The Baldest Truth

Everybody loves a big-time college athlete who chooses Boolah! Boolah! Boolah! over moolah-moolah-moolah.

How loyal of him to stay in school with his buddies instead of wandering out into the cold, cruel world of professional sports. How noble. How heroic.

How shortsighted.

I have my doubts about Jimmy Clausen being good enough to star on Sundays. Nevertheless, if NFL scouts love the Notre Dame quarterback so much that he’ll be a top draft pick next April, he only has one intelligent choice.

Go pro, kid, go pro.

Clausen shouldn’t make the same $80 million mistake Sam Bradford did. He shouldn’t stay in school because it’s fun. I’d give the same advice to Washington QB Jake Locker and any other underclassman who is top-10 material.

They can have plenty of fun in the NFL. If they have to, they can buy fun. They should think about the primary purpose of college: To prepare a young person for life and for the profession he or she wants to enter when the keggers, study halls, hook-ups and final exams are finished.

Bradford is the cautionary tale of all cautionary tales. He probably would have been the first pick in last year’s draft but he decided to stay at Oklahoma because, he said, “My three years here have been probably three of the best years of my life.”

He added: “I really feel that there is no need to cut this experience short.”

Need, no. Reason, yes.

Through the end of last season, the University of Oklahoma experience did for Bradford exactly what it was supposed to do. As the reigning Heisman Trophy winner and a kid generally considered the best QB available, he surely would have received more money than eventual No. 1 pick Matthew Stafford did from the Lions ($41.7 million guaranteed, with a chance to earn as much as $78 million).

Instead, Sam Bradford is damaged goods.

The first shoulder injury, suffered in this season’s opener, probably didn’t hurt his stock for the 2010 draft too much.

When he went down hard on the shoulder again last week, however, it meant only two words to NFL teams:

Injury.

Prone.

Where will Bradford be drafted now? In the middle of the first round, where his guaranteed take probably would be around $10 million? In the second, where he’d be lucky to get half that? In the third, where seven-figure signing bonuses are rare? Later? It’s a distinct possibility, especially if he isn’t in top shape come Combine time in February.

Obviously, when it comes to risk-reward ratios, it’s foolish for a top-tier college football player to delay his pro career.

Yeah, but what about Tim Tebow? Few say he should have left Florida after leading the Gators to last season's mythical title. Apples and oranges, folks. NFL talent evaluators weren’t even sure he had pro QB skills. (In fact, some still aren’t.) Tebow had to return and prove he was worth the high pick and the big bucks.

As for Clausen, he gets lots of ink because he’s at Notre Dame. OK, but did anybody who watched the USC game really believe he was the best QB on the field?

Matt Barkley had better stats, made more big plays and didn’t misfire repeatedly at the end with the game on the line.

The Trojans are 5-0 in Barkley’s starts, 0-1 in the game he missed. He performed superbly at Ohio State and at Notre Dame - giving him two more signature victories in half a season than Clausen has had in three years.

Yet we seldom hear Barkley’s name in the Heisman discussion because he’s a freshman. Clausen, meanwhile, is a Golden Domer. Nuff said.

Reason No. 849 why the Heisman is a sham.

Anyway, if Clausen finishes strongly against the non-USC-type opponents on ND’s remaining schedule, he certainly will be projected as an early draft choice, maybe even No. 1.

If so, he should go.

Why come back for another year under Charlie Weis, whose tutelage neither improved Brady Quinn’s draft status nor made Quinn an instant NFL star?

Cash over co-eds. Sunday's dough over Saturday's show. Moolah over boolah.

Those are the simple economics of football, a violent business in which one play, one hit, one cheap shot, one accidental collision can put a serious dent in a future paycheck or even end a career entirely.

Read Mike Nadel's musings daily at TheBaldestTruth.com.

The Bald Truth

Face it, the New England Patriots deserved to lose to the Denver Broncos. I mean, tails? Come on! Anybody with an ounce of intelligence, talent, guts and toughness (not to mention extra-sensory perception) knew the pre-overtime coin flip would come up heads.

Tails? As soon as Vince Wilfork said, "Tails," it was over.

What a league. The NFL measures first downs by fractions of an inch. A play is viewed and reviewed 100 times in super-slo-mo to make sure the officials got the call right. Quarterbacks get their marching orders via speakers in their helmets. Aerial shots of plays are available within nanoseconds so dozens of assistant coaches can break down plays on the sidelines.

All of this technology helps make it more likely that the "right" team will win on any given Sunday.

And yet the Patriots lost in Denver because Wilfork said "tails" instead of "heads." The Broncos got the kickoff, advanced into New England territory and kicked a field goal. Tom Brady might as well have gone home early to Gisele; at least then he would have had a chance to score.

OK, technically, the coin flip didn't "cost" the Patriots the game. There was no rule saying the New England defense had to let Kyle Orton march his charges down the field in OT as if the Broncos were playing 11-on-7.

But really, in 2009, isn't there a better way?

The answer, of course, is yes. At college stadiums every Saturday, games tied after regulation eventually end in exciting - and equitable - fashion.

Why the NFL refuses to run its overtimes the same way, giving each team at least one possession at the opponent's 25-yard line, I only can attribute to stubbornness.

The Balder Truth

The league actually could improve upon the NCAA rule by making each OT possession start at the 50. That way, a team wouldn't be in field-goal range right out of the box. An offense would have to get at least one first down to earn a shot at points.

