Another Op'nin, Another Show... ¶ 7:40 PM 0 comments

People You Should Know All right, tonight's "Turn of the Cards" special is put to bed and airs in just a few hours. (Shamless plug: 7-8 p.m. tonight, right here on KSDK.) I'm bleary-eyed, not quite sure what day it is, and kind of feel like a mole forced out into the light--a lot of late nights were spent in writing and deciding on the video to use to fill the hour. But now as I open up a yawn that would make the Grand Canyon look like a drainage ditch and stretch out the dormant muscle groups (geez, I hope nobody is looking), I need to mention a few other folks that had a hand in this.

Don Galloway and Tom Stasiak shot the video down in Jupiter, and they do great work. As I probably mentioned, Tom was the photog (oops--20th century job title. It's the 21st, so they answer to photojournalist now) when I went down to Florida, and he really busted his hind parts to get great angles and creative shots. Both of those guys made the video portion of tonight's show extra good.

Now I took those pictures and tried to put some words and reactions to them, and then handed off my vision to Jon King. (He's got a warehouse full of awards to prove his value as an editor, so he doesn't need my endorsement.) Jon and I work at opposite ends of the clock, so I didn't get to actually see how he interpreted my ideas until yesterday, and he did a fantastic job. (Shameless plug #2: Make sure you stick around to see how he closed the show out---let's just say it was a really creative way to put the end on how he began it.)

Next, I gave our graphic artist Rich Witzofsky a title and a rough outline for a concept, and then Rich did what he does best---he took the idea and conceived an animation that is light years above what I asked for. He is so creative---someone should take his brain after he's done with it and freeze it for generations after ours to study. (Rich, I did say AFTER you were done with it.)

After singling out these fine folks, it is worth mentioning that there are a lot of creatively gifted folks that I am blessed to work with. I am better at what I do because of them. And there are those who I know for a fact are undervalued for the contributions that they make here, but it goes without saying that without them, the KSDK juggernaut ceases to be.

So if you watch tonight's show and like it, think of and credit these fine folks I've mentioned. If you don't, blame me.

THOUGHTS CLOGGING MY BRAIN:

--Have you seen what the fine folks at Davidson have done for their student body? The trustees tapped a fund that paid for transportation (11 hours on a bus, each way), two nights' lodging, and a game ticket for any student who wanted to go to their team's Sweet Sixteen game tonight in Detroit. Roughly 20 percent of the 12-hundred or so students took advantage of the opportunity. Seems like a great deal, except I see that it costs $41,000 to attend Davidson. (OK, they do offer a free laundry service.) What, they couldn't have thrown in a game program and one of those foam hands?

--Why do people e-mail comments to us that are basically a chance for those who are frustrated in their own lives to take shots at the people they see on TV? You got a complaint, fine. You want to give your dog or cat a night off from being kicked around the house and write things to people that you would never have the guts to say to the person face-to-face, just because you didn't see what you wanted on a news broadcast? Really. Find another way to vent. More on that another time. (Whew, I feel better. OK, maybe not.)

--First Ted Williams, now the Gipper? (Not Ronald Reagan; the Gipper. You know, Notre Dame? Win one for him? Knute Rockne speech?) Seems they've exhumed George Gipp's body after nearly 90 years in the ground in order to determine if he fathered his girlfriend's child (DNA says he didn't), and accidentally dug up his sister's remains by accident along the way. And now descendants have sued over the unfortunate mistake. Are you kidding? Is there anything in this society that happens where someone's first thought isn't lawsuit!

--Is there any way UCLA and North Carolina aren't on a collision course to meet in the NCAA finals? They are the two best teams, by far, that I've seen to this point.

--Will Anthony Reyes ever get a fair shake? Granted, his overall spring body of work hasn't been stellar (yet a 3.32 ERA isn't bad), but he's been really good in his last two outings, and he's on the bubble between starting the season in the bullpen or in Triple-A? This untrained eye seems to think that you put Reyes in the rotation and see if he can build on those two outings, and have Brad Thompson (who is much better suited for long relief) available out of the bullpen. And if Reyes implodes again, then I'll throw up my hands and say Reyes has run out of chances.

--I really enjoyed Derrick Goold's article in the Post-Dispatch the other day on Bob Gibson's 1968 season. Gibby was one of my early heroes, and '68 was, quite simply, the Holy Grail of big league pitching. Derrick is a terrific writer, and I never miss a chance to read his stuff. (And by disclaimer, the fact that he's married to our 10 p.m. producer has absolutely nothing to do with it.)

