the Series returned to Kansas City, and St. Louis was on the brink of winning its second world title in four years. One of the guys on the sports copy desk brought a TV to the newsroom that night so we could watch the game while we worked.

And it was about the most dramatic World Series game I have ever seen.

It started as a pitchers' duel. Neither team scored until the Cardinals managed to score a run in the top of the eighth, and it looked like they were on their way. But, in the bottom of the ninth, trailing by a run, the Royals scored two runs, thanks to a blown call at first base by umpire Don Denkinger.

I guess it is possible that the Royals might have scored two runs in their half of the ninth even if Denkinger had made the right call. But it would have been a lot more difficult to achieve.

Replays from every angle clearly confirmed that Denkinger had made the wrong call, but he stubbornly refused to reverse himself and there was no mechanism in place for overturning an umpire's call through the use of instant replay. The call stood; the Royals rallied for an improbable victory and forced the decisive Game 7 the next night.

Except for football, major team sports championships are decided in a best–of–seven playoff series. When they happen, Game 7s are often dramatic events, reflecting the even split of the previous six games.

But there was nothing terribly dramatic about Game 7 of the 1985 World Series.

Maybe the Cardinals were shell–shocked, having come so tantalizingly close to winning the World Series only to have it snatched away from them by something that was beyond their control.

Whatever it was, the Cardinals, who had looked unbeatable on the eve of their series with their meek sister from western Missouri, couldn't scratch out a single run in the finale. Their manager, Whitey Herzog, and their pitcher, Joaquin Andujar, were ejected from the game, and Kansas City won a blowout, 11–0.

Compared to the previous night, it was anticlimactic.

And Then There Were Four

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A few days ago, I wrote that I expected at least one of the pro football teams that got a bye in the first week of the playoffs to lose in the divisional round. In fact, one team did lose, but it wasn't the one I predicted.

Actually, I am inclined to believe that few, if any, observers expected what happened.

The first three playoff games of the weekend were won by teams that got a bye — which, by definition, means the home team. The winners on Saturday, New Orleans and Indianapolis, were undefeated until December. Neither is undefeated now, but Indianapolis, which won its first 14 games, seemed almost determined to rid itself of the expectations of perfection that many people believed worked against the New England Patriots a couple of years ago. New Orleans wasn't much better. Once both teams had clinched home field through the conference playoffs, they played their regulars sparingly and made it clear that their focus had shifted to the playoffs.

As a result, the Saints and the Colts entered the weekend saddled with losing streaks. Indy had lost two in a row and hadn't won at home since Dec. 13. New Orleans had lost three in a row and hadn't won at home since November.

I predicted that the Colts, who were facing a Baltimore Ravens team they barely beat in Week 11, would stumble. But, after the way Arizona held off a spirited Green Bay team on wild–card weekend, it wouldn't have surprised me if the Saints had taken it on the chin.

Frankly, I wouldn't have been shocked if both teams had fallen. But neither team did.

Then, yesterday, the Dallas Cowboys played the Minnesota Vikings. The Vikings struggled in December while the Cowboys established a reputation as perhaps the hottest team in the NFC, becoming the first team to knock off the Saints, then ending the regular season with a win for the first time in 10 years and then winning a playoff game for the first time since 1996.

Consequently, there were probably more than a few NFL fans who thought the Cowboys might upend the Vikings and Brett Favre. But the Vikings, like the Saints and the Colts the day before, rolled to an easy victory.

Of all four of the weekend's playoff games, Sunday's nightcap may have been the one most NFL fans figured was a foregone conclusion. It matched the visiting New York Jets, who have surprised many fans this season, and the San Diego Chargers, who came into the game having won 11 in a row.

Until the fourth quarter, it looked like the Chargers would hang on and win the game, but it was not to be. The Jets won that final quarter, 14–3, and won the game, 17–10, setting up a rematch of their Dec. 27 game with the Colts. On that day, the Jets handed the Colts their first loss of the season. The Colts had already secured home field and had nothing left to play for. The Jets didn't officially clinch a wild–card berth that day — but they may have done so mentally.