Given what's on the line - victories, defeats, playoff berths, jobs and a few billion friendly wagers - I'll take a fair rule vs. dumb luck every time.

THE BALDEST TRUTH

While the NFL's overtime solution should be a no-brainer, MLB's umpiring conundrum is much more vexing.

Already this postseason, there have been so many blown calls - most of them in crucial situations - that Bud Selig is even more red-faced than usual.

How embarrassing was that Chase Utley fiasco in the ninth inning of Sunday's Phillies-Rockies game? The home-plate umpire (and his five colleagues) didn't see that Utley fouled the baseball off of his leg, turning what should have been a foul ball into a slow roller. Then, Utley got away with running well inside the baseline. Then, the throw to first beat Utley but the ump there blew the call, too, resulting in an infield hit that sparked Philly's winning rally in the series' pivotal game.

Kind of a Buy-One-Get-Two-Free Sale on umpiring incompetence.

Really, though, what are Selig and his minions supposed to do? More replay reviews? Postseason games already take forever. Even managers burned by lousy calls have said interrupting play to review every borderline call would ruin a pitcher's rhythm and upset a game's flow.

Selig always could double the size of the postseason crews from six to an even dozen. That's one umpire for each fielder, one for the batter, one for the on-deck hitter and one to make sure that neither Jeffrey Maier nor Steve Bartman are in the ballpark.

You can never have enough umpires, I always say.

Or here's an idea the Commish is sure to like: Any controversial call involving an All-Star Game participant would favor that player; if the play involves two or more All-Stars, the call would favor the player who performed best in the Midsummer Classic.

Can't you just hear Fox's slogan now? "More than ever, this time it really, really, REALLY counts."

Read Mike Nadel's musings daily at TheBaldestTruth.com.

What will Tuesday’s one-game playoff between the Twins and Tigers look like to viewers three decades from now? Different, if history is a guide. Very, very different.

While channel-surfing over the weekend, I happened upon the MLB Network's airing of the famous (or infamous, if you’re a Bostonian) 1978 Yankees-Red Sox showdown - The Bucky Bleepin' Dent Game.

As a college freshman back then, I skipped all of my afternoon classes to watch it in my dorm room. On my trusty, 19-inch, black-and-white Zenith with the rabbit-ear antenna, of course.

I had seen bits and pieces of the game since, but this weekend marked the first time I re-experienced it in its entirety. While watching it this time on my 50-inch HD Sony, so many things struck me as interesting ...

The graphics and camera angles were from another era - sometime between the Cenozoic and Precambrian, I believe.

I mean, we couldn't even see Dent's home run. We never saw the ball off the bat, never saw the flight, never saw it settle into the net above the Green Monster. If the announcers hadn't told us it was a homer and if we hadn't seen Dent's gleeful trot around the bases, we never would have known.

To look at him, Goose Gossage didn’t seem especially intimidating.

For one thing, he didn't have the menacing mustache that became his trademark. For another, as my wife said: "Jeez, look at how little he is." And Goose wasn't the only bigger-than-life figure who actually wasn’t very big at all. Jim Rice was borderline skinny. Ron Guidry couldn't have weighed 165 pounds. Even Reggie Jackson bore little resemblance to today’s home-run hitters.

Here was the most fearsome reliever of the era, two future Hall of Fame sluggers and a dominant power pitcher ... and they practically were stick figures. Who could have known that in less than a decade, bulked-up, bench-pressing ballplayers would be using their keisters as pincushions?

Situational pitching - one-batter relief specialists and set-up men - was still a twinkle in Tony La Russa’s eye.

Leading 2-0, Boston starter Mike Torrez got into trouble in the seventh. As soon as Jim Spencer was announced as a pinch-hitter, just about any of today's managers would have gotten a lefty into the game pronto. Don Zimmer, as was the norm then, left Torrez in. Torrez got Spencer out but, within a New York minute, Dent was a legend.

Guidry, meanwhile, was working his third straight start on 3-days' rest - his only outings with fewer than 4-days’ rest the entire season - and he had pitched complete games his previous two times out. Though he clearly didn't have the kind of stuff that made him a 25-game winner that year, Bob Lemon let him pitch into the seventh inning.

Back then, an All-Star closer really earned his paycheck.

When Guidry finally did depart with one out in the seventh, he was replaced by Gossage, who got the final eight outs for the save. It was the 39th time that year Goose worked more than one inning - including five outings of at least 2 2-3 innings in the season’s final three weeks. It also was the 35th time he entered a game with runners on base.

Those were saves - unlike the wussy saves “earned” by today’s overpaid closers, who almost always enter a game to start the ninth and just about never work more than one inning. It makes one appreciate throwback Mariano Rivera all the more.

Lou Piniella was a darn good ballplayer.

These days, most people think of Piniella as an almost-retired, former hellraiser of a manager with a beachball stuffed under his uniform. But there he was 31 years ago, batting third on a great Yankees team that included Jackson, Thurman Munson, Graig Nettles and Chris Chambliss. He wasn’t a home-run guy but was a reliable clutch bat with gap power.

