Wasif's World

Ho! Ho! Ho! (Do you always equate that phrase with Santa Claus or are you like me and follow those words placed adjacent to one another in quick succession with the phrase “Green Giant?” Just wondering.)

As the yuletide season descends upon us, complete with bowl blowouts, playoff pushes and foot fetishes, I’ve managed to get a sneak peek at Jolly Ol’ Saint Nick’s bag o’ gifts for those sports figures we know so well that have been nice, and for some who have been naughty. (Damn liberals always have to make sure no one’s left out.)

So now without any further ado, I present to you the 2010 Christmas list for members of the sports world:

To Randy Moss, a Bill Belichick blow-up doll for him to have on hand when he can’t get the real thing.

To Michael Vick, a Snoopy stuffed animal. (You gotta start slow, Michael. Start slow.)

To Barry Bonds, a little more free time before he’s thrown in jail on perjury charges.

To the New York Yankees, Derek Jeter at shortstop for another three years. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together. Hahahahahahahahaha!

To Rob Ryan, a giant Rex Ryan wig to cover Rex Ryan’s ego.

To Rex Ryan, a pedicure, so he can enjoy his own feet without so much attention being paid to his personal activities.

To Mark Sanchez, an offensive touchdown.

To LeBron, a trip to the Eastern Conference semifinals with your new team ... and another loss there, just like with your old team.

To Carmelo, a team on the East Coast. (Might I suggest Syracuse? You’d still have three years remaining, wouldn’t you?)

To the New York Knicks, a trip back to relevance, but still no championship.

To the New Jersey Nets, four future first-round draft picks that still won't get you Carmelo.

To Eli Manning, sliding lessons.

To Vince Young, a new coach, a new team and a new attitude.

To David Stern, the intelligence and guts to contract eight teams so that your sport will be enjoyable again for all cities again and not just the four cities that have a legitimate shot at winning a championship.

To Brett Favre, a rocking chair ... with arm and leg straps on it to keep him in it.

To the New Orleans Saints, the “S” placed back at the beginning of their name after decades of futility. (That one arrived early thanks to Air Favre’s shipping service.)

To Cam Newton, a better business manager than his father.

To Greg Oden, an NBA career ... maybe, someday.

To the Portland Trail Blazers -- another chance to pick Kevin Durant instead.

To Yao Ming, new legs.

To Allen Iverson, “The Answer” -- and that is ... retire.

To Cortland Finnegan, some humble pie.

To the Metrodome, a better balloon roof.

To Shaquille O’Neal, a.k.a. "Tip-In O’Neal" or "The Big Shamrock," a final ring with Boston, giving him as many as Kobe, and enshrinement in the Great Personalities of Sports Hall of Fame.

To Donovan McNabb, some respect and a starting job for a full season with a new team.

To Tom Brady ... nothing. You have everything already ... All right, you win. Another Super Bowl ring!

To TCU, a big hug. It’s a small consolation, but the best I could do.

To Peyton Manning, some personnel consistency, fer cryin’ out loud!

To “The T.Ocho Show,” a second season, this time in the jungles of Africa mixing “Survivor”-type excitement with you two talking for a half-hour.

To the UConn Lady Huskies, a loss already, it’s getting boring.

To Geno Auriemma, some updated stereotypes about women.

To Brian Wilson, anything you want. Quite frankly, you frighten Santa.

To Jerry Jones, a team in the Super Bowl! (In other words, one share of stock in the Atlanta Falcons.)

To Tiger Woods, just a little bit of the mojo you used to have.

To Coach John Wooden, a team in heaven.

Enjoy your presents, everyone! And may I wish all of you a very happy and healthy holiday season. Thanks for reading and see you in the 2011, for a full slate of major league baseball and ... well, with labor disagreement looming, that’s about it! Ho Ho Ho! Green Giant!

Derek, what are you waiting for? Just sign with the Yankees already. What, are you thinking your talents are best-served in Houston? Perhaps you’re tired of playing in front of people and would rather sign with the Marlins.

You can sign now and still not have to do any training. This isn’t football. You don’t have to report to camp the moment you sign. I’m sure you’re aware of that. You can still have your “MT” (Minka Time).

You’ve got three choices –- you can take the highest offer on the table (the Yankees’) and no one will even consider you caved in since it’s still twice what your current worth is.

Or take a lower offer from another team. Show the Yankees you are not to be trifled with. You are Jeter, dammit! Sure, it’s biting your nose to spite your face, but again, you’re Jeter, dammit! (Gumby reference anyone?)

Or keep playing hard ball. The Yankees aren’t going to give you the amount you’re asking for since it’s ridiculous and will throw the entire salary structure of baseball off. Elvis Andrus and Troy Tulowitzki will look to you and say they deserve at least $15 million. (What’s that? ... Tulowitzki signed for how much???!!! ... Oooof, that may stick a monkey wrench into things.)

