TIGER BEING TIGER

TIGER BEING TIGER

Golf is, and always will be, the ultimate Gentlemen’s game.

Bobby Jones, who founded Augusta National Golf Club in 1933, once said this about calling a penalty on himself when he claimed his ball moved when his playing partners swore it did not. “You might as well praise me for not breaking into banks. There is only one way to play this game.”

Apparently, according to Tiger Eldrick Woods, there IS more than one way to play this game. Unlike Bobby Jones, Woods has adopted the “win at all costs” philosophy that would have Jones and the other trailblazers of golf spinning in their graves.

He may ultimately overtake Jack Nicklaus in his quest for 19 major championships, but his legacy, already tarnished by his tawdry behavior, will be one of bending the rules to attain an advantage.

I’m not saying the illegal drop he gave himself on Friday on the 15^th hole was egregious. His original approach shot was struck perfectly--but it was too perfect. When it hit the flag and rebounded into Rae’s Creek, it was a cruel twist of fate that

all golfers can relate to. The game is insidiously hard. And when you are able to conquer it only to be rewarded with a bad break of ridiculous proportions on golf’s grandest stage, one can see how your mind can be clouded with rage and not working properly.

I give him a pass for the error. But when it was brought to his attention, Woods could have engrained himself along side golf’s immortals and disqualified himself from the 2013 Masters.

I find it interesting that two penalties were handed out on Friday. One to a fourteen-year-old amateur who was attempting to make golf history by making the cut. When he was penalized a shot for a borderline slow play call that even had his playing partner past Masters champion Ben Crenshaw scratching his head and left him precipitously close to the cut line, he accepted the penalty with a grace and dignity that Tiger Woods apparently does not possess. 

Woods may be the #1 player in the world, but he takes #2 status in relation to China’s Tianlang Guan when it comes to ethics and golf diplomacy.

So CBS Television will have their wish. Tiger will be in the hunt, and the ratings will soar on Sunday.

But the game has sunk to a new low--and Woods simply doing the right thing could have avoided it.

But then again, Tiger Woods has always had a problem doing the right thing.

The Artist

I'm in love.

I've got a serious crush on Peppy Miller, I'm smitten with George Valentin, and I'm head over heels for The Artist, a Harvey Weinstein film directed by Michel Hazanavicius.

French actor George Dujardin is Valentin, a silent film heartthrob who is the toast of Hollywood in 1927. He has a random meeting with Berenice Bejo (the wife of director Hanavicius in real life), a young actress trying to break into the biz. Their mutual attraction makes the screen sizzle, but Valentin is stuck in an unhappy marriage, with only his dog Uggy there to lend support.

The crash of '29 puts and the advent of "talkies" which studio executive Al Zimmer (John Goodman) decides is the future of film, puts Valentin's career in a tailspin. His fall from grace is mirrored by Peppy Miller's rising popularity. Valentin pours his own money into one final, ego driven attempt to prove the film world wrong--and loses everything.

I won't give away anymore details, but I will warn you that The Artist is MOSTLY silent, with a delightful and audible surprise at the end that makes the entire story make sense. It's subtle, but evident.

A strong supporting cast including James Cromwell and Penelope Ann Miller add to the fun.

So, it is indeed true that silence is golden. Especially when it comes to the Artist and the Golden Age of Hollywood.

This a film to put on your "must see" list. But shhhhh...do it quietly.

~ Ken Dunek

Life, at times....just doesn't seem fair

RIP Joe Paterno.....

You spent your life doing things the right way, and you would up being blindsided by fate.

A rush to judgment has clouded the memory of your illustrious career. But your legacy will show wins, championships, and molding men of character--year after year---generation after generation.

You reported an indiscretion to your superiors--acts so reprehensible you couldn't even fathom

what you were being told. But they vilified you for not doing enough--and then fired you with a phone call in the middle of the night.

We have lost a national hero. Let history judge who he was and what he stood for.

