Fehr strikes out? Hardly

Here's the script from this week's Sports At Large, heard each Monday at 5:30 p.m. and Tuesday mornings in the 9 a.m. hour on WYPR 88.1 FM in Baltimore.

Ever since former President Reagan routed the air traffic controllers 28 years ago, labor unions in this country have been taking it on the collective chin.

If, in the best of economic times, one union after another has been forced to give things back to management, imagine what the auto workers had to surrender this year to keep Detroit afloat.

Among the sports players unions, hockey players gave back 25 percent of their salaries a couple of years ago. Basketball players have been operating under a salary cap for more than 20 years, and football's union is as weak as a newborn kitten.

Only one group, baseball players, have seen their lot improve over the years, and one of the driving forces behind that improvement announced his retirement last week.

Sometime before the beginning of the next season, Donald Fehr will step down as executive director of the Major League Baseball Players Association, a post he has held since December, 1983.

Fehr will leave with a winning percentage that any pitcher, any manager, any franchise would kill for, as he will retire virtually undefeated in important showdowns with baseball management.

Fehr, who replaced the fired Ken Moffatt, the former air traffic controllers union chief, effectively won five collective bargaining negotiations with baseball owners during his tenure.

In addition, the union charged the owners with banding together to artificially depress free agent salaries in 1985, 86 and 87. The players won a $ 280-million settlement of a suit.

Perhaps the biggest mark of Fehr's dominance of the collective bargaining process: When he took over from founding executive director Marvin Miller, the average player salary was $289-thousand.

Last year, the average ballplayer took home a yearly salary of 2-point-9 million. Nice work if you can get it.

Now, beyond the fact that he was representing rich athletes, whom are hardly seen as warm and cuddly by the public, Fehr was imperious and single-minded in his focus toward improving conditions for the players.

Fehr's detractors say his desire to get the most favorable conditions for the players kept him from doing what was best for the game, namely authorizing a salary cap and permitting steroid testing before 2002.

Those criticisms are about 75 percent wrong. Baseball owners have historically restrained player movements as well as their pay.

A union leader who would allow management to cap salaries given the owners track record would be derelict in his duty.

The steroid charges stick to Fehr more thoroughly, but only to a point.

Yes, Fehr should have been more diligent about steroids as a health issue, but again, his first obligation was to protect his membership from the unreasonableness of management.

If Donald Fehr were a player, his career stats would give him an easy ticket to enshrinement in the Hall of Fame.

However, the record of his mentor, Marvin Miller, is even better than Fehr's and he isn't in Cooperstown yet.

As it is, Fehr will probably have to be satisfied with merely paving the way to the Hall. That's probably all he wanted in the first place.

The King is Dead; Long Live the King

I guess it's only fair that I start by saying that Michael Jackson was "The King of Pop" only in marketing terms, or at least for me. I have always found Stevie Wonder a more gifted and inspiring musician, and Jackson's death won't turn me into a liar.

But, for as much as I love Stevie's music, I also know that he hasn't, to date, produced any moment so magical as that night in the spring of 1983 when Michael Jackson literally grabbed a nation by the throat and demanded that they watch and listen, as they were about to see and hear something the likes of which they would never see or hear again.

I was in my dorm at Maryland on that May night when the NBC special marking the 25^th anniversary of the creation of Motown aired. The usual soundtrack of Annapolis Hall was rock or metal, but on this night, the sound emerging out of every room was the R&B music that had marked my childhood.

There were the six Jackson boys – Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Marlon, Michael and Randy -- together for the first time in about six or seven years (thanks a lot Berry Gordy). They went through a medley of their hits, "I Want You Back," "ABC," and the haunting "I'll Be There."

Then, the other five left Michael alone on the stage. He talked for a moment about how much fun it was to do the old songs, but the time had come to do new stuff. That's when the unforgettable bass line of "Billie Jean" kicked in, and Annapolis Hall fell eerily silent, save for the unison of the song coming out of every room.

If all there was to the moment was the lip-syncing of the song, then that would have been amazing enough. But then Michael upped the ante by performing the moonwalk and popular music, heck, the American culture, would never be the same.

From there, a guy who had been a musical prodigy became arguably the world's most recognizable person, if not the most troubled.

I'd prefer, at least for a while, not to think about the eccentricities that marked Michael Jackson's last years, but rather dwell on the remarkable artistry he achieved. And, to be honest, I have never cared much for music videos. I think they've distorted the music industry, so while I appreciate the imagination of "Thriller" and "Beat It" and "Leave Me Alone," Michael's videos were never selling points for me.