What, do you not have enough money?! Remember, having money makes doing your taxes tricky. With all of your houses, you may forget which house you listed as your primary residence.

Has being around the Yankees clouded your mind? $20-$25 million for a middle-tier shortstop and

a .273 hitter? Yes, you’ve got excellent leadership qualities. So does Jason Varitek and it didn’t stop the Red Sox from giving him $5 million, then $3 million and now $2 million plus incentives. And those incentives are that he still gets a parking space inside the player’s lot.

Are you worried about your legacy? You need to stay in New York to maintain your legacy. To Yankees fans, it’s that of hero. To Red Sox fans, your legacy is that of dirty cheater (along with A-Rod who is known as a dirty, whiny cheater).

You’re one of the most hated men in Boston. I went onto Boston.com yesterday, the online site of the Boston Globe and took the Pats-Jets quiz -– 12 questions about the history between the two gridiron rivals. After completing the quiz (I did as well as I did on my trigonometry tests in high school), they show the leader board. Do you know who was holding first place? “Derek Jeter’s herpes,” that’s who!

The disdain for you is legendary. Why risk losing that? We need you. Baseball needs you in the Yankees uniform. The uniform to you is like the hair to Samson. Take it off and you’re just another shortstop fielding routine grounders with mediocre hitting stats for a team that won’t make a run in the playoffs.

(We’re talking current stats, you know, and not your career achievements, because career achievements don’t win you current games and that’s what you’d be getting paid to do.)

The Gold Glove? No one’s buying it. (Except apparently, my dedicated reader Irene who believes it’s well-deserved.) That gets you nothing in the negotiation, but it makes a nice stocking stuffer.

Now in this scenario, the Yankees have two choices. They can pay you what they’re offering you (more than they should) or they can find a more productive player for less the money and use the remaining cash on another player who may also be productive.

Yes, the Yankees have bottomless pockets and overspend to players that haven’t given even a fraction of what you have to your team, let alone the game. But they were also being courted by other teams ... and most of them were younger ... and were coming off better years.

Would the replacement player be more productive than you? Perhaps. You’ve seen, as have we, that players’ stats don’t always translate under the lights of The House Next To Where The House That Ruth Built Was. (Seriously, how many times are they going to keep putting Javier Vasquez on the mound?)

Barry Bonds never went through this as he was somehow still playing at a very high level deep into his 40s. Hmm, so has Mariano Rivera. Coincidence? Conspiracy theorists, discuss.

You’ve made it blatantly obvious that you’ve done things the natural way. And this is how nature treats people who adhere to their rules. Nature pays them less than when they were 28.

Derek, Bubbie, I’m a Red Sox fan, so I don’t like you. I know you’re dirty, I just don’t know how. I’ll dig up something on you, even if it’s unreturned library books. Or if you’ve never taken a book from the library, I’ll expose your illiteracy. But I’m trying to help you here.

I will say it’s kind of fun to see you and the Yankees play hardball. It’s like Hank and Hal deciding who had to ride on the hump in the Steinbrenner station wagon during family road trips growing up.

But we also know the outcome. It’s really the only outcome there should be –- Jeter and the Yankees, the Yankees and Jeter. Keep your hair, Samson! Otherwise, you’ll just be another bald shortstop who used to be hated by his enemies. *Author's Note: Derek Jeter signed a 3-year, $51 million deal with the Yankees within 48 hours of this posting, so obviously, he reads "Wasif's World" and is influenced by my opinion.

They've started to announce the awards for the 2010 season in Major League Baseball. As you may know by now, the Gold Glove winners were voted on by the managers and coaches. Most notably, they selected as the Gold Glove winner at shortstop in the American League 36-year-old Derek Jeter, who is virtually immobile at the position. But many people don't know that they didn't stop there. Other categories were on the ballot and so, these judicious and astute men selected winners democratically for them as well. Through my connections, I got a look at the winners, before you see them reported by the major media outlets. Here they are now:

Cy Young Award (NL) Roy Halladay, Philadelphia Phillies

Cy Young Award (AL) Cy Young, deceased

Manager of the Year (NL) Fredi Gonzalez, formerly of the Florida Marlins

Manager of the Year (AL) U.L. Washington, Texas Rangers (they probably meant Ron Washington)

Rookie of the Year (AL) Buster Posey, San Francisco Giants (National League)

Cookie of the Year (NL) Cookie Rojas (due to a typo that no one picked up on)

Most Valuable Player (NL) Derek Jeter, NY Yankees

Most Valuable Player (AL) Derek Jeter

World Series Champion New York Yankees

Owner of the Year Frank McCourt, Los Angeles Dodgers

Most Cost-Conscious Executive of the Year Brian Cashman

Best Fans Florida Marlins

Best Broadcaster Joe Morgan

Umpire of the Year Jim Joyce

Derek Jeter Award for Handsomeness Beyond Reproach Johnny Damon, Detroit Tigers

Victor J. Steele Good Grooming Award Brian Wilson, San Francisco Giants

Best Beard on Someone Named Brian Wilson Sergio Romo, San Francisco Giants

Okay, this whole exercise was done simply to mock the selection of Derek Jeter as a Gold Glove winner. If coaches and managers can argue with umpires, couldn't umpires get in the faces of these "career baseball men" and shout, "ARE YOU BLIND?!" I think it's only fair; certainly more fair than giving Jeter the honor.

