The Knee Jerks: The “Sorry we’re late” Edition

Oh ye of little faith! Did you REALLY think we’d deny you your weekly serving of “The Knee Jerks: WTF? With Eno & Al”?

Due to Al’s bad Internet connection and my real life, we weren’t able to chat until THIS MORNING. But here we are, and I’ll dispense with the lengthy intro. Suffice it to say that every Thursday I talk sports with Big Al from The Wayne Fontes Experience.

That’s it. We talk sports. That’s all you need to know. The topics will become evident as you read — I promise.

Now let’s get ON with it!!

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Eno: My, how time flies! Is it REALLY Thursday, already? Time for another webisode of “The Knee Jerks: WTF? With Eno & Al.” I’m Eno, aka The Journalist, and he’s Big Al, aka Mr. Big Shot. Al, before we begin, why don’t you make another plug for your podcasty idea for TKJ…..

Big Al: We’re thinking about extending The Knee Jerk “brand”, if we can call it that, to audio. We’d like to move into the broadcast realm, via a podcast. We’re thinking of going to Blog Talk Radio. For one reason, its ease of use, and two, its ease of use, and three, it’s easier to get up and running than finding the time to edit a podcast. As for BTR, You just go to the page, and click “play” to hear our live broadcast, and it’s archived for download. If you’ve ever heard me do a podcast or a radio bit, you know I like to talk…and talk and talk. Eno? well, he’ll just have to keep up. Anyway, we’d love to get your feedback. We’ll keep you all in the loop. Anything you’d like to add before we move on to the news of the day?

Eno: No, that all sounds fun and exciting, except what do I do when I have to walk the dog?

Big Al: Depending on the news, we can keep the podcast short, say half and hour. Otherwise, I’ll talk and talk and talk while you do the deed. Plus, on Blog Talk Radio, we can take callers. So there’s a few options there. The podcast could be an option, but we’ll have to learn the technical end of it. Either way, I think our readership would enjoy it. They’re a smart bunch…

Eno: Smarter than the average listener! Probably smarter than us, too. Anyhow, I can’t wait to see the feedback. It’d be fun to take our Jerkosity to the next level. OK, let’s kick things off with some post-NFL Draft talk. I whined on OOB on Wednesday that it’s too early to “grade” the draft. But now I’ll do an about face and ask you, “How ’bout that draft, Al?”

Big Al: Some people may be surprised, but I really liked the Lions’ draft. They picked the top player at four different positions: QB, TE, S, and KR. No other team can say so. I can’t say this enough: when you’re 0-16, and have lost 22 of 23 games over two seasons, talent trumps need. And every position is a position of need. So all of those fans and “experts” (the experts being mostly hack columnists) who are upset over not addressing every defensive need, did they really expect the Lions to solve ALL of their problems in one draft? It’s an impossible task. So taking the best available player, regardless of position, was the right thing to do!

Eno: Well, if the Lions can somehow snatch Steeler-for-now LB Larry Foote, then their corps won’t be too bad: Foote, Ernie Sims, and Julian Peterson—with Deandre Levy around to learn. Obviously, there was something about Rey Maualuga and James Laurinaitis that scared them off. I like a safety in Round Two. I hope Matthew Stafford’s baseball cap doesn’t come off once this season—for that will either mean “panic in Detroit” (right, David Bowie?) or an injury to Daunte Culpepper. I think I’d feel better if Stafford was No. 3 and they grabbed a veteran backup. Sorry, Mr. Stanton!

Big Al: You have to think the Lions’ brain trust saw the Foote move coming, though he hasn’t yet been cut. (That should happen early next week) But signing the former Wolverine would go a long way toward filling what I like to call the gaping maw at MLB. No way in Hell could the Lions go another year with Paris Lenon, a special teams player masquerading as a starting MLB. As for QB, I think Stanton is living on borrowed time as well. As I put it on TWFE, he’s the QB no one wanted…other than Matt Millen. I don’t know who the veteran QB will be at this point, as we’re going to see more situations like Foote’s in Pittsburgh throughout the NFL. There will be serviceable backups on the market soon. The Lions will wait it out till it gets closer to camp, and see what veteran QBs are looking for work. Someone better than Stanton is bound to be available, and available at a cheap rate.

Eno: You NEED a veteran around. It’s too important of a position, and too fraught with injuries, to hand the reins to a rookie. Having an experienced vet can save your season. The Lions aren’t likely to be playoff contenders in 2009, but you never know. Remember what Dave Krieg did for the Lions in 1994? OK, so one more query about the draft and then we’ll move on: were you surprised by Mark Sanchez-to-the-Jets?

Big Al: What? Didn’t Drew Henson qualify as a veteran backup? Indeed, Krieg was the best QB on the Lions’ roster in ‘94, as Scott Mitchell, Wayne Fontes’ savior at QB, didn’t play all that well, and then went down with an injury. Krieg saved the season, and quite likely, Fontes’ job. We’ve seen it time and again in Detroit. Remember 1979, when the Lions lost both starter Gary Danielson and his veteran backup, Joe Reed, before the season even started? That led to the short lived, and much reviled, Jeff Komlo Era. I’m NOT saying Stafford = Komlo. I AM saying rookie QBs, no matter how talented, are rarely ready to step in as the starter in their first season. As for the Jets, their “man crush” on Sanchez was something to behold. They essentially gave up five players in return for the USC rookie who has started only 16 games in college. Then again, there were some “experts” who liked Sanchez more than Stafford, so it’s not surprising he went so high. But to give up so much? Sanchez best be the next coming of Joe Willie Namath for the Jets. Speaking of drunk QBs (OK, bad segue, but I had to get the Namath – Kolber thing in) do you see Stafford starting at all this season? The cries will be heard for him if the Lions, as they are bound to do, get off to a bad start.

Eno: I PRAY he doesn’t play one down, unless it’s in a “kneel down” situation. Let him sit the year out, learn, and compete for the starting job in 2010. I would MUCH rather have a veteran on the sidelines, ready to step in. OK, your turn to pick a topic. I should mention to our readers that this is as close to doing TKJ “live” as we’ve ever done. It’s pushing 11am and we’ll have this posted this afternoon!

Big Al: Damn straight. Thanks to lousy internet connections (now fixed) and life in general (it happens), we’ve been trying to get this done since noon Wednesday. That’s dedication, folks! I know we touched on this some last week, but it’s worth quickly bringing up. Pistons grand Pooh Bah Joe Dumars spoke to the media Wednesday, and confirmed (to most fans’ regret) that head coach Michael Curry would return next year. Dumars pretty much confirmed what we’ve been saying: he put Curry in a very bad spot with the failed (on the court, anyway) Allen Iverson trade. I think Curry was God awful this season, Iverson be damned (I HATED small ball) and didn’t deserve to return. What’s your final take on the Curry situation?

Eno: My take is that it’s too bad…all the way around: too bad for Curry to be in that situation; too bad for the players who had the carpet yanked out from beneath them after the Iverson trade; too bad for the fans, who want to see a new coach next season. I think Curry keeps his job so Dumars can save face, frankly. This might be one of the most interesting off-seasons in recent Pistons history, no?

Big Al: Yes? (I’m never sure how to answer “no?”) Joe Dumars’ reputation is on the line with the next couple of off-seasons. I really think there are only a few safe bets to return: Rodney Stuckey, Will Bynum and…and…well, that’s about it. Everyone else is either already out the door (‘Sheed, McDyess, Iverson, Herrmann) or trade bait (Prince and Hamilton, Afflalo, Brown, Maxiell) The Pistons literally rolled over and quit against the superior Cavs, and only Antonio McDyess played like he actually gave a sh*t. I’m ready to blow it up. Blow it up good… But which free agents want to come to Detroit? I think a trade for a big name or two is more likely, as some Pistons do have value (Even if some of them rolled over and played dead in the playoffs. I’m looking at YOU, Prince!).

Eno: Well, the Pistons aren’t the “slam dunk” that everyone thinks they are in terms of attracting free agents. Dumars must make his team look attractive to potential FAs. You can’t just throw the Pistons name out there and expect everyone to flock, like before.

Big Al: Not that they ever did. The free agents Dumars’ made hay with in the past were either role players who blossomed with the Pistons (Ben Wallace and Chauncey Billups), or injury risks (McDyess). He’s never been able to attract a true “star”. But he did make some very good trades, stealing Hamilton and ‘Sheed for peanuts. I actually have more faith in Joe D finding a roster fix via trade, than in the draft or free agency. There’s going to be several teams looking to dump salary in order to avoid the NBA luxury tax. Someone like Amare Stoudamire could be available, and the Pistons are one of the few teams with the cap room to take him. Whatever tack he takes, Dumars has his work cut out for him.

Eno: Indeed he does. This is his second reclamation project with the team. He did pretty well in the post-Grant Hill Era. Let’s see what he does this time. OK, change of topics. The Tigers just got spanked twice out of three games to the Yankees. Big innings killed them. Was the bullpen, and Rick Porcello, simply due, or is there cause for concern? The AL Central, as expected, is a logjam and no one is off to a blazing start.

Big Al: I’m not all that worried about the relief pitching, unless Nate Robertson or Brandon Lyon answer Jim Leyland’s call in the bullpen. They have been lit up, especially Robertson. It’s been a hard fall for him, as he was a solid end of the rotation guy till last season, when he just plain lost “it”, whatever “it” may be. He’s the highest paid mop-up man in baseball history. I don’t trust him in ANY high leverage situation. I’m getting the same feeling with Lyon, who was supposed to be the closer, and who is now pitching himself out of a set-up role. But Joel Zumaya is back, and is pitching well late in games, Fernando Rodney is holding his own as the closer, and Ryan Perry is just wild enough to scare hitters from digging in on him. I’m willing to live with his growing pains, considering his 100 MPH fastball. The pen will be fine. As for the rotation, it’s been very good. Edwin Jackson has been a revelation, Armando Galarraga is the real deal, Justin Verlander threw like his old self on Monday, dominating the Yankees. Jeremy Bonderman is close to returning. So I’m not all that worried about the pitching, save for the usual suspects. What’s your take, Eno?

Eno: I’m pleased with the starters, I really am. Nick Swisher of the Yanks was duly impressed with Verlander and others on the staff. As for Zumaya, he and Leyland agree that it’s time to start “pitching” now, instead of chucking it up there. Leyland says 98, 99 MPH doesn’t cut it anymore; you have to have movement, and a breaking ball—which Zoom Zoom needs to get under his command. I’ll take 11-10 and first place. I don’t see anyone in the Central winning much more than 90 games, frankly. But you’d better win it; the Wild Card will be coming from elsewhere.

Big Al: Before the season started, I said the Tigers would hover around .500 all year, which would be enough to contend in the Central. Nothing I’ve seen so far has changed my opinion, and their 11-10 record bears it out. Hey, first place is first place, right? But there are some worries. The left side of the infield has been less than stellar defensively. Sure, Brandon Inge is getting to far more ground balls, but thanks to that athleticism, he seems to think he can make insane throws, when holding on to the ball would be the prudent move. Adam Everett has been outplayed, both in the field and at the plate, by Ramon Santiago. Why was Everett signed again?

Eno: I love Santiago, but we’ll apparently never know what he can do with 500 at-bats.

Big Al: The top of the order has yet to really start hitting as well. The Tigers can’t depend on Inge to lead the team in power stats. The top five in the order needs to get going. And I have to mention catcher Gerald Laird. He was stolen from the Rangers; he’s a big upgrade from Pudge Rodriguez.

Eno: OK, it’s time for some WordArse!! Ready?

WORD ASSOCIATION

Big Al: Sure, let’s play some Word Association. I’m ready, willing and somewhat able. Fire away, my journalist friend…

Eno: OK, I say “Red Wings-Ducks” and you say….

Big Al: Wings in six. I hate the Mighty Ducks, I hate insanely late west coast starts and I HATE Chris Pronger. Did I say I HATE Pronger? Cuz I HATE Pronger! HATE!!!

Eno: I think I get the idea. OK, next: Pavel Datsyuk, Hart/Selke/Lady Byng finalist.

Big Al: HATE!!!

Eno: Am I gonna have to get you some limburger cheese, Curly?

Big Al: MOE! LARRY! CHEESE! It’s either that or playing “Pop Goes the Weasel!” Even if Pavel’s the best two-way player in the NHL, Dats will win the Selke and Bing as consolation for losing the Hart.

Big Al: HATE!!! PRONGER!!!

Eno: Ah, OK. Two more: Brett Favre, who says (get this) that he wants to “retire as a Packer”

Big Al: Don’t go away mad, but just go away, Favre. I read Favre asked for his release from the Jets. He can’t actually be thinking of playing another season, can he? It would be fitting that he leaves the NFL the same season John Madden, who LIVED for Favre, left as well. Good riddance to both of ‘em. They are both shadows of themselves…

I!!!
HATE!!!
PRONGER!!!

Eno: I love it! OK, last one: Chris Pronger.

Big Al: Cute. Real cute… I HATE THAT TALL GOON!!! Ready, Eno-sabi?

Eno: I’m open!

Big Al: I know, hit you! Let’s start with a player you might be familiar with, a point guard who chewed up and spit out the Hornets, Chauncey Billups!

Eno: Oh, what might have been in Detroit this season! Good for him. He taught that young whippersnapper Chris Paul a thing or two about point guarding in the playoffs!

Big Al: Yes, he’s quite good at the basketballing. Next, one of the most pleasant surprises of the Tigers’ season, catcher Gerald Laird.

Eno: I liked Laird with Texas, and I was “pleased as punch”, as they say, when the Tigers acquired him. I don’t expect him to keep this up offensively, but I liked him for his defense anyway.

Big Al: I say Matthew Stafford is making more money than Tom Brady, and you say…

Eno: That’s the way of the world. And it should change, but how? Any crabbing about that appears to be doing you-know-what into the wind.

Big Al: Spitting? I would have used another word, but I know you run a family friendly blog, unlike the profane one I run! One more for you…who wins that most entertaining first round NBA series, the Celtics or the Bulls?

Eno: Oh, the Celts, but what a tough time they’re having with those pesky Bulls. And Ben Gordon isn’t 100% healthy. Remember, the Celts had fits with the Hawks last spring in Round One.

Big Al: And they are missing Kevin Garnett. Not that it makes a difference who wins, as no one is beating LeBron James, who is apparently on a mission to finally win the city of Cleveland a title. Before we wrap things up, is there anything else on the buttoned down mind of Eno?

Eno: No, I think we’d better move right into Jerk of the Week. And guess what? Tag, you’re it!! By the way, nice old Bob Newhart reference with the “buttoned down mind” thing!!

JERK OF THE WEEK

Big Al: I figured you’d get it, but anyone younger than 40, not so much. I suggest they dig up some old Newhart standup, and be prepared to be entertained. But I digress… My jerk of the Week is…WDIV, channel 4 in Detroit, who has hired…NO, I can’t bring myself to write this…suck it up, dude! Crap. I’ll just blurt it out. WDIV hired the worst columnist in America, my mortal enemy, disgraced former Detroit News columnist Rob Parker, to write commentary for their website. Just when you think he’s gone… The Detroit sports community just got that much dumber with the functionally retarded one’s return. *facepalm* OK, your turn!

