10pm. Sunday night.

My cell phone rings. The glowing screen reveals a local number than I'm not familiar with. Normally, I would have muted the phone and turned my attention back to the magazine I was reading. But for some reason, I answered it.

Immediately I regretted my decision. It sounded like the call was coming from inside a washing machine; a loud whirr was all I could make out. And then, before I was able to hang up, a tiny voice from far away said my name.

Turns out, it was a coworker calling from Jacksonville, where he is broadcasting all week. He was calling from a bar. The same exact bar, as luck would have it, at which half of the Eagles had chosen to spend their Sunday night.

"If I get Donovan on the phone, will you talk to him?" He poses the question and my jaw drops.

The next thing I know, my coworker is calling Donovan's name. And Donovan is answering.

"Donovan..."

"Yeah, man."

"Hey, I'm from Dallas...my friend is from Philly and she's a huge Eagles fan. Will you say hi to her?"

"Hi Meredith!"

At that point, Donovan started laughing, told my friend that he doesn't "do phone interviews," and handed the phone back to him.

Here's the part of the story where I tell you that I played it completely cool, hung up the phone, and fell right asleep, not at all distracted by the giddy excitement resulting from hearing Donovan McNabb say my name.

But none of you are gullible enough to believe that.

I knew it was coming, but that doesn't make it any easier.

Goodbye Doug Mientkiewicz.

11 days after the Sox traded Nomar to the Cubs and received Mientkiewicz from the Twins in return, I pronounced my love for the minty freshest of all first basemen. During the 3 months that followed, we embarked on a passionate one-sided love affair that concluded with him catching the final out in the World Series.

His inning at second base. His textbook bunt in the playoffs. His triple in Baltimore. His dozens of eye-popping defensive plays at first. His role in the 3-2-4 double play against the Orioles in September. His fantastic ass. For all of these reasons, and so many more, the man will be missed.

_________________________________________________________________

Finally, Page 2 has its answer to Bill Simmons: an Eagles fan!

My favorite part is this, a recap from a reader email about the scene in Philly on Sunday night:

"Words cannot express the feeling of this city right now ... what I just saw was grown men reduced to tears of joy, people running through the streets in the snow, making snow angels ... the traffic was horrendous, but no one cared at all. People were literally dancing in the streets to a symphony of Eagles chants, car horns and cries of jubilation. Strangers were hugging -- their only connection a green jersey with a number 5 or 20 on their chest. It was the most wonderful sight I have ever seen."

I can not wait to be there. 8 days and counting...
_________________________________________________________________

More reasons to love the Eagles.

"It's always about the fans," Jeffrey Lurie, the Eagles' owner, said minutes after his team finally, finally, finally, finally had gotten over the hump and won the NFC championship. "These fans are the most passionate, most deserving fans you can imagine. I'm just so happy we were able to win this for them."
_________________

"This city has endured a lot of heartbreaks, a lot of disappointments and a lot of letdowns for their sports teams. To still be able to stick in there with us, I just felt like they deserved this game, even more so than some of the players. You have some players that have been here from the start of this thing, but as players, we come and go. This city is going to be here.

"That's who this team belongs to, the city, and they're the ones that deserve it today. We still have one more gift to give them, because this is just part of what we wanted to do." - Ike Reese
_________________

"That's what a team is. Guys who are hurt, on the practice squad are down there cheering us on. That's what a team is all about and that's what we've got in Philadelphia.

"Knowing the history of this city, of this team, how long they've been waiting for a championship, it was great to get them one step closer." - Chad Lewis
_________________

"There's passion, everywhere you go. They're just die-hard fans. People were born Eagles fans around here. You go other places, people are made into fans. Not here. Here, they're born." - Jevon Kearse

A dream.

Sometimes, a thing as simple as a dream can make all the difference in the world.

Last year, Jeremiah Trotter was battling a bum knee as a member of the Washington Redskins. Next weekend, he'll be wearing green and silver as one of the most important members of the Philadelphia Eagles in the Super Bowl.

Seem like a big jump from one year to the next? Not if you have a dream.

During the 2000 season, the Eagles attempted to sign Trotter to a contract extention. He was a two time Pro Bowler and his ax-chop celebration was a hit with the blue-collar Philadelphia fans, so most were surprised when he turned down the team's generous $20 million offer. In 2002, when his contract expired, the Eagles offered him a one-year deal at $5.515 million. Trotter was torn; he loved Philadelphia and wanted to stay, but he also wanted to be "respected" and paid like the league's top linebackers. He reportedly requested a meeting with coach Andy Reid, to whom Trotter was close, but Reid denied him. Trotter told ESPN Magazine that he spent the next several weeks praying and asking his pastor for guidance. Eventually, he made a decision and told his agent to accept the one-year deal; he wanted to stay in Philadelphia.

