The Huddle

What can I say? Writing about sports every weekday during the Fall 2008 semester has been a treat.

It’s not hard to ramble and give my mostly unsolicited opinion five days a week when there is so much going on in sports that makes you laugh, cry, smile, frown, yell and rendered speechless. Rarely does a period of a few months disappoint in sports, and Fall 2008 was no different. From football to basketball to, yes, even hockey, every day brings a new debatable topic. Some are of great importance (and most are not), but what makes writing about and reading and watching sports is that you never know what’s going to happen next.

As a result, it’s been a treat to write about sports every day this semester because:

— I genuinely believed in my Izzo-Dantonio presidential ticket.

— You can’t make up Plaxico Burress shooting himself in the leg. (As a friend pointed out yesterday, how much better would it have been if Plax shot himself in the foot?)

— Michigan did lose to Toledo. In football. Not basketball.

— The Lions really will go 0-16.

— The Tampa Bay Rays gave hope to all fans of perennially awful teams (see: Lions fans).

— Kwame somehow outlasted Millen in their respective offices.

— The MSU football team won nine games and lost none by less than a touchdown.

— There are no Spanish numbers on the back of a Cincinnati Bengals jersey.

— Pacman Jones was in and out of trouble more than Amy Winehouse.

— The Yankees didn’t make the playoffs.

— There is now reason to hate the BCS even more.

— Joe Dumars is either smart or dumb, but definitely fearless.

— Everyone now appreciates what Tiger Woods does for golf. (Did they actually play tournaments without him this year?)

— A baseball season ended without Barry Bonds in a uniform.

— I have a reason to hate myself every day after cheering for Michigan football this year (only once, of course).

— A recession can’t keep fans away from the stands.

— You know tomorrow will be a new day in sports.

You’ve got to love how many role models there are in sports.

Seemingly every other day, somebody in the NFL, NBA, NHL or Major Leagues is getting suspended.

Shoot yourself in the leg? Take a seat for four games.

Pound down a few diuretics? Let me introduce you to the bench.

Talk trash about your ex-girlfriend? Now that’s a different story.

Dallas Stars winger Sean Avery was suspended Tuesday for a few choice comments about Calgary Flames defenseman Dion Phaneuf and his girlfriend, actress Elisha Cuthbert. Avery once dated Cuthbert and seemed to find humor in Cuthbert’s proclivity for picking up hockey players. When he verbalized these comments to a bounty of reporters, NHL commissioner Gary Bettman wasted no time in putting Avery in the penalty box.

Before you could correctly spell Dion Phaneuf, Bettman indefinitely suspended Avery.

For talking smack about a girl and her boyfriend!

The only thing Avery should be suspended for is saying anything bad about Cuthbert, who I’m a fan of. (It’s because of her acting abilities. Yeah, that’s it.)

How bad has it gotten that commissioners of sports can single-handedly levy suspensions for what are becoming the most minute things? Since the dawn of the Roger Goodell era in the NFL, suspensions have been handed out like wafers at a Catholic communion. Especially in the NHL, which has television ratings on par with 1 a.m. “According to Jim” re-runs, anything that draws attention to the sport should be embraced as long as the transaction isn’t incredibly detrimental.

I suspect the attention surrounding Avery’s suspension has more to do with Avery himself. He’s an instigator known for brash attitude and love of women’s clothing. (I suspect he has some mommy-daddy issues that a shrink could sink his or her teeth into.) If Jeff Carter had said something about a jilted former fling, do you think he’d be in the commish’s office this week? I think not. (Carter, a Flyers center, leads the NHL is goals, apparently.)

I don’t have a problem with an individual franchise pulling a player off the field for “conduct detrimental to the team” (we need a Supreme Court ruling to define exactly what that entails). That’s their right. They sign the paychecks.

But commissioners are slowly starting to overstep their bounds. If you want to suspend players for breaking rules, then go ahead Bettman, Stern, Selig and Goodell. But suspending a player for a few snide jabs at a fellow player for his relationship?

That’s a sloppy call, Gary.

For every 500 MSU athletes who graduate with honor and class, there’s one Plaxico Burress.

When the New York Giants wide receiver recently shot himself in the leg and was arrested on felony gun charges, I saw some variation of this headline in local papers: “Ex-MSU star shoots self!”

Now you and I both know that most, if not all, Spartans alumni are smart enough not to shoot themselves. It’s news like Burress’ quick trigger that gives East Lansing a little bit of a black eye — not to mention fellow MSU wide receivers Andre “Bad Moon” Rison (unpaid child support), Mark Ingram (bank fraud and money laundering) and wide receiver Charles Rogers (effort fraud and failed marijuana laundering).

