The Big Lessons behind Tom Brady's Smallish Hands

First appeared on May 21, 2015
in The Lebanon Reporter

So Tom Brady has little hands. Or maybe the Patriot equipment managers have metric pressure gauges. They can spin it all they want but nothing will change the fact 95% of football fans, and nearly every person outside a 2 hour radius of the Metro Boston area, consider the Patriots dirty.

This just in, Robert Kraft has another Title, Brady another ring and the NFL is happy because it’s almost June and people are still talking Football. The real issue in Deflategate has been lost amongst the noise, overshadowed by the shock jocks and buried in the claptrap. This isn’t about whether a few underinflated footballs could have made any difference in the outcome of an incredibly lopsided AFC Championship game. The real issue is the message being sent to young people everywhere.

Cheating is no longer reserved for American politicians or the East German Olympic team. Like it or not, cheating is in vogue. Steroids, Spygate, cutting a baseball, greasing your jersey, corking your bat, none of it matters as long as you can hide it and ride it to the top. What we’ve really learned here is that a guy can cheat in front of millions and millions will still buy his jersey, name their first born for him and plaster his Fathead on their walls.

So you sit your seven year old down to explain that copying answers from Sally’s spelling test is called cheating and cheating is a very bad thing we shouldn’t do. “The American Dream was built on the backs of hard working people who didn’t take short cuts.” You explain as he sits quietly, wide eyed and longing for more, “Men who built barns out of logs hewn from trees they fell by hand. Men who didn’t cut corners because cutting corners only created more work in the long run. These were real men, men who didn’t wear protective padding and didn’t have time to waste doing interviews or hocking glorified Kool-Aid.” And he shakes his head as if he were thinking the exact same thing and you pat him on the back, feeling satisfied by your Clark Griswold-“Good talk son” moment.

But then, breaking news hits the TV screen. A shot of Tom Brady backing an SUV from a garage larger than the Governor of North Dakota’s mansion. His Supermodel wife waves through a tinted window as they head off on their six week hiatus in Tahiti. And all this, the images of private jets and Gucci suits, lavish estates and Lombardi Trophies, flash across the screen above a banner reading “Deflategate: NFL says Brady cheated”

We all want our children to achieve great things, to go farther than we did. And the beauty of being an American is the fact they will have every opportunity to do so. Yet amidst all the compassionate pushing and prodding, it becomes so easy for a parent to get bogged down and lose their bearings.

A well rounded kid will become their own toughest critic. For when the crowds fall silent and the stands empty out, they will be left alone with their thoughts. Forget the Little League trophies, job titles and bank statements, when it’s all said and done, we’ve failed as parents if our children don’t like the person looking back at them in the mirror. So the NFL cries foul, fingers get pointed and time marches on and you are left to watch your son grab his bat and head for the on deck circle; all the while hoping the values you’ve worked so hard to instill follow along.

© 2015 Eric Walker Williams

Cracks are forming in Goodell's Empire

First appeared on September 10, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

So Commisar Goodell has orchestrated the start of another NFL season. And as the shield reigns supreme over the landscape of professional sports, the good Commisar considers it all from his reviewing stand, looking surly and sublime. By the millions the masses, foam fingers flailing, faces painted and clad in Manziel jerseys, throw themselves daily at his feet begging for more.

His face is the picture of confidence, yet even the Gruden-like scowl he casts down upon the little people cannot drown out the whispers. Cracks are forming. Tiny fissures in the massive wall he’s so cautiously and callously erected around his kingdom are beginning to form.

There are many examples throughout history of empires outgrowing their reach, overestimating their power and falling upon their own sword. The Romans, Mongolians and America are but a few examples that immediately leap to mind. But the sun always shines in Commisar Goodell’s empire, for when it doesn’t, he simply changes his mind, or the rules.

Ripples of discontent first began forming when the Ravens’ Ray Rice was only given two games for assaulting his girlfriend. Storm clouds roiled when a few popular players were given longer suspensions for failed drug tests, toss in more rules in an already over-legislated sport and what you have is Perestroika all over again.

And as we loyally toil in the shadow of his greatness, Goodell’s heavy handed manner has turned inconsistent and his incessant tinkering with the rules of a game, already the most popular in North America, have left many wondering if he isn’t approaching the land of megalomania (and by many here we mean me, and you should you happen to agree).

