Monday Quarterback

If you can't play, coach. If you can't coach, write. Sounds about right. Here are some thoughts regarding what is happening in the world of sports right now.

Baseball

The Mecca of the sports world tonight is St. Louis, and I find myself facing east, praying that Game 5 of the World Series receives more national interest than an insignificant Monday Night Football game. Please tell me, America, that you would rather watch compelling World Series baseball than witness the Seattle Seahawks drub the not-so-good St. Louis Rams, who have been demoted to "sucks" status now that their offense relies upon backup quarterback Kellen Clemens and not Sam Bradford. How bad is Kellen Clemens? The Rams reportedly reached out to Brett Favre earlier this week to see if he could be coaxed into coming out of retirement. How bad are the Rams? Brett Favre said no.

So if you call anywhere outside of Seattle home, don't you dare tell me that you're watching football tonight. Tied up at two games a piece, this has been a compelling, albeit weird Series thus far, especially when taking into account how the last two games have ended. An obstruction call and a pickoff are not exactly conventional endings. I thought Jim Joyce's call in Game 3 was the right one. Boston's 3B Will Middlebrooks clearly lifted both legs in front of Allen Craig, causing him to trip on his way to home plate. Craig scores easily without Middlebrooks' happy feet. Not to be outdone by the blunder, Cardinals' backup 2B and last night's pinch-runner Kolten Wong was picked off first base with two outs in the bottom of the ninth. The mistake could have been understood if it were a one run game and perhaps even forgettable if it had been a mere mortal at the plate. Unfortunately for Wong, the circumstances were anything but that. First of all, the score was 4-2. The hitter, not Wong, represented the tying run. The strategic benefits of a lead at first were zilch. For all intents and purposes, Wong should have simply stood on the base. But no, after having been explicitly warned by head coach Mike Matheny that Boston's closer Koji Uehara has a terrific pickoff move, Wong was caught underestimating his opponent by being liberal with his lead. Perhaps the pickoff moves aren't as good in the minors. But that's not the worst of it. The batter at the plate was Carlos Beltran, who has done everything again this playoffs to show that he is one of the greatest postseason hitters ever, short of wearing red and blue and revealing that he can fly. It's an unforgivable sin to take the bat out of the hands of such a player with your team trailing in the ninth. I feel terribly for Wong, especially as he held back tears while courageously fielding questions by reporters in the locker room after the conclusion of the game. It is not a sign of weakness to make clear that you have a heart. Perhaps most of us have forgotten the feeling in sports of letting down your teammates. If you care about anyone but yourself, it is something that is cry-worthy. I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy. Such is the dichotomy in those moments. One player's tears of joy is another's tears of sadness.

While I don't have a vested interest in either the Cardinals or the BoSox, I am a fan of compelling baseball. This World Series is shaping up to be one of the more compelling baseball has seen in a long while. Historically speaking, these are two of the winningest franchises in baseball's history. St. Louis is second, with eleven World Series victories in nineteen appearances, and Boston is fourth, winning nine out of thirteen. These are also two of the most decorated teams in the majors when considering the present era. Both the Red Sox and the Cardinals are two of only three teams to win multiple Series in the last decade. And yet somehow it's so new. Gone are the iconic coaches Tony LaRussa and Terry Francona. Gone are team leaders Manny Ramirez, Jason Varitek, and Albert Pujols. This is refreshing, compelling baseball to watch. Boston's raucous fan base is the pride of baseball on the east coast, and the passion for Cardinals baseball in St. Louis is the gold standard in the Midwest. Tonight's matchup is a rematch of Game 1 aces Adam Wainwright and Jon Lester. I expect Wainwright to rebound and for the Cardinals to head back to Boston up three games to two. I hope the Series goes seven games with a dramatic finish. This World Series deserves that kind of ending, and it would be great for baseball.

NFL Football

My passion is positive
-Dez Bryant

In anticipation of the Cowboys' matchup against the Detroit Lions, Dez Bryant was heard on Dallas sports talk radio last week saying that anything Calvin Johnson could do, he could do also. 329 yards and two tantrums later, it's clear that Bryant was engaging in some laughable hyperbole. Perhaps being taken in the first round by America's Team has given him somewhat of a big head. Don't get me wrong, at twenty four years old, Bryant is a fine receiver - arguably one of the best in the league. But don't make the mistake of comparing yourself to a person who was genetically engineered in the womb to be a wide receiver. At 6-5, 236 pounds, great speed, and hands like fly paper, it doesn't seem very fair for Calvin Johnson to be matching up against other humans. He should be playing against Kodiak bears or something.

Bears got nothin' on Megatron

Johnson's performance yesterday will go down as one of the greats in a single game in the history of the NFL. As one that has looked over thousands of box scores, there is rarely a statistic that causes me to gawk. I gawked at 329. That number is second only to a guy named Flipper by seven yards, and that game went into overtime. It's kind of difficult to be shown up when you have seventy-two yards receiving and two touchdowns, but Bryant's fine game was a mere afterthought to Johnson's, who Dez can apparently emulate.

