I'm Back!

To paraphrase the great Jimmy Chitwood - I think it’s time for me to start playing ball again. Granted, I don’t have Indiana high school basketball super-coach Norman Dale to hound me about shooting over ladders or running the picket fence. But, nonetheless, I’m ready to make my triumphant – or at least mediocre – return to blogging. Now, hopefully, I can remember my password so I can actually post this article online.

I took some time off. Maybe it was the lack of enthusiasm for winning fostered by the Kansas City Chiefs. Maybe I didn’t want to jinx my beloved Jayhawks during what turned out to be a surprisingly solid season. Maybe it was the fact that it was the off-season for the Royals and nothing gets my blood boiling like the Kansas City front office trying to get people excited about AAA baseball in Kansas City. Or, maybe it was because it’s taken me a good five months to get comfortable in my new job and, until recently, I haven’t even wanted to look at a computer when I wasn’t at work. Whatever the reason, what’s done is done and I think it’s time for me to start writing again. Hopefully, I haven’t driven my fives and tens of faithful readers away. If I have, I hope you’ll take me back and give me another opportunity to get riled up about small market sports. Because, as Jimmy Chitwood told Coach Dale and the rest of his Hoosier teammates at the end of the big game, “I’ll make it.”

Last night, the 2006 Major League Baseball season started off with the World Champion Chicago White Sox taking on the Cleveland Indians. Those two teams are the pre-season favorites to compete for the American League Central title. Rounding out the bottom of that same division will most likely be my very own hometown Kansas City Royals. In fact, here in KC, this season doesn’t have anything to do with competing for the wildcard or even getting back to the .500 mark. At Kaufman Stadium, the big question is, can the Royals avoid becoming the second team ever and the first team in more than fifty years to lose 100 games three seasons in a row? It’s the race for 63 – not much to get your blood pumping and your wallet out as you head for the ballpark.

So, whether it’s an aging journeyman outfielder heading the free agent signees or the incredibly insulting and ridiculous stadium renovation project being voted on later this week, I’m guessing I’ll have plenty of time to comment on the shortcomings of the Royals this season. But, for MLB, the picture isn’t so bleak. From Seattle to Tampa Bay, from San Diego to Boston, the 2006 season is being hailed as the beginning of a new era. Dead and gone is the so-called Steroid Era, crushed to death by Congress and BALCO and Jose Canseco. Those images are being replaced by a younger, faster, more competitive game. Ticket sales are up, coming close to the 1998-99 levels when McGwire and Sosa swept the country on their own personal super-sized, not quite all-natural home run parade. New stars are rising with stats based not on the long ball, but instead on batting average and on-base percentage. With clubs getting comfortable with salary cap issues and team-first attitude, competitive balance is at an all-time high.

But, before we start patting ourselves on the back and handing out asterisks for would be records, we shouldn’t forget the remainders of the Steroid Era that still hang over the game. Former U.S. Senator George Mitchell is leading an investigation into steroid use that will most likely center on recently published details about the steroid use of Barry Bonds, among others. And, perhaps of greater concern to Major League Baseball, Bonds continues to play and, if his health holds up, will most likely pass Babe Ruth’s career home run mark this hear and Hank Aaron’s next year. How will the league in general and Bud Selig’s commissioner’s office in particular respond to Bonds’ continued assault on the record book? Do they celebrate it or ignore it? Do they condone his past accomplishments, hiding behind the farce that he was never caught breaking any of MLB’s steroid rules simply because there were no rules to break? Or, do they go hard-line and refuse to acknowledge Bonds’ home runs because they are more tainted than the Clinton White House? Only time will tell.

With the game changing and a policy in place that ought to actually curb steroid use, Major League Baseball wants the Steroid Era to be a thing of the past. And it will forever be remembered in the images of five men – baseball giants that crumbled under the pressure of the public eye and the glare of exposure when their actions – either accused or admitted – hit the front pages. Four of these five men came together in front of Congress last year. Their words, or lack thereof, were ridiculed for weeks on talk shows and in sports columns. And now, instead of remembering them for their on-field heroics, they will be remembered as jokes – caricatures of themselves.

It all started with Jose Canseco. When his book, Juiced, was released last year, he was lampooned as a buffoon – a disgraced slugger throwing his former teammates under the bus in a flagrant attempt to get back in the spotlight. But, despite some obvious inaccuracies, Canseco stood by his story. He took steroids, admitted it, and named names about who else in the majors was getting some unnatural help. His reputation was so bad, that when that strange day in front of Congress came, Canseco was ostracized by the other players. Now, things have changed. Once the fool, Canseco has emerged as the hero in this sordid saga. Like the old Mormon-ad that had my friends teasing me as a boy, Canseco can stand up tall after admitting to breaking the window and sing, “I told the truth!” This was an extraordinary turn of events – rivaling Donald Trump’s current popularity. Jose Canseco will go down in history as the HONEST one.

