"Lazzari's Sports Roundup" - - - - 1-31-09

A Love/Hate Relationship


Yes, folks, I've loved/followed sports for a long time--but certain things drive me NUTS, too; yeah, it's truly a love/hate thing. Here are a few reasons why:

* I LOVE when a wide receiver beats the defender, makes a terrific catch, and gives that extra effort to get into the end zone; I HATE when that same guy celebrates wildly, does a showboating dance, and acts as if he hasn't scored a TD since the fifth grade.
* I LOVE seeing a pitcher have complete control of a baseball game--mowing hitters down and frustrating them until the late innings; I HATE when the manager removes that hurler from the game SIMPLY because the dreaded pitch counter has struck the century mark.
* I LOVE seeing a hockey player steal the puck, go the length of the ice, and score a tie-breaking goal; I HATE when an opposing player takes exception to it out of frustration, takes a sucker punch at someone, and sets off a silly fight that holds up the game WAY too long.
* I LOVE the way sportscaster Vin Scully calls a baseball game--effectively describing the action in a "non-showy" way; I HATE it that guys like John Sterling think they ARE the show.
* I LOVE the memories of paying $1.50 for a bleacher seat at Yankee Stadium during my college days--this after having taken an inexpensive subway ride to get there; I HATE the fact that a family of four now has to decide whether or not to go to ONE Yankee game in lieu of a yearly vacation.
* I LOVE hearing terrific renditions of the National Anthem being sung at sporting events; I HATE the fact that these are as scarce as lunar eclipses.
* I LOVE guys like Wes Welker, Craig Breslow, and Ray Allen--true GOOD guys in the world of sports both on and off the field; I HATE that criminals/bums like Plaxico Burress and Adam "Pacman" Jones garner more headlines than their law-abiding fellow players.
* I LOVE going to the TPC in Cromwell each year and watching the Traveler's Championship; I HATE that there are so many people in attendance there who do nothing but sip martinis in luxury tents--individuals who wouldn't know a golf ball from an Inaugural Ball.
* I LOVE watching Rafael Nadal play tennis--hustling constantly and never giving up on a point; I HATE that he has to towel off after EVERY point and that the TV viewer sees more close-ups of him wiping his face/brow than of him "wiping out" his opponent.
* I LOVE that we still see basketball courts/rims in the playgrounds of schools; I HATE that many of them go unused due to kids being indoors playing video games instead.
* I LOVE watching the annual Army/Navy football game--complete with its in-sync marching, sportsmanship, and classy behavior; I HATE that Navy has TOTALLY dominated this series over the past decade or so--rendering non-competitive, blowout victories usually decided by the end of the third quarter.
* I LOVE going to the Yale Bowl--a truly historic, special structure; I HATE it when it rains there--turning the parking area into a true mud-wrestler's paradise.
* I LOVE watching the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders perform--who seem to become more lovely/talented as each year passes by; I HATE the sad reality that I'm old enough to be the FATHER of each and every one of these lovely young ladies.
* I LOVE picking up the sports section during baseball season and examining boxscores; I HATE that a player's salary is the first thing I think of rather than what he accomplished on the field that particular day.
* I LOVE the smell of hot dogs, nachos, pizza, etc. at various sporting events; I HATE the fact that I gain weight just THINKING about indulging in those types of foods.
* I LOVE the excitement of college athletics and the competitive games that result from the various sports; I HATE the fact that many so-called "scholar-athletes" involved in these sports would have trouble spelling their school's name if it wasn't stamped on a jersey/tee shirt they owned.
* I LOVE watching Tiger Woods swing a golf club--the combination of fluidity and power being a true thing of beauty; I HATE the fact that when he doesn't birdie a hole, it looks as if he is angry at the entire WORLD.
* I LOVE that women's college basketball has grown exponentially over the years--and is now getting the attention that it richly deserves; I HATE the fact that it is MUCH less competitive than the men's game--as the #1 team can still beat the #2 team by a ridiculous 30 points.
* I LOVE watching Manny Ramirez swing a baseball bat--an awesome combination of concentration, ease, and power; I HATE it when "Manny is Manny"--a moody guy who truly believes that quitting on a team is no big deal.
* I LOVE hosting/producing a cable TV sports talk show--speaking to a variety of guests and learning more about them; I HATE that some people who are given an invitation to come on the show can't find the time to even RESPOND via email/telephone with a simple "yes" or "no"--thus holding up the guest-booking process.
* I LOVE watching/covering the Connecticut Defenders at a fine, fun facility like Dodd Stadium; I HATE that more people don't take advantage of the affordability of minor league games and that there continues to be more empty seats at games than there SHOULD be.
* I LOVE coaching baseball at the middle-school level and helping some youngsters reach their potential; I HATE those 45-degree/damp days at practice when my aching joints remind me that I'm not 20--or even 40--anymore.
* I LOVE playing golf; I HATE playing golf (I guess it all depends if my last shot traveled straight or not).
* I LOVE true "journalists" whose expertise happens to lie in the area of sports; I HATE the fact that these individuals are few and far between as the phenomenon of "jocks" infiltrating the sports media business has reached epidemic proportions.