Eno: Hard to follow THAT JOTW, but I’ll give it a try. Mine is Peter Gammons, who tried to give traction to a ridiculous “Tigers might trade Cabrera” rumor!!

Big Al: Oh, good Lord, that was ridiculous. I was so glad [Tigers GM] Dave Dombrowski stopped that silly rumor in its tracks. Well, it took us 24 hours, but we did it! We’ve reached the end of another Knee Jerks!

Eno: FINALLY! Now, just have to edit the darn thing and get it on the Net before our readers show up to our blogs with pitchforks and torches!

Big Al: No, they would never do that. They like us. I think. Till next week, same jerk time, same jerk channel, same jerk attitude, same Jerk…Well, you get my drift…

Eno: You bet. I’ll be Jack Lord this week: “Be there. Aloha.”

Big Al: HATE!!! PRONGER!!!!

Eno: Um, yeah. I got that.

Too Early To “Grade” NFL Draft, But That Doesn’t Stop Folks From Trying

“Look, we won’t truly know whether Draft ‘09 was good or not till a few years down the road. As usual, it will likely come down to the players picked on Day Two, anyway.”

 

All the rancor about the NFL Draft reminds me of one of my favorite quotes, uttered back in the day, long before the Internets, by a frustrated NFL coach.

Fed up with the supposed expertise of the blabbermouths in the broadcast booth and on talk radio, the coach had himself an idea.

“I’m going to Radio Shack to buy me one of those headset things,” the coach said.

Why’s that, coach?

“Because as soon as you put them on, you instantly know everything,” the coach said.

Zing!

I’d like to modify that a tad–bring it up to date.

In addition to a headset, the NFL coach of today should also discover the miraculous healing power of tapping onto a keyboard.

That’s all you need–a broadcast headset and a laptop by your side.

The blabbermouths on TV and radio and the bottom feeders on the Net know it all.

That’s the shortcut; the substitute for months of research and looking at film and conducting interviews and doing due diligence.

Ah, why bother with all that when you can just slip on some cans and pound away viciously on the keyboard?

I must laugh at all the letter grades that are doled out, sometimes within 24 hours of the completion of the draft. I chuckle at the disgusted tones I hear on sports talk radio — from the hosts and John on his cell phone tooling down I-696.

How can you properly “grade” a draft mere hours and days after it occurs?

You can’t.

How can you be 0-16, have as many holes as the Lions have on their roster, and say that you don’t “need” certain things, like a quarterback?

You can’t.

The Lions need pretty much everything, and last I checked, they were only able to select one player No. 1 overall. It would have been nice if the league had given the Lions an exemption and allowed them to grab as many players as they could in, say, thirty seconds — like one of those game show shopping sprees. Or the money tank that you step into as the dollar bills swirl all around you.

Snatch as many players as you can!

Doesn’t work that way.

The Lions picked QB Matthew Stafford No. 1. Then they selected TE Brandon Pettigrew with their other first round pick. Safety Louis Delmas was the second rounder.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, the headset wearers and keyboard mashers said.

“I’m really disappointed with this draft,” one of the WXYT loudmouths said the other day as I tuned in within my car. He said it with the proper tone of morose typically reserved for being told you’ve been laid off or something of true relevance.

Aww, poor baby. He’s disappointed.

Tough.

These are the players who, after the months of interrogation and watching film until eyes glazed over, are your new Detroit Lions.

But what about the past??

Gone. Water under the bridge. Milk, spilled. Done like dinner.

Look, we won’t truly know whether Draft ‘09 was good or not till a few years down the road.

As usual, it will likely come down to the players picked on Day Two, anyway.

Those are where the gems are found, the so-called diamonds in the rough. The players whose contributions provide depth and football accumen on the cheap. The ones who round out your roster nicely.

All the championship teams have such players. The Day Two guys are often the ones that save your bacon as a GM or personnel guy.

Lions’ second round pick, S Louis Delmas from Western Michigan; we won’t know if this was a smart pick for several years

The Lions should have picked LB Aaron Curry No. 1 overall. What were they doing drafting a tight end in the first round? Why not grab Rey Maualuga in round two? He was sitting right there! Same with Ohio State’s James Laurinitis.

What the hell?

We’ll see soon enough.

Charlie Rogers, in his first game as a Lion in 2003, made two spectacular catches for touchdowns against the Cardinals at Ford Field. Matt Millen looked good in drafting Charlie as high as he did. You wouldn’t have had any arguments from any of the 60,000+ fans in the stands that September Sunday afternoon.

Great draft pick!

It wasn’t until 2006, when Rogers showed his true colors as a football talent, following some injuries and brushes with the rules.

Wasted draft pick!

One of the cell phone dudes called in to WXYT on Sunday.

“Stafford’s not going to make it. He’ll be a bust!”

Oh, really?

The Lions should have hired that guy. Would have saved them a ton of time on research and interviews and film watching.

He’s not going to make it. He’ll be a bust.

So says Cell Phone Guy.

No draft can be properly gauged before they pump up one football for the upcoming season. You can’t do it when the uniforms these players are wearing are Armani suits.

But Cell Phone Guy and Headset Dude and Keyboard Masher have it all figured out, already.

I wonder how much they’d work for, if hired? Probably could save a bundle of cash.

Ripping Apart These Pistons Can’t Happen Soon Enough

“LeBron James needn’t have had his jersey laundered after any of the matches. Why waste the water and the soap, when he didn’t even break a sweat?”

 

 

So how do you eulogize a team that’s been on life support for most of the season?

What can you say about the Detroit Pistons and their feeble effort against the Cleveland Cavaliers in the first round of the playoffs?

I had the Pistons six feet under two months ago, so I’ve already said my piece about their demise. Though I had no idea it would come with the resistance of balsa wood.

Right now, the Pistons’ death as Eastern Conference elitists should be treated like the death of a despised relative: with courtesy but not much else.

President Joe Dumars’ bunch annoyed me all season, and I confess that I didn’t watch but a few minutes of the four games. I refuse to call it a series anymore because it really wasn’t. That gives the term “playoff series” a bad name.

No, I didn’t watch the Cavs’ dismantling of their once rivals, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how gruesome it was.

I wasn’t a witness to the Manson Murders, but I have a pretty good idea how that went down, too.

So the end of the Pistons’ “era”, as we like to put it, came with nary a whimper. Rasheed Wallace didn’t get kicked out of the game. The fans were too apathetic to boo or even jeer.

The kings are dead; long live the King

 

This was about as much of a non-playoff set of games as you’ll ever see in the NBA.

Even the dregs of the league usually win at least one game in these No. 1 vs. No. 8 seed set-ups.

But a series never broke out. The teams played 192 minutes, and I’m guessing–by the scores and by the reports from those who drew the short straws and had to cover the games–that the Pistons were competitive for maybe 25 percent of those minutes.

LeBron James needn’t have had his jersey laundered after any of the matches. Why waste the water and the soap, when he didn’t even break a sweat?

The Pistons’ last “big” playoff effort came in last year’s Game 2 of the Final Four, when they put forth a gutsy performance in beating the Celtics in Boston. The series looked like it might go their way; the Celtics, remember, were 0-6 on the road in the playoffs.

But instead of taking control and keeping that seed of doubt firmly planted in the Celtics’ heads–the one that said, “You’ll never win on the road…NEVER!”"–the Pistons let them off the hook with a curiously uninspired day’s work in Game 3 in Detroit.

It’s only gotten worse since then.

Dumars was disgusted with the way his team capitulated in the fourth quarter of Game 6 of the Celtics series. He vowed changes. He spoke of how there were no sacred cows.

I can’t even imagine what he thinks today.

Dumars’s “Bad Boys” of 1991 showed some fire–albeit in a very unsportsmanlike way–when their reign of terror ended in the East. They sauntered off the floor, before time expired, walking right past the Chicago Bulls on their way to the locker room.

Dumars stayed behind, uncomfortable in participating in such a display.

Let’s see how uncomfortable he is in tearing Bad Boys Lite apart. He ought to feel very comfy and cozy about it, if you ask me.

The sooner you crack this nucleus and give it a makeover, the better.

Monday Morning Manager

My weekly take on the Tigers.

Week of 4/20-26: 3-3
This week: 4/27-29: NYY; 5/1-3: CLE

Goat of the Week

Justin Verlander was last week’s goat, and it’s a tough call, because for long stretches of time he pitches pretty well. He just seems to be victimized by one bad inning per start–where he labors and throws a lot of pitches–which kills his outing.

Going up against the Angels last week, JV threw 104 pitches in just five innings, and it was only because of the Tigers’ big bats that they were able to overcome his performance and get the win.
But nine hits and seven runs, all earned, in five innings isn’t what a supposed ace surrenders.

Verlander is a rhythm pitcher. He works quickly–or at least likes to–and when he gets going, he’s awfully tough. But he’s only managed to pitch 21 innings in his four starts, and has thrown 389 pitches in those 21 innings. Too much work.

Hero of the Week

Brandon Inge continues to play terrific baseball. His power jag still hasn’t abated, and he’s making like a vacuum at third base.

One of the traits of the great defensive player is his ability to make hard plays look easy.

Inge does that, consistently. Take note of how many times you see a ball rocket off someone’s bat toward third base–short hop, bad hop, good hop–and how he effortlessly makes the play.

Not only is his power up, but his strikeout frequency is down from the past. His new batting stance is paying off right now, big time.

Inge is one of those Tigers who I’d like to see play his entire career in Detroit. A Tiger for life. He loves it here, loves to be back at third base, and his confidence is soaring.

Oh, what a boost it would be for the team if Inge’s bat has a better year than expected.

Quick scouting reports: Yankees and Indians

This week the Tigers entertain two teams who are underachieving.

The Yankees have pitching problems. And injuries. And they’re showing their age, which I suspected might happen soon, if not this year then the year after.

The new Yankee Stadium hasn’t been all that kind to them, and neither has the road of late. The Yankees come to town fresh off a sweep at the hands of the rival Red Sox in Boston.

But they’re still talented, and they could still put it together at any moment.

Same thing with the Indians, pretty much.

Cliff Lee, who lost all of three games last season, already has lost three in 2009. The ERAs of Indians pitchers look like stock market prices–as long as you’re not talking about The Big Three.

The Indians were my pre-season pick to win the Central in a tight race. It could still happen. As I thought, the division is tight as a drum. No one is off to a blazing start, which means that the Tribe and their 7-12 record are only 3-1/2 games out of first place.

The Indians are similar to the Yankees. They aren’t pitching, have an inconsistent offense (feast or famine), and are scuffling like a team far below their capabilities.

But the Tigers seem to bring out the best in the Indians, so this weekend’s series, as usual, will be no cakewalk.

Under the microscope

Joel “Zoom Zoom” Zumaya is back, and it’s only natural to put him under the microscope at MMM.

Zumaya made his 2009 debut Saturday night, pitching the ninth inning in what the NBA would call “garbage time.” He pitched a scoreless frame, though he did give up two hits.

Manager Jim Leyland said afterward–and Zumaya concurred–that simply throwing the cheese isn’t going to get it done anymore.

“98, 99 miles per hour–that doesn’t intimidate hitters,” Leyland said.

Leyland wants more movement and different locations on the fastball, and he and Zumaya agree that the breaking ball needs to find the strike zone. That didn’t really happen Saturday, and the Royals were able to sit on the heat, which led to the two hits.

Until Zumaya shows that he, a) is healthy; and b) can throw his breaking ball for strikes, he’ll continue to be under the scope at MMM.

Lions Right To Not Let Past Paralyze Them

“But the Lions, for a change, aren’t letting history paralyze them. They’re not playing this draft ‘not to lose.’ They’re playing to win it.”

 

If you had a couple pieces of bad fish—once in 1990 and again in 2002—would that make you swear off fish forever? Even if those pieces of fish were purported to be some of the finest fish in the land?

The Lions will make Georgia quarterback Matthew Stafford the No. 1 overall pick in the 2009 NFL Draft. Another piece of fish that’s supposed to be delectable.

Well, dig in, I say!

My colleague and sometimes mentor Jerry Green, semi-retired from the Detroit News, likes to call the draft the NFL version of pin the tail on the donkey. I’ve always liked that analogy.

It’s also appropriate, because the folks who blab into microphones and type furiously onto keyboards about which team should pick which player at what time, often become the donkey personified. Or, to be more accurate, the rear end of said donkey.

Some of these donkey posteriors showed up in Madison Heights on Monday as the Lions unveiled their new logo and uniforms.

As team president Tom Lewand began to address the throng, chants of “Curry! Curry!” filled Dunham’s sporting goods store, where we all had gathered. It didn’t sound spontaneous.

The chant was for Wake Forest linebacker Aaron Curry, the fierce defender who’ll certainly be a pro football star.

A few moments later, Lewand made mention of the draft, foolishly—opening himself up to another verbal assault.

The “Curry! Curry!” chants started up again. Sounded like they came from the same group of donkey posteriors.

Lewand made a joke, laughing off the anti-Stafford sentiment that filled the building.
They kept at it, throughout the unveiling.

This is as good as time as any to play some truth or dare.

Truth? I was a supporter of Curry. Still am, in a way. The Lions had one of the worst defenses in the history of the NFL last season. If you’re drafting for need, you could do a whole lot worse than Curry, who’s going to have some NFL city in the palm of his hand, someday.

Go with defense, I wrote. You can pick up a quarterback later on. Some of the greatest of them were drafted in rounds that would make your head spin. I like to use Tom Brady as an example. Brady was so disregarded by everyone, including the Lions—who should have known better because Brady played in their backyard at Michigan—that he slipped all the way to the sixth round in 2000.

Joe Montana was snubbed for 81 picks before the San Francisco 49ers took a flyer on him in the third round in 1979.

Johnny Unitas, no less, was waived out of the league and was playing semi-pro ball when the Baltimore Colts found him and suited him up.

I could go on and on. But I won’t.

I was one of those who wanted to play it “safe” and draft Curry, rather than roll the dice on a quote-unquote franchise quarterback.

True confession time, like I said.

I wanted the Lions to roll over—all because they had a couple pieces of bad fish. I wanted them to swear off fish, until they could find some cheaper catches in the later rounds.

I’m changing my tune.

The Lions are drafting Stafford, and good for them. They’re doing so in the face of an inglorious history of drafting quarterbacks. Especially in the first round.

But the Lions, for a change, aren’t letting history paralyze them. They’re not playing this draft “not to lose.” They’re playing to win it.

They see a potential great one in Stafford. And they’re going to draft him.

Stafford’s No. 1 in the Lions’ eyes; then they ought to draft him

By the size of the reported contract, looks like they’re going to spring for some malt vinegar and extra tartar sauce for their new prized fish.

The bad pieces of fish were Andre Ware, the gunslinger from the University of Houston (1990), and Joey Harrington, the piano-playing, optimistic kid from Oregon (2002).

Ware looked like a great fit for the Lions. He operated the frenetic run-and-shoot offense in Houston, racking up touchdown passes and yards like a video game QB.

