Wrong place for roster link

This roster link really should be here, not on my Prague Blog. OK, that's better.

My Kobe-LeBron dilemma

This is no John Hollinger PER Diem statistical analysis, just a quick non-mathematical, intuitive basketball equation. "If A, then B" type of stuff -- whatever you call that.

Had you asked me who I thought was better, Kobe or LeBron, I'd say LeBron, by a slim margin. I also think the Cavs will win the NBA Championship next month. But take both Kobe and LeBron off of their respective teams, I'd say the Lakers would beat the Cavs, pretty handily. Therefore, I must think LeBron is that much better than Kobe. Right?

Adam Carolla's marketing quandary

On his latest podcast with guest Brad Garrett (from "Everybody loves Raymond"), Adam Carolla came up with a very interesting business point regarding Michael Phelps, as an example.

You remember the picture of Phelps ripping the bong at a University of South Carolina party. Some asshole obviously took the picture and sold it to some bullshit celebrity gossip site for who knows how much money. That site subsequently received a trillion and a half hits, made a fortune on ad revenue and went on with their bush league business.

Consider this, brought up by Carolla. Say I own a sporting goods store. I take a picture of Phelps walking down the street in a Nike sweat suit. I blow up the picture and stick it in the Nike section of my store to sell more attire. Obviously this wouldn't fly; you can't profit off someone else's face without their official endorsement. Surely Phelps should get compensation for my use of his picture. That's a business no-brainer.

Then why can tmz.com (or whoever leaked the Phelps photo) profit off his un-endorsed pot-smoking picture?

Same concept, right?

My multimedia doors are always open

Now you can read what I read via my Twitter updates to your right, but I'm always looking for interesting material to read. So if you have an article, video or favorite blog you read, don't hesitate to throw it my way; my ears are always open.

Combining Twitter and my blog

You'll notice on the right side of this screen, updates on my Twitter page. Every time I read an article or blog post I like, I post the link on my Twitter page. Now you can read the same stuff I read, by coming here, and see what I've posted. I post links on everything from politics, to economics, to business, but mostly sports stuff. Pretty cool, huh?

Happy birthday, blog

Exactly one year ago I started this blog. Since living in the Czech Republic, I haven't written much about the world of sports, but have no fear, when I get back to the States in 11 days, I will be back to regular posting, links to my stuff for NESN.com and posts for the stuff NESN won't run. So have some patience; I'll be up and running again soon.

Hate the players, not the game

If it hasn’t happened to you, it’s happened to someone you know. Probably in high school. His girlfriend is cheating on him, but no matter how many of his buddies tell him what’s going on, he refuses to believe it. You’ve seen it before.

It’s called denial; love is blind. Deep down, he knows it’s true, but he continues to tell himself otherwise, until the line between reality and fabrication becomes more blurred than Paris Hilton’s vision after a night on the “job.”

I’m the latest culprit. Embarrassingly so.

I knew everyone took steroids. It was like pot in the 60s, coke in the 80s; it was just accepted, at least behind closed (bathroom stall) doors. Not everyone did it, but I was convinced 75 percent of Major Leaguers at least tasted the forbidden juice at some point between 1995 and 2005. I knew the truth, just couldn’t come to grips with reality. I read Canseco’s Juiced, but unlike R Kelly, my mind was telling me yes but my body was telling me no. Canseco was a scumbag for ratting out his is fellow roiders to turn a profit, which was why it was so hard to believe him, even though deep down we all knew McGwire, Sosa, Palmeiro, Bonds, Clemens, [insert superstar’s name here] were guilty of our Pastime’s version of treason.

Just not A-Rod. And Not Manny. They were the naturals. They didn’t need that extra pop. Rodriguez could have hit 50 dingers at scrawny age 19 and Ramirez was hitting October changeups off his shoe tops into the Wrigley bleachers with his eyes closed because he’s just that good. Right? Right? Anybody?

Wrong. The worst parts about this are that A) I’m not that surprised, meaning, B) We all know this is probably Chapter 3 of what could be a double-digit-chapter novel. So who’s next? Pujols? Howard? Pedro? Griffey? Nomar? Ortiz? Would any shock you at this point?

I shutter to think.

I wanted that 2004 Red Sox team to be totally clean; a lone bright spot in a black hole cluttered with cheaters, liars and users. That team changed lives, gave hope to a town labeled “Loserville” for over eight decades. Now what?

Ted Williams is thawing in his frozen grave.

This isn’t about one team, one player or one person. As much as I’d like to blame Bud Selig for turning his head and creating this mess, I can’t do that, either. It’s not Selig or Scott Boras’s fault. Play the blame game as much as you like, but when the dust settles, you have no choice but to turn your fingers around and point them at No. 13. And No. 99. And 22. And 25. And about 103 or so more to come. This is about the players. A generation of money-, number-loving athletes who shoved integrity aside in pursuit of extra digits (both in Benjamins and stat columns), en route to that Hall in upstate New York, a place most of the above-mentioned stars were already headed.

At the end of the day, only one word can describe this so-called Steroid Era: sad. Sad for the fans. Sad for the helpless, feeble commissioner. Sad for the owners and management. But most of all, sad for the players, the role models who cheated to turn $100 million contracts into 200 and 25 homers into 50.

How this era will be remembered in 20 years is yet to be seen. But whatever happens between now and then, I will no longer be surprised. I’m done being naïve.

You should be too.

Another personal shoutout

Just found this preview for the Badger Herald vs. Daily Cardinal softball game. Funny stuff.

I've conformed, sort of

I used to think Twitter was the dumbest thing ever created. I also used to be anti-Facebook, until college. But Twitter, I thought, was extra dumb. All it is is a compilation of Facebook statuses, I continued to think. I don't give a damn if you're going to the gym. Aren't we past minute-by-minute away messages these days?

But last week I signed up. After all, I need to keep up with my fellow Websters (a made up Zetism, not the dictionary) if I want to make it in this worldwide world. Just having a blog (or two) is so Web 1.0 (I read that in the new book I'm reading, Wikinomics, I highly recommend it). Don't get your hopes up; I won't be tweeting "in the shower" or "I hate finals." Instead I'll be posting my favorite articles from around the Net, all the while adding some hopefully-clever tidbits along the way.

So if you're interested, follow derekzetlin. Enjoy.

Badger Herald guest column from abroad:

Change in defense could help football recruitment

Blogosphere shoutout

It's always nice to be referenced in someone else's blog.

Lions' love for Stafford continues Millen tradition

Ever since the Patriots traded Matt Cassel to the Chiefs, I’ve been waiting for this weekend like a 6-year-old on Christmas morning. I wasn’t disappointed with the Pats only landing a second-round pick for the lifelong backup and Mike Vrabel, but more intrigued, intrigued with not the Patriots, not Scott Pioli and the Chiefs, but the Lions. Yes, the 0-16, No. 1-pick-in-each-Day-1-round-owning Lions.

Ever since that infamous deal back in February, I always thought, “Why didn’t the Lions give New England the 33^rd pick for Cassel and Vrabel? Surely they need a franchise quarterback. That way, they get one, and keep the No. 1 overall pick [not to mention a gaining a savvy veteran in Vrabel].”