--Are there any athletes any more classy than Isaac Bruce or Trent Green? I doubt it. It's great to have the Vianney product back in the organization, and hearing him say that it was Bruce, unceremoniously sent packing by the Rams, who told him that St. Louis was the place for him to go. That's a great story. More on that Sunday night on Sports Plus (shameless plug #3.).

Until next time.... ¶ 12:32 PM 0 comments

Welcome To My Nightmare I am now back in St. Louis, about 12 hours behind schedule. As many of you who do this much more frequently than I do can relate, air travel is not a fun process. But, much like going to the dentist, it's a necessary evil.

Our journey began even before Sunday's Cardinals-Braves game was off the air. Frank, Tom and I had to drive an hour to Fort Lauderdale to catch our flight, and so the decision was to make sure to get there plenty early. And we did. The trouble began once we boarded the flight. (Now keep in mind that Rene and a KSDK photographer had trouble with this same airline we would be using last month. But our travel folks decided to give them another shot. And in a perfect world, it would have all worked out. But I digress...)

We had a scheduled 46-minute layover in Atlanta, which is a big airport, but certainly do-able to get to our next gate. But when the airplane sits at the gate in Fort Lauderdale for 20 minutes, you're tempting fate. The plane touched down at 9:00, as the pilot said it would. But then it took another 20 minutes to get to the gate, and then another 10 for the door to the plane to open. Say it with me now...no shot to make the second leg of the flight. Uggh.

Now, the hurry-up-and-wait process began. There were no other flights leaving Atlanta until this morning, so we (among many others) stood in line for the airline to provide us a lodging and food voucher. By this time, we've become zombie-like drones, traipsing through the airport to get to the shuttle to the hotel. (And did I mention my appreciation for a news photojournalist? They have to travel with a camera, tripod, and utility bag---oh, and then whatever luggage they have. We also traveled with a portable edit unit--portable in the way that that a tank is drive-able in a crowded parking lot--about 50 extra pounds that was usually hanging from my shoulder throughout the trip.)

Our intrepid trio forged on, finally finding a shuttle for the hotel we'd been assigned to. The driver, Perry, was a trip unto himself. He didn't stop talking the entire journey, saying, "We're gonna rock and roll. We've got another stop to make and then we'll be there in two shakes. Let's rock and roll." Well, Perry jammed his vehicle full of people and luggage until there wasn't room to breathe. And then he stopped and picked up two more folks. And Perry's monologue continued, at top volume and with great gusto. And presto! Just like that we were there---ok, it was longer than two shakes. Nice try, Perry.

We got there just in time for the hotel restaurant to be closing, so Frank (the man has restaurant in his blood, you may know. If you don't you obviously haven't been paying attention.) negotiated three to-go sandwiches from the kitchen folks while we stood in line to get our rooms. Finally, we got to our rooms, but something was wrong with the temperature. The room was warm, the toasted sandwiches were cold, it was 40 degrees outside, and I had shorts on. And I would have shorts on when it was time to leave, since the luggage was back at the airport.
Ah, but would we let that keep us from pressing on? Of course not.

Just about the time my head hit the pillow (or so it seemed), the alarms ( I set three, just to be safe) went off and it was time to continue the journey. Strap on my piggybacking editor friend and get back on the shuttle at 7 o'clock (or halfway through Today In St. Louis---shameless KSDK plug. Art, Jennifer, Scott and Heidi, you rock!), we get to the airport, and lo and behold, several hundred thousand of our closest friends are there, too. (OK, maybe I overestimated the number of travelers by a few--thousand.) The line to go through the security checkpoint was longer than it was leaving the morning after the Super Bowl in New Orleans just months after 9-11. The line snaked through the entire level of the airport--no spare room was wasted. But I will hand it to the security people I dealt with---they handled things with patience, calm, and aplomb, and 30 minutes later, I was processed.

The boards said our 9:10 flight was pushed back to a 9:50 departure--of course. Frank said he had heard that it would actually be 9:10, that the 9:50 was a mistake. I figured, with my luck, 9:50 might actually be early. Tom and I went to get some breakfast and then we get to the gate at 8:50, and they're loading the plane! (Good thing I talked Tom out of seconds.) We get on the plane with no troubles, and the door closes, and---uggh. The young woman sitting in the row in front of me with her two young girls tells the attendant that she isn't supposed to be on this flight---she needs to be on the flight for Sarasota! (One of the girls was asking her harried mommy, "How is daddy going to pick us up if we're in St. Louis?") So the door to the plane opens, off she and her girls go, and long, story short---we leave the terminal at 9:30. Late again.

