Even Heroes Make Mistakes

I went to my first Yankee game in 1995, when I was ten years old and the team was on the rise. My parents and I got to the Bronx early in the day and waited by the players' entrance to welcome the team. These were not today's Yankees. I had never seen my Yankees win a World Series, much less a pennant, a division title, or a playoff game. The grounds crew had never danced the YMCA, Joe Torre was still known in New York as the failed former manager of the Mets, and Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera, and Andy Pettitte were to the club what Joba Chamberlain, Phil Hughes, and Ian Kennedy are now. I saw my favorite player, Andy Pettitte, up close that morning, when I was ten and he was twenty-two and our places in Yankee history were roughly the same. Almost thirteen years later, Pettitte has won over 200 major league baseball games and has led the Yankees to four World Series championships. His greatest contribution to baseball, and perhaps to our country, though, came this week, when he taught our athletes, politicians, and celebrities the proper way to face their mistakes and he taught each and every one of us the value of the truth.

Before I launch into my celebration of Andy Pettitte, let me be clear: he cheated. Andy used HGH twice in 2002 and again in 2004. He is guilty of the offense for which we have vilified Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens, and his reputation will forever be tarnished. I am not arguing his innocence – only his character. The man made a mistake, as all men do, but the difference between he and his colleagues is that he took responsibility for his actions. He cooperated with the government. He faced the press. He admitted his guilt and chose honor over lies. A religious man, he swore under oath and his allegiance to Christ's law was greater than his allegiance to his friend Roger Clemens. This week, as the Yankees kicked off their spring training and Pettitte began his quest for a fifth title, he sat before the press and bared his soul. Andy Pettitte, October's hero, showed us a man unbound by law or lies. We heard his story. We saw his pain. He told us what he did, why he did it, and how it has impacted his life. Pettitte's is not the story of a drug addict but that of a man whose competitive edge got the best of his ethical principles. It's a story to which we can all relate.

Last Wednesday, the Congressional hearings were about two things: teaching our children about the dangers of performance enhancing drugs and filtering through lies. The hearings cost millions of dollars and hundreds of hours of members' time and in the end, we learned next to nothing. Andy Pettitte's press conference cost nothing and taught us everything. Questioned by reporters rather than congressmen, Andy walked us through his journey into drugs. He told us about his injury and how he wanted to earn his wage and help his team win. He told us about his friend, Brian McNamee, and how Mac even tried to talk Andy out of using HGH. He told us about his friendship with Roger Clemens, but would not divulge any information about Clemens' case. The government had a right to know, he figured, but Roger's battle with the public was his own. Clemens' actions in recent weeks placed tremendous strain on Pettitte's own family. Forced to testify under oath, Pettitte felt obligated to incriminate his own father, who provided him with HGH in 2004. When asked about this, Pettitte held what looked like tremendous frustration. But he refused to talk about it. Andy took his oath seriously and gave Roger up – but he wouldn't sell him out. Given the chance to settle the score, Andy did what he has done throughout this whole mess – he kept his honor.

We saw this week a man who had been through the ringer. Ashamed, embarrassed, and nervous, Pettitte was also relieved. He had lived with his mistakes for so long and he seemed glad to get everything off his chest. Andy will forever have to live with the consequences of his actions - he recognizes that his name will always been synonymous with the PED issue – but for now he just seems glad to have his life back. He is done living with the idea of being a criminal. He instead wants to have a positive impact. "I care what people think about me," he said. "I consider myself a role model." Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens, maybe the greatest hitter and greatest pitcher in baseball history, now face possible jail time for their involvement in the steroid issue (if Clemens is nailed for perjury) and almost ninety men were named in the Mitchell Report. Only one, though, admitted using HGH in an incident no one would have known about. Only one sat at a podium and answered questions until there were no more to be asked. Only one told us about telling his sons their father used drugs and talked about incriminating his own father and discussed his own relationship with his lord. Only one, Andy Pettitte, showed us the true cost of drug use.

