A couple of precocious kids, ages 10 and 11, got 15 minutes of publicity for their campaign to bring the NBA to town.
They started a fund-raising effort that led to a couple of billboards advertising their desire to see the NBA join the local sports scene.
Waste of time. The kids should have spent their money on cigarettes and fireworks, like their peers do.
The NBA has no immediate plans to expand or relocate, and if that changes, Pittsburgh still isn't on the NBA's list of places to go.
In fact, it's something of a miracle that a market the size of Pittsburgh has three major professional sports franchises, all of which happen to be thriving at the moment.
The Steelers have a sellout streak that started when Richard Nixon was president. The Penguins have a long streak of sellouts that spans their presence in two different venues. Pirates attendance at PNC Park has never gone below the level of respectable, even during a long losing streak. They're setting records now that the team is contending again.
But it's more than just selling tickets. An NBA franchise would have to sell luxury boxes and corporate sponsorships. They'd have to line up advertisers for broadcasts, and approach many of the same companies who are already spending huge sums of money on the three existing teams.
Markets similar to Pittsburgh rarely have all four pro sports -- St. Louis, Tampa, Cleveland and Charlotte also have three of four. Smaller markets like Milwaukee, Cincinnati, Buffalo and Kansas City have two of the four.
This has nothing to do with Pittsburgh's past pro basketball history. Most of that was a lifetime ago and involved either minor leagues or upstart leagues, like the ABA, which included the Pipers/Condors.
It takes a lot of money from a lot of sources to prop up pro sports, and Pittsburgh's card is full with the three teams.
At least these were just naive kids trying to drum up support. It never makes sense when the media reacts to some loon publicity hound who sends a letter to the NBA and then calls a news conference to announce his "plan."
---
--THE MADNESS
Something to remember as more bracket sheets are run through the shredder: That Syracuse team in the Elite Eight lost to Pitt three times in the regular season.
---
--GET READY
The annual "Guess How Many Games The Pirates Will Win" contest is up and running at my "Mainly Mehno" blog at the altoonamirror.com website.
Go there for details. It costs nothing to enter and you could win the prize.
http://altoonamirror.com/page/blogs.detail/display/6481/The-2016-Contest-is-Here.html
---
--JOE GARAGIOLA
Joe Garagiola played on the 1952 Pirates, who lost 112 games on a 154-game schedule. No wonder he became a baseball humorist.
Garagiola, who died last week at 90, was best remembered for NBC's Game of the Week, but he was a versatile broadcaster. His credits included two stints on the panel of "The Today Show," filling in for Johnny Carson on "Tonight," hosting game shows and covering the Westminster Dog Show.
Two of his greatest accomplishments were lobbying against the use of spit tobacco in baseball and helping to found the Baseball Assistance Team. The organization helps former players and their family members who are in need.
They confidentially investigate, then do what is necessary to solve problems. Players from previous generations didn't make millions and a lot of players didn't qualify for a pension. The BAT has secretly helped scores of former players with basic necessities.
---
--JUST SAYING
People want to hear about your brackets about as much as they want to see your dental x-rays.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Altoona Mirror, March 20, 2016
Adam LaRoche has been playing Major League Baseball since 2004, but he didn't become famous until last week.
That's when the story of his retirement from baseball blew up, only because of the circumstances.
LaRoche said he was walking away from his $13 million salary because the Chicago White Sox said they didn't want his 14-year-old son hanging around the clubhouse on a full-time basis.
Drake LaRoche doesn't go to school; instead he goes to work with his dad, even though Drake doesn't really have a job with the White Sox.
He has a locker and a uniform and he apparently just sort of shadows his father. He hangs out.
Adam LaRoche claims that White Sox executive Ken Williams reneged on an agreement that Drake was welcome as an adjunct team member. There are now reports that some White Sox players complained about Drake being around all the time. Other players defended his presence.
There are a lot of angles to this story, but here's the one that should override them all:
The locker room of a professional sports team is no place for a 14-year-old. Even though today's kids are more worldly and sophisticated than the Opie Taylors of another era, they're destined to see and hear things in a clubhouse that most 14-year-olds shouldn't be forced to process.
Most players are fine upstanding citizens who are admirable role models. Some are not.
