THE EYES ARE THE FIRST THING TO GO

I had been in denial for a long time. I'd go out to a restaurant and when the menu turned into
hieroglyphics that I could not read, I just blamed it on dirty contact lenses or the dim lighting.
When the bill came and I couldn't tell what the damage was, I'd just give my girlfriend the
credit card, tell her I had to go to the men's room in the worst way, and have her sign the
check. It was easier that way, and sure as heck, less painful.

When I'd start to read a book in bed at night, I'd get the, "WTF's????! The words were all blurry
and fuzzy. I'd stretch the book out at arms length and they'd become clear. Then I'd bring them
back into reading position and the words would go out of focus. I could blame the wicked crows
feet around my eyes to more than 40 years of laughter and sun damage, but when the eye sight
starts to go, it's a tell-tale sign that you're making the turn and playing on the first hole of the
back nine of life. You're probably closer to wearing Depends than Diesel jeans and when you
have to break down and buy "reading glasses", well, the Grape Nuts and Metamucil are close to
being part of your menu.

I had put going off to the drugstore to buy a pair of cheap ones for  quite some time. I had
always made fun of my parents when they broke out their funny-looking glasses while we were
out at a restaurant and swore that I'd never wear those things. They were just not cool Well, it happened to me. Last week, just as God told Albert Pujols to take the $300 million and be an
Angel, He suggested I go to CVS to get a pair. I had to go there anyway and fill-in up on the
alcohol-laden, liver damaging cold & flu products to give me some relief from some kind of nasty thing that was penetrating my immune system. As I was strolling the aisles of CVS, I walked into
the shrine for those with bad sight. There was the rack of reading glasses, a tower  that was neat
and tight, filled with specs for those with bad sight.

Like a 17-year old buying condoms for the first time, I looked both ways to make sure nobody
would come down my lane to see me trying them on. That would be truly embarrassing. No, not
the condoms, but the reading glasses. Get your mind out of the gutter. First thing I noticed, was the
price. My late father said they'd be a couple of bucks at the drugstore, but I thought he was
kidding. They had reading glasses for 1.50, 2.00, 2.50, 3.00. I was like 'wow', that is cheap
and in this economy, that's a helluva deal. I didn't worry too much about the style, as long as
didn't pick out red-rimmed glasses that would've made me look like Sally Jessy Rafael. I found
a pair with pretty think frames that were black. Think Martin Scorsese. I was into a different
look, something that made me appear more artsy than intelligent. Does that happen in a mid-life crisis?

I got the pair I wanted and walked sheepishly went to the counter as if I was going to hand
over two boxes of Preparation H to the pharmacist. Don't you ever wonder how much those
guys are laughing when they see the items that people bring to the counter? Depends,
Preparation H, Tampons, Super Magnum condoms, Enemas,  good lord. I guess we all get
used to the pain and temporary embarrassment. We can always give them that look that says,
"Oh, it's not for me,' and then make a a bee-line to you your car as fast as Usain Bolt runs the 100-meter dash. It's all good.

As I was paying for my glasses, a sense of accomplishment came over me. I had actually
bought a pair of reading glasses. Wow.  A big step. When the cashier said, "That will be $22.14,"
I became flustered, "Whaaa? The glasses are marked, 2.50." Then the cashier looked at me
like one of my old teachers who was about to inform me that I failed the class. "Um, no, these
glasses are $21.00 plus taxes. The 2.50 is for the strength of the glasses." D'OH!

I could do nothing but laugh my ass off to mask the embarrassment. "Yeah, I knew that" I said
to myself even I though I clearly didn't. That's funny. I thought the glasses were $2.50.  Does
anything you put on your body cost $2.50 these days. Well, as I walked out of CVS I knew
that I had purchased the "Cadillac" of reading glasses. As I looked at my paper thin plastic bag,
I noticed a speck of light bouncing up and down. As I reached in, I was surprised to discover
that the glasses had lights installed on both sides of the frames. How cool was that? Who got
the bargain?! Man, I couldn't wait to get home and try those puppies on in the dark with a book
in hand. How cool was I? I bet none of my friends had reading glasses like this. I might just
 start wearing them to church to make a statement and let the cougars know that they don't have
to drop down that far in age classes knowing that I have these cool reading glasses.