Everyone has their favorite Michael Jackson song. I find it hard to limit to a couple, so I will quickly run through some of mine.

I have always loved the Jackson 5's covers of "Who's Loving You," and "Standing in the Shadows of Love," from their first album. Their version of "The Little Drummer Boy" from their Christmas album is gold, as is "Never Can Say Goodbye." And if you never thought you would hear soul and tenderness in a song about a rat, well you never heard "Ben."

The Jacksons' catalogue when they left Motown gets strangely overlooked, but "Blame It On The Boogie" and "Shake Your Body Down To The Ground" are brilliant dance pieces.

And if you have to get Michael Jackson work that you probably didn't already have, be sure and get "Triumph." It's the album with "Can You Feel It," "Lovely One," "Heartbreak Hotel,' and the suddenly ironic "Time Waits For No One."

There's one more song you ought to get. It's called "You Can't Win," and it's from the soundtrack of "The Wiz." The movie has been branded a flop, but it still resonates for many 30 years after the fact. Michael Jackson was introduced to Quincy Jones through this film, and all they did from there was collaborate on "Off The Wall," "Thriller," and "Bad." Nice productive friendship there, huh?

At any rate, "You Can't Win" is our introduction to Michael, the Scarecrow, and it is a rollicking tune that hints at the amazing work to come. The song opens with the lyric, "You can't win/You can't break even/And you can't get out of the game."

Alas, Michael Jackson got out of the game Thursday, having played it at a level few could ever aspire to. RIP.

 

Whither Brandon Marshall? Not in Baltimore, thank you.

What follows is the script for this week's "Sports at Large," with the standard admonition that you can hear my dulcet tones deliver this Mondays at 5:30 and repeated Tuesdays during "Maryland Morning," on WYPR 88.1 FM in Maryland. If you live outside the state, you can catch the streaming audio at www.wypr.org.

The Ravens are scheduled to play Denver in November, but the Broncos can do the Baltimore football team and its fans a tremendous favor months before that game.

The Broncos will help the Ravens tremendously either by making their wide receiver Brandon Marshall happy or by trading him somewhere other than here.

Make no mistake, Brandon Marshall is a hell of a wide receiver. He has amassed more than 2,500 yards in the past two seasons, and has more than 100 catches in each of those two years.

For a Ravens franchise that has historically struggled to develop a top-flight pass catcher, Marshall, who is only 25, could give quarterback Joe Flacco a quality deep threat for years.

But make no mistake about this: Brandon Marshall, who wants a new contract, is a toothache of a person. He has more than earned his nickname of "The Beast,' just from his off-field behavior.

To wit, his name has come up in 13 incidents involving the police in the past five years. They include a DUI charge in October 2007 in connection with getting caught driving the wrong way down a Denver street after a game.

There was also an incident nine months before that where Marshall claimed his father tried to hit him with a car, while the father maintained that Marshall had fired a gun.

And there are reports of domestic violence allegations against Marshall. The reports are so numerous that ESPN devoted a full half-hour show to those charges three weeks ago.

Watching Marshall stammer his way through a defense of battering multiple women was cringe inducing.

We've long passed the point where we can realistically expect our athletes to be choir boys. If you can find a sports star that you feel comfortable with your child wearing his jersey in this day and age, consider yourself lucky.

But it is not too much to expect athletes or anyone else in the public eye to simply obey the law and to have respect for someone other than themselves.

Over the years, Charm City football fans have had to root for players who allegedly drove drunk, lied to police during a murder investigation and gone to jail on drug charges.

At some point, Ravens owner Steve Bischotti and general manager Ozzie Newsome ought to give the fans players that if they can't be proud of, they, at least, won't be embarrassed by.

A member of my family will be a Ravens cheerleader this year. She is understandably pleased with her accomplishment in making the squad and proud to wear the purple and black.

I can promise that if the Ravens get Marshall, I'll find something other than watching him or the team or my relative on Sunday afternoons this fall.

My relative is smart enough to not to have anything to do with the likes of Brandon Marshall. But that's not a guarantee that other well-intentioned area women won't get hurt.

That kind of assurance can only come from Bischotti and Newsome, who ought to declare unequivocally this beast in sheep's clothing won't get to prey on anyone in Baltimore.

When a simple ride home isn’t

What I have found in my own life is that the things that disturb me the most, that cause me to lose the most sleep, that alter my outlook aren't what I consider the out-of-the-way things, like whether North Korea or Iran have nuclear weapons or if Jon or Kate are getting a divorce.