But it was too late. Tired of waiting for Trotter to make his decision, they decided to part ways, removing the offer from the table. Two weeks later, Trotter was a Redskin.

In the second week of the 2002 season, the Redskins and the Eagles met up on Monday Night Football. The Eagles demolished the Skins 37-7, but Trotter showed up in a big way, racking up 11 tackles. He recently told ESPN Magazine what was going through his mind that Monday night. "I remember lining up late and looking at the scoreboard. And it hit me. I wasn't supposed to be in Washington."

Later that season, Trotter blew out his knee and was surprised when Andy Reid called to wish him well. It may have just been a phone call, but it would end up being so much more.

Before the 2004 season began, the Redskins cut Jeremiah Trotter. A couple of weeks later, Trotter had a dream that he was playing for the Eagles. A religious man, he took this as a sign and called Andy Reid. After apologizing for how things ended, he asked if there was an extra roster spot. Reid told him that he'd let him try out for the veteran minimum of $535,000 and only if he agreed to play special teams.

Trotter agreed. He wanted to be in Philadelphia.

However, things didn't go exactly as Trotter planned. His knee hindered his performance, and though he had expected to win a starting job in camp, he ended up starting the season on special teams. He was embarassed about his demotion, and disappointed in himself. Trotter reportedly walked onto the field for the team's first preseason game with tears in his eyes. So why didn't he walk off the field and give up? One reason: in his offseason dream, he had been playing special teams.

For the first few games of the 2004 season, Trotter tore it up on special teams while the Birds' run defense struggled. After their lopsided 27-3 loss to the Steelers, Trotter was moved to starting middle linebacker. In the six games that followed, the Eagles defense went from 27th in the league to 11th. Enough said.

The tears in Jeremiah Trotter's eyes during the national anthem prior to the NFC Championship Game were much different from the tears that rolled down his face at the start of the season. This time, these were tears of joy. Trotter was finally back where he wanted to be. It was a dream come true.

Literally.

Some people think they're cursed. It's been years since they've had the opportunity to play for a championship. It's been even longer since they've won one. They are a charasmatic bunch who love playing the game - and it shows. Some of them have wild hair. Some of them are outspoken. Some of them are easy to hate if you're playing against them and easy to love if they're on your side. And most importantly - this year, they have a chance to put history behind them.

No, not the Red Sox. This time, it's the Philadelphia Eagles. Just a few months after the greatest championship run in sports history, demons can once again be overcome.

After spending decades mirred in mediocrity, the Eagles finally found a winning combination: Andy Reid and Donovan McNabb. A team that spent so many years hovering around the .500 mark was rejuvinated by new ownership, a new coach, and a new franchise player. Then came three consecutive trips to the NFC Championship game and, well, everyone knows the story.

In 2002, the Eagles lost a close game to a much more talented St Louis Rams team that deserved a trip to the Super Bowl. No worries - we had a 25 year old stud quarterback and would surely find our way to a Superbowl in no time. Or so we thought.

In 2003 we lost a heartbreaker to Tampa Bay. At home. This one was nothing less than devastating. The numbers were on our side. The weather was on our side. It was the last game at the Vet, so sentiment was on our side. Everything should have fallen into place for the Eagles to advance to the Super Bowl. Unfortunately, Joe Jurevicius didn't get the memo. The Birds were down 7-3 in the first quarter when Brad Johnson found Jurevicius running across the middle. He hit him for the first down, but Jurevicius kept running. And running. And running. 71 yards and a lifetime later, the Eagles finally took Jurevius down* on the 1 yard line, but the Bucs scored on the next play. The crowd was silent and the Bucs never looked back. Hearts: broken.

We were still numb by the time the 2004 Championship game rolled around. The entire thing still seems like a bad dream, details of which have been erased from my mind after several counseling sessions. McNabb injured his ribs (there was some mumbling about a late hit, but details are fuzzy), Westbrook was sidelined with a season ending injury, there were interceptions, there were more interceptions, and without even scoring a touchdown, the Eagles lost to the Carolina Panthers (yes! The Panthers! The fucking Panthers!) by a dismal score of 14-3.

This brings us to the present day Eagles. After much crying about a lack of trustworthy, consistent recievers, the Eagles went out and got Terrell Owens. Addressing defensive needs, they signed Jevon Kearse, and Jeremiah Trotter came home to play where he belonged. If they could stay healthy, we whispered, they have a great chance to go to the Super Bowl. Unfortunately, staying healthy in Philadelphia is harder than it sounds.

The season started out as expected. One week after another, the Eagles scored their way to victory. Their run defense received a necessary makeover after the Birds lost their first game of the season to the Steelers when defensive coordinator moved Jeremiah Trotter from special teams into the starting lineup and moved Mark Simoneau to the weakside spot. With their new and improved defense, the Eagles continued their winning streak and despite a handful of injuries, things seemed to be going according to plan.

