Annika Sorenstam's LPGA Tour career ended—on American soil, at least—with a missed cut at the ADT Championship in Florida. (She will play events in Singapore and Dubai before officially hanging up her spikes.) Let it be clear, though, that this ending in no way tarnishes her career.
Annika is not an NBA player, limping off the court after bouncing around from team to team, trying to collect a paycheck at the tail end of a once-glorious career.
Nor is she a so-so quarterback who's been in and out of the league and called upon only as a desperation hire for an injury-depleted team.
Sure, the Hall of Famer played in only 13 events in 2007 because of a back injury, but she finished in the top 10 in six of those events.
Annika, with her trophy case of victories, was and is much, much more.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Redskins vs. Cowboys: The Rivalry Continues
No Portis.
A Rusty Romo.
Which team will overcome its shortcoming and prevail?
A Rusty Romo.
Which team will overcome its shortcoming and prevail?
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Cup Runneth Over
Over the weekend, sports fans had their pick of events. There was an intense SEC battle, patriotism on the line, and an historic ending in baseball. What held your attention this weekend?
On Saturday night, in a battle of Tigers, LSU (6) launched a late comeback to edge Auburn (10) in an SEC clash. Ohio State (13) had an unimpressive 28-10 victory over Troy, a team it should have beaten by a much wider margin.
In golf, the Americans defeated the Europeans to claim the Ryder Cup for the first time since 1999. Rookie Anthony Kim defeated Sergio Garcia, 5-4, in one of Sunday’s most exciting matches.
In the NFL, Miami posted an un-Dolphin like blowout of the Patriots, 38-13. In addition, there were two overtime games (Giants-Bengals and Bucs-Bears) and other thrillers, namely down-to-the-wire battles between the Colts-Jags and Broncos-Saints.
For those in a nostalgic mood on Sunday, there were seven hours of pregame coverage leading up to the Orioles-Yankees contest, the final game that will ever be played at Yankee Stadium.
Finally, the Emmys offered another form of entertainment. Will Tina Fey (aka, Sarah Palin) win an award for her role on “30 Rock,” and will Hugh Laurie finally be properly recognized for his portrayal on “House.” Stay tuned.
So, what were your viewing habits this weekend?
On Saturday night, in a battle of Tigers, LSU (6) launched a late comeback to edge Auburn (10) in an SEC clash. Ohio State (13) had an unimpressive 28-10 victory over Troy, a team it should have beaten by a much wider margin.
In golf, the Americans defeated the Europeans to claim the Ryder Cup for the first time since 1999. Rookie Anthony Kim defeated Sergio Garcia, 5-4, in one of Sunday’s most exciting matches.
In the NFL, Miami posted an un-Dolphin like blowout of the Patriots, 38-13. In addition, there were two overtime games (Giants-Bengals and Bucs-Bears) and other thrillers, namely down-to-the-wire battles between the Colts-Jags and Broncos-Saints.
For those in a nostalgic mood on Sunday, there were seven hours of pregame coverage leading up to the Orioles-Yankees contest, the final game that will ever be played at Yankee Stadium.
Finally, the Emmys offered another form of entertainment. Will Tina Fey (aka, Sarah Palin) win an award for her role on “30 Rock,” and will Hugh Laurie finally be properly recognized for his portrayal on “House.” Stay tuned.
So, what were your viewing habits this weekend?
Sunday, August 3, 2008
At Canton, Shades of Cooperstown
In July 2007, I trekked to Cooperstown to watch as Cal Ripken was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. As a lifelong Orioles fan, I felt proud to see an overwhelmingly pro-Ripken crowd—a supportive sea of Black and Orange and 8s. Tony Gwynn was also inducted during that ceremony. Ripken and Gwynn were class acts, and folks in the crowd speculated about when or if we would ever again see such an untainted, upstanding, classy duo go into the Hall of Fame.
Fast forward to Saturday, August 2, the day history repeated itself. This time, however, it was a sea of Burgundy and Gold and 81s and 28s and Hog Noses and, of course, Chief Zee. This time, the stage was in Canton, and the untainted, upstanding, classy duo was Redskins Darrell Green and Art Monk.
Green, the speedster cornerback who played more the 20 years with the Redskins, punctuated his speech by saying that he belonged in Canton and that he deserved to be here because, as a Christian man, an upstanding man, a faithful man, a man, he knew what to do with the fame, fortune, talent and voice he was given. In other words, he knows that with all that he has been given, he never took it for granted, using his talents for good. (Between the lines, this appears to be a shot at many of the oft-spoiled, disrespectful, superstar players who get into trouble and blow a great opportunity to do something positive with their time in the spotlight.)
