Yeah, I was there. My greatest sports memories, Part I.

Our buddies over at The Big Lead recently ran a blog about the greatest sporting events they'd ever seen in person and it got me to thinking (always a risky venture). Over the years I've been fortunate enough to witness some pretty special moments in sports, so I thought I'd share.

I've been to several big Maryland basketball games thanks to my connections out there, so I won't list them all. Still, the 2001 Final 4 game against Duke in Minneapolis stands out. The Terps were up 17 in the first half only to lose the game due to some VERY shady officiating. We were pretty close to the bench, and at one point Gary Williams turned around to a group of NCAA Committee members and yelled "Just how fucking bad do you want Duke to win?" Priceless. Michigan State and Arizona contigents were also there, and everybody, I mean everybody, was anti-Duke.

You never knew who you were going to run into at College Park. We were always on Row 1 right behind the bench (Thanks Billy Hahn). Robert Novak always sat near us , Tony Kornheiser, and there were always a few pro athletes sitting near us as well. One night we sat down and I said hello to the guy next to me. I kept glancing at him because, damn, he looked familiar. He seemed like an uncle from my past or something. Then it hit me. I was sitting beside Johnny Unitas.

Once, at a Maryland-Duke game at College Park, I heard quite a ruckus behind me in the Maryland student section. I turned around and saw a guy in the middle of the Maryland fans with a Duke hat on. People were going nuts booing the guy and screaming obscenities at him. After a while things died down a bit so I turned back to the pregame warmups. A few minutes later I heard a roar and looked around to see that somebody had swiped the hat and was passing it up through the stands. The Duke guy was livid but he was outnumbered about 5000 to 1. At that point I thought it was over, but about 5-minutes later I heard another roar. This time I turned around and there was a Maryland fan waving the hat on the end of a long stick. And oh yeah, by the way. The hat was on fire.

Sticking with college hoops, I have to say that being behind the WV bench in Cincinnati this year for "The Return of Huggs" was pretty special. Just being that close to all the emotion was pretty overwhelming, and I was honored to be given seats so close to the action. It was an unforgettable night.

When I was a kid I was lucky that my Dad was not only a big sports fan, but also the head of purchasing at a pretty big corporation. Because Dad was in charge of buying literally everything for the company, he was constantly being bombarded with freebies from people who wanted him to buy from their businesses. Hence, all he had to do was mention a game he wanted to go to and he had the tickets post-haste (he also used to get a ton of free food and alcohol around the holidays, which was always a bonus). I'm pretty sure there are ethics laws preventing at least some of this stuff now, but maybe not. Anyway, combine Dad's occupation with the fact that I had an uncle who was pretty high up in Ohio politics and I was one pretty lucky kid where getting tickets was concerned.

Because of this I was in attendance on April 4th, 1974 when Hank Aaron hit his 714th home run to tie Babe Ruth. Now there's something you don't see every day. I'll never forget the electricity in Riverfront Stadium that day. Even at my age I knew I was witnessing history.

A few years earlier, on May 17th, 1970, I'd seen Hank get his 3000th hit at Crosley Field. It was the second game of a doubleheader, and later in the game he hit his 570th homer.

Speaking of Crosley Field, I was also at the last game played there on June 24th, 1970. I remember the great Juan Marichal pitching for the Giants and Johnny Bench and Lee May hit back-to-back home runs off him, enabling the Reds to go ahead and eventually win the game. Afterwards a helicopter came in, picked up home plate, and flew it over to Riverfront Coliseum to be placed there. Pretty cool night.

Another great memory of Crosley was during Game 2 of the 1972 World Series. With Tony Perez on first and Oakland leading 2-0 in the ninth inning, Joe Rudi raced to the left-field fence and made a leaping, backhanded catch of Denis Menke's smash to save a run. Earlier in the game, Rudi had a solo home run. Dad and I were in the right field stands about 5-rows up, so I had a great view of that famous catch.