Then it hit me. There's a reason you only take the glasses out to read the menu before quickly
putting them back in. There's a reason, you use them to read when you're in the comfort and
privacy of your own home. Reading glasses don't look cool on a man. (Beautiful woman is
another story.) They don't look cool even if they have lights installed on both sides of the frame.
Oh, well, at least I can see clearly again.

PEYTON MANNING AND ONE HELLUVA NIGHT

Ten years ago, I was working as a sports anchor/reporter for NESN in Boston. I was the beat
reporter for the New England Patriots and covered them every day for two years. To this day,
it remains one of the best jobs I've had in the business. To watch how that franchise operated
up close and personal was pretty special. It didn't hurt that they went 34-4 over two years
and captured a Super Bowl. Covering the NFL is a passion for me.

In May of 2006, I got a call from MasterCard to see if I was available to host a business outing
where Peyton Manning was going to be the featured speaker. I was like "Hell, yeah! I'll do it",
while soiling my shorts at the same time. It's one thing to be in front of the camera, it's quite
another to be in front of 800 business suits talking on stage. I had a bad experience when I was
13 years-old and public speaking has frightened me ever since.

Now, I was going to be hosting a business outing with Peyton Manning on stage in Boston.
And he was not only in the Patriots backyard, but the hotel where the business meeting was being held, was a stone's throw from Tom Brady's bachelor pad on Commonwealth Avenue. If you're in Boston as the enemy of the Patriots, chances are you're not going to be well-received,  especially if you're Peyton Manning.

I met with Manning's representatives at the hotel and they took me to meet with Manning
as if they were secret service agents for the president of the United States, the only thing missing
were the sunglassess and ear piece.When we arrived in the business room where Manning was,
I noticed that he was studying intently, as if he were breaking down a scouting report on the
Patriots defense. He had five index cards laid out in front of him on the table. The reigning NFL
MVP was preparing for his speech as if he was getting ready to play for the Super Bowl.

His managers interrupted him politely to introduce me to him. After the pleasantries, he said,
"Man, I know you from somewhere, you look really familiar." I was incredulous that he had
recognized me from anyplace, considering I had never covered the Colts or the University of
Tennessee.

Manning is from Louisiana and I used to work there and I also did a college football
recruiting show for Fox Sports Net that was seen in the Pelican State. I mentioned that and he
said, "Nah, I don't think that's it. It will come to me, but I just know I've seen you before."
Manning then snapped his fingers and said, "I got it! It was 'Bull Durham'! You were in Bull
Durham and I saw you hit that home run."

I smiled and looked at his representatives from MasterCard who burst out laughing. I had
been had. Tom Murphy, Manning's rep and a person I had known for a while, had set me
up and told Manning to ask me about that. It was a pretty funny moment.

One of the things that surprised me about Manning, though, was his size. I'm 6'3" 225lbs and
he dwarfed me. Made me look like Muggsy Bogues standing next to Manute Bol. When he
stood up, he towered over me. He's listed at 6'5" but he's closer to 6'7" and around 260lbs and
he made me feel real, real, small.

After I cleaned the egg off my face, Manning and I worked our way down to the stage where
I had to introduce him and ask him 10 questions for the audience. Manning was funny, focused,
and it was obvious that he was preparing for a television life after football. Talking on stage
with Manning was a serious adrenaline rush and I needed a cold one to wind down after the
event. I was talking to Manning's reps about going out on Newbury Street for some drinks.
They were like, "No, he's too tired."

Then Manning sauntered up to me and said with his southern drawl, "Paul, Brady said I should
go to Son-see's. Do you know where that is?" Did I know where Sonsie's was? It was practically
my front porch of where I lived and one of the best bars in Boston. We were on our way.
Manning was fired up to go out and mingle with the Boston public.

