El Forlanito

David Ortiz Foster Wallace

2011-05-17T02:55:00.000-07:00

Last night I started reading The Pale King while I listened to a Red Sox game on the radio. This kind of multitasking never really works, and I usually end up absorbing nothing that I've read while I try to remember which team is batting. But one passage from very early (page 11) in The Pale King stuck out. An IRS employee named Claude Sylvanshine is on his way to take an exam to become a CPA. He's terrified of the exam and of his potential failure. He sees visions of his career in ruins, reduced to working as an airport janitor. He's so paralyzed by these visions that he can't even think about studying for his test:

Even the sight of a mop, rollable bucket, or custodian with his name woven in red Palmer script on the breast pocket of his gray jumpsuit (as at Midway, outside the men's room whose little yellow sign warned bilingually of wet floors, the cursive name something beginning with M, Morris or Maurice, the man fitted to his job like a man to the exact pocket of space he displaces) now rattled Sylvanshine to the point where precious time was lost before he could even think about how to set up a workable schedule for maximally efficient reviewing for the exam.

While I was reading, the Red Sox broadcast regained my attention.

The Red Sox were playing in Fenway. Their game in New York the night before had ended close to midnight and they didn't land back in Boston until 3 AM. After commenting on the team's late night, the Red Sox radio guy, Joe Castiglione, said something like, "Can you imagine you're the guy buffing the floors in the Delta terminal at Logan at 3 AM and David Ortiz and the Red Sox walk by?"

At which point, I said to my roommate Ted, "How bad do you wish you were a janitor at Logan Airport?"

Ted's response: "So bad."

I'm not sure if Ted meant what he said, but I did. At that moment I don't think there was anything I'd have rather been doing than buffing an airport floor at 3 AM and having the Boston Red Sox walk by. I probably don't really want to be an airport janitor. It's probably a lot of work for not that much money. And the Red Sox probably don't walk by all that often. And I really hate cleaning stuff. But at that moment I couldn't imagine anything better.

Claude Sylvanshine couldn't study for his test because he was too busy daydreaming that if he screwed it up he might become an airport janitor. I couldn't keep reading about Claude Sylvanshine because I was too busy thinking how great it would be to be an airport janitor. I'm not sure I have a point, other than this: I'll bet my job (and Claude Sylvanshine's too) would be a lot better if David Ortiz et al. walked by once in a while.

NFL Owners: Too Much is Never Enough

2011-03-11T18:51:00.000-08:00

The NFL labor talks are hung up on one issue: Financial disclosure. The players' association is demanding full financial data from all 32 NFL teams if it is to give the owners all or part of the $700 million annually that they are asking for. That $700 million is in addition to the one billion dollars the owners already take off the top of all league revenues, and the 43% of all remaining revenue that goes to the owners. The owners claim they are not profitable enough, but refuse to provide documentation. "Trust us," they're saying, "we swear we're not making enough money. Yes, we run the most profitable league in the history of sports, and yes the NFL brought in nine billion dollars last year of which we got roughly half; but 4.5 billion split 32 ways just isn't what it used to be."

What kind of gall does it take to plead poverty and demand $700 million dollars without providing any proof or justification? The league claims it needs the money to pay for expenses and finance new stadiums. Commissioner Roger Goodell claims the league needs (not wants, needs) new stadiums in Buffalo, Minnesota, San Diego, and Los Angeles. Savvy readers will note that the NFL doesn't even have a franchise in L.A. It needs a new stadium there so it can lure an existing franchise to move to the country's second biggest market. Where would that franchise come from? Buffalo, Minnesota, or San Diego, the other markets that so desperately need new stadiums. So, the owners are asking for an extra $700 million annually in part so that they can build four stadiums for three franchises.

The NFL owners aren't asking for this extra money because they're not profitable. It's accepted fact that every NFL team makes money. They're asking for this extra money to build stadiums for teams that don't exist because they're not profitable enough. Despite the blatant greed and logical fallacies of the owners' demands, the union has shown a willingness to cede to at least portions of those demands given just the one aforementioned caveat: Financial disclosure. Actually prove to us that you're not making enough money, the union is saying, and we'll give you more. And yet, the owners refuse. So, instead of free agency and mini-camps, we're approaching the players' union decertifying, the owners locking out the players, the players filing a class-action antitrust lawsuit, and months, if not years, of litigation.

The absurdity of the owners' position leads to one obvious question: What are they trying to hide? Why are they so dead set against opening their books? Are they crooked? Are they using Enron/Madoff accounting? Are they paying family members tens of millions of dollars? Or, more likely, are they just wildly profitable? Are they afraid that if the players or the public realize just how much money these 32 men make from pro football that their negotiating position will be irreparably damaged? If there's another possible reason for their refusal to open the books, I'm not seeing it. The owners clearly have something to hide; they're either crooks or extravagantly, unfathomably greedy.

Every NFL team makes money. Teams stay in families for decades, generations, raking in untold millions, year after year. The average NFL player will play, and get paid, for three years. When he retires he will get health insurance for five years, after which time, he will be all but uninsurable. If he is lucky, his back and knees will ache, he will get early arthritis, and he will have trouble with stairs. If he is unlucky, he will have post concussion syndrome, chronic headaches, memory loss, dizziness, depression, suicidal tendencies, and any number of mental ailments resulting from repeated blows to the head. His life expectancy will drop by 25 years. But he is getting too big a slice of the nine billion dollar pie. You know who is really getting screwed here? It's the guys wearing white collar shirts, sipping drinks in the luxury boxes. They say they need more money, they're not making enough. It's never enough. When asked to prove it, their only response seems to be, "Trust us, we need it, we know what's best."

Lance Armstrong: Fraud for the Public Good

2011-01-22T12:39:00.000-08:00

Sports Illustrated recently published a whole slew of new allegations against Lance Armstrong. They're pretty damning. Among the allegations: A world renowned antidoping doctor, Donald Catlin, failed to report three urine samples from the mid 1990s, allegedly coming from Armstrong, that were positive for elevated levels of testosterone; Armstrong gained access to and used a discontinued drug called HemAssist (initially intended for trauma victims with extreme blood loss) to boost his blood's oxygen-carrying capacity; Specific accusations and anecdotes from former Armstrong teammates, aides, and confidantes. Much of the information in the SI story comes from anonymous sources, and most of the accusations come from people spurned by Armstrong.

There is still no positive test, no smoking gun, but in the end, it may not matter. Lance Armstrong is approaching a tipping point (if he hasn't reached it already), where the sheer volume of accusations and circumstantial evidence will overwhelm the need for solid proof or a positive test. We long ago reached that point with a whole generation of baseball stars. These allegations may not be enough to get Armstrong thrown in jail, but it seems likely that they'll get him indicted by a federal grand jury, and they almost certainly point towards his guilt in the court of public opinion.