~ Ken Dunek

Judge Judy....Governor Chris Christie.....Ron Paul.....

Agree or disagree with them, they all provide refreshing honesty.

That's their appeal.

Eagles Epitaph 2011

The final outrage of the 2011 Eagles football season was today's Andy Reid post game press conference.

His glib attempt at humor and evasive nature was never more evident.

When asked if he WANTED to be here next season, he wouldn't respond either way--stating only he hadn't "thought" about it yet.

A reporter then asked him why this Eagle's (dream team) wasn't a playoff team. His smirking reply was that they were 8-8, and the other teams had better records. Where was the follow up here?....why does the media constantly let him off the hook without a follow up?

I want to see conviction. I want to see disappointment and outrage that his regime has not delivered a Super Bowl championship in 13 years.

I don't need clever repartee'...I can get that on Saturday Night Live.

Thoughts....

Say what you must...but Joe Paterno doesn't deserve to go out this way. And wasn't the Big 10 a little premature in taking his name off the championship trophy? The guy hasn't even had a chance to comment yet.

Brian Billick is a terrible color analyst for Fox TV. He makes the same points all game long and his language is garbled.

Indian Summer is sublime.....just don't get used to it. The blast of the hawk wind and chill of winter is right around the corner.

NFL players don't go the extra mile. Too many are worried about their next contract. Case in point Eagles WR Steve Smith falling down 1 yard short of a crucial first down.

Does anyone really miss the NBA?

Have a great Thanksgiving!

Crying Shame

I have no allegiance to Penn State.

I've been there only once, and did witness the incredible specatacle of a Nittany Lion football game with 100,000 plus all dressed in white in a foamy fervor supporting their team.

The face of that team, the town, and the University is Joe Paterno. But it goes much deeper that that. He was the beating heart, the blood, and the oxygen that made Happy Valley what it is, and kept it hale and alive.

Joe Paterno announced his retirement today, amidst a scandle that has not only put the world of college sports on it's ear, but has kicked all that admired what was once clean and pure smack in the teeth.

He reported what he saw to his boss, but said no more. He apparantly let his perverted lieutanant continue to have the run of the ship, even though he was no longer officially part of the PSU brass.

Coach Joe Paterno spent a career doing things the right way.....with one exception.

And now his glorious legacy is forever tarnished.

I guess even the best of fairy tales sometimes have inglorious endings.

Mighty Macs Mighty Good

I attended the world premier of the Tim Chambers film The Mighty Macs last night at the Kimmell Center in Philadelphia.

My suggestion is that you lace up your sneakers, load up on some hankies, and make a wind sprint down to your local theater on October 21st to see this groundbreaking film that chronicles the amazing story of tiny Immaculata College winning the 1972 NCAA Women's basketball championship.

This film stars Carla Cuggino as Cathy Rush, David Boreanaz as her husband (and former NBA referee) Ed Rush, and Ellen Burstyn as Mother Superior and takes you on a delightful journey back in time to the psychedelic days the early 70's when women's sports were hardly a blip on the radar screen. Cuggino, who plays a role similar to Gene Hackman in the epic hoops film Hoosiers, does an amazing job of capturing the frustration and passion that went along with the unenviable task of taking a cash strapped program with no facilities and turning it into a champion.

Chambers captures the essence of the emotion with his fast paced action and timely edits. The score (London Philharmonic) along with hits from the 70's provide an enjoyable backdrop to the G-rated action that any father would be comfortable taking his little girl to see.

Chambers has taken a stand and is taking on Hollywood to help bring the "family" back to family entertainment.

And to me...that's a slam dunk.

Political Nostradamus

Here is my theory. You tell me if it is plausible.

President Barack Obama is sinking like a stone. He announces he will not run for a second term which opens the door for Hillary Clinton. Forget Joe Biden...no how, no way he gets the nomination.

The Republicans, partially in response to this panic move, give the nomination to Herman Cain (an increasingly impressive choice, I might add).

