Consigliere sports 

 

Da, comrades

So the Fightin' Phils finally tired of the bum-ankle mambo and put Jimmy Rollins on the 15-day disabled list, exactly 15 days after he suffered the sprain against the Mets. For those of you counting at home -- and the Phillies front office obviously didn't -- that means ol' J-Roll would be coming off the DL by now instead of just starting his rehab stint.

 

Leaving aside the medical mumbo-jumbo, this continues a tradition of disinformation, obfuscation and outright deceit by the Phillies organization, regardless of who happens to be the manager, GM or owner at any given time. They're patholologically incapable of giving a straight answer to the simplest question and often end up being incompetant as well as untruthful. (New marketing slogan: "10,000 Losses or 10,000 Lies -- Which Came First?")

 

In fact, one usually follows the other and this latest episode shows why. Rollins sprained his ankle against the Mets April 8 and the team immediately went into Politboro mode. First he was just "sore," then X-rays were just "precautionary," then he was "day-to-day," then he couldn't walk and finally got shut down. In between, his ill-advised pinch-hit appearances prevented his DL stint from being retroactive, as well as burning 3 players with one move if he actually reached base.

 

I covered the Phils while a sportswriter in the early 90s and always howled when attending injury-related press conferences, knowing whatever we were told was going to be pure nonsense. We'd go in the bunker at Veterans Stadium to hear that Ferd Berfel had "some shoulder soreness," which we knew meant his arm was going to "fall off on the mound" during his next start.

 

And when a Soviet premier had a "slight cold" it was time to call the undertaker.

 

We know there's some professional deception involved in soft-pedaling injuries but the Phils have raised it to an unfortunate art form. This lack of candor is a self-fulfilling prophecy that permeates the organization and leads to poor personnel decisions. A team that isn't honest with the fans probably isn't honest with itself, and it's why this team spends more time defending bad moves than making good ones.

 

 

The Bird Brains speak (and we parse)

Another year, another disappointing Eagles finish, another offseason listening to more pablum about "game-breaking wide receivers." Where will it all end?

 

Right here.

 

We've already detailed the litany of wideouts who've come and gone during the NcNabb era, and concluded that No. 5 is the unfortunate common demoninator through the last 9 seasons. So let's dissect comments from the principals in the ongoing Eagles passion play to figure out what's next.

 

Donovan McNabb (Hamlet, as usual): "It's not just one position. It's one, two or three guys that can help you get over the hump. It's important now. I'm not getting any younger. It's about trying to bring in more firepower each year. It's about how can you help us now?"

 

Translation: "I'll keep insisting I'm the team leader while pointing fingers elsewhere and hope no one notices I lost the locker room years ago. If my ruse ain't broke, why fix it? And by the way, it's all about me."

 

Head coach Andy Reid: "I know, as players, you have to be careful about saying that because those are your teammates that are being replaced. Most players don't get into that who really care about their teammates on the other side."

 

Translation: "Most players also don't have paper-thin skin like my ersatz starting quarterback. Why do you think I played draft-day Yahtzee last year to get Kevin Kolb?"

 

Kevin Curtis, defending fellow wideout Reggie Brown: "You're not always asked to catch a lot of balls, and you don't have as many opportunities. It can be for all kinds of reasons. It's not because you're not getting open."

 

Translation: "If the quarterback could read a defense and throw a simple timing pattern, we'd all have 1,000 yards by week nine."

 

The aforementioned Reggie Brown on Curtis: "How many yards did Curtis have this year? More than 1,100? It sounds pretty good to me. It sounds big-play to me. I think I just put that to rest."

 

Translation: "The writers covering this team couldn't find a moth in Brigitte Bardot's sweater. Can you guys even spell dissension?"

 

The bottom line: Andy Reid might sound like the Politboro at his weekly monologues but his true intentions get clearer by the day. He drafted Kolb to light a fire under his whining QB, who responded by continuing to writhe in existential agony. He's tired of hearing McNabb complain about a lack of support but won't say so publicly because it would be admitting a decade-long mistake. Which the commissars, you may recall, never did.

 

It says here the Birds keep insisting McNabb will return next year for only one reason -- to  maintain his trade value in the offseason. You don't denigrate a declining asset when you still hope to get some value in return.  Kolb will get a legitimate shot at the starting job if McNabb is back, and will be the defacto No. 1 if not.

 

There will be no formal acknowledgement when the guard is changed, but the curtain will be coming down soon on this 9-act drama. Hey, even "Cats" didn't play on Broadway forever.

 

 

Symbol* of shame

The Mitchell Report's out, names are named and everyone's in high dudgeon over steroid cheating. Now what?

 

Major League Baseball needs a swift, decisive response to this mess -- one that firmly protects the integrity of the game without getting diluted by legal action, endless accusations or the typical stonewalling from the player's union.

 

The answer, it says here, is to asterisk 'em all.

 

Not one player, though it's tempting to hoist Barry Bonds on his own clear & cream petard. Not even the players identified in the report, since we'd then have to dissect every boxscore for the past 20 years to figure out who was juiced and when. Many are now retired and beyond baseball's disciplinary reach anyway.

 

MLB simply should decree that every record set during entire Steroid Era -- say, 1990-2005 -- will be considered a separate and distinct record. Not tainted, mind you, because that'll be clearly implied and correctly inferred. Just, well ... separate.

 

Sound familiar? That's precisely how then-commissioner Ford Frick consigned Roger Maris to 37 years in limbo after he broke Babe Ruth's single-season home run record in 1961 -- baseball's first 162-game season. Frick, a close pal of the Bambino and under pressure to "protect" the record from a supposed piker like Maris, split the difference by deciding in mid-season to preserve Ruth's mark if not broken in 154 games.

