Looking for a few good fans


One of our faithful Ledger-Enquirer readers, Sam Ruffner, recently asked me about resurrecting a feature that used to appear in our sports section during college football season.

He proposed bringing back a weekly Top 25 poll as voted on by readers.

I figure our readers can't do any worse than a panel of sportswriters or coaches, although it wouldn't surprise me if our top 10 included Georgia, Auburn and Alabama in some order based on fan loyalties in this area.

Anyway, I pitched the idea of the poll to our sports editor. He liked it.

The next step is to determine what form it should take.

My thoughts are to make it online-only. We put a poll format on our web site and you log on and vote. I figure we can leave the polling open from Sunday morning until Monday night so those folks who lack computer access on the weekends can limit their productivity at work by deciding whether to put South Florida ahead of Missouri.

Anyway, let me know what you think about the concept.

And, if you have any ideas for a name, we're open to those as well (I think "Super Fan Football Extravaganza" might be a little wordy and sounds a bit too similar to a Japanese game show).

A distinctive voice goes silent


If you follow the Atlanta Braves, this particular call from Skip Caray will live in your imagination forever:

"A lot of room in right-center. If he hits one there we can dance in the streets. The 2-1. Swung, line drive left field! One run is in! Here comes Bream! Here's the throw to the plate! He is ... Safe! Braves win! Braves win! Braves win! Braves win! ... Braves win!

"They may have to hospitalize Sid Bream -- he's down at the bottom of a huge pile at the plate.''

I remember where I was when Caray called the moment during Game 7 of the 1992 National League Championship Series. I was sitting in the living room with my late father, watching Francisco Cabrera's line drive drop and watching Bream chug around the bases and just barely beat the throw. The great announcers frame such moments without overpowering them and, in that regard, Caray obviously learned well from his legendary father, Harry.

What made Skip Caray, who died in his sleep Sunday, stand out even more was the fact that he told it the way he saw it. Even though he was expected to be something of a homer while covering the Braves for TBS, he put his sarcasm to effective use when the team wasn't performing well. His wisecracks, about everything from Shea Stadium to the Montreal Expos' oddball mascot Youppi, provided the perfect balance to the prim and proper baseball scholar, Pete Van Wieren.

He represented one of the last members of a sports broadcast generation that existed without yelling, screaming and shameless self-promotion, a breed that included gruff but cuddly curmudgeons like his father and smooth stylists like Vin Scully.

"His legendary calls and trademark wit on TBS baseball are what resonated most with fans nationally and will not soon be forgotten,'' Turner Sports president David Levy said Monday in a statement.

Turner Sports will honor Caray over the next several weeks on its family of networks. There will be rememberances of hims during its upcoming telecast of the PGA Championship on TNT, a feature on its Aug. 10 Sunday MLB on TBS telecast and another set for an Atlanta Braves' game on Peachtree TV on Aug. 12 to coincide with what would have been his 69th birthday.

Those ideas are nice, but the best and most appropriate way to pay tribute to the impact of Caray's work would be enshrinement in the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown.

Today's dose of strange

LSU football coach Les Miles must be one straight-up, loped-out G.

You don't know what I just typed. Frankly, I'm not sure what it means either.

But know this: Les Miles has more street cred than any other Southeastern Conference football coach at the moment, and not just because he won the Bowl Championship Series national title trophy back in January.

He's rollin' with the homies. Or one rather famous homey.

It seems, based on a story that just came across the Associated Press wire, that Miles and rapper Snoop Dogg are buddies. Or, in hip-hop parlance, they're crew through and through.

The Doggfather visited Miles in Baton Rouge and -- get this -- accompanied him to a Rotary Club meeting. According to the AP's account, Snoop put on an LSU jersey and said he just wanted ''to give his love and support'' to Miles. Miles told the AP that he became a fan of the music and the man through his son, Ben.

Could you picture any other SEC head coach hanging with the Snoop D-oh-double-jizzle? Or any other rapper for that matter?

Nick Saban in Kanye West's venetian blind-style sunglasses?

Mark Richt in baggy jeans and gold chains?

Bobby Petrino busting a funky rhyme?

Nope, not seeing it.

Ailing in Atlanta

The headline atop our sports section this morning read: "Big deal: Braves trade Teixeira.''

To which I say, with more than a little sarcasm: Big deal indeed.

Take Tuesday's trade of first baseman Mark Teixeira to the Los Angeles Angels as confirmation that the Atlanta Braves' season is effectively kaput, a train wreck that rivals Tila Tequila's love life.

The Braves acquired Tex last season, thinking his big bat would invigorate their lineup and enable them to separate themselves from a tightly-bunched National League East race. It might have worked if Tex had been equipped with another skill set aside from his excellent fielding and power hitting -- say the ability to perform orthopedic surgery or fill in as a closer or starting pitcher in a pinch.

And this season has presented one interminable pinch, what with Chipper Jones and Tim Hudson on the disabled list, the bullpen's revolving door and the health issues affecting John Smoltz, Tom Glavine and Mike Hampton.

What the Braves got in return for Teixeira wasn't particularly remarkable: first baseman Casey Kotchman (.287, 12 homers, 54 RBI) and minor league pitcher Steve Marek. But, with this season spiraling further out of control after ghastly performances against Philadelphia and St. Louis, the Braves had to try to get something in exchange for Teixeira.

He was destined for free agency and its accompanying bidding war.

The Braves' gamble on Tex didn't yield significant gains for the franchise, largely due to circumstances beyond their control.

This season has been a disaster to date. It's time to set a new course and plan for 2009. There's no point in pretending there's still something to play for in the present when an 18-35 road record, four-game losing streak and crowded training room say otherwise.

It's all Greek to me

You might have visited my blog 'hood last week in search of updates from Southeastern Conference Football Media Days in Birmingham.

I had planned to oblige with anecdotes about everything from Tim Tebow saving orphans to Urban Meyer referring to himself in the third-person to Alabama fans tearing through the merchandise in the nearby Bama Fever store on the day Nick Saban arrived to Phil Fulmer looking as if he as trying to pass a kidney stone while avoiding questions about his subpoena.

All very entertaining stuff.

Unfortunately, technology did not cooperate.

For some reason, the wireless computer network at the Wynfrey Hotel in Hoover left me helpless and hopeless in an unsuccessful attempt to navigate a language barrier.

When I used google or attempted to sign on to my blog, the templates came up in German.

I kid you not.

I was left to try to decipher words like Bloggenglobben and Heffweisen.

OK, I made up those words. But it still doesn't change the fact that my screen was filled with characters that, when read, sounded a lot like a lead-in to a Def Leppard song: "Unduh gleeben globben globen ...'' Or something like that.

Anyway, I'm happy to report that my search engines and blog templates are in English again.

The fish are biting


Did you see the story that ran on page A2 of Wednesday's Ledger-Enquirer?

It seems a 6-foot catfish in Berlin, Germany, died after trying to consume a soccer ball. According to the Associated Press story, the fish was found floating atop the water in a canal with a blue and white soccer ball in its mouth.

A police spokesman said the fish tried to eat the ball and it got lodged in its mouth, leading to its death. Personally, I'm reluctant to bite on that story. The situation warrants further investigation because soccer fans in the country were undoubtedly riled up after Spain's 1-0 victory over Germany in the Euro 2008 championship.

Perhaps some German soccer hooligan took out his or her frustration on the fish -- especially if the catfish hailed from somewhere like Barcelona or Madrid.

Either way, it's fishy.

Point guard or power forward?


Very soon, lil' NBA commish David Stern will step up to the podium (and, being short, he will have to step up) to officially begin the NBA Draft.

Are you counting your goosebumps yet?

I'm not sure how many folks care about the draft in this part of the country, but I'll pretend as if a significant number actually do.

This year, we won't get to berate the Atlanta Hawks for their curious talent appraisals (Marvin Williams over Chris Paul AND Deron Williams?) since they will be sitting idly by, having traded away their first round pick (No. 15 overall) to Phoenix.

So, instead of hating on the Hawks, we'll busy ourselves with sorting out the question of Derrick Rose or Michael Beasley with the No. 1 pick.

Chicago will have to decide between Rose, the supremely gifted point guard who left Memphis after his freshman season, and Beasley, the double-double-producing power forward who left Kansas State after his freshman season (anyone notice a trend?).

Advantage Rose.

He's quick off the dribble, comes with a creative grab bag of passing skills and possesses the sort of speed, size and power that will have him an major physical advantage over most players at his position. He's not a great perimeter shooter, but does he really need to be given his ability to drive to the basket?

Beasley isn't a bad option, mind you. Sure, he shrank from his college-listed height of 6-foot-10 to 6-8 after pre-draft evaluations. At the same time, his ball skills and activity level on offense make regular 20-point, 10-rebound nights inevitable.

Still, Rose should be the pick because the way talented point guards can transform a mediocre team into a great one.

Strange week

Wow, you leave the country for a few days and all hell breaks loose.

First, the Columbus Catfish cleared the last hurdle in their way of leaving town after this season. When I read the story while on vacation, my initial reaction was, "Hmm, didn't realize there was a minor league baseball team in Columbus,'' but then I remembered that I had written, oh, about a year ago that they were going to be moving to Bowling Green. Based on attendance figures, it seems a significant number of folks are under the mistaken impression they had already moved.

It's a shame because I don't see any scenario that will allow Columbus to carry on with major league-affiliated baseball.

There are a number of culprits in the blame game, but the field personnel is exempt from the discussion. They put on a pretty good show. The failings of the previous owner have been chronicled, but what amazed me were some of the reader comments posted on our web site after Major League Baseball approved the Catfish's relocation request.

A couple readers suggested attendance was so moribund because of the proximity of a housing project to South Commons and suggested fears of crime kept fans away. I have to call foul on that. I've worked in Columbus for 11 years now and have covered a number of events at Golden Park, the Civic Center and Memorial Stadium. Generally, I'm leaving those venues late at night, longer after the last of the fans have filed out. I have never felt unsafe in that environment.

It’s a shame that some have chosen to stay away from South Commons because of urban legend and ridiculous prejudice. There may be a number of reasons why baseball has failed in our city, but the neighborhood around Golden Park is the least legitimate of them.

