Patrick Kane: Beginning to understand

Patrick Kane is a wonderfully talented forward with the Chicago Black Hawks. He is already emerging as an extraordinary talent on the ice - a significant component of the major Hawk resurgence over the last year.

Off the ice, it’s been a bit more of a struggle. This past summer, Kane was alleged to have been involved in an incident with a taxicab driver, leading to assault charges that were eventually dropped. (Kane pleaded guilty only to disorderly conduct.)

Athletes often face a burden - and a responsibility - that those in some other professions may not have to deal with in quite the same way. The expectations are high, even if they don’t necessarily include being a “role model”. Their perceived successes and failures on and off the ice/field – as well as their behaviour – occur in a very public setting.

They face often intense public scrutiny, fair or not. They are expected to be accountable on the playing field- and off.

For his part, Kane, in speaking with NHL.com recently, made some observations that suggest he has learned from his misstep this past summer. The story indicated Kane has changed the manner in which he conducts himself in public.

"I still feel I'm the same kid at heart. Obviously situations like that open your eyes a little bit. It was a tough situation. You never want to go through that. Obviously, the only story you guys heard was what the cab driver said,” Kane is quoted as saying.

"The worst kind of came out of the situation, but at the same time, I think maybe it was better that it happened sooner rather than later. You can take a positive from a bad situation. Pretty much every (situation) I treat now, when I'm out to dinner or walking down the street, I'm going to treat like it's going to be publicized, and like it's going to be put in the media."

I always try to tell my young clients in the sports field, “You can be yourself. Just be your best self”.

An NHL agent whose clients I have advised on occasion over the years told me some time ago that he regularly reminds the athletes he represents to behave in public expecting to run into someone they know- and whose opinion matters to them.

It’s great advice for all of us, and nudges people-high-profile or not- to be aware that behaviour matters, wherever you are.

Pete Rose and the Hall

A media report from the New York Daily News in late July suggested baseball Commissioner Bud Selig may finally lift the lifetime ban on former Cincinnati Reds star (and disgraced manager) Pete Rose.

It is an injustice that is long overdue being rectified.

This is not to suggest for a moment that Rose should not have been punished severely for his alleged–and now proven–involvement in betting on sporting events while he was manager of the Reds. That he also bet on baseball, and perhaps his own team, had the potential to damage the integrity of the game, and should have been harshly dealt with.

It was, by the former, late Commissioner Bart Giamatti.

Since the initial allegations, investigations and suspension, Rose has not been allowed to be involved officially in baseball at any level. He was present when his son, Pete Junior, earned his first major league hit many years ago, but his formal appearances, other than at non-MLB-sponsored autograph shows, were few and far between.

Rose denied many times he bet on baseball. But that story changed as the years went by, as the possibility of his ever being enshrined in the Hall-of-Fame diminished year-by-year while he continued to deny the obvious.

Rose may not have been the most humble or likeable guy in baseball, but he is not alone in that regard in his baseball, or professional sports for that matter.

At the end of the day, there are many reasons Rose should be allowed some standing, at least, in the baseball community:

- He made a mistake. Not a small one, to be sure, and one that was repeated, clearly. But baseball is filled with individuals who made mistakes and were forgiven. Steve Howe, the former pitcher, was suspended half a dozen times by major league baseball and was always allowed to return to play the game.

- Many see gambling as a disease, a compulsive illness not unlike other kinds of addiction. Surely if it is an illness and can be treated, dealt with and potentially cured, the former athlete can be forgiven.

- Baseball has a history of cheaters prospering. Gaylord Perry acknowledged he threw an illegal pitch (for most of his 20+ year career), and yet he is enshrined in the Hall-of-Fame. Why not Rose?

- Speaking of cheaters prospering, it is inconceivable at best that Selig and the powers-that-be in baseball were unaware that players were using steroids throughout the 90’s and to the present. The late Ken Caminiti, National league MVP in 1996, admitted his own dependence years before his death. That baseball owners and general managers looked the other way when players suddenly bulked up as never before–and when 15-home-run-guys started hitting 40 and 50 home runs a season–is indisputable. It was good business for baseball to ignore the obvious, just as it is now good public relations to have a deathbed-style repentance in an effort to supposedly rid the game of performance-enhancing substances.

- If lying is a reason to keep him out, then every player who has denied using steroids over the past 15 years should be forever off the Hall-of-Fame ballot, given the obvious reliance on various banned or inappropriate substances by so many players over the past 15 or more years.

- To re-state the historical facts, Rose’s error in judgment/illness that caused his suspension occurred after his playing career was over, and when he was managing the Reds. It would be hard to argue he should be in the Hall in the “builder” category, for sure. But as the all-time leader in hits, he clearly deserves induction.

The above does not even include the fact that O.J. Simpson remains a member in good standing in the football Hall-of-Fame, presumably because that league does not judge his actions after his career was over.

History, the social convention of a call to forgiveness–and baseball simply looking at itself in the mirror–should compel Selig to do the right thing.

Maybe Rose will finally end up where he belongs, as a player, in Cooperstown, in 2010.

Fydrich: On being real

The death of Mark Fydrich brings to mind simpler times in the world of professional sports.

When Fydrich embarked on his very brief major-league career in 1976 and was stunningly successful, he caught the tradition-rich sport somewhat off guard. He had a quirky nickname (“the Bird”) and peculiar habits on the field, which have been well-documented (talking to the ball, spending time on his hands and knees re-working the mound, running to congratulate teammates on the field of play…). And while he put off some people, he radiated a boyish enthusiasm which made him popular well beyond his injury-shortened big-league career. He evidently led a simple, hard-working life as an adult. Media reports tell of neighbours who recall him as just another guy, a truly nice man who never played the “I was a somebody” card.

Why was he so popular, then and now? Well, we need only look at the way sports–and athletes–have evolved over the past 30 years to understand some of the reasons why.

Athletes now, while still playing for ‘the love of the game’, are unbelievably well-compensated. Injuries are attentively treated, rehabilitation is precise to ensure an athlete does not return before they are one-hundred per cent fit. (This is not to say that athletes today don’t play with injuries–football and hockey players prove that point regularly.) But it is to say that modern medicine and methods of training and education are simply superior, thankfully, to what was in place 30 years ago.

That said, we also often see athletes as corporations unto themselves. They are media-wary, image-conscious (see Alex Rodriguez), and often surly when the media probes too much. Not that this never occurred in generations past, but it seems ever-more the case these days. Athletes now are in tremendous physical condition (baseball being the exception, in some cases). They come to training camp in shape, not to get in shape.

Things are just very different. Sports is very much, as is often said, a business.

When Fydrich came on the scene, he was the classic wide-eyed rookie. Happily, despite his brief career (he could never duplicate his 1976 season after he hurt his arm in 1977), by all accounts he was a contended individual who was a good guy to the end. He was seen as engaging and joy-filled in his 50’s, much as he was in his 20’s as a ‘star’.

How much would Fydrich be ‘worth’ these days, in crass economic terms? Hard to say, but talent-wise it would likely start at 15 million a year. In terms of what he would mean to baseball in terms of goodwill off the field (no need for performance enhancers, an engaging, extroverted and genuinely friendly personality) the sky would be the limit.

This doesn’t even touch what he would earn as a corporate spokesperson.