So New York Yankee demigod Derek Jeter’s contract is finally expiring after this season. Remember when he signed the monstrous 10-year, $189 million deal? He had just won his fourth and final World Series championship (unless you count the one in 2009), he was entering the prime of his career, and he was a hero all the way from the Eastern-most tip of New York to the Western banks of the Hudson River. (The rest of the country hated his guts.)

Now here we are, 10 years later and Jeter still looks the same, with pinstripes cascading up and down his body; he’s dating the “sexiest woman in the world” (or a sexy “beard” to Red Sox fans), Minka

Kelly; and he’s finding that his age, at 36, is catching up to him, much like it will to Mariano Rivera in a decade or two.

After starting out the season ablaze, he quickly cooled off and became less and less dependable at the plate and in the field.

Conventional reports say a man of his talents (and not his legacy) would go for around $6 million per year on the open market; nothing to scoff at ... unless you’re pitcher Gil Meche of the Kansas City Royals who has a career .503 winning percentage and is signed for $11 million this year. He scoffs at pretty much everything these days.

But why would Jeter want to end his career somewhere else? Did Joe DiMaggio spend his “Favre-years” patrolling the outfield in another city? Did “the Mick” booze it up after games in another uniform? Did Babe Ruth? (Oh, wait, Babe Ruth did. Fine, forget I mentioned him.)

Jeter was made for New York and New York was made for him. (New Jersey, on the other hand, was made for dumping toxic waste and bodies.) His whole life is there, even though his taxes are down in Florida. So we can be pretty sure he wants to re-sign there.

But what’s the offer going to be? It won’t be $18 million even though the Yankees have that kind of money stuffed into their couch cushions. And $6 million is sort of an insult for the man who reinvented the way non-Yankees fans hate one individual. You gotta figure $10 million is a nice round number where everyone can be happy, right?

But what does he do for them? Is he their shortstop? Their DH? Their Robin Yount, being herded into the outfield? Do you move him to third base? A-Rod could probably move back to short for a couple of years. It’s not like he’s going to be able to screw up any more in the eyes of Yankees fans even though he’s already won them one World Series.

The point is, they don’t have an upstart shortstop coming up through the ranks so at this point, there won’t be the kind of torch passing as there was from the Yankee Clipper to the Mick. So unless they sign a free agent shortstop (or every free agent shortstop), they’re stuck with a semi-mobile living legend who may hurt them defensively, and offensively, too, if the current trend continues.

That’s not very Yankee-like. Sure, fans will turn a blind ear and a deaf eye. There will be murmurings in the bars, the barber shops, and the talk radio show circuit, but no one will allow him to go.

Imagine letting him go and then watching him flourish somewhere else, perhaps beating the Yankees in a crucial playoff series before then flashing them the finger as he celebrates from the visitor’s dugout. (Of course, the fans would blame A-Rod for that gesture.)

Convincing him to retire? That’s an option. Do you think Hank Steinbrenner will take Jeter to his compound and show him the grounds during a heart-to-heart discussion?

“So Derek, how’s everything? Good? Everything’s good? That’s good. ... Y’know, Derek, playing careers don’t last forever and I wanted you to know that whatever role you want in this organization when you’re done, whenever that is, it’s totally all ri — Hal, get him!”

And then Hal jumps out from behind a giant shrub shaped like Yogi Berra and whacks Jeter in the knee.

More than likely, it’ll be up to Jeter himself to decide. And he may still have other things he wants to accomplish and may not realize that he’s slowing down. (Look at all the athletes who don’t.) Or he may not want to admit it. He may have the No. 40 in mind or want to outdo Mariano who will pitch til he’s 50.

You have to know what’s best for you, but not let your lasting image be that of someone who’s held on for too long. When people think you’re better suited for the Old Timers game than the All-Star game, it might be time to hang them up.

I’m guessing it won’t be for a few years, but we’ll see if it will be a few years too late.

So during the negotiations with the face of their franchise, do the Yankees play hardball? Of course, we’ll find out soon enough, as they’re one Cliff Lee start away from being eliminated from the MLB playoffs. At that point, he'll have Minka to comfort him. So what the heck does he care what he signs for anyway?!

Growing up the son of a milkman and C.I.A. operative/P.T.A. treasurer mom in suburban Boston, I remember going to Fenway Park and seeing the lettering on the padded wall behind home plate that read, “No Pepper.”