Then came the start of the second quarter of the mid-December win over the Cowboys and suddenly, everything was up in the air. When Terrell Owens limped off the field early in the third quarter, Eagles fans everywhere wondered if we were going to be left, once again, watching the possible become the impossible.

But the Eagles never stopped believing. "This is our year," they all said. They all maintained that they were on a mission to find a way to Jacksonville, with or without TO, and if their leader never stopped believing, neither woud they.

And Donovan never stopped believing. He spent hours upon hours watching game tapes. He practiced in subzero temperatures, testing the wind from every possible angle. Heading into the playoffs, McNabb knew the Eagles would win a berth in the Super Bowl.

And win they did. First they took down the Minnesota Vikings, silencing critics who predicted a rusty start for the well-rested Eagles. Then, yesterday, they defeated Michael Vick's Atlanta Falcons, silencing critics who predicted another failure for the Eagles and their can't-quite-win-the-big-one Quarterback.

And so, generations of Eagles fans will watch their team play in the Super Bowl for the very first time. They'll meet a team who is on the verge of creating a dynasty, trying to win their third Super Bowl in four years. The New England Patriots are 6 point favorites and Tom Brady is undefeated in the playoffs, but the Eagles aren't concerned with such numbers. Listen to them speak and you'd never know they just won their first trip to the Super Bowl in 24 years. Over and over, they say that they haven't won anything yet. Their goal was not to get to the Super Bowl, but to win it. They say they are on a mission and that they won't be happy until they complete it. They say they want to make a city proud.

Little do they know, they already have.

____________________________________________
*Or, did they? Last I heard he was still running and was spotted on the I-95, heading south.

"We are gluttons for punishment. Frustration is our birthright. Our capacity
for suffering is exceeded only by our capacity for loyalty.

And so here we are once again, at that familiar Philadelphia intersection,
the corner of Perpetual Hope and Oh-Please-Not-Again."


Snow be damned. Game on.

Here we are again.

Philadelphia. Mid-January. It's the heart of winter. You can see your breath in the cold, crisp air, and breathing in feels like taking a knife to your lungs. Strangers smile as they pass on the street, acknowledging the nervous excitement that lingers inside every man, woman, and child. It's a silent bond between all who reside between the city walls; a mutual feeling of hopefulness, anticipation, guarded confidence, and anxiety.

Sure, I may be living halfway across the country, in a land where the Dallas Cowboys really are "America's Team," and the thermometer hits 70 in January. But I lived in Philadelphia for 18 years worth of playoff runs, and during that time I learned nothing if not this:

There are few things better than living in Philadelphia during the playoffs.

Philadelphians may lack class, but we more than make up for it in passion, loyalty, and faith. This time of year, history is just that. Forget the series of failures and almost-theres that cast a dark cloud over the city most months of the year. We have been given another chance, and today, nothing has been decided. Whoever said that hope springs eternal must have been an Eagles fan. For now, we are winners. Until Sunday, nothing can change that.

Hopefully, on Sunday, nothing will.

Pirates. Compasses. Faded maps. Anchors.

What do they have to do with sports and sass?

The answer, of course, is nothing.

Thanks, Dave, for working your ass off on my new design. It's so pretty. Ya know, in a swashbucklin' way.

Hot chicks talking NFL playoffs. Does it get any better than that?

Serious Eagles talk coming soon, but for now...these things are currently making me a very happy girl. In some cases, too happy...

1. Eagles' players singing everyone's favorite fight song. I could say that I do not often sing this, at the top of my lungs, in the car on my way home from work, but I might be lying. Ok, I would definitely be lying.

2. Tom Brady in his underwear. Warning: Don't hang this up at work if you plan on being the least bit productive.

3. Burt's Bees Beeswax Lip Balm. It smells like thin mint cookies. Sadly, it still tastes like lip balm.

4. Derek Lowe: Class Act. Thank you for leaving like a man, Derek. You will be missed.

5. New deals for Bellhorn and Bronson. At least someone is coming back next year...

6. Mozilla Firefox. I'm no web expert, but seriously - if you aren't using this browser by now, you're really missing out. Jackass.

7. Kyle's latest post. He does bitterness and sarcasm better than I ever could.

8. Someone actually spent loads of their free time splicing together SoSH game threads with MFYfans game threads from the 2004 ALCS. And I actually spent loads of my free time reading them.

9. The chance of snow in Philly on Sunday. Snow = Slippery grass. Slippery grass = Trouble for Atlanta's ground game. Snow + Jim Johnson's creative blitz packages + a healthy Donovan McNabb = Eagles in the Super Bowl. My fingers are crossed.

10. The Life Aquatic soundtrack, especially tracks 6 and 16.

11. DVD Recorder + Netflix + 50 blank DVDs

12. "Strangler," by Calla. Details Magazine said it best: "The sound after that initial dreamy guitar sigh is not a drumbeat - it's panties hitting the floor like anvils. It's that damn sexy."

