Four Lessons

Temporary technical difficulties...resolved, finally.

Four things I learned on Saturday:

1. Brady Quinn is a little too muscular, has problems with accuracy, and rarely shows up in big games. At least, that's what I was told.

As soon as it became evident that Quinn would not go in the top ten of Saturday's NFL Draft -- a realization crystalized by his disappearance from the green room -- the 47 studio hosts on call at ESPN scrambled to tell me why he sucked. Which was funny, because those very same hosts and analysts had spent the two hours prior to his selection telling me, with video to back it up, that he was the second-best player in the draft.

This is not to knock Quinn, who did nothing other than set a gazillion passing records at Notre Dame and earn the admiration of Chaz Weis, who is adored by the ESPN brass. Rather, I was disgusted by the speed with which every one of those talking heads backtracked on Quinn once he dropped in the draft. Someday, if we're lucky, studio producers and talent will learn this one irrefutable fact about TV audiences: we don't care if you're wrong, as long as you explain the reasons behind your convictions, and then stand by them. "Transparency" is the word I'm looking for. I'll respect you if you admit that you blew it. Once you start re-writing history, you've lost me.

On that note, what does it say about the coverage of the draft when Keyshawn Johnson was far and away the best analyst on the desk? And how viciously will the South Florida fans rip the Dolphins for passing on Quinn? The Cleveland Browns just got the best offensive lineman in the draft, and the best pure QB in the draft. Nice work all the way around.

2. Tony Stewart has cojones milled from pure brass. His diatribe on NASCAR's "phantom cautions" hit a wee bit too close to home, but he barely scratched the surface. Back in the Dark Ages, when I was hosting "RPM2Night" on ESPN2, there was a running joke among the racing media about which team or driver would get "the call" before a race. The implication was that NASCAR would willingly and knowingly allow certain cars to slide through pre-race inspection -- a spoiler too high here, a roofline too low there -- based on who "deserved" a better shot at winning. Stewart's calling-out wasn't exactly the same thing, but it comes from the same set of criteria: put on the best show possible. It's entertainment, folks. Like wrestling. Crap, am I on probation?

But write this down -- the impending antitrust lawsuit against NASCAR will have much, much more to do with the future of the sport than anything Stewart can come up with. The dirty little secret of stock car racing is about to go public, and in my view, the France family's monopoly on venues cannot withstand the legal scrutiny.

Is there any scenario under which the NFL would be allowed to own and operate more than 50 percent of its teams' stadiums? What about the NBA? Wouldn't you be howling at the league's double-dip in terms of revenue? That's the reality of NASCAR right now. This is going to get ugly. Mark my words.

3. Straight beats long. Luke Donald assumed the lead at the EDS Byron Nelson in Dallas based primarily on his accuracy: through three rounds, he led the field in fairways hit, even though he was only 52nd in distance. He was also tied for second in greens in regulation. By comparison, first-round leader Sean O'Hair tumbled all the way to 28th in the field via a stat line that included the 9th-best distance off the tee and the 52nd-best average greens in regulation. Hit greens, make putts, win tournaments. Remember that before you plunk down 400 bucks for a new driver. That money might be better spent on lessons with the irons. Oh, and by the way -- the guy who ended up winning the tournament, Scott Verplank? Eighth on Tour in driving accuracy, 156th in driving distance. Career earnings: $19,410,000. Sorry, I was saying?

4. The Orlando Magic got exposed. When this NBA season began, I wondered in this space how many teams in the Eastern Conference were better than the Magic, and I predicted that they would make the playoffs. So far, so good. However, they were stripped naked in their first-round series with Detroit, in much the same way that Miami has been worn out by Chicago -- which I also predicted, in a roundabout fashion. The Magic have some big questions to answer this summer, and for once, it has nothing to do with a new arena. I've spent way too much time defending this franchise's decisions, on this blog and in person. This series was embarassing. Miami had an excuse, with Dwyane Wade playing on one arm. Orlando does not. Something has to change. I don't know that I completely agree with those who argue that the team needs a different voice, but I can at least acknowledge their stance. This, too, could get ugly, or perhaps it should.

Pretty good weekend for sports on TV, no?