When Manning walked into the bar, jaws dropped and cellphone cameras lit up like Christmas
trees. People were texting their friends and taking pictures of Manning like he was the second
coming of Jesus Christ. And he heard from the Boston fans, who are never shy about insulting
anybody. "This is Brady's town!", "Belichick owns you." "Brady's got three Super Bowl rings,
how many do you's got?!" Manning was a good sport and took it all in. He mingled with the
crowd, told a lot of funny jokes, and acted like he was no different than anyone else. He bought
people drinks and picked up the entire tab for our party, which was well over $200. A lot of
stars think they should get a free ride, a free-meal, and get away scott-free without paying for
anything. Not Manning. He was more than happy to pay the tab---in cash.

We left Sonsie's and walked down Newbury Street to another drinking establishment. To see
the looks on the faces of people who had noticed Manning was priceless. It' was like OMG-WTF?
Yeah, WTF, for sure. It's not everyday you see Manning walking down the streets of Boston
in a suit. We closed down the next bar at 2 a.m. and once again Manning was mingling with the
fans and taking their insults along with the compliments. He was a funny, courteous guy, who
was just trying to be like everyone else. It was one helluva night.

SPORTS ILLUSTRATED SNUBBED ME----AGAIN!

I really thought today would be the day that changed my life forever. I had visions of appearances
on Letterman, Access Hollywood, and the Today show. But when I woke up this morning and
scanned the Internet, I realized that I had become like Bill Murray's character in "Groundhog Day."
No matter how hard I try, not matter what I do, I get the same result. For years, I've been trying
to get chosen as Sports Illustrated's Cover Model for the swimsuit issue. And every year, I get
rejected like the two guys who ring your doorbell while toting a bible and outfitted in a black tie
and white short-sleeved shirt. They always say something about being Saints fans back in the day.

After a month of hard core training and dieting on nothing but Krispy Kreme donuts, I thought
I was in prime shape to make my dream come true. I was shredded like Terrell Owens' mother
and studied with the Dali Lama to ensure that I was poised and of a clear mind to produce
a remarkable photo shoot. The award-winning photographer, Elizabeth G., suggested the
banks of the Croton-on-the-Hudson just outside of New York City as our location. She wanted
to use the chocolate-colored river to bring out the true contrast of my frightening white body
(Think Larry Bird or the population of Maine whose flesh doesn't see the sun until mid-August).

We decided to expand our portfolio with body painting. I knew this had become popular with
the people of Sports Illustrated and fans of the issue. Elrod Neiman, the son of world-renowned
painter, Leroy Neiman, was chosen to turn my pasty-white body into a cover of deep black with
blue striping. I thought it worked well, and with the variety of my portfolio, I certainly thought
it would give me a better chance at making it onto the pages of Sports Illustrated.

The latex-based paint from Sherman Williams made the hair in my arm pits a little crunchy,
but other than that, and the eight hours it took to canvass my 240 pounds of meat, it was
a good experience. After a healthy dosing of air-brushing and glossing, I was confident that
I'd finally become a household name after my appearance in SI. This would surely be the day
that my dream would come true.

My agent got a call in mid-December from Sports Illustrated saying they were going to
produce an "Over 40 and fat issue" and wanted to know if I was interested in that one, which
comes out in August. "No chance," I said. "It was all or nothing. You can play in the big
leagues in Tampa or you can do it on the big stage of New York." I wanted the February
issue or nothing at all. I got nothing. Not a crumb, not a scrap, not an insert for Viagra on page
232. 

That's ok. There's always next year. If Randy Moss and Manny Ramirez can make a
comeback well past their prime, then so can I.

JEREMY LIN: MORE PROOF THERE ARE NO 'EXPERTS'

In sevent starts with the New York Knicks, Jeremy Lin is averaging more than 20 points a game
while running the offense like Bob Cousy. He has single-handily saved the Knicks season and
perhaps, even the NBA, whose games were about as watchable as an 8-year trying to play Mozart
on the piano.