Andy Pettitte pitched in seven World Series, but that press conference was his most important performance. He showed us in one hour what Henry Waxman and Tom Davis and Roger Clemens couldn't show us in the dog and pony show that they called hearings. We wanted Roger Clemens to be guilty. We wanted him outed. Clemens seems like a bad guy so we didn't care that he was sitting in the hot seat. But Andy Pettitte is a good guy – and that's why his words are so potent. The man isn't a prima donna. He's not a thug. He's a soft-spoken, church-going family man who happens to pitch for a living. He's a decent man, which is why his lesson is so valuable. Andy showed us how drugs interrupt the lives of decent men. When I first saw Andy Pettitte, he was younger than I am now. His arm was free of the problems that would later cause him to cheat and his face was free of the lines that the next thirteen years would bring. Since that day in 1995, Andy has become a hero to baseball fans everywhere. This week, he is a hero to all of us. I'm proud to have rooted for him for the last thirteen years and I was proud to root for him this week. We all make mistakes, he taught us, even our heroes, but his most important lesson was this: it's how we face those mistakes that matters most.

Charging the Mound...With Perjury

"The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again." - Terrence Mann, Field of Dreams

Baseball has shaped our country's history and character over the past century as much as any game, sport, or institution - including, perhaps, Congress. I'm not trying to downplay the role of our legislature or the accomplishments of our elected officials. There is nothing more admirable than public service. But I do firmly believe that our athletes have a more direct impact on our children and on our own character than the people we elect to serve us. Doubt it? Answer these questions:

1. How many of you grew up collecting Congress cards?
2. How many of you can name the number of seats the Democrats won in 1996?
3. When was the last time you went to the store to shop for a Thad Cochrane jersey?

I rest my case.

A child, or an adult, or more specifically me, is not going to turn off the mute button to listen to Ben Cardin make an announcement about health care (the natural question then, I guess, is why watch Ben Cardin on mute?). But I will hush a whole bar and pump up the volume if ESPN issues a report on Phil Hughes' hamstring. Is that wrong? That's up to you to decide. The truth is, though, that athletes do influence our society in a way public officials cannot. Though two of the regular readers of this blog watch C-Span with reckless abandon (you know who you are), the majority of Americans would rather catch a ballgame than a political sparring match. Derek Jeter is a more recognizable figure in New York City than Michael Bloomberg. Babe Ruth is a better-known historical figure than most of our presidents. Do you know anyone who would empty their savings for Chester A. Arthur's autograph? Me neither. So it is fitting, I think, that the United States Congress this month has turned its attention to its cultural counterpart: baseball.

Two of my passions in life are baseball and politics. I love them both and I follow them both carefully. I know off the top of my head, for instance, that Roger Clemens has 354 wins and 4,276 strikeouts and that Henry Waxman was elected in 1974 to serve the the 30th District of California. "How might someone have such knowledge at their disposal?" you might ask. Easy. Because I'm a dork. The point here, though, is that I should be thrilled to see these worlds collide. As a spectator of the game of baseball and the bloodsport of politics, I thought this could be a thrilling adventure. As a conscious historical observer, I thought this could be Congress's big chance to leave a lasting, positive impact on our national pastime. Unfortunately, it is neither. These hearings, like so many others, have become an opportunity for politicians to abuse the spotlight and for witnesses (in this case Roger Clemens and Brian McNamee) to use the U.S. House of Representatives as their own public relations outfit. It is a shame, really, and it is only getting worse.

What began as a noble venture into the dark underworld of professional sports has become a media circus, a he-said, he-said dogfight between a baseball legend and his former trainer. The purpose of these hearings (steroids in baseball) has been buried deep under the much smaller issue of Roger Clemens' individual steroid use. Eighty-nine players were named in the Mitchell Report and yet only one has the opportunity to appear before the Committee on Government Reform. Roger Clemens is an amazing pitcher, maybe the best of all-time and certainly the best of my lifetime. But he is not bigger than the game. Indeed, he is merely a small piece of this puzzle, yet he has become the focal point of Congress’s investigation and the center of the media coverage surrounding this event. Clemens, McNamee, and the congressmen and media who allowed it, have turned the investigation into a joke. The focus has shifted from the broader issue of steroid use to one man’s personal retribution. Congress surely has more important things to worry about.