 

He also insisted any record set that year or thereafter would be separate, but only Maris ended up with the dreaded black splotch.

 

The effect, sadly, was quite successful. Maris almost suffered a nervous breakdown before finally slamming No. 61 on the last day of the 1961 season, and his reward for the next 4 decades was a seat on the Babe's bench while the old record of 60 endured. Ironically, Maris rarely was recognized as the home run champ until Mark McGwire -- an early poster boy for Generation Juiced -- clubbed 70 to eclipse his mark in 1998.

 

It was a travesty, but it worked. Recalibrating the Steroid Era would do the same, free of complaints about discrimination, selective punishment or delayed criminal indictments. No one can moan about civil rights, equal protection or fair trials because no trials will be necessary.

 

The commissioner's office is empowered to "protect the best interests of the game," as it did when banishing Pete Rose for betting on baseball. No sport thrives on statistics like our national pastime and nothing's more sacred than the home run record -- be it single-game, single-season or all-time. Maybe this approach would disproportionately affect Bonds and his chemically enhanced eclipsing of Henry Aaron, but he can't say it's just about him. For once.

 

Those who cheated will suffer their deserved second-tier status without fingering any one player, and why not? They've been giving us the finger for years.

 

What did they do without it?

The Phillies franchise suffered its usual black eye with the steroid scandal, too -- but not for reasons you'd think. Littered beneath the stars and would-be Hall of Famers named in the report were such ex-Phil luminaries as Todd Pratt, Bobby Estalella, Gary Bennett, Ryan Franklin, and David Bell. 

 

For those of you scoring at home, that's 3 reserve catchers, an unproductive long reliever, and the guy the Phils kept at third base so Placido Polanco could become a postseason MVP with the Detroit Tigers.

 

The rest of the baseball world debates what to do with players who put up enhanced numbers, yet our hometown juicers couldn't break the starting lineup. The Phils can't even get cheating right.

 

 

12.10.2007

 

McNabb's McHad it

Remember the old ketchup commercial where the guy is waiting interminably for the red stuff to exit the bottle? ("Any day now ... ") That's how we feel while waiting for a television broadcaster to criticize Donovan McNabb.

 

Sunday's slogfest loss to the Giants was no exception, as the Fox TV crew spent the rainy afternoon marveling over McNabb's mercurial derring-do while failing to explain why he couldn't find an open receiver -- with a pair of rookies in the N.Y. secondary, no less.

 

McNabb does his customary 2-step in the first quarter before missing Reggie Brown 5 feet high, and Tony Siragusa gushes from the sideline that "Donovan looks better moving around the pocket than I've seen in a long time." Penetrating insight indeed from the Goose, since ol' No. 5 hadn't played a down in 3 weeks.

 

The entire telecast was more of the same: McNabb's happy feet preceeding one bad throw after another, scampering wildly short of a first down, or stalling in the pocket before he zings the ball into double coverage ... and the booth gang marvels at his "maneuverability" while the Eagles are forced to punt 47 times. Or so it seemed.

 

Sadly, the 16-13 loss was a microcosm of McNabb's schizophrenic career in our fair town: bursts of speed, plenty of podiatric movement, but little in the way of recognizing coverages and finding open receivers. He's simply never been good at reading a defense, which (in my book) is what makes a top-flight quarterback. This is especially true in the so-called West Coast offense -- not that the Birds ever run it correctly -- where McNabb's lifetime completion percentage is below the 60 percent minimum efficiency standard.

 

Say what you will about A.J. Feeley, but he found far more available targets in far less time the last 2 games (that is, when he wasn't hitting defenders square in the numbers). McNabb's pocket protection was a laudable 180 degree improvement from October's 12-sack pillaging against the G-Men, giving him more than sufficient time to make adjustments and move the ball downfield. Yet Kevin Curtis catches 3 balls all day and we're still waiting for a slant pattern against a banged-up N.Y secondary.

 

You can't tell me every Eagles wideout since 1999 has been incapable of "getting separation" (another broadcast booth canard). Well, you can, but I don't buy it. Feeley found plenty 2 weeks ago against the NFL's superpower Patriots, as did Jeff Garcia while marching the Birds to the playoffs with 6 straight wins last year.

 

Meanwhile, Jabar Gaffney -- cut by Andy Reid last year because he supposedly didn't understand the Eagles complex schemes -- caught another 9 balls for 122 yards and a touchdown as his Pats steamrolled the Steelers in the Sunday night game. And didn't James "Don't Call Me Trash" Thrash burn the Birds for 2 TDs last month?

 

There's been but one constant throughout the past 9 seasons of excuses, and that's Donovan McNabb -- a media darling for debatable reasons whose anti-hero status in this town is nonetheless richly deserved.

 

Don't convicts wear stripes?

While we're at it, a big stinko raspberry for the officiating during the Eagles-Giants game. In no particular order, they:

 

• Blew a critical 4th-quarter challenge that should have given an Amani Toomer fumble back to the Birds
• Whistled phantom neutral-zone (offsides) infractions against the Eagles defensive line all day
• Choked on their whistle while Antonio Pierce mauled Jason Avant on a 4th-and-6 late in the game when a pass-interference call would've meant an Eagles first down
• Must've been making post-game plans when Sam Madison prevented Brian Westbrook from returning to the huddle while precious seconds ticked away in the game's waning moments. Said TV analyst Moose Johnston: "Madison looked like a power forward boxing out for a rebound."

 

It's always easy to take potshots at the zebras, and the Eagles certainly didn't need any help to self-destruct. But fair is fair and there's no excuse for the refs to make this many mistakes in the instant replay era. In fact, anecdotal evidence suggests the eye in the sky has made them less efficient than ever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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