No, we won't remember Bryant's performance. What we will remember are his child-like tirades caught on camera on the sidelines. In the third quarter, before a third down play was snapped, cameras caught Bryant motioning to his quarterback Tony Romo, as if to say throw it to me. Romo didn't, and the result was an incompletion. By the time Romo had sat down on the sideline to talk with Cowboy coaches, Bryant was having his own little tantrum concerning what we have to speculate is his disappointment in not being thrown to. Later, Romo would hit another Cowboy receiver, Terrance Williams, on a 60-yard touchdown play. You'd think Bryant would be happy that his team had scored and was up ten points on their opponent. But he was seen after the play on the sideline disgruntled again. Despite Dez catching his second touchdown later in the fourth, the Cowboys would go on to give up two more touchdowns to Detroit. After Matthew Stafford snuck in the second touchdown, Bryant was caught yet again blowing up on the sideline, with only a mere twenty seconds left in the game and all hope apparently lost. This time, other Cowboys were seen returning his yells with some of their own pointed back at him, namely the quietly respected and revered tight end Jason Witten. Witten seemed upset with Bryant, gesturing to the game clock, as if to say there are still twenty seconds left, and this team needs you to be cool!

Bryant's temper tantrums did seem passionate if anything, but what were they passionate about? Were they impassioned exhortations for the Dallas Cowboys not to lose a crucial game, or were they the bratty cries of a primadonna receiver to get more balls thrown his way, because the player on the other team, the one who he claimed to be as good as, was stealing his thunder? And if the talent level was not a stark enough contrast between Johnson and Bryant, then the demeanor certainly was. For as otherworldly good as Calvin Johnson is, he remains one of the most upstanding and humble guys on the field. His rhetoric is his game, and it speaks loud and clear.

Dez Bryant needs to shut up. During his spout with Tony Romo, Romo could be seen saying something back. I like to imagine that in his puzzled state, he said something like Dez, you know that we're one and eight in games that you catch multiple touchdown passes? So with all do respect, no, I will not throw it to you every time you want me to. I'm gonna' find the guy who's open. Dez needs to worry about getting open...and in the meantime shut his mouth, 'cuz his "passion" aint positive.

NCAA Football

With another brilliant performance on Saturday, Johny Manziel has reasserted himself as a Heisman front-runner for 2013. On Saturday, Johnny Football threw for 305 yards and four touchdowns in two and a half quarters, before departing the game due to the chasm of points he had created in his team's favor.

Rob, I want to party with youuu!

But once again, Manziel is in the headlines for something non-football related. During a promotional video "Ask the Aggies", shown on A&M's jumbotron during the game, Manziel responded to the question of who would you most want to be at a party with by answering Charlie Sheen, Rob Gronkowksi, and Tiger Woods. Mm, that's a lovely pantheon of debauchery, Johnny. The trinity of sleeze. Never has an answer revealed so much about what qualities the lover of limelight Johnny Manziel reveres. Sheen, Gronkowski, and Woods. Lunacy, idiocy, and nymphomania (partayyy!). Or, if we can sum it up more succinctly, (in)famous guys who score chicks. You're halfway there, Johnny! And you've managed to reinforce every male collegiate stereotype. Now with Manziel's dubious off the field behavior, he either has a really funny self-deprecating sense of humor, or he is brash in his candor. I'm willing to bet he's not that funny.

If only he weren't so damn good at football...

Satisfaction Without the Big-O

Risk: The probability or threat of quantifiable damage, injury, liability, loss, or any other negative occurrence that is caused by external or internal vulnerabilities, and that may be avoided through preemptive action.