But for all the negative press surrounding the former MSU star, this is a happy place for Spartans.

So for today’s list, Plaxico is put in the past. Here are my favorite Spartans athletics alumni who graduated from MSU, based both on athletic performance and personal character:

1. Basketball guard Steve Smith — The NBA player and Spartan from the late 1980s was a solid pro player, but Smith has made his name in what he has given back to MSU. An academic building is named after Smith’s mother and he has given millions to the university.

2. Football defensive end Bubba Smith — Maybe it’s the surname “Smith” that makes you a successful MSU athlete and one of my favorites. Or maybe it’s that you had your own chant of “Kill, Bubba, Kill!” and acted in “Police Academy” movies.

3. Hockey goaltender Ryan Miller — Although he was only the second member of the Miller family to win the Hobey Baker Award (cousin Kip snagged it in 1990), Ryan has obtained the biggest contract ($30 million), started a foundation for families with cancer patients and founded a clothing store in East Lansing. Take that, Kip.

4. Football wide receiver/baseball outfielder Kirk Gibson — Gibby has been an MSU alum and Michigan native through-and-through. Although he only played one season of baseball in a Spartans uniform, Gibson is one of the program’s most notable products in the Majors and has returned to the Tigers in many capacities.

5. Basketball forward Greg Kelser — “Special K” won a national title at MSU (with a little bit of Magic) and had a serviceable NBA career before getting behind the microphone. There, Kelser has become a basketball staple, mixing a classy tone, solid game analysis and an occasional spark of personality (need I remind you?) to become one of the profession’s best.

If hindsight is 20-20 in the real world, then it’s got to be somewhere around 20-5 in the sports world.

I point this out because I’ve been tinkering with a question about my beloved Detroit Pistons (who are becoming a little less loved every game right now). If given the opportunity, would you renege on the Allen Iverson trade that brought him to Detroit and shipped longtime Piston point guard Chauncey Billups to the Denver Nuggets?

When Joe Dumars pulled the trigger on this trade one month ago, I was at the reins of the Iverson bandwagon. I even wrote of my everlasting love for Joe D. and his brilliance with this move.

Needless to say, the Big 3 (auto companies, not Celtics players) have rubbed off on the destructive Iverson as he has brought the Pistons down to mediocrity in the Eastern Conference. Detroit is 6-6 since the swap. Iverson has missed a practice, has quietly started grumbling about playing time and is shooting 39 percent from the field. There’s a quote that keeps sticking with me from Iverson’s former coach in Denver, George Karl, who said (perhaps with sour grapes in his mouth), that he glad he doesn’t have to deal with “the wasteful, cheap possessions that we used to have 10 to 15 a game” when Iverson was with the Nuggets. At times, you can see what he means.

Another unquantified stat against The Answer is his questionable defense. While Billups, a stout 6-foot-3 point guard, was capable of taking on any guard in the league, Iverson’s defense has been average at best (which is below average by Detroit Pistons standards).

Besides Iverson, shooting guard Richard Hamilton looks out of sorts without his steady rock (Billups) feeding him the rock. Through 16 games, Rip is averaging his lowest points per game since his rookie year. In 1999. His field goal percentage (40) worthy enough for bench time. Maybe Rip misses the cornrows or maybe the Lasik eye surgery has started going haywire on the All-Star guard. Whatever the cause, Detroit’s smooth shooting off-guard is more “off” and less “guard.”

Yes, I know it’s early. Iverson still needs and has time to get acquainted with the Pistons offense. He is a big enough star where one missed practice shouldn’t be cause for alarm. New head coach Michael Curry is still feeling his way out with this team.

And perhaps I’m overreacting to a streak of 12 games that has been substandard. I think the reason for my initial response to pan Joe D.‘s move one month after lauding it is that Pistons fans are experiencing something they haven’t gone through in five years: Drama. Since the arrival of Billups, Hamilton, forward Tayshaun Prince and Mouth in the Middle, Rasheed Wallace, the Pistons have been drama’s opposite of Britney Spears. The Pistons have been consistent. Too consistent, most would argue (including Dumars, who threaten to ignite the TNT wick to his starting five this summer).

One month into the Allen Experience, do I think the Pistons would be a better team than if they had kept Billups? Yes.

Do I think they will be a better team with Iverson instead of Billups when the playoffs roll around? Maybe.

Do I wish the trade could be taken back? No.

Let’s face it: The Pistons probably weren’t going to win an NBA championship with Billups and they aren’t going to win one with Iverson. Especially not with Boston, Cleveland, Los Angeles (Lakers) and San Antonio still strong.

