Boxing Hall of Fame's Most Interesting Induction - And It's Not Iron Mike

The Boxing Hall of Fame has really outdone itself this time.  In a year that features Mike Tyson as one of the inductees, the Hall of Fame may have actually shot itself in the foot with its most controversial inductee.  Similar to putting Paul Newman into the Hockey Hall of Fame for starring in Slapshot or Oliver Stone for directing Any Given Sunday, The International Boxing Hall of Fame has chosen Philadelphia's own Rocky Balboa to its 2011 class being inducted in June 2011. 

Well you say its not really Rocky Balboa, but actually Sylvester Stallone, who has become even more of a cartoon character than the one he's played in six movies since 1976.  He even parodied himself AND his character by coming out of retirement in 2006 after an upstart title holder made fun of him in a video game recreation.  While mostly critically acclaimed, it was clear that Rocky Balboa was just a much needed payday for Stallone - I guess he has a lot more in common with fading boxing superstars than I thought.  Interestingly, the justification for his induction was the great contribution he made to the sport of Boxing with his Rocky series.  Did the Hall of Fame committee forget to watch Rocky V while making their decision?

Maybe Stallone is being inducted instead for being one of the executive producers of The Contender?  Just kidding, that show did nothing to contribute to the sport of Boxing.  But I guess I can't blame the International Boxing Hall of Fame on this one.  Boxing has lost significant market share to the UFC and MMA over the last couple of years as the octagon has become more mainstream.  The Boxing Hall of Fame must also be hurting as a result.  Located about 30 miles east of Syracuse, the IBHOF's board must have thought that the combination of a little bit of Hollywood and little bit of controversy would only bring people into the turnstiles.  In fact, I might even go to Canistota, New York during the induction ceremony in 2011 because you know Hall of Fame visits are a staple for JMR.

My oldest son was listening to me talk about how ludicrous the whole Rambo idea was when we started talking about Rocky IV, one of his favorite movies (believe it or not).  I'm sure that he realizes that Stallone's not really boxing in Rocky IV. (In fact a couple of the punches in the movie were so bad that I cringe now just thinking about it.  I'm convinced that I could throw a better punch than Dolph Lundgren.) 

After explaining what Rocky was being honored for, I asked him what HE thinks about Rocky being enshrined:

"Well he beat up a Russian guy because that guy killed his best friend."  All right, I like the sound of where this his headed.  I ask him to continue.

"I remember that they fought in Russia and that the Russian guy was really tall and Rocky was really small.  And the Russian guy could lift a bunch of weights in a gym while Rocky had to pull horses and run up mountains to train."  Meanwhile, in real life, Stallone was probably shooting himself full of steroids to get jacked up for the role.

Listening to an 8 year old talking about it, Rocky IV was really a ridiculous movie, but still a lot of fun.  But C isn't done.

"I remember that everyone hated Rocky in the stands, because the Russian guy could lift 300 pounds.  But then they started liking him once he began to beat the Russian up."  Real front runners those vodka-sipping commies! 

Seriously, the original Rocky was a classic sports movie, with a plot that was retread four times by Stallone and his production company.  Rocky Balboa, the last installment of the franchise, was grittier and more enjoyable, but that was barely a sports movie.  It really had nothing to do with Boxing.  Inevitable questions are now going to be made about other boxing characters - Raging Bull, Ali and Million Dollar Baby come to mind.  And imagine Kevin Costner being inducted into both the Golf Hall of Fame and the Baseball Hall of Fame. 

The funny thing?  We're talking about this (and I'm writing this) while watching the UFC 124 Countdown on Comcast Sports.  I guest the International Boxing Hall of Fame has a long way to go to regain my interest.

Photographs courtesy of imdb.com

Can You Tell the Difference between Carl Crawford and Jayson Werth?

The news of the day, which will be replaced by even more startling hot stove news tomorrow, was the Red Sox' secret meeting with Carl Crawford and his agent in Houston earlier today.  The usual media outlets are fighting it out over whether the Red Sox should pick up Carl Crawford or should they sign the Phillies' Jayson Werth for the seemingly vacant Outfielder's job in 2011.  Mike Cameron and his kidney stones are probably doubling over in pain at the thought that 25 games into his Red Sox career there is already a clamor to replace him.  But nevermind, who would you rather have Jayson Werth or Carl Crawford?