Instead the Pats got No. 33 from K.C. and Detroit signed former Georgia quarterback Matthew Stafford and took safety Louis Delmas from Western Michigan in Round 2. Dissection time.

Before officially selecting their future Saturday afternoon, the Lions signed Stafford to a 6-year deal with $41.7 million guaranteed. Cassel recently signed a similar deal with K.C. for six years, $36 million guaranteed.

Call them even (which they’re not, but do it for argument’s sake). The Lions end up with an unproven rookie quarterback and an undersized safety who played in the MAC (that was not a shot at the MAC, well, sort of, but only because I witnessed worthless Wisconsin dismantle Akron last season). Had they shipped No. 33 to New England, they’d end up with Cassel – a proven commodity groomed by (arguably) the best, Vrabel and the No. 1 overall pick, which of course they’d have to trade for a handful of lesser (call them “value picks (which they desperately need) because they wouldn’t be able to pay both Cassel and Mr. No. 1 Overall. Doesn’t that make so much more sense?

The only reason it doesn’t is if Detroit truly believes Stafford is going to be the next Peyton Manning. I happen to like the guy and think he’ll be a good NFL quarterback. But what if he’s the next Akili Smith? Or Ryan Leaf? Or Rick Mirer? Need I mention that former Duck named Joey?

Stafford may end up being better than Cassel in the long run. But after a history-making 0-16 campaign in Motown, I’ll take the west-coast Matt for equal money, plus Vrabel, plus three or four second- or third rounders after trading No. 1. That’s how you build a team. I thought the Lions already fired Matt Millen?

Hidden incentive to lose?

I'm not suggesting any foul play. It doesn't even smell salmon-like. But as an economics major, I think in terms of incentives, so this intrigued me.

We're in the midst of college basketball's so-called Championship Week. Among other things, it serves as a last chance for the season's biggest underachievers to earn a last-minute bid to the Big Dance. Of course, a conference tournament championship of any variety gives a team a ticket to participate in the annual Madness, whether you're East Tennessee State, Radford or VCU.

Or Cleveland State, who beat Horizon League No. 1-seeded Butler, 57-54 last night. Butler is a team that's been consistently among the nation's Top 25 for the past few years. But like Conference USA's Memphis, the Dawgs get annual criticism for playing in a weak conference. Needless to say, both the Tigers and Bulldogs are in bracketology's safe haven, for even if they fail to win their respective conference tournaments -- which the Bulldogs did -- they each will surely receive automatic tournament bids.

Sure, a conference tourny trophy will boost each of their resumes and subsequently raise their tournament seeds. But honestly, what's the different between a five and a six-seed? Or a two and a three? Not much.

Instead, it seems as if both teams have more to gain in the long run from losing than racking up another seemingly meaningless victory in the eyes of the national media. For if Cleveland State makes an unforeseen Sweet 16 run, it will help recruiting in the long run and thus bolster the future of the Horizon League, while Butler loses nothing in the meantime.

Think about it: Memphis has all but locked up a tournament two-seed, but will need some serious help to snag a No. 1. If it were to throw the C-USA final to, say, Tulsa, what does it have to lose? Tulsa would then receive an automatic bid, the conference would get an extra ticket to the Dance and subsequently look that much deeper, and Memphis is still the No. 2 seed in the East Regional.

Not exactly a scandal of Black Sox magnitude. But I thought it was worth noting.

In Bill We (must) Trust (again)

The whole NFL world is talking about the Matt Cassel-Mike Vrabel-Bill Belichick-Scott Pioli deal that happened over the weekend. And although the Czech Republic is not technically part of the americky futbol world, I feel obligated to add my two cents to the international forum, simply because what I’ve been reading (mostly by non-experts) troubles me.

Cassel was drafted 230^th (7^th round) in the 2005 NFL Draft. Local fans and media members were calling for his head as early as last preseason. This you know.

But after going 10-5 as a starter his stock was at all-time high, as his contract expired soon after the Pats failed to make January’s playoffs. Now he’s a proven commodity; his upside is higher than the sum of fans at a Bob Marley concert, perhaps one day landing his induction into the Canton, Ohio shrine. Ask most GMs, and they’d probably rather have Cassel calling plays than either Georgia’s Matthew Stafford or USC’s Mark Sanchez, two sure-thing 1^st-rounders in April’s upcoming draft. Thus, Cassel surely should be worth a first round pick in return, right? If not Kansas City’s 3^rd overall pick, then the Pats should get something in the next 30 selections, right?

Yes, but no. Beckett Magazine could say that your signed Michael Jordan rookie card is worth $6,250. But if everyone knows you’re late on your mortgage, you’re not going to get 100 cents on the dollar. On paper, Cassel was worth a 1^st round pick; I’m sure the Lions would want him under center next year instead of whomever they take with the 1^st overall pick. But by slapping the franchise tag on him last month, the Pats had no more leverage for shopping the former lifetime backup. They had to get rid of No. 16. The 34^th pick (3^rd in the 2^nd round) isn’t bad; I’d say about 80 cents on the dollar. Or you can think if it as turning a 7^th-rounder into an early 2^nd in four years. Not bad dividends in that light. The troubling part of the deal is parting ways with Vrabel. So let’s break it all down:

Prior to franchising Cassel, the Pats had two options: do what they did, or let him walk for free and theoretically keep Vrabel. But there was always the option that No. 50 would be cut in camp for salary cap purposes, much like Senor Hoodie and Co. did with locker room leader Lawyer Milloy years ago. In that scenario, Cassel would walk and New England would be forced to make Vrabel do the same, getting nothing in return. Instead, they get April’s 34^th selection.

We’ve seen this happen before. Bob Kraft’s Dynasty has been built with emotions shoved aside. They said “Bon voyage” to fan favorites Ty Law, Adam Vinatieri, Willie McGinest, Deion Branch, Milloy, the list goes on. Each time there was an outrage among Patriot Nation, the consensus being that the team could not stay afloat without each “essential” piece. How’d that turn out?

The Dynasty was built from within, on high-round, high-yielding draft picks. Richard Seymour (1^st round), Vince Wilfork (1), Ty Warren (1), Logan Mankins (1), Jerod Mayo (1), Matt Light (2) and of course Tom Brady in the 6^th. Now the Pats have four picks in the first two rounds next month. Suddenly kissing the depreciating 33-year-old former Ohio State linebacker doesn’t look so bad after all.

The Patriots have dominated this decade based largely on so-called “suspect” moves on the part of Belichick and Pioli. Now they’re doing business with each other. But make no mistake; this transaction was by no means a conspiracy – contrary to what Jay Mariotti may say. This was simply business as usual for BB. Of course, only time will tell how much he’ll miss is former running mate. Until then, In Bill and Brady We Trust. Would you feel comfortable if it were anyone else?

Headed overseas

Time for Derek the sportswriter to take a semester-long hiatus. I'm headed for Prague, Czech Republic tomorrow, but my blogging will not be put on hold entirely. In fact, it's quite the contrary. I'll be blogging from abroad, so you can follow along at dzetlin2.blogspot.com.

A bit of a different look for me, but should be fun nonetheless.

Tek won't make the switch from switch

Today, in the world of sports, everyone’s an expert. That’s why talk radio exists. That’s why the blog era has flourished faster Al Gore’s Internet itself.