Lin has become a bona-fide sensation and the talk of New York, the country, and all of Asia. His
story is nothing short of amazing. Undrafted out of Harvard, like just about everyone else who has
played basketball at the Ivy League school,  cut by two NBA teams, and buried on the bench of a
third. Lin only got playing time because the Knicks needed warm bodies on the floor. Now, he's
playing like Steve Nash in his prime.

Anyone who has watched Lin play realizes that he is a something special. He is an unselfish,
team oriented player with incredible skills. The big question is, in a sport where scouts and
executives can spot players thousands of miles of away (Ricky Rubio, Dirk Nowitzki,
Pau Gasol, among many others), how did they miss on a special player like Lin, who was
playing in their own backyard? How could the Knicks, who were so bad before the installation
of Lin, bury a player of such talent on the bench. Mike D'Antoni and his staff watched him
every day in practice and they didn't know he was this good?

Lin is further proof there are no 'experts' in sports, or in most businesses for that matter.
It used to sicken me when the media outlets would bring on "anti-terrorism" experts after
the World Trade Center bombing in 1993, 9/11, Anthrax, and the Times Square bomber.
If you were such an "expert" why didn't you help prevent the things you're providing
"expert" analysis on?

In the world of sports, the "experts" make colossal blunders all the time. Tom Brady was
a  sixth-round draft pick, which means every NFL team passed him over not once, but
five times. Are you kidding me? Those same NFL experts thought JaMarcus Russell, Ryan
Leaf, Tony Mandarich, and Vernon Gholston were first-round picks and impact players.
How'd they turn out. The list goes on and on and on, of players who were busts. The ones
who were scouted and praised by the likes of Mel Kiper, Jr.

These same experts give ridiculous contracts to players like Carl Crawford, Carlos
Zambrano, Jayson Werth, J.D Drew, and Adam Dunn. These GM's and executives have
become like weather "experts" on television. You're considered a success if you're right
about 30 percent of the time. Ooops, I missed on that huge storm?! Oh, that's ok,
as long as I smile and dress nice, I'll keep my job. It's gotten to be the same way with
the so-called "forecasters" and "predictors" in sports.

There are no "experts" in sports, especially baseball. There is no schooling or education
they get that makes them smarter than anyone else. Some like Jerry West, one of the
greatest players in NBA have a feel and an eye for talent and know about chemistry.
Others like Michael Jordan have absolutely no clue on how to evaluate talent and put
together a team. He, like many other GM's in sports are no better than people putting
together a fantasy sports team, who are "experts" just like everyone else.

LEGACY TALK: STOP THE NON-SENSE

Few people are as obsessed with "legacies" as those in the sports media. After someone
retires, makes a clutch play, or self-destructs on the field or in life, the talking heads and
computer geeks with a press pass always seem to want to pose the question, "How will
they be remembered?" Or, "How will this effect his legacy?"

This was never more apparent than during Super Bowl week when many were asking
how  a loss by the Patriots would change the legacy of Tom Brady and Bill Belichick,
who were  3-1 in Super Bowls before last Sunday. If it wasn't Belichick/Brady, it was
how a win would effect the legacies of  Eli Manning/Tom Coughlin. If they get their
second Super Bowl victory, would they be considered Hall of Famers?

I have one big question. S-E-R-I-O-U-S-L-Y? This legacy stuff while athletes and
coaches are still competing is ridiculous. I mean, who really cares and what does it matter?
What was Tiger Woods' legacy after he won his 12th major and what was it after he slept
with half the woman in the free world?

It just doesn't happen with sports figures, either. What if we etched George Bush's legacy
in stone after he landed  on an aircraft carrier on May 1, 2003 and proclaimed that it
was "Mission Accomplished" concerning the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan? Those two
wars ended eight years later. When Bush touched down on the USS Abraham Lincoln,
American casualties stood at 139 killed and 542 wounded. That was over 4,000 US fatalities
ago.

Chris Matthews on MSNBC called Bush a “hero” and enthusiastically stated, “He won
the war. He was an effective commander. Everybody recognizes that, I believe, except
a few critics.” I wonder what Matthews would say if he re-evaluated things today.

