GoGameFace: Watch Sports Like a Girl

The Bowl According to Shelly

Wed, 06 Feb 2013 01:21:23 +0100

Please welcome guest blogger and GoGameFace newcomer SHELLY MARIE JOHNSON (not her real middle name), and savor her Top 10 Observations about the game and all of the spectacular-spectacular that was this year's Super Bowl (2013).

Drum. Roll. Please.

1. Jennifer Hudson killed it. Someone should go back in time to Idol '04 and put a tranq dart in the judges' necks for not inventing the "save" earlier in the Idol process. How she has overcome personal tragedy, much like the children in Newton, is inspiring also and was such a great match-up for the first song.

2. Alicia, however, was a bit of a let down. I LOVED that she played the piano. I LOVED her dress. I LOVED LOVED LOVED her hair. Which is why I am so said that I just LIKED her performance.

3. Coin toss was crap, I had money on tails.

4. First half was a sleeper, both the game (the Baltimores rolling is good for team purple, but bad for public viewing and engagement; although the fake kick was great and I will get to that later), and the commercials (save for the Taco Bell one - - old people, shenanigans, FUNNY).

5. (#5-7 go together) Then it happened, a train wreck of awesomeness that started with Bey (aka Bane from The Dark Knight, see attached), then D's Child, then the blackout, then one of the most interesting 3rd and 4th quarters in football.

6. Also included in there was a kaleidoscope of commercials that pulled at your heart strings, one after another. Oprah for Jeep and war veterans. Tear. Paul Harvey and Dodge supporting the Farmers. Sniff. Bud and his best-friend Clydesdale. SOBBBBBBBBBBBBB.

7. It literally was the most fantastical second half in sports watching that I can remember since Pey Pey led his Broncos on a 35pt rebound (see how I mixed sports terms there?) to crush the San Diegos earlier this year.

8. This game produced two football play calls that I haven't seen in years, or maybe even ever: the fake field goal (BY THE ROOKIE KICKER!) and the decision to take the safety to run out the clock and win it. I think both of these plays should be used more to mix up the final scores, and it just goes to prove that the older brother is smarter, more interesting and thus, my favorite. Everyone has a favorite, even their mother.

9. Speaking of brothers, is Jim seriously the most pain in the a$$ little brother you could ever imagine? He looked like a black and red leprechaun on the side lines throwing down his hat, flailing his arms about, and shouting about his stolen pot o' 49ers gold. He all but started stomping on his bed while refusing to eat dinner. Growing up with that lil twirp must have been annoying! PS, did anyone see him not really even congratulating his brother after he won, while John was clearly caught on film saying "I love you"? I hope Jim gets mauled by a Clydesdale on the way home that grinch.

10. Speaking of getting caught on camera… Flacco lets loose the F-Bomb. Awesome.

11. BONUS! (mostly because #7 wasn't really about last night) And finally, the reason why last night was so awesome: We never have to listen to Ray Lewis again.

My Fantasy Football

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 15:13:34 +0100

WORD TO MY READER(S): I haven't blogged in a long time. I'm beginning to think that I'm not a blogger (don't tell Chris Sanborn!) But after nearly 4 years of working on GameFace and GoGameFace.com, I still love to write. Just not several times a day. So I've been working on a new writing project — my next book. It's fictionalized memoir, which means I get to start with the truth and then embellish the hell out of it. My character's name is Veronica. You can try to guess who the other characters are. I have decided to post some chapters and some of the work that I'm doing in my writing class in my quest to make it to a finished novel by the end of 2012. Yes, these pieces are long. But I hope you like them anyway. xo, Erica (aka Veronica)

MY FANTASY FOOTBALL

The top of her ESPN.com Fantasy page clearly stated her team’s name: LYNN SWANN’S JUICY ASS. “Why did you name your fantasy team that?” asked a guy at the bar, looking over Veronica’s shoulder while she set her lineup.

“It’s after my favorite player of all time. I’m from Pittsburgh. I bleed black and gold. I’m assuming the conversation’s over now?” Veronica asked, noting that this guy was wearing an orange and brown jersey, and that no Cleveland fan would be caught dead hitting on a Steelers fan.

“Moving on …” he said.

But it got Veronica thinking. Who really knows why one player stands out above another to become your favorite? Perhaps it was because Veronica’s brother Steve loved Terry Bradshaw and her brother Charlie adored Mean Joe Greene that she wanted her favorite player to be different.

Perhaps it was because her favorite player defied gravity, thanks to his formal ballet training. Perhaps it was because he was the first wide receiver to ever win Super Bowl MVP honors. She wasn’t really sure. But Veronica was very sure that she had very strong feelings for Lynn Swann. When he came on the TV screen, gracefully leaping to catch a pass, Veronica felt funny. Her stomach fluttered and her face got very hot. She felt that she might throw up. But instead, she just cheered and screamed and clapped, alongside her brothers. There was just something special about him.