The flight was uneventful, until we hit the ground. As the usual scramble takes place to gather belongings, upclip seat belts, turn on cell phones, stand up----oops, let's go back to that turn on cell phones thing. Frank, who is sitting next to me, is whirling around trying to find his phone. Frank lives by his phone, so this is a catastrophe in waiting. But he must have found it, because I reached down to get my carry-on bag, and when I looked up Frank was gone. Gone! Poof! Amazing.

Tom and I headed down to baggage claim, where we had a 20-minute wait to get our bags and see no signs of Frank. Finally the bags come (wet, from being unloaded onto a wet tarmac---thank you, St. Louis weather.), I head to my car, get on to the highway, turn on the radio, and there Frank is----like a cooped-up animal suddenly released into open spaces. He was in his element, talking NCAA tournament brackets and not coming up for air. He is truly something to behold.

Now, it's on to the station---three sportscasts to prepare and a spring training special now ten days from air. An eventful four days--plus one---are now in the books. And just knowing how much this country relies on the travel industry for business as well as pleasure---well, I can only shake my head enough for those around me to hear the marbles rattle...

Until next time... ¶ 10:14 AM 0 comments

The Ulti-MET? There was quite a pitching matchup today in Port St. Lucie. Adam Wainwright against the new Met savior, Johan Santana. Wainwright looked like the ace the Cardinals are counting on him to be, with five innings of one-run pitching and a hit in two at-bats. He looked sharp and workman-like, facing 19 hitters in five innings.

Santana, who received loud cheers from the Mets faithful at every opportunity, was impressive but not dominating. Impressive because even an untrained eye like mine can see what a live arm he has, and stuff that can be filthy (five strikeouts). But Cardinal hitters also knocked him around. Albert Pujols ripped a shot for a double, and sent another shot into orbit, although it was well foul. Yadier Molina and Brendan Ryan both made solid contact in doubling off Santana, and Brian Barton launched a missile to the gap in right-center that he legged into a triple. It was good to see the Cards get some runs, because I think they will have to score significant runs this year to win. I don't think you will see this team on the positive end of many low-scoring games.

In the few days I've seen Barton play, the guy can hit, and he's got some wheels. Where he lacks is on defense---he misplayed an easy (for me too say) fly ball in left today, and he doesn't have a good throwing arm. But there have been great players that have not been brilliant defensively, but Barton will have to see to it that he's not a liability if he wants to stick around.

As we drove up to the Mets' stadium, it was hard to believe that it's now 20 years old. It's a beautiful facility with a huge canopy in right field for fans to sit under. It was warm today (the back of photojournalist Tom Stasiak's neck and his forehead are a testament to the sun's power today---can you say lobster?) and it was very comfortable in the ballpark, with a nice breeze. It did strike me as odd how many New York accents there were. My first thought was the Seinfeld episodes from Del Boca Vista.

Tomorrow the Cardinals are in Jupiter, and it's our first telecast. Right after the game, we will be hoofing it to get to the airport, so I will wrap up the journey upon my return. I'm sure you'll be waiting with eager anticipation.

Until then... ¶ 2:39 PM 0 comments

A Sense of History We made the drive to Vero Beach today, and like the scores of fans, the thousands of Dodger hopefuls dreaming of becoming a big leaguer, and the likes of Duke Snider, Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale, Steve Garvey and Mike Piazza who were able to live their dream, I passed the "Welcome To Dodgertown" sign and into a patch of hallowed baseball ground. And very soon it will cease to exist as it does now after 60 years.

The scene was much like any other Grapefruit League game, but with subtle, little differences: open, uncovered dugouts, where the players are right there by the first row of fans. Can you picture someone approaching Dodgers manager-designate Tom Lasorda for an autograph while the game was in progess, and getting it? It happened. There are many fans who watch the game while sunning themselves on a hill beyond the outfield fence. And the press box is close to the ground, maybe only 20 feet from field level. It was a great place to see a game.

As we left I heard someone say that they didn't see what the big fuss was all about. And that's too bad. I guess that person needed someone like recently retired umpire Bruce Froemming to offer a little perspective on how special a place it is, or be reminded of all the great players who learned and trained here, or simply know that the entire spring training concept that we take as commonplace now, with all the players of an organization-from Class A (and back in the day, even Class D) to the majors, all training together in the same plot of ground, that inthis case was once a military base.

Tony La Russa was asked if anyone had come to him and specifically asked to make the 75-minute bus ride so they could be a part of the Cardinals last game in Dodgertown. The manager said no, that today's players just don't have an appreciation for that sort of thing. Again, that's too bad, for you have to have an understanding of where you came from in order to appreciate where you are now.

