Take away the 20 years in pinstripes, 3,453 hits, five World Series rings, five gold glove awards,
and the Rookie of the Year award and what do you have? Derek Jeter, a man of impeccable
character and the single-most respected athlete, including Michael Jordan, over the last two
decades in sports.
Thank you, Derek Jeter.
The sports world today is being defined by the headlines regarding domestic violence, child
abuse, crotch grabs, and cover-ups. Through it all, stands a man who has lived his baseball
and personal life under the most powerful microscope (New York City) while playing the
games most glamorous position, shortstop for the New York Yankees. And no one, as hard
as they tried, could find anything to dirty or stain a man who gained universal respect.
Thank you, Derek Jeter
There has never been a spec of controversy with Jeter. He never cheated the game, pumped
his body full of cheat, appeared on the police blotter, criticized a teammate, stiffed a fan,
thrown a helmet or been ejected from a game. Never. Come to think of it, I've never even
seen the Yankees captain get in an argument with an umpire. Have you? He's baseball's
snow white, a player so clean he squeaks and role model who was true through and through.
Thank you, Derek Jeter.
Perhaps to make a name for themselves or to become "trending" on Twitter, the detractors
of Jeter have come out as the hour glass winds down on his brilliant career. They scream that
Jeter wasn't the best shortstop to play the game or even in the Top 10 when it comes to all-time
greatest Yankees. Jeter never got caught up in that and never really cared. He didn't need
to be fueled by some hack on sports radio or anyone who never played the game. Jeter's inner
drive burned with ferocity and he minded his own business, taking care of it the right way.
Thank you, Derek Jeter.
Jeter has redefined what it means to be a Yankee and an athlete of great character. Our media
today seemingly wants to reward the 'me' guys, you know, the ones with the colorful quote
and those who think it's cool to call out a teammate or an opponent (Richard Sherman). The
sports world glorified Seattle's all-pro cornerback not because he brings lock down coverage
to every game, but because he called San Francisco's Michael Crabtree mediocre on national
television. Who in their right minds thought that was a classy move?
Do you think Derek Jeter would've ever done that? Never. He showed everyone that a player
can be great and a great gentleman.
Thank you, Derek Jeter.
When he tips his hat for the final time of his career on Sunday, Jeter will ride off into
retirement at age 40 and be enshrined in Cooperstown in five years. Like Cal Ripken
and Ozzie Smith before him, Jeter will be replaced and become far less significant in
the sports world and in our consciousness.
It happens to all the great ones because after all, it is just sports and we live in a world
with a lightning quick news cycle that spits out everything in a matter of days. Derek
Jeter gave the sports world 20 great years of doing things brilliantly and doing them
the right way.
And that still counts for something, even in this scandal-ridden and morally corrupt
world.
The sports television business can be as ruthless and cold as Bill Belichick on cut-down day.
A reporter's skills and credibility can strengthen over a long career, but nobody can outrun
Father Time. If an executive thinks you've racked up more than enough miles, then you can
usually bank on them trading up for a newer model.
The suits at Fox Sports felt it was time for an infusion of youth on the sidelines during the
coming football season and replaced Pam Oliver, a 53-year old highly-respected veteran
with the "it"girl, Erin Andrews, who is 36-years old, blonde, and a favorite with males in
just about every demographic in the country.
Oliver isn't the first woman to get bumped for someone younger and she certainly won't be the
last. Television isn't for the faint of heart and change happens--a lot. It often doesn't matter
how talented, credible, or hardworking you are, youth is often served and served first often.
Oliver built a career in which she was universally loved and respected. She did great work,
never complained, and just kept her head down. I had the chance to work with Oliver when
we were both anchors for the upstart Fox regional networks nearly 15 years ago.
As with any new business, starting a new network is tough especially when the support
staff is young, inexperienced, and not quite ready to handle the pressure of big-market live
television. There were some extraordinary painful nights where shows were poorly timed,
information wrong, and studio cameras colliding mid-show. (I kid you not)
Oliver, who was already a big star by then, never got flustered or lost her cool. She went
with the flow even when that flow was filled with landmines and grenades. Perhaps, Oliver
was smart enough to realize that few people were watching the fledgling network or she
didn't feel the horror shows were worth getting all worked up over. Whatever the case,
Oliver never let her feathers get ruffled.
