Kevin Modesti's Words & Numbers

I'm giving most of this infinite space to Steve Bisheff today, knowing you'll enjoy his farewell column from the Orange County Register.

With the arrival of Dec. 1, Bisheff officially is a retired sports columnist, robbing the local newspaper scene of an unsurpassed combination of talents. Bish was unfailingly current, he always chose the right angle, and his prose went down smooth. I could tell you all the affectionate things that were said about him at the going-away lunch his colleagues threw Thursday in Anaheim, or I could show you this final example of what made him so good.

I said he stayed current: How many 64-year-olds, in their final columns, would get Chris Rock in the lede graf?

Thank goodness, this isn't the end of Bisheff's writing life. Having turned most of his favorite subjects into books already -- among them John Wooden, USC football and the Angels -- he plans to give us more now that he has more time.

Until then, here's the last of Steve Bisheff, columnist.

Labor of Love Has Been Great

Someone call Robin Williams or Chris Rock. Give me a funny line, a two-minute monologue full of laughs. It would be the easiest way to do this and avoid the emotional trap.

In almost 42 years in the business, this is my strangest day. The day the parachute has opened and I'm gliding down, feeling happy and a little sad at the same time, looking for a nice, soft spot to land and enjoy what they say are the golden years of retirement.

This is my final newspaper column after all this time of being the luckiest guy in the neighborhood. Everyone else went off to work every morning. I went off to cover games.

"I'd trade jobs with you in a minute," the surgeons and lawyers and investment bankers would always tell me at parties and banquets. I'd just look back at them and smile.

No way. Are you kidding? This is the only gig I've ever had, the only one I wanted since I was about 13 years old, sitting in the Coliseum at a Rams game with some friends, pointing up to the press box and saying, "Man, now that would be a cool job."

Maybe that's when the dream officially began, but even then, there is no way I could have imagined some of the things I was able to see and do.

Covering sports today is a lot more complicated than when I started in the mid-1960s. Money has slithered its way into every greedy crevice, and television, with its ever-widening tentacles, continues to alter the landscape with its weird starting times and 24-hour cable rants.

Now you have to worry not only about the games, but illegal drugs and DUIs and spousal abuse. It was so much simpler and cleaner when I was a kid just beginning to tap out stories on something foreign to young sportswriters of today. It was called a typewriter.

I lived and worked through a couple different eras, but it didn't matter. What mattered were the events and the people. Sports was, and still is, the best unscripted show going, the ultimate reality series, often mirroring who we are, while allowing us to escape into its wonderfully melodramatic mood swings.

I was there for all of it. I covered Wooden and Auerbach. Koufax and Gibson. Ali and Frazier. Unitas and Montana.

From the best seat in the house, I watched Reggie Jackson and Reggie Bush. Michael Jordan and Magic Johnson. Gary Beban and Matt Leinart. Bruce Jenner and Greg Louganis. Affirmed and Barbaro.

There have been too many great moments to count. From Kirk Gibson's limp-off home run to Montana's clutch drive in the Super Bowl. From Wooden's final-game, national title victory to the Angels' seventh-game World Series triumph. From Kareem's 88-2 college run to Magic over Bird in the NCAA Finals.

For all the athletes who were jerks, who grew to be mindless megliomaniacs, there was also a core of good guys such as Jim Abbott and Ronnie Lott, Tony Gwynn and Jack Snow, Elton Brand and Tim Salmon, Tom Watson and Steve Young, just to name a few.

My job wasn't to immortalize them. It was to tell the truth about them, to dig past the score and try to find more to the story.

There was a segment of my sportswriting colleagues who used to turn their noses up at fans, believing they were above them. Some of the more self-absorbed considered themselves too literate for the sports page.

They were wrong. I always felt my mission was to be the fan's conduit, having access to clubhouses and locker rooms they couldn't visit. It was my job to ask the questions they'd want to ask, to probe the issues they were talking and thinking about.

Trying to write for the fans didn't mean you weren't trying to write well. On the contrary, the best people in this profession are those who have managed to do both. And I'm happy to report there are still plenty of those around. But it's not easy. You have to constantly work at it.

As the years have gone by for me, the deadlines and travel burdens have become tiresome and tedious. But how can you grouse when you've felt the electricity in Yankee Stadium, the drama at old Boston Garden, the thrill of a fourth quarter in the Rose Bowl, the excitement at the finish line of the Kentucky Derby?

I've been on the grand stage that is the Olympics, I've sat ringside back when they still had big heavyweight fights, I've watched the Super Bowl grow to unimaginable heights and I've had a courtside view at the Final Four.

I have no complaints. The feelings today are bittersweet, but I can now look forward to a less frantic pace, to more time with my family and an opportunity to work on books and other projects.

There will be a lot I'll miss about this business I love, but mostly I'll miss the readers who were always quick to respond and have been so kind to write upon hearing of my retirement.

It would take too much space to thank everybody, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention Marsha, the best wife a sportwriter could have, and a whole slew of fellow writers, editors and desk people who made my job easier.

It's funny, but the other day, sitting in the Coliseum before a USC game, I looked out into the stands and found myself drifting back all those years ago to when I was that crewcut teenager pointing up to the press box.

I smiled and shook my head at the memory. I know I was very naive back then, but I was right about one thing.

This has been a very cool job.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 09:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The return of players' names to the backs of the jerseys is not the only change in the Dodgers uniforms modeled by Juan Pierre and Randy Wolf at the press conference Wednesday to introduce the two free agent signings.

Consider yourself a hard-core Dodgers fan if you would have noticed the changes from the 2006 uniform to the 2007 line. The differences aren't huge, and they're unlikely to offend the long-time faithful, since the trademark script "Dodgers" and "Los Angeles" and the interlocking "LA" remain as-was and all of the new items have roots in the franchise's past.

Here's what's new.

-- Names: A fixture for 33 years before being removed for 2005-06, they're back by popular demand, and by Vin Scully's request. (Read more about this in my Daily News column Wednesday.)

-- Numbers and letters: No more of the white trim that in recent years peeked out from behind the blue numbers and letters and the "LA" on the sleeves. Now the blue (in a material known as single tackle twill) will rest directly on the white home or gray road jersey (polyester, pending the hiring of George Costanza).

-- The road jersey: There are more changes to the gray jersey than to the white. The blue piping around the neck is gone. The script "Dodgers" on the left sleeve is now an "LA."

-- The batting-practice jersey: A new look will be unveiled soon. It'll have ventilating material on the sides, like good soccer jerseys.

Thanks to Dodgers clubhouse manager Mitch Poole for telling us some of the details.