I remembered all that. What I had forgotten was that he was an underrated outfielder whose intelligence and instincts made up for his lack of speed. Piniella saved two sixth-inning runs with a running catch near the right-field line, and he saved the game in the ninth when he prevented the tying run from scoring by acting as if he was going to catch a ball he had lost briefly in Fenway’s wicked afternoon sun. As a result, Rick Burleson only went from first to second on Jerry Remy’s one-out single and couldn’t score when the next batter, Rice, hit a deep fly. Carl Yastrzemski then popped out, ending one of baseball’s most memorable afternoons.

Unlike today, when even little guys swing for the fences on every pitch, ballplayers back then knew their roles and realized their limitations.

At least a half-dozen hitters in that game - including Dent - choked up several inches on the bat. By doing so, they increased their chances of fouling off a tough pitch and living to see another. Before delivering his Beantown bomb, Dent fouled a nasty slider off of his left foot and limped around for several minutes. We’ll never know how the delay affected Torrez, but we already know how it affected Dent - and history.

Read Mike Nadel's musings daily at TheBaldestTruth.com.

When Chicago luminaries descend upon Copenhagen to charm IOC voters before Friday’s big Olympic-city choice, Al Capone will be smiling up from his eternal resting place.

It’s gonna be one helluva show.

Rio? Madrid? Tokyo? Please. They’ve got all the star power of the Pirates - after a few more trades with the Red Sox and Cubs.

While IOC types no doubt will be swayed by the Windy City icons blowing into Denmark, those of us who have lived here or visited for an extended time don’t need Oprah, Obama or other Olympic-class orators to convince us Chicago is a great city.

We know. And yet some of us wonder ...

Will getting the Games be the best thing to happen to Chicago since the Trail Blazers drafted Sam Bowie? Or the worst thing since Michael Jordan was chased out of town by Jerrys Krause & Reinsdorf?

Though I disagree with Mayor-for-life Daley that we “need” the 2016 Games to prove something - we already are world-class, Your Eminence - I do agree we’d reap some nice benefits.

Having covered five Olympics in five different countries, I’ve seen the good they can do. Those in Lillehammer for the ’94 Games who didn’t feel the magic must have been wearing magic-proof vests.

As a 15-year Chicago resident, however, I’m more than a little skeptical - and more than a lot concerned - about the potential for corruption of Olympic proportions.

Because when it comes to corruption, Chicago almost always realizes its full potential.

Let’s not even talk about Illinois’ last two elected governors, one in jail and the other knocking at the door. Nor should we blather on about the Cook County Board, which pushed through an unnecessary cash grab that makes Chicago the nation’s undisputed sales-tax gold medalist.

(While us commoners hear 10.25 percent and moan every time we go to the store, our elected officials chant: “We’re No. 1! We’re No. 1!”)

No, we don’t even need county and state hi-jinx to have fun in Chicago, where Mayor-for-life Daley is the ultimate wheeler, dealer, schemer and dreamer.

A thousand times the man promised that taxpayers wouldn’t be on the hook should Olympic costs exceed projections. Then, in one cleverly timed rope-a-dope move, he put us on the hook, dangled us to the sharks and shoveled out the chum.

It was Classic Daley, who never met a project too large nor a budget too small.

Let’s say Chicago gets the 2016 Games. (Really, can there be any doubt?) If you guess that 8 out of every 10 Olympic development dollars eventually will go to cronies of our mayor and other elected officials, I will call you naive for making such a gross underestimation.

Don’t worry, officials say, we’ll be transparent in everything we do.

How very reassuring, coming from folks who never fib, never understate a project’s expense, never rob from the poor to give to the rich.

So you see why I’m a tad conflicted about the 2016 Chicago Olympics.

Our infrastructure - trains, roadways, sewers, etc. - would get the major help it sorely needs. Many blighted areas would be beautified. There would be a heightened sense of community pride. The honchos promise all of this, and I have little doubt they’ll deliver.

If it means a few well-connected palms get greased over the next seven years, who are we commoners to quibble?

Negative nabobs say stuff like: “Wouldn’t it be nice if the mayor and his cronies were this motivated to fix our broken schools, shelter our homeless, feed our starving, aid our sick and improve the lives of one and all?”

C’mon folks, look at the big picture! I mean, we’ll be getting a velodrome, won’t we?

Many worry there will be more crime, perhaps even terrorist attacks. My Olympic experience tells me those should be the least of anyone’s concerns. Security will be tight. Chicago will be far safer during that 2016 fortnight than it will be tomorrow.

Congestion? Gridlock? Sure. But few seemed to mind the Loop being shut down for three days while Oprah filmed her season opener.

We’ll handle the Olympic inconvenience just fine. Smart folks will get out of town and rent out their homes, anyway. Chicagoans have great entrepreneurial spirit.

Some say only the rich will be able to attend events. While that’s true of Opening and Closing Ceremonies and other marquee events, there will be thousands of reasonably priced tickets available for the less-hyped events. Many even will be free. Don’t knock triathlon until you’ve seen it.

No, the Games themselves will be the good part. It’s the preliminary events that worry me.

The handouts. The insider deals. The glad-handing. The siphoning of money from our schools through tax-increment-financing schemes. The fleecing of gullible commoners. The make-believe transparency. The slush funds. The bribes. The blackmail. The political grandstanding.

But enough about the first 24 hours after we get awarded the Games.

If you’re confused about where I stand on all of this, get in line ... behind me.

I love the idea of the Olympics in Chicago.