The money and the lifestyle can corrupt. Some players start to believe that money can buy them out of anything. Rules? Who needs them when you're rich and famous?
When people are lining up to pay for a scribbled signature on a photo, it can twist one's perspective.
The money and notoriety can warp values. A generation ago, a Pirates player approached a front office operative about buying a season ticket. He wanted something in right field.
Sure, the team guy said, but we can get you a better location than that. No, the player said, it's for my girlfriend and I don't want her sitting anywhere near my wife.
Back in the "We Are Family" era, the Pirates wives organized to do some work for charities. They had a meeting one afternoon when the team was on the road, and someone decided it would be fun to hold it in the clubhouse.
The door was unlocked, and the wives naturally checked out their husbands' lockers. At least one wife was appalled at the collection of phone numbers and photos that her husband had attached to the inside of his locker.
During the 20-year losing streak, a group of players hung around late after a game to discuss their problems over some beers. The next day, early arrivals noticed an arrow had been shot through a big screen TV that sat in the middle of the clubhouse.
No perpetrator was officially identified, but the archers on the team were led by avid outdoorsman Adam LaRoche.
Hey, when you're making $5 million year (as LaRoche was then), what's an extra three grand to buy a replacement TV?
There used to be a sign posted in every clubhouse: "What you see here, hear here and say here....let it stay here."
There was a reason for that. There are also a lot of good reasons a 14-year-old shouldn't be hanging out in a baseball clubhouse.
---
--STAYING PUT
In case you missed it, the Cincinnati Bengals signed Adam (formerly known as Pac Man) Jones to a contract extension last week.
It's three years and $24 million. Because sometimes it's crunch time in a playoff game, and you need somebody to do something profoundly stupid to give the game away.
Now the Bengals know they're covered.
That's when the story of his retirement from baseball blew up, only because of the circumstances.
LaRoche said he was walking away from his $13 million salary because the Chicago White Sox said they didn't want his 14-year-old son hanging around the clubhouse on a full-time basis.
Drake LaRoche doesn't go to school; instead he goes to work with his dad, even though Drake doesn't really have a job with the White Sox.
He has a locker and a uniform and he apparently just sort of shadows his father. He hangs out.
Adam LaRoche claims that White Sox executive Ken Williams reneged on an agreement that Drake was welcome as an adjunct team member. There are now reports that some White Sox players complained about Drake being around all the time. Other players defended his presence.
There are a lot of angles to this story, but here's the one that should override them all:
The locker room of a professional sports team is no place for a 14-year-old. Even though today's kids are more worldly and sophisticated than the Opie Taylors of another era, they're destined to see and hear things in a clubhouse that most 14-year-olds shouldn't be forced to process.
Most players are fine upstanding citizens who are admirable role models. Some are not.
The money and the lifestyle can corrupt. Some players start to believe that money can buy them out of anything. Rules? Who needs them when you're rich and famous?
When people are lining up to pay for a scribbled signature on a photo, it can twist one's perspective.
The money and notoriety can warp values. A generation ago, a Pirates player approached a front office operative about buying a season ticket. He wanted something in right field.
Sure, the team guy said, but we can get you a better location than that. No, the player said, it's for my girlfriend and I don't want her sitting anywhere near my wife.
Back in the "We Are Family" era, the Pirates wives organized to do some work for charities. They had a meeting one afternoon when the team was on the road, and someone decided it would be fun to hold it in the clubhouse.
The door was unlocked, and the wives naturally checked out their husbands' lockers. At least one wife was appalled at the collection of phone numbers and photos that her husband had attached to the inside of his locker.
During the 20-year losing streak, a group of players hung around late after a game to discuss their problems over some beers. The next day, early arrivals noticed an arrow had been shot through a big screen TV that sat in the middle of the clubhouse.
No perpetrator was officially identified, but the archers on the team were led by avid outdoorsman Adam LaRoche.
Hey, when you're making $5 million year (as LaRoche was then), what's an extra three grand to buy a replacement TV?
There used to be a sign posted in every clubhouse: "What you see here, hear here and say here....let it stay here."
There was a reason for that. There are also a lot of good reasons a 14-year-old shouldn't be hanging out in a baseball clubhouse.
---
--STAYING PUT
In case you missed it, the Cincinnati Bengals signed Adam (formerly known as Pac Man) Jones to a contract extension last week.