Me, I’m no expert, either. Perhaps a budding expert in the realm of Wisconsin football, but only because I was the beat writer, not merely because I’ve watched every game and discussed them at every local bar since setting foot in Madison two and a half years ago.

No, I’m no Red Sox expert, just a fan. But I do know one thing. I have a keen sense for moronic suggestions. It can’t tell the difference from certain aromas, but my nose can detect ignorance from quite a distance. So allow me to clear one thing up, something that’s been bothering me for a few days now.

During my infrequent visits home to the Northeast, I enjoy listening to WEEI sports talk radio. Sometimes callers make decent, head nod-worthy points, but most of the time the nodding comes of the horizontal variety on my part. Especially when it comes to recent Jason Varitek talks.

No, this isn’t another Scott Boras barrage and I’m not campaigning for the Sox to resign their captain – although I think they should. This is specifically about his hitting.

After batting a dismal .220 last season, many fans believe Captain Tek should strictly bat from the right side and forgo the trade of switch hitting. He has, of course, consistently had a higher batting average from the right side of the plate during his career, so why not make the switch from switch? After all, then “he would only have to focus on one side,” I’ve heard. Sounds easy enough, right?

Right. The guy’s been switch hitting since before his days at Georgia Tech with Nomah. He hasn’t seen a curveball or slider break away from him since grade school. Changeups have consistently tailed away from – not toward him for decades.

Varitek may or may not be donned in a Boston uniform come next month. But one thing is for sure: No. 33 will continue to hit from both sides of the plate. “Focusing on one side” would be like telling Phil Mickelson to bury his driver. Sure, he put more than a handful in the woods, but the phrase “lay up” isn’t part of his non-basketball routine. Just like Varitek isn’t about to learn to hang in there on a hook headed for his left ear that ends up on the outside corner.

Strictly batting righty wouldn’t make things easier for Tek, it would be putting the training wheels back on at the tail end of a storied, two-ring career.

Come on Sox Nation, you should know better than that.

Football wrapup:

Football season bust brings scrutiny to UW staff

Algonquin 138.25, Marlborough 132.8

T-Hawks all about the team

Natick 37, Wellesley 30

Young guns on display

Franklin 5, St. Peter-Marian 3

Solid start proves pivotal for Panthers

Deep into my archives

This blog was started in May of 2008 and has links to all of my Badger Herald articles since. Here are the links to my Herald articles (those that are still working, which is most) that were printed prior to the development of this site, so now everything can be found in one place (organized by genre first, then date; most recent on top):

Big Ten Media Day 2008 Coverage:

Unanswered questions, unfinished business

Spread invades Big Ten

Columns:

Quick tips for incoming frosh

Zetlin ponders NBA 'what ifs?' (in no way trying to emulate Bill Simmons)

Sports not life or death, unlike Iraq

Kickers provide serious concern

Madison in need of baseball team

Keys to Badgers' football success

Fans can't forget life before Curry

Stop whining, just win games

No more waiting: It's madness time

Attention: Beware of Ryan's Badgers

IU team sends wrong message

Sports' bad boys need punishing

Butch should play more down stretch

Line dominance wins NFL games

Play of Hughes vital for success

Identity needed over offseason

Tiger over Federer in best-ever debate

Spring 2008 Football Coverage:

Starting quarterback job still up in air

Fans get first look at UW

Injured starters give chance for reserves

Receiver spots wide open

Badgers kick off spring practices

Football Features:

Too much of a good thing?

Big men on campus

Under the radar

Kohl Center Feature:

Converting the Kohl

Gridiron Columns (College Football 2007):

BCS Top 2 intact; who's No. 3?

Cinderellas fly under national radar

Senior quarterbacks show potential

USC loss keeps upset train rolling

The year of the upset

Next in line shine under spotlight

Men's Basketball Coverage (Fall 2007):

UW takes Youth Classic

Volleyball News:

UW to host 2007 regionals

Women's Basketball Coverage (2006-07):

Anderson gets last laugh over WKU's Kelly

Stone reaches UW status

Comeback kids: UW erases deficit to win

UW avoids 'one and done' week to advance to WNIT quarterfinals

UW looks to calm Wildcats

No rust in Badgers' WNIT victory

UW says goodbye to tournament bye

No vacation for Wisconsin

41's wild: Anderson, Purdue's Gearlds have day

Tale of 2 games: UW defeats IU

Home at last: UW returns to Kohl Center

Promotion draws big crowd, energy

Pendulum swings Badgers way

Stone raises roof

Buckeyes seek to hold onto Big Ten supremacy

UW foes not too close comfort

Great Dane! UW blows out Albany

Unified Badgers off to hottest start under coach Stone

Stone relying on talented rookies

Badgers rebound against Kansas

'Team Unity' has new feeling in young season

Badgers buck Broncos in nail-biter

Badgers relying on freshman class

Badgers relying on 8 freshmen

Women's Basketball Features:

Money in the 'Banks' for UW

Wisconsin's short but sweet freshman

Women's Hockey Feature (Fall 2006):

Sextet of freshman skaters excel early

Somtimes that's just the way it goes

New England sports fans have been spoiled all decade long. Three Lombardi trophies, a pair of World Series titles, an NBA championship, another pair of regular season MVPs, a near-perfect campaign, a defensive Player of The Year award, more playoff games than satisfied Scott Boras clients… The list goes on.

But in the spirit of the gift-giving season, let’s not be brats of the spoiled variety.

Yesterday the Patriots became the first 11-5 team to be playing golf pre-postseason since the NFL developed its 12-team system. It came down to the fourth tiebreaker on two separate occasions for the Pats to be sent home before the New Year for the first time since 2002. Their conference record fell one game short of both the Dolphins and the Ravens, which is why both rookie coach-led teams will be continuing their seasons next week.

Unlucky? Sure. But unfair? Don’t be such a homer.

For once, luck wasn’t on the Patriots’ side. Remember 2001 when David Patten was virtually unconscious on the Buffalo sideline but somehow managed to have a body part touching the pigskin, allowing the Pats to continue their drive in the midst of what would become a 9-game win streak to ultimately grab the wild card and the subsequent Super Bowl? Need I mention the Tuck Rule? Both were instrumental in the beginning of the Patriot-Belichick-Brady dynasty. And both required a bit of leprechaun-like charms.

With three games left in the 2008 season, the Pats sat at 8-5 and yet didn’t control their own playoff destiny – as we saw. But make no mistake, it wasn’t all because of black cat luck and it certainly wasn’t because of a tough schedule, either.

Sure, the 8-8 Chargers will host the Colts this wild card weekend, but sometimes that’s just the way the cookie crumbles. San Diego’s admittance into the tournament is more in part to a pathetic collapse in Denver rather than a glitch in the postseason rulebook. And sure, the Bolts had the luxury of playing the Chiefs and Raiders twice each, but who do you think New England beat up on six times a season for the past eight years in the AFC East? It wasn’t Indianapolis or any other team that even sniffed the January brackets more than once in a royal blue moon.

The Patriots were 2-4 this season against teams that eventually made this year’s playoffs. They beat up on the JV (putting it mildly) NFC West, got embarrassed by the Dolphins at home, San Diego on the road and blew it against Peyton and the Colts in the dome. Yesterday they shutout the Bills, but needed help from either Brett and the Jets or the Jaguars to continue their season. Neither delivered the favor, but sometimes that’s just the way it goes.