I’m far less enthused about an Olympic-scale, Chicago-style Corrupt-A-Thon ... unless, of course, a few kickbacks for bald sports-hacks are part of the deal.

Read Mike Nadel’s musings daily at TheBaldestTruth.com.

The Bald Truth

Had Chad Ochocinco held up a sign imploring the NFL not to fine him - recreating one of his best stunts from the olden days, back when he was just another Johnson - he'd have been punished because the league would have said the sign was a prop and the celebration wasn't spontaneous.

By doing the Lambeau Leap, however, Ochocinco was spared any sanctions. Never mind that the move was every bit as premeditated (in the days leading up to the Bengals' victory over the Packers, he had promised to leap if he scored) and also involved props (namely, the wall and the back-patting fans).

Such is the silliness of the NFL's anti-celebration rules.

Wes Welker is penalized for making a snow angel immediately after scoring a touchdown; Donald Driver isn't punished for scoring, hugging his teammates, searching out exactly where he wants to leap and then launching his body into the stands. Beautiful.

Believe me, this isn't another diatribe against today's overly demonstrative athletes. I liked T.O.'s Sharpie. Just as I liked the Ickey Shuffle, the gyrations of White Shoes Johnson and the way the Harold Carmichael-era Eagles rolled the football in the end zone as if they were shooting craps.

It's entertainment. It's big boys playing a kid's game. It's supposed to be fun for jocks and fans alike.

Only taunting - an idiot getting in the face of the guy he just beat - should be punished. The examples in the preceding paragraph were not taunting at all ... at least no more than the Lambeau Leap is.

The Balder Truth

While non-taunting celebrations are harmless and fun, here's an idea for coddled divas and other assorted TD-makers:

Wait until you actually reach the end zone to celebrate.

Why do guys insist upon slowing down 20 yards from the end zone or holding the ball aloft 10 yards before they get in or spiking the ball when they think they are one inch inside the goal line?

You'd have thought Don Beebe's Super-pantsing of Leon Lett would have cured this disease once and for all ... but you'd have been wrong.

In the Packers-Bengals game, Charles Woodson picked off Carson Palmer and went 37 yards for the TD. Woodson slowed before he got to the end zone and, a nanosecond after stepping in, he placed the football on the goal line. What if the ref screwed up and called it a fumble and replays weren't conclusive enough to reverse the call?

Woodson would have been humiliated, his coaches would have been livid, the Packers would have been denied a huge play and fans rightly would have rained boos down on him.

And for what? What did Woodson have to gain by doing it?

Score first, then celebrate. Seems pretty simple, no?

THE BALDEST TRUTH

This week's NFL High Five:

5. Very nice of Eagles coach Andy Reid to call time-out with 14 seconds left in a 26-point loss so Kevin Kolb could finish his first career start with his third INT of the day.

4. Word is, Herschel Walker is moving into the world of mixed martial arts. This new career promises to be every bit as successful and satisfying as his Olympic bobsled experience. You know, at 47 years old, even Brett Favre will have decided to get out of our faces for good.

3. Many of the same Chicagoans who opined last week that Jay Cutler was a fraud now have decided he's the QB the team has needed for ages. Yes, we'd hate to wait until the postseason to make a definitive declaration about Cutler's competence, right?

2. Other QBs get more hype, but nobody's more fun to watch than Drew Brees.

1. Good to see the Rams coming around so nicely.

Read Mike Nadel’s musings daily at TheBaldestTruth.com.

The Bald Truth

Rip Charlie Weis for being a braggart whose real-world results fall short of his lofty view of himself. Rip him for winning only 10 games in two years. Rip him because Notre Dame gets annihilated just about every time it plays a top-tier opponent. Rip him for his sizable role in making Fighting Irish football increasingly irrelevant.

Just don’t rip him for trying to win a game, OK?

With 2 1/2 minutes left and the Irish leading Michigan by 3, Weis had Jimmy Clausen attempt passes on second-and-10 and third-and-10. The throws fell incomplete, stopping the clock, letting the Wolverines conserve their two time-outs and bringing the fury down on Weis after Michigan rallied to win.

Alums, students, media and other assorted experts wanted to know: How could Tuna Jr. be so stupid?

Of course, had Clausen completed either pass - especially the second, to wide-open Shaquelle Evans - Weis would have been applauded for having the guts to believe in a passing attack that had burned Michigan for 336 yards.

Hey, I know how it works, and so does Weis. It’s the whole coaches-get-too-much-blame/too-much-credit deal. Goes with the gig.

And when you go through an extended period of stinkage, as Mr. Decided Schematic Advantage has in South Bend, you punt away all benefit-of-the-doubt rights.

Look, Notre Dame obviously could find several coaches who’d do better than Charlie Weis has done. And the school probably wouldn’t have to give any of them the kind of 200-year contract Weis wrangled for accomplishing next to nothing.

Still, can’t we try to be at least a little objective here?

Let's say Weis sent his backup tailback (because the starter was hurt) into the line twice, Michigan used time-outs and Notre Dame punted. The Wolverines still would have had well over two minutes to put themselves in position for the tying field goal or winning TD.

In the NFL, that’s lots of time. In college football, with the clock stopping after every first down, it’s an eternity.

Oh, and ND's defense, lousy for most of Weis’ tenure, hadn't exactly been stout to that point.

So Weis didn’t want to see Michigan’s offense take the field again. He trusted Clausen, a third-year starter. He went for the victory.