This time, the winner goes to the Super Bowl.

As I observed prior to the kickoff of wild–card weekend, seven of the last 10 Super Bowls have featured a team that did not get the opening–round bye. On four of those occasions, the team that didn't get the bye won it all.

Does that mean the Jets will continue their improbable playoff run with a win over the Colts on Sunday, perhaps followed by a victory in the Super Bowl?

I'll be addressing that here later this week!

Bye Bye?

Last week, I wrote that getting the first–round bye in the NFL playoffs can be as much a curse as a blessing.

I believe that. And I believe we will see some proof of that this weekend. The teams to keep your eyes on — the teams that got the byes this year — are New Orleans, Indianapolis, Minnesota and San Diego.

At least one of those teams will fall this weekend. Mark my words.

SATURDAY

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• Arizona (11–6) at New Orleans (13–3) — The last time Arizona played in the Louisiana Superdome was on Dec. 16, 2007. Neither team advanced to the playoffs that year, but the Saints won their encounter, 31–24. That's the only time since Hurricane Katrina that the teams have faced each other. Truthfully, the teams haven't met very often in recent years so it is necessary to look for other factors that could influence the outcome: (1) Arizona is coming off a hard–fought overtime win over Green Bay last Sunday. Will the Cardinals be exhilarated or exhausted? (2) New Orleans hasn't won at home since beating New England on Nov. 30. (3) Saints quarterback Drew Brees has received a lot of attention this season, and he clearly has been crucial to the Saints' success, but, statistically, the Cardinals have the NFL's top offense, its second–best passing game and its fifth–best rushing attack. (4) On the other side of the ball, Arizona's overall defense, its pass defense and its run defense rank second only to Dallas among teams that are still active in the NFC. Nevertheless, Steve Wyche of NFL.com says the intangibles, like home field and a week to rest and regroup, are in the Saints' favor. And John DeShazier of the New Orleans Times–Picayune writes that, if the Saints truly want to be the best team in the NFL, there may be no better way to prove it than by beating the defending NFC champs. It wasn't so long ago that the very thought of either the Saints or the Cardinals even being in the playoffs was laughable, but it isn't so laughable now. One of them will play in their second NFC championship game in the last four years. Which will it be? That's a tough call for me, but, by the narrowest of margins, I'll pick the Saints.

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• Baltimore (10–7) at Indianapolis (14–2) — For the second consecutive week, the Ravens will be playing a team that beat them during the regular season. The Colts barely got by the Ravens on November 22, 17–15, but that game was played in Baltimore. The last time the teams met in Indianapolis was Oct. 12, 2008, when the Colts hammered the Ravens, 31–3. Actually, the Colts have won seven in a row against the Ravens (including a playoff game the year they beat the Bears in the Super Bowl). The Ravens haven't beaten the Colts since Dec. 2, 2001, and some people don't think they will snap that losing streak, in part because Baltimore was much better at home than on the road this year. Nevertheless, the Ravens whipped New England on the road last weekend, and there are some folks, like Bucky Brooks of NFL.com, who think Baltimore's running game, led by Ray Rice and Willis McGahee, can make the difference. At the very least, he concedes it is the running game that not only has kept Baltimore's season going but is responsible for the continued presence in the postseason of the Jets and Cowboys as well. Statistically, the Ravens did have the best running game in the NFL. They were the only squad that averaged more than 200 rushing yards per game, and fans must wonder if Indy can keep up with them. Pat Kirwan, Brooks' colleague at NFL.com, openly wonders if the Colts can stop the Ravens' offensive line. I wonder that, too, but, ultimately, that isn't the issue, is it? The linemen may do their job, but the running backs are the ones who have to make the moves, break tackles and turn up the speed when called for. Baltimore's running attack really has emerged since the Indianapolis game. Last time, as Kirwan points out, the Ravens never scored a touchdown against the Colts with an offense that threw the ball more than ran it. The Ravens settled for five field goals and missed a sixth that would have won the game. The objective needs to be different this time. The Ravens have to get the ball into the end zone, and the ground game seems to be in a better position to produce that kind of result — along with the added benefit of keeping Indy's offense off the field. The Colts are 24th in the NFL in defending the run; they can be had. Another factor in this game is the bye. The Colts haven't won a game since Dec. 17, and they haven't beaten a playoff team since that game with the Ravens nearly two months ago. I believe phoning in their last two games and then taking last week off will work against them. Some people say Dallas or San Diego are the hottest teams in the playoffs right now, but Baltimore could be a plausible candidate for that title. The Ravens have emerged the winners of must–win games to get into and then advance in the playoffs. They have plenty of momentum and a running game that could wear down the Colts. I'll take the Ravens.