Frankly, until a few weeks ago, I had no idea who Jon or Kate or their eight were, and beyond a vague concern about what happens to putting eight kids into the spotlight without an apparent worry over the effect of said action, I really don't care about them or any reality show contestant.

No, the things that cause me the most worry are the things that disrupt life's normal pattern, the things that get in the way of A proceeding to B.

My cell phone rang off the hook yesterday afternoon as friends and family called to find out if my wife was a passenger on the Washington Metro Red line train that crashed into another in the middle of rush hour. Thankfully, she wasn't, but 48 hours before that, I had been on that very line, heading into the city to take in a basketball game with a friend. The story, sadly, is different for the families of those who expected that life would continue on the way it does every day, with their loved ones arriving home, no doubt, from a full day of work. I mourn for them and I hope they know that millions of us, in the Washington area and around the nation and the world, share, in some small way, in their pain and anguish.

The days of recriminations and finger-pointing about what went wrong on the Red line will come soon enough. For now, let's all pray that the disconsolate discover that Earth truly has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal, and that they and the rest of us return to whatever normalcy is as soon as is possible.

“Elections have consequences”

The headline quote was uttered by our former president, George W. Bush, and provides living proof of what my father used to say, that a blind squirrel finds an acorn every once in a while.

The aphorism, loosely translated, means that even the intellectually challenged stumble onto the truth every so often. Say what you want about our former president, but it's safe to say that no one would ever catch him running a Mensa meeting.

Yet, his statement about elections having consequences, spoken just after the 2004 election, is a valid one. It means that, following elections, the winners get to govern as they see fit.

You would think that after having been in power for 20 of the last 28 years, Republicans would understand that concept, but they seem to be operating under a premise that the events of last November didn't happen.

How else to explain their intractability on any number of issues, from health care to the budget to fixing the nation's fiscal mess? Playing the role of loyal opposition is one thing; Democrats have done that for most of the last 30 years. But Republicans have taken this to what feels like an unhealthy extreme, and to the contrary of what the American public wanted, as evidenced by their granting control of the Executive and Legislative branches last fall.

Take the Supreme Court, for instance. It was ludicrous for Republicans to think that Barack Obama, the first truly progressive president this nation has had since FDR, would use his first nomination to the highest court in the land to select someone from the right. Obama was always going to take someone who, if not a complete liberal, certainly was left of center, just as Bush 43 went rightward, in the same manner as his father, Bush 41, and Ronald Reagan, all tapped conservatives.

The Republicans, who now have placed seven of the nine current Supremes, have attacked Obama's nominee, Sonia Sotomayor, saying, among other things, that she will bring her personal feelings, life observations and experiences to the bench. Are they kidding? Of course she will. She wouldn't be human if she didn't. Are we really expected to believe that the majority – all conservatives -- didn't bring their views to Thursday's ruling that convicts don't have the right to obtain DNA to prove their innocence?

Those five justices (Chief Justice Roberts, Alito, Kennedy, Thomas and Scalia) are there, in large part, because Presidents Reagan, Bush and Bush appointed them to represent a particular point of view that was expressed in the elections that selected them. And now, barring something unforeseen, the election of Barack Obama will have a consequence as well.

When a joke isn’t just a joke

David Letterman's apology to Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin and her daughters last night was the inevitable consequence of the flap that has ensued since he first told a joke last week. So much heat and noise had been expended and it threatened to distract what Letterman, a television icon in a way that Jay Leno, Conan O'Brien, Jimmy Kimmel or Craig Ferguson could never be, had or would accomplish going forward. Already, there were comparisons to radio host Don Imus, and there's supposedly a protest planned today in front of the Ed Sullivan Theater, where Letterman tapes his show each day.

But should Letterman have apologized?

I've always believed that a person should always only say what they mean and feel, so as to attach the maximum value to their words. As I watched Letterman's apology last night, which followed a rather ham-handed attempt at an explanation last week, I thought I was watching a guy who truly meant what he said, but was also confused by how much of an issue this has become.

I'm not. In the current polarized political climate, where vultures on both sides of the aisle hover over the landscape waiting to pounce on whatever dead meat might be left in the desert, Letterman, who made sport of Palin during the campaign and since, was bound to be prey if/once he made a misstep. We've reached the point now when activist groups of all sides just move from topic to topic, subject to subject, hoping to pick up publicity and money off the backs from someone who has said or done something stupid.