Veronica had two posters of Lynn Swann in her room — one was of Swann and John Stallworth, who was the Steelers’ other well-known wide receiver. They were both proudly holding their Terrible Towels, huge grins on their faces, numbers 88 and 82, best friends forever. At least Veronica imagined them to be best friends. The towels they held were identical to the Terrible Towel Veronica slept with every night, even during baseball season. She took it with her to school in her book bag, on road trips to New York and Chicago to visit relatives — it was her trusty companion. Truthfully, her Terrible Towel could probably have used a good wash, but her mother couldn’t get it away from her long enough to throw it in the washing machine. So it remained a well-traveled, well-loved, dingy gold-ish dishtowel.

The second poster perfectly showed Swann’s physique. It was a photograph taken during an incredible play during Super Bowl X, where Swann’s acrobatic moves resulted in a 53-yard game-changing catch, his body twisting and writhing as he actually tipped the football to himself so he could maneuver into the proper position to catch it, all the while being stalked by the pesky Cowboy defensive back, who desperately tried to block the pass. (Veronica was only 6 years old at the time this game was played, and was not sure she even saw the play on TV, but she had heard it described so many times by her father and brothers, that she was sure she had seen it herself. Heck she even felt like she was at the game when it happened.) She just loved looking at this poster. It gave her butterflies every time she saw it, although she wasn’t sure why. All she knew was that when she saw Lynn Swann in his tight pants, flying through the air, she felt that same hot feeling, in her face, in her stomach, in her brain. She found it half embarrassing, half exhilarating.

Also in her room, Veronica prominently hung her Steelers calendar. She was very proud of this item, as she had to join the Steelers Fan Club to get one. She had to write an essay on why she was a fan, and she, of course, wrote about Lynn Swann’s moves. Veronica carefully hand-wrote the letter (in fact, she started it and re-started it several times, because it had to be perfect). When the masterpiece was complete, she sealed it, wrote the address on the envelope, and placed the stamp (upside down, which means “I love you,” of course.) Under duress, her mother drove her to the post office to mail the letter. Veronica explained that she needed to make sure the letter was sent First Class, and didn’t want to risk just putting it in the mailbox with the flag up. Eight weeks later, the calendar arrived, to great fanfare around the Barkley household. They all knew how deeply she loved the Steelers and Lynn Swann — even her four-year-old sister Clarissa, who was also her bunkmate. Her dad, Charlie and Clarissa watched as Veronica hung the calendar on her bedroom wall, next to her posters, congratulating her on getting the free gift from the Fan Club. She beamed with pride.

The next week in class, Veronica heard an announcement on the loudspeaker that players from the Pittsburgh Steelers were coming to Franklin Elementary School. She was instantly sick with excitement, and raced home to tell her brothers. They laughed. “None of the real players are coming to your school gym, OK Ronnie?” Steve said. “They are just sending rookies. The real guys are practicing. I guarantee you won’t recognize one of them.”

When the big day arrived, Veronica was still excited to cheer on the team she loved. She wore a white turtleneck, black pants (she never wore jeans), sneakers and her Steelers jersey, which was a hand-me-down from Charlie, so the back of her shirt said HARRIS, after Franco Harris. That was Charlie’s former favorite player, until he started liking Mean Joe Greene better. Charlie told Veronica that Harris had great stats, but he liked Greene now, not only because of his “Mean” moniker, but also because he starred in a Coke commercial. Veronica liked Franco, too, so she didn’t mind wearing the jersey that day. Plus, she remembered what Steve said about the rookies.

Hundreds of kids filed into the gymnasium. It was loud and smelled like dirty socks. Some loud rock music was on, and pretty much every kid had their favorite Steelers garb on, waving towels. Some had pom-poms, a few had plastic megaphones. Kids and adults were clapping their hands in unison to the music. It was a rousing pep rally for the start of the new football season — and Veronica loved every second, even if they were just rookies. Suddenly, the gym doors flew open, and through them came some of the biggest, toughest looking, manliest men she had ever seen. Even though they were in their street clothes and not their uniforms, she knew all of them. She knew them from TV. Her palms started to sweat. Terry, Rocky, Franco, Mean Joe, Stallworth and … Swann. She gasped and fell to the ground on all fours. She dragged her friend Stephanie down by the sleeve.

“What are you doing?!” Stephanie yelled, amidst the din.

“He can’t see me wearing the Franco jersey! You have to help me!” Veronica pleaded.

The two crawled through a mass of legs, jumping up and down all around them. Veronica’s hand got stepped on, and she screamed, then punched the kid in the back of the knee.

Stephanie followed closely behind until the two made it to the perimeter of the gym. Luckily, the adults were too busy cheering and clapping to the music, that they didn’t notice the two girls crawl out the rear doors, into the cafeteria.

When the coast was clear, they stood up, and dusted off their knees. “What’s your plan?” asked Steph, breathlessly.

“We’re heading to the art room. You need to help me cover up this HARRIS.” Veronica said sharply.

“But you’re going to miss the assembly! You love the Steelers. You love them more than anyone here!”

Veronica grabbed Steph by her Bradshaw jersey. “This. Is. Very. Important!!!” she urged through clenched teeth. “Come on!”

The two ran down to the art room and found black construction paper. Stephanie quickly cut out a piece big enough to cover up the Harris. Meanwhile, Veronica found jars of paint, with brushes soaking in water right next to them. She couldn’t find a true Steelers gold, but yellow was good enough. She carefully painted S-W-A-N-N on the paper, and blew on it to dry.

