UM, CHRIS COLLINSWORTH, PLEASE SEE AARON HERNANDEZ

We all say things that we'd love to take back. There are moments when we think dumb
and say even dumber. We'd love to hit the erase button almost as soon as stupid comes
out of our pie hole. It's life, it happens.

It happened to Chris Collinsworth on Sunday night and I'm sure he was hoping most of us
were watching the series finale of "Breaking Bad" or updating our Facebook status for the
10th time of hour.

Collinsworth, who gets paid millions of dollars to analyze one game a week for NBC, was
waxing poetic about the magician that is Bill Belichick during the Patriots-Falcons game.
Unfortunately, he pulled a Roger Clemens and "misremembered" the enormous elephant in
the Patriots room.

He was praising the Hoodie for making the "problem" in the problem childs of the team go
away, specifically of Aqib Talib, the talented cornerback for the Patriots who had some
off-the-field issues before he got to New England.

“All Bill Belichick does is bring them in here and there hasn’t been one ounce of a problem,” Collinsworth said. “There’s something about when they come in and play for Patriots,
whatever  their issues may have been before, they disappear. They play great football for
them and Aqib Talib is at the top of that list.”

Um, hello? McFly, anybody home? At almost the same time those words came out of the
mouth of Collinsworth, just about everybody who wasn't watching "Breaking Bad" or the
"Talking Bad" follow up, uttered the words that have been famously shortened by text users everywhere: WTF?

Collinsworth had a total brain cramp or just drank from Belichick's Kool-Aid, forgetting about
some guy named  Aaron  Hernandez as if he never existed. Belichick has done a pretty good
job of making the  stench of Hernandez disappear from the organization, and he must have
destroyed the  memory cell in the brain of Collinsworth,  as well. The picture of Hernandez
being led away from his home in handcuffs has been seared into the minds of millions of
football fans, especially the ones in New England. Collinsworth failed to retain it.

Hernandez came to the Patriots with more issues than Walter White and Belichick didn't
exactly coach up his character, did he? He didn't wave his magic wand and make all those
"issues" disappear, right? Having a player with a checkered past arrested on a murder charge
isn't something the Hoodie wanted on his personal record. At least, Collinsworth forgot
about it, though.

Collinsworth is clearly another person who has sipped the Patriots drink. They are
a phenomenal organization that has done a lot of things right. Winning 3 Super Bowls
since 2001 and having double-digit wins for the last 10 years is pretty incredible. But
Belichick can't change a tiger's stripes. He can get those players with "issues" to fall
in line to a point, but true colors are true colors and they usually bleed through the
red, white, and blue of the Patriots.

Collinsworth mentioned other problem children such as Corey Dillon and Randy Moss
who came to New England as known malcontents. They contributed greatly to the
team's success, but as soon as they started to leak poison into the locker room, Belichick
got rid of them, their egos, and deadly toxins.

Belichick had a chance to get rid of Hernandez before it was too late. But there was too
much money and talent tied up in the guy who now sits in a jail cell awaiting his day
in court. Belichick couldn't fix a guy who was unfixable and for Collinsworth to forget
about former player who has been arrested in connection of a murder, is pretty darn
stupid.

I'm sure Colllinsworth cringed like we all did as soon as he let stupid spew from his
mouth. He is a bright, articulate, and engaging person and analyst. I'm sure he'd like to
have  a mulligan on that one, unfortunately, the sport he covers for a living, isn't golf.

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DAD LOVED HIS DOGS---ALL 4 OF THEM

My Dad was like most Americans in that he was a big dog lover. He wasn't obsessed and
didn't oufit them in funny costumes and take pictures to put on a Christmas card, but my
Dad treated them like most of us do: like a great friend and family member.

The only difference between my Dad's love for dogs and that of most people's was that he
had four of them to take care of at one time. He didn't plan it that way, but because he could
never  say "no", that's how things turned out.

