Long Live The Gunslinger

I’ve never really had a favorite between college and professional football. They’re different experiences, both exciting in their own right. College is rawer, more emotional, loyalty is everything, where the NFL is beautifully choreographed, certainly thrilling and up-tempo, but more controlled.

This year was the first where college football threatened to take the lead, at least in my imagination. All of those upsets, the shootouts and quarterback of the week contests (Ryan’s Heisman? Tebow’s? Woodson’s? Dixon’s?) had almost edged out the chilling dominance of the Patriots, the unlikely resurgence of the Lions, or the hilarious collection of quarterbacks in Chicago, Carolina, and Buffalo.

But then came the Monday Night Football game of October 29, 2007 and the force that is Brett Favre. Despite the Pack’s 5-1 start (marred only by a rather amusing Jekyll and Hyde upset at the hands of the Bears) the doubters crowed on. He’s too old, too reckless, can’t carry the team by himself, give the ball to Aaron Rodgers already, they said. The Packers played right into it. Favre’s own center introduced him as ‘Vinny Testaverde’s Dad’ while giving the lineups (in my humble opinion, the lineup emcees are a rather poor broadcasting ploy, but this was the most amusing occurrence to come out of them since Street Sense the thoroughbred did the duty for Louisville).

But the man, the myth, the legend was alive and well on a crisp night in Denver and it certainly looks as if Green Bay will laugh all the way to playoffs. The Pack’s normally anemic running game came up with over 100 yards, taking Favre’s pass attempts down to a very reasonable 27 (his previous low was 37 attempts). He made the most of those, completing 21 for 331 yards and taking both Champ Bailey and Dre Bly to the house on passes of 79 and 82 yards, respectively.

He looked calm and confident throughout and perhaps the most telling play was when he went the wrong way on a handoff, found himself alone with the defensive line hot on his trail, and alertly went down instead of trying to make something out of nothing. Not only has he apparently not lost a step, his decision making is better than ever.

Favre’s performance even managed to derail the Jay Cutler drool-fest that Ron Jaworski had obviously been up all night preparing. Incidentally, Cutler looked good in a paler imitation of Favre, but Jaworski’s man-crush was obviously going to be reminiscent of the creepy Gary Danielson-Tim Tebow dynamic and we all did well to ignore it. In fact, the Packer quarterback was so mesmerizing that he upstaged his own wife as well as Vince Vaughn, neither of whom received the heaping dose of Kornheiser worship that they must have been expecting.

Then came the overtime. As Brett Favre trotted out to take the ball at the 18, anyone worth their salt in football analysis knew he was going to go for it all. That’s the beauty of the gunslinger. The downside of course, was that you also knew the chances of Dre Bly catching it instead of Greg Jennings were juuust under half.

But this was Brett Favre’s night. Long live the gunslinger.

A Man's Game

I didn’t plan for this column to be all about women in sports, and I doubt it will be, but this week featured a real gem from the TBS postseason baseball coverage that was just too good to pass up. Late in the final game of the Indians-Yankees series, TBS checked in with its sideline reporter, Craig Sager (you can recognize him because all of his clothing is striped), for an exclusive from the Indians club.

Sager proceeded to tell us all how Cleveland manager Eric Wedge had a meeting back in Cleveland with the wives and girlfriends of the Indians players to emphasize their responsibility in the upcoming playoff series. What might that responsibility have been, you ask?

Well it turns out that they, yes they, could have a huge impact on the series. He obliged them to take care of the flights and arrangements of family and friends, extra ticket requests, anything outside of baseball. And once they traveled to New York? They were to check out Times Square, take in a show, go shopping, whatever, just stay out of the way and leave the boys to the job at hand.

Wow. A guidebook on how to be a good little wife from a baseball coach.

Probably least pertinent, but still shocking, was the inclusion of the girlfriends in this little pow-wow. Can you imagine having a relative stranger tell you how to live your life or even worse, tell you that you were holding your boyfriend back? “Sorry, honey, we’re going to have to break up, you can talk to your coach for an explanation.”

In addition to subscribing to a theory of gender relations straight out of the 19^th century, Wedge has somehow cast the wives and girlfriends as a legitimate threat to the Indian’s quest for a World Series title. Despite the fact that not one of these women has booted a ground ball or failed to put down a sacrifice bunt, their mere presence is a potential downfall for his boys.