I'm from a generation in which, if you wanted to look like a Dodger, you had your mother cut an iron-on jeans patch into a couple of strips and apply them to the back of an old short-sleeved white dress shirt. Presto, you were No. 11, a little Manny Mota.

Now you pay through the nose for an identical replica of the real thing. Which means if you had the '06 real thing, you have to pay again for '07.

The fans win, getting the players' names back. But it's going to cost you.

There are photos of the new jerseys at the Dodgers website. There are pictures of Brooklyn and Los Angeles uniforms through the decades here.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 08:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

There are a few reasons Russell Baze's pursuit of Laffit Pincay's world record for lifetime victories by a jockey has received less ink than Pincay's chase of Bill Shoemaker's standard did a few years ago. One is that nobody involved is saying anything very interesting, because nobody involved would benefit from a heartfelt discussion.

Baze looks bad and dishonest if he suggests the record is going to prove him superior to -- or even the equal of -- Pincay. Pincay looks bad and a little too honest if he suggests the record is tainted by Baze riding most of his career at the second-rate tracks.

So, both sides stay very polite. Which is bad for the publicity machine.

The record, which Baze could capture as early as Wednesday at Bay Meadows in San Mateo, is going to reflect the 48-year-old's more than decade-long domination of the Bay Area tracks. Nothing less, nothing more.

If you want to know how silly Baze or Pincay admirers sound if they state their man's case too stridently, consider the quote from Baze's father Joe Baze in Bill Dwyre's column in Tuesday's Los Angeles Times. Joe was addressing the complaint that Russell doesn't ride the caliber of horses that Pincay did.

"You talk to any rider,'' Joe said, "and they'll tell you it's a lot tougher riding the cheap horses than the expensive ones."

That's true only in the sense that it's tougher playing tennis on a public park's cracked cement than at Wimbledon. Which doesn't mean beating your neighbor equates to beating Amelie Mauresmo.

The cheap-horses vs. expensive-ones thing misses the point. Nobody doubts Baze is a fine, brave, dedicated jockey.

But a jockey with those qualities gets to 9,000 victories only if he so outclasses his immediate rivals that he constantly receives the horses with the best chances to win. When Baze left a Southern California jocks' room full of Hall of Famers in the early 1990s, he became the far-and-away star of the Northern Cal roster and settled comfortably into a string of 400-win seasons.

Baze begins the racing week Wednesday with six mounts in the eight races at Bay Meadows, including morning-line favorites in races 2, 7 and 8. He needs two victories to tie and three to pass Pincay's record of 9,530 wins.

Baze has reached the top of the all-time jockey standings because he towers over a less-skilled group than Pincay ever faced. Pincay knows he doesn't have to point it out, and Baze is smart not to dispute it.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 06:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The ballot for the baseball Hall of Fame was revealed Monday, and I immediately scanned it for candidates for the Hall of Famousness, the alternative shrine I proposed in the Daily News a few months ago.

Set off by the baseball writers' failure to elect the unforgettable Goose Gossage, I batted out a column that included this:

I propose we put up a hall to honor the Goose Gossages of the world, all of the vivid characters, the cut-ups and the one-day wonders whose memories liven sports history but whose cold career statistics fail to impress the snooty Hall of Fame voters.

Several names on this year's Cooperstown ballot, if rejected for the traditional Hall of Fame, would go straight into my Hall of Famousness.

Here's the official ballot's alphabetical list, with yours truly's snap judgments about whether each man is Hall of Famousness-worthy. Of course, everybody's thoughts are welcome. We'll consider a semi-formal election later.

Harold Baines: no; Albert Belle: no; Dante Bichette: no; Bert Blyleven: no; Bobby Bonilla: no; Scott Brosius: no; Jay Buhner: no; Ken Caminiti: no; Jose Canseco: yes; Dave Concepcion: no; Eric Davis: no; Andre Dawson: yes; Tony Fernandez: no; Steve Garvey: yes; Rich "Goose" Gossage: yes!; Tony Gwynn: no; Orel Hershiser: no; Tommy John: yes; Wally Joyner: no; Don Mattingly: no; Mark McGwire: yes; Jack Morris: no; Dale Murphy: no; Paul O'Neill: no; Dave Parker: no; Jim Rice: no; Cal Ripken Jr.: yes; Bret Saberhagen: no; Lee Smith: no; Alan Trammell: no; Devon White: no; Bobby Witt: no

Some guys could make the Hall of Fame and the Hall of Famousness. Some could make one Hall but not the other. But be serious, how are you going to deny that Jose Canseco is famous? He's worked so hard for it.

Here's the original Hall of Famousness column from Jan. 12, 2006:

This week's news reminds us how badly sports needs another Hall of Fame, a new kind of Hall of Fame to honor an attribute that the stuffy old halls of fame too often overlook. Namely, fame.

Bruce Sutter, the relief pitcher who helped to popularize the split-fingered fastball, was elected to baseball's Hall of Fame on Tuesday. Goose Gossage, the relief pitcher who threw the ball 98 bleeping mph, came up a few dozen ballots short.

Not that Sutter doesn't deserve his spot in a Hall of Fame that sets out to recognize serious career achievement. But there should also be a place for Gossage that rewards his role as a glowering, brash-talking, pinstripe-wearing icon of the game.

If for nothing else, he should get a plaque somewhere just for being called Goose.

I propose we put up a hall to honor the Goose Gossages of the world, all of the vivid characters, the cut-ups and the one-day wonders whose memories liven sports history but whose cold career statistics fail to impress the snooty Hall of Fame voters.

Athletes from all sports, all levels, will be eligible. They'll be judged on whether fans still talk about them fondly years after their retirements. Call our shrine the Hall of Famousness, and just to establish the tone up front, put a bar in the lobby with a big blonde on every other stool.

You've heard the old saying that a player belongs in the Hall of Fame if you can't write the history of his sport without mentioning him.

Well, try writing the history of baseball without Roger Maris, the history of football without Alan Ameche, or the history of basketball without Dennis Rodman.

Yet none of those guys is in a Hall of Fame.

We'll consider 'em for the Hall of Famousness.

Google ``Roger Maris'' and you'll find 330,000 mentions of a man who can't get into the traditional hall. Google "Tom Seaver'' and you'll get 289,000 mentions for the man who got into the traditional hall with the highest vote percentage ever.

So, did Seaver really achieve more fame than Maris?

Maybe all of those athletes who dream of being Hall of Famers would have been better off as not-quite-Hall of Famers.

