The games provide the best lessons on color

(Note: My column from the July 24, 2013 Anderson News)

Usually, they are just games. They're diversions from everyday life.

We leave our cares at the office, then behold Joey Votto's sweet swing or Brandon Phillips' wizardry at second base. We could be mesmerized by Magic Johnson running Showtime or Larry Bird just fundamentaling his opponent into submission. We marvel at the artistry of Adrian Peterson and the precision of Tom Brady.

But the alarm clock goes off and the sun comes up on Monday morning for us to get right back to what we had tried to escape.

However, sports are best when they teach life lessons.

And how we need some life lessons in our country today.

I really don't know what to make of the George Zimmerman-Trayvon Martin case. Like 99.999 percent of the people who have voiced an opinion on the controversial verdict in Sanford, Fla., I got my information from the national news.I was not in the courtroom hearing the evidence.

There were times I would read an account of the trial proceedings and think, “There is no way Zimmerman is innocent.” The next day or two, I would read a different report and think, “There is no way Zimmerman is guilty.”

I do know there were, and are, strong opinions on the case.

What I don't know is who is right. From the conglomeration of reportage, there was reasonable doubt in the cases both sides presented, which, of course, super-charged the tensions that were already there.

What I do know is that a jury of peers, agreed upon by attorneys from both sides, heard the evidence and found Zimmerman not guilty of the charges brought against him.

That is where the world of sports comes in.

What I truly believe is that sports gives a much greater lesson in resolving racial tension than any number of protests or celebrations of a truly unfortunate incident.

It is kind of ironic that the movie “42” came out on DVD about the same time of the Zimmerman verdict. The contrasts are striking.

While people around the country have been framing their interpretations based on race, the Hollywood version of Jackie Robinson breaking baseball's color barrier has a prominent scene depicting the story of Pee Wee Reese, the pride of racially-segregated Louisville, silencing the jeering and slurs directed at Robinson in Cincinnati's Crosley Field.

Reese, the Brooklyn Dodger shortstop, simply went to his teammate and put his arm around Robinson. Simple, yet powerful.

Legend says the incident happened in 1947, Robinson's first year as a big leaguer. Some say it most likely actually happened in 1948. Really, that doesn't matter. The message, “We are brothers,” is all that does.

Locally, I think of Anderson County's only state championship team at the high school level. Back in 1964, a group of young ladies, including two African-Americans, took the first girls' state track meet. The athletic accomplishments are often forgotten as the Kentucky High School Athletic Association did not take over the meet until two years later.

The lessons they learned were branded in their memory. The girls were confronted with the dilemma of eating in a restaurant where two teammates were not welcome because of the color of their skin. They chose to go hungry.

As one member of that team told me in an interview for a series nine years ago, “We were color blind.”

I am not naïve enough to think all people who participate in sports nearly 50 years later are color blind yet. For years, there was the ridiculous stereotype that an African-American male did not have what it takes to lead a team to a Super Bowl title. Thank you, Doug Williams for proving that wrong on the field. Thank you, Tony Dungy, for proving it wrong from the sidelines.

For years, a basketball player who can't jump has been said to have “White Man's Disease.” There are countless other racial stereotypes in sport and in life. All are wrong.

But more importantly, sports provide us with real teaching moments.

I know of no coach who fills out a lineup based on what color a player is. Produce and play within the framework of the team and you will play.

When someone goes to the line with the game tied and two seconds left, the only thing that matters is if someone can shoot free throws.

When a quarterback goes to make a handoff, all he cares about is getting the ball to the right man. When he's looking for a receiver in the end zone, he's not looking at the color of the hands that will cradle the touchdown pass.

Those are some real-life lessons of sport. In the game, the only color that matters is the hue of the jerseys. In real life, all that should matter is the clothing of one’s character.

In the games, players sweat together. They celebrate and cry with each other.

And people of all races need to learn sport's greatest lesson of all: When players bleed, it's all the same color.

A no-no after a no-no

           NOTE:  This is my column from the July 10, 2013, edition of The Anderson News.

            It seems like I can't quite catch a break when it comes to seeing a no-hitter.

At least at the major league level, I can't.