Another Magic Carpet Ride

A couple of the producers who work on Magic TV broadcasts -- friends of mine since the intern days -- suggested that this would make a good blog entry. We'll see about that.

Television's Paul Kennedy, who doubles up as the pregame/sideline host for the Magic and the Lightning all year, was off to follow the Bolts as they started the Stanley Cup playoffs last week, so I was pressed into last-minute hosting duties for Saturday's Magic road game in Philadelphia on Sun Sports. Problem was, the short notice compelled me to fly up-and-back in one day -- I had a prior commitment on Friday night. So the plan was to fly commercially on Saturday morning, then hitch a ride on the Magic team plane to come home. Thus began my 17-hour odyssey into the belly of the NBA playoff chase.

5:55am: Wake up five minutes before the alarm goes off, as is my habit. Blessing and a curse, that. Shower, get partially dressed (dress pants, shiny shoes, and casual shirt), grab my pre-organized hanging bag with jacket, shirt, and tie, shoulder my briefcase, and tiptoe out the door. No luggage for this trip, but I do have a toothbrush. You just never know.

6:30am: Arrive at Orlando International Airport. No traffic on the way in, but the security lines are packed, as always. Anyone who flies in and out of Orlando on a regular basis can understand. I see a friend of mine, John, in one of the other lines. He says he's going to California. I'm envious.

8:10am: The US Airways nonstop to Philadelphia goes wheels-up, only 20 minutes behind schedule. The flight is packed -- again, this is Orlando, every flight is packed -- and I'm in an aisle seat next to a young mother with a two-year-old daughter in arms. Mom is terribly concerned about the youngster potentially bothering me during the flight. I guess I'm giving off the vibe of a testy business traveler, which, I suppose, is what I am. To assuage her, I ask about her little girl, and assure her that it's no bother at all. I've got fresh copies of Golf Digest and ESPN Magazine, and the kid is already snoozing hard. We'll survive.

10:20am: During the final approach to Philadelphia, the mom leans over to the woman by the window -- her mother, as best I can tell -- and says, "That's Poppy's work." Poppy is apparently the guy seated across the aisle from me, the father of this little angel who has been totally sacked out for the entire flight. Poppy, I should mention, has several tattoos on his arm and looks like he could bend steel with his bare hands. Out the window, I see that we're flying over one of the many shipyards along the river in Philly, and I therefore deduce that Poppy is a dockworker. Further, I have concluded that the whole group is returning home to Philly from a family vacation to Disney World -- they never told me this, but as an Orlando native, I've seen the look a million times. They're all happy and exhausted. The two-year-old has barely stirred during the 2-hour-plus trip. This kid can fly with me anytime.

10:35am: I hail a cab outside the Philadelphia International Airport.

"I'm heading to the Wachovia Center," I say.

Blank stare.

"The arena where the Sixers play?" I offer.

Recognition. "Okay, no problem," he says. His name is Willie, and he is unfailingly polite. This IS the town where they once booed Santa Claus, right? As it turns out, Willie not only knows where the Wachovia Center is, he also knows where the TV trucks park, and he drops me off about 30 feet from the door. Willie gets a generous tip. So far, this is a layup.

11am: Enter the production truck. Tye Eastham and Kevin Patterson -- my guys from intern days, long ensconced as producers for Magic basketball -- are already in high gear. When the Magic go on the road, there are only a handful of Orlando-based TV crew members who travel with them. A couple of producers, one director, and the "talent" -- David Steele, Matt Guokas, and Paul Kennedy (or, in this case, me). Everyone else who works on the broadcast is a freelancer, hired from the local pool by a crewer at Sun Sports. Tye and KP are busy coaching up the Philly crew members, who know nothing of the Magic and don't really care. It's a tough gig all the way around. My job is to keep quiet and stay the hell out of their way until I'm needed.

1pm: I'm needed. The "first bus" has arrived from the Four Seasons hotel in downtown Philly. The first bus usually includes the coaching staff and some of the veteran players, including guys like Keyon Dooling and Tony Battie, both of whom have been scheduled for short interviews for use in our pregame show. Having changed into my shirt and tie, I grab Dooling and Battie for comments about the playoff chase. Orlando can knock Philly out of the playoffs by winning today. Keyon and Tony give excellent pat answers to my predictable questions. This is a routine for them as much as it is for me. There's something oddly comfortable about this routine, even though I'm not the guy they usually see on the road. They know I'm 'Sun Sports,' and they do their job while I'm doing mine.

