There are lots of things I like about sports, though I’ve never made a list of them before. Maybe it’s time I did. Blame it on Valentine’s Day.
I like the lessons taught by sports. Competition. Cooperation. Teamwork. Individual achievement, discipline, fairness, generosity, courtesy. If the sports are good, that’s what they teach.
What bad sports teach will have to wait for another holiday. Halloween, maybe.
This is a valentine to sports.
I love the bases loaded. Or empty.
I can’t look away on first and ten, but I don’t blink on third and long. A slam dunk is overrated, but only those who can’t do it.
I love a shot at the buzzer, match point, going for the green, the 15th round, the last furlong, a walk off homer.
But nothing compares to the first run on fresh snow.
Except maybe Allen Iverson humbling giants.
I like auto racers but not their machines. I admire boxers but not their wounds. I tolerate place kickers but resent their over-importance. Cheerleaders but not mascots.
College football crowds are more fun than pro football crowds but no more sober.
I like the smell of locker rooms.
Clint Hurdle talking. Dan Hawkins, too.
Free agents who outplay draft choices. Club pros who make the cut. Punters who make a tackle.
Watching barbells bounce.
I thank Bob Knight for Mike Krzyewski. Red Holzman for Phil Jackson. Walter Alston for Tommy Lasorda and Lasorda for Bobby Valentine and on and on.
I like an open field tackle more than an open field run.
The long throw from third to first, only slightly more than the 4-6-3 double play.
I like accidental heroes.
Lance Armstrong’s example.
Danica Patrick’s cheek, meaning her nerve as well as the ones with powder.
The sound of biking.
Todd Helton at the plate.
Kobe Bryant with the ball. Or without it.
Goal line stands.
The power play more than the triple lutz. Shoulder pads more than sequins.
I love the common memory sports gives a diverse community.
I root for extra innings and overtimes but not for tiebreakers or shootouts.
I’d pay to see Manny Ramirez under a fly ball. Lou Piniella after a bad call. Barry Bonds get his.
Tiger Woods at work. John Daly at play. George Karl at odds.
Charles Barkley at table.
Carmelo Anthony with the game in his hands or Matt Holliday with the game on his bat.
I like match play golf, but will avoid doubles tennis.
Al Wilson, as good as new.
The old Jack Nicklaus.
I like fish on a plate but not on a wall.
More track than field.
I appreciate but do not understand hockey goalies, sky divers or drag racers.
Roger Clemens’ foolhardiness. Maria Sharapova’s grunts. Mike Shanahan’s eye for talent.
Evander Holyfield refusing to say good-bye. Bill Belichick bothering to say hello.
I love hanging out around the batting cage. Telling lies in the press box. Whipping deadlines.
I am amazed at the instant literature that sports inspires from the best in my business.
I can think of nothing more amazing than the baseball box score.
I like scoreboards.