It's three years and $24 million. Because sometimes it's crunch time in a playoff game, and you need somebody to do something profoundly stupid to give the game away.
Now the Bengals know they're covered.
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Altoona Mirror, March 13, 2016
With one free agent signing, the Pirates appear to have acquired some Jung Ho Kang insurance, beefed up the first base platoon that will replace Pedro Alvarez and added a bat that can bring thunder off the bench.
They also added David Freese at a bargain price.
So what's the catch?
Freese's signing came out of nowhere the other day and has a too-good-to-be-true feel to it.
For no more than a guaranteed $3 million on a one-year deal, the Pirates have their starting third baseman while Kang recovers from his knee surgery. They have a significant option in case Kang's recovery doesn't go smoothly.
They have a righthanded bat to share first base with John Jaso. They also have a pinch hitter who can strike fear in the late innings.
For $3 million?
These days, $3 million barely covers a lunch meeting with a free agent. It was just a couple of years ago that the Pirates were paying Clint Barmes $5 million a season.
This is a world where $3 million takes care of a player's home theater set-up (in his temporary summer place).
When you sign a free agent two weeks into the exhibition season, it's usually the ultimate scratch and dent special. You expect someone who is trying to return from a horrific injury, or someone who took three years off to intern for the Dalai Lama.
Players simply don't last that long on the free agent market unless they're irreparably flawed. For goodness sake, Alvarez found a job before Freese did.
There doesn't appear to be an injury issue. Freese had a so-so season with the Angels, down from what he used to give the Cardinals. He's also 32, which is not an especially attractive age for an everyday player.
But his OPS last season was .743, not that far from the .756 that Neil Walker posted with the Pirates.
Yet, he's coming here for what is reported to be a guaranteed $3 million, or less than half of what the Angels paid him last year.
All the other teams passed on him this long, although he's clearly not priced himself out anybody's budget?
Maybe Freese can't wait to wear those gaudy 1970's throwback uniforms the Pirates will feature at Sunday home games this year. Is he this anxious to be included on the distribution list for Clint Hurdle's daily inspirational e-mail?
The Pirates went through the offseason, mostly shopping in the final clearance aisle. They came up with Ryan Vogelsong and Matt Joyce, two players looking for rebound seasons.
Then right in the middle of the exhibition game grind, Neal Huntington suddenly pulls this giant rabbit out of someone's hat and seals the contract with what's in the petty cash box?
Maybe there's more here than appears evident now, but this looks like a potentially incredible bargain, even for a club that specializes in finding them.
---
--TIME TO GO
So long, Martavis Bryant.
It's a shame that you're wasting so much talent, but those demons can be awfully tough to fight.
The Steelers officially have no comment on reports that Bryant is facing a full season's suspension for either missing or failing drug tests. But, in retrospect, wasn't last week's re-signing of Darrius Heyward-Bey a clue that receiver depth is an issue?
Bryant is too deep in the NFL discipline system to be a reliable player. He's on the verge of having his own file drawer at league headquarters. That's when a team knows it's time to move on. There is no future.
This is a chance for Sammie Coates, last year's No. 3 pick, and perhaps for someone in the upcoming draft.
It was a great opportunity for Bryant, but it appears he blew it. Oh, what could have been -- for both sides.
They also added David Freese at a bargain price.
So what's the catch?
Freese's signing came out of nowhere the other day and has a too-good-to-be-true feel to it.
For no more than a guaranteed $3 million on a one-year deal, the Pirates have their starting third baseman while Kang recovers from his knee surgery. They have a significant option in case Kang's recovery doesn't go smoothly.
They have a righthanded bat to share first base with John Jaso. They also have a pinch hitter who can strike fear in the late innings.
For $3 million?
These days, $3 million barely covers a lunch meeting with a free agent. It was just a couple of years ago that the Pirates were paying Clint Barmes $5 million a season.
This is a world where $3 million takes care of a player's home theater set-up (in his temporary summer place).
When you sign a free agent two weeks into the exhibition season, it's usually the ultimate scratch and dent special. You expect someone who is trying to return from a horrific injury, or someone who took three years off to intern for the Dalai Lama.