A long shot? Just remember, you heard it here first.

One Of A Kind

Some people are just larger than life....and Al Davis was absolutely one of those people.

During his storied NFL football career, Al Davis held the positions of assistant coach, head coach, GM, owner, and league commissioner of the AFL. If there was a more qualified individual in his field of endeavor, or one who was more passionate and dedicated to his company or team, I would certainly like to meet him or her.

I had two brief encounters with Al Davis. The first was pregame at the 1980 Super Bowl. I noticed him a distance milling around the field pregame. Whirling with constant motion and enthusiasm, his hands were clapping with such great intensity I felt like offering him a pair of receivers gloves to save the skin on his palms. Entering that game, I was sure my Philadelphia Eagles were going to win, but after witnessing Davis and his demeanor prior to the game, I wasn't so sure. Unfortunately for us, my premonition was correct.

Many years later my ex-Stars teammate Chuck Fusina and I were the guests of Dick Vermeil and Carl Peterson for a Kansas City Chiefs vs. Oakland Raiders game at Arrowhead Stadium. While taking a tour of the press box and suites, a moody and tempermental Al Davis passed us in the hallway while being wheeled to his private box in a wheelchair. Davis was barking at his handlers, the Chiefs staff, and pretty much anyone within earshot. You see Al Davis wanted it his way, and for him there was no other way.

He was also a man of courage and conviction. Most people don't know that although he was the AFL commissioner in the late 60's when the leagues merged, he was AGAINST the merger because he felt eventually the AFL would be a superior league. And when the struggling USFL took on the NFL with their anti-trust lawsuit in 1986, Al Davis actually testified FOR the USFL. Davis loved backing the underdog, and standing up for what he believed regardless of the circumstances. For him, it was as clear as black and white.....OK, we'll fudge a little bit here and say black and silver. Regardless of the color scheme, right was right and politics be damned in his eyes.

So Al Davis now resides with George Halas, Vince Lombardi, and the other icons who helped make the NFL the mega giant it is today. And Raider Nation has lost it's leader and face of the franchise.

Let's hope whomever steps up and replaces him can (just) win, baby. It's what Al Davis would have wanted.

A Sunday to Remember

I usually wake up early on the first NFL Sunday of the year and get some coffee, read the sports page, and prepare for all day action starting at 1pm.

But this opening Sunday was much different.

My day started with reflection of that fateful day 10 years past. It started with a tolling bell asking for a moment of silence....with a tearful roll call of thousands of names forever lost to the lunacy of 19 men crashing planes into buildings that are our symbols of freedom and democracy.

They didn't know their acts would only strengthen our resolve to be tougher, better, and protect freedom with more fervor than ever before.

There was plenty of brave action on the football field today. But it paled in comparison to the remembrances of bravery shown by the passengers of Flight 93, and by the rescue workers that ventured into a towering inferno and the Pentagon to save their brothers and sisters in danger.

So I respectfully end my selfish football pleasure today by saying my own thank you to those who gave the ultimate sacrifice.

You are the true heroes......those on the gridiron are merely pretending.

Just watched the HBO documentary on baseball pioneer Curt Flood. It's an enigmatic tale of a talented, complicated, and tragic individual. I highly recommend it. (Nobody does sports documentaries as well as HBO.)

Speaking of baseball.....since when is it MANDATORY to take a set up man out (Sean Marshall of the Cubs) who just set the Marlins down in order in the eighth preserving a 2-0 lead to put in their CLOSER (The newest version of the Wild Thing Carlos Marmol) who walks the bases loaded and then gives up a bases clearing double without retiring a batter. Sometimes situational baseball lacks common sense.

Also lacking common sense was the Casey Anthony verdict.....but like OJ Simpson water has a tendency to find it's own level. Karma can be a bitch sometimes.

James R. Dunek (with my wife Terri in Tampa, Florida in 1984 for the USFL Championship Game).