To wit, you have the ridiculous specter of the National Organization for Women placing Letterman in its Hall of Shame for his initial joke as well as joking reference to Palin having a "slutty flight attendant look." That's right; NOW took the side of an avowed anti-choice political figure over a comic. I'll wait for a moment while you chew that one over.

As I said last week, the joke probably shouldn't have been told, but I am still waiting for Palin and NOW and all the other conservative commentators and the tea-baggers to heap the same scorn on Leno and O'Brien for telling essentially the same joke Letterman did during the presidential campaign. In fact, O'Brien, whom I actually like, is guilty of far worse, using the standard being applied to Letterman, for telling this joke:
"Sarah Palin is going to drop the first puck at the Philadelphia Flyers hockey game. Then Palin will spend the rest of the game trying to keep the hockey players out of her daughter's penalty box."

The daughter O'Brien was referring to was an eight-year-old, who accompanied the governor to a Philadelphia Flyers game. The silent outrage for O'Brien is deafening.

One last thing: I have an apology to make. I apologize to myself for having a Hilton Honors frequent traveler's card. Embassy Suites, my favorite hotel chain and a part of the Hilton corporate family, announced Monday that they would pull advertising on CBS' website as a response to the calls they were getting over the Letterman flap. I didn't call them then, but I will call them today to tell them that I will be moving my points and my corporate loyalty to another brand, though I will miss that free Embassy Suites breakfast.

Lighten up, Sarah

David Letterman's joke about Sarah Palin's daughter, whichever it was, has drawn fire from the Alaska governor and the right wing. It wasn't one of Dave's Top Ten jokes ever, but it certainly wasn't worth the kerfluffle that it kicked up.

Well, it turns out that Letterman wasn't the only late night type to crack wise about Palin's daughter. The most recent host of The Tonight Show, the seriously unfunny Jay Leno, told a similar joke last September, about Bristol Palin, then 17, unmarried and pregnant and John Edwards. And if one of the Huffington Post's readers is accurate, the new Tonight host, Conan O'Brien, told a variation of the joke Letterman told, about Palin's daughter needing to be protected from the Philadelphia Flyers. And, if memory serves, the daughter who accompanied Palin to the Flyers' game was seven, and even younger than Bristol or Willow, the daughter who came to New York with Palin last week.

To be clear, Letterman's joke was about New York Yankee third baseman Alex Rodriguez and the reference was to Bristol Palin, not 14-year-old Willow. And he probably shouldn't have told the joke, but if he's going to get heat for it, so should Leno and O'Brien.

That is, unless, there's a political agenda afoot, and we all know that's not possible.

Right?

Take the foul/Call the foul

A few NBA Championship Series thoughts:

*OK, allowing for the tendency to overanalyze games and plays within a game, and also allowing for the axiom that hindsight is perfect sight by a damn site, how in the world do the Magic allow Derrick Fisher to get that open on the Lakers' final possession of regulation last night?

While Jameer Nelson gets the lion's share of heat for leaving Fisher alone, Orlando coach Stan Van Gundy must take some blame for electing not to foul with a three-point lead and 11 seconds to go.

Van Gundy's post game explanation, that there was too much time on the clock given how poorly his team was shooting free throws, is, to my mind, weak. Let's assume that Fisher or Trevor Ariza or Kobe Bryant, for that matter, hits one or two foul shots in that instance, leaving about six or seven seconds on the clock. If you're Van Gundy, you call time out and get your five best free throw shooters on the floor. If that means that Dwight Howard, who had just missed two, has to sit briefly, so be it. As former Jets coach Herm Edwards so famously noted once, "You play to win the game.' If Howard's ego gets momentarily bruised, you have two days to salve his psychic wounds, with a 2-2 series tie, rather than where the Magic are now, down 3-1.

Said Hedo Turkoglu afterwards: "We had it but just kind of slipped away because of our stupidness." You get no arguments here, and let's hope that the careers of both Nelson and Van Gundy aren't defined by one horribly stupid lapse on the biggest stage in basketball.

*Again, the Magic made this moot by their play down the stretch, but can someone explain to me how Bryant could plant an elbow into Nelson's jaw on the overtime play where Fisher hit another open three to give Los Angeles the lead and not get called for an offensive foul.

I despise the conspiracy theory shorthand that follows the NBA. I believe the league is on the up-and-up all the time, and I share David Stern's fury whenever he has to answer questions that never get posed to Bud Selig or Roger Goodell. But, by essential allowing Bryant and other stars to run roughshod without consequences, the NBA practically invites that kind of talk.