We’ve watched Senor Hoodie out-coach the league all decade and this season may have been his most impressive masterpiece, gluing together an 11-5 season with a quarterback that had barely played since grade school, after losing the league MVP, the team leader on defense and almost everyone in between. The Pats finished the season on a four-game win streak, but the season is 16 games long for a reason. This time, it just wasn’t their turn for glory. And they weren’t screwed or stolen from and the league’s rules are just fine.

Sometimes you just have to tip you hat in admiration. This would be one of those times. Tony Sparano took a 1-15 football team and triumphed over the Foxboro favorites, starting in Week 3 by unveiling Arkansas’ “wildcat” offense just miles from the Rhode Island border. But I’m aware, it hurts the ego a bit to bow down in front of Sir Tuna – who undoubtedly had a hand (or two) in the Fins’ Celtic-like one-season turnaround. But as those in Motown know best, sports can’t always be full of titles and rings – or wins, for that matter.

This was the Dolphins year, folks. Chad Pennington fittingly beat the Jets in his final exam as the Pats could only sit and watch Favre and his miserable three-interception performance from their respective La-Z-Boys.

Of course it’s tough to swallow and pending Tom’s left knee, the dynasty may not be over. But be gracious, chowder fans. Cassel and the Pats gave it their all; nothing to be taken from them. This time – for once – it just simply wasn’t in the cards. No need to be sore losers.

Florida State 42, Wisconsin 13

Fitting end to disappointing season

MVP Gano sets tone for 'Noles

Conflicting thoughts?

Last week, CBS Sports' Gary Parrish disagreed with me in my column about Bo Ryan. But how much does he really disagree, seeing as he posted this a mere month before?

Aren't we arguing the same thing?

Final column and PCP:

So many lessons in such short amount of time

PCP: Favorite Herald memory?

Bowl game feaure

Football Floridians headed home

Badgers accept bowl bid

Wisconsin heading back to Florida

Column and PCP:

Time for Bo to take next step

PCP: Fixing tardiness problem

Wisconsin 36, Cal Poly 35

Hasn't sunk in for some seniors

Column and PCP:

Wrong answer to fire Bielema

PCP: What determines 'MVP?'

NFL overtime inferior to college version

They can’t figure out that computers don’t watch the games, conference title games should be unified, the two-team-per-conference rule is flat-out dumb, the six automatic bid system is even dumber and no one likes calling it Football Bowl Subdivision. But to their credit, the college football masterminds have one thing figured out better than Roger Goodell and their professional counterparts. It’s got nothing to do with postseason and everything to do with post-four quarters.

Overtime.

Unlike in the NFL, the NCAA gives each team a fair chance to actually win the game following 60 minutes of hard-fought football. What a novel idea. First, one team gets the ball on the 25-yard line, then the second team gets the ball on the – yup, you guessed it, the same 25-yard line on the same end of the field. It truly is an amazingly innovating phenomenon, isn’t it?

The Sunday version is a bit different. Winning the fifth-quarter coin toss is like winning Goodell’s short-term vesion of David Stern’s lottery. Unless you’re Matt Hasselbeck, say, “We want the ball and we’re going to score,” then throw a pick-six to Crystal Crowns’ favorite Packer, Al Harris to end your season. Or you’re former Lions head coach Marty Mornhinweg, win the toss, take the windless side of the field instead of the ball, watch Jim Miller and the Bears march down the field and win on a Paul Edinger field goal.

Of course, winning the overtime coin toss doesn’t guarantee you a victory. In fact, according to ESPN’s John Clayton, the team that wins the toss wins the game on the first OT possession less than 50 percent of the time. Still, I’ve seen it enough; what happened Thursday night shouldn’t be allowed to happen again.

The Jets-Patriots game was arguably the most exciting game of the season. Lifetime backup Matt (Tom Who?) Cassel leads New England back from the dead, hits Randy Moss on the side of the end zone with Patriot legend Ty Law draped all over him with one second left to tie the game at 31.

Then, the Jets win the toss, Favre nonchalantly leads them into field goal range and Jay Feely ends it with a 34-yard field goal. Cassel and Moss never see the field again.

Even for Jets fan, that had to be anti-climactic. It was like ending a Bond movie with an eyes-closed kiss and a bouquet of red roses. And yet, it didn’t compare to the stomach-aching finale that occurred three days later.

Ever seen a last-second Hail Mary after which nobody celebrates? It happens every once in a blue moon, a tad more often than safeties on back-to-back possessions, which happened here less than 24 hours before. Yes, I’m talking about a tie, a stalemate, words that make all competitors cringe worse than when Mark McGwire hears, “piss test.”

Sunday’s Bengals-Eagles matchup ended without a victor. Philadelphia now sits one-half game behind the Redskins and Cowboys at 5-4-1 for second place in the NFC East and 1-8-1 Cincinnati now sits with a stupid-looking record at the bottom of the AFC North.

After 75 minutes of football the game ended how it began. The players were left unsatisfied, the fans were left even more unsatisfied; a pointless ending to a now-pointless game. Stalemates are for chess. Ties should only come in tic-tac-toe.

College football is far from perfect; the BCS is a joke and yet only half as laughable as the mere existence of the Papajohns.com Bowl. But the NCAA does have one ‘A’ on its midterm report card. Goodell should be asking for its notes.

Derek is a junior majoring in economics. Your thoughts on football’s overtime? Send them to dzetlin@badgerherald.com.

Wisconsin 35, Minnesota 32

Badgers keep Gophers Axe-less

Jefferson leaves game on stretcher

Minnesota preview:

Border Battle: Badgers hope to retain axe

Column and PCP:

Soccer player's story 'Power'ful

PCP: Who's under more pressure?

Penn State loss hurtful in so many ways

It was only one kick, three points, a mere chip shot. But oh how one upright-splitting field goal can have such an effect on a coach, a team, a conference.

An entire begging sport.

Daniel Murray’s 31-yard field goal Saturday evening at Iowa’s Kinnick Stadium had more impact than any Hawkeye fan who stormed the field could have imagined.

For one, it ruined Penn State’s perfect season.

The Nittany Lions’ 81-year-old coach may have trouble spelling “BCS,” but what a story this would have been. Joe Paterno – in what many believe is his 43^rd and final season as PSU’s head coach – is no longer able to stand on the Penn State sidelines and gets driven around practice in a golf cart. But at 9-0, his Nittany Lions were staring a national championship berth square in the face. They merely had to beat Iowa on the road before returning to Happy Valley to face a pathetic Indiana squad and then Michigan State. A real heart-warming story it would have been, now impossible, thanks to Murray.

It also ruined the Big Ten’s chance for a savior.

After a pair of Ohio State defeats at the mercy of the SEC’s Florida and LSU in consecutive seasons, the Big Ten has been considered by many as the most overrated conference in all of college football. Like Obi-Wan Kenobi was to Princess Leah, Penn State was the Big Ten’s only hope. With their “Spread HD” offense run by junior Daryll Clark, perhaps the Nittany Lions could have competed with the nation’s elite on Jan. 8 and re-solidified their conference’s national reputation.