Speaking of preposterous comments, can you believe Don Imus opened his mouth again?

The guy just had to weigh in on Adam "Pacman'' Jones' race and somehow imply that his off-field misdeeds are somehow connected to his skin pigment. Imus should have abandoned his attempts at armchair sociology after the Rutgers brouhaha. I'm all for defending free speech, but I'm beginning to wonder how many Imus moments are required before duct tape should be invoked.

Perhaps the strangest story of the week involves Alabama running back-turned-linebacker Jimmy Johns, who was arrested yesterday and charged with selling cocaine and possessing ecstasy pills. Johns had been a regular occupant of Alabama coach Nick Saban's doghouse, which brings up an interesting sidebar to his arrest.

I ran across the web site www.JimmyJohnsPitBulls.com this morning (a recent check indicates it has been removed). Apparently, Johns was breeding and selling the animals. There were photos of Johns in his Alabama jersey, information about the breed and a visitor registry that proclaimed: ''Yo ass has been counted.''

Nothing illegal about breeding or selling pitbulls. Just fighting them, although there is no evidence that Johns has done that.

Still, it makes you wonder if Saban and his staff ever really knew Johns or had any chance of heading him off before he could find the sort of trouble that isn’t punishable by extra wind sprints and one-game suspensions.

And we're back on the blog


Based on the length of my absence from the blogosphere, you might have thought I'd been eaten by a grizzly or detained by immigration officials while in Canada. I'm happy to report that we're back from Montreal, although it was tempting to stay a while longer.

As a first-time visitor, I came away highly impressed with Montreal's diversity, its culture and its preservation of its history. We toured cathedrals, the city’s version of Central Park, the cobblestone-lined streets of Vieux Montreal, the wonderful botanical gardens and the Biodome complex that houses everything from penguins and lemurs. In addition to walking about five miles a day, we ate. A lot. Within a few blocks of our hotel, you could find Russian, Lebanese, Thai, French, Greek and Polish restaurants as well as corner markets with produce bigger, brighter and fresher than anything we've found in our home supermarkets of choice.

The people were wonderful as well even though they're comfortable speaking French and I'm not. It has a very European feel, naturally. A good portion of the men resemble Chicago Bulls center Joakim Noah right down to the ponytail. The women, mercifully, look much better.

The sports scene is rather remarkable as well. Instead of ESPN, the TV offers the Canadian version known as TSN. It's great if you want news on the NHL draft, Euro 2008, major league games or the CFL. If not, you can at least appreciate the lack of a Chris Berman or Stuart Scott.

We took a peek inside the Bell Center, home to the NHL's Canadians, and came away impressed. As for Olympic Stadium, uh, not so much. Built for the 1976 Summer Games, it resembles an ashtray from outer space. Still, the adjacent tower offers an incredible view of the city thanks to the cable car that carries tourists up the side.

Just make sure you look in the direction of the botanical gardens rather than Olympic Stadium.

North of the border, eh?

In an effort to expand my cultural horizons, I will be joining Mrs. Troy's Noise on a trip to Montreal this week.

I'm particularly excited about it for the simple fact that it's about 75 degrees there during the day as opposed to 98 here.

Anyway, that means I'll be out of touch with the blogosphere, the newspaper and the sports world in general for the next week. I'm not sure what sports Montreal residents preoccupy themselves with at this time of year. The Stanley Cup has been decided and the Expos no longer exist, so I'm thinking the options are limited.

I wonder if curling and/or hurling are popular at this time of year.

The Expos may be out of business, but Olympic Stadium is still standing. I plan on taking a look while I'm there, but I'm said that there won't be any Yupi sightings (remember the Expos' strange mascot?).

Atlanta's ailing arms


Just took part in a conference call with Atlanta Braves right-hander John Smoltz for an update on his post-shoulder surgery progress.

Smoltz underwent surgery Tuesday at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Birmingham, Ala. Dr. James Andrews, the renowned orthopedic surgeon who built a measure of his rep at Columbus' Hughston Clinic, repaired damage to Smoltz's right labrum.

The post-recovery prognosis for any athlete can be dicey, particularly for a 41-year-old major league pitcher, but Smoltz said his doctor didn't uncover any gruesome surprises during the procedure.

‘‘If he's pleased I’m pleased,’’ Smoltz said. ‘‘They think they have fixed it all, which translates into a chance to recover to whatever level I desire to recover.’’

What won’t be known for quite some time is whether Smoltz will pitch in another major league game. Smoltz said he plans to pursue ''aggressive'' rehab, but the possibility of returning to the game next season would most likely hinge on how well he regains flexibility in his right shoulder. He said he won’t be able to attempt to throw a baseball for four months. However, he was pleased to learn from Andrews that he could resume his golfing hobby in two or three months.

While the best-case scenario for a comeback by Smoltz would be spring training next year, he will rejoin the team after its current road trip in order to provide counsel to its young pitchers. Injuries have made the Braves’ season look increasingly bleak, with lefty Tom Glavine the most significant casualty of late. Atlanta sits 7 1/2 games out of first place in the National League East heading into Friday night, but have lost six straight and are 7-24 on the road.

During Friday’s media conference call, Atlanta general manager Frank Wren revealed that Glavine will be out for a month due to a torn flexor tendon on his left elbow. Wren said the earliest Glavine could be cleared would be the All-Star break (July 14-16).

"The only thing that will heal it is time,’’ Wren said.

When the Braves acquired Glavine in the offseason, it was celebrated as an opportunity for Atlanta to recapture some of its 1990s-era magic, when the lefthander starred in a rotation that included Smoltz and Greg Maddux. While Smoltz faces an uncertain recovery, he expressed sympathy for his teammate.

‘‘This is not in the script,’’ Smoltz said. ‘‘This wasn't supposed to be the way it was going to end (for both of us). There's still a little light at the end of the tunnel for him. With him, he's going to finish up his career and pitch again.’’

As for Smoltz, he reiterated Friday that he’ll retire with a clear conscience if his shoulder doesn’t heal well enough for him to continue on with the Braves next season.

‘‘I don't have to (pitch), but I still enjoy it,’’ he said. ‘‘If it's meant to be, then I'm going to do it. If not, then it's no big deal. I would welcome that if it's still afforded me. There's nothing I have to attain, nothing I have to prove. I look forward to seeing what the next four or five months hold for me.’’

He's ambulatory, folks


Granted, it's just the first day of the U.S. Open and there are three more rounds to negotiate.

That said, Tiger Woods did pretty well for himself on Thursday. Yes, he was all over the place with three birdies and two double-bogeys that reduced what could have been a solid opening round to a 1-over par 72. Still, the way people were postulating about his health, it's a wonder he could finish 18.

Woods underwent knee surgery two days after the Masters, which explained in part why he faded from contention in that tournament. He hadn't played 18 holes since then until being grouped with Phil Mickelson for Thursday's opening round at Torrey Pines.

It really shouldn't come as any surprise if Woods wins this thing despite all of the doubts about the durability of his knee.

Bodog, the online gaming emporium, rated him as a 5-to-2 favorite going into the U.S. Open.

If any other player in the world had undergone knee surgery a little more than a month ago, you'd have to discount his chances. But Woods has shown time and again that he's not the typical player, that he borders on the bionic. He's far better conditioned than most of the players on the Tour and burns with competitive intensity at all times.

‘‘Guess I don't need a cart after all,'' Woods said Thursday after his round.

Guess he's not out of the U.S. Open picture either.

Discount him at your own risk.

As for me, I wouldn't write him off even if his clubs were replaced by gardening tools and he was forced to negotiate 18 while hopping on one leg.

Courting Tebow's vote

By now, Florida quarterback Tim Tebow's exploits have grown from being simply outstanding to a borderline fairytale.

Forget about the jump pass he threw as a freshman or the Heisman Trophy he won as a sophomore.

Since he picked up the little stiff-arm trophy in December, he's flown 15,000 miles and been honored by 15 different organizations and nine states. He's also traveled to the Philippines and helped doctors provide circumcisions to poor children.

He also killed a grizzly bear by flicking it with his index finger, healed a leper simply by looking at him and fended off five would-be muggers with nothing more than a $5 footlong sandwich.

OK, we made up those last three.

But nothing seems all that impossible for Tebow anymore.

Apparently, his Q-rating is such that political candidates want a piece of whatever magic he contains.

When Tebow won the Heisman in December, President Bush sent him a handwritten letter congratulating him. According to an article by Matt Hayes of the Sporting News, Tebow responded with a handwritten letter of his own. Now, everybody wants to use Tebow as a political football of sorts.

Hayes' story noted that Democratic and Republican representatives asked him to campaign with them during Florida's presidential primaries.

‘‘I didn't feel it was right to publicly show support right now," Tebow told The Sporting News. "I am conservative. I am interested in politics, I pay attention. But there's too much on my plate right now. That may be something that comes in the future."

In other words, get ready for a possible political advertisement with the following addendum:

Hi, my name is Tim Tebow ... and I approved this message.

Brown-out at Belmont


The sport of horse racing seemed to be moving along at full gallop before Saturday afternoon, as if somebody had applied a strong whip hand to spur it back into public consciousness.

I tuned in to watch the Belmont, something I rarely feel compelled to do, because of the promise that history might be made. During the buildup to a race that would last no more than a couple minutes, we were led to believe that an event of seismic proportions would unfold if Big Brown became the first horse to capture the Triple Crown in 30 years. As if the weight of the troubled racing industry would be carried comfortably on Big Brown's four hoofs.

Big Brown's brash trainer, Rick Dutrow, guaranteed a Triple Crown.

So, naturally, it didn’t happen.

In fact, Big Brown's Triple Crown hopes crashed in slow, majestic fashion.

The magnificent beast that dusted the Kentucky Derby field and made the Preakness field look slower than wooden carousel ponies crumbled, either from the weight of expectations or from the fatigue of being pushed too hard for too long.

It's rare when a strong victory by a 38-to-1 shot like Da'Tara gets overshadowed by the underperformance of another horse, but Big Brown slow canter down the stretch raised questions about how it had achieved its impressive results at Churchill Downs and at the Preakness.