If you’re a football fan, think about how often you whine about your coach getting too conservative on offense or playing that damn prevent defense while trying to protect a late lead. Why doesn't he just stay aggressive and go with what put him ahead? Why does he play not to lose instead of to win?

Well, Charlie Weis played to win. And the whiners are out in fully force, anyway.

Wouldn’t it be more reasonable to wait for just cause before ripping him a new one?

Odds are, given Tuna Jr.’s track record, the wait won’t be long.

The Balder Truth

"Consistent" isn't a synonym for "good."

Athletes and coaches seem to think it is, saying things such as, “We need to be more consistent,” when what they mean is, “We need to play well for a change.”

I mean, weren’t the 2008 Lions amazingly consistent?

Over the long haul, it's hard to beat the consistency of the Pirates, who haven't sniffed a winning record for 17 years running.

And over the really, really long haul, the Cubs have no equal.

Now wrapping up Year No. 101 of its multi-phase rebuilding plan, Chicago National League Ball Club Inc. is the very definition of consistent.

THE BALDEST TRUTH

In Bear Country, comparing Jay Cutler to Rex Grossman is all the rage. And it’s so unfair.

To Grossman!

In three career starts at Green Bay, he was 39-of-67 (58 percent) for 660 yards, with 3 TDs and 3 INTs - a passer rating of 87.9. Of the three, his worst single-game rating was 68.4. And in 2006, a Super Bowl season for Rex & the Bears, Grossman had a 98.6 rating in the opener at Lambeau Field.

Now let’s review how Bears Savior J.C. fared in the national spotlight Sunday night: 17-of-36 (47 percent), 277 yards, 1 TD, 4 INTs. That’s a rating of 43.2.

Oh, and don’t forgot the most important statistic of all:

Grossman was a perfect 3-0 at Green Bay, Cutler a slightly less-than-perfect 0-1.

Jeesh. You know things are bad when your savior quarterback - the dude who choked down the stretch as the Broncos blew an almost certain division title last year - doesn’t perform even a fraction as well as the guy you couldn’t wait to run out of town.

Read Mike Nadel’s musings daily at TheBaldestTruth.com.

This week’s college football Top 10:

1. Alabama

2. BYU

3. Oklahoma State

4. Boise State

5. Miami

6. Oklahoma

7. Cal

8. Oregon

9. Virginia Tech

10. (tie) Florida, Texas

And, frankly, Florida and Texas probably shouldn’t be rated that high after steamrolling high school JV squads.

Just because they were ranked 1-2 before the season’s first scandal doesn’t mean the Gators and Longhorns should be grandfathered into the top two spots once play starts. Not when other schools are passing true on-field tests.

But in the “official” rankings - the USA Today coaches' poll - there they are, right at the top. And hey, there’s USC moving up from No. 4 to No. 3 after its nailbiting 56-3 victory over powerhouse San Jose State. And there’s No. 7 Ohio State, somehow staying ranked ahead of Cal, Boise State, BYU and others after lucking out against Navy.

Jeesh. And we thought Iran’s elections were rigged.

As much as the lack of a playoff system fries my bacon, that’s not the single biggest problem with the BCS. No, it’s that the deck is stacked against the precious few with the cojones to play legitimate September schedules.

Even if Oklahoma defeated BYU and Virginia Tech beat Alabama, the Sooners and Hokies still wouldn’t have advanced in the rankings ahead of Florida and Texas - who tucked in their napkins, grabbed their forks and feasted upon Cupcake U. and Twinkie State.

By taking a chance and losing, however, Oklahoma and Virginia Tech were dealt crippling blows to their title hopes and uphill climbs to the best bowls.

The voting habits of coaches (or their assistants, secretaries, SIDs or whoever else casts those ballots) serve as a tremendous disincentive for top programs to play peers before the conference season starts.

To avoid just the kind of fate Oklahoma, Virginia Tech and a few other risk-takers suffered last weekend, the honchos at most major programs schedule as many hyphenated compass-point schools as possible.

East Tennessee State-Clarksville, anyone?

As a result, there’s no way to compare teams from different conferences and regions. Yet that’s exactly what the coaches/voters - who ultimately play a huge role in deciding the schools in the mythical title game and other big-bucks bowls - attempt to do.

(Writers vote in the AP poll. But realizing the conflict of interest, AP wisely removed its pollsters from figuring in the BCS equation several years ago.)

Florida is the best ... why? Because the Gators are willing to take on those juggernauts from Charleston Southern, Troy and Florida International, all in Gainesville?

Not that I really blame Urban Meyer & Co. They’d have nothing to gain and everything to lose by playing Miami, USC and Boise State instead.

In Illinois, many fans are upset with AD Ron Guenther for agreeing to an annual game against Missouri. The Failing Illini have dropped five straight in the series, including Saturday’s 37-9 humiliation.

Oh, for a 44-13 victory over Northeastern Missouri A&M!

If I had a vote, I would always make strength-of-schedule an important factor. I’d rather give Virginia Tech credit for losing to Alabama than reward Penn State for its epic triumph over the Mighty Zips of Akron.

I’d rather reward Oregon for having the guts to play on Boise State’s blue turf than Georgia Tech for snoozing through 60 minutes of “action” against Jacksonville State.

And I sure as shootin’ would rather reward Oklahoma State for its decisive victory over Georgia than a mess of others for laughing their way past Week 1 weaklings.