Almost all of the new evidence against Armstrong is a result of an FDA investigation led by Jeff Novitzky, the man who investigated BALCO, had Marion Jones convicted, and got Barry Bonds indicted. Novitzky's investigation stems from emails sent by Floyd Landis to cycling officials in 2010. In the messages, Landis admits doping and also points a finger at Armstrong, his former teammate. Now, an illegitimate messenger doesn't necessarily invalidate the message, but it is difficult to imagine a messenger with less credibility than Floyd Landis.

Stripped of his 2006 Tour de France title for a positive drug test, Landis steadfastly maintained his innocence for nearly four years. Landis appealed his positive test with the United Cycling Union, the US Anti Doping Agency, the Court of Arbitration for Sport, and finally in U.S. Federal Court. He solicited donations through a non-profit, the Floyd Fairness Fund, to pay his legal defense and he co-authored a book, Positively False, to defend himself. In February of 2010 a French judge issued a warrant for Landis' arrest for allegedly hacking into the computers of a French anti-doping lab. Finally on May 20, 2010, after four years of constant and consistent lying, Landis admitted doping and made similar charges against Armstrong. The irony is obvious. After years of defending his reputation against all comers, Lance Armstrong may end up being discredited by the least credible accuser he has ever had.

In his record seven Tour de France victories, Lance Armstrong shared the podium with eight riders. Of those eight, six (Alex Zulle, Jan Ullrich, Raimondas Rumsas, Alexandre Vinokourov, Andreas Kloden, and Ivan Basso) have been suspended or fined for doping, and a seventh (Joseba Beloki) was implicated by Spanish police before being cleared. During his prime, nearly every one of Armstrong's rivals was suspended for doping. In addition to those already mentioned, they include: Marco Pantani, Richard Virenque, Tyler Hamilton, Frankie Andreu, David Millar, Roberto Heras, Iban Mayo, and Michael Rasmussen.

So, if Armstrong is indeed found guilty, he's guilty of being an active participant in a thoroughly corrupt sport. It isn't, as Armstrong foe Greg Lemond has put it, "The greatest fraud in the history of sport." It just means that Lance Armstrong is ethically equivalent with the vast majority of elite cyclists of the last couple decades. Is it really worth the FDA's time and money to knock Armstrong off his pedestal? There's always value in uncovering the truth, but perhaps Armstrong's is that rarest of doping cases where, if he is guilty, the ends justified the means.

Let's assume Armstrong returns from cancer in 1998 and never wins anything. He probably leads SportsCenter when the 1999 Tour de France begins. He's probably on the evening news a few times, and there are a few major magazine features written about him. He certainly never becomes a national celebrity. He probably still starts a foundation to fight cancer, but without the fame and notoriety that comes with winning it never gets anywhere near as big. It certainly doesn't raise $325 million to fight cancer. There aren't presidential candidates wearing yellow rubber bands in solidarity with cancer victims. Perhaps most importantly, those battling cancer lose their most notable icon, a role model for many, an advocate for all. If Lance Armstrong never wins anything, he's no different than Jon Lester or Eric Davis--an athlete who returned to his sport after beating cancer. He's a nice story, but not an inspiring one--the man with a ten percent chance to live who beat cancer in his testicles, abdomen, lungs, and brain and went on to win the world's most difficult race seven times.

There's certainly a case to be made that even if Lance Armstrong did cheat, it resulted in far more good than harm. If he did cheat he did perpetrate a fraud (not the "greatest fraud in the history of sport," but a fraud nonetheless) on the general public. That would put him in good company with the two other most dominant athletes of his generation.

For years the media spoke in glowing terms of Michael Jordan's near pathological competitiveness. He won not just because he was more talented but because he wanted it so much more than everyone else, because he couldn't stand to lose. That's all true, but what wasn't talked about was how Jordan's pathological intensity made him such an ass. Jordan would take the smallest perceived slight and use it as an excuse to shatter a teammate's confidence. After Jordan the GM drafted Kwame Brown first overall for the Wizards, he went on to so demoralize and humiliate Brown in scrimmages that Brown's career never recovered. Jordan's public veneer wasn't revealed for the charade that it's always been until his 2009 Hall of Fame induction speech. After being introduced as the greatest who ever lived, Jordan couldn't keep himself from trying to settle scores with long vanquished foes: Isiah Thomas, Bulls GM Jerry Krause, his high school coach, Jeff Van Gundy, Bryon Russell and others. He looks petty, vindictive, and small.

Tiger Woods' recent travails are much documented. Suffice it to say that Tiger's public persona has also been revealed as a fraud.

There are two key differences between the frauds that Jordan and Woods have presented and the fraud that a doping conviction would reveal in Lance Armstrong. First, and importantly, Jordan and Woods presented themselves as frauds, but they didn't cheat. They won their titles within the rules. If Lance Armstrong is found guilty of doping, the same can't be said about him. But, if all three are found to be frauds, only Lance Armstrong can say that his faults were in service of a greater good. Jordan's spiteful competitiveness served his own need to win first, and Nike's need to sell shoes second. He infamously refused to say anything political because, "Republicans buy sneakers too." Tiger, Nike's greatest salesman since Jordan, is cut from the same mold. While claiming in a Nike ad that, "There are still courses in the U.S. that I am not allowed to play because of the color of my skin," Tiger simultaneously refused to weigh in when Augusta National was accused of not allowing female members.

Let's be clear: For Jordan, Woods, and Armstrong--arguably the three most dominant athletes of their generation--the first priority was always winning. In winning a combined 27 championships/majors/Tours de France, it's likely that each one may have, to some extent, played a charade on the general public. But, whereas Jordan and Woods' secondary aim (after winning) was only selling Nikes, Lance Armstrong's alleged fraud helped raise $325 million dollars to fight a deadly disease and turned him into the world's greatest anti-cancer crusader.

No to Publicly Funded Stadiums

2010-12-23T03:29:00.000-08:00

The NBA recently took collective ownership of the New Orleans Hornets. It seems likely that the Hornets will be able to opt out of their lease in New Orleans at the end of this season. All parties involved insist they want to keep the Hornets in New Orleans, but they are ripe for a move. The last major American sports franchise to move, the Seattle SuperSonics, did so because Seattle wisely refused to use taxpayer dollars to build a new arena. Home to an exceedingly wealthy basketball fan and potential owner (Microsoft's Steve Ballmer), Seattle is first among whispered potential destinations should the Hornets move. Seattle mayor Mike McGinn recently expressed both openness and skepticism when asked about the NBA's potential return: "We'd put any option on the table if someone came to talk to us...But we do have to look at, how much, and what's the return to us." While it seems a solid majority of Seattle citizens are still opposed to using tax dollars on a new arena, it bears reiterating what a truly crappy deal publicly financed stadiums are for the general public.

