Stepping It Up

One of the main reasons that I will never like college football as much as the NFL is the wide variation in the quality of teams.  During the conference schedule, you'll regularly see the likes of Ohio State beat up on an Indiana by three-plus touchdowns; the more I follow the Pac-12, the more I notice the talent discrepancies between the haves (USC, Stanford and Oregon) and the have-nots (Washington State and Colorado).  And if you think the conference schedule includes too many duds, then you undoubtedly feel that the non-conference games are almost always a total joke.  At least a team like Duke has a chance (however slim) of upsetting a Florida State - for the majority of non-conference matchups, a 30-plus point victory for the favorite (always the home team) is a virtual lock.

The worst of these non-conference games, of course, are the ones against FCS opposition.  Earlier today, however, University of Wisconsin Athletic Director (and 2013 Rose Bowl interim head coach) Barry Alvarez announced that Big Ten teams would stop scheduling games against FCS schools starting in 2016.  Wisconsin in particular has filled its schedule with cupcakes in recent years - in 2012, the Badgers' non-conference games included a trip to Oregon State and home games against FCS Northern Iowa and FBS "mid-majors" Utah State and UTEP - and will again play a FCS school (Tennessee Tech) in 2013.  As a whole, the Big Ten conference is no stranger to FCS opponents; its schools have already scheduled a number of such games for 2013, 2014 and 2015.

So while Alvarez's announcement is surprising, it's undoubtedly also a great thing for college football.  Americans are hungry for as much high-quality football action as they can get, and gone are the days when NCAA gridiron fans only cared about the conference schedule.  Arguably the NCAA's biggest advantage over the NFL is its start date - college teams get a two week jump on their NFL counterparts, so there are two weekends where college teams compete only with baseball for viewers.  Instead of scheduling games against Hofstra during that period, Big Ten programs will now play smaller FBS programs (at worst) or big time BCS conference teams (at best).  Either way, it'll be better than the Northern Iowa game that the Badgers scheduled last season.

Big Ten schools like Wisconsin will run past the likes of Northern Iowa no longer.

It's hard to tell if the Big Ten's announcement was in any way caused by the NCAA's move to a college football playoff system, but it couldn't have hurt.  Now that teams no longer need to go undefeated in order to compete for a national championship, schools like Wisconsin, Ohio State, Penn State and Michigan can challenge themselves a bit more with higher quality opponents without worrying about having their seasons ruined in September.  This is exciting news for college football fans, and hopefully other conferences will soon follow the Big Ten's lead.  The more solid college football we can get in early September, the better.

Unplugging Momentum

Sports analysts and fans love to debate the importance of momentum.  Whether discussing hitting in baseball, shooting in basketball or passing in football, people love to talk about "streaks" and how certain players and teams seem to sometimes find a rhythym that makes them appear nearly unstoppable.  At the same time, others have argued that there's no such thing as momentum in sports, and have some pretty compelling data to prove it.  As with many sports debates, the discussion about momentum is one of anecdotes vs. data.  On one had, you have a plethora of academic papers and statistical analyses saying that momentum doesn't really exist.  And on the other hand, you have last night's Blackout Bowl.

It shouldn't come as a surprise to most of you that I side with the stats geeks on the whole momentum debate.  When you dig into the data, it's pretty clear that hot streaks are bound to happen based on the principles of statistics, and that just because a QB has completed 10 consecutive passes (for example) doesn't mean that he's "hot" and thus more likely to complete his next one.  I often refer to a simplified, yet relevant, example based on flipping a coin:  Imagine everyone in the world flipped a coin, with anyone who flipped a heads moving on to the next round while everyone who flipped a tails was eliminated, until only one person was left.  Eventually, someone would be the last person standing - it would take around 33 consecutive heads to do it - and be proclaimed the Coin Flipping Champion of the World.  Obviously, this person isn't "good" at flipping heads - it's just statistical probability that, out of six billion people, someone would flip 33 straight heads.  The same can be said of momentum in sports.

One of the reasons that even ultra-rational people like myself love sports, though, is the way that certain games can make you question what you know to be the truth.  Last night, the Ravens were rolling over the 49ers and seemed en route to a Super Bowl blowout when the Mercedes-Benz Superdome lost power.  After a 34 minute delay, the Ravens looked tight, tentative and tired while San Francisco seemed recharged, almost pulling off one of the most stunning come-from-behind victories in Super Bowl history.  There's no logical reason to think that the blackout would have slowed Baltimore's momentum or benefitted the Niners more than the Ravens, and yet while watching the game I couldn't help but think that maybe "fate" had knocked the power out and given Colin Kaepernick and Co. a chance to get back into the game.

Of course, the analyst in me recognized that, after a terrible first half, the game was due for some regression to the mean - allowing the 49ers to climb back into the contest and do to Baltimore exactly what the Ravens had done to San Francisco for the first 35 minutes of playing time.  Whereas every big play went Baltimore's way in the first two-plus quarters - from some big passes to Jacoby Jones' 108-yard kickoff return for a touchdown - San Francisco was bound to pull off a few huge moments of its own in the second half.  The fact that the turnaround coincided precisely with the loss of power in the Superdome was purely coincidence, and luckily the Ravens held on and spared us all from weeks of having to hear about how a power surge in New Orleans decided the Super Bowl for Baltimore and San Francisco.

As a rational person, this is what I'm forcing myself to believe.  Although I will admit that last night's Super Bowl momentum shift was pretty bizarre, and thus maybe makes the momentum debate worth having for just a little while longer.

Preparing for Super Bowl Sunday

Truth be told, I'm not a huge fan of the Super Bowl.  While I've been fortunate enough to have experienced two Giants Super Bowl victories in the last five years, I spent those games watching with a close group of blue-clad New York fans, focusing on the action as actively as I would any other big game.  When the Giants aren't in the big game, however, it's been a whole different story.  In those years I've elected to do what any good American is supposed to do on Super Bowl Sunday - go to a party with friends, pretend to watch the game and leave with more memories of the the E-Trade baby than of the game itself.

For the most part, I'm fine with this.  I spend the fall and winter watching dozens of NFL and NCAA football games, so it's not like I'm desperate for gridiron action.  I also realize, and on some level appreciate, the fact that the Super Bowl is much more than a sporting event - it has evolved into a pseudo national holiday that brings people together for not only a football game, but for a halftime show, a handful of clever (and a ton of not-so-clever) ad campaigns and some Papa John's pizza.  I actually enjoy Super Bowl parties the most when there's virtually no talk about football - like most normal-ish people I like to see friends, eat some wings and socialize, and the NFL's championship game is as good a reason as any to get people together.

Ironically, it's the football part of any Super Bowl Sunday that frustrates me the most.  For the same reason that I really dislike going out on New Year's Eve - every restaurant and bar is filled with a ton of people who haven't been out in a year, can't control themselves and turn things into Amateur Night - I take issue with Super Bowl parties.  For too many guys in particular, the Super Bowl is the one time a year to try to impress their buddies and girls with their knowledge of NFL football.  The problem with these guys is that 90% of them have no idea what they're talking about.  Of course, there's nothing wrong with not following the NFL (OK, there's something a little wrong with it, but nothing overly serious), but I draw the line at having to listen to these "fans" spend four hours spewing incorrect football-related information.