The athletes on the cusp, the ones who just miss year after year, seem to inspire more talk.

Bobby Thomson, whose shot was heard 'round the world, but not in Cooperstown, is hereby nominated for the Hall of Famousness.

And Wally Pipp, who got more famous for not playing than most do for playing.

And, of course, Pete Rose, belly on up - we've got a horse tip for you.

The Hall of Famousness isn't just for baseball.

Football players who leap to our nostalgic mind: Max McGee, Billy ``White Shoes'' Johnson, Anthony Davis, Dickie Moegle, Tom Dempsey, Bill Carpenter (The Lonely End).

Basketball players: Spencer Haywood, Rudy Tomjanovich, Dick Barnett, Darryl Dawkins, Marvin Barnes, Tree Rollins, Ernie DeGregorio.

If you can be identified by one name (Goose, Bucky, Fernando), or an initial (Ernie D.), a sort of plant life (Tree) or a household appliance (Refrigerator), you're in line for the Hall of Famousness. If your name ever appeared on a high-profile court docket (Curt Flood, as in Flood v. Kuhn, or Denny McLain, as in The People v.), you're a candidate for the Hall of Famousness. If your name is synonymous with something (Tommy John, as in the surgery), you're asked to begin preparing a speech for the Hall of Famousness. If you could have been a Hall of Famer but were stopped by injury or tragedy (Tony Conigliaro, Bo Jackson, Len Bias), you're what we're looking for at the Hall of Famousness.

If you're better known for your grooming (Joe Pepitone) than your playing, welcome. If you had one huge moment (Gar Heard), greetings. If you had style, made people shut up and watch (Chuck Foreman, David Thompson, Dick Allen, Jack Clark, Andre Dawson, swagger on in here.

If people keep quoting you, whether they're laughing with you or at you (Marvin Barnes), we're listening.

I see A.J. Pierzynzki in the Hall of Famousness someday. If fans somewhere are still cursing your name five years after your retirement, that's a point in your favor.

Baseball's Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y., football's in Canton, Ohio and basketball's in Springfield, Mass. -- not to mention the various hockey, golf, tennis, bowling, horse racing and motorsports halls of fame -- do a fine job of what they mean to do. They preserve in plaques and busts the legacies of dozens of men (and women, in basketball's case) who had enormous impacts on their games. The trouble is that dozens aren't enough, and statistics aren't the only measure of impact.

So, a new Hall.

Goose Gossage is our first nominee.

Further suggestions will be accepted at the bar.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 07:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Because horse racing is a betting sport, it’s common for fans to watch even the most historic event with their own self-interests uppermost in mind.

Probably, somewhere in the crowd the day Secretariat won the Belmont Stakes by 31 lengths was a guy who went home disappointed because My Gallant blew the place.

In that spirit, we give you Kurt Hoover, host of Hollywood Park’s simulcast television show, watching Sunday afternoon on a press-box TV screen as jockey Russell Baze closed in on Laffit Pincay’s all-time victories record of 9,530.

Hoover’s boss told him that if Baze won Sunday’s first two races at Bay Meadows to pull within two of Pincay, he should hop on a plane and get to the Bay Area track in time to cover the jockey’s four later races. LAX is a few minutes from Hollywood Park, and the San Francisco airport is a few minutes from Bay Meadows. Baze wasn’t scheduled to ride between the second and sixth races, giving Kurt two hours to go 400 miles from Inglewood to rainy San Mateo.

Hoover did what any veteran horseplayer would have done: He bet a daily double on Baze’s horses in races 1 and 2. That way, if Baze won both and forced Hoover into a highly inconvenient dash north, Kurt would get an unofficial financial bonus for his trouble.

“At least I’ll have some traveling money,” Hoover said.

Baze’s first horse, Playing ’R Song, led from the start and won. Then Baze’s second horse, Candi's Double, closed with a rush and won.

The good news for Hoover was that his $20 bet on the Baze-Baze daily double returned $138. The better news was that the boss called off his trip, gambling (as it were) that Baze wouldn’t break the record Sunday.

For racing historians, the story was that Baze went winless the rest of the afternoon and ended Bay Meadows’ racing week with 9,428 victories, meaning he’ll resume on Wednesday needing three to beat Pincay.

“On a selfish note, the double hit and I don’t have to go,” said Hoover, 44, a Long Beach resident. He called his double the “Selfish Play of the Weekend.”

Nothing wrong with that. It’s horse racing, after all.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 05:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

At last week's USC-Cal football game, after I parked in a private lot a half-hour's walk from the Coliseum for the tidy sum of $30, I told people it's a good thing I didn't end up an hour away -- I didn't have $60 in my pocket.

This'll teach me to make jokes.

Without a media parking pass for Saturday's USC-Notre Dame epic, and assuming the campus structures would fill up as early as they did for Cal, I went back to the same private lot on the grounds of a religious school at Hoover and 32nd about four hours before kickoff.

"Thirty dollars?" I said to the woman at the gate. "Fifty," she said, pointing to a hand-lettered sign.

Fifty. 50. 5-0h.

I asked the man and woman in charge, What's the difference between Cal-game parking and Notre Dame-game parking?

"It's supply and demand," the man said.

Now, Milton Friedman is gone, so you'll have to play free-market economist and explain this to me. The same confusion came up when the parking lots across the street from Staples Center that were $20 for regular-season games went up to $25 for the playoffs.

Attendance doesn't go up, certainly not by a factor of 67 percent -- there were 90,000-plus for the Cal game, there were going to be 90,000 plus for the Notre Dame game. Wait, it must be that people weren't as desperate to park for the Cal game -- they just kept driving around the block during the game, enjoying the faint roar of the crowd.

The parking attendants said $50 really wasn't so bad, that it would be higher closer to the stadium. Indeed, a block into my walk, I passed a lot charging $70.

In the press-box elevator, a couple of photographers expressed sympathy over my half-hour march across the USC campus, through Exposition Park, half-way around the Coliseum. They'd parked right across from the Sports Arena for the low, low, bargain price of $80.

I used to associate price gouging with the aftermath of earthquakes and floods. Now it'll be earthquakes, floods and Trojans football.

-- The game: My gut says USC (an 8 1/2-point favorite this morning) wins comfortably. My head says Notre Dame won't make it that easy. Trojans 27, Fighting Irish 23.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 02:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Willie Pep has died. He was one of the great names in boxing. Oh, and he was a heck of a fighter as well.

I love the names in old-time boxing, which did stage names better than any other legit sport. It just wouldn't sound the same if Walker Smith Jr. were the best pound-for-pound of all time, or if Rocco Francis Marchegiano had retired undefeated, or if Guglielmo Papaleo had won 229 bouts.

