Media Daze Version 20.07

I'd love to know what happened to put Urban Meyer in such a great mood on Saturday.

At last year's Florida Sports Writers Association College Football Media Days, Meyer wasn't unfriendly, exactly, but he was straight business. Arrived with his UF sports information department escorts at precisely the scheduled time, performed his media obligations, and departed without much frivolity. But this year? He was downright chipper.

The format for this annual event is something of a tap-dance. While one coach addresses the state media in a main conference room, another sits down across the hall with either Paul Kennedy, Brady Ackerman, or me for an extended interview. In between, each coach -- and there are 12 football-playing colleges and universities in Florida -- has to squeeze in five minutes in yet another conference room to shoot promotional spots for Sun Sports and FSN Florida. Our staff, with considerable help from the Tampa Bay Sports Commission, shuttles each coach back and forth, trying to stay on schedule and avoid backups. Sun Sports/FSN Florida has been co-sponsoring this event for several years now, and we've learned the necessity of moving things along -- most of these coaches are already beaten down from their own conference media days, and they all have somewhere else to be as soon as the FSWA event concludes. There's a sense of urgency to the proceedings, especially when dealing with a high-demand coach like Miami's Randy Shannon or Florida State's Bobby Bowden. Or Urban Meyer.

Yet, when Meyer entered the Quorum Hotel in Tampa a few minutes early on Saturday morning, he was as relaxed as I can ever remember at this event. I suppose that the afterglow of an SEC title and BCS national championship can alter one's attitude, but still -- he's trying to replace 9 starters on defense and six on offense, including a four-year senior quarterback. His 2007 schedule is typically brutal. I would have understood some tension. Hell, I would have expected it, and excused it.

Instead, Meyer was chatty. Cool as a cucumber. Asked us how our summer was going. Mentioned that his son is into fishing now, and watches the Chevy Florida Fishing Report every week. He showed interest in, and familiarity with, virtually all of Sun Sports' football programming, including Rec Warehouse College Kickoff, Tailgate Overtime, and especially the postgames. It was a conversation that I might expect to have with Mario Cristobal at FIU, or Kerwin Bell at Jacksonville University, but not with Meyer. Not with the head coach of the defending national champions.

We're entering our fifth season of the "Chevy Tailgate Weekend" block of football shows, and there's something pleasantly gratifying about coaches noticing what we do. When I introduced Bowden at his press conference on Sunday, he gave me a nice compliment off-microphone, noting that "you did some great interviews this summer" -- a reference to "In My Own Words," the series that replaced Tailgate Overtime on Mondays. The compliments are nice, but that's not the point. The point is, they're watching. After four years, the studio shows have developed an identity, and that's a big deal for a regional sports network like ours. It's good for business. And that makes me think that the hours upon hours of preparation and the marathon Saturdays are worth it. When the head football coaches at Florida and Florida State go out of their way to mention your programming, it's a safe bet that a few of their fans are watching as well.

Of course, in Bowden's case, it probably helped that two of his most popular Seminoles, LeRoy Butler and Derrick Brooks, were featured this summer on "In My Own Words," as were Florida State athletic director Dave Hart and returning assistant coach Chuck Amato. No matter.

Other notes from the FSWA Media Days in Tampa:

Of the seven D-I football programs in Florida, three have new head coaches this year, and all three were very impressive in their FSWA debuts. Randy Shannon was one of the first subjects we interviewed for "In My Own Words," and if anything, his first few months as Miami's top dog have produced a new level of comfort. He answered the inevitable "discipline" questions calmly and directly. While Shannon discussed his new team rules extensively during our interview last spring, many of the state media were apparently hearing it for the first time -- after Shannon spoke on Saturday, there were dozens of articles like this one in papers all over the state, hailing Shannon as the new sheriff in town (as readers in St. Petersburg, Tampa, and even Gainesville learned the next morning).

Now that the state media has picked up on it, the national media cannot be far behind. So far, Shannon has renovated Miami's image and kept his players out of the summer headlines. Plus, he's got 16 starters coming back and a schedule that includes four home games in September. Though he hasn't coached a game yet, Shannon appears to be well on his way to justifying Miami's faith in him. His first FSWA appearance was a solid win.

Similarly, FIU's Mario Cristobal has a rebuilding job ahead of him, one that makes Miami's look easy: the Golden Panthers were winless in 2006, gaining national noteriety as "the team that brawled with the Hurricanes." Cristobal, who is the second-youngest head coach in Division I football (and looks like it), nevertheless brought a clear sense of purpose to the FSWA meetings, focusing entirely on football. His opening comments included laying out his team's goal of winning the Sun Belt Conference, and he, like Shannon, has handed down a set of no-cell-phones-or-hats rules for his players. For those members of the media in the room who won't spend much time on FIU this season (and that included the bulk of the audience), it was a compelling few minutes.

If you don't know Mario Cristobal, you will. A former standout offensive lineman at Miami who played in four bowl games as a Hurricane, Cristobal served on Miami's staff as an assistant for several seasons, with a three-year stint at Rutgers with Greg Schiano sandwiched in between. He's a Miami native, a 5am-to-11pm grinder, and a tenacious recruiter who learned the ropes from men like Schiano, Larry Coker, and Butch Davis. He's got the stuff. Even cynics like my main man Mike Bianchi were impressed, although Mikey couldn't help but wonder how long FIU will be able to keep Cristobal in the fold. Valid question. If he can recruit as well has his track record indicates, Cristobal may stick around on Calle Ocho just long enough to get FIU to respectability before taking off for the big time.