Today, it’s gone, but there’s no truer statement to reflect the current state of what is frequently referred to as “the greatest rivalry in sports” and what is less frequently referred to as “so boring, I would rather watch a bird pick mites out of his feathers than tune in.” But the prevailing mindset may be shifting.

The Red Sox-Yankees rivalry needs spice! There’s no pepper, nor is there paprika, oregano, parsley, sage, rosemary, and there’s definitely no thyme.

But you know what they say, there’s no thyme like the present. [Ahem] You’ll graciously excuse my horrendous pun. Thank you.

There’s no time like the present to fix this. We know of the history and its explosive elements between the two teams, and subsequently their fans, but it quickly morphs into ancient history. And baseball is about entertaining people, correct? Unfortunately, the baseball season is so long, they’ve run out of story lines and we've become nonplussed with much of what we see.

It’s like the news. They’ve got to come up with stuff every day, which is why news bureaus send employees out from time to time to start fires or kidnap a baby or something like that.

Baseball needs to start manufacturing some excitement. Like the WWE (or the NBA) writing its own material, so, too, should baseball. In fact, why not hire their writers for a season or two to get you going?

Imagine a scenario where at one moment during the All-Star game, Derek Jeter and Dustin Pedroia are turning double plays together. They're high-fiving like best pals impressed by their grace and synchronicity.

Then, all of sudden, the next moment, when Pedey suddenly notices that Jeter’s getting more applause than he is, his jealousy takes over. The next time Jeter stands at the bag to turn two, instead of a lightly tossed ball right into his glove, he gets a rocket fired at his head knocking him out. He comes to with the diminutive Red Sox second baseman on top of him unleashing a fury of lefts and rights to his noggin as the crowd counts them out, “... SIX ... SEVEN ... EIGHT ...” as a couple of umpires stand harmlessly by pleading with the him to stop.

That, my friends, would get the rivalry started again.

Oh, and he could have like a signature finishing move where he puts a Yankee in a headlock and holds one of his rank workout T-shirts in his face until the guy turns green. He could call it “The Green Monster.”

The whole issue speaks to the flaws of the unbalanced schedule and interleague play. Back in the old days, the teams met each other a uniformed four times, for three games at a clip (barring the ol’ twi-night doubleheader). Twice at home, twice away; twice before the All-Star game, twice after. That's how it should be.

Either go with 12 games a year or 162 with no in between.

If you have the two teams face each other 162 times a year, they’ll start to hate the way A-Rod adjusts his batting gloves or Papi’s spitting will start to make their stomachs crawl or just Posada’s ears will piss them off. There will be blood.

Brandon Phillips has the right idea. He hates the Cardinals. I mean, really hates the Cardinals. You can just tell he does by the way he tells you he does.

However, it really doesn’t carry much past that. Because it’s the Cardinals. Their fans are so nice, they’ll probably offer to take Phillips out on the town to show him the amenities of their city.

The fans aren’t going to get into it. And Cincinnati doesn’t even have its own airport. It’s in Kentucky. That’s not going to be good for a rivalry. No one wants to fly into a different state just to cross the state line to go torment and harass Reds fans.

Boston fans used to believe that Yankees fans would shut their collective holes if the Red Sox won. Well, they did, and it didn’t happen. Now they’re resigned to living with them like some ingrown toenail that hurts when they walk.

And Yankees fans, well, they really haven’t changed. They’ve just ratcheted up the murder of Red Sox fans in the last decade from zero to two. So don’t mess with them.

But that’s off the field. We need to get that kind of stuff on the field. (Um, not the murder as that is wrong in most circumstances pertaining to sports.)

We need to get back to the old days. Carlton Fisk didn’t need a reason to beat the crap out of

Thurman Munson. He just needed an opportunity. Pedro Martinez probably would’ve thrown Don Zimmer down after the game in the street if he didn’t get a chance on the field.

Remember when Clemens threw a ball up by Manny’s head and Manny shouted some things to him while pointing and approaching the mound? We need that type of emotion; almost an unnatural level of emotion.

I’m just spinning here, but what if we introduced some sort of synthetically-engineered substance that causes flashes of anger along with enhanced athletic performance?

Nah! That’s just crazy talk.

Maybe add one Pakistani player to one team and an Indian player on the other. Those countries hate each other so that might start some hate. Or add a kid. When a sitcom starts to fail, they always add a kid which makes it – er ... fail faster. (OK, forget the kid.)

How about if the Red Sox name former pitcher Bill "Spaceman" Lee their manager and the Yankees can hire Graig Nettles to be their manager? “Spaceman” hates the Yankees. And he reportedly carries a baseball card of Nettles in his back pocket so the former Yankees hot corner attendant is constantly kissing his rear end. Nettles, by the way, wasn’t waiting for any invitation to slam Lee to the ground damaging his pitching shoulder. It’s just the way it was back then.

Sure, it could be cyclical, but do we really want to wait another 20 years to see an on-field battle? What would we tune in for? Baseball? Ha! Get serious.