Today's hearing was an entertaining one and was certainly news-worthy, but its contents should not have been important enough to garner the interest of the United States Congress. At it's heart was the question of whether Roger Clemens or Brian McNamee was telling the truth. For what it was, it was high drama and it did not disappoint. McNamee was softspoken but firm, clear in his conviction that he provided Clemens with steroids and injected him countless times over a 5-year span. Clemens was heated, clearly angry but composed, and proclaimed his innocence from start to finish. It was Clemens, we learned, who requested this hearing as a chance to restore his reputation. Chairman Waxman wanted to release a bipartisan report on the subject, but Clemens' lawyers were adamant about requesting a hearing so that Roger could prove his innocence. Unfortunately, he did not. His stories contradicted each other, his explanations were thin, and his credibility was demolished by Andy Pettitte's testimony. I cannot offer a better analysis than that given by Congressman Elijah Cummings, who told Clemens this afternoon, “It's hard to believe, you. You're one of my heroes. But it's hard to believe you.” Watching Clemens today, he was simply unbelievable. It was like he was trying to pull off a major league lie but was just not smart enough to do it. He was unprepared for what he faced and his lawyers should be fired, if for no other reason than that they didn't tell him that "Mr. Congressman" is not something people say. After today, our national image of Roger Clemens will never be same. Gone is “The Rocket”, that brash, young pitcher who threw fastballs like bullets and put fear into the heart of every batter he faced. That image of Clemens has been struck from our collective psyche. Instead, we’ll remember the angry man in the tailored suit, overmatched intellectually by everyone else in the room and struck down by the same stubbornness and pride that once made him so formidable.

Brian McNamee is an unlikely whistleblower. The man is, in no uncertain terms, a lying, drug-dealing ex-cop. He is not an honorable man. We learned today that he "earned" his PhD. from a diploma-mill online college and passed himself off as a medical expert. He kept gauze and syringes he used on Clemens, preparing, it seems, for this exact scenario. He should not be a credible figure, but here he appeared far more believable than his former boss. His statements to Senator Mitchell involved three players: Andy Pettitte, Chuck Knoblauch, and Roger Clemens. Pettitte and Knoblauch have both corroborated McNamee's testimony. Only Clemens denies it - and poorly, mind you. McNamee, it seems, is the unsung hero of the steroid investigation. They say, "It takes a crook to catch a crook." In the case of Major League Baseball, it seems that axiom holds true.

As entertaining as today's hearing was, however, it was not a discussion of steroids in baseball so much as a vain attempt to sort through the contradictory statements of two known liars. The United States Congress had a chance today to lend its weight to the problems facing our national pastime. Instead, it ignored the real issues and brought to the front pages a feud between an icon and his former goon. While I walk away today with a clearer indication of Clemens' guilt, I cannot say that I have learned anything new about steroids in baseball. We learned nothing about the union's or the owners' involvement in the scandal or about any coverup. We learned nothing about preventing drugs from entering the professional baseball system or about the plans for the MLB’s future testing policies. Today’s hearing was an investigation into the unimportant. It was a waste of Congress's time and a waste of taxpayer dollars. In other words, it was politics as usual. Congress dropped the ball.

The Suns are Rising

In the coming days, Shaquille O'Neal will be joining Grant Hill on the Suns. If this were 1995, this would be bigger news. But constant injuries have dogged Hill's career and Shaq seems to finally be feeling the results of being the most physical player in NBA history. The guy has taken more hits over the years than Jimi Hendrix and now at 35, he can barely raise his arms over his head. This is a great move for Miami if they could pull it off. They'll get Shawn Marion and give Dwyane Wade a threat in the post. Marion would be like Pippen to Wade's Jordan. If you can get that for a washed up icon, you do it. No questions asked. But is the move good for Phoenix? I say yes.

