RGIII's knee must be more important than anyone else's

I wonder what Jay Cutler is thinking right now.

In case you missed it, Robert Griffin III hurt his knee pretty badly Sunday in the Washington Redskins' loss to the Seattle Seahawks. I didn't actually see the injury when it happened, but I realized something was going on when my Twitter blew up, largely to say Redskins coach Mike Shanahan should, at a minimum, be fired for leaving a hobbling Griffin in the game. (Dave Zirin's Twitter is a good example, and he also calls Redskins owner Dan Snyder to task for the condition of the field.)

But I want to know what Cutler is thinking because it was a little over a year ago when he did come out of a Chicago Bears playoff game with what turned out to be a torn MCL ... and was ripped for it. I must admit that I wasn't impressed at the time, and only have the barest of excuse that I didn't realize how hurt he was at the time.

And what's Philip Rivers' take on the whole thing? He played in a playoff game for the San Diego Chargers in 2008 with an ACL injury and after surgery the previous Monday that he kept a secret. I don't recall people saying Chargers coach Norv Turner should have been fired for possibly ruining his young quarterback's career.

Now I'd like to think that the concern over RGIII's injury is due to a greater understanding of what football players put themselves through to entertain us, part of an evolution that accelerated rapidly after Junior Seau's suicide and has continued to pick up steam ever since, and the realization that there are instances when players need to be protected from themselves by coaches or medical staff.

But it's when I start thinking that way that my good friend Cy Nical, who basically assumes the worst in everyone and everything, shows up to ask if the concern over RGIII is due to his being an extraordinary talent and an engaging, magnetic, popular personality as opposed to Cutler and Rivers, who people don't really like that much.

I hope Cy's wrong, but he's right more often than I (or perhaps even he) would like to admit.

Lance and Oprah ... yawn

In April of 1997, Ellen Degeneres came out as being gay ... which pretty much everyone knew already.

What caused me to think of this long-ago, completely unsurprising story? The news that Lance Armstrong would be talking to Oprah Winfrey on OWN "in his first no-holds-barred interview," which will air Jan. 17 from 9 to 10:30 p.m. Eastern.

"Armstrong will address the alleged doping scandal, years of accusations of cheating, and charges of lying about the use of performance-enhancing drugs throughout his storied cycling career."

Of course, the drug question is the only remotely interesting part of the interview, but really, how interesting is it?

If he continues to deny that he took drugs, even after being stripped of his Tour de France titles, it's something that he has already said hundreds, maybe thousands of times. 

If he finally admits he did drugs, he's acknowledging something that everyone already knew -- even most of the dead-enders have finally come around -- just like when Ellen Degeneres came out.

Some people have made their peace with Armstrong because "everyone did it" or "he has done so much good" or "I like him." I've already made my thoughts on this line of reasoning known, and I've long thought of him not just as a cheater (it was either that or Superman, given that he had cancer that doctors thought would kill him but came back to dominate a sport where everyone else was doping), but an outwardly arrogant jerk.

But however people feel about Armstrong, one interview with Oprah isn't likely to change that.

The curious case of the double tickets

If you've gone to any decent number of sporting events, you've probably had this conversation at least once:

"You're in our seats."
"No we're not. These are our seats."
"No ... this is ..." followed by the section, seat and row.
"OK, let me check ..." 

Mrs. Last Honest and I had one of these conversations today at Gampel Pavilion before the UConn-Notre Dame women's basketball game today (Notre Dame 73, UConn 72 ...you don't need a three-pointer Kaleena! ... we should all want to be Kelly Faris when we grow up), and there was no reason to believe it wasn't going to end up like 99.99 percent of these conversations do.

One of us was going to realize we had the wrong row, section or seat -- like about 10 minutes later in our section because someone misread a G for a Q -- and there would be a "sorry about that," a slightly embarrassed smile and everyone would end up where they belonged.

Except that didn't happen. We both had the exact same seats.

Mrs. Last Honest bought me the tickets for Christmas on StubHub. (What would have made this whole exercise even crazier is if I had bought her tickets to the same game for Christmas, which I was contemplating.) The other husband in this little adventure got them in his stocking for Christmas from his daughter. He didn't know how she had gotten them, but given they were identical to ours except ours were in color and his were in black and white (which actually is important later), I knew she had gotten them the same way.