After my sister, Kara, returned from a summer in Colorado after graduating from college,
she brought home a snow white American Eskimo she had rescued in the Rocky Mountains.
Kara moved into New York City and her apartment complex didn't allow dogs. Knowing
that my Dad never said "no" to her in her life, Kara asked Dad if she could take care of her
dog, Kirby.  "Sure, why not," he said. "What's another dog?' My Dad, who had big German  Shepperd's when we were growing up, downsized later in life, going with a lhasa apso
and a shih tzu. With the addition of Kirby, Dad had three dogs. For a while.

A few years later, Kara got married and had a kid with her husband, who also brought
a dog into the relationship. After moving from the city out to the Connecticut suburbs, they
were concerned about having a good sized dog around a new born baby.

"Dad, do you think you could take the dog? Please?", she asked. And, of course, my Dad
said yes. So, here was my Dad, just about in retirement with four Dogs to take care. Mom
helped out, of course, but Dad felt it was his job to feed 'em, walk 'em, and do whatever else
needed to be done for them. Caring for one dog is hard enough, not to mention expensive,
try doing it times four. But he loved it. Boy, how did he ever love it.

The sight of seeing my Dad walking four dogs was pretty comical. In the stuffy, pretentious
town of New Canaan, I'm sure there were some people who saw him walking in the street
twisting and turning with four dogs and figured he probably became a professional walker
to pick up a few extra bucks.

That's funny and so were Sunday mornings. My Dad would go to 7 a.m. Mass and would
always take his four buddies with him. He'd stand at the door leading into the garage and
yell, "Let's go! Time to go to church." And it became like a Sunday morning jail break.
Four dogs from different parts of the house would bolt for the garage door. They'd go
slip-sliding into walls and wipe out in an effort to get to the car first. Dad would open
the hatch to his SUV and the dogs that could, would leap into the back. The two that
couldn't, got a lift from my Dad. It was a small thing, but my Dad got one helluva kick
out of it.

Once he got to church, he'd roll down the windows and leave the dogs with some water
before going in to praise the Lord. When he returned home, he'd always stop at the beginning
of the long driveway leading to the house. The dogs would start barking wildly until Dad
let Kirby out. Kirby, the white American Eskimo, would do 360's in front of my Dad's
SUV until he started to move forward. Then she would go in a full-sprint to the house
as if she was leading my Dad home.

I found a picture of my Dad with his dogs this morning and it brought back a lot of memories.
He treated those Dogs the same way he treated the rest of the family: like gold. Man, did
he love those dogs.

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EDDIE MURPHY WOULD BE 'LOL' ABOUT COMEDY IN SPORTS

       You can always count on the sports world for giving us stories that are often stranger
        (and funnier, a lot funnier) than fiction. When money, fame, power are combined with
        booze, pizza boxes, and just plain old stupidity, a lot of hilarious things can happen.
        They did this past week in sports. (Insert your Eddie Murphy laugh-track)

       Jacoby Jones, star receiver for the Baltimore Ravens, was hit over the head by a stripper
       named Sweet Pea with a champagne bottle. Jones, Sweet Pea, and a few others were on a
       a party bus doing some late night celebrating (and probably a few other things) when the
       incident occurred. The New York Mets are in contract negotiations to add Sweet Pea to
       their anemic line-up. And can you pick Sweet Pea out of this line-up on the "party" bus?
       Yep, the platinum blonde. You just can't make this stuff up.
      

       Nate Burleson of the Detroit Lions broke his arm in a single car accident on Sunday night.
       I'm glad his injuries weren't more severe, but when I found out what caused the accident,
       I let out an Eddie Murphy-type laugh. Apparently, Burleson was distracted by a pizza box
       that slid off the front seat. Yep, broke his arm, totaled the car, but SAVED THE PIZZA!!
       I smell a Papa John's commercial coming. But I'm sure we'll find out later this week that
       the sliding pizza box had nothing to do with the accident and everything to do with the
       sister of Sweet Pea in the front seat doing something that distracted Nate.
      

