It is Christmas, and the scramble begins to dig through that mountain of presents, haul out the gift-wrapped Johnny Damon jersey, and do one of two things: sell it on eBay or burn it in effigy.
Damon's dramatic departure to the Bronx is yet another reminder sports is a business, and most of the time, sports is all about money. Don't be mad at Johnny because he didn't demonstrate loyalty to the Red Sox. What about the loyalty, or lack thereof, the home team showed Bill Mueller? You can't be peeved about that, either. It's the byproduct of running a company.
I know you want sports to be pure. You want your children to be able to glue that poster of their favorite star to their walls and leave it there for years. You cross your fingers and hope they opt for Troy Brown instead of Terrell Owens, but you know he or she is bombarded with far more sound bites from the latter. T.O. is hip, sassy, cool. Troy Brown is merely reliable, committed -- and boring.
Controversy sells; quiet excellence doesn't.
So here is a hearty Christmas thanks to all those pro athletes who play with dignity, pride, and an insatiable appetite for winning -- without the hype, the highlights, or the histronics.
Spurs center Tim Duncan, the finest player in the NBA, is intelligent, insightful, and hysterical -- if he's comfortable enough with you to show that side. He's won three championships and two MVP trophies, but you wonder if he had a little more Barkley in him if he might have won more.
"No doubt about it," said his coach, Gregg Popovich. "It's all about image. If we hadn't won a championship, you'd never see Tim Duncan on the NBA promos. And that's a fact."
Popovich is the coach's version of Duncan. His career mark in the NBA is 476-239 (to go with three titles), yet rarely is his name spoken breathlessly in the same manner as headliners Phil Jackson, Larry Brown, and Pat Riley. Popovich comes from a military background and is a no-nonsense disciplinarian who demands professionalism and humility from his team. Sound like a certain football coach we know?
"I'm not that big of a sports guy," Popovich confessed. "I don't understand the huge impact it has on the lives of so many people. It shouldn't be that way. We could be spending our time more wisely than watching TV and idolizing guys who dunk a basketball.
"I tend to favor the guy who does stuff and acts like he's done it a million times before. It means he's grateful for his skills, but not that impressed with himself. He doesn't need to show anybody up.
"I watch the Little League World Series and the kids are stepping up to the plate and spitting, because they think they're supposed to do that in order to enter the special world of sports heroes."
Hockey Hall of Famer Ray Bourque enjoyed a wonderful career in Boston, yet one criticism dogged him: He wasn't dynamic enough. Bourque won five Norris Trophies (and later a Stanley Cup with Colorado), but refrained from showy moves, or sharing his karaoke talents or his practical jokes with the public.
"I wasn't going to do it loud or flashy -- on or off the ice," Bourque acknowledged. "At times it probably hurts you, maybe in terms of endorsements or personal awards. But I didn't care about getting credit in that regard. I was looking to fulfill my obligations to my team. If I did that, I could sleep very well at night."
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