The key to the Iverson trade is his expiring contract, which affords the Pistons serious cap room to make a run at Chris Bosh or LeBron James in 2010 (keep dreaming about BronBron because I doubt it will happen). Billups had a rather large, new contract for a 32-year-old point guard while Iverson will be jettisoned out of Auburn Hills at season’s end.

The move still makes sense, even if the nightly product isn’t as pleasing this season.

In Joe D. I still trust. I can’t take that back.

Complaining about the BCS is so cliché, so I’m going to complain about the college football postseason a different way.
The bowls that partner with the Big Ten need to be slightly realigned so as to maximize the best matchups between teams.

While I’m a staunch supporter of the Big Ten vs. Pac-10 Rose Bowl matchup because of the tradition steeped in Pasadena, a change needs to be made by the Capital One and/or Outback bowls.

The point of the college football postseason is to pit teams of different conferences and areas against one another. By matching Big Ten and Southeastern Conference foes in both non-BCS New Year’s Day bowls partnered with the Big Ten, the two conferences are taking some of the fun out of the bowl season.

If the Capital One and Outback bowls wanted to maximize parity in bowl selections while keeping their Big Ten representatives, one would do better to switch a SEC team to a team from another conference, such as the Big East or Atlantic Coast conferences.

While both bowls have a decent amount of tradition — the Capital One Bowl is formerly known as the Citrus and Tangerine bowls dating back to the 1940s and the Outback Bowl has been in existence since the 1980s — there isn’t enough history to not make a switch in matchups, especially for the Outback Bowl.

Each New Year’s Day, the Outback Bowl plays second fiddle to the Capital One Bowl in both prestige and attention. Nothing distinguishes the Outback Bowl because it’s essentially Capital One Lite. With another combination of teams, the Outback Bowl might get some desperately needed flash while emerging from the shadow of the Capital One Bowl.

Now if we could just get a college football playoff, none of this would matter.

I suppose ESPN’s SportsCenter is only appeasing our taste for the salacious in sports, but even I found this morning’s show noteworthy in its presentation choices.

There were several minutes of coverage and discussion about Dallas Cowboys cornerback/soap opera star Adam “Pacman” Jones and his reinstatement to the NFL after completing alcohol treatment. Reporters were on the phone. Analysts were in-studio. News flashes were scrolling along the bottom line.

Subtly mixed in was this one little nugget of sports info that will be stashed away with the millions of other tidbits accumulated throughout the year — New York Yankees pitcher Mike Mussina retired Thursday.

There was always something odd about Mussina in that there was nothing odd about him. There was no controversy, no star attention, no flashiness about the right-hander.

And in New York no less.

Every year, the hubbub around the Yankees dealt with whether the Bronx Bombers would have enough pitching to make a run at the World Series. Yankees pitchers of all sorts came and went over the years (Hall of Famers Randy Johnson and Roger Clemens, on-again-off-again Yankee Andy Pettitte, etc.) but Mussina was a staple. He was boring. He was ordinary. Even his nickname — The Moose — was drab.

And yet, he won baseball games.

Mussina will retire with 270 career wins, 30 shy of the acclaimed 300 that pitchers set as a target. He had planned from the start of the season to call it quits after 2008. It wasn’t generally known he would hang it up at the end of the season. He will ride off into small-town life without a Cy Young Award, a World Series ring or a guaranteed spot in the Hall of Fame (all of which could have been attainable, if unlikely, had he continued pitching a few more years.

Some guys never know how to retire. Jerry Rice was once an Oakland Raider. Michael Jordan played for the Washington Wizards for a few seasons. And Clemens, well, that’s a whole other matter.

But Mussina seems content. Some might argue it’s because he wasn’t the dogged competitor like Rice or Jordan or Clemens and is well enough to go out without a title.

But happiness doesn’t include championships for all athletes.

Mussina is “Example A” and a good one at that.

(For a short story that better illustrates the life of Mussina, check out ESPN.com writer Buster Olney’s blog)

This week’s sign of the apocalypse? Sports Illustrated has been benched as the best source of sports media.

I’ve been an avid reader of Sports Illustrated since I became literate (some might argue that’s not as long as I’d lead you to believe). It’s the closest reading material I have to a Bible. I don’t mean to babble about sports journalism and I’ve really tried to avoid it in this space, but I’ve started to come to the realization that my beloved SI has been replaced.

The once revered pages of SI have been outdone in recent months by ESPN, that indomitable dynasty of sports journalism based in Connecticut. For the one-time staple of Sports Illustrated — the long-form, in-depth, vivid sports reports — I’ve turned most of my attention to its rival. How bad has it gotten at SI?