Instead, the Big Ten will continue to be the laughing stalk of the gridiron galaxy, especially if PSU loses to USC in the Rose Bowl, a now-realistic possibility.

It gave life-support to an ailing BCS, bolstering an inferior system while lessening its chance of utter chaos and confusion.

With the loss, Penn State fell out of national championship contention because the Big Ten season simply doesn’t compare to those of the SEC or Big XII, and the Lions’ non-conference schedule was easier than finding a penny at the bottom of a city fountain.

Had Penn State finished undefeated, the BCS droids would have gone haywire. Would a 12-0 Big Ten campaign – without a conference title game – have been more championship-worthy than a one-loss SEC or Big XII season? That sole question could have pushed the NCAA toward a postseason playoff the entire football-watching world has been yearning since the computers took over in 1998. Now, there’s a chance that exactly two BCS conference teams can finish undefeated, making the decision simple for that three-lettered nightmare.

Every sports fan enjoys the David over Goliath defeats; they’re why games are decided between the painted white lines and not the Microsoft margins. But unless you reside in Gainesville, Fla., Norman, Okla. or anywhere in the Lonestar state, Iowa’s victory over Penn State was a not-so-happy ending to a thrilling conference contest, especially if you don Badger Red, Spartan Green or Michigan Maize and Blue.

Funny thing is, after Murray’s 35-yard miss that would have beaten Pittsburgh on Sept. 20, freshman Trent Mossbrucker was supposed to handle the field goal duties inside of 42 yards for the Hawkeyes. Instead, head coach Kirk Ferentz went with his gut feeling, giving the sophomore one more chance.

Talk about redemption. Too bad a life-changing success story ruined so much for everyone else.

Derek is a junior majoring in economics. Were you cheering when Penn State went down? Now do you wish you weren’t? Let Derek know at dzetlin@badgerherald.com.

Feature, column and PCP:

Seniors' journey nearing end

Current schedules make BCS accuracy impossible

PCP: Which Badger for president?

Michigan State preview:

Ringer will be tough test in East Lansing

Column and PCP:

Bielema won't let UW give up

PCP: (Heisman) Election '08

Wisconsin 27, Illinois 17

Finally: Wisconsin gets 'Big' victory

Column and PCP:

Series masking major problem

PCP: Who wins World Series?

Iowa 38, Wisconsin 16

UW mistakes factor in loss

Sherer disappointed in 1st career start

Iowa preview:

Seniors preach '1-0' mentality at Iowa

Column and PCP:

Rose Bowl will have 1 Badger

NFC North champs?

Bielema's Monday press conference:

Badgers quarterback job still up in air

Penn State 48, Wisconsin 7

Lions stay awake at night, stomp Badgers

Guest on LA Talk Radio:

Sports Talk with Patrick Rishe

Sporting News Penn State preview:

Penn State at Wisconsin

Column and PCP:

UW outdated, change needed

What to do at QB?

Ohio State 20, Wiscosin 17:

Buckeye backs live up to hype

Clay learning offense, carries increase

Guest on campus reporters football show:

What's poppin' with the Badgers? (look at 17 minute mark)

Sporting News Ohio State preview:

Game of the week

Column and PCP:

Time to build with more Clay

World Series champs?

Michigan preview and gamer:

Badgers looking for revenge in Ann Arbor

UW letdown in Big House

Guest on Michigan's podcast preview:

http://varsityblue.blogspot.com/2008/09/chatting-with-enemeny-wisconsin-badgers.html

Column and PCP:

Players at fault for late slump

Shootouts good idea?

Football news:

Casillas cited for drunken driving on moped

Column and PCP:

Fresno victory a positive sign

Yost firing good idea?

Wisconsin 13, Fresno State 10:

Bulldogs' bark scarier than bite in UW victory

Despite size, FSU crowd brings noise

Special page:

Best of the best

Column and PCP:

No more empty student section

Can Pats make playoffs?

Bielema's Monday press conference:

Bielema applauds Evridge, Brinkley

Wisconsin 51, Marshall 14:

Evridge, UW roll over Herd

Loss of Brady, loss of words

Packer fans, now I understand. Bulls fans, you too.

There’s a reason we watch every Sunday. We feel like we’re part of the team, one of the guys. We yell, “fumble!” at the tv screen when the ball pops loose, and we ask the coach – by first name only, of course – what he was thinking with play action on third and one. But when you get to root for a superstar, a sure-thing Hall of Famer, like a Brett Favre, a Peyton Manning, a Tom Brady, it makes cheering that much better. Your heart skips a beat each week when the offense takes the field because you can’t wait for that perfect spiral, that first touchdown pass. Just watching from your couch, you’re on cloud nine.

Now, according to yahoo.com, Tom Brady is out for the season with a torn ACL, and I feel like I just had to put my dog to sleep.

And I’ve never had a dog.

No, I feel like my team just lost the Super Bowl, falling one game short of perfection. Oh wait, that was seven months ago.

This is even worse.

For seven seasons we’ve watched No. 12 drop back to pass, standing calmer than a midsummer breeze in the pocket, firing touchdown passes left and right. Mistakes were a rarity, while third down conversions were aplenty. Brady brought us three Super Bowl rings, an MVP trophy, one Super Bowl-less AFC Championship ring and a whole lot of oohs and ahhs. But now, like we said for 86 years before 2004 for our other beloved franchise, we’ll have to wait ‘til next year.

Melancholy? Yeah, that’s a start. Dejected? Sounds about right.

In football, injuries happen. It’s a physical sport. We just never thought this – the one thing that couldn’t possibly happen – would actually happen. We thought he was immortal. We laughed when he was listed as “probable” for dozens of consecutive games.

And now we want to cry. We took it for granted.

People outside of New England can’t seem to understand why Brady is so great. I’ve heard, “If Brett Favre had Randy Moss and that kind of protection, he’d put up those numbers, too.”

But we know that’s not true. Ole Brett would still throw off his back foot – much like our formal signal caller Mr. Bledsoe – and chuck up floaters begging to get picked – like he did this afternoon, only somehow it was caught by a Jet in the end zone. And we knew that Brady was the best quarterback in the league before Moss and Wes Welker were served to him on a silver platter. We remember the David Patten, Troy Brown, David Givens days. Last year just made the playing field equal with Manning, only our golden boy blew him out of the water.

Brady always seemed to have the answer. He always made the right decision, which is what quarterback is really about. Comeback drives, late touchdowns, even scrambling for first downs, we saw it all from Tom. When they said he couldn’t throw the deep ball, he proved them wrong. When they said he was No. 2 to Manning, he proved them wrong again.

For seven seasons we’ve been spoiled, not just because of the wins and the division titles, but because of the experience, because watching Tom run the show brought smiles to our faces. We knew we were watching greatness.

The Belichick-Brady era has been a fantasy-like reality. But without Tom, it’s like Neverneverland without Peter Pan.

And I never want to grow up.

Cheeseheads, you’ll watch Aaron Rogers, but it won’t be the same. Bulls fans, has it been the same without MJ?

I still won’t miss a kickoff, but that sense of nostalgia will never cease, until I see Tom in the shotgun sometime in the way-too-distant future.