1:30pm: I interview Brian Hill for a segment in the pregame show. He's as relaxed as a head coach can be with a playoff berth on the line. As soon as we're finished, he chats with St. Joseph's head coach Phil Martelli, who is there to see his former player, Jameer Nelson. I overhear Brian telling Martelli that Philadelphia's best post player is their point guard, Andre Miller, who is "sneaky big." Several hours later, the Sixers will win the opening tip, and their first offensive set will get the ball to Miller in the post against Nelson. Not only did I hear this directly from the Magic's head coach, but Matt Guokas also correctly predicted it during the pregame show. This ain't our first rodeo, folks.

2pm: Having taped all the segments I will need for the pregame show, I snarf down a free lunch in the media room at the Wachovia Center. Brian Schmitz, the beat writer from the Orlando Sentinel, is already formatting his game story. He's concerned about getting out of Philly on time that night -- there's a storm brewing. Have I mentioned that I am flying out on the team plane?

2:30pm: I start the live pregame show. The building is quiet. The Sixers are second to last in home attendance this season. It's a funeral home. This is an elimination game for Philadelphia, and nobody seems to care. However, if I were to walk 200 yards out the back door of this arena, I could stand on a single corner, pivot 360 degrees, and see the Wachovia Center, the original Spectrum, the Phillies' glorious Citizens Bank ballpark, and the Eagles' triumphant Lincoln Financial Field all within a few steps of each other in one complex. Philly, no matter what you think of it, is a kick-ass sports town. The few moments I spent surveying this fabulous arrangement of facilities near the shipyards makes me wonder about Orlando's petty battles over a new arena and Citrus Bowl. I've said it many times -- I'd love to put Mike Thomas, Scott Maxwell, Mayors Crotty and Dyer, and every taxpaying citizen of Orlando on a plane and bring them to a place like this, or downtown Indianapolis, or Phoenix, or any other major league city with a vibrant sports/entertainment complex. This is how it's supposed to be. Sadly, given the attendance, the Sixers appear to be the red-haired stepchild of the moment.

3pm: And they're playing like it, too. Andre Iguodala is giving it a go with his sore back, Kyle Korver is coming off the bench with a bad wrist, and head coach Mo Cheeks looks like a man without a country. Steven Hunter is in the starting lineup, for Heaven's sake. Still, this is a trap game for the Magic, who have demonstrated a propensity for playing down to the level of their competition. Plus, the Sixers are desperate, if somewhat shorthanded. I'm a little nervous about this one.

3:30pm: What was I worried about? The Magic come out on fire, stepping on Philly's throat and not letting up. Dwight Howard is a man possessed. The Magic feed him on every trip down the floor, and he's dunking on every white shirt he can see. It's brilliant. I'm sitting along the Magic's baseline, in between Sixers sideline reporter Dei Lynam and a Philly PR staffer, and they're doing all they can do to stifle their disgust. Howard has 18 points in the first quarter, and there's not a damn thing that anyone can do about it. This is fun to watch. He's 21 years old, people. Twenty-freaking-one.



Wow.

4:20pm: With the Magic up 61-48, I host the halftime report. We have videotape of Dwight Howard taking batting practice with Ryan Howard and the Phillies on Friday night. As a hitter, Dwight is a very good basketball player.

5:30pm: Orlando has led by as much as 15, but as I sort of predicted, the Sixers are staging a comeback in the fourth quarter, led by Korver, whose sprained wrist has mysteriously recovered enough to allow him 4-6 three-point shooting. This dude is dangerous. Brian Hill calls timeout at one point to get in Dooling's face and instruct him, in no uncertain terms, to glue himself to Korver's shorts. Korver doesn't make another basket all night. Dwight finishes with 35 points, a new career high. Magic win, 104-87. The Sixers' playoff hopes are dashed. Conversation in the production truck immediately turns to Sunday's home game against the Celtics -- if Orlando wins and the Pacers lose to the Nets, the Magic will clinch a playoff berth within the next 24 hours. Which, as it turns out, is exactly what happens.