There is a start and finish to every athlete, coach, and even politician's career. Why do
people waste time trying to write it long before they are over? Should the sports world
have set John Elway's career in stone after he was on the losing end of his first three Super
Bowls? He won his last two, so what's his "legacy?" Does it really matter?  Who does it
really matter to that Dan Marino never won a Super Bowl? Is he less of quarterback than
Elway because the Bronco legend won two of them?

Don Shula, considered one of the greatest coaches of all-time, had a record of 2-4 in Super
Bowls. Did that really effect his legacy? Hell, no. He's in the Hall of Fame and considered
one of the best ever leaders of a football team. Belichick and Brady won their first three
Super Bowl appearances, but have lost their last two. Will that effect their entry into the
Hall of Fame? Doubt it.

I get it. I realize that because of PTI, SportsCenter, Talk Radio, Twitter, and Facebook, there
are platforms to debate, rage, and vent. It drives the numbers and moves the needle. I get it.
But this "legacy" stuff long before a career ends, is somewhat laughable.

Perhaps, Lou Holtz, the former college football coach and current ESPN analyst summed it
up best when he said, "Who cares about legacy? People forget about you five minutes after
your buried."

LANCE ARMSTRONG WINS AGAIN

When Tyler Hamilton, a cyclist, who failed numerous drug tests and surrendered
an Olympic Gold medal because of them, appeared on "60 Minutes" back in May
accusing Lance Armstrong of using performance-enhancing drugs, the court of
public opinion damned the 7-time Tour de France winner and cancer survivor as
a "fraud", "cheat", and "liar." They said he must be guilty if Hamilton testified
under oath that he saw Armstrong with his own two eyes, get injected with PED's.

On Friday, Federal prosecutors announced they were ending their two-year
investigation of Armstrong for not only PED's, but fraud. Armstrong had been
accused of misusing funds given to the team he was riding on by its sponsor, the
U.S. Postal Service. The government spent two whole years and millions
of dollars trying to take down Armstrong and what'd they get? Nothing.

Super agent Jeff Novitzky tried to do the same thing to Barry Bonds and Roger
Clemens, and just like in the case of Armstrong, he got nothing. Oh, sure, Bonds was
sentenced to 30 days of house arrest and Clemens has another trial coming up, but
for all the testimony of snitches like Hamilton, (a convicted liar and cheat) and Floyd
Landis, (a convicted liar and cheat), and a massive witch hunt, they got nothing.

Through all of this, we learned three things. One, Lance Armstrong and Bonds are
bullet proof. Two, the government and their "experts" are inept. And three, people
should stop giving any credibility to liars and cheats like Hamilton and Landis. The
latter doesn't really shock me because in our society, people have a penchant for
believing everything they read and hear. It all goes back to the gossip groups in the
high school cafeterias, people believe the rumors without finding out for themselves or
asking what kind of agenda the accuser has.

In the case of Armstrong, the agenda of Hamilton and Landis was as clear as the
amount of synthetic testosterone showed up in their urine samples. These cyclists failed
tests, were stripped of titles and had their reputations smeared forever. They felt if
they were going to be embarrassed and ruined by being outed forusing PED's, then
Armstrong should suffer the same fate. It didn't matter thatArmstrong was the most
tested person in cycling and never failed a test. The gossip hounds and "believers"
will say that Armstrong was just better as masking his PED's. Perhaps so, but unless
there is a failed test, all those people can cry and moan all they want to, but Armstrong
will never suffer the same fate as Hamilton, Landis, or even Alberto Contador, who
did fail tests.

Plus, Armstrong has done more to raise money for cancer research than anyone in
the history of sports. People like him. They don't like squealers like Hamilton and
Landis. Did I think Armstrong used PED's to dominate a sport filled with liars and
cheats. Perhaps. But why did the most tested athlete in his sport never fail a single
test? Was he a chemist? Did he know when to get off PED "cycles" better?