In the 70’s, baseball was in a bit of a slide, as I recall. Because of the courage of Curt Flood, and after him the impact of union boss Marvin Miller and the court cases leading to player free agency, the game was changing. The game was popular, but football–both college and professional–was clearly surpassing baseball in terms of overall popularity.

Fans were still coming out to the ballparks, but buying tickets to a game was not hard. In Detroit, if I remember correctly, the Tigers might draw 10,000 or so to a game, depending on the opposition. That season that Fydrich joined them and created a storm, 50,000 would show up to watch him in action. Every time. Non-baseball fans went. He was that much of an attraction, a curiosity, a star, a draw. He must have made the Tigers a ton on the “bottom line” that season, as he was likely drawing a rookie salary of ridiculously small proportions compared with the modern day.

I didn’t know Fydrich and never had the opportunity to interview him in the years I was involved in sports broadcasting. Looking back, I wish I had. Un-rehearsed and natural, likeable and delightful in good times and bad, he was unlike most of what had followed.

Today, we tend to knock that naturalness out of our young athletes. Make them corporate, dull, rehearsed. It is easy to understand, as the media have a long history of falling very quickly in–and out of–love with young “stars”.

Fydrich leaves a mark, as good people do. Not, perhaps, because he was a baseball ‘star’, but because he never played that part.

The only reason Sean Avery will ever make you think of Bobby Orr

Sean Avery and Bobby Orr in the same breath?

Not really. It’s simply that Avery’s latest and rather tasteless public outburst brought to mind someone who was – and is – very much unlike the veteran Dallas Stars forward.

Bobby Orr comes to mind because, publicly, he has always been everything someone like Avery is not. Quiet, rather dull, humble, perhaps even shy. And certainly not someone to seek the limelight.

Orr’s number 2 was recently retired by the Oshawa Generals of the Ontario Hockey League. Orr played in Oshawa from the age of 14 to his graduation to the Bruins at the age of 18. By all accounts the Oshawa organization had offered this honor many times over the years, but Orr declined because he was uncomfortable with all the fuss that would be made. (Orr has been, in recent years, a successful and well-regarded player agent.) He finally relented and the night went well.

I remember a chance encounter I had back in the fall of 1966, Orr’s rookie season as an 18 year-old with the Boston Bruins.

I was raised in a small town in southwestern Ontario, about a 4 hour drive from Toronto in those days. My eldest brother was receiving his Masters degree at Convocation Hall at the University of Toronto on a Friday night. (I believe the late Carl Brewer, a wonderful player with the Leafs in the early 60’s who had retired from pro hockey for a time, was also receiving a degree that night.)

I was the youngest of the family and we drove up that day to attend the graduation ceremony. We had not announced our intentions early enough to obtain seats for everyone, so my Dad and I were the ones left to “stand”, while my Mom, sister and my brother’s fiancée found seating.

That night, I never got inside the auditorium. Instead we just stood in the hall, waiting for the lengthy event to end. (When you’re 13, hearing hundreds of names read out in sequence when you can’t even see the "action" was pretty dull stuff.)

With nothing to do but kill time, I roamed around the halls. My Dad was leaning up against a wall near the exit, reading a newspaper.

I happened to notice some men (they all seemed like fairly old guys to me) in a small group, sharing stories and having a few laughs. One of them, younger than the others, was taking part in the frivolity. What caught my eye was that the young guy seemed somehow familiar. To me, he looked like Bobby Orr.

Now to put things in context, back in 1966, we didn’t have the kind of media exposure that is common today for politicians, entertainers or athletes. I had seen Orr’s picture in the hometown newspaper’s sports pages, and maybe (maybe) had seen him interviewed on television on Hockey Night in Canada.

But this was Orr’s rookie season, and as ballyhooed as his arrival to the NHL was back then, I could not be sure of what I was seeing right in front of me.

I ran over to my Dad and told him that I thought I had just seen Bobby Orr. My Dad didn’t even look up from his newspaper. "Why would Bobby Orr be here?" he said. He wasn’t being sarcastic--simply, in his mind, realistic. Kids, after all, are prone to dramatize.

But I knew the Bruins were playing the Leafs in Toronto the next (Saturday) night, so I knew that Orr could be in Toronto, at least.

I went back to eavesdrop on the group’s conversation. Just at that moment, the young guy started to pull away from his friends, and I heard someone say, "See you, Bobby".

That was all I needed to hear. I hustled over to my father and announced what I heard, and pleaded with him to at least check this guy out. By now, even my Dad was sensing I may not be crazy. It so happened that the young fellow had to work his way through a crowded hall and walk by us to get to the exit.

It was a moment I no doubt sized up as a once-in-a-lifetime fluke that would not ever come my way again. With my hopeful eyes on the fast-developing situation, my Dad rose to the occasion and gently, but firmly, grabbed the young man by the arm as he hustled by.

"Excuse me", my Dad said to him. “This young man here thinks he knows you. Do you mind if I ask you your name?”

"Bob Orr", came the reply.

I’d hit the mother lode. My Dad said, "Shake hands with my son". I shook Orr’s hand, who was quiet, and gracious. He was only 5 years older than me, but honest to God, I might as well have been meeting Jesus. It was that big a deal to me.

When we had driven back to my older sister’s home (she lived in Mississauga, as I recall, though it wasn’t called that in those days, it was probably Port Credit) I thought not about my brother’s hard-earned academic achievement, which was the reason for our rare visit to the big city but about meeting the best young hockey player I had ever seen (and as it turns out, would ever see).

I joked about never washing my right hand again, and probably didn’t, for a time.

Certainly there are athletes today who are gracious and humble, and would be so in meeting a young admirer. But all too often you have to stand in line and then pay for the honor.

The world has changed in the last 40 years. Attitudes, media, technology, money.

Oh well.

It was nice to read about Orr’s comments on his special night in Oshawa. A man of 60 now, but still publicly humble and gracious.

Maybe Sean Avery will be that way 30 years from now. But if so, he’s got a long way to go.

Why young athletes need a little guidance…

That fans pay for autographs is no surprise. The custom of promoters bringing in sports celebrities to draw and crowd and earn money by charging an entry fee and/or charging an autograph fee has been in place for years.

I remember waiting with a friend in my Dad’s car back in the mid 1960’s in Windsor, Ontario, across from Detroit, for probably two hours on a mid-week winter evening, at a Canadian Tire, I think it was.

The attraction was Bobby Hull. He and his Chicago Black Hawks were scheduled to play the Red Wings in Detroit the next night.

He met with people for hours in a long line, and when we finally went through at the end of the line, he spoke with my Dad about farming, and signed my friend’s puck. No charge.

Of course, Hull was paid by the store for his appearance, but there was no “extra” charge to the fans.

Things are a little different today, of course.

A recent Canadian Press story out of Edmonton reported that some Edmonton Oiler fans were upset that the team’s two young star attractions, Sam Gagner and Andrew Cogliano, both 19, were signing autographs at a local “show”, but for a fee.

The fee was charged by those organizing the event.

The CP story reported that the players had little to say when asked about the fee. According the report:

Cogliano said the signing was part of his contract with AJ Sportsworld, but declined to comment further after being told not to talk to media.

Gagner, looking at the table in front of him and slumping his shoulders when asked why they're charging fans, declined to answer.

As someone who has been an advisor to coaches and athletes for many years, the thing that I found surprising about the story was not that there was a fee involved (people can certainly decline to attend these events if they don’t like the idea of paying for autographs), but that the young athletes, according to the story, seemed unprepared to answer questions about the issue.

