Freedom Lost.....

DANA KIRK

Kentucky is Churchill Downs, fried okra, the UK Wildcats in Rupp Arena, mint juleps, southern belles in fancy hats, moonshine whiskey, thoroughbred horses, cornbread, hillbillies,and the Louisville Cardinals in Freedom Hall.

Tennessee is Graceland, bbq ribs, UT Volunteers football in Neyland Stadium, The Grand Ole Opry, bourbon whiskey, walking horses, rednecks, and the University of Memphis Tigers in the Fed Ex Forum.

I lived in Paducah, Kentucky for two years, having started my collegiate athletic career at Paducah Community College in the far western part of the state where the Ohio River separates Missouri, Kentucky, and Illinois. It was here that I found a slower, more comfortable pace of life. The weather was a bit warmer, folks a little friendlier, and a 9 AM meeting signified anytime between 9:15 and 10:45. Traveling via station wagon on the junior college circuit, I got to sample all the Bluegrass State had to offer in the mid 70’s. Although excited to begin my division one basketball career at Memphis State after my two years at Paducah had ended, it was a melancholy exit leaving such warm and friendly people behind. Fortunately for me, I found much of the same southern hospitality in Memphis.

Fittingly, I played my last minutes of college basketball at Freedom Hall versus the Louisville Cardinals in the Metro Conference tournament held there in 1979. We were being blown out, and I was relegated to my normal garbage time appearance. I scored three points in about 2 minutes of playing time as my disappointing basketball career came to an end. Although bitter at being overlooked by the Memphis State staff that included assistants Larry Finch, Lee Fowler, and Head Coach Dana Kirk, I took the high road after the game and thanked them for allowing me to finish what I had started and conclude my hard court career after I had switched sports and scholarships for football in 1978.

Dana Kirk was a bit of an odd sort and an eccentric. A former assistant coach under Denny Crum at Louisville, he had knowledge of the game combined with a hustler’s mentality….always looking for an angle or an edge. Even thought he took the MSU Tigers to the promised land of the final four in 1985 before bowing out to eventual champion Villanova and had an overall record of 158-58, it was living on the edge that cost him his job after the 1986 season when he was convicted on federal charges of income tax evasion. He spent four months in a minimum security prison after that season, and never coached college basketball again.

I read that he died last week of a heart attack at the age of 74. He was a good coach but a flawed individual. My last memories of him were at Freedom Hall. Unfortunately for Dana Kirk…..he lost his freedom and his career with one careless mistake in 1986. And even the friendliest of people in the south weren’t able to overlook that.

And the Beat Goes on.....

TIGER WOODS

It’s been said that history repeats itself.

From the biblical days of David and Goliath, the mighty have been proven fallible. And fall they will.

Never would I criticize anyone for a lapse in moral judgment. I’ll leave that issue to be dissected by the participants, a marriage counselor, or their clergyman. What I will do is point out a fascinating trend showing up with some very rich and powerful people.

Pete Rose was a baseball immortal. The all time hits leader, his first ballot induction into Cooperstown was a mere formality. But Pete made a gamble he thought he could win…betting on baseball and denying it until the truth was so evident even his massive ego couldn’t refute it any longer. Now he is left on the outside looking in…banished from the game he played with an intensity rarely seen in sport because he thought he was above the rules.

William Jefferson Clinton was elected the 42nd President of the United States. I make no statement here about his politics, or his dalliances with Monica Lewinsky, Paula Jones, or any of the rumored others. That is his business, and Hillary’s. What was not his business was putting his hand on the bible in sworn testimony as the chief law enforcement officer of the greatest country in the history of the world and lying….be it about sex, the weather, or a Quarter Pounder with cheese. He became the first President since Andrew Johnson to be tried for impeachment, and shamefully ended his term of office in a shroud of disgrace and innuendo.