A few years ago, Ring Magazine ranked the 80 greatest boxers of the past 80 years. Eight of the top nine, and 12 of the top 16, fought under something other than their birth names.

1. Sugar Ray Robinson -- born Walker Smith Jr., 2. Henry Armstrong -- Henry Jackson Jr., 3. Muhammad Ali -- Cassius Clay, 4. Joe Louis -- Joseph Louis Barrow, 5. Roberto Duran -- that is his real name, 6. Willie Pep -- Guglielmo Papaleo, 7. Harry Greb -- Edward Henry Greb, 8. Benny Leonard -- Benjamin Leiner, 9. Sugar Ray Leonard -- Ray Charles Leonard ... and so on.

Rocky Marciano was born Marchegiano. Archie Moore was Archie Wright. Jack Dempsey was William Harrison Dempsey.

Fighters changed names for all sorts of reasons. Ali's, of course, was religious. Others did it to give long names more, well, punch; to get around ethnic prejudice; to copy earlier famous names; to keep their mothers from knowing they were fighting; or, though this worked only for less-well-known athletes, to get fights under two different names.

Depending on the fashion of the day, Jewish fighters switched to non-Jewish names (Albert Rudolph won a championship as Al McCoy, Arthur Lieberman became Artie O'Leary, and -- hard to believe this fooled anybody -- Benny Cohen became "Irish" Benny Cohen), or non-Jewish fighters switched to Jewish names (Sammy Mandella became Sammy Mandell).

You always wonder if certain celebrities would have hit it big if they hadn't heeded advice to change to snappy names, or been lucky enough to be born with snappy names. And if certain athletes, whatever their accomplishments, are a little more legendary because of unique names -- Tiger Woods, Babe Ruth.

Did Willie Pep win the featherweight belt and become Ring's No. 6 fighter of all time in part because his adopted name, perfect for headlines and arena marquees, gave him opportunities that others lacked? You'd hate to think that, but you have to say the name helped to make him memorable.

Anyway, that's all for today from me, Lance Zap.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 05:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

1. The lighting of the Coliseum flame at the start of the fourth quarter of USC games has a commercial sponsor.

Yes, the moment when the flame lights the L.A. sky, giving the Coliseum the feel of a real sports temple, evoking the memories of the Olympics and the historic events after which it was lit (9/11, Ronald Reagan's death, Pope John Paul II's death), is "brought to you by Sirius Satellite Radio."

Seems like a minor sacrilege to me, but a USC spokesman says the fourth-quarter lightings are just part of the Trojans' football tradition and have nothing to do with the flame's more historic role.

Knowing that, I'll try not to get those goosebumps anymore.

2. Every time I click over to the ESPN Classic channel, there's a poker tournament on.

I'm looking for "down goes Frazier," they're giving me "Scotty Nguyen flopped a flush."

At least, if it's going to be poker, it ought to be classic poker -- sawdust on the floor, pistols on the table, no dot-com logos on the cowboy hats.

3. Sports Illustrated, once devoted to high-toned writing, now fills the entire first half of the magazine with quick-read gimmicks and crass junk.

In the current issue, this includes an item on whether a Jets running back was giving fans the finger in his trading-card photo; a poll of NFL players on which team is "most painful" to face, and three NBA players explaining their tattoos.

Oh, and SI's most worn-out front-of-the-book feature -- the weekly "Sign of the Apocalypse."

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 10:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Juan Pierre or Gary Matthews Jr.?

It ain't exactly Willie, Mickey and The Duke, the classic New York center-field argument. But this is a neat little center-field and leadoff debate the baseball fans of L.A.-Anaheim were handed Wednesday when the Dodgers signed Pierre away from the Cubs and the Angels signed Matthews away from Texas.

Pierre (stats here), 29, agreed to $44 million for five years. Matthews (here), 32, agreed to $50 million for five years.

Which team got the better of these similar, expensive, early-winter moves? I'm swayed by a game I saw one of them play in 2004.

In a Marlins-Tigers game on a Sunday in Detroit (this was in the afternoon before a Lakers-Pistons NBA Finals game), Pierre took over the way little slap hitters aren't supposed to be able to. The greatest all-around speed display I've ever seen.

First inning: Pierre beat out an bunt single, stole second and went to third on a bad throw, and scored. Third: singled to left, scored. Fourth: walked. Sixth: legged out an inside-the-park home run after a liner got past the right fielder. Eighth: another bunt single, knocked in a run. Ninth: flied to right.

Pierre went 4 for 5, 4 runs scored, exploiting his speed every which way. You don't forget a show like that.

Among major-league center fielders in 2006, L.A.-Anaheim's new center fielders were No. 1 and 2 in base hits, Pierre with 204 for the disastrous Cubs and Matthews with 194 for the Rangers. Pierre is a singles hitter who gives you something extra with his feet. Matthews is a gap hitter who gives you more power and walks.

All in all, Matthews gave his team more bases last summer, breaking out in his eighth season with his sixth franchise. But Pierre has done more in the typical summer, in seven years with three clubs.

Dodgers GM Ned Colletti said Wednesday he talked with Matthews' agent over the weekend but "we didn't see eye to eye on a couple of things."

"He's really turned it around the last year after having a kind of up-and-down career," said Colletti, who has known Matthews since Gary Matthews Sr. played for the Cubs when Colletti was their PR man.

Without a lot of options for acquiring a power hitter through free agency, Colletti is putting together a speed team. Presumably Pierre will lead off, dropping Rafael Furcal a spot or two, and replacing old Kenny Lofton in center, where his range will be worth more than it was in Wrigley Field. Although Pierre never has walked as much as you'd like for a leadoff hitter, he's an upgrade.

For the Angels, Matthews isn't the big bat they need either. Matthews takes over leadoff and center from Chone Figgins. If you're worried that he's had one big year and he's in his 30s, note that Gary Matthews Sr. (San Fernando High) had perhaps his best season at 33 for the '84 Cubs.

What the Angels need, to take advantage of Matthews' RBI punch at the top of the order, is to get runners on base from the bottom the way a team in the designated hitter league ought to.

You'll read all kinds of takes on these moves. Including some real negative stuff.

But the Dodgers and Angels got a little better Wednesday. Slight edge to the Dodgers and Pierre. Matthews helps with more different tools. Pierre helps in more different ways with one tool.

L.A.-Anaheim's clubs could have done more, but Willie Mays wasn't on the market.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 04:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The American League MVP Award went to Twins first baseman Justin Morneau on Tuesday, capping a clean sweep of baseball's major prizes by players just moving into their primes.