We also used to go to several Cincinnati Royals games a year, as I mentioned in a previous blog. We were once at a Royals-76ers game and I REALLY wanted Wilt Chamberlain's autograph. He was by far my favorite player. Anyway, not knowing any better I decided to go down at halftime and tried to get it as the players walked off the court. At that time both teams exited at the same point, right at half-court, walking together and then going into opposite locker rooms. So, I'm standing there waiting for my hero when there he comes. Listen, I was probably 10-years old but Wilt looked 20-feet tall to me. He was walking right beside Jerry Lucas, and they were yelling at each other, saying words I'd never before heard in my young life. Then, right in front of me they stopped. They were nose-to-nose, just completely going at it. Other players came in and broke it up, but before Wilt left he looked down at me, rubbed my head, and shook my hand. I guess I should say he shook my forearm because his hand gripped mine practically all the way up to my elbow. Hell, even at that young age I realized that was WAY better than an autograph.

I've mentioned before all the Bengal games I went to as a kid, so I won't get into that again. One game stands out from when I was a little older though. Again, I can thank Dad for pulling through for the tix, but I was in attendance at the Bengals vs. Bills Monday Night Football Game back in 1975. During the Bengals' 33-24 win Ken Anderson threw for 447 yards and some dude names O.J. Simpson slashed and cut his way for 197 yards rushing. Sorry, I couldn't help myself.

I also got to see a ton of big Ohio State basketball games and almost all of the Ohio State-Michigan football games through the late 60's up to the present. I vividly remember watching Lew Alcindor play against the Bucks (1968 possibly?) and just dominate. Dad never liked him because he thought he was lazy. Indeed, with John Wooden's fast break there were several times Alcindor never made it past mid-court. As a kid, I was also impressed when he untangled the net without even standing on his tip-toes.

Another great memory is a Royals game we went to against the New Orleans Jazz. The Jazz had none other than Pistol Pete Maravich on their team, and he torched the Royals for 44-points that night as I recall. I also remember that he wasn't the high scorer that night. Unheralded Royals center Connie Dierking had 45. I could be off on those numbers but know I'm close. Pete Rose sat a few seats down from us that night. Probably had some jack placed on the outcome.

And finally, here's an amazing memory that never was. Back in 1988 a friend of mine had a buddy who worked for CBS Sports. This guy got us tickets to the 1988 NBA All-Star Game in Chicago. We had passes for the dunk contest, the whole works. Well, by the time we checked into The Omni in Chicago that Saturday we were, uh, a little tanked. OK, a lot. Later on we were in a bar near the stadium and were having so much fun that we decided, in our infinite wisdom, to stay there and skip the dunk contest. This would turn out to be the contest where Dominique Wilkins and some schlup named Michael Jordan would have their legendary showdown. You know, the one where Jordan came in from the side, looking down on the rim, and nearly ripped the rim off. Oh, and later he dunked from the foul line. Personally I thought Wilkins won, but what the hell did I know? I was in a bar 3-blocks away. To put a cap on things, as we were walking into the stadium for the All-Star game the next day some guy offered us $300 for our tickets. Of course we promptly sold them. What can I say? We were idiots.

So there you have it, a few of my favorite (and one not so favorite) memories of sports. I'm sure a few more will pop into my head as we go, and if so I'll blog accordingly.

What are some of your favorite sports memories? They can be anything, from little league to the big leagues. Let me know.

How I Learned To Stop Worrying, And Love The Los Angeles Clippers

'Sup, Shake?

Look, guys, I know. I know it's college football season. I know this because my boys over at Rivals.com have shown us that fellating Tim Tebow doesn't require any hands, as they've still been able to type their preseason coverage (How long is my leash on "fellating"? can I say that here? Well, now I suppose I've done the thing where I pour the cereal, and don't check to see if there's any milk...oh, well. With the exception of me, we're all adults here.), And Terrelle Pryor (or, T-Pain, as I've taken to calling him), is apparently the fastest human on earth, which seems to be getting just about as much coverage as the White House. At least until Mr. Obama runs a 4.25 on OSU's track.(Ahem....Meanwhile, Texas is still quietly sitting unnoticed, waiting to strike and win it all this year. HeH.)