       Rashad Johnson of the Arizona Cardinals had the tip of his middle finger severed in his
       game on Sunday. And, of course, the first thing he does after the game is take a picture of
       it and tweet it out to the world. I'm shocked he didn't post it to his Facebook page first.
       What the hell is wrong with him?
       

       Bus Cook, the longtime agent for Brett Favre, says that his client, at age 44, could still
       play in the NFL right now. Cook says Favre is not interested in coming back (yeah, right)
       but is in the best shape of his life because he's been biking 25-50 miles a day in his Wrangler
       jeans. Good, Lord, haven't we seen this comedy act from Favre and his agent 100 times
       before? Brett, you had a great career, go away. Quit being like Lolo Jones and obsessed  
       with the attention.

 

       Man, it's been a couple of rough months for Hugh Douglas. First, he gets fired from

       his job at ESPN for a booze-fueled confrontation with a co-worker at a function down

       in Orlando. On Tuesday, the former Philadelphia Eagles linebacker was arrested for

       assault and strangulation of a woman in his hotel room in Hartford. This is a serious, 

       serious charge and I'm not making light of crimes against woman. But I'm laughing

       at Douglas' claim that it was all part of rough sex. Guess he forget to tell his partner

       about it.

      

   

     

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I GOT DUSTED BY A 63-YEAR OLD MAN

           

             Every day, thousands of tiny events happen and if you're not watching, if you're
            not careful, if you don't capture them and make them COUNT, you could miss it.
                                                                                                      -Toni Jordan Novelist-

    Sometimes life's greatest lessons are right in front of us, yet we fail to see them. We are
    often consumed by what we don't have instead of focusing on the great things we do. We
    keep looking back into the past so much, we become blind to all the great things that lie
    ahead of us.

    On Sunday, I got a great lesson, not to mention a great source of inspiration, because I
    was watching what was in front of me, rather than being consumed by the things that were
    behind me.

    I was in a road race on Sunday, and over the course of 18.6 miles a lot of things went
    through my mind and most of them were tagged with a question mark. Why they heck did
    I get up at 5:30 a.m. for all this pain and punishment? I hate to run, so why am I running
    so much? What's the point? What does it matter? Aren't I getting a little too old for this?

    All those questions when zooming through my head as I pounded the pavement on a perfect
    first day of fall with more than 200 other runners. I had been in the zone with my iPod
    blasting the best of Captain & Taneal and the Carpenters to try to muffle the pain
    that came with each and every stride. I couldn't hear the sound of footsteps coming up
    me from behind, so I was startled when a frailish-looking, gray-haired man passed me by
    on mile 15 of the run.

    I had seen this man running long before the race had even started, his oversized pale-yellow
    T-shirt was not enough to cover his elbows that seemed to be thrashing in the wind. I hate to
    run and damn if I'm going to run an inch more than I have to, especially, on a day
    when I'm running close to 20 miles. This guy ran as if every step was a painful one, his
    running form anything but perfect. He had a distinct look that one could not easily forget.

    I never could catch the man. He was right in front of me for nearly all of the last three miles
    of the race. I wondered what his story was, from what he did to how often he ran. He seemed
    to be laboring through every inch of the run, but didn't appear to be breaking a sweat. The
    man in the yellow shirt finished 25 seconds in front of me, and just like that, he disappeared.
    I wanted to congratulate him and hear his story, but like the phantom, the man vanished.

    I didn't stick around very long, either. I stuffed as many apples, oranges, and bottled waters
    into my pockets and I was off. I got my time and didn't need to see any other results. But I
    was extremely curious about the guy in the pale yellow shirt.

    Late Monday night, the results of the race were posted on-line and I quickly searched for
    the guy in the yellow shirt who finished just in front of me. BRUCE GOULART, 63,
    NEWTOWN, CT. A 63-year old man had dusted me. Blew by me at mile 15. But an average
    runner just doesn't do that, especially one in his 60's. I had to know more about him.