“How are you going to stick it on?” Steph asked, still panting.

“Look for some pins!” Veronica ordered, in between furious blows in an attempt to speed up the drying process.

“Pins?!” Steph started tearing up the art room. “All I found were these clothes pins,” she reported back.

“OK, well, they’ll have to do. Pin this on my back,” Veronica demanded.

Once the yellow SWANN was secured, the girls ran back to the assembly. Each of the players had been speaking, telling the kids what a great season it was going to be and asking them to cheer for them really hard this year — because they were going to win the Super Bowl again!

The girls reached the gym just as Lynn Swann was speaking. They ran up the side of the gym, right next to where the players were standing.

“I was not a very good football player when I started out,” Lynn Swann said. “I took several years of dance lessons that included ballet, tap and jazz. They helped a great deal with body control, balance, a sense of rhythm, and timing.

“I'm not here because I am even that good now,” he took a dramatic pause. “I'm here because of the people around me made me that good.”

The room erupted in wild applause.

Veronica’s heart melted. And at the same moment that she felt compelled to shout “YOU ARE HERE BECAUSE YOU ARE GREAT … AND I LOVE YOU AND YOUR TIGHT PANTS!” a hush came over the crowd, resulting in the most horrifying moment that could ever happen to a 10-year-old girl in the history of humankind. Mortified, Veronica ran toward the exit of the gym, crossing the stage where the players were standing.

Lynn Swann grabbed the fleet-footed Veronica as she ran by, just as if she were a fumbled football flying by him on the field. He scooped her up into his arms, noticing that she had something pinned to her back, and that suddenly he had yellow paint smeared on his arm. “And what do we have here?” Swann asked. Veronica thought her heart had stopped. He saw everything — the clothes-pins and the construction paper and the HARRIS underneath.

“So I’m your second choice, am I?” Swann asked, smiling.

“No, Mr. Swann. You are my first choice in my heart now and always. This is my brother’s stupid shirt and I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I love you. Didn’t you see the stamp on my letter to the Fan Club. It was upside down!” Veronica said in one breath.

“So what about me?! I’m not your favorite?” chimed in Franco Harris.

“And what the heck about me?” said Terry Bradshaw, in his southern drawl. “I’m the quarterback.”

“What about me and my moustache?” asked Rocky Bleier.

“And what about me? I’m his best friend!” added John Stallworth.

* * *

“This did not happen,” complained Steve at the Barkley dinner table that night, as Veronica told the story of her day.

“Well, there is yellow paint on my old Harris jersey. Maybe it did happen,” Charlie commented, while shoving his mouth full of peas.

“I think it did happen,” her dad said with a smile.

“I have a question,” said the four-year-old Clarissa, seemingly frustrated with the whole conversation. “Why are you so obsessed with Lynn Swann’s butt?!”

The entire table stared at the baby of the family, mouths open, then burst out laughing at Clarissa’s poignant commentary. Veronica slipped under the table in sheer embarrassment. She found herself yet again on all fours, face flushed, mind racing, trying to understand the emotions raging through her, but mostly thinking “He really does have a juicy ass.”

* * *

Back at the bar, as she decided to play current Steelers wide receiver Mike Wallace this week on her fantasy team, Veronica took a swig of her Bud Light. “I wonder if his ass is still as juicy?” she thought. And perhaps more important, “Wonder if I could ever get over the fact that he’s a Republican?”

A Belated Tribute to Al Davis

Sun, 27 Nov 2011 23:06:13 +0100

Al Davis shared the same birthday with America and George Steinbrenner, and died on the same date as Che Guevara.

Perfect.

Who else but Al Davis could hold that distinction? Chock it up to one more contradiction among a thousand that characterized the maverick former owner of the Oakland Raiders.

When Davis died Oct. 8 it brought up a lot of memories for me and other die-hard Raiders fans. Most of those memories are great, and some of them, honestly, are terrible. Heartbreakingly terrible. Such is the life of a 21^st-century sports fan.

In their heyday, Davis’ Raiders teams were the baddest of badasses, a team of hard-edged outlaws who, oh yeah, won three Super Bowls in the 1970s and ‘80s.

But for all their legendary toughness, I couldn’t get one of the least tough things in the world – a Broadway show tune – out of my head as I’ve ruminated the past few weeks about Davis’ life. Specifically, I thought of that song from “Evita” – not something you often hear in The Black Hole – and these lyrics:

Don’t cry for me, Argentina

The truth is I never left you

All through my wild days

My mad existence

I kept my promise

So keep your distance

Change “Argentina” to “Oakland” and “I” to “Al” and I think you know what I’m getting at.

Davis – whose legendary mantra was “Just win, baby.” – just wanted to be known for winning in intimidating and dominating fashion. And he was. Unfortunately, he was just as infamous for moving the Raiders from Oakland to L.A. and then making sport history by moving them back. No team has ever left a city only to return.

That’s Davis in a nutshell. Capable of great accomplishments and inspiring incredible loyalty in one flash, yet capable of breaking your heart in the next.