He's got all kinds of time
All kinds of time
He takes a step back
He's under attack
But he knows that no one can touch him now
He seems so at ease
A strange inner peace
Is all that he's feeling somehow
He's got all kinds of time

Given the lyrics, and the fact that Fountains of Wayne are from New Jersey, it's easy to believe that they wrote All Kinds Of Time with Donovan McNabb in mind. They didn't, of course, but McNabb's performance in the pocket is nothing if not inspiring.

Watching McNabb perform in the pocket is like watching Michelangelo let loose in a white-walled Sistine Chapel. He's at his happiest there, no doubt, and as he looks downfield for an open receiver, he oozes confidence out of every pore. Sure, I loved the rocket to Freddie Mitchell for their first touchdown, and I always enjoy seeing McNabb run 6 yards for a crucial first down. But there's nothing quite as beautiful as watching McNabb dance in the pocket.

It always feels like you're watching it in slow motion. He gets the ball and begins to dance, seconds slowly ticking off the play clock. Defenders make their way towards him as his feet are constantly moving to the soundtrack it seems he's hearing in his head. Tick...tick...tick. Seconds slowly tick off and still, no one is open. A defender gets through protection and finds himself at McNabb's feet, at which he throws himself in an effort to bring him down. But this is Donovan McNabb, and nothing is as easy as it seems. He flicks him off like a bug, and is alone in the pocket once again. Tick, tick, tick. His calm eyes finally spot an open target and he launches a bullet towards the endzone.

Touchdown, Eagles. All eyes shift to the receiver, momentarily forgetting the artist 40 yards down the field who has just created yet another masterpiece.

He looks to the left
He looks to the right
And there in a golden ray of light
Is his open man
Just as he planned
The whole world is his tonight

And last night, it certainly was.

Dear Freddie Mitchell,

Please have my babies.

thanks,
meredith

NHL Lock-Out - Part Two (Part One was posted on Jan 7th):

From: Sturm
To: Meredith
Date: January 8, 2005
Subject: Re: Here we go....

As you so wisely pointed out, we have a lot of common ground here. My beef continues to be this: As you appear to concede, the Commissioner/Owners caused this problem with over-expansion and other policies that put this league in a free-fall. You think suggest that contraction is not a realistic option. So Meredith, you write the following, "But, as it stands, someone has to give in to get this game back on the ice."

So, if I understand this correctly, you want the players to get spanked in this CBA because the Owners screwed everything up? "Someone has to give in" suggests that you want the players to be the noble group and agree to have their payrolls cut in half so that the owners can feel better about the abortion that they conducted?

The best analogy would be this. Married couple has marriage jeopardized because the husband has been sleeping with his secretary. He is caught, and agrees to counseling. During counseling, he suggests that the wife is too fat, needs to work out more, and become more interested in war movies to save the marriage. Does this make sense? Of course not. The party that is responsible
for the fire must write the check to fix it. In this case, the owners, who could not expand fast enough knowing how many expansion fees they would receive, think the solution is that the players give in 100% and the owners reap the benefits. Some compromise! I don't buy it.

You want solutions? I wish I had a great one. I do suggest a luxury tax is a good place to start, with teams spending over $50 million paying into a fund to bail out the Canadian teams and other small-markets, but I realize that any healthy league has to grow into that. It has to become healthy financially, which is caused only if this team becomes viable on a national level. When it does, it will reap some level of national television income, which will heal much of what ills this league. But, shutting down this league in the name of bullying the players to except the owner's terms or else shows that Bettman does not give a rip about negotiating. This is not about compromise. This is about him winning. And if half of all hockey fans leave this sport for good,
he doesn't care. He will kill this sport in the name of winning this battle. And I hate him for it.
____________________________

From: Meredith
To: Sturm
Date: January 9, 2005
Subject: Re: Here we go....

I suppose I have trouble seeing how the players will get "spanked" by agreeing to a salary cap. Sure, a $5 million salary cap would probably be a bad idea for the NHLPA. But how about an $80 million cap? How exactly does that empty Mike Modano's pockets?

In the end, we probably aren't that far apart in our views of the NHL. We both support a luxury tax, we both support contraction, and we both agree that Gary Bettman is slowly sucking the life out of the NHL. I saw this on your blog this morning:

During the NHL lockout, ESPN2 is averaging 0.4% of U.S. cable TV households with replacement programming, including college basketball, that otherwise wouldn't be on TV. That's a tiny rating. But it's double what NHL games drew.

I knew hockey was struggling, but that is truly alarming. And no matter who you back in this lockout, players or owners, it's clear that both are to blame for what is now becoming quite clear:

Barring a miracle or a major image overhaul, the NHL has no future.

I have a confession to make.