Finally,
* I LOVE writing a sports column weekly--sharing my thoughts and receiving terrific feedback from readers; I HATE it when the dreaded "writer's block" strikes--something that usually happens yearly during the last week of January.

"Lazzari's Sports Roundup" - - - - 1-24-09

Chain Net Memories


A few weeks ago, I wrote about the memorable "snow wars" we'd enjoy as kids during the 70's--backyard football games played on the most wintery of days. Thinking back, we'd adjust our sports competitions/"pick-up" games in those days to jive with the pros' schedule; once the Super Bowl was completed, it was time to put pigskin thoughts away and turn our attention to hoops. Our venue would then change from my neighbor Tom's backyard to the driveway in front of his house; the "court"--very much like our "stadium"--was anything but flat. In fact, it was an act of bravery every time someone put up a shot without having a rebounder underneath the rim in order to prevent a missed attempt from rolling down into Mr. Morris' yard across the street. On those days when we all had our own basketballs while practicing, no one was immune from having to do some major retrieving down on the Morris property. To this day, I believe it made us concentrate more and become better shooters.

I remember the hoop/rim at Tom's house being maybe 9 1/2 feet off the ground (every time I'd step inside a gym and gaze at a regulation-sized hoop, I'd notice the obvious difference). A cemented steel pole held an oversized, charcoal-colored, wooden backboard--enabling us to constantly practice our bank shots. Yeah, I often wonder how the heck that backboard was immune to splintering with all those shots caroming off it--yes, YEARS-worth. And the rim was strong, too, as I never remembering Tom or his Dad having to tighten the rusted bolts that held it in place (I guess it helped that most of us were still vertically-challenged and not yet tall enough to hang on it). But what I'll always remember about our beloved court was the CHAIN NET attached to the rim. I had never seen one before that time; I don't recall that type of net even being SOLD in stores at the time and always wondered how Tom (or maybe his Dad) came into possession of one. What an unmistakable sound it made when a ball passed through it; unlike its nylon counterpart that would render a soothing "swish," the chains would always emit a loud "KUH-WISH" after a successful shot--and you could hear it throughout the neighborhood. In fact, the sound would resonate to the point where no phone calls had to be made before organizing a pick-up game and/or shoot-around; the first few KUH-WISH sounds--usually made by Tom or his younger brother Steve--would be easily heard by all of our usual neighborhood participants and serve as an invitation to join in. I remember us shooting for HOURS at a time until it got dark--seeing who could cause the net to make the loudest noise; the farther away one was successful with a shot, the louder the KUH-WISH. The more we practiced shooting, the better we became--to the point where a steady stream of KUH-WISHES would cause non-basketball-playing and/or bike-riding kids passing by on Bruns Road to stop and marvel at the unique noise. Funny, the chain net never seemed to get tangled/become unhinged despite all the "dancing" it did. It rusted a bit after a few years, but that familiar sound never changed. KUH-WISH, KUH-WISH, KUH-WISH--there was no better sound in the world.