One of the most intriguing press conferences of the weekend was Kerwin Bell's session on Sunday. Bell, who left Florida as the SEC's all-time leading passer, bounced around from the NFL to the World League to the CFL as a player before finding a niche as a high school coach at Ocala Trinity Catholic. There, he built a football program from nothing and took the Celtics to two state championship games, winning the Class 2B title in 2005 and losing in a return appearance in '06. When Bell was hired at Jacksonville University, a I-AA non-scholarship program in the Pioneer Football League, it was considered to be a home run in terms of PR for the Dolphins. However, Bell made it clear in Tampa that he's not there for window dressing.

"I tell everybody that there's no reason why you should play this game of football if you're not trying to win championships,'' Bell said. "We're all about one simple goal. For us, that's winning the Pioneer Football League title and going to a bowl game. We don't care about a winning record. We know we're going to do that."

Heady stuff for a program that, the way Bell tells it, traditionally recruited players by sifting through the leftovers in the weeks following National Signing Day. No more of that. Bell has already weeded out 22 players since January through 5:30am practices and mat drills -- sound familiar? -- and lined up 15 recruits on signing day this year. He didn't come here to paint.

While the "weed-out" story is straight-up Urban Meyer, more than one writer in Tampa noted that Bell has quite a bit of Spurrier in him, and I would agree. He may not be as polarizing as the Ol' Ball Coach -- not yet, anyway -- but it's obvious from listening to Bell that he does nothing halfway, and despises losing. Like Shannon and Cristobal, Bell's first duty is to change the culture at Jacksonville. Ever since we went on the air with "Chevy Tailgate Weekend" in 2003, the JU program has been portrayed as something of a diversion for the students, something fun to do on a Saturday. Bell wants none of that. He wants to play some serious football, which is a serious challenge at a school without football scholarships. Still, like Shannon and Cristobal, I find myself rooting for Kerwin Bell to succeed. There's something very powerful about a coach with a lot to prove.

As for the rest of the weekend, you can pick up any newspaper in the state for details. Bowden was spectacular, as always. There's a reason why the FSWA always schedules him as the final speaker on the final day. Howard Schnellenberger was in fine form, stalking the podium with tales of on-campus stadiums in Boca Raton and his "advanced training program," which is Howard's euphamism for Florida Atlantic's typically suicidal non-conference schedule -- he hates the term "money games." Alvin Wyatt was well-dressed, and yes, he wore his sunglasses indoors for the entire press conference. Rubin Carter spoke of FAMU's long recovery from NCAA violations and other internal strife, calling 2007 his "second full season" -- a reference to the fact that, even though it's technically his third year in Tallahassee, his late-summer hire as Billy Joe's replacement in 2005 rendered that season a total wash.

By the way -- while Urban Meyer arrived on Saturday morning in coat and tie with three similarly dressed UF sports information officers in tow, Carter got to the Quorum Hotel on Friday afternoon, alone, carrying his own luggage. Later that afternoon, as I was checking e-mail in the Quorum's business lounge, I happened to look out the window to see Carter power-walking laps around the hotel.

Why does Rubin Carter, a former All-American defensive lineman and sports Hall of Famer at Miami, first-round draft pick, 12-year NFL veteran, and two-time Super Bowl participant, show up by himself at a hotel in Tampa, carrying his own bags, for the purpose of speaking to the media for 30 minutes the following day?

Because this is Florida, baby, and this is football. You ready? Rubin Carter is.

Visions and Venues

"History will look back on this day in the same light as the day that Walt Disney announced he was building his theme park in Orlando."

So said Alex Martins, the COO of the Orlando Magic, after Thursday night's gut-wrenching 5-2 affirmative vote by the Orange County Commission. The plan, as we all know by now, is to tap into the county's Tourism Development Tax, or TDT, to help fund a new downtown arena, a performing arts center, and a refurbishment of the aging Citrus Bowl. Total value of all three projects will escalate well north of $1 billion dollars, with a sizable chunk of that money coming from the hundreds of thousands of tourists who pass through central Florida each year.

So far, so good. And "far" is the right word. Interested parties (like me) have been watching this process play out for the better part of three years now. Thursday night finally provided a tipping point. Mercifully.

The Orlando Sentinel has the complete play-by-play, and I'd recommend reading all the "Related Links" to get the full story. Personally, I spent Thursday afternoon preparing for the "Chevy Florida Fishing Report" in my office while trying to watch the Commission proceedings online at the county's website, an exercise in expletive-laden futility thanks to our painfully slow Internet connection at the studio. Late Thursday night, I logged on at home (with a cable modem) just in time to hear whooping and hollering and see the commissioners stand up and begin congratulating each other. Within five minutes, the official press release was pinging my in-box from the Magic.

(By the way, anyone else catch the headline on that release? "Orlando Local Government Green Lights New Events Center." Not "approves," but "green-lights." As in "green," as in "a green building," one of the concessions the Magic made at the 11th hour in order to secure one of the commission's swing votes. The new events center will be "certified green," falling in line with an innovative set of environmental restrictions, a first in arena construction in this country. Point being, there was a reason the Magic used the phrase "green light." Clever, and very much on purpose. As I've explained previously, nothing is accidental.)

As big as Disney? Yeah, probably. Truthfully, as a sports guy and central Florida native, it's almost too much for me to digest. My hometown is finally lurching into the 21st century. Visions of NBA All-Star Games, NCAA Tournament rounds, ACC Championship Games, even Final Fours, BCS bowl games, and a Pro Bowl are dancing in my head.