Morneau is 25. The National League MVP, Phillies first baseman Ryan Howard, is 26. The AL Cy Young Award winner, Johan Santana, is 27. The NL Cy Young Award winner, Brandon Webb, is 27.

It's more evidence to support the theory that athletes peak at age 27. And it's something else.

In the 40 years that separate Cy Youngs have been given to the best pitchers in both leagues, there has been only one other season when the MVPs and Cy Youngs all were won by players 27 and under. Therein lies a cautionary tale about the many directions a promising career can go.

We're talking about 1985, when the MVPs went to 24-year-old Don Mattingly (AL) and 26-year-old Willie McGee (NL), the Cy Youngs to 21-year-old Bret Saberhagen (AL) and -- ominous music, please -- 20-year-old Dwight Gooden (NL). All continued to be stars, but for various reasons none became an all-time great.

Mattingly (.324, 35 homers, 145 RBI for the Yankees) played 10 more years, matching his '85 performance for the next few, but never won a playoff series before back problems caught up with him. McGee (.353, 114 runs as one of the speedy Cardinals) played 14 more years, won a second NL batting title in '90 but never matched '85, was part of two more pennant-winners, and retired as a beloved figure in St. Louis. Cleveland High of Reseda product Saberhagen (20-6, 2.87 ERA for the World Series-winning Royals) played 14 more years interrupted by arm problems, won another Cy Young in '89, actually a better season than '85. Then there's Doc.

After going 24-4, 1.53, with 268 strikeouts for the Mets, Gooden was going to be one of the great pitchers ever. He did have 14 more seasons, was top-10 in Cy Young voting three more times, and pitched a no-hitter for the Yankees in 1996.

But drugs kept him from being what he should have been. The week before last, he was released from a Florida prison after serving seven months for a probation violation.

I'd rate their careers in this order: 1. Mattingly, 2. Gooden, 3. Saberhagen, 4. McGee.

Whatever the disappointments, that foursome set a high bar for this year's young award winners moving forward. Nine years after his '85 glory, Mattingly was hitting .304 for the Yankees; 11 years later, McGee was hitting .307 as a part-time Cardinal; 11 years later, was going 11-7 and throwing his no-hitter for the Yankees' first World Series team in forever; and 13 years later, Saberhagen was going 15-8 for the Red Sox.

I'll rate the futures of this year's group like this: 1. Howard, 2. Morneau, 3. Santana, 4. Webb.

What adventures or misadventures await them?

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 05:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

How good a job does the Bowl Championship Series formula do at sizing up college football teams?

We rarely get around to asking that basic question because there are so many philosophical grounds on which to attack the BCS, the stand-in for the full playoff system that almost everybody would prefer to use to determine national champions.

But the question has an answer -- and this year the NCAA's promoters of the BCS aren't going to like it.

Like a human handicapper, the BCS's computerized stew of experts' polls and mathematical ratings puts its reputation on the line every time two teams in its top-25 rankings play against each other. If the higher-ranked team wins, the computer is "right," and if the lower-ranked team wins, that old box of bolts is "wrong."

In the five weeks since BCS's first weekly rankings came out this season, there have been 14 games between ranked teams.

The BCS rankings have predicted the winners most of the time, going 8-6.

How does that compare to how well the two most often-quoted expert polls have done in forecasting the same 14 games?

The Associated Press (writers') rankings and the USA Today (coaches') rankings each did better than the BCS, going 9-5. The difference was Boston College's victory over Maryland on Saturday; BC was No. 20, Maryland No. 21 in both the AP and USA Today polls, while Maryland was No. 19, Boston College No. 20 in the BCS.

And get this: None of the above did as well at picking the winners of those games as the gamblers' point spreads did.

Using the final lines for those games listed at jimfeist.com, we find that the spreads went 11-2-1 at predicting the winners (Missouri's loss to Oklahoma was listed as pick-'em). The BCS missed on West Virginia's loss to Louisville (in which the spread had Louisville by one-half point), Tennessee's loss to LSU (LSU by 4), and Wake Forest's loss to Virginia Tech (Va. Tech by 1).

All of which brings up more questions: How exactly is the BCS computer helping the situation? It might not be. If the BCS isn't any more accurate than the experts, why not just use the polls and conserve decimal points? It doesn't take IBM to tell us Ohio State is the best team in the country and that USC belongs in the title game if it wins out. Why not just trust the judgment of gamblers? I guess we could have an argument about that.

Point spreads are, ultimately, determined by how the money flows, and the money comes from fans with an opinion, and those opinions seem to be sharper than the BCS computer's. So this football season say great things for humankind.

You and I are smarter than the BCS computer. That's a relief.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 05:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Any sports fan can relate to the mixed emotions in a horse-racing story gathering pace at Bay Meadows in San Mateo.

Just down Highway 101 from where Barry Bonds has been chasing baseball’s most famous record, Russell Baze is riding for thoroughbred racing’s equivalent. After winning three races Sunday afternoon, Baze is 11 wins from Laffit Pincay’s 9,530, the record for the world’s jockeys. Pincay took the record from Bill Shoemaker, who took it from Johnny Longden.

That Pincay, Shoemaker and Longden are among their game’s beloved legends, and Baze is not, gives this race its weird drama.

The comparison to Bonds is imperfect but unavoidable: Bonds is a surly accused steroids abuser, and so a lot of baseball fans think he’d be an undeserving breaker of Henry Aaron’s career home-runs record. Baze is a gentleman and no cheater but has ridden most of his career at San Francisco Bay Area’s second-rate tracks, so a lot of racing fans think he’s the wrong guy to succeed Pincay.

Though Baze, 48 years old and a member of a West Coast family of horsemen, was elected to the racing Hall of Fame in 1999, his name shows up nowhere alongside his record-setting predecessors’ on the lists of Kentucky Derby and Breeders’ Cup winners and major-track champions.

In another baseball allusion, it’s often said that recognizing Baze as jockeydom’s ultimate record-holder would be like saying some minor-leaguer with huge statistics is the greatest home-run hitter of all time.

Yet horse racing will recognize Baze as the record-holder, possibly in the next week or two, given how fast he piles up wins at Bay Meadows.

And then what? Can we all remember that a record is just a number, not a certificate of greatness? That no record is meant to be taken at face value? That there are circumstances and stories behind every big stat?

Since deciding to retire at age 56 after a neck injury in 2003, Pincay has been thoroughly classy when talking about Baze's climb through the top 10, noting that it takes no less courage and commitment to ride winners in cheaper races.