In my experience, the types of Super Bowl Sunday B.S. fall into three main categories.  The first, and least offensive, is what I call the "Ridiculous Opinion."  While everyone's entitled to their own opinion, of course, no real football fan wants to hear some meathead argue that Joe Flacco is a Top Five quarterback.  The Ridiculous Opinion is often (although not always, if you're lucky) followed up with some "Terrible Logic," the second type of Super Bowl nonsense: "Of course Joe Flacco's a Top Five QB - he's the quarterback of one of only two Super Bowl teams, isn't he?"  If a debate follows the Terrible Logic, you're likely to move into the third and most infuriating phase - the "Imaginary Statistic."  Despite the presence of a roomful of internet-connected devices with fact-checking ability, you're bound to hear someone quote a stat that's completely false.  What better way to settle the Flacco debate than to note that Flacco had the third most completions in the NFL this season, even if it's not true?

For us real football fans, it's tempting to get involved in these arguments.  It often seems like a good idea to refute a Ridiculous Opinion, break down some Terrible Logic and correct an Imaginary Statistic.  Take it from me, though - it's not worth it.  There's no way to win one of these patented Super Bowl Sunday arguments with a faux-fan, because the normal debate skills like intelligence, knowledge and rationality won't help you.  If you want to give yourself a chance at enjoying Super Bowl Sunday, ignore the football and go for the food and the friends.  And if you feel compelled to evesdrop on some conversation, you'd be best off listening to what the E-Trade baby has to say.

In Can Only Get Better

Last night, with Notre Dame trailing 28-0 at halftime of the BCS National Championship game, I flipped over to the Knicks versus Celtics game on MSG and never flipped back.  Granted, I'm a big Knicks fan and try to watch as many games as I can - especially big Eastern Conference matchups against rivals like Boston - but the fact that I completely lost interest in the second half of what should have been the most exciting game of the college football season says a lot more about the current NCAA postseason system than it does about my growing obsession with New York basketball.  Without a doubt, last night's championship game was a total embarassment for the NCAA, for ESPN and for the schools involved.

Most people seem to be placing the blame on Notre Dame for its admittedly pathetic showing against a vastly superior Alabama team.  I, however, refuse to blame the Fighting Irish.  Sure, they could have played a lot better, and their much-talked-about defense - which was compared constantly to Alabama's during the weeks leading up to last night's game - didn't come close to living up to its reputation.  The blame, however, lies with the BCS system that allowed a Notre Dame vs. Alabama national championship game in the first place.  Clearly, hindsight is 20/20, and it's now easy to say that Notre Dame wasn't the second best team in the country this year despite its previously unblemished record.  But the fact that Notre Dame never really had to be tested on its road to Miami (minus a home game versus Stanford where the outcome was very much in question) is just another glaring failure of the pre-playoff BCS system.

It's not just the National Championship where the NCAA and the BCS failed college football fans, however.  Take a look at the other BCS games this season, and you'll see a recurring pattern.  The Stanford victory over Wisconsin was at least close, even though anyone who watched the game will tell you that the Cardinal manhandled the Badgers - and the 3-0 second half lacked the big moments you hope for from the Rose Bowl. For some reason the BCS felt compelled to get a non-BCS conference school into a BCS game again - even though there wasn't a Boise State-type of mid-major team this year - and as a result Northern Illinois got smacked by Florida State in the Orange Bowl.  The Fiesta Bowl between Oregon and Kansas State wasn't much better, as a Wildcats team that slowed down the stretch ran into the buzzsaw that is Oregon's offense.  The Sugar Bowl was admittedly somewhat exciting, with underdog Louisville topping SEC powerhouse Florida, but even that game wasn't as close as the 33-23 final score suggests.

If there was a playoff this season, all of these games could have been first round matchups.  Rather than ending the season on the uninspired note that was last night's 42-12 Alabama win, we could have been headed for a semifinal round featuring some combination of Florida State, Stanford, Oregon, Alabama and Louisville (maybe).  While the BCS's inadequacies have been much talked about, this season's BCS bowl season was perhaps the best illustration of the system's many weaknesses.  When the NCAA moves to a playoff system in two years, fans and analysts will undoubtedly start complaining about the new system's shortcomings - just like people complain when the March Madness brackets emerge each Selection Sunday.  While airing these future complaints, though, don't lose sight of how bad this year's BCS bowls were.  Going forward, it can only get better.  

Time For A Change

For those of you that know me, you've probably already heard what you're about to read at least half a dozen times - if you want to go back to reading TMZ or something, I won't blame you.  After Tuesday's Rose Bowl game, though, its time to finally get it down on paper.  So, here it goes: I HATE the Stanford band.  At this point, the reasons as to why I hate the Stanford band aren't really that important, though they include - but are hardly limited to - a) the fact that all of the "musicians" are absolutely terrible at playing musical instruments, b) the group's annoying and tired anti-establishment, "we're too good to organize ourselves" style and c) the way the percussion section substitutes sinks, trash can lids and just about anything else made of metal for drums.  We get it - you can hit pretty much anything with drumsticks and it will make a sound.

I mean . . . What the hell is this?

There's nothing wrong with being weird.  Ask anyone close to me and they'll likely tell you that, at times, I can be as weird people come.  If the kids in the Stanford band want to get together and put on bizarre outfits while jamming on their saxophones, tubas and, yes, garbage can covers, that's fine with me.  After spending two years in Palo Alto, I can say with confidence that there are tons of weird people doing tons of weird things pretty much all the time at Stanford, and I have absolutely no problem with it.  So what's my beef with the Stanford band, you ask?  Well, unlike the underwater hockey squad, the juggling association or the quiddich team, the band gets a completely unearned national audience in front of which to unveil its collective weirdness.  As a result, the Stanford band consistently damages the Stanford brand, and it's really starting to drive me nuts.

All of this comes at a time when Stanford University is seeking to add "football powerhouse" to a list of collegiate accolades that includes top-notch academics, beautiful campus and near perfect weather.  After weathering the losses of coach John Harbaugh and later quarterback Andrew Luck to return to a third consecutive BCS bowl game - Tuesday's 20-14 victory over B1G champion Wisconsin - you'd be crazy not to consider Stanford a top-ten college football program.  Unless, however, you watched the Stanford band perform during halftime or after the end of the Rose Bowl.  In that case, you're probably wondering "how can I take a football program seriously when its band looks like, well, that?"  And you know what?  I don't have an answer for you.  Watching Stanford's band perform on the same field as Wisconsin's was like watching Colorado play football against Stanford this year - it was mostly embarrassing, with a little bit of sadness sprinkled in for good measure.

I have some thoughts about what Stanford should do about the band situation.  My top option consists of blowing up the band (not literally, of course, though I'd be willing to consider that too) and replacing it with a giant walking DJ robot.  It might sound dumb at first, but I challenge you to argue that a technologically-advanced, Gangnam Style-blasting robot would do Stanford University less justice then the current monstrosity that calls itself the Leland Stanford Junior University Marching Band.  No matter that Stanford decides to do instead, it's time to stop trotting the band out onto the field for another nationally televised performance.  The Stanford players, coaches and - most importantly - fans deserve much better.