Sitting in the same room with Canseco in front of Congress was the one no one had really considered until the book came out – Texas and Baltimore slugger Raphael Palmeiro. He was strong. He was decisive. He had 3,000 hits and was approaching 500 home runs in a career that, though not spectacular, seemed strong and consistent. But none of those accomplishments will be remembered as much as what he did in front of Congress: he wagged that finger and swore that he had not taken steroids. After the hearing, Palmeiro came out looking like a prince. He was unimpeachable. He spoke his mind and told off those glory-seeking congressmen. His career wasn’t steroid enhanced! Then, the unthinkable – the man who scolded Congress for questioning his accomplishments tested positive for steroids. Suddenly, he was the laughing stock. He was the one being ridiculed. And he will forever be remembered as the LIAR.

Next came the FOOL. As much as it pains me to say this, that role belongs to the one and only Slammin’ Sammy Sosa. Sammy was vital to the resurgence of baseball during the late 90s. He hit home runs at an alarming rate, his hop up the first baseline becoming a nightly fixture on Sportscenter. In the summer of ’98, Sammy joined Mark McGwire as the public face of baseball. He was personable. He was funny. He sprinted to the outfield at the beginning of every game. And he was always available for a funny comment and a big smile. But, suddenly, when steroid questions came up, Sammy forgot how to speak English. He had the audacity to attend the hearings with an interpreter. He couldn’t explain himself because he couldn’t speak the language. But the gambit didn’t work. Everyone knew Sammy could speak English. Everyone knew that Sammy simply didn’t want to answer the questions. And his ridiculous attempt at evasiveness was effectively the end of his career.

Sammy’s foil in that home run crazy ’98 season was Mark McGwire. Big Mac had retired as a St. Louis hero. Everyone loved him. He could do no wrong. Who would ever forget him crossing the plate and picking up his son or hugging Sosa after he broke Maris’ record? He changed the game and shattered marks no one thought could be broken. McGwire had a specific game plan when he came to Congress, most likely dictated by no promise of immunity. The one-time-sure-Hall-of-Famer’s perfect defense? Refuse to talk about the past. The future is all that matters. He’s only looking forward. He was loved and embraced by a city and, to some extent, a nation. We all were willing to look past the suddenly hulking physique, the obvious acne, even the Andro in the locker if only we could see one more towering drive into the bleachers. But, Canseco pointed directly at him in the pages of his book – even describing injecting McGwire while with the A’s. And, with Canseco’s testimony part of the public record, McGwire couldn’t risk unprotected incrimination and became, in a word, PATHETIC.

So that leaves one more player, a literal home run Giant, and the only of the five that was somehow allowed to escape the grasp of Congress – at least, so far: the one and only Barry Bonds. Canseco’s book brought up the steroid issue for Bonds, but these were all questions he had heard and ignored before. He never played with Canseco and there was no proof in Juiced that pointed to Bonds. However, Canseco’s book was followed by another one – written by two San Francisco journalists – and this one really brought the heat. Game of Shadows specifically details Bonds’ alleged steroid use and abuse. The book paints him as a jealous, mean and deceptive figure, only out for his own glory. The suspicions were everywhere – the remarkable change in his size, the inflated power numbers at an age when most careers where in decline, the “best friend” who was a known steroid distributor. But Major League Baseball and the San Francisco Giants stayed silent. No matter if you liked him or not, Bonds was the home run king and a celebration befitting royalty would be required when that king overtook Ruth and Aaron. But, suddenly, the tide of public opinion swelled. People couldn’t believe this man would be allowed to stand in front of the two greatest sluggers that ever lived. Now, what would Selig do when the records started falling? When things started to get serious, I’m guessing MLB honchos started hoping that Bonds’ injuries would keep him off the field for good. But they haven’t and with Bonds planning to play this year, Selig was forced to act. An investigation has been opened. Bonds is in the crosshairs. The outcome, the records, the asterisks are still in question. However, even though this appellation describes all five figures, Bonds is now the villain of the steroid era and will be known forever as the CHEAT.

So, there you have it. Baseball is doing all they can to get out from under this enormous shadow – the frighteningly massive noggin of Barry Bonds. And it will be billed as a year of renewal, of excitement, of honest competition. Players will value gap power because they don’t want to be questioned for hitting too many balls out of the park. Pitchers may not go as many innings without the ability to recover as quickly with a little help. And these are good things. I’m excited about the season. I’m excited about the prospects of the sixth new World Series champ in six years. I’m excited to watch closer games. And, perhaps more than anything, I’m excited to see how the fans, the players and the league responds if Bonds hits number 715. It will be a stark reminder that the Steroid Era is not quite gone. And we will have a front row seat to one of the most sordid affairs in sports history – all the while just hoping the Royals can go 63-99!