Allan Evridge feature:

Evridge's wait finally over

Registration issue links:

Football tickets should be first-come, first serve

In debut as starting quarterback, poised Evridge impresses

PCP: Better 2008: Jets or Pack?

Mail-home issue links:

Quick tips for incoming frosh

Unanswered questions, unfinished business

Spread invades Big Ten

School's around the corner: It's Badger Herald time!

With the kickoff to the college football season just nine days away, Derek will be working at The Badger Herald from now through the rest of the semester, leaving little time for his blog. Derek will be covering the Badgers football team throughout it's 12 game campaign, so make sure you check out the Herald's website and the Herald blog "Extra Points" for exclusive coverage all season long.

No past, present, or future for terrible Texas Rangers

You’d think they would have learned by now. Apparently not.

Since moving from Washington D.C. to Arlington, Tex. in 1972, the Texas Rangers have never won a playoff series. And as I sat in Fenway Park last night, watching the Red Sox put another white, crooked number (9) on the Green Monster scoreboard, I realized why.

John Hart became the Rangers’ general manager after Doug Melvin (now Brewers GM) left the club in 2001. Texas had made the postseason in 1999, but got swept by the eventual World Series Champion Yankees in three games. Nine years later, that remains the club’s most recent postseason appearance, due in large part to Hart and Co.’s pitiful managerial tactics.

It all started with a guy named Alex Rodriguez, whom the Rangers threw $252 million at in 2001. Fine, so you snag the game’s best player but it doesn’t exactly pan out. So three seasons later, Texas realized its mistake, and dealt A-Rod to the Bronx. Good move, right? Yeah, except for the fact that they got Alfonso Soriano and Joaquin Arias – two hitters – for the quarter billion dollar prima donna.

See, every baseball fan knows that for the past decade, the Rangers could hit the baseball. The bats of A-Rod, Hank Blalock, Michael Young, Mark Texiera, Milton Bradley, and Ian Kinsler – to name a few – have filled their rosters. But when Chan Ho Park is your best pitcher of the decade (fine, Kenny Rogers, maybe), you’re not going to win very many baseball games.

In 2005, Hart stepped down as Texas’s GM. In came 28 year-old Jon Daniels, baseball’s youngest front office exec, to try and become the next Theo Epstein, to bring winning ways to Arlington.

Today, the Rangers sit 15.5 games behind the Angels in the AL West. Why? Because the likes of Tommy Hunter (1.2 IP, 9 ER), Luis Mendoza (4 IP, 7 ER), and Scott Feldman (2.2 IP, 6 ER) made their last three starts against the Manny-less Red Sox. Saying that the Rangers have a lack of pitching is like saying Michael Phelps has a lack of body hair.

So last night, my grandfather turns to me and says, “If they’re so bad, why don’t the throw the young kids out there so they can get experience?”

“These are the young kids,” I chuckled. “This is their future.”

Seconds later, as Hunter was chased with one out in the second, my dad texted me: “WTF was that?!”

“Awful management,” I replied. “They’d be better off with Jeff Tardiff (my senior co-captain) out there.”

What makes matters even worse is that the Rangers A) Have so many good hitters that they could easily trade for some arms and B) Already traded away their best future arm! Daniels and friends (one of whom being Hart, who still holds a position in Texas’s front office, imagine that) dealt hard-throwing righty Edinson Volquez to the Reds for outfielder Josh Hamilton. Volquez has quickly become Cinci’s ace as he’s put together a 14-5, sub-3 ERA, All-Star, and possible Rookie of the Year-type season. Hamilton of course was an All-Star as well, as he slugged 95 RBIs prior to the Midsummer Classic in New York, as he’s put together an MVP-esque campaign. Most have called the Volquez-for-Hamilton switch a “win-win” for both ballclubs.

Not me; I know offensive numbers don’t translate into W’s. Why doesn't Daniels understand that?

Hamilton has been everything the Rangers had hoped and more for them this season. But why on earth, would you trade pitching for hitting on a team stacked with bats and in dire need of arms? It’s simple economics. France doesn’t trade China for wine and cheese.

There seems to be no light at the end of this Texas tunnel. But don’t feel bad for this pathetic franchise. There’s a reason it scored 17 runs Tuesday and still lost. It comes from within.

From back stroke to butterfly: Phelps's swimming supremacy

The reign of Michael Jordan is ancient history. Roger Federer is slowly giving way to Rafael Nadal. Padraig Harrington is basking in Tiger-less glory as Woods waits helplessly on the PGA’s PUP list. Looking for clear-cut dominance in the mean time? Perhaps for the next two and a half weeks? Dive into the pools of Beijing and you’ll find it. His name, of course is Michael Phelps.

The 23 year-old from Baltimore entered the week looking to make history, setting a mere eight gold medals as his personal goal. So far, he’s yet to disappoint, going 3-for-3, setting world records each time his hands have reached the pool’s edge.

Calling him a gamer would be like calling Jessica Alba pretty. But apparently, those paid to comment on his mastery care more about an Aaron Rogers preseason screen pass than a man 14 time zones away representing their country: The United States of America.

This morning I turned on ESPN’s First Take as I ate my bowl of Crispix at the kitchen table. First question: Are you impressed with Michael Phelps?

I nearly spit out my crushed cereal/milk mixture. Is that even worth asking? What sports writer wouldn’t enjoy 6-foot-4 inches, 195 pounds of pure American muscle speeding past international foes like a porpoise among tuna?

Apparently three: All three on the show.

“Yeah, I guess I’m impressed,” said one of the Stewart brothers. “But at the end of the day, it’s just swimming. It’s not baseball, basketball, or football, so I can’t get too excited.” His brother sitting beside him agreed.

Since when was “sports” limited to those three games? And why are you a “sports” writer if you don’t even appreciate sport at its finest?

For 47 months out of every four years, I – like 99.9 percent of US sports fans – could care less about any event that requires one to surface for air. Scratch that, under normal circumstances, I’m still not going to lose sleep over who wins the 400 meter freestyle, but these aren’t normal circumstances by any means. And I can certainly appreciate an American athlete with the determination and ability to conquer his sport in all fashions to the point that I’d call it “impressive” (which would still be a vast understatement).

Swimming requires everything a sport should: Endurance, athleticism, agility, and speed. Ever swim 50 meters of butterfly? Maybe you’ll appreciate Phelps a little more.

After I was ready throw my spoon at the television, Skip Bayless offered his two sense: “I couldn’t agree with you guys any more.” Bayless went on to explain that swimming is like a cult in which few kids partake growing up, making the pool (no pun intended) of athletes far less talented than that of say, basketball, thus making Phelps’s accomplishments well, mediocre.

So Brian Urlacher’s linebacker skills are less impressive because he doesn’t have to tackle LeBron James because The King decided to pursue the parquet and not the gridiron? Didn’t think so.

I’m not trying to put swimming at the level of the three above-mentioned sports. But this is the Olympics. Why watch if you only care about the Redeem Team? For three weeks, we get to watch fencing, gymnastics, and badminton as if we actually care. And you know what, it’s fun, if you actually like sports and real competition. These athletes compete not for money, but for love of the game. They train endlessly for four years for a brief chance to take on the world’s best. Who doesn’t appreciate that?