How was Davis great? He won championships with a group of football outcasts and renegades such as Ted “The Mad Stork” Hendricks, Kenny “Snake” Stabler, Skip “Dr. Death” Thomas, Dave “Ghost” Casper and Jack “Assassin” Tatum. They not only won consistently from 1963-1985, Davis’ Raiders often conquered with spectacular, heart-racing heroics in games so unforgettable they were given their own titles: Sea of Hands, Ghost to the Post and The Holy Roller, to name just a few.

More importantly, Davis broke color barriers in a conservative sports world that changed at a glacial pace. In 1968, he became the first football executive to draft a black quarterback, Eldridge Dickey. In 1979, he hired professional sports’ first Latino head coach, Tom Flores. In 1989, he hired the NFL’s first African-American head coach, Art Shell. In the 1990s, he promoted Amy Trask to Raiders CEO, making her the first woman to hold a top NFL front-office position.

There was, of course, his dark side.

Davis could be loyal and sentimental and he could be cold and ruthless. He was color-blind and progressive. He also was greedy. He was extremely generous, often quietly paying hospital bills for a down-on-his-luck athlete or former coach. But he could be petty and mean-spirited. He was private, almost reclusive. But he loved being famous. He showed the city of Oakland loyalty in his early years. Then he kicked it in its teeth and took the ownership game of pitting cities against one another to new, shameless levels.

His legacy is wonderful. His legacy is awful. Contradictions are his middle name.

And yes, he broke our hearts in Oakland by moving the team. But then again, he healed the wound by moving back.

Years ago, I went to a book signing to see another Oakland rebel named Davis -- Angela Davis, a former Black Panther. (No relation to Al.) She thanked the crowd for coming out before adding, “But you didn’t come out to see me, did you? You came out to see each other.”

I never quite understood what she meant. Until …

Fast forward to Oct. 16 at that “li’l ol’ bullring” – as Kenny Stabler calls the Oakland Coliseum in his Alabama-bred vernacular -- when the Raiders played the Browns for their first home game since Davis died.

The Raiders won 24-17, and the raucous fans – one of those beautiful blue-collar Oakland crowds where just about every group under the sun was represented – were feeling good and happy. Out in the parking lot, as someone blasted an old R&B song, hundreds of Silver-and-Black-clad fans started doing the Electric Slide dance in unison. The day of mourning for Davis had turned instantly into an Irish wake, and the tears had turned to smiles, cheers and good vibes.

At that moment, I finally knew what Angela Davis had been talking about. The fans had come out to pay tribute Al Davis’ life but they ended the day just enjoying the moment of being a community, of being with each other. They were able to do that because Davis built the Raiders into such a successful franchise and because he moved them back to Oakland, taking a huge wrong he alone created and making it right.

That’s Davis’ legacy, too. And it’s a beautiful thing.

I guess what I’m trying to say is:

The truth is he never left us

All through his wild days

His mad existence

He kept his promise

So keep your distance

THE FAB FIVE

Sun, 25 Sep 2011 15:15:19 +0100

I am, once again, high on sports! How could I not be? This is (as I have said many times before) the BEST time of year to be a sports fan ... Here, the TOP FIVE things that have me uber-excited this week:

1) I just saw Moneyball, and it is AMAZING! I loved every second of it, perhaps because I worked for the SF Giants, in such close proximity to the A's and thought it showed a very realistic version of working in baseball ... perhaps because my "GameFace" co-author Chris Debenedetti is a die-hard A's fan and has covered their quest for a new stadium extensively ... perhaps because I loved the book, and the movie, although very different, was wonderful ... perhaps because I thought that while men dominated the movie, at least women were not portrayed as dumb bimbos, as they are in most sports movies. Perhaps because Brad Pitt, Jonah Hill, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Robin Wright, Chris Pratt and Kerris Dorsey (as Casey Beane, Billy's daughter) were all great. I still think baseball season is wayyyyyy too long, but it did renew my love of the game. Although if you asked me who is in the pennant race right now, I have no freaking clue. to me, I'm fully focused on football season ...

2) I'm just loving Fantasy Football this year. Not because my team is any good (I'm 0-2, thanks to choosing Michael Vick as my first round draft pick -- thank you Mr. Roto. I still love you). But I'm loving the fact that the BF and I are commissioners of our co-ed Hanky Panky league. Not shockingly, I am enjoying my role as co-commish, which includes sending funny mass emails and organizing coed-sports gatherings -- two things I consider myself VERY good at. My brother also invented a fantasy game that our entire family is playing -- which makes family functions even livelier, with an extra dose of trash talk. So far, this season has been wild & wacky with all of the injuries and surprise wins/losses (please don't bring up the Steelers/Ravens game. Oy!) -- so a season like this makes Fantasy a bit less predictable and more enjoyable. Even at 0-2. I'm also loving the fact that the BF got his Madden football game up & running and that he and his buddies play late into the night. Lots of good alone time to work on my own stuff ... which brings me to number 3!