Just as it’s fair game to charge for autographs, it’s fair game to be asked questions about it.

If you’re old enough to earn close to a million dollars a year (soon to be much more than that), as these players earn, and old enough to sign a contract with a promotion company that charges a steep price for your signature, you’re also old enough to be prepared to address any related questions thoughtfully and honestly.

If these young athletes were indeed “told” not to talk with the media, the question is why?

And if they weren’t prepared to answer questions candidly and openly about their role in the event, perhaps they should not have agreed to participate.

Or, better still, someone (an agent, the team’s public relations staff—someone) should have helped prepare them for the reaction of the media, and the fans.

Media reports indicate the players did try to explain what happened a day later, but the damage had already been done. Not irreparable, of course, but unnecessary damage none the less.

No preparation and “No comment” is rarely, if ever, a good approach to building trust with your audience.

Just because the shot went in...

I’m not among those who had a rooting interest in the recently completed NCAA basketball championships.

Kansas defeated an excellent Memphis team in overtime, a game that Memphis could certainly have won, with any luck at all.

The "winning" Kansas Coach, Bill Self, is of course now looking for a new multi-million dollar contract with, as he called it, "security". (How many millions a person needs for security is a topic for another day.)

But the comment from Self that I found noteworthy revolved around the fact that after Memphis missed some opportunities to score and salt the game away, one of Self’s Kansas players made a key shot to send the game into overtime, whereupon Kansas won going away.

Here’s the context for the comment from Self, as it appeared in a web story on ESPN.com

On Monday night, Chalmers' shot fell and Self soon had a national title on his resume. Still, he said he didn't think of himself as a different coach. "I don't think just because a guy makes a guarded shot with 2.1 seconds left makes me any different than if he hadn't made the shot," Self said.

Exactly.

How often in sports do we glorify the player whose shot went in, sometimes with a lot of luck, and then say, "what a clutch shot. He’s a great pressure player."

Another player might make a similar effort, but see the ball hit the back rim and not fall. Does one ‘made’ shot—sometimes the result of good fortune--make one player "better" than the other?

There's one particular game I'll always remember: Game 7 of the NHL Stanley Cup finals in 1971. The Blackhawks were leading the Montreal Canadiens in Game 7 in Chirago. It was 2-0 about mid-way through the game. The Habs could get nothing going against Chicago goalie Tony Esposito. The Hawks had already scored twice against Montreal rookie phenom Ken Dryden.

Hawk star Bobby Hull took a blistering wrist shot from just inside the blue line that clearly beat Dryden over the shoulder. The puck rocketed off the cross bar.

Not long after, Montreal forward Jacques Lemaire scored on a seemingly harmless slap shot from beyond the Chicago blue line, a puck that Esposito lost sight of but would normally have been a routine save.

Another fortuitous bounce a few minutes later off the back boards, and Montreal had tied the game 2-2 and went on to win 3-2 to capture the Cup.

The legend of Ken Dryden was born in full.

The point is, if Hull’s great shot has bounced off the cross bar and "in" to make the score 3-0, the game was over. It was simply good fortune, not great goaltending by Dryden, that saved the day. Hull made a great shot, it just didn’t go in, by a fraction of an inch.

But the Habs indeed took advantage of good breaks, and earned their victory.

Esposito never won a Cup, though he was a Hall-of-Fame goalie, to be sure.

Back to the present, would the Kansas Coach, as he put it, be any lesser a coach if his player’s last second shot had not made its way through the rim? Would all the strategy, hard work, planning--and months of game execution--been any less well done and have been a "failure" if that last shot didn’t go in?

Of course not.

But since we need to proclaim "winners" and "losers", "heroes" and "bums", we’ll say this Coach is a Champion, while the other is not.

The only difference, quite often, is a shot that didn’t fall, or a puck that bounced in the wrong (or right) direction, or a field goal that went two inches wide.

Buckner earns his due... far too late

I’m so pleased that Bill Buckner was recently recognized before a Red Sox game and given a long ovation by the local fans.

It has troubled me for years that one play from his career, his late inning error in Game 6 of the 1986 World Series, has been the one mark on his career that is constantly brought up.

In my memory, Buckner was the kind of player who could be on my team any day. Tough, he played with and through injuries. A lifetime batting average close to .300. Played hard and well for many years.

Unlike many of the ballplayers of the last 15 years, he was not, to anyone’s knowledge, a cheater by any standard.

Yet, he made one “error” in a game that Sox were not necessarily going to win anyway, and he was—and is—vilified by arm chair observers.

He and his family suffered through the aftermath. I quote at length from a recent Associated Press story:

The former first baseman knew the same old questions would crop up about that play 22 years ago that has been replayed on television hundreds of times. At first, he turned down the team's request. A few days later he agreed to return to Fenway Park for the first time since 1997 when he was batting coach with the Chicago White Sox.

"I really had to forgive," he said after collecting himself, "not the fans of Boston per se, but I would have to say, in my heart, I had to forgive the media..."
Another pause, this one for 10 seconds, before he continued, "...for what they put me and my family through. So I've done that. I'm over that. And I'm just happy that I just try to think of the positive. The happy things."

And not about the night of Oct. 25 in Shea Stadium when Mookie Wilson's ground ball rolled through his legs in the 10th inning. It capped a three-run rally and drove in the winning run in the New York Mets 6-5 win that forced a seventh game.

The Mets won the final game 8-5 and Boston's streak of no championships since 1918 continued. That drought ended in 2004, and then the Red Sox made it two championships in four years.

Buckner, a .289 hitter in 22 years with more than 100 RBIs in two of his three full seasons with Boston, wasn't the only Red Sox player who failed in the last two games of the 1986 Series. To focus on just one play is "the ugly part of sports," he said.

"I don't think that in society in general that's the way we should operate. What are you teaching kids? Not to try because if you don't succeed then you're going to buried [sic], so don't try?"

The Mets already had tied the game at 5 in the 10th against Calvin Schiraldi and Bob Stanley before Wilson hit the ball to Buckner. And the Red Sox led 3-0 after 5 1/3 innings of Game 7 before the Mets tied it against Bruce Hurst in the bottom of the sixth and nicked Schiraldi for three runs in the seventh.

"You can look at that series and point fingers in a whole bunch of different directions," Buckner said. "We did the best we could to win there and it just didn't happen and I didn't feel like I deserved" so much blame."

"If I felt like it was my fault, I'd step up to the plate and say, 'hey, if I wasn't here the Red Sox would have won this thing,' but I really can't do that so I think some of it is unjustly directed my way," he said. "I'm pretty tough mentally, but the hardest part was with my family and my kids and I'm still dealing with it."

Since I work with a lot of young athletes, I want to focus in particular on one of Buckner more poignant comments:

"I don't think that in society in general that's the way we should operate. What are you teaching kids? Not to try because if you don't succeed then you're going to buried, so don't try?"

Amen.

Here was a guy, good enough to be starting and playing in the World Series, who had a near Hall-of-Fame career, who simply made an error on a ball that didn’t quite bounce the way he expected it to bounce.

It is so easy when you’ve never played the game at a high level to criticize someone when they make a mistake at a “key moment” in a game. I’ve done it myself, for sure.

But the reaction to Buckner and his error in the ’86 World Series was so unfounded, so unfair, that it is heartwarming to see that he has been able to speak so eloquently about it, years later.