Dustin Pedroia, what do you think?

“Let me tell you somethin’, Wasif! All the fans in all the bars in all the towns of Red Sox Nation are lookin’ for me to take out the Evil Empire. And that’s what I’ve been thinkin’ about for a long time. And you know what I’m gonna do? DO YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA DO?! I’m gonna unleash a double play combination of rights and lefts on those little pathetic pansies. Whatcha gonna do, New York Yankees, when the Green Monster comes crashing down on you?!”

Now that's some spice.

Trying to figure out my next blog to write, I looked at the calendar and realized that this week marks my one-year anniversary here at SportsFanLive. (No, please, I don’t want any gifts; your readership is enough. Besides, what would I do with a second horse’s head to go along with the one a Raiders fan sent me after one of my previous blogs?)

So much has happened in the world of sports over this time that I thought I’d take this opportunity, if you’ll indulge me, to recap the events I’ve blogged about during the past year. (If not, that’s fine too. Just reading to this point has allowed my computer virus enough time to access all your personal files and send them to me. So your readership and all your confidential information is enough.)

In order to remain consistent with engaging content, I’ve been fortunate enough to have a supportive leadership team at the website, a slew of fascinating stories to follow, but mainly, it’s been the fans who have been my rock, my Dwayne Johnson, if you will.

Yes, it is you, the reader, who have been so kind to me over the past year and I am so grateful. Your comments let me know you care. Rest assured, I read them all and please know that the comments about my mother and the female body parts that I resemble have been much appreciated. Sports and the opinions associated with it should never be treated flippantly and demand an overly critical eye toward the subjective.

I cherish our relationship. It’s because I feel so close to you that I’ve trusted you enough to bare my soul. (Or is it bear my soul? What does that even mean? Is that where Brian Urlacher tackles my celestial inner being?) For instance, I came out to you in this, the most public forum, in announcing my love for Peyton Manning, which screamed in opposition to my positive feelings for Bill Belichick. I didn’t care who knew it.

I relived a most painful experience of my being picked off second base by the hidden ball trick in what was actually a balk. So instead of third base, I was forced to sit on the pine, a most heinous crime perpetuated upon me by “the ill-informed.” Even now, it still makes me well up, but I felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable in front of you all.

I shared the tale of my day sitting amongst Raider Nation at San Diego’s Qualcomm Stadium. Instead of finding them dangerous as I had expected, I was surprised to learn that they’re nothing more than really very scary people who you don’t want to look in the eyes.

Yes, we’ve been through quite a 12-month period together, haven’t we? We’ve witnessed some incredible events like an entire tournament of curling, each time alternatively wondering why we were watching and making plans to take up curling with the goal of participating in the 2014 Winter Games in Russia; we watched the World Cup, longing for the excitement of curling; we watched a five-set tennis match that lasted longer than the Orioles season before being mathematically eliminated from playoff contention; we saw the best heavyweight battle we’ve seen in years in the McCourt v. McCourt fight (they’re talking sequel); and we saw a 28-out perfect game, which is most definitely once in a lifetime!

And we laughed together too. Remember when Mercury Morris tried to act relevant, like his 1972 Dolphins team’s 17 consecutive wins still meant something even though teams like the Patriots and Colts surpass it routinely? Or when the Philadelphia Phillies fan outran the guy with the Taser gun ... for a few seconds?

And then there was the time Mark McGwire told us he did steroids, as if it was a big reveal akin to the “Sixth Sense” or “The Usual Suspects.” Instead, it came off with all the suspense of an ESPN special to announce where Brian Scalabrine is going to end up playing next year.

This year was not without life lessons as well, like the fact that men entering Yankee Stadium are forced to check their bags across the street for $7, but then can literally climb into a woman’s purse or duffel bag and be smuggled into the park without even a suspicious glance.

We also learned that Big Papi doesn’t ask what’s in his “protein shakes” and Manny likes to get in touch with his feminine side with a cycle of drugs for women.

Oh, and we also learned that it was Derek Jeter that was leaking the names of those players on the infamous steroid user list. (Disclaimer: I’m the one that started that rumor.) (Disclaimer on the disclaimer: Or did I?)

But one giant lesson that we learned from Tiger Woods was that if you’re going to cheat, don’t text. Remember, texters never win and winners never text.

Though I can’t blame him for his mistake, for I’ve made mistakes too. For instance, I thought there was no way the Lakers and Celtics would’ve been able to “flip a switch” and start playing well through the playoffs after coasting through the end of the season. Well, like Arthur Fonzarelli, I am more than man enough to admit when I was wr--, when I was wrooo--, when I was wrrrrrrrrr--; well, nobody’s perfect.

And speaking of the Lakers, their fans were the focus of most of my attacks this year, but only because – well, they’re still around. I must apologize. I had originally planned for them to get all of my attacks. I promise that I will do better next year.