But, really...this NBA offseason has been just too perfect to leave alone, hasn't it? I mean, there was the Brandon Jennings Draft Night....mess....which left me STILL trying to figure out how one person can be that late to their own draft party, the subsequent tweets from draft night, which included a confused/scared Kevin Love sounding suicidal, and/or like a scorned lover upon realizing the draft strategy of his team (especially at the, "I just don't know what to think. I mean, I trust them, but this doesn't make any sense...I'm going to bed..." point).

And then there was summer league, or, as I called it, "The Steph Curry un-Experience", where we got to watch him shoot ohhhhh....just a hair above 30%, and got to watch his Golden State teammates glare at him each time down the court. And where we also learned that James Johnson can breakdance, Austin Daye weighs about 110 pounds, and yes, Blake Griffin is who we thought he was. Or at least who we thought he might have been. Not sure, the dude doesn't talk much. And to make this offseason EVEN greater, Gilbert Arenas touched down in the District this past weekend to light up the legendary Barry Farms streetball court to the tune of 35 points, prompting Dre Igoudala to tweet, "Gilbert Arenas is back like he forgot his black card!" (and look, I don't care if Gilly the kid never gets out of the first round of the playoffs. Dude has some serious game. If the knee is 100 this year, he'll be a problem.)

This isn't even mentioning the Stephon Marbury/Ustream craze. And I'll say this. Starchild has lost it. First of all, I'd rather watch Louis Williams Ustream about how many bad shots he's going to jack up (and probably make) in the City of Brotherly Indifference this season, than watch Steph Marbury Ustream about anything. Seriously. This dude is eating Vaseline?? Coney Island, get your boy. Other than shouting out Miley Cyrus and Lance Stephenson in the same sentence, Starbury's Ustream was mostly sad. At least with Louis Williams' legit questions were raised, and answered (i.e., "How did you fit all those people in that tiny room, bro??" and, "Where's Bow Wow?")

But, through it all, one thing has been ignored.


The Clippers. The LOS ANGELES Clippers....may be good again, soon. Come on, they're young, exciting (Nothing screams "EXCITEMENT!" like a frontcourt of Chris Kaman's "This is just a paycheck" facial expression, and Blake 'The Mute for all intents and purposes' Griffin....right?), and at least have SOME potential. I know we've been through this before. I do know. I remember 2001-2002, when my man Scoop Jackson threw them on the cover of SLAM magazine with the tag, "The Clippers might not make it to the top right away, but they WILL make it...Together." Touching, and inaccurate. Almost as bad as Scoop throwing Skip Alston on the cover and declaring him the best point guard in the world in '98. But, that team was fun to watch. Keyon Dooling, Lamar Odom, Elton Brand, D-Miles, Q Rich....and Eric Piatkowski. With the first five, it was like the Fab 5 in the NBA. 5 young players, dunking and running all over the place. And then, they beat the Kobe/Shaq Lakers that one time. Yeah, it was just one time, but hey....it was enough to get the NBA world excited. Plus they were trendy! they did cool secret hand signals to each other with their hands! and they had huge chains!! gigantic, even! We were so excited!!!.....So excited that we all ignored the fact that Dooling turned the ball over about 4 times a game too many, Odom only showed up to play when he felt like it, Brand was the only consistent force and therefore hated his life, Darius Miles could not hit a jumper to save his, or any number of lives, and Q....well.....he was dating Brandy. That team missed the playoffs by 5 games that season, and they were split up in the offseason.