Born in Chicago, Illinois on July 14, 1934. He will be 77 years of age in a couple of weeks.

In between Father's Day and his birthday, I thought I would write a little tribute to the man who taught me so much, and to whom I owe everything.

Dad is a survivor.

A high school drop out, he maneuvered his way around the streets of Chicago is a savvy way....once scaling the fence to get into Wrigley Field to watch his beloved Cubs, because he didn't have the 15 or 25 cents for a bleacher seat. And speaking of surviving, he beat colon cancer and a triple bypass operation that all occurred within 2 years of each other when he was in his 50's.

Dad is one of the smartest men I know.

We used to play a game where I would ask him a math question, and he would immediately figure it out in his head and tell me the answer. I would take my pad and pencil and figure it out just to make sure he wasn't getting one over on me, but he was always right.

Dad is a hard worker.

I can remember as a small child his headlights leaving our driveway at 5AM as he left for his job as the foreman of the plate department at a printing company....and seeing the same headlights many times at 10PM as he arrived home; only to do it again the next day.

Dad loves action.

We spent many a summer day on the infield of Arlington Park racetrack in suburban Chicago. Dad loved the ponies, but took the time to keep notes and study the bloodlines and recent results. He is the only man I know who has consistently made money with the ponies. Although his standard line to my mother when we came home was..."I broke about even". I also taught him how to count cards in blackjack, and he became so good at it he was booted out of his comped room at Harrah's in Las Vegas when he hit them for several thousand one night.

Dad taught me valuable lessons.

When I was 14 I had shaggy hair. The HS basketball tryouts were the next day, and he asked me if I was going to attend. I said no because they had a haircut rule on the team. He immediately dropped his paper and told me to get in his car, where we drove to the first barber shop we found and he informed the barber to give me a "crew cut". As we left the shop with me in tears he said, "Now you don't have any reason not to try out." As many know I went on to become an All State player in high school and received a full ride to play basketball at Memphis State University. I'm convinced none of it would have happened if he hadn't taken a stand that day.

Another interesting lesson was when he hired me to work in his plant in the summer I turned 16 years old. Since he was the foreman of a division, I was thinking i would receive some "cushy" job with little responsibility and flexible hours. When I arrived at work the first day, I was informed I would be working on the "shrink wrapper". It was brutal, hot work in a non air conditioned part of the factory far away from his air conditioned offices. Oh yeah....and he put me on the 4pm to 1230 am shift which negated any night life I had planned for the summer. When I asked him why he gave me such a tough job, his reply was simply, "Now you know what you don't want to do for the rest of your life".

Dad is slowing down.

As he says..."the parts are wearing out, and so am I".

So I wanted to write this for him now while he can still read it. And I hope he can feel the love and appreciation that it is written with. He taught me the life lessons of honesty, integrity, gentleness and hard work. And although it is a little tough for him to say the words "I love you, son". I know indeed the sentiment is there.

And Dad...the feeling is very, very mutual.

Shaq retires.....but with his great personality he will assuredly show up as a color analyst next season. I rank him as the 5th all time best center behind Wilt Chamberlain, Kareem Abdul Jabbar, Bill Russell, and Hakeem Alajuwon.

The Cubs Aramis Ramirez gets hit in the mouth with a ball and gets seven stitches. In the NHL, he would be sewn up without Novocaine and return to the game.....but in MLB they talk about putting him on the fifteen day DL. The guy makes 14.5 million this season...sheesh.

I attended David Akers charity dinner this week at the Cescaphe Ballroom on N. 2nd St. in Philly. He is a class act, and I hope the Eagles re-sign him. By the way...the venue is a jewel.

Jack Kevorkian died yesterday, as did James Arness. Agree with Kevorkian or not, you have to admire his resolve in pursuing what he felt was a just cause. And the stoic Arness lost both a daughter and an ex-wife to drug overdoses. The other man's grass indeed looks sometimes greener.