Crawford is a speedy leftfielder who has absolutely killed the Red Sox over the last 7 years, ever since his 2003 rookie campaign in Tampa Bay.  He would be good complement to Jacoby Ellsbury, who would tickled pink to be moving back to Centerfield despite his mysterious broken ribs.  The concern, of course is that Crawford already joins a lineup that showcases numerous 15 - 20 home runs and 75-90 RBIs guys, including Dustin Pedroia, Kevin Youkilis, David Ortiz and JD Drew.  The Red Sox do not necessarily need another 2 or 6 hitter, they need a clean up hitter who could hit 35 home runs.

Werth seems to make a little more sense when you simply look at his place in the lineup.  He would make a good fit in the 4 or 5 hole sandwiched between Ortiz, Youkilis and whomever the Red Sox get to replace Beltre at Third/First Base.  He has slightly more power than Crawford 27 vs 19 in 2010.  But his numbers suffered considerably from his breakout 2009 season.  Considering he is 32 years old, is this a signal that he is slowing down in this post steroids era?  Further, he plays RIGHTFIELD.  Notwithstanding Werth's agent Scott Boras proclaiming Werth as the next coming of Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays, Werth is still a Rightfielder.  Where is J.D. Drew going to play (I can't believe I'm asking that)?

As I listen to the radio arguments, I couldn't decide who I would want either.  So I asked the boys who they would take.  I merely extracted Crawford's statistics and Werth's statistics and had them choose without knowing what players they were choosing from.

Player 1:
2010:  184 hits, 30 doubles, 13 triples, 19 home runs, 90 RBIs, 47 stolen bases
Career:  1480 hits, 215 doubles, 105 triples, 104 home runs, 592 RBIs, 409 stolen bases

Player 2:
2010:  164 hits, 46 doubles, 2 triples, 27 home runs, 85 RBIs, 13 stolen bases
Career:  684 hits, 138 doubles, 15 triples, 120 home runs, 406 RBIs 77 stolen bases

After careful inspection, I was able to elicit the following brief responses from the boys (who were annoyed that I wouldn't tell them who the players were in the first place)

G: "What does career mean?  Whatever, I like Player 1 because he has 184...ummm...what do you call them?  Oh right, hits.  And he had 215 double in his career.  I only had five in my career."  (and those were grounders between the three second basemen and the four shortstops in his little league game)

C:  After pushing his brother out of the way.  "I like Player 1.  He would lead the Red Sox to the World Series.  He has a lot of home runs, hits and stolen bases, especially 1480 hits in his career.  And Dad I know who you're talking about.  He's on the Marlins isn't he?"  He was proud of himself, although he got the team wrong.

As you can see both of the boys, simply looking at the statistics, both like Crawford.  As I'm writing down the statistics, I have to admit that the numbers are tough to argue with.  Crawford has been consistent for years compared to Werth and the comparison of their career stats bears that out.  Despite Werth being a character (see Werth's beard) and the Red Sox could use some interesting character in the clubhouse to loosen things up, Werth could easily turn into a seven year contract that the Red Sox regret two years in.  Meanwhile, Crawford would likely flourish in Anaheim/Los Angeles or in New York.

And with Crawford in the fold, that's one less player to steal 5 bases a game against the Red Sox.

The verdict is in.  There is a big difference between Carl Crawford and Jayson Werth.  Their slugging and other power statistics are not so much different that Crawford would be seen as a liability in the Red Sox lineup.  But Crawford fits the Red Sox need in Left Field and adds dimensions of speed and defense that that management also appreciates.  I'm in the Crawford camp.

Hartford Colonials - Do We Have to Listen to Muskets?

Earlier this year, the kids and I went to Rentschler Field in East Hartford, Connecticut to attend the Hartford Whalers Fanfest.  It was a nice little field complete with luxury boxes, hot dog vendors and beer lines.  Waiting in the aforementioned beer lines, I noticed a couple of advertisements for the UFL's Hartford Colonials amid all of the UConn paraphernalia.  I banked that information for a later date.  These games probably aren't as rowdy as Patriots games, I thought, so it would probably be a good idea to go to one of their games later in the Fall with the family.