Alright, it's high time that I wrote about football, if nothing else to appease the masses. Week 7 approacheth, and this country once again has tunnel vision for its love, its current pastime - football. It makes sense that as time has progressed, the more we've become enchanted with football. We're a society that needs to have its desires met, and quickly! With the advancement of technology, information has become accessible to us at the push of a button. In Kansas City, Google has unleashed its own Internet service provider called Google Fiber. With a fiber-optic mode of transference, connection speeds soar to 1,000 Mbps, or 100 times faster than today's basic broadband connection. You literally don't have to wait a second. Remember the temperance and fortitude that we used to demonstrate with dial-up Internet? It was like some form of cruel flaggelation, watching that bar slowly load. What character that imbued upon us! No longer. With smart phones, we can be anywhere and have immediate access to the information we need...I mean want. It's overwhelming trying to keep up with the progress. I don't even know which iPhone or Droid they're on now. Today's rule of thumb for technology - the "buyer beware", is that whatever you purchase, it will be rendered obsolete in about six months by its successor. You know that cool, Samsung Galaxy Quatro, or whatever the hell it's called nowadays (I did just use nowadays, in channeling my inner old fogey)? Yeah, it's not gonna' be cool soon. I hope this rant serves to illustrate that along with our progress, we've become a society that needs, needs, needs NOW! You know those spoiled brat kids that get whatever they want and demand that their parents give them that thing of their heart's desire because they know they'll get it? We're those kids, only we can't hide behind the screen of being immature toddlers. Need proof? Go down to your nearest Apple Store the day they release the next iPhone. You'll see consumers lining up for half a block, probably witness a fight, and then watch as the people walk out of the store with their new merch, only to see their heads turn to the next shiny thing before they get to their car. We've become a nation that collectively suffers from Attention Deficit Disorder due to the rapid pace with which we live. It should be no surprise that football has chop-blocked the other sports in a popularity contest. It's a game of bursts, and it's entertaining as hell. Down, down, down, punt, commercial break. Whew. Oh! It's back on! Down, down, first down! ...down, down, first down! TOUCHDOWN! Commercial break. It makes a sport like baseball seem tame or boring. Baseball, which utilizes space. Space with which to observe, to take in with heightened awareness all that is happening on the field before that suspenseful moment when the pitch is thrown. Baseball calls for the art of patience in its viewership...an art that is quickly becoming extinct. The following analogy is offered - Baseball : old man asleep on his rocking chair :: football : meth addict with Funyons. And Lord knows we love our Funyons - the root word being 'fun'.

To be clear, I love me some football. I had the privilege of growing up in Kansas football heyday in the 90's, when the Chiefs would win their division seemingly every year, and the KSU Wildcats were national title contenders in the late 90's and early 2000's under Bill Snyder. Football had since lost much of its luster in Kansas City. Arrowhead Stadium, which was one of the more feared visiting venues to play in, known for its passionate and raucous fan base, had been incapacitated due to the ease with which opposing teams could come into KC and win. But the fans hadn't disappeared. They just lay dormant, waiting for the opportunity to wake up...

They're awake. With a win over the Oakland Raiders on Sunday afternoon, by a score of 23-7, the Kansas City Chiefs moved to 6-0, and subsequently snapped a streak of six years in a row that the Raiders had come into Arrowhead Stadium and won. A New Orleans Saints loss to the Patriots vaulted the Chiefs into elite company with their division rivals the Denver Broncos, as one of only two undefeated teams left in the NFL. Truth be told, I did not think my first NFL blog post would be concerning the Chiefs. I do not intend for Shades of Blue to be overly Kansas City-centric and coming off a 2012 season in which the Chiefs went 2-14, let's face it - they weren't exactly portending relevance. But they've forced my hand. Being the most surprising success story in the NFL will do that.

The two most important positions on a football team are the head coach and the starting quarterback. The coach teaches, orchestrates game plans, calls or sanctions plays...he's the puppet master of what you see going on in the game. The quarterback acts as the general on the field. The 2013 Kansas City Chiefs have new personnel at both positions (and a new general manager to boot), giving them arguably the biggest facelift of any team this year in the NFL. All Kansas City can say in response is, "Thank God." Those changes were sorely needed, and with the signing of Andy Reid as head coach and trading for Alex Smith at quarterback, there was an atmosphere of excitement surrounding this Kansas City team in the offseason. But I don't even think the most hopeful of Kansas City fans would have thought the Chiefs would be 6-0. I don't think Andy Reid thought it would happen, I don't think Alex Smith did...nobody saw this coming. So how did they get here?

Despite only winning two games all season in 2012, the Chiefs managed to have six pro-bowlers represent their squad - four on defense, one on offense, and one on special teams. There were only eight NFL teams last season that had six or more pro-bowlers. The other seven - Houston (9), San Francisco (9), Denver (7), Minnesota (7), New England (7), Baltimore (6), and Seattle (6) all went to the playoffs. The Ravens, also with six pro-bowlers, won the Super Bowl as a wildcard. Yet the Chiefs went 2-14 and secured the top overall draft spot as the worst team in the NFL. One of these things is not like the other! Talent was clearly not the issue for the Chiefs. This was a dream job for the unemployed head coaches of the world.

A good boss doesn't walk into a new place of work and force their employees to be something they're not. That would be poorly managing the talent and skill of your work force. No, a good boss will create opportunities for their employees to utilize their strengths for the betterment of the company. Companies like Google don't micromanage labor to a degree that suffocates the workers; they create space for employees to hone their skills in producing something remarkable. And the results tend to speak for themselves. That is precisely what Andy Reid has done as the head coach of the 2013 Kansas City Chiefs. The Chiefs aren't winning this season by parading around the Greatest Show on Turf, like their 6-0 rival Peyton Manning-led Denver Broncos. They aren't scoring fifty points a game and out-gunning their opponents. They did that in the early 2000's under Dick Vermeil and never won a playoff game. That's not who these 2013 Chiefs are, and that's not who Andy Reid is trying to make them into.