Giving top programs “value points” for mixing it up with each other during the non-conference season is the only way to make September truly matter on a national scale.

It makes so much sense, it will never happen.

Though we can argue from now until January about which conferences are the best, BYU can’t do much about being in the allegedly inferior Mountain West. What BYU can do is schedule tough non-league opponents - and it did just that with Oklahoma and Florida State.

While Saturday’s neutral-site victory over Oklahoma could help the Cougars in the big-money bowl picture, even an unbeaten season would give them zero chance to surpass Texas if the Longhorns also go undefeated.

Before the season began, voters were just too freakin' impressed that the ’Horns hooked a schedule featuring Louisiana-Monroe, Wyoming, UTEP and Central Florida.

(Read Mike Nadel's musings daily at TheBaldestTruth.com.)

Heisman Trophy voters in 1973 and 1974 were so impressed with Walter Payton's achievements at Jackson State - where Sweetness set the NCAA scoring record, ran wild against every defense, passed for nearly 500 yards, booted field goals and extra points, returned kicks and, sources say, played trombone at halftime - that they shrugged and selected dozens of significantly less talented, far less accomplished players.

To recap: Payton arguably was the best ballcarrier of all time (as well as Mike Ditka's choice as greatest football player ever), yet he couldn’t wrest Heisman votes away from Woody Green and Gary Sheide.

Which pretty much tells us all we need to know about the sham that is the Heisman Trophy.

But wait - as the infomercial dudes like to say - there’s more!

One of my sportswriter friends dislikes college football, so he rarely watches it. Another occasionally catches highlights on TV but otherwise pretty much ignores the sport. OK, everybody doesn’t have to love - or even like - college football, right? Of course not, though it might be nice if folks with Heisman ballots at least pretend to care.

Another media mope I know who had a vote back in 1988 freely admitted he selected Steve Walsh over Barry Sanders because “I know Steve Walsh. I know his father. I don’t know Barry Sanders.”

A few years ago, a well-known sportswriter with a radio show invited callers to make his Heisman choice for him. The player who got the most love from listeners would get the check mark on the scribe’s ballot as the most outstanding college football player in the land.

Wait ... let’s get real here. More often than not, the Heisman Trophy does not go to the most outstanding college football player in the land.

It goes to the most-hyped quarterback or tailback for a high-ranked, major-conference team.

Defensive players? Forget about it. And don’t throw Charles Woodson in my face. The Michigan cornerback only won it in 1997 because he made sensational catches as a wide receiver. Had he not played both ways, he would have had about as much chance to out-hype QBs as I do to steal Angelina from Brad. (Still, Brad is weirdly jealous of me. Go figure.)

Small schools? Nope. Even after setting an NCAA record with 27 TD catches in 1984, Mississippi Valley State’s Jerry Rice drew a collective shrug from voters who understandably preferred Robbie Bosco and Greg Allen.

Historically black schools? No way. See: Payton, Walter.

Offensive linemen? Ha! There isn’t enough Winstrol and Durabolin in the world to get them in the discussion.

Great players on bad teams? Not since Paul Hornung. And he had the built-in advantage of being at Notre Dame in the ’50s.

Division II or Division III players? Now that's funny!

Despite its popularity among the masses, the Heisman Trophy is probably the least credible major award in all of sports because the balloting and the concept are so flawed. (Darn. There goes my invitation to join the Downtown Athletic Club.)

This season hasn’t even started and already “The Heisman Watch” is a fixture on the air, online and in print. What were we supposed to have been watching? The way Heisman candidates carry themselves on media day?

In its preview issue, Sports Illustrated ran a fold-out section topped with the screaming headline: “The Great Heisman Race.” Race? Although the piece had the likes of Oregon’s Jeremiah Masoli, Cal’s Jahvid Best and Penn State’s Daryll Clark in the mix, everybody knows the only way Tim Tebow, Sam Bradford or Colt McCoy won’t win the thing is if all three get caught playing Naked Gay Beer Pong at a Klan convention.

And to think, SI instead could have given us a centerfold featuring Pac-10 cheerleaders wearing only body paint and smiles. Sigh.

As with college football itself - in which the top-ranked preseason teams have a golden path to the Mythical Championship Game - the Heisman “race” strongly favors QBs who are hyped to the hilt months before the season’s first blown interference call.

Simply stated, the fix is in. As usual.

Were I a Heisman voter, I would do as much research as humanly possible ... and then I would select the very best left tackle or defensive end or safety: my very own little protest vote.

Or maybe I’d do no research at all and simply let my readers make the call for me.

Or maybe I’d just pick a guy I know personally. As long as he's a pass-throwing guy, of course.

Regardless of my method for choosing my winner, I wouldn't be making the Heisman Trophy any more of a crock than it already is.

Read more of Mike Nadel’s musings daily at TheBaldestTruth.com.

The Bald Truth

Someday, Milton Bradley will laugh and laugh when he looks back at his first season in Cubbieland.

"Man, 2009 was cuh-ray-zee!" he'll say. "I'm glad I survived it. I mean, I bet nobody thought we'd win even one World Series, let alone five straight!"

Or something like that.

The Balder Truth

What a piece of work this guy is. He blames others for his problems, makes vague references about racism at Wrigley Field but refuses to cite any examples and spars with everybody from his manager to the umps to the media to the fans.