But our own football got in the way.  So instead of attending a game where the weather was conducive to sitting on cold metal bleacher seats, the only Hartford Colonials game we found we could go to was the Colonials last game against the Las Vegas Locomotives at the end of November.  I mistakenly decided not to bother with tickets or to read any news that week about the UFL, and determined to plow ahead.  Luckily that decision of laziness ended up not harming us.  See, while the UFL is considered a minor league to the NFL's major leagues, the league decided to charge an NFL team $150,000 transaction fee for any player they plucked from the UFL - despite the transfer occurring AFTER the season.  As a result, UFL players were seriously considering boycotting the last regular season games.  Oh jeez, and I rode two hours to a game that might not happen?

East Hartford CT.  After a quick sojourn to Starbucks where everyone was so friendly to us, especially the lady telling my wife that she was driving the wrong way down a two way street (Thanks lady!), we get to the Rentschler Field.  Not too busy, I thought, as we parked the car about 100 yards from the stadium.  The first thing we are confronted with was literally 10 guys coming up to us one by one trying to sell their tickets to the game "Less than the ticket window!  Get them before their gone!"  Are the Colonials folding after the season, I thought?  But after smartly purchasing 5 $20 tickets for 60 bucks, we march toward the field, not thinking that this might be the Colonials' last game.  I was too busy dissuading the kids from falling for the various hawkers selling programs and hot dogs, with the promise to get them sick with junk food throughout the game.

We walk toward our seats, while I start fishing for my junk food money.  I observe that we're behind one of the end zones, so immediately I feel compelled to talk my sons into thinking that these are good seats because we might be able to catch missed field goal attempts and keep the footballs.  I don't know if that's really true, but I figured the chances of us catching a football were much less than Dad being caught in a lie.  And I am about to pat myself on the back when I'm struck by a little sign on the back of the seats.

"Family Section - No alcohol permitted beyond this point." 

The scalper was awfully kind to give us family section seats, but what the Hell is this all about?  A nice usher, seeing the looks on our faces as the wife and I continue to look at the sign and mutter to each other, came over and told us that we could sit anywhere except the blue seats along the 50 Yard line, that no one checks tickets.  Let's sit in the sun the girls decide.  I'll get some beer, I decide.

Beer lines!  Finally, with beer and food in hand, and as we're walking to our newly found bleacher seats on the 20 yard line, I notice a couple of guys milling around the field, wearing period clothing.  And they're carrying what looks like muskets, and they're standing near what looks like artillery cannon.  We're sitting 50 feet away from the ACTUAL colonials!  Oh no, this is not going to end well, I can already tell.  My younger son G is still scarred from the Patriots game I took him to and his first experience with musket firing after scores.  He's still afraid of these things and I constantly have to explain that there are no muskets at the Basketball game, or the movie theater or Cape Cod.  But they're here!  So when he asks me if there are any guns, I figure that if I tell him nonchalantly that they are here, maybe he won't even notice that I confirmed his worst fears.  All of a sudden those end zone seats don't seem so bad.

"They shoot guns, Dad?"  He asks with a slight quiver in his voice.

"Yes, but maybe the Colonials won't score."  I explain, and not three minutes after I say that the sound of Cannon fire fills the stadium as the teams are introduced.  I never noticed that the Hartford UFL team's name was an ode to the New England Patriots who just 12 years ago were going to be playing football here.  Nice "scorned wife" touch.

After drying tears on two of the kids, we finally settle in our seats to watch the game.  I can't tell the teams apart since the home team rarely wears white jerseys anymore, so I figure that they're wearing their home blues.  My wife doesn't care.  She decides to scoff at the cheerleaders wearing outfits that belie the fact that its windy and 40 degrees out and snicker about the minutemen staring at the cheerleaders.  (In fact, she tells me later that they were "lecherous" and should not be holding any sort of fire arms - even if they're shooting blanks.  But they're from the 1700's!)

After the First Quarter, the Colonials are winning 10-0 after an incredible interception return for a touchdown by Danny Lansanah.  Only two children have cried over the musket and cannon fire.  My oldest son is snickering when the cannon goes off looking at his siblings, so I figure he's not going to make it 3 for 3 in the crying department.