The GenericCorporateSponsor.com Bowl

Because I work in the sports world, go to a lot of games and am engaged to a sponsorship and marketing expert, I've become somewhat of an advertising snob.  In fact, my first true post on Caught Looking was about how Citi Field's outfield is completely plastered with ads, and how the Yellow Pages-esque view takes away from the ballpark's otherwise beautiful look and feel.  This isn't to say I'm some sort of old fashioned geezer who wants all corporate references removed from my sports - I understand that corporate affiliations are a vital part of each professional sports team's business, and find that in some instances sponsors can actually add value to the game experience.  All of the random sponsored college bowl games that have cropped up over the last several years, however, are not examples of sponsors adding value to the sporting events they attach their names and logos too.  In an effort to grow revenues, the NCAA has over expanded its bowl schedule and lessened the significance of making it to the college football postseason.

Last night I tuned in to ESPN for some of the Belk Bowl between Duke and Cincinnati, and I learned a couple of things.  First, I learned that Belk is more than the name of a random college bowl game played in Charlotte, NC - it's actually a chain of department stores with locations throughout the southeast.  Interestingly, I ddn't learn this from watching the Belk Bowl - not once did anyone mention what Belk was or why they were sponsoring one of the NCAA's 35 college bowl games.  In my Googling spree I also learned that while Belk does have over 50 locations in Duke's home state of North Carolina, they don't exist anywhere in Ohio and only have a few locations in border state Kentucky.  Why the Belk Bowl wouldn't include two teams from within Belk's regional footprint (the company has 16 states with stores to choose from), is beyond me.  Last, I looked up the Belk Bowl on Wikipedia and found out that  the game, which matches the ACC's #5 team against the Big East's #3 team, has changed names three times since its inception in 2002.  Originally founded as the Queen City Bowl, the game rotated through two other sponsors (Continental Tires and Meineke Car Care) before shifting to Belk for the first time last year.

A small crowd watched Cincinnati toak home the 2012 Belk Bowl title in Charlotte.

I'm picking on the Belk Bowl here because it's a game I actually watched, but a similar story is true for all of the NCAA's fringe bowl games.  They all feature random sponsors that are in no way integrated into the flow of the game, with no logical relationship to the teams playing or geographic regions represented.  There's zero fan recognition because the title sponsors change so often, the games are rarely memorable and there are too many of them to keep track of.  To top it all off, different bowls have sponsors that are arguably competitors - like Little Caesars and Chick-Fil-A, for example - that makes things particularly confusing.  The NCAA has created a college bowl landscape that is littered with random corporate tie-ins, which has made it very hard to create any sense of history or tradition.  Unlike NCAA basketball's post-season tournament, which is filled with memorable moments throughout its history, few of college football's bowls are thought of for more than their funny names.

What does it mean to win the Belk Bowl?  Is this something for Cincinnati to be proud of, or should they be disappointed that they're not playing in a bigger postseason game?  Should Duke be content with breaking the school's 18-year-long bowl-less streak thanks to the Belk Bowl invite?  Because of the inflated number of college bowl games and the inconsistency of the matchups from year to year, it's nearly impossible for players, coaches or fans to truly weigh the significance (if any) of a lower tier bowl game.  College football's current bowl structure leaves every bowl champion (except the national champion) with an unsatisfying feel of "what could have been," and despite the photo above I can't believe that Cincinnati is overjoyed with the way its season ended.  Unfortunately, if companies like Belk, AdvoCare and TaxSlayer.com keep putting up money for bowl title sponsorships, we won't be getting rid of these irrelevant postseason games in favor of a better system any time soon.

Glass Half Full

Note: Caught Looking will likely be on hiatus this week while I'm out of the country for Thanksgiving break.  When I return I'll post coverage of the Battle 4 Atlantis from Paradise Island in the Bahamas, and I'll have another special surprise to unveil toward the end of the month.  Stay tuned!

After witnessing two consecutive crushing defeats at the hands of the Oregon Ducks, I was thrilled to see the Stanford Cardinal take down the nation's second-ranked team and give themselves a legitimate chance at a Pac-12 championship and a trip to the Rose Bowl.  Once the final whistle sounded, I started to process all this might mean for the Cardinal program - the first league championship since the 1990s, a third consecutive BCS bowl bid (to three different bowls), and the continuation of the program's top-ten status post Andrew Luck's departure for the NFL.  Eager to relive the game, I turned on SportsCenter when I got home and was looking forward to hearing some commentary about the win's significance for Stanford.  Instead, all anyone was talking about was how Oregon blew their shot at the National Championship game, and how Stanford excelled in their role of spoiler.

Now, there's no doubt Stanford played the role of spoiler on Saturday night.  The Ducks are no longer really part of the National Championship picture, and I'll admit that there was an essence of "sweet revenge" to this win.  After all, Oregon ruined Stanford's last two seasons - both years, the Cardinal were undefeated before meeting Oregon, and both times Stanford left the game licking their wounds.  But for me, this win was about much more than just getting back at a Pac-12 North rival.  Traditionally when we talk about the role of spoiler, we think about an underdog team with nothing to play for except for the thrill of ruining a season for a team otherwise destined for great things.  That wasn't the case on Saturday night, though, when the Cardinal had a lot to play for above and beyond knocking the Ducks a few rungs down the BCS ladder.

Earlier in the evening, an unranked Baylor team knocked off previously top-ranked Kansas State, and sports commentators everywhere basked in the glory of the Wildcats' suddenly flawed season.  In this case, though, Baylor (and its partially empty stadium) wasn't playing for much -at 5-5 with two games remaining, the Bears are scrapping for bowl eligibility and a trip to a lower-tier bowl.  Stanford, however, is in a completely different situation.  After grabbing Oregon's top spot in the Pac-12 North standings, the Card deserve to be talked about as more than David to the Ducks' Goliath.  The Cardinal have established themselves as a program that can compete with anyone in the country, and they should be considered  more than a footnote in the story of Oregon's 2012 season.

I've been critical of the Cardinal all season, from their struggles throwing the ball to their questionable play calling in key situations.  But despite the team's uninspired early season loss at Washington and a controversial defeat at Notre Dame, I have to admit that I was wrong about this 2012 Stanford team.  I figured they'd struggle severely this season, but with just one regular season game to play (next week at a tough UCLA team) it's clear that this is a legitimate college football powerhouse.  Now that I've admitted I was wrong, it's time for the sports media to start talking about Stanford as if they're more than the little engine that could.  This is a big, powerful engine that might be a few weeks away from adding another BCS bowl victory to its resume.

Avoiding Controversy

Earlier on Wednesday, Kansas City Chiefs head coach Romeo Crennel announced that quarterbacks Matt Cassel and Brady Quinn would compete to be named the starting signal caller going forward.  Since the announcement, basically everyone in the world seems to agree that this is an absolutely awful decision.  Amazingly, even coach Crennel himself acknowledges that having his two top QBs compete for the starting gig is likely to result in disaster:

"It is distracting," Crennel said. "Everybody's wondering who the guy's going to be, and all those kind of things. Then what happens, some guys on the team kind of favor one guy over another guy. Even though everybody's got a job to do and they will do their job. But it is a distraction."