Michael Vick was a star quarterback in the NFL with a hundred million dollar contract and the city of Atlanta eating out of his hand. A penchant for fighting dogs and a streak of immeasurable cruelty landed him in federal prison and forfeiting his contract. He has since been given another chance professionally, but with far less prestige and money.

Senator John Edwards betrayed a cancer stricken wife and fathered a child by his videographer, and is now accused of using campaign funds to cover it up….Plaxico Burress brought a loaded handgun into a nightclub in the city of New York, shot himself in the leg, and negated a contract that would have paid him over forty million dollars……Bernard B. Kerik was nominated by George W. Bush as Director of the Department of Homeland Security after being lauded for his assistance to Mayor Giuliani in the aftermath of 911, and was just sentenced to four years in prison for tax fraud and lying to government officials….OJ Simpson is back in prison where he belongs on a kidnapping charge after his farce filled trial in the murder of his wife Nicole Brown…..Barry Bonds, Mark McGuire, and Sammy Sosa put the juice back into the national pastime, and more than likely into their veins as well.

My personal preference is that Tiger Woods comes back and plays golf soon because I enjoy watching his incredible talent and will to compete. He still has a chance to best Jack Nicklaus in majors, but a rise to the popularity of a Mohammad Ali and establishing a historical credential that may have never been rivaled again in sport has faded like a badly sliced drive. To me, it really just doesn’t matter that much anymore.

Another example the mighty have fallen again…..who’s next?

Just received artwork for book jacket......soon to be in print!

Life is Art

The beauty of sport is that every so often...it paints a portrait that is a microcosm of life.

The battle, the ups and downs, and the ebbs and flows of a contest (in this instance it happens to be football) parallel the brutal game of survival we all play on a daily basis, especially in this challenged economy.

There is also an intrinsic connection to the story lines of a personality, a brush of down to earth goodness and wholesomeness, and a reveling in a second chance at a career and a love for his adopted city.

The messy watercolor that was the New Orleans Saints has landed in football heaven. The city's struggles and will to overcome were painted on a canvas in Miami last night. And the artist stood at midfield afterwards holding his infant son, while fighting back the tears of personal and professional emotions that were exploding all around him like the flares that rocketed into the Southern Florida sky. He was talking to his boy who had earphones on...and was too young to understand what his Dad was telling him anyway.

But even thought the words were falling on the muffled ears of innocence.....Drew Brees continued telling him what we all know.

That there is a pot of gold for those who believe, and are willing to work to achieve. And that nothing is impossible....not even the New Orleans Saints winning the Super Bowl.

So today there is renewed hope for all of us.....thanks to a gutty QB from Texas via Purdue via San Diego who landed in a Louisiana that was covered in a smock of desperation. Hell may not freeze over....and pigs probably will not fly.....but the New Orleans Saints are champions of the football world. What could possibly be next?

Someone should call Lou Piniella of the Cubs....and get the City of Chicago ready to replace the famous Picasso sculpture that adorns the downtown area. There is a new painting to be hung there....because now truly anything is possible.

Back to Earth

MARK GASTINEAU & JOE KLECKO

“I’m sorry….I can’t do the pregame interview with you outside”, I told Mike Forrest of Channel 3 in Philadelphia as he prepared for his Eagle-Jets stand up at Veteran’s Stadium. “The Astroturf is wet, and I don’t have my game shoes yet.” So he proceeded to line up plastic trash bags for me in a trail to his set up position so he could get me on camera in my stocking feet. This is when it hit me….it’s pretty cool to be a starting player in the NFL.

Not that I was REALLY a starting player…but I was for this particular preseason game. Keith Krepfle was out, John Spagnola was dressed for the game but still weak from an intestinal virus, and 4th stringer Bo Dennis was a converted fullback out of Delaware and not deemed yet ready for action. So I was thrust into the limelight as a starter. This was an opportunity of a lifetime, and I planned to make the best of it.