So here we are again. The Clips didn't do TOO much this offseason. They did scoop up Sebastian "I probably should have gone to college" Telfair (Other acceptable middle names: "Coney Island made me think I was better than I actually am", and "He Got Inconsistent Game"). But, here's what I'm saying, vs. what I'm not saying regarding Bassy. What I'm NOT saying is that he's finished. He's only 24, and point guards sometimes bloom late (see: Billups), so he could really help a team. But what I AM saying is that if your current team drafts almost every available point guard in the world on draft night, you're probably either being replaced, or your GM thinks that he's playing NBA 2k9. Neither situation is good. Instead of running up steps in Brooklyn this summer, Bassy should have probably been working on his jumpshot. That said, he's going to get some shine. I don't like ANY team that's got Baron Davis at the point. B Diddy is a past his prime shoot first (and second. And third.), turnover fourth point, that hasn't ever REALLY helped a team. I mean, there's been some teams that he hasn't really hurt, but he's more a neutral type than a game winner. So, I'd love to see Bassy shine in LA, like he might have been able to do in Minny if they trusted him. This is a young team, with some legit potential. Their starting 5 could easily be:

C- Chris Kaman, looking more and more like a young Gary Busey every second.
PF- Blake Griffin
SF- Al Thornton
SG- Eric Gordon
PG- Bassy Telfair, when Baron Davis gets hurt or otherwise stops caring.

With the exception of Davis, Kaman's the oldest guy there, at 27. That's not bad. Once they pull it all together, it can be effective. I know that they play in the West, although I'm not sure that their style of play would fit anywhere in the east, so they might be worse for the wear out there. But, the west is becoming very top heavy these days. Kobe and the Lakers are still Kobe and the Lakers, but aside from that, you've got the Nuggets who all hate each other, but just do it a little less openly now that Chauncey is in the building (and does anyone else think of "Menace II Society" every time they hear Chauncey Billups' name? Boy, do I ever.), Chris Paul and the Bugs from New Orleans are anywhere between on the rise, or stagnant as ever. The youth movement that's taking place in the NBA points to L.A., and likely Oklahoma City (but can Kevin Durant get a better nickname than "Durantula"?? who's idea was that? the best nicknames never stick. I loved....LOVED it when Kobe changed his number to 24, and the TNT guys started calling him "Jack Bauer". How on earth did that not stick?? Instead he's the "Black Mamba"? There's no justice being done with nicknames anymore. ). I commend the Clippers for not taking a chance on Allen Iverson. I love A.I. or, I did. I think he needs a ring worse than maybe any player in any sport ever. I would imagine that if he doesn't win one by the time he retires, Bill Russell might just throw him one of his, as a pity ring. Maybe Robert Horry. Either way, the bottom line is, AI isn't exactly "that guy" anymore, and I think we can all respect that. And look, Donald Sterling has made some horrible moves. HORRIBLE. So, I get if we're all skeptical. Sterling is like the Al Davis of the NBA. That crazy old dude who actually DOES draft like he's playing a video game? yeah, that's him. If you're a tall dude that can jump high, but can't hit a shot outside of 10 feet? welcome to the city of Angels. It's nicer here than the D-League, but you'll figure that out soon.

But, it's important to give respect where respect is due. On top of their core 5, they've also added Rasual Butler, the ever-important "I live to do nothing but come off of the bench and hit big shots after playing ridiculously hard defense" dude (Or, James Posey.), and DeAndre Jordan is another young big man who if he ever gets out of his own head, can be effective (Though, he's seemed to spend all summer playing kissy face with Blake and Taylor Griffin on Twitter. What's my twitter count, by the way? have I name dropped twitter 4 times yet?).....The main group of Thornton/Gordon/Griffin is a formidable trio that could raise some eyebrows, and at the very least, be fun as hell to watch until they get it all together. I doubt the Clips will make the playoffs this year. And I doubt that Kobe Bryant will be waking up in cold sweats thinking of ways to stop the unstoppable Mardy Collins...Matter of fact, they're probably going to get beaten soundly by a number of teams on their way to the bottom. But give this group one more year (and ummm....one more lottery pick? and I know it's early, and it's a stretch, but....John Wall. What if they get John Wall? bandwagoners, get the seats early.), and we'll look back on this and say, "wow, that one guy that wrote that idiotic thing about the Clippers in August, nowhere near NBA season, was actually right..."

(But for the love of something, ANYTHING....Keep Griffin, E Geezy, and Al Thornton off of the cover of SLAM. Or, if you do put them on there, please don't have them awkwardly wearing each other's jerseys....backwards. OK?)