3) I have rejoined my writing group and am getting excited about my next writing project -- a book or long article on the summer my dad and I spent ushering for the Lehigh Valley Iron Pigs. I encourage everyone to quit their highfalutin jobs to take a position that pays $24 a game (plus one free hot dog) to wipe off seats for ingrates, discipline unruly children and escort inebriated fans out of the ballpark! Actually, it was one of the best summers of my life and I loved that time with my dad, sharing something that we both loved. I'm really enjoying writing about that summer, and all of the memories from my childhood that it conjured up. I'll keep you all posted on my progress, and hopefully excerpt some chapters here.

4) Saw this wonderful article about my guy Mark Herzlich who is now a New York Giant. Read this ... and you'll know why I love him!

5) Mmmmm, pulled pork. Had my Jets friends over a couple weeks ago for pulled pork, taco dip, artichoke dip (featured in Glamour!), all the fall football fixins. Is "homegating" the next "tailgating"? Personally, I like both ... but the NFL thinks that we're on to something here at GoGameFace.com. Finally, they are realizing that female sports fans are so much more than pink-jersey-buying, "lite-sports" fans. Check this out and visit the new NFL site at nfl.com/women. Although the intro with two women dancing with each other with pom-poms on is a bit weird, (it's not as sexy as it sounds), I love the NFL Gameday Party section, filled with loads of great info, recipes and more. I am also glad to see that the NFL is hiring women (quoted in the Crain's article) and not leaving it up to a bunch of stat-head male fans to determine how women consume and enjoy sports. Now that's something to cheer about!

The Highs & The Lows

Wed, 27 Jul 2011 01:40:39 +0100

The day started off really well. The lockout was over! My inbox began blowing up.

"When are we doing our fantasy draft?!?!"

"Can we create our Sunday Funday viewing schedule, please!?"

"What vile thing did one of the Steelers do/say/assault today?"

"Why in the hell did Cutler call it off with KC?"

Yes, we might have just suffered through one of the hottest weeks on record in NYC, but it seemed that collectively, we all were ready for a chill in the air, a piping hot bowl of chili, some serious trash talk, and September 8. It couldn't come fast enough.

But then in my in-box, I received some news that broke my NFL-loving heart. I got an email from Melissa, my co-host from the GameOn podcast, telling me that one of the Olympians we interviewed -- make that one of our favorite Olympians we interviewed -- had died. Melissa had interviewed aerialist Jeret "Speedy" Peterson back in February 2010, and told me how much she had loved talking to him. Click here to listen to the show. Just today we got news that he committed suicide. Listen to the interview and it will break your heart, too. What an incredible athlete. An amazing spirit. And a terrible loss.

Dear NFL ...

Thu, 14 Jul 2011 01:58:28 +0100

Dear NFL:

Your first NFL pre-season game is scheduled for August 7. That’s just a mere three and a half weeks away. I really hope you can work with these filthy rich players and the filthier, richer owners figure this whole situation out … and fast. Why? Because it’s only June and my heart is pounding … I’m salivating, drooling, itching for football season. (Here’s more evidence.)

It’s because you, my beloved NFL, have created the perfect sports season. It’s pure, unadulterated perfection. Don’t mess with it. Don’t add two more games. You put on 16 perfect games. With a perfect playoff season — that helps stave off the post-Christmas blues. Oh and not to mention your perfect championship, in which the whole world really all watches in unison, and actually cares — unlike some other championships we know (one is spelled N-B-A and the other is spelled N-H-L.)

Then sweet NFL, you go away (for the most part, with the exception of the Combine and the Draft), but you go away long enough so that we miss you. We yearn for you. From the bottom of our souls. We need you, NFL. We don’t think we can go on without you. The thought of life without you … life without Bud Light and pulled pork sammies … life without heroes and villains … life without Al/Chris and Mike/Jaws … it’s all just unbearable (We probably can live without Joe Buck, though, if that helps). So please come back in six weeks like you have every year for my entire life.

Love,

Erica

Dear MLB:

Your season is too bloody long. The day after my team, the World Champion San Francisco Giants, won the World Series in NOVEMBER — I got an email offering me Spring Training tickets. If your season ends in November, and pitchers and catcher report in mid-February — we do not have time to miss you, baseball.

You are supposed to be the boys of summer. Your Opening Day is in March, when it’s still snowing in Chicago and Denver and Cleveland — and by the time you’re done, it’s time for turkey. Too long. You should “own” the summer. You should start in May and finish in September. But you won’t — too much money to be lost. And all of the purists will start complaining that the season would be different than Babe Ruth’s season, blah blah blah. I say, play more double-headers, bring back the businessmen’s special weekday games, and cram those 162 games between mid-April and mid-October like they used to. At least shave a month off of your season and give us a break from the monotony.

I will say, however, that what you do best, darling baseball, is pre-season. Spring Training is the absolute best. Why? Because it’s sunny and hot in Arizona and Florida. And the ballparks are small and all the fans care. And anything is possible, because it’s the beginning of the season and you don’t realize how freaking long it’s going to take to get to the other side of 162 games.

Baseball, I used to love you. You were my first love — but life just got too busy. And you just got too … boring. I’ll see you in September when every game starts to matter.

Fondly,

Erica

Dear NBA & NHL:

I’ll keep this short and sweet. The NBA lockout is in full-effect and the NHL seems headed in the same direction. Yawn. Does anyone really care? I maintain that the real issue is: Your seasons are timed all wrong.