7pm: Having packed up and handed out our goodbyes and thank-yous to the Philadelphia crew, the TV guys climb onto the "second bus" for the five-mile ride to the airport. The Magic team plane sits alone in an uncrowded corner of the tarmac, gassed up and ready to go. We make our way to the rear compartment and settle in. Dinner tonight is a choice between shrimp scampi or beef lasagna. Also, the crew has secured a few platters full of authentic Philly cheesesteaks, which the players devour. We in the back get the leftovers. There's no better way to travel.

The "Media Lounge" -- me, Tye, KP, radio play-by-play announcer Dennis Neumann, Spanish radio voice Joey Colon, David Steele, Matt Guokas, and director Tom Smith -- spends much of the flight dissecting the upcoming NBA draft. Oden and Durant are our consensus top two, but opinions differ after that. I still think Al Horford could go number three, but KP wonders if Corey Brewer might end up being the best Gator junior of them all. Dennis is curious about the Chevy Florida Fishing Report, which Joey claims to watch every week. We also share a chuckle at Paul Kennedy's expense -- Paul had planned an elaborate segment for our pregame show that day, highlighting the 40th anniversary of Matty's entry into the NBA as a Sixers rookie in 1967. Naturally, when the day finally came, Paul was off with the Lightning, leaving me to handle it with Matt, who doesn't exactly love talking about himself. Fortunately, Matty is a pro. They're all pros. And this is how professionals kill two and a half hours on a team charter from Philadelphia to Orlando.



Matt hates this.

9:30pm: Touchdown in Orlando. The team plane taxis directly into the Magic Carpet Aviation hangar on the west side of the airport, where the players have parked their cars under cover. A couple of Magic staffers need a jump-start -- this was a six-day trip. Another game tomorrow.

On Sunday, despite a monumental collapse in the 4th quarter, the Magic would indeed hold on to beat the Celtics, securing themselves a playoff berth for the first time in four years. On Wednesday, I'll be in for Paul once again, hosting the regular season finale at home against the Heat. Then comes the postseason.

See you on TV. Maybe from Detroit.

No Surprise

My man Mike Bianchi whipped up a steamin' bowl full of righteous indignation this morning with his column from the LPGA's Ginn Open here in Orlando.

Mike asked Annika Sorenstam for her opinion of the Don Imus v. Rutgers women's basketball fiasco, and the exchange went a little something like this, according to Mike:

"Annika, some derogatory comments were made about the Rutgers women's basketball team the other day; obviously, you've heard about them..."

Before I can finish, Annika stops me cold with her response.

"No, I haven't."

You haven't?

"No," she says, shaking her head.

Uncomfortable pause.

All I can think of to say at this point is, "Never mind."

All she can think of to say is, "Sorry."

Yeah, I'm sorry, too.

Mike goes on to term Imus's comments as "one of the most infamous cases of verbal sexism ever uttered against female athletes." His argument, well-stated in the column, is that while Imus's phrase has justifiably outraged many for its racism, the sexism is "much more offensive." Interesting point, one that I'd be willing to discuss.

But not here.

No, my attention was grabbed by the fact that Mike found it "shocking and disappointing" that Annika Sorenstam apparently knew nothing about the Imus story. He also points out that Nancy Lopez, who is attempting a mini-comeback this week at the Ginn Open, apparently knew little about the story as well.

You can be disappointed. That's fair. But don't be shocked.

Before I go any further: there's a better-than-average chance that Sorenstam knew EXACTLY what Mike was asking about, and intentionally played dumb to keep her name out of any story connected to Imus. In fact, without being there in person, I would almost bet on it. Sorenstam, like her friend Tiger Woods, is famously protective of her image, and has rarely uttered anything even remotely controversial in public. Lopez, on the other hand, was most likely honestly flummoxed. That's just my vibe, anyway.

Which brings me to the point: why should we expect professional athletes to follow stories like Imus as closely as we civilians do? It's an easy assumption, but a risky one. We, the media, and we, the sports fans, live this stuff every day. We read the sports section first; we browse internet sites during the day; we flip over to one of the myriad 24-hour sports channels in between bites of ice cream at night. It's part of our routine, either because it's our job (media) or it helps us take a break from our job (everyone else).