My question: Why does everyone out there (including the guy who made the decision) seem to think that this is such a bad choice?  Through six weeks of the 2012 NFL regular season, the Chiefs are 1-5 and, in the eyes of many (myself included) are the worst team in the entire league.  They're coming off a week where they lost 38-10 to a mediocre Tampa Bay team (2-3) in a game that Quinn wasn't actually that bad (Cassel was ruled inactive after injuring himself the previous week).  Whereas a jolt of some sort seems in order, most people are calling for Crennel to make a semi-arbitrary starting QB selection and just stick with it.  Nevermind that his team might not win another game for the remainder of the year.  Apparently, the negative ramifications of a QB controversy are so severe that you'd rather stick with one guy and lose than roll the dice a little bit and improve your chances of winning.

Cassel or Quinn?  Shouldn't the decision be based on who plays better?

As fans, are we expected to believe this?  As rational people, are we supposed to just accept the fact that a quarterback battle should be avoided at all costs because "some guys on the team kind of favor one guy over another guy" or because "everybody's wondering who the guy's going to be?"  I'm lucky to have been raised a New York Giants fan, so I haven't had much QB controversy experience as of late (and with Eli Manning playing well and seemingly getting better, I don't anticipate confronting what Chiefs fans are going through for at least a while longer).  But if my favorite team was 1-5, I don't think I'd be shying away from a QB battle.  I think I'd be willing to try any reasonable measures to improve a team that just lost by four touchdowns to the Buccaneers.  NFL fans shouldn't have to accept subpar quarterback performances just because a positional battle might get a little "messy."

I understand that quarterbacks are the leaders of their offenses, and that in a perfect world you want a steady and confident presence under center to run the show.  I also understand, however, that the Kansas City Chiefs and their fans are not living in a perfect world right now.  Instead of pretending that everything is good and convincing themselves that either Matt Cassel or Brady Quinn is definitively the man for the job, shouldn't the Chiefs coaches let both guys play until one of them emerges as the better candidate?  We see running backs and wide receivers compete for playing time regularly, even for high-performing teams.  Haven't the Chiefs reached the point where they owe it to their players and fans to have Cassel and Quinn do battle on the field?  Good for Romeo Crennel for throwing his top two QBs into the proverbial ring.  Now if only he could have done it with a little more conviction and a little less apologizing.

Admitting When You're Wrong

It's not very often that I write about the same topic twice in one week, but the NFL referee issue has reached the point where I feel that I owe my readers some sort of apology.  Earlier this week, I posted about how I felt all of the complaining about football's replacement referees was overblown, accusing the media and fans of "[building] up the issue so much that there was no way the replacement officials could succeed, even though if the story wasn't so overblown the majority of NFL fans probably wouldn't have known anything was different."  While many agreed with my point of view, others (including friend and fellow blogger The Backup QB) insisted that the replacement officials had lost control of the games.  After watching Week 3 of NFL football from a sports bar (where I could follow every game at once) and then tuning in to the end of Monday Night Football's disasterous conclusion last night, it might be time to admit that I was wrong.

The more football I watch this season, the more questionable calls I see.  I still believe that fans are more cognizant of officiating screw ups this year - with the replacement refs on the field and everyone looking for something to go wrong, inevitably something will - but I have to admit that I can't imagine that some of the more aggregious officiating blunders would have occured had the real refs been officiating the games.  Where I think I really went wrong, however, was in failing to acknowledge that the fact that the replacement refs have completely lost control of the games has become a serious issue.  I can't ignore it any longer: in every game the refs seem to have no confidence in their calls (even the correct ones), which has lead to constant chatter between the players / coaches and the officials.  As a result, you never know whether a given call was unbiased or whether it was dictated by a previous comment.  Now that the players and coaches have zero respect for the officials, you can't help but make the refereeing the focal point of every single game.  We've reached the point that the majority of mainstream media stories about the NFL are focusing on the refs, and that's not good.

At the beginning of the referee labor dispute, everyone acknowledged that the NFL had the upper hand because the officials had no leverage - as I said myself earlier this week, "I don't tune in on Sunday afternoons to see them call penalties or flip the coin."  Now?  I think you can argue that the refs aren't the only ones who have lost control of the NFL games.  The National Football League itself must acknowledge that having the majority of its media coverage revolving around how much its replacement officials are messing up is a serious problem.  The NFL has been a marketing juggernaut because it has been so successful in keeping people focused on its strengths - loyal fan bases, a constant influx of young talent and competitive balance - and away from it's flaws - concussions, periodic labor disputes and off-field player issues.  While at first the referee lockout might have been a welcome diversion from the bad PR the NFL had been getting around concussions, now the replacement officials have taken over the entire sport.  Things have gone too far.

Even if getting the regular refs back on the field won't have a profound impact on the outcomes of the games (and I'm not sure if they will or won't at this point), the NFL needs to resolve the referee lockout before the issue threatens to seriously and permanently damage the league's reputation.  I have to image that the heads of the referees union are thrilled right now - from their points of view, things have gone perfectly.  Whether or not you think the replacement refs are making the right calls, you have to recognize that they are by far the biggest story in the NFL right now, and that is a terrible outcome for professional football.  After this past weekend, I'm joining the majority of people calling for the NFL to do whatever it takes to end this labor dispute.  I'm man enough to admit that I was wrong.  Now it's time for the NFL to do the same.

NFL Network Fumbles

In addition to criticizing officials, fans love to mock TV announcers and analysts.  Having very little sports media experience (I dabbled with a little sports radio in college and, at one point, co-hosted a weekly Pardon The Interruption-style show called Time Out), I try not to give TV personalities an overly tough time.  After all, I'm sure their jobs are harder than they look, and live TV is very unforgiving.  That being said, these people are supposed to be professionals, so I expect some reasonable quality standards from them.  This is particularly true in football, where announcers have an entire week to prepare for a game and plenty of down time to get their acts together.  After that lengthy preamble, let me get to my point - last nights Giants vs. Panthers broadcast on NFL Network was one of the least professional televised sporting events I've ever seen.

Now, I'm not really talking about the quality of the analysis, so I'll cut the broadcast team of  Brad Nessler and Mike Mayock some slack even though they a) praised Cam Newton after everything he did, despite the fact that he played pretty terribly and helped put his team in a massive first half whole, b) seemingly went out of their way to continuously note what a great job the officiating crew was doing (they were admittedly solid), as if the league office was demanding that they do so and c) confidently picked the Panthers to win the game during the pre-game show.  After all, these things happen, and it's not like I tune in to a Thursday night Giants game to hear what the NFL Network crew has to say.  All I ask is that information about the game is presented clearly and accurately.  This, sadly, did not come even close to happening.

First of all, I lost track of the graphics errors midway through the second quarter.  Luckily, I was texting back and forth with my brother throughout the game, so I have a written record of some of NFL Network's many screwups.  At one point during a Giants drive, after New York RB Andre Brown finished a great run, a graphic came up on the bottom of the screen announcing that Mike Tolbert had 1 carry for 16 yards.  Not only are Andre Brown and Mike Tolbert not the same person, they're not even on the same team.  When the Giants kicked a field goal in the second quarter to go up 20-0, NFL Network went to commercial with the score listed as 17-3.  Throughout the broadcast, the announcers would use the yellow pen function to draw on the field - unfortunately, most of the time the broadcast switched camera angles while they were drawing, rendering the arrows and circles they sketched completely incomprehensible and sometimes hilarious.