This past weekend I came to a realization that made me feel dirty, guilty, and ashamed all at once.

I want Kevin Millar back on the 2005 Boston Red Sox.

On Saturday night, I sat down for my first viewing of the MLB World Series DVD and the NESN Faith Rewarded DVD. Despite the fact that 80% of the material on both DVDs was identical, they did not disappoint. Though I'd much rather have watched Games 4 and 5 of the ALCS in their entirety, the DVDs did a pretty good job of recreating the magic of last season.

Then there's the bonus footage. Such classics as Cooking with Ortiz are sure to become cult classics in Red Sox Nation, but the highlight for me was the footage of playoff pre-game on field conversations between Embree, Timlin, and, specifically, Millar.

Down 3-0 to the Yankees, Millar was nothing but positive. "Don't let us win today," he warned repeatedly. "If we win today, we've got Pedro in game 5 and Schilling in 6. Anything can happen in a game 7." Eyes rolled all over New England as Sox fans prepared themselves for what could have been the final game of the season. The psycho cowboy with the unhealthy fried chicken obsession was at it again; sure, there was a chance that everything he said could come true, but we weren't letting ourselves get sucked in again.

We know what happened next. And though a positive attitude alone isn't enough on which to mount the greatest comeback in sports history, it's a solid foundation. It's impossible to say what would have happened in the ALCS were it not for Kevin Millar's positive, carefree attitude, but it's clear that the locker room would not have been nearly as loose or relaxed as they were prior to Game 4.

Sure, most of this has been said before. Hell, the guy reminds us of his intangibles every chance he gets. But I'm finally realizing that this guy isn't full of crap. Well, not completely, anyway. And while he's no Mientkiewicz on the bag, the animal living on his chin scares the crap out of me, and his faux-Cowboy persona borders on embarassing, I can't imagine the 2005 Boston Red Sox without him.

Now, does anyone else feel dirty or is it just me?

The newest installment of Three Chicks Talk Football is up, and it is heated. The hair pulling and pillow fights can't be far behind...

For most Philadelphians, the football season unofficially ended on December 19th when Terrell Owens limped off the field at the Linc. In a fit of why-does-this-always-happen-to-us self-pity, we cancelled our flights to Jacksonville, put the caps on our jars of face paint, and stored our Super Bowl dreams away for another year.

We still love our team. We'll still show up at the Linc in droves on Sunday morning, grills and six packs in hand. We'll still scream at the top of our lungs all afternoon, until we have nothing more to give. Deep down in the depths of our Eagle hearts, we still believe that our team, our Birds, are capable of going to the Super Bowl. But we're scared, because for the first time this season, we realize that we are not invincible. We realize that the Eagles, now without the man around whom the entire offense was modeled, will have to find a new way to win.

We realize that the front office recognized the Eagles' fatal flaw last season and addressed it by signing one of the league's top receivers.

This Sunday, we will find out if the Eagles can win without him.

It's an interesting matchup in part because one cannot possibly know what to expect from the Owens-less Eagles. This group of starters has not played a single game together sans T.O. all year. This is a team that relied on its overpowering offense to win high scoring games all year. The other team scored 31? No problem - we scored 41. Without T.O., their entire gameplan must change, because those high scoring games won't be so winable anymore.

Terrell Owens' numbers speak for themselves, but there is much more to the story. Having TO on the field created openings for other guys like Westbrook, Lewis, Pinkston, and Mitchell. Without him, Westbrook will find himself in double coverage, leaving the Birds few other consistent offensive options.

Several things must happen for the Eagles to come out on top on Sunday. Donovan McNabb must run the ball. If the Vikings defense surrounds Westbrook as expected, a lane will open for McNabb, which he must take advantage of. The Eagles D must create turnovers. Whichever team wins the turnover battle will win the game. Randy Moss must be contained. I'm looking at you, Brian Dawkins. The Eagles must come out, score early, and take momentum away from a team coming off of their most emotional win of the year.

And so, it is with much trepidation that Eagles fans head into the weekend. On the downside, the Eagles are headed into the playoffs with an injured Terrell Owens, a depleted defense, a possible rustiness after almost a month of vacation time, and an injury report that looks a little something like this:

hugh douglas - DE
derrick burgess - DE
hollis thomas - DT
nate wayne - LB
lito sheppard - CB
chad lewis - TE
quintin mikell - S
mark simeneau - LB
michael lewis - SS
reno mahe - RB
jermane mayberry - G/T
todd pinkston - WR


On the bright side, they are the Eagles, and they are on a mission. They have one of the league's top quarterbacks and something to prove.

Let's just hope that's enough.

I actually heard someone say this today concerning Randy Moss' behavior:

"This is what happens when you don't discipline your kids. The liberals are always complaining about being too strict with kids, well this is what you get. This is your country - enjoy it."

Seriously.