The Suns' window to win is closing. The Suns have only 2-3 years left to win a title with Steve Nash at the helm. The former MVP turns 34 tomorrow and undoubtedly will become less productive as the years roll on. But with Nash, Hill and Shaq, the Suns are hardly building for the future. They need to win now and are positioning themselves for postseason play. If Shaq can stay healthy (and playoff contention will provide some incentive), he'll provide a dominant center and will allow Amare Stoudamire to shift officially to his natural position at power forward, where he and Boris Diaw can pick up Marion's slack. The move works on the court and will improve relations in the locker room, where the chemistry problems that have plagued the Suns for years now finally seem to be at a breaking point. Marion will become a casualty of the Suns' final push for the championship and if Shaq stays healthy, he can give the Suns the fix they need to finally break through the West.

This trade could also rejuvenate Shaquille O'Neal. He is too old and worn down to lead a team at this stage in his career and with Wade a walking wound, Shaq has had to captain the Heat this season. That's no easy task for a guy struggling to contribute at all. In Phoenix, he will be stepping onto Steve Nash's team and will be able to focus only on his game, with none of the added pressures of being the leader. His experience and four championships will prove useful down the stretch and he will undoubtedly be able to tutor younger players, but he will free himself of the responsibility to be "the guy". In Phoenix, that man is Nash.

It's true that the Suns, by making this trade, sacrifice their future. Nash, Hill, and Shaq will all be collecting Social Security in a few years -- actually, Nash is a Canadian citizen so he probably won't -- and Stoudamire, at 25, has already had three knee surgeries. But general manager Steve Kerr's focus must be on the present. The Suns recognize that they need to win now and have only a window of two or three years to do so. They might as well make the push, do what they need to do, and put themselves in the best possible position to win right away. Bringing Shaq aboard gives them better chemistry, the experience of a four-time champ, and the remnants of maybe the best center of all time.

Suns' general manager Steve Kerr is a champion. He's also probably the best three-point shooter in NBA history. Throughout his career playing alongside Michael Jordan and Tim Duncan, Kerr was always the perimeter threat, the guy you wanted taking the outside shot with the title on the line. Right now, the Suns' title hopes are on the line and Shaq is an outside shot to help them break through the minefield of the Western Conference. The clock is winding down on Steve Nash and the Phoenix Suns. Steve Kerr has to take this shot.

The Manning Miracle and the Greatest Game of All Time

Some images endure. Joe Namath raising his finger, proclaiming the Jets #1 as he trotted into the locker room. Franco Harris finding a ball at his ankles and carrying it to the goal line. Dwight Clark leaping across the endzone and snagging Joe Montana's pass out of the air. Eli Manning fighting his way from the grasp of three Patriots, scrambling in the open field and hurling a ball to David Tyree, who catches the ball against his helmet and holds it until he reaches the ground. Some images endure. Super Bowl XLII may just be the best Super Bowl ever played. Hell, it might be the best football game ever played. And in the end, Eli Manning, the most unlikely of heroes, became the Super Bowl MVP, a world champion, and a legend. Some images endure. This is why we watch sports.

Super Bowl XLII had something for everyone. A team's quest for perfection, an underdog's heart, a scandal, an evil villain, a superstar vs. a farm boy, celebrities, super models, a brother's love, and in the end, an upset. What more can you want from a game?

Teams play football to win championships. To the men that suit up every Sunday, victory is the only measure of greatness. To that end, the Patriots' 2007-08 campaign was a failure and the team that everyone thought would go down as the greatest team of all time is now at best the 43rd most successful team in modern football history. They are undoubtedly the best team to never win a championship but this loss alone will keep them from the ranks of the greatest.

I do not want to take away from the Patriots' success this year. For 18 games, they were the best team I had ever seen. I have said for many years and still believe that Tom Brady is the one guy you want on the field in a big game. He is the most clutch player of our time (though we can no longer say of all time) and we will likely see him on Super Bowl Sunday again. But he is not perfect. And that is really the lesson of this weekend: the Patriots are not perfect. If the 2007 Patriots played the 1972 Dolphins, the Pats would blow them out of the water. The Fins only beat 5 teams with 10 or more wins during the regular season, while the Pats beat 9. The difference in my mind is not that the Dolphins went undefeated, but that they won the Super Bowl. Imperfection is not the Patriots' problem; 18-1 is still the second best record of all-time. The problem is that the one loss came in the Super Bowl, the one game any "great" team has to win. Shula's Dolphins, Ditka's Bears, Montana's 49ers all won championships. So, for that matter, have Belichick's Pats. But the 2007 Patriots, for all the hype, are the fourth most successful team Belichick has coached. They might be the best team of all time. But they failed when it mattered most. They couldn't bring it home. And in the end, isn't that what matters?