New York City has two iconic parks. They are, perhaps, the two most renowned parks of their kind in the world. One of them is always free and open to the public and hosts 25 million visitors per year. The other is private and charges admission to every visitor--as much as $1,250 for a few hours--and hosts under four million visitors per year. Both are funded by a combination of public and private money. The public park must rely on private donors for 85% of its funding. New York City contributes about $3.5 million annually for its upkeep. The second park was finished only two years ago. It replaced a very similar, slightly larger park, which, if perhaps a little outdated, was still a much beloved historical gem. To create this private park, 24 acres of public parkland were destroyed. This second park cost $2.3 billion to build, $1.2 billion of which came at taxpayer expense.

The parks are Central Park and Yankee Stadium. The dollars that taxpayers (local, state, and federal) contributed to Yankee Stadium could have covered the city's obligations towards Central Park for the next 338 years. Instead of boosting funding for the world's greatest urban park (or for schools, or roads, or libraries, or subways, or hospitals, etc.) New York gave a playground to a billionaire to stage games between millionaires for the amusement of other millionaires.

And that's who professional sports are played for these days: millionaires. New Yankee Stadium has 6,000 fewer seats than the old stadium, but it has 450 more luxury suites, to be sold for top dollar. Stadiums are always eager to sacrifice average seats that fetch average prices if it means they can add a few more suites that fetch outlandish prices. After laudably lowering ticket prices, Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban freely admitted that, "The upper bowl is becoming a smaller and smaller part of our revenue." That is, teams don't make money selling cheap seats to common fans, they make money by selling luxury boxes to corporations. This is why the NBA left Seattle in the first place. No less an authority than David Stern called Seattle's KeyArena an intimate venue with great sight lines. Unfortunately, KeyArena is lacking in luxury boxes which, despite its various charms, disqualifies it as a viable venue for modern professional sports.

Bringing the Sonics back to Seattle would be a boon to basketball fans and civic pride, but at what price? A new arena would cost around $300 million. Yes, it would bring jobs with it, but the vast majority of them would be seasonal, part time, and low paying. A new arena wouldn't promote economic activity so much as it would funnel existing economic activity from a broad range of beneficiaries to one already wealthy monolith. People's budgets for entertainment are not unlimited. Money spent on a basketball ticket, a stadium hot dog, and a beer; is money not spent at a movie theater, or a concert, or a restaurant, or a bar. It may not be a strict zero sum game, but basketball's gain is almost certainly someone else's loss.

In return for its mammoth investment, has New York City seen a single tangible benefit from new Yankee Stadium that it didn't get from the old one? Has the economic activity created by new Yankee Stadium revitalized the South Bronx? Using public funds to build stadiums doesn't benefit the community, it benefits team owners. The Hornets have only been in New Orleans for nine years. If they can't make it there, by all means, let them come to Seattle. Just don't make taxpayers bribe a billionaire to bring them here.

Lebron and Obama

2010-12-08T03:49:00.000-08:00

They came from humble backgrounds. Raised in working class households by single mothers, each displayed precocious gifts early on and then rose meteorically to fame and power. Both burst onto the national scene in 2004, and in the years that followed, very little went wrong. Beloved by the nation like few others in their arenas, they both seemed like not only the most talented guy in the room, but also the most likable. Even among their peers, there seemed little resentment of these men's outsized gifts. Yes, they were blessed with extraordinary talents, but they were so at ease with themselves, so comfortable in their own skin, and so damn cool that there was no begrudging their abilities. But, there comes a point when charisma and cool only take you so far. Barack Obama may still be the smartest guy in government and Lebron James is probably still the best basketball player on the planet, but 2010 has proven both of them feckless and lacking in gumption and conviction.

2010 was Lebron's do or die year in Cleveland. The final year of his contract, the year to realize his vast potential and win a championship after four straight runs deep into the playoffs. But Lebron ran into the Boston Celtics, a team with talent and experience. Most of all, Lebron ran into a team that was tougher than he was. After a dazzling game three, Lebron played an atrocious game five against the Celtics in which he went 3-14 and had his effort and assertiveness questioned by the media. Then, in the decisive game six, Lebron openly quit, throwing in the towel while trailing with a minute left. After the season Lebron held his team and his city hostage before announcing in a national infomercial for himself that he was leaving Cleveland to play in Miami with a prepackaged team of his superstar friends.

Lebron has all the prerequisites of an all time superstar except for the guts. He wants, and brazenly predicts, championships, but he wants it to be easy. This damning parody rings so true that Michael Jordan had to publicly deny his participation. Lebron left because he didn't have the guts or the desire to win on a team that had been built around him. Because joining something is always easier than building something.

"Take a tally, look at what I promised during the campaign. There's not a single thing that I have said that I would do that I have not done or tried to do." So proclaimed an abnormally feisty Barack Obama in his Tuesday press conference. The problem with his strong statement is the giant caveat at the end--"or tried to do." Tried isn't good enough when you're swept into office with 65% approval ratings, the largest majority in the House in 14 years, and the largest majority in the Senate in 30 years. "Tried" especially isn't good enough when your effort seems to wax and wane like that of Lebron in the Celtics series. Yes, Obama worked hard to get a health care bill passed, but he didn't work too hard to get a good health care bill passed. He threw aside the idea of a public option as soon as it was politically expedient. To this day, the country doesn't even know what the President would have liked in an ideal health care bill, because he never said what he wanted.

Look at the calamities of the Bush Presidency that Obama campaigned against, and has "tried" to fix, to no avail: Guantanamo is still open; the Iraq war is ostensibly over, but over 50,000 troops remain; he doubled-down on the war in Afghanistan and we're entering our tenth year there with no end in sight; Don't Ask Don't Tell remains official military policy; no climate change bill has passed; no immigration bill has passed; the START Treaty has not passed; and the Bush tax cuts have been extended. On issue after issue, over and over again, Republicans challenge the President to a game of chicken, and he continues to back down. He continues to talk of bipartisanship and working together with barely an iota of reciprocation from the other side. One sided compromise isn't compromise, it's concession.