Dear Dan Shaughnessy,

You are a hack. Thomas Boswell wouldn't bother to stop and wipe you off his shoe.

You are an asshole. End of story. Perhaps the AP will pick that up.

Sincerely,
Meredith

Bob Sturm is a diehard Packer fan and still cringes at the mention of 4th and 26. I am a diehard Eagles fan and am debating having "4th and 26" tattooed on my body. Bob Sturm loves to hate Philadelphia sports fans. I love to be a Philadelphia sports fan. Bob Sturm is one of the hosts of BaD Radio, the afternoon show on The Ticket. I work down the hall, in the Promotions Department. Bob Sturm calls Gabe Kapler a close, personal friend. I call Gabe Kapler 1 of the 25.

There are so many differences, but there is only one similarity that matters. Bob and I both live, eat, and breathe sports. We understand that our moods for an entire week may very well be decided by how well our football teams fare. We understand that sports are a way of life. We understand that we don't understand casual sports fans.

We also understand that there are two sides to every story, though we each secretly believe our side to be correct. This is the first in a series of sports debates between myself and the Sturminator.

NHL Lock-Out - Part One:

From: Meredith
To: Sturm
Date: January 1, 2005
Subject: Here we go....

89 days. That's how long ago the hockey season was scheduled to start. 89 long, hockeyless days.
Most of the players are plying their craft in Europe or in any number of US cities with a minor league hockey team. The rest are speaking publicly about how much they are enjoing their time off. Most of the owners have plenty of other business interests to keep their wallets fat. The majority of sports fans haven't even noticed that hockey isn't being played this year, a fact which is guaranteed to hurt the NHL's already reeling TV ratings and attendance.

So where does that leave us, the fans?

It's been 89 days without a forecheck, a penalty shot, or a game winning goal. In a disgusting battle between the haves and have-mores, we seem to be the only ones who have really lost anything.

While neither side has behaved perfectly, there is no doubt in my mind that the overwhelming majority of the blame lies with the players.

Most who support the players argue that since the owners are the ones who dole out these massive contracts, they are to blame for the current state of the NHL. But any true sports fan should understand that the owners' backs were against a wall and they really were given very few other options.

Let's start at the beginning. Why does an owner sign a free agent to an exorbitant contract? Because he is afraid the free agent will sign with another team. Let's say owner A wants to remain competitive, and in order to do that, he needs to sign a top free agent goaltender in the offseason. Sure, he can make respectable offers, but odds are, another owner will pay three times as much and end up with the goaltender. Fast forward a few years. Owner A has stuck to his guns and refused to offer any huge contracts. As a result, he has failed to land a single free agent in three years and fans are irrate. They see other owners giving out big contracts, which in the sports world means they are "dedicating to winning," and they wonder why their owner isn't willing to do anything it takes to bring home a championship. Those fans grow restless and attendance begins to drop.

Owners had no choice but to offer outragous contracts. If one owner didn't, another would. There are no spoken agreements or handshake deals between owners to keep prices down in the world of professional sports. A salary cap is the only answer.

It's no secret that the NHL makes merely pennies on their TV contract compared to those of the other major sports. The NHL simply doesn't have the means to pay their athletes the same as the MLB, NBA, and NFL. The fans realize it. The owners realize it. The players...what's their excuse?

A salary cap is the answer. You need look no further than the NFL to see how effective one can be. I have a hard time understanding why the majority of the players are so opposed to one. Sure, guys like Aaron Downey would have a lot to lose. The change would significantly lower the salaries of 4th line guys and probably push some of these guys into the minors. But let's face it - isn't that where most of them belong? The NHL expanded in a failed attempt to market itself and up profits, but all they did was water down the talent and decrease the quality of the game. So it makes sense to me that the NHLPA must oppose a salary cap to protect these fringe players, but I can't help but wonder if players like Brett Hull and Mike Modano are secretly wishing the NHLPA would give in. Because surely they realize that the future of the NHL is in jeopardy if they go an entire season without playing hockey. Surely they realize that hockey isn't nearly as popular as basketball, football, baseball, or even golf or NASCAR.

Though it may be too late. The NHL was already in a tailspin before this lock-out, and I'm not sure it can ever recover. The future of the league, and the sport, is on the shoulders of the guys who play the game. The owners can't afford to give in. The players can't afford not to.
____________________________

From: Sturm
To: Meredith
Date: January 2, 2005
Subject: Re: Here we go....


Well, first, Meredith, I count it a true pleasure to debate the issues of sports with you. Like people who have "Gay-dar" I, too, know when someone else out there has my condition known as "gotta-be-right-ous". And, over the years, it is evident you have it, too. This should be fun.