— The once-illustrious back page home to Rick Reilly has been a revolving door of writers, featuring Selena Roberts, Phil Taylor and Chris Mannix (who is my personal favorite). While the trio each have their moments, none has the staying power or pizazz of either Rick Reilly or Steve Rushin (aka Rebecca Lobo’s husband).

— Speaking of Reilly, he and his shtick even jumped ship to the Worldwide Leader for a truckload of money. It’s just wrong, like watching Emmitt Smith in a Arizona Cardinals uniform.

— The best up-and-coming writers are no longer heading to SI. They’re taking their craft north to the Web pages of ESPN. You might not have heard of Wright Thompson or Michael Weinreb or Elizabeth Merrill, but you will very, very soon.

— The most recent edition of the “Best American Sports Writing” featured four articles from SI and three from ESPN.com (and one of those SI reports was from Reilly).

Admittedly, I do not have a subscription to ESPN The Magazine, so I have no basis to critique its product (I do have a subscription to SI). Yet ESPN’s Web site is far superior in product to SI with its E:60 and E-Ticket reports. They’re time-intensive, detailed and interesting. They go beyond the everyday professional sports and probe the odd, less publicized stories or sports. SI, on the other hand, is hitting the pro sports hard while tending to the egos of superstars.

(As an aside, I’m not the only person who feels this way or has thought about his before)

ESPN doesn’t have a Gary Smith or a Peter King, but they’re getting pretty close. Most noticeably, there are few new sports writers who write intriguing stories and regularly grace the pages of SI.

I want to believe in SI. I really do. I’m not somebody who likes changing something that’s broken, even if it might not be the newest or most hip item.

But it’s getting close to broke at SI. If its editors can realize that a return to its roots is a recipe for good journalism, SI doesn’t have to look far on how to fix itself.

In middle school, I used to pride myself on the fact that I knew every Division I football team’s nickname. It was one of my greatest accomplishments, up there with graduating from elementary school and perfecting cursive in fourth grade.

A few of my friends and I would wander the school halls, trying to best one another by rattling off schools and hoping others wouldn’t know the accompanying nickname.

While I’m still pretty up-to-date on football teams, my knowledge of the 300-plus Division I basketball teams is not as acute.

This was discussed today after the Western Illinois nickname, the Leathernecks, was semi-randomly brought up in the newsroom today. It brought me back to those middle school days, when it was actually cool to know university nicknames.

So for today’s list, it’s a two-for-one deal. The best college nicknames (Spartans not included) along with the dumbest.

Best nicknames:

1. Canoneers (Pratt Institute) — Instead of going traditional with its military nickname, the Brooklyn, N.Y., school (formerly home to one Pam Beesly) mixed a classy sounding name with a strong soldier.

2. Delta Devils (Mississippi Valley State University) — Putting location and fear together into one nickname is always a winning combination, especially in the Valley.

3. Green Terror (McDaniel College) — Apparently green strikes fear in teams (there’s also the Green Wave and Mean Green), but this small Maryland school beats out its competition.

4. Lasers (Lasell College) — This Massachusetts college already had brownie points for alliteration, but then it added to its street cred (is there street cred in Newton, Mass.?) with Lasers.

5. Soaring Eagles (Elmira College) — Which came first? The Elmira College nickname or Mount Pleasant casino? This is bigger than the chicken or the egg.

Worst nicknames:

1. Banana Slugs (University of California-Santa Cruz) — Pairing a fruit with a slimy mollusk rarely works well in the nickname business.

2. Bearkats (Sam Houston State University) — Nothing says “higher education” more than using an incorrect spelling of an animal, even if the name was originally meant to be more mythological than real.

3. Dirtbags (Long Beach State University) — When somebody asks you about your school, you can proudly say, “I’m a Spartan.” I’m guessing Long Beach State alumni mumble through that one themselves.

4. Jackrabbits (South Dakota State University) — I’m debating which is worse: Being the Rabbits or being the Jackrabbits. I’ll go with the latter.

5. Prairie Fire (Knox College) — If you’re going to be named after a weather occurrence, at least go big with Tornadoes or Green Wave or Hurricanes. Not something that mostly threatens jackrabbits. (Although, apparently a prairie fire is a mixed drink containing an alcoholic beverage and Tabasco sauce. That’s what I call a great first impression.)

After several minutes of discussion and heaping amounts of confusion, Sunday’s game between the Pittsburgh Steelers and San Diego Chargers ended in an 11-10 Steelers win. The game’s final few seconds were screwed up by a touchdown following an attempt by the Chargers, trailing by one, to lateral the length of the field for a touchdown. When the Steelers scooped up an errant lateral, they returned the fumble for a touchdown to go up 17-10.