True. But the rest of us might find it hard to match Pincay’s grace. We’ll note that while it might take no less courage and commitment, it has required less talent to do what Baze has done where he has chosen to compete.

The conversation heats up this week. It will be interesting to hear how Pincay and Baze describe the significance of 9,531. After Bay Meadows takes a break Monday and Tuesday, Baze resumes his chase Wednesday, scheduled to ride six horses.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 09:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The Trojans will need continued improvement from their defense, and all the help the Coliseum crowd can provide, to prove themselves the best football team in the Pac-10 tonight.

Up to now, that highly unofficial title belongs to Cal.

So says our ultra-objective friend, a simple calculation of Who Beat Whom and By How Much.

The Pac-10 standings look like this:

USC 6-1 in conference games, 8-1 overall
Cal 6-1, 8-2
Oregon 4-3, 7-3
Oregon State 4-3, 6-4
Washington State 4-4, 6-5
UCLA 3-4, 5-5
Arizona 3-4, 5-5
Arizona State 3-4, 6-4
Washington 2-6, 4-7
Stanford 1-6, 1-9

But Cal has outscored its conference opponents by 112 points, USC by 101. And Cal hasn’t faced weakling Stanford yet, which USC has.

Figure out each team’s margin per game, adjust that by its opponents’ margin per game (as well as home-vs.-road considerations), and you get these rudimentary Pac-10 “power ratings”:

Cal +15 points per game
USC +9
Oregon +6
Oregon State +2
Washington State +1
UCLA +0
Arizona State –2
Arizona –4
Washington –4
Stanford –22

Cal has been 6 points better than USC so far in their Pac-10 games.

Or look at it this way. USC and Cal have played six common opponents. USC did better against Arizona and Oregon. But Cal did better against Arizona State, Oregon State, Washington State and Washington. Add it all up, and the two-month verdict looks familiar.

Cal has been 6½ points better than USC against common opponents.

With a 31-game Coliseum win streak, Pete Carroll’s 18-0 November record, and the confidence that comes from thumping Oregon while the Golden Bears were losing to Arizona a week ago, the Trojans have every chance to live up to their 5½-point favorite’s role tonight and win the Pac-10 championship.

But this should be another tough USC-Cal game, the highest remaining hurdle for USC as it seeks a third straight national title-game berth. The Trojans’ defense has to make more big plays than Cal’s DeSean Jackson, Nate Longshore and Marshawn Lynch.

The pick here: Cal 28, USC 27.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 11:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Bo Schembechler spent his final days putting in historical context (for fans, reporters, players) Saturday's much-anticipated renewal of the Michigan-Ohio State football rivalry he helped to create as the Wolverines' greatest coach.
Now, sadly and shockingly, Schembechler is the historical context.
His doctor said the big-game-week excitement could have contributed to Schembechler's death of heart failure Friday morning in a Detroit TV studio.
I prefer the poetic take in an e-mail from my friend Christine Brennan, the USA Today columnist who grew up a Michigan fan:

This is Bo's ultimate final act: fire up Michigan to an emotional level perhaps never seen in the UM-OSU series.

If you're following the Schembechler news, you're hearing a lot of references to the onset his heart problems, a heart attack in Pasadena hours before his first Rose Bowl game in 1970.
What must that have been like?
The Daily News had a look back at that incident in an article three years ago by Walter Hammerwold:

The 1970 Rose Bowl was supposed to be the crowning achievement in a young coach's brief career. Bo Schembechler, in his first year at the helm, had led Michigan to an 8-2 record and a Big Ten Conference title. But while his players took opening warmups on the Rose Bowl field, Schembechler lay in a hospital bed, the victim of a heart attack.
"The press didn't know until halftime what had happened,'' said Michigan team physician Dr. Gerald O'Connor, who made the initial diagnosis. "But the press noticed when he wasn't out for the pregame warmups, and I could hear one of the Detroit writers yelling down at me from the press box, 'Where's Bo? Where's Bo?' ''
The Michigan players knew what had happened, but by the time they took the field the diagnosis was somewhat preliminary. None of the players knew the severity of the coach's condition.Perhaps because of Schembechler's absence, the Wolverines played a half-hearted game and lost to USC 10-3.
"It had to weigh on them,'' O'Connor said. "It weighed on us all.''
(Schembechler) made a complete recovery from the heart attack he suffered at a Pasadena monastery where he was spending the night before the game. He returned to the Rose Bowl nine more times to set the record for most appearances by a head coach.

"That was the most ridiculous call I've ever seen," he said of line judge Charles Czubin's holding call on Michigan linebacker Bobby Abrams. ''It's an absolutely basic call. The official said he was blocking below the waist, then he went to the referee and said he was holding."
Schembechler said he would apologize if films showed Abrams had indeed been guilty but he also noted, "One thing I won't miss in retirement is incompetent officials."
Asked who made the call against Abrams, he said, "The most incompetent one."
Did he know if the offending official was from the Pac-10?
"I do know that and it happens every time," he said. "We need a neutral crew for a game like this. Of course, the worst call ever (the ruling that USC's Charles White hadn't fumbled before scoring the winning touchdown in 1979) was made by a Big 10 official. But this one ranks."
In expressing his outrage, Schembechler compounded Michigan's problem by flinging down his clipboard and running onto the field, almost tripping over his phone cord in the process. For this, he was assessed a 15-yard unsportsmanlike conduct penalty that moved the ball back to the Michigan 21 and after the ensuing punt USC marched to its game-winning touchdown.

(Schembechler) was remembered by master of ceremonies Curt Gowdy for his record number of appearances at the game.
"I'm glad that Curt recognized that the 10 times I was out here was more than any other coach in history," he said, "and glad he failed to mention my record. . . . This place has been good and bad to me."
Schembechler's teams were 2-8 in Rose Bowl games.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 02:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

If it promised to score 159 points every game, the Cal State Northridge basketball team would have a fan here.
A few seasons back, I went to games at about a dozen L.A.-area colleges in a short span, sampling the unique ways the campuses express their hoops spirit.
Minutes before tip-off for a Northridge game, I drove up to the guard shack at a campus entrance, wondering where I should park and how much it would cost.
"I'm going to the basketball game ...," I told the guard.
"Is there a basketball game tonight?" he said.
That was a unique way to express hoops spirit.