Players simply don't last that long on the free agent market unless they're irreparably flawed. For goodness sake, Alvarez found a job before Freese did.
There doesn't appear to be an injury issue. Freese had a so-so season with the Angels, down from what he used to give the Cardinals. He's also 32, which is not an especially attractive age for an everyday player.
But his OPS last season was .743, not that far from the .756 that Neil Walker posted with the Pirates.
Yet, he's coming here for what is reported to be a guaranteed $3 million, or less than half of what the Angels paid him last year.
All the other teams passed on him this long, although he's clearly not priced himself out anybody's budget?
Maybe Freese can't wait to wear those gaudy 1970's throwback uniforms the Pirates will feature at Sunday home games this year. Is he this anxious to be included on the distribution list for Clint Hurdle's daily inspirational e-mail?
The Pirates went through the offseason, mostly shopping in the final clearance aisle. They came up with Ryan Vogelsong and Matt Joyce, two players looking for rebound seasons.
Then right in the middle of the exhibition game grind, Neal Huntington suddenly pulls this giant rabbit out of someone's hat and seals the contract with what's in the petty cash box?
Maybe there's more here than appears evident now, but this looks like a potentially incredible bargain, even for a club that specializes in finding them.
---
--TIME TO GO
So long, Martavis Bryant.
It's a shame that you're wasting so much talent, but those demons can be awfully tough to fight.
The Steelers officially have no comment on reports that Bryant is facing a full season's suspension for either missing or failing drug tests. But, in retrospect, wasn't last week's re-signing of Darrius Heyward-Bey a clue that receiver depth is an issue?
Bryant is too deep in the NFL discipline system to be a reliable player. He's on the verge of having his own file drawer at league headquarters. That's when a team knows it's time to move on. There is no future.
This is a chance for Sammie Coates, last year's No. 3 pick, and perhaps for someone in the upcoming draft.
It was a great opportunity for Bryant, but it appears he blew it. Oh, what could have been -- for both sides.
Sunday, March 6, 2016
Altoona Mirror, March 6, 2016
The Baltimore Orioles have banned the postgame pie in the face.
Somewhere, Moe, Larry and Curly weep. (OK, Shemp, too, for you purists).
Like a lot of fun-loving teams, the Orioles hit on the idea of slamming a pie in the face of a player being interviewed on live TV on the field after the game. Unlike other teams, the Orioles used a real pie rather than a glob of shaving cream arranged to simulate pastry.
In fact, Adam Jones had a deal with a local bakery to provide the pies. If any pies find their way into the Orioles clubhouse this season, they'll be over there on the dessert table.
Someone decided that suddenly jamming a pound or so of pie filling in someone's face could lead to trouble. What took them so long?
Real pies weren't meant to be weapons. They're too heavy and gooey. A lot of people wear contact lenses, and a face full of pie can't be good for that. It wouldn't take much to start choking on a sudden invasion of blueberries.
Sure, it was funny the first thousand or so times, but then even pre-schoolers tired of it.
The faux pie became a Pirates tradition mostly because of A.J. Burnett. He would smear some shaving cream into a towel, sneak up behind the player and -- WHAP! -- hit him in the face with the mess, usually twisting it around for added effect.
It presented a moral dilemma for the Root Sports interviewer. The Root person could obviously see the attack coming. Was there an obligation to warn the victim? Poor Lacee Collins must have wrestled with that one.
It made a mess for the clubhouse workers to clean up, but it cracked up the 30 people who lingered behind the dugout to watch the interview.
Shaving cream arriving in that quantity and velocity is not a pleasant experience. There's the choking menthol scent, the eye-burning chemicals and the shock of suddenly having a hand in one's face. It never rose to the level of waterboarding, but it obviously wasn't as much fun for the receiver as it apparently was for the perpetrator.
Burnett is retired now, presumably hunting and fishing and stacking $100 bills floor to ceiling like Legos after making more than $144 million in his baseball career. If he's really a sportsman, maybe he can sneak up on a grizzly and slam him with a shaving cream pie.
Alas, it's time for all major league teams to let go of the pie tradition. At the risk of sounding like a cranky grandmother telling the kids to wear their galoshes, no good can come of it. Somebody could get hurt and it really isn't that funny.