SUNDAY

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• Dallas (12–5) at Minnesota (12–4) — This may be the game that NFL fans have anticipated the most this week. The teams last faced each other in Dallas on Oct. 21, 2007; the Cowboys won, 24–14. The last time they met in Minnesota was Sept. 12, 2004; the Vikings won that one, 35–17. The last time the road team won was on Nov. 23, 2000, when Minnesota won in Dallas, 27–15. The teams didn't meet in the playoffs for the first time until 1971, but it became almost an annual thing in the 1970s as they faced each other four times between 1971 and 1977. They have only played twice in the postseason since that time, with Dallas winning in 1996 and Minnesota winning in 1999. Well, that's all in the past. What does the immediate future hold? Let's go back to the recent past for just a moment. The Vikings signed Brett Favre last summer, thinking he could provide the leadership the team needed to get to the Super Bowl, and, in spite of a bit of a late–season slump, he's come through. When the season started and Favre was learning Minnesota's system, there was a tendency for the team to rely on halfback Adrian Peterson. As the season progressed, though, the Vikings evolved from primarily a running team to more of a passing team — in the last two games of the regular season, Favre threw for more than 300 yards in each game while Peterson did not crack 100 yards in rushing. So, while Favre ended the season behind Dallas' Tony Romo in the passing rankings, he's been following an upward trajectory, perhaps at Peterson's expense, but as long as Peterson is in the lineup, Dallas can't afford to focus exclusively on Favre and Minnesota's aerial attack. Not to be forgotten is the fact that the Vikings went 8–0 at home. If New Orleans beats Arizona, the winner of this game will have to travel to the Big Easy next week, but this week, as Sid Hartman observes in the Minneapolis Star Tribune, home field is truly an advantage for the Vikings. It should be interesting — and challenging for the Cowboys. In the end, though, I'll go with the home team.

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• New York Jets (10–7) at San Diego (13–3) — Perhaps the only thing you need to know about this matchup is that it has been nearly three months since San Diego lost a football game. That was against Denver on Oct. 19. Here's something else that might be helpful. The last time the Jets played in San Diego was Sept. 22, 2008. The Jets had Brett Favre calling the signals, but that didn't deter the Chargers, who rolled to a 48–29 victory. That's the only win the Chargers have recorded in four meetings with the Jets in the last 15 years — and it came when the Jets had the only Hall of Fame quarterback they've had in their lineup since Joe Namath was on the roster. It's tempting to believe that, until last weekend, the Jets hadn't won a playoff game since Namath was calling the signals. But it only seems that way. The Jets won wild–card games following the 2004 and 2002 seasons, they won a divisional playoff in January 1999, and they won some playoff games in the 1980s, but they've only gone as far as the AFC championship game since their lone Super Bowl appearance more than 40 years ago. The Chargers haven't been much more successful. They lost the only Super Bowl they've ever played in 15 years ago, and they lost in their only AFC championship appearance since then (they only played in two others since the NFL and AFL merged in 1970). But these Chargers are the definition of hot. It is unfortunate for the Jets to have drawn them. If the Ravens had lost to the Patriots, as everyone expected, the Jets would be playing in Indianapolis this weekend and the Pats would have the unenviable task of playing the Chargers. If the Jets and Ravens win this weekend, that would set up the absolutely final game in Giants Stadium, with the AFC title on the line. But I don't think the Jets have the horses to pull it off. I think the Chargers will win.