Pro athletes? Not the same world. Not even close. Celebrities at the Sorenstam or Lopez level simply do not live the same way we do. Think about it: regardless of their chosen sport, the athlete's livelihood depends upon their physical ability to perform at the highest level. That involves hitting millions of golf balls, or taking hundreds of free throws, or lifting tons of weight. Being at the top of their game mentally isn't enough; a lawyer can get away with that, even if he weighs three bills and does nothing more physically demanding than walk the dog. A professional athlete has to be exceptional both mentally and physically. That means practice, and that means time.

Throw in the travel demands of a player like Sorenstam, who jets from home to tournament to business meeting to Sweden and back on a monthly basis, and you can understand why she has no time or interest in watching ESPNews. It's just not part of her reality. Tough to understand at our level, but I've seen it everywhere. Remember, I was working for the Orlando Magic when Shaquille O'Neal returned from a trip to Greece and was asked about visiting the Parthenon: "I can't really remember the names of the clubs we went to."

The flip side, of course, is the fawning attention we devote to athletes like Grant Hill, those who display at least a passing interest in current events, or fundamental knowledge of a world beyond their sport. Truth be told, Hill is the exception, not the rule. That's just how pro sports work. I'm not sure I can totally excuse it, but I can understand it. Reading an article about Don Imus does absolutely nothing for Annika Sorenstam's golf game, and without her game, she's not, well, Annika Sorenstam.

Now, the bigger question from Mike's column -- where was the female Al Sharpton? Who speaks on this issue as it pertains to women, as opposed to African-Americans? That's a valid query, and I have no ready answer. However, it's naive to assume that she will come from professional sports.

Charles Barkley once said, famously, "I am not a role model." He was half-right. He can be a role model, and so can Annika, if the goal is to become a Hall of Fame basketball player or golfer. If the goal is to become a well-rounded, sensitive citizen, there are other options. My first place to look would not be the sports pages. For what it's worth, I'd like to think that in my house, my kids should start with me.

Will To Win, Part II

Had an e-mail exchange this week that was too good to pass up.

I have two buddies from high school days, Carlos and Neal, who both graduated from Florida State. Carlos is now a doctor in Miami; Neal is a police officer in Seminole County. This past weekend, Carlos was here in Orlando for a visit with Neal and some other high school friends, and they watched the NCAA championship game together. Sadly, I was out of town, visiting with the in-laws and such in Sarasota; I say "sadly" because while I enjoyed spending time with three-month-old Gabe (my very first nephew), I apparently missed out on the mother of all bar arguments.

Here, with my editing for grammar and spelling (he's a doctor -- you know how bad their handwriting can be, even in print), is the e-mail that Carlos sent me after Monday night's game, and after he read my post on the Gators' unprecedented basketball-football-basketball championship trifecta:

Whit --
OK, so I have a topic that I would like your opinion about. The topic about the Gators' championship basketball game was a hot topic between myself and a ravaging FSU fan (who we will call Neal). We were at dinner with the game on the TV.

I was arguing that, as an FSU fan, I was cheering the Gators to win because I believed that the Gators winning would bring more attention to basketball at the Florida high school and elementary school level, thereby increasing the talent pool and increasing the number of kids that would ultimately be looking to stay at in-state schools. Also, I like Donovan as a person, and feel comfortable cheering on a team that acts in a professional manner with a talented/personable coach. Overall, I felt that cheering on an in-state school was much better for the future of FSU recruiting than an out-of-state, unassociated team.

This person (Neal) could not fathom such ludicrous heresy, and felt that I was completely disrespecting the FSU fan contract. He was a tad upset, and had to be calmed down. He believed that any cheering for an in-state NCAA Division I school other than the mothership, FSU, was cause for charges of treason. He accused me of "over-intellectualizing" the scenario, and failing to recognize reality.

So my question is this: is cheering for the Gators in the championship game by a decisively strong FSU fan seen as treason, or does it have its merits, given that the motive is to increase in-state recruiting power by surrounding schools?

An avid fan of your blog,

Carlos

Ladies and gentlemen, THIS is why I returned home to Florida. You just don't get these kinds of questions while scraping ice off your windshield during a 20-degree morning in central Connecticut. Fortunately for all involved, I am a seasoned professional, one who my friends can rely upon for the final word in all such matters. I'm also a guy who knows a good blog entry when he sees one.

