"There's no point in offering a review of 2004's sports stories because the Boston Red Sox won the World Series. They won the damn World Series. That's bigger than Janet Jackson's right breast and Nicollette Sheridan's shapely backside. It's the most momentous athletic achievement of the last quarter century, a story that will be passed down through generations of fans like a Wawaniki tribesman regaling his oldest son with the tale of 'How Glooskap Found the Summer.'"
— Greg Wyshynski, last December
Looking back at my last sports-year-in-summary column, it was obvious that a single story had trumped every other win, loss, scandal or oddity in the calendar year. I feel the opposite has happened in 2005: there have been so many momentous occurrences that if you step back to take it all in, you're bound to keep stumbling until you're on your ass, staring up in awe at the gargantuan assemblage of headlines:
BALCO, Congress, Canseco, Bonds, Raffy, Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire, Katrina, Benson (Anna and Tom), Donovan McNabb, T.O., Tom Brady, Steve Mariucci, Gary Barnett, Drew Rosenhaus, David Frost, Gary Bettman, Bob Goodenow, Sidney Crosby, Alexander Ovechkin, lockouts, shootouts, Ricky Williams, Brett Favre, Peyton Manning, Eli Manning, Tony Dungy, Shaq, Kobe, Pat Riley, Stan Van Gundy, George Mikan, Hank Stram, Wellington Mara, Jason Collier, Chris Schenkel, Max Schmeling, and Dick Weber.
And then there are ticket-scalping coaches, sex boat parties, lesbian cheerleaders, Sheryl Swoopes, Annika Sorenstam, Michelle Wie, Jack Nicklaus, Mike Tyson, Ron Mexico, Tour de Lance, Kurt Busch, Danica Patrick, London 2012, Washington getting baseball, and Oklahoma City getting basketball.
(Breath) ... not to mention Afleet Alex, NBA dress codes, NBA draft rules, Bob Huggins, Larry Brown, Charlie Weis, Joe Paterno, the Patriots, the Spurs, Roy Williams, North Carolina, USC, Matt Leinart, the White Sox, Roger Federer, a Major League pitcher punching out a cameraman and then appearing in the All-Star Game, and Michael Memea, who won the Little League World Series with a home run.
Okay, now that we've gotten all of the Google hits out of the way, what, exactly, was the Year in Sports 2005? Looking back, I see a lot of adversity, a lot of heartache. A lot of lives being ruined by God's hand. A lot of sports being ruined by greed and avarice. A lot of undue turmoil created by the ever-increasing stakes of professional sports, and the unending folly of human nature.
I see a lot of lemons. And what did Grandma always tell us to do with lemons?
That's why 2005 is The Year of the Lemonade.
THE LEMON — Hurricane Katrina. Boy, did we pick the wrong time to have the Judges and Stewards Commissioner for the International Arabian Horse Association running our federal emergency response or what?
Okay, so in hindsight, Brownie really didn't do a heck of a job: thousands of lives lost, hundreds of thousands lives forever changed. The only reason New Orleans wasn't Hell on Earth is because the waters conveniently covered the fire and brimstone. What a surreal moment in our nation's history, as thousands of refugees/survivors sought shelter inside the Superdome and the Astrodome. Besides the irony of seeing publicly-funded facilities actually being used for the public good, it's amazing to think that both of these stadiums were considered out-of-date relics whose teams have either vacated them or want to vacate them. Yet there they were, literally saving lives.
I can only hope the city is able to rebuild quickly, because some of my favorite "Girls Gone Wild" episodes were shot there. Godspeed...
THE LEMONADE — In an era in which sports fans have come to expect covetousness and pretension from professional athletes and owners, Katrina revealed many true colors. The NFL was quick to donate funds, and has continued its charity throughout the year. The NBA, which wasn't in season during the hurricane, had many of its players donating time and money to help the survivors. Major League Baseball took up donations at games. So did the National Hockey League, which finally could afford to do so with that salary cap in place.
