SB Nation is four blogs closer to conquering the entire planet. Bow before you benevolent rulers, for those who do not possess an SB Nation blog are not worthy and must be cast into the shadows, where no one will ever ask them what their opinions on sports are. Nay, these non-blog heathens are truly the filth of the Earth, for to not have an SB Nation blog is tantamount to not existing. Oh, a humanity where non-SBN bloggers run amuck is indeed a treacherous one, and those who wish to achieve salvation have but one hope of redemption: to join SB Nation.
In layman's terms, SB Nation now has a gargantuan amount of blogs, and since I can only list one link at a time with a FanShot, I'm writing this FanPost to promote the three newcomers to the SBN family (along with We Ain't Go No History and Cowboys Ride For Free):
Eight Six Forever - (Vancouver Whitecaps)
Dynamo Theory - (Houston Dynamo)
Hustle Belt - (Mid-American Conference)
It's hard to believe that in the 10 months since Inhistoric joined SBN, there have been 57 new blogs added to the network. That's a lot of blogs.
Ben Roethlisberger recently gave his first public interviews since a woman alleged he sexually assaulted her. The Steelers QB apologized to his fans and teammates about his actions, and also tried to explain himself in what could be one of the weakest I'm-not-that-kind-of-guy excuses in history.
(via the AP):
A contrite Ben Roethlisberger said he got caught up in being a caricature called Big Ben, not the grounded player and person he once was, leading to his off-field problems and affecting his play as the Steelers quarterback.
"Big Ben just kept building up. It ended up coming off the field. It kept taking over. Superman kept taking over Clark Kent and you just never saw who Ben Roethlisberger was any more," Roethlisberger told KDKA-TV. "At the time, I didn't see it. I was gaining everything but I was losing a lot of who I was raised to be. It got so overwhelming, it consumed me."
Poor, poor Ben Roethlisberger. All this time we've been blaming him for his crazy actions, when it was really his alter ego -- his dark side that he has no rational responsibility over -- that we should be blaming. And really it makes perfect sense, because when I think of lecherous sex offenders who walk around bars with their junk exposed, I immediately think of Superman. Don't you?
Oh, and if you think Roethlisberger's excuse wasn't the theme of his interviews, here's a few more quotes:
"My dad said to me about a month ago, it's good to have my son back," Roethlisberger told WTAE. "That killed me because my dad's been my best friend. For him to say that to me really let me know I wasn't who he raised me to be."
Roethlisberger gave the interviews upon the advice of consultants hired to help him and the Steelers rebuild his badly damaged public image. He promised several times that fans won't see the bad Roethlisberger – rather than the popular, championship-winning player of before – any longer.
"I know I've slipped, stumbled ... but you'll see a new Ben," he told KDKA.
and...
"Those chapters in my life, I've closed that book and I'm not opening them up," he told WTAE. "It only matters what I do from here on out. That's what I'm excited about – showing people, proving to people, fans, teammates, my family, the commissioner, everybody, who Ben Roethlisberger is. And that Ben is here to stay."
It's one thing to say that you're a changed man, that you've learned something or that you've matured. But to say that your actions were just the manifestation of your own bloated ego, that he literally created a monster named "Big Ben" who could do whatever the hell he wanted, and that he himself, the Good Ben, had nothing to do with it... that's just weak dude, especially from a man twice accused of raping a woman.
(Photo by Jared Wickerham, Getty Images)
(Harwell, photo courtesy of the Associated Press)
Ernie Harwell, who called Tigers games for over 55 years, died Thursday night at the age of 92.
Bless You Boys: Tigers icon Ernie Harwell passes away
New York Times: Ernie Harwell, Longtime Tigers Broadcaster, Dies at 92
Today the newest member's of the Pro Football Hall of Fame were announced, the inductees this year are. Jerry Rice, Emmitt Smith, Dick LeBeau, Flyod Little, Ricky Jackson, Russ Grimm and John Randle.
Now a quick overview of the reason why these men were elected to the Hall of Fame.
Jerry Rice-San Fransisco 49ers 1985-2000, Oakland Riders 2001-2004, Seattle Seahawks 2004 and Denver Broncos 2005(retired during training camp). Three super bowl wins(XXIII, XXIV, XXIX), 13 time pro-bowler, 11 time first team All-Pro, 1980s all-decade team, 1990s all-decade team, 1985 rookie of the year, Super Bowl XXIII MVP, 1,549 Receptions, 22,895 receiving yards and 208 Touchdowns
Emmitt Smith-Dallas Cowboys 1990-2002, Arizona Cardinals 2003-2004. Three Super Bowl Wins(XXVII, XXVIII, XXX) eight time Pro Bowler, four time All-Pro selection, 1993 NFL MVP, 1990s All-Decade Team, 1993 Bert Bell award, 18,355 rushing yards, 164 rushing Touchdowns and 78 100 yards rushing games, member of the Dallas Cowboys Ring of Honor.
