High and Inside

High and Inside
by Radley Balko

I went to a hockey game the other night. There were five fights. There were fists and blood and dirty cheap low blows. At one point, the Blues' Sean Hill and the Flames' Jasom Wiemer were pounding the living hell out of one another. The referees, obviously tired of breaking the fellas' up, encircled the brawlers and watched. The remaining ten players gathered round and watched, like in a schoolyard.

This is why hockey is the truest sport we've got. There's no next-day hand wringing. No thoughts on why the league's submitted to thugery. Fighting's a part of the game. A necessary part. An admirable part. Most teams still hire muscle, guys who sit as menaces on the bench, guys who only go in when it's ass-kicking time. Damn, I love hockey.

And still, I wonder, several weeks ago, the Bruin's Marty McSorley was found criminally liable for a cheap shot stick to the head of Canucks' left wing Donald Brashear administered last spring. McSorley's hit was cowardly, inane, and deserved the lengthy suspension it got. But criminal? How's it any different than Hill pulling Wiemer's jersey above his head, effectively blinding him, then pummeling with unseen head blows? The Canadian court overreacted. If McSorley's guilty of assault, half the league's past due for a stint in the pokey.

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Speaking of beatings, boxing's been on my mind of late. Given the previous paragraph, I'll likely appear to be refuting myself. But I digress. Another boxer's life lays in limbo at the moment, thanks to abuse he took in the ring. Much was made here in Missouri about a ballot referendum two years ago that banned cockfighting. Missourians enjoyed a self-deprecating laugh about how backwards we must be, considering we're one of the last remaining states to ban the "sport." But boxing, essentially human cockfighting, still enjoys legitimacy. I love the sport. But deep down, I can't help but wonder why we still patronize a competition where two men (and, now, proving "equal rights" also means "equal ignorance," two women) face off with the goal of beating one another as close to death as possible. That's not even to speak of the corruption.

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In Purdue, Michigan, Illinois, Northwestern, Ohio State, Michigan State, Minnesota and Wisconsin, the Big Ten (11) again has eight college football teams that should be in the national Top 25. Problem is, they're all too good, and they all must play one another, and they all emerge from the Big 10 season with bruised bodies, battered confidence and records uncompetitive for the national title. Florida State, Nebraska and, of late, Virginia Tech remain in the top five year after year because they play patsy preseason schedules, they compete in weak conferences (Nebraska is in the softer half of the Big 12), and they need to win at most three big games every year. Put Virginia Tech or Florida State in the Big 10 next September. They too will emerge in December with 6-5 and 7-4 records.

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My preseason NBA picks: The Eastern Conference playoff seeds, in order: Orlando, Philadelphia, New York, Milwaukee, New Jersey, Toronto, Charlotte, Indiana. The Western Conference: Los Angeles, Sacramento, Portland, Phoenix, Seattle, Utah, San Antonio, Minnesota. The East Finals: Orlando over New York. The West Finals: Portland over Los Angeles. NBA Finals: Portland over Orlando in six. NBA MVP: Gary Payton.

Larry Bird will return to coaching. Somewhere. Isiah Thomas will prove to be a miserable NBA coach. Bonzi Wells, Wally Szerbiak and Austin Croshere will emerge as bona fide NBA all-stars. Dennis Rodman will sign a short term contract with yet another team desperate for rebounds. David Stern will crack down on Mavericks' owner Mark Cuban for salary cap violations. The NBA will allow the Wizards' Michael Jordan to bend those same salary cap rules to ensure he's a success as a franchise owner.

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More on the NBA, commissioner David Stern slapped down the Minnesota Timberwolves with some of the worst fines ever administered to a league franchise. Minnesota it seems, was engaged in under-the-table negotiations with center Joe Smith in an effort to circumvent the league salary cap. Stern hit the Wolves with a $3.5 million fine, docked them their next five draft picks and suspended owner Glen Taylor for one year. Stern also promised hearings to determine what other members of the organization were involved in the secret deals and promised to suspend them as well (including potentially, 80's Celtics golden boy Kevin McHale). What happens to Smith, you ask? He immediately becomes a free agent. His wallet gets thicker. His agent, who obviously had some part in the fraudulent dealings, also went undisciplined.

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Thoughts on the "subway series:" I have none. I hate the Yankees. I'm in mourning. But I do have thoughts on baseball. For all the paeans to the sport that are composed in spring, the green grass and thawed air and whatnot, I'm of the opinion that it isn't until autumn that baseball unfolds its most glorious plumage. Once the wind whips up a chill, hot chocolate starts to outsell beer, blankets dot the the stands, and the "pennant beards" grace the faces of ballers, well, that's when "Rawlings" reads back in the gloss of my eyeballs. The drama, the strategy, the tension. One hundred sixty-two games of preparation condense to a series, a game, an inning, a strike.

And the commentators -- no sport comes close to the insight and intelligence of the guys who call baseball. John Madden can show us where a lineman's got blood and grass and spit on his kneepads, but listening to Joe Morgan or Bob Costas or Joe Buck or Tim McCarver is like taking a grad school class in hardball.

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Here's hoping Kurt Warner's broken finger doesn't hold up a potential Rams/Colts Super Bowl. Everything attractive about football radiates in these two teams. Two long-suffering small-market cities with die-hard knowledgeable fans. Two exciting high-octane offenses with balanced attacks. Two teams without primadonna owners (ala the Washington Redskins), winy megastars or hold-out money-grubbing veterans. Two teams with hard-working, community-minded athletes. Guys who sign autographs. Guys who pick up a football in June. Yes, here's hoping we have the makings of a dual dynasty. A Celtics/Lakers -esque saga for football.

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From the loony Title IX files: A North Carolina jury inexplicably awarded Heather Mercer $2 million in damages after she was cut from the Duke University football team. Mercer tried out as a walk-on place kicker. She sued after being cut, arguing she wasn't given the chance to practice with the first-string team. Five other walk-on wannabe kickers, all male, were also cut, and were also denied the chance to practice with the first string squad.

Mercer said she was "comfortable" with field goals out to 43 yards, but could kick from as far as 48. Those who have seen her kick, including her high school coach, say that's a bit of an exaggeration. Mercer had to prove financial damages as a result of Duke's "discrimination." To give Mercer $1 million in compensatory damages, the jury had to have dumbfoundingly concluded she may have had a future in professional football. The lunacy of the Title IX mentality continues...

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Store it away: just as I've knocked boxing, I'll make a prediction: Hard-punching Samoan David Tua beats Lennox Lewis this week and assumes a Tyson-like reign over the heavyweight ranks.