Greeted by a four-plus minute standing ovation and cheers of “It’s About Time, It’s About Time,” Art Monk was the last enshrinee to take the stage. Monk, a record-breaking wide receiver with the Redskins, expressed his appreciation for being inducted, but he made it very clear that he was complete before this honor was bestowed upon him. Over the years, he said, fans would come up to him and tell him that he belonged in Canton, and that he was always appreciative of the support he received from the Washington community. However, he let it be known that he was already complete because of his faith, his community work, and the way he lived his life. The Hall of Fame was the cherry on top.
Cooperstown and Canton.
Gwynn and Ripken.
Green and Monk.
Upstanding and Classy.
Fast forward to Saturday, August 2, the day history repeated itself. This time, however, it was a sea of Burgundy and Gold and 81s and 28s and Hog Noses and, of course, Chief Zee. This time, the stage was in Canton, and the untainted, upstanding, classy duo was Redskins Darrell Green and Art Monk.
Green, the speedster cornerback who played more the 20 years with the Redskins, punctuated his speech by saying that he belonged in Canton and that he deserved to be here because, as a Christian man, an upstanding man, a faithful man, a man, he knew what to do with the fame, fortune, talent and voice he was given. In other words, he knows that with all that he has been given, he never took it for granted, using his talents for good. (Between the lines, this appears to be a shot at many of the oft-spoiled, disrespectful, superstar players who get into trouble and blow a great opportunity to do something positive with their time in the spotlight.)
Greeted by a four-plus minute standing ovation and cheers of “It’s About Time, It’s About Time,” Art Monk was the last enshrinee to take the stage. Monk, a record-breaking wide receiver with the Redskins, expressed his appreciation for being inducted, but he made it very clear that he was complete before this honor was bestowed upon him. Over the years, he said, fans would come up to him and tell him that he belonged in Canton, and that he was always appreciative of the support he received from the Washington community. However, he let it be known that he was already complete because of his faith, his community work, and the way he lived his life. The Hall of Fame was the cherry on top.
Cooperstown and Canton.
Gwynn and Ripken.
Green and Monk.
Upstanding and Classy.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
We've Arrived, Unfortunately
Bonnie Bernstein, nervously, compared high school basketball players to Palestinian suicide bombers on a recent airing of the Mike and Mike in the Morning Show.
Jemele Hill recently was suspended by ESPN for writing in her online column that “rooting for the Celtics was like saying Hitler was a victim,” among other not-so-nice things.
And early this year, the Golf Channel suspended anchor Kelly Tilghman for two weeks for saying that young players who wanted to challenge Tiger Woods should “lynch him in a back alley.”
Ladies, we have arrived. But do we have to do everything our male counterparts do?
Yes, we want to play with the big boys. We want a shot at the top sports beats at the big newspapers. We want to saddle up next to John Anderson and Stuart Scott as we read sports to all of America from the other anchor seat. And we’re still looking for a serious shot at the mike in a major city (We would love the sound of the Anna and Anna Morning Radio Show).
And most importantly, we want to be respected for our C-erebrum, not our C-Cup.
But somewhere along the way, some of us took the saying “Anything you can do, I can do better” a little too far. After all, we don’t want to fart, burp, scratch or make other strange noises at will, do we? We’re ladies, after all.
Now, we’ve got a reel it in. After all, as women, we can’t nail Imus to the wall about dissing our fellow basketball-playing sisters, then turn around and do the same thing in print, on television, or over the radio.
Working in the sports industry is nothing new for women, but we shouldn’t be so comfortable that we begin to make the mistakes of our male counterparts. Besides, we don’t want to give the hiring folks (read: men) any other reasons to think we can’t handle the job. Tell me I don’t know my sports as well as the next guy, and I’ll call you a liar. But, if these folks were to pull out a column or a tape of some of my inappropriate comments, then he would have me dead to rights. It’s indefensible (although nobody’s perfect).
As women often say—including those who blog on this site—we don’t want to be treated like men. We wanted to be treated better!
But that starts with behaving better than them.
Jemele Hill recently was suspended by ESPN for writing in her online column that “rooting for the Celtics was like saying Hitler was a victim,” among other not-so-nice things.
And early this year, the Golf Channel suspended anchor Kelly Tilghman for two weeks for saying that young players who wanted to challenge Tiger Woods should “lynch him in a back alley.”
Ladies, we have arrived. But do we have to do everything our male counterparts do?
Yes, we want to play with the big boys. We want a shot at the top sports beats at the big newspapers. We want to saddle up next to John Anderson and Stuart Scott as we read sports to all of America from the other anchor seat. And we’re still looking for a serious shot at the mike in a major city (We would love the sound of the Anna and Anna Morning Radio Show).
And most importantly, we want to be respected for our C-erebrum, not our C-Cup.
But somewhere along the way, some of us took the saying “Anything you can do, I can do better” a little too far. After all, we don’t want to fart, burp, scratch or make other strange noises at will, do we? We’re ladies, after all.
Now, we’ve got a reel it in. After all, as women, we can’t nail Imus to the wall about dissing our fellow basketball-playing sisters, then turn around and do the same thing in print, on television, or over the radio.