Eli Manning will wake today as a New York hero. There aren't many. New York is a city that prides itself on victory. It is unforgiving of failure, but it celebrates success. My dad brought up an interesting point this morning. Derek Jeter had two Super Bowl commercials last night. A-Rod had zero. You could be the greatest player of all time, but until you bring home a championship, you're just another schmo. Eli Manning brought home a championship last night. He brought glory to the mildewed marshes of the Meadowlands. He brought a title to the streets of Manhattan. He brought tears to the eyes of the Giants fans who booed him at home for four years. No matter what he does for the rest of his career, Eli Manning will be a New York hero in the vein of Joe Namath, Lawrence Taylor, Willis Reed, and Derek Jeter. Those are big names to throw around, I know. But, let's face it - and I can't believe I'm writing this - so is Eli Manning.

You could not have written a better script than the one performed in Arizona last night. A beleaguered young quarterback climbs out of his brother's shadow by leading a resolute, underdog team against a Hall of Fame quarterback and his undefeated team looking for perfection. The brother looks on, cheering and pacing from a booth above, while a supermodel sips Aquafina and wine and claps quietly for her superstar boyfriend. In the end, Brady was out-Brady'd by his rival's little brother. You can't write better stuff than that. You just can't.

Really, all this magic comes from the fact that no one gave the Giants a chance. They simply were not supposed to win. But that's why we watch sports, right? Because any team, on any given Sunday, can do the impossible. Some teams have that fire. You could see it in their eyes. They have no business winning, let alone competing with the best teams. But somehow, they do. Some teams are down, with their backs to the wall, facing defeat at the hands of a team universally believed to be better. But they win. They grit their teeth and clench their fists and simply refuse to lose. They just want it more. The 1996 Yankees, to me, are the essense of that kind of team. Down two-zip to the Braves and heading into Atlanta, the Yanks had their backs to the wall. No one thought they would win, but a week later they were parading down the streets of Manhattan. They refused to believe for a second that they could lose and they fought back until they won. The 2004 Red Sox were the same way. So were the 2001 Patriots. But perhaps no team fought harder, under harsher conditions, than the 2007 New York Giants. The G-Men came close to beating the 15-0 Pats in a game when most thought the starters shouldn't even start. They beat Tampa in Tampa and shut down Jeff Garcia. They beat Dallas in Dallas and silenced a team that had beaten them twice. They beat Green Bay at Lambeau in 24 below zero temperature. And then they beat the undefeated New England Patriots in the last minute of Super Bowl XLII. This is why we watch sports.

Watching Eli will himself out of the grasp of the Patriot defense and watching Tyree haul in his miracle catch, I felt like I was watching sports for the first time. Everything that came before that play wasn't nearly as sweet. I have never seen a better play or a better game in my 23 years of life or in my two decades of watching sports. My earliest memory of sports is of watching the Giants win Super Bowl XXV with my dad. My finest memory of sports may just be watching the Manning Miracle unfold. That's what I'm calling that play. History will find some name for it - maybe that one - but I'm saying it first here. The Manning Miracle. Eli Manning and David Tyree, with that play, carved themselves a place in history. For me, the lasting image of Super Bowl XLII will be of Eli Manning fighting free of the Pats defense and finding Tyree down the field. Some images endure. Eli Manning may resume the life of a mediocre quarterback or this may be his coming out party as one of the all time greats. Either way, the sight of number 10 emerging from that mess of blue jerseys and sinking the 18-0 Patriots will stick in our minds for as long as we watch football. Some images endure.