Playoffs: 1–3.

Wild-Card Weekend Is Upon Us

As I have mentioned here before, I admire the writing of Sports Illustrated's Peter King. He writes very insightful articles about pro football, and he asked an intriguing question in his preview of this weekend's wild–card games:

"When's the last time you recall all four wild–card games being so competitive you wouldn't be surprised to see the road team win any one?" He then proceeds to pick the road teams in two of this weekend's games. I'm with King on that one. In fact, as you will soon see, I have picked three of the four road teams to win this weekend.

Personally, I have often felt that home field was overrated, and King kind of affirms that in his piece. "Two roadies won last year," he writes, "and three won in 2005. This year, I don't care what Vegas says. It's even–steven across the board entering the weekend."

The New York Giants won the Super Bowl two years ago after beating Tampa Bay, Dallas and Green Bay on the road in the NFC playoffs. In 2005, the Pittsburgh Steelers became the first team in two decades to win three road games en route to the Super Bowl (which they also won).

In fact, I have wondered if the practice of giving a first–round bye to the big winners during the regular season hasn't been a detriment, not a benefit. Consider the recent teams that have advanced to the Super Bowl (whether they won or lost) in spite of having to play in the first round: Arizona had to play on wild–card weekend last year. As mentioned previously, the Giants were a wild card two years ago and won it all. So did the Indianapolis Colts, who were not a wild card but had to play one in January 2007. I mentioned the 2005 Steelers. Carolina played in the wild–card weekend following the 2003 season. The 2001 Ravens had to play in the first round. So did the 1999 Tennessee Titans.

Seven of the last 10 Super Bowls have featured a team that did not get a first–round bye. Four of those seven were won by the team that didn't get the bye week. When you consider that four teams get a first–round bye every season, and they get that bye because they are one of the top two winningest teams in the conference, it logically follows that they probably went into the playoffs among the favorites to at least play in the Super Bowl, if not win it all.

That means that, in the last 10 years alone, at least 16 teams that probably were considered one of the favorites to win a Super Bowl did not, and at least 28 teams that were favored to at least play in a Super Bowl did not.

Why do I believe having to play in a wild–card game is not the kiss of death that many seem to think it is? Because I believe a bye week at this stage of the season is useful only if a team is banged up and needs a little extra time to get over its bumps and bruises.

If the team is in fairly good health, my thinking has been that a bye takes a team out of its rhythm. It retards a team's momentum. And I believe New Orleans and Indianapolis, who rested their starters when there was nothing left to play for, may pay a price for doing the smart thing and protecting their top producers.

But that's a subject to be addressed as we go deeper into the playoffs.

TODAY

• New York Jets (9–7) at Cincinnati (10–6) — Of the three playoff games that are rematches of games played last week, this one seems to be the most likely to produce a duplicate result. By the time last Sunday's game between the Jets and the Bengals began, the results of all the other games were known, and the Bengals had nothing to play for. The Jets did, and it showed in the final score — a 37–0 triumph. The game provides an intriguing contrast. When the season began, the Bengals had the hot hand, winning seven of their first 10 games. But, at season's end, the Jets were the hot team, winning five of their last six. Since Thanksgiving, Cincinnati lost to three playoff teams and only managed wins over Detroit and Kansas City. The last time the teams played in Cincinnati was on Oct. 21, 2007. The Bengals prevailed, 38–31, but the Jets have won two in a row at home against the Bengals since then. Can they win at Cincinnati for the first time since September 1997? I think they will.