To all of you who’ve enjoyed a year of blogs, thanks for reading. And to you Lakers fans out there, thanks for finding someone to read this to you, explaining all the big words.

(See, never let it be said that I don’t keep a promise.)

Patriots fans are worried. As well they should be. Is this the end of their magical run of greatness? The team that dominated the decade, the team that set all sorts of records, the team that set a new bar of perfection in a season over which other teams must now jump has suddenly become (gasp!) mortal.

Unthinkable as it may have once been, it’s now a reality. I mean, we’re talking about a team that put itself in the same conversation with the Steelers of the 1970s and the Walsh/Montana, Seifert/Young 49ers.

New England won three championships, but was essentially four minutes away from five in seven years. If Reche Caldwell (he of the googly eyes) catches the wide-open, coverage-breakdown pass and runs into the end zone versus the Colts in the 2007 AFC Championship game, New England more than likely goes on to beat Chicago in the Super Bowl. And, of course, there were the events of one year later, during their undefeated season, when they lost the Super Bowl on a miraculous catch from David Tyree. (I mean, seriously, who catches a ball against his helmet?)

Then Touchdown Tom Brady gets hurt, the potent offense grows somehow stagnant, they sputter into the playoffs with all sorts of things wrong with them, and here we are; they’ve gone from perennial Super Bowl favorite to once-was, apparently with no more bullets in the chamber. It’s the classic depiction of the rise and fall of a dynasty.

Rome went the same way. Remember when Caesar’s offensive linemen gathered around him and stabbed him, right there at midfield, as he was about to hand off to Augustus, their scat back? “Et tu, Hog Hannah,” he uttered.

However, there’s reason to believe it may not be the end at all, but rather a hiccup in the finely-oiled machine that is the New England Patriots.

Patterns in sports are not too uncommon, as they are for imperial kingdoms as well. The Patriots, for instance, were a 14-point underdog to the purely powerful and potent “Greatest Show on Turf” one winter’s day back in 2002. They eked out a three-point win. Flash ahead six years and the Patriots

possessed a record-setting offense that was favored by 14 points. The Giants won by 3.

This is just one example of the repetitive plot lines that permeate sports. The mystery, however, is which pattern a team will follow, and that is what keeps gamblers and prognosticators on edge. To wit, I present to you, the New York Yankees. (Pardon the smell.)

Take a look at the larger picture and you may find that this certain baseball team from the Bronx serves as a remarkably similar model for Patriots fans to observe.

Picture it – the Bronx, mid 1990s; a core group of youngsters hit the scene and win multiple championships out of the gate.

And they were poised to win more. Jeter, Posada, Pettitte and Rivera had many years left in them. They were in the World Series for the fifth time in six years, in 2001. They lost in seven games, with their once perfect superstar, Rivera, blowing the save. The loss shocked the once infallible Empire.

Then came another losing trip to the World Series in 2003, and their monumental collapse to Boston in 2004. Their fans didn’t know what to make of this. That year, Buster Olney declared they were dead in his book, “The Last Night of the Yankee Dynasty.”

Sure, they kept winning games, enough to make the playoffs, but they couldn’t seal the deal as they had once done without difficulty. These Yankees weren’t the same.

But as we all know, the Yankees were not done. They were merely reloading.

The Patriots are that team now. Brady, the quarterback, and Belichick, the coach, the two most important cogs of a football squad, are still in place. But they’re struggling. It is the darkest night of their dynasty, as New York's baseball boys faced in the middle of the decade.

In baseball, free agency played a key role in putting the Yankees back over the top. They spent and spent and spent, and their investments came to fruition. It helped that they still had their core, though.

In football, the draft is the tool team executives and head coaches look to in order to replenish their gridiron warriors. And the Patriots have more premium draft chips over the next two years than any other team does. So don’t count them out.

With the addition of some studs during one whirlwind offseason to the solid foundation already in place, the team might be back on top like Navin Johnson at the end of “the Jerk.” Couple their potential draft coup with an uncapped season and you may be looking at the remake of “A Yankee Tale.”

Now, I know you’re all reacting emotionally right now – they’ve lost too many key ingredients; the league’s built on parity; Belichick’s grown too arrogant – but you don’t know the future. And neither do I (save for that one recurring vision I have of never getting a shot with Rachel McAdams). I’m just saying that a Patriots Rebirth is possible.

It looks dark now – and represents a wonderful opportunity for the Buster Olneys of the world (is there more than one?) to craft some very poignant prose about the summation of the Patriots path – but perhaps such fare is premature. Care to put money down on it, Augustus?

I want to take a departure from my usual “hard-hitting journalism” and dedicate this to you, the reader. I am extremely humbled by your interest in my columns. Writing them has meant supreme enjoyment for me.

When I first started, I didn’t quite know what to expect, but I can tell you, I wasn’t counting on it becoming such an interactive experience as you click on my icon. I certainly did not imagine such wonderful feedback.