It became the first Triple Crown hopeful to finish dead last, a rather ignominous footnote to its foiled attempt at history.

‘‘I had no horse,’’ jockey Kent Desormeaux said of finding Big Brown unresponsive on the final turn.

It's possible he could have found one if he had a hypodermic needle handy.

On Friday, Dutrow told the media that he would not inject Big Brown with a shot of the anabolic steroid Winstrol before the Belmont. He admitted that he had given Big Brown a shot of the performance enhancer before the Kentucky Derby, but claimed he had not done so since. Dutrow said it was customary for him to give Big Brown and his other horses shots of Winstrol on the 15th of each month, but that he did not know what impact it had on their performances.

I'm no veterinarian, but it seems like it would enable them to run the way Big Brown did at the Kentucky Derby. Winstrol builds muscle mass, but it can also promote weight gain and recovery from injury. Although it's banned from being used in 10 states, it's fair game in the those hosting Triple Crown events.

After Saturday, it seems the 3-year-old colt's previous performances are as suspect as some of the feats of Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire or Marion Jones.

E-Jack gets slapped

Major League Baseball dished out punishment to eight players involved in Thursday’s brawl between the Boston Red Sox and Tampa Bay Rays.

Former Shaw High School star Edwin Jackson is among the group facing suspensions and fines.

Jackson, a starting pitcher for the Rays, received a five-game suspension and will begin serving it next Friday. Pretty stiff, but two players came out worse. Tampa Bay pitcher James Shields received a six-game suspension for plunking Boston outfielder Coco Crisp with a fastball and Crisp received a seven-game penalty for charging the mound and opening the floodgates on a massive pile-up of punching and (according to one report) hair-pulling.

The others who received the MLB-style call to the principal's office and detention are Jon Lester (five games), Jonny Gomes (five games), Carl Crawford (four games), Akinori Iwamura (three games) and Sean Casey (three games).

The Red Sox swept the series from Tampa Bay, but the Rays sent an unmistakable message during the free-for-all at Fenway.

If the Red Sox plan to win the AL East, they’ll have to fight their way through the Rays.

Chipping away at history


Atlanta Braves third baseman Chipper Jones took care of No. 400 Thursday night, so now we're left to wonder about the possibility of .400.

Of all of baseball's hallowed records, the ones that stand out most to me are Joe DiMaggio’s hitting streak and Ted Williams' .400 season. Those types of numbers can't be faked or bloated by steroids. It's strictly a matter of hand-eye coordination and consistency.

Right now, it's tough to bet against Jones becoming the first player since Williams to finish a season with a batting average over .400.

He went 4-for-5 against the Florida Marlins last night, raising his already resplendent average to .418. The 36-year-old even stole a base on the night when he hit the 400th home run of his career.

If he maintains his torrid pace, remains healthy enough to enjoy another four or five productive seasons, Jones may retire as the best switch-hitter of all time. Mickey Mantle and Eddie Murray have more home runs, but Jones possesses a higher career batting average (.310 and likely to rise). Pete Rose (.303 for his career) was the most prolific contact hitter in baseball history, but didn't possess Jones' ability to change games with one swing.

And what a flawless swing it has been.

Hooping it old school


Yet another piece of confirmation that I'm getting old.

An e-mail arrives in my inbox inviting me to attend my 20-year high school reunion in August.

High school wasn't a hellish experience for me by any means, but there are some aspects of 1984-88 that are best left in the time capsule.

Haircuts, for one thing. Those floppy, blond-dyed monstrosities that seemingly every wannabe surfer dude in Central Florida rocked despite the fact that no self-respecting Flock of Seagulls roadie would have kept such a do after its 1984 expiration date.

Ex-girlfriends, for another. That's all that should really be said on the subject.

In the end, curiosity will get the better of me and I'll go. I'll reconnect with friends I lost touch with since heading off to college. My wife will get to hear stories about me. Some of them might even be flattering.

I'm sure some of my friends and I will laugh about what we looked like in our yearbook photos. We'll assuredly laugh at the late-30-something paunch and male pattern baldness that defines so many of us now.

Since I happen to be a sports writer, they're likely to ask me about what I do and which athletes I've met. Eventually, we'll have to talk about the NBA Finals, about the Celtics and Lakers, about which team emerged from this nostalgia-coated seven-game series because those two teams fueled many a lunch room discussion back in the day.

This particular NBA championship series offers a trip in the Way Back Machine even if Kevin Garnett and Kobe Bryant have replaced Larry Bird and Magic Johnson as the headliners. It's enough to make your inner teen-ager escape to pump some Public Enemy or Beastie Boys on the boom box.

Twenty years ago, it was impossible to conceive of any other teams playing for the league title. Michael Jordan was on the scene, of course, but he had yet to transform the Chicago Bulls into a dynasty.

No matter where you grew up, no matter where you went to school, there were two kinds of sports people. You were a Celtics person or a Lakers person. You couldn't be both.

Truth be told, I was a Celtics person. I appreciated the Lakers -- the way Magic could see the court and squeeze bounce passes through the tightest openings -- but I related to the Celtics more. Even though I experienced some success as an athlete, I was gravity-bound and height-deprived. I couldn't run the floor like Magic, couldn't tower over everyone like Kareem. I also couldn't clear a Visa card with my vertical leap, which made me see players like Bird, Dennis Johnson, Robert Parish and Kevin McHale as not being so different from the rest of us stiffs (even though they were).

The Boston Celtics of today are far different than those of my youth, but I'm still a Celtics guy.

I'll pull for KG and Ray Allen, but I'll hold out hope that this series produces excellence and imagery that will be remembered 20 years from now.

Think of some of the classic outcomes and quirkiness that this series will try to live up to:

* 1984, Game 4: Celtics 129, Lakers 125

Mild-mannered Kevin McHale set the tone for the series by clotheslining Los Angeles ruffian Kurt Rambis on his way to an easy layup in the first half. The benches cleared and tempers flared. That swung the balance of the series and set the stage for ...

* Game 5: Celtics 121, Lakers 103

Bird blows up for 34 point, scorching the nets on a day when it was 97 degrees inside Boston Garden. That was a prelude to ...

* Game 7: Celtics 111, Lakers 102: Boston led by three points with a minute to play, but Dennis Johnson and Cedric ''Cornbread'' Maxwell saved the day with a pair of defensive takeaways. Boston beat L.A. in a Game 7, winner-take-all situation for the fourth time.

* 1985, Game 1: Celtics 148, Lakers 114

Journeyman Scott Wedman went off, going 11-for-11 from the field, and was never really heard from again.

* 1985, Game 4: Celtics 107, Lakers 105

Down 2-1 in the series, Boston gets bailed out by a sequence in which Bird passed out of a double team, finding Johnson for a game-winning 15-footer with two seconds left. But, ultimately, the Celtics' recovery went for naught because ...

* Game 6: Lakers 111, Celtics 100

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar became the oldest NBA Finals MVP at age 38 (which gives hope to all of us on the cusp of a 20-year reunion) after schooling Parish for 29 points, including 18 in the second half to clinch the series for L.A.

* 1987, Game 4: Lakers 107, Celtics 106

Bird drops in a 3-pointer for a 106-104 Boston lead with 12 seconds to go. Abdul-Jabbar cuts it to one with a free throw. McHale loses the ball moments later (with the help of a Mychal Thompson shove), then Magic breaks Boston's heart with a baby skyhook over McHale and Parish.

The Lakers clinched the series two games later, bringing an end to a remarkable period in NBA history in which the league became defined by East vs. West, by Bird vs. Magic, by Boston against L.A.

Twenty years later, we can still work up a good argument about which team and which superstars were better.

One thing we can agree on is that the sneakers Bird and Magic inspired were as awful as the haircuts we sported 20 years ago.

Black or purple and gold Converses.

No thanks.

Some elements of the past are best left buried.

Hazardous job


As if being an umpire at high school baseball games wasn't tough enough already with irate parents who live a little vicariously through their children and quick-tempered coaches who are convinced the men in blue are always conspiring against their respective teams.

Check out this video from last week's Class AAA state championship series between Cartersville and Stephens County:

http://www.workhorsevideoproductions.com/the%20pitch.mpg

The incident took place in the fifth inning of the deciding third game, won 13-1 by Cartersville. In the video, Stephens County catcher Matt Hill appears to duck and pull his mitt down, allowing a pitch to bonk umpire Jeff Scott on the noggin.

High school pitchers can be wild, for sure, but the Georgia High School Association is investigating whether Stephens County intentionally plunked the ump in order to send him a message. The inning before pitcher Cody Martin's pitch hit the umpire, shortstop Ethan Martin reportedly argued balls and strikes with Scott and threw his batting helmet in disgust after becoming the ninth straight Stephens County batter to strike out.

GHSA executive director Ralph Swearngin told the Atlanta Journal-Constitution that he expected to make a ruling as early as today on whether Hill acted intentionally in ducking and moving his mitt. Not sure what Swearngin would consider appropriate punishment in such a case. He could have the offending catcher stand over home plate in a batting cage, blindfolded, and allow the aggrieved umpire to feed balls into the pitching machine.

I'm just thinking out loud here, but expressing disgust at an umpire in such an over the top and potentially harmful manner seems counterproductive. What happened to old-fashioned antics like the chest-bump and Earl Weaver's practice of kicking dirt atop home plate?

Besides, when a team loses 13-1, chances are that it had far more troubling issues than an umpire's interpretation of the strike zone.

A vacation tour goes off track


There were quite a few amazing sights during my recent vacation cruise that included a stop in Belize.

While in Belize, I hiked through a lush rain forest and took an innertube cruise down a spring-fed river that wound through a network of caves. I ate local fare and even caught a distant glimpse of one of the Belizian keys that inspired Madonna to write the song ''Isla Bonita.''

Great place, Belize. It's an up and coming tourist destination.

There are plenty of things I was told to expect in Belize: Around 60 different varieties of snakes (only six or so of which are poisonous), monkeys, Toucans and the fast-food presence of Subway (but not KFC, McDonald's or Burger King). I did not, however, expect to find a monument to a disgraced American sports celebrity.