One of the Chiefs' ten sacks on Terrelle Pryor

Four pro-bowlers on defense. Success for the Chiefs begins and ends with a stifling defense. Allowing less than eleven points a game, this defense is arguably the greatest in the NFL. There is seemingly no weakness. But all great defenses begin with dominating the line and putting pressure on the quarterback, and no defense does it better right now than the Kansas City Chiefs. While The Beast, Dontari Poe, clogs the running game at tackle and a talented secondary, led by pro-bowl safety Eric Berry and a physical tandem of corners in Brandon Flowers and Sean Smith, blankets opposing teams' receivers, Kansas City's ferocious pair of outside linebackers are free to do what they do best - bull-rush the quarterback. Pro-bowl LOLB Justin Houston currently leads the NFL with 9.5 sacks, while pro-bowl ROLB Tamba Hali is breathing down his neck with 7.5. The way that this front seven destroys an offensive line, causing havoc for the opposing quarterback, is nothing short of a thing of beauty. And they're getting better. Just last week the Chiefs sacked Raider's quarterback Terrelle Pryor an absurd ten times. If quarterback pressure and sacks were the main course the defense was serving, then they prepared a wonderful dessert of two interceptions and another in the fourth quarter that was returned for a touchdown. It was the perfect palate-cleanser. No team wants to face this defense at present; it is the bedrock of the Chiefs' success.

One pro-bowler on special teams. Dustin Colquitt is a punter, but don't allow the fact that he only comes onto the field for about five snaps throughout the course of a game prove cynical for you. A punter can be a weapon, and one that becomes exponentially more valuable to a team like the Chiefs, whose success relies upon making life cumbersome for opposing offenses. It can prove difficult even for an elite defense to mitigate the opponent's score when they have to start possessions on a shortened field. Of Dustin Colquitt's forty punts so far this season, he has pinned the opposing offense inside their own twenty yard line nineteen times. Even this calculus dropout can quickly figure based on that statistic that half of the time this guy kicks the ball off his golden foot, the other offense has to go a long ways to score. In addition to Colquitt, the Chiefs' special teams unit boasts one of the quicker, shiftier kick returners in the league in Dexter McCluster. His electrifying punt return at the end of the third quarter against the Giants was crucial in blowing the game wide open and allowing momentum to carry the Chiefs in the fourth quarter to a blowout win at home. McCluster reminds many Chiefs fans of The X-Factor, Dante Hall, and that is by no means depressing.

One pro-bowler on offense. The Chiefs were miserable offensively last season, and they're not much better at this juncture of the season. They are averaging a mere 207 passing yards a game, with only seven passing touchdowns on the year. Peyton Manning threw for seven touchdowns in the first game of the season! The strength of the offense lies in pro-bowl running back Jamaal Charles and a respectable rushing attack that averages 119 yards a game. Charles is arguably a top-three running back in the NFL. He is explosive in the open field, a surprisingly effective goal line running back (Charles has all five of the Chiefs' rushing touchdowns), and an adept receiver - second on the team with 300 receiving yards. This is an offense that can effectively run the ball and utilizes a prudent, low-risk passing attack that should prove more lethal once Alex Smith and Dwayne Bowe begin to play in sync.

The passing game is clearly not stellar. In fact, Alex Smith leads the twenty-sixth ranked passing offense in the league so far this season. It's true - Smith is not Peyton Manning. He can't put up Star Wars statistics like Manning or Brees can. He's not electric in the open field like Vick, Kaepernick, or RGIII. He doesn't have the temerity or the poise of Russell Wilson, and he doesn't look as good in a sweater after the game as Tom Brady does. He's just kind of blah, like vanilla ice cream on top of white cake. Even his name "Alex Smith" is about as generic as you can find. The guy's about as bland a quarterback as can be, but the Chiefs sought hard after him because he is exactly what they need.

Taking a walk down memory lane, Smith was president of his senior class in high school and graduated a semester early with a 4.4 GPA. With 64 matriculated credit hours, he was able to graduate as an economics major in two years at Utah and subsequently began work on a Master's degree before being drafted as the number one overall pick in the 2005 NFL draft. You know when an NCAA game is broadcast on television, and they cycle through the players while showing their degrees? How many do you remember pursuing a degree in economics (or anything other than communications or recreational science for that matter)? The economics classes have clearly sunk in; Alex plays like a quarterback who understands the concept of risk-reward all too well. His conservative play has prompted others to call him a game manager, which is a back-handed compliment to a quarterback who plays with caution. Smith does not have a propensity to throw down field, but he also tends not to turn the ball over. In 216 passing attempts, he has thrown just three interceptions. Drew Brees, widely considered a top-three quarterback, has five picks in just twenty one more attempts. Tony Romo also only has three interceptions, but he threw yet another costly pick against Denver on the last drive of the game, tacking on one more to the laundry list of crucial mistakes made by Romo at pivotal game moments. Romo has yet to buck his reputation as a choke artist.