The media and its need to criticize in cases like this should not be easily forgiven. But apparently Buckner has, and he is a better person for having done so than those who have put him down over the years.

Maybe the rest of us can learn something. Or if it’s too late for us, at least maybe our kids can distinguish between what’s truly important, and what’s not, in sports, and in life.

Buckner and the ’86 Red Sox did not win the World Series. But for me, he is a champion.

A reminder from Clinton Portis

The U.S. legal system will determine if Falcons quarterback Michael Vick was in any involved in the so-called ‘dog-fighting’ scheme that his name has been allegedly linked to.

Almost as distressing was the reaction of a fellow NFL player, long-time running back Clinton Portis.

Before his team, the Washington Redskins, rushed to issue a public apology, Portis was evidently accurately quoted as saying (on ESPN.com) , "If that's what he wants to do, do it. I think people should mind their business."

The story goes on to say that when Portis was informed that dog fighting is a felony, he replied, "It can't be too bad of a crime."

Beyond the cruelty and uneccessary pain inflicted on animals stemming from this so-called “sport”, are we to believe that Portis’s attitude reflects a broader malaise about such activities?

Impossible to say, of course.

But young athletes would be well advised to keep certain thoughts to themselves.

While it is generally a good thing to be honest, engaging and open, though guarded, when interacting with reporters, situations like the one that has touched Vick should throw up red flags.

Perhaps Portis was simply saying what he really felt, that forcing dogs to fight one another is no big deal.

If so, while it is his right to hold such views, many would find those views at best disconcerting.

But to publicly express such views?

No wonder the Redskins scrambled to have him apologize publicly, and did so themselves as an organization the next day.

If only Crosby can make it last…

Bobby Hull was one of the great ambassadors for the game of hockey from the late 1950’s throughout his entire professional career, which ended in 1980.

While there were reports of various off-ice issues over the years, Hull was nonetheless one of those sporting “heroes” who made the time to speak with fans, who would stand and sign autographs for long periods of time after games and practices, when teammates were long gone.

In a nice piece printed recently in the Ottawa Sun, columnist Don Brennan tells how, when the Penguins were in Ottawa to play the Senators, a group of youngsters, hoping to see Sidney Crosby, waved and held up signs as he was leaving the rink after practice. When security wouldn’t allow the young fans near the team bus, Crosby ventured off to meet with the youngsters, pose for pictures and sign autographs.

Shades of Bobby Hull, indeed. And in an era when so many athletes simply have no interest in the fans, and certainly wouldn’t make the time to sign an autograph unless they were paid to do so, it is at the very least refreshing to see Crosby handle his early fame in this manner.

If he can maintain his approach for another twenty years, we can speak of him in the same breath as a Hull, or even a Jean Beliveau, who has shown respect for the game and the fans long after his playing career came to an end.

This is a wonderful lesson for young athletes on one of the many off-ice/ off-field qualities it takes to become a real professional in any sport.

"I can't do it all by myself!"

It’s remarkable how seldom professional athletes will really and truly take responsibility for their actions and/or performance.

Sometimes, on the rare occasions when they do, the response is rather peculiar. Case in point: recent comments by Ottawa Senators defenseman Joe Corvo. Corvo said publicly he has not played up to par this season, and a newspaper headline in the Ottawa Sun thereafter read, “Corvo too honest?”

Corvo’s coach went so far as to say, “you’re always a little surprised when a player admits to lacking confidence publicly”, essentially suggesting it would have been better for Corvo not to acknowledge his poor play.

Corvo responded by saying, “Guys (athletes) are kind of programmed to say robotic responses…I don’t think I’m the first one that’s been honest.”

Compare and contrast Corvo’s honest, if uncommon, self-assessment with the recent reaction of Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick, after the Falcons finished a disappointing 7-9 and missed the NFC playoffs.

Said Vick, "I don't see how people can point the finger at me," he said. "I think I had a great season. ... I can't do it all by myself. I call myself Superman, but I really don't have the cape on my back. I can't change the game in certain situations. Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't."

He’s not the first “star” athlete to decline accepting responsibility for the performance of the team he is paid handsomely to lead. Quarterbacks in particular accept widespread acclaim when their teams achieve success but some aren’t as keen to accept any criticism that comes their way when things go off the rails.

When an athlete says, “I can’t do it all by myself…” he is sending a terrible – and likely unappreciated— message to his teammates, especially when the words come from a so-called “team leader” such as Vick.

No athlete in a team sport – not Bobby Orr, Michael Jordan or Jim Brown—won games or championships on their own. Every player on their respective teams made contributions. Orr, Jordan and Brown may have shown their true greatness by helping make the players around them better, but those players nonetheless all made valuable contributions game by game and throughout the playoffs until the championship was won.

The moment an athlete starts thinking – and goes so far as to start saying publicly – he is “doing it all by himself”, chances are he is, emotionally, “losing” the very people he needs to achieve success, his teammates.

There is a wonderful life lesson here for young athletes – and for young people in general.

The real issue is not so much, perhaps, that Vick said what he said. Rather, the problem is that he felt that way in the first place.

How could anyone who has seen teammates work in the off-season, play through injuries and do their utmost to play at the highest level in their sport, has the support and guidance of top coaches to help him prepare to be successful every day, really feel as though he is “doing it alone”.

With this story as a backdrop, aspiring elite athletes would do well to look inside themselves, and do an attitude check.

If you think you’re doing it “by yourself”, think again.

And if you truly can’t convince yourself that you are not a one-man band, for goodness sake, don’t say so out loud.

You’ll lose the respect of teammates, coaches, scouts and fans—and anyone who had an interest in your career.

The Vick quote reminds me of a similar comment made by a young NHL draft prospect several years ago, when asked by the media why his “stats” had fallen off.

He said, “If I had better linemates and been given more playing time, I would have scored more…”

In one sentence, the player essentially trashed his teammates and his coach and publicly laid blame on others for his own shortcomings.

We all understand that teenage athletes may sometimes say things they shouldn’t. No one should be that programmed.

But that player likely lost something in the minds of his teammates, coaches – and the scouts who were assessing him—when he made that comment.

If you’re a parent, you may want to encourage your child not to follow the Michael Vick approach to leadership.

"The Survey Says..."

Sometimes it takes a good old-fashioned public opinion poll to tell us what we already know.

ESPN The Magazine (February 28/’05 issue) released the results of its annual research into the behaviours and attitudes of sporting fans, and presented some fairly significant observations.

Oh, some of the ‘findings” aren’t really findings, rather some pretty obvious stuff. We are told, for example that more and more fans care about the affordability of ticket prices to major league sporting events. This makes sense. Who wants to pay more, rather than less? We all realize that it is getting more and more difficult — in many cases impossible — for the “average” person to bring his kids to a pro game, especially when you factor in parking, food, etc.

But this is where something else of interest jumps out of the survey: “People care less about championships and more about honest ownership, strong coaching and players who give their best effort and act like pros.”

The magazine suggests this makes sense, especially in light of incessant steroid talk, for example, in the media and calls it “a fundamental shift in the relationship between the fans and teams”.

The Magazine quotes the President of the company that has conducted the annual surveys, who says, “ In the past, fans wanted their teams to ‘just win, baby’. But in 2004, we got to the point where it isn’t just about winning. It’s doing the right thing, with the kind of players you get and how you treat the community.”