He's on his seventh team this decade, but it's always the other dude's fault.

During Thursday's loss to the laughingstock Nationals, he was booed after each of his five futile at-bats. More "idiots" spewing "hatred" - his words - after being misinformed by the evil media.

His take afterward: "A bunch of people come in here for a couple hours a day wanna ask you controversial questions knowing that you're gonna give them a legit answer and twist everything around and make it a story."

OK, he was asked, what got twisted?

"Well, you know, it's not really a need to get into it because you can't win. I'm just trying to give an honest answer. I don't see why people can't respect how you feel. You can't say that a person's feelings are wrong. And unless you've been paid 30 million to play right field for the Chicago Cubs, then you can't speak on how I might feel because you don't know.

"It's not about me, it's about the team. Again, let's try to make all the focus about Milton Bradley. Ryan Theriot can answer all your questions. Derrek Lee can answer all your questions. Geovany Soto can answer all your questions. Those are the guys you need to talk to. Those are the guys that have been here and got the politically correct answers for you. I've just got to give it to you straight."

Lovely non-answer, Mr. Straight-Shooter.

Yep, while his teammates bow to mighty media mopes like me, he's too damn honest to do so. Ipso fatso, nobody appreciates the magnificence that is Milton. Oy.

Bradley presents quite a conundrum for the Cubs. He has two more years left on his contract ... yet it's clear the experiment ain't working.

Clearly, Lou Piniella isn't an admirer. While his teammates don't appear to dislike him, they seem perfectly content to let him reside alone on Milton Island. And the fans? Most have moved him well ahead of Alfonso Soriano on the list of Cubbies We'd Like Gone Yesterday.

But how do you get rid of an overpaid, underproductive malcontent?

Well, Jim Hendry did manage to trade Sammy Sosa back in '04, so there's hope in Cubbieland. Then again, Hendry might not make it to another offseason, partly because he took a chance on Bradley.

Quite a conundrum, indeed.

THE BALDEST TRUTH

The shame of it is that Bradley might actually have something important to say about an important issue.

This is my 15th season covering the Cubs, and I'm not sure it's a stretch to say white guys are cut more slack at Wrigley Field than blacks and Latinos are.

Mickey Morandini? Beloved. Shawon Dunston? Less so.

This is a generalization, I know, and I try to steer clear of those. And plenty of white ballplayers have worn out their welcome quickly in Cubbieland. Just not as quickly, in this observer's opinion, as black ballplayers doing the exact same things would have.

Is it a coincidence that LaTroy Hawkins, Jacque Jones and now Milton Bradley each has spoken about racism at Clark & Addison? Along with Lee and Corey Patterson, they've been the highest-profile black Cubs over the last decade. And aside from Lee - who overcame a rocky start to become very popular - they've been among the most reviled.

Here, I wouldn't blame Cubs fans for saying: "We're not racists, we're failists. When Corey can't lay down a bunt, we hate him. When LaTroy blows a division title, we hate him. When Jacque throws the ball straight into the ground, we hate him. It's almost September, and Milton has 35 freakin' RBIs! That's two fewer than Mike Fontenot and one more than Jake Fox, for crissakes. We're not anti-black, we're anti-failure. And Milton has been an unmitigated, $30 million failure."

Then again, Lee, the closest the Cubs have to a captain and public spokesman, veered far from P.C. in saying this Thursday about racism at the home of bricks and ivy:

"I've heard it a little bit, not directed at myself. No one should have to go through that. Fans are allowed to boo, but when you start getting racist, it's not OK. Unfortunately, there are ignorant people out there. Like I've told Milton: 'The best thing to do is let it go because it's not indicative of his character, it's indicative of their character. Let them be foolish and ignorant; it shouldn't bother us.'"

It's not that Bleacher Bums are shouting the n-word - although I suppose it's possible some are. It's more of a covert thing. And please, I'm not saying fans at Wrigley are any worse (or better) than fans anywhere else because I don't know for sure. Again, just my observations.

Appropriately, issues involving black and white involve many shades of gray. It's a fascinating subject - and an important one even in this post-2008-election world of ours.

It doesn't help the discussion when Bradley says sarcastic stuff like: "Some people seem to think if I didn't play baseball that I'd be collecting cans or something."

That's neither politically correct nor straight-shooting.

It's just silliness - which is what most of the Milton Bradley Experience has been in a Cubs season that's been chock full of silly.

(Read Mike Nadel's musings daily at TheBaldestTruth.com.)

The Bald Truth

It’s Little League World Series time, and you know what that means:

--A closeup of 12-year-old Jacob - in HD, of course, the better to accentuate that bright red zit on his forehead - sobbing after striking out to end the game.

--ESPN giving each game the big-league treatment, complete with ultra-serious announcers, sideline reporters, miked dugouts and the requisite sequence of dramatic camera shots: pitcher; catcher; baserunner; batter; pitcher again; one manager; pitcher’s mom; the other manager; batter’s dad; pitcher again; batter again; time out for manager’s trip to the mound; lather, rinse, repeat.

--Alec’s dad, a Billy Martin wannabe, flashing signs from the dugout as he asks his boy to put down a suicide squeeze. (Because smart managers love the squeeze, right?)

--One extraordinary “young man” throwing the equivalent of 90 mph fastballs past overmatched opponents. And his parent (or guardian or personal trainer) insisting that just because the dude shaves, prefers Jack to Dew and dates supermodels, it doesn’t necessarily mean he's older than 12.