Both Lebron and Obama have huge accomplishments that ultimately ring hollow. Lebron has won a scoring title, two MVP awards, has been all-NBA six times and an all-star seven times, and probably has the best seven year stretch ever to begin a career. But all of that is now overshadowed because, when it mattered most, he caved. His team quit and lost, and he hightailed it out of town. Obama passed huge, sweeping legislation: a financial stimulus, health care, and financial regulation, but all of it in drastically reduced scope from what had been hoped for and needed. Even with control of Congress, he continues to cave to the Republican minority. He continues Bush era policies that he campaigned against because he can't find the gumption and wherewithal to beat 41 Republican Senators.

Now, both Obama and Lebron must look back on their squandered opportunities. Obama had huge governing majorities, sky high approval ratings, and a wealth of political capital. All of that is now gone. Lebron had the highest "Q rating" that any athlete has ever had. He was the most popular basketball player in the world. He played for his hometown team in a city that revered him, with a roster composed entirely to suit his strengths. All of that is now gone.

And now we're left with both Obama and Lebron making futile, misguided peace offerings to those who despise them. Obama entered his summit with Republican leadership with an olive branch: a pay freeze for federal workers. Predictably, the Republicans made no such gesture in return, and the President was left with one less card in his negotiating hand. After Lebron's vitriolic return to Cleveland, Daniel "Boobie" Gibson expressed displeasure with some of Lebron's antics. Lebron then went out of his way to make sure everyone knows that he and Gibson are still friends. As if Cleveland cares. As if a guy known as Boobie is likely to end a friendship with a guy known as The Chosen One.

We're left in the same situation we were in before they burst on the national scene. The government continues Bush era policies and Cleveland wallows in its sporting heartbreak; moving on from the torment of The Drive, The Fumble, The Shot, and Jose Mesa, to the indignity of The Decision.

Ultimately, the problem for both Lebron and Obama is not one of substance, it is one of will. Neither has lost any of the talent or skill or magnetism that made them so successful and compelling in the first place. Their problem is a disinclination to fight. Obama is no more willing to take on Congressional Republicans than Lebron was willing to continue trying to win without his superstar buddies.

Is it too late for Obama and Lebron? No. Everyone loves a winner and Obama still has an election to win and Lebron may still win multiple championships. But something has been lost. No matter how many championships Lebron wins in Miami, they won't mean as much as they would have in long suffering Cleveland, where he would have been the undisputed leader, and not one of a triumvirate of super friends. And Obama may yet win reelection, but he's lost his luster. In the rare instances when he's clear about what he wants, he doesn't show the fortitude that's required to get it. Just like Lebron, he's lost the trust of his most fervent supporters.

FIFA's Shameful Choice

2010-12-02T13:54:00.000-08:00

"We go to new lands." That was FIFA President Sepp Blatter's entire cryptic rationale for choosing Russia and Qatar to host the next two World Cups. The choice of Qatar is baffling. Where to start? It's area is smaller than Connecticut, and its population of 1.49 million is about the same as Houston's. 3.59 million people attended games at the 1994 World Cup in the U.S. 3.18 million people attended the most recent World Cup in South Africa. Qatar is going to have to host a crowd more than double the size of its own population.

What kind of environment can these visitors expect? Average June and July temperatures in Qatar are 105 degrees. In the middle of the day, when games are sure to be played, temperatures regularly rise to 130 degrees. In the summer, Qataris tend not to leave the confines of air conditioning during the day, preferring to take a stroll at night when temperatures drop. Stay inside during the day, emerge at night. Sounds like quite a party. Speaking of party, Qatar has only two liquor stores in the entire country, and a permit is required to buy from them. Back to temperature: those numbers are historical averages. With global warming, it's impossible to tell how high they could rise twelve years from now. This summer, Moscow was ten degrees hotter than its historical averages. If that happens in Qatar, we can expect daily averages around 115 degrees and highs of 140 degrees. 15,000 people died in Russia because the temperature reached 100 degrees. What could happen in Qatar, with visitors coming to celebrate from around the world, if temperatures are 40 degrees higher? Qatar has promised that the stadiums will be air conditioned and will lower temperatures by as much as 20 degrees. Even assuming they can make good on this promise (they currently have no air conditioned stadiums), a fat lot of good 20 degrees does when the starting temperature is 130. FIFA is courting catastrophe by scheduling the world's biggest sporting event in such an extreme climate.

Qatar is ruled by Amir Hamad bin Khalifa Al-Thani. He took over from his father in a bloodless coup in 1995. In 2003, a constitution was adopted granting citizens the right to elect a Consultative Council. Elections have yet to happen. The 35-member Consultative Council is appointed entirely by the Amir. Even if elections do happen, they will be a sham. Political parties are banned in Qatar. The constitution grants the right to vote or hold office only to citizens. Somehow, only 200,000 of Qatar's 1.49 million residents qualify as citizens.

Freedom House, an independent organization that ranks levels of freedom around the world, gives Qatar an 11 out of 20 for its levels of political rights and civil liberties. That's lower than Burma, Somalia, Saudi Arabia, and the Congo. Qatar is not democratic. It is not free. Since its independence, power has been held by exactly three men, all of them from the same family.

Two members of the FIFA selection committee were thrown out because of suspicion of bribery. The process was rife with scandal and collusion. After a highly dubious selection process, FIFA chose the second richest country in the world, per capita. It chose a country whose entire economy consists of oil and gas. Sepp Blatter's entire explanation was, "We go to new lands."

Venezuela is also a new land. It's also a tiny, oil rich country ruled by a tyrant. It fits all of Qatar's criteria. Maybe Venezuela is next in line for a World Cup. How about North Korea? It's a tiny, hopelessly undemocratic nation ruled by a familial procession of despots. Is North Korea, as a new land, getting a World Cup?

FIFA has an iron grip on the world's most popular sport. It makes maddening, non-sensical decisions and doesn't explain itself. First a referee disallows a winning goal in a World Cup game for a phantom, unexplained violation and never speaks a word to the media. That referee, Koman Coulibaly, continues to referee, unpunished, his actions unexplained. Now FIFA awards the world's biggest sporting event, its biggest stage to a sweltering, woefully unprepared nation, governed by an unelected monarch with no political opposition.

FIFA rewards incompetence and fosters obfuscation in its referees. It rewards monarchies and punishes democracies (four of which, as finalists, were passed over for Qatar) with its selection process. Its decisions are maddening, opaque, and nonsensical. Soccer is the world's game. The World Cup is soccer's biggest event, the world's biggest celebration. It will never be irrelevant, but in awarding the World Cup to Qatar, FIFA certainly stripped it of some of its luster.