We marveled over Lance Armstrong and his dominance of the Tour de France. Why, because we were all cycling junkies? How are Phelps’s achievements any different?

So Skip and friends, if you want to discuss Brett Favre text messages and Jessica Simpson luxury box visits, that’s fine, but go write for Star Magazine. In the mean time, I’ll be watching real athletic competition, like Dara Torres’s immortality and Phelps’s quest for golds.

Manny move necessary for Sox success

It all happened faster than you can say “Brett Favre’s retirement,” but ultimately, the right decision was made.

In a Red Sox uniform, Manny was no longer being Manny; he had simply been a spoiled brat over the past two weeks, publicly ridiculing the organization that pays him $16 million to swing thirty-four inches of maple a dozen times a day.

Selfish. Just like his agent Scott Boras. Coincidence? Doubtful.

No, Manny never broke a sweat sprinting to first on routine grounders and never received an A for effort on anyone’ report card, but the smiles, the pointing, the boyish attitude, and oh, the home runs and RBIs were enough for us to shake our heads, smile, and look the other way.

But it finally got past the point of production. “The Red Sox don’t deserve me,” Manny told the media earlier this week, as he compared his situation to those of former Red Sox superstars Pedro Martinez and Manny’s new teammate in Los Angeles, Nomar Garciaparra. Yes, the same Pedro that left the team for vacations to the Dominican and the same Nomar that ultimately quit on the team, whined in the clubhouse, and forced Boston GM Theo Epstein to trade him at the deadline in ’04, a move that sparked the Sox to a World Series victory months later. Again, not exactly a coincidence.

Good comparison, Manny.

One player can never be bigger than the team. Unfortunately, that’s what unfolded along Yawkey Way over the past few days, forcing Epstein to hit the panic button once again. Despite his overbearing presence and production in the cleanup spot, shipping Manny was a necessary move Thursday. I wouldn’t have put it past him to completely quit on the team down the stretch. Apparently Epstein felt the same, as he shockingly pulled the trigger just minutes before Thursday’s trade deadline.

Following Manny’s mockeries including a sign that read, “Trade me to Green Bay for Brett Favre straight up,” what kind of message would keeping him send to his teammates, players like Kevin Youkilis (the same Kevin Youkilis that Ramirez slapped in the dugout weeks ago) who put their heart and soul into every pitch night-in and night-out?

Not one that I’d like to divulge.

So now the Red Sox are stuck with Jason Bay in left, protecting David Ortiz in the lineup. Numbers-wise, Bay isn’t far behind the Dreadlocked Dominican. But let’s not pretend like Bay’s presence scares opposing pitchers like Ramirez’s did. It doesn’t.

Yeah, Bay for Manny is a sixty cents on the dollar type of trade, but since there was a good chance that that dollar was on the verge of becoming more worthless than a Charles Barkley golf lesson, dumping Manny became inescapable.

My issues with the deal don’t revolve around the departure of the future Hall of Famer. My issues revolve around everyone else involved. Why did Boston have to throw outfielder Brandon Moss and former first round reliever Craig Hansen into the deal?

It’s like getting your wallet stolen, then sending the culprit your ipod in the mail.

The Dodgers only sent two prospects to Pittsburgh and received Ramirez for free, since the Red Sox will be paying the remainder of his mega-salary this season. Why couldn’t L.A. have thrown the Pirates two more players instead of the BoSox throwing away more of the future to go along with their biggest offensive asset for the present? Either Epstein needs to work on his poker face, or he really believed that neither Moss nor Hansen had a future in Boston, which I find hard to believe.

In terms of the rest of the season for Boston, now what? How will Manny’s absence affect Big Papi’s bat? How will Bay perform under the spotlight of Fenway, playing in meaningful games for the first time in his big league career? Why didn’t Theo get another arm to rescue that drowning bullpen of his? Can the Rays really win the east?

Plus, the Yankees are coming! The Yankees are coming! Four years ago, I’d end this column with, “Here we go again.”

Today, I’m at a loss of words and answers.

So I’ll just shrug and end it with: ?

End is near for Red Sox-Ramirez relationship

He’s a hero, a nightmare, a child, and a prima donna all rolled into one. A Hall of Famer? First ballot. A role model? Not quite.

For seven-plus seasons the Boston Red Sox have been unhappily dating superstar left fielder Manny Ramirez. It’s been a roller coaster-esque relationship highlighted by two world championships, but ultimately the Sox have played the role of the overprotective boyfriend for too long. Since his arrival in Beantown, Manny has been the girlfriend that doesn’t treat you right, but you’re too scared to call it quits, for fear of her being happy with someone else.

Oh, but they’ve tried.

Red Sox General Manager Theo Epstein has tried to part ways with his Latino luminary on countless occasions. Seemingly every offseason Manny trade talks simmer on the hot stove and just before every July 31 trade deadline, Manny says he’s unhappy, Epstein toys with shopping him, but he always ends up with BOSTON sprawled across his chest. In October of 2003, Epstein even placed Ramirez on waivers, daring anyone – even the rival Yankees – to claim him. Of course, no one did, and a year later Manny was named World Series MVP after the Red Sox were crowned champions of the baseball universe following a painful 86-year drought.

His mental state is as stable as Ruben Studdard on a tightrope, but there’s no doubting his talent or production. Every season you can count on Manny hitting .300, belting 35 homers, driving in 120 runs, and slugging .550. He’s an underrated outfielder with an above-average arm and a mastery of playing the monster that looms behind him. After his “I’m sick of them; they’re sick of me” comments late last week, it’s clear that Manny is tired of being Manny in Boston. But even when his hose are in a bunch, Manny still produces, as evidenced by his performances over the past two nights (5-10, HR, 5 RBIs).

So what’s the problem? Why has this unhealthy marriage taken a spin for the worst, again?

I can understand the Red Sox’s frustration. Since signing his $160 million contract in 2000, Ramirez has been treated like royalty (or Pedro Martinez, perhaps?) in Boston. He’s faked injuries, dogged it in the outfield, refused to pinch hit on days off, stood in the batter’s box on groundballs, missed a pitch while relieving himself in the Green Monster, jogged-out double play balls, rolled over a stagnant post-fly ball after diving and missing by feet, dove to cut-off a Johnny Damon relay throw from center, badmouthed the organization…

For seven-plus seasons, Red Sox management has turned the other cheek on Ramirez’s infantile behavior simply because of what he can do while standing left of home plate. But that last slip-up mentioned in that laundry list of Manny-isms, was the last straw. The line has finally been crossed. It’s time for Manny to go.

It’s obvious why the Red Sox want to breakup with their superstar slugger: They’ve had enough of his shenanigans. But what I can’t seem to understand is why Manny is so adamant about a uniform change all of a sudden. Like I said, Manny has gotten away with baseball murder since he put a down payment on his Ritz Carlton apartment. We know he hates the Boston media, but why, out of the blue, is Manny, a man so indifferent, so nonchalant about life itself, so angry?

Ramirez is in the eighth year of a ten-year contract with two $20 million, one-year team options in 2009 and 2010. Perhaps it stems from his agent, Scott Boras, baseball’s green-seeking bad guy who still pickpockets grade schoolers in southern California ice cream parlors. Boras was not Manny's agent at the time of the signing and would love to stir up controversy for a subsequent restructured contract with a new ballclub.