(Yeah, I wrote "Pro Bowl." If Orlando had a football stadium that was at least as well-appointed as Jacksonville's or Tampa's, this town could make a serious run at the NFL's annual all-star game. At the very worst, the league would take the call. Great airport, a zillion hotel rooms, perfect weather in February, a football-crazed populace in an NFL-neutral site. Which flight would you rather hop from the East Coast -- the 9-hour slog to Hawaii, or the 2-and-a-half hour jaunt to Orlando? David Stern has all but guaranteed Orlando an NBA All-Star Game once a new arena is built. You don't think the NFL would consider the same thing at a refurbished Citrus Bowl? Remember where you heard it first.)

The next few days will be euphoric for all interested parties, and that's as it should be. This was three years of blood, sweat, tears, and lots of coffee. Congratulations, in no particular order:

...to the political leadership of Orlando and Orange County, including mayors Dyer and Crotty, for putting their careers on the line by insisting that the locals deserved something better.

...to those members of the tourism lobby, including the heavyweights at Disney, Universal, Sea World, and the like, who had the long-range vision to see that supporting this effort would engender priceless goodwill among locals -- a smart business decision when you consider the cyclical nature of the tourism industry. We'll remember that. We'll also remember who opposed it. Trust me.

...to the supporters of the proposed Performing Arts Center, who have displayed a stunning level of philanthropy. Already, the PAC has secured $80 million dollars in private donations, proving that local residents really do care about things like "quality of life."

...to all of those who criticized or questioned the plan, including Sentinel writers Scott Maxwell and Mike Thomas. No, really, I'm serious. Their knack for picking apart the pro-venues argument, and in particular, their willingness to hammer the Magic for a larger contribution, most certainly affected the final plan. Doing so in the face of such a powerful and unified front was not only brave, it was journalistically responsible, and it was fair. I may not agree with some of what Scott writes -- and I agree with very little of what Mike writes -- but I'm not afraid to advance the debate.

...and to the Magic, who managed this process beautifully. Unlike previous arena discussions, where, as one Magic executive put it, they "led with their chin," the team lined up as many ducks as possible before anything went public. One could argue, in fact, that by the time Orlando mayor Buddy Dyer and Orange County mayor Rich Crotty appeared together to formally announce this plan back in September of last year, the skids had been pretty well greased via private negotiations and assurances. The Magic did their homework, worked the room, and stayed on message. They remained quiet, but determined. Their last-minute concessions, which included the "green" plan and a multi-million dollar commitment to build five new rec centers in the county, proved that they were serious. Lambaste the Magic and their ownership all you want -- and many of you do -- but this is hardly a risk-free proposition for them, either. They stepped up and committed to Orlando, and that's worthy of respect.

Now, while we're slapping each other on the back, here's my plea: start turning shovels. Quickly. Because you never know what could happen next.

Back in June, the Billy Donovan-to-the-Magic story filtered into our Sun Sports studio about 24 hours before anything hit the media. We were told it was a "done deal," and the ensuing press conference seemed to confirm that. After all, his name was on the contract.

But I remember saying to one of my co-workers on the day before the press conference that I'd believe he was the coach when I saw him walk onto the floor on opening night. She chuckled at me, incredulously, and repeated that it was a "done deal."

How'd that work out?

Turn some dirt before anyone can change their minds. Put up a "Future Site Of..." sign before some renegade hotelier (ahem) decides to file a lawsuit -- which may be inevitable anyway. Release some artist's renderings before tourism takes an unexpected nosedive, or Tampa gets awarded another major event over Orlando, or the public loses interest. Capitalize on the momentum, and the spirit. It rarely comes along in these parts, so jump on it. Get the ball rolling, somehow, right away.

The county's approval of this plan is indeed historic, and represents a monumental shift in how Orlando and central Florida will do business from this point forward. For that, all parties should be congratulated.

Now, it's time to get to work.

The Donaghy Dominoes

At this moment, Michael Vick is Tim Donaghy's biggest fan. Seriously, what's dogfighting when compared to taking down an entire league?

While Vick enjoys a brief respite from the media glare, those of us who still care about the NBA are glued to the Donaghy story. Until we see a smoking gun, however -- a written record in the vein of Pete Rose's betting slips, for example -- the speculation around Donaghy is just that: speculation.

ESPN.com has posted a game log of every NBA contest that Donaghy worked last season, with the pregame betting lines and the actual outcomes listed side-by-side. While we can safely assume that the FBI and the Justice Department has a little more to go on, we civilians have little else but boxscores. Understand, the Donaghy game log proves nothing. But it's interesting nonetheless:

-Donaghy worked eight Miami Heat games last year. Miami's record in those contests: 1-7.

In fairness, most of them weren't close; six of the eight games were decided by 14 points or more. Miami's only win among those eight "Donaghy games" was a 113-93 trouncing of the Charlotte Bobcats in February. In that game, Charlotte was whistled 26 times; Miami picked up ten fewer personal fouls (but then again, Miami shot 62 percent from the floor that night).

-Donaghy worked eight Orlando Magic games last year as well, but the Magic were 4-4 in those contests. However, half of those games were decided by 8 points or less.

The Magic's record in those four close "Donaghy games?" One win, three losses.

The three losses in question came against the Pistons on April 8th (an 8-point loss in Game 2 of their first-round playoff series), the Rockets on February 25th (4 points), and the Hawks on January 26th (3 points). In all three cases, however, the Magic were whistled less than their opponent.

Understand that box scores don't tell us which referee called the foul; only the NBA has that information. Furthermore, there's no way of knowing how many calls the ref didn't make, and as any basketball fan knows, sometimes that's just as important, if not more so.

But let's play a little game.

Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that Tim Donaghy somehow affected the outcome of one of the Magic's regular season losses last year. Just one.