Maybe the Hall of Fame can memorialize the practice with a display that includes a can of Foamy, the requisite Gatorade towel and a cap stained with whatever scary substances make up shaving cream.
And perhaps a Three Stooges video playing on a loop. After all, they were the masters.
---
--BUD COLLINS
Bud Collins, who set the standard for tennis coverage in both broadcast and print, died the other day.
He was well known for his network assignments, like Wimbledon, but does anyone remember that he worked for WPXI-TV (then WIIC) in Pittsburgh in the 1970s?
Collins was the analyst on the station's coverage of the inaugural season of World Team Tennis. He worked with Sam Nover on the Pittsburgh Triangles broadcasts.
---
--UP AND DOWN
The Penguins not only found a way to beat the New York Rangers last week, they even rattled the unflappable Henrik Lundqvist.
The Rangers' All-Star goalie got upset enough to attack the cage like a blocking sled, knocking it off its posts and earning a penalty in the process.
The Penguins celebrated this step forward by taking a giant leap backwards and losing a home game to a lousy Calgary team.
It's one of those seasons.
Somewhere, Moe, Larry and Curly weep. (OK, Shemp, too, for you purists).
Like a lot of fun-loving teams, the Orioles hit on the idea of slamming a pie in the face of a player being interviewed on live TV on the field after the game. Unlike other teams, the Orioles used a real pie rather than a glob of shaving cream arranged to simulate pastry.
In fact, Adam Jones had a deal with a local bakery to provide the pies. If any pies find their way into the Orioles clubhouse this season, they'll be over there on the dessert table.
Someone decided that suddenly jamming a pound or so of pie filling in someone's face could lead to trouble. What took them so long?
Real pies weren't meant to be weapons. They're too heavy and gooey. A lot of people wear contact lenses, and a face full of pie can't be good for that. It wouldn't take much to start choking on a sudden invasion of blueberries.
Sure, it was funny the first thousand or so times, but then even pre-schoolers tired of it.
The faux pie became a Pirates tradition mostly because of A.J. Burnett. He would smear some shaving cream into a towel, sneak up behind the player and -- WHAP! -- hit him in the face with the mess, usually twisting it around for added effect.
It presented a moral dilemma for the Root Sports interviewer. The Root person could obviously see the attack coming. Was there an obligation to warn the victim? Poor Lacee Collins must have wrestled with that one.
It made a mess for the clubhouse workers to clean up, but it cracked up the 30 people who lingered behind the dugout to watch the interview.
Shaving cream arriving in that quantity and velocity is not a pleasant experience. There's the choking menthol scent, the eye-burning chemicals and the shock of suddenly having a hand in one's face. It never rose to the level of waterboarding, but it obviously wasn't as much fun for the receiver as it apparently was for the perpetrator.
Burnett is retired now, presumably hunting and fishing and stacking $100 bills floor to ceiling like Legos after making more than $144 million in his baseball career. If he's really a sportsman, maybe he can sneak up on a grizzly and slam him with a shaving cream pie.
Alas, it's time for all major league teams to let go of the pie tradition. At the risk of sounding like a cranky grandmother telling the kids to wear their galoshes, no good can come of it. Somebody could get hurt and it really isn't that funny.
Maybe the Hall of Fame can memorialize the practice with a display that includes a can of Foamy, the requisite Gatorade towel and a cap stained with whatever scary substances make up shaving cream.
And perhaps a Three Stooges video playing on a loop. After all, they were the masters.
---
--BUD COLLINS
Bud Collins, who set the standard for tennis coverage in both broadcast and print, died the other day.
He was well known for his network assignments, like Wimbledon, but does anyone remember that he worked for WPXI-TV (then WIIC) in Pittsburgh in the 1970s?
Collins was the analyst on the station's coverage of the inaugural season of World Team Tennis. He worked with Sam Nover on the Pittsburgh Triangles broadcasts.
---
--UP AND DOWN
The Penguins not only found a way to beat the New York Rangers last week, they even rattled the unflappable Henrik Lundqvist.
The Rangers' All-Star goalie got upset enough to attack the cage like a blocking sled, knocking it off its posts and earning a penalty in the process.
The Penguins celebrated this step forward by taking a giant leap backwards and losing a home game to a lousy Calgary team.
It's one of those seasons.
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