The mistakes weren't limited to the visuals, however.  At one point, Giants TE Bear Pascoe caught a pass, but Nessler claimed that Martellus Bennett made the grab.  This mix-up might be understandable if not for the fact that Bennett is black and Pascoe is super-pale; no one who had ever watched the Giants play before could possible confuse these two guys, and the shot of the play was a nice closeup where you couldn't miss Pascoe's bare, white arms.  After one of Cam Newton's few decent passes, the announcers praised the nice throw . . . by Eli Manning.  Again, Eli Manning and Cam Newton don't often get confused for one another - and after praising Newton the entire game for doing basically nothing, Mayock ironically messed up his name the one time he threw a half-decent ball.

In a game where the halftime report was taken over by a tribute to NFL Films President Steve Sabol, who passed away earlier this week, NFL Network did absolutely nothing to honor his legacy (as my brother accurately, and somewhat hilariously at the time, pointed out via text).  As I mentioned earlier this week, I'm not in love with the Thursday Night Football concept in general - I like having games concentrated on Sunday afternoons as much as possible, not to mention the fact that the quick turnaround prevents injured players from healing in time for the game.  But if the NFL is going to insist on hosting a mid-week game on its network, they have to improve the quality of the broadcasts.  If not for the presence of the HD cameras everywhere (one of which was too close to the field and as a result lacerated Antrel Rolle's knee), I would have thought I was watched a high school game on puclic access. 

Overblown Call

Today's ESPN.com homepage is covered in stories about the NFL's replacement referees, and the general consensus seems to be that they're doing a pretty terrible job.  Ashley Fox has written an article about how the refs ruined Monday night's contest between Denver and Atlanta.  Tim Keown claims that the replacement officials are endangering players by failing to call enough late hits and head shots.  Chris Mortensen reports that the players and coaches are fed up with the current set of refs, and are desperate for the NFL to settle its dispute with the regular officials and restore order to National Football League officiating.  My question: When was the last time any journalist, player or coach said that the officials were doing anything other than a horrible job?

 The NFL replacement referees have become an easy target for media outlets like ESPN.com.

I'm not arguing that there haven't been some blown calls through the first two weeks of the NFL season, and Monday night's debacle might have been the worst of all.  But if I think back on the last few football seasons, I recall constant bitching from pretty much everyone about the officials.  Either they're calling too many personal fouls and ruining the integrity of the sport, or they're not calling enough late hits and helmet-to-helmet contact and putting player safety at risk.  I can remember numerous times when the permanent referees blew judgement calls, failed to properly enforce the rules or mismanaged the clock.  Ripping apart the refs is a big part of sports - not just football - and until we have an entirely automated officiating system that removes human error from the equation, that isn't going to change.

In my opinion, the replacement referees had giant bullseyes on their backs from the day the officials lockout commenced.  Players, coaches, journalists and fans alike treat the NFL as if it's life or death, and any change to their beloved professional football is sure to be criticized.  From the day the NFL announced that the regular refs wouldn't be on the field for Week 1, every football-loving person in America was looking to tear the replacements apart.  The media built up the issue so much that there was no way the replacement officials could succeed, even though if the story wasn't so overblown the majority of NFL fans probably wouldn't have known anything was different.  Sure, people would complain about the refs - and the familiarity of those complaints would only serve to reinforce the (incorrect) belief that nothing had changed.

Like any other NFL fan, I want the officials to impact the game as little as possible and believe that the game should be left in the hands of the players and coaches.  I've watched enough football (and sports in general), though, to acknowledge that officiating controversies are a huge part of the game (just ask Armando Galarraga).  I have nothing against the NFL's regular referees, but I don't tune in on Sunday afternoons to see them call penalties or flip the coin.  Overall, I think the replacement refs have done an adequate job so far, and I don't really think having the old officials back will materially change the NFL fan experience at all.  Once the referee lockout ends, NFL fans and media pundits will just have to find someone else to complain about.

Don't Dilute Sunday

Sundays in the fall are a special weekly tradition, much like the sabbath for sports worshippers like me. The ability to find a TV equipped with the Sunday Ticket package (any sports bar or DirecTV-subscribing household should do) and watch more than a half a dozen NFL football games at once is unlike any other professional sports-watching experience, and is rivaled only by the NCAA basketball tournament (and that's only a few weekends a year). While I'm not really a sports bar kind of guy, I still loving sitting at home on Sunday afternoon and watching the Giants on FOX, some of the Jets on CBS and whatever other game the networks might be showing, all while getting in-game updates from the studio. Sunday is a day for football, and I love the way so much action is concentrated into one six or seven hour span.

I'm guessing that most NFL fans view Monday Night Football (MNF) and the newly-added Thursday Night Football (TNF) as fantastic additions to the weekly football schedule. After all, spreading games out across the days of the week gives fans more opportunties to watch football. Now fans don't have to wait an entire week to see NFL teams in action - no longer do we have more than a three-day span without an NFL game. Rather than pretending that we're interested in the NHL because there's nothing else to do, now we can spend Sunday watching football, Monday watching MNF, Tuesday dissecting MNF, Wednesday previewing TNF, Thursday watching TNF, Friday dissecting TNF, and Saturday previewing the Sunday games while watching college football. This has to be viewed as a good thing for football-loving fans, right?

I don't agree. Sure, it's nice having a mid-week game to watch, especially if it's a good one like tonight's Chicago vs. Green Bay matchup. But I see a number of problems with this revised scheduling. One, it asks a lot of the NFL players to play on a Thursday after a Sunday, and also creates a lot of long layoffs for teams that play on Thursday and then don't have another game until the following Sunday. Similarly, it wreaks havoc on fantasy football - it's much harder to set lineups efficiently when you have to make key decisions on Thursday afternoon, and forces diehard players like me to spend Friday and Saturday agonizing over scores that never used to exist. It's bad enough that many games are decided on Monday night - the addition of Thursday night games effectively quadruples the length of each weekly fantasy game from one night to four.

Most significantly, though, I'm worried that the Thursday night game might set a precedent that could, over time, erode the specialness of Sunday afternoon football. What's to stop the NFL from breaking up its schedule and having games during each night of the week, selling a nightly package to the highest bidder ("It's Tuesday Night Football, only on FX!") and rendering the Sunday afternoon sports bar experience a thing of the past?  While Thursday Night Football might be a big revenue opportunity for the NFL and it's NFL Network, the league should be careful and avoid spoiling a large part of what has made football the nation's most popular sport.

Conference Camaraderie

Although I no longer live on a university campus, I'm still very excited for the NCAA football season to get started tonight with South Carolina at Vanderbilt.  In honor of college pigskin's opening weekend, I spent some time this afternoon reading through ESPN's weekly blog coverage for my conference of choice, the Pac-12.  The weekly post on "What to watch in the Pac-12"  featured this curious line:

"The Pac-12 is favored in 11 of 12 games in Week 1, with Washington State being the only underdog. That means -- at worst -- the conference should go 11-1 . . .Wouldn't be a bad announcement to the rest of college football if the conference runs the table."

If this was a blog post about an NFL division - say, the NFC East - this note would come across as very odd.  Why should a Stanford fan like myself really care about how the other eleven Pac-12 schools are doing in their opening games?  The obvious answer, of course, is that having Pac-12 schools win non-conference games boosts the strength of the conference for BCS purposes, and thus helps the league's schools compete at the national level.  Whereas in the NFL is doesn't help the Giants at all if the Eagles, Cowboys or Redskins win their out-of-division games (if fact, it directly hurts them), one of the quirks of college football is that a quality win by Washington State at BYU this weekend, for example, would indirectly benefit the Cardinal.