The hailstorm of penalty flags we saw early in the preseason created an impressive stir considering they were thrown in meaningless games only season ticket holders and those in the Witness Protection Program were actually watching. And yet almost immediately they were silenced, as if Goodell himself had sent the league’s head of officiating on a media blitz of Siberia in order to assume control of rule enforcement himself.
Still it does appear more rules have been added to give Manning, Brady and Brees the best opportunity to continue obliterating NFL passing records. At the same time the changes conveniently bolster the chances of the greatest quarterback in NFL history scoring another title.

But all of this was forgotten Monday when Goodell changed his mind in the face of new evidence and suspended Rice indefinitely. The decision unleashed a torrent of negative reaction which could potentially become a tidal wave capable of destroying the entire infrastructure of his empire.

In the 1960’s the Communist Party of China pushed Mao Zedong aside when they feared he’d lost the people’s trust. If that’s the route we have to go to save football, John Madden seems the logical choice for a Liu Shaoqi-type figurehead puppet. That way, instead the blathering semi-apologies and incredibly shortsighted suspensions Goodell has given us, we’d get a “Boom! Pow!” or at the very least we'd have plenty of roasted turkey to go around.

For now the NFL remains king. The game has made instant replay cool, put some serious lipstick on rotisserie baseball and lined the pockets of every agent and small time bookie from Oxnard to Old Town. And while we haven’t reached the point where Goodell’s picture is hung above every locker room and his diary required reading for all 32 teams, the Commissar does loom large over his league for the time being. Still it would seem even Goodell, as polished and powerful as he may be, has chosen a path that could lead him to the point of no return.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

How Soccer finally gained its U.S. citizenship

First appeared on June 24, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

So the U.S. had Portugal on the ropes only to come up short. I say ‘short’ as a fan of the three big North American sports where to end in a tie remains a largely foreign concept (all apologies to the occasional NFL game and hockey, who will forever remain one rung above Disney on ice).
For those American’s still easing their way into the water, soccer can seem unnecessarily complicated. Red cards, yellow cards and a vaguely accurate extended period of play known as stoppage time all serve to muddy their understanding of the game.

Not to mention the fact the United States couldn’t dominate Portugal in the way the U.S. should dominate Portugal in absolutely everything known to man. Lowly Portugal, who’ve given what to the world in the last 200 years? The list is predictably short and is highlighted by cork production and the invention of the pre-paid mobile phone card. Certainly not on the same level as the car, airplane, computer or "Jersey Shore".

Still the World Cup finally appears to be making inroads in the United States. Part of this movement lies in the unique way the tournament brings so many together. It is the great unifier. Be it a local bar, gathering at ones house or public viewing party, when it comes to the World Cup at least, everyone finds themselves on the same team; save the stray exchange student or vociferous ex-pat snarking at those knuckle-dragging Americans only now waking to the allure of the draw.

For the longest time Americans couldn’t wrap their bulbous heads around the fact half the world is actually watching this thing, preferring instead to pretend half the world is far too busy marveling at the innovation and sophistication of Americans to ever have enough free time to watch sports on television.

Many Americans are beginning to see the World Cup for what it is however. The pageantry of the SuperBowl and nationalism of the Olympics combined with the kind of over-the-top acting generally reserved for a poorly directed production of community theatre. The real question begs however, as far as the U.S. sports consumer is concerned, has soccer finally arrived?

From the inception of the MLS down to the Indy Eleven, a burgeoning nationwide youth system and the fact the tiny 1A school I attended many moons ago, one where football has long been king, has finally formed a soccer club, all signs point to yes.

Considering socialized medicine, the death of imperialism and the rise of soccer, it would seem we as Americans have a history of arriving late to the all the best parties. With a national hysteria over the ending of the match with Portugal and the fevered anticipation of a faceoff with Germany that could propel us out of the vaunted Group of Death, soccer suddenly finds itself part of the national lexicon.

So it would appear the time has come to elbow Germany and England aside and assume our place at the trough. On the surface it’s a match made in heaven, for Bernie Madoff and those in the FIFA front office should hit it off smashingly.

So for all those years spent largely ignoring the World Cup. All those who gawked in bewilderment at Euro League jerseys tootling about the malls and theme parks of America. All the backyard fortune tellers espousing so passionately how “It’s catching on” or “One of these days it’ll be huge”. Mark this date on your calendars sports fans for, as far as American culture is concerned, it would seem soccer has finally arrived.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

This just in...Baseball is Broken

First appeared on August 16th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

Baseball is broken. In fact Baseball is beyond broken, it’s flat-lining. Lying on the table, a team of despondent doctors surround Baseball, heads shaking at the impotent shell of a once proud national pastime, hobbled by scandal and decaying from extensive overuse of chemical enhancers. Things have gotten so bad that somewhere Babe Ruth has turned over in his grave, not before ordering a double and lighting a cigar of course.