If you replace that loss with a win, the Magic's record goes from 40-42 to 41-41, which, all else being equal, would have landed them in a three-way tie with Washington and New Jersey at the bottom of the Eastern Conference playoff ladder. We'd be heading for tiebreakers.

According to the NBA, the process for breaking a three-way tie is to first determine which team has the best regular-season record against the other two. Orlando and Washington were 2-2 against each other last season; Washington was 0-4 against the Nets, while the Magic were 2-2 against New Jersey. So it's Orlando and New Jersey atop the tiebreaker at 4-4, with the Wiz slipping behind them at 2-6.

The next tiebreaker is conference record. Since the Nets had the better Eastern Conference mark than the Magic, New Jersey keeps the 6 seed, but Orlando moves up to 7th. Again, all things being equal, that's a first-round matchup against the 2nd-seeded Cleveland Cavaliers instead of the top-seeded Detroit Pistons.

The Magic went 0-4 against Detroit in the regular season last year, and not surprisingly, got swept by the Pistons in the first round as well.

But the Cavs?

Orlando beat the eventual Eastern Conference champs in two out of three regular season meetings. The Magic beat them at home, and beat them by 11 on the road. Orlando's only regular season loss to the Cavaliers was by three points in Cleveland, a game that, despite 32 points from Lebron James, went down to the wire thanks to three missed free throws by the Cavs in the final 18 seconds.

Point being, an Orlando-Cleveland series would have been competitive. A hell of a lot more competitive than the Orlando-Detroit series. The Magic would have had a shot.

What if Orlando wins that series?

If nothing else changes, the Magic would have faced the Bulls in the second round, after Chicago eliminated the defending champion Heat. And how did the Magic do against the Bulls last year?

Yep, another winning record. Two wins, one loss -- although the loss was a blowout at home. By now, you get the point.

It's admittedly a ton of woulda-coulda-shoulda, but the potential domino effect of one more win for Orlando is inescapable. If Orlando beats Cleveland in the first round, does Brian Hill still have his job? Does Grant Hill decide to stay? Does the downtown venue plan receive a huge momentum surge? What could one more win, and a first-round playoff series victory, have done to change the course of the Magic franchise?

And what about the Heat and that 1-7 record in "Donaghy games?" If Miami goes just 5-3 in those games, they finish with a better record than Toronto and jump to the 3rd seed in the playoffs, avoiding Chicago -- a team that had the Heat's number, with three wins against Miami in four regular season meetings -- and instead would have faced New Jersey, a team that went 1-3 against the Heat last year. Think they could win that playoff series?

Now, take that line of thinking and apply it to the remaining 28 NBA teams, and you understand why the Donaghy situation is so terrifying for the league office. Donaghy may have been exerting influence on just one game at a time, but the ripple effect is nearly impossible to calculate -- and potentially far more damaging.

Allegiance Has Been Pledged

While waiting for the Orange County (FL) Commission to vote on the venue plan, a quick update on my last post, wherein I asked for the best stories on "how I became a fan":

My friend and fellow blogger Reid wrote:

Growing up in Texas, my entire family were fans of the Dallas Cowboys, which made me a Houston Oilers fan during the regular season, and a Pittsburgh Steelers fans in Super Bowls. I became a Buffalo Bills fan after seeing OJ run in my youth. In the late '80s, when Jim Kelly came over and they began the early days of the Run-and-Shoot and no huddle, I was hooked for life.

Unfortunately.

And after Super Bowls 25-28, I can't climb off the wagon. Even after a season where we gave away our best running back and linebacker for a bag of dirt and some old gauze, I still have to have hope.

Anonymous reader "James" wrote:

I stick with my geographical (Chicago teams except Cubs) or alma mater (Iowa) for teams but I'm a soccer fan so I gotta go off the board here.

In the EPL my squad is Arsenal Football Club, of North London. Gunners (or Gooners, as the fans are called) in America get a lot of stick for being fair-weather, as AFC is always good, and usually very good, especially in the last 10 years under Arsene Wenger, who brought a pretty sweet style of football to the club as well as a lot of trophies.

Anyway, I became a fan in '94-'95, pre-Wenger, because of the little known movie "Lamb" starring Liam Neeson. It's a touching tale of a young Irish priest who loses and rediscovers his faith through a relationship with an epileptic 10-year old boy. So, in one scene, the two head to London, as the boy has always wanted to catch an Arsenal match at Highbury, which they do.

Later that year I took a trip to London and saw the ground, and the rest, as they say, is history. A cheesy story, to be sure, but it has to be better than anything Brady Ackerman has to say about being a Phoenix Suns or St. Louis Cardinals fan.

My father-in-law, a good and faithful reader, submitted this:

Born in Brooklyn, NY in 1947, the year of the beginning of the Robinson Era, I became a...Yankee fan. Why? Because I grew up in Norfolk, VA, home of the Norfolk Tars, the Triple-A farm team of the New York Yankees.

Moving to Boston in 1981 I did the unthinkable; switched total allegiance to the Sawx. Again, why? Because I loved the collective suffering of the perennial underdog. That decision made 2004 the most glorious victory of my lifetime sports universe; except when Zach's "Yankees" won their first game ever.

(Editor's note: Jeff's grandson, Zachary, played Little League Baseball for one tumultuous season on a team known, ironically in our household, as the Yankees. They were our local version of the Bad News Bears; Zach played some decent left-handed second base. They did, in fact, win a game. The Miracle on Ice was a blowout by comparison. Wish you all could have seen it.)