• Philadelphia (11–5) at Dallas (11–5) — As members of the same division, these two teams are familiar foes. They play each other twice a year, and they just played at Cowboys Stadium last Sunday. In that game, Dallas won, 24–0, giving the Cowboys two victories over the Eagles during the regular season. Now they must try to make it three victories, which is a difficult task. And the Cowboys need look no further than their own postseason experience for examples of just how hard it can be. Two years ago — the last time Dallas was in the playoffs — the Cowboys faced the New York Giants in the playoffs after beating them twice during the regular season. The Giants won, 21–17, and went on to the Super Bowl, where they upset the previously unbeaten New England Patriots. And, in 1998, the Cowboys beat the Arizona Cardinals (who were in their division at the time) twice during the regular season, then lost to the Cardinals in the playoffs, 20–7. Until this season, there was considerable talk about the Cowboys' "December jinx," although that talk seems to have been dispelled by Dallas' 3–2 record last month (including a victory over previously unbeaten New Orleans). Nevertheless, some folks in Dallas will remind you that the Cowboys haven't won a playoff game in more than 10 years. I predict the Eagles, who had won six in a row before tumbling against Dallas last Sunday, will bounce back and win the game.

SUNDAY

• Baltimore (9–7) at New England (10–6) — The way I see it, there are three things to keep in mind in this game. First: Location, location, location. The Patriots have been absolutely awful on the road, which is where they will have to play next week if they beat Baltimore. But, against the Ravens, New England is playing at home, where the Pats are 8–0. Baltimore, meanwhile, is 3–5 on the road, and the Ravens lost at New England earlier in the season, 27–21. So, on the basis of location, the Pats should be favored. Second: Statistics. The Patriots are third in the NFL in total offense (the Ravens are 13th) and pass offense (the Ravens are 18th). Baltimore does have the advantage in rushing offense, ranking fifth in the NFL while the Patriots are 12th. Baltimore has the edge in team defense (third in the NFL, compared to 11th for New England), passing defense (eighth in the NFL while New England is 12th) and rushing defense (fifth in the NFL; Patriots are 13th). New England's margin on offense is more pronounced than Baltimore's is on defense — although, if Baltimore has the lead late in the game and needs to run the ball to control the clock, the Ravens seem to be in a better position to do so than the Patriots. That doesn't seem likely to me, though, so I'll give the edge to New England. Third: Postseason experience. It can be argued that today's Ravens have more recent postseason experience than the Patriots. New England, after all, did not qualify for the playoffs last year while Baltimore, in spite of being the sixth seed, defeated Miami and Tennessee on the road and stayed within striking distance of Pittsburgh in the first half of the AFC title game. Will the weather be a factor? Well, it's expected to be cold (predicted high of 24°) and windy (the wind chill could be as low as -1°) but sunny. That's a little colder than it is expected to be in Baltimore tomorrow (28°, sunny, not as windy). The Ravens may notice the weather, but I doubt they will be affected by it. I think they are more likely to be affected by the atmosphere. History has shown that it is very tough for the visiting team to win at New England, especially in the playoffs, and I'll give the home team the edge in this one.


• Green Bay (11–5) at Arizona (10–6) — Pat Kirwan of NFL.com says the key to this game is the ability to get to the quarterback, and he may have a point. Green Bay QB Aaron Rodgers did get sacked 50 times this season, and he was sacked more than twice as often in games the Packers lost. But bear in mind that Green Bay's defense appears to be better than Arizona's. The Packers have the best team defense in the NFC and the best run defense in the NFL. And, while the Green Bay pass defense is ranked second in the NFC, Arizona's is ranked 11th. Add to that the fact that Green Bay has beaten Arizona severely twice this year — once was in the third week of the preseason, so it didn't count in the standings, and the other was last weekend. This is the playoffs, and the Cardinals may have Anquan Boldin back from injury — although NFL.com suggests that it is unlikely he will play. Apparently, he's still hobbling around, but he's a factor whenever he is in the lineup. I think the game will be closer this time, but I'll stick with the Packers, who are probably the hottest team on the NFC side of the playoffs.

So, if my predictions are correct, next week's playoffs will be:

• In the NFC, Green Bay will play Minnesota for the third time this season, and Philadelphia will travel to New Orleans in a rematch of their Week 2 meeting.


• In the AFC, the top–seeded Indianapolis Colts will play host to the New York Jets, who handed them their first loss of the season a couple of weeks ago, and San Diego will play host to New England in what would be the first postseason game that is not a rematch of a regular–season contest.

Last week: 9–7.

Season: 180–78.