As the Second Quarter starts winding down, we all start huddling closer together.  The sun has gone down and the wind has started picking up.  I had forgotten how cold it gets around here and I hadn't realized how warm beer makes you at football games until you go without it.   The Locos had just scored to make the game 13-7 and we were all starting to get the "if we leave now what time will it be when we get home?" looks on our faces.  At the same time, the Colonials are stringing together a couple of nice plays to get to the Locos end of the field as the clock starts winding down.  Then Colonials' quarterback Josh McNown (or Cade, I'm not sure which McNown it was) heaves up a mini hail mary.  We all stand in unison as the ball flies toward Colonials receiver Tyson Devree (who made up for dropping two TD passes in the half).  It's a well thrown ball...maybe this can be caught...and it's CAUGHT FOR A TOUCHDOWN!  We all start yelling.  I'm high-fiving the guy sitting next to me even though he's wearing a Yankees hat.  My daughter looks around wondering what just happened.  Muskets and cannons are being fired.  No children screaming.  It's great.

We decide to stay.  About four minutes into the Third Quarter, the Colonials nab another interception and take that one back for a touchdown too.  It's now 27-7.  Aren't the Locomotives supposed to be good?  Aren't the Colonials playing against the defending champions who are going to be playing for another championship next week?  Well no matter, all of the kids start talking about leaving because they are so cold.  I can't blame them, I'm cold too.  So toward the end of the Third Quarter we decide to leave with the Colonials winning by 20 points.  They go on to win their season finale 27-14.

*   *   *   *   *

We're all still talking about the pass that ended the First Half.  C starts to analyze the great pass blocking that led to McNown to have enough time to throw the ball in the first place and then declares that HE could have caught that pass too.  Thatta boy!  My younger son, mimicking his older brother also states matter of factly that he could have caught the ball too.  My daughter is asleep.  Judging by their reactions, I think we'll have to make this an annual trip.   It's a great place for a family to watch a game and is about 25% of the cost of an NFL game (well except for the $10 Guinesses, those are the same everywhere).  See you next year.

Greg Wiggle Vs. Sam Wiggle: Let the Rumble Begin!

I was always a fan of Greg Wiggle of the Australian kids' band The Wiggles; he was my favorite compared to Jeff, Anthony and Murray Wiggle, that's for sure.  He was clearly the talented Wiggle, being able to sing, play guitar and dance about as well as you could expect an Australian man to dance.  It even looked like yellow was his natural color - he owned it that much.

But then in 2007 Greg Wiggle got sick with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and as a result was unable to move on as a Wiggle anymore.  It was a life long condition that "flared" up after a grueling World Tour  Were the Wiggles going to dissolve?  Would they stop touring?  But what would my kids do?  Luckily, and not surprisingly considering the money that was involved, instead of breaking up the Wiggles, the remaining members (and their handlers) determined to REPLACE Greg Wiggle.  They looked far and wide and settled on Sam Wiggle, a dancer in the Wiggles Troupe and understudy to Greg for several years. 

Now I haven't watched the Wiggles in years since my oldest son outgrew the Wiggles when he was 3 years old.  So I hadn't seen any of the new Wiggles episodes.  Was Sam Wiggle any good?  Could he sing, we already knew he could dance?  I didn't know the answer to that question as my daughter (who at 4 years old was able to talk old dad into watch their recent show at the Orpheum) and I rode the train into Town to see the Wiggles afternoon show at the Orpheum.  She didn't care and perhaps she didn't even know that Greg Wiggle existed.  Al we knew was that it was a cool train ride to see an even cooler show. 

As we walked toward the theater, I could tell that we were close given the increasing number of children and harried parents milling around.  I hadn't seen so many strollers, Baby Bjorns and Diaper bags in years.  My daughter, who outgrew all of that stuff almost immediately upon birth was curious about all the gear that all of these kids and their parents had.  She even asked if we could get a diaper bag like the cool colorful bag that the Mom and son sported next to us as we took our seats. 

"But you don't wear diapers"  I reasoned.  She looked at me diffidently about to yawn and moved on to the paper games that were left on our seats as swag.

As the show began, we were struck immediately by the a couple of Wiggles trying to do some acrobatics, since this was a circus themed show.  "Stick to the singing and dancing, boys" I was thinking to myself as Anthony Wiggle and Jeff Wiggle were attempting to do some hand stands (and failing miserably)  Murray Wiggle and the aforementioned Sam Wiggle didn't even bother to try their hands at the acrobatics.  Murray looks about 55 years old so I could understand that, but Sam's only excuse appeared to bet that he was a little overweight.  My daughter snapped me out of my cynicism though when she sat on my lap and started clapping her hands at the their first recognizable song, Rock-a-bye Bear.  I can't tell you how many times I had heard that song in my life, by the way.