Since the day my parents took me to Cincinnati’s Crosley Field for my first baseball game in 1964, I have seen, by my best guesstimate, over 200 major league games. I have seen games in 11 different stadiums in nine different cities. I have seen some of the greats – Gibson, Drysdale, Glavine and Seaver, among others -- pitch.

But never have I seen a no-no.

Ironically, the very first game I ever attended, when the Reds beat the Houston Colt .45s, Houston's starting pitcher was a veteran right-hander named Don Larsen. He wasn't involved in the decision – thank you for that info, Baseball-Reference.com – and the name admittedly meant nothing to me at the time. But looking back, it's pretty cool that in my first game, the only guy to ever throw a perfect game in the World Series was on the hill.

I've come close a couple of times. Last year, I was at Great American Ball Park when Bronson Arroyo took a no-no into the eighth inning against the Brewers. And back in 1984, I was there when Reds' pitcher Mario Soto was one strike away from history before the Cardinals' George Hendrick hit one to Newport.

I've seen several no-hitters at the high school level and below and even saw one in Louisville years back when a Yankee farmhand named Kevin Mmahat – how could you ever forget that name? – dealt one against the Class AAA Redbirds.

But never in the big leagues.

I don't really know if last week's gem by the Reds' Homer Bailey qualifies as a near-miss. He dominated the Giants on Tuesday. I had tickets for Wednesday night, 24 hours too late. At least I watched Tuesday's masterpiece on Fox Sports from start to finish.

As Fox's multiple replays of Bailey's second no-no suggested, it really is a big deal.

Too bad the post-game interview wasn't so great.

In case you missed it, during an interview with Fox's Jeff Piecoro, Bailey uttered a profanity on live TV. He dropped what some call “the F-bomb” when Piecoro asked about a seventh-inning walk that was the difference between a no-hitter and a perfect game.

Since Bailey walked Gregor Blanco on a 3-2 pitch, he was actually one pitch from perfection.

Seeing there have been 280 no-hitters in major league history but only 23 perfect games, Piecoro asked a legitimate question.

It might not have been the biggest thing fans wanted to talk about, but was certainly a question that had to be asked.

Immediately, there were several reactions ranging from “Big deal,” to “He owes the fans an apology.”

From this corner, I was disappointed with the gaffe, but after being around sports all my life, can understand that sometimes in the moment, people say things without thinking. I hope that is what happened.

I also know that the number of people who have not uttered some sort of profanity under their breath at one time or another is very, very small.

It still doesn't make it right.

What is much more troubling is that our society has devolved to the point where profanity is considered OK.

During the few moments following Bailey's miscue – which I admittedly did not hear live due to my phone ringing at that time – my Twitter feed was full of tweets making light of Bailey's flub. Later, as some criticism started coming in, the not-a-big-deal crowd chimed in saying something along the lines of, “He just pitched a great game. I don’t care what he says.”

And, unbelievably, there were many who laid the blame at Piecoro’s feet for asking the question. In other words, someone else made Bailey say it.

Unfortunately, those who say it is a sign of the 21^st Century are correct.

Have we gotten to the point where our language, whether sports or every other aspect of life, has to be punctuated with profanity? Have we gotten to the point that we are desensitized by “word bombs?”

In 1939, Clark Gable upset many when he uttered what is considered a mild profanity in “Gone With the Wind.” Now? Much stronger language is almost the norm in film.

As a child, one of my elementary school teachers threatened to wash our mouths out with soap if we “cussed.” Thankfully, I never found out. Now, the same teacher would be accused of abusing children.

When I was a student at Anderson County High School, one of our coaches had a rule against profanity of any kind as he felt it showed a lack of self-control.

Today? People criticize those who are critical of profanity.

That last statement is much more troubling than anyone slipping on the spur of the moment.

Old fashioned? You bet. But there's nothing wrong with that.

For the record, I made a decision many years ago to never include a profanity, no matter how mild or harsh, in my writing. If a quote can be run without the word, as is usually the case, I leave it out. If it cannot, I leave the quote out. That is my decision and whether it violates the rules of journalism, I really don't care.

Profanity, no matter how strong or mild, is unnecessary.

And it should be even rarer than a perfect game.