I vividly remember the time my co-anchor, Matt Morrison, gave me the Heimlech maneuver
when I was choking in our office. The piece of grapefruit came out like a projectile and nearly
nailed Oliver in the head. Oh, I don't think she was happy when a saliva-draped slice of grapefruit
rested on her desk like a dead fish, but Oliver didn't vent or come unglued.
Oliver certainly wasn't happy when Fox executives told her that she was being replaced by
Andrews on their 'A' team of Joe Buck and Troy Aikman. But in true Pam Oliver fashion
she handled it with class and the professionalism that have marked her brilliant career in sports
television.
Life isn't fair, we all know that. But television is much, much worse. Getting replaced is
brutally tough and never easy, but few people have ever handled it much better than Pam Oliver
Lou Marinelli is not only a football wizard, but somewhat of a magician. New Canaan's
legendary coach has managed to stuff 33 years, 297 victories, nine state championships and
five FCIAC titles into a room that's no bigger than the ones college freshman are moving
into this week.
It's a football wonderland and a place Marinelli calls his office. "I love it," said Marinelli.
"I think my players and coaches can feel comfortable coming in here to talk about
anything."
There are hundreds of pictures, letters, and more than a few trophies. If it didn't say
"Coach Marinelli" on the door, his office could easily be mistaken for the New Canaan
football museum.
"A lot of my former players come back here and it's great," Marinelli said. "It's
not about me or the trophies, but the people who played in this program."
Nearly every inch of every wall is covered with mementos from Marinelli's brilliant
coaching career in New Canaan. There is a black and white photo from 1981 where
Marinelli is being carried off the field by his players after his very first win with the
Rams. It was New Canaan's first win in three very difficult years and marked the beginning
of a football dynasty in the small Connecticut town.
"We beat the defending state champions and after the game, we took the buses
down Main street in New Canaan and celebrated. I don't have any pictures of that,
but it was an unbelievable moment," he said.
Pictures of weddings, baby photographs, and Christmas cards make it more than a
football shrine. There is more to Marinelli than just the x's and o's of the game. He has
woven a tightly-knit football community and he takes pride in the relationships he's built
over the the years.
"That's what it's all about," he said. "The wins and trophies are great, but it's about
the people here who sacrificed so much and I hope that I, in some small way, contributed
to their success after they left here."
Marinelli doesn't look much different than when he took over the program at 28-years
old. The hair may have a touch of gray and the crows feet around his eyes have become
deeper, but it doesn't appear Marinelli will be retiring anytime soon.
That means there will be more pictures and trophies that will need to find space in his
Pete Frates knows that death is coming. The runaway freight train known as ALS is ravaging
his body and there is nothing he nor his doctors can do about it. They all know the end game.The disease has never lost.
However, the former Boston College baseball star who has become the face of the fight against
ALS, is a big winner. With the help of Ice Bucket Challenge which has burned up social media
and inspired a nation, Frates has increased awareness for the insidious disease and helped many people open up their wallets and contribute more than $60 million to research and to assist those
who've been afflicted with ALS.
On Sunday, Frates achieved one of his biggest victories when he and his wife, Julie, welcomed
a little girl into the world becoming the proud parents to Lucy Fitzgerald Frates.
If this doesn't give you a lump in your throat or bring a tear to your eye, then chances are ice water flows through your veins or you're just not human.
Just over two years after being given a death sentence at the age of 27, Frates is enjoying all
that comes with the gift of life. A precious little girl weighing seven pounds and
eight ounces is his and will carry his name. How proud, how very proud he must be.
For two families who've had to deal with the pain, sorrow, and the sadness of Pete being
diagnosed with ALS, this has to bring a ton of joy and happiness to their lives. The break in
their hearts from Pete's illness, especially at such a young age, will never be repaired but the
birth of Lucy has to help the healing process and that's a beautiful thing.