But there it was on the side of the highway leading out of Belize City: The Marion Jones Sports Complex.

There's even a silhouette of Jones in motion on the billboard perched alongside the road.

Jones, the American sprinter who won five medals at the 2000 Sydney Olympics, possesses dual citizenship. Her mother is a native of Belize. After Jones went crazy winning medals in Sydney, she made a goodwill tour to Belize and local officials renamed the 7,500-seat National Stadium in her honor.

It's not much to look at, but the locals make the most of the site. There are bleachers on one side, facing a soccer pitch. The field is encircled by a track used for running and cycling events.

Having covered Jones at the 2000 Olympics, it didn't surprise me that there were artifacts of her career in one off the countries that claims her as a citizen. But with Jones serving a six-month prison sentence after pleading guilty to lying to federal agents in the BALCO investigation, I thought most would have been well-hidden.

Jones' legacy has acquired a coating of tarnish in the last year. She's been stripped of her world and Olympic medals for doping offenses and, earlier this week, confessed steroids dealer Angel Heredia testified in federal court that her former coach, Trevor Graham, told him he wanted to administer a banned substances cocktail to Jones before the 2000 Summer Games.

According to the San Francisco Chronicle, Heredia testified that Graham wanted to pump human growth hormone, insulin and the blood-doping drug EPO into Jones' system befor the Olympics.

When I took notice of the Marion Jones Sports Complex, I happened to be on a bus bound for the rain forest and innertube cave cruise. I asked our guide about the complex and whether Jones' recent troubles had changed the way she's viewed in Belize.

The country hasn't made any plans to re-name its national sports stadium, which sort of goes along with what the guide told me. Most Belizians don't mind counting Jones as one of their own, partly because of the visibility she brought the nation in 2000.

For a nation so small and so hungry to boost its tourist appeal, any level recognition can't hurt.

Return of the delinquent blogger


You may have noticed that Troy’s Noise was uncharacteristically quiet for the last week or so, but there was a good reason for it.

Or at least I found it to be a good reason anyway.

I've been on vacation.

Just got back from a weeklong cruise that took the wife and I to Cozumel, Mexico, Roatan Island, Honduras, Belize and the Bahamas. I'm a little short of opinions regarding the happenings of the sports world right now because I've been out of touch. It's hard to keep up with the Atlanta Braves or the Indy 500 when you're climbing Mayan ruins, innertubing down a river that runs through a rain forest and a network of caves in Belize or developing sunburn on a beach in Freeport.

While I feel like I've been out of the loop for the last two weeks, it was nice to cut the umbilical cord that so often keeps me tied to a cell phone and computer.

I highly recommend doing so, even if you don't have access to Mayan ruins, a Belizian rain forest or the beaches of the Bahamas.

No blockbuster here


Given the hype and hysteria on the NFL Network and ESPN earlier today, you'd have thought NFL commissioner Roger Goodell was reviewing the Zapruder film with the expectation of finding indisputable evidence of a second gunman.

The TV talking heads postulated on what, if any, competitive advantage the Patriots could have gained from illegally videotaping an opponent's walkthrough and what else Matt Walsh could possibly have left to show and tell the commish.

So after three months of waiting, wondering and anticipating, Goodell emerged from a meeting Tuesday with a relieved look on his face and a posture that conveyed the following message about Spygate:

Show's over. Nothing to see here. Move along, people.

Basically, Goodell said that the Patriots and their head coach, Bill Belichick, have been punished enough already for their covert camerawork and that there were no blockbuster films hidden in their screening room.

Walsh claims that he didn't film the St. Louis Rams' walkthrough before the 2002 Super Bowl and didn't have knowledge of anyone who did. At the same time, however, ESPN's Sal Paolantonio reported that Walsh told the coaching staff about some of what he personally observed at what was supposed to have been a closed walkthrough.

Goodell penalized the Patriots for illegal videotapes made during the end of the 2006 season and the early portion of the 2007 season, but you have to wonder whether the league wanted to start rummaging through New England's DVD collection. Supposedly, the Patriots' secretive video taping has been going on since 2000.

With that in mind, do you think the NFL really wanted to find more dirt on its most successful franchise?

Crunching numbers


Some interesting facts and figures gleaned from the news wires and blogosphere:

* According to the Columbia (S.C.) State, one South Carolina football fan transacted a seriously sweet real estate deal with Gamecocks coach Steve Spurrier.

The newspaper reported that Spurrier sold a two-bedroom, two-bath, 1,206-square foot condo at CarolinaWalk, located across the street from Williams-Brice Stadium, to a business run by South Carolina businessman Roger Huskey. The sale price was $275,000, but it seems Huskey received quite a break. Other condos of the same size in the complex have sold for around $425,000, the newspaper reported.

* Michael Vick owes the Royal Bank of Canada a cool $2.5 million, a district court ruled Thursday.

The U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of Virginia granted a motion for summary judgment against Vick for defaulting on a loan.

With Vick serving a 23-month federal prison sentence for dogfighting, it may be a while before the check is in the mail.

* Bill Hargrove, whom the United States Bowling Congress dubbed ''the oldest league bowler ever,'' died in Gainesville, Ga., Thursday a mere four days shy of his 107th birthday.

Hargrove received national attention last year after participating in a league after turning 106.

As for me, I bowled a 106 once.

Stinging the Hornets


No wonder the NCAA needed five years to conclude its investigation of the Alabama State University athletic department.

Given the accusations leveled by the organization this week, the NCAA must have needed to field army of accountants and buy a battery of computers to calculate the grand total of alleged violations.

The NCAA sent ASU a notice of allegations that accused the school of -- get ready for this -- at least 668 violations in four different sports.

That's not a misprint.

If that sounds like a lot, well, it is. It's believed to be the largest naughty list ever unfurled. Florida A&M was once charged with 196 violations. According to a story in the Montgomery Advertiser, nearly 500 violations stemmed from ineligible football players being allowed to work out in the offseason. The NCAA also cited 40 instances in which the grades of football players were changed without the knowledge of their instructors.

If that's the case, then ASU's Academic Percentage Rating should have ranked right up there with Brown and Yale this week.

It didn't.

ASU will have until June 27 to respond to the NCAA's allegations, the most serious of which is the always ominous ''lack of institutional control.''

Nick Saban interview transcript


Before Monday, I'd only dealt with Alabama football coach Nick Saban in group settings. It's pretty much impossible to have anything resembling a one-on-one conversation with him in Tuscaloosa because people are absolutely loco about Alabama football around there. You show up for their weekly press conference and there are generally upwards of 100 TV and newspaper reporters seated in an auditorium.

It's a different culture.

At Georgia or Auburn, for instance, it’s easy to have a conversation with Mark Richt or Tommy Tuberville because there are fewer layers of insolation between the head coaches and the folks who cover their teams.

Saban has always been viewed as the sort of guy who doesn't enjoy dealing with the press or gladhanding his fans on the chicken dinner circuit. The funny part, of course, is that the writers I know who cover him on a daily basis say he’s not an ogre away from the practice field and press conference podium. The man can be side-splittingly funny, but he's more loose and accomodating when it’s not football season. The competitive tunnel vision kind of subsides for an instant and you see the regular guy in him.

So I showed up Monday to cover the SEC Celebrity Golf Classic at the Country Club of Columbus not really knowing which Nick Saban we'd get. Would he agree to an interview or try to run over me with his golf cart? The man was, understandably, in a bit of a hurry once he got done playing in the afternoon. This time of the year is hectic for college coaches even though practice doesn't resume until August. In addition to trying to make recruiting inroads during the spring evaluation period, they're traveling to various speaking engagements and such.

Anyway, as Saban walked off the 18th green, I caught up with him and asked him a few questions. My esteemed colleagues from the local TV stations -- Andrew Wittenberg from WTVM and Jack Rogers from WRBL -- also joined us. Saban seemed to enjoy the day in general and didn't have us on the stop watch when we interviewed him. Here's a transcript of my conversation with him:

Question: How often do you get to play in events like these and how did you hit it today?

Saban: ‘‘Not very many. ... It depends on what your definition (of success) is. To me, if I hit it airborne, that's a good shot. I'm not disappointed because I hit one ground ball all day.''

Q: You guys are obviously getting together for charitable causes (the foundations of former Alabama player Jeremiah Castille, former Auburn player Joe Cribbs and former Georgia player David Pollack), but does it feel strange at all partnering up with folks from your in-state rival?

Saban: ‘‘I think it's great. At Michigan State, we had a lot of these kinds of events. Bo (Schembechler) had a thing for adrenal cancer at Michigan. The cause we're out here for today is much greater than the competition. Just because you compete doesn't mean you can't do the right things when it comes to supporting great causes. I'm glad to be here to support it.

Q: With the NCAA banning coaches from visiting high school campuses in the spring, people are talking about your use of a webcam to communicate with prospects. How long have you used it and why is it advantageous?

Saban: ‘‘It came from our medical staff in Miami (with the Dolphins). We're kind of in an age where most of these guys don't read books. They watch videos. Any time you can be visual ... I feel like any time you're sitting there in a video conference talking to a coach or a player, it's almost like you're there. It's much better than a phone call. That's just something that we've used in the past that we've used a little bit this year in recruiting. Since we can't go out and visit the coaches and see the players practice, this has worked out good. I enjoy it. I don't know if they enjoy it. The biggest thing I struggle with, I guess it's the pro ball guy in me, you watch a guy on film, you go to the (NFL) combine and watch him work out, then you go work a player it. It's kind of a crosscheck. I never went out as much (recruiting in the spring) at Michigan State because they didn't have spring ball there, but the fact that all these guys are playing in most of the states that we recruit, I used to go see the best five or six players at every position. It was a great crosscheck.

‘‘You always kind of knew the guy in Mississippi compared to the guy in Georgia compared to the guy in Alabama. That was a great evaluation tool for all of us.’’

Q: Since you can't go visit the campuses now, how are you using your time? What else can you focus on?