Not that the surveyed opinions of a relatively few fans “proves” anything, but it’s hard not to feel that fans have grown disaffected by a lot of what has gone on in professional sports in recent years. Arrests and drug-use are so common it’s not something most fans seem to pay that much attention to. The NFL, for example, faces this “image” challenge on occasion, and still sells out every Sunday.

But fans, I sense, are increasingly turned off by the attitudes of many of today’s growing list of multi-millionaire athletes. Though fans have indeed helped create the problem — most of them innocently enough— many of those same fans seem to finally be reaching their limits when it comes to athletes who are disconnected from the very people who help pay their enormous salaries.

The NHL dispute certainly seems to validate this: The players clearly have never gained public sympathy, despite a highly unsympathetic opposition in NHL owners.

Who knew the disenchantment of hockey fans ran so deep? Clearly it was there, ready to burst, triggered finally by the realization that millionaires and billionaires couldn’t decide how to cut up the cash.

Basketball, it says here, will face its own very real problems with fans, especially if the Association and players determine a lockout is needed to ultimately find an equitable economic agreement.

Baseball fans will soon realize, if they haven’t already, that the home-run races that brought so many of them back to the strike-damaged game in the mid 1990’s was spurred by steroids, and steroids alone. We wanted to tell ourselves it wasn’t so, and no matter who denies what now, the fans know.

Greed kills so many things. And it shows itself in many ways. The whining for more and more money. The willingness to do and try anything to get bigger, faster, stronger.

Fans are slowly letting athletes know that they, the fans, want something different. But only when players are hit in the pocketbook — that is, when fans stop paying to go to or watch games on TV — will there be a real change where fans want to see it most: attitude.

Can NHL players not see why they have lost the fans?

It’s clear that the (apparent/pending?) official “cancellation” of the long-dead NHL season has had the same effect as the old line about ‘hitting yourself on the head with a hammer, because it feels so good to stop’.

The average person doesn’t generally care about labor disputes at the best of times — unless the dispute impacts them personally.

But even fewer people are impacted — or much care — it seems, when wealthy athletes take on even-wealthier owners.

This said, our commentary of last fall (October-November) touched on many of the possible reasons why, at the time, the players seemed to be losing the public relations battle. The reasons were — and are — many.

The irony is, of course, that professional hockey players by and large are the most “liked” of all professional athletes. They are closest to the fans, most accessible to the media, and so on.

This dispute has killed most, if not all, of that goodwill. But in truth, the erosion started many years ago.

Do fans support the owners? Of course not. No one cheers for billionaires or asks for their autograph, Donald Trump aside. Forget the logic of either side’s position in terms of “cost certainty” versus a free-market system. Does anyone “care” about NHL owners, other than their ability to put teams on the ice so that those who are interested can watch?

Let’s be clear: The owners have made their share of mistakes, from an optics perspective. Telling the players in a meeting a recently that they (the players) are essentially “just” employees while spouting in public about wanting a “partnership” didn’t fool anyone, especially the players.

But that said, here are some things to consider as the season is over, but the dispute rages on.

- Why are NHL superstars — including a number who earn millions of dollars a year and have for many years — taking away the jobs of players who make a few thousand dollars a year playing in the United Hockey League, the “lowest” level of professional hockey in North America? What does the average hockey fan think about that, one wonders?

- How many times have fans heard a player ‘spokesman’ say, “Hey, the owners caused this problem”? The ‘problem’ they refer to created many more jobs for players, at salaries that are astronomical by the standards of the average person.

- For those media player-apologists who say, “well fans are just envious. Those fans who say they’d play in the NHL for less aren’t good enough to play in the NHL. Of course they’d play for less.” And these apologists add, when asked why doctors make so little compared with pro athletes, for example, “Well, no one pays to watch doctors operate”. Interesting. So the fact that people are willing to pay to watch an entertainer means the entertainer should make millions upon millions? (Even if they don’t show up for work, like Alonzo Mourning?) Odd logic. What about the “value” of someone who can save a life, versus the “entertainer”?

- One prominent player spoke out a while ago with an unveiled warning for any “replacement” player that would play next season in the “new” NHL. Hmmm. The fact that hundreds of NHL’ers have flocked to Europe and have taken jobs away from individuals who certainly needed them much more to “feed their families” is acceptable, but a “replacement” player struggling to make ends meet who would love to play in the NHL for one day should feel as though he is doing something unethical? And should fear for his physical safety? And this while NHL’ers play in Europe, the AHL, CHL and UHL, not to mention senior hockey in Canada?

- The classiest player in the history of pro hockey, Jean Beliveau, a thoughtful man respected throughout the hockey world, says the league needs a cap to survive, that he doesn’t support the players in this dispute. A prominent member of the player’s bargaining team refuted Beliveau’s claims. Who would you believe?

- What have other ex-players had to say? Well, Phil Esposito says for the first time he does not support the players. Nor does Darryl Sittler, the ex-Maple Lea Hall-of-Famer. Patrick Roy said some time back that the league needs a cap to ensure the viability of franchises throughout the league. The Players Association no longer has a hold on those individuals.

- One of the NHL players who is now playing in the United Hockey League was quoted as saying the NHL doesn’t care about small market teams. In the same breath, the same individual reportedly told reporters, according to various accounts, that the league should get rid of a number of teams. Interesting concept. Except, from an NHLPA perspective, that approach would take out say, 100 jobs from the association. Yet the star players are supposedly fighting for — and speak for — the “little guy” who may never play in the league again?

- Here is a question that should be mulled over. Do we expect owners to save the game, to save the season because they love hockey? In reality, these are individual business leaders, or large corporations. Whether they like or love the game is not the point. They are involved in hockey as an investment, or as a sideline, perhaps, maybe even as a bit of a “toy”. But they expect to make a profit, not lose money constantly. The players are the ones who have a “passion” for the game, and many believe it is up to them to “save” the game.

- Those who own NHL franchises, each and every owner, made their fortunes in businesses totally unrelated to professional hockey. They could walk away from hockey today and still make millions in their original chosen fields. How many players will be able to maintain their hockey income in other walks of life? So the fans may wonder, who really needs whom more?

- If we ever do reach a point where “replacement” players are signed to play in the NHL, will fans pay to watch? Likely, yes. Fans have spoken loudly throughout this protracted dispute. They are tired of mega-million dollar athletes in an industry that can’t afford it. If the owners sign players with drive, with some flair, with a passion to play because they really love playing and not for the money, people absolutely will show up.

- Have players offered to share in the losses the owners may experience in the future? Would that not make them true “partners”?

One thing is abundantly clear. The players prefer to make far, far less in other leagues right now, and even perhaps under a “new” NHL at some point in the future, than they would under a salary cap they feel would be imposed upon them against their will. It is an admirable stance — if one believes it is one based on some kind of ethical principle. As a matter of practical decision-making, it is harder for the average person to understand.

Some observers still seem baffled by the fact that there is no uproar in Canada because there is no hockey.

Well, perhaps the majority of fans held their noses these past 10 years, while salaries rose ridiculously and average-ability pro players took home millions. Fans held their noses because they like watching hockey, long ago having established loyalties to certain teams or players.

But slowly, they held in their anger, their frustration, not because they envy the players, but simply because the players’ expectations and sense of entitlement has grown absurdly out of the realm of what is acceptable to many “average” people.

For their part, the owners have finally, like an overly permissive parent, finally put their foot down. The players don’t like it.

The fans are saying “too bad”.