(Oh, and OSU....I typed this in 4.18 seconds. Your move, Mr. Pryor.)

The Pearl, Gus, Mick, Me, and the Greatest Flight in Paper Airplane History

The date: Monday, November 20th, 1967.

The scene: Cincinnati, Ohio, in the dark upper reaches of Cincinnati Gardens.

The players: A young man about to turn 13-years old from Bourneville, OH, his cousin Mick, the Cincinnati Royals, the Baltimore Bullets, and a cast of thousands.

It all started in the 3rd quarter when Mick and I decided that moving from our seats in the lower level of The Gardens up to the top of the arena would be a good idea. You know, when you're a kid it's fun to go up top and look down for some reason. Back then the Royals almost never sold out and our Dads used to take us to several games a year. Anyway, the top always seemed to be empty. Once we got up there and looked down for awhile we began to get bored. At this point Mick had a great idea - let's make some paper airplanes and see which one goes the farthest! It was always a contest with us, and we'd make everything into a game. Of course I accepted the challenge. One of us had a program so we each tore out a page and began meticulously folding and preparing our miniature gliders. When we were finished, we flipped a coin to see who would go first. Mick won.

He let fly and his plane basically did a nose-dive into a row about 10-feet in front of us. After laughing and taunting him for about 5-minutes, along with adamantly refusing his request for a redo, it was my turn. It was at this point that history was made. As I released my plane gently upward (I'd seen what unleashing it with reckless fury would do), I watched as it dipped downward. After nearly brushing the top of the row where Mick's had crashed, it slowly rose about 10-feet, started dipping again, but keeping a straight path as it went. The engineering I'd put into this marvel must have been pure genius. My little plane kept continuing this pattern (looping up, looping down) as it slowly made it's way to the court. Oh my God. It was making its way to the court. I was feeling a mixture of excitement and pure terror as the plane descended. As I looked around, expecting to see a security guard pointing at me and reaching for his gun, a weird thing happened - a few people in the crowd saw my plane and started chanting "Go, go, go . . ."

And go it did. The plane sailed right over the Royals' bench on its grand flight into infamy. Now, here's where amazing really happened. As fate would have it, the great Earl "The Pearl" Monroe was shooting a free-throw. The ref had just handed him the ball as, out of the corner of his eye, The Pearl saw my plane make its final approach. He, the rest of the players on the floor, both teams on the benches, and thousands of fans in the stands watched as my plane executed a perfect landing, skidding to a stop dead center in the paint. For a moment time stood still. I sat frozen, eyes on the court, as Gus Johnson took a step, leaned over, and pick up my paper airplane (that's Gus "Honeycomb" Johnson, NBA All-Star, rebounding demon, and one of my childhood heroes, folks). He crumpled it up without remorse and tossed it off the court, never to take flight again after just one historic maiden voyage. I didn't care. Gus Johnson had picked up MY paper airplane! I was beyond thrilled. Then, I swear I felt 7,000 eyes looking at me all at once. Alright, it was probably a few hundred but let's preserve my chilhood memories, OK? Among those eyes, however, was a pretty angry rent-a-cop heading up the stairs with a look of demonic vengeance on his face. We'd evidently tread on his turf and broke the rules on his watch. Man, he was pissed.

As he advanced on us with angry intent, we did what any self-respecting kids from Bourneville, Ohio would do. We ran like hell. With no way out downward, we headed up, out a side exit, down the stairwell, and into paper airplane flying lore.

We eventually worked our way back to our seats and nobody said a word. I'd been afraid Dad would kill me but I was convinced I'd gotten away with it. At that point some drunk guy a few rows down front stood up, looked at me, and yelled, "Helluva toss, kid!" Oops.

As I waited for the hammer to fall, Dad just looked at me and said, "That was you? That WAS a helluva toss." Then he took a sip of his beer.

For years after, at games from Crosley Field to St. John Arena to Ohio Stadium, I tried to re-create that airplane. Never again did I come close to designing a plane with the exact specifications of that little marvel. Sigh. I guess it was truly one-of-a-kind, just like that night in The Gardens.