I recall the daily pick-up games being so enjoyable and competitive while being contested on the smooth, slanted driveway; it was usually the same match-up as our football "wars": Jimmy and I vs. Joe and Tom. Sometimes Steve would play and be told to be a part of our team strictly because we were younger and were assumed to need an extra player. However, I don't think our opponents realized that Jimmy and I--on days when our usual, geometrically-challenged court was off-limits--would practice at Jimmy's house (about 50 yards away) for hours, too, honing our shooting skills. Although Jimmy's "court" was flat and more visually appealing, it was more congested, too--due to the surrounding landscape/property layout at his house. But a perfect place to practice, for sure, and I believe the countless hours spent there playing "H-O-R-S-E" or "Around The World" gave us the skills and confidence needed to beat the older guys--even on a slanted surface. I think Jimmy and I knew from the very beginning that we'd never out-muscle the older guys; shooting the lights out would be our strategy--and it worked. Yeah, it was so much fun--especially when Jimmy and I could win games without placing a major emphasis on rebounding. And I recall Joe often doing his Pete Maravich imitation--taking long jump shots and then purposely falling on the pavement to make it look like he was fouled. Ah, it was magical in its hilarity.

Finally, I remember, when it snowed, all of us wanting to pitch in and shovel Tom's driveway even before doing our own--clearing the way for another pick-up game to be played. Yeah, as long as there was no ice underneath--and we could move freely without slipping--there was basketball to be played. And now that I think of it, the soft, packed snow covering the out of bounds area--or even at the end of Tom's driveway--actually helped stopped some errant balls from traveling down that dreaded grade. Snow boots slowed us down a bit--but not as much as one might surmise. Funny, we wore knit caps and heavy jackets when we played, but seldom donned gloves--which we discovered could negatively affect the "shooter's touch." Somehow, my hands never seemed cold, either; I can only assume that hearing the desired KUH-WISH over and over made me forget about any bothersome chill I may have been experiencing.

Recently, I was in the sporting goods section at Wal-Mart after the holidays and came across a chain net for sale among the basketball items; yes, they DO sell them now. I stopped and stared at it for awhile as a smile graced my countenance and a warm feeling engulfed me. Then it all came back to me: KUH-WISH, KUH-WISH, KUH-WISH. Like riding a bike or tying a shoe, I guess certain habits--and memories--are bound to last a lifetime.