The Lions had just switched to the NFL version of the run-and-shoot. They had Barry Sanders to run the ball. They had a cache of receivers; some of them were even mediocre. The others were … well, let’s just say that their hearts were beating.

So why not draft Ware to be the gunslinger?

But Ware held out of training camp, dickering over the dollars and cents required to be the team’s new gunslinger.

He missed precious, invaluable training camp time as his agents and the Lions played chicken with each other.

By the time Ware finally signed a contract and reported to the team, his rookie year was shot, for all intents and purposes. He’d end up spending the rest of it trying to catch up.

Remember the scene from The Shining when Shelly Duvall realizes that Jack Nicholson has been typing “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” over and over again?

One of the most frightening moments in film history, says me.

Well, Duvall’s horror is what the Lions felt when they learned that Ware lacked a key component to being a legitimate NFL quarterback: the ability to throw a ball anywhere near an intended receiver.

All that typing Nicholson was doing, and he wasn’t writing a book, as promised.

All that book learning Ware was doing, and when it was his turn to whip the football around on the field … the Lions became Shelly Duvall.

The other piece of bad fish, Harrington, lacked the mental toughness to even live in Detroit, much less be its quarterback.

You could add Chuck Long, from the 1986 draft, as another bad piece of fish.

OK, so three pieces of bad fish.

But the Lions aren’t swearing off fish. They’re gonna reel Stafford in with the No. 1 pick Saturday afternoon in New York.

It’s not a “safe” pick. Not at all. In fact, it’s fraught with danger.

But if you feel, in your gut, that Stafford is the quarterback of your dreams—the one that could wash away the stench from Chuck Long and Andre Ware and Joey Harrington—then pick him and do so with confidence and maybe even a little defiance.

Play the draft to win, not to “not lose.”

I’m proud of the Lions. For a change.

Nothing More One-Way Than A Trip Into Sparky’s Pooch Parlor

“‘My way or the highway’ was the early Sparky mantra in Detroit. It was more than just words.”

 

If there was any trip that was about as one-way as it gets, it was a venture into Sparky Anderson’s dog house.

It was baseball’s Bermuda Triangle.

Maybe that’s playing it a little heavy, but if Sparky didn’t want you on his team, you weren’t on it. Period.

It happened in Cincinnati, and it damn sure happened in Detroit, too.

For as good as the Tigers were for most of the 1980s, there’s no telling how much better they could have been, had Sparky not run some of the more talented ones out of town.

Sparky became Tigers manager in June 1979, and it didn’t take long for him to decide that the team had some ne’er-do-wells on it, and that they should soon be ex-Tigers.

“My way or the highway” was the early Sparky mantra in Detroit.

It was more than just words.

About a month before Sparky joined the Tigers, DH Rusty Staub had just finished staging a holdout that extended from spring training all the way to early May. The Tigers, traditionally one of baseball’s misers, led by GM Jim Campbell, balked at Rusty’s demands. So Rusty went back to his restaurant business and kept himself in shape, just in case.

Staub finally broke down and re-joined the team. But Sparky read the papers. He kept up on the game, even as an unemployed manager. He knew, when he took the Detroit job, that Rusty Staub had been petulant. A bad boy.

Ron LeFlore was the team’s center fielder. And an ex-con. But not an ex-rule breaker. LeFlore didn’t take too well to Sparky’s demand that the team be ship shape. There were reports that LeFlore broke Sparky’s rules, just as he had broken Ralph Houk’s and Les Moss’s before Anderson.

Within a couple years, Staub, LeFlore, first baseman Jason Thompson and outfielder Steve Kemp were ex-Tigers. In some cases, the Tigers were rooked in the deals, but they were gone, and that’s what Sparky wanted. Campbell obliged.

The purging of talent continued as the 1980s continued.

Glenn Wilson, also not a favorite of Sparky’s, was included in the Dave Bergman-Willie Hernandez trade. The winter after winning the World Series, third baseman Howard Johnson, who didn’t get along with Sparky all that well either, was traded to the Mets, for pitcher Walt Terrell.

That’s a lot of good and mostly young talent that Sparky ordered to be removed from Detroit.

Again, it’s not like those players were given away.

The Tigers got Chet Lemon for Kemp. The Wilson trade was excellent.

But Wilson and, especially, Howard Johnson, had terrific years after leaving the Tigers. HoJo was a Mets superstar for a few years. Terrell was, on the other hand, mostly average.

The Tigers traded Thompson to California for Al Cowens, who was past his prime. Thompson went on to have some good years in Pittsburgh.

Just before Sparky came to Detroit, the Tigers acquired John “Champ” Summers from the Reds.

Summers was another who rubbed Sparky the wrong way, and vice versa.

But Sparky kept Summers, and Champ had some good years in Detroit.

Sparky had the tendency, on the other hand, to anoint unknown youngsters as the Second Coming. He did that almost as much as he got rid of those who annoyed him.

Remember Chris Pittaro? Torey Lovullo?

Oh, and Sparky was right about LeFlore, by the way. Ronnie was out of baseball just a couple years after being traded by the Tigers. He tried to get back into baseball a few years later. As an umpire.

I couldn’t make that up.

Red Wings Show Their Composure, Experience In Game Four

“Reggie Jackson was Mr. October. But Franzen The Scoring Mule isn’t just Mr. April. He’s not just Mr. May. He can also be Mr. June, too.”

 

The Red Wings have moved on. With only a little bit of hand-wringing. Not bad for a first round, eh?

A series didn’t break out until late in the second period of last night’s Game Four in Columbus. Rick Nash finally shed his Rip Van Winkle impersonation, awoke from his slumber, and netted a goal.

Chris Osgood, apparently struggling physically with something, was obliging the Blue Jackets with some borderline soft goals and unprotected rebounds.

The Red Wings were in a very un-playoff-like 5-5 tie. Those Detroit fans holding tickets for home playoff game “C” weren’t sure if they were going to need to use them this weekend or sometime next week.

Their weekend is now free and clear.

So is the Red Wings’ — along with the Blue Jackets’ spring. Tee times are probably being arranged even as you read this.

The Red Wings used some mental flatulence by the Jackets to finagle themselves a series-winning power play goal with 46.6 seconds left. Johan Franzen, The Mule, played the playoff hero once again.

A penalty for too many men on the playing surface is one of sports’ delightfully derisive infractions.

We snicker at it, whether it happens in football or hockey. Unless it happens to your team, of course.

Too many men? Who on the team can’t count?

At least with football, you have to count all the way up to eleven.

What’s the excuse in hockey?

The Red Wings cleared the puck to center ice, trying to quell the pressure that the Jackets were sustaining for several antsy minutes late in the third period. It appeared that the Detroiters were just trying to hang on and get into the locker room to regroup for overtime.

Which they were.

Until a sixth Blue Jacket entered the fray, quite illegally.

If you’re the sixth skater on the ice in a situation that only allows five, it’s best to keep a low profile. Maybe you’ll get away with it.

But the sixth Jacket took it upon himself to play the puck, which meant the entire building was looking at him. Not the least of which were the linesmen.

Busted!

The Red Wings played the ensuing power play with typical cool and under control. They knew that they had about 90 seconds. Some teams would act as if their goalie was pulled and start flailing away and making plays that were desperate. Sometimes that works, but what works better is, when you’re as talented as Detroit, you play within yourselves and do what you’ve done all year.

The Red Wings have the league’s top-rated power play for a reason. They score a lot on it.

And they score a lot on it because they’re loaded with players who have a nose for the puck and can finish.

The Mule Franzen is one of those players. Especially at this time of the year.

Franzen has 13 goals and 20 points in his last 14 playoff games.

Reggie Jackson was Mr. October. But Franzen The Scoring Mule isn’t just Mr. April. He’s not just Mr. May. He can also be Mr. June, too.

Heck, let’s just call him Mr. Spring.

As in, the season that is now wide open for golfing for the soon-to-be-very good Blue Jackets.

Here’s how playoff-tested the Red Wings are.

Goalie Osgood said that, in the second intermission, the Red Wings mentally changed the scoreboard.

“To us, it wasn’t 5-5. It was 0-0,” Ozzie said. “That’s the way we looked at it.”

In other words, disregard the white elephant in the room. This isn’t a scoring fest. Isn’t a shootout.

It’s a tight, 0-0 playoff game. So let’s play the third period like it.

The Red Wings clamped down once more, and waited for an opportunity. It came in the form of Mr. Sixth Man On the Ice.

Oh, those silly, young Blue Jackets!

Don’t forget to tip your caddies and the soda pop girl at the turn.

Weekly Jerkosity: A Fiercer Lion; A Scary Lyon; Meek Pistons; Smarmy NHL Commishes, And More!

Brace yourselves! It’s Thursday, time for your weekly dose of “The Knee Jerks: WTF? With Eno and Al.”

Every Thursday I get my sports chat on with the MVP of the MVN, Big Al from The Wayne Fontes Experience.

This week, we weigh in on the Lions’ new logo; play our hunches on the No. 1 draft pick; crab about the Pistons’ lack of heart and laud the Red Wings’ ability to stomp on the Jackets’ tickers; cheer and jeer the Tigers; and the usuals show up: Word Association and Jerk of the Week.

As you will……

Eno: It’s another Thursday, another week to suffer us Knee Jerks! It’s “The Knee Jerks: WTF? With Eno & Al.” I’m Eno, aka The Journalist, and he’s Big Al, aka Mr. Big Shot. Happy Thursday, your Al-ness!

Big Al: Yo, Eno! Hey, that rhymes! I’m a poet and didn’t know it! Hey, that rhymes too! But this isn’t a poetry slam, it’s a chat about Detroit sports. Anyway, it’s a sorta happy Thursday. Detroit had two playoff games Tuesday night, but only one team came through with flying colors, the Red Wings. The Pistons, on the other hand… Let’s just say the starting five is playing like they have tee times the day after Game 4.

Eno: Ha! Exactly what I wrote about the Pistons at OOB on Wednesday. But before we get to the playoffs, let’s start with something REALLY important, like the Lions’ new logo and unis!! Your thoughts?

Big Al: I like them. I really do. As I said on TWFE, they are an evolution, rather than a revolution. There’s something to be said for keeping the Honolulu blue and silver, despite what some media hacks may say. *cough*doofs on 97.1*cough* In the end, as nice as the new logo looks (especially the updated typeface, as I HATED their former circus-like font), in the end it’s just a money grab; an attempt to boost merchandising sales. All teams do it, so why not the Lions? I was more perturbed by the fan base uprising at the uniform introduction. [Aaron] Curry, [Matthew] Stafford, either one would look good in the new uni.

Eno: Yeah, I was there, and the first time the “Curry! Curry!” chants came, it was kind of funny and cute. But then it kept going, and there even was a “DON’T DRAFT STAFFORD!” chant. I guess I was also taken aback by the degree of pro-Curry, anti-Stafford sentiment out there among the fan base. And the folks showing up at a uniform unveiling are, to me, pretty representative. Because that’s going above and beyond, to traipse out there on a Monday afternoon.

Big Al: I’ll give them credit for showing up. The Lions, despite a near decade of trying to kill off interest, still have a dedicated fan base. That being said, the chanting for Curry was out of line. There’s a time and place; this wasn’t it. And speaking of Curry. many fans want the Lions to draft the MLB out of Wake Forest, but it’s for ALL THE WRONG REASONS! They are scared of another skill player failure. But any Number One overall pick is a crapshoot! There is NO guarantee Curry will be worth the huge contract the top pick gets. I’m leery of playing $30 million-plus for a two-down defensive player who is not a pass rushing threat. The money would be better spent on a QB, Stafford, or an OT, Jason Smith. From all accounts, the Lions feel the same way, and are using Curry as leverage toward a more reasonable contract.

Eno: I totally agree. I think the chants happened because the unveiling was held the week of the draft. Anyhow, the new Lions logo is indeed fiercer and I like it. Not as crazy about the “Lions” font, which is a little too feminine for me, but whatever. As for Curry/Stafford, you’re right that picking Curry would be like “trying not to lose.” As you know, I was anti-Stafford for the same reason: the Lions’ history of drafting QBs is rather inglorious. But I’ve been converted. Bring on Stafford! What the hell? Sadly, if there wasn’t a $30 million bonus involved, I might still stick with Curry. But it’s hard to justify that kind of jack for, like you said, a two-down guy.

Big Al: That’s the thing, when given a choice between someone who handles the ball every snap, and another who will likely leave the field on passing downs, who’s giving you more for the money? The last thing the Lions should do is draft scared. As you say, going with Curry is drafting “not to lose.” He’ll be good, but will he be GREAT? The jury is out, and will be for a long time. But if you are going to roll the dice, and the draft is nothing but a big gamble at every selection, I’m going for a home run with the first roll. The Lions still have two more picks in the first 33 choices to get a MLB. Would either Rey Malaluga or James Laurenaitis be that big of a drop in talent over Curry? I seriously doubt it.

Eno: I think Stafford’s their guy, I really do. I think we may even find that out by Friday; it might be leaked. Speaking of QBs, I know you had a burr up your rear end about Daunte Culpepper, but I looked at some video of the mini-camp, and the guy really does look good. He’s excited and re-invigorated. His teammates notice, too. I know it’s just mini-camp, but at least DC’s coming into the new season with the right attitude and he appears to be ready to be a leader.

Big Al: We can only hope. But it’s awfully easy for Culpepper to look good when no one is wearing pads, and there’s no pass rush. Meaning there’s no pressure. Sure he lost weight, but it was because the Lions inserted a weight clause in his deal. You’re asking to suspend my belief in thinking a QB who hasn’t had a good season in five years will suddenly recapture his youth. [New offensive coordinator] Scott Linehan may help, but only if he can lay hands upon Culpepper and miraculously make him 25 years old again. Attitude is great, but I like talent even more. That’s where Culpepper is now lacking.

Eno: We’ll see! OK, what’s on your Big Al kind of brain today?

Big Al: I read your Twitter tweet (I’m Big_Al_TWFE and Eno is thegregger63. FOLLOW US!) stating you haven’t watched a single minute of the Pistons-Cavs series. I was surprised, but then again, maybe not so much. We all knew going into this series the Pistons had two chances in this series, slim and none. After sleepwalking through two games, they now have one chance: none. The Pistons’ starting five was awful Tuesday night. I never want to say anything about a team’s or player’s heart, but in this case, I might be willing to make an exception. It’s always sad to watch a once great team decline, but this is embarrassing. The Pistons, as we once knew them, are long gone. I’m ready for the off-season to begin. Apparently, so are the Pistons.

Eno: Yeah, I said as much at OOB. No pride. No self-respect. I expected a little piss and vinegar, but nothing. This can’t possibly help Michael Curry’s status as an NBA coach. He may never get another crack at it after this. Do they STILL bring him back? This is awful, unless they turn things around in Deeeetroit in Games 3 and 4.

Big Al: If this team is Joe Dumars’s vision, I think he needs glasses. Dumars made his bed with Curry, now he has to sleep in it. There’s a lack of chemistry on the roster, and with the coaches. Obviously, the roster is going to change, big time. That’s the only thing saving Curry—the hope that he can click with a new core. Plus, the Pistons are still paying Larry Brown and Flip Saunders. I doubt Pistons’ ownership wants a third ex-coach on the payroll.