    I did a search of Athlinks.com, which is a website that banks official results. I found
    Goulart's chart and I almost fell out of my chair after seeing what I saw. There is an icon
    on the chart that announces to the world how many races a person has done. It said, "See
    all 600 races." Here is the link. It's mind-boggling.  http://athlinks.com/racer/results/14673720

    600 races?!! Are you kidding me. Goulart is addicted to endurance events. He has done
    33 marathons, 41 half-marathon, and five Ironman events. During a stretch from 2008 to
    2011, he averaged 57 events a year, which is insane!

    Goulart, even at age 63, is doing something really tough, yet really loves. He is passionate,
    determined, and is proving that the road ahead is still pretty awesome. The journey truly is
    just as important as the destination. Like Diana Nyad said, you're never too old to do
    anything that you want.

    No matter how old you are, there is still a lot left to accomplish in  life. You might not
    look pretty doing it, but doing it is all that really matters.

   





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10 NAMES I'D SWIPE FOR A DAY (VOL. IV)

10. Cassanova McKinzy Auburn. Cassanova is a sophomore linebacker for the Tigers so I'm
pretty sure he can handle himself when it comes to a little ribbing from his teammates. The
Auburn Tigers media guide says Cassanova McKinzy is the son of Joann Brown and Charles
Drake. How they came up with their kid's name is beyond me. By the way, would you look
at the size of Cassanova' hand?

 9. Jordin Tootoo. Detroit Red Wings. Originally drafted by the Nashville Predators, Tootoo,
no relation to Tattoo from "Fantasy Island", became a hit in Hockey Town after signing with
Detroit as an unrestricted free-agent for the 2011-2012. His twitter handle is "jtootoo22". That's
a bit too much.

 8. Taco Charlton. Michigan. This name just rolls off the tongue and I'm sure that once he's
 out of college, the Wolverines defensive back will sign a lucrative endorsement deal with Taco
 Bell. That's just too easy. So is his twitter account of "TheSupremeTaco."

 7. Jonny Steele. New York Red Bulls. Not quite as good as Johnny Football, but it's pretty
 darn good, although, he should think about changing his name to Jonny Ink. He has so many
 tattoos on his body that Aaron Hernandez is envious.

 6. Teuvo Teravainen. Chicago Blackhawks. Is this a hockey name or what? The pride of
 Finland is just 19-years and was the first-round pick of the Stanley Cup champs in 2012. Could
 be bigger that Dit-KA in the Windy City.

 5. Pharoah McKever. North Carolina State. 6'6" wide receiver for the Wolfpack. I'm sure
 this name is big among the NASCAR and tractor-pull crowds in Raleigh.

 4. Rasmus Ristolainen. Buffalo Sabres. Just 18-years old, the prodigy from Finland was drafted
 eighth overall in the 2013 NHL Draft. Good friends with Tukka Rask, could be the same very
 soon with Bruce Smith and Buffalo nation.

  3. Spiffy Evans. Boston College. Junior wide receiver gets the slight nod over teammate 
  Win Homer. Doh!

  2. Ha-Ha Clinton Dix. Alabama. I'm sure a lot when through the mind of Nick Saban when
  he was recruiting Ha-Ha. "Um, maybe you can change and shorten your name to Clinton Dix.
  Whaddya think? Could save you a lot of taunting." No, dice. Ha-Ha held firm and is a starter
  on the Tide's defense.

  1. Silverberry Mouhon. Cincinnati. Silverberry, no relation to blueberry, strawberry, or
  dingleberry is a stud D-lineman for the Bearcats. Gets big points for originality with some
  zip.

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BOBBY VALENTINE 'LET IT BE SAID'

Bobby Valentine has become a lot like Lolo Jones. The former MLB manager and master
of self-promotion, seems to be addicted to attention and will do just about anything to stay
relevant.

On the 12th anniversary of 9/11, Valentine, who was managing the Mets in 2001, chose to
take pettiness to a entire new level. During a radio interview, Valentine, almost enthusiastically,
stated:

"Let it be said that during the time from 9/11 to 9/21 ... you couldn't find a Yankee on the
streets of New York City. "You couldn't find a Yankee down at Ground Zero, talking to the
guys who were working 24/7.''