What Alex Smith brings to the table is his intellect, and to Kansas City, it's an invaluable attribute. With a defense as good as Kansas City's, the focus offensively shouldn't be to field a superior caliber offense; instead, it should be to exercise prudence, play within the offense's capabilities, and limit turnovers. In other words, you're playing not to hurt yourself through mistakes. The Chiefs need a quarterback who understands this and can sacrifice blowing up the stat sheets in order to play smart and win games. The wits of Alex Smith are testified to on the football field by impeccable decision making. The Chiefs currently hold a +12 turnover margin over their foes. It's a glaring factor as to why they continue to win week after week. Going three-and-out and being forced to punt is not going to kill this football team. Turning the ball over will. You can make a strong argument that Alex Smith isn't helping the Chiefs, but you can make a damn good argument that he's not hurting them either. That's something that can't be said of Tony Romo in relation to his 3-3 Cowboys. Dallas can have the gunslinger and the 500 yard passing games. Kansas City will take the game manager and the undefeated record. They'll gladly take Alex Smith.

Now all this game managing and prudent play is not Andy Reid's particular cup of tea, and for that, I will give him all the credit in the world. In sacrificing his desired style of play for posterity's sake in order to capitalize on the skill set of this team, Reid has given the Chiefs their best chance of succeeding. When so many ego-driven head coaches would have turned over every rock to install their system, call their plays, and effectively make it their team, Andy Reid has humbly adopted the identity of this team and made them better by sharpening those facets that had potential to cut. They play phenomenal defense, they have great special teams contributors, and they operate a smart offense that doesn't turn the ball over. That's been an age-old football recipe for success, and the Chiefs are proving that it still can taste so good. I never thought I'd hear fans in Kansas City exclaiming happily this reminds me of Marty-ball! But at 6-0, this Chiefs team has put Kansas City on cloud nine. Many outsiders remain critical of the team's offensive deficiencies, seeing the undefeated record as something of a mirage. They say the Chiefs are a good team but shouldn't be mentioned in the same sentence as Denver, Seattle, San Francisco, and New England. Well I just did. Kansas City is ecstatic to have elite football again. Chiefs fans just set a record in the fourth quarter of the game against Oakland on Sunday, when Arrowhead Stadium's clamor reached 137.5 decibels. Though their play might not be the loudest in the league, the Chiefs are making a deafening noise, even if it can only be heard in Kansas City.

Now excuse me while I go grab some white cake a la mode...

Ode to Mo

I went to a Royals/Yankees game in Kansas City a few years ago. Now, by rights a Royals fan must hate the New York Yankees. #1980's, #GeorgeBrett/pinetarincident, #damnyankees. There are certain things a Royals fan becomes conditioned to expect when going to see the Yankees at Kauffman Stadium, and this particular game was no exception. Seemingly more Yankees fans than Royals fans - check. Yankees are winning - check. You end up sitting near to what appears to be the most insufferable, obnoxious Yankee fan at the stadium (though your better reason knows there is one sitting in every section) - check. *Side note - some fans of opposing teams are tolerable; some can even be pleasant to interact with. The Minnesota Twins usually bring a good crowd down to Kansas City, though it's probably been less as of recent years, due to there actually being a real baseball stadium in Minnesota with which to watch baseball. I really don't like the Twins, for they arouse feelings of jealousy as a team that has enjoyed recent success in the AL Central. But I like their fans. It must be the "Minnesota nice". By the end of a game you might have sparked up a conversation with a Twins fan that wound up digressing in topic to fishing. Yankees fans are different. I believe the highly technical term is douche. The plural being douches...or douchi...it doesn't matter. There are definitely more than one of them showing up in Kansas City whenever the Yankees come to town. It's not that the Yankees are good and have been good. I can deal with that, and I respect the tradition of greatness inherent to the Yankees organization. It's that their fan base knows they are good, and they want you to know that they're good...no, they want you to know that they're better than you. Seldom does there resemble something like a caste system in the United States more so than in baseball. The Yankees are like Brahmans or the Levites - the priestly caste. And they walk around places like Kansas City as if Royals fans were Untouchables - that if you rub up against one of us you will consequently be rendered "unclean". In their own perception, the Yankees are God's gift to humanity, created at 11:59 on the Sixth Day. Other teams therefore are as lower creation, with which to have dominion over. Yankees fans come into Kansas City with an air of pretentiousness about them, coupled with droll amusement at the park, as if they've traveled 1500 miles to see a fly get swatted. This is what it means to get to cheer for the Yankees. One of the perks, besides being able to root for the best team money can buy, is that you can tread on the other twenty nine teams because of all those trophies behind the glass. You're free to be a douche. It's Yankee Privilege. You have to try hard as another fan base to find something of redeeming quality as it relates those that don pinstripes. Now come back to me on this night at Kauffman Stadium, where it seems more right than ever to hate the Yankees. With every inning that ensues, fuel is being poured on the fire that is this contemptuous heart of mine for the most evil of teams. Everything is right with the world...until I see something out towards the opposing bullpen that makes me stop and forfeit over a little bit of what I thought was unquenchable hate. Remember that scene in How the Grinch Stole Christmas, where after having stolen all the Whos' presents, the Grinch looks down upon Whoville from his mountain lair and hears their voices united in Daboo Dorage - that most beloved of Christmas songs? Anyway, recall how his face changes from one of expectant revelry in his beholding the ruin of their Christmas that his misdeeds have caused, to a surprising softening of his heart when he sees their joy despite their material things having gone missing. And for a brief moment during that transition, it's as if you can see him terrified over the realization that he's lost his identity, predicated upon his ability to hate these people. When I looked out to the opposing bullpen that night, what I saw softened my heart of the hatred that I had for the Yankees, in a way that surprised and frightened me. We'll come back to that.