Eno: Wow. What a web Dumars has weaved, eh? How does he get himself out of it? The national scribes are beginning to look at Joe D cross-eyed, as if he’s now one of the worst NBA execs, instead of one of the best. Is he making this up as he goes along, or is there a grand plan in there somewhere?

Big Al: I hope Joe D has a plan. What that is, other than signing a couple of high-priced free agents with all the cap room, I don’t know. He best strike gold in free agency, be it with a big name or how he did by finding players ready to break out (as he did with Ben Wallace and Chauncey Billups), or his team will sink DEEP into the lottery next season. I’m souring just a little on Dumars myself. He signed Amir Johnson to an extension, and he can’t stay in the rotation. Jason Maxiell, another from whom Dumars expected big improvement, has hit his plateau. Rodney Stuckey, after setting the NBA on fire after Billups left, has regressed. He is looking more and more like a shooting guard, not a point guard. And of course, the Allen Iverson deal destroyed what chemistry the Pistons may have had left. What I’m saying is Dumars has been in a slump, and he needs to step up his game after the season.

Eno: Another interesting thing, before we move on: the death of Bill Davidson and its impact. Apparently his widow will run things, but with Mr. D gone, how does that impact Dumars’s job security, if at all?

Big Al: I think he’s safe for the time being. I really doubt the Davidson family wants to shake up anything at the Palace, in basketball operations or on the business side. They have a well oiled machine, run by men (Dumars and Tom Wilson) who have, for the most part, sterling track records. But time, as always, will tell.

Eno: OK, some Tigers talk! Tough loss in L.A. Tuesday night (ed. note: but a big WIN Wednesday night), but Curtis Granderson got off the schneide and hit two homers. They’re 7-6 as we do this chat. For the most part, the bullpen has been good. What bothers you, and what makes you happy about the Bengals, 2009?

Big Al: What bothers me is Jim Leyland’s use of Brandon Lyon. He’s Todd Jones redux. A one inning pitcher. Yet whenever Leyland has let Lyon go more than one inning, Tuesday night being the latest instance, bad things happen, man. Bad things. What’s making me happy are a couple of things. Overall, the pitching staff, from the starters on down to the mop up men, looks much improved. All the Tigers need is league average pitching, and they’ll contend in the Central deep into September. Also, Miguel Cabrera is the next coming, period. I’m thrilled Dave Dombrowski came out this week to nip in the bud (Channeling Barney Fife: NIP IT!) the asinine “Tigers will trade Cabrera” rumors. You NEVER trade a young talent like him. NEVER. It’ll take a complete and utter economic collapse of unheard of impact for the Tigers to even consider a trade. Mike Ilitch has more money than, well, God. The Tigers will be fine, and keep Miggy. What makes you sad and happy, huh? Talk! Tell me! NOW!

Eno: Where the HELL did that rumor come from, anyway? Sheesh! I’m surprised DD even acknowledged it with a reply. Whatever. As for me, I’m with you on Lyon (Jones redux). Seems to me that managers are yanking their starters too early, consistently. I guess I come from the school of, “Let the starter get into some trouble before you pull him between innings.” Are they SO wrapped up in pitch counts that they manage for that instead of the game situation? Texas’s Ron Washington lifted Kevin Millwood against the Tigers when he was humming along. Why do your opponents a favor like that? When a guy is going good like that, your opponents will take their chances with ANYONE. In no other sport does this happen. It’d be like a hockey coach changing goalies in the third period while the guy is standing on his head. Why take your opponents off the hook??

Big Al: Hey, you didn’t tell me what makes you happy! You holding out on me?

Eno: Ah….OK. Brandon Inge not striking out once every three at-bats. Ramon Santiago driving in runs. Cabrera, of course. Armando Galarraga. Rick Porcello. Fernando Rodney. Not a bad list, eh?

Big Al: Considering how many of those on the list were question marks going into the season, not bad at all. Though I continue to wonder what the Tigers have against Santiago. He’s outplaying Adam Everett, who’s been underwhelming in the field and THE SUCKAGE at the plate. Everett couldn’t even get a bunt down against the Angels on Tuesday, helping to nip in the bud (NIP IT! NIP IT!) a possible ninth inning rally. Which does lead me to another concern—that Leyland will go overboard on the “small ball”. It’s overrated, though some fans eat it up like so much candy. I HATE giving away outs, I HATE sacrifice bunts and I HATE going for only one run!

Eno: Conventional wisdom says get the runner into scoring position, but Josh Anderson also screwed things up by getting picked off. And he’s the fastest guy on the team. But I see what you’re saying. Keep the outs and see if you can get a bigger inning going. How about some WordAss?

Big Al: Fire away, dude!

WORD ASSOCIATION

Eno: The Red Wings in the playoffs, first round version.

Big Al: Curb stomping. That’s what they’ve done to the Blue Jackets, crushed their hopes, dreams and souls. It’s been a slaughter. A laugher. Sheer domination. I’m running out of words….

Eno: Then we’ll move on! Goalie Chris Osgood.

Big Al: He was right, everyone else was wrong! Ozzie can flip the proverbial switch! He’s been a brick wall against the BJs; the Red Wings’ MVP in the three wins.

Eno: Two more. First, John Madden, newly-retired broadcaster.

Big Al: Great broadcaster…till he got bored about 10 years ago, more or less. He’s been going through the motions for quite some time. He set the bar, then lowered it as he aged. Great career as both a football coach and color man, but his time has passed.

Eno: Finally, I say the Red Wings will either play Vancouver or Anaheim in Round Two and you hope for……

Big Al: I’ll say…The Canucks. The Ducks, for whatever reason, always scare me! Mallard, Daffy, Donald, Mighty, Howard the, Anaheim…

Big Al: OK, ready for a few?

Eno: Hit me, I’m open!

Big Al: Let’s start with the man the Pistons cannot stop, LeBron James.

Eno: The King, and he’s making the Pistons look silly. A man among the boys. But this series shouldn’t judge him, for the Pistons are no competition.

Big Al: No kidding. It’s laughable how easy the Pistons are making it for him. Next, this is just being reported as we are chatting Wednesday afternoon, Lions are close to a deal with Stafford. First thing that comes to your mind is?

Eno: My suspicions confirmed. Good choice. I hope the kid does well. He wants to be here. Rock on.

Big Al: Hey, he did say he’d trade in his Chevy for a Ford! I think that closed the deal! Back to the Wings-BJs. [Columbus coach] Ken Hitchcock pulled a Michele Therion, claiming the Red Wings “cheat” on face-offs. You say?

Eno: Hitchcock is Scotty Bowman Lite! Whatever. And some Columbus writer wrote that Osgood looked “shaky” in Games 1 and 2. Again, whatever.

Big Al: Well said. The BJs are grasping at straws. Desperation city. One more, in honor of the draft this weekend. The king of the draft-niks, Mel Kiper.

Eno: Mel Kiper?? You mean the dude who comes out every year, like a groundhog? He means nothing to me. He’s been as wrong as all the others in the past—maybe wronger.

Big Al: Agreed; Kiper is better at self-promotion than predicting the draft. But he does have an amazing head of hair! Anything else on your mind before we talk about our Jerks of the Week?

Eno: Well, just that with MLB recently honoring Jackie Robinson by having every player wear No. 42 on the same day, there are the usual calls for other numbers to be retired. I read at Bleacher Report where someone wants MLB to retire Roberto Clemente’s No. 21, universally. I was afraid this would happen once the can of worms was opened. I agree with the Robinson retirement, but are there indeed other numbers that should be retired? Seems you can now make compelling cases for several players, now that we’ve done Jackie. Thoughts?

Big Al: Clemente died selflessly, as he was on a mission to help earthquake victims in Nicaragua. He deserves all the accolades he received posthumously. But to do the same thing MLB does for Robinson devalues it. Why not do the same for Hank Aaron, the true home run king, who battled racism in his struggle to top Babe Ruth? Why not honor Willie Horton, who was a peacekeeper in the Detroit riots? Why not Ted Williams, who served heroically in not one, but TWO wars? Isn’t being honored by your own team enough? It should be.

Eno: That’s what I mean. The can of worms has been opened. When does it end? You can make compelling cases for all those guys you mentioned. I think individual teams retiring numbers is a hell of an honor. The bottom line is, only one man could do what Robinson did (break a color barrier). Sometimes, though, I wish MLB had honored him differently, so we wouldn’t have to contend with all these numbers that everyone wants retired.

Big Al: Let alone it gets confusing as all Hell when there are 50+ players running around a stadium, all wearing 42! The fact Robinson’s number was retired throughout MLB is honor enough. As for retiring numbers, it’s great, it should be the end all honor for an athlete, but it can be run into the ground if over done. See Pistons, Detroit.

Eno: Yeah! Vinnie Johnson? Hmmmm…..not so sure about that one! OK, who’s your Jerk of the Week, sire?

JERK OF THE WEEK

Big Al: Time for the Jerk of…Uh, that came out wrong… My Jerk is a group of jerks. The Lions “fans” who felt the need to make a mockery of the new logo introduction by acting like a bunch of drunks in week 12 of the NFL season. Chanting for Curry, and against Stafford, is so shortsighted, so immature, so Lions-esque. If it wasn’t so damn sad, it’d have been funny. I’m no fan of the mob mentality, and those chanting were nothing but blinded-by-fear sheep. SHEEP. You disagree with the draft? Great! Just being more than “Stafford sucks.” I hate to be put in the position to defend the Lions, but they do deserve at least a little benefit of the doubt.

Eno: Well said. My Jerk is NHL commissioner Gary Bettman, who told the Fox Sports Detroit folks Tuesday night that he doesn’t think fans disagree with how NHL games are called. Puh-leeeze!!

Big Al: As I said on Twitter Tuesday night, I wished Mickey Redmond would have given the smarmy SOB that is Bettman a BC two-hander across the chops after their interview. The Mick can still bring it, gang! Bettman is EVIL. End of story. Speaking of the end…

Eno: Yes…we must part ways for the week. Have a great one, my friend, and I’ll see you next Thursday for another webisode!

Big Al: Same Jerk time, same Jerk channel, same Jerk attitude! Till next Thursday, and as Jack Lord always said, ALOHA!

Playoffs Drone On In Detroit, Anxiety-Free

“Meanwhile, the Pistons are playing the Cavs as if they all have vacation plans and flights scheduled to leave Detroit next week immediately after Game 4.”

 

Another day of playoffs in Detroit, another day with no drama.

As I wrote on Monday, it doesn’t feel like the post-season around here.

The Red Wings continue to toy with the Columbus Blue Jackets. The Cleveland Cavaliers are doing the same with the Pistons.

Yawn.

In Columbus, the joint was jumping. The Nationwide Arena crowd was ready to bust loose, as their Jackets were hosting their first playoff game in team history.

Then, 67 seconds into the affair, Tomas Holmstrom shoved a giant, sweaty hockey sock into their mouths.

1-0 Detroit.

Dan Cleary scored with less than a minute to go in the first period for a 2-0 lead.

Hockey people will tell you that the only thing worse than giving up a goal in the opening minute of a game is to give one up in the closing minute of a period.

The Blue Jackets did both.

The final scores of the three games the Red Wings and Jackets have played have their own beat.

4-1. 4-0. 4-1.

If this was middle school algebra, I’d ask you to name me the score of Game 4, based on the given pattern.

And you’d get a gold star on your paper if you answered 4-0.

Which will also be the final outcome of this first round series, no matter what score they play to in Game 4.

For extra credit, you could also put it this way: Red Wings 12, R.J. Umberger 2.

The Jackets are coming off soon. To be dry cleaned and stowed away for the summer, not to return again until training camp this September.

It’s hard to see the Red Wings fumbling and losing Game 4.

These aren’t the Dallas Stars in the Final Four.

Last spring, the Red Wings couldn’t put the Stars away in Game 4 in Dallas, then came home to Detroit and got stunned once more, before finishing matters in Game 6 on the road.

This series doesn’t have that feel. At all.

It’s impressive how the Red Wings have started these playoffs. Totally business-like, without remorse.

Columbus coach Ken Hitchcock told me so, before the playoffs started.

Last week in a conference call, I asked Hitch if defending Cup champs are more vulnerable to upset in the first round.

Nuh-uh, Hitch said.

“I believe Cup champions are just as excited as all the other teams in the first round,” he told me. “If they lose, it’s usually later on, after all the wear and tear.”

I bet he wishes he wasn’t so damn prophetic.

Meanwhile, the Pistons are playing the Cavs as if they all have vacation plans and flights scheduled to leave Detroit next week immediately after Game 4.

No fight. No resistance.

No pride.

I didn’t think it would go down this way, with the Pistons this meek in their capitulation from the heights of being an Eastern Conference elitist. I figured there’d be a little piss and vinegar out of them.

Instead, all the Pistons are doing is hemorraghing self-respect and their reputation as playoff toughies.

It’s hard to see that series going longer than four games as well.

It all adds up to a two-week bye from angst and nailbiting.

Ah, but Frank Sinatra sang it in “That’s Life.”

You’re riding high in April,
shot down in May

So beware, Red Wings and Cavs fans.

2009 NHL, NBA Playoffs In Detroit: When Does The Drama Arrive?

“The Red Wings may still need five games to dispense with the Jackets, after all. But so far, this series feels like merely a tune-up for the Red Wings; something they have to do, because the league requires it.”

 

You call these “the playoffs”?

In the NHL, the Red Wings and Columbus Blue Jackets are engaging in a first round series with all the drama of an episode of The Brady Bunch.

In the NBA, the Pistons appear to be content with playing the part of the Washington Generals to the Cleveland Cavaliers’ Harlem Globetrotters.

Where’s the grit? Where’s the suspense? Where are the storylines?

To paraphrase Paul Hogan in Crocodile Dundee, “That’s not the playoffs…(withdraws a Red Wings-Predators or Pistons-Sixers video)…now that’s the playoffs!”

Winning without drama is OK on occasion. In the Red Wings’ case, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of anxious moments in the later rounds to satisfy.

Losing without drama is OK, if you choose not to care about the losers. I’m rather fed up with the Pistons’ old guard and their overmatched head coach anyway. Can’t wait till the Cavs get done with them, frankly. I just hope no one gets hurt.

Ah, but look around the NHL. For if you do, you will see some playoff drama.

How about in San Jose, where the top-seeded Sharks fell into an 0-2 hole against Anaheim?

Or in New Jersey, where the Carolina Hurricanes split the first two games?

Or in Washington, where the New York Rangers skated out to a 2-0 series lead?

The Flyers closed their series with the Penguins to 1-2 after their win yesterday in Philly.

The Blue Jackets will play their first home playoff game in franchise history tomorrow. No doubt that the joint will be jumping. Maybe the crowd will even be loud enough to wake Rick Nash from his slumber.

Sorry, Rick. I couldn’t resist.

The Red Wings may still need five games to dispense with the Jackets, after all. But so far, this series feels like merely a tune-up for the Red Wings; something they have to do, because the league requires it.