Now, as to this issue of fault in the current NHL abomination, I place the majority of the blame on the people you seem to find innocent, the owners. The reasoning is simple. This is their business. They are the stewards of this game. Especially the commissioner! You mentioned their other business ventures, which made them rich in the first place. Why then, can they not apply simple business principles to hockey? Why, when money is so short, and profits are so difficult to realize, would they spend to such levels of stupidity? You know, Martin Lapointe and Bobby Holik contract deals of insanity? Why, if they know the balance sheets, and if they know the red ink oozes, would they hurry to spend?

Well, for one thing, not everyone is in the red ink. Many teams turn profits, because of franchises in cultivated hockey bases. Philadelphia, Detroit, Chicago, Boston, Toronto, New York, St. Louis, Montreal and a few select others do quite well. Gary Bettman wants those cities to stop spending immediately. Last Year, Detroit Owner Mike Ilitch spent $75 million last year because he wanted to. He wanted to win, he had the profits, and he thought he would buy some hockey players to win the Cup. Under Bettman's idiocy, He will ask Ilitch to place the $40 million over the $35 million salary cap into his wallet and stop spending for his fans. He has the money. His fans have supported his product. He wishes to reward those fans, but Bettman wants the Red Wings to spend no more than the Anaheim Mighty Ducks, whose fans don't give a rip about hockey. Heck, they may not have fans. But, I guess that makes sense. What the Red Wings, Rangers, Maple Leafs, and Flyers do is spend their profits. Sadly, the Blackhawks and Bruins generally keep their profits, and that is why their fan base hates them.

Now, clearly, Meredith, you are wondering whether I will even admit some franchises are losing big money. Yes, they are. Many teams are. Let's list some of them: Florida, Anaheim, Tampa Bay, Atlanta…Oh wait, those are teams that Gary Bettman and his cronies thought they would invent in the 90's in an effort to reap the benefit of expansion fees. So, they opened some franchises in a markets that made no sense, and now they wonder why they do not prosper financially! Then, they authorized the moving of franchises to other hockey hot beds like Raleigh and Phoenix, and what do you know? Half the league does not show profits! Of course, it should be noted that there do exist some franchises who cannot compete with the big boys, despite playing in big hockey areas, as Edmonton and Calgary demonstrate, but I could show you Cleveland, Detroit and Chicago as traditional football powers who's fiscal cheapness has resulted in a combined 1 Super Bowl appearance over the years. Yes, even with the perfect financial set up in the NFL, certain franchises cannot overcome poor ownership.

But through it all, allow me to tell you what annoys me most about your opening rant. Your justification of owner spending stupidity because of screaming fans and pressure from their peers. First off, fans don't make decisions for a reason. As a whole, it is a nation of idiots, and all they understand is winning. Show them a winner, they will love you. Show them expensive players that don't win, and they won't love you. (See Texas Rangers 2003 versus 2004). As for peer pressure from other franchises to get "the player" of the off-season, they should merely look in the mirror for the source of blame. If you go to the store, see a big screen TV and buy it, despite not being able to afford it that is on you. It is not the store's fault. It is not your friend's fault. Only you know your financial situation. If your friend has a big screen TV, it might be that your friend can afford it, and you cannot. The same logic applies to the NHL owners. If any sport has demonstrated that you cannot buy championships, it is hockey. People complain about competitive balance, and try to compare this sport to baseball which has the same teams in the playoffs each year. Are they watching this sport? In the last 5 years, the final 4 teams in each playoff (20 total spots), has consisted of 15 different teams! Even more amazing, in the last 3 years (12 spots), the final 4 teams have been 12 different teams! It sure doesn't appear that there are New York Yankees in hockey. And despite the fact you cannot buy Cups, the owners cannot control themselves. And you are telling me this is the players fault?

Look, there is no doubt there are a million things wrong with hockey right now. But this "fool's gold" idea that a salary cap cures all that is sick in this sport is comical. In fact, the real problems in this sport are as follows: 1) too many teams (controlled by Bettman) 2) on-ice rules that have been antiquated (controlled by Bettman) 3) season is too long (controlled by Bettman) and 4) sport has not worked on television. A salary cap certainly helps the owners, but if I am a player, why should I agree to the idea that Detroit (to name one example) should pay $40 million less to the product in 2005, and keep the change? Get your tails back on the ice, and stop spending money you don't have. Spend within your means, like families all across the world can manage, and you will not lose money.

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From: Meredith
To: Sturm
Date: January 6, 2005
Subject: Re: Here we go....

Hang on a second here. I thought we were debating who was more to blame between the players or the owners! You point out that the following things are wrong with the NHL:
1) too many teams (controlled by Bettman)
2) on-ice rules that have been antiquated (controlled by Bettman)
3) season is too long (controlled by Bettman)
4) the sport has not worked on television

Bob, you will not catch me arguing ANY of these points. We are in agreement as far as Gary Bettman goes. He is a businessman first and a businessman last and in the middle, he doesn't know a thing about hockey. But unfortunately, it is too late. I don't see contraction in the immediate future, which is the one solution that would seemingly solve a large chunk of the NHL's problems. But, as it stands, someone has to give in to get this game back on the ice. I didn't hear any solutions from you...

