Watching the Caribbean World Series in Venezuela this weekend gave me an appreciation for Major League Baseball’s regulations on what’s permissible on big league uniforms, caps and helmets. The players down there are all walking eyesores, covered from head to toe with a jumble of advertising logos. Worst of all, it looks like every player seems to have the same name. On the backs of all their jersey tops, above the number, it said “Coca-Cola” on Saturday, “Orange” on Sunday.
Sure, the Blackhawks won Saturday night. But they should’ve had a shutout. Campbell’s stupid penalty, taken behind the play, combined with Sopel’s bonehead unsportsmanlike conduct call 26 seconds later, gave the Blues a two-man advantage, which led to the goal which ended Niemi’s bid for his fifth shutout.
Richard Dent didn’t make it this time around. But, unlike MLB, at least the NFL’s Board of Selectors aren’t shy about putting people into their Hall.
My brother-in-law’s constantly on the prowl for Blackhawks tickets. He tells me he’s being priced out of the market now, even when it comes to regular season “cheap” seats in the 300 level. I’ll tell you: the closer the tickets get to the $200 mark, the more attractive my own private box becomes. Washroom and refreshments just a few steps away with never any waiting, free parking and climate-controlled perfection—my living room.
With Ryne Sandberg’s being the most likely candidate to succeed Lou Piniella when Lou’s deal expires, it sets up the possibility of a grand ’84 Cubs reunion on the field in ’11. Ryno could tap Sarge Matthews, Zonk Moreland and Bob Dernier as coaches. By the way, Ryno deserves a shot at the top job.
On the one hand, seeing how quickly the Blackhawks turned around their fortunes gives me some hope for the Bears. On the other, what did it take for the Hawks to make the big leap forward? A change at the very top of the organization. Somehow, I don’t think that’s a scenario we can count on at Halas Hall anytime soon.
What did I like most about the Super Bowl? Two things. First, that we can refer to it by its true name here (not “The Big Game,” which is just plain silly, if you ask me). Second, how could I ever quarrel about a sporting event that starts at 5:30 and is completely over with by 9:00? (This is a point I wouldn’t have made—say—twenty years ago when I was a wee bit more youthful, by the way.)