Working in the sports industry is nothing new for women, but we shouldn’t be so comfortable that we begin to make the mistakes of our male counterparts. Besides, we don’t want to give the hiring folks (read: men) any other reasons to think we can’t handle the job. Tell me I don’t know my sports as well as the next guy, and I’ll call you a liar. But, if these folks were to pull out a column or a tape of some of my inappropriate comments, then he would have me dead to rights. It’s indefensible (although nobody’s perfect).
As women often say—including those who blog on this site—we don’t want to be treated like men. We wanted to be treated better!
But that starts with behaving better than them.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Father’s (and Daughter’s) Day
The Date: Several Sundays throughout my childhood
The Place: Washington, D.C., and its surrounding areas
The Event: A family gathering
The Scene: The men are in the living room watching football; the women have migrated to the kitchen. I was the one interloper, sitting on my father’s lap, asking him questions about the Redskins. What’s all the screaming about? How was the game played? What was going on? Why did it matter so much to the men in the room? My father never shooed me away or sent me off to my mother’s side. Instead, he plopped me on his lap and taught me the rules.
It was my springboard to becoming a sportswriter. Later, my older brother would continue the tradition, teaching me the ins and outs of sports. I became a sportswriter through the support of my father and brother.
Today, I salute both of these men, these fathers, on Father’s Day.
And because I believe the old adage goes both ways … behind every woman, there’s also a good man (or two).
The Place: Washington, D.C., and its surrounding areas
The Event: A family gathering
The Scene: The men are in the living room watching football; the women have migrated to the kitchen. I was the one interloper, sitting on my father’s lap, asking him questions about the Redskins. What’s all the screaming about? How was the game played? What was going on? Why did it matter so much to the men in the room? My father never shooed me away or sent me off to my mother’s side. Instead, he plopped me on his lap and taught me the rules.
It was my springboard to becoming a sportswriter. Later, my older brother would continue the tradition, teaching me the ins and outs of sports. I became a sportswriter through the support of my father and brother.
Today, I salute both of these men, these fathers, on Father’s Day.
And because I believe the old adage goes both ways … behind every woman, there’s also a good man (or two).
Monday, June 9, 2008
12th Man (and a Baby)
My kid sister is expecting a baby.
This September.
The second Sunday of September.
Football season.
This was my response when she came to me, smiling, to share the big news: “You know, that’s football season, don’t you?” She didn’t quite seem to get it.
Her response: “So.”
I had to sit her down to explain to her the implications of her decision. I spelled out my plans for the fall—football, followed by more football, baseball playoffs, NHL and NBA—and then I told her that having a baby at all in the fall was simply out of the question.
She went on to lecture me about Mother Nature and how the baby will come when she comes. That was when she dropped another bomb on me. She wants me to be in the room with her during the delivery. I told her, sure, as long as she delivers on a Tuesday or Wednesday. I’m a sports junkie, after all. Am I really needed in the room? Or at the hospital? Or even in the same state? What purpose will I serve? Giving play by play as my sister pushes, screams, curses and repeats.
Thursday nights, particularly with the advent of the NFL Network, are becoming more of a football night.
Fridays nights in the fall are completely set aside for high school football, a big deal in small towns across America such as my hometown.
On Saturday, I’m glued to the tube for college football.
On Sundays in the fall, don’t even think about it—it’s NFL from noon until the end of the Sunday night game.
Finally, the cherry on top, is the “Monday Night Football” matchup.
That leaves Tuesday and Wednesday for my sister’s delivery.
She’s checking her schedule.
I’m holding my breath.
This September.
The second Sunday of September.
Football season.
This was my response when she came to me, smiling, to share the big news: “You know, that’s football season, don’t you?” She didn’t quite seem to get it.
Her response: “So.”
I had to sit her down to explain to her the implications of her decision. I spelled out my plans for the fall—football, followed by more football, baseball playoffs, NHL and NBA—and then I told her that having a baby at all in the fall was simply out of the question.
She went on to lecture me about Mother Nature and how the baby will come when she comes. That was when she dropped another bomb on me. She wants me to be in the room with her during the delivery. I told her, sure, as long as she delivers on a Tuesday or Wednesday. I’m a sports junkie, after all. Am I really needed in the room? Or at the hospital? Or even in the same state? What purpose will I serve? Giving play by play as my sister pushes, screams, curses and repeats.
Thursday nights, particularly with the advent of the NFL Network, are becoming more of a football night.
Fridays nights in the fall are completely set aside for high school football, a big deal in small towns across America such as my hometown.
On Saturday, I’m glued to the tube for college football.
On Sundays in the fall, don’t even think about it—it’s NFL from noon until the end of the Sunday night game.
Finally, the cherry on top, is the “Monday Night Football” matchup.
That leaves Tuesday and Wednesday for my sister’s delivery.
She’s checking her schedule.
I’m holding my breath.
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