That's great. On what has become the most somber and sacred anniversary in our country's
history, Valentine wants to play a game of, my daddy is better than your daddy. Really, Bobby
V? Nearly 3,000 people died on that day and you want everybody to know the Mets did more
than the Yankees to help out the city? Why don't you give yourself a big pat on the back if
it makes you feel that much better? Perhaps, Steve Phillips can pat you on the rear, as well.
That should make you feel really good about yourself.

 

I guess it's just Bobby V being Bobby V.  Here are few other things the former Red Sox
manager and new A.D. at Sacred Heart University probably wants it  known to the
world.

"Let it be said that if I was managing the Red Sox this year, I would've clinched a week
before John Farrell."

"Let it be said that I invented the sandwich wrap, double-switch in baseball, and the
Dragon roll when I was managing in Japan."

                                   "Let it be said I was right about Kevin Youkilis. He stinks."

         "Let it be said that I was a better running back in high school than Adrian Peterson was."

"Let it be said that I can ride my bike from my home in Stamford to my office in Fairfield
in under two hours."

                    "Let it be said that I invented 'twerking' long before Miley Cyrus showed up."

                          "Let it be said that I could've reduced the federal deficit in two weeks."

                       "Let it be said that I gave Anthony Weiner the name, "Carlos Danger."

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KERI CHAISSON-HARDEN: 100% IRON

Boyd Harden is an ex-Marine who was trained to fly high-powered helicopters. At
UNC, he was an All-American defenseman in lacrosse and while at New Canaan High
School, Harden earned All-State honors in hockey. I'm not sure if he even knew those
sports used a hard-rubber object to pass and score with because Harden was a heat-seeking
missile who would much rather destroy an opponent than celebrate a goal.

 

But in his household, Boyd takes a backseat in the sheer mental toughness department, to
his wife, Keri Chaisson, a graduate of New Canaan High School. Chaisson-Harden, 42, and
a mother of three, is an avid endurance triathlete. This past July, she completed the Lake
Placid Ironman for the third time in her brief career. For those scoring at home, the Ironman
consists of a 2.4 mile swim, a 112-mile bike, followed by a 26.2 mile run. Yep, just a 140.6
mile journey that she usually completes in less than 13 hours.

I've attempted to interview her several times over the last few years, but she respectfully
declines. She is not interested in any attention, which in this "look at me, aren't I great, post everything to Facebook world", is certainly refreshing.

Me: "Keri, I want to do an article on you about your triathlons."
Keri: "No way."
Me: "Come on, it'll make for a great piece."
Keri: "Not in a million years."

I've known Keri, Boyd, and their families for quite some time and was really interested in
seeing what the Ironman experience for them was all about. I've done several half-Ironman
and have an idea about the preparation, pain, and punishment a triathlete endures over a long
period of time. But the Ironman is a beast on steroids and dwarfs the 70.3 mile event not just
in the distance of it, but the mind-numbing pain one has to endure, as well.

I traveled to Lake Placid in the final weekend of July to experience the event as a spectator
and watch Chaisson-Harden prepare and compete in the small, picturesque village that
somehow managed to host a gargantuan international event like the Olympics not once,
but twice.

On race day, Chaisson-Harden woke at 4 a.m. to fuel her body for the grueling day ahead
of her. Imagine knowing that you're going to be exercising for nearly 13 hours straight,
burning calories at a lightning quick rate and realizing you can't just go to the fridge or
stop off at a convenient store to load up on things to replenish your body? Taking care of
your body during the race is an event in itself.

Phase I of the Ironman is a 2.4 mile swim in beautiful Mirror Lake, which sits less than
a half-mile away from the Olympic hockey arena where the United States completed the
"Miracle on Ice" in the 1980. Open water swimming is not like swimming in the pool
at your health club. With the mass of humanity, it's like swimming in a blender with elbows,
feet, hands, heads, furiously trying to find open space to swim. Chaisson-Harden, who is
a strong and gifted swimmer, finished the course in just over one hour.