Mariano Rivera was signed by New York from his home country Panama in 1990 and first was called up to the major leagues in 1995. Despite being extremely successful as a setup man for the Yankees, with ability to throw an upper-90's fastball, Rivera did not become the most dominant closer in baseball until accidentally discovering what is widely held as The Greatest Pitch Ever - his cut fastball. As legend has it, Rivera was playing catch with his teammate and fellow reliever Ramiro Mendoza. During their session, Mariano was apparently having trouble throwing the ball straight. He recalls, "Mendoza got upset with me, but the ball just moved." After heading to the mound, he found that he still could not throw the fastball straight. This prompted him to say, "Let's see what happens when we throw it in a game." Enter Sandman. I don't think Mariano could have ever envisioned that what he was suggesting would change the course of baseball history. Due to its uncanny movement, Mariano's cutter saw his transition from a very good pitcher to nigh unhittable. It is one of those rare pitches that a hitter knows is coming every time and still cannot hit it. Because of it, Rivera has been able to enjoy the longest and most prolific career of a closer ever. When Trevor Hoffman lost some of his velocity on his fastball, he had to work hard at crafting an amazing changeup. Rivera stumbled upon the cutter. God-given talent like that is enough to make a lesser man look up to heaven and be allowed one curse..."Oh, come on!" A fervent Christian, Rivera is quoted as saying, "I don't get nervous. I trust God." ...saith The Chosen One.

The rest, as they say, is history. After finishing what is allegedly the last year of his career, Rivera has established what is undeniably the best career a relief pitcher has ever had. In a sport that venerates the stat as the end-all, be-all of appraisal, Mariano has a monopoly. His accolades are quite simply remarkable. He has recorded more saves than anyone (652). He has the most seasons of 35, 40, and 50 saves. He has eleven seasons with a sub-2 ERA. Two of the other seasons - the past two years, at the ripe old age of 43 and 44 - he recorded ERA's of 2.16 and 2.11. His career ERA is 2.21. Throughout his career, he's struck out 1,173 batters and walked 286. In sports, we value greatness. Mariano is the greatest.

As great as Rivera was in the regular season, he truly endeared himself to the hearts of New York fans by dominating the postseason. He has forty two postseason saves, which is the equivalent of a very good regular season total. His postseason ERA is an otherworldly 0.70. His nineteen year career practically coincided with a Yankee dynasty, winning World Championships in 1996, 1998, 1999, 2000, and 2009. We are left to ponder how many they would have won in his absence. In sports, we value the clutch athlete - one who can produce when it truly matters. There has been no one better in the most crucial of games, giving Rivera the nickname "Mr. October", as it can be asserted for pitchers.

After tearing his ACL on May 3, 2012, Rivera successfully rehabilitated his knee, and in an unprecedented return at the age of 44, proceeded to save 44 games for a Yankees team that surprisingly stayed in contention through the end of the season. In sports, we value toughness. As witnessed by the inspiring rehabilitation and recovery of his knee and his general demeanor on the mound, Rivera has unequivocally demonstrated true grit.

He manages to instill confidence in his teammates, making everyone around him better. When asked about Rivera's impact, Alex Rodriguez stated, "He's the only guy in baseball who can change the game from a seat in the clubhouse or the bullpen...I've never seen anyone who could affect a game like that." In sports, we value intangibles. Mariano changed the scope of the game before ever throwing a pitch. We value all these qualities in sports, but it's another attribute that Mariano possesses that makes him truly a diamond in the rough.