Saban: ‘‘Because there's no travel involved, we've tried to do a little bit more with relationship building. The first 16 months we were at Alabama, we worked hard at trying to get our program right and make inroads in recruiting.’’

Q: You guys have had 80,000 to 90,000 fans at the last two spring games and you're mobbed at Crimson Caravan events. Does that kind of underscore what fans expect from you?

Saban: ‘‘I think that positive energy is the most important thing in trying to accomplish any goal. I know our players appreciate what our fans have done in terms of supporting our program and what we're trying to do. That positive energy they've demonstrated helps us in recruiting and in a lot of ways. One thing our fans have done is be extremely supportive.’’

Q: (From Andrew Wittenberg of WTVM) Do you feel like the program is ahead of where it was at this time last year?

Saban: ‘‘I can't make comparisons. The two things we didn't do last year that we need to improve on -- we didn't play with enough consistency. We got ahead in games and let people come back. We played up to the good teams and didn't play as well in some of the other games. We didn't finish. We didn't finish the season. We didn't finish certain games. We didn't play to the standard of excellence we were capable of on a consistent basis. I think we made some progress in this offseason and in this spring practice. Hopefully we'll show some improvement next year.’’

Q: Were the Auburn fans cool to you out there?

Saban: ‘‘Everybody was nice to me. I appreciate that. Glad to do something like that.’’

Q: (as Saban is preparing to get his golf clubs and head out) Heard they were having trouble finding a plane to get you home ... (Alabama booster Paul Bryant Jr. wound up sending his to Columbus to pick up Saban)

Saban (smiling): ‘‘I don't know. I've got to call the office. If they don't have one, they won't answer the phone.’’

Ryan's Hope extinguished


Defending national champion LSU may have trouble getting out of the starting blocks in the race for the 2008 Southeastern Conference championship.

LSU coach Les Miles announced Friday that quarterback Ryan Perrilloux has been kicked off the team for failing to ''fulfill his obligation as an LSU student-athlete.''

Frankly, this development is about as shocking as reports that Mardi Gras revelers are known to drink large quantities of alcohol. Perrilloux, who served as the backup to Matt Flynn last season, had repeated disciplinary run-ins throughout his college career. He was suspended last summer after being caught trying to enter a Baton Rouge casino with fake ID and was suspended again for skipping classes, missing a team meeting and being tardy to offseason workouts.

It took a fair amount of courage for Miles to make the move he did. Perrilloux can play. He completed 51 of 75 passes last season, including eight touchdowns and two interceptions. Had he not run afoul of Miles' rules, he would have had the inside track to being the starter for a sure-thing top-five team.

Playoff fever in Atlanta

Hey, the Atlanta Hawks are still alive in the NBA playoffs.

Enjoy it while it lasts. That may no longer be the case in, oh, about 24 hours from now.

Give the Hawks credit for pushing the 66-win, star-laden Boston Celtics to a sixth game. It's a wonder the Hawks avoided a sweep, quite frankly, and it will be equally eyebrow-jacking if they force a seventh game. It's true that Kevin Garnett and Co. should have a prohibitive advantage in terms of talent heading into Friday night's game at Philips Arena, but Atlanta forwards Josh Smith and Al Horford have been impressive and who knows what Joe Johnson could do if he gets hot early in the game?

No, the problem might be the man on the bench, head coach Mike Woodson. He seems more than a little distracted right now and that can't be good for his team.

After Atlanta's last victory in the series, he spoke of his job situation almost in the past tense, as if he expected to get canned at the conclusion of his team's playoff joyride. These last few days, he's been answering and then doing his best to avoid questions of his job security. After all, the guy owns a record of 106-222 in four seasons. I've hung with him in his office before and he seems like a nice guy, but you have to wonder if the the members of the Atlanta Spirit ownership group (who can name all of them given the legal infighting) have grown impatient waiting for him to turn Marvin Williams' potential into production, etc.

In a recent radio interview, Woodson seemed to be making a belated effort at damage control.

"Personally, I think I've done an unbelievable job,'' he said.

Sounds a little like Dubya's endorsement of a certain former FEMA director.

Oh well.

For Atlanta to extend this series, it needs to arrive at Philips Arena with the same sort of energy as last Friday's occupant of the arena floor. The wife and I took in Bruce Springsteen's epic concert in Atlanta last week.

While I've long appreciated The Boss' music, I'd never before seen him live and am in no way represented of the uber-fan/borderline stalkers who bused and flew in from places like Hackensack, Perth Amboy and Paramus with their acid wash jeans and teased hair (in the case of the ladies) to see a Jersey guy who made good.

The Mrs. and I managed to score tickets that got us into the 500-person bullpen right in front of the stage. We were no more than 25-feet away from Bruce, Lil' Stevie and Clarence Clemons at various points during the show. As wonderful as the music was, I spent a fair portion of the show simply gawping at Bruce on stage and wondering how he could maintain his hyperkinetic stage presence as he closes in on his 58th birthday.

You have to figure that this guy has played most of his standards -- ''Born to Run,'' ''Brilliant Disguise,'' "Glory Days,'' etc. -- night after night on the road, probably upwards of 10,000 times apiece over the years. And yet, in Atlanta, he wore a smile on his face, engaged the crowd throughout, sponged gallons of sweat off his face, drank gallons of blue sports drink in between songs and sang every one of his songs with the sort of fervor and passion you would have expected to see during his first tour.

The Hawks need whatever Bruce brought to the stage last weekend, but I'm not sure that ingredient exists in mass quantities.

What should they do?

The Miami Dolphins took some of the mystery out of the NFL Draft by anointing mammoth Michigan offensive tackle Jake Long as their No. 1 pick and signing him to a five-year, $57.75 million contract.

I guess that means we can do without NFL commissioner Roger Goodell coming to the podium on Saturday and announcing that the Dolphins are ''on the clock.''

Before Miami's pre-emptive strike, I was convinced that Long represented the best option for the Atlanta Falcons if he remained available when it came time for them to pick at No. 3. I know a left tackle doesn't represent a dynamic promotional vehicle. People don't buy tickets to watch offensive linemen block, but the Falcons need a guy who can put defenders on their butts more than they do a first pick who can put butts in seats. Ticket-buyers want to watch a good product and it's obvious the Falcons need to follow new general manager Thomas Dimitroff's directive to build from the inside and out if at all possible.

With Long gone, the logical pick for the Falcons would be either LSU's Glenn Dorsey or USC's Sedrick Ellis. Having seen Dorsey in person several times over the last couple seasons, I'm enamored with his ability to beat double-teams and the relentlessness with which he plays. He's a load to handle in the middle.

Who would you choose with the third overall pick? The Falcons obviously need help at quarterback and cornerback, but are those positions enough of a priority to receive attention with the third overall pick.

While Boston College's Matt Ryan represents the best of a so-so quarterback class, keep in mind that he won't necessarily represent an immediate cure-all. If Atlanta was able to sign him before the season, there's still the likelihood that he would be limited to a backup role until he learns the offense. Plus, would you risk his health behind that offensive line?

Savage not sore about NFL experience


The scene former Jordan High School running back Dantrell Savage described to me the other day sounded comparable to the treatment afforded to subjects of alien abductions.

At February's NFL Combine in Indianapolis, Savage stood in a long line of league hopefuls wearing nothing but a number and exercise shorts. When his turn arrived, he went into a medical examination room so a series of doctors could take X-rays and MRIs and generally twist and contort every limb on his body in an effort to grade his overall health.

Savage, a tailback at Oklahoma State, got the repeat some of the same procedures with representatives of most of the league's teams.

"The thing I found out about me is that the more you sit there and think nothing is wrong with you, they'll figure out something is wrong with you,'' Savage, a projected third- to fifth-round draft pick, told me on the phone the other day. ''You'll find you're sore. There are 32 teams. They just pick at you and poke you and mess with the same different spots you've had X-rays on. You're going to become sore. They end up hurting you.''

Savage said it will all have been worth it if he gets drafted and lands a roster spot, however.

Read more about Savage in Thursday morning's Ledger-Enquirer.

Mock draft madness


This is a shameless plug for yet another wonderful thing we're doing at the Columbus Ledger-Enquirer.

We're holding a mock NFL Draft on Friday, the day before the league begins its real two-part event.

I can't take credit for brainstorming this thing. Our sports editor, Kevin Price, put this deal together, but he's looking for more participants. Here's how it works:

If you're the fan of a particular NFL team and want to act as its ''general manager'' for the mock draft, then shoot Kevin an e-mail at kprice@ledger-enquirer.com as soon as possible. All you'll need on Friday is access to a computer and the willingness to log on to our web site -- www.ledger-enquirer.com -- for a short period of time. The draft starts at 9 a.m. and continues with picks every 10 minutes.

If multiple folks want to draft for the same team, the Ledger-Enquirer will choose one lucky person at random.

Here are the teams that are still available:

Arizona Cardinals
Buffalo Bills
Carolina Panthers
Cincinnati Bengals
Denver Broncos
Houston Texans
Detroit Lions
Jacksonville Jaguars
Kansas City Chiefs
Miami Dolphins
Minnesota Vikings
New England Patriots
New Orleans Saints
New York Giants
New York Jets
Philadelphia Eagles
San Diego Chargers
San Francisco 49ers
Seattle Seahawks
Tampa Bay Bucs
Tennessee Titans
Washington Redskins

Forgotten again


No flowers, no cards, no phone calls. Not even so much as a fruit basket.

You're disappointing me again, people.

Today is National Columnists Day (seriously, look it up) and once again I'm left to wonder: Where is the love? I mean, my wife even failed to remember this special occasion. Then again, it's not as if Hallmark sells cards for National Columnists Day. If they did, I suppose they could offer them in the form of a letter to the editor.

There's still another 14 1/2-odd hours left in the day, offering all of you ample chance for redemption. Tributes and gifts are welcome, just as they have been for the last five years.

In case you're wondering, National Columnists Day was started in 1995 -- on the 50th anniversary of Ernie Pyle's death -- as the result of the National Society of Newspaper Columnists. According to the organization, "The anniversary of the April 18, 1945 death of the great Ernie Pyle is a time to reflect on the way newspaper columnists connect, educate, comfort, encourage, celebrate, outrage and occasionally even amuse readers and a time to express appreciation for them for their hard work."