All apologies to Apple Pie, but Baseball has gone so rogue America should file a restraining order as soon as possible to prevent the words “Baseball” and “America” from ever appearing in the same phrase again.

The American public is so over Baseball they’re feverishly awaiting the start of football, this despite a colorful offseason for the NFL which saw countless arrests and other off field issues. Maybe Charles Barkley was right when he said athletes are not “role models”.

So what does Baseball do to fix itself besides get tougher on PED’s and pray for a steroid scandal to hit professional football? Bringing Sosa and McGwire back seems illogical at this point. And this is way beyond increasing the quality of ball game give-aways and tackling concession stand prices. The Cubs could put a replay board the size of Mt. Rushmore in right field and it still wouldn’t heal the scar steroids has left on baseball. This is an issue that, like Babe Ruth and October, threatens to become part of the fabric of the game.

PSA’s and rookie orientation programs won’t scare this elephant from the room either. It appears far too large, too entrenched. You can forget about trotting Pete Rose out too. Nobody can argue his story is tragic and should serve to prevent players from making poor choices, but for players struggling just to break through the stakes are way too high to worry about somebody who hasn’t laced a pair of spikes up in thirty years.

Forget about “This Time it Counts” or replay in baseball, steroids appear destined to become Bud Selig’s legacy. If Ryan Braun and Alex Rodriguez have done anything other than thumb their nose at baseball while shattering the dream of thousands of Little Leaguers everywhere simultaneously, they’ve stranded the Commish at a crossroad as well. If Selig doesn’t do something decisive, something powerful, something Roger Goodell-like soon then steroids stand to bury him too.

Selig’s opportunity has been lost in the buzz surrounding A-Rod’s return and the ridiculous payday Braun will still enjoy despite running the hand that feeds him through a meat grinder. At this point it would appear the only logical move for Selig is to get tough with the Players Association and lobby for a lifetime ban for steroid offenders. The future of the game hangs in the balance.

And if you’re the MLBPA, now’s not the time to come to the rescue of guys like Braun and Rodriguez. Doing so only threatens your legitimacy and risks fracturing your clientele. If Baseball has any chance of getting off the table now all parties involved need to come together and foster real solutions.

A lifetime ban seems the only logical plan of action. When they’re serious, the powers that be will consider a punishment of this magnitude for first time offenders, but until then, this dance we’ve all come to know so well will continue. In the meantime, say a little prayer for Baseball because things don’t look good.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Stay Chuckstrong Coach

First appeared on October 5, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

Life is strange. You scratch off a fifty dollar winner and race out to collect only for your foot to discover Fido from next door has left another steaming surprise in your front yard. The insignificance of this turn of events is soon brought to light when your wallet is forced to come to terms with the fact the Service Engine Soon light has just come on in your car.

Sundays are the closest thing we have to the days of the Roman Gladiator. Men larger than life, some for weighing over three bills and others for doing seemingly impossible things, all running into each other with enough force to break bones and jar the brain matter of the strongest men history has known. They appear superhuman to the guy who lounges his Sundays away in the Lazy Boy lamenting the Junior High coach who elected to hand the ball to Jimmy instead of him. From Seventh Grade on he had no shot. It was over before the band even had a chance to play.

And while we perceive those in the NFL as leaders of charmed lives, the recent news of Colts Head Coach Chuck Pagano’s impending battle with Leukemia should serve as a clear indicator these men are in fact human beings not unlike you and I. There is no transcendental message here other than life is short and often has a way of surprising us when we least expect it. This holds true whether you’re paid to knock the paint off Jay Cutler’s helmet or scrape the grease out of the fryer at McDonalds.

The battle Pagano and so many others are forced to wage should serve as inspiration for those struggling to face another day with their overbearing boss or obnoxious cube mate. Lost in the hectic nature of a 21st century life and holiday traffic is the fact that every day you put your feet on the floor with a clear mind and good health is worth far more than any winning lottery ticket.

Now is not the time to critique the forces of nature or probe for hidden meaning; that is best left to someone with a much more impressive resume and an eternity to work on it. Your time is better spent sharing a smile with the people in your life. Cast aside the jaded predilections Coach Wannaputuonthebench fostered in you and stop to look at the moon or bask in the happiness your dog gets from peeing on a tree.

Of course the Colts have no choice but try and move on. And though the boys in blue will have had much to process in 7 days, Green Bay is still going to try to put 100 points on the scoreboard Sunday no matter how shattered Indy’s spirit is. After all, given the events of two weeks ago, the Pack can’t afford to lose another game they should have won.