I've been lax with my posts...I'll try to pick up the pace. Thanks for reading.

Musings....

For a guy who is incredibly smart.....why does GOP Presidential Candidate Newt Gingrich constantly put his foot in his mouth?

The NFL lockout is all about the rookie salary cap and expanding the season to 18 games. It will be settled in plenty of time to start the regular season.

Speaking of football.....the Bulls/Heat NBA Eastern Conference final game 3 is tonite at 830 PM Eastern. This match up has been so rough the boys might want to consider face masks.

And I wasn't worried a bit that the world was coming to an end yesterday, because I know exactly when it will happen. It will happen the day the Chicago Cubs are due to wrap up their first World Series in over 100 years. Hell freezing over, apocalypse, Armageddon...etc, etc.

Check out May issue of JerseyMan Magazine featuring WIP morning host Angelo Cataldi due out this week! http://www.jerseymanmagazine.com/

Mother's Day Message

Three years ago this day my wife Terri was critically injured in a freak auto accident in front of my home, but I'm happy to report she has now fully recovered and is doing wonderfully well.

It's kind of amazing the things that God will put you through to get you on track. Her accident was a huge eye opener for me.

So on this Mother's Day weekend I thought I would write this brief tribute to one of my heroes....my wife.

Happy Mother's Day hon....and I feel so lucky and blessed to have you here to enjoy it with us.

On September 12, 2011, I received a phone call at work from Ed Thompson, my ex-boss at my previous employer. Ed was a native New Yorker, and the first thing I said to him was that on the heels of the World Trade Center disaster it must be an incredibly sad day for all people, but especially for those who lived in NY. His response to me was...

"Yes, especially when your son is at the bottom of the rubble".

His words hit me like buckshot. I was stunned speechless. Ed and Violet Thompson are wonderful people, and now their beloved son Glenn was among the missing and presumed dead. I can't remember my exact response to him, but I knew whatever I said would be unable to give him any measure of comfort.

So below is an excerpt about Glenn that was written in the NY Times.

And to Ed and Vi Thompson; it is my sincere wish that the demise of the perpetrator of your son's death Osama Bin Laden brings you some level of closure. Glenn is in a better place and waiting for you. And I can tell you most assuredly that the cut throat terrorist that tried to take the heart out of America will burn three thousand plus times in eternity.....once for every soul the coward was responsible for taking

Glenn Thompson

World Trade Center
"My Mountain Man" Glenn Thompson loved to be outdoors. He hiked. He fished. He biked. He skied. He climbed Mount Kilimanjaro. And last October, on a mountain pass in the Colorado Rockies, he got down on his knees in the snow (he was wearing shorts) and asked Kai Wittmann to marry him. Mrs. Thompson, as she became when they married in April, has the altitude -- 11,820 feet -- engraved in her engagement ring. Glenn, 44, worked at Cantor Fitzgerald on the 104th floor of 1 World Trade Center. While he enjoyed the camaraderie and the adrenaline rush of trading, Kai said, his work was really a means to an end. His dream was to retire early and move to Colorado. ''He was my mountain man,'' Kai said. ''He was a bond trader and damn good at it. But his heart and soul were outdoors.'' Profile published in THE NEW YORK TIMES on September 21, 2001.

Chaka and Gino

Happenings.....

I was at the Showboat Casino in Atlantic City, NJ this weekend for the Chaka Kahn concert and got to have my picture taken with her backstage. She is about 4'11" and is now 64 years old...but still puts on one helluva show.

Gas approaching $4 per gallon. For the equivalent of 7 gallons you can get a decent pair of walking shoes.

I met Gino Marchetti, the HOFer from the old Baltimore Colts of the late 50's/early 60's. recently. He is reviving the Gino's hamburger restaurants in the area and was cooking onion rings when I met him. Now that's the old work ethic.

The Cubs are 10-11, and we might be extending the streak to 103 years without a World Series title.