Sure, the Dodgers may move on to Arizona, another team (the Orioles?) will take the place over, and life will go on. That's the way of the world. But one press box visitor pointed out that it will be "ironical" that the Dodgers (because of their exhibition trip to Japan) will play their final game at Dodgertown on Monday, St. Patrick's Day. They'll be wearing green jerseys.

Other observations:

Is there a more classy uniform anywhere than those of the Cards and Dodgers? I don't think so. The birds on bat is a no-brainer. Just like the blindingly white Dodgers jersey with the blue script and the red numerals on the front.

Middle infield defense could be a foreign concept for the Cards this year. Adam Kennedy looked bad on a routinely hit grounder to second today, while shortstop Cesar Izturis currently has more errors than hits. Yikes.

Speaking of defense, Colby Rasmus showed the extremes of youth on one play. He raced back on a fly ball and made a twisting catch for the out (although it appeared that the twisting came as a result of his having difficulty tracking the ball in the mid-afternoon sun and breeze), and then threw in the general direction of first base trying to double off a baserunner, but the ball kept tailing away from Joe Mather and one-hopped into the seats behind the base. Oops.

Rick Ankiel's power was on full display. His first of two homers was hit to straightaway center, and then in the eighth he hit one to right that nearly cleared two fences--the one that mattered, and then hitting the railing along the walkway in front of the Dodgers' team offices. Ankiel also made March seem like September, going in hard to break up a double play.

Next stop on the tour, Port St. Lucie.

Until then...

¶ 11:21 PM 0 comments

A Mark In Time So the Mark Lamping era with the Cardinals comes to an end: officially, in just a few hours. Unofficially, it will end in a couple of months after he graciously sticks around to help in the transition phase to Bill DeWitt III. And Mr. Lampihg leaves a very impressive body of work.

When he took over as team president, the Cardinals were a bird with a rumpled set of feathers. The team was being left to flounder by A-B, once August A. Busch Jr. passed away. Attendance was down, and the product on the wasn't very good. when it was announced he would take the job, I remember thinking that he wasn't much older than I was. But his youthful energy, coupled with a true love for the team he had rooted for since he was a kid, began to produce results. He brought in Walt Jocketty to be G.M., who in turn reeled in manager Tony La Russa. An infusion of players followed, and then so did the winning. Seven division titles and a wild card berth in 14 seasons, two pennants, and a World Championship. Lamping also polished the jewel that was the old Busch Stadium, and then mined the new diamond that is the new Busch right out of the downtown ground. The former Anheuser-Busch exec was also the conduit between the A-B ownership and the current regime. I guess it's just a simplistic notion that who better to be the caretaker of a prized possession like the Cardinals than someone who treasures that possession as much as you do? And there can never be any doubt that no one has any more love for the Redbirds than Mark Lamping. You may not agree with some of his decisions, but he always made those decisions with the best interests of the team and its fans as the top priority. He will be hard to replace.

You could tell from Thursday's game against the Mets that Tony La Russa that it was a little more important to win this "meaningless" exhibition game more so than others. After a week with nothing but a tie, a win was necessary-or at least desirable to cast off the negativity a week's worth of losing can do.

And there were some good things to see: Colby Rasmus' catch and throw from centerfield with the game on the line, coupled with Yadier Molina's snag, bag and tag, brought out a collective "ooh (wait for it) yeah!" from the crowd. Rasmus also showed something when he delivered his hit during the winning rally. Hopefully it was a peer into the future.

The manager never lets up on the intensity pedal, even in mid-March before they start counting the W's and L's. My first view of Mr. La Russa after a game that doesn't count past the next day wasn't much different than what he exhibits after a late-September, heat-of-the-race moment. If it had been different, now that would have been a story.

The player who caught my eye right away is outfielder Joe Mather. What's the old cliche, he just looks like a ballplayer. If he continues to hit, and hit with power, he will present an enviable problem of how to get him in the lineup someday, and at whose expense?

Today, a pilgrimage to a spring baseball Mecca, Dodgertown in Vero Beach. More on my history lesson next time.

Until then...

¶ 6:22 AM 0 comments

Florida Bound I'm going to experience something a little different beginning tomorrow. I will be going to Camp Cardinals for four days, and it's the first time I will see spring training with games actually being played.

I am looking forward to several things, not the least of which is seeing actual baseball. You see, the times I've gone in years past have been the first few days of camp--it'll be nice to see more than live b-p, the ol' "pitcher covers first base on a ground ball to the right side" exercise, and the morning calisthenics. The players all look bored doing it, so I don't feel the need to apologize for being bored watching it.