Again, OK. We’ve had our share of first round angst in this town. I’m not complaining.

The Red Wings have outscored Columbus 8-1, appear unstoppable on the power play, and goalie Chris Osgood is up to his old Cup-winning tricks.

And Nash has slept through it all.

Sorry again, Rick. That time I was just being mean, I admit.

The Pistons, once they’re finished off by the Cavs, should apply at the County Road Commission. I hear that with all the construction going on, there’s a big time need for pylons.

I’m NOT sorry about that one. The Pistons annoy me.

Wake me when the playoffs really get going, OK?

Monday Morning Manager

My weekly take on the Tigers.Week of 4/13-19: 3-2
This week: 4/21-23: at LAA; 4/24-26: at KC

 

Goat of the Week

Not much of a “goat week” for the Tigers. But we have to give it out to someone, so my choice is starter Zach Miner, who didn’t give the Tigers a chance to win in his start last Monday against the White Sox.

Miner was skipped in his next start, but that was mainly due to off days. The Tigers won’t need a fifth starter until next week.

Justin Verlander’s line didn’t look good on Friday, but he pitched pretty well, save for the fifth inning.

So last week’s goat is Miner, though I suspect that’s an aberration. Zach should do OK as the No. 4 or 5 starter.

Hero of the Week

I like Edwin Jackson here. The Tigers got smacked around on Friday, and their decent start was being threatened. A loss Saturday to the Mariners, and you might have been getting squirmy.

But Jackson, pitching through flu-like symptoms, was masterful, pitching into the eighth inning and shutting the Mariners out. He had terrific movement and location. You never would have known he was as sick as he felt.

The only thing sick about EJ, that I could tell, was his stuff.

Close runner-up: rookie starter Rick Porcello, who was also brilliant in getting his first big league win on Sunday. But the nod goes to Jackson because of the physical discomfort he overcame.

Honorable mention: I’ve always liked Ramon Santiago. His glove is sweet, and the dude can hit a little bit, too. He’s got underrated power and can hit the gaps. He cleared the bases yesterday–a bases-loaded double that put the M’s away for good.

Quick scouting reports: Angels and Royals

The Angels, despite the Mariners’ fast start, are the class of the West. Even with the loss of closer Francisco Rodriguez. Mike Scioscia’s team keeps the pressure on you with aggressive base running, the hit and run, and base stealing.

So why are the Angels piddling along at 4-8?

A very pedestrian .250 team BA, for one. One home run and three RBI from Vlad Guerrero, for two. A mediocre 4.67 team ERA, for three.

But it’s early. The Angels are the best team in the West, and the Tigers should know that at any moment, they might start playing like it.

The Royals won’t be the pushovers that they’ve been because they have pitching. Plain and simple. Zack Greinke has been lights out; he hasn’t allowed a run in 20 innings this year. The Tigers will face him this weekend, I’m pretty sure. Gil Meche (2.25 ERA) and Kyle Davies (2.89) form a heck of a trio, along with Greinke.

The Royals are still offensively-challenged, but with a team ERA of 3.14, they’ve managed a 7-5 record.

Under the microscope

Marcus Thames hasn’t smacked a homer yet, which is odd for him. Magglio Ordonez isn’t dazzling us yet (no homers, four RBI). Curtis Granderson is hitting in the low-.200s.

What’s nice to write about here is what’s not under the microscope–namely, the bullpen.

After an Opening Day hiccup in Toronto, the pen has been just fine, thank you.

Ryan Perry needs to be more familiar with the strike zone and all its benefits, though.

Maggs and Grandy, I’m sure, will be fine. Thames might go off on a home run hitting binge, for all we know.

But so far, not so good.

And that’s why they’re under the scope at MMM (Monday Morning Manager, for all you un-cool people!)

The Day “The Bad Boys” Walked Out

“The Pistons knew, deep down, that they were thugs. They just didn’t care to be called out on it—especially by the Bulls and Jordan, who the Pistons looked at with disdain as he was being anointed as the next prince of the NBA.”

 

One by one they filed past the Chicago Bulls’ bench, with nary a glance at the opponents who had vanquished them. A couple of them were even sneering as they strode by the Bulls, who looked at them with a mix of amazement and incredulity.

The Pistons were losing without honor, without dignity.

But they were losing with disdain, and that was just fine with them, apparently.

It was 1991, just past Memorial Day. And the Pistons’ reign was ending.

Five straight years in the Eastern Conference Finals. Three victories in four appearances in the NBA’s Final Four. Could have been four straight, had it not been for a tragic pass in Boston in 1987.

The Bulls had been swatted out of the playoffs by the Pistons in 1988, 1989, and 1990. Each year, though, Michael Jordan’s boys from the Windy City inched closer to their nemesis.

In ’88, the Bulls were flicked off the Pistons’ shoulders in the conference semi-finals. In ’89, the conference finals in six games. In ’90, the conference finals in seven games.

And now, in ’91’s conference finals, the Bulls had catapulted themselves over the “Bad Boys.”
They ran the Pistons out of the building in Games 1 and 2, in Chicago. They ran them out of the building in Auburn Hills, too, in Game 3.

Game 4 was nearing its end. The Pistons were being run out of the building once more. This time literally.

It was reported, then later confirmed, that Isiah Thomas and Bill Laimbeer concocted the idea of walking off the court before the final seconds ticked off the clock.

Two of the Baddest Boys were, frankly, pissed off.

For three years they listened to the Bulls whine and complain about the roughhouse tactics the Pistons used on the basketball floor. The Bulls, and other teams, went to the papers and eventually the league with their concerns.

The Pistons were accused of being thugs. Bullies. Purveyors of a type of basketball that was deemed unseemly by the complainers.

It was mostly true. And the Pistons knew it.

But that’s how they won—with rugged defense and a “take no prisoners” style that doled out not just fouls, but often times sheer punishment.

The Pistons knew, deep down, that they were thugs. They just didn’t care to be called out on it—especially by the Bulls and Jordan, who the Pistons looked at with disdain as he was being anointed as the next prince of the NBA.

So the plan was discussed. If the Pistons looked to be losers in Game 4, they would stride off the court before time expired, with nary a handshake or a nod at the new champs of the East.

A bold, unmitigated show of disrespect. The Pistons may as well have spit at the Bulls’ feet as they walked by.

The TV cameras, of course, captured the display. The NBC announcers didn’t even really know what to say. No team had ever walked out in that fashion, leaving only the five players on the floor to remain as representatives.

Coach Chuck Daly maintained he knew nothing of the planned walkout. I believe him.

GM Jack McCloskey, who built the Bad Boys from scratch, taking most of the 1980s to do it, intercepted Thomas, Laimbeer, John Salley, Dennis Rodman, and the others as they made their way to the tunnel.

McCloskey, weeping openly, embraced each player tightly. He, too, knew that the Bad Boys Era of domination had ended.

A couple years ago, I asked McCloskey what he said to his players as they staged their dramatic early exit.

“I just thanked them,” he told me. “I thanked them for all that they did. We had a great run.”

One Pistons player didn’t join the walkout.

Joe Dumars stayed on the bench.

He would explain later that he didn’t quite know what to make of the display, and that he didn’t feel right participating in it.

T-shirts like this captured a league-wide view of “Bad Boy” Laimbeer

 

 This weekend, the Pistons will stage the beginning of the end of their run as conference finalists.

Six straight seasons the Pistons have made it to the NBA’s Final Four. Twice they’ve survived and qualified for the Finals.

That all comes to an end this spring.

The 39-43 Pistons figure to be nothing more than gnats in the face of LeBron James and his 66-16 Cleveland Cavaliers in the first round. The Pistons, the experts say, will be lucky to win even one game, much less the entire series.

I have them bowing out in five games, as well.

But unlike 1991, when the Pistons still appeared to be competitive, until the series with the Bulls began, this year’s squad has been sprouting red flags all season.

Even when they had a winning record around the turn of the year, everything seemed so much harder for them. The teams they should have been blowing out were giving the Pistons fits. There would be an occasional win over an elite team, but then one of the bottom feeders would come to The Palace and slap the Pistons around.

In the season’s second half, the Pistons played well below .500. At times, they appeared to be mailing in their efforts.

Now, of course, they talk bravely about having playoff experience and that it’s a new season and everyone is 0-0 again.

It’s all talk.

The Pistons are over with at being an elite conference team. You can see it coming this time, a mile away.

Dumars is the GM now. Like McCloskey, he’ll be near the court when the final horn sounds on the Pistons for the season, likely after either Game 4 or 5. When the final horn sounds on a fine run as a conference elitist.

Joe D. didn’t walk out on the Bulls, or his teammates on the floor, in the waning moments in 1991. It wasn’t in his nature.

But I’ll bet he privately congratulates the old guard—Tayshaun Prince, Rip Hamilton, Rasheed Wallace, Antonio McDyess—after the elimination. It’s fitting and proper to do so.

They thrilled us, that’s for sure.

Mason Gets His Playoff Baptism By Fire On Ice

“Even Osgood’s evil twin, who was in Detroit for most of the regular season, couldn’t have harmed the Red Wings in the third period, when the Blue Jackets mustered all of two shots on goal.”

Welcome to playoff hockey, Steve Mason.

Welcome to a world of pucks bouncing off thighs and arms and where your own teammate goes brain dead and flails at a shot with his glove in an ill-designed move.

Mason, the 20-year-old Columbus Blue Jackets goalie, made his playoff debut last night, and in twenty minutes in the middle frame, the kid found out what hockey in the post-season is all about–especially when your opponents are the Detroit Red Wings.

He found out that Tomas Holmstrom is such a force in front of the net that he causes pre-emptive efforts by the opposition to keep the puck from reaching the netminder.

I don’t know what else to say about Manny Malhotra’s feeble wave at Jonathan Ericsson’s shot from the point in the second period, which resulted in the puck being deflected just enough to flutter over Mason’s shoulder for a 2-1 Red Wings lead. It was Ericsson’s first career playoff goal.

Oh, I know what to say: that’s playoff hockey, Steve-o!

But it’s also what happens when you throw pucks at the net relentlessly and with little regard for the end result–as long as it hits the net somehow, some way.

Because before it hits the net, the puck is liable to hit something else, and that’s how Niklas Kronwall got his first career playoff goal.

Kronwall, after some pitch-and-catch following yet another Red Wings face off win, teed up from the point and fired. The waist-high shot brushed off a Blue Jacket’s elbow and again it was enough to redirect the puck past a beleaguered Mason. 3-1 Detroit.

But it wasn’t all ugly.

Jiri Hudler finished off a brilliant two-on-one with Valtteri Filppula to open the scoring, neatly zipping the puck along the ice before Mason could slide over.

Mason also learned that bloated regular season numbers, when listed beside a 36-year-old veteran netminder of three Stanley Cups (two as starting goalie), mean diddly squat.

Chris Osgood made good on his word–once again. How long before we start listening to the guy?

For much of the season’s second half, Osgood told us that he felt better mentally, felt better physically, and that it would all add up to him playing better.

“One thing I know how to do, is I know how to win playoff games,” Osgood told anyone who would listen back in February.

Not too many folks did, though. And they rarely have, in the past, when Osgood has shrugged off poor playoff performances and soft goals and vowed to be better the next time out.

Luckily, Osgood doesn’t much care if we listen to him or not. He just goes out there and makes us look silly for worrying to begin with.

You won’t find too many hand wringers today, in the wake of Osgood’s strong-as-garlic, 20-save performance, thirteen of which were made in the first period, when the proverbial tone was set.

Even Osgood’s evil twin, who was in Detroit for most of the regular season, couldn’t have harmed the Red Wings in the third period, when the Blue Jackets mustered all of two shots on goal.

Two.

The Red Wings keep up that kind of a force field around their own goal, then you could bring back Eddie Mio, circa 1986, and the Jackets will still be first round fodder.

OK, maybe I’m getting a little carried away. Eddie Mio? Forgive me.

But you get the idea.

We’ll see how the kid goalie handles things in Game 2. Doubtless, his teammates and coaches will remind him that three of the Red Wings’ four goals, he could do nothing about.

But here’s the thing. It doesn’t really matter if you can do anything about it or not, as a goalie. Pucks have a funny way of finding the twine in the playoffs. You just have to put it behind you and get ready for the next game. Osgood knows that better than almost anyone minding the net in this post-season.

Sometimes what goes on between a goalie’s ears is just as important as what takes place between the pipes.

Fidrych Never Stopped Being A Kid, And Nor Should We

“What should be hammered home, though–and thank goodness it is in the wake of this terrible news–is Fidrych’s love of life, despite his early flame out.”

Mark Fidrych can’t be dead. That’s like killing off fun.

Mark Fidrych can’t be dead. That’s like saying the sunshine is gone forever.

Mark Fidrych can’t be dead. That’s like announcing the death of the kid in all of us.

Fidrych, the person, died Monday afternoon, in an apparent accident at his farm in Massachusetts. They found him under one of his trucks, possibly trying to fix it, when things went horribly wrong.

But Fidrych, the spirit, is not dead. So rest easy.

It’s up to each and every one of us, though, to make sure that Fidrych doesn’t truly die.

Oh, to have such an outlook on life as The Bird did!

I had the good fortune, in more ways than one, to talk to Fidrych a couple years ago, for one of those “Where are they now?” magazine pieces.

I got his phone number at the farm and dialed. I got lucky, because Fidrych said he grabbed it on his way out the door.

“You’re lucky you caught me,” he said with a slight chuckle.

Indeed.

So Fidrych reminded me of the story of when he first found out he’d made the Tigers out of spring training in 1976.

“I went straight for the nearest pay phone and called my parents,” Fidrych related. “All I said was, ‘I’m goin’ north.’”

That’s all that needed to be said.

Then Fidrych talked about the night he shut down the mighty Yankees on Monday Night Baseball in June ‘76.

“I was driving down to the ballpark (“ballpahk”) with Tommy Veryzer,” Fidrych said. “Tommy says, ‘Well, kid, this is it–Monday Night Baseball.’ We got to the stadium and people are already lined up outside. I couldn’t believe it.

“Tommy says, ‘They’re not here to see Tom Veryzer play shortstop!’”

It’s all been chronicled time and again: Fidrych’s magical 1976 season, followed by an injured knee in spring training in ‘77, followed by another great run of pitching, followed by mysterious shoulder pain. Followed by the end of his career, after just 58 big league games.

What should be hammered home, though–and thank goodness it is in the wake of this terrible news–is Fidrych’s love of life, despite his early flame out.

Fidrych on the cover of Sports Illustrated as the Tigers got off to a strong start in 1978

It would have been easy to have turned bitter and very un-Bird-like once the shoulder betrayed him, and even more so when medical advancements that could have saved his career happened upon the scene just a year or two too late.

I’ve talked to many a big league player of the past, and a common theme is for them to grumble and snarl about the injustice of them playing in the era before free agency and the big bucks.

Some of them are so bitter, they make dark chocolate look sweet.

Fidrych never, that I know of, uttered one word of regret nor publicly felt sorry for himself, even though the thoughts of what he could have done in baseball if healthy tantalize the brain.

He always wanted to drive a truck, anyway. He said so, even during his rookie season.