So here was my response to Carlos, which I copied to Neal. Again, careful editing to protect the innocent (and allow me to keep my job):

A curious question you have asked, Grasshopper. This required careful consideration.

There are several different points to consider here. First, while you *attended* Florida State, you have never been a ravaging Seminole like Neal, which A. gives you shaky ground to stand on when it comes to sports fandom and B. probably sends Neal into fits of apoplexy, which may have colored his perception of your Gator-ness on Monday night.

Second, the whole line of logic about increasing the state of Florida's basketball profile through the Gators' success is, for lack of a better word, a pile of crap. The "it's good for all of us" angle is a lame excuse for what you really think, which is this: Donovan is an admirable coach, the team plays its a** off, and even though the Gators are detestable to non-Gators, you have to respect them because they've become a basketball power at an unabashed football school. As I wrote in the blog, Florida is doing it with precisely the same resources as FSU, Miami, and the like, but they're actually freaking DOING it, as opposed to talking about doing it. That hacks off a lot of non-Gators, but they grudgingly respect it. As I wrote the other night, there's no reason that FSU and Miami aren't competitive in hoops, other than will and commitment. Florida, right now, has the will and the commitment, and those other schools don't.

By the way, I happen to agree with the notion that a winning Gator basketball team is good for everybody in the state. But I'm not an alum or a hardcore fan of any program in Florida, so I'm allowed to think that way. Even if it smells like ka-ka.

What were we talking about?

Right -- should you cheer for the Gators. Sorry, Neal, but I say yes. I say yes, because better competition makes your team better, and all of these schools benchmark each other relentlessly. Florida's success will compel FSU and Miami (and, to a lesser extent, UCF and USF) to step it up in terms of recruiting and facilities. Florida's success will get coaches at those other schools fired, which may lead to a better coach, which may lead to more wins (on that note, USF just hired Stan Heath, who was the hoops coach at Arkansas last year. Write that down. It will be important someday). Florida's success, in hoops and football, will light a fire under Bobby Bowden, or perhaps under the tush of his successor, which will make your team better. So while you may have to suck it up and cheer for them when they're playing someone like Ohio State (who I think we can safely mock together, in complete harmony), you know in your heart of hearts that you're REALLY cheering for Florida State in the long run. It will make you better.

And yes, it did occur to me that this would make an EXCELLENT blog topic sometime in the near future. In fact, I may have to go post this entire exchange right now.

Sorry I missed you guys this weekend, but hope all is well. Talk to you soon.

WW

I handled that quite well, don't you think?

The Will To Win

Hate to say that I told you so, but -- I told you so.

If you read that entire post, the key phrase is this: Florida doesn't lose. I knew that, and a few other media types knew it, too. Even if you hate the Florida Gators -- and Lord knows, Joakim Noah wanted you to "Keep Hatin'" -- you have to admit that the Gator boys are hot.

Not a day goes by that I don't find myself explaining to some Sun Sports viewer why we make certain programming decisions. I stirred the pot, memorably, at Scout.com's Miami Hurricanes site by replying to a thread that asked why Sun Sports gives ample pregame and postgame football coverage to the Gators and the Seminoles, and not to other programs like Miami (or, in unrelated but similar internet blasts, programs like USF).

The simple answer has to do with those schools' broadcast agreements with our network, or with their conferences' contracts with national TV networks like ESPN, or perhaps with demand. TV networks like Sun Sports react to demand; we do not determine that demand. If a one-hour behind-the-scenes profile of Billy Donovan generates ratings, we will produce it. The fact that the University of Florida chooses Sun Sports as a broadcast partner -- as does Florida State -- simply makes such an initiative easier to put together. We're not "fans" of any one school the way that you are "fans." We are doing this for a living. People watch Gator programming in larger numbers, and with greater loyalty, than they do for the USF Bulls, who are, in their own right, an exciting and intriguing story. Same holds true for any other comparison. It's dollars and cents, for the most part. There's nothing for us to gain by "favoring" one program over another. I've explained this in detail in many an e-mail exchange. A rising tide, I like to say, lifts all boats. If every team in Florida contended for national championships every year, we'd be thrilled. Honestly, it makes no difference to us, and we get no particular thrill -- no emotional, visceral enjoyment -- from seeing one program succeed over another. This is our business, and it's only a business. That's the price we pay for working in sports television. You cheer and scream at the TV; we worry about the next show we have to produce and edit.