Wednesday night, the Matadors opened their home schedule with a 159-97 victory over Redlands.
That's right, 159. A record for a Big West team. The Matadors had 43 assists. Which tied an NCAA record. Seven Mats scored in double figures, led by forward Jonathan Heard's 22 points. A special citation to starting center Thomas Shewmake, who failed to score. We like a man who doesn't just go along with the crowd.
Speaking of the crowd, there wasn't much of one to witness the performance, in which the Mats fell one free throw short of the four-points-a-minute mark. There were 1,016 fans in The Matadome, formerly the Northridge Gym, formally Kinesiology Building Room 140.
Is There a Game Tonight? ought to be this program's slogan. For Matador Fan (the singular is almost literal), coming off an 11-17 season, too much of the intrigue surrounds the status of longtime coach Bobby Braswell as he starts the last year of his contract and the first under a new AD.
But maybe this game can show Northridge the way. If you can't be good, at least be memorable, I always say.
So, Mats, make 159 your trademark. Make running and gunning your identity.
It would help if you played Division III schools like Redlands every night. Redlands is so weak, cynics in our office Thursday were saying the feat shouldn't really count. All I can say is I wish I'd been there to see it.
Apparently Pepperdine likes to run a bit. So Saturday's game (2:05 p.m., Room 140) cries out for a Northridge encore. Roll up triple digits again, and I'm coming back to that guard shack.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 05:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I was in the stands in San Diego when Daisuke Matsuzaka beat Cuba in the World Baseball Classic final to give Japan the championship and himself the tournament MVP award. So help me, I didn't know I was watching the greatest pitcher on the planet.
The Red Sox have pledged $51.1 million to Japan's Seibu Lions to win the right to try to negotiate a contract with Matsuzaka that is likely to double the cost. Is he worth it?

On March 20, starting on five days' rest, the 26-year-old went the first four innings, making far fewer than the WBC limit for pitches, before being lifted by manager Sadaharu Oh. He gave up four hits and a run, on a homer by shortstop Eduardo Paret, struck out five and walked none.
Even U.S. pitchers in the WBC were going longer than four innings. Since stamina has been one of the concerns as American clubs consider Matsuzaka's chance of being a star here, a big question wasn't answered that night at Petco Park.
The Matsuzaka craze, on the part of the Red Sox and the underbidders, is based on Japanese league stats (2.95 ERA in eight seasons) that the stat wizzes say could translate to staff-ace numbers at the major-league level, and on the mystique that accompanies any player of whom we've seen so little. The talk that Matsuzaka throws a pitch called the "gyroball" is too good to be true.
I'll bet he's really good. As for whether he's otherworldly, I'll believe it when I see it.
For more on Matsuzaka and his mystery pitch:
-- The gyroball is knocked over the wall (excuse me, The Wall) by the Boston Globe's Gordon Edes and the American expert on the Japanese game.
-- If you still want to believe in the gyroball, here's the yahoo.com article that started the legend.
-- And if you want to take it a step further and try to throw the gyroball yourself, slate.com explains how it's done (if it's done).

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 05:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

-- The Boston Globe's Dan Shaughnessy digs to the roots of Phil Jackson's testy relationship with the late Red Auerbach. Shaughnessy says nice things about the Lakers. (Click the underlined part to read the column.)
-- CBS sportsline.com's Scott Miller has an opinion on what it means for the Dodgers that "chronic underachiever" J.D. Drew opted out.
-- ESPN.com's Andy Katz sees UCLA "surging forward" and going back to the Final Four.
-- You can never read too much John Wooden. Here's the Oakland Tribune's Art Spander on a visit to Wooden's Valley condo.
-- It's not cricket, but maybe the English could learn to like baseball. The Times (of London) seemed to like Curtis Granderson when the Tigers outfielder paid a visit to sell the sport.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 09:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The Dodgers are calling themselves "the defending NL West co-champs" after finishing second in the division this summer.
That weird phrase appears at the bottom of news releases we've been receiving from Chavez Ravine since the end of the season, in small type that goes on to note the franchise's all-sports record for "cumulative attendance" (172 million fans!) and its six "world" championships.
The Dodgers aren't NL West co-champs. They and the Padres finished 88-74. To identify one team as the division champ and the other as the playoff wild card, the tie was broken by the Padres' 13-5 record in games against the Dodgers.
That's the rule, and everybody knew it going in.

I realize nobody wants to trumpet themselves as Defending NL Wild Card.
Still, the Dodgers' claim to any sort of title in '06 raises more questions than it settles.
How do you mark a division co-championship, by raising a torn-in-half flag? How do "defending" co-champions go about defending a co-championship? If they win the West outright in 2007, can we say they failed in their attempt to defend?
Not to nitpick, but you have to expect this now and then from an outfit called Words & Numbers.

*

While we're talking Dodgers ...
Andre Ethier, Takashi Saito and Russell Martin received second- and third-place votes in the National League Rookie of the Year balloting, won by the Marlins' Hanley Ramirez. It's pretty rare for a team to have three rookies in the vote count (let alone six, as Florida had).
Having this many talented kids -- we'll forget for a moment that Saito is no kid -- must say great things about a club's future, right? I did some cursory research and found the none-too-encouraging answer.
Since the current Rookie of the Year voting format came in, nine teams have had three rookies get votes, including the 1995 Dodgers (winner Hideo Nomo, Chad Fonville, Ismael Valdez). None of the last eight has won so much as a pennant since its rookie trifecta. Then there are the 1981 Twins (Dave Engle, Brad Havens, Gary Ward), who went on to win the World Series -- six years later, by which time all three players had moved on.
It's never as simple as you'd like.

*

While we're still talking Dodgers ...
John Guarino of Burbank read the sports fans' ballot in my Election Day column, and cast a write-in vote.
Among the questions was, "What have you enjoyed most in 2006?" -- suggested candidates including the Dodgers' four-homer inning, the Clippers' rise, UCLA's tournament run, George Mason's Cinderella story, Roger Federer's dominance, the World Cup, Barbaro's fight for life and the Cowboys' trouble with Terrell Owens.
Guarino mailed that part of the column to me with this written in: "(Paul) Lo Duca's double tags at home plate on 2 Dodgers."
Good call, John.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 07:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

J.D. Drew leaves us few vivid memories as he says goodbye to Los Angeles, opting out of the remaining three years and $33 million of his Dodgers contract this week to shop for better.
Here’s a moment I will remember.
You know how sometimes a batter, with a three-ball count, lets a pitch go by and takes a few steps toward first base, thinking the pitch missed or trying to sell the umpire, before it’s called a strike and he has to come back?
One night last season, Drew, facing a two-strike count, let a pitch go by and took a couple of steps toward the dugout, before it was called a ball and he came back, looking not quite as relieved or embarrassed as he should.