A Fan's Predicament

Who is your real favorite team? No, don’t list them by sport. Who’s the real favorite – the one that takes precedence over all others? We all have our one true favorite, though we may not want to admit it. We secretly dread when they play on television because we know we’ll be miserable until the score is final – and even longer if they lose. However, when they’re not on TV, we are constantly checking the score on the Internet or trying to tune in the radio broadcast on the AM dial. When we talk to friends that don’t share our passion for them, we fear we will go over the edge and enforce our opinion with Bruce Lee-like fists of fury, or at least a muttered curse word followed by a wicked stare-down. We are secretly superstitious that we are somehow able to jinx our team, be it how we sit, what we wear, the thoughts we think or even when we go to the bathroom while they play.

Hopefully, we don’t feel this way about every team we root for, because that may not be entirely healthy. But there is probably one team that stands out in our heads and our hearts. It’s easy to figure out which team makes you feel this way – just ask yourself this simple question: If you had to trade 100 years of losing seasons for all your favorite teams in all the different sports except for one, but that one team would win the next championship in their sport, which team would you choose?

The answers may be different for everyone. I have a brother-in-law who would trade everything short of the health and safety of his wife and child for a BCS Championship for the BYU Cougars. One of my best friends from college lives and dies with the Utah Jazz, enduring the mind-numbing, heart breaking pain of seeing them come so close before losing to Michael Jordan’s Bulls in the late 90s. We’ve spent the last year reading about the personal fulfillment of the likes of Stephen King, Bill Simmons and countless others after the Boston Red Sox’ 2004 World Series triumph, because no matter how many banners lined the rafters of the Boston Garden or the outer rim of Gillette Stadium, the one they truly wanted could only be raised at Fenway Park. So, these kinds of allegiances to one “special” team are not new, nor are they anything to be ashamed of. We’ve all got them.

And for me? The answer is simple: All my other “favorites” could finish last for years to come if only I could see the Kansas Jayhawks cutting down the nets at the end of the Final Four. You see, I’ve made no secret of the fact that I love the Kansas City Royals. (By the way, I think the Royals took the above challenge seriously, not having sniffed the post season since the early 90s. The only problem is none of my other teams have won, either!) I commit major league baseball bigamy because of my lifelong affair with the Chicago Cubs. A Chiefs loss on Sunday can put me in a sour mood for the rest of the day. I want my alma mater, the Cougars of BYU, to return to national prominence and make a run for the BCS bowls. But, in truth, each of those teams could become perennial cellar dwellers if I could be guaranteed the opportunity to see Bill Self and his team parading down Massachusetts Street in early April.

I was 14-years old the last time it happened, in 1988. I remember watching Kevin Pritchard, Archie Marshall, Scooter Berry and the immortal Danny Manning leading the way to victory with Larry Brown and his huge glasses watching from the bench. I still get chills when I see highlights from that season. My wife rolls her eyes every time I point out Danny sitting behind the bench in his current role with the Jayhawks. I remember the euphoria, the party that spread from the campus to downtown Lawrence to 23rd Street that night – people honking horns, splashing in the fountain, running through the streets. It was amazing. I’ve always regretted the fact that my older brother was out of the country when Danny and the Miracles won it all. He didn’t get to see it. There’s a small part of me that wants the Jayhawks to win so he can experience that joy firsthand. But, to be honest, that’s only a small part of me. The selfish part just wants it for me.

So, with the 2005-06 NCAA basketball campaign underway and a young and promising Jayhawks squad ready to tip off, I’m prepared again for a season filled with the highest highs and the lowest lows. This edition of the Jayhawks is ready to erase the memory of last year’s shocking first round loss to Bucknell and an off-season to forget. They aren’t expected to win the Big 12 and will most likely need an at-large bid to the tournament in March. But that doesn’t matter to me when I’m watching them play. For me, each game is a mini-drama. I get nervous about any lead that is smaller than the number of minutes remaining in the game. When my kids were babies, I would rock them while I watched, hoping they wouldn’t wake up so that I wouldn’t have to change positions. I seek out any advantage I can find, convinced that my little actions will affect the shot selection and three-point percentage of my team.

You see, I probably take KU basketball a little too seriously. One of my wife’s biggest pet peeves is people who refer to their favorite team with the pronouns “we” or “our”. You’re not on scholarship, the team doesn’t send you a paycheck, Nike doesn’t spring for your shoes. You’re not a player, a coach or even an athletics department employee. Now, I’ll admit that, especially in college sports, if you are a high level “contributor”, it’s easy to consider yourself part of the team. You paid for the jumbotron, you’re allowed a vote. However, the vast majority of us don’t fall into that category.

Here’s the thing. For many of us, when we’re dealing with that “special” team, we really feel we have a say in their success or failure. When my team holds on for a close win while I make sure my right foot is tapping to the beat of “Lola” by The Kinks, I know I contributed to the victory. When the Jayhawks blow a ten point lead right after I have to help a three-year old use the potty, I’m certain it is somehow my fault. But, it’s that kind of impaired mentality that makes fans everywhere lament when “we” didn’t go for it on fourth down or start the runners on a 2-2 count or switch to a zone defense, and now we are saddled with a loss to an obviously inferior team.