Next up, the 112-mile bike ride. Lake Placid is not Florida or Chicago, where the landscapes
are completely flat and easy to ride. This is the Adirondacks, meaning there are challenging,
steep inclines and rolling hills. Over the course of the ride, your lungs burn, your legs bark,
and your mind goes off into a million different places, with you questioning why the hell
you decided to do this event in the firs place.

This is the third time Chaisson-Harden has competed in the event, her fourth Ironman overall.
I can only imagine what goes through her mind when she does it again and again and again.
After I completed my half-Ironmans, I said there was no way in hell I'd ever even consider
doing a full Ironman. The pain is ridiculous in a 70.3 mile event, forget about doubling up
on it.

But for Chaisson-Harden, pain must certainly be her good friend by now. She seems to be
addicted to it. One has to be to put in all the hours of preparation for the event. It's not like
going to the health club to take a couple of spinning classes and a few swims in the pool.
There are days when you have to ride the bike for eight hours and go on long runs that last
as long as a Red Sox-Yankees baseball game. The training for an Ironman is mind-blowing
and body destroying.

Chaisson-Harden finished her bike ride in just over six and half hours, or about 90 minutes
longer than a tennis match between Novak Djokavic and Rafeal Nadal. At the end of the ride,
your legs are cramping, your mind is screaming at you, and you still have a 26.2 mile run
ahead of you. I'd like to see the Kenyan marathon runners do a 112-mile bike ride before
they crush everyone competing in New York and Boston. Now, that would be interesting.

I watched hundreds of runners pass me by twice on the two loop course. I saw the pain,
the blank looks, and focus on the faces of those driven to completing this challenging event.
I don't think it's about winning for most of them because five seconds into the race, they
have no shot at staying with the professionals who are an entirely different breed,
almost superhuman. This is about testing your will and inner drive. This is about not quitting
or giving in to the challenge.

Chaisson-Harden injured her back during the grueling final leg of the event. But she didn't
stop, complain, or pack it in because of it. It would've been easy to say, "I can't do it anymore"
and everybody would've understood. But that's not in her DNA. She battled through the
injury and just kept going, trying to find a way to finish off a 26.2 mile run. Good, Lord,
that sounds so painful as I type away on the computer.

I positioned myself near the finish of the event, located at the Olympic Oval, the same place
where Eric Heiden made history by winning five gold medals in speedskating. I didn't want
to intrude on Keri's moment with her family as she crossed the finish line, ending nearly
13 hours of pain and punishment. I stationed myself near the entrance to the Oval and a spot
just about 500 yards from the finish. On a drizzling and overcast day, near perfect conditions
for the athletes, Chaisson-Harden entered the Oval determined to finish strong in the event.
I yelled out to her and she took the time to give me a fist pump, although the look on her
face said, "Please, just let me finish the event."

Chaisson-Harden did just that, completing her hat trick of Ironmans in Lake Placid less than
1,000 yards from where Team USA complete its run to the Olympic gold medal in hockey.
There were no miracles in Lake Placid to Chaisson-Harden, after all, this was the third time
she had completed this event. It had become old hat to her. But to me, seeing her complete
the event with a bad back and never, never giving up, was pretty impressive.

Chaisson-Harden spent the next five hours in the medical tent hooked up to an IV. Five
hours! As long as that epic tennis match between Djokovic and Nadal.....Amazing.

Keri Chaisson-Harden is an Ironman four times over and that is a tremendous accomplishment.

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JOHNNY MANZIEL:TEXAS A & M's GOLDEN GOOSE.

 

Hello? Anybody home? I'm hearing nothing but crickets.

Amazing how the McMansion of Johnny Manziel haters has suddenly gone silent. Before
Saturday game against Alabama, they had such disdain for the Heisman Trophy-winning
quarterback because this 20-year old kid didn't have the moral fiber of the Pope, the politeness
of Tim Tebow,  intelligence of Mark Zuckerberg, and polish of George Clooney.