*I can't let this series end without expressing my disdain for the 2-3-2 format of this series. Actually, disdain is what I feel for beets. I really hate, hate, HATE that format that grants home court for the first and last two games to the team with the best record, with the middle three games going to the other team.

In every other series, the breakdown goes 2-2-1-1-1, with the team with home court advantage hosting the first two games, Game 5 and Game 7. In this scenario, the team with the advantage still has an advantage, but not so much of one that the other combatant can't overcome it, say, by splitting one of the first two games on the road, winning Games 3 and 4 at their place, then clinching the series at home in Game 6.

With the 2-3-2 set-up, the advantaged team need only win two of the first five games to ensure having the last two games at home. In order to clinch at home, the disadvantaged team must either win the series in five games (unlikely) or win twice in the other guy's place. That hardly seems like the best way to crown a champion.

The change was made in the 80's when CBS complained of having to move camera crews across country as many as four times in a seven game series rather than twice. It's time to go back to giving both teams a reasonable chance to win a title, though it may be too late for the Magic.

Great men

The alarm rang, and, out of habit, I flipped on the television. There were the bubbly blondes, as always, providing the local weather (rain again) and traffic (accidents everywhere). From there, it was on to The Big Story, the aftermath of yesterday's shooting at the Holocaust Museum in Washington, and a look at the 88-year-old man accused of shooting a security guard to death.

I wondered for a moment what happens in the life of a person to carry the kind of hatred the alleged shooter supposedly has for people of color and Jews for so long. And then, I contrasted that with the approach of two men whose birthdays will be marked in the next two days.

A s it happens, my father, James Benjamin Kent, Sr. , was born on this day 89 years ago. I'll spare you all the details of his life, which ended August 27, 2006, except to say that he helped raised six productive and well-adjusted children (five with my mother and one with my stepmother). My father worked hard, was kind to his friends and neighbors and everyone he came across, and loved his God fiercely. He was also a World War II veteran who was awarded two Bronze Stars for meritorious service.

I also thought of former President George Herbert Walker Bush, who will be 85 tomorrow. The former President and I will never see eye-to-eye politically, but I admire his service to his country, both militarily and since he left the Oval Office. He, like my father, worked hard, raised a family and, from all appearances, has maintained a sunny disposition. Indeed, Mr. Bush intends to mark his 85^th birthday tomorrow by jumping out of a plane, to replicate his assignment as a paratrooper in World War II.

Older Americans come in for a hard time in our youth-obsessed society, and the events of yesterday probably won't help in the minds of many. But we all ought to be mindful of the sacrifices and contributions of the men who helped keep this country great and strong during and after World War II.

Men like James Benjamin Kent, Sr. and George Herbert Walker Bush.

One and done?

What follows is the script for this week's "Sports@Large" essay which aired on WYPR (88.1 FM) in Baltimore. If you live in the Baltimore/Washington area, you can hear the show each Monday at 5:30 p.m. and on Tuesday during the Maryland Morning program which starts at 9 a.m. If you live outside the area, you can get the streaming audio at www.wypr.org

Is the right thing done for the wrong reasons still the right thing? For this week's answer, you'll need to speak to Steve Cohen.

Cohen, now in his second term representing the Ninth Congressional District of Tennessee in Washington, stood before his colleagues last Thursday and delivered a shot across the bow of the NBA.

Cohen called on the league to drop its 19-year-old age requirement for incoming players.

"It's something that you don't see in any other sport, baseball, golf, tennis, hockey, any other sport, and you don't see it in entertainment and you don't see it when young men and women choose to join the military and fight for their country."

 

Cohen wasted no time drafting a letter to Commissioner David Stern and to Billy Hunter, the head of the NBA's players union.

He urged them to take the age plank out of the next negotiations for a collective bargaining agreement.

In turn, Stern, who yields the floor of rhetorical flourish to no one, fired back, noting snarkily that the Constitutionally-mandated age requirement to be a Congressman is 25.

For Stern, the issue is not making the college game better, but making his players more mature.

Cohen is right, and his position is buttressed within the very league championship series that is underway.

Neither Dwight Howard of the Orlando Magic nor Kobe Bryant of the Los Angeles Lakers, the two best players in the series, spent a day in college.

Bryant was last year's Most Valuable Player, and his MVP successor, LeBron James of the Cleveland Cavaliers, likewise, skipped college for the NBA.

The pro basketball landscape is indeed dotted with players who decided they wanted to ply their trade without going to college.

Stern undoubtedly thought he was helping the colleges when he pushed through the age requirement four years ago.