Yet, though I was begging for any fan story that had nothing to do with geography, I received several e-mails like this one from my old ESPN golf partner Coop, who was born and raised in the Williamsburg, Virginia area and now lives there with his beautiful wife and children:

I wish I had something other than geography for you! Redskins, Orioles and Bullets; now Wiz. Who cares about the hockey anyway?

And this, from the man who I will always call Uncle Dave:

Favorite team(s)? That's easy.

At age ten my father took me to my first and only Baltimore Colts game -- Baltimore vs. Green Bay. Johnny Unitas vs. Bart Starr. I was born in Baltimore. My family on both sides go back to the mid-1800's in Baltimore. Therefore, I hate the Indianapolis Colts and couldn't care less about pro football.

The Ravens? Can't emotionally get there.

Baseball? When "The Birds" are winning, I'm interested. Otherwise, I'd rather watch grass grow.

Pro basketball? I'm still trying to become a Magic fan again. When Shaq left, my enthusiasm and season tickets left with him.

College football? UF, class of '75. I'm a Gator -- not just a Gator fan.

Consider this sociological experiment over. Nurture beats nature once again. We are what we see -- and we root for what we see.

Thanks for the help. Stay tuned.

I Pledge Allegiance

While attending the Rashard Lewis press conference last week at Magic headquarters, I ran into The Shot Doctor from Orlando sports radio outlet 740 "The Team."

(For those outside central Florida: yes, I just wrote "The Shot Doctor." It's a reference to golf, not basketball, and that is the only name by which he is known in this market. Really. Read the bio, because it's waaaaay too long a story.)

Anyway, "Shot" mentioned that he reads this blog -- thank you, Mr. Doctor -- and asked me why my wife is such a hardcore Red Sox fan, something that, to Shot's credit, he could only have learned here (or maybe here).

The abbreviated answer: she spent her high school years in Andover, Massachusetts. Her parents have lived in that state, off and on, for years. Her brother graduated from BC, once shared an apartment a mere David Ortiz homer away from Fenway Park, and now lives with his wife and my nephew in Newton, Massachusetts. In short, she comes by it honestly. The roots of passion and all that.

Shot is a Yankee fan, apparently, and was wondering if I, too, have consumed the Red Sox Kool-Aid. My answer was "sorta." I enjoy watching them, because I've been to Fenway many times and love seeing the ballpark, plus I happen to believe that NESN does one hell of a job with their telecasts. But live and die with the Sox? Not really.

"So who's your team?" he asked. Meaning baseball.

Answer: the Atlanta Braves, because growing up in a 13-channel cable universe in Orlando, Florida in the 70's and 80's, I had very few options. It was either the Braves on the old "SuperStation" or the Cubs on WGN, and Chicago was very cold and very far away. So I picked the Braves, the self-styled "Team of the South," as my home team.

Fun bar trick, one that the sports staffers at my college radio station, WVBR, used to play after work: Name That Lineup. We'd each name our favorite baseball team from a given season, and then attempt to run down the starting lineup.

For me, it was an easy choice: the 1982 Braves, the team that won the NL West (yes, they were in the West back then) before being swept in three games (yes, it was a best-of-5) in the NL Championship Series by the eventual World Series champion Cardinals. If you see me enjoying a postgame beverage somewhere, never, EVER, bet me on this:

Bob Horner at 3rd, Rafael Ramirez at short, Glenn Hubbard at 2nd, Chris Chambliss at 1st (with occasional appearances by Bob Watson). Bruce Benedict did the catching. The outfield was Claudell Washington, Brett Butler, and Dale Murphy, who was my absolute baseball hero as a kid. Posters on the wall and everything. Jerry Royster wore number 1 (one of my favored numbers in Little League and high school baseball, mostly because it was the smallest jersey available), and was the utilityman. The star pitchers were Phil Niekro (won 17 games that year!), Bob Walk, and Pascual Perez, who was a certified whack job. God, I loved that team.

The point is, I became a Braves fan because they were readily available on TV when I was a kid, and they were the closest Major League team to Orlando in the pre-Marlins, pre-Rays days. My wife and her family spent formative years in and around Boston, so they're into the Sox. Shot Doctor grew up in New York, and sweats the Yankees. But sometimes, our allegiances form in far more roundabout ways.

I followed the Minnesota Twins because they used to have a Double-A team in Orlando, and I loved seeing guys with the "big club" who used to toil at Tinker Field. However, once they beat the Braves in the 1991 World Series, the Twinkies were dead to me.

I liked the Oakland A's because of their uniforms. Same thing with the Pirates, especially during the Willie Stargell - Kent Tekulve - "We Are Family" - stove-pipe cap era. The Pirates used to ape college football by sewing stars on those caps for great performances -- akin to Florida State and the tomahawks on the helmets -- and guys like Stargell probably wore three extra pounds on their heads by the end of the season.

Oh, and I hate the Yankees. They, too, beat the Braves in a World Series, and I wish to remain married to Mrs. Red Sox Nation. Rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for Microsoft. There's no challenge to it.

I finally got a "home team" when the Orlando Magic entered the NBA in 1989. I had just graduated from high school, and upon reaching the campus at Cornell -- a good 1200 miles away from the "O-rena" -- I became totally obnoxious about it, because I was pretty much the only guy who gave a crap about an expansion team. Of course, Magic fans hated the Miami Heat with a passion during the expansion days, but that rivalry has waned. Further, since returning to Florida four years ago, I've worked with the Heat broadcasters extensively and spent quite a bit of time in South Florida, and I like the way they do business. Their broadcasts on Sun Sports are outstanding, and their in-game presentation is among the best I've seen in the league. Working with both franchises on a professional basis has been one of many perks in this job.