There isn't a smoking gun anywhere. A two-year investigation by the government
would've turned up something. All that baloney that he failed tests in Europe but
they got contaminated, is pure garbage. Oh, the haters will be on hating Armstrong
and the rumors will follow him, but there is a big difference between failing a test
and being rumored to have flunked one. Just ask Landis. Just ask Hamilton. Armstrong
has won his last race and there is no one who will ever catch him, ever.

THE MAN BEHIND THE SIGNING DAY SHOWS

The first Wednesday in February is one of the biggest days in college football, even though
nobody is putting on the pads or throwing a pass. It's National Signing Day, a time when
high school studs across the country put pen to paper and make their college choice official.
After months and years of the recruiting process which included thousands upon thousands
of letters, calls, e-mails, texts, tweets, and probably some under the table cash, the next wave
of  stars put their signature on a letter-of-intent.

How big has this day become? Check out the cover pages of ESPN.com, CNNSI.com and
manypapers throughout the country. There will be television shows across many sports
networks dedicated to telling college football fans which 5-star players are going to their
favorite school or alma mater.

The man behind these shows is now a professional sports agent, but a long time ago, Scott Alexander put together a program that became the model for which all others followed. You
know when the players put a number of hats, each representing a school that was heavily
recruiting their services, in front of them and then carefully and dramatically picks one out
to the cheers of family, friends, not to mention fans and college coaches?  That was all
Alexander's creation. So are the live talk backs with college coaches and recruiting "experts".

Everything you see on these recruiting shows were the ideas of Alexander who was the
producer of "Countdown To Signing Day" on Fox Sports Net South, which began running
the show in the late 90's, long before ESPN, Comcast SportsNet, and CSTV, now CBS
Sports Network, even thought about producing one.

"Countdown To Signing Day" was the signature program of Fox Sports Net South for
many years, an Emmy-award winning program  the network hung its hat on. But they didn't
just do it on National Signing Day, they did it every week for the four months leading up
to the climax of the recruiting process. Alexander was the main cog in the machine. He was
a mini Mel Kiper, Jr., who knew every stat, every time in the 40-yard dash, every pound
of a recruits bench-press, and every school in the country that was recruiting him. Alexander
was way before his time when it came to knowing how to make a recruiting show purr.

Alexander would get video on every important player in the country, which meant calling
television stations in cities you've never heard of, much less can pronounce. With a shoe-string budget, he had to use the power of persuasion to get these sports directors and photographers
to not only shoot the video, but package it up and send it as well. And on their dime. That's
no easy feat in the world of television.

The LSU grad had every big-time coach in the country on speed-dial and he'd get them
on the show. Nick Saban, Lou Holtz, Bobby Bowden, if they were big in college football, Alexander would get them to appear on his program. "Countdown to Signing Day" was
shown weekly  in the the south, the hot bed of college football and recruiting.

People in that rabid college football state wanted any type of information on players who
could possibly be signing with their school, and Alexander would always give it to them
every Saturday during the season, and in a 2-hour special on recruiting day. But he not
only did it for football, but basketball, as well. And he'd get high school phenoms like
Lebron James and J.J. Reddick to come on the show live and talk about where they
were being recruiting.

Alexander coaxed LeBron to fly down to Atlanta from Akron with nothing but a plane
ticket. King James complained that his tickets weren't first class, but "Scotty A" just laughed
and said, "You won't have to worry about that next year." Alexander had a way with players, coaches, and parents. He could get anyone on the show. Didn't matter how big they were
or how far they'd have to travel, they'd come to Atlanta just to be on "Countdown To Signing Day."

For some reason, Fox Sports Net South dropped the program five years ago. They cancelled
a show that many in the south were simply addicted to. Just as every other network in the
country was following the model that Alexander had established, Fox Sports Net South dropped
the show like it was piping hot. And it was. It's akin to Mark Zuckerberg investing hours
upon hours on Facebook and then saying, "Eh, I'm done. Too much work."

Alexander has moved on to being a successful professional sports agent, but when you see all
the recruiting shows on television today, remember who  made them what they
are.