As the show wore on, it was evident that I had hadn't watched these guys in a while since I didn't recognize most of the songs.  What made it even more discombobulating was that Anthony's voice was hoarse so it appeared that he couldn't make most of singing cues and had to be picked up by the other guys.  Again, DLG didn't care that much she was too busy clapping with Henry the Octopus.

Finally, after some interesting acrobatics on a fence and gate prop (thankfully by professional acrobats), they got down to their recognizable songs.  My son, after picking us up outside the show, started rattling them off.  Fruit Salad, blah blah blah.  Maybe I should have obtained three tickets...

Despite C stealing all of her thunder, my daughter enjoyed it so much that she didn't feel the need to yell at anyone.  And I guess our vote is for Sam Wiggle.  Fruit Salad, Yummy, yummy.

I Guess We Have to Like Liverpool FC Now

Last month, I think we were all a little surprised to hear that Red Sox owners John Henry and Tom Werner were attempting to purchase the Liverpool Football Club from the nearly bankrupt Tom Hicks.  One of the most venerable football clubs in the English Premier League had recently fallen on hard times as the Texas businessman did to English Football in Liverpool what he did to the Texas Rangers and Dallas Stars - overspend and undermanage.  Now the Fenway Group's high powered machine was taking over.  Besides not having enough money to sign any free agents for 2011 and 2012, I suppose this is my reward for enduring the bridge years with the Red Sox.  It's also my opportunity to reintroduce Soccer to the boys since they haven't played soccer in months (at least the kind that didn't start with holding a Wii remote.)

8pm. TV.  We were lucky enough to catch Liverpool play the English Premier League's first place team the Chelsea Football Club in Liverpool this past weekend.  Lets go to the action.

"Hey C - look Liverpool is on TV.  Did you know that the Red Sox bought these guys?"

As he studies the screen, trying to decipher what I was talking about, he remarks "Dad, what are you talking about?  Where are the Red Sox players?  Why aren't they playing baseball?"  I guess I shorthanded my remark a little too much although admittedly, I still wasn't sure if Liverpool was in Blue or in Red.
As I'm explaining that the Red Sox OWNERs bought Liverpool and the Red Sox aren't actually playing the game, C and G both ask why the players are standing next to each other holding their hands over their private parts.  My 8 year old having grown accustomed to wearing a cup for football asked why the players didn't wear cups.  The conversation then took a turn toward why soccer players didn't wear cups because they run too much.  "But we run a lot in football too!" 

Before we started debating this strange topic, Fernando Torres scored Liverpools first goal.  It isn't lost on us that Torres is a leader on the Spanish National Team and a favorite of our on FIFA World Cup on the Wii.  "Hey Dad!" My six year chimes in, "that's the guy who kept scoring goals against you when C and you were playing against each other."  Thanks.

"Ole, ole ole ole" starts from the stands.  Needless to say noone in the JMR household is excited to hear all of the singing "Why don't they stop singing?"  Not being able to come up with a good answer, I return to my pat answer for questions.  It's because they're British.  Without singing, they'd be so unhappy.

MM, looking up from her phone at my xenophobic comment then talks about how she played goalie when she played.  "I thought you played Volleyball in High School?" I questioned.

"Oh maybe it was Junior High School, I hated it so much that I've blocked it out of my memory."  She confesses.

"You didn't really play soccer, did you?" I finally accuse.
While agreeing with me, she then goes on "It's funny that I don't like soccer because the boys are so cute.  They're so athletic. Not like the lazy pitcher who play baseball or the "Refrigerator" player in football.  Ooh, even the referees are cute.  Not like football, that's for sure."  Jesus.

I was concerned that the impressionable boys would hear us, but I don't think anyone was listening to our conversation though, as the boys had since retired to the nerf basketball hoop on the other side of the room.  They don't even see that they're superhero Fernando Torres scored another goal in the 44th Minute to give Liverpool a 2-0 lead.  It's probably time to put them to bed at this point.

I think it will be tough to get the boys excited about football in Liverpool, but if I can't watch Carl Crawford, Jayson Werth, Victor Martinez and Adrian Beltre because John Henry doesn't have any money, at least I can watch the EPL on Fox Soccer Network.  Go Reds.