It was the eighth inning of the game, and the Yankees were winning by several runs. This meant that Mariano would be warming up to pitch the ninth. After having sufficiently warmed up, he did something that I've never seen. He exited the bullpen, which is isolated behind the wall in right field and proceeded to walk over to the railing that separates the fans from the players. That railing is there to act as a clear boundary, and for good reason. The players must be protected. There are steep (and I mean steep) penalties for jumping that railing and coming onto the field. Players don't just walk over to that railing to have conversation with the fans. But this is Mariano Rivera, and he did. He started talking to them and signing autographs - to Yankees and Royals fans alike. But the act of signing autographs is not what softened my heart. Any famous athlete can and probably has done so; I've seen enough autographs given out grudgingly or as if it's some concession that is so painstakingly arduous to be impressed by the act of signing one's name on a piece of paper. Even Barry Bonds, who as far as I'm concerned is the equivalent of the smoke monster in Lost, has undoubtedly signed autographs. No, it was the way in which Rivera interacted with the fans. He was smiling and laughing with them. He was genuinely happy to be there, giving back to fans a bit of his time. The smiles on the kids' faces is what was almost enough to provoke my tear glands into flaring up. I remember thinking, here is the greatest closer to ever pitch in the game - a living legend, and he has walked over to these fans of his own accord and given them something they will never forget. He was about to take the mound and save another game of hundreds throughout his career, but in that moment he did something that I've scarcely seen done in professional sports. I witnessed a superstar become accessible to the fans, giving them something so much more meaningful than to simply behold his greatness on the mound. He didn't have to walk over there, but he did. I walked away from the game that night not venting from another loss to New York but oddly inspired by someone on a team that I had sworn to hate every facet of. A New York Yankee had won me over. Since then, I have followed the twilight of Mariano's career as one of the many fans in awe of him, not merely because of what he is on the field, but who he is off it. The more I observe him, the more impressed I am of Mariano Rivera, the man, as opposed to the superstar.

In sports, we don't always value character. But we should. Character matters. Because like it or not, these players have tremendous influence, and too few of them are leveraging that influence to make a difference in the lives of people. So thank you, Mariano. Thank you for showing us greatness but also generosity, heroism but also humility, a boisterous skill set yet a quiet strength of character. Thank you for giving to us more than just your arm. You were more than a fantastic player; you are a fantastic person also. The world of baseball applauds your contributions to its history but mourns in the wake of losing what is truly a piece of its beating heart. You embody so much of what is good about baseball and at the same time humanity. And you can add this to your list of accomplishments: you made an avid follower out of a Royals fan, damn you. To Mariano, my favorite player outside of a Royals uniform. Exit Sandman.

"Rivera carried himself with dignity and grace, and that made carrying the number a tribute to Jack(ie Robinson). I've always been proud and pleased that Mariano was the one chosen to wear that number because I think he brought something special to it." -Rachel Robinson (Jackie's wife)

Philosophy of Fandom

When I haven't yet taken a shower and my hair is working against me, rather than for me, I adorn a powder blue Royals hat when I go out. While it does a fine job of covering that ridiculous wall of hair that forms on the right side of my head sometime between 3:47 and 4:23 in the morning, the hat remains somewhat conspicuous to those that recognize the emblem on its front. Upon beholding it, some scrutinize the image like it's some form of Magic Eye art; that maybe if one stares at it long enough and hard enough, the blue will eventually give way to black and white streaks, and the "KC" will turn into a "NY". Yankees regalia makes sense; it fits into our little box of probabilities. Of course someone could be wearing a Yankees hat. They win. Someone wearing Royals stuff is enigmatic; it doesn't compute. Why on earth would someone be caught wearing something affiliated with them? After the realization sets in that my hat is not abstract art but indeed just a mere Royals hat, the reaction often goes something like, "Royals, huh?", with an implicit really?? attached to the end. After confirming that I'm a fan, the response over the years has gotten predictable. There's usually a grimace or some sort of facial contortion that ensues, as if the person just did a line of chopped up Warhead. This tends to be followed by an apology which more often than naught sounds more like a slight. Some even keep their distance. The last guy who bagged my groceries at Trader Joe's practically busted out the doctor gloves and one of those SARS masks because he didn't want the Dodgers to catch the my team plays like shit bug that seems to infect Royals fans every April and lasts through September (oddly, we seem to always be fine in March). The bagger exhaled a sigh of relief when I told him that teams with money seem to render the disease innocuous to their fans. "I think you still managed to spread it to the Angels though," he said. Touche, sir.