Those same fans hold the final key to all this, and the players, more than the owners, will have to win back the fans, if they ever get the chance.

25 Reasons Why Players are Losing the P.R. Battle

Why are players losing the so-called public relations battle in the ongoing labor dispute with NHL owners?

And does it really matter to the players, anyway?

Is it because the players are not getting their messages across effectively? Or are their messages — what they are saying and through their actions in recent years — indeed coming through loud and clear?

A recent ‘poll’ (on slam.ca) while not likely scientifically accurate, suggests 47% of those who ‘voted’ supported the owners; 12% supported the players. 30% didn’t support either of them.

Maybe more disconcerting than that to both parties is the fact that while fans in the U.S. are largely unconcerned about the lack of hockey, that apathy has crossed the border into Canada.

Oh sure, hockey fans would like to see hockey, even in certain U.S. markets. Once baseball is done, and the Super Bowl is history, long-time fans will crave the game come January.

But right now there just isn’t a lot of gnashing of teeth over the lack of NHL hockey, even in Canada.

To the earlier point: why might it be that so few people are aligned with the players in this protracted dispute?

Owners don’t score pretty goals. They don’t sign autographs. They’re management. Nobody likes management.

Most media people will suggest that hockey players are by far the best athletes to deal with of the major sports in North America.

It’s a reputation hockey players have earned, by and large. In Canadian markets, it’s hard to imagine anyone more popular than a member of the Oilers, or Leafs, in their respective communities. Many hockey players are also well known for their charitable involvements.

And after all this is a lockout, not a strike. The players say they want to play.

Well, in terms of public perception, there are possible reasons why fans aren’t rushing to support the players, and may never, regardless of how long this lasts.

1. As talented as many of the NHL’ers are, and as physically demanding as their job is, it is difficult for the “average” person earning, say, $40,000 a year, to relate to players whose average salary is almost 2 million a season.

2. Players insist a salary cap is unacceptable, in part because it goes against free market principles. There has never been a salary cap in hockey. So they don’t want to “give up” something they’ve “earned” through collective bargaining. Yet if they were operating under a different set of rules to begin with (i.e. a limit of some description on overall salaries) they would gladly, one assumes, appreciate the opportunity to earn an average annual wage of 1.3 million, which is what the owners claim to be offering.

3. As one of their messages, NHLPA leadership continues to put forward the idea that National Football League players, for example, are unhappy with the NFL salary cap, which has been in place for many years. Yet prominent NFL player reps are saying exactly the opposite — that a cap has been good for football, and for the players. The NFL is the best-run and most popular sport in the United States.

4. Players say they are fighting for the younger players, just as players in earlier generations fought for them. Yet, how many current players fought alongside Carl Brewer, Gordie Howe, Andy Bathgate and others to try to ensure that players of yesteryear — the very players who really made the sport what it is today — received their due while they were being unjustly treated by the league and its owners?

5. If this dispute does not ultimately resolve the economic woes plaguing many franchises, and results in, say, four of those franchises ceasing to operate in future, that would result in a net loss of about 100 NHL — and therefore NHLPA — jobs. Does this outcome help all the players in the Association?

6. Fans may wonder: how much does a player need to have “financial security” for their family? Must their income ensure security for their families for generations to come?

7. Many players are quoted as saying they have already offered “concessions” to the owners. But when the bar was set so high in favor of the players for years, is the appropriate word really concessions? Isn’t it a matter being time the players got in touch with reality?

8. NHL players are a brotherhood, and players stress that they are sticking together. Yet more than 200 players have signed contracts to play in Europe — most of whom have every intention of racing back to North America the moment a new deal is signed. In the same breath, some long-time NHL players have actually signed contracts to play in the American Hockey League, or other minor leagues. In a free world, that’s entirely within the rights of any individual, of course. But how is that creating a sense of solidarity? What message does this send to the public?

9. Those NHL players now playing in Europe — many of whom have been earning millions of dollars a season — are taking jobs away from players who really need those jobs. Do those NHL players care about putting fellow professional players out of work, and the impact that has on those families? Or are the only “fellow players” that matter in the NHLPA?

10. The public has read, for years, comments from the players association that suggest the players, like the owners, have built up a huge “war chest” as they prepared for this scenario. If such a “lockout” fund is available, the public wonders: why do the players need to earn money by playing in other leagues?

11. Interestingly, some players are not signing with other leagues. Many are staying in shape by renting ice and working out together. They are evidently making a clear choice not to play in a different league. Again, everyone is free to follow their own conscience. But if you belong to an “association”, generally members stick together in order to, among other reasons, send out a consistent public message, regardless of whether it’s a lock out or a strike situation.

12. Players who have signed with the so-called Original Six Hockey League are saying they’re doing it for charity, for the fans, so kids can see them play. They stress that kids will be allowed into the dressing room after games, etc. Sounds tremendous. Will players encourage and allow this same free and easy access to kids once they are back in their NHL dressing rooms and there is no public relations battle to be won?

13. NHL officials are not being paid at all during the dispute. Many are taking jobs of various descriptions. The average wage of NHL official is about $100,000 a year. Yet they have — to a man— decided they will not take refereeing jobs in other leagues, to ensure they don’t take jobs away from fellow referees. This is clearly not a stand all players have taken.

14. If there is any sympathy felt, it is for those really affected by the lockout: individuals in the industry who have lost full-time jobs, and part-time rink employees, for example, and all those who are missing out on important income to help them make ends meet at home, or help get them through school.

15. A high-profile NHL player, during the 2003-’04 season, was accurately quoted as saying the players would “sit out for the rest of our lives”, rather than accept the conditions the owners were trying to put forward. This particular player makes several million dollars a season. When the player realized how his comments came across, he tried a more conciliatory tone the next day. But his true feelings had been expressed for all to hear.

16. Similarly, some years back, a veteran NHL player (still actively involved with the Players Association) was asked about the fact that many fathers could no longer afford to bring their kids to an NHL game. The response was, basically, “Maybe those dads should not be taking their kids to a game.”
One more recent example: A prominent NHL’er recently reacted to an appearance by NHL

17. Commissioner Gary Bettman on the CBC National news. Reports quoted the player as saying “I know Mr. Bettman likes to think he knows a lot about hockey. But I’ve never seen him stop a puck, or bleeding when he gets a shot in the face or getting needles in the arms, back and stomach. Players are rewarded handsomely, we understand that, but at the same time we work very hard for what we have.” Players work hard, indeed. People in many walks of life (teachers, police officers, those who do manual labor — soldiers on the front lines, to be sure — and many others) “work hard” . Many take serious physical risks, yet have limits on what they can earn.

18. When figures are cited about player salaries, that doesn’t take into account the royalties players receive on items such as trading card sales, and monies raised through licensing agreements for the sale of NHLPA endorsed merchandise. That bumps the players’ real income up by a substantial amount.

19. The public may wonder how many “freebies” and various ‘perks’ of fame players receive. Do players ever travel other than first-class? Does a hockey player stand in line for anything?

20. Some players play into June in a given season. It can be a long, tough season. For those players who don’t make the playoffs, however, their season starts in training camp in mid-September and ends in mid-April. Five months off in the summer. The “average” person works 49 weeks a year, with three weeks off.

21. Many fans are fed up with hearing athletes whine. Whine that they want to play for a winner, rather than accepting the challenge of staying where they are and helping make their current team a winner; are insulted by contract offers that don’t pay them enough millions; players that demand trades; hide behind the words of their agents; ask to renegotiate contracts; hold out for even more money when they are still unproven and in the early years of their career.