Cam and Cecil: Ignorant and Incompetent

2010-12-02T03:21:00.000-08:00

On Monday the NCAA said that Cam Newton had violated his amateur status. On Tuesday Auburn simultaneously suspended Newton and requested his reinstatement. On Wednesday, the NCAA reinstated Cam Newton. That's the timeline, no joke. Newton was initially deemed in violation because his father, Cecil, had requested somewhere between one hundred and two hundred thousand dollars from Mississippi St. in return for his enrollment. The NCAA is settled in its belief that this happened. Newton was reinstated according to the NCAA because, "We do not have sufficient evidence that Cam Newton or anyone from Auburn was aware of this activity." So, apparently, Cam Newton's father is free to shop him to the highest bidder so long as Cam Newton can plausibly pretend that he didn't know about it.

What exactly has changed since the NCAA declared that Newton was in violation of his amateur status? How is it possible that as of Monday he was in violation, and as of Wednesday he'd been reinstated? Normally, the NCAA takes years to investigate anything. It took five years after Reggie Bush's parents took money from an agent for USC to be put on probation and for Bush to give back his Heisman Trophy. Chris Webber's contact with a booster didn't bring NCAA sanctions to Michigan until ten years later. On Cam Newton, the NCAA changed its mind in 36 hours.

It's possible that neither Cam Newton nor Auburn had any knowledge that Cecil was trolling the SEC for dollars. It's possible, but not probable. Cam Newton, before any of the allegations against him were made public, admitted that his father made the decision on where he should attend college. Was there no discussion, no explanation, just, "You're going to Auburn and that's that." Cam never asked why? High school kids are always told that picking a college is the biggest decision in their lives to date. Cam Newton obviously didn't subscribe to that notion.

Even assuming Cam Newton knew nothing of what his father was up to, it's still laughable that he's eligible. What if Cecil Newton hadn't been so clumsy in his fundraising and had actually got money from some school? Would Cam Newton still be eligible as long as he didn't know about it? Can parents and hangers-on now profit from college athletes so long as they don't tell the athletes about it?

Cecil Newton was incompetent at getting paid for his son's skills. Cam Newton was ignorant of his father's incompetence. Cam Newton is still eligible because his father was incompetent and he was ignorant. Somehow I doubt that ignorance and incompetence are qualities that the NCAA is trying to foster in its student-athletes.

The NCAA suspended Oklahoma State's Dez Bryant for a season because he lied about having dinner with Deion Sanders. The NCAA suspended Georgia's A.J. Green for four games for selling one of his jerseys. The NCAA suspended Georgetown's Moses Ayegba for nine games because a f amily friend paid for his flight to school from his home in Nigeria. The NCAA has long punished players for the most minor of violations. Almost every year a player or program is punished for breaking rules that they didn't know existed. The NCAA rulebook is mammoth and byzantine; its appeals process slow and Kafkaesque. So how the NCAA can turn its head while the father of the best college football player in the country brazenly shops his son for hundreds of thousands of dollars is almost beyond comprehension.

Almost beyond comprehension until you remember that Auburn is very close to playing for a national championship. Almost beyond comprehension until you remember that Cam Newton is about to win the Heisman Trophy. The NCAA's flagship individual award doesn't carry quite the same cachet if the best player is ineligible. And the national championship game doesn't have quite the same sizzle with a Newton-less Auburn team playing Oregon. Or, even worse for ratings, a TCU-Oregon matchup if Auburn, sans Newton, can't win the SEC Championship.

Starting next year, ESPN will pay $500 million for the right to broadcast the college football national championship. They're paying for college football's marquee game. They don't want that game tarnished because the NCAA deemed the best player ineligible. The NCAA is all for preserving amateurism, it's just that in Cam Newton's case, the cost of preserving amateurism got a little too rich for their blood.

Derek Jeter and Greed

2010-11-19T13:01:00.000-08:00

The Yankees are ready to offer Derek Jeter a three year, $50 million dollar contract. It looks as if that won't be enough, as Jeter apparently wants something closer to five years and $100 million. Is Jeter, always said to be one of the game's smartest players, a moron? In 2010 Jeter had career lows in home runs, batting average, slugging percentage, and on base percentage. Despite being awarded a gold glove (preposterously), advanced defensive statistics placed him well below average. Does he know the going rate for 36 year old shortstops coming off career worst years? It certainly isn't $100 million. Jeter's 2010 stats are remarkably similar to those of Marco Scutaro who is going into the second year of a two year, $12.5 million dollar contract. Based solely on his on field, statistical value, that's probably about what Jeter's worth--two to three years at $5-10 million per year.

Ah, but we can't forget, Derek Jeter is a Yankee legend. He means so much more than numbers to the Yankees. He's the Captain. He's Mr. November. He once dove into the stands. He's the heir to the legacy of Ruth and Gehrig, Dimaggio and Berra, Mantle and Maris. All this is true. Jeter is way more valuable to the Yankees than he is on the open market. But the Yankees have reportedly offered him three years at $50 million, somewhere between double and triple what he could get on the open market. It seems they're being more than fair.

Jeter is coming off a contract that paid him $189 million over the last ten years. Only one player in baseball history has ever signed a bigger contract. The Yankees have taken care of him. In turning down their current contract offer, he's being greedy and stupid. What's he going to do if the Yankees play hardball and say take it or leave it? Will he go around the league saying, "The Yankees are offering me $50 million, can you best that?" He'll get laughed out of the room.

The Yankees have already paid Derek Jeter more money than he'll be able to spend in a lifetime. They're currently offering him at least twice as much money as anyone else would. Has he no pride? In asking for $100 million, roughly $80 million more than anyone else would pay him, he risks turning himself into a multi-million dollar charity case. At this point in his career he simply is not worth anywhere near that much money, and he must know it. His quest for more money is shameless. He's preying on the emotions of the Yankees brass and Yankees fans who love him for all he's done and all he's won.

In the end, Jeter needs the Yankees more than the Yankees need Jeter. He's an iconic player because he's been so great and had so much success, and it's all been with one team. Great athletes don't do much damage to their their legacies by finishing their career with a different team. Does anyone care that Willie Mays played for the Mets, that Joe Namath played for the Rams, or that Michael Jordan played for the Wizards? Not really. We remember Mays' Giants hat falling off as he catches Vic Wertz's fly ball. We remember Namath's Jets beating the Colts, just as he said they would. We remember Jordan shooting over Bryon Russell for a sixth Bulls title. For the most part, we remember the good stuff. But if any damage was done, it certainly wasn't to the Giants, Jets, or Bulls--it was to the athlete who couldn't quite stick it out with one team for his whole career. Jeter's fifteen years are secure in Yankee history. They're not going away and they won't be tarnished by what happens now. It's Jeter's legacy, not the Yankees', that's still on the line and it's his greed that's to blame.