So he did, and he bought a farm and developed some land and got married and had a daughter and made some appearances and that was fine and dandy with him.

I asked him, back in 2007, what he would like to say to the folks of Detroit.

“Thanks for sticking by me then, thanks for sticking by me now, and thanks for sticking by me in the future,” was his answer.

Too bad that “the future” has to be posthumously so soon.

So don’t suppress that kid inside of you. Now, more than ever.

“The Bird” will always be the word.

Nash, Jackets Not Showing Up Just To Be First Round Fodder

“‘We have the same goal as the other fifteen teams,’ Nash says. ‘We’re not happy to just be here (in the playoffs). Now that we’re in, we want to go far.’”

 

Not that the Red Wings and their admirers needed any reminders, but Rick Nash is nonetheless happy to reaffirm it.

The Columbus Blue Jackets aren’t happy to just be in the playoffs.

“We have the same goal as the other fifteen teams,” the Jackets’ star told us ink-stained wretches during an NHL conference call on Monday. “We’re not happy to just be here (in the playoffs). Now that we’re in, we want to go far.”

Nash has beaten the Red Wings like a drum over the past couple of regular seasons. He’s been, by far, the biggest reason (physically and otherwise) why the Jackets haven’t been a pushover for the Red Wings.

Now the Red Wings will have to deal with Nash and his teammates over the next week or so, as they begin their Stanley Cup defense against Columbus in Round One.

Nash acknowledged that he’s scored some goals against the Red Wings lately. He had six against them in six games this season.

“I’ve had some success against them in the past, but those [regular season games] don’t matter anymore.”

The Wings had better hope not!

If Nash continues to mesmerize the fellows wearing the Winged Wheel, especially goalie Chris Osgood, this series might have “upset” written all over it.

It’s not like Red Wings fans aren’t used to those kinds of ghoulish thoughts heading into the first round.

But if it makes them feel any better, I’ll let you in on something.

Columbus coach Ken Hitchcock has no idea what to expect, because he’s never been in this position before.

“This is all new to me,” Hitchcock said when I asked him what it’s like coaching an underdog in the playoffs. “I’m not really sure what to expect. Seems like forever I’ve been coaching teams with all the pressure on them. Now, to have no pressure…maybe it works to our advantage. But this is new to me.”

Hitchcock, don’t forget, coached the Dallas Stars to the 1999 Stanley Cup.

Speaking of first round upsets, Hitchcock said something else that might make Wings fans breathe a little easier.

I asked him if he subscribes to the theory that defending Stanley Cup champs are more vulnerable to being upset in the first round as opposed to in later rounds.

“No, I don’t subscribe to that theory at all,” Hitchcock told me. “I think the defending team is just as excited in the first round as they are in the later rounds. I think that if they lose, it’s because of the accumulation of all the wear and tear from the regular season and the playoffs, being the target.”

Both Nash and his coach talked about excitement. As in, the kind felt by the Jackets and their city, which Nash said is “very excited.”

“I think we have a lot of players who are awfully excited to be playing hockey at this time of year,” Hitchcock said.

“The fans are going to be crazy,” Nash added.

Nash: More than just a scorer under Hitchcock

Prior to Hitchcock arriving in Columbus in November 2006, Nash was a good player who was considered strictly an offensive threat and not much else.

“I was a 12, 13 minute guy,” Nash said of life pre-”Hitch”. “I didn’t kill any penalties. If we were up by a goal late in the game, I knew I wasn’t going to see any ice.”

But Hitchcock looked at Nash and saw something else: a complete hockey player–one who could, and should, be a team leader. And the only way to do that, Hitchcock told Nash, is to do it all.

“He wanted me to be one of the best players in the league, on both ends of the ice,” Nash said of his coach.

Mission accomplished. The Jackets now use Nash’s size (6′4″, 218) defensively as well as in the attacking zone.

The Red Wings won the Cup last year largely because, in each round, they were able to bottle up the opposing team’s big guns. Their job on Sydney Crosby in the Finals was as close to a masterpiece as you’re going to see.

I put it to Nash: How might you handle it, if the goals don’t come as easily against the Red Wings in the playoffs as they have in the regular season?

“I try not to get too high or too low. I’ve been on streaks where I don’t score for eight, nine games,” he said. “But if that happens, maybe I can make some nice passes, kill some penalties, make some good defensive plays.

“This the playoffs. Everyone needs to chip in.”

So true. But if Nash finds himself in an eight, nine game goal-scoring slump during a seven-game series…well, it doesn’t take a mathematician to see why that’s a bad thing for Columbus.

Like so many Red Wings opponents in the playoffs–especially in the first round–the Jackets will try to rely on defense to win.

“We’re gonna have our hands full. They’re a great team,” Nash says of the Red Wings. “We can’t fall into their style. They’re the most skilled team in the league. We need to play our style—defensive. That’s the only way we’re going to have a chance in this series.”

Defense, shmefense. Nash has to score a little bit, or the Jackets will be removed.

The playoff rookie Nash, and the newly-underdog coach Hitchcock will realize that soon enough.

Four More Years, Four More Years??

I’m taking my birthday off.

Well, actually, it’s not my birthday, per se, but this blog’s.

Four years ago yesterday, “Out of Bounds” debuted, with this post about Tiger Woods.

1,211 posts later, here we are, at birthday number four.

I’ll save you a piece of cake, I promise.

Thanks for reading, thanks for commenting, and thanks for linking to me.

Now, whether you approve or not, I’m re-electing myself.

Four more years!

God willing.

Monday Morning Manager

Week of 4/6-12: 4-3
This week: 4/13-15: CWS; 4/17-19: at Sea

Monday Morning Manager is back! Yes, my weekly take on the Tigers, appearing here every Monday, returns now that the regular season has kicked off.

But instead of freehand prose, I’m going to segment it — to make it easier for me, frankly. And, I hope, to be more interesting to you, as well.

Enjoy!

Goat of the Week

Relief pitcher Brandon Lyon, and I hope he doesn’t appear in this space very often — nor anyone in the Tigers’ pen. That wouldn’t be a good sign.

But Lyon earned Goat status, big time, for taking Edwin Jackson’s gem last Tuesday in Toronto and defecating all over it.

Dishonorable mention goes to manager Jim Leyland, for getting bullpen happy to begin with, when Jackson seemed to have things under control.

Texas manager Ron Washington pulled the same stunt Sunday, when he obliged the Tigers by removing starter Kevin Millwood, who was cruising along.

Why managers don’t make the other team knock their starters out of the game, instead of meekly removing them, thus taking the other team’s hitters off the hook, is a mystery to me.

Hero of the Week

You’d think it would be 1B Miguel Cabrera, who blistered the ball out of the gate and who grand slammed the team to victory in the home opener.

But the choice here is 3B Brandon Inge, who was brilliant with the glove, as usual, but also clutch at the plate — not so usual. Inge bookended the six-run rally in the eighth inning Sunday, starting it off with a home run then capping it with a two-run single that put the Tigers ahead.

Inge already has four homers this season, including one in each of the team’s first three games.

Anyone can pick Cabrera as Hero. He’ll get plenty of shout outs.

This week was Inge’s.

Quick scouting reports: White Sox and Mariners

The White Sox are a team in transition, trying to get younger without falling out of contention in the hotly contested Central Division. They’re trying some kids in the infield and are hoping to squeeze some more production out of aging vets like Jermaine Dye, A.J. Pierzynski, and Jim Thome.

The pitching in Chicago is still good, though — and they have closer Bobby Jenks.

The Mariners are beyond transition; they’re in full rebuilding mode.

But flying in the face of the rebuild is the return of Junior — Ken Griffey Jr.

The M’s brought Griffey back to provide some veteran presence and, let’s face it, a boost to the box office. Griffey is a sure-fire Hall of Famer, and his return to Seattle is a boon to the fans in the Pacific Northwest.

But they’d better enjoy Griffey, because the rest of the team isn’t much.

Under the microscope

Lyon. With the rest of the bullpen on a roll — 24 straight batters retired — Lyon will stick out like a sore thumb if he doesn’t start getting guys out. His struggles extend back to the second half of last season, and reared their heads in the second half of spring training last month.

Remember him surrendering four straight homers against the Red Sox?

Lyon is as advertised: a late-innings reliever who “pitches to contact”, i.e. he doesn’t strike guys out. Another Todd Jones type.

And that’s fine, except the contact has been pretty solid for too long now.

Add Adenhart To List Of Angels’ Tragedies

“Adenhart’s death, if anything, proves there’s a curse of greater proportions than some silly sports thing. The curse of drunk driving.”

 

Jim Adenhart took the mound on Thursday. But he didn’t throw a pitch. Maybe he threw a fit—and you could hardly blame him.

Adenhart was in the stands Wednesday night at Angel Stadium, watching his 22-year-old son Nick make his season debut, starting for the Los Angeles Angels against the Oakland A’s.

Nick did pretty well; six strong innings. It was the first time he made an Opening Day roster.

Six hours after confounding the A’s, Nick Adenhart went dancing with some friends at a club. On the way home, the vehicle Adenhart was traveling in as a passenger was broadsided at an intersection, by a drunk driver. He died in surgery a short while later.

So the day after that, Nick’s dad, a retired Secret Service agent, strode onto the mound and reflected. The stadium was empty. Wearing a red Angels sweatshirt, Jim Adenhart was seen covering his eyes briefly with one hand.

Why do these things keep happening to the Angels?

1968. Pitcher Minnie Rojas is paralyzed for life in a car accident that claims the lives of two of his three children.

1972. Infielder Chico Ruiz was killed in a single-car accident, just a few weeks before spring training with his new team, the Kansas City Royals. Ruiz played 1970-71 with the Angels.

1977. Infielder Mike Miley, also killed in a car accident, at age 23.

1978. Outfielder Lyman Bostock, hours after a game in Chicago, was killed in a drive-by shooting when he had the misfortune of being in the backseat of a car that was fired upon, in Gary, Ind.

1989. Former pitcher Donnie Moore shot and killed himself, three years after giving up a crucial home run in the playoffs that cost his team a series victory. Moore blamed himself for the loss.

1992. Twelve Angels players and manager Buck Rodgers were injured (Rodgers suffered a broken ribs and knee and elbow injuries and had to take a leave of absence) when their team bus crashed on the New Jersey Turnpike.

2009. Nick Adenhart, 22, among three killed in a hit-and-run by a drunk driver, who fled on foot but who was caught about thirty minutes later.

“Curse” is a strong word, and overused. It smacks of voodoo and karma and other things of the unexplained.

We toss it around carelessly, when we talk about sports.

The Lions are “cursed”, folks say, thanks to some alleged words casually said by quarterback Bobby Layne after being traded in 1958. Not true, but you wouldn’t know it.

The Chicago Cubs are “cursed”, thanks to a local tavern owner, who was prevented from bringing his pet goat into the 1945 World Series and who displayed his anger by casting a curse on the franchise. Billy Sianis was mad, for sure, and his words have indeed been verified.

But, look—do ordinary people have the power to levy curses on anyone, let alone entire sports franchises?

Could I, for example, in a fit of anger at a restaurant, stand in the parking lot, shake my fist at the place, and say, “I hereby curse this restaurant from ever turning a profit ever again!”?

I’d be scared to death if we lived in a world where that’s all it took to turn all of us into potential victims of verbal voodoo dolls.

Get cut off in traffic? Curse the boob in the other car.

Someone taking too long at the ATM in front of you? Curse them.

So what makes Layne and Sianis so special? How did they manage to assume the power of some sort of god or idol?

Answer: they’re not. And they didn’t.

The Lions haven’t won a championship since Layne’s trade, and the Cubs haven’t been back to the World Series since Sianis’s tirade because of poor personnel decisions, bad management, bad coaching, and the simple competitive nature of professional sports, which only crowns one winner per year anyway. Ninety-nine percent of the teams aren’t going to win in any given year.

The Angels have suffered more than their share of tragedies, it would appear. But they are not cursed. Why would they be? Who would have done it to them?

Funny, but I didn’t hear any talk of a curse when the Angels won the 2002 World Series, coming back from a 3-2 series deficit to upend the San Francisco Giants.

Adenhart’s death, if anything, proves there’s a curse of greater proportions than some silly sports thing.

The curse of drunk driving. Now there’s something to truly wring your hands about.

Or how about the curse of all these mass shootings that have been plaguing the country lately?

The curse of unemployment. The curse of war.

And on and on.

Nick Adenhart: 1986-2009

So no one cursed the Angels. Bobby Layne didn’t curse the Lions. Billy Sianis didn’t curse the Cubs.

OK?

Still, I feel for the Angels organization. There really have been too many of these sad incidents for one franchise. But it’s just bad luck, plain and simple.

Jim Adenhart, in his role with the Secret Service, was part of the force whose charge was to keep the most important man in the world safe and sound.

Lord knows how many people have cursed the President of the United States.

In our 233-year history as a nation, we’ve lost four presidents to assassination.

I’d say the Secret Service does a pretty good job.

All those years protecting the president, yet Jim Adenhart was powerless to keep his kid from getting killed by a drunk on the road.

I wonder if that was among the things he thought about when he took the mound in an empty Angel Stadium, wearing his son’s team‘s colors.

Probably came to him in that moment when he covered his eyes with his hand.

Cabrera Doing Nothing To Quiet MVP Talk (Mine)

“It’s frightening, really, to think of the kind of numbers Cabrera might put up this year, and for his career.”

A few weeks ago, I pumped for Miguel Cabrera as league MVP. My reasoning was that, with one year in the American League under his belt — a year in which Cabrera himself admitted to being uncomfortable in the beginning — Miggy would really inflict some damage. After all, Cabrera smacked 37 homers and added 127 RBI in all his discomfort.

What I didn’t know was that Cabrera would clinch the award before the season’s first weekend was barely underway.

Cabrera has begun the 2009 season as if the opposing pitchers tinkled in his corn flakes.

The Texas Rangers were Miggy’s latest victims, today on Opening Day.

Cabrera drove in six more runs, including home run No. 3, a grand slam, and a blistering two-run double to deep left.

After five games, Cabrera is 11-for-18 (.611 BA) with 3 HR, 10 RBI.

I guess he’s comfortable now.

The folks at Fox Sports Detroit put up a graphic on the screen today. It displayed the five leaders in slugging percentage since last July in the majors. Cabrera was third, at .635.

He’s slugging at almost double that percentage right now.

One week doesn’t an MVP make — normally. But after watching Miggy Cabrera terrorize pitchers Monday thru Friday this week, I’m ready to hand him the award right now.

Ah, but don’t forget Chris Shelton, you might say!

Remember Shelton, Big Red? Remember his torrid opening week in 2006? Shelton, after the season’s first nine games, had seven homers and was batting .512.

Worst thing that ever happened to that kid.

Shelton thought he was a power hitter after that opening onslaught, and it screwed up his stroke for the rest of the season. Maybe the rest of his career.

No such worries with Cabrera, though.

He’s only 25 (he’ll turn 26 in eight days), but this is already his sixth full season. Shelton was still a relatively new big leaguer when he had his jackrabbit start in 2006.