NBA: You are the only All-Star Game that’s fun to watch, and your dunk contest is the best. Why? Because it’s President’s Day weekend and there is nothing else to watch. Your playoffs should not kick off on Memorial Day and take place the first two weeks of summer. You’re an indoor sport. Why don’t you own April instead? You should capture the excitement of March Madness, and parlay that into NBA fever. (On a side note, we do appreciate the opportunity to watch the Mavs beat the dispicable Heat this year ... so maybe the LeBron "Decision" nonsense ended up being good for basketball?)

Back to scheduling. Ahhh, NHL , our red-haired stepchild: The only people who watch your games are the people who live in the cities who are playing, with the exception of the New Year’s Day outdoor Winter Classic game. It’s brilliant! Want to know why? Here’s a huge revelation. Listen closely: People want to watch hockey when it’s cold outside. The Stanley Cup should be in February or March — at the latest. No one on earth (except for people who live in the cities who are playing) cares about hockey in June. They want to go to the beach! They want to barbecue outside! They want to go to baseball games! And for some, they want to salivate over football season ...

With apathy,

Erica

PS Here is my proposed new schedule for the four major pro sports leagues:

Saved! Mark Herzlich restores my faith in sports!

Sat, 05 Feb 2011 18:43:14 +0100

I'm at a bit of a crossroads. Normally, I am the first to wear my sports-loving heart on my sleeve: I can always talk about last night's game around the water-cooler. I am in several fantasy leagues. I wrote a book about my love of sports a couple years ago -- and am working on another. I just bought my boyfriend a 55" TV for Christmas so we can enjoy our 24/7-viewing of any-game-that-happens-to-be-on even more.

But last year was a tough year for me. I don't know if I'm getting older and other things seem more important (spending time with my family, thinking about starting a family, Obama's healthcare issues, Cairo).

But I'm having a hard time right now caring about sports. Which is kind of alarming -- because my two favorite teams, the San Francisco Giants and the Pittsburgh Steelers, have had amazing seasons.

And sure, looking back, there were some great, heart-pounding, goosebump-inducing moments in 2010:

•    The incredible Winter Games to start off the year.
•    A classic match-up between the Lakers and Celts in the NBA Finals.
•    An exhilarating Stanley Cup Championship with the Blackhawks coming out on top.
•    An at-least-we-didn't-completely-embarrass-ourselves performance by the US in the World Cup.
•    A lingering-into-November, please-shorten-the-season-MLB World Series between two extremely likable teams (thankfully, neither of which were the Yankees or Red Sox).

But it's the low-lights that have really made it hard for me to be a fan these days -- especially as a woman.
•    LeBron's "Decision" -- insulting to sports fans everywhere, of any gender.
•    Tiger's ridiculous sexcapades.
•    Favre's alleged sexts and refusal to leave us all alone.
•    Kim Kardashian's desperate rotation of athletes.
•    Horrendous sports husbands Steve Nash, Tony Parker, Wayne Rooney, Tiki Barber, David Beckham and yes, Brett Favre again.
•    The amazingly unprofessional and immature Jets coach Sal Alosi tripping Nolan Carrol of the Dolphins, during a punt return.
•    And of course, the hardest one for me personally: Ben Roethlisberger behaving badly. Really badly, according to police reports filed.

This is the one that's really stumping me. It's my team. I'm a Yinzer. It's the team I have grown up with. It's one of the most storied franchises in the league. It's the Stairway to Seven, as we are going for our unbelievable seventh Super Bowl ring. And I'm having a hard time mustering up excitement. Maybe police didn't press charges, but no one can deny that this guy is, at the very least, a jerk (I struggled over what word to use, and this seemed to be the only publishable one). There seems to be an epidemic in sports. A severe outbreak of jerks.

So what to do? I'm in a sports-induced funk.

I had the chance to go to Dallas for the festivities. And I didn't. I'd rather stay here in the dreary Northeast and watch the over-produced spectacle with my family, eating little smokies and pierogies.

And just last night, my 8-month-old puppy Wrigley (named after her parents' favorite ballpark), devoured my beloved Terrible Towel. (Here is Wrigley in Solitary Confinement, as punishment.)

That said, I need a sign. I need a sports-loving intervention here. I need someone to make me believe again.

I'm not too surprised that the Gatorade folks would deliver me just the dose of what I needed. It didn't come in the form of their G Series pre-, during or post-workout regimen.

It didn't come in the form of Replay, their wildly successful (at least with me) program where they give former high-school athletes the chance to regain glory.

It didn't come in the form of an inspiring Super Bowl commercial.

It came in the form of a brief phone interview with 2011 NFL Draft hopeful Mark Herzlich. The Boston College linebacker and cancer-survivor is in Dallas as one of 14 would-be NFL rookies, where NFL Films is set to chronicle each of their offseasons, as they train and prepare for the draft in April.

While in Dallas, each newbie has been paired with a current NFL player, who has been asked to share his experience, provide advice on training and nutrition -- and of course, all of the elements NFL players have to deal with on the field and off. Then, the footage will be edited into short films for the "Everything to Prove" series.