You spent a while pointing out that not every NHL team is in the red. I agree, but you can't deny that the sport, as a whole, is hurting. Their TV contract is worthless and even in the biggest hockey cities, seats are empty because the regular fans (read: not the corporations) have been priced out of the arenas. Something has got to change, whether or not most of the teams are making money.

Now, to the real heart of the debate:

You say that what bugs you most about my argument is the assumption that fan pressure means anything to the owners. I'll agree that overall, fans are a nation of idiots who just want a winning team, no matter the means of getting it. Living in Dallas has certainly taught me that. But the majority of sports fans are also simple minded, and they believe that spending money leads to winning. Sure, there are cities like NY, whose fans' heads are exploding left and right because of their team's lopsided "money spent/team performance" ratio. But if we're stereotyping, the majority of hockey fans would rather see their team spend lots of money to get big name players as opposed to saving their pennies and hoping to produce the next Ottawa Senators.

And let me just say - I can't believe you hold the Players' Association and that snake Bob Goodenow completely without blame in this whole debacle. Say it ain't so.

Things I would rather hear than another Randy Johnson/Shawn Green trade update.

1. Insane Clown Posse's Greatest Hits album. On repeat.
2. The Tomahawk Chop in surround sound
3. "1918..1918..1918.."
4. 10 hours of American Idol outtakes
5. "And the Cowboys are SuperBowl champs once again..."
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With the NFL playoffs about to get underway, there are loads of fascinating storylines to follow:

1. How many minutes into the first Colts game will Peyton Manning need the Heimlich?

2. How badly will Mike Martz fuck up in Saturday's Wild Card game?

2B. How long after Martz's poor decision making overshadows the Rams' atrocious play will he be fired?

3. After doing everything they could to miss the playoffs and still finding a way to back in, will the Minnesota Vikings roll over and die for the Packers on Sunday?

4. Will the Eagles, who will have gone a month without playing an important game, remember how to actually play football?

5. How long after the Division Championship game will the Pittsburgh Police Department wait to arrest Ben Roethlisberger for impersonating an NFL quarterback?

6. How many minutes into the Super Bowl will I fall asleep?
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Things that are better, even now, than hearing the words "Yankees choke" used together:

1. none

According to my brand spankin' new On This Day In Sports desk calendar, it appears that on January 3rd, 1973, George Steinbrenner purchased the New York Yankees.

I wonder how Georgie is spending his special anniversary...

*cue swirly Mr Rogers Fairy Tale Land music*

6:45am - Alarm clock, set to The Boss' favorite easy listening station, goes off to the opening bars of "Sweet Caroline."

7am - Suddenly haunted by October memories, George purchases his favorite easy listening station, fires the entire staff, and promptly turns it into a New York Sports talk station. In Florida.

8:30am - Lashes out at a housekeeper who questions his wardrobe choice and fires her on the spot. Who says you can't wear white mock turtlenecks in middle of a Florida summer?

9:15pm - Reads Chapter 4 - The Playoffs, in Baseball for Dummies. Disagrees with the premise that any team can win the American League East in any given year and, in disgust, has the author, who is not his employee, fired immediately.

10:03am - Becomes impatient while waiting for his assistants to prepare his special bath of burning sulfur and lavender. Has his assistants beheaded and then fired.

11:25am - Takes away his employees' vision plans. Just for kicks.

12:15pm - Lays down for his post-lunch nap.

12:19pm - Awakens in a cold sweat after dreaming that Dave Roberts was inching off of first...again...

1:30pm - Prank calls David Ortiz's house.

3:45pm - Offers Cesar Crespo $30 million for 3 years after reading on a message board that Crespo was offered a case of pine tar and 2 buckets of baseballs by the Red Sox.

4pm - Calls the Apple Headquarters.

6pm - Always impressed with the shiny new item on the market, George hangs up 2 hours later, having finally obtained an IPOD to play 2nd base.

6:35pm - Inserts a new set of pins into his Jason Giambi voodoo doll.

7:15pm - Has 12 pepperoni pizzas delivered to Johnny Damon's house.

8:45pm - Changes into his fancy black turtleneck and demands his driver to take him to Florida's #1 strip club.

9:10pm - Offers the first bouncer he sees $3 million for a lapdance.

9:12pm - Realizes he has once again misused his money. Blames his drives and fires him on the spot.

9:30pm - Calls ARod for a ride home. Fellow patrons hear Steinbrenner scream into the phone, "If you let Varitek make you his bitch, you're certainly going to let me."

10pm - Arrives home. Climbs into bed with his hot poker.

10:12pm - Falls asleep to thoughts of teddy bears, rainbows, and Derek Jeter in a g-string.