But one more note on the Magic: Terry Catledge, Jerry "Ice" Reynolds, Dave Corzine, Reggie Theus, and Sam Vincent. That was their opening night starting lineup, November 4, 1989. Scoop of vanilla, scoop of chocolate, don't waste my time (triple bonus points for anyone who gets that movie reference).

In the NFL, geography would dictate that I grew up a Tampa Bay Bucs fan, but lest we forget, the Buccaneers were God-awful for much of my childhood (and, for that matter, much of their history prior to this decade). Truthfully, I never had a favorite NFL team -- but you can bet the farm that I claimed them as my own when they won the Super Bowl during my stint at ESPN.

We didn't watch much hockey in Florida, but I did see the Tampa Bay Lightning play at the old Expo Hall at the Florida State Fairgrounds. Yeesh. When I hosted the team's Stanley Cup championship parade on Sun Sports following the 2004 season, I could close my eyes and almost smell the livestock from all those years before.

College athletics? In light of my current position, I ain't going there. Instead, I follow a personal Golden Rule: "a rising tide lifts all boats." A winning team in Tallahassee makes me just as happy, and is just as good for business, as a winning team in Gainesville, Miami, Tampa, or anywhere else in our fair state. Very few college football fans, in particular, believe me, but it's a fact. I can't afford to be a "fan" of any one college team in Florida. Wouldn't be fair, or prudent.

For a future blog entry, I'd like to hear from you on this topic: "the most roundabout way I became a fan of Team X." Simple geography isn't enough; I want to hear about how you once met Ed Kranepool at a shopping mall and became a serious Mets fan, or perhaps have an early childhood memory of seeing Earl Campbell's jersey disintegrate on TV and fell in love with the Houston Oilers. You can use the "Critiques" function at the bottom of this entry, or just hit "Reply." Could be an interesting mailbag for these dog days of summer.

Yankee fans? Don't bother.

"Shut Up," He Explained

During FOX's coverage of the Major League Baseball All-Star Game on Tuesday night, I learned that National League starter Jake Peavy brought 17 friends and family members to San Francisco from his hometown of Mobile, Alabama. Actually, it was a smaller town north of Mobile where Peavy owns a second home, where the population is just 1200.

I also learned that after this season, umpire Bruce Froemming is retiring to his home state of Wisconsin, to spend more time with his wife of 47 years. I learned that not only does Derek Jeter have the second-best career All-Star Game batting average in baseball history (minimum 10 plate appearances), he's also got the 5th-best career regular season batting average in Yankees history.

During the All-Star Game on Tuesday, I saw video of the Mets' Carlos Beltran climbing the hill in center field at Minute Maid Park to make an incredible catch last Saturday. I was told that the Mets, who were expected to run away with the NL East this season, held only a two-game lead on Atlanta at the All-Star Break. And in another Mets note, I was informed that third baseman David Wright homered last year in his first ever All-Star Game plate appearance.

All of this information, and much more that I have omitted, came in the first inning.

To repeat: the first inning.

Ironically, or perhaps coincidentally, this epic example of information overload occurred on the same day that one of my co-workers at Sun Sports forwarded me an article from the ESPN Ombudsman, Le Anne Schreiber, in which she claimed that the network doesn't allow its game announcers "to be as good as they can be":

"Too much talk, too little game is the quintessential complaint about ESPN's event telecasting. Some of these complaints arise from a simple mismatch of sensibility between viewer and announcer. What is insight to one viewer may be babble to another. More often, though, I think the complaint arises from a mismatch between what event producers think viewers want and what at least some of us viewers actually want."

(Note: for the last couple of years, ESPN has taken the innovative step of hiring an independent ombudsman to manage and report on viewer reaction to their programming. It's common in print, less so in electronic media. In light of the All-Star Game, the timing of her article was fortuitous, regardless of network, so don't think I'm picking on Bristol.)

The most telling paragraphs in Schreiber's column come in conversation with Jed Drake, ESPN's senior VP for remote productions -- the man to whom all of the game announcers (and game producers) on that network report:

"Those of us who oversee all of this are probably our own worst enemies," Drake said, "because we continually demand that our production teams are incredibly prepared to do a telecast that is rich in context, and at the same time have the discipline to be restrained enough to give the telecast some room to breathe. To some degree, these are conflicting agendas."

As the man responsible for all event production, what does Drake think about announcer silence?

"There's not enough of it," he said, "That's my opinion, and at times I feel a bit like Don Quixote. A little bit of natural sound would be a good thing."

Then why aren't there more moments of announcer silence, when viewers might rest their ears on the sound of bat hitting ball or the anticipatory hum of the ballpark crowd?

"It's one of those things that is hard to demand," Drake said, "because announcers are paid to talk, and they have prepared themselves to talk, and they have great insights, and they want to share all of it with you."

Gotta tell you, in my nearly 17 years of working in radio and television, I have heard every single one of those sentiments dozens of times. In fact, I would venture to say that it's one of the most common topics in sports television -- the eternal struggle between "informing the viewer" and "presenting the game."

In our 500-channel universe, merely presenting the game isn't enough. At least, that's what the networks believe, and in our defense, much of that belief is rooted in audience research and ratings analysis. Though many fans tell us that they wish we would occasionally shut up and let the game happen, the research also tells us that viewers want more insight, more "behind the scenes," more stories and context to the broadcast.