It’s frightening, really, to think of the kind of numbers Cabrera might put up this year, and for his career.

Going into this season, Miggy had 138 home runs. You figure he has 10-12 good years left, if he stays healthy. At 30-35 homers a year, he’s got a great chance at 500, or more. Maybe wayyy more.

It’s fun to see a player of Cabrera’s magnitude be this locked in this early. Because unlike with someone like Shelton (no disrespect, Big Red), you know that this isn’t some fluke. Cabrera is off to a terrific start because he’s a terrific player.

The rest of the American League, beware.

Memo to the league office: I wouldn’t wait too long to order the engraving.

Pistons Have Nothing To Lose In Playoffs

“The Pistons might not win a round, as they’ll likely be matched up against either the Celtics or the Cavs, but they’re a wounded bunch who are among the dregs in the tournament, a position they aren’t used to.”

In 2005, it was the possibility of repeating as NBA Champs, and all the spoils that go with being a back-to-back winner. It was also merely the backdrop for the drama of whether their coach was going to flee after the season. The coach made sure of that.

In 2006, it was the supposed hunger to grab back what they believed was theirs — the NBA title that had been snatched from them in a bitter, heartbreaking seven-game series the year before.

In 2007, it was the supposed hunger to grab back what they believed was theirs — status as the best team in the East, at least.

In 2008, it was the supposed hunger to show those Celtics in Boston that they weren’t all that.

The Pistons have concocted all sorts of motivators in the playoffs in recent years. They’ve fancied themselves as the hunted, and vowed that they’d, in the end, have enough to suppress the malnourished teams who would come at them.

In 2006 it was Dwyane Wade and the Miami Heat, unsatiable until D-Wade could lift the Larry O’Brien Trophy. Before that, LeBron James’s Cleveland Cavaliers scared the pants off the Pistons with their brand of hunger in the conference semifinals.

In 2007 King James and his court kicked the door down in the conference finals, stomping past the Pistons, who assured us that it wouldn’t happen.

Last year, the Pistons played an inspired Game 2 in Boston in the Final Four, then curiously laid an egg on their home court in Game 3, when they had a chance to steal momentum in the series. Then, after again assuring us that all would be well, the Pistons let the Celtics dominate them and take control in the fourth quarter of Game 6, also at home, thus ending the series.

That was the performance that so disgusted GM Joe Dumars that he was determined not to bring back the same crew the following season.

Well, he did, but not for long–trading Chauncey Billups for Allen Iverson, straight up, in early November. That hasn’t worked out too well, on the court. Financially, we’ll see.

This year, we’ll finally get to see what the Pistons can do in the playoffs when absolutely nothing is expected of them.

No grand illusions of a seventh straight trip to the conference finals.

No target on their back, and complaints that everyone is out to get them.

No real belief by much of the fan base that the Pistons can even win one round.

This scenario hasn’t played itself out since 2000, when the Pistons were big underdogs to the Miami Heat in the first round. It was Grant Hill’s last hurrah in Detroit. He played on a torn up ankle, but it wasn’t enough.

Nobody expected anything from the Pistons in 2000, and they sure as heck aren’t expecting anything from them now.

Which is why no one should want to play them in the playoffs.

The Pistons might not win a round, as they’ll likely be matched up against either the Celtics or the Cavs, but they’re a wounded bunch who are among the dregs in the tournament, a position they aren’t used to.

They have nothing to lose.

They will now get to see how the other half lives. And they might have more fun doing it.

Footloose and fancy free. That kind of playoff basketball hasn’t been played in The Palace in years — except by the visitors.

MJ An Obvious Hall Of Famer, But Not The Best Player Ever

“I’ll bottom line you here: if given a blank roster with 12 slots to fill, which player, throughout history, would you select as your No. 1 draft choice?”

Michael Jordan got himself elected into the basketball Hall of Fame. Imagine that.

It rekindles a debate over whether MJ is the best player who ever laced up a sneaker.

I’ll give Jordan this: he’s the best player I ever saw — who stuck his tongue out while he played.

Beyond that, I’m not so sure.

I’m older than most of the Internet sqwonks who chatter on the Web about sports. I am, at age 45, on the cusp of being outside the main demographic of Internet users — that coveted 18-to-45 year-old person.

So it’s natural that whenever one of the younger sqwonks touts Jordan as the best ever, they don’t have much of a response when I ask them if they’ve heard of Oscar Robertson. Or Elgin Baylor. Or heck, George Mikan.

But they do recall Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. And Wilt Chamberlain. Not all that well or with all that much respect, but they’ve heard of those guys, at least.

I’ll bottom line you here: if given a blank roster with 12 slots to fill, which player, throughout history, would you select as your No. 1 draft choice?

You’d be a fool to start such a team with Jordan.

Stick Abdul-Jabbar in the middle, and NOW you’re talking.

Nobody scored more points in NBA history than Kareem, though I’m not foolish enough to say that’s reason enough to pick him as the greatest player ever. After all, Jordan retired a few times and thus may have made up most if not all of the 6,000+ points deficit he has with Jabbar. But Kareem scored his 38,387 points without the benefit of three-pointers.

So it is fact; Kareem is the highest-scoring player in league history. And it sorta has to do with the fact that once he got the ball, you really couldn’t stop him.

Remember the sky hook?

Alcindor/Kareem, about to school Wilt

Kareem entered the league in 1969, a 7-foot-2 beanpole from the streets of New York who went across the country to play for John Wooden at UCLA.

Finally, someone in the league that even the seven-footer Chamberlain had to look up to.

The Milwaukee Bucks were a typical NBA expansion team in 1968-69; read: awful. They won 27 games, lost 55.

Then they drafted Kareem number one in ‘69.

The Bucks won 56 games with the rookie Jabbar, then known as Lew Alcindor, playing center for them and confounding opponents who had no real clue how to defend him. Chamberlain was pretty unstoppable, too. Wilt averaged 50 points a game one season, scoring an even 100 in one contest alone.

But Wilt wasn’t very mobile, nor did he have the moves that Alcindor possessed. One of Wilt’s former coaches, Butch van Breda Kolff, said that if the basketball court was made of grass, Wilt would have worn out a one square foot patch.

Kareem had the sky hook, about as unstoppable of a shot as you’ll ever see. He could rebound, and pass. It was essential, playing for Wooden, that big men be able to pass. Bill Walton, following Kareem at UCLA, was another great passing center.

This might be an apples and oranges thing, though — comparing the guard Jordan to the center Jabbar. But it’s always apples and oranges when you’re going in search of the best player ever in any sport.

Jordan was fantastic. No question. Just because a player isn’t No. 1 overall in history, doesn’t mean he can’t play.

I just don’t think that Jordan, at 6-6, could have led the ‘69 Bucks to a thirty-win improvement, as the 7-2 Jabbar did.

It’s a tall man’s game, the NBA is. Always has been. Size and talent in the middle has been essential, for the most part, for every championship team that’s ever played.

I could spend some time arguing that The Big O, Robertson, was as good or better than Jordan, in Oscar’s prime. In 1961-62, Robertson averaged 30.8 points, 12.5 rebounds, and 11.4 assists. A triple double — average. And in two other seasons, Robertson came decimal points away from doing it again. Oh, and he shot 48.5% for his career and about 84% from the free throw line.

But I’ll stick with Kareem if I’m starting a team from scratch. The Big O and MJ have to have someone to pass to, after all. May as well be the best player who’s ever graced an NBA hardwood.

Opening Night Should Be For Broadway, Not Baseball

“There are people who flock downtown on Opening Day who have no intention of attending the game itself. And there are folks who intended to pass thru the turnstiles, but somehow couldn’t pull themselves away from the pubs.”

Jim Bouton put it best in his book, Ball Four.

Depending on how you feel about it, it’s either Opening Day or opening day.

I guess we’ll file last night’s Tigers loss under the latter.

That’s OK; to me, the “real” opening day, thus making it Opening Day, occurs when the Tigers play their first game at home. Season openers that start on the road, and at night, never did much for me.

Opening Day is just that — an event during the day.

I’m trying to imagine the atmosphere around Toronto’s domed ballpark yesterday. First pitch around 7:15. Crowds begin gathering sometime after 5:00; why play hooky from school or work, after all, when you can put in a day’s work and then head down to the ballpark?

That’s not Opening Day!! That’s opening day — opening night, to be more accurate.

The NBA has opening night. So does the NHL. And broadway. Not baseball.

Baseball should have Opening Day, like we have it in Detroit.

A genuine need to call off for the day. Shocking the system with some alcoholic suds before noon time. Loitering outside the ballpark under the sun (hopefully), not the moon.

We do it better in Detroit than just about anywhere else — Opening Day, that is.

Granted, having a domed stadium means you don’t have to worry about the cold weather conditions, as far as the playing on the field goes, when you throw an opening night.

The playing off the field, though, could use as much help as it can get. And that means gambling on a little daytime warmth, if there’s any to be had.

There are people who flock downtown on Opening Day who have no intention of attending the game itself. And there are folks who intended to pass thru the turnstiles, but somehow couldn’t pull themselves away from the pubs.

The Tigers lost, 12-5. Justin Verlander got smoked. It wasn’t a great start to the season.

Doesn’t matter. One down, 161 to go. There’s always today. That’s what’s great about baseball; you can usually try to right your wrongs within 24 hours.

I don’t have any use for opening nights. The Tigers have three more night games in Toronto, then it’s home on Friday. For Opening Day.

The way God meant it to be.

Like Daly, Babcock Just Another Great Coach Who Goes Unfeted

“Babcock displayed his coaching genius in last year’s playoffs when he sat goalie Dominik Hasek down in a 2-2 first round series. It was a bold move, predicated on the belief/hunch that Chris Osgood gave the Red Wings a better chance to win, at that moment.”

Mike Babcock is the best coach in the NHL, yet he’ll likely never win Coach of the Year honors.

Such is how coaches and managers are viewed.

You may as well rename the COY award the “Most Improved Team and So Here’s an Award for their Coach” Award.

There’s a fallacy that great teams can’t seem to be coached by great coaches. Or, at the very least, great teams would be great no matter who coaches them.

Baloney.

Sparky Anderson, his critics said, only needed to possess a pen when he managed the Reds. That’s all that was required to write in the names of Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Johnny Bench and the rest every day.

Sparky’s Big Red Machine — that could have been managed by anyone and the results would have been the same.

Again, baloney.

If that was the case, if only the most talented teams won championships year after year, then we would be spared the drama of actually having the games be played.

We’d simply feed every team’s roster into a computer and have it declare the champion for that year.

I won’t deny or disparage the coach who coaxes maximum results from a talent-challenged personnel group. There’s no doubt that it takes a special effort to turn ugly ducklings into beautiful swans, in one year’s time.

Jacques Demers arrived from St. Louis in 1986, about to take over a Red Wings team that won all of 17 games and totaled 40 points the season before. Demers surprised the Blues with his defection, but he decided that the challenge and opportunity to work for Mike Ilitch was too good to pass up.

The Red Wings improved from 40 points to 78 points in Demers’s first year and made it to the Final Four. He won the Jack Adams Award for best coach. Then, the next season, Demers again led the Red Wings to the Final Four, despite losing Steve Yzerman for the last month of the season and the first two rounds of the playoffs to a knee injury. Once again, the NHL honored Demers with the Jack Adams.

Were there better coaches, with more talent, who should have edged Demers out in one of those two years? Probably yes, especially the second time.

As long as Babcock keeps sipping champagne from Cups, I suppose he won’t sweat not winning any Jack Adams Awards

Chuck Daly never sniffed a COY award with the Pistons, even though I’d have no one else on my sidelines if I was an NBA owner in the mid-1980s to early-1990s. Pat Riley was another who was annually snubbed, coaching the Lakers.

How come the Atlanta Braves could win 15 straight divisional titles yet only one World Series?

How could the talented Tigers finish 74-88 in 2008?

Or how about any team with star players who just can’t mesh and jell?

There was no man who was more qualified to coach the Pistons championship teams than Daly.

“Daddy Rich” correctly understood one thing. A tenet that should be made into a placard and mounted on the wall in every NBA coach’s office in the country.

“You’re not just coaching players,” Daly once intoned. “You’re managing twelve corporations.”

Not only did Daly understand that, he put it into practice. The Bad Boys Pistons, had they been under the charge of a lesser coach, could have imploded.

Perhaps the greatest testament to Daly’s brilliance occurred when GM Jack McCloskey put his coach on the spot by trading Adrian Dantley for the volatile Mark Aguirre.

Trader Jack did it to Chuck on Valentines Day, 1989, the playoffs about two months away. Not much time to integrate Aguirre, who had a bad rep, into the scheme of things.

No worries. Daly’s players, on their own, took Aguirre out to dinner almost as soon as he reported for duty. But this was no congratulatory, feel-good meal.

Led by Isiah Thomas and Bill Laimbeer, the Pistons contingent let Aguirre know, in no uncertain terms, what was expected of him in Detroit. They made sure Aguirre was aware that this wasn’t Dallas, from where he came. Aguirre wasn’t going to be “the guy” any longer.

Fit in, or else.

Laimbeer was the most pointed.

“The only reason I’m giving you a chance is because you’re Isiah’s friend,” Laimbeer was reported to have said to Aguirre at the dinner. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have anything to do with you. I’ve heard a lot of bad things.”

The Pistons players did this on behalf of their coach because they believed in Daly and what he had put together.

Think that happens every day?

Yesterday, Mike Babcock became the first coach in NHL history to win 50 games in the first four years with a new team. He joins Scotty Bowman, no less, as the only other coach to win 50 games four times in a row, period.

Babcock displayed his coaching genius in last year’s playoffs when he sat goalie Dominik Hasek down in a 2-2 first round series. It was a bold move, predicated on the belief/hunch that Chris Osgood gave the Red Wings a better chance to win, at that moment.

Babcock may have won the Stanley Cup for the Red Wings with that decision — one that very few coaches in the league would have had the cojones to make.

But Babcock won’t win the Jack Adams Award this year. Just like he didn’t win it last year (he was a finalist but finished third). And like he won’t win it next year.

Ironic, that the award is named for a Red Wings coach, isn’t it?

Bo Told Frieder Where To Go Before ‘89 Tourney

“‘A Michigan man will coach Michigan!’ Bo famously declared. And in his eyes, Bill Frieder was only partly a Michigan man, now that he’d accepted another job, effective at the end of the season.”

Bo Schembechler wasn’t the athletic director at the University of Michigan for very long. But, not surprisingly, it was long enough for him to make his mark.

And that’s all Bo needed to make his mark as athletic director with so little time on the job.

It was 20 years ago to the day, as I write this, when the Michigan Wolverines won the NCAA basketball tournament.

They did it under the guidance of an assistant coach, because Bo told the head coach where to go and exactly when.

Now!

The U-M team of 1989 is getting the short shrift around town. Much of the ballyhoo, and it’s hard to argue it, centers around the 30^th anniversary of the 1979 champs from Michigan State. The Magic Johnson-Larry Bird battle of ’79; MSU vs. Indiana State. The start of a beautiful rivalry, one that carried over into the NBA.