Feasible? Yes. But because Manny has been reluctant to be controversial (at least vocally) in eight seasons in Boston, I find it hard to believe that Boras has puppeteered his client into crying like a six-year old in the aisle of Toys R Us.

Then, what is it, you ask? Why doesn’t Manny want to play in front of the Fenway Faithful anymore?

Like Joe Paterno said Thursday: I. Don’t. Know.

What I do know, however is that the Red Sox have some decisions to make. The majority of Red Sox Nation wants their once happy-go-lucky left fielder to stay, as seen by the plethora of “Don’t Trade Manny” posters held up in Fenway last evening. They love the home runs, the entertainment. The organization? They, like me, appreciate the game being played the right way. The way the Los Angeles Angels, not Ramirez, play ball.

Because of his sheer production at the plate, a trade for Ramirez of equal value before Thursday’s trade deadline seems wildly unlikely. If the Rockies could package lefty closer Brian Fuentes and last year’s NL MVP runner-up Matt Holliday in a deal for Manny, I’d do it. If the White Sox sent outfielder Jermaine Dye and shortstop Orlando Cabrera – a vital piece of the 2004 Red Sox championship club – to Boston, I’d do that, too. But both seem incredibly unrealistic at this point.

What sounds more practical to me is for Manny to finish out the year in a Red Sox uniform. Next year, he’ll probably head home, where he can rock baggy pinstripes in a brand new ballpark.

As for this year, I foresee a change of events on Aug. 3, while I’m sitting in Fenway Park. I foresee a Ramirez walk-off bouncing single up the middle off Oakland closer Houston Street. In a postgame interview, Manny will announce with a smile: “This is where I want to play!” and everyone will cheer as if Ted Williams had risen from the dead.

From my crystal ball? Not exactly. More like déjà vu.

Yeah, we’ve seen that one before.

All about fun for 81 year-old Paterno

CHICAGO – Sometimes, we all need a little reminder. It’s easy to forget why we’re all here.

Today I sat in front of an 81 year-old man and could do nothing but smile. Like a… college football fan who just met Joe Paterno for the first time. No analogy needed; that’s what happened with me today at the Big Ten Media Days in Chicago.

This morning I sat in a conference room with a hundred some-odd Big Ten media members and listened to every Big Ten football coach talk about their respective programs. A room full of football dorks counting the days until Aug. 30^th, when the first whistles will be blown and the first flags will be thrown.

But believe it or not, no one in that room full of gridiron junkies was more excited than ole Joe Pa. Why? Because for him, football is fun. No other reason necessary.

That, I envy.

There are plenty of people who become investment bankers who do it for the money, not for love of the game. But how many sports writers do you know hate sports? We get paid to write about what every guy talks about in bars, at the dinner table, and on the treadmill.

Some people forget that.

I don’t.

When Paterno addressed the media, five-inch thick glasses and all, he was bombarded by questions as if he were President Bush informing the nation that we are going to war with Iran. Granted, I understand that these people have stories to write and bills to pay, but this is sports. If it’s no longer fun for you, then you’re in the wrong business.

Paterno made it clear that he was sick of getting asked if it was his final season or when he plans to retire. But of course, people asked anyway.

“I. Don’t. Know!” Paterno answered deliberately. “Do you want me to spell it out for you? I-D-O-N-T…”

Everyone laughed except the moron who asked the question. Most people did so because they think the old man is senile. Yeah, he mumbled, stumbled, and slurred his words. But I get it. The man loves his job. Now what the hell is wrong with that?

In a world filled with advertisements, sponsors, and money-grubbing agents, we could all learn a thing or two from a guy who works for the right reasons.

“What has to happen this season, Joe for you to know it’s time to go?” moron No. 2 asked.

“There are no parameters,” Paterno answered in frustration. “Now, I'm just having fun. I’ll know when it’s time. We could lose ten games by 15 points each, and I could say we were one play away. I. Don’t. Know.”

I mentioned he was 81, right?

After Paterno finished, I walked into the corridor to go to the bathroom, where I found dozens of grown men waving their microphones at coaches, players, and ESPN’s Kirk Herbstreit, as if they were trading on the Wall Street floor. I smiled, talked to Herbstreit calmly about the Badgers when things calmed down, and went on with my business, all the while wishing one day I can be as happy and excited at 81 as Joe Pa.

Yeah, I want answers, too. I want to know who will be under center for Wisconsin a month from now. But life is too short to take too seriously. We get paid to talk about spread offenses and non-conference schedules. We should only be so unfortunate.

Questions for Big Ten coaches?

Derek will be attending Big Ten Media Day in Chicago Thursday July 24th and Friday July 25th. If you have any questions you'd like him to ask any of the Big Ten football coaches, email him at dzetlin@gmail.com.

Yankee fans make rivalry bigger than game itself

Dustin Pedroia and David Ortiz understood it. Alex Rodriguez and Derek Jeter understood it. Terry Francona understood it better than all of them.

But apparently the fans in New York couldn’t figure it out. And believe me, if it were Boston, I would be just as critical.

The Red Sox-Yankees rivalry is undoubtedly the most coveted rivalry in all of professional sports. And being part of it makes baseball even that much more exciting. But sometimes – like last night – the game, baseball, is bigger than any hand-crafted subplot you can fathom.

Last night’s Midsummer Classic was supposed to be classy, filled with Hall of Famers who live, breath, respect, and understand the game.

The Yankee faithful failed to recognize the latter two.

Don’t get me wrong; I’ve been known to chant “Yankees Suck!” from time to time within the Fenway confines. I own the t-shirt and I expect the favor returned within The House that Ruth Built.

But last night wasn’t the time. Or place.

A parade for the players. The Star-Spangled Banner. A pre-game ceremony honoring baseball’s living legends in America’s Pastime’s sanctuary. An accord of boos.

Like trying to fit the square block in the round hole.

Francona deliberately substituted Joe Crede for A-Rod and Michael Young for Jeter solely so they could receive standing ovations from the Bronx Bomber buffs. The pinstripe aficionados went nuts as their closer trotted toward the mound to the tune of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman.” Why? Because Tito – the manager of the enemy – set the stage, yanking K-Rod, the league’s save leader, with one out in the ninth.

But an inning earlier came the entrance of Boston closer Jonathan Papelbon, who told the media that he believed he should get the ball in a save situation instead of Rivera. So, in a 2-2 ballgame in the top of the eighth, Yankee Stadium erupted with boos aimed at the Red Sox righty. Chants of “O-VER-RATED!” filled the air as Pap came to the set. Booing for their own team, the American League.

Ignorance.

After a Miguel Tejada bloop single to right, a Dioner Navarro throwing error moved him to third and an Adrian Gonzalez sac fly plated the Astros shortstop. 3-2 NL. An unearned run.

More boos. More ignorance.

I can understand the home crowd booing Manny, Youkilis, and the like during introductions. Under the circumstances, I disagree with them, but I can understand them, for I know the same would happen in Beantown – although I wouldn’t participate. But to boo Papelbon in that situation – despite his self-promoting, anti-Yankee comments – is ridiculous, for once a year, those who slurp clam chowder and those who devour the largest of pizza slices root for the same team.

Except when they’re too proud to deal with it.