But if you think about it, there are a number of other reasons why college football fans should be rooting for their most hated of rivals in non-conference games.  One is conference reputation.  In the NFL, every team gets plenty of media coverage on Sportscenter, NFL Live and pretty much every other highlights show.  In the NCAA, air time is heavily skewed towards the conferences with the stronger reputations, like the SEC and the Big Ten.  If the Pac-12 can win a few notable non-conference games over the next two weeks, then conference games featuring teams other than Oregon and USC might become more nationally noteworthy.  Also remember that, unlike the NFL, the NCAA's national TV schedule isn't completely set, so the more non-conference games that the Pac-12 wins the higher the odds that their games get picked up by ESPN or ABC later in the season.

Another reason for me to root for the Pac-12 to run the table this weekend is pure economics.  With the launch of new conference-specific television channels like the Pac-12 Network, schools have their financial outcomes more closely tied to their conference-mates than ever before.  As the conference gets stronger and interest in Pac-12 football continues to grow, the Pac-12 Network will get more subscribers which means more money for the conference and each of its teams.  If Washington or Arizona State get off to a hot start and become teams that, like Oregon and USC, even out-of-market college football fans want to see regularly, that can translate into more dollars for Stanford's pockets.  With college football becoming more and more about money, sweeping the Pac-12 Network's first ever football weekend would be a very good thing.

It goes without saying that, of this weekend's college gridiron action, I primarily care about Friday night's Stanford game versus San Jose State.  At the same time, though, I'll be pulling for the rest of the teams in the conference to head into Labor Day with 1-0 records.  In particular, Washington State, Arizona (against surprisingly dangerous Toledo) and Colorado (against in-state rival Colorado State) can put the conference on the map with significant victories this weekend.  For the next two weeks, the other eleven Pac-12 schools are tied for my second-favorite FBS college football team.   

The End of Penn State Football

As with many of the most heavily covered sports stories, I feel compelled to post about Penn State and Joe Paterno even though I don't really want to.  At this point, it would be a lot easier and more comfortable for me to try and forget about the horrible things that have happened on and around the Penn State campus over the past several years and focus on the happier side of sports.  Given the fact that the story is all over SportsCenter and every sports website this morning, however, I probably need to weigh in with my two cents.  After all, what kind of lesson would I be setting for my young readers (assuming I have any) if I ignored every unpleasant issue - especially one that deals with the treatment of children?

As you've likely heard by now, this weekend Penn State decided to take down the Joe Paterno statue that formerly sat outside of Beaver Stadium, the school's football facility.  In my opinion, this was undoubtedly the right move.  As Jesse Palmerly eloquently put it this morning on SportsCenter, the Paterno statue formerly stood for Penn State's dominance on the football field and was a monument to one of the greatest coaches in the history of college football.  After the unfolding of the Penn State scandal, however, the statue had become a symbol for everything wrong with the university's athletic department, morphing into a lightning rod for controversy.  Had the school allowed the statue to stay up, it would have sent the clearly inappropriate message that sports success trumps human rights, and the scandal would have taken away from any future athletic or academic accomplishments by the school.

Now that the statue is down, the next step was the announcement of the unprecedented punishments levied by the NCAA against the Penn State football program.  While the school did not receive the dreaded "death penalty," the school did get "a $60 million sanction, a four-year football postseason ban and a vacation of all wins dating to 1998" in addition to a loss of scholarships.  As much as I think the Penn State staff involved in the child abuse scandal deserve to be punished, I'm not sure I think these athletic penalties send the right message.  According to a source, the anticipated penalties are "considered to be so harsh that the death penalty may have been preferable."  Is this the proper course of action?

Before we jump to the seemingly most popular conclusion - that the events at Penn State were so horrible that any punishment is justified - we need to think through the likely impact of these athletic sanctions.  First off, there's the issue that these penalties will be levied "without the due process of a Committee on Infractions hearing," which is highly unusual and arguably inappropriate.  Moreover, though, there's the issue of who will be most negatively impacted by the NCAA penalties.  Whereas the NCAA should be trying to punish the people most directly involved with the scandal, I would argue that a loss of scholarships and bowl appearances will mostly hurt innocent bystanders.  Current and future players who had nothing to do with Jerry Sandusky will have their college careers derailed.  The residents of State College, PA - many of whom depend on the football program to boost the local economy - will have their lives negatively impacted by the local economic slowdown sure to follow the implementation of the penalties.  The $60 million penalty will have financial ramifications on the school's entire athletic department, not just the football program - especially when you consider the loss of football-related revenues almost certain to follow the sanctions.  The Penn State football program is effectively destroyed, and a lot of innocent people will go down with it.

If the Penn State scandal involved recruiting or athletics in some direct way, I'd be all for sanctions.  Once schools break the NCAA's rules, I believe that they deserve to be punished and should have any improper advantages reversed.  But to me, the Penn State scandal is so much bigger than anything having to do with sports and the NCAA sanctions send a message that terrible crimes can be righted by destroying a football program.  Not only do these NCAA penalties mainly hurt people that were in no way attached to the Penn State scandal, but they also suggest that things can be made right for the affected children by taking scholarships, bowl appearances and dollars away from a football team.  I'm all for prosecuting the accused Penn State staff to the fullest extent of the law, but in my opinion the NCAA sanctions are a huge step in the wrong direction.  Just as sports success doesn't trump human rights, sports penalties shouldn't be used to make up for human mistreatment.

Show Combs the Money

Earlier this week, ESPN reported that UCLA was defending the $54,000 athletic scholarship it awarded to Justin Combs, son of rap mogul Sean "Diddy" Combs.  After many had suggested that, because of his father's wealth, Combs should pass on the scholarship and pay his UCLA tution himself, the school released a statement explaining its decision.  According to the statement,

"Unlike need-based scholarships, athletic scholarships are awarded to students strictly on the basis of their athletic and academic ability -- not their financial need.  Athletic scholarships, such as those awarded to football or basketball players, do not rely on state funds. Instead, these scholarships are entirely funded through UCLA Athletics ticket sales, corporate partnerships, media contracts and private donations from supporters."

As the debate rages on through sports talk shows, blogs and other forms of sports media, I figured it was time for Caught Looking to weigh in.  Personally, I have absolutely no problem with Combs earning a football scholarship to UCLA.  The school has the right to use its self-funded 285 athletic scholarships however it wants, and should be able to award them to whomever it wants, regardless of that athlete's financial situation.  I'm sure there are other players getting football scholarships at UCLA whose parents can afford the tuition, and no one will be complaining when they attend school for free this fall.  Justin Combs should be proud of his athletic and academic accomplishments, and the right to earn a football scholarship to a school as prestigious as UCLA should not be taken from him just because his father is extremely rich.


Asking Combs to pass on the scholarship makes no sense.  If anything, it would be nice if Combs took the scholarship and then went on to donate $54,000 to UCLA's general scholarship fund, ensuring that a well-qualified but financial-unstable candidate could attend UCLA for strictly academic purposes.  People should respect UCLA's choice to award these non-need-based scholarships to any student athletes that meet the school's athletic and academic requirements.  I think it would be awesome if Combs donates money to the school to help make it easier for other kids to attend UCLA, but I see that gesture as entirely separate from the school's decision to give his son a football scholarship. 