Now, I have to admit, I’ve gone farther than just the simple mental games that help bleed off the stress from the opening tip to the final buzzer. Some of these things are fairly harmless. In 1997, I wore the same pair of shorts every time I watched them play, even wearing my fabled “Jayhawk shorts” under a pair of jeans while watching at a friend’s house. The next year, I committed an even more egregious crime. My heavily favored Jayhawks had just lost to Lamar Odum’s Rhode Island team in the second round of the NCAA tournament. At the time, my wife was my girlfriend and she had another friend, who we’ll call Jeff, who decided to have a laugh at my expense. A few choice words later and Jeff didn’t come around anymore. Now, I believe that Jeff was really just hanging around because he wanted to date my wife, but I certainly let my own emotions get the better of me – and all because my team couldn’t win a simple game, even though they had the most talent in the country that year. Heck, even right now, I get more frustrated thinking about that game than I do thinking about the confrontation that followed. Is there something wrong with me?

The answer is no, though there may be some room for a little anger management. The point is we all have these weak spots for a certain team. Now, I’m not saying that our blind devotion to a sports team should make it okay for us to lash out at the friends of our loved ones. I am saying that, as the seasons change and “that team” starts playing, it’s entirely possible that we will exhibit some of these obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Please bear with us. Please don’t make fun of us. And, whatever you do, don’t ask us to stop tapping our foot. If I can just get to the chorus before the next television timeout, the Jayhawks are sure to win! Lola. . . La La La La Lola. . . .


One final note. I friend recently suggested sending out an email notice when this site is updated. If you are interested in that, please send your email address to Karpy73@gmail.com. No charge for you early bird subscribers!

A Whole Lot of Nothing I

I wasn’t moved this week. That’s all there is to it. I looked and looked for something that would inspire me to write a complete column that I could post on this space. What did I come up with? Nada. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. But, that’s okay. That allows me to introduce a new feature, called “A Whole Lot of Nothing”. These are simply random thoughts about different things. They won’t be interrelated. It won’t be the normal flow. To me, each of these thoughts are free-standing, but I just don’t have enough to create a full column out of them. So, enjoy and feel free to chime in with how you feel. In the meantime, go ahead and click on the link at the top of the page. You’ll be glad you did. (In reality, unless it’s an ad where you win a million dollars, I’ll be glad you did probably more than you. I believe in truth in advertising! However, if you do win a million dollars, I want a cut!)

1. The Major League Baseball playoffs

I promised no more musings about the Kansas City Royals until next year, and I am going to be true to that promise. In fact, that should be pretty simple since I’m talking about the playoffs and the Royals haven’t sniffed the post-season since the early 90s.

I was much happier when the playoffs finished up on ESPN and moved to FOX full time and I’ll tell you why – Joe Morgan. I respect the fact that Morgan played 2nd Base for many years in the majors. I respect the fact that he was a very good player. (Contrary to popular belief, I refuse to admit Morgan was the greatest 2nd Baseman of all time. That appellation belongs to a certain recent Hall of Fame inductee who played at Wrigley and wore number 23.) Anyway, why is it that, every third sentence Morgan speaks during a broadcast must include some reference to the fact that Joe used to play major league baseball? Is it in his contract? Or does he just think that his career was the benchmark against which all other events in major league baseball must be compared? And, more importantly, how does Jon Miller not strangle him? Joe, we get it. You played major league baseball. Enough already.

By the way, congratulations to the White Sox and their fans. Now, unlike those whiney fans in Boston, I don’t want to hear any more complaining. You got your championship. Your ownership is willing to spend enough money to let you compete. Remember the vast majority of major league baseball fans know in mid-March that their team is not going to be hoisting the trophy.

2. The National Football League

Contrary to popular belief promoted by NFL broadcasters and sports writers who are “in the know”, Patriots coach Bill Belichick is not the smartest man in the world. He coaches football. He hasn’t found the cure for cancer. Heck, he’s only been really good with 50% of the teams he’s coached. If he is such a genius, why didn’t the Browns win the Super Bowl while he was in Cleveland? It’s more than just one coach, guys. And, in case you haven’t noticed, the Patriots are barely surviving in a really weak division this year. So let’s stop acting like the Nobel committee needs to make a stop in Foxborough.

Frankly, this argument goes for Teddy Bruschi, too. The doctors said he could play and I respect that. But, let’s not get too excited about what he’s doing. He’s a football player. He’s not fighting in Iraq, or some other hot, nasty, dangerous place. The recent FedEx Ground commercials featuring NFL players are great. You know the ones, some office work shipping problem comes up and so someone throws out a football analogy and Jerome Bettis or Joe Montana runs in and says not to take the football analogies too far and just use FedEx ground. Good stuff. The NFL needs to apply that to the Bruschi situation. He’s a football player guys. Ease up.