"Lazzari's Sports Roundup" - - - - 1-17-09

Lazzari's "Lopsided Score of the Week": In a recent Connecticut girls high school basketball game played just before Christmas, Capital Prep tore apart University 62-9; Capital outscored its overmatched opponent 31-3 in the second half of this laugher. I'm totally convinced that if someone had told the University coach during halftime that his team's 6 points at that juncture would be 2/3 of its total output that evening, he would have probably believed that a mean individual known simply as "The Grinch" was truly lurking somewhere in the gymnasium that evening ..........TRIVIA QUESTION: The 1989-'90 Portland Trail Blazers had four players on the team who each averaged more than 6 rebounds per game. Can you name these individuals? Answer to follow..........The usual great, funny stuff from WFAN's Steve Somers following the Bills' Week 15 loss to the Jets--where Buffalo QB J.P. Losman passed for just 148 yards and threw three interceptions. Somers hinted that the "J.P." in his name--after a performance like that--should stand for "Just Pitiful"..........In all honesty, folks, I'm now totally disgusted with the state of the current men's basketball program at Fordham--my undergraduate alma mater. When Dereck Whittenburg took over as coach in 2003, there was a sense of cautious optimism among alumni that the program could be vaulted back into respectability--capturing some of the success it experienced years ago. And after an 18-12 season in '06-'07--while improving their record for a third year in a row--many of us continued to surmise that the Rams were on the right track. However, since that time, the school (after last weekend) has a record of 14-29 (just two wins this season) and isn't even taken seriously in the TRI-STATE AREA--never mind nationally. An excuse given to me by administration is that they are now a "young team"--and that several freshmen start and/or see playing time. Question: Isn't it the job of someone like Whittenburg--now in his SIXTH season--to plan better and to prevent something like that from happening? Go figure..........Watching the PGA Tour's Mercedes-Benz Championship on TV from sunny Hawaii last weekend--while it was SNOWING here in New England--was almost as painful as watching a Hilary Duff movie marathon..........This week in sports history, January 20, 1968: In a highly-anticipated match-up between college basketball's two elite teams, the Houston Cougars defeat UCLA 71-69 in a game played at the Astrodome. Lew Alcindor of the Bruins--who had missed the team's previous two games due to an eye injury--was clearly outplayed by counterpart Elvin Hayes of Houston; Hayes exploded for 39 points, 15 rebounds, and four blocked shots while Alcindor was held to just 15 points. A packed house at the domed court saw the Cougars end UCLA's 47-game winning streak--the second longest in history..........The "Unwatchable NBA" Update: In a recent game played in Milwaukee, the Pistons beat the Bucks 87-76 (yawn); the teams combined to shoot (ready for this?) 4-for-28 (14%) from three-point range during this "riveting" match-up. If the referees working this game had a sense of humor, they would have stopped the game after, say, the 20th 3-point attempt--and called for arena personnel to check if there was a pair of transparent covers on top of the two rims..........Answer to trivia question: BUCK WILLIAMS (9.8), JEROME KERSEY (8.4), CLYDE DREXLER (6.9), and KEVIN DUCKWORTH (6.2)..........Happy birthday wishes go out to one of Hartford's own--former NBA guard Michael Adams--who blows out 45 candles on January 19th. A product of Hartford Public High School who played collegiately at Boston College, Adams spent 11 seasons in the NBA between 1985 and 1996 playing for Sacramento, Washington, Denver, and Charlotte; he averaged 14.7 points and 6.4 assists per game during his impressive career. Undoubtedly, Adams' best year came during the '90-'91 season while with Denver--a season in which he averaged 26.5 ppg (sixth in the league) and 10.5 assists (third). Adams led the league in three-point goals made in both the '88-'89 and '89-'90 seasons and was an All-Star in 1992. A terrific free-throw shooter, Adams shot almost 85% from the charity stripe over his entire career. Best wishes, Michael..........Finally, condolences go out to the family of former major league pitcher Dave Roberts--who died recently of lung cancer in West Virginia at the age of 64. A left-handed starter who relieved in his later years, Roberts pitched for eight teams between 1969 and 1981--winning 103 games lifetime. He finished second in the National League to Tom Seaver with a sparkling 2.10 ERA in 1971 for the Padres, and set career highs of 17 wins and six shutouts with Houston in 1973. Roberts was also a member of the '79 World Series champion Pittsburgh Pirates. During his off-seasons, he worked as a boilermaker regularly and was exposed to cancer-causing materials. He is survived by his wife, Carol, two-stepdaughters, and three sons; may Dave Roberts rest in peace.

"Lazzari's Sports Roundup" -- - - - 1-10-09

Memories Of Some Backyard "Snow Wars"


Folks, the recent snowfall here in New England truly had me thinking back to my younger days. Ah, what terrific memories! It was a time--during the 70's--when it could never snow ENOUGH for a few of us neighborhood kids; funny--today, I curse at that type of precipitation simply because I have to DRIVE in it. But a fresh blanketing in those days could mean only one thing for us adventurous youngsters: backyard football played in the snow. Yeah, it was a time to celebrate. You see, we had no video games to corrupt us back then and keep us indoors; in addition, we had already outgrown the allure of building snowmen. The term "sedentary lifestyle" had not yet come into focus; if there HAD been such a term used in those days, it surely didn't apply to us. The more snow, the better. Sub-zero temps? Bring it on--we'll pretend it's Minnesota. Wind chill factor WAY down--and perhaps dangerous? No problem--we'll have to dress a little warmer. And to play WHILE it was snowing? Now THAT was the best.