Cam Newton and the NCAA

2010-11-10T12:23:00.000-08:00

The circumstantial evidence against Auburn quarterback Cam Newton is pretty damning. There are three independent sources who claim that either Newton, his father, or someone acting on their behalf, either asked for payment from Mississippi St., or inferred that they were receiving payments from Auburn in return for Newton's enrollment. There's also a report that Newton was caught in three separate acts of academic dishonesty while at Florida, and left the school rather than appear before the student conduct committee.

There's also the bizarre way in which Newton chose where to go to school. Admittedly preferring Mississippi St., Newton ceded the decision to his father, Cecil, who abruptly chose Auburn. At the time of the decision, the church at which Cecil Newton is pastor was in violation of city building codes. The church has since been renovated and the NCAA is investigating its finances. Admittedly, none of this proves anything, but none of it looks good either.

Perhaps Cam Newton is the victim of a libel campaign carried out by the school he left (Florida) and the school he spurned (Mississsippi St.). The NCAA is a notoriously slow investigator. Reggie Bush won the Heisman in 2005, and only gave it back a few months ago, five years later. So, Cam Newton will almost surely end the season (likely his last as a college student) as an eligible athlete. Barring a quick resolution, this is as it should be. He's innocent until proven guilty. He should win the Heisman Trophy which, according to its instructions, goes to the most outstanding college football player who is "a bona fide student ... in compliance with the bylaws defining an NCAA student athlete." Cam Newton is the best college football player in the country and he is in compliance with the NCAA (for now). He should win.

But, and remember none of this has been proven, it seems likely that Cam Newton and Auburn cheated. Is it the end of the world if Auburn paid Cam Newton or his father so that they could renovate his church? No. Is Cam Newton the only collegiate athlete who (allegedly) got paid? Of course not. If Cam Newton wasn't a world class athlete, and just a regular college student, would we disapprove of him fundraising for his father's church? No, in fact if anyone cared, they'd probably find it laudable. There's a lot of corruption in college football, and Cam Newton is only (allegedly) a small part of it.

But (it seems) he did break the rules, and he did get caught. If Auburn paid Cam Newton, they tilted the playing field in their favor. They gave themselves an unfair advantage over teams that play by the rules. No different than if players use steroids or coaches videotape other teams' signals. So, if the NCAA finds that Auburn broke the rules, they will be punished, as they should be.

By that time, Cam Newton and his teammates will be long gone. It will be some future generation of Auburn football that bears the sanctions for their sins. Games will be voided. If Auburn wins the rest of their games, and the national championship, we'll be told it never happened. Just like we've been told that Reggie Bush wasn't really the best college football player of 2005. Just like Memphis didn't really lose to Kansas on Mario Chalmers' miracle shot in the 2008 NCAA basketball championship, because of course that whole Memphis season never really happened. Just like Chris Webber never called a timeout he didn't have in the 1993 national title game, because of course the Fab Five never really happened.

The NCAA's policy seems to be one of retroactive nullification. They can't really catch cheaters while they're cheating, but don't worry, years from now we'll be told that a bunch of games never happened. Maybe there isn't a better way for the NCAA to handle situations like these. They certainly can't invalidate players or programs without solid proof. Investigations take time and the NCAA can't really be blamed because the protagonists in their dramas have left the stage by the time denouement is reached.

But this is cold comfort to those who play by the rules. By the NCAA's logic, Boise St. and TCU may well go undefeated only to sit by and watch as a team, which ends up being invalidated, plays for their national championship.

Don't worry, we'll be told. We don't need a playoff. The BCS works. College football has the best regular season of any sport. Every week is a playoff. Every game counts. Except, that is, for every game that Boise St. and TCU played and won, because they didn't count enough to get either team a shot at the national championship. Except, that is, for every game Auburn played, because a few years from now, we may be told that they never even happened.

Randy Moss, Allen Iverson, and Maurice Lucas

2010-11-02T14:15:00.000-07:00

Randy Moss had one superlative year. Yes, he was great in his first stint with the Vikings, and he was a pro-bowler in his last two years with the Patriots. Moss is a future hall of famer on the strength of his entire career, but it was only 2007 when every Sunday felt like there wasn't a man on earth, much less the opposing sideline, who could stop Randy Moss from catching the football. He caught 23 touchdowns in 2007, more than anyone has ever caught. His team scored 589 points in 2007, more than any team has ever scored. Images of Moss from 2007 stick in the memory. Catching a touchdown between two Dolphins in the end zone. The coverage couldn't have been better, Tom Brady threw a jump ball, and Randy Moss was bigger, stronger, and a better leaper than the two men guarding him. He wanted the ball more and he was more equipped to get it, so he did. Streaking down the sideline agianst the Giants in the last game of the regular season, Tom Brady could have thrown the ball a mile, and Randy Moss would have run under it. And the first game of the 2007 season, against the Jets. Moss was running a post down the right sideline and Brady heaved it towards the left corner of the end zone. Moss blazed across the field, leaving three Jets struggling futilely in his wake, chasing like Keystone Cops. Of course Moss ran under the pass for a touchdown. In 2007 you could not overthrow Randy Moss. The man was a gazelle. No one ever looked more majestic on a football field than Randy Moss at full speed.

Unfortunately, it's hard to imagine a man acting smaller than Moss did on Friday, allegedly berating a caterer. Moss' boorish rant led to his dismissal by the Vikings. It's the fourth time a team has cut ties to Moss, each time his team received nothing approaching fair value for one of the greatest receivers of all time.

Allen Iverson had one superlative year. Yes, he's won four scoring titles, but in 2000-01 he captivated, he mesmerized. He's always been the smallest and the fastest man on the court. He's always been relentless, fearless in driving to the basket, irrepressible in attacking men a foot taller and 100 pounds heavier than himself. In 2001 Iverson willed a very flawed team, with no other great players, to the NBA Finals. Once there, he scored 48 points to win game one, giving the much vaunted LA Lakers their only loss of the 2001 postseason. In that game's most memorable sequence, all of Iverson, for better and worse, is on display: His breathtaking quickness and skill in crossing up and shooting over the Lakers' quickest player, Tyronn Lue; and his self assurance, cockiness, and bravado in stepping right over a prostrate Lue in front of an animated Lakers' bench and screaming LA crowd.