3. The beginning of the NBA season

I’ve watched parts and pieces of a couple of games so far this season. My reaction? One giant yawn. Every year, I go through the same routine with the NBA. I try to get excited. I try to pick a team to follow. I say to myself, “I am really going to try and enjoy the NBA this year.” But it just doesn’t happen. Why? The vast majority of games are unbelievably boring to watch on television. Isolation. Shoot. Brick. Rebound. Fast break. Defense recovers. Isolation. Shoot. Brick.

Now, every once in a while, you’ll see a player take over a game – like LeBron James or Dwayne Wade or someone else. That’s pretty exciting, but it usually only lasts a few minutes of one quarter. The only offense worth watching last year was in Phoenix, but they are struggling to find their groove this year with Amare Stoudamire hurt. So, we are one-forty-first of the way through the regular season, and I’m ready to throw in the towel. Thanks, NBA. See ya next year!

4. The BCS

I’m a playoff guy. Always have been. I think, if you’re going to crown a champion, it ought to be definitive. In college football, the bowl system and the new and improved BCS is anything but definitive. It’s a muddled mess of great teams that will never get a chance to face each other, so they all pat themselves on the back and say they are number one, but the truth of it is, we may never know.

Right now, there is potential for four teams to finish the season undefeated. USC, UCLA, Texas, Virginia Tech and Alabama have not lost. USC and UCLA play each other in December, so one of those two will have a loss. But four teams could claim to be number one when the bowl invitations come out. In fact, I'm rooting for this to happen. The Bowl Championship Series is designed to establish who the best two teams in the land are so that they can play in the “National Championship” game in early January. (The fact that the college football season no longer ends on New Years Day is a story for another time.) The super-important BCS formula is comprised of several polls, several “important” statistical factors, the most powerful computer in the world, two chickens that only lay eggs on Saturdays and a dog that can bark the chorus to “Sunrise, Sunset”.

Now, with all these very impressive factors contributing to the formula, you’d think they’d be able to come up with something that makes people happy, right? Wrong! In fact, in the history of the BCS, only the friends and families of the winning team have ever been happy with the outcome of the BCS title game. Everyone else spends January 4, 5 or 6 trying to figure out why this team didn’t get a shot or saying how that team was playing better football than the so-called “champion”.

And, my absolute favorite part is when the powers that be claim they can’t go to a playoff system because it would take too long and keep the student-athletes out of class for an extended period of time. Like they’re really that concerned about the study habits of Texas quarterback Vince Young! It’s ridiculous. It’s all about money and sponsorships. So, here’s my solution: Use your precious BCS poll and move the top 8 teams into the playoff, with one exception. If any team is undefeated, but not in the top 8, they get moved into the top 8 automatically. Then, it’s a simple, three week playoff to decide the champion. Get off your scheduling high horse and get it done!

Now that I think of it, this idea is going to take more time. I’ll devote a full column to this later. You just wait! It’s going to be awesome!

5. Everything else.

An American icon, no doubt. But, do you think Rosa Parks ever got tired of photographers asking to take her picture on or near a bus? Just wondering.

I watched “Starship Troopers” the other day on television. That has to be one of the greatest movies of all time. It makes me laugh just thinking about Rico, Dizzy, Ace and the gang. “C’mon you apes. You wanna live forever?”

I should really spend more time playing board games. They are fun, even though I usually lose to my wife. My favorite board game is “Beyond Balderdash”. What’s yours?

All you can eat restaurant buffets are never as good as you think they’re going to be before you sit down. A lot of that food has just been sitting out for too long.

My favorite idea for the rebuilding of New Orleans is the one where all the buildings are on stilts and encased in giant bubbles. That would be awesome.

Every time I see Tom Cruise, I hope this it the time when his head actually explodes and the Martians pop out of his skull. And it pains me to have to say that about Lt. Daniel Kaffee.

At what point do you say to yourself, “I’m a grown man. I’m the Chief of Staff for the Vice President of the United States. I’m going to stop going by ‘Scooter’.”

Your New Kansas Jayhawks

Before we start, don’t forget that clicking on the above banner will help send my kids to college.

No one likes to lose. I know, I know, that is akin to saying, “No one likes to be gored by a bull!” or, “No one likes to see the State Trooper hiding on the side of the road when they’re doing 90 in a 65.” But, don’t those things really come back to the essential difference between winning and losing? When that bull tosses you 10 feet in the air and gives you an instant, built-in ventilation system, you are the loser. The bull is the winner. When you are sitting in your car waiting for your ticket and hoping no one you know drives by, you are the loser. State trooper Buff McHugeLarge, who thinks he’s Eric Estrada from CHiPs, is the winner. It’s no fun. It hurts. It makes you angry. It makes you sad. It makes you want to get even with whoever put that sign around your neck that says, “LOSER.”