Instead, he created a class of one and done players who use colleges as a speed bump on the way to fame and fortune, assuming they wait the year for the money and the notoriety.

Take O.J. Mayo, for instance. There are accusations that the former Southern California guard took straight cash homey, namely $30,000 of it, from his college coach Tim Floyd to come to Los Angeles.

And then there's Derrick Rose. Before he was the NBA's Rookie of the Year, this year, he supposedly had a high school grade falsified and had someone else take his SAT just to get eligible to play in college.

Now, here's where things get interesting. Mayo was a rookie this season for the Memphis Grizzlies, while Rose led the Memphis Tigers men's college basketball team to last year's national title game.

And did we mention that the FedEx Forum, where Rose did play and where Mayo plays now just happens to be in the congressional district of…Steve Cohen?

There's little question the NBA's age restriction needs to be taken to a landfill. It's just too bad that opportunists like Steve Cohen have to be the drivers.

An opinion for bigotry

Originally, I was going to a blog posting with a collections of quick hit thoughts off last night's first game of the NBA Championship Series, but an item in my former newspaper so jarred me when I read it that I had to say something.

Maryland's attorney general, Douglas Gansler, has issued an opinion that people who wear facial coverings for religious purposes can be required to remove them in order to get into courthouses around the state. In order to minimize potential problems, Gansler has suggested, but not required that male and female security officers be available at checkpoints and that a private area be set aside for those whose religion precludes them from removing those coverings in front of a member of the opposite sex.

Gansler, a Democrat from Montgomery County, one of the more liberal areas of the state, said recently that he would consider whether Maryland would recognize any gay marriages performed in other states, so his progressive bonafides appear to be intact.

So, why do this? Yes, Gansler was asked by a sheriff at one of the suburban Washington counties to issue an opinion, but why this opinion? Doesn't he understand that such an opinion only fans the flames of religious intolerance? We're having enough trouble in this country recognizing and understanding differences in people who don't look and act the way we think they should, or did I just imagine that a religious zealot blasted a doctor who performed abortions while the doctor was serving as an usher in his church the other day? Things like this only make tolerance more a dream than a realistic hope.

The funny thing is that this news breaks the day after Barack Obama's speech to an Egyptian audience about ways to bridge the gap between the United States and the Muslim world. Oh, and for the record, Doug Gansler was one of the first and most vocal Obama supporters two years ago. Guess he wasn't listening all that closely, huh?

Doing it championship style

Let's get ready for the best two weeks in sports, the NBA's Championship Series, with a preview of the matchup between the Orlando Magic and the Los Angeles Lakers.

But first, let's look back at the recently vanquished, namely the Cleveland Cavaliers and Denver Nuggets.

*I really hope Cleveland GM Danny Ferry doesn't overreact to the Cavaliers' six game loss to Orlando in the Eastern Conference title series, and place undue heat on coach Mike Brown. Let's not forget that Brown was voted NBA Coach of the Year and directed Cleveland to the best regular season in franchise history, with a 66-16 mark.

It's not Brown's fault, necessarily, that he and the Cavs ran into the one team that they couldn't match up with. The Magic, who are long and rangy along the front line, have had Cleveland's number over the past couple of seasons, and with guards like Mo Williams and Daniel Gibson unable to provide reliable support for LeBron James, the Cavs were in deep trouble.

(By the way, James should have been fined at least $50,000 for skipping out on a postgame media session following Game 6. Agree or not, speaking with the press is a part of an athlete's job. Admittedly, it's not as important a task as training or playing, but it is the principal way the public hears from the players. The King is only following in the footsteps of Michael Jordan, Charles Barkley and Allen Iverson, who routinely blew off All-Star media availabilities, and Commissioner David Stern missed a chance to nip this in the bud.)

*Denver coach George Karl says that he won't try to contain his team's emotions. Really, George? You're not going to suggest to your team that fourth quarter preening and taunting, not to mention pushing opponents in the back, and the ever popular jaw-jacking with referees might not be in the team's best interest?

Perhaps we have found our answer for why Karl has never won a title. The Nuggets are a talented bunch, but between J.R. Smith, Dahntay Jones, Kenyon Martin and Chris Andersen, it's a squad that frequently plays emotionally as if they're at some neighborhood park instead of in an NBA arena, with a chance at a title. Even my homeboy Carmelo Anthony has his moments of chuckleheadedness, though those instances are fewer, as his game and his maturity round out.