Mrs. Last Honest and I got to the game first, so when I was chatting with the guy who would soon become my new best friend for the next little while, he said that when they scanned his tickets, they told him those seats had already been scanned, but when he went to the box office to inquire what was going on, they let him in anyway.

Since lap-sitting was clearly out of the question, the two of us set off to solve the problem, first enlisting help of arena staff, who sent us to a manager. The manager was convinced he had the solution ... that the black-and-white tickets clearly had to be a photocopy. Yup, aside from the complete lack of logic of such a conspiracy on our parts, there apparently was no consideration given to the possibility of us having a color printer and them having one that only printed in black and white.

So it was off to the box office we went, where ... they were utterly convinced his tickets were a photocopy.

Seriously.

I'm sure for the outside observer, there would have been considerable comedic value in watching us repeatedly (as in we had to do it more than once) tell the people in the box office that we had not met until just a few minutes ago. Fortunately, we got through to them (and I don't mean to portray all the Gampel staff as dunces ... they were actually very friendly throughout), and they found another couple tickets for our friends a few rows in front of us, so except for the result of the game, everyone lived happily ever after.

Well, except for maybe one person ...

Remember a few paragraphs back when I mentioned that, other than the color, the two sets of tickets were identical? That even extends to a name and account number on the printed ticket, so we have a pretty decent idea of who sold the same tickets twice. Now, it may have been an honest mistake -- that'll be up to UConn and StubHub to find out after we inform them -- but if two season tickets at Gampel are suddenly available, you'll know why.

CBS wants me to think Danny Woodhead = Arian Foster

So I'm watching the Patriots-Jaguars game, and the camera lingers on Patriots running back Danny Woodhead, complete with the announcement that he is only one of two players in the NFL with four rushing touchdowns and two receiving touchdowns this season.

The other? Arian Foster of the Texans.

Not only did the announcer say it, there was a graphic to go along with it. Clearly, the intent was to make me think, "Wow, Danny Woodhead must be really good if he and Arian Foster are the only to backs in the league to do something!"

I'm sure you'll be shocked to know that coming into today's game, Woodhead had ... exactly four rushing touchdowns and two receiving touchdowns. (He caught his third literally as I started typing this.)

As for Foster? He started today with two receiving touchdowns .... and 14 rushing touchdowns.

However, now that I think about it, Woodhead catching a touchdown pass means he's the only back in the NFL with four rushing touchdowns and three receiving touchdowns.

So to heck with Arian Foster or Adrian Peterson (he of no touchdown catches) ... give me Danny Woodhead!

Too far ... way, way too damn far

Like President Barack Obama, don't like President Barack Obama, I really don't care. I tend to like him more than not, but everyone's entitled to his or her own opinion.

But this, this is not acceptable. (Be warned; right from the title, there's a lot of a certain word starting with "n.") It would be bad enough if people were complaining that the president talking of an unspeakable tragedy was interrupting their football, but the language is vile and racist and unbecoming anything other than a sub-human.

(My friend KB sent me a note that while some people seemed proud of themselves when she checked the Twitter machine afterward, a bunch deleted their posts, deleted their accounts or apologized. Having not checked myself, I'll take her word for it. I'm guessing there are a lot of people who thought they'd never be found out in the vast Twitterverse and are feeling a serious bout of blabber's remorse.)

Is this what we've come to as sports fans, that the understandable desire for watching sports to be an escape -- more than once this weekend I switched to a random college basketball game to get away from Newtown coverage for a little while -- that we respond to real life daring to intrude with "stick to sports" at best and outright racism at worst?

No, I know we haven't. But it still makes me sad.

P.S. -- My guy Poopsie and I had been having a conversation on Facebook about my recent sabermetrics post, and he sent me a note that he had some new information on Adam Dunn, but didn't feel right, given current events. I told him to lay it on me, that the diversion would be nice for a few minutes. He did, and then I told him something I noted watching the Rockets-Celtics game after reading a story on the Rockets in Sports Illustrated. It was nice.

Youk to the Yanks? Why not?

Ken Tremendous had this to say on the Twitter machine yesterday.

@KenTremendous The great thing about Youk to the Yankees is imagining how much both Sox fans and Yankees fans would hate it.

So yes, it appears that the Yankees have some interest in signing Kevin Youkilis to play third base while Alex Rodriguez is out after knee surgery. And while Ken may be thinking that Red Sox fans would hate it because Youkilis is a Yankee while Yankees fans may hate it because Youk is over the hill, I'm going to guess he meant Yankees fans would hate the idea of him in their uniform.