John Randle-Minnesota Vikings 1990-2000, Seattle Seahawks 2001-2003. Seven Time Pro Bowler, six time All-Pro, 1990s all-decade team, 556 tackles, 137.5 sacks and One Interception
Rickey Jackson-New Orleans Saints 1981-1993 San Fransisco 49ers 1994-1995. One Super Bowl win(XXIX), Six time Pro Bowler, Three time All-Pro, and his #57 has been retired by the Saints
Dick LeBeau - Detroit Lions 1959-1972, As a player 72 interceptions(seventh all-time), 171 consecutive games played(record for conerback), 3 time Second Team All NFL., and three time Pro Bowler. As a Coach Five Time AFC Champion, two Super Bowl wins (XL, XLIII, both with the Steelers), Inventor of the 3-4 Zone Blitz
Russ Grimm - Washington Redskins 1981-1991, four time Pro Bowler, three time All-Pro, Three Super Bowl wins(XVII, XXII, XXVI) 1980s All-Decade team, and one of the 70 greatest Redskins.
Flyod Little - Denver Broncos 1967-1975. Two Time AFL All-Star, Three Time Pro-Bowler, member of Broncos Ring of Fame and #44 Retired by the Broncos, 6,323 Rushing Yards and 43 Touchdowns
If you never saw Reggie Jackson at the bat, in his prime, I'm sorry. He was truly the first of his kind. Oh sure, others such as Babe Ruth and Mickey Mantle inspired awe with their overall charisma and prodigious blasts, but those guys had more than merely years as a head-start on Jackson. They also happened to make their living in New York, and they were both white.
The Major League career of Reginald Martinez Jackson started in 1967, just 20 years after Jackie Robinson broke through the color barrier. But unlike Robinson, who had no choice to let his play do the talking for him, and Henry Aaron, who simply preferred it that way, Jackson spoke as often and as loud with his mouth, as he did with the lumber, which was, well, often and loud. Along the way he crushed the stereotype that suggested a jock- especially a black one- was all brawn, no brain. Articulate and intelligent, Reggie selected his words carefully, in the same manner he would wait for his pitch at the plate.
Home plate was his sanctuary. He once said he preferred hitting over sex (well, who doesn't? Oh.) When the muscular Jackson grabbed a bat, time came to a halt, or as he put it, “Everyone is helpless and in awe.” That included Reggie. He was the first to stop and admire the distance of his majestic homeruns (or taters, as he called them), long before the likes of Barry and Manny. He even looked cool striking out, which he did with alarming regularity.
Reggie often bragged if he played in New York they'd name a candy bar after him (he was right). But his story didn't start there; it began instead in Kansas City. And it blossomed in Oakland. (Jackson also said, upon signing with the Yankees in 1977: "I didn't come to New York to be a star. I am bringing my star with me." He was right about that, too). It was Reggie Jackson who put baseball in Oakland on the map, even if it took the natives a while to catch on.
Before the 1969 season got underway, the Athletics were just a team in outlandish uniforms on the wrong side of the tracks. Across the bay, fans flocked to see the San Francisco Giants, who had moved to the Area ten years before the A's. With a Juan (Marichal) and two Willie's (Mays and McCovey), the Giants were the toast of the town; the Athletics were playing in their third city since 1953, and four decades removed from their glory years in Philadelphia.
In one breathtaking half-season, Reggie Jackson single-handedly changed that.
Reggie was the first Oakland "A" to grace the cover of SI.
(photo courtesy of SI Vault)
Sometime soon, the A’s will announce their Promotions schedule for the upcoming season, and it is this young man’s wish that the powers-that-be have dedicated a little less time to bobbleheads for players who get traded before the giveaway day takes place (see Giambi, Jason…and yes I know they can’t really control that, which is pretty much my point); rather, I’d love to see a day planned in honor of the 1910 Athletics.
And what’s there to plan, anyway? It’s not like they’d have to send invitations, since the last living member died in 1963, which also eliminates those embarrassing no-shows like last year when only a handful of the 1989 club made the trip to Oakland.
Anyway, what’s so darn special about this team from 100 years ago? Well, aside from awesome names like Topsy Hartsel, Paddy Livingston, and Stuffy McGinnis filling out the roster, those A’s just happened to win the first of nine World Champions our storied franchise has claimed. In the eyes of many, that title kick-started the American League’s very first dynasty, as Connie Mack’s club went on to capture four pennants in five years, including three Series triumphs.
(Photo courtesy of thedeadballera.com)
So I was watching MLB Network the other night, and they were highlighting unforgettable moments in playoff history. To my pleasant surprise the segment began with the 1972 ALCS. To my dismay, it neglected to mention that the five-game thriller between the A's and Tigers put the playoffs on the map, following three seasons in which not one of the six championship series' went the distance. In fact five of them ended in sweeps. Score one for the purists who felt there was absolutely nothing wrong with the previous format that sent the top team from each league directly to the World Series.