OK, on to the championship. I'm not a big fan of making a big deal out of regular season meetings. Yes, the Magic won two games over the Lakers this year, but point guard Jameer Nelson not only played in both games, but was the leading scorer in each contest. Nelson, who hurt his shoulder right around All-Star time, may be activated for the series, but it would be unrealistic to expect much, if anything, from Nelson.

The Lakers' Pau Gasol will have his hands full dealing with Orlando's Dwight Howard, the NBA's best interior player. Howard is stronger and faster than Gasol, and, in truth, is just a reliable 15-foot jump shot away from being absolutely illegal. But once you get past Howard, there's not much up front to like about the Magic, or at least not in this series. Andrew Bynum can spell Gasol, if Los Angeles elects to go small, and Lamar Odom and Trevor Ariza are more than capable of guarding Rashard Lewis and Hedo Turkoglu.

On the Orlando perimeter, the Magic's hand would be greatly strengthened if they had the Nelson from December. As it is, they'll have to rely on the always combustible Rafer Alston and rookie Courtney Lee. Not the most comforting thought heading into a showdown for the title, eh?

This, meanwhile, seems to be the round the Lakers left a wakeup call for. Having navigated through tough series with Houston and Denver, Los Angeles appears to be ready for just about anything Orlando can throw at them.

The Lakers have edges in just about every matchup, save for coaching (more on that in a bit) and they have Kobe Bryant, for whom the Magic have no answer. In the Eastern Conference championship, Orlando could choke the lane and dare LeBron James to beat them from the perimeter. With the exception of that miraculous three to end Game 2, the gamble paid off.

In this series, however, that stratagem won't work, for Bryant is simply too reliable a shooter not to try to double. And, for perhaps the first time since he forced Shaquille O'Neal out of town, Bryant believes that his teammates can hit big shots when called upon.

About that coaching thing: Stan Van Gundy belongs on the first line of NBA coaches, even if he does bear a remarkable resemblance to porn star Ron Jeremy. He is a fine tactician, and he has learned how to manage superstars, Howard and O'Neal's bleatings notwithstanding.

Meanwhile, Phil Jackson has always struck me as the sports version of the joke that former Texas Gov. Ann Richards told of former President George H.W. Bush, that he was born on third base and thought he had hit a triple.

Jackson's great luck has been to be around four great players (O'Neal, Bryant, Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen) at the ascendancy of their skill and power, then to sit back and watch them run roughshod through the rest of the league. Granted, winning nine titles is no mean feat, but think of what Pat Riley or Gregg Popovich or Stan Van Gundy would have done with the same cast over the same period?

Still, Jackson seems to have the horses for this ride. Add that to the odious 2-3-2 series format advantage the championship round provides to the team with home court, and it's hard to envision the Magic winning the title this time.

Make it the Lakers in six.

“A Job Well Done”

I've been away a few days, dealing with life issues. I'll get back to observations on our latest Supreme Court nominee, the California Supreme Court's ruling on Prop 8, and the NBA playoffs in the next few posts, but first, some thoughts about an amazing day and how fleeting and random life can be.

First, shoutouts to two very special people, my mother and her sister, who observed their birthdays on May 29. The remarkable thing is that my mom and my aunt, while born on the same day to the same parents, are not twins, but were born 16 years apart. What are the odds of that?

At any rate, beyond the mere accomplishment of adding another year to their total, I doubt that either of them will ever forget this birthday. That's because it happened to fall one day after their oldest surviving sister was laid to rest.

This was, by no means, my first funeral. In the course of my life, I've attended the services of my father, three grandparents, five aunts and uncles, a few cousins and countless other people that I knew and loved. I've dreaded every one of them, not necessarily because I fear death, but because I never know what to do or what to say. You want to be encouraging, but "I'm sorry for your loss,' and a hug feel remarkably inadequate when that time comes. I know that from personal experience when my dad died nearly three years ago. I appreciated the sentiments of everyone, but I wanted my father back.

And between you and me, I still do.

I was surprised and honored when my cousin called Monday to ask if I would serve as a pallbearer for my aunt. I had done so as a teenager for my grandmother, but that was a million years ago. The function was the same, to be sure, but my understanding was different. Not deeper. Just different.

The day moved in slow motion, from the time I arrived at the church to the lining up with the other pallbearers to watching the family come in and pay their last respects to my aunt. The service moved along quickly and was done in just over an hour.

(A quick note on behalf of the church. Religion has taken a pretty bad beating recently, and, in many cases, for good reason. Far too many preachers, pastors and priests have laid out God's vindictive and vengeful side to a population that is desperately in need of hope and solace.