They called him a punk, thug, and a disrespectful, entitled brat. But after he torched Nick
Saban's defense for more than 550 yards of total offense, most are back to calling Manziel
what he truly is: the best player in college football---by far. There isn't a person who knows
a lick about football and sports that's not filled with venom, that wasn't in awe of what he did
against the Crimson Tide. Five touchdowns and 98 rushing against Alabama, are you kidding
me? The kid has some serious magic, and barring injury, he will win the Heisman Trophy
award again.

There will still be those who can't see Manziel through all their hate and continue to call him
a punk. But one thing is certain, to the people of Texas A & M, Johnny Football is their golden
goose. On Wednesday, the school announced it had raised $740 million for the fiscal year, a
whopping 70 percent over the previous year, and more than $400 million more than the
University of Texas raised.

I'm sure all the haterS will say that Manziel had nothing to do with it, when in reality, he
had everything to do with it. Without Manziel, Texas A & M is, well, Texas A & M, a school
that had absolutely no presence on the national landscape. Most people in the country don't
know a thing about it, much less know where the heck it is (College Station). Oh, sure, they
have the 12th man tradition and that kissing thing after touchdowns, but other than that, A & M
was irrelevant before Manziel came along and won the Heisman Trophy.

The football team is nationally ranked and are a ratings magnet thanks to Manziel, who is
a special player  you just can't keep your eyes off of. He's that good. He's an escape artist
along the lines of Houdini and is as electric as Michael Vick used to be.

Yeah, but....

I know, they say he has "character issues". Earlier this summer, I heard an alumnus say he
weren't sure if he wanted a guy like Manziel representing the school. I wonder if he somehow
got Manziel and Aaron Hernandez mixed up. I got a good laugh at that one as I was reading
the school raised $740 million, which is insane. I wonder if that same guy is feeling the same
way Manziel today, as he did a few months ago.

The athletic program generated more than $100 million in revenues in 2012, turning a
profit of $39 million. Oh, that's right, it must have been because of the leading scorer on
the field hockey team and had nothing to do with Manziel.

Haters will continue to hate on Manziel because that is what they do. I heard a guy say
that Manziel should be a better role model to kids because they see what he does. If you
are relying on a 20-year old kid to be a role model to your children, you have failed
miserably as a parent.

Johnny Manziel is what he is. An unbelievably gifted athlete who is a once-in-a-generation
college football player. He's far from perfect, but there has never been anyone like him.
Ever. As just a sophomore, he's the greatest player in the history of the school, and certainly
the most influential.

Manziel is not just Johnny Football to Texas A & M, he's there golden goose.

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THE GREATEST JOB IN SPORTS

HELP WANTED

 

One of the most powerful brands in the world seeks person to

work 20 weeks per year outdoors. Travel to beautiful places around

the world and wear shorts to the office. Appear on television occasionally

and say, "great shot, boss" quite often. No degree required, seven figures possible.

  

          Without even knowing what the job was, most of us would say, "that sounds like the

          greatest job in the world. Where do I apply?!"

 

          Well, it might not be the greatest job in the world, but it certainly could be the best
          one in professional sports and Joe LaCava has it. The Newtown, CT. native is a caddie
          for a guy named Tiger who doubles as his golden goose.

          After Monday's eleventh place finish in the BWM Championship, Tiger Woods has made
          just over $8.4 million in prize money, meaning that LaCava has raked in about $840,000,
          give or take a few Benjamins. That would put LaCava 98th on the PGA Tour money
          list without swinging a club or tapping in a two-foot putt under pressure. On the
          PGA Tour, caddies usually get 10 percent of their bosses winnings, and as we
          know, Tiger wins a lot.
     

          If Tiger captures the final leg of the FedEx Championship, he'll earn a whopping $10
          million,which would mean another million for LaCava. All for carrying a bag
          around a meticulously groomed patch of real estate in some of the most beautiful places,
          not only in the country, but in the world. Man, that is a great job if you can get it.