I'll be going down with Frank Cusumano and photojournalist Tom Stasiak to gather material for our preseason special, and for Sports Plus. I hope to see for
myself some of the more interesting questions about this team. And I'll get to see the venerable Dodgertown--and not a year too soon. The Dodgers are pulling up stakes for Arizona next year. (wouldn't it be odd to come up Vin Scully Way to watch the Orioles train there, as is the rumor?)

I'll try to check in every day with some quick thoughts and observations, when I'm not being treated for extreme sunburn. (Don't hog the sunblock, Frank!)

Until then...

¶ 9:03 PM 0 comments

Favre Out Now that Brett Favre has retired, I wonder what he'll do?

I'm sure he'll be fine. He certainly doesn't need the money, but what will occupy his time? To me, Brett Favre lived to play quarterback. So now what? Flinging footballs at faraway farm equipment or playing pickup games like he does on those jeans commercials?

It always seemed incongruous that this Southern-born man would become such an icon in the heart of the Midwest. But when you think of the other iconic quarterbacks from his era, what do you come up with? Joe Montana, Joe Cool. 'Nuff said. Troy Aikman, another Southerner, but also detached and businesslike. Dan Marino, the guy that set the bar of NFL records that Favre would eventually surpass, a great quarterback but without a whole lot of dimension apart from his ability to throw a football.

Then there's Brett. Now this guy has some dimension. Playing the game with a style decidedly his, seemingly drawing plays up with a rock in the dirt of the sandlot, blurring the line between daring and reckless. Caution? Schmaution! He would fire passes into the teeth of a secondary knowing he had the arm strength and--well, just knowing he would get it where it was supposed to be. And when he succeeded, he celebrated by jumping boundlessly up and down like a kid----even at age 38. But if he didn't pull it off, you just rooted for the guy because he thumbed his nose at playing it safe.

There was also the way he became a star, playing first for his dad in a run-oriented offense in high school that allowed him to throw maybe five or six passes a game. Riding the bench for his first pro coach, who said it would take a plane crash to get Favre into a game. Then, he replaced a guy in the Green Bay lineup, Don Majkowski, who earned the nickname "The Magic Man" for his own late-game heroics, and turned up the dial on that particular style of play. Add on his humanizing trips to rehab, first for dependency on painkillers and later for alcohol. Toss in that performance on Monday night a couple of years ago, the day after his dad died, when he lit up the sky with passes and burned his own brilliant star just a little brighter.

And then there was the way he said goodbye to football on Thursday. Full of emotion, choking back tears--real tears of bidding farewell to an old friend. No prepared statements, just Brett Favre of Kiln, Mississippi. Saying that as hard as it was to say it, his career was over, that he had no more to give the game. Poignant.

At least one person in our newsroom kind of scoffed at the notion of us using the sound bite where he sat silently gathering himself for what seemed like an hour, the emotion rising up from deep within, the silence broken only by his sniffles, finally saying that he hoped the Packers knew that all the money they spent on him was money well spent. But that wasn't a hokey sound bite used by a cynical media. That was genuine emotion, something you just don't see very much of. Kind of cleansing---like a good cry.

WHILE I'M STILL ROLLING....

The cynic in me says that the higher-ups at the Illinois High School Association must own large amounts of stock in the oil companies. What other explanation can there be for their ridiculous bracketing of the state basketball tournament? Here's what I mean:

You have Edwardsville and O'Fallon playing for a sectional championship tonight. In Bloomington. That's a good three-hour one-way trek up Interstate 55. I know, because I did it for four years in college. How stupid is that? Well, not as stupid as having the schools do it twice in two or three days. Edwardsville's team (and let's not forget their parents and fans) spent six hours on the road on Tuesday, getting in late and having to wake up and go to school the next day. It was O'Fallon's turn on Wednesday. Now both teams will repeat this idiotic sojourn again today. What happened to the day where you played in the Alton regional, then advanced to the Collinsville sectional, and then moved on the Carbondale supersectional before making the trip upstate? Can't you just see the digital numbers flash by on the gas pumps? Maybe somebody can set me straight on the logic for making teams do this.......

And while on the subject of prep sports, here's to all the players whose careers are winding down, or have already finished. Those who won't go on to play in college, and perhaps weren't stars even on their own rosters. We give out much publicity to the blue-chippers who have tough decisions about which college scholarships to accept---and hey, they deserve all the accolades for everything they've done to get to this point. But for those who endured the same long practices, whose parents got them started on the same CYC, JCCA or YMCA route, schlepped them to summer and AAU league games, forked out the money for camps, yelled out encouragement and doled out hugs and pats on the back to their kids but are now seeing the end of the competitive road, enjoy your own moment of satisfaction.

Thanks for reading on this far. Until next time.............. ¶ 10:03 AM 1 comments