To get a highly unscientific feel of how my fellow Yankees fans feel about the possibility, I consulted the Yankees Facebook page I follow, and these were some of the comments. (False equivalency alert -- I did not count to see how many of the 644 comments were pro-Youkilis or anti-Youkilis. I'm only listing certain comments to show that there were people who liked or disliked the idea.)

 "Good player .I think he would be a good fit."

"Even though he is a former Blow Sux, he is a gamer and would help while A-rod is on the mend. Look at what former Red Sox have done for us in the past."

"Might have to quit watching for first time ever..........besides he's old and mean"

"no!no!no!no! My most hated Red Sox player!!! Nooooooooo!"

There were also a couple people who like the idea because Youkilis is Jewish, which immediately made me think of this.


So how do I feel? It's pretty simple.If Youkilis can help the team, I hope the Yankees sign him. If not, I hope they don't.

I couldn't care less if Youkilis played for the Red Sox. I accepted Roger Clemens. I accepted Wade Boggs. I accepted Johnny Damon. A couple years ago, Mrs. Last Honest asked me how I would feel if Jonathan Papelbon signed with the Yankees. I told her I'd learn how to dance a jig.


The one Red Sox player who I could never have abided as a Yankee was Jason Varitek. There's no way I could have tolerated a man beloved in Boston for a cheap shot being in pinstripes.

Other than that, it doesn't matter who someone played for before New York. I only care about what they do in New York.

The experience of being there

The other night, my friend Pizz wrote this on Facebook:

"The emotional connection man has to sport is just one of those things. It's the reason why, every time I go to Fenway Park I feel like a six-year-old seeing the Green Monster for the first time. And it's the reason why Adam Richman takes a moment away from eating 100 oz cheeseburgers and visiting his favorite English club and tears up.

I'm building up a knowledge and love of Everton and someday when I make my way (to) Liverpool, I'll probably have the same US in the UK moment."

I went to Yankee Stadium for the first time when I was 8 years old. I wish I could remember how I felt when I walked into the ballpark, but I can't. I do remember it was a bus trip, that we sat in the upper deck, that Doug Bird pitched for the Yankees, that a Royals player hit a home run off the foul pole (based on this box score, which I think is the right one, it would have been Clint Hurdle) and most importantly, Reggie Jackson hit one out.

I've seen a lot of sporting venues since then, mostly for games, but also on tours or walking through whatever open doors happened to present themselves, including the time I took a left turn and found myself on the darkened court at Cameron Indoor Stadium. The moment that always strikes me is when I step inside the field, court or racetrack, and the scene opens up in front of me.

It's the new Yankee Stadium, and I'm a lot older.

 

 

My first (and so far, only) time at Camden Yards. I was in awe. It was everything I was told it would be, and more.

Yet I find the stronger connections are when I can attach a place to something in particular, like when Mrs. Last Honest and I visited Lake Placid not quite two months ago. The connection isn't always a magical one, however, like realizing the Vancouver Olympic speed skating oval was in the back of a business park or the ice skating arena was tucked between a residential neighborhood and an amusement park.

There's probably a good reason why NBC stuck to indoor shots when they cut to figure skating.

But I find the strongest connection with objects; they bring what I saw, listened to or read about to life. I've lost the picture to various computer changes, but it was amazing to see the actual car that Dale Earnhardt won the 1998 Daytona 500 with at the Richard Childress Racing museum. I watched that race on television, barely able to sit the last few laps until he came to the final caution and I knew he would finally win the race.

It's the reason why I'm such a geek for the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. It's baseball history, right there, including the Dave Righetti no-hitter from July 4, 1983, that I was listening to on the radio and left to do something else, even though I knew he was throwing a no-hitter. (What can I say? Sometimes I'm an idiot.)

I still kick myself for leaving to this day.

Pizz is looking forward to going to Liverpool someday to see Goodison Park, although I, of course, would have him see Anfield on the proper, red side of Merseyside (something I'd like to do myself someday). Of places I haven't seen other than Anfield, the first three that come to mind that I'd like to see from the inside are the Rose Bowl, the Los Angeles Coliseum and Madison Square Garden.

But one thing about sports is that no matter the venue, no matter the time, no matter the event, something can happen that creates a memory for a lifetime, a permanent connection, when you least expect it.