It's no secret: for the last quarter of a century Kansas City has been...not very good, to put it mildly. We haven't made the playoffs since 1985. That's a year before I was born, which delivers huge amounts of insecurity to April 1986 Kansas-born babies. We're all left to wonder if we weren't prophesied over at birth - this will be the one to bring ruin to his team. Since strike-shortened 1994, we've had two seasons of above .500. Two. In nineteen years. The Atlanta Braves, by comparison, have only had two seasons since '94 in which they were not .500 or better. During that time they've been to fourteen playoffs and won a World Series (they won their division again this year when they weren't supposed to...ho hum). The comparisons are too much fun to stop now. During the period of 1997 to 2003, the Braves had five seasons of 100 wins or more (out of 162). Between 2002 and 2006, the Royals had four seasons of 100 losses or more. When playing a team like Atlanta, Kansas City's players must stare across the diamond at their opponent's dugout and wonder what life is like where the grass is greener, the way a slumdog does when a limousine drives past. This is all to say that if Atlanta can be perceived as baseball riches, Kansas City would have to at least be a nominee for rags. I can hear Ewing Kauffman giving the acceptance speech now: "I'd like to thank Bob Boone, Allard Baird, Tony Muser, Tony Pena...we believe...that was good, Buddy Bell, Trey Hillman, Jose Guillen...I know there's more!" Anyway, I get it. There is a stigma attached to Kansas City's name in the world of baseball. The letters "KC" on the insignia may as well be scarlet. The reaction to my hat is something that perpetual losing for the better part of three decades has produced. I might be less conspicuous walking around with a bag over my head. Some Royals fans have undoubtedly gone there.

But you can keep your sorrys, or stuff them in a sack because I won't be wearing one on my head! This blog post - my first real blog post - isn't about why I cheer for the Royals. That much should be evident. I'm from the damn town. I take pride in where I'm from, I think there's something special about a fan's loyalty to their home town team...something much deeper and visceral than other forms of fandom (if you can call them that), and I just refuse to be some douchebag fair-weather fan who gives up on his team because they stink. Nothing could be more pathetic or craven in my mind. I couldn't live with myself if I abandoned my home team. That's why I cheer for them, anyway. What I'm writing about is why I'm grateful...yes, grateful to have the privilege to cheer for this team.

There exists a psychological phenomenon within the human condition, whereas the degree to which we experience joy as a result of something good is usually directly correlated with the amount of time that it has been withheld from us. Time spent away from something desired creates a sense of longing, and when that longing is finally satiated, the joy experienced is also greater. Water is water. But water is not the same to someone who has plenty to drink as compared with someone who is thirsty. The same rule applies to our fandom and the joy that proceeds from winning. If my team perennially wins, I start to get used to it. I start to feel entitled to winning. But if they don't win all the time, if they've struggled for long stretches, then winning becomes a gift. And let's just say that Kansas City has been wandering a parched land for a long, long time.

Allow me to tell virtually the same story shared by two teams this season: 85-77 and 86-76. The first record belonged to the New York Yankees. They won more games than they lost this year, but their fans weren't happy. There was pandemonium in New York. Failing to make the playoffs is unacceptable to the winningest franchise in baseball history. Their manager Joe Girardi, who has already won a championship, is probably feeling a lack of job security at the moment. New York is probably sulking, especially in light of their two football teams providing absolutely no alleviation from the baseball wounds. The second record belonged to the Kansas City Royals, who managed an above .500 season for just the second time in nineteen years. We didn't make the playoffs, yet there are few in Kansas City who would consider this season a disappointment. On the contrary, the city collectively rejoices in the wake of a winning campaign. Usually, like clockwork, Kansas City has given up hope by the All-Star Break. Dejected, the only thing that keeps us going are thoughts of next year. But for the first time in ten years, the Royals were playing meaningful baseball at the end of the season. Even a week ago they were still alive, with hopes of playing in the postseason. It was marvelous. I haven't had so much fun as a baseball fan in all my life. Every day was an exciting adventure - can they win again? The drama galvanized the city, whose excitement rose to a fever pitch when the season culminated in Kansas City with a walk off grand slam. Idealists dreamed, but the realists knew and faced the probability that we still had a snowball's chance in hell of making the playoffs. But that didn't stop us from relishing every moment. These words were continually uttered by Kansas City-ans again and again in the second half of the season: this is fun; enjoy this! Indeed it was fun, and we rejoiced in every win. Without our many years of walking with this team through the pain of losing, we would be without this perspective: savor this, because it's beautiful; every good thing is a gift, be exceedingly grateful for it all. That's really what happiness is - an appreciation for life and awareness of the abundant gifts that abound in it. Sometimes it takes walking through the valleys in order to appreciate the mountains.

So the Royals end this season having not won a championship or even making the playoffs, but it feels like something special happened. While there are other teams that continue playing, I'm confident that I remain one of the happiest fans in baseball right now, and that I'm joined by many who claim Kansas City as their home. And some day - maybe next year, maybe further down the road - we will make it to the playoffs. Some day we will win a championship again. And in those days we will know the depth of happiness that can only come through redemption. We'll all be rich in spirit. We'll all be slumdog millionaires.