But if you had been sitting in the pews of the church where my aunt's funeral took place, you'd have heard two ministers present the side of God that I am familiar with, the side that offers comfort and peace to those who need it at the time they need it.

You'd have heard a female reverend remind a man who saw the love of his life, someone with whom he had shared nearly 60 years of good and bad, joy and sorrow, lying before him that death doesn't end love, but only changes it somewhat. You'd have heard a male pastor tell a grieving family that at the end of the journey contentment and serenity are coming, even if the rest of the world doesn't understand how you live the way you do.

To paraphrase Linus Van Pelt, that's what the church is all about, Charlie Brown.]

The ride to the cemetery felt longer than the actual service. Along the way, the procession went by the hospital center where my aunt and my mother had both worked, and my brother and sister and I shared memories of the place that had been such a part of our family's life for so long.

My aunt's body was taken to a veteran's cemetery and the interment service had to wait for another service to finish, which gave us time to get out of our cars and share reminiscences.

Finally, it was time. There was no graveside service; instead, we went into a little chapel on the grounds. The pastor said a few words, the funeral director spread sand on the casket in the shape of the cross, and we carried my aunt back out to the hearse. My uncle, who had been so strong, finally and understandably, broke down at the prospect of saying goodbye to the woman with whom he had shared 60 years of marriage.

Back at the church, the family and friends gathered to eat and talk and laugh. My mother, who became the oldest of three surviving siblings, told me later that she held her tears in check until she got home that night from the funeral. I hope that I can be that strong the next time I am called to be.

In the days since, I have thought a lot about the eulogy, where the pastor traced the stages of my aunt's life, from childhood to marriage to adulthood to motherhood. She pronounced that my aunt's life had been "a job well done."

Truer words were never spoken.

Building a winner

What follows is the script for this week's "Sports @ Large" radio broadcast. The show airs each Monday at 5:30 p.m. on WYPR, 88.1 FM in Baltimore, with a re-air during the "Maryland Morning" program on Tuesdays at 9 a.m.

Three years ago, Brian Boles absorbed a 35-2 beating as coach of the St. Frances Academy baseball team.

At a lot of places, and with a lot of coaches, there are no comebacks from such humiliation. Some coaches either cut and run away from such a mess, or never get involved in the first place.

But for Boles, there was never a chance that he would leave until the job got done. And the job just had to get done at St. Frances.

Let's back up. Ten years ago, Brian Boles was a part of the first baseball team at St. Frances. In the beginning, that group of players was more a club squad than an actual varsity team, and they went five full seasons without winning a game.

But Boles was good enough to play college baseball, first at Chesapeake College, then at Elizabeth City State University, where he hit. 415 and led the team in homers as a junior.

A hip-pointer, and its aftermath, was enough to rob Boles of a post-collegiate playing career, but by then, the game was too deeply ensconced in his soul.

And as fate would have it, St. Frances needed someone to run the baseball team. Boles, by then, just 22, took the challenge.

With his father and brother alongside as assistants, Boles set about gathering together a collection of players for whom baseball was something more than just a springtime diversion.

And more importantly, he became a bridge between the game and African-American kids, two parties who have increasingly become estranged from each other.

The program showed slow, but steady improvement, though in Boles' first four years, the Panthers didn't achieve a winning record.

However, St. Frances did reach the Maryland Interscholastic Athletic Association's C Conference playoffs last year, but the team, in Boles' words tasted failure.

With all but two players returning, the Panthers set out this season to taste something different, namely success.

Each of the four St. Frances starting pitchers turned in an earned run average below 3, with junior Devan Hill leading the way with a 0.77 ERA.

Meanwhile, the Panther hitting attack jumped to life behind junior Chris Dixon, who drove in 40 runs in the short high school season and leadoff hitter Devante Brown.

Brown hit a cool .510 this season with 49 hits in 95 at-bats, while stealing 34 bases. Before you knew it, the Panthers had a 21-6 record.

That, of course, ensured another berth in the playoffs and eventually a trip to the C Conference championship game two weeks ago.

There, Hill scattered five hits and struck out eight, while shortstop Darrell "Boom" Anderson went 4-for-4 and scored two runs, as St. Frances captured the title with an 8-3 win over St. John's Catholic Prep of Frederick.

Brian Boles will never forget the bitter taste of that 33-run drubbing. But the great thing about sports in general and baseball in particular, is if you hang in long enough, something sweet comes along eventually to balance things out.