Everyone clear on that? Good. Because here's where I go off the board.

What Florida has done is nothing short of stunning. It's an absolute line in the sand, a gauntlet thrown down. The University of Florida has officially changed the game in our fair state. There are at least five schools in Florida that have the internal resources to compete at the highest level on an annual basis; however, as of this writing, there is only one that also possesses the commitment to prove it on the field, or on the court. And as of this moment, that school is Florida.

You don't think Florida State could be a basketball power? Tell me why not. They play in the ACC, in a spectacular college town, with great weather and decent facilities. Yet, they struggle. Why?

In terms of football, Miami is down. Why? Has Coral Gables changed? Is there any lack of high school talent in our state, particularly in South Florida? Hardly. Quite the opposite, in fact. But Miami is down. Did we do that? What I mean is, did Sun Sports cause this to happen? Not even close.

USF had a phenomenal year on the football field last season. By any measure, they are improving, and battling for national recognition. On the basketball side -- and there are those who would insist to this day that USF is, at heart, a basketball school -- Stan Heath was a brilliant hire. They're not doing anything wrong.

But they're not Florida, are they? Right now, nobody is. I say again: what the University of Florida is doing right now is nothing short of stunning. And as the sports television network of record in our state, Sun Sports is obligated to give the Gators their due. Truthfully, I'm flabbergasted. I cannot believe that this Friday, I will be back in Gainesville -- again -- to host a national championship celebration on live television. Again.

For the record, this marks the fifth time that I have hosted a championship parade-slash-pep rally for a Florida team in the three-and-a-half years since I moved back to my home state to work for Sun Sports. Three of those five champions have worn orange and blue: 2006 NCAA basketball, 2006 BCS football, 2007 NCAA basketball. The other two -- the 2004 Stanley Cup Champion Lightning and the 2006 NBA Champion Heat -- are at least in the playoff conversation as of this moment. Theoretically, we could have another repeat champion on our network as of June.

But it's not like Florida. Not right now. I'm not a Gator fan, not the way many readers are "Gator Fans." But I have to give them their due. This is ridiculous.

How does this happen? It happens with commitment, a term that loosely translates to "money," as in salaries for coaches like Urban Meyer and Billy Donovan. But that doesn't tell the whole story, does it? Bobby Bowden makes a nice salary, too. It cannot simply be about money -- and on that topic, if Donovan decides to leave Gainesville to take the Kentucky job, it won't be because of money. Donovan will coach at Kentucky if, and only if, he wants to be Kentucky's head coach. The dollars will be there either way.

What it comes down to is a conscious decision, right or wrong, to provide coaches and athletes with every conceivable tool to succeed. That means facilities, staff, support, and other quantifiable assets. It also means will. The will to win. The will to stand up in the face of economic reality and assert that winning games matters. That's a bold statement these days, one that generates a great deal of worthy criticism. Florida, with Jeremy Foley pulling the trigger, has made that call. Winning matters. It's a permeating philosophy, a culture of success, that brings great pressure to those who are on the ground level. Ask Carolyn Peck what that means.

Florida has decided to win, and like any successful business venture, they've achieved total buy-in from all of their shareholders. We're talking about players and coaches, yes, but also administrators, alumni, and boosters. It's a global effort. Somehow, they've done it. It may not last forever -- and history teaches us that it won't -- but for now, they've found the magic formula. Bully for them.

It's stunning. It's unmatched. And now, it's the new standard.

When I write that "a rising tide lifts all boats," I mean it. There's no legitimate reason why Florida State, or Miami, or USF, or UCF, cannot compete for national championships year in and year out. All of those schools have the resources, and all of those schools are drawing from the same pool of talent. It's there for the taking. The difference is the will.

Florida has the will. They don't lose. Not any more. This is the new reality in our home state. Love them or hate them, you have to give them that. Utterly stunning.

And once again, I'll see you on TV. Unbelievable. Impressive.