However, I believe that when Jed Drake uses that phrase, "a telecast that is rich in context," he's talking about adding value to the show in such a way that casual viewers (as opposed to hardcore fans) might stick around to watch. That's how you boost your ratings, which satisfies your sponsors and helps your bottom line. I've written about this before as it pertains to the NBA and sports less popular in the US -- television faces more competition for your time and energy than ever, and the constant tweaks to the product, be it a glowing puck, an in-car camera, or shows with interactive components (like "American Idol") are all attempts to grab and hold viewership. It's the corporate side of television, the necessary business side, asserting itself.

As a result, the producers of sporting events on Sun Sports, FSN Florida, ESPN, and every other outlet in this country are told, in so many ways, to go the extra mile on their game broadcasts. As an announcer, I have to be on board -- somebody has to read that trivia question, and somebody has to explain the "Hot Zone." But a loaded broadcast is not entirely the fault of management or a producer, not by a long shot.

Brady Ackerman, Terry Norvelle and I often joke on the set of "Rec Warehouse College Kickoff" or the Gator or Seminole Postgame shows that we can't "leave anything in the barrel" -- in other words, we just spent all week preparing for these shows, breaking our necks to uncover every conceivable angle of the game at hand, and we'll be damned if we're not going to use it. When I move out of the more scripted environment of the studio and into the turbulent waters of play-by-play, I get downright fanatical about research. My greatest professional fear is not being ready, and I refuse to allow it. So when I get to the game, it's almost a knee-jerk reaction to make sure all that preparation comes across on the broadcast. Not only do I want to give the viewer the insight that he doesn't have the time or the access to acquire on his own, I also want my employers to know that I was ready. I did my homework, and the instinct is to prove it.

Plus, as a guy who came up in radio, my natural inclination is to relay the game step by step. Ned Tate, the executive producer at Sun Sports and FSN Florida, offered me this gentle bit of feedback soon after my very first basketball play-by-play assignment here four years ago: "remember, they can see it, too."

In considering the question of informing (and hopefully keeping) the viewer vs. merely presenting the game, it's interesting to note that the play-by-play announcer widely considered to be the best in the history of electronic media is a man with an uncanny knack for shutting up.

On September 9th, 1965, when Sandy Koufax struck out Harvey Kuenn to complete a perfect game for the Dodgers, Vin Scully remained silent for a full 38 seconds, allowing the crowd noise to carry the broadcast. On radio, no less.

Kirk Gibson's homer to win Game 1 of the 1988 World Series? Scully paused a full 15 seconds between his home run call and his legendary "in a year that has been so improbable, the impossible has happened" comment. Gibson, limping on two bad legs, was already rounding third by the time Scully spoke.

And just this summer -- last month, in fact -- Scully presented a tense matchup between the Angels' lethal Vlad Guerrero and Dodgers closer Takashi Saito with a staggering 56 seconds of silence. Nearly a full minute of television time with nothing but the rising tension of the crowd and the image before you.

Of course, none of us has Scully's job security, not even Joe Buck. After 57 years with the Dodgers -- the longest tenure of any broadcaster with any professional sports franchise in American history -- Vin Scully could probably spend three innings per night reading a menu from Chili's and nobody would dare say a word. The rest of us, on the other hand, have to worry about things like "telecasts that are rich in context."

Then again, maybe "merely presenting the game" is the reason he's been there so long in the first place.



Good night.

Grant Me A Break

Vacation over. What did I miss?

After six injury-ravaged seasons with the Orlando Magic, Grant Hill has signed with the Suns. For anyone who was surprised, saddened, or indignant about this, may I make a suggestion: save it.

My main man Mike Bianchi traded in his media credential for a seat with the fans this morning when he lamented Hill's decision:

"I thought Grant Hill was different. I thought he would do the classy thing. The noble thing. The right thing. Silly me. Somehow, I thought Grant was above being a mercenary. I thought he would make the difficult and decent choice, not the easy selfish one."

While Mike later claims that "logically, you can't blame him," he devotes the remaining 795 words of his column hammering Hill for not throwing the Magic a bone and giving them one last healthy season at a hometown discount. The possibility of Hill staying with the Magic for another year as "payback" for his six unfulfilling seasons was wishful thinking by many (including me) who would never dream of such a sacrifice were it not for Grant's unique sense of sophistication and humanity. If anyone would do it, we thought, it would be Grant Hill.

The difference is, I figured he might do it, because he's that kind of guy. However, I never expected him to do it, because he's a professional athlete, and this is a business.

Mike makes some excellent points in his column. Hill was indeed treated like a king here, from start to finish. Judging the financial weight of his contract on the franchise, and with the caveat that it wasn't his fault at all, Grant Hill is, as Mike argues, the worst free-agent signing in Magic history. In fact, the qualities that made us like the guy so much -- his intelligence, his grace, his utter professionalism -- are the only reasons why he wasn't routinely roasted by media and fans. Plus, Mike's "break a leg" line in his column was funny. Mean, but funny.

But the angst? "Hey, Orlando, you stood by me. Now I'm going to stand by you."? Get serious.

As a native Orlandoan (actually, Winter Parkian), I'm allowed to say this: it's an incredibly naive sports town. Always has been. When Shaquille O'Neal left the Magic in 1996 to bask in the bright lights of Los Angeles (for less money, by the way), fans here were incredulous. Righteous indignation flowed in the streets. Never mind that 93 percent of those fans who responded to a brilliantly timed Orlando Sentinel poll suggested that O'Neal wasn't worth a max contract.

Four rings. Ask the Lakers and the Heat how much O'Neal is worth.