22. Many fans are increasingly tired of the influence of agents. Fans realize that the agents really do speak for the players they represent. The players allow their agent to do the public dirty work.

23. People also likely cringe every time a player is quoted as saying, “I sure hope this gets resolved before much longer”, as though individual players are standing on the outside of this situation and have zero influence. Of course players have influence on the Association leadership. They aren’t helpless by-standers in this situation. And if they are helpless by-standers, people wonder, what kind of an Association is it?

24. Fans have noticed that every time a player steps out of line and says anything the union leadership doesn’t want to hear, the player suddenly retracts or clarifies his earlier (honest) feelings.

25. Additional reasons why players are losing the optics battle jump out almost every time someone speaks on behalf of the union. For example, a high-ranking NHLPA official was just quoted as saying he couldn’t imagine the owners putting a worse proposal on the table than is there right now. Worse than an average salary of 1.3 million a year? Again, the public hears this and just sighs, stunned.

Fans don’t want to hear one more agent or player say, “Well, we didn’t make the owners give us the money. It’s not our fault”. This comment implies of course that owners are “dumb” for spending so much on players to begin with. Many won’t disagree. But hearing the comment repeated endlessly and stated as though the players are simply unwitting millionaire pawns leaves the public numb.

The players stress no one forced the owners to drive up salaries. True. But even if owners decided individually to use their ‘common sense” and set up their own informal wage ceiling, would teams be accused of collusion?

There is little question that pages could also be written about the all the baggage ownership brings to the table in this dispute — not to mention the often unseemly history of NHL ownership over the last many decades. It’s unlikely that many fans have any real sympathy for owners, or much care about the owners at all.

It is clear that there is no game without players. But most people also realize that without owners, there is no sport at all. You’d be left with just a bunch of talented athletes who may get together, barnstorm through the countryside and pass the hat out during a series of exhibition games against local competition from town to town.

Sympathetic figures or not, without those who have made huge profits in their various businesses, there would be no owners in professional sports. Hockey needs the successful entrepreneurs to survive and there aren’t that many of them around — at least not that many that can run a professional sports franchise efficiently and successfully.

And these owners expect to make significant money on their investment, including with their sports franchises.

There is one question that no one will answer, but is an interesting question nonetheless: If the current players refused to play under the conditions ownership wants, and if the NHL as we know it dissolved tomorrow and a new league started anew, would there be players to fill teams?

If players felt truly “free” to decide, on their own, without pressure from any particular corner, and did not feel they were crossing some sort of real or imagined picket line, it’s hard to imagine the answer would be anything but “yes”.

In other words, if the game started over again, could it work?

The answer is indeed yes. Players who may not be as gifted as current NHL’ers would play, and they would play for much, much less money just for the honor of playing in what might still be called the National Hockey League.

After all, isn’t that what the AHL and ECHL are right now, and for that matter, the European professional leagues? Good leagues made up of good players who, for the most part, are not quite NHL-players just yet?

They earn a good, steady, if unspectacular income. People pay to watch them play in various markets across Canada and the United States and Europe. Yet not one of the players complains publicly over little things, because there are dozens of other players just “below” them hoping and waiting for their chance.

Would people still pay to see the game if every current NHL’er quit the game?

Absolutely.

Real hockey fans love U.S. college hockey, Major Junior hockey, semi-pro hockey. If it’s well played, played hard by people who give their all, people will come and watch.

Imagine returning to a time when a parent could bring two or three kids to an NHL game and buy really good seats — park, eat something, and go home with change in their pocket after spending less than a hundred dollars.

Imagine returning to a time when, like in the Canadian Football League, the players realized they were fortunate to play a sport they love, be paid for it, and, like most everyone else in society, had the same financial insecurities most people face, once their career in sport are over.

As the economy has changed and evolved and ebbed and flowed over the last 15 or so years, tens of thousands of people have lost their jobs, struggled to find new employment, started over again.

Many people have had to “re-invent” themselves, to borrow the often-used phrase.

Maybe the players will finally realize that while many fans enjoy and appreciate their talents, they are no more special than anyone else simply because they are professional athletes.

Maybe it is time to start all over again. A new league. New players — eager, appreciative players who can repair the disconnect that is killing the relationship between athletes and fans, players who won’t balk at playing for, say, a few hundred thousand dollars a year, which is still more than the best medical specialists earn — people who can actually save lives through their education, training and “hard work”.

Professional hockey would still be, as many ruefully say, a “business”. But it would be a different kind of business.

One fans might understand.

If One More Player Says 6 Million Dollars is an Insult...

It’s happened yet again.

A professional athlete has come out and stated – clearly, and for the public record – that he is insulted by a contract offer that he has received.

The player in question is All-Pro cornerback Ty Law of the defending NFL Super Bowl Champion New England Patriots.

The actual monetary details won’t mean much to most of us – but for the record, he has turned down a contract extension offer of almost 30 million dollars over the next four years, and was evidently insulted, in his words, by the Patriots offer. He now says he never wants to play for the Patriots again. His current contact already calls for him to make over 6 million in 2004, more than 8 million in 2005.

I recall a time many years ago – I believe it was the late 1970/early 80’s. A top major league relief pitcher/closer by the name of Bruce Sutter was offered the then staggering amount of $700,000 a season.

His reaction? He said he was insulted. He had to, he said at the time, feed his family.

So we fast forward more than 20 years later, and such insult comes at a higher price, at least.

The hockey world is now battling ‘image’ problems in the wake of the (rightly so) highly publicized Todd Bertuzzi incident. But the problem facing hockey is not simply a matter of its often misguided ‘eye for eye’ system of justice and self-policing.

It is also the reality that the people who play the game are becoming more and more disconnected from the “fans” and those who really care about the game – the very people who help pay for those same players to play the game and earn their substantial incomes.

Salaries have spun totally, totally out of the realm of what ought to be. Not surprisingly, the cost of purchasing a ticket to see an NHL game in many markets is prohibitive for the “average” person.

Fighting – or causing – the same cycle is baseball, still struggling to recapture its luster and popularity in many markets almost 10 years after a disastrous strike/lockout.

And now we hear about football players who are “insulted” by offers that would provide them with more money than they could possibly spend in several lifetimes.

Basketball has long overpaid its athletes. (Recall that Kevin Garnett of the Minnesota Timberwolves, who has been earning millions since he was 18 years of age, was also “insulted” a few years ago by a 120 million dollar contract offer.)

How did we get here? How did we reach a point where these – albeit very talented, in most cases – individuals truly believe they are worth millions and millions of dollars – per season! – to play a game they love to play.

A few years ago, in a comment that was not as publicized as it should have been, a very popular NHL (and NHL Players Association leader) player was asked about the high cost of tickets for the average dad. His reply was, in essence: “If that dad can’t afford it, maybe he shouldn’t be taking his kids to a game”.

Hmm...

Does that sound like someone even remotely connected to reality? Someone with any sense of perspective? Yet this is a player lauded for his “community work”.

Much more recently, a prominent member of one of the most popular Canadian-based NHL teams said he was prepared to “sit out” for the rest of his career, before accepting any kind of salary cap in the upcoming round of collective bargaining with the league. (This player makes close to three million dollars a year, and will expect much more in his next contract.)