Amazingly, this is not a lone instance. Just last month, Dynamo Kiev, a soccer team in Ukraine recently was ordered to a training camp away from their women because, according to coach Josef Sabo, “women in football are a scourge. They do not understand that men need to work, that they have a hard job to do.” Why do these men blame women for their shortcomings?

Wedge needs a little perspective. Baseball is a job, not a war. And it is a job for those who play it only, not for their families, friends, or lovers. The players are responsible for their own performance, from preparation to post-game interview. Moreover, those who play it are adults and deserve to be treated as such.

Mr. Wedge, trust your players and take your wins and your losses as a man – the women in all of your lives don’t deserve the blame for your failures any more than they deserve the credit for your successes.

A Long Way To Go

Just about every time there was an occasion for commercial during the world cup, the following quote rang out from a piece of Nike’s ATHLETE line of ads, a campaign meant to advance women’s sports:

“Female athletes have to overcome the bias that their game isn’t as good as the men’s game.”

On and off the field, this World Cup took a giant leap in that direction. We saw a bona fide superstar in Brazil’s Marta, a feel-good underdog in Australia, controversy galore in the United States net, and the eventual victory of the best soccer team in the world. Unfortunately, the leap wasn’t quite giant enough.

The United States, for their part, provided a happy ending for their fans in the third place game thanks to the remarkable leadership of Kristine Lilly. After coach Greg Ryan further complicated team dynamics by hiding behind “team leaders” in his suspension of keeper Hope Solo, the venerable American captain served as the heart of a team desperate for one. Her teammates, for their part, followed her lead. Leslie Osborne in particular challenged every loose ball and spent almost as much time on the ground as on her feet. Lori Chalupny always plays all out and she didn’t disappoint on Sunday. Aly Wagner created a goal by blocking a Norway clear with her face. Heather O’Reilly and Lindsay Tarpley notched the final U.S. goal through the kind of sheer tenacity the American team had been missing of late. And though it perhaps stirred up the controversy once again, Briana Scurry looked more confident and considerably more in control of her defense than she had in the semifinal loss.

The Americans also enjoyed one of the most touching moments in the tournament when Kristine Lilly left the game in the 89^th minute to a rousing ovation from the crowd, who had been cheering for Norway all night. When asked about it later, Lilly smiled and said “This is a moment and this will rack up with one of my top moments in my career because of what we accomplished.” Hats off to her.

All that only made it worse when the halftime show held up the women’s sports bias with a puff piece on the death of Hope Solo’s father earlier this summer. Following widespread criticism of Solo’s comments after the semifinal, the introduction of the halftime piece suggested that “maybe [our] stance would be softened.”

For the sake of American soccer, we all hope the team will eventually forgive her, that she will serve her suspension, pay her debts, and return to her place as one of the best goalkeepers in the world. But the piece was a misguided attempt to evoke sympathy because we all feel uncomfortable with what Solo did. Not because it’s never been done before, not because it’s absolutely unforgivable, but because of who she is and what she represents to us. Vince Carter dogs it in Toronto, Terrell Owens attacks Donovan McNabb and we see it for what it is – inexcusable. But Hope Solo? Pretty girls don’t attack teammates, right? Pretty girls don’t betray their sisters to the media, right? There must be some excuse, some reason.

For the record, I am certainly sorry that Solo lost her father this summer after what sounds like a very difficult relationship with him throughout her childhood. I’m sorry he never saw her play for the national team, and it’s especially poignant that he died of a heart attack only eight days before he was to see her play in New York. She seems like a nice person and she has done wonderfully to keep her focus through what was, I’m sure, a very difficult summer.

We know that she’s sorry, that the real target of comments was Greg Ryan, not her teammate and fellow U.S. keeper, and we hope the team can heal, but to question her character, her determination, her ability to persevere through adversity is insulting. It’s insulting to Hope Solo as a player and a person, and it’s insulting to women’s sports.

As Wambach said, “our team showed today that we have serious character. We’re women of heart.” Indeed they were. But unfortunately, that’s not what stuck out. Women’s sports still have a long way to go.