And I was amazed at the groundswell of support I have received. After my most recent posting titled, “Yankees Win: It’s About the Fans,” I figured a comment or two. But some of my readers actually went to great lengths to help me out by adding personality.

In the piece, I spoke of how Yankees fans get a bad reputation. Well, of course, each fan base has their bad seeds, and Yankees fans are among those I consider my best friends, but the readers didn’t think I went far enough in capturing the true Yankees fan character with my humorous hyperbole and wanted to lend their assistance in proving my point to others.

I can see where I came up short in my aim. Attempting to illuminate the public perception of Yankees fans, I used words such as condescending, cocky, arrogant, quarrelsome, self-righteous, obnoxious, belligerent, and rude, among others. I was sure people would get that.

But my readers, who are the best readers a scribe could wish for, came to my aid by going above and beyond. They actually sought to paint the picture I was merely trying to describe. They know how the saying goes, “a picture’s worth a thousand words.” Well, I could’ve written a million and it wouldn’t have exemplified the characterization of Yankees fans like their honest, slice-of-life comments. They really nailed what I was trying to say. And for that, I give them kudos.

Like Mike who said,
“your a jealous ******* every team has the same option, they are just CHEAP.”
Ho ho! That’s a dead-on Yankees fan impression, Mike. Well put! In fact, if I didn’t write that very point in the third paragraph of the piece, I’d think you were speaking out against me instead of showing how angry these fans can be. Love the vitriol!

Or Tony who wrote,
“The Yankees take the money they make and put it back in the team to put a championship caliber team on the field. They spend to improve and bring home a winner. Everybody who complains are just a bunch of whinning crybabies. The other owners pocket the money. The Yankees spend it for the fans and to WIN.”

Again, repeating my third paragraph helps make my case. I appreciate that. And I’ve never known crybabies to “whinn” so thanks for opening my eyes to that.

Oh, and Leo, I was LOLing (or would it be “LingOL” because it’s the present progressive tense of the verb and not of the adjective?) at your reply. Great stuff, man!
“Andy, go have a flavored latte, (don’t burn your pouty lips), change your damp sheet’s last night’s bed-wetting and go get your skinny legs waxed… or whatever they do in LA … what a whinner!
(I believe it’s spelled “winner,” and I appreciate the compliment, but, rest assured, I don’t always win. Let’s just say my success rate’s above 50 percent.

(Oh, and don’t worry about my lips. There’s enough collagen in them that I don’t feel anything when I sip hot coffee, my friend.)

And finally “Brooklyn,” you took the cake, brother! If I could take you on the road with me, I would. We’d make a great team. You said:
" I got a hundred guns a hundred clipse.....i`m from NY.....NY"......everyone always pulls the "cash" card ( their GMs name is "cashman" what do u expect?) yes the yankees pay for top players, yes most dont work out, but Brian never puts a gun to their heads....this is America....land of free enterprise, just look at all of the great players that were brought up over the yrs with out being bought, including Jeter and "HiP HiP Jorge". yes we NY fans are a special bunch we cheer with passion and come together as one for our team. If you went to a car dealership and had the money to buy a brand new BMW M5 would you buy it? or go out and get a nice compact kia?....while im on the belt parkway in my M5 im sure to blown the horn at the kia while blowning his doors off, sure i have to enudure $150 oil changes but that was my choice so go cheer in your kia and STFU!”

I have no idea what you’re talking about, or what “blowning” is (sounds fun, though), but I love the little shout out at the end to Southern Tallahassee of Florida University. Go Fighting Pigeons!

But I know these guys are just helping with the humor. They only amped up the condescending, cocky, arrogant, quarrelsome, self-righteous, obnoxious, belligerent, rude tone that I referred to in the blog in order to help me get my thesis across – that Yankees fans are typically a very passionate crew who

cares deeply about how their team fares.

One thing I must warn you Yankee Haters out there (roughly 90 percent of the reading audience) – do not bring up the whole “buying their team” issue. They are tired of hearing it.

Yes, they’ve purchased a couple of above-average priced free agents equal to the GDP of the Philippines, but, as "Brooklyn" alluded to, the core of their team came up from the farm system. They’ve been there from the very beginning and the Yankees were fortunate enough to get these stars to take the hometown discount when they re-signed.

Other teams have lost their stars because the free-agent market proved too enticing than their rinky-dink team. But the history and charm of New York was enough for these legends to stay with the pinstripes for the bargain-basement 2009 prices of $21.6 million (Jeter), $15 million (Rivera), $13.1 million (Posada) and $5.5 million (Pettitte – a bargain!). The Yankees steadfast ownership and desire to win was enough to keep these former draftees in uniform for as long as they want at these discounted rates. No big spending on them! Unlike Minnesota or Oakland who can’t wait to unload their superstars the minute free agency comes a-callin’.