After his advisors likely informed him just how bad that comment sounded to fans everywhere and anywhere, the player tried to modify his comments the next day, too late to hide his true feelings.

Perhaps it could be said that these individuals are at least ‘being honest’ and are not simply giving pat, typical responses to media questions. But in the same breath, are these really the types of messages and attitudes these athletes want to convey to the public? Do they somehow think that saying these kinds of things will engender public sympathy or support? Are they so disconnected because of their high profile and wealth they don’t understand how poorly they are coming across?

Or do they just not care?

Sadly, riches can lead to a certain headiness, a lack or loss of perspective. Only when we are touched by significant loss of prestige or income, or by tragedy, illness, a sudden loss of a loved one, do some individuals regain balance in their life.

One wonders if many athletes, past and present, worked half as hard, and showed half as much appreciation for their good fortune as, for example, the average Special Olympics athlete does, how many of them would feel “insulted” by being offered a contract that makes them wealthy beyond anyone’s wildest imagination?

It's Hard to Have Perspective Sometimes

Something that has become clear to us over the years in the work that we do, is that athletes - by their own admission - often appreciate the life they HAD after they retire, more than the life they HAVE while they are still playing.


Often times athletes find the public demands and responsibilities that go hand-in-hand with being a high profile performer are, at best, frustrating. Demands from ownership/management, coaches, fans and media seem to become at times expectations that simply cannot be met to everyone’s satisfaction.


Sometimes an athlete simply does not understand or fully appreciate what those demands and expectations really are - and how best to deal with them.


Fair or not, this often leads to broken relationships with fans, media and coaches.


Sometimes only after they are out of the limelight, do these athletes fully appreciate the ‘celebrity’ that they had achieved; that they were ‘someone’, that people seemed to ‘care’ who they were and what they did.


In short, they not only miss the camaraderie of their teammates, the competition…they miss the attention, the limelight.


Not everyone, certainly. But many athletes are known to reflect - years after their retirement – on how much they miss just about everything about the game. They even miss some of the things they complained about when they were still playing.


Ironically, it is some of the same athletes who were uncooperative with fans and media, who hope to land plum media assignments when their careers are over, as a way of soothing the transition away from the game, and so as not to lose all of the many ‘perks’ associated with being a high-profile athlete.


Given their previous attitudes, that is not always easy to accomplish.


It is also true, unfortunately, that some athletes only realize after the fact—too late, often-- that the media, for example, does not have to be the enemy.


One of the finest basketball players of all time is former Milwaukee Buck and LA Laker legend Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, who entered the NBA more than 30 years ago as Lew Alcindor, out of UCLA.


While a brilliant performer on the court, the now Hall-of-Famer—despite often presenting as a thoughtful, articulate and sensitive individual—did not seem to carry that brilliance off the court. His relationship with those around him, including the fans and the media, it was often reported, was strained, at best.


Interestingly, Jabbar has struggled to find what many would see as his rightful and logical place in the game. He has long desired to be a Head Coach. He was for a short while an assistant coach with the Los Angeles Clippers during a troubled time in their history a few years back, but has apparently never been offered a top job either in the NBA, or at the NCAA level.


He now enjoys a position as a Head Coach with a minor-league club in the United States.


In reflecting upon his life and career during a recent conversation with ESPN.COM, Abdul-Jabbar spoke of what the game means to him now. His comments are quite revealing:


“It’s kind of an opportunity for me to give something back to the game, and to get something from the game, through teaching it, that I had no idea of. Being an administrator, dealing with the fans and the players and the owners and the press differently than I did in the past. You know, I was great on the court, but I wasn’t too good in those other areas.”


When asked if this was something he was conscious of trying to change or turn around, he replied, “No, it’s just…I can be better at it. I understand now what it means and how to do it. Reporters used to ask me the same inane questions year-in and year-out, city-to-city, and it would drive me crazy. But I understand now that there are people who are just coming into the game, and they have no idea, and that question—whatever it is—at this point, is very new to them. While it’s decades old for me, it’s new to them, and I have to understand that that’s something I can give them”.


Most of us, as we age, acquire through life experience a kind of wisdom, along with a respect for the job that others do—or have to do. This wisdom sometimes allows us to understand things we did not try to understand before.


Much like not appreciating something—our health, a friend—before it is gone, we sometimes wait until late in the game to put ourselves in other people’s shoes.


For many current athletes, Abdul-Jabbar’s comments are worthy of reflection. It appears as though one of the greatest talents of his generation recognizes now, in retrospect, that his “off-field” demeanor did not match up well with his on-court performance. He struggled “beyond the game”.


And as importantly, he seems to be acknowledging that maybe it would have been better had he looked at things a little differently earlier on.

John Rocker, One Year Later. Where Were Rocker's "People"?

It would be difficult to find a thoughtful individual who was not in some way troubled by the comments attributed to former Atlanta Braves pitcher John Rocker over the winter prior to the 2001 major league baseball season.

At the time, Rocker was a young man, in his mid-20's, an emerging star with the Atlanta Braves, a perennial contender.

Reports indicate a writer from Sports Illustrated approached him over the winter to, more or less, 'spend a day' with the young left-hander.

A couple of weeks later a story appeared in the national sports magazine that quoted Rocker extensively. Sadly, many of Rocker's comments were harsh, hurtful-at best insensitive, to many observers much more than that.

Clearly, Rocker's comments, regardless of whether he was expressing what he really felt, or was 'playing up to the reporter', were disappointing - and hurt - many people.
That what the young athlete evidently said was thoughtless and harmful is not in question.

But the entire scenario raises some questions when it comes to the relationship between athletes and reporters.

The question is not necessarily, "Did Rocker mean what he said?" Or, whether he should have said what he reportedly said. Of course, he was wrong to do so.

The issue is not whether he thought he was 'off the record'. That should not make any difference. If a high profile business leader, entertainer or athlete talks to a reporter, he or she should expect to be quoted-regardless of whether they believe there is some spoken or unspoken agreement that their comments will not be attributed to them.

The question is not even "Was he taken out of context?" His comments were so specific, so thoughtless, that that excuse seems implausible.

The question we must ask is: "Where was Rocker's support system?"

The point is not to absolve Rocker of blame. He has been 'punished' for stating his harmful views publicly. The reactions included extensive negative media reaction, teammates reportedly avoiding him, a suspension, two trades and a recent demotion to the minors that leave his career and future under a cloud.

Again, the question is: "Who helped him prepare for this interview? Where was his agent? The team's public relations advisors? Was no one aware of the plan to have this young athlete spend an entire day with a reporter? If not, why not?"

Who took the time to sit down with a young athlete, perhaps naive regarding the ways of the media, and explain to him the "do's and don'ts" of speaking with the media?

Again, no one should seek to absolve Rocker of responsibility for his comments. We as individuals - including professional athletes - are accountable for our actions.

But it only makes sense that young athletes should have someone to help guide them in the best ways to handle themselves 'off the field'.

Hopefully someone to remind them that, like it or not, they are a role model for many youngsters. They have an image. Their public thoughts do matter, and can cause harm.
Those thoughts, expressed publicly, can harm an individual's future, too.

That someone feels the things that John Rocker evidently felt when he spoke to that reporter is sad. That he uttered them for public consumption leaves an empty feeling as well.

That no one was there in advance to lend a hand reminds us that virtually all young athletes - sometimes even million-dollar athletes - need support sometimes, too, from very early on in their career.