Sporting an opinion

The Kentucky Derby is Saturday, one of the three days every year (the Preakness is in two weeks and the Belmont Stakes three weeks after that) during which we pretend to care/know something about horse racing.

There's something decidedly strange about this; I can think of only a few other sports (sled-dog racing, cycling, sailing, Canadian Football and, potentially, international soccer) that enjoy such a limited lifespan in our collective American consciousness. When it comes to horse racing, I am no different than the collective.

But I want to be. I want horse racing to consist of more than placing a bet, then watching to see if no athlete in the field has to be euthanized. The sport's quintessential problem was summed up at the '06 Preakness, when Barbaro took his fateful tumble. One prominent Web site determined that, before the horse's accident, the vast majority of its Barbaro readership came from men; post-accident, the majority was women. Translation: The sport itself isn't appealing across genders on a daily basis; it takes the intervention of dramatic spectacle.

So why not spice the show up? Bring in some cheerleaders, some pre-race jockey introductions with lights, dress up the horses in costumes - or at least sponsor's logos, like NASCAR.

Shoot, let Mark Cuban take over the USTA. I wager I'll watch that show more than thrice a year.

Posted by J.P. Hoornstra at 12:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I should not know who Joba Chamberlain is. Neither should you.

Alas, you need only be a casual baseball fan to know that Chamberlain is a middle reliever for the New York Yankees. Bonus points if you know these other things about him...

- His father in Nebraska almost died recently because of pneumonia.
- He's the pasty white guy whose head was surrounded with flies on the mound during an ALDS game in Cleveland last fall.
- His career ERA is astronomically small, prompting a debate this week between his owner and general manager (conducted entirely through two New York newspapers) as to whether he should be in the bullpen or the starting rotation.

It's this last item that prompted me to stop and think about the phenomenon that is Joba Chamberlain, because it suddenly hit me that I can't name a single middle reliever on more than half of all major-league rosters. Come to think of it, I can't even name the Texas Rangers' closer. (Help...anyone?)

Certainly you have heard the name "Joba" because of the team he pitches for, but I think there's a little more to it than that. If his name were, say, Bill Chamberlain, or Steve Chamberlain, would we know so much about this man? If he were a pasty white guy with a 90 mph-plus fastball named Wilt Chamberlain, I suppose that would do it for him, but Joba is just one of those magnetic names that belongs to rock stars or soda flavors or Star Wars aliens, not middle relievers. In fact, I think Joba could be the team's weakest link, a .200-hitting middle infielder that spends half the season between Triple A and the Bronx, and he'd still be famous for being named Joba. More children will be born with the name "Joba" this decade than any decade in human history, and we owe it all to this flame-throwing man in pinstripes.

Thus concludes my only Joba Chamberlain blog, ever.

Posted by J.P. Hoornstra at 10:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Will Power has a funny name, one that makes for great headline possibilities. Even though he was the best driver Sunday, he wasn't the headline in Long Beach.

No, what made this race special is that it was the last Champ Car race ever. Champ Car (formerly CART) has always been somewhat of a niche sport outside of its host cities, including Long Beach. But it survived for 11 years on its own without the more-popular IndyCar drivers, owners and tracks, and for that it earned a unique place in the history of motorsports.

The press room here at Long Beach is in the bottom floor of the Long Beach Convention and Entertainment Center. You can stay inside, watch the event on TV, and shelter your ears and nose from the pollution/atmosphere outdoors – which I did for the first 82 laps. But as soon as the clock wound down to 0:00 (it's a timed race), I decided to step outside and watch this niche circuit run out its final lap.

It was no more special than the first 82 laps, no more exhilarating than any of the laps run here since 1975, or any of the laps that will be run here in the future under the IndyCar flag. But it was the last lap ever in Champ Car and, for whatever that's worth, it was cool to be there.

Posted by J.P. Hoornstra at 3:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

...to the woman who held up this sign at Honda Center during the Ducks' 5-2 win over the Stars in Game 5 on Friday:

"Getzy’s got abilitY with a capital Y. Y? Cuz he’s hot."

Posted by J.P. Hoornstra at 6:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

... But if there's one thing I don't get, it's athletes and DUIs.

This isn't to pick on Carmelo Anthony of the Denver Nuggets, the latest combination of tremendous athletic skill and inebriated driving. He is just the latest in a long line of athletes who decided it was a good idea to drink and drive (see badjocks.com for further reference).

Of course, to imply that a decision was made before that first drink – one that took into consideration both himself and everyone who would soon be around him on the road – is a fallacy. Just like it is for everyone who's ever had one too many and still got behind the wheel of a car. What separates from 'Melo and other professional athletes from the rest of us is that they are contractually bound to a team (for a ton of money) to perform their sport at the highest level possible, and alcohol is the ultimate performance-detracting drug, a couple notches below heroin, mushrooms and LSD.

It makes you fat, it increases the pressure on your heart and arteries, and it makes you vulnerable to insanely expensive PR gaffes, even if you don't get behind the wheel of a car (read: Joe Namath). No doubt there is a prevailing "dude culture" in most professional clubhouses that makes complete sobriety difficult to avoid. I'm not proposing eliminating the token Bud Light. It just ceases to amaze me that these guys don't know when to draw the line, so soon after they sign for so much money on the dotted line.

Posted by J.P. Hoornstra at 9:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

How convincing was the Dodgers' performance on Opening Day? They might have chosen to give Brad Penny an extra day's rest and let Sandy Koufax, Don Newcombe and Carl Erskine finish off the Giants themselves.
The Giants' hitters might have drawn inspiration from Barry Bonds taking a ceremonial “first swing”, but that isn't likely to happen anytime soon – ceremonial or otherwise.

Posted by J.P. Hoornstra at 6:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)