You’ll have to trust my memory on this. I’m kicking myself because I made no note of that spineless performance on any score sheet. I can’t report how the at-bat turned out – except to say I’m fairly certain Drew did not hit a dramatic, game-winning, season-turning home run.
It’s doubtful Dodgers general manager Ned Colletti will make any move this winter that’s as popular with the average fan as the move J.D. Drew just made for him. Colletti’s spiteful comments about Drew’s decision added up to Good Riddance. Manager Grady Little had been lukewarm in his praise of Drew all season.
This, despite the fact Drew’s 2006 production was pretty darned good. His 100 RBI (the first time he’s reached that level) were eighth-best among major league right fielders, and his 20 home runs were 13th. His .891 OBS – the stat that combines slugging and on-base percentages – was fifth.
Oh, and his .393 on-base percentage was second-best (behind Lance Berkman, who actually played more first base than right field). That’s the quality that made Paul DePodesta sign Drew in 2004.
Drew wasn’t (isn’t) a bad ballplayer. He’s just not what a team trying to win a championship, or fans of any team, look for in a ballplayer.
L.A. has a Kirk Gibson Complex, and while the worship of the 1988 World Series hero has been inspiring to the fans, it has been hell for well-paid outfielders who have followed him here. When Shawn Green failed to hit the ground to try to catch a ball that broke up a no-hitter, my column led with the most damning rhetoric I could think of, which was that Gibson woulda dove for it. Now Drew suffers because he’s missing the Gibby chromosome, the one that produces outward signs of commitment.
With Drew, you get 20 home runs and not a speck of magic.
Drew hit the second of the Dodgers’ four consecutive homers against San Diego that night in September. Does anybody believe he would have hit the third or fourth if his turn had come up there? He’d have stood there trying to work Trevor Hoffman for a walk.
If there are Lakers fans (and there are) who believe the team would be better off without Kobe Bryant’s 35.4 points because they doubt his intangible qualities, there’s room for reasonable Dodgers fans to believe the club will be better off without Drew’s 20 homers.
Arguments like this are great – and endless – because they’re about slippery intangibles. If you demand evidence of Drew’s ungibsonishness, there are only his numbers with runners in scoring position. They’re adequate, not good.
Drew hit .297 with runners on second or third in 2006. That’s well below the four Dodgers ahead of him in the lineup – Rafael Furcal (.346), Kenny Lofton (.317), Nomar Garciaparra (.368) and Jeff Kent (.330).
Add it up, and you have 50,000 fans at Dodger Stadium who look at Drew and see a nice enough player, a good enough guy, with a complete absence of triumphant will.
Of course, the wish for commitment works both ways. The fans and franchise want it from the player, and the player wants it from the fans and franchise. Drew must hear the reaction to his departure and know he made the right call.
J.D. Drew takes a walk. It always was what he did best.

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 05:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

At this point, any win is beautiful for UCLA’s football team.
I think that goes for UCLA’s win over Oregon State on Saturday, in which the Bruins got away with committing 13 penalties because the Beavers fumbled the ball away four times, missed two field goals and generally looked nothing like the people who upset a certain other L.A. school the week before last.
U-G-L-Y, fight, fight, fight?
It was enough to put the Bruins back on their feet after a four-game losing streak had knocked their bowl chances into the ropes and turned up the heat on Karl Dorrell.
Mixed metaphors all over the lawn – it was that kind of evening at the Rose Bowl.
“It wasn’t the prettiest of wins, but given the circumstances of where we are, I think it’s important we feel good about this win,” Dorrell said.
The coach just didn’t want them to feel too good for too long, evidentally.
Dorrell immediately went into a litany of negatives: “We didn’t play smart …”
The Bruins had tried to clear their heads by declaring this week the start of a new season. They had three games left, against Oregon State, Arizona State and USC. They had to win two of them to get to six victories and be eligible to go to a bowl.
“This (new) season,” quarterback Patrick Cowan said, “we’ve decided to win instead of lose.”
As receiver Marcus Everett put it: “This was Opening Day. We’re 1-0.”
The Bruins, who were slight underdogs, scored one of the Pac-10’s three upsets Saturday, winning 25-7 on an increasingly chilly late afternoon. Rutgers came back from 25-7 this week, but Oregon State is no Rutgers, as people have always said.
This marked a bounce-back for the defense after the Bruins gave up 75 points to Washington State and Cal – which came after the Bruins held six of their first seven opponents under their season averages.
The whole thing turned on the first skirmish of the second half. Oregon State had a fourth-and-1 at its 48 and went for it. Quarterback Matt Moore handed to Yvenson Bernard, and defensive tackle Brigham Harwell stopped him in the backfield.
The Bruins took over beyond midfield. On the first play, Cowan and Everett connected on a long throw for a touchdown.
The Bruins went ahead 13-7. Cowan, booed as he went 8 for 16 with an interception in the first half, calmed down and threw another touchdown pass to Everett.
Going into this, about the best thing you could say about the 4-5 Bruins was that they were the best five-loss team in the nation. Jeff Sagarin’s ratings in USA Today, numbers based on who beats whom and by how much, ranked the Bruins 31st in the country. That’s right between 7-2 Maryland and 6-3 Pitt, and by far the highest among teams with losing records.
The idea is, Dorrell’s team should have been winning more than it was. In their losses to Notre Dame, Washington State and Cal, the Bruins led by four, led by one and were within one point in the second half.
The loss last month at South Bend was still echoing Saturday at the Rose Bowl. With 5½ minutes left and the Bruins up 22-7, they had third-and-6 on the Oregon State 7. Cowan handed off to Chris Markey, who was stuffed for no gain, and the fans booed.
Since Dorrell failed to go to the pass for three plays in a row and came up short of the first down that would have held off Notre Dame, he’s going to hear about anytime he stays on the ground on third down.
“Really?” Markey said a few minutes later when somebody told him the fans had booed Saturday. “They’ve got to realize, we’re up. I would have called for a run there. … I don’t take it personally.”
So UCLA beat Oregon State, which beat USC. That might give the Westwood diehards some hope for Dec. 2.
Not so fast: The Bruins and Trojans have six common opponents. The Trojans have been better in five of the six, for an average edge of 12 points.
Nice enough win for the Bruins on Saturday, though. Because any win would have been nice for them now.
Next up, Arizona State, next Saturday night at Tempe. The Bruins’ chance for a bowl will be settled then.
“Everybody’s still optimistic about the season,” Markey said, “even though …”

Posted by Kevin Modesti at 08:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)