So don’t go saying it’s because of a bloated payroll that puts the team in contention every year. The Mets and Cubs both spend up to 33 percent less than the Yankees and can’t even make the playoffs. It’s about shrewd signings and solid coaching.

Ah, Yankees fans, I love ya! I know I’m borrowing from journalism legend and my hero Ron Burgandy when I say, “You stay classy, Yankees fans.��

And thanks for reading. Please, tell your friends!

Have you ever heard millions of New Yorkers laugh at once?

It doesn’t happen often. There was that time the ball dropped right on Dick Clark during a “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve” broadcast. (It took them till January 3rd to remove it.)

And of course, remember when NYC Mayor Rudy Giuliani hosted British Prime Minister Tony Blair shortly after 9/11 and took him to a street vendor for a hot dog where he unceremoniously squirted mustard into the visiting diplomat’s face.


Then there was today. It’s an interesting sound and I’m not sure what the physics are behind it. I believe it causes something of a vacuum. The air collectively escaping from Boston as in some sort of gasp and getting sucked into New York City as one does when guffawing leaves Hartford totally obliterated by funnel clouds as you would see in a tornado. It’s a true phenomenon.

So I’m disappointed. Not so much that Papi has been outed by this mysterious “list leaker.” But because the conspiracy theories behind whether or not he was a steroid user are over. And I love a good conspiracy.

I gotta say, this one really could’ve gone either way. You had your evidence that he DID take them: his numbers explosion, the gap in his teeth, his girth, his nationality and connection to all his countrymen that did it, and again, his girth.

Then there were the points that suggested he DIDN’T take them: his hitting coach, Ron “Papa Jack” Jackson, helped close that hole in his swing, he finally was on a team that didn’t want him to simply play hit-and-run, he had Manny batting behind him, he entered his prime, and he kept saying he didn’t (though without a finger wag).

To me, this was not one of those lopsided conspiracies. Look at the information surrounding the Kennedy Assassination or the events on 9/11 or even the 2000 presidential election. Those are no-brainers, putting aside any subjective judgment you may have, the evidence leans heavily to one side on all of those.

But this one kept most people on the fence ... until you started weighing each item on the lists. Then, perhaps it was pretty clear. We just chose not to believe. (Ironic for a fan base whose motto is “Believe.”)

It’s simply another blow to our innocence. My Cardinals fan friend said she has no doubt that Albert Pujols is clean. Until today, I had said the same thing about Papi out loud. But now I’m so skeptical that when another friend proclaimed that “the curtain has been pulled back on the Wizard,” I screamed, “Oh, no! NOT Ozzie Smith too!!” (Fortunately, I later found out that his flips were not chemically enhanced.)

First “American Idol” loser Ju’Not said that show was fixed. Now Big Papi and Manny. So what’s next to shake the foundation of our souls – we find out that Demi Moore doesn’t maintain her body naturally? A Republican governor in charge of a council on family values isn’t faithful to his wife? Keanu Reeves isn’t really the brilliant actor we all think he is?

I can’t take it anymore!

But the big question here is ... WHO is leaking these names?! It’s diabolical how deliberate this is being done. I picture a low-level employee at Major League Baseball, probably some kid in the copy room (“Manny Ramirez! ... Takin’ steroids! ... The Man Ram! ... Mandingo! ... Manchego cheese! ... Manny! ... Takin’ steroids!”) wearing an overcoat with a fedora over his eyes in the farthest corner of a dark parking garage somewhere in mid-town. An upstart cub reporter nervously approaches, his eyes darting around to make sure he wasn’t followed.

Though y’know ... there might just be a conspiracy in here after all. Try this one on for size: the man in the overcoat isn’t a low-level employee at all, but rather, Derek Jeter himself.

Whoa! Before all you gloating Yankees fans get outraged, hear me out – Alex Rodriguez is leaked first from the list. The two used to be BFFs. And now, there’s a rift. We’ve all heard the old saying, “Hell hath no fury like a Yankee scorned.” So he leaked him for revenge.

Then came Sammy Sosa. Well, that one’s so obvious I shouldn’t even have to tell you. (Mental note: figure out reason why Jeter would want to out Sosa.)

And now Ortiz and Manny. Just like Jeter to hold onto that information until the playoff hunt. The Red Sox are flailing right now, trying to keep up with the Yankees, but falling short. What better time to drop this bomb shell!

Of course, it’s Jeter. It’s so obviously him!

Who’s next is the question? Pujols is the favorite right now. If the Cardinals make the World Series again, Jeter can drop that name then. How about Halladay? If he goes to a team besides the Yankees, Jeter will let that name out. Or perhaps even Jeter himself is on the list. [insert ominous music here] And we certainly don’t need to ever find that out. He’s got a Hall of Fame induction ceremony to prepare for in about 10 years.

So there you have it – Jeter is not only leaking the names ... he’s also on the list.

Good. Now we have another conspiracy to occupy our time. I feel better now.