James Laurinaitis was designated as Mark Herzlich's mentor. Here they are working out at the Gatorade Sports Science Institute at the Super Bowl. I was scheduled to talk to James first.

So from icy New York City, I got an incoming call from icy Dallas. The caller ID said "Super Bowl XLV" was calling. I was tired. Irritable. CNN was on mute, playing in the background, as the chaos in Cairo unfolded.

I looked at my list of questions for James, and sighed. Here we go:

EB: Talk to me about the Gatorade training you've been doing ...

JL: They asked the older players to come down and talk to younger guys about the NFL, nutrition and to see what Gatorade was all about. This year, they have a pretty cool set-up. They have the bike, the Bod Pod, a machine that measures calories burned to breathe and stay alive. Pretty high-tech stuff. Just watching it all, changed my whole view of Gatorade -- when I was young, I thought it was sugar and water. I had no idea all the science behind it!

EB: You know, last year in Miami, I faced off with D'Brickashaw Ferguson. I want you to know I kicked his butt!

JL: Really?

EB: Why do you think they didn't make the super bowl this year? It was all me!

JL: Yeah, that bike is pretty intense. (Awkward silence.)

EB: So anyway, what's going on down in the Big D?

JL: It's getting exciting -- there was an ice storm here. But I was born and raised in Minnesota, so I'm OK with it. It's been really cool to see whole spectacle here -- all the madness.

EB: Who are you pulling for?

JL: I'm pulling for Green Bay. AJ Hawk was a buddy of mine at Ohio State. And I do think Green Bay will win. I think they have a lot going on. Aaron Rodgers is one of the best QB's in the game -- and he'll solidify that with a "W." Green Bay is hot right now. Pittsburgh has more experience, but that could work against them. Green Bay is ready.

EB: (Internal Monologue: Whatever dude.) So talk to me about the Rams ... you guys are a great young team. Sam Bradford had a hell of a year ... tell us about where you think the team is going.

JL: We went from 1 - 15 to 7 - 9 ... We have a lot of young guys proud to be a part of the organization. We are slowly climbing. Sam, of course, helps a lot. But it all comes from the top down.

EB: Many know that your dad and two uncles were professional wrestlers -- you were surrounded by mentors who knew how to deal with fame and fortune. Talk to me about how they mentored you and prepared you for a career in the NFL.

JL: My dad is my mentor. He was definitely in the limelight, and that helped to prepare me for what to expect. He taught me how to handle media, how to handle success and adversity, how to be humble, how to remember who you are. Life is about relationships. It's about the people you keep close. He taught me not to get caught in your own hype.

EB: So what advice are you giving to Mark?

JL: I've just been telling him to keep doing what you did in college that made you successful. Find a vet to talk to, and find out what it takes to stay in the NFL.

I guess I was feeling better. James seemed to be taking his role seriously and seemed like a pretty cool guy. Now it was time to talk to Mark.

EB: Hey there ... first of all, how are you feeling? (That was kind of dumb, I'm sure everyone asks him that.)

MH: Actually, I'm feeling great!

EB: (Phew. He didn't think it was dumb.) So what is Gatorade having you do down there? I heard you've been riding the bike and hanging out in the Bod Pod.

MH: Yeah, we're going through all kinds of training down here with Gatorade.

EB: Just so you know, I did the training last year with D'Brickashaw Ferguson ... I kicked his butt! Why do you think they didn't make the super bowl this year? It was all me!

MH: (Laughs politely).

EB: (Nervously rambling.) But did they make you wear the mouth apparatus and were you drooling? Cause I sure was. And they were filming it.

MH: Yes, they did. It was pretty intense. So don't worry, you're not alone.

EB: (Laughs in relief.) So they have you matched up with mentors right? What will you be doing down in Dallas?

MH: James and I will be walking around, getting to know each other. It's all about having a contact in the NFL. We haven't really gotten to sit down and talk about a lot of life-lesson stuff, but it's great to find someone who plays a similar position as you ... and it's great to just know someone who knows what you're going through.

EB: So you and James just met -- but who are other mentors in your life?

MH: My parents have been great mentors throughout my whole life. They have always pushed me to be my best, but allowed me to be myself. They let me live my own life, but told me that whatever you do, work your hardest. I've taken that with me throughout the entire process. That's been my mindset my whole life, but it really helped me when I got sick.

EB: So I just have to tell you that you're a real inspiration to me. I'm not really even into college football, but my boyfriend has now forced me to give both of my weekend days to football, during the fall. And I credit you with getting me into college football. I watched all the coverage of your story -- from your cancer diagnosis to your chemo treatments while still being a big part of the team, and from your pen-pal relationship with the Franciscan nun in the convent, to your current status as a cancer survivor and NFL-hopeful. Tell me about some of the things you learned from this experience.

MH: It's definitely been a maturation process ... you grow up faster when you have to deal with something like that. But to be someone that people look up to, not just for athletics, was something I had not planned on. But it was awesome. It is awesome. And it's become something I have cherished -- and something that I'm constantly working to improve, now that I've become this ... well, this pseudo-celebrity, I guess. Not like the people walking around here! Like Adam Sandler and Marisa Miller, I just saw them! But if there is a little that I can do with what I've been given, that's is something I cherish.