Much like Moss, who famously "plays when he wants to play," Iverson's brilliance always came with a self-assurance that flirted with self-righteousness, a confidence that blended with arrogance. And, much like Moss, Iverson has now parted ways with four teams, a disporportionately large number for two men with such prodigious talents. Iverson, far from washed up, but unwilling to play a lesser role than he once did, was passed over by all 32 NBA teams this off-season. Just last week, he signed a contract to play basketball in Turkey, and seems unlikely to ever play in the NBA again; a belittling end for an all time great.

"He was very black, very articulate, very political, a strong and independent man sprung from circumstances that could also create great insecurity. There was about him a constant sense of challenge; everything was a struggle, and everything was a potential confrontation, a struggle for turf and position. It was in part what had made him at his best so exceptional an athlete. He liked the clash of will. He was at once an intensely proud black man, justifiably angry about the injustice around him, and a superb and subtle con artist, a man who had in effect invented himself and his persona."

These words seem as if they were written about Moss or Iverson (both were involved in racially charged brawls in high school). They were, in fact, written about another man who had one superlative season. The preceding paragraph is from David Halberstam's 1981 book, The Breaks of the Game and is describing Maurice Lucas who died on Sunday, far too young at 58, of bladder cancer. In 1976-77 Lucas led the Portland Trailblazers in scoring, and along with Bill Walton, led Portland to the NBA title. That team, although it would fall apart after just one year, is an iconic one in NBA lore. Halberstam writes, "It was a wonderful moment...It was not just that they had won, but the way that they had won, unselfish in a selfish world and a selfish profession. It had been not just a matter of scoring baskets, but of scoring baskets off the perfect pass." Two years later, Walton (who loved Lucas so much he named his son after him) was gone to San Diego and Lucas was hampered by injuries and unhappy about his contract. He would play the next 12 years of his career with six different teams, never coming close to recapturing the magic of 1977, just as Moss and Iverson have never been able to duplicate the magic of 2007 and 2001, respectively.

Who knows what factors converged to make just one year so great for these three men. Greatness is fleeting, ephemeral, hard to pin down. Moss has played with great quarterbacks--Randall Cuningham, Daunte Culpepper (both in their primes), Tom Brady, and Brett Favre--almost his entire career, but never quite reached the take your breath away greatness that he did in 2007. He's about to join his fifth team, and his third this year. For much of his career, Iverson played on teams built around him, tailored to his strengths, but his swagger and talent never coalesced into team greatness quite like they did in 2001. He'll likely spend the rest of his career playing in a basketball backwater. Maurice Lucas was a brooding physical presence. Nicknamed, the Enforcer, he was an enormously powerful man with exceptional quickness and skill for his size. An all-NBA player, he should have been an asset to every team he was on. But his career never quite reached the same heights as it did in his first year in the NBA, 1976-77.

Here's What Lebron Should Do

2010-10-27T10:56:00.000-07:00

Lebron James has a new Nike commercial. Or perhaps it's more correct to say that Nike has a new Lebron James commercial. Regardless, if you haven't seen it, rest assured it will be difficult to watch a sporting event for the next week or so without being bombarded by it. In it, Lebron tries to address the criticism he's taken over his decision to leave Cleveland for Miami via free agency this offseason. In the commercial Lebron proposes hypothetical scenarios and repeatedly asks us, the audience and his presumed critics, "What should I do?" Since he's asking us in a television commercial, not a news conference or town hall meeting, it's a one sided discussion. With no avenue for response, the questions are undoubtedly rhetorical. Be that as it may, most of his questions aren't all that difficult to answer. So I'm going to help him out with some answers.

Lebron and I were both born in 1984. We both played multiple sports in high school. We're both huge sports fans. We really are remarkably similar. So here's what Lebron should do--coming from someone who's not all that different than he is, but who hasn't been called (and referred to himself as) "The Chosen One" and "King James" for his entire adult life.

Should I admit that I've made mistakes?
Yes. Everyone makes mistakes. Admitting them is an important part of being a good human being.

Should I remind you that I've done this before?
Done what before? Switched teams? I'm not sure that reminding people in Cleveland that you once chose a private high school over a public one is going to make them feel any less bitter and betrayed. Maybe it will reinforce their belief that they never should have trusted and embraced you the way they did, that they should have seen this coming the moment you were drafted and weren't allowed to handpick your friends to be on your team, but is that really what you're looking to do?

Should i give you a history lesson?
On what? Are you in any way qualified to do so? Do we ask historians to shoot jump shots? No.

Should I tell you how much fun we had?
Actually, that's not a bad idea. It's your life and you don't owe anyone any explanations for your decisions. But, since you seem to be courting public opinion, maybe you should try to explain the rationale behind your decision which upset so many people. Maybe if you explain how much fun you had in Beijing with Dwayne and Chris people will understand why you wanted to play with them. But, just warning you, they might not. One of the reasons people loved you is that you always looked like you were having so much fun. You did sideline dances and had pre-game routines with each teammate. You looked like a gigantic 40-year old kid. You may be hard pressed convincing people that you had so much more fun in Beijing than you did in winning 127 games in the last two regular seasons in Cleveland. Few teams ever looked so joyous. Few teams ever looked like they genuinely liked each other so much.

Should I really believe I ruined my legacy?
Not really. But, to speak abstractly, you've probably lowered your legacy's cieling. If you go on to be the best player on a whole bunch of championship teams your legacy will be fine. In forming your pseudo all-star team in Miami you announced that you didn't think you could get it done in Cleveland. You joined Dwyane Wade's team. You may become the best player/alpha dog on the team, but he already won a championship in Miami as the best player. For now, it's still his team. No great player wins without help, but in talking about things as grandiose and ephemeral as legacies, the details matter. Is Michael's legacy diminished because he never won without Scottie? No, but Scottie's certainly is because he never won without Michael. Look at Kobe. Four years ago he requested a trade. He didn't get it and he's gone on to win two championships, without Shaquille, and unquestionably boosted his legacy. So, your legacy certainly remains unwritten. But, no matter how many championships you win in Miami there will always be that nagging doubt--why couldn't he get it done, on his own, in Cleveland?

Should I have my tattoo removed?
I assume you refer to the tattoo on your back that says "Chosen One?" Probably not. Tattoo removal is a long, painful process. It probably wouldn't be worth it. Just maybe think twice next time you're considering getting a tattoo comparing yourself to Jesus Christ. Or at a very minimum, if you want to get another tattoo making the JC comparison, maybe you should win an NBA title with the team you're on, rather than join a ready made all-star team with your buddies to help you.

Should I just sell shoes?
No. Emphatically no. The worst thing about your idol, Michael Jordan, was that, after winning, selling shoes always came first. Nike may pay you an awful lot, but that doesn't mean you have to be a corporate shill. Take a stand on something. You live in Miami now, why don't you endorse someone in Florida's governor's race. Or its Senate race. They're both very close. You could publicly insist that your sneakers get made in a factory with humane and fair working conditions. People will listen to you. Your ability and hard work have given you an extraordinary platform. Use it. Whatever you do, don't ever say anything like, "Republicans buy sneakers too."