When his son was awarded his scholarship last fall, Diddy was quoted as saying "This is everything a father could want for his son, for him to excel at what he loves to do and is truly passionate about. Justin is a shining example of what hard work, determination and a strong mentality can achieve. I am honored to call him my son and am happy that he is fulfilling his dream."  And you know what?  He's absolutely right.  Justin Combs should be proud of the fact that he earned his college tuition through his accomplishments on and off the football field, and he shouldn't be made to feel undeserving just because of who his father is.  If his dad wants to give some money to his school independently of his scholarship, that would be a wonderful gesture.  But at the end of the day, Justin Combs should be treated like any other UCLA student athlete and deserves the scholarship he worked hard throughout high school to earn.

Player Interviews: The New Cliche

After Norfolk State upset Missouri in the "second" round of the NCAA tournament last month, I felt compelled to note how impressive center Kyle O'Quinn's post-game interview was.  In reality, it wasn't that O'Quinn's chat with TNT's Craig Sager was so special; more than anything, the Spartans star's words were just different from what we hear day in and day out from 99% of professional and collegiate athletes.  By now, post-game sports interviews have become completely cliche.  Players always fake humility by thanking God and their coaches for giving them the opportunity to succeed.  They always claim to take each game "one at a time," and not to put more emphasis on wins over a rival or a top team - "a win is a win," after all.  And of course, the players could never have done it "without the help of their teammates."  At this point, we might as well have a voice actor record a few interviews and automatically play them after each game to save everyone some time.

But what about off-season interviews?  Before the 2011 NFL campaign began, Eli Manning practically set the sports world ablaze by proclaiming that he felt he was an "elite" quarterback.  At the time, it was the only truly acceptable answer to the now-famous question posed by ESPN Radio personality Michael Kay: "Is Eli Manning an elite quarterback, are you a top-five, top-ten quarterback?"  Regardless of how good you think Eli Manning is (although I'll argue that, in hindsight, he was certainly right about his elite status), you'll likely agree that there was no way that Eli could have said that he didn't think he was elite.  Players get paid based on performance, yes, but confidence certainly helps.  No one wants an insecure quarterback leading their offense. So in light of this, what do we make of Baltimore QB Joe Flacco's recent quote?

"I mean, I think I'm the best. I don't think I'm top five, I think I'm the best. I don't think I'd be very successful at my job if I didn't feel that way. I mean, c'mon? That's not really too tough of a question.  That doesn't mean that things are going to work out that way. It just means that's the way it is -- that's the way I feel that it is and that's the way I feel it should be."

Clearly, Joe Flacco's assertion is false.  While Eli Manning had a case for proclaiming that he was a top-five or at least top-ten quarterback, no one outside of Joe Flacco's living room would ever genuinely argue that the Delaware product is the best QB in the NFL.  Flacco seems like a smart guy, too, so we have to assume that even he knows that his statement is wildly off base.  So the question then is: Why did he say it?  Most likely, he felt the power of the interview cliche; he knew that teams, coaches and fans want a confident QB, so he figured he'd give them one (in his own shaky, meek sort of way, at least).  He got asked an impossible question -  "where he thinks he ranks among NFL quarterbacks," according to ESPN.com - and did the best he could with it.

I don't blame Flacco for saying something absurd (and, yes, I think what he said was crazy), however.  Instead, I blame the media and the fans.  First, I blame the media for asking these boneheaded questions.  Maybe it's time what we stop asking athletes where they think they rank among the competition.  At this point, the rule of the sports interview cliche mandates that players say they think they're the best or among the best.  If we know what the player's answer is going to be, then why ask the question?  There's no reason to fly off the handle every time an Eli Manning or a Joe Flacco says he thinks he's the best quarterback in the NFL.  Second, I blame the fans.  How is this a popular news story?  I realize I'm as guilty as anyone here, given that I'm blogging about Flacco this week, but why do we care about how good Joe Flacco says he thinks he is?  As long as fans continue to consume lazy media content about self-proclaimed rankings, journalists are going to continue to write about it.  If we must obsess ourselves with ranking things, let's leave it to somewhat objective experts and stop asking players what they think of themselves. 

Don't Tread on Me, Nike

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I love sneakers, and I certainly don't have anything against Nike in general.  I'm the first to admit that the Oregon-based company has added a lot of good to amateur and professional sports, from innovative product technology to creative design elements.  That being said, I think Nike often wreaks havoc on team uniforms - take a look at what they've done to the University of Oregon's football uniforms over the last half decade and you'll see what I mean.  Granted, Nike isn't the only offender in this area - more recently, Maryland-based Under Armour has arguably made University of Maryland's football duds more offensive than Oregon's.

Nike and Under Armour have ruined Oregon and Maryland's football uniforms, respectively.

While I think a number of the Nike-designed college uniforms are hideous, they don't really bother me.  Schools like Oregon are just trying to use their unique look to put themselves on the national map, and to an extent it has worked - the Ducks are known as much for their crazy uniform combinations as they are for winning two straight Pac-12 titles.  For many teams, one-of-a-kind uniforms can be a major differentiating factor, and anyone who has seen Oregon or Maryland play football recently will agree that these two schools are, for better or worse, more memorable than your average state school football squad.

Where I get frustrated with Nike, however, is when they jazz up U.S. National Team uniforms for both soccer and basketball.  Today, Nike unveiled the new Team USA basketball uniforms and they are predictably ghastly (see below).  As a Yahoo! Sports blogger put it, "Nobody says United STATES of America. And when fans chant 'USA,' they don't hit the high note on the middle letter. You wouldn't know that based on Nike's 2012 Team USA basketball jerseys."  The new duds are just another example of Nike putting flair and novelty over class and sensibility, and while that choice might make sense for Oregon or Maryland, it doesn't work for the men (and women) representing our country on the field / court. 

Nothing says "America" like USA in the shape of a chevron.

In addition to being functional, uniforms are meant to represent the team wearing them.  The United States of America is the greatest and most recognized country in the world - a simple "USA" tells people more about our nation than an entire Wikipedia entry on other countries.  Between those three letters and our classic red, white and blue color scheme, people know what the USA and its national teams strive for - maximum effort and excellence.  Our national teams don't need Nike to add a bunch of bells and whistles (or, in this case, chevrons and font sizes) to make them stand out - wearing the red, white and blue and a simple "USA" on the chest is more than enough.  While I'm (sort of) comfortable with Nike using Oregon as it's funky uniform testing ground, I wish they'd leave Team USA out of it.  Save the crazy designs for Slovenia, please.

Good for Goodell

When people talk about the current commissioners of professional sports leagues, most of the attention is usually focused around either Bug Selig or David Stern.  After all, the commissioners of MLB and the NBA have brought the most significant changes to their sports during their reigns - Selig has helped develop the Wild Card, the link between the All Star Game and home field advantage in the World Series, and the World Baseball Classic, while Stern has brought the NBA to China, commercialized All Star Saturday Night, and most recently navigated the league through yet another lockout.  People don't talk much about the NFL's Roger Goodell, though.  Other than occassionally causing a stir by fining or suspending someone, Goodell for the most part lets the NFL do what it does best - attract fans and make money - and I think he deserves more credit than he typically gets.