Eleven years later, the Magic have lent their weight to a venues plan that would give area residents a new performing arts center (to rival the one that's already up and running in the thriving metropolis of Daytona Beach), a renovated Citrus Bowl (and potentially an SEC or ACC Championship Game with it), and an arena that David Stern has guaranteed will host an NBA All-Star Game in addition to the NCAA tournament contests that would surely flock here. The great majority of this project will be paid for by the millions of annual tourists who currently clog our highways and create two-hour lines through security at the airport. This money, by the way, cannot be used to improve roads or schools, per state law. And how do the masses react to this bold leap into the 21st century?

They argue about it. Incessantly. Meanwhile, Tampa is getting first and second round games of the men's NCAA Basketball Tournament next year, the SEC Men's Basketball Tournament and the NCAA Volleyball Championships in '09, and the NCAA Frozen Four in 2012. Oh, and the ACC played its men's basketball tournament in Tampa last spring to rave reviews. And did I mention that the Super Bowl is coming back to Tampa for a fourth time in 2009?

Any idea how many hotel nights those events will fill? Any clue as to the economic impact for greater Tampa? Like I said, naive.

I think Mike is half-serious and half-pushing-buttons in his column -- in other words, doing what columnists are supposed to do -- and I love the fact that he unfailingly takes the side of the righteous in his work. I'd much rather read that than the cynical bashing found elsewhere. But if you happen to agree with him completely, and have jumped off the Grant Hill train forever, you may want to read the Sentinel's accompanying story by Brian Schmitz, where we learn all we need to know about Hill's decision.

First, the Suns offered him two years, not one. You cannot overstate the importance of that fact. By all accounts, the Magic wanted him back for one year, the aforementioned "payback" year. Two years says "we consider you an important piece of the puzzle." One year says "don't unpack."

Secondly, like Shaquille O'Neal before him, Hill left money on the table to leave the Magic -- if we are to believe his agent, who claims that several teams offered Hill the midlevel exception of $5.5 million. His deal with Phoenix, on the other hand, is worth $1.8 million in the first year and $1.9 million in the second, meaning he's down $3.7 million in his first season in the Valley of the Sun. That makes him a selfish mercenary?

No, what it makes him is a 35-year-old veteran who wants to win now. He knows his window is closing; the Suns have averaged 59 wins over the last three seasons, won their division all three years, and were within two suspensions of reaching the Western Conference Finals this year. Grant Hill wants to win. The Suns are a winning team, one that plays a style of basketball with which Hill is very comfortable. It's not that complicated.

But wait -- Orlando reached the playoffs this year. Dwight Howard is a monster. Stan Van Gundy wants to open it up, Suns-style. Even hardened observers grant that the Magic are having a pretty good off-season. Why not stay and enjoy the resurgence in O-town?

Well, the team just committed $80 million dollars to Rashard Lewis, who happens to play Hill's natural (and preferred) position of small forward. Lewis is 28 years old and coming off his best season as a pro. Hill is 35 and coming off more surgery than Michael Jackson. Who do you think would get the starting gig at the 3 next year?

If Hill stayed in Orlando, the only way he'd see the floor for any significant minutes -- alongside Lewis -- would be as a shooting guard, where he's been laboring out of position since Tracy McGrady was dealt to Houston in 2004. As Hill himself said, he didn't think he could keep playing the "2," or shooting guard spot. He wasn't quick enough to handle other guards defensively, and his offensive game is at the basket, not outside the arc (259 three-pointers attempted in 635 career games, an average of one trey every 2.4 games). In Phoenix, where small-ball is the rule, Hill will be asked to do nothing but play small forward (and by the way, the Suns have apparently told him he will start over Boris Diaw, which is not insignificant either).

So let's see. You can start at your natural position next to Steve Nash, Shawn Marion, and Amare Stoudemire for a club that has reached the playoffs in 17 of the last 19 seasons (including ten trips to the conference semifinals or deeper), or you can play out of position for a team that's enjoyed one postseason in the last four, and hasn't gone beyond the first round since 1996. By the way, you're 35 years old.

I'm not surprised that Grant Hill went to Phoenix. I'm surprised that he even considered staying in Orlando.

Look, I know where Mike is coming from. Every Magic fan feels burned by Grant Hill, or more correctly, by his ankle. But if you need a place to vent, direct your ire at the NBA's collective bargaining agreement and the concept of guaranteed contracts. Unlike the NFL, pro basketball players have an almost impenetrable layer of security, one that was negotiated many years ago by the players' union and has never been seriously challenged.

Get hurt? Get fat? Get slow? You still get paid.

If that system were different -- if the Magic could have received some kind of cap relief based on Hill's extraordinary history of injuries, space that would have allowed the team to pursue other options -- nobody would care that Hill is now leaving. Sure, we'd be sad to see him go, because he's a decent man and a great interview, but he'd just be a player who was in street clothes for more than half of his six seasons here. He'd simply be "injury-prone," not "the worst free agent signing in franchise history." If the $93 million dollar contract wasn't an issue, Grant Hill's departure would be met with a collective shrug, and a fare-thee-well.

If you're mad, be mad at the lawyers that drew up the CBA, and the owners that signed off on it. But don't be mad at Grant Hill, because he did absolutely nothing wrong, and nothing that you wouldn't do in the same position.

In six years in Orlando, Grant Hill provided invaluable leadership and maturity in a locker room that was often chaotic. When healthy, he played his heart out, while displaying a calm sense of control that will only benefit his (former) teammates in the long run. When injured, he rehabbed himself furiously, often to his own detriment. He was visible in the community, generous with his time and money, and respectful to those around him, including the media. Orlando -- the city and the franchise -- was lucky to have him, regardless of the cost. I've been around countless professional athletes, and Grant Hill is as good as it gets. Trust me. Even my main man Mike Bianchi would admit that.

Good luck, Mr. Hill. I wish you health and happiness. Definitely health.