A few years ago, while channel surfing, I came across Bill O'Reilly on Fox in the midst of a
flammable diatribe on California Governor Jerry Brown, whom O'Reilly accused of creating
a "state sanctuary" because he did not support federal law concerning immigration.
Ok, whatever. It was late and I wasn't interested in O'Reilly getting on his pulpit and
attacking somebody else. I wanted to be entertained, which really didn't take that much at
that very moment. As soon as O'Reilly spoke of Brown as "insane", I chuckled hard and
thought back to the time I had a close and comical encounter with Brown whose political
career stands at forty-one years and counting.
The year was 1991 and Brown was seeking the Democratic presidential nomination to face
off against George H. Bush. I had to just moved to Erie, Pa to start my career in television
working for the CBS affiliate, WSEE-TV. I was the new, wet-behind-the-ears television
wannabe and I was assigned to pick up Brown, who was in town on his grass roots campaign speaking to a few hundred union workers at a Holiday Inn about 8 miles from the station.
Scott Baker Anchorman
Scott Baker, our lead anchor and managing editor, gave me strict instructions on what to do.
Baker was a whiz-kid and hardcore news junkie who often read about eight newspapers
before his shift even started. His ear was always glued to the police scanner hoping to
report on an event and overdramatize it, something Baker was an expert in. He could
make a local bake sale seem as dramatic and significant as the capture and execution of
Saddam Hussein. (Baker is currently the editor-in-chief of The Blaze.com)
A few weeks earlier, Baker, new to the market, was hosting a town hall meeting when he
suddenly collapsed and hit the floor like Apollo Creed fell to the canvas in "Rocky IV".
People thought Baker had died right there on local TV. Talk about a grand entrance! If
Youtube, Twitter, and Facebook had been around back then, Baker would've been "trending"
and an internet sensation. (see video: collapse at :12)
He said he was dehyrdrated from the flu, but as I got to know Baker and his flair for the
dramatic and theatrics, I think it might have all been an act to get some attention and a few
more ratings points.
On this night, Baker pulled me aside and with a stern look on his face, gave me instructions.
"When Jerry Brown is done with his speech, you need to go on stage, get him to the car,
and bring him to the station. He's live on the set as our lead story. Don't mess it up."
I wanted to say, "Dude, if this is so big, why don't you get him a car service and bring
him here in style. After all, the guy is running for president of the United States." But then
I remembered that most of the equipment in the building and parts of the building itself,
were held together by duct tape. I don't think the car service was in the budget.
As I drove to pick up Brown on that brutally cold night in February a lot of things went
through my mind, the most prevailing one being, "what the hell am I doing in Erie, Pa.
picking up a guy whose chances of winning the presidency were only slightly better than
mine?" I wanted to cover sports, not be the station chauffeur.
What happened next was straight out of a "Seinfeld" episode. After Brown finished his
speech and started to shake hands with members of the audience, I tried to get his
attention. He was operating on a shoe-string budget and didn't even have a media
relations person on his campaign. I approached him and hoped to introduce myself as
the guy from the station who was supposed to drive him there. As I walked toward Brown,
a fierce looking man wearing a navy beret got between me and the Brown.
The man was Jacques Barzaghi, Brown's longtime associate and bodyguard. "Can I help
you with something?," he asked. With my eyes as big as half-dollars and heart racing,
I told him I was there to bring Brown back to our television station.
I found out later that Barzaghi was a patriot of the French Foreign Legion in Algeria-Morocco,
North Africa during the Algerian Conflict. He certainly looked the part. I don't know how
he and Brown ever got hooked up. I seriously wanted to give someone my personal
information and let them know who I was with just in case I disappeared mysteriously.
Jacque Barzaghi
I directed Brown and Barzaghi to the news van which I had parked in front of the Holiday
Inn. After I got in and buckled up, I thought of asking Brown how he liked Erie, but
then I remembered a co-worker, Rudy Yovich, asked that same question to Dr. J when
the NBA legend came into town for an appearance at a local supermarket.