The Hollywood in all of us expects to see the Colts use Pagano’s situation as fuel for a ride to the front but the cold hard truth remains Indianapolis won’t win every game left on their schedule or play for a Super Bowl this year. Interim coach Bruce Arians made it clear the Colts need to keep their focus and can’t afford to be “over-hyped about trying to do something extra”; but he never said they can’t go out and play with the heart, guts and toughness Pagano will no doubt display during his biggest battle. Stay chuckstrong Coach.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

Time to cut the fake refs some real slack

First appeared on September 21st
in The Lebanon Reporter

We all misremember things from time to time. I’m sure you’ve misremembered to read my column at some point and I can’t get too upset considering I misremembered to write one worth reading this week. Roger Clemens once told Congress that the former teammate who accused him of using PED’s “misremembers things” while former President Bill Clinton simply misremembered that Americans, and Congress, are too smart to fall for semantics.

NFL fans are not above misremembering things either. We’re just two weeks into the season and so many have dragged replacement officials through the mud that it’s taught us just how easy it is for fans and the talking heads to misremember the fact NFL referees were never really all that good to begin with. Which is of course why we have replay.

The sudden love and unforeseen empathy America has for the formerly faceless NFL referee is not unlike the time Sally Jones dumped you in Junior High. The ethereal Sally Jones, whose stunning hair was more long and flowingly beautiful than anything man had seen since Secretariat, who left you so crushed you became convinced there’d never be another like her and that the times you shared during “talk time” in Homeroom were more precious than anything you’d ever know again. You’d gone so low that the decision to quit life altogether was a simple one and then the 1st period bell rang and you moved on.

Still the blathering, incoherent reaction you had to Sally’s “Did you know I’m dating
Kate’s cousin Ricky? Check Yes or No” note is not unlike the reaction America is having to the lockout of NFL Officials. One good thing to come of all this is the fact fans who for so long had berated the real NFL officials are finally admitting the existence of a competent referee. Which comes to us as if straight out of the Bizaaro World and something Roger Goodell is undoubtedly pasting in his scrapbook as we speak.

The truth is when it comes to Replacement Officials I expected much worse. In fact, given the speed of the NFL game, I expected to see something along the lines of a tribe of Kalahari Bushmen trying to referee a football game. Yes there have been problems, but by and large they’ve not been that bad.

What did one expect to see after the league scrambled together an army of men who weren’t good enough to referee at this level to begin with and put as much lipstick on them as was possible in a month before throwing them to the dogs? Asking these guys to call an NFL game is the equivalent of asking a nine year old who’s just mastered flying his remote controlled airplane to pilot the Space Shuttle. It’s like handing an M-16 to a Middle School Hall Monitor before asking them to eradicate Mexican drug runners from the border region.

The truth is officials are a necessary evil. And the human being, albeit sophisticated and well engineered, is still littered with flaws. And it doesn’t matter if they blow a whistle for a living or sack your groceries, everyone makes mistakes. The difference is some of us are fortunate enough to make them in a place and time that sees them go largely unnoticed.

And while there may be a small difference between stacking canned goods on top of a loaf of bread and blowing a call that decides a game upon which millions of dollars is riding, is it not the nature of human beings to forgive. Or is it forget? Either way the NFL Replacement Official wins.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

What now Commissar Goodell?

First appeared on September 13th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

Upon further review, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell's suspension of 4 players for the Bounty Gate fiasco has been reversed. This remarkable decision tells us either the evidence the NFL had doesn’t warrant the suspensions handed down, or it’s yet another clear sign the authoritarian regime Goodell has so meticulously created is another work stoppage or reversed decision away from spiraling into another Iraq.

For good reason he remains an insulated figure operating under a cloak of secrecy as both players and owners have taken to social media to openly question many decisions he has made in the past.

Americans love Goodell for being cocksure and an indefatigable warrior for truth whose blisters pus toughness; he’s John Wayne in a $300 suit. Fans of the former Soviet Eastern Bloc get teary eyed and wax poetic over his propensity for being heavy handed and uncompromising. Goodell’s approach has made him more commissar than commissioner and he remains the closest thing we have left to a Cold War Era dictator.

But, just as any good communist regime before him, Goodell’s world seems to be crumbling. The off season saw the NFL uncover one of the ugliest scandals in its history and, on a somewhat less significant note according to the league, the NFL Referees have undertaken their own Perestroika movement.