The Saints moved to San Antonio, also playing "home" games in Baton Rogue and in New Jersey, becoming the second team not named the Giants to call Giants Stadium home.
The NFL wants the team to return to New Orleans for the 2006 season, and the city claims the Superdome should be ready by Nov. 1. And to think, just a few months ago people were clamoring for it to be torn down after it became a lawless trap of suicides, rapes, and murder ... what a difference a 3-11 season makes, huh?
The Hornets moved to Oklahoma City, and the NBA added that city to the official name of the team, making Zydrunas Ilgauskas only the second-longest moniker in the Association.
OKC had been angling to land a NBA team for its sports arena for some time, and was a player in the last round of open expansion. The Hornets could play in their New Orleans arena again in March 2006, as it sustained far less damage (and rape and murder) than the Superdome. But if they play in the Big Easy during this season, the Hornets are obligated to play there the following season. They have until July to exercise a one-year option on playing again in OKC.
Here's the bottom line: the Saints and Hornets should never play another game in New Orleans. Move them both, for the betterment of their respective leagues and for the city. The Hornets have been a disastrous franchise in New Orleans, in both success and attendance — hell, they haven't been good since Larry Johnson was dressing like his grandmother. They're 11th in the Western Conference this season, but they're seventh in the NBA in attendance right now as OKC's home team. Move 'em permanently. It'll give the NBA a heartland foothold no other league has, and it'll save New Orleans citizens even more heartache when Chris Paul decides to sign with the Bobcats in a few seasons.
As for the Saints, same deal: move 'em. Tagliabue and the owners already called their shot when they preliminarily awarded Los Angeles a franchise. Benson wants a new stadium, and there's no chance in hell the city and state are going to pony up public funds for one after Katrina. So send them to Hollywood, with the promise that the NFL will expand to New Orleans within 10 years, the same season it expands to Mexico City. (Can you imagine the quantity of bourbon and tequila at that press conference?)
But the sweetest lemonade from Katrina was the collective wake-up call it gave the rest of the country. About poverty in the inner city and rural areas. About our roles as citizens to help those in need. About the fact that true Homeland Security isn't about taking a cigar cutter from a 66-year-old Jewish man in an airport lobby, and that funding security might actually require revenues the government isn't currently receiving because Exxon/Mobil board members needed a tax break.
And about that fact that George Bush doesn't care about black people. Or at least that's what Kanye West tells me.
THE LEMON — Baseball's Steroid Scandals. It was a perfect storm for MLB — Jose Canseco writes a gossipy book about his years as a 'roid-raging player, the BALCO investigation digs up some big names and reveals designer drugs the tests can't detect, and Congress gets a hard-on for using its influence to "clean up" America's pastime. What followed was a series of March hearings in which Rafael Palmeiro shook his finger and denied he used steroids; Mark McGwire refused to "talk about the past"; Barry Bonds didn't have to show up; Sammy Sosa forgot everything he ever learned about the English language; and Canseco parlayed his reclaimed fame into a stint inside the VH1 "Surreal Life" house, where a man who was once the biggest star in baseball played dress-up with ancient supermodel Janice Dickinson and Balki from "Perfect Strangers."
In the end, nine MLB players and scores of minor leaguers were suspended during the 2005 season for steroids. One of them was Palmeiro, whose positive test and subsequent punishment shocked the sports world and may have seriously damaged his Hall of Fame credentials, and he actually ever won anything to merit enshrinement.
THE LEMONADE — Palmeiro was a patsy. He was the perfect player to suspend: well-known, but not a superstar. He wasn't on the posters, he wasn't in the commercials, he wasn't anything but an anonymous ballplayer with great numbers who had to sit in front of Congress because Canseco NARCed on him. So baseball suspended him and scared the crap out of any high-profile ballplayer that was using, mainly because they all saw how well the "I don't know how they got in my system" excuse went over nationally.