I hope I have done some or all of those things for you in the last year, and I hope to continue it.

Mark your calendar so you don't forget the date next year. In the meantime, the best gift you can give this particular newspaper columnist is a moment of your time each morning.

Immelman holds on


AUGUSTA, Ga. — This wasn't a golf tournament. The Masters turned out to be a demolition derby.

Trevor Immelman dented a fender in the final round Sunday, but you should see the other guys.

This course was tough enough without the 25 mph wind gusts that made it impossible to command the ball on so many holes. Brandt Snedeker, Steve Flesch and Paul Casey, the only guys who really stood much of a chance when the day began barring a total implosion by Immelman, will need to visit the body shop after this one.

The carnage was unbelievable.

Immelman shot 3-over par on Sunday, his only round above 69 in the tournament, but still finished with a three-stroke victory at 68-68-69-75 -- 280. It's his first major and the city of Columbus can claim a piece of it.

Immelman's brother, Mark, the golf coach at Columbus State, and Mark's wife Tracy, were among the family members waiting out the scorer's tent on No. 18.

Imagine how all of this will play in Immelman's native South Africa.

The country will probably shut down and celebrate and probably even declare a Trevor Immelman Day.

He's the first golfer from the nation to win the Masters since Gary Player claimed his third in 1978. Oddly enough, Player said a couple years ago that Immelman possessed the game to win at Augusta and would eventually eclipse fellow countrymen Ernie Els and Retief Goosen.

Immelman's wake-up call for a championship actually came Saturday night.

His cell phone rang. It was Player, who was about to be heading back to South Africa, calling to tell Immelman to bring it home. Player has known Immelman since he was 5 years old. Players words were along these lines: There will be bad breaks, but I know you're going to win.

Turns out the 72-year-old knew what he was talking about.

‘‘It meant an awful lot,’’ Immelman said. ‘‘I played it to my whole family on speaker phone.’’

The divine Mr. Imm

AUGUSTA, Ga. -- Trevor Immelman is shots ahead of his closest pursuer with five holes to play, which is as much the product of the wacky conditions as it is his own steady play.

Immelman hasn't done anything especially spectacular today. He missed a 2-foot putt for birdie on No. 7 and struggled to control the ball with the wind sustaining 20 to 25 mph gusts. But this is why he should soon be wearing the Masters green jacket and celebrating his first major:

He came into this day leading the field in driving accuracy and in greens hit in regulation.

Coming in, Immelman ranked 202nd on the PGA Tour in putts per greens in regulation. There were only two golfers behind him -- David Lutterus and Steve Allan (not the similarly-named comedian). Immelman isn't known as a terror on the greens, but he could soon be a terror in green because of his work off the tee and from the fairway.

Ready for some drama?


AUGUSTA, Ga. — The flags are rippling here at Augusta National Golf Club, thanks to the 25 mph wind gusts ruffling the leaves and tousling the coiffs of so many spectators.

Might it also represent a wind of change for the Masters?

It could on a number of levels.

Tiger Woods, who will tee off 10 minutes from now, could make a breakthrough if he can catch up to Trevor Immelman and Brandt Snedeker. He's never won a major when trailing after 54 holes.

It would most definitely represent history for either Immelman or Snedeker, who were the PGA Tour Rookies of the Year in 2006 and 2007, respectively. Both are looking for their first major championship of any sort.

Who knows what will happen today?

Immelman and Snedeker won't be introduced at the No. 1 tee until 2:25 p.m. and there's a fair amount of separation between them and the golfers who have already started their rounds.

But it seems that, in spite of the weather, it will be possible to post a low score today. Ian Poulter has already birdied Nos. 1 and 2 to get to 4-under.

Moving day


AUGUSTA, Ga. — The weather conditions are certainly having an impact at Augusta National.

The greens, which were as fast as table tops on Thursday and Friday, have played more like shag carpet because of the heavy rain earlier this afternoon.

Several frontrunners have struggled to adjust to the pace of the course.

Trevor Immelman, who held the lead at 8-under coming in, has left a handful of putts short, including a short birdie opportunity on No. 2. He's given a stroke back and shares second with Paul Casey and Steve Flesch at 7-under. Immelman's playing partner, Brandt Snedeker, birdied No. 2 and has followed it with four consecutive pars to take the lead at 8-under.

A couple guys to keep an eye on at this point: Phil Mickelson, who got to 6-under before bogeying No. 6, and Casey, who has birdied three of his first eight holes.

What about Tiger Woods?

He's plugging along, not out of it by any means. He's 4-under for the tournament after a birdie on 13, but has let at least two other legitimate birdie opportunities fall by the wayside.

Rain, rain, go away ...


AUGUSTA, Ga. -- The folks who run the Masters are pretty powerful.

They have made their event one of the toughest tickets in sports. They can seemingly will the azaleas and dogwoods to bloom even when there are cold snaps. They can tell Chris Berman to stay home.

But they have yet to figure out a way to control the elements. Short of installing a retractable roof over Augusta National's lovely golf course, this will remain problematic.

Play has just resumed after a 40-minute delay brought on by heavy rain.

What does that mean to you, the TV viewer?

Your favorites, guys like Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson, will be teeing off much later than expected. They may not even be able to finish the third round today, depending on the whims of Mother Nature. About half of the golfers left in the field had teed off when the inclement weather rolled in. We'll see how it goes.

Not fading from view


AUGUSTA, Ga. — Right now, my face looks a lot like Trevor Immelman’s Masters scorecard.

Lots of red.

Just got back from a long tour of Augusta National, most of which was spent following Immelman and trying to find patches of shade whenever possible. Despite slathering my neck, face and scalp with No. 30 sunscreen, I look medium rare at this moment.

In some ways, I feel kinship with Immelman. Neither of us can be cooled off, it seems.

Immelman, whose brother Mark happens to be the golf coach at Columbus State University, continued his torrid play Friday and currently sits atop the leaderboard at 8-under par (68-68 -- 136). Brandt Snedeker is hanging tough one stroke behind, while Steve Flsesh (72-67 -- 139) made an impressive charge with a round that included an eagle on the par-5, No. 13.

Where’s Tiger Woods, you ask?

He remains even three holes into his round, but a lot can happen between now and the end of the day. Several players to watch, including Woods and first-round co-leader Justin Rose are early into their rounds, but it's shaping up to be a interesting day. Phil Mickelson has made a bit of a charge, gaining three strokes since yesterday. Right now, it looks as if the cut will be 3-over par.

Talk of a Tiger Slam has died down considerably since the beginning of the week, but it's too early to count him out yet. If he's within six strokes of the lead by the end of the day, I wouldn't give up on him.

At the same time, Immelman has emerged as the most compelling story of the tournament (you'll read more about him in Saturday's Ledger-Enquirer). Keep in mind that this guy was in a hospital bed in his native South Africa last December, doped up on morphine, and waiting to find out if a tumor discovered in his chest was cancerous. Thankfully, it proved to be benign, but it took him several weeks to recover well enough to play a full round of golf.

Four months later, this guy, an 80-1 shot according to the oddsmakers for Bodog, happens to be leading the Masters.

His wife, Carminita, had it right when she shared her thoughts about Friday's round with me behind the 18th green.

‘‘This is a special place,’’ she said.

Local knowledge


AUGUSTA, Ga. — Your Masters leaderboard after one round:

Justin Rose and Trevor Immelman at 4-under par 68.

Some guys named Brian Batemen and Brandt Snedeker sharing second place with Lee Westwood at 3-under.

A log jam of Ian Poulter, Robert Karlsson, Zach Johnson, Stephen Ames and Jim Furyk at 2-under.

Wait a second.

Rose, Immelman and Poulter fighting it out at Augusta National?

Didn't they just do that, oh, about two weeks ago?

If you're looking for a reason why Rose, Immelman and Poulter shot such solid rounds Thursday, you can trace it back to a trip they planned in March. The three, who each live a lob wedge away from each other behind the gates of Orlando’s Lake Nona golfing enclave, were facing off against Tiger Woods and other pros from the hoitier, toitier Isleworth neighborhood in the Tavistock Cup when one of them suggested a road trip to Augusta.

The trio flew to Augusta two weeks ago, bunked down at a Marriott and ate at the T-Bonz steak house located off Washington Road a short hop from the course. They also devoured every possible nook and cranny of the Augusta National course.

‘‘What it did was took the pressure off the practice days this week,’’ Rose said.

And, by all appearances, it gave them a significant advantage over some of their competitors.

Immelman, whose brother Mark is the golf coach at Columbus State, said the two rounds shared with Poulter and Rose were spirited and closely contested. Rumor has it that some wagers were made.

‘‘We just had a fantastic time,’’ he said. ‘‘Kind of like three kids going to their favorite golf course. It was an awesome couple of days.’’

It could make for an especially awesome weekend if the three neighbors continue to jostle for position through the final round. It seems there’s some unfinished business dating back to the boys' getaway they enjoyed.

‘‘Justin actually won,’’ Immelman said. ‘‘I think I still owe him some money.’’

Early Masters impressions


AUGUSTA, Ga. -- As I walked past the Augusta National Clubhouse around 11:30 this morning, the throngs parted for a group of white-shirted security guards escorting a player to the putting green.

Ladies and gentlemen, Tiger Woods.

Woods walked past me, no more than five feet away, looking steely-eyed and ridiculously fit. The guy must live in a gym. As he took his place on the putting green for some practice just before his opening round, the crowd, standing as many as five deep in some places, applauded lustily.

This guy can get a standing ovation just for smiling.

My three-hour morning-to-afternoon walk around the course was lovely. It's warm, but a gentle breeze has been kind enough to tickle the tall pines, the wisteria, the dogwood and the azaleas every so often.

I followed Heath Slocum for most of his round because I'm thinking of writing something about the Milton Mafia as I call them. Heath Slocum, Boo Weekley and Bubba Watson, all graduates of Milton High School in the Florida Panhandle, all in the Masters field.