Now, contrary to popular belief – at least in sports – not all losses are created equal. I understand the need to minimize some losses so that the players don’t get snowed under in an avalanche of despair and self-pity, but those sports experts who say, “It’s just one loss” are, close your eyes mom, full of it. Some losses hurt. A lot. The University of Kansas men’s basketball team endured one such loss last spring. A season ender. With the entire college basketball world watching. To a team they had no business losing to – or even trailing, for that matter. And yet, at the end of the night, the Jayhawks were headed back to Lawrence and the Bucknell Bisons were marching on in the NCAA tournament. It was a crushing blow to a team that had struggled all year to meet expectations. The 2004-05 Jayhawks were full of senior leadership, but assumed they could survive on talent, then flip the switch and win any game. In stead, their season ended with a last second shot that rimmed off.

That shot set off as tumultuous an off-season in Lawrence, Kansas, since Quantrill’s raiders burned the Eldridge Hotel. Just two weeks after the Jayhawks were sent packing, much of Lawrence watched with envy as former coach Roy Williams cut down the nets with his North Carolina Tar Heels. With four seniors ready to try their fortunes in the pros, the new team was already facing a void in leadership and scoring. Next came the decision from freshman Alex Galindo to transfer closer to home. Then the ugly incident at the Moon Bar in Lawrence that eventually led to J.R. Giddens leaving Lawrence for good. Suddenly, six of the top eight players from the year before were gone. The off-season excitement ended with the odd recruitment and eventual commitment of Brandon Rush to wear crimson and blue. Rush talked of the NBA, then pulled out and flirted with several schools, then started attending classes at KU, though not officially enrolled as a student. Finally, his name was added to the roster as a Jayhawk, no matter where his brothers played.

Suddenly, the outlook for the new year wasn’t so bleak. The Jayhawks will be young, there is no doubt about that. But with the addition of Rush to an already strong freshman class that includes Mario Chalmers, Micah Downs and pre-season Big 12 freshman of the year Julian Wright, this recruiting class is now ranked number one or two in the land. The four freshman join a strong group of sophomores, including C.J. Giles, Sasha Kaun and Russell Robinson. The team still has a void of veteran leadership, with Christian Moody and Jeff Hawkins the returnees with the most experience. But, even after the Bucknell loss and all that followed, there is a sense of hope and excitement in Jawhawkville. The team will be fast. The defense will be tough. The pressure is off with the Jayhawks picked to finish third in the league. I see good things in their future, with excitement this year, followed by big time expectations in the seasons that follow. Bill Self already has a high profile recruit, point guard Sherron Collins, committed for next year. The program has sent notice to the rest of the college basketball world that, despite all that has happened in the last seven months, the Kansas Jayhawks are still a college basketball power.

Now, don’t get me wrong here. I think the Jayhawks will be good this year and potentially great next year and the year after. Though I believe they will flirt with double digit losses, I think they’ll make the tournament as a six or seven seed. With little pressure on them, they could even make a run to the round of 16. But, here’s the thing. This isn’t the University of Kansas men’s basketball program that I grew up on. Things have changed at Phog Allen Fieldhouse, and I don’t just mean the new seating arrangements. I’m not even saying things have definitely changed for the worse. That all depends on how you quantify good and bad. Judged by wins and money generated by the program, the changes are probably good. Judged against the old tradition of Kansas basketball, I don’t believe the verdict is quite as kind.

The change began a little over two years ago, when Williams bolted for UNC. Now, I’m not one of those conspiracy theorist KU fans that believes all that has gone wrong over the last two years is Roy Williams’ fault. I think he made a business decision that paid off for him last year in St. Louis. However, when he got on that plane and left Lawrence, the innocence of Kansas basketball went with him. Just a short time later, KU Chancellor Robert Hemenway made a decision that, for all its subtlety, couldn’t have been more obvious. The decision to hire Lew Perkins as Athletics Director meant one thing and one thing only: Kansas was ready to step up and join the world of big time college athletics through big time financial success.

The rewards for this decision are clear. First, more money generally equals better facilities which often translates into better players which should become more wins. It is also a huge step forward for Kansas football. When this season has ended and, barring a miracle, the Jayhawk football team is 0-8 in Big 12 play, Perkins is going to wave goodbye to Mark Mangino. You see, Lew wants a football program that will look good on the national scale and the uncomfortably large, ever-scowling Mangino does not qualify. There are rumors that the two don’t get along and Perkins has the power in his corner. I think Mangino would have been gone last year, but he was able to knock off both K-State and Missouri, and earned himself another year. After the stinker in Manhattan a couple of weeks ago and playing behind an offense that hasn’t seen the end zone in nearly a month, the Mangino supporters better start praying for divine intervention. I don’t see it happening. But, with Mangino out of the way, Perkins will be able to hire either a big name or a young up-and-comer that will be the new face of Kansas football. Because Lew understands that the real way to make money is by putting rears in the seats at Memorial Stadium. Basketball may be sacred in Kansas, but football generates dollars.