EB: So do you still write to your pen-pal?

MH: (Laughs...)

EB: (... and then I laugh at the thought of this big, strapping, bald guy in Dallas at the Super Bowl, amidst all of the "madness" as James put it, chatting with me about his pen-pal the nun. Maybe I shouldn't have asked him.)

MH: I'm definitely still in touch with Sister Barbara Anne. In many ways, her life has completely changed. She lives in a convent in South Bend, Indiana, and our relationship was well-received and well-documented. What struck me, was that it was something that really didn't have anything to do with football. A lot of people wrote to me who were football fans, but her letter really stood out. First, it was because her handwriting was immaculate ... it really caught my attention. And then she just sent more letters and more letters. I started writing back, and that's how it all began. But now, people have been writing her from all over, asking for prayers and support. And I really think she has gotten great pleasure from it. It's given her real purpose.

EB: (Jesus, this kid is possibly the nicest person I have ever spoken to in my entire life.) So we've done a lot of looking back. Let's look forward. What's next?

MH: With the draft in April, I am spending all my time at the IMG Academy in Florida. I wake up at 6am, work out all morning, take an hour break, and then work out all afternoon. It's been really beneficial so far ... but the only goal so far is to perform in the combine. I just need to do my best there, and see where the cards fall.

EB: You know lately, I've been a bit jaded about sports. It's harder to find heroes because all we hear are the salacious headlines all over the place. Tiger and Big Ben and the rest. Your story made me believe in heroes again. So thank you.

MH: You're welcome. That's nice to hear.

EB: Now listen to me. You and James, don't get into any trouble. I need you to remain my hero, OK?

MH: Oh don't worry, I'm leaving tomorrow to go train ... I'm missing all of the big parties.

EB: Oh good. They're overrated anyway.

MH: (Laughs) Yeah, you're probably right.

I hung up. Exhilarated. Yes, Cairo coverage was still ticking along the bottom of the TV -- but CNN was also doing a story on the Super Bowl. Two storied franchises. The two best defenses in the league. A veteran QB and a young, fast phenom in his first Big Game. I think back to my interview with Aaron Rodgers, where he discussed his mentor Joe Montana, and I smile.

But it was today's short, 15-minute phone interview that shifted my mindset and made me a believer, once again. Thank you, Mark Herzlich. Maintaining hero status can be an enormously daunting undertaking. But something tells me you can handle it.

I am suddenly inspired to make my famous artichoke dip for the game tomorrow, and hope that memories of my icy Dallas interview will warm the cockles of my once-again-sports-loving heart for a nice long time ... or at least until the possible NFL lockout.

HAVE A SUPER DAY!

Fri, 04 Feb 2011 10:57:25 +0100

My team is in the Super Bowl (AGAIN!) and I'm giddy about it all over again. Brings me back to why I love sports anyway. (See photo of me, my brother and sister ... I'm in the middle. With my eyes closed).

Anyway, I'm on the Martha Stewart Show on Sirius this morning ... I have a long post coming later today here on GoGameFace.com and Huffington Post about why last year was a tough one — especially for female fans ... And another post tomorrow, after my interview with Mark Herzlich and James Laurinaitis.

SUPER news for this super frigid February morning!

— Erica

Power to the Female Fans!

Mon, 11 Oct 2010 18:01:15 +0100

The Fan in Fanatic is Frequently Female: Not only do I love this piece because there is alliteration in the title — but I love this piece because I was interviewed for it! Plus, it is more great evidence that female fans are out there in droves.

Click here to read the whole piece by Sande Snead and Sundra Hominik.

Spy of the Saints

Sun, 12 Sep 2010 12:21:14 +0100

Our new blogger/author pal Bert Bartlett, of the "Soul of the Saints" blog sent us the following observations of the new NFL Boutique:

Near corner(back) of Magazine & Austerlitz St. uptown
Raised, high and dry (flood proof) foundation
(Lipstick) red color (Editor's note: THANK GOODNESS IT'S NOT PINK!)
Shotgun (formation) cottage
High (hail mary) ceilings
Large mirrors on the walls — which make everybody feel like they are on facebook (or a fullback)
Old and new school clothing
Not as many pink jerseys as one mite expect. Recession! (Editor's note: Or perhaps they are finally figuring out that we want to root for our REAL team colors?!)
Potpourri of lipstick, lotions, and balms that can send any backfield in motion, possibly resulting in a personal foul by men
Wide assortment of women's wear, from leather (jackets) to lace (shoes), plus skimpy bathing suits that make the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders halter tops look church-like.
Dressing (locker) room in rear; did not breach in fear of being whistled by NFL security
Only NFL (No Fun League) trademarked merchandise
And lastly, regretfully, only one book (Editor's note: it wasn't "GameFace" or Bert's book, "A Tale of Two Seasons." Sigh.)

Last Editor's Note: THANKS BERT! Appreciate your spy skills and can't wait to read your book. Maybe I should bribe the Fed Ex guy to actually deliver it to me. Gotta love NYC, where nothing is easy and even our team's quarterback knows better than to live here. (Read down to the part where I ask Eli, "Why Hoboken?"