Anyway, Slocum was 3-under after 8, but bogeyed 9 and 18. He's in second now at 1-under 71. He happened to have Fuzzy Zoeller in his threesome, which is interesting since Zoeller happens to be the only Masters champion to win a green jacket in his first visit to Augusta.

"Honestly, it's such a long way, so far ahead of me, so far ahead that it doesn't even pop into my head, really,'' Slocum told us after his round.

It's wise not to fantasize too much here, because far too many golfers have unraveled after solid starts.

Caught up with Larry Mize some during his round and the Columbus resident was having a tough day. He shot 4-over on the front and gave up another stroke at 16 with two holes to play. Even so, the guy gets a warm ovation at every tee box and green. Being a Masters champion ensures perpetual respect.

That's all for now. Ian Poulter just got to the interview room. He's 2-under 70, but I want to see what he's wearing. The guy usually wears purple pants, but this year he's rocking the lime green.

Masters gets under way


AUGUSTA, Ga. — Where are we, the London Open?

When the Augusta National Golf Club gates opened this morning, the course was engulfed in the sort of pea soup fog that would have provided the perfect backdrop for a Sherlock Holmes mystery.

Tournament officials delayed the start for a little more than an hour, pushing it back from 7:50 a.m. to 9.

Four-time Masters champion Arnold Palmer hit the ceremonial first tee shot and keep is in the fairway.

There are only about four trios that have gotten under way so far. Columbus' Larry Mize is 1-over after the first hole, while Ben Curtis holds the top spot at the moment, even through four holes.

Of course, it's early.

Most of the heavy hitters won't tee off for at least another hour or two. Zach Johnson will start around 11:23, while Tiger Woods will follow two groups after his.

Who will I be following today?

Obviously I'll check in on Woods, but there's ample time for more detailed Tiger tracking. It's not as if he's going to miss the cut or anything. Johnson will be compelling as well, and not just because we share the same surname. The whole I'm Zach Johnson, regular guy from Iowa, who just happens to be a defending Masters champion thing makes him most interesting.

I'll also be watching Mize since he's local, as well as amateur Michael Thompson, a University of Alabama golfer, Augusta favorites Charles Howell III (Charlie Triple Sticks, we call him) and Vaughn Taylor, as well as those golfers who would fit in well with Larry the Cable Guy. In other words, I'll have keen interest in the efforts of Bubba Watson and former Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College golfer Boo Weekley, because it's cool that guys named Bubba and Boo can strip some of the pretense from what can be a very uptight sport.

You know he's serious


AUGUSTA, Ga. — The beauty of the Par-3 Tournament, the Wednesday appetizer before the Masters main course arrives at the table Thursday, is incalculable.

Situate nine of the most lush, most vibrantly green par-3 golf holes on a compact tract of real estate. Surround with ponds and creeks, pink azaleas and bleach-white dogwood. Allow the masses to watch from the grassy knoll that rises above it all, giving it a coliseum feel.

Next, project some noise. Pump up the volume and let the sounds rattle off the tree trunks and waft through the branches.

It was loud on Wednesday because fans still appreciate guys like Arnold Palmer and Gary Player.

It would have been louder if Tiger Woods had played, but he opted out.

‘‘It's changed over the years,’’ Woods said during his Tuesday interview session. ‘‘Used to be, I thought it as a lot of fun to play, but now it is a little distracting to get ready and be ready for the tournament.’’

Nice try, but you're not fooling anyone.

Obviously, Woods is attempting to avoid the dreaded Par-3 Curse.

No winner of the Par-3 event has turned around and won the Masters in the same week.

If the current Par-3 leaderboard holds up (there are still golfers on the course), we can mark out Rory Sabbatini as a Guy Who Could Win the Masters. He's leading at 5-under.

But you probably didn't pick him to win anyway, did you?

Evolution at Augusta


AUGUSTA, Ga. -- The green jacketed members of Augusta National Golf Club are widely perceived as the last members of the Flat Earth Society, stubborn dinosaurs who will ensure that it remains 1955 behind the gates.

It's not as if this is entirely a bad thing.

Unlike most major sporting events, you can feed a family of four without taking out a second mortgage. The cost of the delicious egg salad and pimento cheese sandwiches served hermetically sealed in Masters green wrappers has held firm at pre-Cold War prices.

As much as some club members may cling to the past with a white-knuckle grip akin to the Ranger chokehold, it's not entirely representative of the breed. In years past, the pre-tournament conversation often covered practices by the club that are deemed exclusionary. This year, chairman Billy Payne is being hailed as a visionary.

For the first time ever, the Par-3 Tournament will be televised. And ESPN cameras will be on the course to provide live coverage rather than simply provided the highlights that served as the backdrop for Stuart Scott’s Boo-Yeahs. There have been changes to the tournament's Web site, Masters.org, including streaming video and blogs.

Children 8-16 will also get in free from Thursday-Sunday, provided they are escorted by an adult with a tournament badge because, as Payne said, Augusta National wants to ''expose the game to a more youthful audience to communicate to them that golf is fun, it is family.''

So, for this week, females ages 8-16 will get to tread upon the hallowed grounds of Augusta National. However, they won't be able to join as adults for the forseeable future.

‘‘I don't talk about membership issues,’’ Payne said Wednesday morning, during his state of the tournament address. "That's reserved for the private deliberations of the members. Other than that, I'm not going to talk about it.''

In other words, Augusta National has embraced the technology of the 21st Century but not the sociology.

Packing up and heading out


I've got my umbrella, a windbreaker, a rain suit, sunscreen and comfortable walking shoes.

In other words, everything I need to deal with the varying weather that normally greets folks at Augusta National during Masters week.

I'm hitting the road and heading for Augusta in a couple hours. Try not to hate me too much.

You'll start seeing my Masters dispatches in the blogosphere on Wednesday and in the Thursday morning Ledger-Enquirer. I'm teaming up with two writers from the Macon Telegraph, Daniel Shirley and Jonathan Heeter, to provide comprehensive coverage of the tournament. We'll obviously be tracking folks like Tiger and Phil Mickelson, as well as last year's winner, Zach Johnson, whose most pronounced success before had come in the form of those giant cardboard checks they hand out on the Hooter's Tour. We'll also be digging up interesting stuff on the amateurs, the darkhorses, the changes to the course and to the way it's being covered (ESPN's in the house for the par-3 tournament, but Chris Berman isn't. For that, we should be thankful).

So check back every so often to see what's cracking on the most perfect golf course ever conceived.

Rock, chalk, Jayhawk

I'm not sure what was the most impressive component of Kansas' NCAA tournament run, its merciless flogging of North Carolina or its back-from-the-dead resurrection against Memphis.

The Tigers were less than three minutes away from cutting down the nets Monday night in San Antonio, but missed free throws and big baskets like the one Kansas guard Mario Chalmers made at the end of regulation switched Memphis' mood from celebration to devastation.

Your final: Kansas 75, Memphis 68.

Absolutely mind-boggling.

Twenty years ago, Danny Manning helped Kansas hoist a national championship trophy.

Danny and the Miracles, they called them. Manning happens to be a Jayhawk assistant coach now.

Guess they'll have to step aside so Mario and the Miracles can borrow the spotlight now.

There's something lodged in their throats


That wretching noise you hear is Memphis coughing up a national championship.

Mario Chalmer's last-second 3-pointer at the end of regulation flipped the script as the kids say.

With 2:24 to go in overtime, it's Kansas 69-65.

The Jayhawks have outscored Memphis 18-5 since the 4:29 mark of the first half and are having their way with those nice screen and lob plays to the low post that decimated North Carolina. It helps that Memphis' best rebounder and shot blocker, Joey Dorsey, fouled out in regulation.

Unreal

My concerns about Memphis free throw shooting (I picked them to get bounced in the Sweet 16 because of its sub-60 percent rate in the regular season) weren't unfounded. Even though the Tigers were better than 70 percent as a team in the NCAA tournament, their old habits resurfaced at the wrong time.

Chris Douglas-Roberts just went clank, clank with his team up 62-60 with 10.8 seconds left, but teammate Robert Dozier bailed him out with an offensive rebound.

Now it's up to Derrick Rose to extend the lead with a pair of free throws after Kansas' grab-and-foul.

The first one ... boink!

The second one ... Swish.

63-60.

Check that.

Mario Chalmers for three just before the buzzer and it drops.

63-all.

We're going to overtime, and that's OK with me. Drama like this deserved to be milked for maximum effect.

Take a good, long look


Memphis freshman point guard Derrick Rose is putting together a nice farewell performance.

A twisting, fallaway 19-foot bank shot over two defenders with the shot clock at 0:01? A field goal or an assist on seven consecutive possessions?

Yeah, he's ready for the NBA.

Assuming Memphis protects the 62-56 lead it has with 1:39 to go, that should be Rose's next stop.

It's getting interesting


Since my NCAA national championship game pairing of UCLA and North Carolina was ground up into mulch Saturday, I can watch the Memphis-Kansas game as a dispassionate observer.

It's obvious to me now after watching the first half why these two teams made it this far. The assortment of quick, long-limbed athletes on the court is beyond impressive.

I mentioned on a radio show earlier Monday that I liked Memphis to win with ease because of players like Derrick Rose and Chris Douglas-Roberts, who can beat defenders off the dribble and hit mid-range shots or put the defense in foul-me-or-give-up-the-layup situations.

Even after seeing the Tigers go five minutes without a field goal during the first half, I'm still feeling good about them. They just pulled ahead 38-37 a moment ago because Rose has started to attack the basket, which he didn't do in the first half. When Rose gets into the lane, it leads to easy dunks by guys like Joey Dorsey and Robert Dozier.

So far, Kansas has done a pretty nice job of keeping Rose in front of them and daring him to take perimeter shots. We'll see what happens. Right now, Douglas-Roberts looks like the best player on the court.

Crank That Misogyny


Does anybody else find it mildly hilarious that the hip-hop song ''Crank That'' by Soulja Boy has spread like a virus from stadium to stadium in the last year or so?

It's inevitable that, no matter the sporting event, the song will be played at some point. People hear the dink ... dink ... dink of the steel drums at the beginning, then brace themselves for the crash of the bass.