That all changed in 1972. Three games in the Oakland-Detroit series were decided by one run, and two went to extra innings. The other two games were sparkling shutouts by John "Blue" Odom of the A's, and Joe Coleman of the Tigers.
But you wouldn't know that had you tuned in Tuesday night (and for the record, the hour was pretty much dedicated to playoff "wars", but it still would have been nice to give this series the credit it deserves).
Instead the familiar voice of Bob Costas took us to the seventh inning of Game 2. At the plate was Dagoberto Campaneris, who to that point was 3-for-3 in the game, with two stolen bases and two runs scored. There was already bad blood brewing between the two teams; they had brawled back in August. A pitch by reliever Lerrin LaGrow struck Campaneris in the ankle, and the Cuban shortstop rose to his feet...and fired his bat at LaGrow, who managed to duck out of the way.
(Photo courtesy of Charlie O. & the Angry A's)
Some time ago I found a San Francisco Chronicle story summarizing Mark McGwire's 1989 season. Since McGwire's now come out and said he started using steroids after the '89 season, this is a good time to present some excerpts from the story as it relates to steroids. As the Chronicle's David Bush explained, in April, during a game in Anaheim vs. the Angels, "he felt a twinge in his back and had to leave the game. He went on the disabled list for two weeks with an injured disk." When he came back, McGwire's timing and his swing were slightly off: he still had a fairly productive season, but he barely hit .230. In talking to Bush at the end of the season, McGwire said: "This is the most difficult year I’ve ever had. . . . I have just been pulling my head off the ball. When I stay down, I'm all right, but I haven't been able to do that consistently."
If we can assume that McGwire's telling the truth in stating that "I remember trying steroids very briefly in the 1989/1990 off season," it's likely that he tried them in order to help speed his recovery after twinging his back.
A few months ago I went through the New York Times archives gathering up some early material on Babe Ruth pitching and playing ball in 1914 and 1915, as well as him in the New Yorker talking about his Japan tour after the 1934 season. Since this year's baseball winter meetings are underway, I figured I'd reprint another item from the New York Times of February 3, 1915, about a trade rumor at what was essentially the winter meetings after the 1914 season:
As usual, the air was full of rumors of trades. The one rumor which seemed to carry the most weight was that the new owners of the Yankees had come to an agreement with Owner Joseph J. Lannin of the Boston Red Sox for a trade which would involve the transfer of one of the Boston left-handed pitchers to the Yankees.
Owner Lannin has sent for Manager Bill Carrigan, who will be here today to complete the deal. It is stated that the Yankees will probably get Vean Gregg, the former Cleveland southpaw, or Babe Ruth, the young pitcher who was a sensation with the Baltimore Club early last season. It is expected that the Yankees will give some players besides cash for the pitcher.
By the way, neither pitcher was traded: Gregg went 4-2 for the Red Sox in 1915 and Babe Ruth went 18-8 (Ruth also hit .315 with a .576 slugging percentage, and Gregg hit .350 with no extra base hits). The Yankees did buy Wally Pipp and Hugh High from the Tigers, but the pitcher they wound up getting was George Mogridge.
I woke up early the morning of Sunday October 29, 1989, walked down to the 7-11, and proceeded to buy one of each newspaper on the stand that day. Who knew that the images that adorned those sports pages would be brought back to life on a blog site some 20 years later?
Who knew that I would still be waiting for a Sunday like that one?
When we began this journey back in February, we saw an Oakland A's ball club coming off a heartbreaking end to their previous season, and my oldest sister Tonianne receiving the news that she had breast cancer:
I was so looking forward to Spring Training that year. I knew we were on the verge, especially after they way things ended in '88. Sadly, I really don't remember much of it. I started chemo in April. I had my first treatment just before we took Patrick to his first A's game (he was 19 months). I know we sat in the first deck and I brought the baseball glove booster seat that you gave him for his first birthday. Everyone got a kick out of it. He didn't sit in it very long though; one of us ended up holding him most of the game. I think that was the last time things felt normal for me that year.
Things were a little left of normal for Tony La Russa's A's that season, first with the rash of injuries to key players, then with unexpected competition from the likes of the Angels and Royals, and finally an earthquake that shook the Bay Area just minutes before the start of Game 3 of the World Series, which the A's led two games to none over the San Francisco Giants before Mother Nature crashed the party.
Tonianne, who was already one of the A's biggest fans before cancer, went to great lengths to show her true colors, though not intentionally:
The first chemo wasn't too bad and I don't think I was sick much if at all. It all went downhill after that. One of the drugs I was given was a fluorescent green color. I remember thinking Lasorda may think he bleeds Dodger blue but I really do have A's green running through my veins!