--Kids imitating their heroes: Ichiro’s stance; Mariano's delivery; Nomar’s batting-glove adjustments; A-Rod’s roid rage; Ozzie’s expletives; Prince’s chaw.

You know, I can handle all that stuff. I just wish they’d leave their agents home.

The Balder Truth

How about alleged Cubbie ace Carlos Zambrano admitting that laziness contributed to his landing on the DL with back problems?

Seems the highest-paid pitcher in team history found 91.5 million reasons to avoid doing assigned ab-strengthening exercises because, well, he didn’t feel like doing them.

Honesty: admirable. Attitude: abominable.

The situation has created quite a mess for the Cubs, who are tumbling to oblivion while their knuckleheaded star convalesces.

More importantly, it has created quite a conundrum for me.

Do I still use my long-standing nickname for him: Cra-Z? Or now do I go with the equally appropriate La-Z?

Hey, life is full of difficult choices.

THE BALDEST TRUTH

It sure would be nice if folks waited at least until 2010 to start fretting about a labor dispute that could scuttle the entire 2011 NFL season.

I mean, come on!

By then, Brett Favre will have unretired, led the Vikings to a first-round playoff loss, retired, switched from Wranglers to Levi's, teased fans in four NFL cities by discussing a possible comeback with their teams, unretired to play for the Dolphins, gone on the injured list for the first time in his career (wounded ego), retired again, and said he’d consider unretiring one more time if only the NFL wouldn’t lock out the players.

(Read Mike Nadel's musings daily at TheBaldestTruth.com.)

Your next-door neighbor doesn’t give a rat’s rear that you would have won your fantasy league championship last season if only Jay Cutler didn’t choke like a Cub.

And your dentist’s receptionist doesn’t care if your first-round pick was Adrian Peterson or Peter Adrianson.

And your wife is so bored by your constant fantasy updates - and so sick of you swearing at the TV during a Rams-Raiders game that even folks in St. Louis and Oakland refuse to watch - she’s ready to go seek a fantasy of her own.

If you get my drift.

Look, I understand. I really do. I used to play fantasy football, too. More than that: I was a league commish - back in the Olden Days, when we commissioners had to mail results and standings to our fellow owners every week.

With paper and envelopes and stamps and everything.

So I know how addictive and fun fantasy football is. And though I have enjoyed my 14 years of “sobriety” - it’s nice watching a game because I want to and not because I have to - I never would suggest you find another hobby. It’s your heart attack, my friend.

All I’m asking - begging, actually - is for fantasy football owners to keep it to themselves unless they’re among their own kind. That seems reasonable, no?

As a public service, then, here are 10 suggestions to help FF types interact with regular humans:

1. If the bank teller asks how you’re doing today, this is not the proper response: “I’d be doing a whole hell of a lot better if freakin’ T.O. would stop dropping freakin’ passes! Dude’s killing me!! Cost me two touchdowns last week!”

2. Don’t ask regular humans for advice on trades, cuts and acquisitions. One, no matter how polite they are, they don’t care (not even a little bit). Two, you’re the one keeping track of banal statistical crud; they actually have lives. Three, you’re not going to listen to their advice, anyway. Four, did I mention that they don’t care?

3. Thanksgiving is a day for turkey, for dressing and gravy, for pecan pie, for finally telling your meddling sister-in-law how much you despise her and, yes, for football. It is not a day for throwing the remote at Aunt Louise’s TV because Aaron Rodgers got hurt and now you’re stuck with Tarvaris Jackson at QB. (This applies even though the Vikings don’t want to be stuck with Tarvaris Jackson at QB, either.)

4. After your draft, you may spend precisely 5 minutes telling your spouse and children how smart you are. Five minutes. Not one second more. This gives new meaning to being “on the clock.”

5. If you get caught at work researching players, making trades or e-mailing friends to tell them you now have Garrett Wolfe to go with Michael Turner in your all Northern Illinois Huskies backfield, you aren’t allowed to file an appeal after you get fired.

6. Whatever you do - and I don‘t think I can state this strongly enough - do NOT draft Rueben Mayes, cut him and then pick him back up only to see him score one lousy, stinkin’ TD the rest of the year. Only a moron would do that. (Not that I know any moron who did that back in ‘88.)

7. If you are an avid fan of a particular team - and you know you are - rooting for the opponent’s kicker just because he is “your” kicker that week amounts to treason. Unless, of course, you’re a Lions fan; you know the opponent doesn’t even need a kicker (or a quarterback or a defense), and you can root to your heart’s content.

8. If you can’t enjoy a nice Sunday dinner with your family because Chad Ochocinco fumbled inches short of the goal line while planning a celebration involving chopsticks, a French maid, two bowling balls and a flock of geese, it’s time to take up a less-intrusive hobby. Smoking crack, perhaps?

9. Nobody likes a conspiracy theorist. If the ref fixed the game, it was because he bet 100 G’s on the Texans, not because Andre Johnson was his fantasy stud.

10. If you honestly believe you have the right to give me a play-by-play of last week’s conquest, then I have the right to give you a shot-by-shot rundown of my most recent round of golf.

And if that doesn’t reform you, nothing will.

(Read Mike Nadel's musings daily at TheBaldestTruth.com.)