         There is no real pressure on the caddie in his job, even if your boss demands perfection.
         You might have to clean his balls, count the clubs in his bag, and pick up a divot the
         size of Rhode Island during the round, but seriously, there is no heaving lifting. Give
         Tiger the right yarder and get the hell out of the way. Pump him up once in a while and
         don't air his dirty laundry, and you're golden.
        

         Oh, sure, there are some drawbacks. You don't get a 401K plan, insurance benefits, or
         take part in a company Christmas party. But if you make almost a million a year for
         working about 20 weeks out of it, you can't really complain and probably won't have
         any problem with those expenses.

         If you tell someone you caddie for a living, you probably get a lot of's: "Um, that's nice.
         I'm sure it's good to be outside all day." But if you tell somebody you caddie for Tiger
         Woods, the "Um, that's nice," quickly turns into "No friggin' way!"
         

         And let's face it, Tiger reads greens better than anyone on the planet. Have you ever
         seen him ask for a caddie's advice on a double-breaker from 30 feet out? Never. He's
         his own man on the course and he'll embarrass himself with a tantrum before he ever
         shows you up on the course.

         I caddied for the first time on the day I turned 13. I got to the course early hoping to
         get out early, but being the new guy, I was the last guy to get a loop. When my
         name was called, I had a screaming headache because I hadn't eaten anything since
         breakfast. The guy I caddied for was much worse than Charles Barkley. He must've
         shot 125 on a piping-hot summer day in the same town Tiger played the last round of
         the BMW Championship on Monday. I didn't caddie much after that.

         I don't know what I was thinking. With a little luck, I could've had the greatest job
         in sports.

 

 



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ERIC LeGRAND: BEST PLAYER IN COLLEGE FOOTBALL SATURDAY

The best moment in college football didn't take place in College Station, Texas or Ann Arbor,
Michigan. It didn't happen in Tallahassee, Florida or Eugene, Oregon. There wasn't a play by
Johnny Manziel or Devin Garnder that produced a goose-bump, make-you-think moment like
the one that occurred in Piscataway, New Jersey on Saturday.

Yeah, I said Piscataway. Home of Rutgers, the school still rinsing itself off of the Mike Rice
scandal and the not-so-smart decisions that were made after it. Send in the clowns has been
the school's theme song since last spring.

But the state university of New Jersey made all the right moves on Saturday when they retired
number 52, the first one ever put away for good in the 144-year history of the program. In an
emotional ceremony, Eric LeGrand, saw his number unveiled at the stadium. LeGrand was
paralyzed from the neck down three years ago. There have been much better players than
LeGrand, a few of them like Ray Rice, are deserving of Rutgers immortality. But nobody
in the history of the program has ever had a better attitude than LeGrand. Ever.

His life was changed forever when he tried to make a tackle on a kick-off three years ago
against Army. One moment, he's a Division I college football player with a big future ahead
of him. The next moment, he's a paraplegic with virtually no chance of ever walking again.
Medical personnel would put that number at zero.

LeGrand doesn't care what anybody says. He, and probably he alone, believes he will
get out of his wheelchair and walk again. I've seldom seen a picture of LeGrand without
that mega-watt grin on his face. He is always happy. It's not an act for the cameras or the
fans around him. LeGrand is truly a happy man. One who laughs in the face of adversity,
while giving others like him real hope.

LeGrand is living his life the way he wants to live it now. He's a motivational speaker,
a football analyst on the radio, and the voice of the 1.5 million people in the United States
who are paralyzed in some way.

He won't quit. He knows he can't. LeGrand is not just a hero to people in wheelchairs,
but to those who often feel sorry for themselves. Hey, life can be hard. We all now that.
But how can anybody feel sorry for themselves when they see the attitude of a man who
has lost so much and keeps on pushing?

Eric LeGrand was the best player on the field on Saturday. It was his day, his moment, and
one that he deserved to have.

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