Today, for example, ESPN.com reported that Goodell has been dissatisfied with recent iterations of the NFL Pro Bowl, and was quoted as saying "We're either going to have to improve the quality of what we're doing in the Pro Bowl or consider other changes or even considering eliminating the game if that's the kind of quality game we're going to provide."  While both Selig and Stern have made countless tweaks to their All Star Games over the years, virtually all of then have been made with a "bigger is always better" mindset.  Both the MLB and NBA All Star breaks have swelled to the point where they actively distract fans from their regular seasons, and the quality of play in those games seems to diminish every year.  The NBA All Star Game is an excuse for Derrick Rose to throw LeBron James a dozen alley-oops, while the MLB game usually comes down to Aramis Ramirez facing Joakim Soria in the late innings.

In the midst of all this All Star growth, we have Goodell suggesting that the NFL's Pro Bowl potentially be eliminated.  And why not?  After all, there's absolutely no need for the Pro Bowl: no one watches it, very few players want to be a part of it, and the NFL schedule doesn't make it easy to organize it.  There's no reason the league couldn't just name its All Pros at the end of the season without actually holding a Pro Bowl game - let's give Goodell credit for recognizing and acknowledging this fact and (potentially) doing something about it.  Goodell seems secure enough with the NFL's incredible success and domination of the American sports scene that he's comfortable admitting when something isn't working.  To me, it's another example of the NFL and Goodell's power over American sports.

While Bud Selig seeks additional playoff expansion to spice up the MLB postseason and David Stern continues to explore international franchises to further globalize the NBA, Roger Goodell and the NFL have minimized the changes to professional football.  There are many reasons why millions of people will be watching the Superbowl this afternoon while baseball and basketball struggle to build viewership for the World Series and NBA Finals, respectively.  Let's give Goodell some credit here and acknowledge that he's done a lot of good since he took the NFL's head position in 2006.  While Selig and Stern may grab more headlines, Goodell is usually the one grabbing the dollars and the fans.

Pitying Poor Peyton

As an old-school kind of sports fan, I tend to like guys to who have old-school values.  I like players who are personable, but not over the top.  I like guys who are honest and take responsibility for their mistakes.  I like guys who have built their legacies with one franchise, and who know to go out on top instead of stumbling to the finish line.  I like guys who give plenty of credit to their teammates and coaches, but at the same time aren't afraid to take some of the credit for themselves.  I like players who work hard and succeed even though they might not be the most athletically gifted guy on the planet.  In short, I like guys like Peyton Manning.

And that's why it's been painful for me to watch the saga that is Peyton's current relationship with the Colts.  After almost singlehandedly turning the Colts from the league's doormat into a consistent Super Bowl contender, Peyton seems to be getting an extremely raw deal.  The Colts have the number one pick in the 2012 NFL Draft, and they'd be crazy not to take Stanford QB Andrew Luck.  At the same time, Luck's shadow already seems to be pushing Manning out of Indianapolis.  Some fans are calling for him to be traded.  Others have accused him of making things difficult for team management.  More are caught between backing a guy they've loved for the last 15 years and siding with a guy who might lead them for the next 15.

Peyton's in a rough spot right now.  If he comes back with the Colts and the team struggles (which they likely will, given that the team finished 2-14 this year), will fans be awkwardly calling for one of the game's all-time best players to be benched in favor of an unproven rookie?  If Peyton goes to another team, will he be able to cement his legacy as perhaps the best QB of all time by leading yet another disappointing team (the Jets, maybe?) to the Super Bowl?  Or will his second act be more like Brett Favre's (minus all of the lewd SMS messaging, of course), where he'll struggle to regain his footing in a new environment and tarnish everything he's built over more than a decade in Indy?

If Peyton calls to ask me for advice today (it seems unlikely, but you never know), I'd advise him to retire this offseason.  From a health standpoint, Manning is coming off of serious neck surgery and doesn't want to risk suffering a life-altering injury that could negatively impact him for the rest of his days.  On the field, Peyton has nothing left to prove - he's won a Super Bowl, been NFL MVP and developed a reputation as the best QB of his, or perhaps any, era (the Colts' struggles without him this year truly prove just how valuable he is).  The Colts are going to select Andrew Luck in the NFL Draft, and with a new GM and coaching staff will probably want to hand him the keys sooner rather than later.  If Peyton Manning retires now, he can go out on good terms with the fans, the Colts and, most importantly, his own inner thoughts.

NFC Championship Recap

Trailing only Team USA's dramatic last second victory over Algeria in the 2010 World Cup, Sunday's NFC Championship game at Candlestick Park between the Giants and the 49ers was probably the most satisfying sporting event I've ever seen in person.  Between the game's extremely high stakes (a trip to the Super Bowl to face New England), overtime drama (Lawrence Tynes' field goal to win it after 49ers punt returner Kyle Williams fumbled for the second time in the game) and intense atmosphere, leaving Candlestick Park with a huge victory made the extremely inconvenient Caltrain ride home feel like a walk on the beach.  Overall, Sunday was a fantastic day, and I couldn't have been happier with the experience.

We all know that the Super Bowl is more media production than actual sporting event - for most people, the commercials, halftime show and pregame hoopla matter more than the game itself.  I've always thought of the NFC and AFC Championships as the last true NFL games of the season, focused purely on the competition rather than game presentation.  Now that I've finally attended an NFL championship game, though, I realize that isn't the case.  The NFL and the 49ers tried to turn the game into a mini Super Bowl, with a pregame performance from the band Train and a halftime show featuring country music star Brad Paisley.  While Train's performance was decent and somewhat relevant (their new hit song is called "Save Me, San Francisco"), the Brad Paisley set was a completely random celebration of the U.S. military and seemingly came completely out of left field, leaving virtually everyone in attendance confused.  The national anthem featured a giant, 100-yard-long American flag that I must admit was pretty awesome, though.

A bigger flag signifies a bigger event, and the NFC Championship game featured one big-ass flag.

Before the game I was slightly worried about how the 49ers faithful would treat a couple of guys wearing Giants gear, but for the most part I found the fans to be pretty respectful.  While before the game I was the subject of a view aggressive remarks from random drunk San Francisco fans, the people that sat around us in Upper Reserved Section 9 were really friendly.  It seemed like after so much losing in past seasons, the Niners fans were just happy to be hosting the NFC Championship game and weren't expecting more than a competitive contest and a fun afternoon.  Even after the game, the fans gave the 49ers a standing ovation for their effort and then congratulated us on the Giants' win, wishing the team luck in the Super Bowl.  While I was expecting a much harsher atmosphere, what I saw was a general respect for the game of football and an appreciation for what the 49ers unexpectedly accomplished this season.

The Giants rush the field after earning a trip to the Super Bowl.

While the 49ers fans were loud in the beginning of the game, over time they definitely ran out of steam.  The weather definitely had something to do with it - it rained periodically throughout the four-hour contest, and eventually I think many fans were just too wet or too cold to get properly excited about the game.  The fourth quarter and overtime were extremely tense, though, and Giants and 49ers fans alike were on their feet throughout the last hour of the battle.  I couldn't have asked for a better finish, and outcome, from my first ever NFL playoff game, and I give San Francisco a lot of credit for putting together a great event.  Now it's up to the Giants and Patriots to make Super Bowl Sunday as exciting as Conference Championship Sunday was.