After a review that confirmed the call, referees ruled that the play was dead when a Steeler recovered the fumble, thus nullifying the touchdown. Final score: 11-10, Pittsburgh.

The only problem? The referees made the wrong ruling and Pittsburgh should have been awarded the touchdown and a 17-10 win.

Normally, this is like arguing over whether John Daly or John Rocker is a bigger screw-up. It’s not that important and nobody really cares.

Except with the blown call, the Steelers no longer beat the betting line of between 4 and 5 points, depending on the line.

Experts have estimated that bettors nationwide lost about $66 million on the misunderstanding of a simple football rule.

So for this week’s question: What’s the worst odd-ball last-minute sporting moment that turned the betting world upside down?

I’ve asked around and rummaged the ‘Net and gone through the greatest depths of my mind to come up with four major options:

First, there’s Sunday’s snafu, which threw around more money in one hour than the NASDAQ these days.

Second, we have the Music City Miracle, in which the Tennessee Titans reversed the spread of a few points by converting a late touchdown on a cross-field kickoff lateral that sent the Buffalo Bills home from the playoffs.

Third, there is Philadelphia Eagles running back Brian Westbrook’s most infamous touchdown he never scored. Last season, Westbrook intentionally fell at the goal line in a game the Eagles were winning to run out the clock. The game might not have swung the betting line (Dallas was a 10-point favorite and losing), but the collective groan of fantasy football owners everywhere was heard loud and clear. Given the Westbrook non-score (which was a brilliant football move) was in Week 15, hundreds of playoff games in fantasy football might have been altered without six points from Westbrook.

But finally, there’s what I believe to be the biggest last-minute odds change — an irrelevant half-court heave that swung up to $100 million.

In the 2004 NCAA men’s basketball tournament semifinals, Duke guard Chris Duhon threw up a meaningless 3-pointer as time expired with the Blue Devils trailing by four. The 38-footer went in, putting the final score at 79-78.

Little was made of the shot during the game, but Duhon’s prayer answered the prayers of all those Duke supporters who took the Blue Devils at a line of between two and four points. It was estimated that between $30 and $100 million was transferred because of the shot.

That’s more than Duhon will ever make in his career.

All these moments are what make me happy that I don’t bet on sports.

Any MSU football fan interested in what’s best for the Spartans has a real conundrum.

And it’s not just peanuts we’re talking about here. It’s a “finger-on-the-trigger, do-I-or-don’t-I shoot” type of mental struggle.

The conundrum: If you’re an MSU football fan, do you root for Michigan to beat Ohio State this weekend, thus sending MSU to the Rose Bowl with a win over Penn State on Saturday.

I know that the scenario of U-M beating Ohio State and MSU beating Penn State is about as likely as Britney Spears winning a “Parent of the Year” award.

But this isn’t just about hypotheticals. It’s about allegiances and how far they can be stretched for one’s own gain.
There’s nothing less patriotic than a diehard MSU fan rooting for U-M. Asking for a Spartan to root for the Wolverines is like asking an elephant to get up off its side — under normal pretenses, it just doesn’t happen. Sure, there are those who straddle the fanship line of MSU and U-M, whether it be because of familial obligations or dual degrees or any number of reasons.

But I’m not talking to those people. I’m talking to you, the guy who paints his shirtless chest with a block “S” and stands in the blistering November cold at Spartan Stadium on Saturdays. To you, the woman who brought her first child home in a green and white blanket. To you, the couple who wanted Sparty to replace the priest at your wedding.

Are you man, woman and Spartan enough to set your pure loathing of all things Michigan — the disdainful tradition, the endless arrogance, the feigning of indifference to men’s basketball — and offer one chant of “Hail to the Victors” in hopes of propelling the Wolverines to the program’s greatest upset of Ohio State?

What’s the upside? The Spartans, with a surprising victory of their own, would be able to bask in the warm sun of Pasadena at the Rose Bowl for the first time since 1988.

The downside? Everything you’ve been indoctrinated to hate would have to be shoved into the darkest depths of your soul. The hate of all things Michigan would have to be pushed aside for three and a half hours — even though you, I and everybody outside of Ann Arbor know the Wolverines have the same chance of winning in Columbus on Saturday as Woody Hayes rising from the dead in a winged Maize and Blue helmet.

For the truest of Spartans, it’s quite the conundrum. In the end, though, I figure it comes down to one simple fact:

You do what’s best for your team.

Treason included.