No Beer in Here

We as Americans have this weird propensity to overreact to tragedy.

When the terrorists took down the Twin Towers, we turned our anger into action, and look at all the security measures millions of innocent travelers face every time they fly. In response to various school shootings in the past decade, some have argued that high schools (and now colleges) should be regulated a little more like prisons.

Creating rules and regulations to prevent things that have already happened make us feel safe, I guess. After all, we have to do something. This is America!

In the wake of the tragic death of Cardinals' pitcher Josh Hancock, several teams have continued this trend by banning alcohol in their clubhouses.

Why? Who's to say that Hancock had any alcohol in the clubhouse the night he died, or if he did that it made a difference? If players want a beer after the game, I'm guessing they'll be able to find it.

I'm not suggesting that banning alcohol in clubhouses is a bad idea, per se. It's just that it's unnecessary, a proverbial closing the barn door after the horse is out.

Josh Hancock is gone, and his loss has been and should continue to be mourned. But it seems like no one is facing the reality that creating rules and regulations won't bring him back.

Curt Schilling: A Sportswriter's Dream

As a way of dealing with unwanted attention from the media, many professional athletes slip into Auto-Reponse mode when sportswriters are around.

You know when you send an email and you receive a reply right away? "I am out of the office until May 17. If you need any assistance, please contact my secretary."

For athletes, it's a go-to answer in response to nearly every question: "How'd you feel about your walk off home run today, Alex?"

"It was really a team effort out there. It's always good to come up with a win in games like this."

If you're a sportswriter (or a fan forced to read this quote written by a bad or desperate sportswriter), you're thinking, "Booooring."

And then there is Curt Schilling.

"So, Curt, anything you want to chat about before you head out for your bullpen session?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. First of all, I'd like to say that that was blood on my sock, and I'm willing to take a blood test right here, right now to prove it."

"Second, I'd like to say that Barry Bonds has admitted to cheating on his wife, cheating on his taxes, and cheating on baseball. He's a bad person and doesn't deserve to break Hank Aaron's record."

That snap you just heard was the lead from the sportswriter's pencil, which is quivering with excitement.

The best thing about statements like the one made above (my paraphrase, but pretty close) is that it doesn't matter if it's true. In this case, it's not. But as long as you've got the quotation marks surrounding the statement --however ridiculous -- you're golden.

As a fan and an aspiring sports writer, I'd like to say thanks, Curt, for keeping things interesting. There are a lot of tight-lipped athletes that could learn from your example.

Rocket Relaunch: Clemens Un-retires Again

It's late August, 2017. The Yankees are in the thick of a pennant race with a surging Tampa Bay Devil Rays team, led by all-stars Delmon Young and B.J. Upton.

New York, meanwhile, is hanging on to the lead by the hairs on Phil Hughes' chinny-chin-chin.

With a month of baseball to play and the Devil Rays inching closer seemingly every day, the Boss knows what he has to do. He picks up the phone and dials 1-800-BID-HERE.

That's the new number for Roger Clemens' agent, Randy Hendricks. His phone has been ringing off the hook this season with teams entering the bidding war for Clemens, but so far no team has come up with a contract short and sweet enough.

Steinbrenner is desperate and out of options.

"You've reached the Rocket's launching pad, how may I help you?" Hendricks chirps.

"Um, yeah. This is the Boss," Steinbrenner mutters back.

"Bruce Springsteen?"

"Very funny. What's the asking price?"

"$100 million, prorated of course." Hendricks' reply tumbles out almost before Steinbrenner's question. "And then there are the clauses to talk about."

"So that works out to... about $17 million for this last month of the season. That's steep, but we need him. Besides the home visits between starts and a guaranteed roster spot for Kobe, any other stipulations Santa Clause needs to wear pinstripes?"

"There is one thing, and it involves one of Roger's endorsement deals."

"OK, what is it?"

"He needs to wear a Levitra patch on his right sleeve: This Rocket Launch powered by Levitra."

The Boss is disgusted ("That's too much information," he tells Hendricks), but he agrees to the terms anyway.

Postscript: The Yankees went on to win the World Series over the Brewers that season, with Clemens pitching a stellar Game 1. He could hardly describe the joy he felt as he watched the clinching Game 4 victory with his friends and family from his home in Houston. Maybe this time, retirement would finally be for good.