For Bud Selig and Major League Baseball, the steroid scandal was a welcomed correction. They used juiced players hitting juiced balls to climb out of the hole the league was in after the 1994 players' strike/betrayal of public trust. All of those 10-run games and broken home run records brought the fans back — and just as the tide was turning against these inflated stats and ever-inflating players, Congress stepped in and demanded action. So Selig finally had the right moment, and the leverage, to usher in new steroid penalties: 50 games for the first failed test, 100 games for the second, and a lifetime ban for the third. He also was able to add amphetamines to the list of tested drugs, as an estimated 75 percent of ballplayers are using them. As Johnny Damon told the Boston Globe: "If amphetamines are banned, we're probably going to see a lot of lethargic guys out there." Cut yer hair, hippy...
Hopefully with these new testing standards, baseball will put its drug scandals behind it, and Barry Bonds' head will no longer resemble a Thanksgiving parade balloon.
THE LEMON — The NHL lockout. I said it before, and I'll say it again: those greedy sons of bitches cancelled a season of hockey, and I will never, ever forgive either side for that. It's an embarrassment, it's inexcusable, and it set hockey back in the public eye. Have a goddamn shootout every night — it doesn't change the fact that a marginalized sport is now even more irrelevant to most Americans. Just because we have a bunch of foreign guys on our teams doesn't mean we have to be soccer, fellas...
THE LEMONADE — Quoting Stephen A. Smith: "How-evvvvv-uh..." There's no denying that the league needed a correction, both competitively and fiscally. I wasn't in favor of a salary cap this low, but it appears it will grow next season. I was in favor of cutting ties with ESPN, whose lackadaisical promotion and appalling presentation did more damage to the sport than a million Todd Bertuzzi cheap shots. Remember, it's not about OLN — it's about whatever Comcast decides to turn OLN into over the next few years, and beyond that. And the NHL on NBC might actually garner better ratings that Martha Stewart's version of "The Apprentice."
The new rules are hit and miss. Tag-up off-sides, the new rules for icing, the elimination of the red line — it all works. The goalie movement restrictions haven't added anything to the game. The referees have backed off a little from their draconian rules enforcement earlier this season, but there just isn't enough consistent physical play yet; I say that's a byproduct of everything being called for the first three months. I miss fighting like Hartford misses the Whale. And the less said about the shootout, the better...
... oh screw it — it's the final column of the year. In the Minnesota game against Dallas on OLN Monday night, I actually found myself rooting against the game going to overtime. I would have loved to have seen these teams skate four-on-four, but I knew that after five minutes they would stop skating and the game would be decided by a skills competition.
So with just over eight minutes of regulation left, Brian Rolston fires a beautiful pass to a streaking Marian Gaborik just beyond center ice. He's fighting off a pair of Dallas defensemen has he enters the Stars' zone. Gabby fakes right, goes left, and lifts a perfect shot over Marty Turco's shoulder for what would be the game-winning goal. The place went bonkers. When the game ended, I was satisfied that I had seen a hockey game end on a hockey play: with a pass, with defensemen, and without any league-mandated gimmickry to ensure a winner in a nice, TV-friendly time frame.
But that's the NHL for you ... even the sweetest lemonade can't help but have some rind in it.
Happy holidays to all, and have a safe start to the New Year. I have a lot to be thankful for these days, and prominent on that list is each and every one of you that take the time to read this rambling mess each week.
The next JQ arrives Jan. 6. Until then, remember to laugh at life, because it's laughing at you.
Greg Wyshynski is the Features Editor for SportsFan Magazine in Washington, DC, and the Senior Sports Editor for The Connection Newspapers of Northern Virginia. His book "Glow Pucks and 10-Cent Beer: The 101 Worst Ideas in Sports History" will be published in Spring 2006. His columns appear every Saturday on Sports Central. You can e-mail Greg at [email protected].
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