Step number two in the transformation of Kansas athletics came with the hiring of Bill Self as men’s basketball coach. Now, don’t get me wrong. I believe Bill Self to be a great coach and as a fan of Kansas basketball, I think he is the perfect man for the job. But he also fits the profile for a national power. Self is a tireless and very successful recruiter. He is a tough coach with a winning record. He is a passionate coach with a desire to win early and often. He is going to win big with the Jayhawks, despite last year’s set back. But there are some things that Bill Self is not. He is not the “aw shucks” Roy Williams good ole’ boy. Far from it. He’s going to lay it on the line. He’s going to play straight up with the media. He’s going to do things his way and if you’re not with the program, he’ll assume you are against it. He seems to have that edge that Roy Williams never had at Kansas. He’s not as worried about being a friend to all as he is about doing his job and doing it well. And, again from the Lew Perkins perspective, he puts the “right” face on Kansas basketball. Young, energetic, cut-throat and ready to win. These aren’t your daddy’s Jayhawks.

There have been other indicators that times are changing on Mount Oread. The handling of the J.R. Giddens – Moon Bar fiasco, for one. In Bill Self’s house, Giddens had to go. I think he stays under Williams because he’s one of the family. The transfers of Padgett last year and Galindo this year are signs that if you can’t take it, the door is always open. Self’s philosophy seems to be, “If the parts don’t work or don’t want to work, remove them.” Williams was always worried transfers reflected poorly on his ability as a coach/father-figure. I think the NCAA infractions in football and men’s and women’s basketball were handled to in a way that would look bad for the “old regimes”. No, I am not surprised that the problems in Mangino’s football offices were lumped in with the relatively minor infractions by Williams’ and Marion Washington’s staffs. After all, in a year, Mangino will be part of the “old regime”. The Brandon Rush recruitment never would have happened with Roy. He didn’t want risky players that might not buy into his schtick. And, of course, the big one for fans with men’s basketball season tickets: the decision to change how those tickets are assigned. In a nutshell, the new policy is, the more you give to the program, the better your seats will be. Sure, the stories of the 60-year season ticket holders being pushed towards the rafters are generating some negative press, but the department will hold firm. After all, it’s a money issue.

So, here’s where I’m having trouble. I don’t want to sound like another rabid fan that has no soul. I love the feel of Lawrence and the hominess of the Fieldhouse. It doesn’t bother me that KU is a “basketball school”. I think that’s great. But, deep down inside, only coming up for air after really bad losses, there is this: I want the Jayhawks to win. I want more banners hanging from the rafters. I want to be the featured team on CBS broadcasts. I want recruits to dream of playing for the Jayhawks because they know they’ll have a chance to win it all. I want to go to the victory parades and wear the championship t-shirts and buy the commemorative issue of Sports Illustrated. My rational self tells me to settle down, there are more important things than wins and losses. These are only kids. It’s more about the community. It’s the education that matters. But, for what it’s worth, I truly believe that ship has sailed and I don’t know if the school or the department can ever bring it back. Nor do I believe they want to.

So, things have changed in Lawrence. Next time you’re there, check it out. For the most part, it all looks the same. But the feel is different. The new Kansas family is not as loving, not as friendly and not as warm. This family is more likely to frisk you at the front door than offer you a loving hug. But, on the other hand, the new Kansas family is dedicated to winning and you, too, can be an integral part of the team by contributing your hard-earned dollars to the cause. So, if you want to get a word in to Coach Self, you can buy a plate at the next fundraising dinner. If you want the new training complex and locker rooms, there are plenty of good season ticket packages still available for next year’s football schedule. If you want a seat closer to the floor or a covered parking space, you’ll need to dig a little deeper in your wallet, your bank account, the cushions of your couch. And, for goodness sake, when the next heartbreaking loss comes, just remember you probably didn’t give enough to deserve the win. Welcome to the team.

The Trouble with Jobs

So, I started a new job this week. Well, when I say started, I mean I started the training process – the slightly vague but all important “learning curve.” This is my chance to create a wonderful first impression for my new boss, an individual that could have an inordinate amount of influence over my future in this group, our division and even the company as a whole. So, as you might expect, I have yet to meet this person.

You see, my current employer is in a bit of a transitory state right now. To make a long and boring story only slightly shorter, and yet just as boring, this company recently merged with another company to make one really big company. (Those of you who know me, know where I work. Those of you that don’t know me can start trying to figure it out. It will be a fun game.) Now, attendant with all the joyous talk of mergers and executive bonuses and stock options and becoming the third largest provider in the industry, there is the internal struggle of constantly wondering if you are going to have a job, if there is someone from the other company who does the same job as you, only infinitely better, if the dreaded “o” word will be spoken about your group. That’s right – outsourcing.