I was shooting the interview with a camera over my shoulder and as I zoomed in on Dr.
J, I could see a perturbed look wash across his face that said, "What the f#*K kind of
question is that?"
So, I thought better of it and didn't say anything to Brown or Barzaghi, who I caught
giving me an evil glare in the rearview mirror.
The clock read 10:43 p.m which gave me plenty of time to get Brown back to the station
and on the set for WSEE-TV's big "exclusive". But something happened on the way to
the station. I got lost.
There was no GPS or mapquest back then, so I was relying on memory and a few notes
scribbled down on a pad. I had no trouble getting to the Holiday Inn, so getting back to
the station shouldn't have been a problem or so I thought.
Erie was an economically depressed town at the time and a very, very dark place at night.
It had one street light every 4-5 miles and even then, it seemed like they were powered
by 60 watt light bulbs.
I made a wrong turn down a street that looked like something out of Baghdad. Most of
the buildings were rundown, empty, or both It was clear this wasn't the street I was supposed
to be on. Sweat started to build on my forehead. I was having one of those holy shit moments.
I knew I was lost. So did Brown and the scary looking dude in the navy beret.
Brown asked me, "Hey, do you know where you're going?"
I quickly answered yes, even though I didn't have a clue. I hadn't been in town for more
than a few weeks and had never been in this area. The clock read 10:48 p.m. and I thought
was screwed.
I picked up the two-way radio and sheepishly said, "Paul to base. Paul to base"....
Barzaghi pounced on me, "You don't know where the hell you are, do you?"
Just then, our assignment editor responded, "Come in, Paul." I didn't want to say that
I was completely lost but we all knew that I was
Brown put another two cents into this sitcom on wheels. "It's now 10:51 p.m. Are we
going to make it?"
My mouth was now like a field of cotton on a summer day in Georgia: hot and dry as
hell. I had visions of the news director firing me on the spot. Three weeks into the job
and I'm gone. Talk about getting your career off on the wrong foot.
I told Brown we were going to make it, but I knew we'd need some kind of miracle for
that to happen. I had to deal with Brown and his buddy yelling at me like I stole their
toys at Christmas.
I wanted to blurt out, "You're no good, you're no good, baby you're no good." which were
some of the lyrics from Linda Ronstadt's hit song in the 1970's. Ronstadt was the ex-girlfriend
of Brown, who ran for president on three different occasions. I passed on that, fearing
Barzaghi would put me in a choke hold and snap my neck.
Just as I was giving up all hope of getting Brown to the station on time, I turned down
a side street that brought me to one of the few roads in Erie that I was familiar with.
There was a glimmer of hope. I found the way, albeit roundabout one, back to the station.
We pulled into the parking lot which was adjacent to an Arby's franchise an made
a sprint for the station's backdoor.
Yep, me, Jerry Brown, and Jacque in the navy beret, in an all-out sprint to get through
the doors, into the studio, and on the set in time.
At 10:59:40 Brown made it to the chair. He was a little winded but he recovered nicely
and was ready to face all of Erie when the red light went on at 11:00 p.m.
New Canaan High School just wasn't the same when classes began Wednesday morning. For
the first time in 41 years, Mark Rearick wasn't around. The former student, coach, and Godfather
of the cafeteria, who was not only part of the fabric of the tony town on Connecticut's gold coast,
but its foundation and infrastructure as well, retired last June.
Filling the void created by his departure would be like putting a garden hose in the Grand
Canyon and turning on the faucet. It would eventually happen, but not in your or my lifetime.
2-5-0 packed everything up with his lovely wife Diane and put New Canaan in the rearview
mirror, heading to the beaches of North Carolina where they've had a summer home for
many years.
It seemed like 2-5-0 headed into retirement like Joey Chestnut's b-line to Coney Island every
July: fast and furious. After seeing all of his pictures posted on Facebook, I must say that
retirement looks fabulous on 2-5-0 and few people are more deserving of it.
Rearick got a special thrill in the first weeks of retirement when Curt Casali, who
played for 2-5-0 at New Canaan High School, made his Major League debut in July.