The fact that MSU now appears in the 2009 Final Four, 30 years later, in Detroit no less, does absolutely nothing to abate the nostalgia.

Nor should it.

While the drama in the ’79 tournament occurred on the court, the storyline in 1989 got rolling before any of the teams played a single tourney minute.

Bo was about ready to retire as Michigan’s football coach. He was going to coach one more year. But from 1988 to early 1990, Schembechler added A.D. to his title.

So in 1989, Bo found himself in the spotlight even though it was basketball season. He didn’t go looking for it, though.

The Wolverines were coached by Bill Frieder, and had been since 1981. The basketball program had some success under Frieder. The man could recruit. He began pilfering most of the best high school talent from Detroit and Flint, two of the state’s basketball hotbeds. Sometimes right from under the nose of Jud Heathcote, coaching at rival MSU.

Michigan won the 1984 NIT title, the saccharin to the NCAA tournament’s sugar. It was a nice little championship, but not the big prize that the folks in Ann Arbor had in mind when they saw one great high school player after the other enroll.

The 1988-89 team piqued the hopes of the Michigan faithful.

Led by guard Rumeal Robinson and forward Glen Rice, U-M went 21-6 in the regular season. Frieder’s kids were one of the top-seeded units going into the tournament.

The college coach leaving one school to go to another is a drama frequently played out. I’ve always found it odd that when players choose to transfer, they must sit out one entire season before they can play for their new school. Yet coaches can come and go as they please. Sometimes without the inconvenience of having to tell the truth about their plans.

Darryl Rogers, in 1980, promised the folks in East Lansing that the scuttlebutt of him fleeing to the desert to coach football at Arizona State was a bunch of hooey. And he kept asserting that, almost to the moment that he boarded a plane for a press conference at ASU.

Nick Saban, a couple years ago, angry and his voice full of indignation, became defensive when reporters quizzed him about rumors that he was about to become the new football coach at Alabama. Saban assured the pesky reporters, and his employers, the Miami Dolphins, that there was no fire near that smoke.

A few days later, Saban was at Alabama, being introduced as the Crimson Tide’s new coach.

But that’s OK; just as long as the kids sit out a year at their new school.

Coach Frieder, with Glen Rice–before finding out that honesty wasn’t always the best policy

Even Schembechler, in the early-1980s, found himself being courted, by Texas A&M. But Bo was forthright, and didn’t deny the rumors. In fact, he went out of his way to let everyone know that he was thinking about it, hard.

So when Billy Frieder told his boss, Bo, on the eve of the ’89 tournament that an offer had been made for him to coach at Arizona State, and that he’d be taking the job as soon as he got done coaching the Wolverines, Schembechler blew a gasket.

Bo fired Frieder, on the spot.

“A Michigan man will coach Michigan!” Bo famously declared. And in his eyes, Bill Frieder was only partly a Michigan man, now that he’d accepted another job, effective at the end of the season.

Assistant Steve Fisher was named interim coach, for as long as U-M would last in the tourney.

The “Michigan man” quote is legendary, and followed Schembechler to his death in 2006. It was practically used as part of his epitaph.

Now here’s the funny part: Frieder was a U-M grad. Fisher was not.

That’s OK; why should the facts get in the way of a good rah-rah speech?

So Steve Fisher, who few people had ever heard of even though he was in his seventh year as a Michigan assistant, was, in an instant, the U-M coach for the tournament.

A–ahem–”Michigan man.” Kinda, sorta.

Steve Fisher: nobody could beat his coaching debut

The tournament commenced—Frieder kicked to the curb, the unknown Fisher coaching.

Michigan won their first round game. Then their second. In the Sweet Sixteen, Michigan continued to roll. In the game that sent them into the Final Four, U-M demolished Virginia, 102-65. All while A.D. Bo Schembechler grinned. His “Michigan man” was 4-0, two victories away from the brass ring.

In the Final Four, Michigan would have to face Illinois, who beat them twice in the Big Ten season. They say it’s hard to beat a team three times in one season. They were right; Michigan slipped by Illinois. They were in the championship game.

“Michigan man” Fisher was now 5-0.

Finally, some drama ON the court, in the Final against Seton Hall. The game went into overtime. Robinson calmly hit two clutch free throws. Michigan won, 80-79. They were champs, under the interim Fisher.

Bo smiled some more.

For his efforts, Fisher was rewarded by Bo with an offer to drop the “interim” tag from his title. And Fisher, soon afterward, recruited the Fab Five and made it to two more championship games, though he lost them both.

But Fisher was forced to resign in 1997, the school rocked by the Ed Martin donation scandal that involved members of the Fab Five.

A true “Michigan man”, the kind that Bo Schembechler knew of, would never have gotten the university entangled in such a scandalous web.

Bill Frieder, U-M class of 1964, never did.

All Frieder was guilty of was being honest with his boss about a job offer.

Dumars’s Junk Drawer About To Get A New Item

“Seven games remain, and it’s looking good that the Pistons’ losses will outnumber their wins, and that hasn’t happened since the 2000-01 season.”

Joe Dumars now has an addition to his junk drawer.

You know what a junk drawer is. Likely, you have one at home. And it’s no doubt filled with loose batteries and balls of string and maybe an odd pair of pliers or a Phillips head screwdriver or two. Maybe a plastic part to something that you have no idea what it is. An old, folded up photo.

Dumars, the Pistons president and GM, would open his junk drawer and here’s what he’d see.

A number two overall draft pick.

A mis-drafted point guard from Michigan State.

A mis-drafted guard from North Carolina-Charlotte.

A mistakenly signed free agent from Michigan.

And, one more for the drawer: a future Hall of Famer from Georgetown.

Allen Iverson is destined to be added to Dumars’s junk drawer, in which is jostling around Darko Milicic (and he’s taking up the most space, btw), Mateen Cleaves, Rodney White, and Chris Webber.

Iverson is no longer the fancy-shmancy grandfather clock that impresses visitors as soon as they walk into your home. His parts are soon to be broken down and its fragments ending up in the junk drawer, out of sight — only to function as a reminder of what once was, whenever you open the drawer.

The Chauncey Billups-for-Allen Iverson trade, if it was supposed to be a trade to help the Pistons this season, can now be officially declared a bust. A flat out failure.

Billups has played magnificently in Denver, leading the Nuggets to now be included in the same breath as the Spurs and the Lakers as possible Western reps in the NBA Finals. Chauncey, by all accounts, has fit in wonderfully with the ‘Gets and is “making his teammates better”, that old line.

The words coming out of Detroit re: Iverson aren’t very pleasant.

Unhappy. Frustrated. Disillusioned.

And those are the fans.

Iverson is threatening retirement now — his latest salvo as he goes kicking and screaming to the bench, having been removed from the starting lineup.

When A.I. bounced into town last November, he started talking right away about winning a championship. It was the only thing conspicuously missing from his resume. The talk made some sense, because even though the Pistons had slipped a bit, they were still riding a six-year Eastern Conference Finals streak. Maybe Iverson, indeed, was the missing piece to the puzzle.

But all talk of championships is now folly. The Pistons, today, just hope to qualify for the playoffs.

Seven games remain, and it’s looking good that the Pistons’ losses will outnumber their wins, and that hasn’t happened since the 2000-01 season. Ironically, the season in which Iverson’s Philadelphia 76ers made the NBA Finals. Iverson hasn’t been close to returning since, just as the Pistons haven’t been close to a losing season since then.

Well, Iverson still isn’t going to sniff the Finals this spring. That’s quite clear.

But if the Iverson trade, as I wrote here shortly after it was made, is part of Dumars’s grand financial plan as he postures for the huge free agent class of 2010, then maybe it wasn’t supposed to be for this season as much as it was to free up some dough. Iverson’s huge contract can now be used to pare the Pistons’ payroll this summer, should he not re-sign. Which he won’t. Neither party, I suspect, wants the other.

Dumars, normally very available to the media, has been unusually quiet this season. Maybe it’s in deference to his rookie coach, Michael Curry. Maybe Dumars doesn’t want to be overshadowing.

Or maybe he just doesn’t know what to say. Or HAVE anything to say. What can you utter, really, when such a high-profile trade explodes in your face, like one of those cartoon sticks of dynamite?

And what do WE say, once the smoke from the explosion clears, to a man whose hair is filled with soot and whose eyebrows have been burned off and who’s coughing out smoke?

What would you say to Wile E. Coyote? Or Moe from the Three Stooges? Or Stan Laurel or Oliver Hardy, in such a situation?

Only one thing to say, really.

Didn’t you know that that stick of dynamite with the burning fuse was going to blow?

Now, just shove it into the junk drawer, for posterity.

Red Wings Need Nik Kronwall On The Ice, Not On A Milk Carton

“Kronwall, for whatever reason, hasn’t been the player this season as he was last year.”

 

Where’s Niklas Kronwall these days? Where’s he been keeping himself?

I hope he’s well. Been a long time. Next time you happen upon him, tell him I said hi, and that we all miss him.

Oh, and tell him that the doppelganger that’s been filling in for him this season can’t hold a candle to the real deal.

If the Red Wings are to repeat as Stanley Cup champs — and no team has done that since the ‘98 Wings — or if they even hope to repeat getting out of the first round, then they’re going to need better play from the rear guard, as the old-time hockey people say. Translated: the defensemen.

Much of the onus has, once again, been placed on the goalies. Correction, goalie — singular. As in Chris Osgood, specifically. Fine. Ozzie has been less than stellar, though he’s playing better as of late.

But what of the guys playing in front of him, and backup Ty Conklin? They get a free pass?

The Red Wings have given up goals this season at a startling, non-Red Wings-like rate. About three per game, and I can’t even remember the last time that happened around here. Not for a full season, anyway.

I’m picking on Kronwall, though — because I feel he’s the biggest offender among the defenders.

The Red Wings got a tremendous boost in last year’s playoffs because Kronwall was finally healthy during them. Not so in 2007, and the Wings couldn’t make it past Anaheim in the Final Four.

In ‘08, Kronwall was a force, making Vladdie Konstantinov-like hits in the neutral zone and elsewhere, ensuring that opposing forwards kept one eye on where Kronwall was and the other on the puck. And hockey is a sport played much better when you can use both eyes to see what you’re doing.

Kronwall, wreaking havoc in the ‘08 Finals

It was just a matter of time, it seemed, before “Kronnie” would flatten someone. His hits were brutal, legal, and definitive. In the playoffs, that brand of hockey fits like a glove.

The Red Wings had many stars and heroes in their ‘08 Cup run. But if they don’t get the play from Niklas Kronwall as they received in the playoffs, I’m not so sure they claim the brass ring.

Nicklas Lidstrom and Brian Rafalski remain the team’s top two defensemen, with Brad Stuart a solid no. 3.

Kronwall, for whatever reason, hasn’t been the player this season as he was last year. He’s a distant fourth, behind the three guys I mentioned.

Makes me wonder if Chris Chelios might get some love in the playoffs, if Kronwall doesn’t step it up. Coach Mike Babcock has proven that he’s not shy to sit someone down, no matter their reputation, if he feels it’s warranted.

Just ask Dominik Hasek.

I must be fair, though, and admit that a Kronwall at 75% is still better than most defensemen in the league. But the Red Wings aren’t most teams. They operate at a capacity higher than the others. And they need a 100% Kronwall, not a doppelganger.

I sure hope he shows up soon. The playoffs are a-comin’.

Anderson Trade, “Funny” Looks Should Have Tipped Sheffield Off

“Sheffield was quoted that people around the Tigers — presumably manager Jim Leyland and GM Dave Dombrowski, were ‘looking at me funny for the last few days.’”

I got the news of Gary Sheffield’s cashiering by the Tigers while I was downtown, doing some freelance TV work for the good people at the Catholic Television Network of Detroit. One of the crew members got a text message.

“Goodbye Sheffield. $14 million — that’s a lot to eat,” it read.

Such is how news is broken anymore.

I was floored. Honestly. I didn’t see the release of the 40-year-old Sheffield coming. It wasn’t on the radar of anyone who was handicapping the Tigers’ Opening Day roster.

One of my first thoughts, naturally, was the career home run total on the bottom of Sheff’s stat line.

499.

After it sunk in, I thought of a conversation he and I had, and now it’s kind of eery.

A couple years ago, the day after Barry Bonds broke Hank Aaron’s career record with HR no. 756, I was in the Tigers clubhouse, making the rounds before a game.

I happened upon Sheffield. He’s always willing to talk.

“So did you see Barry hit the big one? What did you think?” I asked.

“Yeah. It was great. Awesome. Good for him.”

Then, I shifted the focus onto Sheffield himself, and his getting closer to 500 home runs.

At the time, Sheff was sitting at around 475 in the homer department.

“You ever think about 500?” I asked him.

“Naah. That’s still a little while away,” he said.

Then, the eery part.

“How about when you get to 499, then what?” I asked with a devious grin.

He laughed. “Then I’ll be swinging for the fences, just to get it over with.”

The Tigers have never had a player swat his 500th home run while wearing their uniform. And they won’t for a while longer, thanks to the dismissal of Sheffield.

He’ll have to swing for the fences for someone else. Which he will, guaranteed.

The Tigers, as the aforementioned text message said, will indeed be chowing down on Sheff’s contract, which has $14 million left on it. And once he clears waivers — an almost certainty given his contract size — any team can sign him for the $400,000 major league minimum.

The Phillies have already been confirmed as having contacted Sheffield. The Reds were mentioned. Tampa — Sheffield’s hometown — might have some interest, too. At four-hundred grand, you can bet some team will pick him up.

My knee jerk reaction to the news of Sheff’s release was that something must have happened, like behind the scenes. I thought about when the Tigers cut Dmitri Young during a rain delay in 2006. That was REALLY odd.

The Tigers told Sheffield, according to him, that they wanted to go with a more versatile lineup. Read: younger and faster, and one that bats more left-handed.

The acquisition of speedy outfielder Josh Anderson, a lefty swinger, from Atlanta was maybe the death knell for Sheffield’s Detroit career, as it turns out. This also means that Marcus Thames appears safe, since the DH position is now available for him in addition to spot starting in the outfield.

It also gives one of the younger Tigers, like Jeff Larish or Ryan Raburn or Brent Clevlen, a shot at grabbing the last bench spot.

Sheffield was quoted that people around the Tigers — presumably manager Jim Leyland and GM Dave Dombrowski, were “looking at me funny for the last few days.”

That’s not surprising. The veteran athlete whose days are numbered often gets those looks from those who are privy to that fact.

Alex Karras, in his final few weeks with the Lions in 1971 before being cut in pre-season, said much the same thing. Coach Joe Schmidt, a former teammate, wouldn’t look Karras in the eye, Alex wrote in his autobiography.

“Joe kept asking me if I felt like I could still play, but I noticed that whenever he did, he’d look at the ground or anywhere but at me,” Karras wrote.

Karras admitted to having had a rough time in the exhibition games, but his being cut still shocked him.

Sheffield inferred that his release took him by surprise, too, despite the “funny” looks he was getting lately. But when asked if this meant his career was over with, he said firmly, “Not even close.”

He’ll be “swinging for the fences” for No. 500, somewhere.

Guaranteed.