Funny, but I really wasn’t nervous. Even though we were playing the NY Jets and their famous “Sack Exchange” defense that included Marty Lyons, Joe Klecko, and Mark Gastineau, I was still brimming with confidence from my play in the previous exhibition game against Buffalo. So I took everything in stride as I proudly put on the same Eagle’s uniform that had been worn by the likes of Chuck Bednarik, Tommy McDonald, and the rest of the team’s legendary stars. I even got my old college number 80 (which was switched to #86 later in the year)….so it looked like karma was on my side as well.

Even though it was only the first home exhibition game, the Eagle’s faithful were out in full force to take a look at the team that could contend for a championship. The last Eagle’s squad to grab the brass ring was the 1960 team, long before the Super Bowl made its first appearance in 1967. In the fourteen seasons since the inception of the game, Philadelphia had never come close. The fans were sensing an end to their frustration…so even a game that didn’t count in the standings took on significant importance.

The Jets ran a 4/3 scheme that was much different than the Buffalo Bills. They also ignored the unwritten rule about not stunting and blitzing too early in the preseason, so their unusual alignments made my blocking assignments much more difficult. On the second play from scrimmage, QB Ron Jaworski called for me to do a quick out on the near sideline. I had a perfect release off the line and ran five yards down the field before executing a sharp cut against my defender safety Johnny Lynn. With a yard or two of cushion, Jaws threw a bullet in my direction and led me perfectly. I stretched out my arms and caught the ball in stride for my first reception as a pro.

Before I could reel my arms back in to tuck the ball away and protect myself, I felt a searing pain as Lynn’s helmet made full contact with my exposed ribs. All the breath in my body evacuated like a kindergarten class during a fire drill. Although I held onto the ball, I was flipping and flopping on the turf writhing in pain. Now Vermeil had a dilemma….use raw rookie Bo Dennis in a big spot, or risk sending a weakened Spagnola into battle. He chose John, but luckily I shook off the effects of the nuclear blast that centered on my midsection and went back into the game the following set of downs.

On the first play in that series, Vermeil called for a “yam” block (when the TE goes in motion) on the nose tackle, which happened to be the monstrous Temple grad Joe Klecko. Joe had obviously seen this play before, and had me in his sights out of the corner of his eye. When center Guy Morriss pulled to expose Klecko for my block, the burly Jet fired into me with even more force than I had experienced on my ill fated reception. He sent me reeling back about 5 yards and made the tackle on Wilbert Montgomery for a loss. Luckily, it was the last yam call Vermeil made in the game. And I had run a total of three plays and gotten blown up twice. The ratio was not to my liking.

In a 4/3 alignment, the tight end is more likely to be “covered” by a defensive lineman than a linebacker. This makes it easier to release for a pass pattern, but a much more difficult blocking assignment since you are giving up about 30-40 lbs to your opponent. Although Gastineau wasn’t huge, he was still very quick and mobile. Many times I “whiffed” on Gastineau trying to figure out where he was going. Obviously, my Evelyn Woods speed learning football class hadn’t prepared me properly for this advanced form of the game. Although I caught two more passes in the contest, Vermeil was not happy with my performance and let me know about it in the team meeting the next day.

My starting position was gone the following week against the NE Patriots…and so was the white glove treatment I had received from the media and the assistant coaches. While making the team was a thrill, I really never got serious consideration as the tight end of the future and was released the following preseason.

However, my fifteen minutes of fame were as fleeting as a Mark Gastineau pass rush but the memories have lasted a lifetime…. and are as vivid in my mind as a Johnny Lynn helmet to the ribs. Some things you just never forget.

P.S. I had the opportunity to spend an afternoon with Gastineau a couple of years ago at the NFL Alumni golf tournament held at Greate Bay Country Club in Somers Point, NJ which is owned and operated by my good friend Mark Benevento. He didn't remember much about this particular game...and was mostly complaining about not getting any residuals from his ex-wife's tv show "The Gastineau Girls". He was very nice and autographed some pictures for my daughters. It's the least he could do after costing me a shot at fame and fortune...don't you think?