2-5-0 boarded a plane to Minnesota and got to the game on time to see Casali, who catches
for Tampa Bay, get a hit in his first big league at-bat.
The man looks happy. Damn happy and it's a great thing. And it's a great thing that 2-5-0
is finally on Facebook. Before June, 2-5-0 was perhaps the only man on the planet who
wasn't on any social media network, let alone the grand daddy of them all.
He didn't know Instagram from Instant Replay, and he's not the kind of guy who would
waste his time telling people that he's "checking-in" at Dairy Queen or post pictures of
his feet by the sea.
2-5-0, albeit reluctantly, got on the social media super highway after a ton of people tried
to reach out to him after I posted the blog, "Mark Rearick and the end of an era" in June.
The response he got was both heartwarming and amazing. Rearick has more friends than
"Breaking Bad" has viewers and through the power of Facebook, we are all connected
to 2-5-0 like never before.
There are some people from high school that you hope you never see on Facebook. 2-5-0
is not one of them. And the pictures that have been showing up are ones of total happiness,
deserving of a man who gave so much to the New Canaan community.
The opening picture is classic. It's worth far more than 1,000 words. A total gem. 2-5-0,
with two relatives, looks both proud and like a bit of royalty. To me, the Dos Equis Guy
is out and 2-5-0 has taken his place as the most interesting man in the world.
It can be silly, self-serving, and sophomoric, but the Ice Bucket challenge has become the
greatest fundraising vehicle since Milton Berle hosted the first telethon for cancer research
in 1949.
What started as a tiny snowball, has now become an unstoppable avalanche on social
media. Facebook, once littered with pictures of food on a plate, feet by the sea, and every
second of a newborn's life, is now smothered with videos of people getting doused with
buckets of ice and freezing water.
And you know what, it's all good, so very good.
The Ice Bucket challenge has done what so many people and fundraisers couldn't before,
no matter the celebrity, type of event, or the relentless, tireless effort that millions of
activists put in. It has raised not only awareness of ALS, the most horrific disease known
to man, but significant money for research
As of Saturday August 23, the ALS Association has received $62.5 million in donations
compared to $2.4 million during the same time period last year -- July 29 to Aug. 23.
$62.5 million dollars in less than a month! The Ice Bucket challenge is working! But of
course, there are haters out there who want to criticize it. They are the ones who author
articles to be "controversial" so they can get on a lame talk show and become "trending"
in the social media world. Some have gone so far as to say it's a waste of one of our
greatest natural resources. Pure nonsense.
Just as Pete Frates has become the face of the fight against ALS, the Ice Bucket challenge
has become a symbol of hope and a reminder of what a truly insidious disease ALS is.
Are you ever going to look at an ice bucket the same way? Can you pick one up without
thinking about ALS and the millions of victims who've fought so valiantly against a
disease that has NEVER lost?
I'm not sure why the Ice Bucket challenge has become such a phenomenon. Perhaps, it's
a moment where we can unleash the little kid in all of us and not feel bad about it. Maybe
it's the cathartic effect that comes from rinsing away the dirty grime that has built up in a
society that sometimes seems to ooze with negativity. It doesn't really matter, does it?
What does is the message and everyone except the haters seem to be getting it loud and
clear. ALS is a brutal disease. I realize cancer is bad and has destroyed so many people
and lives. But with cancer, at least a person. has a chance. With ALS, there is none. The
disease in undefeated.
I think of the moment when the doctor said to Pete Frates, "I don't know how to tell this
to a 27-year old kid, but you have ALS." It's a death sentence. There isn't really even
a drug to slow it down. A person loses everything but their mind. They have to die a slow,
painful, horrific death. I hate to be morbid. But these are the facts
I realize the Ice Bucket challenge may grow old, which happens quite easily in our
A.D.D and social media driven world. But I hope it never goes away. I hope it shows
up on the Facebook newsfeed 1,000 times a day. I hope it continues to make people
open up their wallets and donate to the ALS foundation.
It is so good, so clean, so powerful, and right, so very right. How often have we've
been able to say that about anything these days?