The typical "joyful event" would always be preceded by snow shoveling; it was agreed that if all four of our families' driveways were clean, it was game time. Our "stadium" was Tom's backyard--maybe 40 yards long and far from being level. It really didn't matter in what direction either squad was going--uphill or downhill; the slippery, snowy terrain made that a moot point. Two-hand tag--although we didn't mind being tackled at times as a fresh snowfall would surely cushion our falls. And it was the same match-up every time we played: Jimmy and I vs. Joe and Tom--the latter duo being a couple years older than us. I'll admit that those first couple of years were tough for Jimmy and I--middle-schoolers taking on bigger high school kids--but it just made us hungrier. But we KNEW we were faster--and SOMEDAY that would be to our advantage. Goal-line markers, primitive as they were, were the end of a picket fence (that housed a pool area close to the house) and a tree stump at the top of the hill. You were out of bounds on one side of the field if you touched that fence (or stepped over the imaginary line that ran parallel to the goal line) or if you brushed against a set of lined evergreens on the other side. Funny, I don't remember many controversies about someone being out of bounds or not; we were on the "honor system" and I can only surmise that we respected each other a lot. Oh, and if we played AFTER dinner on some snowy nights, the "stadium" would then be illuminated by the rear spotlights of our surrounding homes. Yeah, I guess we weren't gonna be outdone by that week's "Monday Night Football" telecast.

We'd all dress similarly for our periodic "snow wars": heavy jacket, snow pants, water-proof boots, and a knit cap with one's favorite team logo on it. To this day, I remember Joe wearing a Vikings hat all the time--sometimes pulled way down near his glasses. In fact, I marvel to this day how Joe did it while wearing specs as they would fog up on occasion and often be lost in a foot of snow--resulting in an automatic time-out. Tom was a burly teen who liked to lift weights; yeah, he was tough to block but could surely be outrun by us younger guys. Joe was quick--and more athletic than his partner. There was a simple format for each game--one rusher, one pass defender--with the former counting to "three Mississippi" before converging on the QB. And I clearly remember Jimmy and I preferring to go in the uphill direction at the "stadium"; I think the two of us saw a clear advantage of the defense having to back-pedal against our emerging passing game--yours truly being the QB the majority of the time. I recall Jimmy and I (when Joe and Tom weren't around) practicing SCRIPTED patterns that we'd utilized during the next game--repeating them until they were executed regularly and easily. Again, at the beginning, Joe and Tom's age and size were too much for us to overcome; after a few winters, Jimmy and I grew bigger, faster, and smarter--and would RARELY lose. That "out and up" pattern began to work for us every time. Perhaps me hitting Jimmy occasionally on a square-out forced Joe and Tom to HAVE to be aware of the short pass; it was shortly thereafter that we'd mix in our "money" play--where I'd pump fake that same square-out pass and then hit Jimmy deep down the field. Ah, and every successful possession felt better than the previous one; I'll never forget that feeling when we were beating Joe and Tom regularly. Yes, the young guys had arrived--and it was magical.

I remember one of those winters when all of us pooled our energy and rolled/created a huge snowball--maybe six feet tall, five feet wide; the placement of it near Tom's garage was simply due to the fact that it could NOT be moved any farther. Jimmy and I decided to use it for "training" purposes on those days when Joe and Tom weren't around (perhaps when they were busy with high school activities). "The Rock" (as it became known as after it froze to the core) was used to practice "toughening" skills: we'd carry the football toward it--starting about ten yards away--and try to leap OVER it. Those who were unsuccessful or fell too short surely had sore chest/stomach muscles the next day; looking back, I wouldn't trade that soreness for ANYTHING. And I recall "The Rock" getting harder by the day as the sub-freezing days piled up; I swear--that particular winter, it was standing from December until mid-March.

Yes, such vivid, tremendous memories of better days gone by. Yeah, we DID play occasionally on a "snow-less" field and often took our games into the street when Tom's Dad was working on the back lawn in the late fall. But nothing beat playing in the "white stuff" when the welcomed winter arrived; those fond memories will always be a collective, treasured keepsake. And now as I fast forward to 2009 and put on that adult "knit" cap, I'll just offer this: ENOUGH SNOW ALREADY--O.K.?!