Before too long, everybody in the stands will be cranking their Soulja Boy even most have nary a clue as to what it means to crank such a thing. Even wholesome Mark Richt bobbed his head to the beat on the sideline while Georgia beat down Auburn last season.

At the Columbus Cottonmouths playoff game Sunday afternoon, the song came over the Civic Center speakers some time in the third period. Little kids were bouncing, grandmas were crunking, middle-aged white guys were spreading their arms like Superman and I started wondering: Do people not understand the lyrics to this thing?

You probably won't be hearing The Wiggles use any of the terminology any time soon:

"Soulja Boy off in this 'ho/Watch me crank it/Watch me roll/Watch me crank dat Soulja Boy/Then Superman dat 'ho ..."

For the uninitiated, ''ho'' is a less than complimentary term for women. And to Superman one would be a particularly dastardly act, according to urbandictionary.com. I won't print the definition here because I like having a job, so look it up yourself if your curious. And, while you're checking on that, you might want to look up the full lyric sheet to the song. Once you read them, you'll probably be amazed that this thing has enjoyed such prominent play as stadium Jock Rock.

It's not as if I'm anti-rap by any means. I still have my Public Enemy and A Tribe Called Qwest CDs from my high school and college days. I'm merely expressing wonderment that people don't seem to actually listen to music and digest the meaning of it. Soulja Boy puts out some great music for the club, but I'm not sure it's the right soundtrack for 8-year-old kids to bounce to at the ballpark.

I mean, it's not like you can go to a Braves game and hear Snoop or Dre rapping about pulling a gat and bustin' a cap in some punk a--.

Anyone surprised by this?


At least Atlanta Braves left-hander Mike Hampton displayed some creative flair in extending his absence from the starting rotation.

After missing two seasons while recovering from two elbow surgeries and seemingly being one hard sneeze away from breaking a rib since then, Hampton went on the disabled list after being scratched from Thursday night's scheduled start against the Pittsburgh Pirates. Hampton strained a pectoral muscle during bullpen warmups and was replaced by Jeff Bennett.

What's next for this guy?

Mercury poisoning? Gangrene? Whooping cough? Shingles?

Hampton has been that star-crossed, that unlucky, that ... susceptible to misfortune.

When news of his most recent injury came across the Associated Press wire Thursday night, I happened to be in the office talking to a couple co-workers. My initial reaction: ''How can he be so brittle. Is this guy made out of Dresden china or something?''

To which my esteemed colleague David Ching responded: ''No, but he was made in China.''

An overdue reprieve


Think of what it must have been like to live in Steve Bartman's world these last five years.

There were rumors he'd undergone plastic surgery and moved to England in an effort to escape one moment of ignominy, when jumped out of his Wrigley Field box seat and reached over the railing a foul ball with his beloved Chicago Cubs a mere five outs away from their first World Series trip since 1945.

Chicago left fielder Moises Alou was rushing over to make a play, but couldn't make the catch because the ball bounced off Bartman's outstretched hand.

You know what happened next.

Chicago's 3-0 lead lost its shape faster than Donald Trump's hair in a wind tunnel.

The Florida Marlins staged an impossible rally for eight runs, claiming Game 6 and effectively sticking another pin in the voodoo doll that has cursed the Cubs for all of these years. They went on to clinch the NLCS, depriving the Cubs of a joyful moment and making Bartman the enemy of an entire city.

Bartman left Wrigley under the protection of security guards after Game 6 as fans hurled insults and cups at him.

It didn't get any better.

The governor of Illinois suggested Bartman join the federal witness protection program. Letterman and Leno created laughter at his expense. His Game 6 outfit -- blue Cubs cap, glasses and headphones -- became a Halloween costume. Florida Gov. Jeb Bush went so far as to offer him asylum in the Sunshine State.

Bartman went underground like Punxatawny Phil, retreating from view, declining interviews, getting an unlisted phone number and attempting to return to a Regular Guy existence.

All because he reached for a foul ball in his vicinity, an impulse few fans are able to resist. He can't be blamed for the collapse that followed because he wasn't pitching to the Marlins yet, to see the editorial cartoons and Internet spoofs that followed, it was Bartman and not Mrs. O'Leary's cow who kicked over the lamp that started the Great Chicago Fire.

Here's the truly sad part.

He wouldn't have spent five years looking over his shoulder, worried that maniacal Cubs fans would recognize him and perhaps stone him to death, if Alou had reacted to the foul ball fiasco the way he did earlier this week.

"You know what the funny thing is?'' Alou told Associated Press sports columnist Jim Litke. "I wouldn't have caught it, anyway.''

Alou expressed hope that Bartman would be able to move on without hassle.

"Hopefully, he won't have to regret it for the rest of his life,'' Alou told the AP.

Um, yeah, we can only hope.

Think of the penalty he's paid these last five years.

He's been forced to live in the shadows, as if he crossed the Mafia, all because of a foul ball that Alou probably wouldn't have caught.

Where were Alou's words of comfort oh, I don't know, five years ago?

Now that Alou has removed Bartman from the Bunsen burner of Chicago's hatred, perhaps the regular guy in the Cubs cap and headphones can return to Wrigley and not fear for his safety. Maybe the Cubs could even welcome him as a special guest.

That might actually make up for the last five years.

Armed and dangerous


Bill Moloney looks and sounds like the quintessential Baseball Man, the sort of no-nonsense field presence who lacks anything resembling pretense.

Chances are you haven't heard of him, but he might have one of the most important jobs in the Tampa Bay Rays minor league system. Heading into his second season as the Columbus Catfish's pitching coach, Moloney realizes the work he does at Golden Park this season could shape the future success of the Rays at the major league level.

While Tampa Bay has struggled to raise itself from the cellar since joining major league play a decade ago, it has remained consistent in its mission of building through its minor league system. Lately, the Rays' farm system has become stocked with a bumper crop of talent that would seem capable of helping the parent club grow into a postseason threat before too long.

There are some parallels between the Rays and the pre-1990s Atlanta Braves, who took their lumps for so long before building around young pitchers like Tom Glavine, Steve Avery and John Smoltz. With pitchers like David Price, Tampa Bay's top draft choice in 2007, waiting in the wings, it's not inconceivable that the Rays could one day build a comparable rotation.

That's where Moloney comes in. Last season, he worked wonders with a pair of impressive talents in Heath Rollins and Jeremy Hellickson. Rollins set Tampa Bay's organizational record with 17 wins in helping the Catfish claim the South Atlantic League title, while Hellickson went 13-3. Both pitchers posted an earned run average well under 3.00.

Rollins and Hellickson moved up the minor league ladder, but Moloney likes the prospects he'll guide this season. The group includes lefty Glenn Gibson, ranked the Rays' 11th-best prospect, and right-hander Alex Cobb, ranked 14th.

‘‘It's a lot of fun for me because it makes me look like a genius,'' Moloney said of the talent on hand. ‘‘Last year's staff was outstanding and I'm anticipating this year's staff can be just as good. Obviously, I've heard some comments down at spring training that this is the deepest. It's a testament to the organization how they're going out and getting these good arms.
‘‘It makes my job easier. It makes me look like a smart guy.''

The Catfish open the season Thursday night at 7 against Savannah.

Moloney, who played in the Boston Red Sox minor league system for six years before an injury led to his release in 1984, said the Rays will demonstrate major improvement over the next few seasons because of the competitive climate in the minor league system.

‘‘The premium is on pitching since it's so hard to come by,’’ Moloney said. ‘‘Everyone is getting an opportunity to show what they can do. Years ago, it was kind of like if you weren't a high draft pick you'd get thrown to the back of the bus, so to speak, until you got your chance. Now these kids are coming out of college on the map.

‘‘Now, the whole mood around the organization is, hey, we have something working here. There's no telling what can happen. With all this young talent pushing them, it can light a fire under some guys. Obviously, it gives these kids the sense that there's light at the end of the tunnel.''

Cutting dead weight


A Jacksonville State University associate director of athletics has been shedding pounds on the reality TV show ‘‘The Biggest Loser.''

Unfortunately for Roger Shultz, the former Alabama offensive lineman-turned-JSU administrator, his new employer decided it needed to drop some extra weight as well.

Jacksonville State lost about 235 pounds when it fired Shultz earlier this month.

In essence, the university told Shultz he needed to make a choice between his job and his long-term health. Shultz, who had been hired five months ago to lead marketing and fundraising efforts for the athletic department, had been using sick leave to do the necessary training to shed pounds and stay in contention for the $250,000 prize that goes to the winner of "The Biggest Loser.''

"I feel like we did everything possible to allow this to happen for him, but there came a time and point that we need to move forward in our marketing and fundraising area,'' JSU athletic director Jim Fuller said in a statement released Thursday.

Shultz, an Enterprise, Ala., native, said there are no hard feelings over the firing.

"I was being a little selfish on this end of it,'' he told the Birmingham News. "I wanted to participate [in the show] and get my health back. I didn't know when I got there if I'd be there a week or 15 weeks."

The season finale of the TV show is scheduled to air on April 15, and Shultz would seem to be in prime position among its -- pardon the pun -- thinning herd.

After weighing in at a scale-straining 363 pounds on the first episode, Schultz had shed 127 pounds as of the last episode.

More Mascot Madness


We don't yet know whether the Columbus Catfish will have staying power in this town beyond the upcoming South Atlantic League season, but this much is certain:

The Catfish are a force to be reckoned with in the world of team mascots and logos.

The team's logo -- a catfish swining a bat at a Georgia peach attached to a fishing hook -- has advanced to the Elite Eight round of the minor league mascot contest created by CNBC.com reporter Darren Rovell.

Rovell constructed an NCAA tournament-style bracket filled with minor league baseball mascots and has invited fans to vote online to determine the nation's best. Votes can be registered at www.DarrenRovell.com and polling will open again Thursday morning at 9.

Columbus advanced to the final eight of the Minor League Baseball logo tournament by outpacing the Aiken Foxhounds in last week's voting. The Catfish are paired up with a familiar foe in this week's bracket, the Augusta GreenJackets.