Add to that this fun little wrinkle – about six to twelve months down the road in the life of this gigantic company, a portion of the business will be “spun-off” to form a new, smaller company – completely disconnected in every way from the big company. The theory being that the two parts of the business have different objectives and would be working against each other, so they will be split and go their separate ways. In the meantime, the new, huge, merged company will be expounding to the world how wonderful they will be and how good their executives, customers and employees will have it, with the full knowledge that at least one third of those employees will be gone in six months. At the same time, internally to the big company, executives are being named to the new smaller company, and they will be crying from the rooftops how good the small company will be and that the big company is getting in over its head. As an employee not yet assigned to either company, it’s like watching a football game when you’ve bet your wife a month of foot rubs, but not determining who needs to win for you to get the foot rubs. You want someone to win; you’re just not sure who.

From a personal perspective, all this was going on while my wife and I were trying to determine how we could generate additional income as we recently had to purchase a new car. (Our old minivan kept slipping from Drive to Neutral while we were moving. That makes driving just a bit dicey and we decided to get something a little more reliable. Of course, reliable often equates to expensive.) At the same time, my work car died in the middle of a busy intersection during rush hour and will not be rejoining our stable of vehicles, which means we need to save some money for a second car sometime next year. Point being, we needed cash. As a short aside from my short story, that is why there is now an advertisement at the top of my blog. Remember, simply by clicking on said advertisement, I make money. At least, that’s the theory. We’ll see if it works – if you would start clicking!

Okay, back to the wonderful world of corporate America! We chose not to depend solely on the ads on this site, so I began searching for another position – a promotion even. I was told in no uncertain terms that, though I was the strongest candidate for management in my current group, no advancement opportunities would be available for at least 12 months. So, doing what I know was out the window. Fortunately, I was recommended for a promotion to another group that, though much different than what I had been doing, could use some of my current job skills while also offering new opportunities for growth. (That sounds like I stole it right out of the job description, but it’s actually true.) The new job was in the Finance group, but I persevered. It was an assured position in the new, spun-off company, which was a real plus because I seemed to believe those executives more than the executives for the big company. And, they offered me 6% more annually plus a greater yearly bonus opportunity, which assisted with our economic crisis. So, here I am in a new job, learning new things and trying not to screw anything up and lose the chance to make a great impression that will carry me to the top, which apparently is middle management.

But, that takes me back to my new boss – you remember – the one I haven’t met yet. When I initially interviewed for the job, the hiring manager basically said, “I’ll be hiring this position, but I’m about to take a job in another group and someone else will be your manager.” He spoke highly of the new manager and assured me that the job was secure. So, we get to the start date, and I learn that my new manager is going to be on vacation for the entire week. No big deal, though. We can use email for big questions and have the sit-down meeting next week. Well, this morning, the new manager calls and says she has taken a job in another group and that there will be a new, new manager. So, three days into my new job and I have never actually met my boss. Everyone says he’s a good guy, and I’m sure he is. Everyone says the job is secure in the new, smaller company, so I’m pretty confident that we’ll be fine. Personally, I would just like to meet the man.

But, it’s all part of the fun of working in corporate America. In all truth, this job and even the last four plus years as a whole have been a huge blessing to me and my family. In 2001, we chose to leave the exciting world of local television news where I had been laboring as a local news producer extraordinaire. The job was interesting and there was a certain feeling of power that comes along with determining what stories make it on the air and what stories don’t. You’d be surprised at how much goes on in your community that you just never hear about because the newscast is only 30 to 35 minutes long – unless you’re watching a morning show, in which case the newscast is three hours long and you get to hear every story multiple times. But, the problem with television news is there is really no money in it until you get to the top twenty markets or the network level. Even then, the money isn’t what most people think it will be. Now, I don’t want you to get the impression that I’m all about the money. Television news also boasts terrible hours, the opportunity to work most holidays, and, in general, a group of co-workers that have pretty much given up on humanity and are simply looking to make snide remarks about those with even a touch of faith, hope or optimism. So, in 2001, with a brand new baby and the desire to let my wife be able to stay at home, we made the jump to Big Business.

The transition hasn’t always been smooth, but it has been well worth it. Now, with three kids at home, my wife works the most underappreciated job on the earth – full time mother. She is really good at it. Her days are really long and, just because I get home and start helping, she’s still doing many of the same things until the kids are in bed. However, the perks are unbelievable. The kids love the fact that she’s there with them. They have a relationship with her that is impossible to replicate. In fact, I strongly believe that two-parent, single-income families ought to get a huge tax break if they can prove that one parent is at home, taking care of the kids. The research department tells me a study was done recently that tried to place a job-market value on the role of at-home-parents. In the business world, they would be earning six figures. I don’t doubt that for a second. Two years from now, the kids will be in school. Will my wife go back to work then? I hope that won’t be necessary. I would love it if she could have that quiet time during the day that she will have been without for six years. And, I think we’ll be okay. I can always get a second job. I’m sure the quickie-mart down the street is hiring. Maybe by then I’ll actually have met my boss.