Check out my magazine http://www.jerseymanmagazine.com/

The Passing of Tiger Great Larry Finch

Just as the Rendezvous was to ribs and Graceland was to Elvis, Larry Finch was pure Memphis.

The ex-star player and former Memphis State University coach died from complications of a stroke and heart attack he suffered years earlier. But similar to his play on the court, it took a lot to take him out of this game.

Finch was an assistant coach for Dana Kirk in 1979, and I had rejoined the Tigers basketball team after a switch to football to finish what I had come there to do. Although this new regime was not interested in having a senior with limited skills take up much time on the court, I am thankful that Finch, Kirk, and assistant Lee Fowler allowed me to return and complete what I has started. Football had become my future, but basketball remained my passion.

A product of the Orange Mound section of Memphis and Melrose High School, Larry Finch rose above his meager beginnings to become a star player for the Tigers. His 29 point performance in the 1973 NCAA championship game against UCLA and Bill Walton (who shot 21-22 from the field and had 44 points) was indicative of Finch's talent and desire. He loved his city....he loved his university....and he most certainly loved the game of basketball.

Under Kirk, Finch was responsible for attracting one of the biggest recruits in the history of the school; 6'10" power forward and HS All American Keith Lee. Lee led Memphis to the Final Four in 1984, and Finch succeeded Kirk as head coach in 1986. Penny Hardaway, Elliot Perry, and David Vaughn all played for him. And he remains the winningest coach in school history with 220 victories.

We were two totally different people coming from opposite ends of the spectrum, but I spent many hours in his office offering differing opinions on the game, evaluation of players, and the kind of basketball repartee` that only two pure hoop junkies can enjoy. I'm pretty sure he had a unique respect for me trying to play division 1 football, and I know I had a tremendous respect for him and his incredible basketball legacy.

Thanks for the memories Larry.

Tribute to Coach Jim Erkenbeck

JIM ERKENBECK, IRV EATMAN, CHUCK COMMISKEY

He was direct from central casting in Hollywood.


A gravel voiced, scotch drinking , chain smoking ex-marine, he could have gotten studio credentials and passed for Lee Marvin's kid brother.


Jim Erkenbeck, a football lifer who was the offensive line coach and offensive coordinator for the 2 time USFL Champion Philadelphia Stars, died Tuesday night at the age of 81.


As an "o" line coach, he was prototypical. Cut out of material that was more sandpaper than chamois, he had a outwardly gruff exterior as one might expect from a cancer surviving, Korean War veteran who chose to make his post war bones coaxing men the size of semi tractor trailers to flatten their opposition. "Wrong answer!" he would shout from his perch in the film room in a tone any DI would be proud of as he answered a players response as to why they missed an assignment, or dare let an opponent touch our QB Chuck Fusina, who he referred to as his "bread and butter".


But those who got to know him knew of the love he had for his players, and the respect he had for what the were trying to accomplish. Jim Erkenbeck was leading his troops to war on the football field, and he knew all too well what that entailed.


Erk's battalion with the Stars included Bart Oates, Irv Eatman, Chuck Commiskey, George Gilbert, Joe Conwell, Joe Happe, Bill Duggan, Mike McClearn, Ron Coder, Brad Oates, Rich Garza, and Scott Burris among others. As protective of them as a mother to her cubs, he could ream them out unmercifully, but it was his domain and responsibility to do so, no one else's. And everybody affiliated with the team knew it.


His coaching tour of duty had NFL stops in New Orleans, Dallas, Los Angeles, Kansas City and Oakland. But when I asked him several years ago whom his favorite team was, his response was as pointed and direct as if he was obeying a direct order. "The Stars, Dunes" (my nickname with the team) he said, "and it isn't even close"


So I salute my fallen commander one last time, and thank him for helping me become a champion. If I had twenty-one guns I'd fire them all in a final successive show of respect. And blow taps on a mournful bugle at sunset.


I'm sure Lee Marvin would have expected a similar send off.