The time has come for Commissar Goodell to do some real soul searching. Is he destined to become the Mikhail Gorbachev of professional sports or is he going to fill the void and become the iron fisted ruler the world is so sorely missing. Now is not the time for compromise; after all, Glastnost did bring a Super Power to its knees. And if the Soviet Union has taught us anything it’s that nobody can look cool in an Ushanka hat and giving people a more open government doesn’t always translate to world domination.

Forget fines and suspensions. The North Korean government used to force citizens to pack their sports arenas to witness public executions. 50,000 men, women and children all clad in the most depressing shade of gray possible while sitting on the edge of their seats under a monotone voice droning over a crackling loudspeaker. Something about the sanctity of the State being compromised because someone had the audacity to jaywalk during rush hour. I don’t see any wardrobe malfunctions in the NFL’s future should Goodell adopt this policy for helmet to helmet contact.

So now the media wants full access to the Bounty Gate evidence and the phones in New York are ringing nonstop with frantic calls from Junior High Athletic Director’s everywhere begging for their referees back. And when the people call for change or demand answers the commissar must act.

What Goodell really needs most now is a convenient distraction. The NBA Lock Out was a godsend, but that league is currently on the rebound. He must remember that an uprising or highly public purging of your once most loyal underlings isn’t always a bad thing. In this case however Goodell might be surprised at the reaction should he simply announce that compromise is on the horizon before invading a smaller country.

In the meantime the Commissar will consider his options and we will eat unhealthy food and watch football. Still we are left wondering, had they not scrapped the idea, if the Ronald Reagan hologram the Republican’s planned to have at their convention was programmed to say “Vote for Mitt” or perhaps it was destined to utter a more effective, vote eliciting declaration such as “Mr. Goodell, tear down that wall!”


© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

Luck Vs. Manning-Get used to it

First appeared on July 26,2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

So Andrew Luck is officially an Indianapolis Colt. Which means we can officially put an end to the Peyton Manning era and declare the Andrew Luck era underway; officially. Colts Fans start your engines and let the comparisons begin. It’s a train wreck we all see coming. We’re destined for a good old fashioned comparathon.

The next 10 years will be filled with everything Manning did that luck couldn’t. That is at least until Luck wins a Super Bowl and multiple MVP’s, sets almost every major NFL passing record, appears on 3 out of every 5 commercials you see on television, hosts Saturday Night Live and fathers twins of course.

The media are all hunkered over their laptops and notebooks like medieval gargoyles, fangs bared and jowls salivating. Prepare yourself for the constant bombardment of Luck versus Manning factoids they’re going to send our way. For they will continue to come like a leaking faucet until your brain is completely flooded with information that seemed relevant at the time but in actuality foreshadowed absolutely nothing.

The truth is Andrew Luck deserves better. He should be able to report for duty on West 56th Street without everything from the car he drives to the food he eats to the type of Christmas gift he buys the lady who answers the phones (gift card and jewelry if he wants to keep up with Manning) to be subject to inspection and comparison to Peyton.

It simply isn’t fair and anyone who uses it as fodder for discussion, or Heaven forbid a weekly newspaper column, should be tarred, feathered and have their eyelashes plucked out one at a time by a group of camera waving Japanese tourists chain-smoking Lark Classic Milds while wearing full Samurai regalia (not that I’ve had that nightmare or anything).

All these inevitable comparisons are pointless considering there just isn’t much the two have in common anyway. Its sheer coincidence that these two would both be born in the United States to NFL quarterback fathers before growing up to be over 6’3 and be blessed with laser-rocket-arms that would enable them to play major college football where they both set several records only to be hung with the nice guy tag in lieu of winning a Heisman before going on to become the first overall pick for the same franchise. It’s uncanny but not worth comparing.

It’s a fruitless foray into the land of Apples and Oranges to compare them and only a fool would do it. After all Luck is a Virgo and Manning’s an Aries; which of course tells us that Luck is by nature a bit more modest and shy than Manning who is full of fire and comes equipped with a dominating spirit. Perhaps it was this spirit, or the new restrictions of the NFL salary structure, that helped Manning net 48 million with his first contract while Luck just inked a deal worth 22.1 million.

And while numbers are both an acceptable and proven method for comparing like commodities in this case they’re simply not worth mentioning. After all Manning, who is 36 years old, set 28 Tennessee Volunteer records while Luck, who is 23, set just 14 at Stanford.

So while yours truly pledges to resist, nothing can stop the comparisons from coming; not even the Great Drought of Ought Twelve. The fact that people will compare these two for the entirety of Luck’s career is a sure thing; as sure as Brother Mitt will have transferred some of his off shore funds to purchase more hair product twice before you finish reading this.