Should I tell you 'I am not a role model?'
Only if you want to feed the media maelstrom. You are a role model, like it or not, there's no changing it. Again, it's your life, live it how you want. You didn't ask to be a role model and you don't have to act like one. (And no, just because a basketball team or a shoe company pays you millions of dollars doesn't mean you've implicitly agreed to act a certain way. They're paying you to play basketball and sell sneakers, they don't have the right to tell you how to live your life.) But denying that you are a role model won't change anything.

Should I tell you I'm a championship chaser? I did it for the money? rings?
It doesn't matter if you tell us any of those things, we're going to come to our own conclusions. You look like a championship chaser. You joined a team that's recently won a championship and you joined two other all-NBA players. You didn't do it for the money, because you could have gotten slightly more in Cleveland. That's laudable. Too few athletes in your situation recognize that whatever they choose they're going to have more money than God, so they might as well go wherever makes them happy.

Should I be who you want me to be?
No, be who you want to be. What a silly question.

Should I accept my role as a villain?
If you want to. If it makes you play better. But not if you want to regain the public's affections. People liked you because you always seemed like such a good guy. You had so much fun playing and you smiled instead of sneered and your teammates loved you. That's why no one outside LA likes Kobe.

Should I stop listening to my friends?
No, but maybe stop following their advice. It's very admirable that you've remained so close with your childhood friends and you've brought them along on your ride. But you should also recognize that although they may have your best interests in mind, they may not always be the best people to give you advice. They're kids from your neighborhood, do they really know what they're doing in managing your career? Sometimes the best intentions aren't enough. And as for your new best friends from Beijing, Chris and Dwyane, recognize that they likely have a lot more to gain from a partnership with you than you have to gain from a partnership with them. They may be your friends, but take their advice with a big grain of salt because you have no assurances that they've got your best instrest in mind.

Should I try acting?
Only if Spike Lee comes knocking with an offer to do He Got Game 2. Have you seen Steel and Kazaam? How about Space Jam?

Should I make you laugh?
I don't see why not. Everyone likes to laugh. So, sure. Go for it. Just don't make it your number one priority.

Should I read you a soulful poem?
No.

What should I do?
Understand that you upset an awful lot of people with "The Decision." Understand that The Cavaliers paid you millions of dollars to work for them for seven years and that, by all accounts, they treated you exceedingly well. This obviously didn't obligate you to continue playing for them, but you should have shown some decency and informed them personally that you were leaving, instead of making them find out via a sham interview on national TV. Also, understand that the American economy sucks right now. That lots of people (especially in rust belt cities like Cleveland) are really struggling. That watching you play for the Cavs was a bright spot in a lot of people's lives. You don't owe anything to people who root for you, but it'd be nice to show some empathy and apologize for leaving so callously. There was no reason to put a whole city through the ringer on national TV like you did. Maybe do like your teammate Zydrunas Ilgauskas did and take out an ad in the Cleveland newspaper saying how much you enjoyed playing there. It'd be a nice gesture. Also, stop insisting that "The Decision" was a good idea because you raised $3 million for the Boys and Girls Club. You're rich. You could have given money to the Boys and Girls Club. you could have asked Nike and your other sponsors to match or exceed your donation. You could have spared Cleveland the spectacle.

Football's Big Hit Problem

2010-10-20T14:06:00.000-07:00

There were a number of sickening hits in NFL games this past weekend. Violent, full speed, stop you dead in your tracks type collisions. These hits aren't new. They happen every week, it just seemed like there were more of them this week. Brandon Merriweather's helmet to helmet shot on Todd Heap was the most flagrant. The ball was past Heap and he was already being tackled, yet Merriweather still stopped, changed direction, and contorted his body to hit Heap in the head. The Steelers' James Harrison concussed to Cleveland Browns. He stopped Mohammed Mossaquoi dead in his tracks after a catch and before Mossaquoi had a chance to gather and defend himself and he led with his head in making a tackle on Josh Cribbs. A collision between the Falcons' Dunta Robinson and the Eagles' Desean Jackson knocked both players out of the game and left Jackson with a serious concussion and memory loss. It was sickening to watch.

Stunningly, the NFL, which claims player safety as a top priority, handed out no suspensions. Merriweather and Robinson were fined $50,000 and Harrison, as a repeat offender, was fined $75,000. Proportionate to salary, the fines are minuscule and toothless. If Harrison was making $35,000 per year, his fine would be less than $200--similar to a hefty parking ticket. Rodney Harrison (himself once considered the NFL's preeminent head hunter) scoffed at players being punished with fines: "My mentality was if it costs me $30,000 $40,000 $50,000 to be an all pro, than that's the price I have to pay...But when I got suspended, it was, 'Uh-oh.' That was a different mentality now. I'm hurting my team, I'm losing a game check. Let's try to change things up."

The fines would be laughable if so much wasn't at stake. Rutgers player Eric LeGrand was paralyzed this past weekend after a violent collision on a kickoff. Football is a violent sport. Players complain about being policed by people who don't know what it's like to play the game. They complain, and they're right, that there's no way to make it safe. But there are ways to make it safer. If the NFL is serious about protecting its players it needs to make changes. Any helmet to helmet hit should be a mandatory one game suspension for the player who initiated it. The same goes for hitting a defenseless player as Robinson hit Jackson and Harrison hit Mossaquoi. These aren't new rules. They are already on the books, the NFL just needs to give some teeth to its enforcement.

Players will complain that they were taught to tackle one way and now they have to change. So be it. People may complain that the sport is less fun to watch. (This won't be true. Fans may watch football in part for the neck-craning-can't-look-away-collisions, but they don't like them. The Jackson-Robinson collision was like a car crash. Yes, you had to watch, but it was also cringe-inducing, horrifying, and voyeuristic. And as both players lay on the ground, I felt nothing but dread and an uneasy feeling that I really shouldn't be watching this, that these men should not be doing these things to each other for my entertainment.) Again, so be it.

There's no indication that the NFL is taking player safety as seriously as it claims. If it was, it would be suspending players for hits. It wouldn't be quibbling with the player's union over who qualifies for post-career health insurance. And it certainly wouldn't be pushing for two extra games per season. These men put their bodies, livelihoods, and even their lives at risk every time they play. To ask them to do it more often while failing to institute policies that would slightly lessen the risks they face is more than hypocritical, it borders on the criminal.